#and how he lives in the mountains and needed to spend the whole day shoveling

[verpineshatterrifle]

100% agree!! and i love your analysis posts btw, i really liked the one about i/e as a prefix having the same function as -ness as a suffix in english, that's a pattern i never would have noticed

all my love to the mandocreator team, they've made a lot of wonderful contributions and that dictionary is the current best one that i know of. but i did hang out in their discord for a little while before leaving, and it was mostly because i noticed a tendency to prefer what fits really obscure linguistic terminology that most people don't know anything about, over what fits the patterns we have and makes cultural sense

and like one time there was a debate about a word for 'puss' and there was one side that wanted to name it 'yellow blood' or similar rather than something that fits its anatomical purpose, which then became a discussion about all the different colors puss can be, and i forget what my suggestion was but i didn't think that mando'ade would use 'tal' in their word for puss at all, and basically every discussion was like this, possibly with inclusion of linguistic terms i don't understand at all, and i didn't enjoy it very much

honestly i think a good way of developing mando'a would be to just.... have a bunch of people who are using it, and ONLY it, to communicate with each other, and see what evolutions and additions they end up making out of necessity, rather than a bunch of people debating in english about whether puss should refer to the concept of 'tal' or 'pir'

like, there's some facebook group chat i'm in where i've been having some very, very short exchanges with a total stranger exclusively in mando'a lately. i don't know if he's affiliated with a fan project, but he's fluent enough that i'd expect so. just talking to him, i've had to get really creative, but i had to keep everything that i said understandable to someone who only had the dictionary, and i couldn't explain my process to

i know that's like. not feasible, especially if you have aims to make that naturally formed dialect big in the fan space. you need multiple people who are fluent enough in mando'a to have a casual conversation, and who have the time to do that, and also document what happens

but like you said, real languages acquire words through reanalysis and folk etymology, and if you're using a word and people are understanding you, it's a word

I’ve seen lots of people use haveyir, ‘to guide,’ presumably backformed form jehavey’ir, ‘to ambush.’

But I don’t think jehavey’ir means “to lead astray.” I think it’s “to falsely lie in wait.” As in, the same root as haav, ‘bed.’

Change my mind!

[weniswastelandwenis]

Fallout 4 Companions React to Sole Asking Them to Punish Her

Cait:

Suggests that she and Sole take some Jet together. When Sole isn’t looking Cait replaces the Jet with chili powder which Sole sucks into their lungs with gumption. Sole spends the next two weeks in emergency care and their lungs are never the same again, however Cait gets a real kick out of it. 

Codsworth:

Admits he’s always felt that they’re a bad parent and a whore. Tells them they have two working hands and too much free time and could have trimmed their own hedges and body hair without him doing it for them. 

Curie:

Spends the night teasing and tormenting them sexually for how naughty they’ve been. Spanks them sexily and makes them promise to be good for mommy in the future. 

Danse:

Denies them food and water for two days. 

Deacon:

When they are walking together to the next dead drop Deacon suddenly sticks out a foot and trips Sole. Sole falls hard and suddenly, however Deacon made the mistake of tripping them near a cliff. Gravity does it’s worst and Sole goes tumbling down the side of the mountain like a bouncy ball. All that can be heard are the cracking of their bones and skull until they disappear into the dark chasm. From above it sounds like a hungry deathclaw may have found their remains and taken them back from whence they came. Deacon looks down at the abyss and places another pair of sunglasses over his sunglasses. “Well,” He said with a sigh. “THAT just happened!” 

Hancock:

Immediately takes off his belt and tells her to bend over on his mayoral desk. “This will probably hurt, a lot.” He says gruffly. Loud SLAPS! And BANGS! Are heard from his office. The two ghoul guards grimly look at each other, hoping to not get anything he’s dishing out. By the time he’s finished they’re too sore to sit down and glumly leaves his office, both palms cradling their ass.

MacCready:

Brings sole to the middle of nowhere. He only brought a shovel and a backpack. Silently, Sole helps him dig a giant square pit, 20 ft deep and wide. As they’re turning to ask MacCready what this is all for, he kicks them in the pit and Sole gets the wind knocked out of them, only to feel hundreds of snakes getting thrown into the pit by the man himself. Snakes on top of snakes cover their form, creating a writhing ocean of the reptiles. Sole was never heard from again.

Valentine:

Gets Sole secluded in an interrogation room and attaches live wires to their nipples. Nick then conducts a lengthy interview about where they were from, how they got here, and what Sole’s intentions were. He never fully believed their ‘frozen in cryostasis’ story, and the whole thing smelled of a Commie plot to get the Pinkos back in office. 

Piper:

Invites Sole over to help her with the next big break in a case she was working on. Nat joins them in the room and looks over to Piper excitedly. Sole smiles, wondering what she’s so excited about. “What, what’s going on?” Piper grumbled and quietly growled at her sister. “Don’t blow this Nat.” Quickly her smile reappeared on her face, but Sole was unnerved by how unnatural it looked. “Come into this back room, I want to show you something Blue.” Sole followed behind her and was met with a giant printing press machine. It easily could’ve been worth $10,000 caps. They whistled. “Impressive hunk of machinery, Piper. What’s it for?” Piper squinted her eyes. “This. NOW NAT!” All at once, Piper grabbed Sole by the shoulders and threw their body into the machine. Nat pressed the big red button that turned it on. It arose from its slumber, gears cranking loudly, and as its powerful dangerous metal arms pressed ink onto the papers within it, it treated Sole’s body as another sheet of newspaper. They quickly became flat stanley, and were never heard from again. Though, next time you’re reading public occurrences, do look a little closer at the page, and see if it blinks back…

Preston:

He says a settlement needs Sole’s help once again, but this journey would be a bit more treacherous than Sole is used to. Together they both get into Power Armor and make their way to the Glowing Sea. “How are settlers alive all the way out here?” Sole asks. “They’re not.” Preston’s voice says from behind her. Suddenly the lights shut off in their power armor, and many warnings sound off inside her suit. “What’s happening! What are you doing?” Preston pulled the fusion core from its place then walked out in front of her wielding it, tossing it a bit in his hand with a smirk. “I warned you general. I warned you about those settlers that needed your help, over, and over. And you just wouldn’t listen.” His voice sounded angry, and defeated. The effects of the radiation were almost immediate to Sole as it seeped into their unworking suit, and after 2 minutes, they were gone.

Strong:

Climbs to the top of Trinity Tower, Sole in hand, and perches at the top like King Kong. After a couple minutes he flings them like a football, scoring the winning goal.

X6:

Walks away and is gone for a day. When Sole sees him again he is building a large structure out of wood. Sole realizes it is a large cross, and before they speak he clubs them in the head with a champagne bottle. Sole wakes up crucified on the cross and is left up there for a couple days while X6 smirks and watches while drinking a big gulp.

[christinesficrecs]

A very long list of updated snowed in fic recs for @starsandmoony​ 💜

On my Way by Gia279 | 17.9K

Huge black paws smacked the window, followed by a fuzzy face smooshing up against it.

He scrambled over the gear shift, tipping into the passenger seat. Bear, he thought hysterically. It had to be a bear, a freaking bear.

A big pink tongue rolled out, lips pulling back as the creature panted.

I’ve got chills... They’re multiplying! by DropsOfAddiction | 12.3K | Explicit

Derek is literally wrapped around him, one heavy leg and one heavy arm pinning him tight to Derek‘s front.

Warm and steady breaths tickle the back of Stiles’ neck. He tries not to freak out and he wonders how he’s going to extract himself without waking Derek. He totally isn’t ready to face into this conversation.

Stiles stretches gently and Derek grumbles clutching him tighter in his sleep. Stiles tries not to yelp when Derek buries his face in the back of his neck.

Well fuck.

One Star Awake by zjofierose | 9.5K 

When Stiles gets stranded in the snow one dark and snowy night, he's in real danger. Fortunately, he gets rescued by a man on a horse.

Emergency Contact by bewarethesmirk | 1.2K

“Derek here hasn’t left your side,” the nurse coos, and Derek glares at her back. “You’re so lucky to have such an adoring husband.”

snow day by kellifer_fic | 8.3K

“It’s not a big deal. It just happens when I’m… cold,” Stiles offers, scratching gingerly at his head with a claw and then grimacing at it like it’s betraying him.

“Are you serious?”

“Hey, who are you to judge, wolfman?”

Your love warms me up by Smowkie | 1.2K

“At least it’s slowing down,” Stiles said, his lips slightly blue tinted and his teeth clacking.

“Yeah,” Derek said. Stiles had his arm hooked with Derek’s, and he was stumbling a little as they walked. “Come on, keep walking, keep warm.”

“Yeah, keep walking,” Stiles agreed.

Derek didn’t like how weak he sounded.

In the Dark Midwinter, Light by rhysiana | 3.7K | Mature

Really, Derek and Stiles being sent to an empty druid's cabin to fetch a book for Deaton and then getting snowed in could have gone so, so much worse.

it doesn't have to be a snowman by triggeringthehealing (froggydarren) | 4.9K

The Beacon Beans coffee shop is what Stiles would refer to as a lifesaver. They supply his dose of sugar whenever he needs it, they don't ask questions, and their hot chocolate is delicious.

And now they're running a snowman building competition where the grand prize would get him an entire year's worth of drinks. Really, all he needs is a partner to team up with. Only everyone else from the pack already seems to have paired up.

three words have never come easy by the_problem_with_stardust | 1.5K | Mature

If someone had told Derek five years ago that Stiles Stilinski would be the one living in a secluded cabin in the woods, Derek never would have believed them. Even now, he had a hard time reconciling his memories of Stiles as a high schooler with the young man who preferred the quiet found amongst the trees.

Whenever he’d inquired, Stiles had just smiled that enigmatic smile, so like Deaton or Morrell, and said something about being unable to think around the bustle of town.

“Don’t you dare throw that snowba-, goddammit!” by  jadore_hale | 2.3K

“I’m sorry,” Stiles sighed heavily, coming back down to earth, “But when you woke me up this morning and said that we needed to go out into the woods and find the evil Snow Witch that brought this shit here, I thought that was your emotionally stunted way of saying come build a snowman with me.”

In The Arms of A Werewolf by  literaryoblivion | 9.2K

“You have got to be kidding me.”

Stiles is flabbergasted. How is this even possible? Werewolves he can take. Poisonous lizard creatures, sure. Once dead, now living creepy werewolf uncles, bit of a stretch but he can roll with it. Sacrificing ancient druids that masquerade as teachers, okay fine. But this?

An honest to god abominable snowman? In Beacon Hills, California no less?

Nope.

Winter Storm Stiles by  42hrb | 2K

Stiles isn’t looking forward to weathering his first snow storm on his own, then he meets a handsome stranger at the grocery store who might be able to help.

Find Me Sitting Fireside by  kaistrex (weishen) | 13.2K

With the news that an Alpha wants Beacon Hills for their own, Derek and Stiles are forced to attend a couples retreat at a ski resort to learn their enemy’s identity. However, the threat is the least of Derek’s problems when he’s expected to fake a relationship, share a bed and suffer through candlelit dinners with the man he’s secretly been in love with for the past four years.

Waiting for Winter by  Twice_Shy (notboldly) | 3.2K

Everyone had a soulmark, a special shape on their body that formed during childhood and was meant to lead each person to their soulmate.

Unfortunately, Derek’s soulmark is shaped like a snowflake, and that fact has been actively ruining his life since he was six years old.

world tilts by  wearing_tearing | 1.5K

The guy is gorgeous as hell, and Stiles kind of wishes he could stare at him forever.

He figures he deserves a treat after almost slipping to his death.

Wait, What? by  wangler | 5.3K

When a significant portion of the Beacon Hills Preserve ends up coated in three entire inches of snow, the pack looks into it. If by looking into it one means packing a bunch of garbage bags and huge Tupperware lids into the back of Stiles’ Jeep to go look for a decent sledding hill. Things go sideways, because of course they do.

A Very Sterek Christmas by  TobyRosetta | 13.5K

It’s actually snowing in Beacon Hills, and it’s got everyone out of whack. Out of the kindness of his own heart, Stiles decides to take some things up to the the old Hale Mansion for old Sourwolf himself. But when the storm kicks up and snows them both in, the night takes an interesting turn.

Blanketed by  got_the_bite | 3.3K

“Stiles, where are you?” Derek demands again. His voice is higher than usual Stiles notes.

“You would be such a nice tenor if you joined a choir,” Stiles thinks aloud.

But In Case I Stand One Little Chance by  mikkimouse | 8.6K

Stiles’s Jeep breaks down in the middle of the snowstorm. He’s rescued by his high school crush, and as the cherry on top, is trapped in a cabin with said crush until the roads clear.

Fuck his life.

Snow Flirting by thepsychicclam | 11,396

As Beacon Hills get pounded with foot after foot of snow, single dad Stiles can't quite keep up with his four year old, his job, and shoveling his driveway. Derek makes his teenage son shovel Stiles' walk, and that just leads to Derek helping Stiles out with a whole bunch of other tasks. That's okay with Derek, though, cause any chance to be with Stiles is okay with him.

Baby, It's Cold Outside by Jebiwonkenobi | 2,791

Beacon Hills has a snow storm. Totally-not-cuddling happens.

Come Fly With Me (Or Don't) by stilinskisparkles | 15,325

Stiles is overworked and stressed out when his flight home gets delayed due to copious amounts of snow. He finds entertainment with one Derek Hale, whom he hasn't seen since high school but really doesn't mind getting reacquainted with.

Especially when it turns out Derek is surprisingly hilarious and will reluctantly play snap with him. And can walk on his hands.

The Man in the Snow by mikkimouse | 15,894

Derek finds a young man injured in a ravine on the border of his ranch. That's strange enough, but the mystery only deepens when the young man wakes up without any memory of what he was doing out there.

Blizzard Boyfriend by literaryoblivion | 1,897

With a record-breaking snowstorm on the horizon, threatening a city shutdown for a few days, Stiles gets the bright idea to put an ad up on craigslist for someone to spend his snow days with that would be filled with cuddling, movies, alcohol, and potential makeouts or more.

It's a joke until someone responds.

and home before dark by verity | 3,175

The mystery of the absent Hale brother was hardly a mystery at all until he appeared at last, set on taking up residence out in the woods.

(In which Derek is a hedgewitch. With a cat.)

Let it snow! Let it snow! (but please let it stop eventually) by relenafanel | 19,123

Stiles grew up with his bedroom window overlooking Derek's bedroom, so when he returns home for the holidays he's surprised to find a stranger in his nerdy neighbour's bedroom.

Only, he's not much of a stranger.

It is Derek Hale, the guy who is going to be his new step brother, if the rumours are true.

Red Against the Snow by Ember | 34,219

Stiles is trapped for the holidays in the cabin of a strange man/hermit named Derek. A strangely friendly wolf befriends Stiles during his stay. It's up to the teenager to find out why Derek has secluded himself from society, what the feelings he's beginning to have means, and what the connection between the mysterious man and the mysterious black wolf is.

an exaltation of larks by llassah | 25,370

All Derek wants is to get through the lambing season with his body and spirit intact. He had thought that the blizzards would be the main danger, not a highborn omega with beautiful eyes and a stubborn streak.

The flamingo in the yard by Vendelin | 6,107

It isn't fair that Stiles needs to work Christmas, when his dad is on the other side of the country. Or that his really hot, next door neighbour is around for the holidays as well. Or that there's a power outage that makes things even worse. Or better.

(Fake) Winter Weather Brings Us Together by tylerfucklin (zimothy) | 10,535

So naked cuddling with Derek while suffering from hypothermia wasn't really on Stiles' to-do list for the week, but neither was that kiss--so who was Stiles to complain?

It's a Wild Pitch (But He's a Contact Hitter) by jettiebettie | 11,828

They're combating supernatural forces with blunt instruments now. Seems legit. As long as Stiles doesn't end up getting frostbite, he's willing to roll with it. Not that his friends have to worry about that. Fucking werewolves.

Abominable by Revenant | 20,277

Where Derek buys a secluded cabin halfway up a mountain, meets a yeti and falls in love with Stiles, but not necessarily in that order.

stilinski v. a. snowman | tumblr ficlet

This fic was inspired by this prompt: ‘we’re stuck in a log cabin overnight during a snowstorm bc of some stupid school team building exercise and it’s freEzing and I can’t sleep and you can hear me shivering in the next bed so you pick me up and dump in your bed and good grief you are hot in every sense of the word’ au

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Hollow Pass (Part 2)

Summary: When the reader has to spend a day in the mines for work, she’s less than thrilled. When the miner showing her around for the day, Dean Winchester, is an ass, she’s even less thrilled. But an accident will change all of that and if they want a chance of getting out alive, they’ll need to put their lives in each others hands, literally...

Pairing: Miner!Dean x reader

Word Count: 3,700ish

Warnings: language, injury, frightening/claustrophobic/near death situations

A/N: Enjoy!

_______

“You’re slipping, you’re slipping,” you said, sliding closer to the edge.

“Y/N,” said Dean as you finally stopped moving, feet jammed against rocks under the surface.

“Okay. I’m good. You’re good,” you said. You swallowed and heard Dean grunting. “Dean? Talk to me.”

“I-I’m okay,” he said. “Fuck. Fuck. Oh fuck. I looked down. Y/N, fuck. It’s gotta be a couple hundred feet.”

“Dean climb up the rope,” you said. “I can’t pull you up.”

“I can’t move,” he said.

“Yes you can. Climb up, Dean.”

“The rope. The knot will slip if I move,” he said. 

“Dean. Grab the rope,” you said, hovering your hands over the end attached to your belt. “I’ll take this end and you don’t have to worry.”

“Y/N. I don’t...I don’t…”

“Sweetheart take the rope. It’s okay. I got you,” you said.

“Fuck it’s so far down,” he said. You took a deep breath and grabbed hold of the rope.

“Come on Dean. You owe me a date.”

“What?”

“You owe me a date so you gotta grab that rope and climb out,” you said.

“I’m slipping, I’m slipping,” he said as you saw the top knot in the rope go cocked and start shifting.

“Dean! Grab the rope!”

You heard him shout, the other end of the rope sliding up over the edge. It was slipping through your hands and you wrapped your fists around it, Dean’s weight all in your hands now.

“Dean climb up. I can’t hold you forever,” you said, arms already straining.

“I can’t get a grip,” he said. You knew what he meant. The silky rope was hard to hold onto let alone climb straight up. “Y/N.”

“Can you...can you walk up? If you hold on tight and lean back, can you walk up if I keep moving back?”

“You want me to lean over the giant hole to my death even more?”

“Dean. Trust me.”

He grunted and you held on tight to the rope, Dean breathing hard. 

“Okay. I’m okay. I just-“

You heard a thud and he swore.

“Dean?”

“Slammed my face into the cliff. Shit I can’t do this. The rock is crumbling.”

You sat up and leaned back, daring to take a step back.

“Y/N, I’m too heavy. You can’t hold me.”

“You owe me steak and lobster for this,” you said.

“Y/N,” he said. You took another step back and another, moving back quickly. You grunted and saw the peak of his helmet, practically running backwards when Dean was able to get a hand over the edge. You kept the rope taut and knelt down at the edge, pulling him back over the edge. He climbed up and you fell back, Dean panting and pulling you further away from the edge.

You breathed hard and fell back against the rock floor, Dean laying back beside you.

“T-Thanks,” he said. You held up your hands, Dean instantly shooting up. “Y/N.”

You sat up, Dean reaching into his overalls and pulling out a bandanna. He wrapped it around your cut opened palm, looking around before he unzipped his overalls and took off his shirt, ripping it and wrapping it around the other one.

“Ow. Ow,” you said. He zipped himself up and held your hands to your chest.

“Keep them up, try to stop the bleeding. Sit for a minute. We don’t need the both of us in shock.”

“Are you?” you asked, resting your hands against yourself. 

“Yeah. I might throw up fair warning,” he said. 

“Sit with me,” you said. He swallowed and sat beside you, his body shaking. “Hey. You’re okay.”

“I know. I can’t help it.”

“Here,” you said, your hands feeling a little better. You moved your arms around him, pulling him to lean on you. “Take a deep breath.”

He took a deep breath and then a few more, most of the shakes leaving him.

“Thanks,” he said. “I don’t know how you pulled me up.”

“Adrenaline mostly,” you said. “I’m exhausted.”

“Rest,” he said. “I’ll carry you when we’re ready again.”

“I’m okay. Just tired,” you said. You shut your eyes, resting your head against his own. 

“Thank you,” he said. 

“Steak and lobster, Dean,” you said.

“Alright. Big steak and lobster once we’re out of here.” He lifted his head and took your arms. “Looks like the bleeding stopped.”

“That’s good right?”

“Yeah. We gotta be careful though. You have to try to keep these clean, no touching anything.”

“I will avoid anything involving my hands if I can. Is the rest solid ground?” you asked. Dean stood and took a few careful steps around the corner, letting out a big sigh. “Fuck.”

“The wood looks a little better,” he said. You tried to squeeze your hands and sighed. “You can’t grab a rope if you needed to, can you.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Okay. Okay,” he said. “I can...I can go ahead and once I’m past the next hall-“

“Nothing has changed,” you said. You got to your feet and kicked the rope with your feet. “Tie us back together and we'll go walk down the halls together.”

“Y/N,” he said. “We can’t handle another slip like that.”

“I know.”

He bent down and grabbed the rope, looping it through your belts, double knotting it that time.

“Let’s go,” you said. You started to move and he followed after, not slowing down when you stepped onto the first wood planks again. They creaked and groaned, Dean taking deep breaths behind you.

You made it around two hallways, Dean taking the lead by the time you hit the third hall.

He walked fast, stepping onto the solid rock when you felt the ground give out. Dean’s arms shot out and he grabbed you as you fell, tugging you up and over the edge quickly.

“Okay,” you said, leaning back against his chest. “Okay.”

“You’re okay,” he said, holding you to him. “It’s okay. I think we’re past the hard part.”

“That’s...Dean,” you said. You sat up and looked down the next hallway, part of it caved in on the side. “It’s collapsed.”

“It’s...it’s partially collapsed. We can get through,” he said.

“Dean. There’s hardly any space.”

“Not quitting now,” he said. He stood up and helped you up, walking the two of you over to where dirt and rock was spilling out. “It’s not stable. Probably shifted in the explosion.”

“What’s your plan?” you asked.

“We could dig it out,” he said. You knew that was a bad idea and poked at the dirt with your boot. You looked up, taking a deep breath. His head tilted up and he was soon shaking it. “No.”

“My hands are torn. I can’t lift you up. You can lift me and-”

“So you can crawl up there in that hole in the ceiling? Y/N. It could be caved in or it could cave in or maybe it goes nowhere.”

“Or there’s enough space to crawl through and I can slip down the other side and maybe dig you out.”

“Alright,” he said. You were expecting more push back but didn’t get it. He didn’t say a word before hoisting you up. “Be careful.”

“It’s rock up here from the looks of it,” you said. “Give me your hand.”

“You’re too far up to reach,” said Dean. You stared down at him, Dean smiling back. “Sorry sweetheart. I don’t fit up there. If you get past the other side okay-“

“Dean. You owe me that date,” you said.

“Gonna have to miss it,” he said.

“I can get help.”

“Y/N. They won’t come in here if it’s unstable. They were never coming up here. You gotta...you gotta go sweetheart. Get out of here.”

“I’m not leaving-“

“You’re hurt. The second you stepped foot in this mine, you were my responsibility. I can’t get you farther than this. You have to do the rest on your own. I’m sorry.”

“I’ll get you out of here.”

“No you won’t. They’re not letting you step foot in here once you’re out and they are not coming in with walls collapsing. Not until later.”

“Take my water,” you said, unclipping it and dropping it down to him. 

“Y/N, you still might not make it out. You should-”

“You’re taking it and I’m getting you out because in case you haven’t realized, you can’t stop me or what I do once I get out of this tunnel so deal with it.”

“Y/N-”

“I will talk to you shortly Dean. Count on it,” you said. He called your name but you started crawling through the gap in the rock, wincing when you kept hitting your helmet on the rock above you. You swore you felt something move and quickly scrambled forward until rock was falling out in front of you. You landed on the edge of a dirt pile and coughed, glancing back to see the pile filling the hall.

“Y/N!” you heard muffled.

“I’m okay!” you called back. You sat up and got your feet under you, looking around. You didn’t hear Dean again and swallowed. It felt much darker than before, the air thick.

“Dean is right there like five feet away,” you said to yourself. “You’re okay.”

You saw a hallway in front of you that split left and right, solid enough looking ground in front of you. You’d been heading right the whole time time and figured that was the way out. A quick glance to the left showed it caved in, the right clear. You spotted a metal bucket in the hall and rushed over to grab it, jumping back when it broke in half. You didn’t want to go much further but you needed something, a spare piece of wood or-

You looked around the corner of the right hall way and saw part of the hallway dropped off just after the next junction. Something was laying on the ground over the edge though. You took a careful step forward and another, smiling when you saw a small hand shovel there. You reached down to grab it, the ground shifting. You weren’t entirely sure why you went forward instead of back but you got a hold of it and managed to scramble back to firmer ground. 

“Okay. Okay. Get to jump around the corner. That’ll be fun. That’ll be fun.”

Something shifted in the corner of your eye and you screamed, Dean coughing and holding up his hands.

“Jeez, how the fuck else could be down here?” he said, wiping off his face.

“How-”

“I improvised,” he said, holding up the rope. “Threw it up around the wood support. Figured it would either bring the whole mountain down on top of me or I could pull myself up high enough to reach the tunnel. My ass is so heavy. I don’t know how you did it.”

“I found a shovel,” you said, holding it up.

“Nice to see you’ve had as exciting a time as I did,” he said, walking over and looking at the hallway. “So. Go back left with your new shovel or try to swing around that corner quick before the ground falls out.”

“My gut says go right.”

“Same. Eventually the mountain thins out over in this direction. Plus left would send us more into the core which is where they’d go for mining.”

You tossed the shovel over to the next hallway and Dean nodded for you to go first. You stepped lightly and moved fast, stepping on the little bit of edge there was left into the hall.

“Follow. Now, now,” you said, grabbing his hand as you felt something shift. You jogged forward and pulled him with you, dragging him practically as more dirt fell away. You made it farther down the hall before you looked back, Dean sitting up on his knees. “I lost my shovel.”

“I’ll get you a new one, sweetheart,” he said. He stood and looked at your hands, sighing quietly. “Bleeding again?”

“Just the one,” you said. “I’m fine.” 

“At least this hallway is pretty straight,” he said. “Could be the way out. It was a pretty old mine so they came in through the east side, would have made it as simple as possible.”

“I hope so.”

“We should-“

You both heard a rumbling, Dean turning and looking behind you.

“Move,” he said. He pushed on your back and you started to run, Dean right by your side. A loud boom thudded overhead and you glanced behind you, the end of the hallway looking a whole lot closer than it should.

“Hallway,” said Dean as he ran. “Left or right.” 

“I’ll follow your lead,” you said, a big poof of dust appearing from the left. “Right. Definitely right.”

You saw dust come from the right as well but Dean was already moving that direction, taking hold of your hand. You didn’t even see the sharp turn left, Dean yanking you behind him. The end of the hall looked different, the rock smoother and Dean started laughing.

“That’s it. That’s it, oh thank you, thank you,” he said. You saw an old metal ladder and Dean did a quick look around before he stopped and bent down. You climbed on his back, tapping his arm.

“Hallway, hallway,” you said, looking back, the whole hall caving in. Dean scurried up the ladder with you, wheezing when you clung too hard. You relaxed your death grip and looked down, the ground filling with dirt. He didn’t stop moving until you met metal above you. 

“Please don’t,” he said. He took one hand off the ladder and pushed against it, the thing not budging. “No, no, no.”

“Dean?”

“It’s welded shut,” he laughed. “It’s fucking welded shut.”

You looked down, dirt and rock filling up the bottom of the ladder, trapping you and Dean in the ladder shaft. 

“We’re gonna run out of air,” he said. “Maybe an hour or two. I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“I have a really stupid idea,” you said, staring at the wall to your left. “We’ll probably die quicker, or getting buried alive.”

“I’m up for stupid ideas,” he said. You climbed off his back carefully, Dean hanging around the side of the ladder. You climbed down a few feet to where the concrete on the left was cracked. You took your pickaxe off your belt and shined your light at the crack, Dean stepping down. He looked above you both and back at the crack. “You want to break the concrete.”

“Gotta be dirt on the other side. We’re probably not too far down from the surface, maybe a few feet. Either we break it and the concrete collapses-”

“And the ladder breaks and the concrete above us does and sends us down to our deaths.”

“Or, we crack it enough and dig out a hole through the dirt big enough to climb out through to the surface.”

“It is a stupid idea,” he said. He took his pickaxe out of his belt and smiled. “Just might save our asses.”

“If we get out of this, I am so quitting my job.”

“Same,” he said. 

“Good. Maybe you can do something you actually like,” you said, Dean putting your pickaxe back in your belt.

“I’ll take the grunt work,” he said, smacking the crack with his axe. “Ain’t much around here but mine work. We might just have to take this date somewhere else.”

“Where’s this brother of yours live?”

“Little coast town in California,” he said. “Between LA and Santa Barbara.”

“Sounds a hell of a lot better than here,” you said.

“You mean trapped underground all day with me ain’t your idea of a dream date?” he chuckled, a piece of concrete breaking off and falling below on his next hit.

“Let’s go for not so much constant danger next time,” you said.

“How’s a home cooked meal and a movie sound?” he said.

“Pretty damn good,” you said. “You want to grab a bite when we get out of here?”

“After your hands are cleaned up, I’ll take you wherever you want to go, sweetheart,” he said. “Steak and lobster was it?”

“I will take a freaking big mac so bad right now,” you said. 

“That I can do,” he said, another big piece of concrete breaking off to reveal a patch of dirt behind it. He smacked the concrete a few more times, plenty enough for you to squeeze through if it was clear. He turned his axe around and started scooping out the dirt, letting it fall below. “Fingers crossed we’re not like ten feet under the surface.”

“Let me know if you want a break,” you said as he started tugging the dirt down, covering himself but most of it falling downwards.

“Just hang in there. We’re still on a time crunch with the air,” he said. “Fingers crossed.”

The air felt thicker and the ground below was significantly closer, Dean pouring sweat as he dug and dug and dug. He’ been going for close to an hour and he was breathing hard. 

“Dean. You need to rest, let me take over,” you said. He nodded and you swapped places with him, taking the axe and digging away, more and more dirt filling in the space. You got winded quickly, Dean breathing loudly behind you.

“We’re running out of air,” he said. “It was a good idea, Y/N.”

“Must you always be the pessimist in this relationship,” you said. 

“Oh we’re in a relationship now? At least I won’t die single,” he chuckled, leaning his head on the ladder. You rolled your eyes and pushed down more dirt, freezing when you saw a glimmer of light. You dug out more, the light getting brighter, your eyes adjusting to seeing the sky.

“Dean.” He raised his head and soon he was reaching over, taking out your pickaxe and helping you dig as best he could, more and more dirt caving away. You took a deep inhale of cool fresh air and laughed, Dean throwing his head back. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Ladies first.” When enough dirt was out of the way you climbed up the ladder more and leaned over, Dean pushing you up and allowing you to get up on the dirt. You shimmied your way up, and popped your head out of the hole, smiling when you saw trees and sky and air. You got up and out, turning around to lean down. You grabbed Dean’s arm when you saw it, Dean climbing out fast before he was tugging on your arm and walking down hill with you. When you got to even ground again he collapsed to his knees, laying back and ripping off his helmet.

You sat back and took deep breaths, Dean started to laugh beside you.

“What?” you asked, glancing over to him.

“I would have died ten times over today if it weren’t for you.”

“Well, same,” you said, your stomach grumbling.

“Time for lunch,” he said.

“That was only four hours?” you said.

“Probably. Wanna take a break for a hot second before we walk over to the entrance?”

“Hot minute instead?” you said, closing your eyes. He leaned over and kissed you, plopping down when smiled.

“Sounds good, sweetheart. Sounds good.”

Three Hours Later

“Hey, look what I snagged,” said Dean as he ducked into your hospital room. He had a big paper bag with him and sat down on the end of your bed, pulling out a burger. “One big mac as requested.”

“You get fries?”

“Fries. Nuggets. McFlurry. More cheeseburgers than is humanly possible to eat.”

“You’re doing very well in this boyfriend department,” you said, unwrapping your burger carefully, most of your hands wrapped in bandages.

“Oh so that still stands even though we’re no longer actively dying?” he asked, crossing his legs and taking out a few burgers and a carton of fries.

“Why’d you get me food?”

“Why you giving me a chance after being a dick this morning?”

“Why’d you quit in a glorious fashion earlier?”

“Because I’m gonna sue the shit out of that company along with you and I can go work on cars like I always wanted.”

“Is it safer?” He rolled his eyes and smiled. “Good.”

“I don’t think I’m sticking around here, Y/N.”

“You heard my dad. He quit too. My family has no reason to stay here anymore. Cali don’t sound so bad.”

“Alright. You’re on, sweetheart,” he said. “As long as you promise me one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Never step foot in a mine again?”

“Deal, Winchester,” you said, holding out your hand. He lightly shook it before taking out the chicken nuggets. “What sauce did you get?”

“All of them. I ain’t no dummy,” he said, tapping his head.

“No, no you are not,” you said, taking a bite of your food. “Hey, Dean?”

“Hm?”

“Thanks for today. For everything.”

“You too, sweetheart. You too.”

________

[avengerscompound]

Catch and Release - 13

Catch and Release: A Captain America Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Word Count:  2785

Rating:  E

Square filled: @star-spangled-bingo​ - "It's probably too late to go to the bathroom right?”

Warnings:  Smut (MMF bisexual threesome.  Oral sex, Anal fingering, Double penetration - vaginal and anal)

Synopsis: When you overexert yourself on a mission with Steve and Bucky, the boys admit to having fantasies that involve you.  Fantasies that you share.  But with one Super Soldier needs intimacy and the other is still dealing with being touch starved, exploring those desires without anyone catching feelings is a little tricky.

Chapter 13: Return to the Wild

The two weeks you had between accepting the new job in LA and actually going out there to do it, were intense.  It felt that the only free time you had was when you were asleep and that had been lacking really.  Hill was a hardass about you learning what you needed to know before you left, and there was a lot to learn.  Even with the fact you understood the paperwork and there would be your very own AI named Jocasta there was a mountain of procedures and protocols to learn.  Not to mention you were now being let into Hill’s secret underground world of moles and networks.  Every workday was two to three hours more than average.  Then you’d spend a couple of hours on the internet or phone organizing your things being moved into your new home and office or talking to Clint about leads that would need following when you go there.

Then when you were finally done with all that, you’d go spend time with Bucky and Steve.  You’d had sex with them almost every day since talking over whether you should take the job or not.  Partially the three of you were making the most of the last time you have available to you.  They were your best friends and you wanted to make the last days you had together count.  Even outside the sex you were eating and watching movies and playing board games.  Steve sketched a picture of the three of you together to take with you while you and Bucky played Mario Kart against each other.  There was the sex though, it was stupid to pretend you weren’t going up there to squeeze every last ridiculously fun drop out of the arrangement you had.  This was it.  Maybe when you visited New York again you might hook up, but more than like you wouldn’t.  Who knew what things would be different by then anyway.  They might decide to adopt a child.  You might have met someone finally.  It was best to act like this was the last hurrah.

Not to mention, they’d been patiently preparing you for your request.  Each night there had been some anal play.  First getting you used to the sensation to make sure that was definitely something you wanted, and then training you with thicker and thicker devices so when you did take one of them you’d be ready.  It was something they each had experience with given how well endowed they both were and the fact until each other neither had ever been had anal sex before.

You were grateful for it.  Up until now, you had led the show.  It was nice seeing them being the smug ones.  Well, Steve more than Bucky.  Bucky was cocky whether he earned it or not.

By the time the going away party was being held on the party deck, you were exhausted.  You’d attended a few parties hosted by Tony Stark, but this was the best attended you’d seen.  Clint was one of the originals and everyone old and new wanted to see him off.  There were people there that weren’t officially Avengers who had just worked with Clint or the team from time to time and Tony and Pepper had shown up.  The room was noisy and alcohol flowed freely.

You sat at the bar watching Clint absolutely destroy anyone who came near him at darts while you nursed a drink.  You didn't want to get drunk tonight.  You wanted to go away tomorrow remembering absolutely everything.

“You keep an eye on my bird for me, won't you?” Natasha said coming over and stepping behind the bar.  She started fixing herself a drink as she kept her eyes on Clint.

“Can I ask why you didn't take the job yourself?” You asked, turning your attention to Natasha.  “I know he must have had you at the top of the list.”

Natasha gave a small shrug and dropped a cherry into her martini glass.  “I'm not sure I could take orders from Clint and I would hate to undermine him,” she said.  “And I know what Hill’s job entails and it's not for me.  Don't get me wrong, I'd be amazing at it, but I have enough pokers in a whole slew of fires as it is, I don't want to juggle that level of responsibility too.”

“Aren't you going to miss him though?” You asked.

“Yeah, of course, I am.  I'll probably end up visiting all the time anyway.  And who knows?  Maybe I am more codependent than I'd like to admit and I end up just joining the team,” she said swirling a stick in the shimmering pink liquid.  “I did once follow a man to California.  It didn't work out so well.  But what about you?  You're leaving your super-soldiers behind.”

You looked over to where Steve was playing a game of pool with Sam.  “They aren't mine,” you said.  “But yes, I'll miss them.  I'm gonna miss all of you.  But them especially.  Steve told me you gave them the shovel talk too.”

Nat took a sip of her drink and nodded.  “You all did better than I thought.  I was sure by now there would have been some drama or you'd be living together.”

“They’re good people.  They weren't going to hurt me.  They'd have stopped it before it got that far,” you explained as you turned back to her.  “And they're not mine.  I've known that all along.  They're my friends and they were safe but it's time to join the real world.”

Natasha smiled and raised her glass.  “To losing our fuck buddies,” she said playfully.

You laughed and clinked your glass against hers.

When the party started to wrap up Natasha collected up Clint and dragged him off (though far from reluctantly) to do what you assumed was in the ballpark of what your plans were for tonight.  You took it as a queue to go seek out Bucky and Steve.

They were cuddled up on a recliner looking out over the city.  It was rare seeing them with their guards down so low in public, but then a lot of people had left and most of the people left were friends rather than acquaintances.

Bucky held out his hand to you when you reached them and pulled you down on top of them.  “Did you have fun?”  Bucky asked.

“Yeah, it’s been good seeing everyone,” you agreed.  “Could have done without the ‘moving forward’ speech.”

Bucky started laughing while Steve swatted your thigh.  “Too bad, I’m the boss, and I’ll do as many boring speeches as I like,” Steve teased.

“You gotta get one last one before you go anyway or you’ll start missing them,” Bucky added.

You chuckled and curled in against them both.  “Yeah, I’m gonna miss them.  I bet Clint will give completely different speeches.”

“They’ll include puns and mentions of getting pizza after,” Bucky joked.

Bucky’s hand slid up your thigh and he nosed at your neck.

“You want to head down to bed?”  Steve asked you.

“Mm… you make that sound so innocent, Stevie,” Bucky rumbled.  “What she wants is to have us fuck her so hard it takes her through until next year.  Isn’t that right, darlin’?”

“I wouldn’t not like that,” you said, stifling a laugh.

“Don’t be modest now,”  Bucky growled against your ear.  “You want to be pinned between us as we both rail into you, don’t you?”

“Mm-hmm…” you hummed, wriggling on top of them.

“Alright, enough flirting,” Steve said, getting up.  “We’re all sure things and we know it.”

You and Bucky followed him to the elevator.  Bucky pulled you against him as you rode it down, and he kissed your neck from behind as his hands slid up under your shirt and massaged your breasts.

You moaned softly and Steve turned to you and leaned down, kissing you deeply.  It was annoyingly brief though, as the elevator stopped on Steve and Bucky’s floor and the doors opened.

As soon as you got into their apartment the three of you started shedding your clothes, leaving them in a trail from the door to the bedroom.

Steve spun you to face him when you were down to just your underwear and he kissed you hungrily Bucky moved up behind you and as Steve unhooked your bra Bucky slid your panties down to the ground.  Steve’s hands ran down your back to your ass and he lifted you.  You wrapped your legs around his waist and rolled your hips against him.  He was still in his boxers and his cock pressed against you through the thin fabric.

Bucky picked up the lube from the bedside table and squeezed it on his fingers.  He came up behind you and as you ground your hips against Steve as he massaged the lube on your asshole.  You moaned loudly and tried to relax, popping your ass out toward him.  Steve held you in place, kissing your neck and sucking at your earlobe as Bucky slowly eased first one finger into your ass and then another.  You tensed and rocked against him, rubbing your aching cunt against Steve’s clothed cock as Bucky slowly and gently fucked your ass with his fingers, stretching you in readiness for what was to come.

When Bucky took his hand away you mewled needily and rocked your hips against Steve.  Steve responded by lifting you.  You shrieked as he raised you up above his head and guided your legs over his shoulders.   You grabbed fistfuls of his hair and linked your ankles at the back of his shoulders.  “Steve!” You squealed as you tried to steady yourself.

Steve didn’t answer, he just buried his face into your cunt and began to eat you out like a starving man.  His tongue swirled around and wide, lapping at your folds and dipping inside of you.  You moaned and held on, your legs trembling and your heart hammering in your chest.

Bucky moved up behind you, putting his hand on your back.  “Relax,” he soothed.  “We’ve got you.  You’re not gonna fall.”

You relaxed as best you could and Steve began to focus on your clit.  His fingers dug into your thighs as he held you in place.  Bucky’s hand stayed on your back and your let yourself lean against him a little, though your hands stayed firmly tangled in Steve’s hair.  With each jolt that ran through you, you’d moan and pull on Steve’s hair and he would, in turn, moan into your cunt.

Adrenaline coursed through you, heightening your senses and making everything more intense.  Your clit twitched with every flick of Steve’s tongue and your muscles clenched and spasmed.  Your orgasm built and when it broke, it crashed down on you making your legs kick out and your hips buck against Steve’s face.  “Fuck!” You screamed arching back.

Bucky caught you and helped lower you down, taking you in his arms and moving to the bed with you.  You felt high on a mix of adrenaline and endorphins and you were still panting when Steve and Bucky rolled on condoms and got into position on the bed.  You straddled Bucky’s waist and with shaky legs, you lowered yourself down on his cock.  He watched on as you rolled your hips in a figure of eight while seated firmly on him.  Steve moved up behind you and kissed your neck you leaned back against him and captured your lips.  He moaned into your lips and rutted against your ass, his hands sliding up your stomach to cup your breasts.  When you broke the kiss you lay down over Bucky, pressing your body against his.

Bucky’s arms wrapped around you and held you close.  “You sure this is what you want?”  He whispered against your ear.

“Yes, please,” you begged.  “Give it to me.”

Steve pressed his palm to the middle of your back and squeezed more lube on your ass.  The head of his cock pressed against your tight hole and he eased it in.

You keened and curved your back at the burn in your ring muscle as his cock stretched you.  Bucky began to thrust his hips up into you, distracting you from the pain that was blossoming and changing it too.  Steve was patient, he took his time to let you adjust.  When you began to relax he began to thrust.

You were full to breaking and it felt like a wildfire was running through your veins as your two best friends thrust into you, giving you the thing you had asked for and brought you apart doing it.  They held you between them and kissed your neck and back and caressed your skin.  Your second orgasm of the night hit you hard, you screamed out with it and shuddered between them.  Bucky grunted but he kept thrusting, fucking you through it.  That high feeling you had deepened.  Your head felt floaty and soft while your body crackled and buzzed.

“Oh god,” you mewled.  “You feel so good.”

“So do you, darlin’,” Bucky soothed, stroking your hair.

With another cry, you came again, your core clenching and squeezing them tight.  Bucky jerked up hard into you and groaned loudly as your orgasm dragged his over too.  You could feel the pulse of his cock as he emptied into you.

Steve kept thrusting into your ass, but he wasn’t too far behind, he leaned forward and his thrusts shallowed.  “Steve,” you whimpered.  “Steve, come on my back.”

Steve groaned and got up on his knees.  He pulled out and pulled off the condom, tossing it hastily into the wastebasket by the bed as he jerked himself off.  He made a soft grunt sound and released, painting your back in hot ribbons.

You collapsed down on Bucky, breathing heavily and he gently ran his fingers through your hair.   “Good?”  He whispered.

“So good,” you hummed.

The following day you had breakfast with Steve and Bucky before going to your apartment to shower and pack up the last of your things.  When you went down to meet Clint at the Quin Steve, Bucky, Sam, Natasha, Rhodey, Wanda, Vision, and Bruce were all there to see you off.  You and Clint hugged them each in turn and when you got to Steve and Bucky they both engulfed you in their arms at the same time.  “I’ll be coming to check things out in a month,” Steve said. “But you’ll hear from me before then.”

“Yeah, I know,” you said with your face pressed against his chest.

“Did we ever thank you for … you know… everything?  What we did together… I think for most people, that stays as a fantasy.  I’m so grateful that we got to explore that with you.”  Steve said.

You pulled back and looked up at him.  “We did it together, Steve,” you said. “I got just as much out of it as you.”

He smiled and pressed a kiss on your forehead.  “Still.  Thank you.”

You kissed his cheek and turned and kissed Bucky.  “Take care of yourself, darlin’.  And call us tonight.”

“Will do,” you agreed. “Talk soon.”

“Come on slowpoke, we have air currents to catch!” Clint called.

“Shit, alright!”  You called back.

“Fly safe,” Steve said and hugged you one last time.  You waved to everyone as you followed Clint onto the jet.

He got into the cockpit and began the take-off procedure and you took the seat beside him.   “I thought we’d be flying with the kids,” you said as you went through the procedure with him.

“They went via America Chavez express.  They’ll have completely trashed the place by the time we get there.  Unfortunately, the jet needs to come too, so we have to do it the old fashioned way,” Clint explained.

“This is old fashioned?”  You teased.

“In comparison to teleporting it is,” Clint laughed.  “You ready?”

You looked at him and smirked.  "It's probably too late to go to the bathroom, right?”

“Not to worry,” he said as the jet took off.  “There’s a really horrible one back there if you need it.”

“Oh good,” you said, laughing with him.

“Oh and,” Clint said, looking at you through the side of his eye.  “If you’re looking for another fuck buddy.  My card is now open.”

You snorted and nudged him.  “Gee, thanks, Clint,” you said.  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He patted your leg.  “We’ll be alright.  Besides, there’s In and Out.  Get a few of them in you and you won’t even remember what you were missing.”

You broke down into laughter and relaxed back in your chair.  It was time to look forward and start your new life.

~ END ~

[masterofmagnetism]

Coming Home

WHO: Erik Lehnsherr and Jean Grey @jeaniegreysummers. Mention of Charles Xavier. WHEN: During Erik’s time at the institute. Sometime in the year before Cuba. WHERE: The Insitute WHAT: Erik comes back after a week out looking for traces of Shaw. Jean missed her dad. TWs: Brief mentions of violence. 

Merry Christmas, Lola!!! Here’s a wee drabble for your secret Santa present!

The whistle of the tea kettle gave away Charles’ presence in the kitchen even before Erik caught sight of the man through the opening door. Erik had taken to using the back doors when returning home from his trips; there was always a chance, however late he returned home, that there would be a handful of kids up watching TV in the adjacent living room, as he’d found out the first time. The following bombardment of questions had a tendency to give him something of a headache, even if it was well-intentioned.

More importantly, the commotion had the risk of waking other students, and then the adults would spend the next hour trying to coax all the children back to bed, newly sated with whatever trinkets Erik had brought back for them from his latest excursion. He’d taken to packing an extra bag for that exact purpose; he was used to traveling light, but there was something about the way the kids’ faces lit up with the little gifts that had him shoveling the foldable back into his carry-on every time, these days.

A small change in habit, innocuous enough, but Erik wasn’t blind enough to miss the implications.

He was settling, and something about the notion seemed less terrifying than it once had; especially when Charles was smiling across the counter at him and already had prepped a cup for Erik alongside his own.

Erik offered a weary grin of his own, and swung his backpack onto the dining table. He’d unpack it in the morning, make sure that each place at the table had what he’d chosen for the students during his trip. A glance at the clock showed the hour hand resting close to one in the morning, and Erik raised a brow at Charles. “Odd time for tea, isn’t it?”

Immediate indignation. “There is never a bad time for tea.” A yawn betrayed him, though, and Charles sighed out a bit, leaning forward on his forearms. “I may have accidentally let slip to Jean that you were supposed to be home this evening. She’s been up waiting for you.” Which of course meant Charles was up keeping an eye on her—or a mind, at any rate.

Erik huffed, even as fondness curled through his chest at the news. “She has class in the morning. She should be sleeping.”

“Oh, you needn’t tell me. But she wouldn’t hear it. If its’s any consolation, she dozed off a little while ago in your study.” Clearly, she’d been paying attention when Erik had come home before, to the way he always spent a few minutes unpacking his finds in the study before going off to his own rooms for a shower and some sleep. Or Charles’ rooms, of late.

Smart, smart girl.

Erik shouldered his duffel bag. “I’ll go put her to bed. Can you—”

“I’ll bring the tea upstairs,” Charles finished. “Just come get it when you’re ready.”

He’d always tread quietly, but Erik took extra care to make sure his footfalls were silent as he made his way up the stairs and past the dormitories of the sleeping students toward his own study. He placed his palm against the cracked door and slowly pressed it open, smiling at the sight that presented itself.

A nest of blankets had made its home in one of his armchairs, with only a hint of the girl underneath them peeking out—a hand draped off the edge that had clearly been holding the book now resting on the floor a few inches below her fingertips, a shock of red hair resting against the armrest, and the little pompom of one of her slippers. Gentle snores.

Erik silently dropped the duffel bag by the door and moved over to the chair. From closer, he could see Jean’s face poking out of the blankets, and Erik reached down to brush his fingers lightly through her hair. “I’m back, schatzi.”

Jean blinked awake, the moment of sleepy confusion replaced immediately by bright joy when she set eyes on his face. “Erik!”  She erupted out of the blankets to wrap her arms around his neck in a tight hug, and Erik suddenly had his arms full of flannel and twelve-year-old.

“I told you I wouldn’t be gone for too long,” he said, gently lowering her to the floor. “What are you doing waiting up for me, hm? You have class tomorrow.”

“That’s hours away.”

“You’d have seen me at breakfast.”

“But now I don’t have to wait!” Jean beamed up at him, hand twisting his own. “And you don’t tell us everything at breakfast. Now you can tell me where you went and what you did and all the fun things—”

Erik chuckled, reaching out for the discarded blankets and wrapping them around her shoulders. “I can’t possibly condense my entire trip into a few minutes, darling.”

“It can be longer! I want to know everything.”

He had no doubt she did. But his trip was less for leisure than business, and his sort of business wasn’t the material Jean needed to be familiar with at her age. ( Maybe some of it was selfish, too; she looked at him like he was safe, and he couldn’t be sure she’d look at him the same if she knew that he’d been washing blood from underneath his fingernails just eighteen hours before they’d settled around her back in that hug. He would never hurt her—but kids tended to classify things as dangerous or safe without nuance about who they were dangerous for. And he never wanted to be in the first category, to Jean. )

Erik ruffled her hair with the hand not currently tangled with hers, chuckling at the little crinkle of her nose that came with the motion. “Tell you what. Let’s get you to bed, and I will tell you stories from my trip until you fall asleep, hm?”

Jean’s eyes sparked with the promise, no doubt already formulating a plan to stay awake until the sun rose so he’d have to tell her everything.

It was, perhaps, cheating just a little bit to broadcast the promise to Charles and feel the amused echo of understanding ripple back along the link.

Jean led the way out of his study and back down the hall to her room, attacking him with questions the whole way there that Erik answered in just enough detail to nudge her along to the next question rather than lingering on any one. She clambered into bed, and Erik resettled the blanket on top of her, tucking her in fondly before seizing the screws of one of her chairs and tugging it over next to the bed for him to sit in.

It was easy to slip into storytelling, into coaxing people’s minds into seeing idealized lenses of a much less hospitable world. Trimming out the unpleasant details was an almost relaxing exercise—twisting memories that were laden with mixed emotions into something clean and pleasant and technicolor-vibrant. It was, perhaps, something almost like lying; but lies by omission were a mercy, sometimes. The world wasn’t always pleasant, but to tell the children everything would keep them wanting to stay home rather than go out into it. It was important that they know how the world was, of course, but that was something for the classroom; stories were for creating the image of what the world should be like, what it could look like with the work these children would someday be obliged to do. Jean’s face lit up at the descriptions of cotton-candy-colored rowhouses and waving palm trees, and Erik didn’t touch on the way that the paint was peeling and hadn’t been touched up in decades or the smoke that could be seen on the horizon beyond the palms.

Instead, he painted her a little slice of heaven, something bloodless and bright and untarnished by poverty or cartels or Nazis hiding from justice. He told her about the way that the markets sparkled purple from the sheer amount of amethyst for sale, of the brightly-colored fabric baskets and bowls that held them, about the bustling restaurants and the smoked meats carved right off of their spits. He told her about the shell-covered beaches and the way that you could see glimpses of the Milky Way itself if you went up into the mountains.

Jean always loved the stars.

The words in Spanish he tried to teach her gauged how far Charles had come in nudging her gently toward sleep; the words became quieter as they went, a little less clear, a little less precise. She was almost asleep when Erik heard the quiet demand fall from her lips.

“Bring me with you, next time.”

Erik squeezed her hand gently, and leaned over to kiss her temple. “Someday, darling. I promise.”

A few moments later, Jean was snoring gently at his elbow, fingers still wound through his. Erik found himself lingering, unwilling to untwine their fingers, until Charles appeared in the doorway with a fond smile of his own and Erik’s cup of tea in hand.

(They never went.)

[inkdrinkershadowsinger]

Thoughts/Background Goblet of Fire

What kind of creepy graveyard is this? Skeletons crawling over one another? Snake hidey-holes? Is this Nagini speaking or can she hear Voldemort from that far away? This just shows how fast she is as she moves along the ground here. Literally, we have here the Angel of Death equipped with wings and a scythe, which normally the Grim Reaper carries.

One light on in the caretaker’s house which is right next to the family graveyard? We are assuming that this is the Riddle estate, correct? Wealthy families like that would have had a family graveyard near their home. Also, that house in the background, Riddle Manor? Is super big and though it is dark looks grandiose.

The house here, looks well lived in, but at the same time, almost like it has only recently been inhabited. This is a kitchen, but it looks like there is a shovel on the wall, and only one light?

Still, only one light on in the main Riddle house. Wormtail can’t even draw a curtain? Dang.

Those are some old fashioned keys. I understand that this is a Manor or whatever, but this takes place during the nineties? No one thought to update the locks on this place? Frank mentions, “Those kids”, like people breaking in has been a real problem. Why not update the security? Also, who has been paying for the upkeep of this place? Lucius? Some secret Dark Lord Corporation? Is that why they are old school? Because we all know that wizards like to keep everything super, super, super old school?

Seriously, who is keeping up this place? The topiary is amazing!!

He looks like he is walking up a sort of backdoor entrance or servant’s entrance.

He is the caretaker for the grounds, but can’t dust a little? That clock needs a good one.

The light wasn’t muted because no one was casting a lumos, they were simply using a lamp that had the fabric bits removed that dampen the light.

The way that Barty is smiling when Nagini perches herself on Voldemort’s chair is fucking terrifying.

Ron’s room really is all orange. Such a fanboy.

The Burrow is in such a great spot. The little pond in front, the trees, the openness. The house itself is incredible. Still, only one light on. Whose? You can see the group walking away. That has to be Mr. and Mrs. Weasley’s room. Or Ron forgot to turn off the light, again.

They are all having to run to keep up with Mr. Weasley because he gets his cardio, bitch.

Mr. Weasley is rocking that straw cabana hat because he knows Muggles son!

Such a beautiful shot!

Did they travel through a worm hole here? I know the director or whoever had to make a creative choice in how this was going to be portrayed, but…. Idk.

Everyone is flying around, the arena is clearly segregated into Ireland’s colors or Green, Red, and Yellow, perhaps hinting at the final score of the match? Nice job, filmmakers.

What is this guy juggling? It looks like toy merecreatures almost.

Orange is the Weasley families favorite color. They’re just owning it at this point.

The pitch looks like it is in the inside of a volcano or a mountain.

Some people have seats right on the grass of the pitch? So, if the Weasle’s have bad seats at the very top what would the very lowest seats be classified as?

Who knew that a job qualification for Professional Qudditich players is the ability to adequately throw and spark fireworks?

Krum is a showoff.

Those are omnoculars? What Ron has to his face?

The way that they were all packed in together, it’s a wonder the whole place didn’t burn down with all the incendios they were throwing around.

They are all wizards, underage or not, and this is a life threatening situation, and yet, no one is firing back at the Death Eaters?

Okay, so everything did get torched to the ground. None of these tents had some fire retardant?

That amount of spells coming at the trio.

That style of hat that Crouch is wearing has got to be some ministry trend. Wait until they all hit the trucker hats in the 2000’s.

That Dark Mark is really cool.

I love her hat though. It looks like something that would have been worn to the royal wedding.

Seeing the train is always stunning.

I love the collection of sweets here. Colorful, to attract the youngins.

This is a really colorful movie. The third one was very muted while still being stunning. This and the next one experience with splashes of color that are just beautiful.

They are passing a big lake in the background there. Out of the window just looks wild and remote.

He addresses it clearly to Sirius Black. Is that a qualification for the owls to know where they letter needs to go or do they just have to have been there before? I need to know the specifics of owl travel.

You get to see the whole scope of how large not only Hogwarts is ,but the grounds, and I love that.

You see Neville in this first sequence as they are watching the other schools arrive as well as Fred, George, Ginny, Colin, Harry, and Hermione. Angelina Johnson is in the background behind the twins.

The sails on the Durmstrang ship looks like it is decorated with a two headed dragon. Is that the symbol for Durmstrang?

So while Dumbledore is chatting, Hagrid and Flitwick are behind him chit chatting.

There are two levels to the head table in this movie. The main folk are sitting at the higher table. Snape is leaning against the wall, not directly related to them at all. I bet he hated first days at the school.

Snape is one hundred percent mimicking Dumbledore’s speech for a hysterical Flitwick in the background.

The bald guy behind Dumbledore looks asleep, straight up.

Are butterflies the symbol for Beauxbatons? That would be very interesting. A creature that transforms completely into something else.

Hermione and Ginny are the only two who know what’s up in this shot.

Dumbledore was giving Madame Maxime eyes.

Filch is just standing dead in the middle of the Durmstrang wizards.

He is still standing there when Krum and Karkaroff walk in.

The kids so promptly follow Dumbledore’s instructions even though some of them are probably embarrassed about having to sing the school song.

But not Harry James Potter. He is living for this song.

Again we get so many shots of the school in this movie.

You can see the house point containers behind Dumbledore’s head.

You can see them again after the goblet is revealed.

Is that a tower of marshmallows?

OMgosh! The sky acted up when Crouch Jr came in because Hogwarts knew that he wasn’t who he said he was!!!!

The cup is so primitive looking compared to the container that is in.

It almost looks like each layer was created by a different faction of the wizarding world as a whole. That could definitely be a fanfic.

The perspective starts on the Durmstrang ship which again features a dragon.

Cages, nets in the background of the DADA classroom.

There is also a lot of glass and mirrors in the room which almost makes me think of a fun house where you don’t look like yourself in any of the mirrors which is super fitting for Crouch Jr. at this phase.

Why does Hermione look so suspicious already?

And what is the use of all the bugs, Crouch Jr. you sick mother f-er.

Who needs fifty overflowing worms in a jar?

Dean Thomas is straight up rocking a composition notebook from Walmart on that desk. He is representing Muggle culture at its finest.

Crabbe is wearing a ring. Is that his heir ring? That would be interesting as we see the younger generation start to really get pulled into the war in this film.

The portrait on the stain glass crying. We have all seen this, and appreciate the majesty.

We love a rain soaked Robert Pattinson.

Everyone is just watching the battle between the twins and Hermione.

There is no other light in the Great hall except for the Goblet? Dumbledore does love his aesthetic.

Snape is like, get me out of here.

And that display of power is why all of them dang kids sing that dorky song.

Who is Cedric kissing here as he goes up to the head table?

The cup is like the opposite of the Goblet of Fire. It is shiny and bright and new while the goblet is ancient looking.

You can see Harry’s scar quite prevalently in this shot.

The Hogwarts trophy room. I have never connected this before. It is huge.

Karkaroff has gold fillings.

What are the spinning trophies and where can I get one?

One light on in the top part of the castle.

Pensieve memories are blue, and the Goblet’s fire is blue. Coincidence? Fic writers, you tell me.

The suns on the curtains in the boy’s dorm is a nice touch.

Ron has a homemade quilt. I bet he gets those for birthday gifts instead of the infamous Christmas sweater. Molly Weasley is a boss.

What are all of these trophies for? I bet Dumbledore keeps all the ones that the various clubs and groups have won over the years.

Magical cleaner?

The scope of Hogwarts is amazing.

The owlery is literally covered in bird shit, like every inch. Dumbledore clearly instructs Filch not to clean it to deter frisky students.

Is that a cat on the stairs there?

I can’t ever decide if the Common Room looks too big or too small, here.

Harry talks about Voldemort so casually. But I guess if someone tried to kill me year after year we would form a sort of familiarity.

Those cabinets in the back are filled with board games. Bet me. Gryffindors are notoriously bloody, and game night, gets wild.

I bet Neville spends a lot of his time in the lake just researching and studying all of the different plant life.

Neville cares not at all for the drama behind him. He’s just like, “Give me the plants”.

I love that bright orange flower. Hagrid ain’t no fool. He knows how to get the ladies.

The mist in the background could almost be taken as fog, but then you think about the dragon’s and it literally could be smoke.

Hagrid representing all of the men who are shorter than their women.

There looks to be about six dragon handlers here.

They are carrying branches or their wands lit with fire at the end. Is that to confuse the dragons? Make them think that they already covered that area in their territory and are thus safe?

The handler on top gets bucked off the cage. He is done with this job.

I’m sorry, but those badges are ingenious. Do we know in the movie that Draco is the one that made them or is that fanon?

Those Hufflepuffs are nasty.

The sculpture that is seen in that scene in the courtyard looks like the same one that is present in Half Blood Prince. Do they also move around the castle at will?

Harry pushed Draco, and that guy in the back is like, “Yes, let’s have a fight.” Then he and the other guy straight up bounce when Moody pops on the scene. But Goyle is ride or die. Or maybe they ran and got McGonagall because she came really quickly???? Hmmm??

The walls are all green and lightly moss covered. Gorgeous.

Like, is there a legit list of all the things that teachers cannot do. 1. We do not use Transfiguration as a punishment. 2. Trying to main or kill students is expressively forbidden. 3. Flashy robes are allowed and encouraged. Share in the glorious pattern of life.

Crouch Jr. should have been shitting his pants at being at the end of McGonagall’s wand.

Again with all the mirrors. So, Crouch Jr. can make sure that his transformation isn’t slipping?

What are the faces in the mirror here?  

All the clues were there, and I didn’t see a single one. This movie and book is a masterpiece of plot. Plain and simple.

McGonagall was like, “Let’s not have the arena with the dragons so close to the castle, eh, Albus?”

There is a bed for each of the champions in this tent. Could no one transfigure a couch?

They have punch and muffins in the background. “Lime punch before you fight a dragon?” “Sure.”

I never noticed that blue in Madame Mazime’s hair. I love the school spirit that she is showing here. Dumbledore seriously thought of mimicking her. He would look bomb with a tie die beard. Convince me otherwise.

Filch is featured spectacularly in this movie.

The trunk at the bottom has a red cross on it, making this very likely an emergency tent that just so happens to double as the waiting area for the champions.

Colin made that sign for Harry.

I feel like that chain, oh, I don’t know, could have been magically reinforced or something.

How does his glasses stay on? I bend over, and mine are on the floor.

Even Draco here is like, “Come on, bro.”

Snape knew he should have stayed in bed.

So, does the waterfall seen here does that fall into Hogwart’s grounds as well because that would be awesome for field trips. My love for this ancient, magical castle in the middle of nowhere is unmatched.

Where was Seamus during that challenge? I did not see him.

The picture of the woman in the far left is very striking.

The Black Lake is a huge expanse. I always think of it as kind of small, but it is massive in this movie.

The pastries in the back are floating along the table. So cool.

Mrs. Norris just chilling, waiting to see these pitiful humans embarrass themselves.

Why can’t they have healed Harry? I understand the look, but dang, people continuity.

Neville has got them shiny dancing shoes. Augusta was very pleased when Neville asked her to buy them for him.

Hermione is a queen, and she knows it.

There is that semi circle of stone again from the third film. Hmmm….

Ginny’s friends are coming in with the support. Love a squad.

There was fruit on that table. I always wondered if they got snacks and what not during the daytime, between meals.

What was the need of carriages if the ball was held at the school?

Ron waited until last minute to even try on those robes or he definitely could have worked something out.

Owl sculptures are supporting the fires here.

Krum is dumbstruck by our girl.

Somehow she loses Krum to argue with Ron.

Is that couple making out at the table?

People are dancing in the hallway?

A gaggle of girls are crying on the stairs. Every middle school dance ever.

I’m telling you, whoever designed this cemetery had a very messed up imagination.

Neville stays out all night long. It is morning coming through that window. You dog, you.

Half of the allure of going to Hogwarts is to get to become a prefect and use that bath. Let’s be honest.

Crouch Jr. hates his life right now.

All of those books are like represent my best life.

Half of those students are like, “Yeah, no, you took all my money last time.” Because let’s be real, no one bet on Harry, and Fred and George scored big time.

Those top tiered placed have got to be enlarged with wizard’s space because they are quite small, and the whole school plus the two others are expected to attend each trial? Yeah, not big enough it seems.

Harry is a show off.

Seamus is wearing Hogwarts merch. Like where did he get that? A catalog? Gift shop in Hogsmeade?

You can see the merpeople’s ancient village here, or hints of it. Archways, etc.

Fleur looks legit worried here. Like Harry was right to not trust Dumbledore to ensure their safety when he can’t even tell Fleur who is out of the competition by this point that her sister is going to be okay.

Why are Fred, George, and Ginny right next to Malfoy and Co. for this shot, shouldn’t they be at odds? Or was that the best spot and neither were giving it up?  Or plain movie making reasons?

Harry is wearing a wand holster on his leg. Fanfiction writers catch all the details.

Seamus is like, “I am Harry’s hype man. I will keep him from getting hypothermia.”

Why did Hermione turn French here for that line?

Rescue….. that’s a strong word here, Dumbles.

Crouch Sr. is such an interesting character. He knows what it is like to lose a family, and he has his guard up because of that. Their story and their family is so interesting to me for some reason.

I think that’s the closest that Crouch Jr. gets to breaking character.

If you were born in the nineties you had at least one of those jackets that Hermione is wearing here, and if you had more, you had them in several colors.

Who bewitched Mad-eye’s eye? It is a very powerful magical object in its own right, right?

Please see my post about Sirius and Azkaban.

As soon as Snape is mentioned Crouch puts his head in his hands because he knows Dumbledore is going to have to have a say.

Dumbledore is looking so closely at the details that he misses the bigger picture in Harry’s dreams and Moody’s actions.

It’s so weird that Snape has a storage area for ingredients near Dumbledore’s office. I bet that Snape has several storage areas spread throughout the castle.

Snape could have just looked inside Harry’s mind, and be done with it, but no….because plot.

Neville is carrying yet another plant behind the trio here.

Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle are so carefree here that you almost forget that the happiness of youth that they have at Hogwarts is about to go extinct just like Harry and his friends. All of the kids in this story face a sharp change in perspective after this book.

I like that Harry has fake Moody, Krum has Karkaroff, Fleur has Madame Maxime, but Cedric has his dad because he gets to say goodbye to him.

The maze is just a massive headgame.

Do you think the reason that Fleur ultimately becomes close enough to Krum to ask him to her wedding is because Krum sought her out and made serious recompense for him being imperioused while in the maze?

They are just resorting to brute strength there at the end. The maze making them forget that they are capable wizards. A jelly legs jinx probably would have had much the same effect.

Angel statues I get, but this big dementor, grim looking thing holding the bones of Voldemort’s father. I just don’t get it.

Cedric gave Peter a chance to speak or stop, but Peter again took the cowards way out, and blasted Cedric before he really had a chance to fight back. What a punk bitch.

I’m glad that you are forced to choke your own self Peter because you deserve it.

Voldemort’s transformation here is both stunning and horrible.

The Death Eaters come out of the Dark Mark’s mouth.

Their masks here are different then the ones used earlier in the morning.

Voldemort is snatching their weaves here, and I love it. Stupid klan robe wearing wizard Nazis.

Voldemort puts his foot on Cedric’s face. Like, son, you need to pay for that privilege.

A lot of the Death Eaters here look like they have like staffs. I don’t understand.

A Death Eater in the background is litearlly clapping when Voldemort makes Harry bow, like get a hold of yourself, Hershel.

The statue, again, in the background presents such a striking image as the two duel.

The spell that Crouch Jr. urged Harry to learn is the one that saved Harry.

Harry just wanting to physically protect Cedric’s body with his own. Just heartbreaking.

I’ll never not sob when I hear Amos Diggory sob, “That’s my son! That’s my boy!”

Fred and George look to follow Crouch Jr. and Harry out. Do they tip off the professors?

Doesn’t Crouch know what it is like to stand in Voldemort’s presence? He was just babysitting the man, I mean, dang. Fangirling is one thing, but you have business to handle.

Don’t insult my Neville. I will throw down.

The mirrors are gone at this point. It looks like Crouch has almost packed up because he knows that he will no longer be needed.

Not his blood, ahhhhh!!!!!

Snape puts such flourish into his casting. That scene at the carriages earlier in this film. He looks like he is rearing back away from Karkaroff, but he is merely preparing to cast one fanciful, flourish of a hex on the man.

Just stick your face in the crazy Death Eater’s face, Harry. Great thinking. No wonder Snape doesn’t hold your intelligence in high regard.

We don’t get one look at Professor Sprout. This boy’s Head of House?

Look at all that magical cooperation, and yet, none of this was used in book seven, or any book after except for mentioning Fleur married Bill, and Harry learned a little tidbit about the Deathly Hallows symbol from Krum.

I love this film. It is stunning, and truly made me a diehard HP fan. I don’t think I will ever really tire of it.

[swisscgny]

MEET NEIL ENGGIST

We recently interviewed Swiss-American painter Neil Enggist to talk about his life, work and how he is coping with self-isolation. Neil’s exhibition The Practice of the Wild was supposed to open at the Consulate General of Switzerland in New York last month as the 8th edition of Art@The Consulate but was postponed due to COVID-19. 

Hi Neil, thank you for taking the time to talk to us. Where are you right now? It is my pleasure. I’m in New Jersey. I have a backyard studio near Princeton, in the old house where I grew up. I’m staying put as much as I can.

Tell us about yourself, where did you grow up? My mother is from Taiwan and my father was born and raised in Luzern, both coming for graduate studies in 1969 to Buffalo. I was born and raised in Princeton Junction in an old stone house near a small forest and the train station. My father was teaching in the Bronx and Connecticut, then trying his hand at importing Swiss Chocolate, but at some point in the 1970s, he turned to stained glass. I remember him cutting, wrapping, and soldering in the backyard. My mother worked for the state of NJ, and drew from the model in her spare time. I drew dinosaurs like a maniac, not very well I may add, but at some point around age 7, my father asked me to draw a dinosaur that he made into a stained glass panel. As a family we traveled to Luzern about every 2 years, and I still remember the smell of Birenwecken and lightning over the Vierwaldstättersee. I drew all the time but wasn’t precocious, as a youth, I was shy, quiet, hot tempered, diligent with school, perfectionist, and mostly played soccer and saxophone and you know, did my math homework.

When did you know you wanted to become an artist? I went to art school at Washington University in 2000, but it wasn’t until studying abroad in Florence in 02 that I had the feel of becoming an artist. There is a laminated portrait from first grade, age 6, where I put into writing that I wanted to be an ‘Artist.’ But in Florence my life felt like it shifted from art student to artist, 3 dear friends and I shared an apartment on Piazza Independenza, learning photography, printmaking, illustration, bookmaking, Italian and art history at a tiny art school called Santa Reparata. My future Love lived up the street and sometimes the cheap red wine would flow. Behind every door were Renaissance frescos, leaping off the walls were Donatellos, and it was the beginning of my explorations as a painter. I would paint plein-air small landscapes and cityscapes with oils, but by the end my ambition grew into a very large Kandinskyesque abstract rendition of Michelangelo’s Final Judgment fresco from the Sistine wall. A year later, back in St. Louis I declared painting as my major, and in the words of Joe Campbell, began ‘following my bliss.’

Neil Enggist, Sea on Earth, acrylic and stain on wood, 2011

How would you describe your style? Has it changed over the years? I would say it’s an Organic Abstract Expressionism, or Nature Action Painting. Over nearly 20 years, YES it has changed! Like a photon going from point A, painting the Ponte Vecchio, to B, dancing on a piece of steel with turmeric and ocean water, taking every single possible path! To say it’s moved linearly would be wrong, but there is a sequence of transformations or leaps, in the Ozarks, Mysticism, Heartbreak, Dylan, New Mexico, Traveling Europe, The Mir, snow painting, India, Brooklyn, Voice and Veil, Gardening, going cross county, yoga, India again, the dance, steel, the tides, The Tao and the Yellow Mountains, devotion. I’m very interested how Dylan’s work has transformed and shifted, beyond expectation, without calculation, yet somehow almost always in line with his poetic essence. My paintings have changed like dinosaurs and birds, from a common source, many branches, some seemingly from different worlds, some becoming bones and fossils, some soaring through the sky.

Tell us about your artistic practice, where do you paint, what inspires you? Well we can start with Highway 61.. music of the American vernacular, jazz, blues, country, rock, folk, hip hop.. from Louis Armstrong, Strange Fruit, Charlie Parker, to the early Bluesmen of the Mississippi Delta, Robert Johnson, folksingers like Woody Guthrie, onwards and outwards to Wutang and Nas. Basquiat inspires me. Ana Medieta, DeKooning, Paul Klee, David Hammons, Polke, Mel Chin, James Turrell, Richard Long, Kerry James, Doig, Ofili, Wangechi Mutu, John Akomfrah, Bonnard, Matisse, Puryear too. Gary Snyder's brilliant collection of essays 'The Practice of the Wild,' from where the title of the exhibition comes, has helped me attune to the wild systems at play in nature and within, and continues to evolve my way of thinking, seeing, and creative being. Taking a journey into nature, not just a dip into nature, but really feeling the connections, the web that runs through the forest and is woven into your own nature. The Redwoods, the Swiss Alps, the Coast of California.. I lose and become myself here. In my practice, nature is welcomed into the process of artistic creation. The imagined line between artistic intention and the creative functioning of wilderness is blurred, or more accurately, these spheres merge into a unified moment. It’s a spiritual practice, a kind of Taoist exercise, merging with the changes of the natural world, not holding, not fixing, listening to what the painting wants to become, and finding the color to enable the beholding. I paint outside and on the road, sometimes inside.. anywhere..

Neil Enggist, Odyssey III, acrylic, dye and turmeric on canvas, 2020

What role does Switzerland play in your life/art? My family has a house in Luzern, with a balcony opening to a view of Mount Pilatus that I would call perfect.. at least on the days where it’s not obscured by Nebel! Since 2012, I’ve been spending many springs / summers living there, in the bohemian remodeling of our chalet attic called the Macolette. I have painted and drawn our view of Pilatus so many times, it is ingrained in my mind’s eye. I’ve explored and hiked the mountains surrounding the Vierwaldstättersee, Grindelwald, Engadin, and Zermatt, finding places on and off the path to paint. When I am in the mountains, alone with my pack, in the quietude and breathtaking beauty, I feel something akin to being home, being one with myself, being on my true path. This feeling is fleeting and eternal. Also, during many of the summers, I have worked with my great friend and mentor, garden designer, Andre Ammann, constructing and maintaining gardens around Luzern. Working with him has taught me in so many ways, to notice the minute changes of spring, to work with contrasts of nature and culture, to understand placement of boulders and trees, how to create a riverscape, to dissolve into the consciousness of the river. When we are done with the work, all cleaned, raked, and hosed down, Andre and I look at our work, and he’ll say, ‘Now, the garden starts, try to see how this will look in 10 years, in 50 years..’ This has been a major influence in my own ‘Practice of the Wild’ and painting. It has also taught me how to shovel!

You have traveled all over the world, how has the nomad life shaped your art? As a traveler, painting becomes the act of experiencing and processing place; the painting becomes an archive of experience. Traveling serves to connect the painter with the uncomfortable and uncalculated, which forces a spontaneity and body-memory response. I aim to paint as one would do battle and dance and play jazz at once. In traveling, the painter becomes the abstraction, inhabiting transient and visionary territory. Materials from places of special significance, white gypsum sand from New Mexico, pigment from the Holi festival of India, black sand from Kanyakumari, gravel from Highway 61, layer into the topography, giving the painting a personal geographic context, while opening formal and textural possibilities. On the road, I explore the spiritual territory of color, and natural occurrences of unearthly blues.

With the COVID-19 pandemic, travel is no longer possible, in what ways has the pandemic shaped your practice / life? I just drove from California to NY in 5 days to install the Consulate show, just before the Covid situation hit the fan. I am supposed to be in India right now, doing a residency in the Himalayas! I’ve had a number of shows postponed and it just really doesn’t seem like people are buying many paintings right now.. But, really compared to people who are sick, caring for loved ones, and risking their lives to care for others, my sacrifices are minuscule. And I can most surely still paint! But I’m trying to use this time to do things I would have done in ‘normal’ times, but there are no normal times anymore. I’ve been making sculptures out of half rotten wood using an ax and a handsaw. I’ve been learning some Tai Chi from my Ma. I’ve started reading the Mahabharata. I’ve been texting whole a lot of hearts to California and writing love songs, and staying out of the bar.. 

Neil Enggist, That Great Mysterious Storm, acrylic, ink, oil and sand on canvas, 2010  

What important lessons do you think we can learn from the impact of the pandemic? Well, first and foremost gratitude for life, health, and for the things that we used to take for granted. To be grateful for the people who are dear to us. This may sound cliché, but the pandemic has shown us how connected we are, for better and for worse. We are interdependent, and what affects one region affects the global community. I hope that people can stop and reassess their personal and collective relationship with the planet.  In a profound and dire way, humans and our socio-economic systems have entered an unbalanced, virus-like relationship with this Earth. Humans seem to need wake up calls to affect changes, I hope this pandemic serves as a paradigm shift for enough of us. We are in this together. Yes when this is over, it will be great to go to a yoga class, an Indian restaurant, and to toast with friends, but we each need to use this time to reaffirm our commitments to each other and to all beings of this planet, and not go back to business as usual.  

What advice do you have for people stuck at home? Can you recommend something to read, listen or watch? Well I’m a Liverpool fan, and we were just about to WIN the premier league, so I’ve had to go back and watch Liverpool highlights to cope. There’s a lovely interview with the legendary skipper Steven Gerrard in conversation with Gary Neville on youtube. I’m a very lazy television watcher, meaning I don’t really watch new things, so it’s The Sopranos, and very little else. Peaky Blinders is good, violent, but solid. Kurosawa’s ‘Dreams’ is a ravishing movie.  I just saw ‘Purple Rain’ again, EPIC. When I drove across country I listened to Toni Morrison’s own reading of her novel ‘A Mercy,’ and it took my breath away, literally every sentence .. I don’t know how I even made it!  She’s a true master in telling a harrowing story in pure poetry. Also reading ‘An Indigenous People’s History of the United States’ and Leonard Peltier’s ‘Prison Writings.’  Musically I needed a lil rock, so I went back to the Black Keys ‘Brothers’, Brittany Howard’s solo ‘Jaime’ is good, JS Ondara, Black Pumas, Valerie June’s ‘Love Told a Lie,’ AM!R’s ‘Parachute, ‘ and the syrupy ‘Cigarettes after Sex.’ I’ve been listening as well to Gann Brewer’s most recent ‘Absolution.’ I made the video for his ‘River Song.’ Tracy Chapman’s first album is incredible. Springsteen’s ‘The River’ is like his White Album and sometimes I need to hear the Boss sing ‘Heart and Soul’ over and over.. and hear that ‘Drive All Night’ sax solo by the late great Clarence Clemons. I am from Jersey, don’t forget. Listening to a lot of John Prine too, and with his recent passing, his music shines like a diamond ring. ‘Christmas in Prison’ is one of my favorites of many. Oh and Bob Dylan just released a 17 minute song about the assassination of JFK, and it’s .. indescribable.

Thank you Neil! 

To find out more about Neil Enggist go to www.neilenggist.com, contact Neil at suisse17@gmail.com and follow him @neilenggist 

Scroll down for more information about the exhibition The Practice of the Wild which will open to the public as soon as it is safe to do so. Please note that all paintings depicted in this article are featured in the exhibition. 

NEIL ENGGIST

THE PRACTICE OF THE WILD 

8TH EDITION OF ART@THE CONSULATE 

THE PRACTICE OF THE WILD by Swiss-American painter Neil Enggist is comprised of a series of abstract mixed media Nature Action Paintings, a method by which nature performs an integral part in the artistic process. 

Neil Enggist, The Storm Ends, acrylic, ink, dye and sand on canvas, 2019

“My work seeks to embody the random precision through which life and spirit intersect. Within a liminal environment, I present set of conditions where the form can be born through an unfolding of natural currents. The nature of water, marks of evaporation, melting, freezing, burning, gravity, animal tracks, traces of dance, time, storms, tides and all manner of seasonal and emotional weather coincide to transform the canvas into a terrain in flux. Whether I am dripping ink into a melting tuft of snow, pouring the ocean on burning ink, or slashing the surface with a fallen pine branch, each action is composed within a system of nature. The result is a site of becoming where oceanic, emotive, and mystical stories interplay” 

Raised in Princeton, New Jersey, Neil Enggist studied fine arts at Washington University in St. Louis and Santa Reparata in Florence. He earned his MFA at San Francisco Art Institute in 2016 where he made paintings on steel in the tidal zones of the Bay Area, searching for a language between art and nature, incorporating ideas of performance and sculpture imbedded in the earth art movement. Enggist has participated in a number of art residencies including the Lucid Art Foundation in Point Reyes, CA, and most recently journeyed to the land of his grandmother to paint the City of Shanghai and the Yellow Mountains of China. Through his extensive travels in Europe, the Americas, and Asia he developed a body of painting and poetry shown in New York, Milan, Mumbai, Luzern, and Paris. Enggist lives and works between New York and Luzern, Switzerland.

Neil Enggist, The Schreckhorn, acrylic, ink, pigment and oil on canvas, 2007 

THE PRACTICE OF THE WILD is the eighth edition of Art @ The Consulate, a curatorial initiative by the Consulate General of Switzerland in New York to showcase the work of Swiss artists living in the United States. Follow Art @ The Consulate on Social media #SwissArtNYC

Neil Enggist, A Candle Burns at Night,  Acrylic and ink on canvas, 2008

[seulserenity]

Christmas miracle - Taeyeon scenario

[a/n] The prompt was “Sometimes I wish I could just fall asleep and never wake up.” 

[also this was one of the hardest and longest to write and sorry for the errors it’s so late and I’m tired okay? Go on read it, enjoy :) ]

24th December 2019 

You received a few strange texts in the lead up to Christmas from one of your close friends Taeyeon but after conferring with Sunny you both put the sad texts down to it being that time of year. Christmas time was always tough since the 18th of December 2018, tough on every shawol and idol in the community but especially Taeyeon struggled to cope during the winter months. 

Shortly after this text, she left you on read; of course you worried and fretted over Taeyeon but you also had an entire extended family to visit for Christmas so it couldn’t be helped that you had little time to spare to try and do a manhunt of Taeyeon. You drove back to your family home in Ulsan for the holidays, cousins from all over Asia and Europe flocked in with Aunts and Uncles and all your time was spent cooking, catching up, entertaining kids and visiting old friends. The lead up to Christmas you’d been manically shopping with some of your friends in Seoul and tying up loose ends there, you gave your presents to the members of SNSD you were close with and hid Taeyeon’s in her flat so she could find it on the 25th of December. Normally you went home for the festive season so this wasn’t anything new but this would be the first year Taeyeon would be alone in her flat instead of the family home in Jeju; her mum had been insistent that Taeyeon join them on the family trip Hayeon had organised to Australia but since that would mean leaving before Jonghyun’s death day Taeyeon was reluctant to go. Every single year since 2017 Taeyeon had always gone at 11 pm on the 18th of December to sit with Jonghyun for a while, the SHINee members and fellow SM label mates knew of this and out of respect for the senior singer they left that slot of the day exclusively for Taeyeon to sit without disturbances and just pay her respects and it had become a sort of routine for Taeyeon now, one which she wasn’t about to break. 

Sunny unfortunately also went to California during Christmas for the first time in years which meant that Taeyeon truly was alone. Taeyeon had seemed happier this year, over time wounds close even if they leave a scar they'll be a bit less painful than they once were and for Taeyeon this was true. She'd thrown herself into concerts and variety shows as well as finding new hobbies to entertain herself and it was almost as if the pain could be suppressed for her; the last time you'd caught up for coffee (just the two of you in your favourite Starbucks) she had been smiling and had put on weight which made you glad that she was healthier and happier. It seemed surreal the improvement she’d been able to make in such a short time and especially seeing how fast paced her life was, not only was it amazing for you to see this progress as one of her close friends but also because you were very much caught in the feels for the petite blonde. Sunny had noticed it when Taeyeon first introduced you to her members and she’d jumped on the chance to DM you later about it; in fact the friendship had bloomed from there and Sunny soon became your go-to life guru. From meeting Taeyeon you’d gained two best friends and a huge ass crush but you were so thankful (maybe not so for the crush) since beforehand you hadn’t been the most outgoing girl in the city. 

Five minutes of rest. That was all you got, after scrubbing the house clean and then taking a nap you had five minutes before the chaos returned and so reaching for your phone you sent a message to Taeyeon. 

You hoped this little message would reassure her, even a small text could do wonders when you felt truly miserable and it wasn’t long now at all until the 25th of December after which you would head back to Seoul for the New Years celebration with some city friends. Taeyeon only really had to hold on for two more days until boxing day given it was currently the 24th and after lasting the past week and a half alone it didn’t seem much more to you until at least one of her friends would be back to spend time with her. No more than 2 minutes after the text was delivered, the front door thudded open and little feet padded towards you in a horde; this had to be the best part about returning to your family home, when you saw all the little kids. You could vividly remember when they were all born and how small they had been then and now looking at how mature they’d become and how much they’d grown since you last saw them. It felt like a mother’s pride and for a brief second you wondered what it would feel like with your own children one day, images of Taeyeon with your baby cousins flashed through your mind and try as you might to forget or dispel them it seemed they were super-glued to the idea of future children. Insistent hands pulled your sweater and tugged you back into the snug living room, your mind fully focused on the kids you rose from the chair and followed the rest of your rowdy bunch to the table leaving your phone in the armchair. 

Dinner was a lively affair as always; hands would tangle over one another to reach various dishes along the long glass table and small mouths chewed noisily, in a way the children reminded you of the shikshins you’d come to be familiar with. Sooyoung and Yoona had the same vivacity and enthusiasm to gobble up plate after plate as the little ones, even the way they grinned as they shoveled food in was eerily similar. That pang came back of wanting to see all of your Seoul crew again but looking around the table at the old and young who all bore shining faces, it became harder to want to leave this haven. Your childhood had felt much like a bubble; surrounded by the theme parks and awe-inspiring landscapes it had been a thriving environment. Both you and your younger brother had visited the mountain and caves, hauled your tiny bodies through museum after museum and spent most of the summer at the beach which in hindsight was a very idyllic lifestyle to grow up (especially in compared to some of the children you’d seen in Seoul). Seeing the difference had made you grateful for the childhood you’d had and you felt it was only right to maintain visits with your parents consequently, your parents had given you an amazing childhood and the least you could do was pay them back by not being an absent child as an adult. It was so quiet without the little ones here and there were no doubts in your mind that your mother and father must get lonely at some times of the year, your brother came as often as he could but being a firefighter it was rare for him to be able to get long holidays so you became the torch bearer so to speak. 

Dinner evolved into coffees and after eights, the children were headed to bed by now and you closed their door and headed down with your aunt, excusing yourself to grab your phone before joining the adults in the dining room. The phone lay in the armchair buzzing repeatedly, your brothers contact name flashed on the screen and once the name had stopped flashing a series of frantic texts were sprawled across your baymax lock screen. You dialed your brother back and put him on speaker so you could scroll through the possible hundreds of texts received while you were gone, his gruff voice chimed through greeting you. 

“Noona, I was trying to get a hold of a you. Taeyeon-noona was sitting on the roof edge of her flat block, well she still is. We’ve been here for over 3 hours trying to talk to her and help her, policewomen tried also. Could you possibly drive over here and help us?”

Without even replying you hung up on him, texting a quick : 

I’ll be there Jaejin. Xx

You rushed to grab your coat and the KIA car keys before unlatching the front door. Hearing the latch slide across bolt alerted your mum and she practically teleported to the hallway to confront you about where you were going not even 12 hours before Christmas Day. 

“Jaejin needs my help to get someone off the edge of a roof eomma, I can’t refuse that because then what kind of noona would I be? You raised me to always be good to others and to lead by example.” 

“It’s Taeyeon isn’t it?” 

“How..is this a parent thing or like..”

“Sweetheart, you don’t need to lie to me. Okay so she couldn’t survive one holiday alone but I won’t hold anything against her for it. She is one of your closest friends and besides she deserves a Christmas miracle I guess. Go get your girl tiger.” Whispered encouragement and a sneaky wink pushed you over the threshold. 

“ You’re not..mad or even..upset by who I am?” Choked words fell out of your mouth. 

“ GO Y/N Y/L/N! WASN’T THIS AN EMERGENCY? YAH. I AM STILL YOUR MOTHER AND I DEMAND YOU GO HELP HER INSTEAD OF FAFFING OVER THESE TRIVIAL MATTERS PABO!” 

Cold slender fingers opened the door and bundled you in, warm kisses on your cheeks before the ignition started and the KIA rolled out of the driveway. Even halfway down the road you could still see her small form waving at you and with newfound determination you stepped on the acceleration pedal. The entire drive to the airport you’d spent singing with Urban Zakapa through all of their second album then occasionally calling your brother for an update on Taeyeon and before boarding you’d texted your brother to pick you up in precisely 1 hour and 50 minutes. 

During the flight you’d napped and tossed and turned around in your seat, horrible scenarios ran through your mind and you forced yourself to focus on photos on your phone instead. Dorky photos of your family and friends showed up one after another and you eventually scrolled onto the day you and Taeyeon had gone to an aquarium. That dork had worn her nemo onesie the whole day and the two of you took the weirdest (but for Taeyeon adorablest) photos as you walked through the tank exhibitions. Even now on the flight the flurry of happiness and giddiness rushed through you from that day, such vivid memories were always there on your day trips and in your 1 hour and 40 minutes you mentally gave yourself a pep talk. Her life was filled with all of these wonderful memories, scrolling through your KaoKao talk chat it was obvious from the many selfies with others that Taeyeon was the object of many of her friends endless love. Not only amongst friends and family was Taeyeon adored but by men and women and children alike all over Korea; despite her protests she was the nation’s idol and their shining star. 

Fuelled by the desire to keep the one you loved alive and to prove to Taeyeon that she wasn’t alone and that people loved and cared for her you eagerly headed to passport security once exiting the plane before virtually running to your brother at the arrivals lounge.

Both of you hopped into his slightly larger Hyundai and headed to the flat block. The drive over felt solemn and rap reverberated softly throughout the car until you reached the tall grey building. Firemen and officers greeted you as you walked through the hallway; the elevator ride was smooth and Mamamoo’s “Taller than you” was played through speakers. Your brother and you lost composure the minute the diss track started playing, any calming and respectful atmosphere that was created evaporated in that elevator. The level before the roof opened and you stepped out, Jaejin waited before the doors to the roof and gave you and Taeyeon some space. For that you were thankful because it was going to get heavy and deep real quick. 

Stepping out on the roof was a slap to the face, you thought you were past all the suicide scares but here you are. Her thin legs were resting on the concrete, arms wrapped around herself as one would before dropping down a chute and the slightest breeze would sway her form. 

“boo” you whispered with a chuckle, 

she laughed back. It was hollow and short, clearly your crappy joke wasn’t gonna fix this. 

You walked over to the edge and stood next to Taeyeon and slightly behind her, one hand swung back to greet yours and soon she was gripping onto you for life. The way she gripped so tightly made you reconsider whether she actually did want this or whether it was a desperate plea for help, it felt as if even if she dropped she would float. Paper Taeng as she was known and now you saw why, lithe legs and arms looked weightless but Taeyeon treated them like dead weights. Hunched shoulders and a droopy frame was how she sat and you thought that must be how you look when you walk given how much your mother scolded you on posture. 

“Yeonnie, I- well, there was a call. You were in danger and I know you needed help so I hopped on a plane to help except now I’m here I don’t really know where to start. Do you want to- Only if you’re comfortable, to talk things through? Is it better to just drag you away from here or what works best?” 

“Serenity, remember my tattoo? That’s what I want, I’m a walking hypocrite you know? I want to be with you all, I want to hang out with you lot. I don’t like being excluded but I also want to be alone, sometimes the darkness hits and I can’t face being around people no matter how much I crave for it.” 

“Why don’t you try forcing yourself out, I know its tough bu-” 

“It’s so tough, y/n you can’t feel it or know it unless you’ve been there. I cant just force myself out of my flat heck sometimes I wish I could just fall asleep and never wake up.” 

You unfolded your fingers and pulled her back into your arms, she sighed deeply and unevenly. Your hands ran soft soothing circles on her thighs and exhaled too; both of you sat there for some time. Traffic and street vendors hustled below and you both listened to the unaware city goers down below; you hummed a lullaby in her ear still softly drawing circles on her thighs. Her soft body relaxed against your front as the familiar lyrics drifted into the night sky. 

아리랑, 아리랑, 아라리요...

아리랑 고개로 넘어간다

나를 버리고 가시는 님은

십리도 못가서 발병난다.

청천하늘엔 잔별도 많고

우리네 가슴엔 희망도 많다.

저기 저 산이 백두산이라지

동지 섣달에도 꽃만 핀다.

Taeyeon closed her eyes and hummed with you, the traditional melody floated off and the two of you just rested on the rooftop for a while. The atmosphere was calm and serene, 

that was what Taeyeon had wanted. Serenity. 

You hauled her off the edge and she helped by swinging her legs round too. Arms looped around your neck and your hands fell to her waist to support her standing, bless her she didn’t look like she was warm enough to stand after all this time on the cold roof. Your hands around her waist and her hands around your neck but neither of you could look the other in the eye. Awkwardness crept in and Taeyeon started humming baby shark, it was a defense mechanism you knew but in that moment after the drama of the whole evening it made you laugh. You threw your head back laughing and heard Taeyeon’s ahjumma chuckle echoing too, your heads pulled back to normal height at the same time and as you looked at her babyish face you became sucked in. Possibilities of universes where she’d kiss you or tell you that it she’d be yours ran through your mind and you got lost in the contours of her face but a brief kiss on the cheek and a hand tugging yours soon brought you back to the reality. 

“Wait, this hand-holding, is this gonna be like permanent? Because I don’t know if you realise Miss Kim but this is bad for my heart and-” 

“Shush Miss y/l/n, not everything fits in a box.”  Her dorky grin was back on her face and for now at least she would be okay. 

Christmas day was shaping up to be the best one of your life you thought. 

[7deadlycinderellas]

The First Warm Day

Ao3 link

Arya hadn’t been sure how she would like living as far south as Storm’s End. The North, with Winterfell and it’s heavy snows and deep dark forests was part of her blood. But after a few weeks in their new home, and Arya felt she could definitely get used to it.

Gendry wasn’t as fond of the heavy rains as she was, but he liked the ocean. That was probably why on that morning, he had elbowed her awake, with an

“Arya. The rain has finally stopped.”

Arya sits up in bed, blinking to rid her eyes of sleep. When she recognizes the sun shining past the oil cloth covering the small window on the other side of the room, she throws off the checked blanket and moves to get up.

“Can you put the kettle on? We’ll have porridge for breakfast, but I want to take my bath first.”

Gendry pokes the coals back to life, and pulls the kettle from it’s spot on the window before putting it over them. Arya fills a cup of oats and adds them to the water as it starts a rolling boil. She was no fine cook, but porridge was easy.

And, she thought smugly, this was one domestic art that Sansa had known little about too.

When she opens the door, the sunshine streams down in front of her. Everything in the Stormlands it seemed, was forever green from the rain. She unstakes the oil cloths from the two small windows, letting the sunshine through the whole place.  

She checks the large wooden tub to the right of the door, under the window. It was nearly full. Good. The little dwelling Renly had said they could make theirs was humble to be sure, stout and stone and only really a single room- though it did have a half wall separating their bed from the kitchen and table- and hardly any bigger than her own chambers back at Winterfell. Arya still loved it to bits. And it was surrounded by a multitude of useful things, that Renly had tried to apologize for as “junk”.

Like the tub and barrels that functioned wonderfully to collect rainwater so she didn’t have to haul herself down the hill to the well.

Arya strips halfway out the door, and grabbing the block of soap and a rag, climbs into the tub. The water was a bit chilly, but she could handle it. She was a northerner after all.

“Should I stand guard to make sure no one sneaks up on the fair maiden in the river?” Gendry asks her sardonically. Arya snorts and splashes him.

“Be my guest. Hell, bring your breakfast out here and sit if you must.”

He does that actually, dragging out a chair to sit beside the tub and eat his porridge.

Not that anyone could have snuck up on them. The house was on the very edge of the Storm’s End keep’s lands, outside the town and away from the castle. It seemed neglected to be true. The ground in front of the house sloped down rather sharply and was littered with broken wagon wheels, rusted tools and empty sacks half buried. And behind them was the edge of a damned cliff. Gendry had hung a bracket above their bed where Arya kept Needle shelved, and she felt this was a good arrangement.

Just another in the list of things Arya’s sister would have hated about her new life.

When Arya’s scrubbed off, she stands and shakes off before climbing out of the tub,

“You want a turn?”

Gendry shakes his head. “I come home dirtier than I am now. Plus, unlike you, I don’t think diving into ice water is a good way to start the day.”

Arya laughs at him. Southern born indeed, it was warmer here now than Winterfell often was even in the summer, despite the frequent storms. Arya dresses, and throws the thick black cloth she’d removed from their bed the first day, and throws it over the tub, to let the sun warm it.

She gets her porridge and sits beside Gendry in the front.

“What’s on your plate for today?” She asks.

He licks his spoon clean from his last bite.

“More horses probably. I’ve never shod so many horses in my life. “

The forge in town was quite large, as it had four smiths working there now and often took overflow projects from the castle blacksmith, but the town had no farrier.

“You’ll get something fun to make soon,” Arya promises him.

Gendry shrugs her concern off.

“Horses still put food on the table, and their owners are usually grateful.”

He stands to pull his boots on, and takes his pack.

“I’ll get a bowl in town for lunch. Please no more seagull for dinner.”

Arya rolls her eyes. To think he was the picky one. She hadn’t even known you could eat seagull before she’d snared one two nights before and roasted it. Sure, she wasn’t the greatest at making food tasty yet, but she could keep the two of them fed.

Gendry grabs her face and kisses her once, twice, before leaving. That leaves her with a silly grin. She watches him walk away. The towns and villages here are filled with fewer people, despite the fertility of the land. Gendry does better without the crowds, she thinks. He’s got some color to his cheeks now.

She does the breakfast dishes in a bucket she fills from one of the other rain barrels, all three of them. After she’s done, she ponders how to spend the rest of her day. She should sweep the floor, but that took all of five minutes for a place this size.

She could go down to the town. They already had flour and oats, and enough milk, cheese and eggs for a few days in the cool cellar. Mya had said she was setting off for the Red Mountains today, but maybe Arya could head to the shore and try and befriend some more of the wives in the fisherman’s cottages. They were often lonely with their husbands gone. One of them had told her she’d teach her to make a crab trap. It wasn’t good fishing season yet, but maybe she could net something for dinner out of the ocean. She should try the bread again, a slightly different mix of flour, salt and yeast, this time. The last time had been brittle, but she could get closer this time.

All the bulbs Maester Aaroc had given her she’d planted. The rusted shovel from back by the outhouse had turned the soft ground with ease, and she’d buried the potatoes, beets, yams and carrots, but none of them had sprouted as of yet.

She’d been so proud of it afterwards.

The blackberry vine creeping over the back of the house needed no maintenance. Aaroc had told her that as long as they liked blackberries, they would have them, as the vine was, as he put it, “practically a blight in terms of our ability to be rid of it”.

Maybe she would get lucky and some of the children from nearby would come to investigate again. So many of them had been intrigued by the holdfast’s new arrivals, some of them even moreso when they discovered Arya owned and could use a sword.

One of the fisherman’s daughters had told her that there was a Lady, an actual noble woman, in Renly’s rainbow guard. She told Arya this with a tone of longing in her voice that Arya had recognized deep down. And so she’d told her that if she could find her two sticks of fair heft, than she would teach any of them who wanted the basic forms and movements. The next day an even bigger group had shown up.

She had seen the Lady Brienne, with the rest of Renly’s guard, when he had come to greet them, and the envy that had swelled up in her throat had nearly been overwhelming. And the disparaging comments from some of the other men, even some ones who had been traveling with Edric and them, had enraged her. But Renly had treated her with casual respect, and so she quieted down.

Arya still wasn’t sure what she thought of Renly. The colors his guard, and himself too, wore struck her as a bit garish, and the man too, seemed to be all about show. But he’d greeted Gendry and Mya warmly, and had extended all courtesies while he had the maester and stewards get them settled.

Maester Aaroc had helped take them out of the courtyard, where the steward would show them to the house. He had expressed interest in Lyanna, as Storm’s End had only the more traditionally trained ravens. Arya had said she would go over with him how her and Luwin had trained her. But first, she had to ask,

“You’re supposed to be the wise one around here. Why do you think Renly wants all of his brother’s bastards in Storm’s End?”

The older man had laughed softly at her accusing tone.

“The young Lord is the youngest brother, and he is...unlikely to grow a family in the traditional manner...so I believe he wants all his options keep close to the chest.”

“And, what? He wants a bunch of spares handy so he can dump responsibility on them?”

The old man nods quietly, and Arya quietly fumes.

And since then, Renly hadn’t paid them any nevermind.

She toyed with Needle a bit, considering. Maybe she would train one of the Stormlands’ future knights, one of these days.

And then she giggles to herself. She’s never truly had the whole day in front of her for her choosing like this before.

Her decision ends up being made for her when she notices a small figure bounding up the side of the hill towards her.

As it gets closer, Arya realizes that the figure she had assumed was Dot (the knight watcher) or one of the other fisher children, was in fact Shireen Baratheon.

Arya had been surprised to be introduced to her, not having expected there to be any people younger than her in court. She had been fostered here, Renly spoke, since her father had become Hand of the King and her mother in Dragonstone fallen ill. Though marked by the reminder of the grayscale she’d been blighted by in early childhood, the girl’s boundless good will had endeared her to everyone. Mya had already promised to let her ride the mules when she returned to the keep, and she had already paid several visits to Arya and Gendry. The girl had no particular interest in swords or arrows, but she was eager to share her books and stories of great adventures with anyone who would listen.

“Shireen!” She calls out to her, “What’s the word today?”

Shireen reaches her, panting. She hands her a paper wrapped package. Arya unwraps it, revealing a flower cut to the root. Arya recognizes it as the herb the Maester had given her since she had explained that despite her marriage, she did not yet feel ready for children.

“Maester Aaroc says that should root easily in a jar in a window, and if you can’t get it to come back, just return to the castle and he can keep you in supply”.

“Thank you Shireen,” she tells the girl. “But why did you run up here just for that?”

Shireen shakes her head, and Arya finds herself more confused than before.

“There are two visitors here to see you”.

Arya sighs deeply outwardly, though inside she is pleased.

“Tall and handsome, and tall and head-in-the-clouds?”

Shireen nods.

Arya sighs again.

“You can bring them”.

Shireen takes off, and Arya rolls her eyes. There goes her day. She pulls out her and Gendry’s cups. She quickly brews her own tea cold and sucks it down, then fills two more cups with hot, and sits in the doorway waiting.

Dot shows up first, holding the wooden practice swords, looking excited. With blonde hair and blue eyes, she could grow up to be a great beauty, but she is the only of the children who has shown up every day since they’ve come here. Arya hates to disappoint her.

“Got guests coming today, Dot. You’ll have to practice by yourself. Do your forms like I taught you”

Dot looks at her disbelievingly, “You just got here, who’s already coming to see you?”

“Just my brothers.”

“We saw the horses at the gate of the castle earlier. They had the direwolf sigils on.”

Arya nods.

“So it’s true, you are a Lady.”

Arya laughs and glances around.

“Maybe, they might be coming to tell me I’m being disowned.”

Suddenly she remembers dinner. She steps inside the house, into the little bag holding the coins Gendry’s received for payment the last few weeks. It’s not a ton, but it’s enough. She fishes out a few coppers and gives them to Dot.

“Can you go down to the greengrocer and bring me back a few potatoes?”

Dot glances up and down at her.

“Will I at least get to meet them?”

“If you get back fast enough I’ll even let you spar with my younger brother.”

A smile erupts on Dot’s face and she takes off down the hill. Arya barely has long enough to find where she threw the bones from last night’s seagull and toss them into a pot to boil. She had nearly thrown them out before Gendry had told her that all good soup started with boiled bones. Who would have known?

By the time it’s on the coals, boiling, Shireen’s coming back up the hill with Robb and Bran. Though still dressed in their riding clothes, they both look somewhat worse for wear. The road has clearly taken a toll on them. They’ve both shed their cloaks, and look like their sweating in the ocean air. Arya admits head to toe leather and wool probably isn’t best for summer. When Arya makes eye contact with her, Shireen waves and skips off back towards the castle.

Arya sits in her chair in the doorway, expectantly. She wonders how she looks to them. She’s taken to not braiding her hair at home. She’s still in breeches that used to be Bran’s. A few days ago she’d traded her fur muff (realizing it wasn’t quite as necessary here) for a few men’s linen tunics, which she wore tied with a belt of rope. She’d sliced the arms off with Needle and her arms were beginning to brown. She is freshly bathed though, so that might be new.

“So am I being dragged back to Winterfell, or just disowned?” She doesn’t seriously believe either is a risk...well the latter has a small chance.

“Is that anyway to greet your brothers?” Robb replies. Arya ignores him. She hadn’t even called either of them stupid, so this greeting was a step up.

“So how long did it take for Sansa to crack?” Arya smirks.

“Most of a day,” Bran admits immediately. Arya raises an eyebrow. That’s actually better than she expected.

“Really shouldn’t count. We didn’t realize you were gone until dinner.”

That actually hurts a tiny bit, but Arya knows she kept strange hours and company, so not too much. She steps inside to grab the two mugs of tea to hand them. Bran takes the moment to peek inside the cottage, seemingly amazed.

“What’s been taking you two so long? We arrived here nearly a moon ago, and you only left a day and a half behind us.”

Robb cocks an eyebrow. Apparently they hadn’t been terribly well concealed.

“We got lost in the Neck” Bran admits.

Arya nods. That made sense. The rain had been so heavy then.

“How long did it take you to get back to the Kingsroad?”

“We didn’t,” That surprises her. It was the only known safe way through the swamps and bogs.

“We were found by the Lady of House Reed.” Robb explains, the tips of Bran’s ears and the back of his neck suddenly turning red. “They sheltered us until the rain started to let up, then she guided us out on one of the routes only the crannogmen know. We’re not even sure if the Kingsroad is safe again at all.”

“It should be,” Arya comments, “Renly said he sent scouts ahead, because there was a caravan of traders who needed past to start for the Vale.”

Robb’s glancing around the house. It really doesn’t look like much after having grown up in Winterfell.

“This is where he has you living?”

“I like it,” Arya insists. Robb doesn’t look quite like he believes her. Bran steps closer to her, looking over her neck, wrists, and waist.

“Well I don’t see any irons holding her,” he says wryly. “Nor does she sound like she’s bewitched. I think we can probably reassure Father and Mother.”

“I still want to talk to Gendry,” Robb says, his face turning harsh. Arya rolls her eyes and points.

“Forge is about five minutes down the hill and to the left, you can’t miss it. And if you pass a blonde child carrying potatoes, don’t scare her off- those potatoes are mine. And when you find Gendry, don’t do anything stupid, you’re both in public.”

When he’s out of sight, Arya and Bran sit down at the table near the fire.

“I don’t think he’ll do anything bad to him, “ Bran tells her, “When he read your letter he laughed. He’s just putting off that Father told us to check up on some things in King’s Landing.”

Arya wrinkles her nose. She still did wonder, after seeing Myrcella and Tommen leave. She had hoped it was really nothing.

“So how was it deep within the Neck?” She asks, changing the subject. The tips of Bran’s ears went red again.

“Somehow both beautiful and terrifying. The last night we camped alone I thought there were eyes staring at us through the forest. I’m still not quite sure if it was my imagination or Meera’s scouts keeping an eye on us.”

He calls her Meera, Arya notes. Eager to tease her younger brother, Arya interjects,

“Jealous of me being the first to wed and hoping to catch up? Father and Mother would probably approve of yours”

Bran turns even redder and starts stuttering. Arya decides to go easy on him.

“Is it true, the things they say about the crannogmen?”

Bran seems to be able to form full sentences now. “I saw no green teeth and no one breathing water. They are all rather short though, and Greywater Watch is really built on a floating island.”

He lets a long pause sit, as Arya imagines what he’s telling her.

“And frog isn’t bad, it sort of tastes like poultry. I saw nets and bronze knives, and shields made of leather. Meera carried one too, a lot of the women did. “

He nudges Arya’s shoulder.

“Maybe you should have been born in a swamp.”

She laughs. Sometimes she thinks about things like that, wonders if she would have been happier to be born somewhere else. But if she had, would she even still be the person she was?

“I was thinking,” Bran says, suddenly, “Before all of this happened, I actually thought about asking Mother and Father to send me to learn to be a Maester.”

Arya cocks an eyebrow at him, “Makes sense, you always were smart and liked all the old stories.”

“I do. But it was more than that. I just could never picture myself marrying.”

Arya laughs, full bellied.

“Bran, you know my entire life that I have made my feelings on the topic of marriage very clear. Things change, and sometimes you just have to go with it.”

She waits again before asking.

“Is she pretty?”

Bran smiles when he answers. He’s still very red, hasn’t in fact returned to his natural color yet.

“Sort of? She’s not pretty like a pretty woman. It’s more like- looking at her is like looking out the window on a sunny morning.”

Dear gods, he sounds like Sansa, is all Arya can think. Maybe she shouldn’t have left her alone with the rest of the family, she was going to rub off on them. Then again, maybe affection turns all men into poets. Gendry had once told her that looking at her made him feel like he was about to take a dive into very deep water.

Their conversation is interrupted by Dot galloping back up the hill, holding the potatoes in her apron.

Arya takes them from her.

“I met your other brother on the way up, he’s cute!” Dot babbles.

“Eyes to yourself, he’s twice your age.”

Arya gestures.

“This is Dot, her father’s a fishermen, and she’s on the journey to join me and Brienne of Tarth as part of the exclusive guild of women who wield swords.”

Dot practically shoves the practice swords at Bran, bouncing with excitement.

“Don’t go easy on her, I’ve been teaching her what Syrio taught me.”

While Dot and Bran go back and forth, Arya picks up Needle from its perch, and uses it to cut the potatoes. When she climbs down to the cellar to get the remaining milk and butter, she wonders what Jon would think of finding out what she was using his gift for.

The soup is hot and bubbly by the time Gendry and Robb appear at the bottom of the hill, apparently no worse for the wear.  Bran and Dot have finally yielded, and are both breathing hard on the grass. Dot only managed to get a single hit off on Bran, but to her credit, she keeps getting back up.

Arya greets Gendry with “All parts still attached?”

“I think we’ve come to an understanding,” is how Robb puts it. Gendry only looks a little pale, so Arya doesn’t prod.

Gendry hands over his day’s earnings. A small chunk of cheese, a string of sausages and a small group of copper coins. She stows them.  Arya is about to tell Dot to go on ahead home, when the girl lets out a huge squeal, and using the window as a stepping stone, climbs onto the cottages roof.

“There’s a ship coming! It might be my Papa’s!”

And she takes off without another word.

Arya picks up the practice swords from where they lay on the ground and places them by the window. Then she hoists herself up onto the roof.

She reaches a hand down to Bran,

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you pass up climbing something.”

The roof fits all four of them, though Gendry sticks to the edge, not a confident climber.

Arya shades her eyes. It does look like a fisherman’s ship.

“They say spring is one of the only times of year ships can safely port at Shipbreaker’s Bay, so they should be coming in for the next several weeks.”

“This is a really great view,” Robb admits.

“Renly said this building used to be as tall as the castle.” Arya muses, remembering back to what he’d told them that first day. “They used to light an oil fire in the top, to warn ships that there was shore, so they wouldn’t hit the rocks.”

“What happened to the rest of it,” Bran wants to know.

“Storm took it out. “ Gendry says. He had looked vaguely terrified to hear the tale. “A ship got pulled by the wind all the way over the shore and collided. Took out all but what’s left.”

“Not entirely true, they did cover up the hole in the roof”.

Robb looks suddenly uneasy. “Are they sure the rest of it’s safe?”

“That was near on forty years ago.” Arya says, “And ships don’t attempt to port here in bad weather anymore. Too many ships and lives lost.”

It is a wonderful view, even as the ship sails out of view, the late afternoon sun turns the water a million colors, all shifting and drifting with the nearly glassy sea.

Eventually Arya’s stomach growls, and she climbs down to pour the soup. They only have the two bowls, so her and Gendry eat theirs from the tea mugs. It’s not perfect, it needs something, bacon maybe, Arya thinks, trying to remember the potato soup the cooks at Winterfell had made when the winter was it’s coldest.

Bran and Robb eat theirs with trepidation. Arya rolls her eyes extra hard. She has to, she’s not going to be able to anymore.

“If I was going to poison you, I wouldn’t bother making it taste good.”

“Who says we’re assuming you meant to?” Robb japes.

She hits him with the back of the wooden spoon for that.

After they’ve finished the pot, Robb says they have to be getting on.

“Don’t the door hit you on the way out, and enjoy the rest of your night with the Lord of ugly capes,” is what Arya says, after hugging them both multiple times.

“And send me a raven if Mother and Father say yes,” she whispers to Bran.

She stands at the door, and watches as they walk down the hill. It’s nearly dark already.

She clears the dishes, and smothers the flames down to embers and Gendry takes his bath. Arya reaches in to touch the water, the cloth did it’s work, it’s very warm.

“Is there anyone else who might come and interrupt us again?” Gendry asks as he laces the breeches he wears in bed.

Arya’s laying back on top of the quilt in her shift, and she responds by grabbing his hand and pulling him atop her.

“Well if there is, they’re going to get an eyeful.”

Gendry grins, and presses a kiss to her throat, then lower. One of his hands pulls her shift up over her hips and lifts one of her thighs onto his shoulder.

Later, when they’re both sated and sweaty, Gendry asks,

“Is there anything you need to get done tomorrow?”

Arya shakes her head. Her face is pressed into the side of Gendry’s neck, one of her arms wrapped around her.

“We need milk and butter, but that’s easy. And if that was her father’s ship, Dot won’t show up. Why?”

“I want you to come to the forge with me.”

That gets Arya’s attention. She props herself up on one elbow to look at him.

“How come?”

“Renly takes his taxes in arrowheads. Liester was telling me it used to take up at least half of his time, just making them, no matter the rest of the orders he had to fill. We’re not at war now, so Renly doesn’t ask as many, but it’s still time consuming.”

Arya’s still confused, “So what did he do?”

“He taught his wife to make them. He says she’s as handy with a hammer as any boy.”

Arya’s now astonished. This is something that’s never even occurred to her. Women took up trades of course, but not highborns, and not usually young women. This isn’t something she would have ever even thought to imagine.

“Besides, it would be good for you to know how to do basic smithing, in case something ever happens to me.”

Arya reaches out and pins one of his wrists. “Don’t you go talking about dying. It’s spring now.”

“I won’t. I won’t die, just because you said so.”

Good, Arya thinks, settling her head back beside his.

She stares up at the ceiling. She imagines the stars beyond it, and wills Lyanna to fly faster.

She already has so much more to tell Sansa.

[rad-neto]

“Feels Like Drowning.”

@lawlu-events | FOR THE LAWLU BIG BANG 2018 | artwork by @ariririsu 

He was in love.

A simple conclusion brought together by a series of not exactly unfortunate events. He was quite simply in love and almost terrifyingly so.

Oh god.

He was in love.

It wasn’t as simple as he thought it was going to be, actually. In fact, he is rather terrified. He was in love and scared and he had never felt something as amazing as those two emotions smashed together like some disgusting sandwich.

At twenty-seven years old he fell in love for the very first time and it felt like drowning.

Trafalgar D. Water Law, P.h.D. in a lot of things that aren’t particularly important to this story. But he was a medical person, to be unspecific. He was medical and magical, like most folk were. Magical, that is, not medical. Although there were plenty of medical people out there, just to clarify. But Law was a wizard as well as a surgeon and it came in handy in tricky situations, he supposed. Like saving the life of a seventeen year old boy who had gotten himself impaled on a thing. Yes, a thing, just a thing because a surgery that happened two years ago was two years too long for him to bother remembering what exactly a person was impaled with because two years ago it didn’t really matter to him.

Two years later it did matter a lot more than he expected because two years later a lot of unexpected things began to occur in his life, that on any normal day he would question, but there was no normal day left for him to be allowed to ponder those thoughts. Two years later, he met a boy named Monkey D. Luffy, a wizard like him. A freakishly powerful wizard who could probably split mountains with a simple armament spell casted on his fist. Not only that, but Luffy had, like, a lot of insanely powerful wizard friends who scared Law a lot, not that he would ever admit that.

But he supposed it was his fault anyway for saving Luffy’s life two years ago.

It started in January. He received a knock on his door at five in the evening. It was a Saturday and it was his day off and he was just about to order some dinner from that Thai restaurant down the street when it happened. With a sigh, Law set down his cell phone and walked up to the door, opening it without checking the peep hole first. On the other side was two men. They were both the same height, roughly. One had wavy blonde hair and a burn that covered the left side of his face which would seem terrifying if it weren’t for the fact that his smile was gentle and kind and not at all psychotic like you would expect. The other had black hair and several freckles decorating his face. He didn’t look as friendly as the other man, but Law willed himself to be unbothered by it.

“Can I help you?” he asked, hoping he didn’t sound as impatient as he felt.

“Sorry for bothering you,” the blonde one said. “But we had just moved in next door and we kinda felt the need to introduce ourselves to the neighbors. My name is Sabo and this is my brother Ace and we also have a little brother named Luffy but he’s out with his friends right now so it’s just us at the moment. I made casserole as a gift.” He held up a foil covered container Law just now noticed and before he could say anything it was pushed into his hands.

From a crack in the foil, he could smell the dish and its savory, cheesy aroma had his stomach aching. “Thank you,” he said, almost unsurely. “I’m Dr. Trafalgar Law, it’s a pleasure meeting you.” Again, with the formalities. He was tired of speaking so politely after having to do so much of it at the hospital already.

The brothers left him with brief instructions of how to heat up the casserole if it gets too cold before returning to the apartment beside his. He really was grateful for the food, it saved him from wasting money on mediocre Thai food takeout. Law spent the next few hours preparing and eating dinner alone while watching reruns of Doctor Who on his box TV.

While being a surgeon does get him a lot of money, Law was more of the type to conserve his money rather than spend it recklessly on things that weren’t essential to him like a fancy house or car. Hell, he didn’t even drive to work, he took the bus just so he could save a couple dollars that he could use to pay rent and his bills.

He shoveled another bite of casserole into his mouth, chewing slowly as he watched the opening sequence of the Doctor Who episode began to play. One might think a life like this was lonely, but he didn’t mind it. Not at all. Not even a little bit. Not even when he wakes up alone in his bed, the sheets cold and the silence deafening. Not even when he eats dinner alone, watching television until he passes out on his couch. Not even when he unlocks the door to his apartment and walks into an empty home. He wasn’t lonely. He wasn’t lonely at all.

Suddenly, his door blasted open and he was sprayed with bits of wood and brick.

Of course he was surprised by this. Exploding doors was not a common occurrence. It wasn’t even mentioned in the advert when he found this vacant apartment a few years ago.

Law coughed up the smoke that had invaded the lungs, swiping at the dust in the air as he stood from his seat and approached his ruined doorway. On the floor of his apartment was a boy. A boy wearing a straw hat and sandals. The boy laid there for a few moments before slowly detaching himself from the ground, dust and debris covering every part of him. He coughed once.

“Hi,” the boy said cheerily, grinning at Law.

“You destroyed my door.”

Sabo and Ace suddenly appeared from what used to be his doorway, concern etched in their expressions. “Luffy!” Sabo exclaimed in surprise. It took him a moment to connect the dots and his pleasant surprise turned to disapproval. “Luffy, what did we say about using destructive spells indoors?”

“Not to?” the boy answered unsurely, looking up at his brother with an innocent and sheepish smile.

Ace grabbed Luffy by the collar and dragged him out into the hallway as Sabo repeatedly apologized for his brother’s behavior and that he would deal with the damage immediately. Law could do nothing except blink as the three of them disappeared, the door repairing itself after being hit with a quick spell from the blonde brother.

He believed those brothers were the most bizarre neighbors he had ever met in his entire life.

After tidying up his apartment with a series of cleaning spells, Law went to bed. He slept only briefly before waking and, well, getting on with his day. It was still the weekend so he intended to spend what was left of it relaxing, something he didn’t get to do often on any other day. He wore comfortable clothes: a pair of joggers and a plain t-shirt. He thought of all the things he needed to do and was glad that he didn’t need to leave his apartment at all unless he wanted to. And he didn’t want to. Not at all.

Law laid on his couch and read a book. And it wasn’t a medicine related book at all. It was a book with a real story, with characters and plot and it was the best thing he had ever read since before he became a surgeon. What was he even reading? Probably Neil Gaiman or something, he had a handful of his books. But it didn’t matter to him because he was actually reading a book because he wanted to not because he had to. And he liked that. Doing things for pleasure, not for work. And that was something he was not going to do today. Work.

A knock on his newly-repaired door interrupted his book reading and he grumbled as he doggy eared the page he was on and set the novel on his coffee table.

Who dares to interrupt my reading time? He thought in a very Mufasa sounding voice, which he immediately regretted and erased the memory of ever thinking in such a way. It was embarrassing to say the least.

Opening the door, he saw the straw hat boy from last night. Luffy, he believed. Law rose a brow at him, urging him to speak.

“Uh, well,” Luffy began, frowning in thought. “Sabo said I had to apologize for breaking your door last night. So, sorry, I guess.” He grinned brightly and it was almost blinding.

Despite his words, Luffy didn’t sound very apologetic at all. Law decided to ignore that and tell him he already forgave him so he can go back to his own apartment so that Law could be left alone, again. But then Luffy held up a pie dish.

“Sabo also made you this! As a gift. It’s really tasty, Sabo always makes tasty things, but not as much as Sanji does. Sanji’s my friend! He cooks in a real fancy restaurant downtown. But he’s also very good at kicking things and it’s fun when he and Zoro fight all the time. Oh, Zoro is my other friend, he has green hair and uses three swords to fight and it’s super cool! One time he fought a dragon can you believe that? Because I can, I saw it with my own two eyes,” Luffy rambled, pointing at his eyes for emphasis.

It was clear that he had more to say and Law wasn’t really interested in any of it, but he was trying not to be rude so he did something he wouldn’t have expected himself to do in a million years and invited the boy into his apartment. Luffy walked in cheerily and set the pie on the table, sitting on top of it as he continued to talk about his friends.

“Besides Zoro and Sanji, there’s also Nami, Robin, Chopper, Usopp, Franky, Brook, Jinbei,” he counted them off on his fingers as Law grabbed plates for the pie. “Nami is real mean sometimes, and stingy and greedy and other bad things. But she can be nice, too. She lives on a tangerine orchard with her big sister Nojiko. Nojiko is nicer than Nami but Nami is my friend because she’s mean. It’s a whole thing.” Law sliced the pie and scooped a piece for himself and Luffy. “Robin is super serious. Well, sometimes she makes a joke that I don’t really understand and she says weird stuff like “I hope we don’t die” or something like that. It’s weird but kinda funny too, especially when she scares Nami and Usopp. Speaking of Usopp, he has this real long nose, he looks kinda like Pinocchio and—yes, I’d like ice cream with my slice, thanks—and he’s a real wimp but he’s brave when he wants to be and that’s what’s great about him.” Law set the plate of pie beside Luffy and sat down in front of him with a bored expression. “Then there’s Chopper who’s a talking reindeer. He’s also a doctor and he’s super funny. Do you know any talking animal doctors?” He shoveled a portion of pie into his mouth, chewing obnoxiously.

Law had made himself tea and sipped from his mug before answering. “Yes, actually, I do. One of my colleagues is a polar bear mink,” he said, taking a bite of his own pie.

Luffy’s eyes lit up like light bulbs. “A talking polar bear?” he exclaimed excitedly, bits of crust and filling spraying from his mouth and Law had to grimace.

“Yes,” he confirmed, pulling out his cell phone and browsing through it to find a picture. Once he found one, he showed it to the boy. “His name is Bepo and he works as my assistant surgeon.”

Luffy grinned at that, teeth stained red from the cherry filling and crumbs were wedged between them. It was a hideous smile and yet Law found it strangely charming. Which he would never admit. Ever. He put his phone back in his pocket and focused his attention onto his pie. When he looked up, he saw that Luffy had practically inhaled his slice of pie and he was unsure if he should be impressed or horrified.

“Oh yeah,” Luffy burped. And I mean actually burped. Somehow he managed to create words from a disgusting noise. “I forgot to introduce myself. Sabo says that’s bad manners.” Obviously Luffy had been minding his manners throughout his entire visit. “My name’s Monkey D. Luffy! I’m gonna become King of the Wizards!”

It was a ridiculous ambition because becoming King of the Wizards was a myth and more of a children’s fairytale, but he decided not to say anything about that. “Dr. Trafalgar D. Water Law,” he introduced in turn. “I’m a surgeon at the hospital downtown.”

“‘S nice to meet you, Torao!” That wasn’t his name but okay, whatever, he was tired.

Luffy hopped down from his seat on the table and dusted the crumbs off his shorts. “Thanks for the pie. I’ll come again later to hang out! We’ll be the best of friends!” And then he waved. And then he left.

Law should be upset that Luffy had just invited himself over for whenever he felt like coming, but he was terrified to find that he was actually looking forward to his next visit. He was just too damn charming.

Luffy visited frequently. At first, he came only on the weekends, but then he started visiting in the middle of the week, and then he started bringing along some of his friends. The first time, he had showed up with his brother Ace. Now Law was fine with that because Ace was also his neighbor and he did his best to make them comfortable and to avoid the intimidating glare he would feel directed at the back of his head every time he turned around. Then Luffy began bringing others to his apartment.

He met Zoro on a Wednesday, after he had finished up at work and got home early that evening. He hadn’t even changed out of his clothes yet when there was a knock on his door. His heart leapt in his chest as he expected it to be Luffy on the other side (but again, he would never admit that his heart did any acrobatics in his chest at all) and he opened it to find, yes, it was Luffy! But also a tall green haired man standing right behind him.

“Heya, Torao! I brought Zoro with me this time! I told him you had a cool sword and he said he wanted to see it,” Luffy was already walking past Law and into the apartment, friend in tow. Law watched as they approached the nodachi displayed on his wall, a cursed sword that his uncle Doflamingo bought for him as a Christmas gift, but he wasn’t superstitious so he kept the sword because it looked like a cool decoration.

“Hey, Torao, what was your sword named again?” Luffy asked suddenly.

Law shut the door and joined them by the nodachi. “Kikoku,” he answered. “It’s supposed to be cursed.”

He would have found the way Luffy looked absolutely thrilled at the prospect of a cursed sword worrisome if it weren’t for the fact that his chest felt incredibly tight and his cheeks felt they were burning at four hundred and fifty one degrees Fahrenheit. But besides that, Zoro looked just as excited as Luffy, in his own way of course.

“A cursed blade, huh? Just like my Sandai Kitetsu,” he patted the hilt of one of his swords for emphasis. “You ever used it before?”

Law suddenly felt a bit suspicious. “Er, no, not really. I’ve only ever used it as a decoration,” he answered unsurely.

Zoro frowned. “Disappointing.”

It was then that Law realized that Zoro might have intended to challenge him to a duel had he been able to use Kikoku. He already didn’t like this. Luffy took control of the conversation from there, talking excitedly about his day and how he saw his friend Jinbei riding an actual whale shark in the ocean. And after sharing a dessert and some tea, Luffy and Zoro left and Law was left alone.

He was afraid that this would become a thing. Not the whole Luffy visiting situation, that was already a thing and a thing that he enjoyed, but he meant Luffy visiting with his other friends. From Zoro alone Law decided that meeting the rest of Luffy’s crew would be a stressful and possibly terrifying experience. He didn’t want it to happen again.

It happened again.

Luffy returned on a Saturday with not just one, but two friends accompanying him and Law had to refrain from groaning. He could refuse to let them in. He should refuse to let them in. But Luffy’s gleeful grin and the excitement that twinkled in his eyes, those things made it difficult for Law to do anything except for step aside and invite them into his apartment.

This time it was Usopp and Chopper who had entered his abode and they were surprisingly pleasant company. Usopp and Luffy shared a bowl of snacks on the floor while they played a game of Go Fish. Law actually managed to befriend Chopper as they exchanged medical advice and patient stories.

“Nami was actually my first patient,” the reindeer doctor had told him. “She had caught a really bad fever so Nojiko and everyone brought her to the nearest clinic. My mentor Doctrine was out when they came so I did my best to help and that’s how we all became friends.”

Law thought that those were strange circumstances to become friends under, but then he remembered how Cora-san had adopted him after Law had stabbed him with the intent to rob him of all his belongings, and the thought was dismissed.

He wasn’t surprised the next day when Luffy decided to show up with a cyborg of all things standing in the hallway.

Law was able to meet a majority of Luffy’s friends in about a week, and he sure had a lot of them. He met a fishman, a mermaid, a skeleton, and other interesting species. It was... a lot to take in, even if he was a wizard who could do things just as bizarre with a wave of his hand.

But he felt that he was barely anything at all when Luffy was far more powerful than he was, both magically and physically. That fact would have hurt his pride if he didn’t find it insanely attractive. And that was something new to him. Admitting that he found Luffy attractive. He had come to terms with his emotions after spending many sleepless nights having arguments with himself over whether or not he was completely infatuated with an idiot wearing a straw hat.

He cried himself to sleep after that realization.

When Luffy showed up on his doorstep on a Saturday, a bouquet of flowers in his hands and a wide grin on his face, Law was confused.

“What’s this for?” he asked, staring at the arrangement of carnations and daisies that had been pushed into his arms.

Luffy gave a short laugh. “Sabo said ‘If you’re gonna take Law to Sanji’s place, you gotta give him a gift first.’ So I asked Robin to make you something nice and she gave me those,” he said as though everything was explained perfectly. “Oh, right. I forgot to say that I was taking you to Sanji’s restaurant tonight! It’s real fancy but I don’t think he’ll care if we show up in regular clothes. I don’t have anything nicer than this anyway.”

Law was so confused.

Was this- Was this a date? Was Luffy taking him out to dinner? On a date? Was this really happening right now?

Before he could ask any one of those questions, Luffy took him by the hand and dragged him out the door. Law managed to shut and lock it as he was taken away and maybe his spotted jeans and black and yellow hoodie were too casual for a fancy restaurant, but he felt that he couldn’t care because this might be a real date with Luffy.

Oh god. This might be a real date with Luffy.

He tried not to think too hard about this entire scenario as he sat beside Luffy on the bus. He tried not to think too hard about their hands still clasped together as Luffy rambled about how delicious Sanji’s food was. He tried not to think in general.

The bus stopped a street away from a big, shiny restaurant that had people lined up outside in the chilly night as they waited for a seat to be open. Luffy ignored the line completely and a tough looking guy dressed in a kitchen apron and had a silver name tag that read “Patty” in bold text escorted them inside. Law had to keep his jaw from dropping because Luffy wasn’t exaggerating when he said this place was fancy.

It was a French-style restaurant. Its tables were all decorated the same, adorned with candles and flowers for the centerpieces. The tablecloths were a pristine white, not a single stain could be seen. The china was the finest porcelain he had ever seen, making his own traditional Japanese tea set look like a children’s play thing. There were three golden chandeliers that surrounded a large modern styled glass chandelier in the center. A spiral staircase sat off to the side that led to upper level and balcony seating. The ceiling had a gorgeous mural of some biblical painting that he didn’t know the name of.

Law had never felt more insecure than he did in that moment.

Patty lead them through the restaurant to a set of double doors in the back. They were brought through the kitchens that was a cacophony of clattering dishes and banging pots. But despite the noise, the food smelled amazing. His stomach growled as they passed and he tried to pass it off as background noise, ignoring the embarrassed flush that spread across his cheeks. There was another door at the back of the kitchens and when it was opened, he saw a corridor that lead to another door.

Just how big was this restaurant, anyway?

Naturally, they walked to the end of the hall and behind the other door was a private room. There was a table set up like all the other ones were. White tablecloth, flowers and candles, blue velvet seats. There were floor to ceiling windows on the other side that looked over the ocean. It smelled like roses.

A part of his brain nagged at him, telling him that this was disgustingly corny. He was about to voice that opinion, too, until he saw Luffy’s face, slightly dimmed by the lack of light but his always present smile was brightening it ten times better than any candle could. He realized that Luffy was smiling at him.

“Do you like it?” Luffy asked him, and it took him a moment to understand that he was talking about the room. Why was his brain functioning so slowly tonight?

“Yeah,” he said and his throat felt dry and he needed something to drink but all he did was sit down and watch as Luffy sat in front of him.

Patty poured them their waters and left the jug on the table before exiting the room. Law lifted his glass and took three large gulps, leaving only a quarter left. He has never felt so nervous before. Luffy was staring at him. Simply staring at him. Except it wasn’t that simple because Law felt extremely vulnerable under that gaze. He didn’t know what to do or say. It was incredible.

“Sanji is making us a special meal,” Luffy told him, breaking the silence finally. “I already told him that you don’t like bread so you don’t have to worry about that.”

Law was going to die.

He was going to die in this five star restaurant with a beautiful view of the ocean, sitting in a private room with this person who he was absolutely head over heels in love with and he was okay with that. But before he could actually pass on to the afterlife, the door opened and a blonde man with a cart of food entered the room.

“Sanji!” Luffy greeted excitedly, grinning at his friend.

The chef returned the smile and put out his cigarette on an empty tray that was sitting on top of his cart. “Alright, shitty customers. I have your first course, the entrée,” he removed the lid of one dish. “Vichyssoise, a thick soup made of boiled and puréed leeks, onions, potatoes, cream, and chicken stock. Please enjoy.” Sanji set two bowls of the soup in front of them before leaving them alone once more.

Luffy immediately lifted the bowl of its plate and tipped its contents into his mouth hungrily. Law had lifted his spoon to his mouth but paused to watch him consume his soup in a messy manner. He blinked a moment before tasting his soup carefully. It was delicious.

Sanji returned a few moments later with wine. “Luffy can’t have this but you can if you want,” he had said but Law refused. He was hesitant about consuming alcohol when he was already drunk on his own emotions. If that even made sense.

Sanji shrugged and left again and by the time Law had finished his soup, he returned with another cart of food. “Voilà votre plat principal,” he said as he introduced them to their next dish and this routine continued all the way to their final course. They had ice cream sundaes for dessert and even though it was simple, with just ice cream with wafers and syrup, it was just as delicious as the rest of the meal had been.

When Law asked how much it all cost, Sanji had insisted that it was on the house. In his surprise, he looked to Luffy who happened to be looking right back at him with that grin on his face and he was falling in love all over again.

They left the restaurant, after thanking Sanji and everyone else for the pleasant evening, and Luffy was walking back to the apartment with him (I mean, of course he was, they were neighbors) and it was a long walk but not unpleasant. Somewhere along the way he had realized he had forgotten to bring his jacket and it was kinda chilly, but he didn’t want to say anything and he didn’t have to because Luffy just looked at him and cast a warming spell and suddenly he felt like he was wrapped in a soft blanket. Law felt like he was blushing and he hoped that it wasn’t obvious, but Luffy didn’t say anything about it as he held his hand again and talked about the stars and how maybe he should be an astronaut.

When they got to his apartment, Law paused by the door, one hand on the knob as he considered what to say. “Thank you,” he muttered, facing away for a moment before turning to look Luffy in the eye. “I had a nice night.”

Luffy grinned and their hands were still connected and Law was about to pull away when suddenly he was being kissed and even though it only lasted a second it sent sparks throughout his body and he could do nothing but stare as Luffy let go of his hand and escaped to his own apartment.

The next morning, Law couldn’t help but wonder if that was all a dream.

He got up like he always did but he was sort of in a daze. He still hadn’t been able to process everything that happened the previous night because Luffy had kissed him. And he was ninety percent sure that they had just went on a date.

He even thought that this was some sort of spell and did some extensive research on the possibility of last night being just a very realistic illusion but he knew in his gut that it had really happened.

Jesus Christ.

All of that really happened.

Law held his head in his hands as he leaned over his mug of coffee, sitting at his dining table in utter distress. This was not good for his heart. He was behaving like a twelve year-old girl with a crush and it was the worst. A knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts and wiped at the bags under his eyes before answering. Luffy was standing there and he decided that this boy was going to be the death of him. He was going to die of exploding emotions. Or something like that.

“Torao!” Luffy greeted excitedly.

Law wondered how he could do that. Act so casual like he hadn’t kissed him last night. Then he remembered that Luffy doesn’t even know the word “shame.” He stepped aside to let him in and Luffy immediately jumped onto his sofa. He joined him silently.

They had to talk. Law needed to sort out his feelings and the only way he could do that was talk about them to Luffy of all people.

“Last night,” he began quietly as Luffy was surfing through his channels on the television. “When you, er, kissed me.”

“Oh, that? Sabo told me it’s what I’m supposed to do after walking you home. He said it’s “the nice thing to do,” Luffy commented as he stopped his browsing and settled for an old western playing on some obscure channel.

Oh.

“And the dinner?”

“An excuse to get you to meet Sanji and taste his food. He’s a real good cook, right?” he grinned at him.

Oh.

That made... sense. He supposed.

Law didn’t say anything for a long while. Luffy was expecting an answer from him and he gave a mumbled “yeah.” The boy returned his attention to the television then and he was left to his thoughts. Of course it was all just in his head. He couldn’t believe he thought that Luffy actually felt that way about him. Ah, he wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

“I have to get ready for work,” it was a lie. “I’m working overtime.” It was Sunday and it was his day off.

“Oh, okay,” Luffy said, surprised. “Guess I’ll just come back later. Have fun being an adult!”

And then he was gone.

And Law was alone.

Instead of trying to move on from his supposed unrequited feelings, he locked himself in his apartment, ignoring his door for the rest of the day and ate away his emotions. The next day he’s going to see that he’s gained half a pound and he’ll regret it then, but right now he’s going to eat everything in his refrigerator and watch Mamma Mia! until he passes out with a bucket of ice cream in his arms and a spoon in his mouth.

Law definitely wasn’t avoiding Luffy.

Waking up at an ungodly hour to get ready for work and leaving before anyone else should be awake is not avoiding. Staying late at the hospital until it’s practically midnight and then going home is most definitely not avoiding.

And it wasn’t like he was losing sleep over this, he slept plenty in his office during his breaks and he slept for four hours at home and he was a doctor, he knew that four hours was the absolute minimum to having a healthy rest.

He also ignored Luffy’s text messages.

Not that he would call it ignoring.

More like setting aside for later. If later meant never.

But everything was fine. He spent less time at home and worked more. He wasn’t stressed at all. He was eating protein bars for breakfast and bland hospital food for lunch so his diet was set. Dinner didn’t even happen. He was fine. Everything was fine. He’s got everything worked out and it’ll all blow over like the toupee on Donald Trump’s head.

So it didn’t “blow over” like he hoped it would.

The weekend came and he really couldn’t handle any more overtime so he stayed home. And of course there was a knock on his door. He wanted to ignore it. He was going to ignore it and hope that whoever was at the door would go away.

“Hey, Torao, it’s me.”

Damn. Why did the universe seem to hate him?

“Uh, I get that you’ve been busy and stuff, but you haven’t been answering my texts and stuff and it’s got me kinda worried. If you’re in trouble I can help you out, y’know. ‘Cause we’re friends and all.”

Law still didn’t answer. He remained seated on his sofa, wrapped in a warm blanket. Luffy didn’t say anything for awhile after that and for a moment he thought he left. But then he started talking again.

“If you don’t wanna talk to me, that’s okay. I’ll just talk to you. You don’t have to listen if you don’t wanna, but I’m gonna do it anyway.” And he did. Luffy was outside his door for hours, talking about what he did all week, describing a new dish Sanji made, telling him about some mini-venture he went on with his friends.

“The other day, I was talking to Sabo about you,” Law perked up at that. “I told him that I really liked hanging out with you and stuff and that you’re probably my most favorite person in the entire world, besides Ace and Sabo, of course. I told him that some day, Torao and I are gonna get married because that’s what you do when you want to be with someone forever, right? And I wanna be with you forever, Torao because you’re my bestest friend and I’m never gonna let you go.”

Law opened the door suddenly and Luffy was standing there, a surprised expression on his face.

“That was really corny,” Law said, frowning. “And bestest is a stupid word. And you can’t just decide to marry me out of the blue there has to be some sort of build-up.”

But Luffy just blinked at him and there was a plate of half eaten steak in his hands that he just noticed and suddenly Luffy was grinning like an idiot.

“I saved some of Sanji’s dish for you but I got hungry so I ate some.”

Law couldn’t believe that he was so in love that he let Luffy into his apartment to share half a lukewarm steak.

[lastbluetardis]

Chemical Potential (2/11)

Summary: Slightly homesick and stressed about her abysmal chemistry grade, Rose Tyler meets quirky James Smith, the boy who sits in front of her in their chemistry class. They become fast friends as James makes it his personal mission to help Rose get through the semester.

Ten x Rose University AU

This chapter: ~2200 words, all ages

Notes: This was written for the lovely @thegreenfairy13 as part of the @dwsecretsanta gift exchange. I’ve changed my posting schedule to the middle of the week as AO3 is more frequently down over the weekends, I’ve noticed.

AO3 | Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 | Ch6 | Ch7 | Ch8 | Ch9 | Ch10 | epilogue

The early October sun shone brightly overhead as they walked towards the center of the sprawling campus, their joined hands swinging loosely between them. The day was cool but steadily warming, and Rose saw several students carrying jackets and sweatshirts over their arms.

“This is one of the most annoying times of year,” James said. “The mornings are cold but the afternoons are warm. It’s impossible to know how to dress!”

“Layers,” Rose answered, unzipping the front of her jacket to reveal the long-sleeve shirt underneath.

“Quite right,” he agreed. “I can’t wait ‘til the trees start to change. It’s beautiful.”

Rose nodded. The campus had been built into a mountain, and trees lined every walkway. She couldn’t wait to take photographs in the height of autumn.

“What year are you?” Rose asked curiously.

“Second year,” he replied. “And you?”

“First year,” she said.

“Oh, so you must be brand-new to the country and the whole institution of university.” When Rose nodded, his voice softened. “How are you adjusting?”

A dull ache radiated through her chest, though not as fierce as it had been when she’d broken down in the loo.

They’d reached the dining hall, and James released her hand to jog a few paces ahead of her to hold open the door for her. The chivalrous act made her smile. Jimmy had never gone out of his way to hold open doors or anything for her.

James’s eyes were expectant, and Rose remember he’d asked her a question.

“Oh, you know.” She shrugged. “Some days are good, others not so much.”

James nodded knowingly, and when they were both inside, he rested his hand at her lower back and guided her to the food court. The touch sent tingles down her spine.

Rose looked around with interest. She very rarely found herself in this building; most days, she packed breakfast and lunch and had no need to purchase a meal. She thought of the banana and baggie of cereal in her backpack, but when she smelled eggs and bacon, her stomach rumbled, and she knew she wasn’t in the mood for the breakfast she’d brought.

James grabbed a tray for himself and one for her, then he made a beeline for the pancake station.

“Oh, brilliant!” Rose followed him and saw a giant grin on his face. “Banana pancakes!”

Rose smiled at his enthusiasm and giggled when he stacked six pancakes onto his plate. She was more conservative and only took two, then followed him to scoop eggs and bacon beside her pancakes.

“I’m still not completely used to Americans’ love of sweet foods for breakfast,” Rose said, watching James completely douse his plate in maple syrup, covering not only the pancakes but also his eggs and bacon.

“Oh, I love it. I’ve got a bit of a sweet tooth,” he admitted sheepishly.

“You don’t look like it,” Rose blurted, and she cringed.

But James laughed and winked, then moved to the other end of the food court for coffee. Rose followed and got herself a cup of tea.

When they reached the register, James whipped out his student ID card while Rose dug into her backpack for her wallet. James frowned when he saw she’d taken out cash.

“You don’t have a meal plan?”

“Am I supposed to know what that means?”

“A meal plan,” he repeated. “Everyone who lives on campus is required to have one. And even some people who don’t live on campus get a meal plan. Like me. I don’t live on campus but I spend so much time here and sometimes I don’t feel like bringing my own food. I’m rubbish with having cash on me and I don’t like using my credit or debit card for small purchases so it’s just easier for me to put dining dollars into my account.”

Rose bit her lip to stifle a smirk the longer he rambled on. She met the eye of the clerk at the register and grinned when the woman rolled her eyes in exasperation.

“No, I don’t live on campus,” Rose explained. “I pack breakfast and lunch most days.”

“Then here, let me…” James turned to the cashier and said, “All of this is together.”

Heat flooded from the tips of Rose’s ears down her neck. “No, you don’t have to do that. I can pay for myself.”

“I know, but I want to,” James answered, his cheeks going pink. “Please? I’d like to. It’s not every day I make a new friend.”

Rose sincerely doubted that, what with how talkative he was even to a perfect stranger like her.

“Are you sure?” she mumbled.

“Absolutely.”

He handed over his ID card to the cashier, and one swipe later, James and Rose walked with their food to the long wall of windows at the back of the room.

“Thank you,” Rose said softly, following James to a round table that could comfortably seat six people.

“Anytime. God, I’m famished! I usually eat breakfast before class but I accidentally overslept this morning. I thought it was Tuesday, not Wednesday. I’ve got a totally different alarm for Tuesdays. So I didn’t have time to eat.”

James sliced his fork through his stack of pancakes and shoveled them into his mouth. His cheeks puffed out comically and his eyes fluttered shut as he let out a soft humming sound of contentment.

“I love pancakes,” he sighed through his full mouth.

Rose smiled and took a reasonable bite of her food.

“I’ve got another class at eleven,” James warned. “Calc 3. Do you have another class today?”

“Art of the Renaissance at noon.”

James furrowed his brow. “What’s your major, anyway?”

“Art and education,” she replied. “I want to teach someday, I think. You?”

“That’s brilliant. And I’m double-majoring in physics and mechanical engineering.” He paused. “What the hell are you doing in general chemistry?”

Rose looked down at her plate and speared her fork through her eggs.

“It was the only science class that fit into my schedule,” she muttered. “I didn’t think it would be this hard.”

“Can you withdraw?” he asked gently.

“Not without dropping below twelve credits,” she said bitterly. “I’m here on a full scholarship, and they’ll take it away if I’m not a full-time student. So I’m kinda stuck.” She huffed out a huge breath and massaged her temples, her earlier anxiety coming back. “I need to keep a 3.0 GPA, and I can’t get anything below a C.” Tears welled into her eyes as her heart started hammering throughout her whole body. “I’m so fucked, James.”

“Hey, hey, hey.” His chair scraped across the floor until it was butted up against hers. His thigh pressed into hers and he wrapped his arms wrapped around her shoulders, tugging her into his chest. She tensed for a minute but then melted into the embrace.

Tears dripped down her cheeks as he hugged her tightly. He nuzzled his cheek into the top of her hair and rubbed his hand up and down her back in long, slow strokes. She buried her face into his chest when she remembered she’d wiped off all of her makeup and wouldn’t ruin his shirt. She sniffled, and her lungs filled with the smell of him. Sandalwood and laundry detergent and fresh air. God, he smelled good.

“Easy does it,” he murmured.

She let out a shuddering breath, mortification overtaking her. Pulling back from his hug, she grabbed her napkin and blotted her eyes and blew her nose.

“God, I’m sorry,” she whispered, pressing her lips into something she hoped looked like a smile.

“Don’t be sorry,” he said. “It’s okay to show emotion. It’s okay to cry when stressed. You’ve had loads to adjust to in such a small space of time.”

Rose nodded and mangled her napkin in her fist.

“How did you get here, anyway?” he asked. “To an American university.”

“A plane,” she teased, a genuine smile finally crossing her face.

James rolled his eyes and snorted. “Smartarse.”

She giggled, and said, “I applied to a few universities in America. A mate of mine moved to New York last year with his job and really loves it here. I wanted a fresh start. Moving to a different country seemed like a good way to do that.”

He looked at her curiously, obviously wanting more details. She didn’t feel like going into her past with him yet, and she waited to see if he would press for more information. She was relieved when he stayed silent.

“How about you?” she asked. “How did you end up here?”

“I’ve lived in the United States since I was sixteen,” he replied. “My Aunt Sarah moves us around a lot for her job. She’s a journalist and is always moving to different countries, chasing stories. She moved us to the US six years ago. She’s currently in Flint, Michigan doing some reporting. I moved here for school.”

Rose desperately wanted to ask what happened to his parents, but he’d given her the courtesy of not asking for more information than what she’d provided. She would do the same.

Instead, she asked, “How old are you?”

“Twenty-two,” he answered. “Twenty-three in December. A little older than the typical undergraduate student, but I got a late start. I did a bit of travelling, trying to figure out what I wanted to do with my life. And I honestly still have no idea what I want to do.”

They lapsed into an only slightly awkward silence. Rose trailed her fork tines through the leftover syrup on her plate and James finished the food on his.

“Do you want to study together?”

Rose looked up at him when he spoke, but he was very intently adding packets of sugar to his coffee. One… Two… Three… Four… Blimey, five! He wasn’t kidding about the sweet tooth, she thought.

“I thought it might be nice, y’know? Chemistry is hard, and next to impossible if you go it alone. I thought maybe we could buddy up and help each other through.”

Rose was about to decline. She’d caught a glimpse of his exam score over his shoulder in class that morning—a perfect score. He didn’t need her help studying, he just felt sorry for her. She didn’t want to burden him, no matter how much help she needed to get her through the class. If it was even possible for her to get through the class with a satisfactory grade.

But it would be so nice to have a friend to hang out with, even if it was just to study. She liked James—a lot—and she found herself wanting to get to know him. He seemed like someone she could become really good friends with.

James had finally looked up from his coffee. His eyes were deep and earnest, and she saw absolutely no hint of reluctance in them like he regretted offering to help her study.

“I’m really bad at chemistry,” she warned.

James shrugged. “We’ll take it slowly.” He opened and closed his mouth a few times, then reached out and covered her hand with his own. His palms were hot from being cradled around his coffee, and the warmth felt nice. “I want to help you if I can, Rose.”

Rose bit her lip. What was the worst that could happen? She could agree to study with him and still fail the class and their study sessions would be a complete waste of James’s time. But if she studied alone, she was certainly going to fail the class.

So what if she did study with James and still failed? Maybe she’d get a good friend out of the experience.

And what if—what if—she studied with him and passed?

“Okay,” she said softly. “Yeah, let’s study together.”

James’s face lit up in a delighted grin, and he gave her fingers a sharp squeeze. “Brilliant! I look forward to it.” His eyes drifted behind her shoulder, and his brows lifted. “Bugger. We’ve been here longer than I thought. I’ve gotta run.”

Rose glanced over her shoulder to the clock on the wall. Ten-fifty-five. Oh, right. He had a class at eleven.

“I’ll talk to you later,” he promised, standing up from the table.

Rose smirked. “Yeah? And how are you gonna do that?”

“Hmm? Oh! Er…” He fumbled around in his pockets, first the front pockets, then his back pockets, then finally his jacket pocket until he found his phone. Rose took it and typed her contact info into it. When she handed it back, he tapped on the screen and Rose felt her own mobile vibrating. It stopped after a second when James shoved his phone into his back pocket.

“There, now you’ve got my number,” he said. “Right! Goodbye for now, Rose Tyler!”

“Bye, James. Thanks for breakfast. And thanks for… thanks.” She trailed off awkwardly, but James’s eyes softened in understanding.

“Gotta dash,” he said. He turned away and began walking away, and Rose settled in at their table to catch up on some homework before her noontime class. “Hey, Rose?” She looked up to see James had turned back around. “I’m so glad I met you.”

Rose beamed at him, feeling her heart skip a beat when he returned the smile.

“Me too,” she called out, and she heard a high-pitched giggle before he turned and strode outside.

[j-j-ehlby-writes]

Meet Me at the Chalet || day six.

Eventual pairing: Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Jenessee Borosi)

Word count: ~3.3k

Summary (I suck at these): Jenessee goes on a solo vacation after the release of her first novel. She got a little more than she bargained for when she gets snowed in with her biggest celebrity crush.

Warnings: So much freaking fluff, swearing but blink and you’ll miss it, Tom being Tom

This includes the very first scene I planned for this fic. The song inspired me to write this. Because of that, I made it their song- here it is, if anyone wants to listen to it.

night one. || day one. || day two. || day three. || day four. || day five. || day six. || last day. ||

My room phone woke me up the next morning. My hand flailed around the table, trying to find it without opening my eyes. When it found something that felt like a phone, I yanked it to my ear.

“Hello?”

“Good morning, Miss Borosi!” Even in the fog of sleep, I still recognized the voice to be the man that greeted me on the first day. “I wanted to call to let you know the plows will be by tonight to clear the road up here and I will be down with the bobcat to clear the parking lot so you and Mr. Hiddleston can be on your way tomorrow morning. I want to thank you for your patience and hope you have a wonderful last night.” He hung up after that, leaving me to process what he just said.

The plows are coming tonight. We can leave tomorrow. This dream of a vacation will be over. Tom and I will go our separate ways, possibly never seeing each other again… 

I knew this day was coming, but I didn’t think it would come this quickly. And we haven’t even talked about if we want to stay in contact after this. I know I would. After what happened last night, he might want to too.

But the nagging question I have now is how much could we even be in each other’s lives? He will be busy nonstop with all of his projects coming up, having no personal time in between. He will be traveling around the world for months on end, going to event after event, promoting. How would he even have time to do anything but that? And if my book takes off, I’ll need to get started on my next idea and focus solely on that for as long as it takes… How could we make anything work?

When I left my room shortly after wallowing, I couldn’t find Tom anywhere. I knocked on his door, nothing. He wasn’t in the kitchen, the living room, or the gym. It wasn’t until I was about to go back to my room when I heard some ruckus outside. I wrapped one of the blankets from the living room around my shoulders before I cracked open the front entrance.

There he was, with his back to me, shoveling the sidewalk in front of the chalet. What stood out against all of the white were two cars that had previously been buried under a mountain of snow. He had also cleared a perimeter around each of the cars so they could get out easier.

He must have gotten the same call I did this morning. So being the gentleman he is, he decided to clear off both of our cars and clear most of the snow out for us. God this guy… I seriously can’t even believe he’s real.

I closed the door back up and returned to the kitchen. I filled the kettle with water and set it on the stove. He’ll be frozen by the time he comes in so the least I could do is make him some hot tea to warm him up again. I also started the coffee machine so he would also have a choice of warm beverage.

In the meantime, I heat up some of the leftover egg bake from yesterday and find a spot at the table. My mind is preoccupied with ideas of my next book concept, jotting down a few down in a small notebook I like to carry around until I hear the door open.

“Darling?” He calls out having smelled the coffee being made.

“Dining room.” I answer back, finishing my point before I felt two frozen hands press into my neck. A very unattractive noise came out of my mouth as I cringed. “Not cool!” I cry when he withdrew.

“Sorry love. I saw an opportunity and I had to take it.” He disappeared into the kitchen with a huge grin on his gorgeous red face. Oh how much I’m going to miss seeing that face right away in the morning…

He joined me a short time later after making himself some soft boiled eggs and toast. I gagged when he dipped the toast in the runny yolk. The smile that came on his face showed just how much he enjoyed it.

“So, you got the call?” He asked after he’d finished. I nodded unable to think of what to say. He nodded back, seeming like he didn’t really know what to say either. He got up, coming behind me. He kissed my cheek. “I’m going to take a shower. Thank you for the tea and coffee.”

“Thank you for clearing off my buried car.”

The rest of the day was very solemn. We didn’t do or talk much. We just laid on the couch, enjoying the others company while we still can. I’ve noticed throughout the week that we don’t need to do much to have a good time. The simple things bring the most peace and joy. It’s nice to find someone who is the same as I am.

I excused myself to take a shower after he told me to go put on the nicest clothes I’d packed. He also instructed me not to come out until he came to get me. I reluctantly did as he said, although I was curious to know what he had planned. I laid out my favorite forest green long sleeve, leggings, and a pair of brown boots before jumping in the shower. 

As I waited for him to knock on my door, I sat reading over everything I wrote over this vacation. It was honestly the best work I had ever done. Maybe it’s because this short story feels more personal than anything I’ve ever written. I put more of myself in this than I do with anything else. I based her reaction off of what mine would be if I were in that situation. My feelings of love towards him and that loss I would feel if I ever lost it…

Damn it.

I fell back onto my bed. Did I really feel that way? I mean, I knew I was extremely attracted to him and had a great admiration towards him before this, and slowly after getting to spend time with him and getting to know the real him, they turned into real feelings… but there’s no way they progressed that much within a week… no. No way.

Then why does my stomach feel like a giant knot when I think about leaving without him?

Ugh. Stop.

I tried to busy my mind with doing my make-up and blasting music in my bathroom while doing so. It helped for a while. You know until I heard the three knocks on the door.

My heart both dropped and wanted to explode when I opened the door. He stood there with his hands behind his back dressed in a simple navy suit with a white shirt, and dress shoes. Well I sure feel underdressed… 

He took a moment to take in my appearance. I shifted nervously as he did so. “Evening, love.” He greeted. “You look absolutely stunning.” He held out his hand for me. When I placed it in his, he brought it to his lips. “Would you care to join me for dinner?”

I couldn’t hold back a nervous laugh. “What, what is going on?”

“Close your eyes.” He instructed.

I hesitated before doing so. He kept his hand on mine that was on his arm and told me when to take the steps. We walked into the dining room before he stopped me. “Okay, you can open them now.”

What I opened my eyes to was probably the most romantic sight I’ve ever seen. All of the other tables and chairs were moved out of the room, leaving only one set up in the middle. The whole room was lit up with candles that were scattered around the room. A bottle of champagne and two flutes were sitting on the table as well as two place settings. The only things missing were rose petals but I’m actually glad there aren’t any. It would have been too much.

“What is all of this for?” I ask amazed he went through all of this trouble.

His hand intertwined with mine, bringing it to his lips again. “I think it’s about time I treated you to a proper date.”

A… date?

I couldn’t find the words to express how shocked I am. He worked all day to create this for me. He wants our last night together in this chalet to be special. How in the world did I deserve this?

“Now if you could please take your seat, I will go get the first course.” He whispered in my ear before pushing my chair in.

“First course?!” I exclaimed. I turned to protest, but he had already disappeared into the kitchen.

After a simple Caesar salad course and a delicious breaded Chicken Cordon Bleu with a Dijon cream sauce, roasted potatoes, and steamed broccoli, I was stuffed. I thanked the Lord I was wearing leggings instead of anything more restricting. I felt a stuffed at the chicken was. I would have been embarrassed if he hadn’t already seen me scarf down many, many meals already.

“Don’t get too comfortable, darling. We still have dessert.” He grabbed our clean plates to bring them to the kitchen.

“Dessert? You’re kidding me right? I don’t think I could eat anymore!” I lean against the table as I usually do when I’m literally too full to support myself.

“Oh but sweetheart, you will want this dessert.” He disappeared again into the kitchen. I heard some preparations being done but I glued my butt to the chair, so full I couldn’t move.

“Could you close your eyes for me again, love?” He yelled from the other room.

“Ugh, fine. So mysterious.” Using my hands to cover my eyes, I eagerly anticipate what he had in mind. I hear something be placed in front of me, feeling his presence behind me, his warm hands finding my shoulders, and his lips to my ear. “Open.”

I gasped as I took in what was in front of me. The most beautiful brownie was sitting in a bowl, topped with vanilla ice cream that was slowly melting. I told him days ago that my favorite dessert ever was a warm brownie with vanilla ice cream. And since then, I have been craving it. How is that he knows what I want without me actually having to say it?

“I think I just found room in my hollow leg.” I retracted my earlier statement. He chuckled before returning to his seat to enjoy his dessert as well. The brownie was perfectly warm with so many chocolate chunks and the chilled vanilla ice cream… oh God, it was heavenly. I was disappointed when I’d finished, but completely satisfied.

“This has been the best way to end the most amazing vacation I’ve ever taken.” I stated as I leaned back on the table.

“It’s not over yet.” He proclaimed, getting up once again. He took our dishes into the kitchen before returning with a glass in his hand. He set it in the middle of the table before slipping his phone out of his pocket. He fiddled with it before setting it into the glass. “On the first day we met, I heard you singing along to this in the kitchen. From that point on, you mesmerized me. I knew I had to dance with you to this song at least once while we were here in order to come full circle.”

Familiar piano notes filled the room, flooring me. I gaped at him incredulously. This was one of my favorite songs at the moment.

“May I have this dance?” He asked, holding his hand out to me. Even though he knows my dancing skills are atrocious, I’d be an idiot to decline.

We slow-danced around the room like we had created our own world; circling around the room completely entranced in the other. He pulled me to him, I held onto his shoulder and his hand for dear life. I felt his large hand caressing my back, holding me to him as we moved. He’d spin me and dip me at the perfect moments of the song, always bringing me back as close as possible. Our eyes never left the others.

During a break in the song, it was like the world paused. He had spun me out again, holding on to my hand as a lifeline. We gazed at each other and suddenly the world shifted… Something in him shifted.

His lips crashed into mine just as the music continued. The best way I could describe it would be through the lyrics of the song we’re currently listening to. My body felt like it was on fire like a thousand suns and I couldn’t burn it out even if I wanted to. His soft lips moved against mine with so much passion, my knees gave out. His arms wrapped around my body, keeping it locked against his. Mine found his neck, gripping him so tightly, I was afraid if I did this would all be a dream.

All too soon we pulled apart, but not before giving me one final lingering kiss. The kind of kiss I found it hard to open my eyes again. I felt his lips at my ear, whispering in my ear the last line of the song, “I’ve got a Hunger in me.”

He cradled my face again, bringing our eyes back together. “If I told you, you held my heart in your hands, would you believe it to be true?” He looked into my soul, conveying every sense of the truth.

My hands found his lapels, tugging his chest closer. I rested my forehead against it and took a few deep breaths. My heart was racing at his words. There is no way he would say that if he didn’t mean it. He’s not the type of person who just says things to say them. I know I believe him. He holds mine, too. He has since before I met him…

But I honestly don’t know how we would make anything work. All of last night, I tried to think of every option we would have after tomorrow. Would we even make it in the real world? It’s been just us for a week. We haven’t had to worry about anything but spending time together.

When would we ever be able to see each other? He’s got a million things to do in the next year and it’s bound to be more as time goes on. He’ll be traveling the world and I’ll still be in the Midwest. I’ll have to be focused on my next book or else I could be in deep trouble with my publisher.

But even I know I could write from anywhere. It’s not like I have to stay in one place to write…

Even if I did go with him to everything, what would I be doing all day if I’m not writing? Sitting in a hotel room while he’s off doing his job? Literally waiting for him to come back and having him exhausted from working, he more than likely won’t want to even do anything after that. I’ll be alone. What kind of life would that be?

I’m not saying it wouldn’t be fun to travel with him. Traveling with him would be a dream come true. He could show me a whole new world that I’d never be able to see otherwise. But he’ll be working. He won’t have much downtime, therefore, not a lot of time we could spend together.

I don’t see a solution to this where we come out of this unscathed.

I look back up at him; I look into the eyes of the man of my dreams. The man that has made me feel more loved than I have in a very long time, even when I thought I didn’t deserve it. He has changed my life… 

The words that come out of my mouth I never thought I would say. “What are we doing?” I croak out, my voice cracking.

The look on his face broke my heart. His eyes lose hope, his smile fades, and his shoulders lose some of their sturdiness… God I feel horrible.

“I don’t understand.” He shook his head slightly.

“I believe every word you’ve ever said to me. You’ve made me feel things I never thought I would feel again. You’ve let me be myself without any judgment and I could never thank you enough for that.” I sighed, looking down at my fidgeting hands, wanting nothing more than to thread them through his. “But out there, I just don’t see how we could work.” I tried to walk him through everything that had been on my mind. With every word I could feel my heart break more and more.

“But darling, I-”

My hand flew up to his lips so quickly, I didn’t think I could move that fast. “Please, don’t.” I beg. If he says what I think he was going to say, it would 100% change my mind. I’ve already thought of a plan though... “I have a proposition.”

“I’m all ears.” He eagerly answered when I removed my hand. He immediately took it in his and held it close to his chest. I could feel his heavily beating heart through the back of my hand. He was just as scared as I was about this, but I knew this was the right thing to do.

“Hear me out,” I start. “I think we should go back to our lives. You go back to being the amazing actor and the even better human being that I know you to be and I’ll go back to being an anonymous writer.”

“So far, I’m not liking this plan of yours.” He interrupted, gently squeezing my hand.

“Please let me finish.” He nods before I continue, “We go back. We have no contact. No following on social media, no exchange of numbers- nothing.” I could see him beginning to protest so I quickly kept going, “And then after a year, if we still feel the same way we do today, we meet back here.” This seemed to spark something in him. I could see the hope slowly returning to his eyes.

“Obviously the ideal situation would be that we both come back. If that happens then we’ll figure it out. Because if we can go a year without speaking and still feel the same as we did after only knowing each other for a week, then we can get through just about anything.” I would love to say I’m an optimist and say I know we would both come back. Thinking about how remarkable it would feel to finally be back together after a year of yearning… but I’m not a positive thinker. It’s better than thinking of the alternative. I couldn’t imagine coming here again thinking he would show up only for him to not… “If only one of us comes back or no one shows up at all, then we have an answer and we move on.” As I say this out loud, my heart drops. 

He looks away from me, down at our hands, his thumb running up and down mine. I see the wheels turning in his head as he’s thinking about it. He enfolded me in his arms, his hand held my head gently massaging the spot. He takes a few deep breaths as I hear his heartbeat slow a little. He kisses my temple before speaking, “I still don’t like it…” He trails off, “but I think that’s fair.”

I sincerely hope I don’t regret that decision...

last day...

Permanent taglist: @elusive-beauty @drakesfiance @im-a-slut-for-an-accent @fantasy-is-my-reality @hiddlephile @naniky

[tmorriscode]

Yours, Charlie

(Charlie Weasley, Hufflepuff!MC, pre-relationship)

I base all these imagines on my own MC, an actual human disaster/apprentice curse breaker who will eventually leave curse breaking to become an adventure archaeologist. Yay, continuity!  You can read the other imagines here. 

—

People graduate with good intentions to stay in touch. They go their separate ways. They change. Life happens. They grow apart.

Then one day, they meet up and discover that these friends who were once as comfortable to be with as your favorite pair of old boots, are simply different people.

This is not what happens to you.

—

“Dear (Y/N),

Thanks for inviting me to see Greece with you, but I’m not going to be able to visit.

Getting kitted out for the job has taken more of my first paychecks than I anticipated. (I know I complained about needing a new wand in my last letter, but I also needed fire-proof clothing, and a better broom. My old Cleansweep just wouldn’t cut it. I’m thinking of getting their newer model. )

I’m going to try pulling in extra shifts on my off days for a while so I can afford everything.

The Weird Sisters at the Acropolis sounds like it would have been brilliant. Maybe think of me when you stand under the stars listening to Do the Hippogriff.

If you ever find yourself in Romania, look me up.

Yours,

Charlie

You put the letter aside and stare out the window of the flat you share with nine other apprentice curse breakers. (It’s not so bad. Most of you sleep in magically-expanded luggage. It feels rather more like a dormitory than a flat).

You can certainly understand having to squeeze every galleon until it shouts for mercy.

But you really wanted to see Charlie.

You’re making loads of friends, and there is talk that you might get to head up your own exploration of a cursed tomb.

But outside of sporadic letters, you’ve barely heard anything of your old Hogwarts crew.

Of course Bill, your honorary big brother, had been in the habit of writing you letters already. Mostly filled with curse-breaking advice he learned in Egypt.

Rowan tells you that Barnaby is happy in his new job with the Ministry’s Beasts division. (Barnaby never was much for writing. Or even literacy). They partnered him and Lizard up. So at best, they confuse the illegal beast smugglers into giving up.

As for Rowan, your first and best friend, she’s working on rare and unusual wood acquisition for Ollivander. (And enjoying the obscure minutiae). It’s not teaching at Hogwarts, but Dumbledore had been kind when he suggested that she get some life experience and perhaps specialize in a field of study before applying for a teaching position.

Speaking of the ministry, Tonks made it into the aurors and Tulip is doing something she can’t talk about in the unspeakables department.

Ben is an apprentice healer with St. Mungos, and Penny is working with the hospital’s potions department.

No one has heard from Talbot since the leaving ceremony. You wouldn’t be surprised if he decided to live as a bird somewhere. Despite your best efforts to friend that boy, he always did fly solo.

Andre has been the most successful of your lot. He is on the reserve team for Pride of Portree. They’ve a rather deep bench, so he may not get to play this year. But he’s drawn some notice in the fashion world by wearing his own designs to various Quiddich functions. He writes that Madame Malkin even discussed the possibility of carrying his designs in her shop.

Jacob is home, letting Mum drive him mental while he studies to take his NEWTS.

It feels like you’re all drifting apart.

Charlie has been the most faithful to answer your letters. Out of all your friends, his letters are the ones you find yourself rereading. He’s the one you find yourself thinking of most.

On one hand, you could invite your new curse breaker friends along to the concert. They’d probably all end up going. You’d stay out too late, drink too much. In the morning someone would do an embarrassed sneak from a magical trunk that was not theirs, hoping the others didn’t notice, while the rest of you pretended not to see.

Get up, break some curses, bring back ancient treasure, take siesta, get up, party half the night and fall in bed exhausted. Then repeat.

It sounds glamorous when you write to Tonks about it. But it’s actually become extremely monotonous. And there’s an edge of loneliness about the whole thing. For all that your roommates talk big about being out on their own for the first time, a lot of the boasting sounds like it’s covering up for homesickness.

Picking apart the tangle of your emotions, you realize that was the real reason you wanted to see Charlie so bad. You miss his quiet, stable presence. You’d never realized until he lived an entire country away, exactly how much you needed that grounding force in your life.

Right. You decide that the mountain would just have to go to Muhammad.

So you pick up your biro and write.

—

Dear Charlie,

Don’t worry about the concert. In all honesty, I probably shouldn’t spend my paycheck on tickets, anyway.

I’m not really bringing in much treasure yet. I volunteered to go through a cache in an old monastery up in Thessaloniki. There are some interesting books there, but not much else. I think the goblins were hoping for gold votive items.

They let me keep the books. I’m meeting with the Library of Alexandria’s acquisitions wizard, who may buy the ones I don’t want.

I do have a three-day weekend coming up, and I don’t really want my co-workers to drag me out to another taverna “to toast Dyonisis” one more time. We’re supposed to stay sharp to avoid curses, but most of them are doing this job while hung over. I’m a little afraid that one of them might not come back one day.

If your offer stands, and I wouldn’t be in the way, I’d like to visit. I think I could make the apparition in three jumps. So I wouldn’t need to spend anything on portkey or flue (and you know I’ve never had a broom).

I don’t expect you to entertain me. I’d probably just spend the whole time reading.

Yours,

(Y/N)

Charlie puts the letter down, and rests his chin in his hand. Your letter leaves him with a warm feeling inside.

He looks around the tent he’s been assigned with a sigh. It’s not much.

You’ve written that you’re sharing a flat with a number of apprentice curse breakers. That you’ve set up a bedroom/study inside a haversack with an extension on it. So you’re no stranger to Spartan living.

He grins to himself. Given your posting, you probably know more about the Spartans and the way they lived than he does.

He knows that he can’t set aside time to spend with you, even if he’d like to. (And he would like to. Just— there’s a new clutch of hatchlings. And they’re brilliant!)

Now you, here, would be a distraction from the work he needs (wants) to do.

But he offered. And deep down, he knows he’d feel lighter just knowing you were in the same space, even if you were ships that pass in the night.

Even for stolen moments as he rushes to work earlier than he has to. (“Weasley!” Godwin, His supervisor shouted at him this morning, “If you fall off your broom because you didn’t get enough sleep, I’m going to personally hex you!”) or comes back and collapses face-first into his bed.

With a sigh, he grabs a fresh parchment and composes his letter.

—

Dear (Y/N)

If you want a place to retreat to, I have an open tent.

I won’t be around much, sorry to say. We just hatched our first successful clutch of Romanian Longhorns In nearly three years. I’ve been put in charge of the dawn to 3 P.M. shift in the nursery.

Also, I smell like regurgitated chicken guts and brandy most days. I’m mostly used to it, but I’m told the smell lingers.

Just warning you.

Yours,

Charlie

—

When you appear at the apparition point, no one is there to greet you. You look about for a moment with a heavy heart, wondering if maybe Charlie forgot. Then you shrug the hurt and disappointment away. He did say he was consumed with the dragons. Getting upset at him for being dragon-obsessed after all this time would be pointless. You may as well ask water not to be wet.

You’ll just have to find your own way.

You’ve taken three steps when an Olive-skinned woman with black eyes bustles up to you. She exudes confidence and competence in a way that reminds you of McGonagall.

“Are you here for the reserve?” She asks. Her accent sounds like she might be from around Bristol.

“Um. . . Yes?” You wonder why Charlie never mentioned that he was sending someone.

“Good! Follow me.”

You hitch up your haversack and fall in line behind her.

“I’m Godwin. You can call me Ma’am for now. If you’re still here next week, you can call me by my name. We’ll have a tent for you by the end of the day, but we’re short-handed for now. Everyone wants to play with the new hatchies and no one wants to shovel the dung.” She sounds exasperated.

With a start, you realize that Godwin thinks that you’re a hopeful dragonologist. You consider correcting her - but then again, she did say they needed help.

Lending a helping hand has always been your weakness. Anything from the hospital wing to the Three Broomsticks. If you were asked, you’d roll up your sleeves.

If Charlie was unable to even meet you, then perhaps the least you could do is lighten his and his co-workers load.

—

Charlie looks at the position of the sun, then swears. You were supposed to apparate in about an hour ago. He takes off for the apparition point at a run. When he gets there, an annoyed wizard sits, surrounded by bags.

“Have you seen a witch?” Charlie holds his hand up to indicate your height. “She’d have been carrying a haversack, and possibly wearing a sweater with an initial on it?”

“Are you having me on?” The wizard snaps. “I’m supposed to start work today. But no one met me.” He has a nasally whine that sets Charlie’s teeth on edge.

Charlie scratches his neck. He has a sinking feeling that he knows where you went.

—

You’ve scooped most of the composted dung pile into fertilizer bags when Charlie turns up with Godwin. He seems unsurprised to see you in your Wellies and dungarees. Godwin frowns at you like you’ve personally offended her.

“Hi Charlie!” You wave cheerfully at him. “It doesn't matter if you smell like chicken guts now. I think I might smell worse.”

Charlie rolls his eyes. “It figures I’d find you here.”

“Why did you let me think you were a new hire?” Godwin berates you.

You lean on your shovel. “You seem like you needed the help. And I don’t mind the work.”

She throws her hands in the air. “You must have been a Hufflepuff.”

Charlie laughs at that. A deep, hearty sound that you’ve sorely missed. “Come on, (Y/N), let’s get you cleaned up, and you can come meet the hatchlings.”

—

Dear Charlie,

Thanks for inviting me up for a visit. I enjoyed getting to meet your co-workers and seeing the reserve.

Guess who got to explore the ruins on Mount Parnassus? That’s right! Yours truly. We located a chest of coins paid to the Oracle of Delphi in exchange for her prophecy.

Did you know that to make a prophecy, the oracle first sat on a tripod over a chasm, breathing in fumes until she was high as a kite? And that those fumes were said to come from the decomposing remains of an ancient dragon that Apollo slew? (So much about divination class makes sense now.)

I’m sending you a scroll that has Homer’s account of the battle between Apollo and the dragon. It was part of my share of the treasure. (I seem to have trouble choosing sensible treasure like gold, when there are books that no one but me wants).

Of course, it’s written in Greek, so you probably can’t read it. But maybe your dragon reserve would like it for their library.

At any rate, I’m due for another long weekend next month. If you’d like some company, I’d love to visit again.

Yours,

(Y/N)

[garywonghc]

I spent 12 years in a cave

by Jetsunma Tenzin Palmo

Even as a small child growing up in east London, I felt I was in the wrong place and the wrong body. I felt my body should be male, so when I heard that your body changes as you get older, I thought maybe I would get a male one. Now I feel lucky to have stayed female.

From my earliest years, though, I wanted to leave England. Outwardly there was no reason. My family are lovely, my school was great, I had a wonderful job as a librarian. Bethnal Green in east London, where I grew up, was very neighbourly. But inwardly I had a strong feeling that I had to go where I belonged; for a long time I just didn’t know where that was.

Even as a child, I was interested in spiritual matters. I studied Christianity, Judaism and Hinduism and I’d tried reading the Qur’an, but as I didn’t believe in a creator God most religious paths were closed to me. Then, when I was 18, my mother and I were delayed at an airport for eight hours. The only book I had with me was Mind Unshaken, about Buddhism. Halfway through the book, I said to my mother, “I’m a Buddhist.” She replied: “Oh are you dear? That’s nice.”

My mother was magnificent. She was a spiritualist who held seances in our house every Wednesday. Tables would fly around the room. She was widowed when I was two and brought up my older brother and myself with very little money from my father’s fish shop. She had terribly bad health, yet was always cheerful and uncomplaining — and her decisions were usually so wise.

When I told her I was going to India to look for a Buddhist teacher, her first question was: “When are you leaving?” An ordinary woman would have said: “How can you leave your poor old mother alone; where’s your sense of responsibility?'” But she felt I needed to lead a special kind of life, even if it didn’t include her.

I had read about Freda Bedi, an English woman teaching Tibetan refugees English in Dalhousie, in north-west India. When I wrote to her she replied: “Come, just come.” So, at 20, I moved to India and on my 21st birthday I met my guru. Three weeks later I became a nun.

It wasn’t a difficult decision. Although I’d had boyfriends, I never wanted to marry. I never wanted children. Clothes, who cares? Food, who cares? Television, I’m glad not to have to watch. And as for sex — I couldn’t care less. In this society, sex is constantly thrown in your face but to make it the be-all and end-all of life is pathetic; it puts you on the same level as the monkeys. Many women leading fulfilling lives don’t even think about it. I don’t need or want a one-on-one personal relationship. That’s why I don’t get lonely.

Yet I experienced great frustration being the only westerner and the only nun in the all-male monastic community; I was totally excluded. I used to feel as if there was this huge banqueting table of Buddhist thought and practice and I’d get these little crumbs from people, but never enough to make a meal.

Eventually my guru, Khamtrul Rinpoche, told me to go and practise in the mountain region of Lahaul. It was a lovely monastery, but it wasn’t always quiet. I’d heard about a nearby cave and wanted to go there, but local people said it wasn’t safe. “Men from the army camp will come and rape you,” they warned. “By the time they get up here, they’d be too exhausted,” I said. “I’ll invite them in for tea.” They said there were ghosts, that I’d freeze to death. But I explained the situation to my guru, who said that if the cave faced south and was fairly dry it would be fine. From that point on, I didn’t worry. After all, for centuries, hundreds of thousands of hermits have done exactly the same.

I moved into the cave when I was 33 and was very happy. In most places in the world it would be impossible to feel so safe and confident in isolation. We built up a wall to insulate it in winter, and I had an altar and a store room for food. It was simple but pukka.

I grew potatoes and turnips in the little garden outside. The day was very structured: four times a day I would sit and meditate in a traditional meditation box for three hours, and that’s where I slept, sitting up.

At first I’d go down to the monastery to listen to teachings, get food supplies, visit my guru and discuss how I was getting on. I’d spend the summers preparing for the long winters when I was completely cut off. But after nine years, I was ready to do a long retreat — three years in complete solitude. Once we had a huge blizzard that raged for seven days and nights, the snow covered the door and window and the whole cave was in complete blackness. I thought: “This is it.” Looking back, I’m amazed I wasn’t claustrophobic. I felt perfectly calm and resigned. Then I heard a voice say, “Shovel out.” I used a saucepan lid and dug a tunnel out. It took an hour or two and I did it three times but survived to tell the tale.

The Tibetans have a saying: “If you’re sick you’re sick; if you die you die.” We’re all going to die and where better to die than in retreat? Most people worry too much even when things haven’t happened; they get all worked up over scenarios of what might happen. The retreat helped me to develop inner resourcefulness and confidence: you learn that you generally do cope with whatever happens.

After three years, I heard somebody scrambling over my gate. I hadn’t seen anyone all year. When I opened the door a policeman was standing there. He handed me a notice: “You’ve been in the country illegally for three years. Come down within 24 hours or we’ll take action.” That was the end of my retreat. It was a bit of a shock.

I moved to Italy. I do feel people in the west have an advantage: having so much material prosperity, they have already experienced everything our society tells us will bring happiness. They can see, if they have any sense, that at most it gives only short-term pleasure, that genuine happiness must lie elsewhere. Most people in the world haven’t had those things, and still imagine that possessions will deliver the satisfaction their promoters assure us they do. But desire is like salty water. The more you drink, the thirstier you become.

For me, retreat is like inhaling; it’s what I was born to do in this life. But I felt I should raise funds to build a nunnery in India, a place where women could study and train. Women have been spiritually undernourished and overlooked for far too long. So that’s what I do now, giving teachings. But actually I don’t like it at all, I never have, and I’m not going to do any more tours. I’m very ready now to retire to my nunnery in India, and I hope then that I can go back into retreat. That is my place.

[nxthaniels]

⟡⌜⇴ SEAN TEALE ⌠ 31 & he/his ⌡: have you seen NATHANIEL BURKE ? HE is a METAL CHARMER who’s apparently also NEUTRAL. When you see them walking around, be careful, because while they can be CLEVER and RAKISH, I heard they can also be pretty RESIGNED and HEDONISTIC.  ( zoe & 20 & she/her & cst )

yeah sO!! here’s nate. his pinterest is here and his spotify playlist is here and his stats page is here and i’d link his bio but i’m ngl it’s .................. his intro but without the bullet points again aksdhfg. 

nathaniel’s life had always been carefully planned. he could trace roots of his future all the way back to before his parents first meeting, see hints of the planning in generations before any of them. that’s the way things worked for him, though, the way they’d always existed in the world he knew. life was an inescapable thing. he was son of their heir to borgin & burkes and the prettiest daughter of an old pureblood line in america’s southwest. he was nathaniel aristotle beauvais burke— his name had always been a mouthful, too much, but the long string of syllables was never negotiable. it meant something. 

he needed the two surnames; one to declare him important in his mother’s america, the other to give him credibility in his father’s britain. the first name was his father’s choice, and his middle name his mother’s. he was always meant to be a mix, the PERFECT child, their biggest stroke of luck. no one could say his parents weren’t lucky people, just like no one would ever call nate himself unlucky. life worked like that. happy or unhappy or downright miserable, luck was something black and white. 

looking at homer burke and cristina beauvais on paper, it was hard to believe they’d chosen each other in a sweeping romance set in her family's beautiful lousiana estate, not a betrothal turned business transaction. maybe that’s where the luck began: they happened upon each other when they were young and beautiful and both a touch too vicious, and the end result was a son and heir for both dynasties on the very first go. no need for more children; just champagne toasts all around, patting each other on the back in congratulations on how much the world loved them. his parents were never the parenting type, anyway. had their first child been a girl, they’d have had another, of course. but they were the PERFECT couple, and so the got nathaniel and the rest of their lives to live the way they always had — reckless in the way of the wealthy and beloved, freedom within a thousand confines. now, they turned a disapproving eye on nate’s antics, but he knows the hypocrisy exists only because he doesn’t care enough to hide his bad habits, the way they knew to. 

nate was always intended to be both a beauvais and a burke. his mother wouldn’t let her family go so easily, and his father adored her enough to allow the influence. she’d charmed his whole family, in fact, despite the technical mar of her blood-status: what money and influence were good enough to fix in america, england was willing to hide. to anyone that mattered, she was a pureblood, muggleborn mother or not. to anyone that cared, nate was too. 

he didn’t care himself, but no one ever asked. they only told him to tell no one … as if he ever would. a rowdy childhood and alcohol - hazed adolescence didn’t mean he’d go spilling family secrets right and left. people expected the worst of him. or rather, they expected nothing at all, and so that’s what he gave them. 

all in all, nate doesn’t feel real strongly about anything but hating his father. he’s ambivalent to ideals of blood purity ( thanks to having a half-blood mother, however secret her blood status may be ), but he’s been raised to speak politely with people who are fanatical because, well, they may have business together some day. he knows making waves would piss off his father, so it’s a temptation, but overall more trouble than it’s worth. truly severing ties would mean truly caring, truly believing in a cause; and not feeling like a fraud all the while.  

he often felt like a fraud. nathaniel’s mother looked at him and saw so much WASTED potential. nate wondered when he came to realize this — but soon after, he reached an even more important realization: that the when of it didn’t matter. nothing did, really, because seeing all he could be in the lines of his face didn’t stop his mother from loving him. his mother loving him didn’t stop his father from hating him. his father hating him didn’t stop the his grandfather from considering him heir to the shop. oh, there was something so sweet in the nihilism. nothing mattered; why hadn’t anyone said something years ago? 

so he had this, his knowledge that nothing he did meant anything to his world, and he had his hatred of the father that hated him. he had what his granddad had given him, when he was twelve and spending his first summer in america with a wand: a way to be something entirely OTHER than a burke. 

the shop and the sanctity of blood made the burkes in the wizarding world nate knew from school and growing up. but he’d spent summers, always, in the estate his mother grew up in, and that world was built on metal-charming. not a job people were jumping on, nowadays, given its difficulty and a million peculiarities, the way the work only called to certain hands. nate possessed those hands, and a hungry need to do something with them, to be anything other than what his father, and his father’s father, needed of him. his granddad, of course, understood: he considered it a universal desire to carve a life out for yourself from the mountain of shoulds you’d been handed. 

his mother knew. but it was the one true secret she kept from her husband, who she did genuinely love after all this time. the story was always that homer loved his wife’s family ( never mind that that was a lie, he hated her father, could sense, somehow, that he’d been the cause of his son’s corruption ) but thought america had turned nathaniel too rough. given him the dreams of being a cursebreaker that nate created when his father found the books on runes and advanced charms. it didn’t matter. let his father hate his aspirations, so long as they weren’t the real thing, let him despise nate so long as he never KNOWS him. and who did know him? nate had two talents, the way he saw ithings; his metal-charming and his intangibility. he’d always been good at being whatever the world asked of him, because it rarely asked anything. often it asked for inaction and turning a blind eye, swallowing down cries at the sight of injustice — he had friends he could voice those two, to satisfy the need, so the rest of the world could get whatever blank - canvas version of nathaniel it wanted. 

for years nate built his whole persona on being whatever the world needed of him, and more often than not the world needed him to be a viper. selfish, driven by his instincts, and quick to bite. it didn’t matter what he was in his heart, because he knew the world didn’t give a shit about that. 

through all their lessons, all the summers spent in the south, in the sprawling humid heat, his granddad drilled the idea of superiority of mind and of skill into his head. despite not caring about blood supremacy nathaniel was, perhaps, always meant to be an arrogant little shit; resigned to being an asshole because no one’s ever told him he could be anything else.

in school, nate tried his hardest to care little for anything, knowing that little cared about him — but his fierce need to be a person separate from being a burke often got in the way of that uncaring facade. he was a product of nobody; not his father, not his mother, not his grandad. not britain or america or anywhere else. he’d done his level best to be nothing for so long, a boy made for booze and smoke and parties, wrecked reputations and weekend gossip. it did the trick for a TIME, but it just couldn’t last forever. 

the world outside the castle doors got worse and came knocking — the humanity he hadn’t been able to shovel down resurfaced, and nate realized that his playing disaffected and lackadaisical had done nothing for nobody, least of all him.

sure, he’d managed to hide his true passion from his father to keep going back to america, to keep going to his grandad to learn. to hide it from ridicule, too, nathaniel could admit that. but he’d always known, that he would one day turn his back on the shop. that he would separate himself from his father even it meant leaving his mother in the dust too  —  he was meant to be a metal charmer, meant to join neither side. because he was a blank canvas and a VIPER and he might never have been cut out for a world of evil souls and dark magic but he doubted he could ever really be good.

he finished hogwarts and left for lousiana for a few years, kicked around with his american cousins and honed his craft. he allowed himself to be the british novelty, the hogwarts grad, but he’d never just been a beauvais. he couldn’t stay with his family there forever knowing there was a war going on; even if he had no intentions of fighting, it hurt him knowing that he might lose people without ever knowing they were gone. 

it was a no brainer then to move back like it was nothing, like he’d never disappeared. he opened up his own practice. no storefront  —  that shit would just invite attack from ‘ friends ‘ of his father. but he made custom snitches and watches and daggers, boxes and trinkets and anything his heart desired; for customers he did his best to vet for good intentions. or for intentions that were, at the very least, as good as his own were capable of being. 

because most of the time nate’s still sure that he’s not ever going to be truly good; he’s too much of a burke for that.