#AND! this is happening alongside at least a dozen other books at any one time

[aquitainequeen]

Editor: So the manuscript is probably going to be ready by 1st June; I was really hoping we be able to publish it in November, so that we could have copies for [huge academic conference]!

Me: ......

Me, internally: Mate, even if you submitted the manuscript today, we wouldn't be able to publish it by November.

[partyinthemysterymachine]

THERE WAS A HOTEL ON THE LAKE

(raw wip; so it includes the disorganized and fragmented fun that goes along with first draft writing)

===

There was a hotel that stood by the lake. It’s stood there for ages, this hotel; perhaps a century or two, if the books were right. It was a proud old thing: beautiful, historical — a masterpiece of design; a quaint taste of luxury. 

It was a famous, and beloved monument of the small town that’d built it; and visitors enjoyed it, too. 

It was the community’s very pride and joy. 

There’d been many a wedding there: gorgeous, full-fledged, no-expenses-spared affairs alike a fairytale dream. (Brides loved to pose with the spinning princesses music box the lobby.) 

sometimes booked alongside unions high in debt. There’d also been birthdays; the extremely rare and odd bar-mitzvah; retirement parties; political fundraising galas; and common junctions of many more. Families and individuals hailing from all wage brackets and states have stayed there, occupied its rooms for a night (or a dozen in a row), eaten at its restaurant and visited its cafe, mingling amongst the local. 

The out-of-towners rarely blended in, and we’re always easy to spot. This didn’t really matter on any large scale: it was a tourist town, after all. Livelihoods depended on visitors; and so long as the temporary citizens minded the manners, the authentic ones didn’t mind them. (Residents sometimes liked to make a game of clocking the tourists too, just to pass the time.) It was a joint effort among all. Civil, mostly peaceful: a fine trade. 

(At least, it was for awhile.)

But memories had been made in that town, and many more, if not nearly equally tying the count, were made in that hotel. Friends have been made there; acquaintances too; business solidified; pictures taken, salutations said, and adieus bid. Love had been made in its rooms - and children, too. (More than a handful of ‘em, in fact.) Yet as we all unfortunately know, not all memories could be happy. For some, it was definitely a devastating place to recall; though for others, it was fondly remembered as the best time of their lives. 

But of course, these experiences were only expected out of a hotel’s bustling little ecosystem. Times good and bad weren’t its fault; it was just how the human carousel of life tended to operate. 

.. or was it?

Because mystery surrounded that hotel on the lake, and lots of it. The lake it overlooked, itself, was also full of mystery, too. (And more.) Some might say its grounds were haunted — but the locals preferred to brush that off. The place was old, and as oftentimes goes along with historical age, whispers of ghosts and outrageous stories of all kinds were bound to happen. How could it not? The town was said to be built on Native American burial grounds, after all. (A trip to the historical society could confirm that right away, too.)

Love and friendships have also been shattered in that hotel, almost in equal parts to their better occasions. 

[adarkrainbow]

Le Cabinet des Fées, or the memorial of French fairytales

The golden age of the French fairytale lasted a century - and we say that thanks to Le Cabinet des Fées (The Cabinet of Fairies).

If Perrault and d’Aulnoy opened the literary genre by creating French fairytales, The Cabinet of Fairies “closed” it, at least for time, by becoming the greatest archive of French fairytales.

Perrault and d’Aulnoy were part of circles of writers, poets and story-tellers that created and grew the French fairytale at the end of the 17th century. They were the first literary storytellers and fairytale-makers, and their work was so successful that throughout the next decades numerous people imitated them, followed them, or varied on their subjects. Regularly the genre of the fairytale was “re-ignited” by newcomers on the literary scene - such as the One Thousand and One Nights, which brought the entire subgenre of the “oriental farytale” in France. And this lasted for quite some times...

But then the genre started to weak, be out of breath. People got tired of these same old stories, or the same ingredients re-used again and again. Fairytales either became a well-known part of popular culture everybody knew by heart (and thus without any thrill or excitement anymore), either became slowly forgotten, cast aside, not republished. People started to read and write other things, far away from the marvelous and the fairy-worlds... We could almost say that the fairytale genre weakened alongside the French monarchy, as the end of its “golden age” coincided somehow with the French Revolution. Down with the king, down with the fairies.

And upon seeing this happen, one man decided to start an important work. 

Charles-Joseph Mayer, a knight of the second half of the 18th century, was a huge fan of fairytales, and upon seeing them disappear into oblivion, upon noticing people did not give any more care or respect for them, he went on a collecting quest, gathering and reuniting all of the French fairytales he could find (literary of course, since it was the only kind of fairytales that existed at the time). His intent was to preserve the memory of a whole century of literature, of dozens of authors that else would be doomed to the darkness of ignorance - by creating the most complete collection of fairytales that ever was. This work took quite some times, it consisted of 41 volumes, published between 1785 and 1789, but it became a landmark in the history of French literature: it was Le Cabinet des Fées, considered for a long time the ultimate reference and authority when it came to French fairytales.

Thanks to this enormous anthology, numerous fairytales were preserved that otherwise would have been lost to time - especially since Mayer included in his books a handful of anonymous fairytales whose authors were already gone from the minds of people. It highlighted the cohesion, variations and importance of fairytales as a literary genre, and as a testimony of the culture and tastes of a soon-to-be-gone-era. Many people compare Mayer’s work to the one of the Brothers Grimm, but French and literary instead of German and folkorist. 

However the publication of The Cabinet of Fairies had a dual effect. This work intended to “save” the fairytale genre - but it actually became its tumbstone, the memorial over its grave. Because, by compiling all of the fairytales ever done in one definitive, “ultimate” collection, Mayer cemented, or rather froze, paralyzed, petrified them. In people’s minds it asserted that the fairytales had come to an end, that now we had reached the final point, where they just had to be put into shelves. It truly affirmed the fairytales as a “dead” genre, with no more stories to tell. 

[Note: Of course French fairytales as a literary genre did continue to exist... But with less notorious and noticeable forms, and never the same general hype the fairytales had back in this “golden era” where they were the hot topic of all literary and cultural discussions.]

[wearywinchester]

Something Old and Something New — Part Four

Mechanic!Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: When life takes a turn and you take an unexpected break from college in Stanford with your best friend Sam, you return home to your job at your family’s co-owned garage. You return home to work alongside the guy you thought you hated—Dean Winchester.

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: angst, swearing, guilt, arguing, light fluff

Your grip on the wheel was tight as you parked along the curb, the pressure behind your eyes having been near unbearable as your eyes glossed over with new tears. Tears of complete and utter frustration as your heart hammered in your chest. You put your car in park and got out, slamming the door behind you. Your footfalls were hurried and you paid no mind to the way you’d jammed your keys in the door, twisting the knob before pushing it open.

You drew a startled look from Sam who’d been sitting on the living room couch, textbook in his lap and his hand running through his hair. He sat up straighter, brows furrowed in an instant as he looked at you. Angry, frustrated you.

“Everything okay?” He asked, though he finds the question pointless the second it leaves his lips because it’s very clear what the answer is. “What happened?”

“Your brother’s an idiot, Sam,” you huff, lip quivering despite the anger in your words.

The crease between his brows deepens at your words, confusion in his expression as he thinks it over just what Dean could have done now. He knew his brother had a way of getting on your nerves, of pushing your buttons in a way Dean Winchester did—but he’s never seen you this upset from any of that, never seen you this worked up.

You saw the way he’d opened and closed his mouth a couple times over, trying to figure out just what to ask first, where to even start. But you spoke up before he did.

“I think,” you start, heaving a sigh as you settle your racing heart a little more, easing the anger in your tone for Sam’s sake. It wasn’t his fault after all. “I think I need to be alone for a little while.”

He nods then, gaze on you as he watches the emotions flicker across your face, exhaling a sigh of his own as he watches you turn on your heel and leave. You disappear around the corner and toss your keys on the kitchen table, headed straight for the door to the back porch.

You sat in your usual seat, tucked in the corner of the porch as cover yourself with the blanket you’d snagged on your way out the door. It’d been quiet out there, peaceful despite the noise in your mind, the events that happened not even half an hour earlier having been caught in your thoughts in a loop.

You thought it’d been obvious, with the way you’d grown closer to the older Winchester over the last few weeks. You found yourself realizing you hated him less than you thought you did for a long while, and maybe you didn’t hate him at all. It took coming back home to see that maybe there was something there between you for longer than the time you’d been back home.

You thought it was obvious, thought so the moment you realized things were different between you two.

But apparently it hadn’t been, not with the way jealousy had wrapped around his every feeling, the way anger had been a close second that day. Never mind the fact that he almost kissed you at Benny’s barbecue, or the way he seemed to enjoy your company.

He was too oblivious to see it the way you felt, too jealous to think rationally about it.

Meanwhile, Dean remained at the garage, simmering in his overflowing frustration. His mind was stuck on the words he’d spoken to you, taunting and woven with anger. He’d told you to go ahead and leave, he encouraged it even. He paid no mind to the hurt so clear in your eyes because he was jealous when he shouldn’t have been, so wound up in the overwhelming idea that he had feelings for you, true feelings that he’d gone and pushed you away.

The idea terrified him, to genuinely care for something, to enjoy their presence, to seek them out and to miss them when they’re gone. The thought of the feelings he had for you, vulnerable and fond, it scared the life out of him. So, he did what he always did and found a way to sabotage it.

He truly did feel as though you had fond feelings for his brother, there was no reason for you not to. But now, as he stands there by himself with his hands dragging down his face, standing with a mess of tools having been splayed and scattered across the concrete of the garage, he’s starting to think that maybe he was wrong.

He’d gone and let his temper get the very best of him, his mind running a mile a minute with thoughts all revolving around you. But he found they always did, they always did for a long while and he knows it.

He’d hovered over the idea of calling you at least a dozen times that night, deciding against it each and every time.

You don’t know just how much time had passed as you sat there on that porch, the sun dipping deeper and deeper into the horizon. The lightning bugs had flickered across the lawn, crickets chirping and filling the quiet in the evening air.

But soon they’d been accompanied by something else, by something more familiar as your heart skipped a beat.

You heard that engine, could tell just who it belonged to from a mile away. You heard it rumble and roar as it approached your apartment. Heard it continue to rattle lowly as it sat there for a minute or two. Your heart hammered as you sat in your chair, the inside of your cheek between your teeth.

He knew exactly where you’d be, knew you were on that porch without even seeing you. It was a place you always went to when you were stressed or upset, sitting in that chair for a good while until you felt better. Now it was him that was the cause and he hated it, he hated that feeling more than anything.

He sat there for another brief minute before you heard that rumble once more, before you heard that ever familiar roar as he pulled away and drove down your street. Your jaw tensed as you felt the tears burn and gloss over your eyes once more, a huff puffing out through your nose.

Instead, he’d gone back to the garage, gone back to clean up the mess he made despite the fact that he knew he should have cleaned up the mess he made with you.

You stayed out there in your usual seat, stayed until the sun had gone down completely and the drowsiness crept up. Stayed until fatigue weighed heavy on your eyelids until they fell closed, and stayed until Sam had come to check on you, finding you fast asleep in the chair. His shoulders slumped at the sight and a sigh left his lips, lips that purse for a moment at the sight of his best friend having looked so miserable.

He scooped you up, blanket and all, and put you to bed for the night before disappearing into his room.

You had one day left at the garage, one day before you left. The past week had been just as you’d imagined, the tension thicker than ever with each passing shift and it became harder and harder to bear.

You hadn’t spoken more than a handful of words to Dean, not more than that outside of work talk anyway. The tension set the tone for the entire garage—for Benny, for Bobby, for the customers who’d been lucky enough to come in when Dean was in close proximity to you.

There wasn’t much of any small talk, the days having gone by with just the noise of the radio and the occasional string of curses from Dean when something went wrong on a car. It drove you nearly crazy to be so close, close enough that it had your heart aching and your jaw tensing in an attempt not to cry, in an attempt not to shout at the older Winchester for breaking it.

You should have known better, you should have known better than to let yourself fall for him. He was stubborn as ever and there was no changing that but you knew it’d be a long while before you got over it.

It was a week full of lingering stares and long pauses as one tried to fill the silence with some sort of conversation before the other left with the excuse of having something else to do. It’d been a week of angry huffs and a week of Benny driving you crazy with the suggestion of talking to each other in a way that wasn’t so much of a struggle.

It was your last day of it, and you can’t decide if you’re relieved or dreadful, or both.

You sat in your chair at the front desk, head leaning on your hand as you rested your elbow on the counter. Nobody had said a word in the past hour and a half, the rest of your lunch having gone cold until you’d called it quits and dumped it in the trash.

Now, you were sat at your desk with your book cracked open, having very obviously been stuck on the same page for the last fifteen or twenty minutes because you were too busy thinking about green eyes over there. It was bad enough he knew you hadn’t actually been reading. He knew it because his gaze wandered over to you and lingered more than a few times in that span of time.

It almost got him in trouble, almost having him cut his palm with his inability to pay attention to the task at hand, grabbing the wrench he had clasped between his teeth and putting it to use as he tried to keep his mind on his work.

It was another few minutes until he spoke up.

“Would you mind giving me a hand over here?” You lifted your head from your palm, gaze shifting over to him as you narrowed your gaze slightly. He could sense your hesitation. “Benny and Bobby left and it’d be easier if I had an extra set of hands.”

You breathe out a huff after a moment and close your unread book, standing from your chair. When you stood just a mere foot away he held out his hand, the lug nuts to the last tire he had to rotate having been in it. You opened your hand with a sigh and he dropped them in your palm.

“You did the other three by yourself, why can’t you do this one?” You ask, brow raised and lips pursed.

He chuckles then, humorless as he shakes his head. “Like I said, easier with an extra set of hands.”

You roll your eyes and watch as he squats down, lifting the tire with ease as his jaw tenses under his weight. You give him the first one when he’s ready for it, and you try your hardest to ignore the way his hand brushes against yours. You try to ignore the way your skin feels like it’s been set on fire in the wake of his touch no matter how brief it’d been.

You turned your head and looked away for a moment as he worked, swallowing thickly as the radio did its best to ease the quiet tension.

He took it upon himself to grab the next one from your palm when he saw you hadn’t been paying attention, the tips of his fingers brushing against your skin. You straightened your stance and had the rest at the ready after that, desperate to avoid those moments of contact otherwise your heart just might burst with agony.

He grabs his impact drill from the workbench and tightens them in place, securing the tire once more. He spins the wheel for good measure, giving it a pat or two before he snags the rag from his pocket, swiping it across his forehead and the back of his neck and wiping away the sweat.

“Thank you, Y/n,” he says.

You notice the way his words falter for a moment, unaware that sweetheart was on the very tip of his tongue just ready to be spoken until he’d caught himself.

You simply nod and his jaw tenses when you walk away, his hand running through his hair before dragging down his face. You barely make it halfway to your desk before he’s speaking up.

“You want me to drive you home?” He calls after you.

He’d driven you this morning, something he offered when the battery to your own car had died. He’d stopped by to drop something off, something trivial and he knew it was stupid. He knew it was far-fetched but he found he just wanted to see you, even if he was being that stubborn idiot he knew himself to be right now.

But he gave you a ride this morning, a quiet drive filled with side glances to the other and the radio put on low, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he drove the two of you to work that morning.

You thought it over for a few fleeting moments, your gaze on your feet before it lifted to him. “Sam’s picking me up.”

You look away just as quickly as you walk behind your desk, stuffing your things in your bag as you grab your sweater from the back of your chair. You fail to see his nod and the way his jaw tenses, you fail to see the way he swallowed thickly as he bites the inside of his cheek. He’s angry at himself and he’s the one to blame for it, he knows that and that blame simmers in the forefront of his mind.

His gaze lingers on you as you sling your bag over your shoulder, pushing the door open and walking out. He looks at the space you once stood in, watching as the door closes behind you with a click.

You hadn’t been there for six days, nearly a week. It was your last day in Kansas and he knew it. He knew it and he wouldn’t let himself forget it no matter how hard he tried to. The very thought of you leaving had weighed heavy on his mind, heavier with each passing minute, hour, day.

He couldn’t let you leave, didn’t want to, but he doesn’t know if he can find the words to say.

It’s noticeable when you’re gone, more than obvious. The garage is dull and quiet, no matter how loud he played Zeppelin on that radio. It didn’t have your smile and it didn’t have your laugh to remind him to lighten up when a tough repair had him frustrated. It didn’t have the sound of your voice whether it’d been you throwing lighthearted jests and quips his way, or if it was when you answered the phone with that smile that makes him forget what he’s doing for a few fleeting moments.

There wasn’t the sound of your voice when you sang along to the songs on the radio under your breath as you sat with your feet up on your desk, your book in your lap when things were slow. Or the way you patched him up when he busted up his hands when he wasn’t paying attention to what he was doing because he was too distracted with you. The way you know your way around a car and make him look like a fool sometimes when he’s working on a repair he can’t quite figure out.

It’s far beyond noticeable that you’re not here, it’s always been noticeable when you’re gone and he can’t think of anything worse of a feeling than looking over to that front desk and finding it empty. Each and every time he looks over there it’s always the same and every time it has his jaw tensing.

He tries his hardest not to fall for anyone, not to get attached for this very reason. He feels like if it were anyone else it wouldn’t be half as bad, but you’re not just anyone. You’re so much more than that and damn does this hurt.

“Dean,” Benny calls out for the third time, his brows furrowed at him.

Dean looks to him from where he stands hovered over the hood of the car he’s working on, the crease between his brows returning. He clears his throat as he stands up straight, brushing his hands off.

“What’s up?”

“I’ve been callin’ your name for that past two minutes,” Benny says, brow raised in curiosity.

“Oh,” he says, nodding his head as a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth in hopes to stave off the brunette’s curious gaze, shrugging his shoulders. “Guess I didn’t hear you.”

He nodded, lips puckering in thought as he eyes the older Winchester with a squint.

“Guess not.” His gaze remained on Dean as he looked back at the task at hand, the one he hadn’t been paying attention to for that last who knows how long. “Darryl called. You got an inspection appointment tomorrow for his truck.”

“Great,” Dean says, tone indifferent and on the cusp of being distracted as he wipes down the bit of oil he spilled.

Benny’s lips pursed, his eyes lingering on Dean for a moment as he took in his expression. Dean could feel his stare, knew full well that Benny caught on to the way he was acting. To the way he was too distracted for his own good. It’s not like it wasn’t painfully obvious, he was sure that anyone in the world who looked at him could tell his mind was elsewhere.

Benny knew and that much was obvious, but Dean had been hoping he’d drop it, had been holding his breath in hopes that he’d leave it at that and move onto something else.

A wave of relief went through him when he’d seen Benny turn and walk away out of the corner of his eye, huffing out a quiet sigh through his nose. It was something that was short lived though, because after a few beats of silence he turned back on his heel with the words on the tip of his tongue, questions just ready to be asked.

“What’s going on with you?” He asked, Dean’s eyes closing as he leaned his hand on the edge of the front end.

He can’t say he didn’t see this coming, he saw it from a mile away. He dipped his head down a fraction as his tongue swiped over his lip, taking it between his teeth for a moment as he squeezed his eyes shut tighter.

“Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, Benny,” he says, turning his head to spare him a glance with pursed lips.

Benny tilted his head to the side and gave him a look, his arms crossing over his chest and Dean mirrored it. “It’s taken you an hour to finish a twenty minute job, Winchester. That ain’t like you.”

“Every car is different, it’s not gonna be a piece of cake every time. Stuff goes wrong sometimes,” he shrugs, irritation simmering in his tone.

“I know damn well that’s not the case.”

“Do you, Benny?” Deans asks, voice raising a fraction as he tosses his wrench on the workbench to his left.

He’s quiet for a moment then, heaving a sigh as he looks at the green eyed mechanic with a squinted look. He sees how touchy Dean is, how easy it is to get under his skin. He’s been like that the past week and a half, nearly two. He’s known him for a long time, knows him better than he thinks and he knows exactly what’s for him acting so differently.

He knows.

“It’s Y/n, isn’t it?” He asks, straight to the point and it has Dean stiffening, has him tensing at your name.

“What?” He asks, and his defensiveness is clear as day.

“Don’t play dumb with me, boy,” he starts, watching Dean’s jaw clench, watching the crease between his brows stiffen. “I saw you two that night, I saw you by the fire and it doesn’t take a genius to know that there’s something there. You can lie to me all you want and act like you don’t have a clue what I’m talking about but I know she’s on your mind.”

Dean rolls his eyes now, a humorless laugh leaving his lips as the anger bubbles in the pit of his stomach. He cares about Benny, he does, but right now all he’s doing is pushing his buttons in a way that’s fueling his frustration.

“You know what, Benny? You can go right ahead and think what you want, that’s fine by me. But it’s not really your business. You’re wrong,” Dean says, finger pointed at him before his hand drops to his side.

“She told me what happened, Dean.”

He freezes in his spot, jaw more tense than ever as he swallows thickly. His stare is narrowed on Benny, hard and angry as his fists clench and relax and he finds he has to look away otherwise he just might crack.

So he does. He turns away from him and runs a hand down his face, thoughts of you flashing through his mind as if they hadn’t done so all day every day for the past who knows how long. He doesn’t need that lecture right now, doesn’t need to be told of the colossal mistake he knows he’s made because it’ll only light the fuse and make everything worse. It’ll only deepen the anger and regret he’s got searing within him till he bursts.

“You miss her, don’t you?” He asks, voice quieter than before.

Dean laughs again to himself, quiet and bitter as his hands stay planted on the workbench. He swallows as the question taunts him, replaying in his mind in a loop. He misses you more than anything, hell, he missed you since the moment you walked out that door that day.

But he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t say a single word as he turns in his heel, laying down the stand to the car’s hood before letting it fall closed with a slam. He can hear Benny’s chuckle, one in response to just how stupid he’s being, to just how stubborn he really is. He can’t say he’s surprised, he’s been this strong willed and stubborn for as long as he can remember. It’s ridiculous and he knows it, and he’d be stupid not to give it one more try.

He eyes the older Winchester with a narrowed glance, a sigh leaving his lips as he watches him busy himself with work that didn’t need to be done.

His gaze lingers for a moment, lips pursed and brows furrowed. Benny moves to turn away, even takes a step or two away from him before he turns back around.

“Dean?”

He turns his head, avoiding Benny’s gaze as he waits for him to talk.

“What you do is your choice, you know that. But I suggest you stop bein’ so damn stubborn and realize what you’ve got before it’s gone. Do me a favor and quit bein’ an idiot.”

With that he walks away, leaving Dean to stand by himself. That anger is still very much there, that frustration stronger than ever as the regret eats away at him. He’s got the urge to sweep all those tools on the floor once more, his chest tight as he jaw tenses. And that glance over to the clock on the wall didn’t make it a single bit better.

“Son of a bitch,” he murmurs through gritted teeth, crossing the garage with quick steps as he snags his keys.

You sigh as you look around your room, scratching the back of your neck as you try and see if you’ve got anything else to add to your bags, to see if you’re missing anything. A part of you is stalling, you know you are. You don’t want to leave home and you don’t think going back to Stanford is in your best interest, not really.

Half of your decision is fueled by your spite towards the older Winchester, to leave just because you said you would. The other half is filled with indecision, filled with the worry that you might regret not finishing your degree. You felt like you owed yourself that much, you did. But you felt that dread in the pit of your stomach at the thought of putting yourself through another year of it, another year of something you didn’t have your heart set on and you knew you couldn’t do that.

It was another conversation to have with Sam, another decision you’d have to make that had your stomach knotting with nerves. Something that’d been the last thing you wanted to do, the last thing you wanted to think about.

But you couldn’t put it off, couldn’t do that forever.

You spun on your heel after giving your room another once over with a sigh, knowing full well there wasn’t anything more you needed for Stanford that wasn’t already over there. Nothing more that you needed other than the clothes and belongings you brought with you when you came home all those weeks ago.

You paced through the hall and down the stairs, your last duffel bag in your hand as you make your way to the living room. All of your bags and suitcases had been stacked by the front door, packed and ready to go as Sam’s had sat there with them.

You swallowed thickly at the sight of them, biting the inside of your cheek in a nervous habit. It only made things all the more real, only solidified the idea that you were leaving again for another few months until you’d come back to visit. Only solidified the thought of going back to law school for one more year.

You exhaled a shaky side as you shook out your hands, pacing around the living room. Sam was gone to say his goodbyes to everyone, something you’d already done the night before. He was gone and he’d be back any minute with Bobby. Then you’d go to the airport and get dropped off together and go back. You’d go back to your second home that just didn’t feel quite so good as this one.

The thought had your nerves swirling in your stomach, twisting and churning as you ran your hands down your face. You were twenty-four still acting like you were eighteen, acting like quitting law school would be the worst thing in the world. You knew there was no rush, no timeline, but the stress of it all was weighing heavy.

The thought of leaving home again, leaving everything for a little while, the thought of the older Winchester was weighing heavier on your mind.

You quit your pacing and walked to the kitchen, grabbing a glass from the cupboard. You filled it with water and drank it down, your teeth sinking into your lip as you closed your eyes for a brief moment.

The ring of the doorbell had your heart jumping in your chest, had it hammering once more. It was time to go and you knew it, there was no more stalling, no more thinking it over. No more putting it off because it was happening now. You were going back for a little while and this was it.

You exhaled a shaky breath as you put your empty glass in the sink, making your way to the door as a couple knocks sounded. Your gaze lingered on your bags by the door for a moment longer, a moment longer before you had to put them in the back of Bobby’s car.

After a beat of hesitation, you twisted the door knob, swinging it open. Your breath hitched in your throat, mouth going dry as your gaze falls on him, his stare moving up from his boots as you meet those green eyes you’d get to stop thinking about. You swallow thickly as your heart flips once more, lips parting.

His expression is hard to read as he stands there with a look to mirror yours, his tongue swiping over his lips in a nervous habit. He reaches up to scratch the back of his neck before his hand falls back down to his side. You glance around him to the Impala parked haphazardly and crooked along the curb, a rushed attempt at parking. And then your eyes flicker back to him, back to the Winchester who’s mouth had been opening and closing a couple times in an attempt to figure out just what he wanted to say.

You were ready to go, as ready as you’ll ever be—and now your plans were put in a tailspin as your mind and your heart spiraled in a frenzy as Dean Winchester stood in front of you once more.

—

Series Taglist: @myloversgone @colereads @stoneyggirl2 @samsgirl93 @poptart06294

General Taglist: @flamencodiva @stixnstripesworld @elegantbutedgy @humanmistakes @agalliasi @campingmonkey @deandaydreaming @lanea-1 @akshi8278 @kidd3ath @taikawho

[anotherbeingsworld]

a step forward

pairing: bryce x f!mc (alessia lyxienne)

book: open heart: third year

rating: general

warning: a few curse words.

word count: 4163

summary: a rewrite of the final chapter of book 3 (3:16) as Alessia will be making a hard decision.

ps: tags and a/n will be at the end of the fic!

I love you…’

‘I love you too.’

Clinging to the profound happiness on the rooftop of Edenbrook, her eyes fall onto him. He’s smiling. Wider than any other smile she has ever seen, he was happy. He is happy, and she is too. It felt like an ending to a fairy tale where they lived happily ever after, but life is far from it. She lets out a sigh, before burying her head into his shoulder for the night – enjoying the bright lights below them. At this moment, she does not know what lies ahead – however, she knows that the feeling of being on top of the world is the best feeling one could felt.

-

“Have you told your friends about the offer?” The voice of Mr.s Lyxienne booms through the call – somewhat a tone of excitement in her voice of a proud mother.

She shakes her head, as an attempt to tidy up her room before the roommates' dinner to celebrate the board results in an intimate setting than before. The sigh escapes her lips, as she rereads the email.

…offer for a new position… head of the diagnostics team….Arizona. We are looking forward to hearing from you soon.

Regards,

Dr. Donald Reegan.

“Haven’t told them yet mom.” She replies, before minimizing the emails tab. Somehow, the email came a day after the party, after she receives her happily ever after. Its been days since then, as tomorrow is her final day as a resident – and her final chance to make a decision.

Her mom didn’t say a word, somehow knows how hard it was to make a decision.

“I know whatever you decide, they’ll be happy for you Alessia.” Her voice is calm, yet there is a hint of boldness in it.

“I know…”

“I’ll have to go now and whatever happens - we are very proud of you.”

“Thanks, mom, I’ll talk to you soon.” After saying our goodbyes, she immediately changed her outfit for their roomie dinner with the others.

-

She was wearing a suit, somehow, she feels much more comfortable in it along with her Vans slip-on. Her hair was tied into a ponytail, as she was met with the others along with Bryce, Kyra, and Rafael.

She took a seat beside Bryce, as he immediately greeted her with a peck on her cheek – she smiles, somehow it didn’t reach the eyes. He took a second, observing her for a moment before they began to order, with his hands around her giving a gentle squeeze. He knew there was something wrong, yet he didn’t wanna pressure her, and she knows it.

The night goes on, as they reminiscing. Talked about everything from the good, the bad, and everything in between. Alessia smiled throughout it all, forgetting about the offer for a moment, as she was drowned by memories. It has become one of the reasons why she hasn’t made a decision yet, Edenbrook gave her the chance to fulfill her dream, yet – it traumatizes her. The senator’s incident suddenly made an appearance in her mind, letting out a shiver – as Jackie calls out her name.

“Hey, you okay? You zoned out there.” Jackie asked as she took a sip of the drink, all of the eyes fall onto her.

Alessia just shook her head, as a smile plastered on her face.

“I’m just, reminiscing. I just can't believe it's been three years, and our residency is almost done.”

Sienna nods in agreement,

“Hey, we did it. And, I’m happy to go through these adventures with all of you!” She lays her head on Jackie’s shoulder, as they all nod.

“Easy for you to say, I still have an extra year! But, then – I’ll be a big-shot surgeon.” Bryce stated as he smiles smugly before the others let out a laugh.

“So, have all of you thought on what the future after everything?” Rafael asked as both Bryce's and his eyes fall onto all five of them.

There was silence at the table, the thought is still processing. The future is coming very soon for all of them. The silence was drowned by the other diners, hush whispers as Alessia’s words got stuck on her throat, somewhat a feeling of confusion, dread, fear was mushed together into one.

“I think I’ll be leaving Edenbrook – somehow, maybe a new chance to start again without being in my aunt’s shadow again,” Aurora spoke, as the other nods and starts to congratulate her.

“Where will you be going?”

“Mass Kenmore, I feel like I got potential – and maybe lead the diagnostics team there; who knows.”

“Good for you, I think I’ll be staying here for a bit. The research team is quite a safe space for me, and I got Zaid and Baz on my side. I think it's definitely where I belong.” A satisfied smile on Elijah’s face can be seen, as Jackie spoke.

“I think I’ll stay, being chief resident – somehow feels just right. Did I get to boss the interns while doing a good job at it? Hell yes.” Jackie smiles excitedly as the others let out a laugh and a nod in agreement. Jackie was indeed a good chief resident – Sienna clears her throat to gain the other's attention.

“I’ll be staying too. I talked to Dr. Banerji earlier – about…” She paused, as she met Alessia’s eyes who nod supportively from the side.

“Changing my residency. There are times, I feel unhappy especially lately – maybe it’s the pressure but, after rethinking more than a dozen times. I’ll be taking the fast track of residency in peds and, hopefully, retake the board exam once more.” She smiles, proudly – a decision has been made as they all cheer in happiness for Sienna.

-

The table went silent once more, as Kyra shoots the final question her way. Alessia looks stiffened, somehow her tongue was tied, she was hesitant, somehow dreading the decision she has to make.

“I…honestly have no idea yet.” Before stuffing some salmon into her mouth, avoiding the stares at her way. She felt him staring at her as well, his eyes on her with a similar shock expression on his face before he jumps in to save the situation.

“Whatever you’ll be doing, it’ll be a great babe.” He says before placing a kiss on her temple, as the others drop the topic sensing the awkwardness that follows.

She was grateful for the save, as they spend the night away reminiscing again and again.

-

4:39 a.m.

The clock never stops ticking as she stood up from the bed. Bryce is still sound asleep beside her, as she smiles over the sight of him. How much happiness one human being can bring to this world, to her world. How much he lights up her world – the darkness suddenly was lit up by his smile, his encouraging words, his kisses, his hugs, and everything about one Bryce Lahela.

She examines him from afar, as the city of Boston was visible from his apartment window in the living room. A few cars were bustling around town, to begin an early start of the day. The sigh escaped her lips, the decision seems to haunt her once more. 2300 miles away from Edenbrook, from her friends, from…Bryce. It feels like a difficult decision – because she couldn’t imagine being away from him. What life would be like waking without his smile? What life would look like without the laughter of her roommates who have made her time at Edenbrook much worth it? How different it is to not be greeted with Bryce’s kisses at the peak of dawn? All of the thoughts swirling in her mind bring back to a conversation from her first day of the final year of residency.

“I know, we will never change. But, look what Leland did – this is where we are heading Alessia, our life is changing, medicine is changing and we can’t do anything about it. Life is about change – and like Edenbrook it changed alongside us.”

She lets out a breath she is holding upon the revelation from Bryce. It is the truth, and it’s gonna fall upon them anyways somewhere in the future. She wanted to deny but, she knows it’s the whole truth – as her head falls on his shoulders once more.

Bryce pulled her into his embrace, as he slowly strokes her hair – letting out a sigh along the way.

“But, tonight – the future can’t touch us and, we will always going to be us, Bryce and Alessia.” His words were soft and gentle, somewhat an attempt to calm her heart down.

“Tonight, it’s only us and that’s the only thing that I want to know.” Her lips met with his, as they enjoyed the night together talking about everything and nothing – as the feared was buried at the back of their minds. Somehow, it still leaves a bitter taste for them as the truth will come to face them very very soon; but for now… they have tonight.

She shivers at the memory, somehow the change had caught up to her. Change is going to follow them for the rest of their lives – and, if they were lucky; it will still be the same. Yet, she knows it's already different. The change has begun before her thoughts were interrupted by familiar footsteps letting out a yawn.

“Hey, it’s still early – c’mon, let’s get back to sleep.” His voice was hoarse, yet she smiles at the request pushing the thoughts once again as she finally got some sleep. A few hours at the least, before she has to be up for her final day as a resident.

-

Her steps lead her to Dr. Banerji’s office who smiles at her presence, somewhat surprise but content with her sudden arrival to his office.

“Dr. Banerji – I need some advice.”

-

The day went by quickly, as the final patient of the day was checked – and the cases have been handled throughout the day alongside the diagnostics team. She stayed behind, somehow admiring the diagnostics office, a feeling of nostalgia washes through her before her moment was ruined by the arrival of Ethan and Tobias himself – who looked surprised to see her.

“Alessia, good to see you here once again.”

She smiles,

“I know, I’m just admiring this office for the final time – I’m gonna miss this place.” She lets out a sigh, as Tobias smiles.

“Hey, you and me both. But, never be afraid to start again somewhere – because life does works in weird yet rewarding ways.” He winks as Ethan lets out a chuckle.

“You have gotten wiser over the years huh.” Tobias just smiles at the remark before they congratulate her once again – leaving her with the empty room again.

She whispers something to herself, before shutting the lights off in the room.

-

She stared at the offer that lies in front of her, a deep breath follows as she dialed the number. A decision has been made, like a pinch of pain filled her lungs, somehow pulling her to drown, yet she keeps on running.

-

She needed to tell them, needed to tell him. Alessia left her room with the feeling of dread, and fear swirling in her stomach – as she was met with them all laughing together as they were watching one of Elijah’s long list of movies. She took a seat beside Jackie, joining them in the fit of laughter. She is ready to let the truth roll out - well, ready as one will ever be.

“So…I have to tell you guys something.”

There it is – the truth all laid out. A series of ‘why's and clueless looks on their faces. Alessia remains calm for the whole demeanor, somewhat manage to rehearse the speech in her head as the movie plays in the background of her mind.

The room was silent, taking a moment to process it. She was immediately engulfed in a hug from her side, Sienna has her arms around Alessia.

“That’s why you were quiet at dinner right.” A knowing tone in Jackie’s voice, as Alessia nods in response.

“I needed to decide. This was an experience, but – I need to spread my wings. And, Arizona isn’t too far ahead guys. I can visit, maybe Edenbrook and The John Mayo Clinic can work together – and we will be together as always.” She attempted with a cheery tone.

“It wouldn’t be the same – and, that room of yours; will miss its owner.” Jackie points at her room, but she couldn’t help to smile at her.

“Hey, that room will always be yours. Well, as long as Farley allows us to keep it.” They all laugh before Sienna calls a group hug session – a familiar gesture for them all.

“Don’t forget us in the big leagues Alessia,” Aurora stated, as she shook her head. “Never – all of you are too hard to be forgotten” She smiles as they continue to discuss her new position with everything in between – before, the room went quiet once again. Everyone has fallen asleep, as she was wide awake; meeting Elijah who wheels in from the kitchen, somewhat startled at Alessia being awake at this hour.

“Want a cup of tea?” He gestures at the cup he is holding.

“Yes please.” She smiles, as they indulge upon the tea – a comforting silence follows.

“You are leaving soon huh.”

“I guess I am, I just…I feel like it's time.” The words felt painful on the tip of her tongue.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry for how I reacted before about the Dr. Ramsey thing – I shouldn’t have lashed out at you and, I’m sorry.” Elijah sounded genuine, as he smiles at her.

Alessia nods,

“I forgive you, but it still hurts you know.”

He lowers his head, somehow feeling ashamed about the reminder of it,

“Yeah, I feel bad afterward – and, my ego was quite huge at the time. And, I’m very very sorry.”

Alessia returns his smile, as they talked a bit.

“Does Bryce know?” He asked, somewhat with genuine concern.

She shakes her head, letting out a sigh.

“I wanted to tell him, but…we just got our happily ever after here. And, I just…I planned on leaving quietly but, I can’t do that to him.”

“Maybe you should go to him right now, I think he mentions a late shift earlier at the doctor’s lounge.” Elijah pointed out, as Alessia nods – finishing up her tea, and pulls Elijah into a hug.

“Thanks, Elijah.” She was about to leave before Elijah calls her out.

“Hey, Alessia, for what’s it worth - you’ll be okay out there.”

She nods in appreciation, as her foot was set out of the apartment.

-

“Alessia – hey, what’s up!” He greeted her, as she sat waiting for him at the hospital lobby.

“Hey.” She replies as she hugs him, clinging to him – as Bryce lets out a laugh at the sudden gesture which he didn’t push her away.

“Someone’s eager.” He teased her, earning a nudge from Alessia followed by laughter as they walked out of the hospital together.

Their steps fall into a rhythm, as they stopped by a 24-hour bistro; ordering themselves a box of loaded fries – a moment of déjà vu again; as she smiled at the memory. Bryce caught her smiling, as he took a bit of the fries.

“How’s your day been?”

“Nothing much I guess….oh - oh! I scored a major surgery today with Dr. Tanaka earlier – and the patient survives.”

She smiles at his enthusiasm even if it's at 4 in the morning; he managed to make even the saddest of souls smile, that was his power.

“So…what’s up? I mean, I’m not opposed to you visiting me at work or anything – but, this is the time where one should be asleep.” He raised an eyebrow at her, and she took a deep breath.

“We need to talk.” Her friendly tone has become serious, as the four-word which every human dread of hearing somehow become a wake-up call for him, as he sat up straight – the carefree expression has been wiped away with a look of concern, nervousness, and dread in between. She places her hand in his from across the table, giving it a gentle squeeze – calming him down before the truth was set free.

-

He blinked once, twice. As Alessia finished telling him – he was speechless, literally. The silence follows a few moments, somehow he is still searching for the words to say. Yet, all of the words in his mind have vanished. Zip, blink, nada.

She met his eyes, she looked worried, the expression of guilt was written all over her face. He manages a small smile, somehow – he didn’t say a thing. A part of him; still grasping upon the truth.

‘I accepted an offer from the Mayo Clinic at Arizona.’

His throat somehow went dry, as he took a sip of the remaining milkshake. Pulling himself together – and wished he has a guide upon facing these types of situations.

‘Oh..’ Was all that came out of his mouth, somehow…dumbfounded on how to respond to this sudden revelation.

After a moment of silence that follows – the sound of the instrumentals drowns the thoughts along with his hesitations upon the situation. He smiles, he smiles – which didn’t reach the eyes as much as he tries his best to. There was a mix of pride – of course, there was, he was proud of her. He wants her to be the best doctor she could be because she indeed is, it was one of the mantras from their first year.

He remembers the doubt in her voice, as they cling to one another at the on-call room. He looks at her and sees much more than what she sees in herself. And, this…its an opportunity for her. Yet, the sorrow in his heart began to grow; he wants her by his side – to be with him at Edenbrook. He wants to be with her every day, but; life never really gave him what he wants. But, one thing he knows – he is damn proud of her, as the sorrow has vanished in a second; as he stood– opening his arms wide for her, as she immediately sinks into his arms. No words were exchanged, as he kissed on top of her head; he was proud of her; he is – always.

But…

He shakes the thought away, as he holds her there. It felt like home, and he wonders – if she goes away, what would home feel like anymore?

-

He has suddenly been busier, life pulled them apart – excuses were made. She knew he was deflecting, she stopped going to the hospital after her final day ended, as the moving process began.

All of her stuff has been packed, as some were already transported the day her parents came down to Boston. There was a bittersweet feeling upon the situation, as she struggles to get a hold of Bryce. They haven’t seen one another in weeks, as the last day – she left his apartment as he went into work. They didn’t talk, it was a silent night; no words were spoken, as they lay side-by-side. He dreaded the silence, but it felt like the future that will occur to them very soon, he sighs – better get used to it now.

And, that’s the time he last saw her. He has been busying himself with surgeries, requesting extra work to the point where he could be living in the hospital. It was hard for him to face her, the decision was only a few words – yet, the power that came with it. It’s unbearable.

He checked his phone once again, there was a new message from Alessia. He sighs before shoving the phone in his pocket – repeating his whole routine for the rest of the day.

Unfortunately, he has to change and get home every once and a while, and he did after his shift was over. He paused upon his footsteps, as he found Alessia waiting inside. The sad, gloomy expression is obvious – as he remembers, he gave her a spare key if she ever wanted to stay over for the night.

‘Hi.’

-

She stood up from the couch, keys in hand at the sound of the door opening. He looked like he hasn’t slept, as he saw her. It was an unexpected visit for her, as she was supposed to clear her final pile of stuff before it is shipped the next day.

His mouth open, as if to say something – which resulted in an exhausted ‘hi’ towards her way. She nods appreciatively upon the greeting.

‘Bryce, please – why have you been avoiding me?” She blurted out suddenly, the silence is killing her inside.

He didn’t reply, as he took a seat on the couch as she stood in front of him.

“I don’t know - I was busy with the surgeries…” He didn’t continue as Alessia feels a part of her was betrayed.

“Then, it wouldn’t even bother for you to reply to my texts? Or even text me, saying ‘hey, I need to take off some steam’… It's not hard Bryce!” He meets her eyes, somehow a pang of regret over his actions.

“I don’t know okay, it feels like everything is happening so fucking fast, and the fact that you’re leaving soon – I need to breathe. I need to clear my head, I…I can’t face you after that day.” His eyes fall upon his hands, somehow avoiding her eyes.

“Then face me now, tell me everything. Stop running away from me Bryce – as much as I am ready to begin the new journey; I’m dreading till the moment that we have to say goodbye.” She took a seat beside him on the couch, as he finally sees her. He finally meets her eyes, his brown one meeting her green ones. The wave of sadness in his eyes, mirrored with hers. Somehow they both have to say something – and they can't avoid it anymore.

“I…I was scared.” He lets out a light laugh, as she curled her fingers with his squeezing it.

“I never knew this would happen, I met somebody and that person made me feel terrified for once in a while. You made me scared of being without you – it felt like a norm, waking up with you beside me and our nighttime adventures. I…as cheesy as it is…” He laughs, as Alessia laughs along with him – the familiar air started to fill in the room.

“I was scared of not being able to wake up next to you again. My whole life; I have always been my own person – and then I met you. I was scared the shit out of myself on how much a person can mean a lot to me, how one person can change your life in a split second – and change it once more in a snap of a finger; and…I thought about it….” He paused meeting her eyes fully, somehow he was prepared. Weeks without her, made him think – made him wonder, made him realize, and everything in between.

He continues, “I want you to go, I don’t want to stop you cause you deserve the position Alessia. You are one of the best people I know, hence – the best damn doctor I ever know.” His hands land on her cheek, as she felt a tear shed, he smiles sadly over the sentiment wiping the tears away.

Alessia was about to reply before he silences her with a kiss. His forehead meeting hers, somehow – the words that follow, it made her heart happy.

“You deserve to be your person and be where you want to. I’ll always have your back, always have, and always will. I love you Alessia.” She smiles over the affection before she wraps her arms around him – relieved washed in her heart.

“I love you too Bryce…so so much.” She whispers to him, overwhelmed as she smiles again and again until the day she has to leave. She knew Bryce will be there for her always, and she will be there for him. Their story - it was a story for the ages of all ages - and it doesn’t have to stop as the universe was doing their thing; because in the end – if the universe allows them to be together, they will be together, because distance can be damned.

It won’t stop the story of Alessia Lyxienne and Bryce Lahela, because they both are too stubborn to let it go. There will be a pause – but never a stop button, and she is grateful for that, before she leaves Boston, into her new place. It wasn’t home, because home is a heartbeat with two eyes that lives 2300 miles away from her.

‘We got this.’ She whispers, gazing into her new place – as a new chapter begins for one Alessia Lyxienne.

THE END.

a/n: okay, so I'm finally writing something which is to be fair quite late for an open heart tribute - but, hey; despite how shitty it has become, this book will have a special place in my heart. I mean, it started my writing, and well, the rest are history. Bryce Lahela is one of the characters I loved to write and writing his journey with Alessia, is one of the most unexpected things I have ever done, and, well. Their journey is over now in the game, however - deep down I know they are living their lives in a different universe. I also wanna dedicate this to all who have been supporting me from the start even, and a special mention to my gurl nikka, who actually made me not stop writing again, and well, this fic happened! I love everything about this and the whole experience, and I think I won't stop just yet...but, the future is always uncertain. But, I know I have a good time for the last year of doing this. Thank you <3

tags:

@bitchloveskcbaseball , @mvalentine , @storyofmychoices , @princess-geek , @lahellacute ,   @annekebbphotography , @dcbbw , @choicessa , @fantasyoverreality98 , @baltersome , @ofpixelsandscribbles , @thundergom @starrystarrytrouble  @kelseaaa, @choicesficwriterscreations, @lalizah, @drethanramslay, @eleanorbloom, @openheartfanfics , @brycesgirl,  @freckles-spangledvampire, @agentnolastname, @adriansbiss , @appiomofchoice, @ariondevereux, @natureblooms24 , @robintora (comment if you want to be tagged or removed 💜💜)

[i-see-no-whump-up-here]

Whumpmas in July (Day 6): Mistake

A/N: I’m working on introducing some of the characters I write with, so this is a whumpee’s start with one of my usual whumpers, a whumpee collector who (pretentiously) calls himself “The Master”. I don’t think this needs any CW’s, but please let me know if I need to add any.

Jesse took a deep breath, and he knocked on the big, wooden door. Barely a second passed before he heard. “Come in.”

“Mr. Donovan? Sir?” Jesse cautiously opened the door to an ornate office. Tall, walnut bookcases lined two walls so they framed the fine furniture between. Mr. Donovan sat at his desk, backlit by a large bay window. He didn’t look at Jesse, continuing to write in his journal.

“Have a seat,” The man said. Jesse stepped around the leather studded chair and did so gingerly. He didn’t speak yet, too afraid to mess up this opportunity. He still didn’t know quite what it was, but he knew that he needed it. Mr. Donovan finished his thoughts and then set his journal to the side.

“So, Josiah—“

“Jesse,” The younger man corrected. Then, he realized he interrupted, and he backpedaled. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to interrupt. It’s just a habit. Never been a fan of my full name.” He laughed nervously. Mr. Donovan raised an eyebrow.

“Right.” Mr. Donovan grabbed a manila envelope and opened it, pulling out a small stack of papers. He set only the top page in front of Jesse. “Fill this out.”

“Sure,” Jesse looked around. He started to reach for the pen holder but stopped himself. “May I?”

“You didn’t bring a pen,” Mr. Donovan asked— or said, rather. Jesse’s face turned red.

“No. Sorry— sir,” He wasn’t normally one for formal titles, but in this case, he thought it was warranted. A few days ago, he received a call from Mr. Donovan. The man found his resume online, and he claimed to have a unique opportunity for him. Jesse looked him up to make sure it wasn’t a spam call. His full name was Henry Donovan, and apparently, he was quite wealthy, worth several hundred million, but he couldn’t find much more about him. An elusive type— not a man who often socialized, as far as Jesse could tell. Some part of Jesse wished he could find more information on him, but he feared looking this gift horse in the mouth.

The man hadn’t said no, so Jesse carefully grabbed a pen and twisted the tip out. He wrote his full legal name in the right spots, and then he looked down the rest of the page. The form contained a weird mix of personal, legal, financial, and medical information. He paused for a moment, wanting to ask why Mr. Donovan needed this. He didn’t quite feel comfortable putting his social security number in, but surely if the man was asking, this was legal. He must have a team of lawyers watching his wealth, and this wasn’t some shady online website. He filled it in and answered the rest of the questions.

He wrote his current address. He lived alone. He didn’t have a current employment. He didn’t receive money from his parents. When he got to the medical part, he marked them as deceased. He didn’t have any allergies. He didn’t know of any current health issues. His family’s medical history was clean. The last box asked him if he told anyone about this opportunity, and to share who. Jesse forced himself to speak up. “What do you need this for? What exactly is the opportunity? Is it research or something?”

“We’ll get to that in a minute. It’s fairly straightforward,” Mr. Donovan dismissed. As Jesse signed the bottom of the page, he pulled out two more pages from within the stack. “Sign on these lines.”

“It pays well though, right?” Jesse scrawled his signature a few more times, but the papers were pulled away from him before he could see what they said at the top. “You said you knew I was behind on my rent, but I have some other payments to catch up on. I was wondering if we might be able to frontload some of the pay? Then I can take less later.”

“It’ll all be taken care of,” Mr. Donovan promised. Jesse nodded. Right. He probably needed to get the job first. Or did he already get it? He drove all the way out to this insanely fancy manor, so surely he did something right. Mr. Donovan started to get up, and Jesse sprung to his feet as well.

The man walked to one bookcase and pulled on a few books. Then, he moved a few more aside to reveal a pin pad. He typed in a code, and there was an audible click. Jesse startled as a bookcase slid back. Okay… that was unique.

“Ah. Cliche,” He gave a weak smile. Mr. Donovan didn’t seem amused.

“Classic,” He corrected. Jesse flexed his hands at his side. “I need to ask that you turn off your phone and remove anything from your pockets. It’s a security concern.”

“I can keep secrets,” Jesse promised, but he did as requested. He set his wallet and keys on the desk, and he turned off his phone, setting it alongside. As an afterthought, he made sure they sat straight and neat. Then, he joined his potential employer at the bookcase opening. A staircase was visible now.

“After you,” Mr. Donovan gestured toward the stairs. Jesse hesitated. The whole scenario felt off. Not by much, but Jesse was generally suspicious of wealthy people, and the whole secret staircase thing wasn’t helping his secret lair vibes. Although, it didn’t look evil and dingy, nor like a sex dungeon. The stairs were nicely lit with elegant tile and an indent in the wall that acted as a railing. Mr. Donovan quickly grew impatient. “I’m a very busy man, Jesse.”

“Right. Sorry. I appreciate the opportunity. I really do,” Jesse insisted. Even if he was nervous, that wasn’t a new feeling for him, and he needed the money. Whatever he was getting paid, he was sure it would help, and he figured it’d be worth the weirdness of this all. The sum he needed to fix his entire life was probably mere chump change to this man. He forced himself to start forward. Mr. Donovan trailed a few steps behind him. At the bottom of the stairs was a small junction, with hallways going forward and either direction to his left or right. Jesse waited for the man to catch up to him at the bottom.

“Left,” Mr. Donovan instructed. “The door on your right.” Jesse went down the left hallway. There was only one door on his right, and it looked to be made of brass. Mr. Donovan had to scan his eye and fingerprint. The whole place was very high security, and Jesse wondered again what he was getting into. The door unlocked, and Mr. Donovan motioned him in. “Fourth on your left.”

This hallway had at least a dozen doors, but they were all made of metal. They had closed metal windows-- like prison doors. Jesse hesitated. “What’s down here?”

“I’ll show you in a second.”

“Why is it all reinforced? What is this?” Jesse asked. Mr. Donovan took a step forward, and it spurred Jesse to at least step into the hallway, still debating how much he could question in this position. He had to be pushing his luck as it was, and historically, no one appreciated his questions.

“Go,” Mr. Donovan said sternly. “Unless you want to end up in prison from debt.” Jesse felt his heart beating faster. He didn’t, obviously, but he wasn’t sure he wanted whatever was happening here either. Were there exotic animals in these cells maybe? Was he comfortable with that? Could he be? For the right sum? He didn’t know.

“Fourth on your left. Last chance,” Mr. Donovan insisted. Jesse numbly walked forward. He watched as the man typed in another pin, and then he opened the door.

It was a cell. A small cell with nothing but a white trash bin in the corner and a white padded bed. Holy shit. Holy shit! No. Absolutely not. No no no. Jesse took a step back, but Mr. Donovan was already behind him. “Go inside.”

“No!” Jesse yelped. “You’re insane. Absolutely fucking bonkers!” He swiveled his head to Mr. Donovan and then back to the cell. “What the heck is this for?! Do you think I’m just gonna go in there?!”

There was a click, and Jesse looked behind him again. Mr. Donovan held a small pistol in his hand. His soul might as well have left his body. Guns absolutely terrified him, and he’d barely seen any, much less had one aimed at him. He tried to find words in his dry mouth. He opened and closed it like an idiot.

“Step back,” Mr. Donovan ordered. Jesse compiled without even thinking. The man took a step after him, and Jesse moved back again automatically.

“Please,” Jesse’s voice strained. “Don’t shoot me.” He continued to back away, eyes trained solely on the gun. Mr. Donovan moved his hand, and Jesse flinched. The hand found the door handle. Wait. Jesse hadn’t even realized he was in the cell now. He surged forward.

The door slammed shut just as he got there, his hands hitting the padded metal surface a second later. He slammed his palms against it. “Wait! Wait!”

The window cover slid open, and Jesse could only see out through iron bars. “Mr. Donovan, please!”

“Technically, I have a doctorate--”

“Doctor Donovan--”

“-- but you will just call me Master.” The window slid shut. Jesse hit the door again in panic. He searched for a handle, for a crack, for anything to grab, and he found nothing. He yelled. He squeezed his fingers between the padding, but it was bolted down. He slammed his shoulder into the door so hard his entire body hurt with the impact, and he fell backward onto the floor.

Down there, the walls felt so high yet suffocating at the same time. He got onto his hands and knees and stared at the unmoving door. No... What had he done?

[bush-viper-cutie]

Pretending

Pairing: Snape x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,223

Rating: E for Everyone

Plot:  Severus is forced to attend Lucius’ party. The plan is simple, get rejected enough times, have Lucius think he’s a helpless cause, and go back to Hogwarts to continue reading his book. 

Warnings: None

A/N: For Snape Appreciation Month, prompt 9: Snape is a pureblood. @snapeloveposts​

Posted: 6/20/20

Masterlist

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

Severus tried twisting his arm out of Lucius’ grip as he was dragged down the Malfoy Manor entrance hall and through two rococo style double doors into their dancing hall. A live band played in the center as dozens of families gathered and talked or danced around the room.

“You’ve come all this way, so just go talk to people!” Luscious let go of his hand and straightened his coat. “If you haven’t found someone to share your life with – ”

Severus groaned.

“So help me I will set you up with Narcissa’s great aunt!” Lucius stormed away.

Severus scoffed and dusted off his sleeve. “Why did I agree to go to this. I’m perfectly fine reading in my office,” he grumbled.

He would have to make a show of looking. He knew that by the way Lucius was staring him down from across the room. The plan was simple. He would just have to talk to people that would NEVER give him a second of their time, and after a couple of rejections he would see it was pointless and he could be back in his office reading before the clock chimed at twelve.

He glanced at several dancing figured and then at the small groups of people talking and laughing. He spotted several targets of interest. He walked up to an elaborately dressed man with lavender purple tails and a matching gem broach and nodded politely.

The man looked him up and down and walked away. He could admit it stung, but not as much as the inconvenience of being here. He looked over at Lucius who was sipping at his wine while observing him and continued onto the next victim.

This time he offered a polite “Hello” but the man simply copied him and turned back to his partner. Alright I didn’t really expect to simply show up and be turned down… he huffed and walked away, turning his sights on a group of women laughing by the band and a less wealthy group on the other side.

He didn’t feel like immediate rejection and figured the less showy group would let him speak at least a few more words but he was sorely mistaken. They closed of any spaces and huddled closer as they saw him approach with intent.

“Lucius, I swear – ” he pinched the bridge of his nose and walked over to the wealthiest looking group, hoping it would be the last rejection of the night before he could walk back defeated and be allowed to leave and spend his Saturday night in peace reading Kybelen’s new book Forbidden Potion Recipes Lost to Time and Law.

This group consisted of several women with sparkly jewels and gems adorning their long-layered gowns. Two more with braided up-dos with exotic feathers while the other two wore their hair down with a glass hair piece reflecting colorful light all around.

He cleared his throat as he approached, and they looked back at him. He noticed their eyes trailing over his attire and could see their eyes rolling. He regretted wearing the outfit Lucius had sent him, even if it was fancy-looking, everyone could tell he didn’t belong in it.

“Hello,” one of the women greeted him in and stepped aside, making room for him to join.

He stepped into the little circle and greeted everyone. Relieved, his mission now was simple. Open his mouth, get rejected, go home, and finish reading before his NEWT class on Monday.

“Evening,” Severus gave a small bow.

“We were discussing Kybelen’s new book,” the girl closest him smiled.

Severus turned to face her, surprised. She had long flowing hair and a glass bow on her head and in her white gloved hands was the very book.

“Indeed,” he breathed out. “What exactly?”

The other woman sighed, “I think those ‘uncovered’ recipes should have stayed buried in ‘time’. It’s absolutely irresponsible to publish them. I mean, what happens if people try to actually brew them? If the Ministry forbids it for our safety, then why tell the world?” she huffed, completely flustered.

Severus turned back to the girl with the book in her hand and saw she was rolling her eyes.

“See, Mr…”

“Snape.”

The group narrowed their eyes at him, as if trying to puzzle together what kind of family name it was, however the woman with the book payed no attention and continued.

“Mr. Snape, I believe it is right and fair we were given back the knowledge that was stolen from us by the Ministry. These recipes were discovered and perfect and then stolen and burned and hidden for fear of Muggles and their hatred of us and our fear of them. I’ve counted over eleven forgotten techniques in this book that could revolutionize how we brew potions today, and I’m not even finished with it yet.”

Another woman, clearly amused by the argument laughed, “Mr. Snape. What, may I ask, is your opinion on this controversial new book?”

Severus cleared his throat, excited to talk about it, “Well, I agree with Miss,” he turned to the glass bow woman.

She smiled, enthused to have someone on her side, “Marigold Demar-Dor.”

“I agree with Miss Demar-Dor. Already several journals have been released theorizing about the possible changes and effects certain potions will have with these new techniques,” he noticed her smiling at him and continued, “And I personally don’t find it wrong to learn and have knowledge of them. Just because we now know them does not mean they should become legal to brew.”

Marigold nodded, “Well said, Mr. Snape. And please, call me Marigold.”

“Severus, then.” He smiled back at her and noticed she stepped closer to him.

“Yes, but what if some Muggle-born or Half-blood decide to try the one to do with giving a muggle temporary magic on a squib, or worse on a Muggle.”

Marigold laughed, “It was never proven and that’s not how magic works. Obviously back then they received some sort of result that made Muggles appear to have magic. I’m sure half the potions we brew now would give similar effects should we feed them to Muggles.”

“The cure for Flame Breath makes Muggles levitate several inches in their sleep but not wizards. The Ministry manages to keep Wizards from giving it to muggles and I see no reason why it should not be the same for these,” Severus smiled back at the look Marigold was giving him.

“Yes, well true Purebloods would not be keen on the thought of that potion circulating society once more.”

“The Demar-Dors haven’t had a drop of Muggle blood in a century and I see no problem with it,” Marigold folded her arms.

“Mr. Snape, what about you?”

Severus swallowed. This was his chance to escape but he couldn’t bring himself to ruin his night just yet. He was glad to hear her thoughts and opinions on a book he knew no one else cared about, and he didn’t mind in the least the smile she gave him.

“My family has been Purebloods for generations, and I too side with Marigold,” he noticed her arm was now brushing against his.

They had clearly won the argument as the opposing woman looked away in anger.

“Severus, will you dance with me?” Marigold looped her arm in his and turned him towards her.

Severus smiled and led them out of the group, taking her copy and placing it in his pocket. He took her hand and placed his other on her waist and began dancing. Marigold slid her free hand from his arm and up to his shoulder.

She smiled at him and played with his hair as they danced. The song changed and slowed, and she took up his invitation at a second dance. She placed her head on his shoulder and twirled alongside him. After the slow dance she took his arm and guided him through the crowd into the entrance hall and out the back glass-paneled doors.

“You dance wonderfully, Severus,” she looped her arm back through his and rested her head on his shoulder. “How do you know Lucius?”

“School friends. We both went to Hogwarts.”

“He’s never mentioned you,” she looked up at him.

He looked away, knowing Lucius wasn’t the type to bring up any Half-blood friends he might have to any of his wealthier, more pure friends.

She kissed his cheek and stepped back, “There’s a fountain in the garden, would you like to find it with me?”

“I know where it is,” Severus held out his elbow, but she took his hand instead, waiting for him to lead.

They walked in the bright moonlight through the rose bushes and he couldn’t help but feel like a prince from a fairytale. The night had turned lovely, but he couldn’t allow himself to feel anything real. He lied about his status and by the time the clock strikes twelve the party would be over, and he would be back at Hogwarts, reading his book.

Marigold pulled him up the steps and sat them down at the fountain’s edge. Almost like a dream, the fountain lights turned on and the pink-tinted water started pouring out. Marigold leaned into him and planted a gentle kiss on his lips.

“Tell me about yourself, Severus,” Marigold kissed his lips one last time before letting him speak.

“I teach potions at Hogwarts.”

Marigold’s eyes lit up instantly, “Potions was my favorite subject! Now I wish I had gone to Hogwarts, although we might not have been in the same year,” she laughed.

Severus smiled and looked away. His guilt was starting to eat at him and began to mix with dread and sadness. She was beautiful and clearly had the same passion for potions as he did, she even carried the book with her much like he had wanted to do.

He felt her soft glove brush his fingers before she placed her hand on his. He turned back and she kissed his lips once more, filling him with warmth and longing. She looked, talked, and acted like a princess and he wanted to treat her like one for more than just one night.

“Any other subjects you enjoyed?”

Marigold blushed and looked away, “I might have enjoyed… the Dark Arts class.”

Perfect. She’s perfect. His heart broke at the inevitable loss he’d endure tonight. He wondered what she was really like, away from Lucius’ house, away from her friends, just on her own, in a more normal setting. Would she like his personality?

They kissed once more and he heard a distant clock chime, marking the end of the day and the start of a new one. She pulled away from him and brushed her thumb on his cheek. He sighed and looked away, staying still even as she stood.

“Severus?”

“Marigold… You should go on. It was nice meeting you,” Severus hung his head and let his hair fall forward. He crossed his arms, resting them over his knees.

She sat back down and placed a hand over his shoulder, “I’d like to see you again.”

Severus rolled his eyes, “No. You wouldn’t. I’m not a – ” his nails dug into his palms as he squeezed his hands into tighter fists. “I’m not a Pureblood,” he hissed. Disgusted at the words coming out of his mouth. “I’m a bloody Half-blood,” he spat on the ground beside him, loathing how he felt. Ashamed.

She placed her hand on his cheek and pulled his attention towards her. He frowned, confused at her continued affection and was about to speak when she kissed him suddenly.

Her lips were warm and sweet, and her nose pressed against his cheek, heating them up to what he knew would be an obvious pink blush. He closed his eyes and leaned into her kiss, parting his lips with hers and placing his hand on her arm.

“You don’t have to pretend to be a Pureblood around me, Severus. Being one doesn’t make you better,” she pulled on his lip with hers and made him smile. “Obviously it doesn’t make you better considering I’ve rejected several Purebloods at this party and yet decided to dance with you.” She tilted her head and pecked at his lips, “You are far more interesting, and far cuter than any man here,” she kissed his cheek and stood up, offering him her hand.

He took it, “Then you still want to see me again?”

“What were you planning on doing after this party?”

Severus felt very on the spot. He didn’t want to assume where her question was leading and yet he didn’t want to lie. If there was ever a time to use Legilimency on anyone he would use it on her now. He held his hand behind his back and fidgeted, trying to decide on an answer.

“I was going to go back to Hogwarts and read the book. Nothing-else,” he winced at how dull he sounded.

“Then, why don’t you come back to mine and read it there,” she wrapped her arms around his neck, “Afterall, I do have a copy,” she stood on her toes and kissed him.

“But if I’m reading… what will you be doing?”

She winked at him and pressed her lips to his. He chuckled and nodded, letting her apparate them away.

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

[limerental]

for the anonymous prompt: First time Yennefer smiles at him, Jaskier walk full-on into a tree because his brain stops working and his heart takes over and his heart is stupid and only focusing on her 

link on ao3 because this got away from me

---

It is academic coincidence that draws the two of them together. The Oxenfurt professor is drafting a historical epic to be performed at spring commencement and requires the knowledge of an expert on ancient, arcane artifacts. Said expert is a bright-eyed sorcerer fresh from a dig in the south.

The man is dangerously handsome and so enthused to have someone to chatter on about his work with that he pays for a whole pitcher of ale at one of the swankier taverns in town, maps and diagrams and documents and dusty old books spread all over their corner table. The pair laugh and bluster and hotly debate together well into the evening, until work gives way to enjoying a delectable platter of dried fruits and hard cheeses paired with yet more ale.

It is halfway through their second pitcher that both of them go still, blinking at one another, stunned by the realization that they have an unexpected mutual acquaintance.

“You know Yennefer?” asks Istredd, his head tipped in fresh appraisal of the strange professor.

“Of course, I do,” says Jaskier. “I’ve known her for years and years. Mind you, many of those years I wished very dearly not to have known her, but we have reached a truce now. Some may even call us friendly. I’ll have to see about getting us all together the next time she’s in town.”

“No, no,” says the sorcerer, smiling somewhat sadly. “I’m afraid we parted last in less than ideal circumstances.”

“Oh dear, none of that,” Jaskier says and stands to gesture for the barkeep to bring more dried figs and fresh-baked bread and tender slivers of sausage. A bottle of wine for good measure.

“We were in love once,” says Istredd, sighing. “I think so at least. We were very young. And foolish.”

“Mmmm,” hums the poet in understanding as he pours the sorcerer a brimming cup of dark wine.

“I loved her eyes the most,” he says wistfully. “Such bright, clever eyes, despite such darkness in them.”

Jaskier nods in agreement. He can’t say that he has spent long hours peering into Yennefer’s eyes, but he has still seen that flare of hurt that lurks in their violet depths. He has spun that detail into more than one composition. He wonders if Istredd has heard them.

“Oh but her smile. I’ve never known something quite so beautiful. So timid and soft and tender. Full of warmth and light. So genuine and sweet and stunning.”

“That doesn’t sound much like the Yennefer I know,” says Jaskier. Yennefer does not smile. She smirks sometimes or grimaces, but her default state tends to be one of barely-contained irritation. Or maybe that state is only due to his presence. He thinks she surely must smile at the Witcher. Or at Ciri, maybe. But he can’t imagine it.

“If you should ever witness that smile turned your way,” Istredd says, cross-eyed with drunkenness, pointing a sharp finger into Jaskier’s chest. “You will feel like the luckiest man alive. I promise you this. You will be half-ruined for any other. You will wish you could inspire that smile a dozen times over and then some. That she would look at you like that until the end of your days.”

“I will take your word for it,” says Jaskier with a laugh, and they spend the rest of the night in drunken revelry until they stumble back to Jaskier’s rooms together and collapse into sleep.

He half-forgets about the conversation.

Until, that is, the impossible happens.

Yennefer smiles at him.

---

The circumstances that inspire it are not so unusual.

Jaskier has been traveling with Geralt through the summer, and their path crosses with Yennefer in some well-to-do town north of Vizima. She invites them to her well-furnished rooms for drinks and some catching up.

Usually, nights like this end with Jaskier booted from her rooms so that the Witcher and the mage can become reacquainted, but this night, Geralt plans to head out for a contract before the crack of dawn and retires to his own room early, leaving Yennefer and Jaskier alone together well into their cups.

Once upon a time to be left alone with the sorceress would have inspired deep terror in him, but now very little of that unease remains. He still hangs on to some of it, just in case, but beyond some casual bickering with no real edge to the insults flung back and forth, Yennefer has been very tolerant of him recently.

Jaskier is telling her about his last meeting with Ciri, grown into a young woman now and as much a terror as she always has been. She had attended one of his lectures and afterward, strolled at his side through the university grounds and down through the bustling markets of Oxenfurt. On a side street that dipped along a canal, they had encountered a gaggle of rowdy gentlemen who felt the need to whistle and coo at Ciri.

And soon discovered what a horrible, horrible mistake they had made.

“I’ve never seen grown men that size run so fast,” says Jaskier with a bark of laughter. “One of them leapt right into the canal and swam for it!”

Yennefer chuckles into her goblet. “That certainly sounds like Ciri,” she says.

“Oh, you can’t help but love her dearly, our little Ciri. Not so little anymore though, I suppose, but I can’t help but think of her as that wild-eyed young girl still. Oh and remember her hair? What a rat’s nest it would become so easily. So windblown and knotted I could hardly brush it out to braid it. Twigs and burrs caught in it and all.”

“I remember, bard,” says Yennefer.

And.

She smiles.

At him.

Despite the gulp of wine he just swallowed, his mouth goes suddenly dry. It is a small thing, the edges of her mouth quirking upward, her stained lips thinning with it. Her round cheeks dimple slightly, and the faintest breath of wrinkles appear at the corners of her violet eyes. And her eyes echo that tenderness, filled with something that he would describe as affectionate warmth if he did not know who she was looking at.

The smile is for Ciri, he thinks but finds that he doesn’t care. It is warming and wonderful and like nothing he has ever seen on her face. He does not mind that it is not for him. He simply feels awed to have inspired it.

“By the gods,” says Jaskier, foolishly unable to stop the words from falling from his lips. “You have the most beautiful smile.”

And her face shutters at once, that smile forced into a grimace.

“Don’t talk nonsense,” she says. “I’m not one of your comely maidens.”

“I’m not-- Sorry, sorry, didn’t mean to blurt that out.” Jaskier flounders, struck by the flood of desperate longing to somehow, some way see her smile like that again. “It’s not nonsense. It’s brutal honesty. I’d never risk lying to you, Yennefer. Or risk flirting with you, for that matter. My bits are much too precious to me.”

“A wise man,” says Yennefer, downing the rest of her drink in one go, and the night ends not long after that, Jaskier passing out in the living area of her rooms rather than risk waking the Witcher.

In the morning, the memory of her smile is crisp and clear in his mind even as the rest of the night blurs into a fog.

Just as Istredd had promised, he aches to inspire it again.

---

The second time it happens, he is so overjoyed and thrilled and relieved to see it again that, looking helplessly back at her as he is, he does not notice his feet stray off the edge of the path as he bodily connects with the solid trunk of a tree.

Geralt is escorting him to Oxenfurt before heading on to Kaer Morhen for the winter, and they encounter Yennefer on the maid road on her way to Novigrad.

Jaskier had been surprised to see her travelling by horse rather than by portal and had made some quip implying laziness, and she had remarked back that she was not surprised at all to see him traveling by foot. Couldn’t he afford a pony after all these years of tenure at the Academy?

He had allowed the back and forth to subside quicker than usual.

Since that night in her rooms, anytime that he happened to encounter her, Jaskier had poured ceaseless energy into attempts to bring that smile once more to her lips. So far, no luck.

He has tried compliments and gifts and more stories of fond memories and self-deprecating humor and commentary on her prestige and power and offerings of food and wine and all manner of things he is sure would have inspired at least a faint smile in anyone else.

But this time, it’s one of his newer compositions that does it. To his surprise, it’s not even a song in her honor but a silly one he wrote at his own expense, the jaunty tale of one of his many ill-advised romantic endeavors that went horribly wrong in potentially exaggerated ways. Sometimes leaning into the role of bumbling fool earns more coin than otherwise.

He has begun the third verse, his voice rising over the dusty road, half dancing a jig alongside the horses, when he looks back and sees Yennefer’s eyes on him.

She’s smiling.

Her dark curls fall loose around her shoulders, and the slanting autumn sunlight gleams on the jewels studded along the bodice of her dress, and there it is, the curve of a soft smile edged with laughter.

A fondness at the edge of it, a gentleness in her eyes.

It’s stunning.

It’s everything he remembers it being.

It’s incredibly, disastrously distracting.

“Oof,” Jaskier says as he bounces off the tree trunk and collapses back on his bottom on the side of the road. Geralt doesn’t even bother pulling up, cursing his clumsiness under his breath, but Yennefer?

Yennefer has collapsed into a fit of helpless laughter as she draws her grey mare to a halt, breathless and wheezing. And she’s still smiling, light and airy, and her laughter is not tainted by cruelty, simply genuine humor at what a sight he must look sprawled on the ground.

Jaskier can’t help laughing along with her, stretching out flat on his back to groan and roll in the dirt. The revelry ends when the Witcher shouts at them from down the road to get a move on, that if they dawdle any longer he’ll never make it to Kaer Morhen before the snows, and Jaskier gets up and wipes the tears from his eyes and pats the dust from his clothing and that’s the end of that.

But now?

Well, now, Jaskier aches to hear Yennefer’s laughter just as terribly as he has ached for her smile.

---

She cottons on to his scheming after a while, because of course she does. Because she’s Yennefer, and Jaskier has never known a woman more astute.

He used to fear that cleverness, tremble under her sharp perception, worry what she would perceive of him. But no longer.

“Jaskier,” she says, as he offers her the slender stem of a rose, its petals so dark burgundy as to appear black. She is visiting Oxenfurt on business. When Jaskier had heard of her presence in town, he had sought out his favorite local florist before stopping by her rooms. “Are you courting me?”

He sputters.

“No! I wouldn’t dare! Simply saw this in the market and thought of you. Simply thought you would admire it,” he says. She quirks a slender brow and reaches to accept the gift in curled fingers.

“No ulterior motives, then?” she asks.

“Ah,” he says. “Well, perhaps there is one.”

“Oh?”

“It’s only--” He knows there is no way to say such a thing without outing himself as an utter imbecile, but she already thinks that of him anyway so no harm done. “Well, I’m quite fond of your smile, is all. I had hoped to inspire more of them.”

She looks at him for a long moment, standing in her doorway. She twirls the stem of the rose in her hand, its dark, upturned petals brushing against her cheek as she lifts it to her nose to catch its fragrance.

And then.

She smiles at him with all the beauty and gentle softness he has come to crave, and he finds his lungs have forgotten how to draw air, standing in perfect rapt stillness before her. Something warm and soaring rises in his breast. His cheeks begin to burn, flushing with the pride and awe at having inspired such a thing and when he thinks on it, when he looks closer, when he examines that swelling warmth in his breast--

His eyes jerk up to meet hers with the sudden realization that he has been staring at her lips for longer than is probably strictly proper, but she hasn’t stopped smiling. She does not jump to chastise him or react in scandalized horror at his blatant ogling.

Instead, she laughs, a bright bubble of a laugh that is almost a giggle, and it thrills through him like a shock of lightning, tightening in his belly.

And she says, “come here, you idiot.”

And pulls him by the front of his doublet into a heated kiss.

And he discovers yet one more gesture of hers that he suddenly aches for.

[syms-things-5]

Clear The Area - Chapter Seventeen

Previous Chapter Here

Warnings: Strong language and an air of discomfort.

Notes: I hope this reads OK as it’s quite dialogue-heavy.

Tags: @kelbabyblue @jennmurawski13

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN 

The night shifts weren’t all bad. From time to time, they were even as good as “pretty straight forward”. They proved especially useful when trying to finish patient notes and random admin that always got left to the very end of the shift. Perhaps they’d endure a tidy-out of the stock cupboards if the crew was feeling generous. Since O’Brien had taken up his post at the hospital years earlier, he had insisted upon mandatory training updates for the ER units every three to four months (the national average was about once a year) so the team were regularly reminded not to set fire to their computers and not to leave boxes in places people could trip over. You’d be surprised how often both those things happened in an emerging crisis. 

“I swear he thinks we’re idiots half the time.” Complained Jack, his head now glued to the palm of his hand. Jack was hurtling towards an early retirement thanks to an ever-increasing distrust of the corporate environment ER departments found themselves in. We trained to save lives, he’d say, not file stat reports. He was so right, it hurt. 

The crew was sat round the reception desk. The ER was empty except for a local homeless man the team allowed in from time to time to sleep off his latest drunken adventures. 

“Who doesn’t know how to bend their knees when lifting something heavy?” Jack asked again. 

“Ryan for one.” Sarah joked, pointing her cold cup of tea towards the fellow nurse in question. Ryan was a tall and skinny guy, not dissimilar to Alexander Skarsgard in the right light but with less charm although he had left a few of the interns swooning of late. Shanna quite liked him, too. 

“One time, Sarah. One time and I suffered for it greatly.” Ryan remarked, spinning a full 360 in his swivel chair. “Did you tick ‘agree’ or ‘strongly agree’ for question eleven?” 

“Oh, if you don’t tick ‘strongly agree’ even if you only ‘agree’, they mark you down a couple of percentage points.” Entered Audrey, slamming down a pile of files on the desk beside Sarah. Their nightly routine just got more interesting. “Just get it over with. It’s not worth the effort. It’s just O’Brien being obsessed with stats again. He turns everything into a competition. I swear it’s unhealthy.”

Ryan looked momentarily confused before returning to face his computer screen. He re-read the question for the fifth time and rubbed his eyes in resignation. Something about 3am made this far too complicated. 

“When did you even find time to do this, Aud?” Jack asked, turning back to Sarah and Audrey in time to witness their shared look self-satisfaction. “I’ve been sat here for half an hour and am still only part way through the first section.” 

“I logged in at home earlier.” she responded before catching Sarah’s quizzical look. “Well, Michael did most of it for me.” 

“Fucking hell!” exclaimed Jack, chucking his pen on the table, giving up. “Got no chance then, have I? Michael’s a bloody genius. Hey, how much for him to do mine?” 

“Normally I’d say $100 but he’s pretty cheap these days.” shrugged Audrey. “Probably a fancy cigar would do.” 

“He still grumpy about the you-know-what?” whispered Sarah to her friend when the guys started joshing between themselves. 

Audrey leaned back on the desk beside her and took the mug from Sarah’s hands to take a sip, grimacing slightly at the sweetness. For some reason, Sarah had to have at least three sugars in her tea if she was drinking it post-midnight. It helped to keep her more alert apparently. She didn’t drink it like that at any other time of the day. “No more than usual. Seems like we’re both unlucky in that department at the moment.” 

Sarah smiled at her in acknowledgement, lips thin before biting the inside of her cheek. 

Following their last meet-up, Chris had been decidedly quiet. Too quiet almost. It was weird. He hadn’t messaged her. He hadn’t called or visited their apartment except to collect a parcel he had left. Sarah has been out for a run at the time and had felt silently glad to have missed him. He hadn’t updated his twitter and there had been multiple sports events occurring that would have guaranteed a humblebrag or five. Shanna had pledged to buy rib-eye steaks for a Saturday night meal during a Celtics game and he had cancelled at the last minute citing an interview he had conveniently forgotten. Even Audrey thought it was weird. If anything was guaranteed to get his attention and bring him out of whatever funk he was in, it was the promise of sports and a ‘Grade A’ barbeque. 

Shanna merely put it down to his laziness or him having something better turn up. Scott had started replacing Chris around their apartment, wanting to get some of his own distance from the tricky Zach situation and it helped her feel better knowing he was at least in touch with him if Shanna wasn’t. He was evidently still alive. 

Sarah decided to swap a couple of daytime stints to partner up with Audrey for the nights. She needed the comfort of working with a good friend to calm her down from whatever ledge her anxiety had placed her on. 

“You know that he’ll come back, right?” Audrey interrupted her thoughts. Maybe Sarah spoke too soon. “Haven’t you got that birthday thing for Lisa coming up?” 

That trip was a couple of weeks away yet. She was trying to bank some reasonable excuses but everything sounded lame in the cold light of day and Lisa was never going to accept her not coming as well. Surely things would have smoothed themselves out by then? 

“This won’t just fix itself, hun, you’ll need to speak to him eventually. And the sooner the better.” 

It was like Audrey had a hotline straight into Sarah’s psyche. It was unnerving at the best of times. Sarah knew she was right of course. It’s just, a little bit of distance would be a good thing, right? Even Chris himself had offered that advice from time to time, and stressing herself out at this point almost seemed counterintuitive. 

“I reckon you could go in an hour or so if you wanted.” Audrey offered, nudging her friend with her elbow to bring her back into the room. “It’s dead out there.”

“I hope not.” Sarah joked, trying to lighten the mood. “We’d be shit at our jobs if that was the case.” 

Audrey laughed for the first time since Sarah could remember that day. It was moments like this that reminded her of why she enjoyed working alongside her so much, and why she didn’t mind if it resulted in overtime. 

“You wanna take patient referrals while I take the EPRs?” 

“How can I refuse an offer like that?” Sarah picked up the dozen or so documents sat in front of her and grabbed the nearest chair. Audrey told her she’d put the kettle on and nudged the guys still glued to their screens. Ryan had pretty much given up logical thinking and was now ticking random boxes. Jack was cursing under his breath. O’Brien was going to be in for a real treat when he could finally tabulate the responses. 

It was nearing 6.20am when Sarah and Audrey finally packed up to go. Matt and Stephanie had just arrived to take over for the morning, bringing a fresh perspective for the day. There wasn’t much for them to catch up on so it should be a smooth few hours at least. Sarah even ran a mop through the staff locker room as an added gift – Steph was a notorious clean freak – nearly tripping Greg up in the process. 

He’d been on leave for the past fortnight and his hair was a little longer than she remembered. A five o’clock shadow graced the lower part of his face and it suited him more than she thought it would. He had kept up with the informal tie-less attire and he seemed to be, dare she it, enjoying himself. 

“God, I’m so sorry.” She held her hands up in a mock mea culpa. “I was just gonna put it away before heading out. It was a stupid place to leave it.” 

“Did you not take the Health and Safety refresher?” he joked, rebalancing himself and trying to play down the redness creeping into his cheeks from the embarrassment of temporarily losing his footing in front of her. 

“You gonna rat me out to O’Brien? ‘Cos you know as well as I do that he doesn’t need yet another reason to know he’s right.” She shifted the mop and bucket and placed them back in the supply closet before reaching for her bag again. 

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” He moved passed her before turning to face her again. “Tell you the truth, I ghosted the last couple of tabs myself. Who knew there were so many ways to ask questions about standing in elevators?” 

Sarah rolled her eyes in acknowledgement. “Yeh. I can’t wait to have the team meeting when he realises we’ve all pretty much done the same thing. That’s gonna be fun. I might finally take some of my holiday.” 

“Yeh, good plan. Hey listen,” His words stopped her in her tracks, feet from the exit. “Um, I know it’s been a while but I was wondering if you might want to reschedule that tennis match some time? Or if not, we could get some dinner or something? There’s that new sushi place on Reagan Street. It’s meant to be really good if you fancy it?” 

She was indeed familiar with that very restaurant thanks to the glowing reviews she had been unable to avoid since it opened. Audrey had only mentioned it a mere thousand times in her presence. Word was that bookings were now months in advance so she wasn’t sure how Greg was hoping to find a table unless he wanted to make plans with her in November. Given the number of commitments he always appeared to have going on, it wouldn’t be completely outside the realm of possibility. 

“Wow, I thought that place was fully booked?” 

“Yeh, it is, but I went to college with one of the investors and he’s promised me a one-off.” 

Of course he did. Sarah bit her bottom lip to stop herself from chuckling out loud, imagining Audrey’s face when she would inevitably find out. To be honest, she was genuinely surprised he was still showing a minor interest in her. When she finally made eye contact with him, his earnestness was practically shining. Had he always had perfect skin?  

“Um…” That was a good start, she thought. 

“Honestly, it’s not a big deal if you’d rather not.” He helpfully pre-empted her awkward rejection but she wasn’t sure if that was a good thing. “I’ve been meaning to go is all and I knew you liked sushi and figured it might be fun? They have live Jazz on Sunday nights.” 

When did he find out she liked sushi? And live Jazz? Just how much had Audrey told him about her? 

Realising she probably looked perplexed, she shuffled her shoulder strap back up onto her shoulder and tried to relax the awkwardness setting in between them. It was still quiet and no one was within earshot that she could figure out of her peripheral vision. 

“It’s not you, Greg, I promise. It’s just, I’m not really looking to get into anything right now. With anyone. Plus, we work together and…I’m sorry. I hope that’s OK?” 

“Hey, look, I promise it won’t be awkward. There’s absolutely no expectations from me and if you change your mind, just let me know, yeh? I literally know no one else who likes Sashimi so I can’t waste my only chance to get a table.” He chuckled and she felt more at ease. 

“If it’s any consolation, I’m a pretty crap date.” She smiled at him as she edged herself down the hall, putting space between them both literally and figuratively. “You wouldn’t be missing out.” 

“Oh, I doubt that somehow.” He returned her smile. “I’m serious, though. Just let me know. Anytime. No expiration date.” 

And with that, she had been left dumbfounded by two men in the space of a single week. 

* 

It would have been easier to get the early morning bus home at this time, as tired as she was starting to feel. She hadn’t slept well in the last few days and she had a creeping nausea from the lack of proper rest. The walk and crisp, fresh air might do her some good. It was practically full daylight even at this hour, and it was sometimes fun to watch people on their own way to work, huffing along, trying not to drop their coffees. 

The out-of-town school bus passed her a few minutes out from her apartment and as she rounded the corner, she got this weird sense that someone was watching her. Another corner turned and she could see her building in the near distance. Still, she couldn’t shake it. She stopped, pretending to fumble for her phone in her pocket and turned around swiftly to see a sweaty Chris stop a few steps behind her. 

It took her a moment to register it was in fact him, his beard fuller and a Red Sox cap pulled down low over his eyes. He had sweats and sneakers on and looked like he was on a run. Honestly, if someone else had spotted him from this distance, they would have worried he was going to attack her. 

“Hey,” she said, turning to fully face him. “What are you doing out at this time?” 

He didn’t respond at first. He shuffled from one foot to the other before grounding himself and taking a couple of steps towards her. Again, he shuffled back a step like he was rethinking his move. She didn’t appreciate seeing him like this, so unsure of himself. 

“Five months out from filming some pre-shoots so figured I’d make a start.” He finally spoke. Not a really a smile but he at least sounded OK. 

“Cool.” She said, nodding back at him. “Um, I’m not sure if Shanna is awake yet but do you want to come inside for some water or coffee?” 

“Yeh, that’d be great. Thanks.” 

She turned to continue walking on. For a few long moments, he stayed walking slightly behind her. A couple more strides and he had decided to catch up. The last time it had taken this long to walk this same street, she had been so drunk she had narrowly avoided falling into her neighbour’s front garden. 

“Five months? You’re not that out of shape.” She tried to make a joke. It was the only thing she could think of. Audrey would be eye-rolling like a champ if she could see them now. 

Chris knew she was trying to make small talk now so he decided to indulge her. It was a fair response, he thought - he was doing OK - as he followed her up the stairs deliberately keeping two or three behind her in an effort to keep it casual. 

“Oh, y’know. I fluctuate pretty easily. A few pizzas here and there and it’s game over.” 

They walked into her kitchen and she had been right in assuming Shanna was still asleep. Unless she had awoken really early but that was highly unlikely, unless there was a sale at Ted Baker she didn’t know about. 

He lingered in the doorway while she searched the fridge for a bottle of water. Grabbing one from the back, she turned to hand it to him expecting him to be within an arm’s reach from her but he had been distracted by something down the hall before turning back to her. Gratefully, he accepted it and walked into the kitchen to take up his usual spot leaning against the counter. 

“Sorry, did you say you wanted a coffee?” She offered. 

“Nah, I’m good. Can’t really take caffeine until this afternoon.” 

“Sorry. I always forget how strict it is.” She apologised, offering him a sympathetic smile. 

He took a long swig from the bottle, not breaking eye contact from her. “No need to apologise. You OK? Night shift?” 

“Yeh. Pretty quiet, thankfully.” 

“I’ve always meant to ask but what is it like, a night shift? I can’t work out if it would be worse or not.” 

She understood what he meant and laughed. “It can go either way to be honest but it’s been quiet the last few nights. Nothing crazy. I caught up with some paperwork, so…” She shrugged again, acutely aware of how boring she must sound. 

He nodded at her. “Aren’t people supposed to be crazier in the summertime?” 

“Well, kids are around more and families tend to spend more time together, so…” 

The apartment was unnervingly quiet now which was weird. She could hear the uptake in traffic outside which provided some relief that perhaps he couldn’t hear her heart beating out of her chest. She could make out some small sweat patches on his hoodie and it did something to her that she wasn’t expecting. Shaking the thought from her head, she turned to switch the kettle off. 

“What?” He asked. 

She jerked her head back around to face him. “Huh?” 

“You were thinking of something. Your neck just went red.” He smiled, tilting his head at her and relishing the look of surprise making its way over her features, knowing he’d caught her out. 

That was news to her. She knew she had “tells” but a red neck was not usually one of them. How come no one had ever told her about this? 

“I can’t tell if you’re joking with me or not.” She inquired, playfully narrowing her eyes at him in an effort to lighten the mood. 

He shrugged a shoulder at her, a smirk starting to cross his fine features. Joshing with her was good. She’d take that. A small step in the right direction. 

“Sometimes, it’s really obvious. You get it when you’re embarrassed about something, or when you try to lie. I’d never really noticed it before, but...” He paused. His expression started to turn more thoughtful and she wished he’d just continue to make fun of her instead. 

“Guess I won’t be playing poker anytime soon.” She finished the thought for him. 

“Yeh, no, you’d be rubbish at that. Just terrible.” He took another swig from his bottle and waited for her to throw something at him. 

“Thanks.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

The room went quiet again. She stirred her mug of coffee and offered him another chance at one which he politely refused although his discipline was waning slightly now he could smell it. 

“So this is fine.” He said after a couple of minutes, nodding in a slightly exaggerated manner. He looked out of the kitchen window. “We can do this, right? No awkwardness. No embarrassment. Just normal, everyday conversation.” 

“’Course,” she nodded in agreement. 

“Start as we mean to go on, right?” 

She nodded again. This felt like a trap and she couldn’t put her finger on why. Chris had a knack for saying and doing two different things at the same time, an intimidating ability that often put people on edge if he thought it would serve his purpose, whatever that may be. Probably the actor in him. When you called him out, he would aggressively defend himself which only served to prove the point you were making in the first place. 

Scott was the only one, truly, who knew when it was happening. It had taken Sarah years to get to a similar position but now, she wasn’t sure she was remotely close to it. 

“It’s as good a starting point as any, I guess.” She shrugged again, sipping from her cup. 

“So there’s no need to ignore me then.”  

“I haven’t been ignoring you, have I?” 

“You tell me. I’m just pre-empting it is all. I’m just saying we can still interact, you and me, if we need to. Like, it doesn’t always have to be in social settings with other people around.” He took a final drink from his bottle and turned to locate the recycling pot stashed away in the corner. Even with a mundane task, he always looked cool doing it. 

“So don’t worry about it.” 

“Alright then. That’s good to know.” She shot him a raised eyebrow which he caught and returned with a sly smirk. “I’m just trying to be sensible. We have to get this right or else there’s no point.” 

“I know, I get that, too.” If he wasn’t attempting to be serious before, he was now. He had a hand on his hip and seemed to have grown a few inches in height. “What do you think I’m trying to say?” 

“I…think I’m on the backfoot again and it’s weird.” She held a hand up in defence. 

“Hey, I’m just doing what we agreed, OK? I’m just following your rules.” 

“They’re not rules.” She struggled to regulate the volume in her voice in case she disturbed Shanna. “And you’re making it sound like I’m controlling the situation when I’m not. We both agreed on this. There’s no point being difficult about it.” 

Was he being difficult? Yes. Obviously, he was. He wasn’t happy. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling but happy definitely wasn’t it. Things were out of sorts and he hadn’t been able to eat carbs or sugar for four days so the withdrawal symptoms certainly weren’t helping. He should go easier on her. She was doing the thinking for the both of them. He should learn to be more grateful for that. 

He scratched the back of his head and let out an audible sigh in frustration. “I’ll try harder, I promise. We’ve got that cabin thing coming up with Mom, so…I promise I’ll be good.” 

He imitated the scout salute and she smiled at him, a smile not quite reaching her eyes. 

* 

Another night shift and Audrey and was starting to get suspicious. No one willingly switched for a night shift. For one thing, there was a disproportionate amount of recovery time. A couple of night shifts often took in excess of a week to recover from; a week that a nurse definitely did not have to spare. 

“He been buggin’ you?” she asked, finally growing tired of the silence. 

“Who?” Sarah looked up from the cabinet. “No, not really. We haven’t really spoken.” 

“So why are you ignoring him?” 

“I’m not ignoring him! Why does everyone think that?” 

“Who’s everyone?” 

Crap. Audrey had her there. Sarah open and closed her mouth without a sound coming out. She took a breath. “He’s not bugging me. He’s not. I’m just trying to limit the times we’re in the same place at the same time.” 

“Huh, you’d think he would at least allow you to have peace in your own home.”  

“Well, to be fair, he hasn’t been around all that much, but…at least I don’t have to worry about him showing up unannounced. It’s stupid but I feel way more awkward about him than I thought I would. It’s like I can’t even stand to be under his gaze.” 

Audrey glanced at her friend, wishing she could offer some words of comfort. Even for someone as verbose as she normally was, she was finding it a struggle. Sarah wasn’t much looking for words of comfort at the given time either. She was all too aware of the predicament she was in and how much responsibility laid at her feet. In her mind, waiting it out was the only logical solution she could come up with. The only logical solution that didn’t require more conversations with someone who could feasibly run rings around her “theory” that if they just stayed apart for a little while, they would suddenly and magically forget about the past couple of months. 

They stayed filing documents in silence again, the air seemingly getting thicker. 

“You ever spoken with someone and it’s like they’re thinking the complete opposite of what’s coming out of their mouth?” Sarah huffed while shoving the cabinet drawer closed. 

“Not really. That person’s usually me.” 

“But why?” she asked. “Why can’t you just be normal?”  

“I mean, it’s not my go-to response of course. It’s normally reserved for occasions when I am trying to indulge someone because I know they’re talking bullshit. Like, when I know Mike has been gambling but he tries to deny it? It’s just easier to figure him out that way.” 

Sarah froze to the spot, looking at her friend. She breathed a heavy sigh and turned to lean back on the table behind her and crossed her arms. She stared at her shoes for a second. 

“Chris is a smart guy. I’ll give him that.” Audrey muttered loudly so she was sure Sarah could hear. 

“Give me something! I’m your friend here.” She implored her before chuckling to herself at Audrey’s face and her own apparent lack of self-awareness. 

“You know what I think? You’ve probably got withdrawal symptoms from the all the amazing sex you’ve had and now you’re sulking. I think you should get back on that horse and let him fuck you again. That’s what this is.” 

Sarah eyed her friend again. For once, she would love to hear someone tell her that she was right. “That’s really not helping, y’know.” 

“And this is?!” Audrey’s shriller tone cut through the dry air, smacking Sarah right in the face. “Honey, this isn’t healthy. You hiding out in the hospital and treating it like your own solace is not healthy at all. I love you but you are your own worst enemy.” 

“Alright, thank you. Thank you very much. Thank you for your unswerving efforts to be honest with me at all times and not, like a normal pal, be comforting in any way.” Sarah comically bowed to her friend before considering leaving the office. She would have followed through with the idea as well if it wasn’t for the cosy warmth of O’Brien’s office versus the coldness of the ER department thanks to a leaking pipe. “It’s difficult. I’m sorry. I don’t wanna fall out with you, Audrey.” 

Audrey just smiled at her. “I don’t know why you think you have to be the beacon of morality all the time, Sarah. Take a look around. No one else is. We all out here just trying to live our lives as best we can and a part of that is taking advantage of moments of happiness when we find them.” 

Something about what Audrey was saying did resonate with her but comparing two months of happiness with Chris to ten years with Shanna was not something she could in good conscience do. Shanna was her security blanket. She provided a comfort of living with someone with shared life experience, of knowing how little you thought about yourself because you were given up as a baby. Honestly, from the very first day they had met, Sarah felt lucky to know her. 

Yes, Shanna could be immature at times. Maybe a little selfish. She would often get carried away with trivial things and wasn’t the most reliable person, but what Sarah got in return was worth that and more. Her family enjoyed highlighting the maternal care Sarah would have to provide to someone who was seven months older than she was, but honestly it didn’t matter. 

Maybe this was one of the rare occasions where Audrey was wrong. 

Chris was a fling at best, Sarah told herself, when she was lying in bed struggling to fall asleep. When she was cold and missing his arms around her. They were both having shitty times and they both got something out of it. That was what Chris had said himself at the very beginning. 

Chris 08.15am: You home? Shanna said you were working late again 

It was like he knew she would be thinking about him. 

Chris 08.17am: I really dont want u ignoring me all the time. This is hard for me right now as well 

Fuck. 

Sarah 08.21am: I kno. I’m so sorry I made you feel like that :(

He didn’t respond. She thought she saw the tell-tale three dots of him writing something but nothing appeared. Giving up on sleep, she got up and headed into the kitchen. Shanna had left her some bacon in the fridge and a fresh bread bun on the side so she turned on the grill and set about making some coffee. 

She felt strangely awake for this time and the apartment was nice and warm from the bright sunshine streaming in from all corners. Maybe a run would help. Or a cold shower.  

Chris 08.44am: I wanna be honest with u but I dont think u want that 

Chris 08.45am: so what do i do?? 

Fuck knows. 

Chris 08.51am: Can I come over? 

Sarah 08.54am: that’s not a good idea 

Chris 08.55am: cos you know what will happen? 

Chris 08.56am: what does that tell you?? 

She was sure he was nursing some kind of hangover or, quite possibly, he was still a little bit drunk. There were two responses she could give, she figured. The first would be her usual denial and perhaps an excuse that she was busy or working later than planned. The second, and ultimately the one she opted for, was to agree with him. 

Sarah 09.05am: I know what it tells me. That’s why I’m saying you shouldn’t come over 

Another three dots followed. There was only so many times they could go around and around in circles and as much as Audrey’s words made sense to her, it felt like she had to make the effort to regain some normality. 

He didn’t respond. She stared at her phone for an age but nothing came through. Maybe he got the message? Maybe he had fallen asleep. She was both relieved and suspicious; Chris wasn’t someone who backed down from an argument when he thought he was right. He had said as much himself. 

She turned the grill off, having lost her appetite. A run might make more sense and could help clear her head. 

She couldn’t sit around waiting for Chris to make his next move. 

*

[ppaperheartss]

The Witching Hour

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader, Platonic!Peter x Reader

Word Count: 1400+

Summary: Bucky Barnes is a skeptic when it comes to ghosts, but when strange things start happening around the compound could he be made into a believer?

A/N: Hope you enjoy! All feedback is appreciated. I take requests, just leave an ask!

As Bucky turned the page in his thick novel, he basked in how quiet the tower was. It wasn’t an often occurrence that he could sit in the common room and not hear far off screams or shouts, or a clamour coming from the kitchen. There were normally at least two people chatting within his hearing span and getting on his nerves. Steve was off on a mission with Wilson and Romanoff, and after checking his watch to see the late hour, he figured the rest of the team would be sleeping, so the quiet atmosphere made sense.

He lets out a heavy breath as he pushes himself off of the sofa and fixes the cushions his body had crushed into awkward shapes. Pepper liked the tower looking presentable, and Bucky didn’t like to make anyone’s life more difficult than it needs to be.

The only thing that can be heard are his light, sock-clad footsteps as he makes his way to the kitchenette, flicking on the light he leaves his book on the counter and opens up the refrigerator door. The gentle hum of the refrigerator seemed deafening in the silence. Bucky enjoys the silence; not only because it keeps his headaches away, but it keeps him calm. He doesn’t have to have his defenses up and can let himself become vulnerable because he knows nothing can sneak up on him without him hearing.

He scans the food for a moment, before he spots a large chocolate bar with a post-it note attached that reads “HANDS OFF BARNES”. He picks it up with a grin, knowing Sam’s attempts at keeping his food to himself were laughable, alongside a bottle of water. Another quick scan he decides he isn’t in the mood for anything else. He closes the door and is greeted with two wide eyed faces.

“Do you believe in ghosts?” The faces ask in unison.

The scream that leaves Bucky’s lips is shrill, and he launches the only weapon he has which happens to be the icy bottle of water at the bodies in front of him. They only grin back at him as one of them catches it with lightning fast reflexes. As his eyes adjust to the faces he immediately recognises them, and he groans loudly.

“Oh my God.” He moans as he hangs his head.

Peter hands the bottle back to Bucky as you step towards him, a leather-bound book held tightly against your chest. “Do you?” You prompt again.

“Fuck- no, I don’t believe in ghosts. Why are you two sneaking around at this God-awful hour?” Bucky rubs his face as he moves to pick up his belongings.

“It’s the witching hour.” Peter replies easily. “This is the best time to catch demons.”

Bucky’s head whips at the statement. It was far too late - early? - to be dealing with this. “Catch demons?” 

You hold up a stuffed bear wearing a Captain America suit with a grin. “We want to find a demon to possess this bear and-”

“Don’t tell me, I don’t want to be involved in any of this shit. I’m going to my room, and you should too.” He points an accusatory finger as he turns and leaves the kitchen, and you and Peter only look at each other with cynical-looking faces.

-

It’s not until later the next day that Bucky begins to notice weird things happening around the compound that he had never noticed before. He was an observant person, so anything different would be spotted immediately. Things started off slow, like the lights flickering at least half a dozen times when he was training in the morning, and he knows that Stark has state of the art everything so this shouldn’t happen. 

It then became an often occurrence that whenever he went into his room the light beside his bed, that he was positive he switched off, was on. He noticed little things had been moved around or had fallen over, but he just figured it was Steve looking for something. But when he brought it up to him later he denied being in Bucky’s room for days. After that he just put it back in its right place without thinking too much about it.

He heard constant creaks and thumps whenever he walked around late at night, and it only made him more anxious. He would hear whistling when no one was around, and it sure as hell wasn’t the wind. He didn’t bring it up to anyone though, because they would just call him crazy. He was just paranoid because you had put the idea of ghosts in the compound in his mind.

You had never brought up the night again, and when he asked Peter what they did after he left he said they went to sleep. Bucky knows it's a lie, but chooses to believe the boy regardless. If he believes that they didn’t actually do anything to disturb whatever spirits lie in the compound it might help him sleep at night.

Ghosts, God Bucky sounded pathetic. They aren’t real and he knows it; but still, he can’t help but wonder what if. He just can’t bring himself to believe it, because it’s all just stories to scare people, right?

-

Bucky was restless as he tried to get to sleep, the clock beside him glaring harshly back as it reads 3:04. He often spends most of his nights like this - sleeping peacefully, until he wakes up just after the clock strikes three. 

The Witching Hour.

Bucky groans as he rolls onto his back, pushing the heels of his hands into his eyes. He never looked at the time the same way again after you told him the meaning about it. After doing some research on his own he learned basically it’s a time where demons and other spirits were at their most powerful. 

Bullshit, because ghosts aren’t real.

Bucky heaves out a sigh as he drops his hands and keeps his eyes closed, rolling away from the clock. The room was a little darker with his shoulder blocking the artificial light, but his eyes were still restless under his lids. 

Opening his eyes, he blinks and squints to adjust to the darkness. The sight in front of him makes his stomach lurch and blood run cold.

Dark, beady eyes staring at him. A non-stop smile which looked sinister in the shadow. Fabric shield strapped to its plush arm. The Captain America teddy bear sits on his pillow, and Bucky screams.

He stares back at the lifeless eyes, and his face turns into a scowl. Grabbing the bear, he throws off the sheets and he leaves his room. He finds you and Peter doubled over laughing, and he knows instantly that you two had been pranking you the whole time. He stomps up, dropping the bear at your feet. “It was you two!”

You turn to him with a devilish grin and tears streaming down your face from laughing. “That’s what you get for saying ghosts aren’t real! You actually thought you were being haunted!”

Bucky scoffs, shaking his head. He’d spent a whole week constantly anxious and paranoid, thinking he was going crazy. And it was all just a stupid prank. “Grow up, Y/N.” He scowls at you before he turns on his heel, stalking off to his room. You exchange a look with Peter before you toss the bear to him and follow Bucky.

“Buck, wait up. Come on, it was just a joke.” You plead as you wipe the tears from your face, trying to look serious. Bucky was normally fine with being the butt of a practical joke, but maybe you had taken it too far.

He turns before he gets to his door, looking at you. His hair is disheveled and he looks tired - has he not been sleeping? You frown, walking forward and pulling him in an embrace. “I’m sorry. It was supposed to be harmless.”

Bucky shrugs, and it takes him a moment to relax in the embrace before he pulls away. A yawn escapes from his lips before he gives you a tired smile. “At least I know for sure now that ghosts aren’t real.” His smile turns into a grin, and you laugh as you give his shoulder a push.

“I’m going to turn you into a believer one day.” You say, nodding as if to make the statement concrete. He just laughs and messes up your hair.

“Whatever, Y/N.”

[thecardsimagine]

Angst/Fluff prompts: fluff #2 for Julian @f!MC (somewhere around VIII book - they are not a couple still but the tension is obvious).

2.  “I love you more, you big dummy.”

Thank you for requesting! I hope you like it, I did not go back to see where in the book what happened, I’ll just orientate myself on the ‘not in a relationship yet’. I just can’t remember the happenings in the story and don’t have time to look it up, but I hope you like it nonetheless!

≿————-————-   ❈ ————-————-≾  

“Okay, Julian-!”

As best as you could, you tried to keep your voice steady and strict, but you were interrupted by giggles and weakened laughs from the flash you had just experienced. Unbudging, Julian stood beside the bed, still impersonating the rude pirate that had come by the Rowdy Raven that day, making him look absolutely ridiculous.

“And I swear- This big, THIS BIG-” he drew his finger frantically around his upper arm, trying to show you the dimension, “-his arm was this big, just muscles! But there was a... Now get a grip on something, my friend. This will totally throw you off the bed if you don’t hold on!”

Barely, Julian could contain his own laughter as he stood there, gesturing wildly. You followed his advice only half-heartedly, having told him to go to bed at least a dozen times by now, but he kept trying to worm his way out of the dreaded sleep. So, you reached out for his half-open shirt, holding on to him. “He had a tattoo, and I am not kidding, it was of a platypus, you remember these things with the long tail that I told you about-”

“Okay, enough!” you laughed out loud, pulling his shirt roughly, bringing him to a tumble. Eventually, he finally landed in the bed, laughing alongside you as you laid beside him, you two shaking and overcome with giggles and big grins. “I can’t believe just who you meet every day, Julian, that’s ridiculous.”

“I know! Admittedly, he was an awful fella, he wouldn’t drink his Salty Bitter with enough grace-”

Quickly, you put your finger on his mouth, holding back the laughs still going through you. You were smart enough to know that if you left him space to ramble, he would, and you weren’t going to risk a lecture on how to properly drink Salty Bitters from the doctor. His chuckles slowly fell silent while you gathered your thoughts again, finger remaining on his lips, pushing down softly.

“We- We really have to sleep. I mean, you have to!” you explained. He opened his mouth, you two realizing suddenly just how long your finger had remained in his face, and you quickly retracted it bashfully. It wasn’t your way of doing things, neither pulling him into bed nor the lingering touches. Neither of you even knew what you wanted from each other, and you were basically strangers still, even if you got along so well.

An awkward silence fell over you two, even his protests vanishing, his eyes scanning you over for a moment. Julian noticed the small hints of you retracting into yourself, feeling quite ashamed suddenly to be so close to him, in his room, his bed, and he turned his head away, letting out a longing sigh that you didn’t understand where it came from.

“You’re right... I just have a lot of problems with sleep, you see.” Sitting up, he brought some distance between you two, and you took a seat at the edge of the bed, too, watching him take off his shoes and gloves. “It... doesn’t really come to me, I always feel urged to continue staying awake.”

“You sound like someone that could need a person to watch over them,” you figured, and he gave you a brief chuckle, before crawling backwards. “Yeah, I think that would help...” he admitted, tugging himself under the blanket, waiting for your next move.

It took you a second to realize your own words, and that he technically was ready for bed even though you were still intruding on him. “My, uhm, the time! I guess I’ll go now!” Jumping up from the bed, you brushed off some dust from your clothes, cheeks flushing slightly. “Oh-” he spoke up, biting his own lip before he could continue. “It’s... It’s awfully late, though... You could stay if you want.”

Your movements stopped as you listened to his proposal, thinking about it before slowly turning to him. Truth be told, there was nothing you’d rather do than stay a little longer with the charismatic doctor, at least, to know he really would fall asleep and not meet up with you the next day completely exhausted. Perhaps, you had a few other feelings about why you’d want to stay with him, but it wasn’t like you two had anything like that going on yet.

“I suppose that would be... reasonable,” you heard yourself say, avoiding eye contact with him. However, his body tensed up excitedly at this, as Julian quickly pushed the blanket aside, leaving some room for you. Hesitantly, you took off everything you didn’t need to wear in the night and crawled in, getting covered with the blanket by him before he extinguished the little lamp at the bedside table.

Laying side by side in the dark, neither of you moved, silence falling over you two for a while, with a weird tension laying of your heads. Eventually, it was Julian who spoke up again, a sound you had preferred if it was snoring from him, but his words came as much as a surprise to him as they came to you.

“Apparently, you sleep better when you hear someone else’s heartbeat,” he mumbled, and you gulped, wondering if that was a study he conducted before or an exhausted thought he just had. “Or so I heard-” Julian tried to talk himself out of it when you gathered your courage to interrupt him.

“Want to try it out?”

Again, silence. Just seconds passing by that made you scold yourself. How could you say something like that? Was it inappropriate you offered that just now? How would he react to it?

But his response was shuffling, followed by a small, “Yeah...” and you turned towards him almost simultaneously. You two were like magnets, drawn to each other despite everything you were going through because of him. But when his arms came around you, head burying into the crook of your neck and a deep sigh escaped him, you couldn’t think of one reason as to why any of this was wrong.

His body was heavy in your arms, but not unpleasant. Instinctively, you found yourself brushing over his hair, down his back with your hand. You wondered if you ever before had experienced such closeness with anyone. This feeling of belonging of being wanted and needed.

“Man, your heart is beating really fast, [Name]. Did you fall in love with me yet?”

Shocked, your finger got tangled in his hair, pulling lightly and causing him to whimper slightly before he laughed. “Okay, okay, just a joke! I was just-” he yawned heartily, tension falling off of him as he settled, “-thinking I love you...”

With that, you felt his breathing grow steady, Julian falling asleep in your arms, his last words nothing but a quiet mutter, leaving you unsure if he really meant it. But still, you couldn’t control the rapidly growing heat in your face. Your heart must have felt like a sledgehammer against his face as it seemed to jump out of your chest, even if he kept sleeping like a baby.

You were glad he didn’t see you like this since you couldn’t even know if he remembered the things he said when he was drunk and tired the next day. You would not give him a reason to dwell on the things you might be feeling for him, but never before had they been so clear to you then in this very moment with Julian soundly sleeping in your arms.

“I love you more, you big dummy.”

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh Episode 30 Season 4: The Dead Joey Shuffle

Lets ignore everything happening on planet Earth right now and talk about old ass anime, shall we? Yes, my sky turned a horrible end of the world yellow/orange color for an entire day because of a LOT of fire in my state. But thankfully, the winds have changed, the sky is blue...and I can write about Yugioh again.

Last we left off, Tristan, Tea, and Yami stumbled across two fresh corpses. Now, when Joey died a season or two ago (I honestly can’t remember when), we had my favorite storyboarder at the helm just sweeping emotion all over the field and the intense weeping for Joey Wheeler lasted for like 30 minutes. Yugi freaked out in the puzzle headspace for like half an episode and nearly gave up playing cards again, Yami punched a wall and then put a duel disk on Joey’s arm like a funerary send off to the afterlife, Tea started losing her mind and begged Yugi to drop out of the tourney so Yugi wouldn’t die, and Pharaoh was like “yo Tea, Yugi can’t talk right now can we do this later????” And then Tristan, out of nowhere, just started shaking Joey and screaming at him to wake up (and I think he punched him in the face and it got censored? Yo that episode is wild.) Joey got plugged to some Kaiba Corp med bay that had like 2 dozen weird sensors attached to his chest and feet to keep him alive. Serenity was like hyperventilating in the back, just a LOT of stuff was happening all at once.

But this time, with an ordinary animation team, these three kids are so distracted by the other corpse, that they only cry just a little bit before being like “woah what?”

And like this is their second time. Maybe they’ve gotten used to Joey being dead? Maybe they got it all out of their system and are now a lot more accustomed to the fact that they all must die. Several times.

Confronted with this Agatha Christie brand debacle, Tristan makes an incredible reach that is also completely correct. Like this is such an amazing incredible reach.

Hire Tristan as your detective, hot damn. There are like 7.8 billion Orichalcos-possessed people on this planet right now trying to kill Joey Wheeler and Tristan actually called the right one.

Yami never tells us who he blames, but it’s OK, because the show immediately cuts over to Dartz’ silicon valley fortress to tell us without telling us. So while this animation team isn’t as insanely extra as our previous animation teams, they still know how to edit their cuts to work alongside their dialogue just fine.

(read more under the cut)

Lets take a little while to just take this in. Someone took a while to make it, so rather than look at it for half a second before it passes--please lets count the number of floating streets in this scene.

3.

So before when I talked about the history of San Francisco, I mentioned the old Embarcadero, which was a double decker street wrapped around the peninsula. (we still see parts of this double decker set up on parts of the highway to this day.) But what if--they actually have no idea that the Embarcadero was a thing before it fell down in an earthquake?

What if they just...wanted San Francisco to be vaguely cyberpunk in this universe and that floating freeway was supposed to be futuristic and not just an 80′s throwback?

Because there’s 3 streets stacked on top of eachother right here and yo there is no where in the city built like this. This is a Gotham situation where the poors live on the lower levels and the rich just kind of hang out on the top. We have too many Earthquakes in reality to ever support this setup but Yugioh...wow. They went for it.

Also, our art deco architecture isn’t quite in this style as Dartz’ mansion. Mind you, this isn’t full deco, and the structure has more of an ancient world vibe. But...while San Fransisco does have a lot of deco, it’s just different (sorry you’re not really here for the architecture but youknow, I’m an artist so I do think a lot about why concept artists may have gone where they went)

++++++++++RANT ABOUT SF DECO VS COMIC BOOK DECO FEEL FREE TO SKIP++++++++++++++

So I’m not going to dare say this is a mistake on the Yugioh team by any means, since Deco is Deco and who knows when Dartz built that building. But like I’ve seen the SF skyline many times in this show and it’s got some funky shapes in it that are just sooo off to me. They keep drawing a more Futurist New York. Truth is, we don’t have that many skyscrapers in SF.

Most of the pictures you see of scaling buildings are of this one area around the financial district--everything else is...pretty short. So in those photos they very carefully crop out all the really squat as hell buildings on either side of it, to give the impression that our city is super tall, much like a dating app.

And, as far as Art Deco Gotham-esque skyscrapers go, we got ones like this guy:

Where at a glance it’s like...that’s barely deco (and barely that impressive. This is 1/3 the height of the Empire State building.) Compared to a lot of cities in America, our skyscrapers aren’t as...clearly deco from far away? We don’t have the huge ass humps and long ass gilded lines of the Empire State building or the Chrysler building. You only really get those details when you zoom in.

Our other skyscrapers are kinda understated or modern in comparison. And the reason why we just don’t have many deco skyscrapers is because...our ground ain’t good for building skyscrapers at all, so it took us kind of a while to build up.

Like we got this tower that we built recently (the first skyscraper they built in SF in a good while) and they decided to name it the “The Millennium Tower” which...I know...good job, team, clearly you wanted to get cursed. Well the tower started leaning about 3 or 4 years ago, like well over a foot from it’s original spot, it’s just tilting and sinking away, and people are freaking out because it’s surrounded by other tall buildings so they’re like “damn it we’re gonna dominoes.” The people in charge were like “well...we don’t know why it’s leaning...but I’m sure it’s fine” and it’s like “the ground. It was the ground...you dumbasses” not to mention that it’s clearly cursed by at least one angry Egyptian Ghost but...what do you do?

I would absolutely watch the Yugioh spinoff season about the Millennium Tower and the SF tycoons that got possessed by a ghost and have to play card games to keep their tower from squishing all of San Francisco. Yo you should hire me, Yugioh, I got IDEAS.

Man...Yugioh predicting the future, how did they call the ill fate of The Millennium Tower????

But anyway, most skyscrapers in SF are kind of boring because they have to be sturdy as hell. But, they have some neat modern shapes (like the Transamerica Pyramid--in the shape of A PYRAMID that hasn’t shown it’s face once this entire Egyptian influenced anime)

I mean, come on Yugioh, it’s right there.

Also the hell is this weird UFO on this picture I lifted off of google?

Like I think it’s 4 jets? 

I may have lifted this from an alien website, so forgive me, q-anon for lifting your image, I’m trying to talk about architecture in my Yugioh blog.

In fact the only building I (and google) can think of that is both really tall and deco-ey is this one:

And it’s a Marriot hotel built in the late 80′s. And honestly, it looks way more 1980′s Las Vegas than it does Deco. (It honestly looks like photobashing but made real, this is a weird building.)

And I could be wrong and overlooking a very important structure, but most of the city’s really cool art deco buildings are in the form of theaters, libraries, churches, schools, and houses--which are only a few stories tall. They’re gorgeous buildings with cool and different silhouettes, it’s just not very big.

Like I believe this is an old high school?

also a lot of our “art deco” has no idea if it’s victorian, deco, or art noveau so they’ll just hit all of it to see what sticks. It’s a lot more eclectic than other places where Deco is typically more...straight-lined. I kinda hate defining art styles as masculine or feminine but honestly it’s the quickest way to really hit home the difference between a Bruce Timm art deco that you’d see in a comic book, (which is very New York inspired) and what we have in San Fransisco which is really decorative and decadent.

The Yugioh SF just has no curvy nonsense and that really sticks out to me.

Ornate swirls get shoved Everywhere. Willy nilly. Just everywhere randomly. And it sits next to other structures that are modern and simplistic. It’s very San Francisco to have this old world next to new world.

And it makes sense. SF is the other side of the continent from New York, and about as far West as you can go from the movement going on in Europe. So...we made our own take and tl;dr the art deco in our city doesn’t look like Gotham at all.

And, while it’s not as grand or dark or iconic, it’s a good thing. It’s what helps make San Fransisco look really unique compared to other American cities--the fact that we're...short and eclectic. Our district with the skyscrapers is where it’s kinda boring, actually--the good stuff is when you get away from that. Where every little building has a spunky wild personality.

But in a show like this you gotta make it seem more grand and less homely so--they scaled up the buildings a lot more than we really have and homogenized all the stylings into one (and they axed every Victorian swirl because they don’t want to draw that). They really just turned SF into comic book New York--especially since I’ve only seen like...one steep hill since we got here.

It’s fine, and it makes complete sense why they did it, (I’m more confused as to why most of California is a Nevada desert so I can easily forgive a San Francisco without the right Deco) it’s just a very different energy.

and honestly...it’s an energy influenced by the tone of the show. Everything has a very dark blue-gray palate, and it’s because it’s literally the end of the world, Joey has died, everyone is sad...maybe it would be out of place to have a building that looks like it sparks joy? The harsh and cold lines do add to the gravity of the situation.

Maybe I would have done the same thing? In the end, the legibility of your story matters more than the accuracy of your story--especially when it comes to TV. Which is somewhat a controversial statement, and there’s exceptions when it comes to cultural stuff. But while the culture of San Fransisco was erased (a culture that they did draw in the beginning of the season! they did show alcatraz, a trolly, and the golden gate!), it is at a point in the show where...all of humanity is being erased anyway. Could also be symbolic? Maybe?

+++++++++++++END OF THE ART DECO RANT+++++++++++++

So anyway, stepping away from lovely buildings and into this gross ass abandoned park, Yami decides he’s gotta get himself to this gaudy ass Batman building ASAP.

He can ride a horse but he absolutely will not ride a motorcycle. Or touch Joey Wheeler’s dead body.

Which is wild because apparently there’s a Yugioh spinoff where all they do is ride motorcycles??? But from what I heard, Yami is not in it. Which is the most wild thing.

So uh...you know how much I love art details, lets take a long look at this one.

AH no.

Nope nope nope nope.

I hate this logo. It looks like an emperor penguin’s eyebrow thingies. Like a face with just four huge eyebrows.

Not sure why we randomly have a new logo. It’s nearly the end of the season, we’ve already shown the Orichalcos logo so many times. Was this episode made earlier in development than the rest? Is that why there were like - I dunno, put this random logo here... Maybe we’ll figure out the rest of the logo later?

I don’t know. This weird logo feels so out of place.

And then because I’m thinking about buildings...maybe it’s influenced by our Shell building?

Maybe? Or not? Just saying you got a round thing with radial lines hovering over a trellis...the possibility is there that they were inspired but had to edit it down for animation? Eh, I’m reaching desperately for anything that looks like San Francisco at this point.

Anyways, the front door of this building is an elevator (????) and in a somewhat confusing set of cuts, out of this elevator comes the murderer herself.

And she’s dead.

SO HAPPY I didn’t have to watch that card game but like...c’mon. There’s no way Mai would lose to Raphael.

Maybe that’s why they couldn’t show it? Because she’s the only person on this show who uses a themed deck with cards that actually sync with eachother? (outside of Pegasus’ toon deck and Grandpa’s voltron deck ((sorry it’s name isn’t voltron, I’ve forgotten the name of the robot that you build out of other cards. Exodus? Exodysseus?

It’s Exodia isn't it? Wtv. 2020′s been a real long one, all y’all.)) )

(don’t ask where the smoke came from, we don’t know. Maybe Yami felt like making it to be more aesthetic. It is a fun visual tic to the show.)

So Yami goes into this elevator instead of anticipating that this is obviously a trap. Like most would just decide to take the stairs instead, but Yami loves falling for a good obvious trap every once and a while (or, in the case of this season--each and every single time a trap is placed in front of him) and so this takes him directly to the fightclub roof of yore.

Ah. We started this season on fightclub roof, in like...2010 or whenever I started this season. Feels like forever ago. How long has the year of 2020 been? 20 years of my life? 40 years of my life? Was I in fact never born before 2020 started? I honestly don’t remember anymore who I was before this year happened. Probably because I inhaled just a hell ton of wildfire smoke and now my brain is a bunch of jelly beans rattling around in a jar.

Anyway, Raphael just hands Yami (by hands I mean throws aggressively) Joey’s dragon card.

A little unsure why he’d do this since...this is the weapon to destroy Dartz. Why are you giving it back to the Pharaoh? But apparently, Raphael did that to prove that he is the murderer of Mai, who murdered Joey and...youknow...the stuff that we know but would be pretty difficult for the people in this show to follow.

Mai’s voice actor seeing “Mumbo-Jumbo” and being like “Well if I’m doing this, I’m going to commit.“

WE ARE NEVER DUELING DARTZ.

I refuse that a duel with Dartz, in fact, ever happens in this season.

Kind of surprised whenever I see there’s still people left. SF is basically abandoned in comparison.

Thing is...that’s just SF on a holiday weekend.

And then, because Tristan’s in the middle of the street, the rest of the party has to try and run him over.

It is really funny to me that Seto went out of his way to ditch these people so MANY times, but keeps ending up around them again and again, and each time in a wildly different vehicle, each and every time it’s when these guys need a lift...he’s very quickly turning into the group’s soccer mom. Should’ve gotten a minivan.

And then this happens?

I’ll just leave this here:

I’m sure that fanfic writers everywhere rejoiced when Seto reached out a hand to catch Joey’s face from hitting the pavement. In all this was a bizarre animation and now that I’ve figured out my blender settings for the new update, I can finally cap little segments again.

Just don’t you dare flag me, tumblr. Hopefully segments less than 10 seconds long are fine.

Like there was this part where they had to just drag around Joey’s corpse over this rail, and it was Mokuba and Tristan just prying him up there like he were a potato sack and like...

...Joey’s gonna wake up with so many rail-shaped bruises! They do not treat him gently!

Then back on fightclub roof, Raphael made me do a bit of a double take when he accidentally implied the existence of another bean within that Pharaoh bean.

And no, Bakura did not show up at this point.

I would LOVE IT if Pharaoh biffed it a second time and Bakura suddenly took the reigns and was like “Oi loves! that was bloody easy!” but I...have a feeling that this team didn’t actually watch the episodes where Bakura is just vibing in that puzzle piece.

If this never comes back to bite Pharaoh in the ass...

It might never come back guys...I don’t know. How do these writers have this much self control to ignore Bakura for like a full season. How do you do it? I can’t hold a plot twist in for even like 5 seconds. How....how do you do it?

Anyways, now that Seto has Tea who has a map, they walk up to the entrance (I honestly forgot if they drove or walked because knowing this show, Seto would absolutely ignore the car. Either way, the Ferrari isn’t necessary anymore. Written right out of the script. Cars are hard to draw. Get rid of it)

You know, Mokuba’s seen an awful lot of corpses for a kid! Like 20ish corpses if you count the 2 times the Big 5 biffed it. Really should have left him with Rebecca! Youknow, the other kid the same age as him!

But it’s fine, we gotta train Mokuba to suppress that trauma deep, deep down like a proper Kaiba.

Youknow when I started this series I was like “I don’t get why everyone talks about the Kaibas so much, these two seem kinda like whatever” but now I’m on like S4 and like...I’m SO concerned about the Kaibas. With Yugi...whatever...he’s gonna be fine, but the Kaibas? Oh boy. Either one of them could go completely evil and I’d buy it.

And probably root for them.

And I know they won’t go full tilt, I’m pretty sure--but like...they COULD. I can’t say that about the rest of the cast.

Everyone’s made it!

Even joey’s weird coma/dead body for some reason!

Lol also I love this random sci-fi tech water tower next to Tea. What is that?

My drought senses are screaming, is that a huge ass water tower the size of a 4 story building next to Tea? Chances are, it’s got a jet in it or something because this is Yugioh, but...man. At least it doesn’t look like one of those rusty New York rooftop water towers. This show just completely not getting what SF looks like.

Whatever, he can resurrect the leviathan, maybe Dartz can make water?

Youknow, all you have to do to make California worship you forever is make rain. Screw this lizard nonsense. The man can power water. What’s he doing with this stupid snake?

But youknow, Yugioh just never really figures out how to harness the weather. They CAN and they do it all the time. But, do they use it for their benefit? Like freakin never.

Anyway, that’s all for now. I went on a looong rant about SF but maybe I’m just sick of my own house? Been a lot of fire and quarantine over here. It’s been messing with my head a fair amount so thanks for bearing with me and my weird ass update schedule (remember when I used to be productive? Was that just a dream I once had?)

But if you just got here, here’s a link to read these recaps in order, from the beginning way back in S1.

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

[saiilorstars]

Dare To Forget Me

Ch. 23: Tangled

/ Previous chapters /

Fandom: Law & Order SVU

Pairing:  Rafael Barba x Female OC

Warnings: Due to the nature of the series’ plots, I do have to rate this as ‘mature’ for constant mentions of rape.

~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ` 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~

Chapter Summary: Clare Wilson's case continues to get more and more tangled, but that's nothing compared to what Montserrat and Rafael have going on.

Alright, so plans weren't turning out so well...for some people. Others actually got to where they needed to be on time. Like a professional does.

Montserrat practically ran down a hallway, slowing down only when she saw Rafael coming out of Judge Dolan's office. He looked peeved...and this time with good reasons.

"Where the hell is Rollins?" he demanded from the detective who was out of breath.

"I... don't know…" he took in a deep breath. "I just got a call from Liv and I dragged my ass out here."

"No good, you're still late," his snap was met with a glare.

"Hey, at least I'm here. And did I mention you're crankier in the mornings? Didn't think that was possible, by the way."

Rafael ignored her and led the way down the hallway. "We need to get Clare out now."

Still, Montserrat had to follow him. "Dolan signed the release forms?"

"Yes. I got him to do it because I was here on time," he purposely said loudly.

"You should be grateful I'm here," she snapped this time. "It wasn't my turn."

"Sorry," he scoffed. "Didn't know my presence was so bothersome to you that you had to tag team now."

"Don't be like that, please," she moved up so she could walk alongside him instead of behind. Her plead had come not in a snap, nor a demand, but instead in a way that sounded exactly like what it was: a plead.

Against his will, Rafael was forced to calm his snaps. It was that little effect she had on him that he wished she didn't. Because if she didn't, then it would be a lot easier to put some distance between them. It would be so much easier to show her that he was not the right person for her.

"Let's just go get Clare and go home," he said calmer but still put a bit more speed into his walk to leave her behind. It was simply for the best.

~0~

With Amanda being a confirmed no-show, Montserrat was the one to go directly to the officers in charge of the juvenile facility to get Clare back. There she was at the front desk, anxiously giving out Clare's information to get her back.

"Mm, one of those," the officer hummed after pulling up the right profile.

Montserrat made a face at the woman. "What does that mean?"

The officer ignored the question and moved on to what she found. "You're a little late. Yeah, she started acting up, so we gave her diesel therapy." At Montserrat's blank face, the officer elaborated. "Put her on a bus to Knollwood Juvenile."

"And where's that?"

"The Delaware border," the officer's rude manner pushed Montserrat more than where she already was.

The detective glared with a crinkled nose. "Well, thank you for nothing." She turned away and ignored the officer's face. She made it back to Rafael and told him what happened and of course had his first outraged response all to herself.

"Are you kidding me!?" he looked ready to go to the officer himself.

"Nothing I can do! She's out of our reach-"

Rafael brought a hand to his forehead and rubbed circles over it. "Maybe if you or Rollins had been here on time we would've caught her."

"Woah, I know you are not blaming me for this," she stepped closer to him and glared.

But like before, they were evenly matched.

He stepped closer as well and leveled her glare with his own. "Were you here on time? Was Rollins?"

"It wasn't my call," she said slowly. She was well aware of their proximity but this time he had her so irritated she wanted to smack him not kiss him. "Amanda was meant to be in. I had plans! I had the day off!"

"Oh, excuse me, then," Rafael sarcastically said as he backed away. He did it for measures though. "What plans did you have that were more important than your job?"

"Seeing my brother who's been gone for an entire month," Montserrat spat, and did technically get through to the man. "Gael and Damien were on a business trip, remember? We even celebrated my birthday earlier because they weren't sure if they would be back before my birthday."

Yup, Rafael did remember that. Dammit. He inwardly sighed and started regretting all the animosity he spewed. "I'm sorry."

"I was supposed to be out today so I could see him. So sorry if it got in your way," Montserrat pushed past him towards the door.

Rafael thought about going after her but he knew she'd never listen to him right now. He'd be lucky if she did even when she was angry with him. Why couldn't Rollins just have gotten here like planned? he would think endlessly on the way home.

~0~

Hearing they missed Clare, Olivia decided to go straight for the girl herself in her new prison. She took Nick with her, in hopes of finally getting the girl back. In the meantime, when Amanda finally showed up later that day (much, much later), everyone had their go at her. But no one was more irritated than Montserrat.

"I got yelled at because you didn't show up!" the ginger was shouting in Amanda's face. "I had plans, too, you know."

Amanda had a headache. It was a terrible, terrible headache that was borderline a migraine. She nursed a cup of coffee and just nodded as Montserrat yelled at her. When Montserrat was done, the ginger returned to her desk and plopped down while she waited for Amanda to finally speak.

"I'm sorry, guys. Something came up," Amanda said. Yeah, betting did. "It was irresponsible not to call in. That's my bad."

"Yeah," Montserrat snapped.

"Are you alright, Rollins?" Fin eyed the blonde woman with some concern. earlier in the day when they had first gotten word Amanda did not show up to Hudson county, Nick had talked to him on the side about Amanda's recent odd behavior. At the time, then just brushed Nick's words off. But now, looking at Amanda, he was beginning to think Nick was right in some sense.

Amanda seemed huddled as she took her seat at her desk. Even her nod is kind of off. "Yeah. Just not my best day." She glanced over at Montserrat, genuinely looking sorry for putting the ginger into that situation. "I'm sorry, Montserrat. I didn't mean to ruin your day."

Montserrat didn't say anything but she sensed Amanda's honesty. It wasn't so much that she had to cancel her plans with her brother, as it was that she'd been forced to be with Rafael when she was clearly not ready because all she seemed to do was argue with him, even more now. And that was saying something.

"Let's just focus on Perry's connections, shall we?" Sonny eventually asked after the silence became too awkward.

It was really the best they could do to push away the hard feelings. However, after a few hours they got a call from a very angry Olivia who ordered them to do some digging on the new prison Clare was in, Knollwood. As soon as they had something concrete, they were to meet her with Rubirosa and Rafael.

Olivia was livid even after they met her. And as she told the group how they found Clare's new prison, it just got her riled up even more. "Forget about releasing Clare. They wouldn't even let us see her!"

Nick, who was a bit more calm than Olivia, added, "They said she was in solitary. And she's staying in there no matter what."

"We called a contact at Jersey DOC, but he said Knollwood sets its own rules," Fin said.

"Knollwood's a private facility?" Rafael asked, even though he assumed the answer based on everything Olivia had told them so far (well, raged about).

"Oh yeah, owned and operated," Sonny answered. "The state pays per prisoner each day that they're there."

"It's pretty lucrative," Amanda remarked as she picked up a file she and Montserrat worked on before coming. It was the only way they wouldn't argue and once they found out more about Knollwood, setting aside their differences wasn't that hard. "They hit record profits just last quarter. So the more prisoners they get, the more money they make."

"And they're not exactly putting those profits back into the facility or rehab," Montserrat crinkled her nose as she remembered the details and accompanying photographs they'd found in their research.

"We get that," Rafael said dismissively while he went through his own paperwork.

Montserrat gave him a look for that. "No-" that sharpness made him involuntarily wince and look up to meet her hardened gaze, "-you really don't. There have been dozens of attempted teenage suicides. There's allegations of drug abuse, violence, sexual abuse-"

"-can we just put reforming the for-profit prison system on hold and focus on Clare?" he managed to cut through, not that it made Montserrat any happier.

"I was getting to that, Counselor," she smiled sarcastically. "If you'd let me talk. So every judge in Jersey- they send a few kids there a year, but Judge Dolan - 90% of his juveniles end up there."

"So the judge is funneling them business," Rubirosa got in and asked the winning question. "What's Knollwood funneling back to him?"

"We'll get back to you on that," Amanda made an apologetic face.

"And the Perry money trail?" asked Rafael.

"We have forensic accountants tearing his books apart, but he still won't give us the name of Clare's rapist," Sonny said. "And he had the Hudson County legal system railroad Clare. I mean, whoever this rapist is, he has serious hooks."

Olivia understood that and it made her even angrier they couldn't get to him. "So, Fin, Amaro, Carisi, keep hitting Perry. Novak, Rollins, keep digging at Knollwood. In the meantime-" she turned to the two ADAs, "-do you guys have any plan at all to get Clare out of there?"

Judging by Rubirosa's face, it appeared she'd been thinking about it for a while now. "I'm gonna get a forthwith order releasing Clare to New York's DOC."

"How is that any different from the last one?" Montserrat curiously asked.

"Even if she's in solitary, the warden will have to release her immediately."

Montserrat nodded and, very lowly, whispered to Sonny, "She's good." Sonny knew she had to have hated making that admission considering how she felt towards Rubirosa.

~0~

Thankfully, Rubirosa followed through and allowed SVU to finally take Clare somewhere safe. At this point, it was back to the hospital so she could rest and get back to normal health. Prison had done a number on her again.

"They drugged me," Clare said with a scratch voice. She'd been given a room in the hospital for her to peacefully rest in and was now receiving a visit from Montserrat. "They said I was out of control. I mean, I know I'm no white dove but…I didn't deserve that."

Montserrat watched the girl's eyes get watery and felt rage towards the prison ward, as well as the whole situation in general. "I'm so sorry, Clare, but we're working on bringing Perry down right now."

"Did he tell you the name of my rapist?"

"...no," Montserrat watched the little hope Clare had leave her body with slumped shoulders. "But we will, okay? We told you we're not giving up on you, remember?"

"You guys got me out of there," Clare said, reminding herself that even though they did get the chance to abandon her they didn't. "It was awful there."

"I heard," Montserrat said sadly.

"They dry-celled me in solitary. There was no running water. They called it the brown room. I had to sleep on the floor with no blankets. The other kids - everyone had bruises," Clare looked down at her arms which, surprisingly, bore no said bruises. "I guess I got lucky in that department."

"You're never going back there again, I promise," Montserrat got up from her seat to check her buzzing phone. "That's my partner. We may have gotten a breakthrough somewhere. I'll come back, okay?"

Clare nodded and smiled at the detective. "Thanks for being here."

"Of course," Montserrat offered a smile of her own then headed out of the room. As soon as she was outside the room, she sighed. She just kept thinking about her niece and it sickened her that no one else was watching out for Clare.

~ 0 ~

By the time Montserrat returned to the precinct, the group was already at the conference table discussing their recent findings on Perry.

"How was Clare?" Olivia asked her once she joined them.

"In honesty, she's had a rough few days," Montserrat sighed. "But I think she'll be good now, even more so if we manage to catch her rapist."

"Well, maybe we're getting there," Amanda walked over to the board of their case. "The Masconis are the ones getting the money from Knollwood."

"So did we get anywhere with Perry's byzantine financial system?" Montserrat looked at the men who'd been in charge of that.

"No, but we decided to take an alternate route," Fin said. "We took a look at Judge Dolan's finances."

"Hm, let me guess. Beatrice D'Avola's PR firm pays him as a consultant?" Olivia asked.

"No, money flows the other way."

"Four years ago, the Judge starts writing checks to local assemblymen, the Governor as well. 40 grand a year," Sonny relayed from one document they'd been able to get.

"The Governor?" Rafael stopped him, as if to mean for Sonny to check his details again.

"He's the one who appoints county prosecutors," Rubirosa pointed out. "With the advice of local assemblymen. A lot of money for a family court judge."

"He had to take out a second mortgage," Nick shared with them.

"What, for campaign contributions? He still writing checks?"

"No, he stopped two years ago."

"And that's when Knollwood hired the PR firm owned by Masconi's mother-in-law," Montserrat was catching up on the files on the table. She crinkled her nose at that detail and looked up to see if they'd caught on with it too.

"And when Dolan starts dumping every juvie he comes across into Knollwood," Fin agreed with her.

"So Masconi says 'Jump' and Dolan says 'How high'?" Olivia was liking they were finally getting somewhere with the case. The deeper they were into the case, the more they could get for each culprit.

"What does he have on him?" Rubirosa leaned against the table, her dark eyes flickering from one picture on the board to the next.

Rafael came to stand beside her and gazed at the board himself. Well, like any group of criminals there was always the strong and the weak, the boss and the lackeys. "Masconi, Perry- they're old-school thugs. Dolan bullies teenage girls. Let's hit the weak link."

Montserrat had the misfortune of witnessing the brief smirk he shared with Rubirosa. She didn't like it.

~ 0 ~

"You're jealous?" Kara had no regards for prudence or plain kindness. She just laughed while the two set dinner at the table, six plates, while Montserrat practically slammed the forks down beside each plate.

"Funny, I was under the impression that you were my best friend who would not laugh at my misery," Montserrat's quiet sarcasm was responded with another small laugh.

"I'm sorry, but it's too funny."

"My misery?"

"Hey, if you would've listened before, then none of this would've happened."

"Except it would have because Rafael would have still said the same things he did now," Montserrat put the last of the utensils down. She brought her hands up to her hair that she pushed back. "Oh my God, this is ridiculous. If I hadn't kissed him none of this would be happening."

"But you would be stuck in an endless 'what if' pit," Kara pointed out, much more serious now that she saw how stressed Montserrat was.

"But it's got to be better than this, right?" Montserrat dropped her hands and pressed them against the table to lean forwards on. "Here I am being jealous of some woman who's just doing her job. And when I'm not being jealous, I'm arguing with Rafael. Anything would have been better than this. It's got to be."

Kara stared at her friend with sorrow. "Okay," she moved around the table and gently turned Montserrat around. "I know that's how you feel, but I know that getting it off your chest was the better choice, you know it too. It's hard, but it will pass. And whatever happens, you'll know you made the right choice."

Montserrat swallowed hard and pushed away any tears threatening to fall from her eyes. "Yeah…" she whispered.

There was an exciting knock on the door from one four year old calling out, "Auntie Montse! I have a new game! Auntie Montse!"

Kara chuckled. "Love her. You want me to wait a minute-"

Montserrat shook her head. "No, go answer it. I'm good." She drew in a breath while Kara walked towards the door. They were having dinner with their brothers, and Montserrat's nieces, and this was something she didn't want to ruin. Some good family time was exactly what she needed.

As soon as Kara opened the door, Ivana Novak scurried into the apartment and went straight for her aunt. Montserrat bent down to pick the girl up in time.

"Auntie Montse! I've got Candyland! Do you want to play!?"

"Where's my hug and kiss first?" Montserrat's demand was met immediately with one brief tight hug and a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

"We can play now!?"

Montserrat laughed, a genuine laugh too. "Maybe after dinner, okay?"

Ivana nodded and was promptly set back on the floor. Montserrat moved on to hug Kara's brother, Damien, and then her brother, Gael.

"Please tell me you fixed your WiFi," Juliana's remark was practically ignored by Montserrat who pulled her into a tight hug. "Uh, okay…" Juliana was taken aback by the tightness of the hug. "Aunt Montse, are you alright?"

"Sorry," Montserrat pulled away from the teenager and looked at the others apologetically. "I have a case with a girl who reminds me of you, Julia. She's a year older than you but...she's had it tough."

"Oh god, what happened to her?"

"Lots of things, sweetie," Montserrat brought her, and prompted the others, towards the table. "We just got her out of prison after she'd been deprived of food and water, and sleep…"

"That's awful," Juliana made a face as she sat down. "Is she going to be okay now?"

"Course she is," Damien answered before Montserrat could. He smiled at the ginger. "Because your aunt's on the case now."

Montserrat smiled softly. "Thanks."

"C'mon, let's have some dinner," Kara said as she emerged from the kitchen with a tray of casserole.

"That smells good, Kara," Gael sniffed the air, along with Ivana. He could never deny that wasn't his daughter.

"I've been learning how to cook with Sonny," Kara proudly set the tray on the table.

"Yup, I'll give her that," Montserrat nodded. "We haven't had to call the firefighters in months now." Kara smacked her shoulder, making the others laugh.

"Just start serving or at least give me the spoon," Damien said as he searched for the spoon himself.

"I want to go first!" Ivana raised her hand and started getting up on her chair when Gael gently made her sit again.

"So Montse, was your birthday fun?"

Montserrat, who'd been drinking out of her glass, nearly choked on it when the subject changed. "What?" she looked at her brother with wide eyes. "Why? What have you heard?"

"Montse," Kara mumbled for the woman to get it together.

Gael was indeed staring at her sister. Montserrat cleared her throat and answered much calmer, "I...it was okay. It's never really fun turning 30, right?"

"I remember that," Damien nudged Gael on the side. "Remember our 30th?"

"I'd rather not," Gael agreed with a nod.

"I'm mad I didn't get to go to your party," Juliana crossed her arms, rather upset until Kara put a slice of casserole on her plate.

"It was at a bar," Montserrat reminded her. "No way your grandfather would let you go."

"Done good," Gael pointed. "But Montse, here's a gift I picked up. Juliana, sweetie?" Juliana nodded and got up from her chair to go retrieve a paper bag they'd left near the couch.

"A present?" Montserrat glanced to see her niece picking up the bag. "Oh no, please-"

"It's late, but I hope you like it," Gael took the bag from Juliana.

"Just so you know, I made sure it was good," Juliana warned Montserrat as she went back to her seat. "You know how men are with their gifts."

Montserrat chuckled as she reached a hand inside the bag. She pulled out a white rectangular box that she gingerly placed on the table. Inside she found a personalized, silver glass photo frame with a photo of herself, her father, Gael, the girls and Casey. To its right was an engraved phrase that read 'Our family may be small, but we are mighty' in Slovak, their home language.

"Oh that is beautiful, Gael!" Montserrat gawked. She remembered that photo from a birthday picnic they had for their father's birthday last year. "I love this!"

"Let me see!" Kara wiggled her fingers to get the frame. She tilted her head while she tried to read the foreign language. "What's that say?"

Montserrat took back the frame and read aloud, "Naša rodina môže byť malá, ale sme mocní. We may be small, but we are mighty."

"Aww, that's so cute," Kara chuckled.

"Okay, well, open mine now," Damien surprised her with his own gift that apparently fit inside his jacket.

"Guys…" Montserrat looked guilty for taking more presents, but no one seemed to care. Damien handed his present, shaped as a small box, to Montserrat. With a sigh, she took it and lifted its lid to find an emerald Kate Spade watch inside. It had light pink jewels on the glass of the watch. When Montserrat turned it over, she found her name engraved on the back. "Wow…" she blinked. "I…"

"Do you like it?" Damien seemed eager to hear the answer.

"Are you kidding? I love it," Montserrat laughed. "I'll probably wear this everyday!"

"That's the idea!"

Montserrat smiled at him then the others. For the next few hours, she'd finally get some peace.

~ 0 ~

The weakest link turned out to be even more fragile than Rafael had thought. Mere hours after Amanda and Fin visited Judge Dolan, the news of his suicide spread like wildfire through the media.

"This photo is probably why Judge Dolan killed himself," Amanda showed the group a picture of said judge with a 12 year old on his lap. "It was sent to him right before he killed himself.

Rubirosa took a closer look at the girl in the picture. "I know this girl. I saw her file. Miyako Nara, she was born into a massage parlor, passed around early."

"Where is this girl now?" Olivia asked.

"She disappeared four years ago. No trace of her since."

"Four years ago?" repeated Rafael, sounding like he'd just made a connection the others hadn't yet. "That's when Dolan started paying off Masconi's political cronies."

"Okay, now we know what Masconi has on Dolan," Nick said.

"Yeah but if they're smart then they definitely didn't send that picture on his own phone, right?" Montserrat watched Amanda shake her head. "Yeah."

"But the photo looks like a surveillance still from a private room at a strip club," Sonny pointedly looked at the group, reminding them what link they still had in their possession. "Miyako used to work at Perry's Jersey City club."

"All roads lead to Perry," Olivia bitterly said.

"Well, maybe Perry will talk now that Dolan's out of the picture," Montserrat suggested another round with the man.

"Worth a shot," Rubirosa agreed with her.

~ 0 ~

Clare shuddered a breath when she stepped into the lineup room to pick out the man who raped her. She couldn't believe they'd actually gotten him and that now it was just up to her to pick him out.

"Whenever you're ready," Montserrat gently brought the girl up to the glass.

Clare only needed to look once before she spotted the familiar man. "It's him, number three."

"Are you sure?" Olivia asked.

Clare nodded, swallowing roughly. "He raped me in the VIP room. It's like he thought I was part of the deal."

"Are we done here?" ADA Gina Masconi, Masconi's wife, moved forwards but Montserrat blocked the way to Clare. "I would like a word with my client."

"You mean your husband?" Olivia raised an eyebrow. "You're still standing by your man, Counselor?"

"Get some self respect," Montserrat muttered but was heard just fine by Masconi. "I'm going to bring Clare back to the group home. I'll be back later."

Olivia nodded for her to go and wished Clare well before they did.

~ 0 ~

"So the man who raped me is the prosecutor who charged me with fraud?" Clare felt like her head would hurt if she kept thinking about it. Montserrat was walking her down the group home hallway, back to her old room.

"Yeah, and the judge that put you away was being blackmailed by him," Montserrat added, but didn't expect Clare to remark about it. "I'm sorry. New Jersey- they're never gonna clean it up."

"But I'm safe now. They can't charge me?" Clare asked, stopping by the threshold of her room. "They can't send me back to Knollwood?"

"Absolutely not," Montserrat promised since she could see the fear of the idea in Clare's eyes. "And the feds assured us that they're gonna investigate Knollwood. We might free more of the kids inside there."

"Can you trust those guys?"

Montserrat bobbed her head for a few seconds. "Well, my friend seems to and, despite his irritating habits, he knows his stuff."

"So what happens now?" Clare stepped inside the room, and suddenly it didn't look so small like before.

"You start your new life. Go get your GED. Maybe go to college?"

Clare shrugged but Montserrat could see the smile on the girl's face. "With my view. There's my tree." She walked up to the window to peer out. She might go out later.

Montserrat felt her phone buzz inside her pocket so she pulled it out to read a text message. She quickly type back and put the phone back in her pocket. "So listen," at her voice, Clare turned sideways, "I know that being a teenager is hard enough, so...I may have done something to try and help."

"Like what?" Clare crossed her arms and waited for it.

"Well, that thing about your GED? I think I may have someone who could help you study and, I don't know, just be a friend?"

Clare looked at the detective suspiciously and even more so when she spotted a teenage girl with light red hair coming into the room.

"Clare, this is my niece, Juliana," Montserrat brought Juliana further into the room.

"Hey, you can call me Jules if you'd like," Juliana's nonchalant greeting made wonders for Clare. Everyone else in the group home seemed to have this pity look for her.

"Okay…" Clare's eyes flickered to Montserrat. "What's she doing here?"

Juliana covered her aunt's mouth - which she got a glare from Montserrat for - to speak with the right words. "Look, I know you've been through some tough stuff so my aunt thought it would be nice if you had someone to show you around the city. You know, like the fun parts?"

Clare somehow found a smile. "You can do that?"

"My Dad's okay with it but I need to check in every once in a while. Plus, I know where the best diner is in these parts. Have you ever tried french fries with milkshakes?"

"No...because I'm a sane person...in what fits."

"It'll blow your mind," Juliana made a motion above her head like if something were exploding.

"Okay," Clare nodded, seemingly getting into the idea. "Thanks."

"No problem!" Juliana smiled. She glanced at her aunt to see she was doing the same thing.

~ 0 ~

"Done deal, case closed," Amanda seemed to be in a hurry to leave the bullpen. She was gathering her things on her desk, ignoring what the others were planning for the night.

"We could get some drinks?" Sonny was asking the detectives, along with Olivia and Rafael. He spotted Montserrat coming in and called out to her, "Hey, how'd it go with Clare?"

"Um, I think she'll be good," Montserrat leaned against the side of her desk. "I introduced her to Juliana and I think that might help Clare get back to some normality."

"That's good, girl needs it," Fin nodded.

"And your brother's okay with this?" Olivia raised an eyebrow, making a good question.

"He knows I'd never put Juliana in danger," Montserrat smiled. "I think it could be good for Clare. And Juliana actually wanted to help."

"Alright, well, I gotta go," Amanda finally slung her bag over her shoulder. "See y'all tomorrow."

"Rollins, you're not going…?" Nick trailed off since the blonde left without hearing anything else. He turned his chair to the others and pointed behind for Amanda. "I'm not the only one who sees that, right? Something's wrong with Rollins."

"I think you just need to focus on yourself, Amaro," Rafael said. Nick rolled his eyes in response.

"Yeah, so how about them drinks?" Sonny pushed himself up from his seat.

"You don't have a date with Kara today?" Montserrat gave him a suspicious look. "You blow off my roommate, I kill you. You know that, right?"

Sonny playfully rolled his eyes at her. "One moment you're on me about actually having a relationship with Kara and then you're suddenly upset because I'm not paying attention to her?"

Montserrat shrugged her shoulders. "It depends on my mood."

Sonny deadpanned her and concluded he needed that drink now. "I'm leaving. Anyone joining?"

"Me," Fin raised a hand and got up. Nick agreed and started getting his jacket.

"How about you, Liv? Councilor?" Sonny gave a look at the two in question then one for Montserrat. "Montse?"

"I'm good, thanks," Montserrat said fast then looked to Rafael, as if letting him know he was free to go now since she'd declined.

Olivia declined as well, saying she was much too tired to think about drinking out from home. She was the next one to leave, but unlike Amanda she was in no apparent rush.

"Guess it's a guy's night out," Sonny shrugged and started leading the way.

"Can't see that turning out wrong," Montserrat sarcastically said, earning herself a look from Fin.

"Yeah, yeah," the man waved her off.

"Montserrat?" Rafael purposely lingered behind.

The woman, however, started getting her things with no intention of sticking around for another conversation that would inevitably turn into an argument. "You're free to go, Councilor. I wouldn't have said 'yes' anyways to drinks. I'm tired."

"But that's not what I'd like anyways," he said. "We can't go avoiding each other when we work together. And not being able to be in the same room together? Really?"

Montserrat didn't want to be frustrated, but it showed by the harsh way she stuffed her jacket into her bag. "Well, what do you suggest?" she looked up to meet his gaze. "Because it seems like whatever we do, we end up arguing anyways."

"I'm sorry-"

"-don't apologize. You just anger me more like that."

"Then I guess I should keep my mouth shut around you?"

"Maybe so."

Rafael deadpanned her before scolding her, "Montserrat, believe it or not it's not my intention to anger you, much less hurt you."

Montserrat seemingly discarded his apology to the side as she slung her bag over her shoulder. "Well you're doing a fantastic job here."

"I'm sorry," he said seriously. "You might not believe me, but I am sorry." Before she could toss that apology and leave, he grabbed her arm and made her look at him. "I know your birthday was never one you wanted to celebrate and I stupidly thought I could ease that night for you. But I just made things worse."

"I don't get why," Montserrat said quietly.

"I'm trying to help you," he clarified and for some reason, this time, she could believe him. She might not agree with him, but she could see the honesty in his eyes. "I don't want to ruin you."

"Why would you do that? How would you even do that to me?"

There was a weak smile on Rafael's face. "Why do you think Yelina and I didn't last? It's always me." Montserrat's face softened. She flinched, though, when he touched her face. "You know exactly who you're dealing with, Montserrat, and I don't want you to crash because of me. You're beautiful, you'll have no problem finding someone good."

His soft smile, coupled with his words, stunned Montserrat. In all her months working at SVU, spending time with him, he'd never been...like this. He was open, he was genuine...he was himself, not the sharp-tongue ADA she'd come to know.

Rafael withdrew his hand from her face and stared at her for a few minutes, almost making a mental picture of how close he had her, how she looked at him with her big, brown eyes...all to remember her, because the next time they would see each other they would be friends and nothing more.

It's over, Montserrat realized. No matter what she did, nor what she said, things were over and they never even really got started. "Okay," she said in a low whisper.

Rafael nodded and turned to leave when a tall, dark haired man walked into the bullpen. The man seemed to be lost until he looked at Rafael, only for Rafael to realize it wasn't him but Montserrat behind him the man was looking at.

"Jonah?" Montserrat blinked several times just to make sure she wasn't hallucinating. Her emotions were a bit out of place, after all.

A big smile came to the man's face. "Montserrat! So it was the right place!"

Montserrat hurried towards 'Jonah' to give him a hug, but her eyes were still wide from the shock of seeing him.

"No problem at all," Rafael mumbled under his breath as he walked out of the bullpen.

[broken-clover]

AU-gust Day 12- Modern

Here comes a joker! I really did like the idea of a crime au, but I just couldn’t come up with anything. So here’s something I’ve been wanting to make for a while, kinda inspired by an ask I got from Rex way back when. I just liked the idea of Axl being Bedman’s adopted dad, I thought it was neat!

Also apologies in advance for me using my name headcanons again, it’s just so difficult to work with a character whose name is ‘Bedman.’ Seriously, does he have a less bizarre name in canon? Who the fuck would name their kids ‘Delilah’ and ‘Bedman?’ Guess we know who the favorite was...

“I don’t like you.”

Axl wasn’t sure what he’d expected when he first signed up for the local foster program. Well, he sorta did. Ideally, he’d expected to be tasked with taking care of a child, with whatever bizarreness it would entail. He knew he wasn’t exactly what a lot of people would consider ‘prime material’ for a foster parent- he was an unmarried twentysomething with no clear direction on where he wanted to go with his life, but he was financially stable, passed all the agency’s legal checks and drug screenings, and attended every mandatory pre-service class alongside a small crew of other aspiring parents. Despite his best efforts, he always got the impression that the agency took issue with him being there. Still, Axl did everything he was told, waited patiently, and chatted with his assigned caseworker until they had found a match for him to try out.

Matthew had come with a ratty purple backpack, a seemingly-permanent scowl, and a laundry list of behavior problems tacked onto his case file. Axl wasn’t his first foster parent, he’d already gone through nearly a dozen, all of which had sent him back. The reasons varied, from destroyed appliances to constant verbal fighting. And he made it clear right from the get-go that he despised his new foster home just as much from the first words he uttered.

“I don’t like you. Send me back.”

It seemed nobody really knew where the origin of his ire was. Being pushed back and forth through the foster system again and again for years seemed like a perfectly good reason to be cross, at least in Axl’s opinion, but the way the orphanage and his agent had spoken about it made it sound like Matthew was born with a scowl on his face and just didn’t know how to take it off. They seemed surprised by the concept that he was even being placed in another foster home. The repeated failures and inability to get along with anyone seemed to indicate that he was doomed to take the slow path, waiting a few more years until he turned 18 and aged out of the system on his own.

In spite of their initial rough meeting, Axl did his best to welcome him warmly. He’d set up and painted a room ahead of time for his new family member to live in, acquired all the legal documents he needed for everything from school enrollment to medical files, and stored up a plethora of dad jokes that he could use as he needed. Matthew was unimpressed with all of them.

“I hate this place. When are you sending me back?”

For all the snarky comments and indifference he could manage, Axl didn’t budge. He was patient. He would keep trying.

Though he only knew so much about him from his case file (Matthew despised small talk, and Axl didn’t drag him into it), he’d done his best to support the interests he saw. He bought the science books he noticed the boy staring at in the shop windows, and trying to pick out new cartridges for the game system he barely let out of his sight. He seemed like the intellectual type, reading college-level books on social sciences and linguistics, and he preferred strategy games over any other kind. Axl wasn’t much of a bookworm himself, maybe that’s what made it so difficult for them to connect. But even if he couldn’t match him on an intellectual level, maybe he could still do so on a more personal one.

So he stayed patient.

“Why are you being so stubborn…?”

Axl could tell he was at least getting somewhere. They didn’t exactly have casual time together, not really, but he wasn’t immediately shooed away. Matthew could play his games, or read a book, and Axl could sit on the other side of the room. Every time, he inched closer and closer, until the only option left was for them to sit on the same couch.

“Heya, Mattie, mind if I sit down for a sec?"

It had been a quiet evening, not especially remarkable in any way. Just another day of work and school for the both of them, and free time afterward to unwind.

His son glanced up at him, but only for the briefest of moments. “You have more than one chair.”

“Yeah, but I just wanted to sit with you today. Is that okay?”

“...Fine. But don’t touch me.”

Axl sat himself down on the other side of the sofa. “So...how was school?”

“Don’t want to talk about it.”

The sheer speed of his response threw him off-guard. “Well, okay. Um, did I already tell you that I like the neat thing you’ve got going on with your hair?” He pointed towards the boy’s messily-dyed purple locks.

“Eight times. Nine now.”

“You do it yourself?”

“In my last house’s bathtub.”

“Must’ve been a right mess! But it looks like it turned out good?”

“It was. My foster mom was mad about the mess I made. So she wound up screaming at me over it. And I screamed back. And before I knew it, she sent me back. It’s on my case file, I thought you said you read it.”

Axl felt his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth. Well, open mouth, insert foot. He had read it, multiple times, but all it had listed was ‘confrontational issues and repeated arguments.’ He’d wondered exactly what that had meant, but actually figuring it out made him feel the exact opposite of satisfied.

“...Oh. Sounds like a right bitch.”

“She was. Can you stop asking questions now? I’m bored of them.”

He complied, though the ensuing silence only made everything feel more uncomfortable. He just didn’t get why some people screamed at their kids, mistakes just happened sometimes. Children were still learning how things worked, it seemed natural sometimes it would end in a mess.

“Hey.”

“I don’t wanna talk.”

“And I’m not gonna make you.” Axl stayed where he was. “Is it okay if I talk, though? You don’t have to say anything back.”

No response. But he didn’t get up and leave, like he had done in the past, so Axl took it as a cue to keep going. “I know you’re probably not gonna like me right away. And that’s ok. I’m still a total stranger, and you’re just expected to trust me to look after you. And I’ve seen all your paperwork, but that doesn’t mean I know anything about you as a person. We’re still strangers, the two of us.”

He paused. Matthew looked unfazed. “So I get it. I really do. I’m…” Axl tried to think of what he wanted to say. “I...

I’m not sending you back.”

Still no response. But Axl noticed the way his hands locked, and the little startled double-blink that came with it.

“If we’ve got issues, we can work ‘em out. I know you’ve been through a lot, so it’s ok if you have a rough time at first. And I’m not gonna throw you out as soon as you have a hard time. I totally get it. You’re not a bloody dog, I’m not gonna pretend like I can tame you with treats until you do whatever I tell you. There’s just some stuff we aren’t ever going to see eye-to-eye on. But no matter what, you’re my kid now, and you’re not going anywhere unless that’s what you really want.”

Slowly, uncertainly, he watched Matthew close his game and let it rest in his lap. He didn’t look up. “I want to be a good parent. I know I’m new at this, too, so I might fuck up a couple of times. I just want you to know that I’m ready to be your dad, and that means loving you no matter what.”

After another quiet, uncomfortable moment, a small voice piped up. “I’m not good at jokes, but yours aren’t funny.”

“It’s not a joke.” Axl replied. “I mean it.”

“It’s not funny!” It sounded more forceful the second time. His voice grew brittle. “You should send me back. Why won’t you send me back?”

“Why would I do that? You’re all set up in your room, and moving is a pain.” Axl tried to throw in a little friendly chuckle, but it didn't hide the unease in his voice. "Why would you think I would want to get rid of you?"

“I- I’m not-” His tone finally snapped, and his shoulders began to tremble. “I’m no good.”

He found himself hesitating for a moment, but Axl scooted closer, wrapping arms around his shoulders and giving his son a tight squeeze. “Nobody’s perfect. And I wouldn’t want you to be, anyway. I just want you to be you. Whatever that means.”

The two of them simply sat there for a while. This certainly hadn’t been in any of the advice books he’d read, but this was something Axl didn’t mind doing on his own. He just hoped he had expressed what he needed to.

He didn’t even think of letting go until he felt squirming against him. Matthew immediately picked up his game again and flipped it open. No acknowledgement at all. But...no, that was fine. He said he would accept him no matter what he was. If he didn’t like to talk about his feelings, then he didn’t need to force it.

“...help me with this turn.”

“Huh?” Curious, Axl shuffled closer to get a better look at his screen. “Wait, is this the one I got you?”

The boy nodded. “The mechanics are simplistic and the strategy elements are child’s play, but...I’ve had a lot of fun with it.” He tapped at something on his screen. “Alright. So right now my troops are stationed outside the dragon king’s fortress. How should they be organized when we open our assault?”

Well, he wasn’t much of a strategist, but he had no trouble giving it a go, anyway. “Uhh, definitely want to have some long-range stuff, right? So you can hit from a distance. Got anything for that?”

Another nod. “There’s a whole subclass for that, let me show you. There’s archers, a trebuchet, long-distance casters, and demolitionists. Each of them have a different set of stats and energy cost.”

“Why don’t you explain them to me a little more?”

“Sure. Archers have the best cost-to-efficiency ratio, but their projectiles are still on the weaker side. But if you take the trebuchet…”

It was a starting step, he realized, only a small one. But it was still something.

[marveloussupernerd]

Crowns and Courtships - A Mystic Messenger AU

This AU is basically about MC being a princess who is courting during the Regency era! The readers can choose who MC ends up with :)

Chapter 6 - The Garden Party

Chapter 5

Words: 2500

Summary: it’s finally time to travel to the city to go to the first party of the social season, hosted by your close friend Duke Yoosung Kim. Will the party be a success? Will the group plotting against you make their next move?

You woke to a knock on your door. Blinking the sleep out of your eyes, you told the person they could come in. No surprise, it was Jaehee. “Good morning Princess, Sir Zen. I’ve gotten you some tea; we will be departing for the city soon. Would you like to get dressed before breakfast?

“That would be lovely,” you told Jaehee. Sir Zen excused himself and went to leave, but you stopped him. “Wait! Please tell me you will change my father’s mind and convince him that you should join us in the city.” You could tell he was going to object, but you stopped him once more. “Please. I feel safer with you around.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” He smiled, then left. You could hear him making his way down the stairs, hopefully to find your father.

Jaehee got your clothes out, helping you step into each layer of the heavy travel clothes, then brought in some tea. “What happened last night, if you don’t mind me asking? I was surprised to see your knight in your chambers.”

You could feel your face heat up. “Oh! It’s nothing like that! Someone left a threatening note on my door, stabbed into the wood with the dagger. I couldn’t sleep… but with him watching over me it helped.”

“Oh! That’s awful. Are you okay?” She gently placed her hand on your arm.

“I’m honestly scared. That’s why I want him to join us in the city. It seems that if the organization doesn’t like my decision, they’ll attack me there. I already feel sick about the whole thing… having him by my side would help.”

“He is handsome… isn’t he?” Jaehee had a small smile on her face.

You giggled. “He is! He’s opening up more too.”

“Well, I hope we can catch these people, and soon. You should be excited about your first garden party, not dreading it!”

You set your cup down on the saucer, then stood. “We’ll have to hope for the best. I’ll meet you downstairs at the carriage soon! I have to join my parents for breakfast.”

When you sat down for breakfast, your parents stared at you like they had seen a ghost. “What’s wrong?” You asked, nervous that something else bad must have happened.

“We’re surprised to see you coping so well… Sir Zen brought us the note that was on your door,” your mother explained, concern evident in her eyes.

You sighed, your face falling: “Well… we knew there would be people who didn’t like my decision. It’s the consequences I have to face to achieve my happiness.”

“Well Sir Zen is joining us now, without question. He’s packing his things as we speak,” your father explained. It made you feel much better knowing that he’d be by your side, looking after you and protecting you from the people in the city.

“That’s good to know. On another note, I’m excited for the party today as well as our travels!”

“I’m glad to hear it. It must be exciting to be out and about during the social season. You’ll have to tell me all about it!” Your mother expressed happily. It was clear that she was disappointed she had to take part in an arranged marriage, but she was lucky her marriage turned out so well; it was clear that she loved your father dearly, which was surprising considering the fact you were born before your father had married. It was a lot to overlook, but the Queen’s love was able to overcome it all.

One you finished breakfast, it was time to prepare for the trip. You, your parents, and Jaehee took the main carriage. The others rode on horseback alongside the carriage. You smiled when you saw the horse you trained the other day leading the carriage. You walked over to him while the bags were being loaded.

“Why hello there!” You greeted the horse, patting its head. Mr. Choi sat at the front of the carriage, right above the horse and its partner. He raised an eyebrow at you. “Valiant. That’s his name,” you decided.

“A fitting name for a horse so daring and brave,” he grinned, petting the horse. “Let me know if you need anything throughout the trip.”

“I’m shocked you’re being so nice. Nervous? This is your first long carriage trip after all.”

“I just got used to leading one horse; now I have already graduated to two,” he said boastingly, but his face showed that he was quite overwhelmed by the prospect.

“Maybe you should let me know if you need anything throughout the trip,” you teased, turning his words against him. “Safe travels, Mr. Choi. My life literally depends on it.”

“You’re telling me… mine too.”

You loaded into the carriage with your family. You sat next to your mother, and your father sat across from you, next to Jaehee, who got the honor of sitting in the main carriage as your new lady.

You spent your time reading another book on flowers. You read for most of the trip, finishing the book in its entirety. You were lucky your home in the city had a large collection of books that you could read. You luckily made it without needing to take any stops, which was pretty impressive. Before you went inside, Sir Zen swept the house to make sure there was no intruder inside. Luckily there wasn’t. You took Jaehee up to your room to get ready for the garden party that was quickly approaching.

Jaehee quickly helped you get out of your traveling clothes and into your pink ensemble. The blush tone suited your skin tone perfectly; Jaehee had even packed a blush hat to match, since the party was outside.

She spent her time pinning each piece of hair into place, working on a low bun so that the hat would still sit nice. “I know we did not have much time to get ready, but I think you look wonderful,” Jaehee complimented, a small blush on her face. She practically pushed you out of the room before you could respond. “Off we go! We cannot be late.”

You made your way to the carriage with Jaehee next to you. You were lucky she was joining you since your parents weren’t going to attend; they were going to spend their time settling in. Still, it was nice to have some company.

Mr. Choi gave you his hand to help you onto the carriage, which you gladly took. Despite your recent fights, you still needed his help and wanted to keep things cordial. “That is… a lot of pink. You look like a flamingo,” he commented, taken aback by your dress. So much for cordial. It was obvious he was making fun of you to make himself feel better; you could tell by the stupid look on his face that he was just teasing you. You wouldn’t give in that easily though.

“Well, I figured you didn’t have taste, but this just confirms it,” you shrugged as he helped Jaehee into the carriage. “Let’s get going please; I’d hate to be late,” you urged him, and he listened.

“Who is holding this party again?” Jaehee asked as the carriage began moving.

“Duke Kim. I’m sure it was a lot of work for him to arrange the party on his own for the first time… especially since it’s the first one of the season. This is important though, because it’ll set the tone for the rest of this season’s events,” you explained.

You were trying to stay stoic but you were worried about Yoosung. He’d be crushed if the party wasn’t perfect, as if he had let his parents down. You’d take it upon yourself to make sure the party was a success.

But once you got there you weren’t too worried. There were a large number of round tables, draped in lavender linen. Vases of pink roses sat on each table, clearly expensive in order to impress the guests. A few nobles were already there, talking amongst themselves, Duke Kim greeting them.

You couldn’t wipe the smile off your face as he greeted you. “Nice to see you again, Duke Kim. This party is wonderful. I’m sure your parents would be proud,” you complimented. You meant every word; he was always an overachiever, but you were worried the death of his parents would kill his spirit. That wasn’t the case though! He was working even harder now.

“Your Royal Highness, it’s nice to see a friendly face around here,” he leaned close to her, lowering his voice: “I feel like everyone here is waiting to see me fail.”

“Don’t talk like that! Even if they were here for that, it’s not like they could say anything. You’re a Duke now. You outrank most of the people here,” you reminded him. The only ones higher than the Duke in the social status were the royalty. Yoosung should be proud of his title. “Plus! I’ll bet you’ll have at least half a dozen ladies swooning over you at the end of the event. You’ll never have to plan a party on your own ever again,” you grinned, reassuring him. A more genuine smile made its way onto his face.

“Honestly? I had a lot of fun planning this party. It helped take my mind off of things,” he admitted. Another guest entered, standing behind you, waiting their turn to talk to Yoosung. “Let’s talk later. There are place cards on each table to show you where you sit. I hope you enjoy yourself!”

It was obvious Yoosung had thought a lot about the seating arrangements. People sat by those in comparable class to them. Your table had Prince Jumin, Yoosung himself, Lord James, Lady Elizabeth, and Lady Sarah. The seats alternated boy-girl to help with the courting. It was very well thought-out.

Your only bit of criticism had to be Lord James. You had never gotten along with him well; he was extremely opinionated. Still, it was important to give him a chance. He approached the table first, addressing you before standing in front of a seat across from you.

“Hello Your Royal Highness,” he bowed to you.

“Lord James,” you curtsied, “how are your parents?”

“They’re doing quite alright. How has your kingdom and family been these past few months?”

“Pretty good. A little upset over my decision to court instead of going through with an arranged marriage, but nothing out of control,” you explained, downplaying the situation.

“Well I think that it is certainly a scandalous move. But, us noblemen are glad to see it occur. You look absolutely radiant,” he complimented. He eyed the pitcher of lemonade on the table awkwardly. You weren’t entirely sure what he was waiting for.

You ignored him, grabbing the pitcher and filling up your glass. His eyes were glued to it, still confused. “Is something the matter?” You asked, confused.

“I’m simply waiting for somebody to pour it for me. Would you like to do the honors?”

“I’d rather not. Thank you for the offer though,” you mentioned, allowing your voice to show a bit of annoyance. Luckily, Lady Elizabeth made it to the table to save you from the ridiculous conversation. You stood and swept her into a hug, not caring about appearances.

“My dear friend, it’s so good to see you,” you greeted.

“I’m not used to that sort of greeting, but I certainly will not complain,” she looked around. “The Duke has certainly outdone himself, huh? I didn’t realize he had this attention-to-detail in him.”

“Don’t be silly; he’s been straightening the silverware on the dinner tables at parties ever since we met him; this doesn’t surprise me at all,” you laughed. That was Yoosung alright. He had always been a perfectionist. Elizabeth joined you in a fit of giggles. You both sat down one seat apart from each other, Elizabeth getting the unfortunate pleasure of getting to sit next to Lord James.

“Who else is at our table?” Elizabeth asked you curiously, leaning closer to you to speak over the chatter.

“Yoosung, Sarah, and Prince Jumin,” you explained, looking over the table cards just to ensure you were correct.

“Prince Jumin? Oh, how exciting. I didn’t expect him to be showing up to all these events... is he courting too?” she asked curiously, twirling a curl of her hair.

“Well he’s certainly courting me. But besides that, not that I’m aware of. He stopped by the other day for tea.” Truth be told, though, Elizabeth was so beautiful and graceful that it was very likely Jumin would fall for her. Most people did.

“I don’t believe it,” she put her hand atop yours, “oh you must simply tell me all!” Prince Jumin walked over to the table, a smile on his face. “All… regarding how your mother is doing. Did she get over her flu?” Elizabeth asked, trying to cover up the gossip you were getting into. You had to restrain your laughter; no man wanted to see a woman gossiping, especially not the Prince, you imagined. Now the two of you couldn’t have cared less about Lord James, though, as he hardly counted as a man, but this was a prince after all.

“Prince Jumin, so lovely to see you,” you greeted, standing up to curtsy to him.

“I hope your travel was well?” Elizabeth chimed in, curtsying far lower than you had. Show off.

“My dear friend, Lady Elizabeth,” you introduced, “I don’t think the two of you have met formally yet.”

“It’s a pleasure,” Prince Jumin remarked, bowing to the both of you. “It seems I am seated between the two of you. Princess, I hadn’t realized your mother was ill. She seemed fine the other day when I saw her.”

You could feel your cheeks heat up. You didn’t like being questioned like this, especially when the cover-up was Elizabeth’s doing yet you had to dig the two of you out of it. “Ah, yes, well I actually haven’t seen Elizabeth in a while, so she was unaware that my mother had recovered almost a week ago.”

“But I thought we wrote one another just a few days ago? You even mentioned that one man who-”

“Well it seems I must have forgotten to mention it. It has been quite hectic at home lately,” you countered, eyeing Elizabeth, trying to hint that she should stop pressing the matter and be glad you saved her from the reputation of being a gossip.

“Well, Ladies, it looks like I’m at your table,” Lady Sarah announced, making her way in front of you both. “Prince Jumin!” she curtsied quickly, “Whatever might you be doing here?”

“Searching for good company, luckily it seems I might have found some,” he looked at you, smiling.

“I never expected you to be the type of person who would show up to the average boring garden party,” Sarah confessed. Behind her approached Duke Kim. His face fell at the mention of his party being ‘average’ and ‘boring'.

You knew it was your job to make Yoosung feel better. He had worked so hard on this party. He turned away, likely to excuse himself and take a moment. It hurt to see him so disappointed; he likely felt like a failure. You’d have to try and make this right.

[mor-beck-more-problems]

Undead and Well Read || Morgan & Leah

Timing: Current 

Parties: @mor-beck-more-problems & @phoenixleah

Summary: Having fun isn’t hard when you’ve got a library card! 

Warnings: none!

It had been a terrible few weeks for Morgan. She couldn’t remember when, exactly, it had started, but the woman’s voice in her head was definitely making matters much worse. There was irony, of course, in finally being tired, even sleepy. Three months of death had passed with almost complete, awful consciousness. It would be nice, after everything, to have one six hour zonk-out in Deirdre’s arms to fill her head with nothing but black. Not forever, not for a day, just...six hours in bed to scrub out all the weird shit she was seeing. She dragged herself into the library, almost shambling with the weight of death she couldn’t erase from her mind, and the absence of the life that, apparently, she was never going to have in White Crest no matter what she did. But three months dead and Morgan still didn’t know hot to accept all of this. What acceptance and moving on and being actually okay and not just zombing through functionality was really supposed to look like. All the more reason, she guessed, for finally following up on her plans with Leah.

I deserve to be alone. I don’t want to be alone.

Morgan grimaced and shouldered her way into the library. Intrusive thoughts were hard enough when they were her own. For the first time in her existence, dead or not, Morgan didn’t stop to smell the stacks and run her fingers over the protective wrap over the covers. She went straight to the front desk and slumped onto the counter as soon as it was her turn. “Hey, yeah, I um...called ahead. Leah’s supposed to help me out with uh...a research project I’m doing. Are you maybe please possibly Leah?”

Summer was in its prime.  And with the yearly (spooky) carnival now long gone, residents of White Crest were once again looking for somewhere to entertain themselves and cool off. Leah couldn’t understand why, then,  the library wasn’t crowded beyond belief at this point.  It was cool, it was quiet, it was entertaining… what more could people need?  Normally, she wouldn’t mind the library being slow- less people coming in and out meant more time to add to the archives, and boy did she have a lot to add lately. Between the cursed game with Skylar and her new fae friend’s height problem, she wasn’t sure she’d ever been so backed up since she became a Scribe.  But still, the library staying afloat was the only thing keeping her family’s archives together and intact, thanks to the secret basement.  She couldn’t imagine years of research wasted just because White Cresters would rather go to some lake than read.  

She smiled at the man in front of her, thanking him for the payment of his late fee (his 4th one this year, maybe she should tell this guy to invest in a phone reminder), and watched him as he went on his way to check out more books.  Now that was a person she could relate to.  A woman she didn’t recognize came up next, and the poor thing looked positively exhausted.  She smiled at her, pulling her reading glasses to rest on the top of her head to get a better look.  I called ahead.  Leah wracked her brain to try and think of the call, and it all came at once.  The call… their conversation online.  “Morgan!” She popped out of the stool she was sitting in, turning around to rummage through the shelf behind her.  This was the girl from the internet… the new zombie who loved reading.  “You’re Morgan, right?” she asked, still rummaging.  When she was finally done, she’d pulled about six large books from the shelf, turning around and plopping them in front of Morgan.  In her excitement, she’d forgotten to confirm she was actually the woman Morgan was looking for.  She pressed her hands together, smiling.  “Yes, sorry.  I’m Leah.  You were looking for some...special books, right?”

Morgan’s head perked up at the enthusiasm from the girl. “Yes! Me Morgan! I mean, I’m Morgan! Beck. From the university, and online.” Wow, her mind meld was really getting under her skin. She could usually count on herself to act at least relatively normal in public, even in the middle or White Crest’s nonsense of the month. Despite her gracelessness, she couldn’t help but smile with relief and recognition. So this was Leah. Morgan must have seen her in passing half a dozen times or more without realizing. Even her work outfit and her reading glasses struck her as familiar. “Leah,” sighed, a smile melting over her face. “I cannot begin to express how glad I am to see you. Yes. Please, please take me to the special books. Things have only gotten weirder since we last talked and I would love for something to be easy. Or make sense. Or both.”

“I’m so glad to finally meet you”, Leah said, holding her hand out for Morgan to shake.  Normally she shied away from handshakes.  Her body temperature always made people give her a second glance, and she didn’t have time to be answering questions from people that she barely knew.  But something about Morgan’s recent confession and her coming so willingly to Leah for help made her trustworthy in Leah’s eyes.  She probably wouldn’t even question it.  “Well”, she started, indicating to the books she’d placed in front of Morgan. “These are some of them”.  She was glad she was here to help Morgan through all of this… it must be hard for someone not in the know to try and sift through what was real and what was essentially fanfiction.  “I have more set aside if you need them.  And a few that were checked out before I got to them.  Shall we go sit over there and take a look?” she asked, her head nodding over to a table in a secluded area by a window.  “Weirder?”she asked curiously, picking up half of the stack.  “Weirder how?”

Morgan took Leah’s hand gratefully, amazed that she didn’t mind inviting the chill of corpse-flesh, knowing what she was. She tried to return the kindness by taking her hand with the best care she knew how. “It feels a long time coming, huh?” She said. Am I losing my mind? Have I already lost it? Please don’t lock me up… Morgan went stiff and caughted, as if someone might hear the voice and think them rude. She picked up some of the titles and flipped through some of the chapter headings, her chest starting to tighten in spite of herself. “Are any of these..um...you know...first hand? Or, well, why don’t we take these to that table, like you said. And uh, as for weird…” She cleared her throat, trying to drown out more ruminations on love and sanity. Apparently the woman hadn’t has sex in seven years over this guy and it was all way more than she knew how to process alongside the normal chatter in her dead brain. “I know you know about how things really are around here, but this is something else. Maybe we’ll find something in these books but...uh...magic mind shares shouldn’t be a thing for the undead, right? Because I can’t carry a witchy charge anymore...because I’m, you know, d-e-a-d?”

Leah nodded with a warm smile.  It really had felt like she’d been talking to Morgan for years, when really it hadn’t been more than a few weeks.  Even before she learned about Morgan’s… undeadness, she found talking to the woman was a breeze.  “Some of them are!  Others are collections of records from Scribes”- not her own, Leah noted inwardly, though if Morgan wasn’t finding the information she was looking for, Leah would find a way to slip hers in as well. -”which is just about as close to first hand as you can get.  Scribes are known for being incredibly unbiased.” After confirming that there was someone else there to man the desk, Leah made her way to the table briskly.  She sat down as she listened to Morgan explain.  It was confusing, really, because she had never heard of anyone experiencing mind shares.  “It’s not something I’ve ever heard of… but that doesn’t mean it’s not possible.  I mean, personality-wise… it’s not uncommon for you to take on a bit of someone’s personality after… their brain is ingested.”  Morgan had mentioned she was feeding ethically, but Leah didn’t want to judge if that wasn’t still the case.  “You’re just like… hearing this other person’s thoughts all the time?  Is it someone you’re close to?”

Morgan smirked ruefully at the mention of the brain. “Oh yeah, found that out the hard way by accident. He was already dead! Just, so you know. Long dead. No one was using it by the time I uh...happened upon it. And after the whole ‘holy shit this is almost as good as burgers used to be’ thing, came this weird sense of like...wanting to listen to a hockey game? And listen to A Prairie Home Companion? And play like, old people boardgames? It was weird. I called my friend sport. Harmless, but still unsettling. Not actually that big of a fan of doing that blindly again. I don’t want to get essence of asshole, you know? But this feeling is...weirder than that.” She opened the nearest book, flipping through the table of contents and the index for the good parts. There was a section on a zombie hoard that had taken over a town. Bites had spread rapidfire from one starving spawn to the next. Morgan’s stomach lurched at the idea and she picked up a different book. “This new thing is...different. I don’t even know the person I’m hearing. She--” MARRY ME PLEASE. “--Is definitely in a place. And I think I may have seen her in...dream is the only word I can think of. Except I haven’t dreamed or slept since I died. It’s not all the time, more of an eb and flow, but when it flow it’s kind of a lot.”

Leah threw up her arms, a playfully defensive stance to show Morgan that she wasn’t being judgy.  “Hey, you do what you got to do.  If I ever happen to be undead with you, then I’m allowed to judge how you eat.  Until then, I’m just a passive observer.”  She grinned at Morgan’s destination.  All of the archives her family had kept on zombies in the past were written so robotically-- professional and unbiased was basically in the job description of a scribe.  To hear Morgan talk about it so candidly and openly was refreshing.  And amusing, if she were being honest with herself. She chuckled as she answered. “It sounds unsettling!  Thank god you didn’t find someone who liked to listen to polka music, instead.  Now that sounds unsettling.”  It was interesting to watch a newcomer flip through pages that held information all about her new life.  Non-life?  She pressed her lips together, genuinely confused.  “Is it possible someone’s trying to contact you?  I don’t know much about dream visits, but if it’s the same person who’s visiting your day dreams… maybe it’s intentional?”

Morgan’s expression softened at Leah. She hadn’t met a human who she didn’t have to pacify in some capacity in...well she couldn’t quite remember when. She was honest with so few humans these days, and even some of her supernatural friends held reservations against such things as violence and people eating. Maybe she might have even shared their alarm at another time, but she wasn’t even sure of that. But Leah understood somehow. Or at least she understood that there was something beyond her. It was a wisdom that Morgan admired, even envied. Lately she felt like she barreled in with the best of intentions and came up empty. She just wanted everything to be okay and make sense now. Which, now that she thought about it, was a little on the absurd side. She had a few centuries, hopefully, to figure her shit out. What was she rushing for? Morgan smiled at Leah. “You’re pretty great, you know that? And if you do ever wind up undead with me, I’ll make sure you get the five star treatment. A regular gourmet menu of options.” She laughed along with her joke, relieved that it hadn’t made Leah uncomfortable and started flipping through the pages of another book. “Intentional magic sounds about right. I’m not sure how you would casually connect two minds together, but I don’t think the woman in my head is the one doing it. Which is even weirder because, like, who actually knows us? What gives? Are you that bored that you need to power flex on some townies? Oooh...yikes.” Morgan grimaced at another section, a rather dry account of a recorded drunk zombie. The guy had managed to do it when he attacked someone he had a grudge against coming out of a bar. Freshly drunk brains meant freshly drunk zombie. Which apparently meant...a lot more dead drunk people and a very dangerous bar scene for the month or so it took the local slayers to figure it out. She showed it to Leah. “Well I guess I really am never getting drunk for the rest of eternity,” she sighed.

Leah sat up a little straighter, scoffing off the compliment with a wave of her hand.  She always felt a bit uncomfortable accepting praise, especially from someone she didn’t know very well.  It wasn’t that she didn’t like being told she was good at something, moreso that she didn’t know how to respond when someone did.  “I’ll hold you to that!” she laughed, knowing what Morgan was saying was true.  There was something about the other woman that just seemed trustworthy to Leah, and she could tell she was the type to stick to her word.  She leaned on the table, absentmindedly flipping through another one of the books that they’d brought over for Morgan as she listened to her speak.  “Hmm.  It’s all so strange.  I mean, you’re right… if this is a spellcaster or someone like it, why put two random people who don’t know each other through this.  Maybe it’s a common enemy that you and this other woman both have?” she suggested.  It felt weird to suggest that someone as sweet as Morgan might have an enemy.  “Or someone trying to get to your girlfriend through you, even.  You mention she’s got some…” she looked around, sure that no one was close enough to them to hear.  “...special tendencies as well?”  She laughed, patting Morgan on the back comfortingly.  “Maybe you’ll find a way.  I mean...you’ve got a long life ahead of you.  And you’re in a town literally filled with other people in your state.  I find it hard to believe that no one’s gonna find a way to get zombie drunk in the next century.”

Morgan puzzled this over. “She is. Um...different. I’m promise-bound not to go into details. But I did that to myself, I should say, in case of wardens or other...problems. I haven’t actually thought of that before. I don’t think...that something like that would be possible.” The people Deirdre upset tended to be dead. And Deirdre never failed. She had been raised too well. “I don’t think so, I don’t think they’re connected either, or that the woman in my head would hurt her. Although if she does…” Morgan shivered. She would kill her for taking that kind of trouble. Or at least incapacitate her. Something had landed her in one of Regan’s freezers before. Morgan could do it again. She grimaced and turned back to the books. Deirdre didn’t want her looking for answers in death too much. She would also forgive her for killing again, probably, especially, if it involved saving the life they had together. But it was smarter not to add more weight to her back where that stupid human woman she’d killed in the ring haunted her from time to time. Or at least, not to spend too much time thinking of adding more weight. Morgan sighed, skimming contents and indexes for the zombie parts, or the parts where the zombies talked about being how they were. “Are there any zombies who actually...wrote any books? Even fiction stories, or anecdotal testimony? I mean, I didn’t even know these existed, and I really appreciate the whole not just taking inventory of ways to kill or maim or torture me. I’m just...curious, I guess.”

“Oh please, you’re under no obligation to share”, Leah assured.  As curious as she was, it wouldn’t be fair of her to expect Morgan to share the details of her girlfriends special talents when Leah herself wasn’t being very open about who and what she really was.  Besides, after talking to Morgan enough, Leah could probably figure it out on her own, anyway.  She nodded, the girlfriend revenge situation seemed to be out, then.  “It’s just so strange.  I wonder…” she blinked, a new thought crossing her mind in an instant.  “There is the possibility that this mind sharing isn’t related to your undead-ness at all, though, Morgan.  It could just be... one of those unfortunate White Crest things.”  She blinked, adjusting in her seat as she thought it over.  “Maybe you should find this girl… try to talk to her face to face to figure out what’s up.”  She smiled softly at the question, rummaging through the pile on the table.  “If there are books by hunters, they’d be burned before I’d allow them in this library”, she assured as she searched. She found three specific books she had flagged earlier with colored post-it notes, presenting them to Morgan.  “So.  These three are all written by known zombies.  This one”, she said, holding up the smaller of the three.  “Is way old, kind of dull but has a lot of good information.  These other two have a lot of tips on how to deal with everything, ethical feeding… anything that I’d assume might come up. They’re labeled as fiction, for obvious reasons, but I can assure you that these three are all legitimately written by your fellow undead.”

“Oh, Stars. No…” Morgan groaned and let her head fall on her book with exaggerated despair as soon as Leah suggested this was more White Crest nonsense. “I mean this shouldn’t be surprising, and honestly, we’re probably due for something like this. And at least it’s not something that might make me embarrass myself in public like those eyeballs popping up everywhere. But why…” Morgan gave a pitiful puff, floating a fluffy lock of hair until she ran out of air. When that was done, she pulled herself upright and put on a smile. No time to dwell, especially not when Leah was being such a big help to her. Although maybe it was just the comment about the hunters that gave her an extra reason to pick up her energy. “Probably doesn’t matter too much,” she said wryly. “Let’s take a look at these, since apparently they’re free of hunter bias. Gotta say, I’m relieved, but maybe a little surprised. Being misunderstood or not seen the way I feel I really am is what I’m used to for the most part. It uh...seems like it might be personal, so you don’t have to say, but I am curious about why you feel so strongly about them.” She turned back to the books examined the title and perused the first few pages, then flipped to the middle where there seemed to be a death scene. “Leah, these are beautiful. I mean, sad, too, I guess. But...it’s real. It’s how we really are. I’d like to take these home for a little while, if that’s okay.To get to read them properly. I could come back too, but it would just...be nice, you know?”

Leah chuckled sympathetically, squeezing Morgan’s shoulder for comfort.  As a crester, she was almost used to the wild ongoings of the town by now, but she couldn’t imagine the stress it must have brought to a newcomer like Morgan.  “God, I don’t want to think about the eyeballs again.  Thank god that’s over.  Maybe this will be...slightly more harmless?  It sounds more annoying than anything?  Regardless, you’re definitely getting a nice White Crest initiation, aren’t you?”  She let out a laugh at Morgan’s sudden uprightness.  Someone else might have thought it immoral to not allow books by hunters, by Leah wasn’t willing to take any chances.  If their only goal in life was to harm others, she couldn’t support that.  At Morgan’s question, she pressed her lips together, suddenly nervous.  “I, uh…” she swallowed, adjusting her position to look at Morgan.  “I’m just very passionate about justice, and…” She knew it sounded disingenuous, but after a lifetime of being told that no one could know, sharing that she was a Phoenix felt like walking on thin ice over freezing cold water.  Still, Morgan was putting so much trust in her… why couldn’t she give her that same courtesy?  “I can relate”, she said after a long beat.  “To feeling...hunted or sought after.  We’re not so different.”  She ended with a resolute nod, signifying that’s all she’d say on the matter.  She desperately hoped Morgan would understand, and maybe one day Leah would let her know more.  With that, she turned her attention to Morgan’s book, smiling softly at the question.  “Well, that depends.  Do you have a library card?”, she teased.  

Morgan put her hand gently over Leah’s. There was a tension in her that Morgan was growing familiar with the more she saw of the supernatural world. It was a tension that went beyond common sense caution, that hinted at something as awful as it was personal. “I understand,” she said gently. “People can be very cruel sometimes. I’m sorry if you’ve had to suffer because of them. You don’t have to say, ever, if you don’t want to. But you can sometime. I’ll make sure it stays safe with me. I’ll fae promise-bind myself to it if it comes to it.” She gave Leah’s fingers a squeeze and turned back to the two zombie books, cradling them to chest. “Do I have a library card?” She smirked. “Do I have a library card? Please, Leah. If that’s all it takes, then, would you do the honors of helping me check out?”

As her eyes fell to Morgan’s hand over hers, Leah felt herself let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.  She was incredibly thankful that Morgan didn’t press any further, but even more so, her words filled Leah with a giant sense of relief.  If she hadn’t been before, she was sure now that they would remain friends, even after Morgan found the answers she was looking for.  “I’ve been lucky, honestly.  But I think that’s partly because of the secrecy. I appreciate you being so understanding, though.”  A laugh bubbled out of her, and she shook her head.  “No, no… no fae promise binding.  That can be too tricky.”  She grinned, standing up with Morgan and grabbing the rest of the books.  “The pleasure would be all mine”, she said in somewhat of a silly voice, walking back over to the desk.  Once she took Morgan’s card and started entering all her information, she smiled again.  “I’m really glad you’ve been able to find what you were looking for… I hope it’s as helpful as you need it to be”, she said.  Leah slid the card back over to Morgan before continuing.  “Keep them as long as you need, though.  I’ve already waived the return date, so you won’t expect a call from us if they’re not back next month.”

Morgan beamed at Leah as she laughed. Always a good sign when she could share a sense of humor with someone. Morgan gave her a silly curtsey and followed her back to the lobby. She drummed her hands anxiously on the counter, eaget to get hold of them again, until Leah spoke and she found herself faltering, letting one of the books slip from her fingers. “You--you what? Leah that’s--” Morgan couldn’t fight the smile coming over her face. “That’s incredibly kind of you.” She reached over the counter to give her arm a good squeeze, pulling back sheepishly when she realized she might have been too hard. She mouthed an earnest ‘sorry’, took the books, and edged her way out of the library. “I hope this isn’t the only time we hang out in person, Leah,” she said. “I think I really could use a friend like you.”