#is this mostly being done because I found a roach in my room late last might when i was finally ready to go to sleep? Yes. Yes it is

[flippedorbit]

Deep cleaning my room <3

nature is healing

[flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash]

Irresistible Danger - Part 54

Synopsis:  After being caught outside the compound on your own, Negan decides to punish you in the best way possible ;)

Words: 3,305

Warnings: nsfw, smut, swearing

ID Masterlist can be found HERE

Masterlist of all my fics can be found HERE

Allies and Foes

You woke up the next morning to an empty bed, the cooled sheets and pillow telling you that Negan had been gone for a while. A quick glance at the clock showed it was almost 9am, and you lazily stretched underneath the red satin, enjoying the ability to sleep in. 

You vaguely remembered Negan waking you up with a kiss to the neck earlier, when it was still mostly dark in the room. He had murmured something about a meeting with his Saviors, and you had responded by turning over and grumbling for him to let you go back to sleep. The last thing you remembered was his low chuckle, and then you were out again. 

Reluctantly rolling out of the ridiculously luxuriant bed (seriously, where did he find such a soft mattress during the apocalypse?!), you started getting dressed. Unfortunately, you only had the outfit from yesterday, which wasn’t the cleanest after being out in the woods, but it would have to do until you returned to your own room. 

The intrusive thought hit that maybe you could leave a few items of clothing here, so that you had more morning-after options for next time. You quickly dashed the thought, not wanting to get ahead of yourself. Sure, you had now spent the past three nights in a row with Negan, and two of those nights had been in his bed, but that didn’t seem like long enough to start moving in items. Just the thought of Negan doing something so domestic as allowing you to start taking over his armoire and bathroom drawers made you chuckle at the ridiculousness of it. 

Though, doing so would mean more events like last night could easily occur, since you wouldn’t have to keep running back to your room for more clothes or other belongings. Your mind flashed to the shower, and what the two of you had done in it the previous evening. How you had gone to your knees and proceeded to blow both his cock and his mind. He had been particularly vocal, his sharp grunts and loud moans echoing off the tiles as he ran shaky fingers through your hair and made you feel like the most seductive woman on the planet.  

Still smiling at the memory, you finished zipping up the boots, grabbed Ricardo, and headed out of the bedroom and across his office to the door. Creaking it open a few inches, you peeked down the hall. Seeing that it was clear, you quietly exited the room, shut the door behind you, and speed-walked down the halls and to the stairwell needed to get back to your room. Letting out a little puff of relief when you made it to your own floor, you slowed down the pace a bit, no longer needing to scurry like a roach caught in the kitchen when the lights turned on. Honestly, the fact that you had yet to run into a Savior or wife while making the morning-after trek to and from Negan’s room was really damn lucky and-

“Hey!”

The sound of a voice just as your hand was reaching out for the door knob to your room caused you to jump about a foot in the air. Whirling around, you saw none other than Maria at the opposite end of the hall, waving her hand in greeting as she came towards you. 

Crap. Couldn’t the universe have at least let you put on clean underwear first? 

Much as you didn’t want to interact with someone at the moment, you couldn’t help but recall the last time Maria had tried to speak with you, in this very hall. It had been after Negan confronted you about the pregnancy test, and you had completely ignored her and rushed past without a word. At the time you had been too emotional to care, but now you knew that she was owed an apology, not to mention the fact that you hadn’t really chatted or hung out with her since the night out at the picnic table. Doing the mental math, you realized that late night conversation had to have been a little over two weeks ago. Yea, you had been a shit friend to Maria lately, and it was totally deserved karma to have her pop up when you weren’t really prepared for social interaction. Well, you would just have to get over it. She didn’t deserve to keep being pushed aside, and you wouldn’t do so to her again. 

Pasting on a grin, you opened the door and gestured for her to come inside. She preceded you into the room and settled on the rickety little bed. You tried to nonchalantly lean Ricardo against the wall, in hopes she wouldn’t ask why you were walking around with a weapon so early in the morning. Thankfully, she seemed too busy scanning the meager surroundings to notice. It had been a while since she was in your space, and you tried to take in the tiny room from her perspective, wondering if she found it lacking. You weren’t sure what the wives’ rooms looked like, since apparently Negan wasn’t keen on them having visitors up there, but if it was anything like the fancy clothes they wore then it was sure to be much nicer than your own room. 

Just thinking about them made a lump of discomfort form in your stomach. It wasn’t as if you had forgotten about the fact that the man you were developing feelings for had a harem of women he called his wives, but it had been a lot easier to push them to the back of your mind when one wasn’t sitting in front of you. 

Not wanting to waste time with small talk, especially when you both were smart enough to know it was a shallow distraction, you dove right in.

“I want to apologize for the other day, when I ignored you. That was shitty of me, and I’m sorry.”

She gave a tiny smile, and you immediately knew that she wasn’t mad. Of course she wasn’t. This was Maria, and she was one of the most forgiving and patient people you had known since the apocalypse began. The fact that she was still willing to even deal with your fickle ass, especially after your last couple of interactions, was proof enough of that. 

“It’s alright,” she replied. “You looked pretty frazzled anyways. Everything okay?”

“I don’t know about everything, but things are alright,” you mumbled, almost hoping she wouldn’t hear the words.

You started picking at a stray thread on the grey cotton sheets, unable to help but compare them to the luxury of Negan’s satiny red ones. Ugh, why didn’t you just stay in his bed all morning, instead. You could’ve enjoyed physical comfort and social isolation there. 

Able to feel the weight of Maria’s gaze, you lifted your head to look at her. As expected, she was watching you closely, the slightest ghost of a smile tipping one corner of her mouth. “What?” you asked, not rudely, but perhaps a bit impatiently. She looked like she knew a secret that you didn’t, and you wanted her to just spit it out already.

“You spent the night with him,” she stated in a gentle tone, and when you jerked in surprise and opened your mouth to say....well, you had no clue what you were going to say, but thankfully she cut you off. “Which means,” she continued with a raised palm, a silent gesture for you to not get defensive just yet, “that considering how negatively you viewed his multiple wives situation, you must also know he stopped sleeping with them.”

Mouth still hanging open, you stared her down for a few seconds before snapping it shut. Making a “go on” gesture with your hand, you waited for her to continue with wherever it was she wanted this conversation to lead. 

She then told you how she had suspected for a while now that the reason why Negan stopped coming to see the wives was due to his interactions with you. Her theory had been confirmed after your late night chat out at the picnic table when you admitted to being in his bedroom, somewhere none of the wives had been allowed to enter.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you whispered, clutching the bedsheet so tightly your fingers were about to go numb. 

“Honestly? Because you weren’t ready to hear the truth, and I knew you’d have completely shut down at the very thought of it. You still wanted to see him as a monster, so I figured I’d just wait and see how things played out. See if he’d keep allowing you to get close to him, or if one of you would get spooked and run, so to speak.”

You mulled this over. Was she right? If she had told you a couple weeks ago that he had suddenly stopped sleeping with all of the wives, would you have believed it? Doubtful. And even if you had, never in a million years would you have listened to her theory that his drastic change in behavior was because of the few interactions he’d had with you up until that point. 

Much as you hated to admit, Maria had been right to keep quiet about it. Though you did wonder how she thought you had found out. Did she assume Negan had told you? Or maybe she was aware of how Amber had been using Trixie, and had come to the correct conclusion on her own. Maria was intelligent, so there was a good chance she knew more about the goings on around here than people gave her credit for. You wanted to ask how much she knew, but also didn’t want to risk outing Trixie, since she had told you that information in strict confidence.

Instead, you asked, “So now that you think I am ready to hear the truth, is there anything else I should know? Are the others coming up with a plan of how to quietly dispose of me, so that Negan will pay attention to them again?” 

You said it jokingly, but were honestly curious to know how they felt about these recent changes. Amber obviously wasn’t your biggest fan, but what about the others? Did they see you as a threat to the luxuries they enjoyed here? Honestly, if the roles were switched, and they were the ones threatening whatever you had going on with Negan, you’d be tempted to sharpen mini-Ricardo shanks and take them out one by one. Your subconscious whole-heartedly agreed, giving a battle cry and stabbing at the air, as if taking out imaginary opponents, while your brain sighed and rolled its eyes.

“Well actually, we did recently have a group conversation about you.” 

She said this calmly, but it still made your eyes go wide as you exclaimed, “You what?”

“It was a few days ago. Amber had been throwing a real tantrum after she tried to take Negan a dinner tray, and found him already in his office eating with you.”

Oh yea, you remembered that event, vividly. It had been about a week ago, before his last supply run. It was the evening he had confessed to you about his dead wife, and then Amber interrupted by knocking on the door with a tray. It had been apparent she wasn’t happy to see you there, nor to be sent away by Negan, so you weren’t surprised to hear she hadn’t handled it well afterwards. 

Nodding for her to go on, Maria continued. “We let her vent about it for a couple days, since I think we were all hoping she’d eventually let it go the way she does most things that get under her skin. But she was like a dog with a bone this time, and kept running her mouth to all of us about how you were stealing Negan from us, and that if we continued to just sit back and let this happen, we were putting our status here in jeopardy.”

Sweat broke out on the back of your neck at the possibilities of where this story could be going. Just the thought of the wives sitting around talking about you as a potential threat or enemy made your stomach flop, but you stayed quiet and let Maria finish.

“She was really trying to get the rest of us riled up, and then one evening she started telling us all that we better be prepared to start scrubbing toilets for points, since we were willing to just let him toss us to the curb. That was when Sherry finally stepped in and put her foot down.”

“Wait, Sherry?!” you blurted, absolutely shook at this turn of events. 

Maria nodded. “Yep. She told Amber that all she was doing was starting unnecessary drama, and that Negan had never given any indication that we would lose our privileges or have to start working for points just because he isn’t fucking us every night. Amber tried to argue at first, but Sherry held her ground. Told her that she’d gladly go get Negan, so Amber could tell him her concerns face-to-face, rather than continuing to make assumptions behind his back. That shut her up real quick, and she stormed into her bedroom and stayed there the rest of the night. I haven’t heard her say anything else about it since. She’s still sulking around a bit, but at least she’s been quiet.”

Your brain was struggling to take all this in, especially the part where Sherry had not only stood up for you, but done so against another wife. Crap, now you really felt like an asshole for being jealous and internally snarky towards her that day in the kitchen, when she took you to the medic after you cut your finger. 

“Do you actually think she’ll let it go now?” You had a feeling that you already knew the answer, but couldn’t help asking.

Maria sighed. “I can’t say for sure, but Amber doesn’t seem like the kind of person who is okay with not being doted on. I don’t think she has any particularly strong feelings towards Negan, but she enjoys the status of being a wife. It can be a bit of a power trip, to catch the attention of a man like him, even if for shallow reasons.”

“Yea, don’t I know it,” you mumbled under your breath. 

Maria raised an eyebrow, having obviously heard. “I don’t think I’d classify his attention towards you as shallow.” 

Giving a huffed laugh and shrug, you tried to play it off. “Yea, well, is anything about Negan easy enough to classify?”

“Probably not,” she said with a shrug. “But that’s part of what makes him so intriguing, right?”

“If by intriguing you mean confounding as hell, then sure.” 

Despite your annoyed tone, you were genuinely smiling at this point. Part of you wondered if this should feel more weird than it did, talking to a woman who was Negan’s “wife”, and had most likely slept with him, about whatever it was he had going on with you. 

As if reading your thoughts, Maria’s face became more serious. “I hope this doesn’t make you feel like you can’t still talk to me, or see me as a friend.”

If you were being totally honest with yourself, the whole situation didn’t make you feel 100% comfortable, but you were pretty sure that was because of the possessive part of you that wanted him all to yourself. But was that a realistic emotion to even have, with a man like him? Could you be okay with him continuing to publicly have “wives”, even if he wasn’t sleeping with them? And what if he later decided to go back to them? It’s not as if he knew that you were aware he wasn’t sleeping with them at the moment. 

Mentally shoving those questions into the padlocked box with the other unanswered questions, you honestly replied, “I’m not totally sure how I feel about all of this yet, but I definitely still see you as a friend, so no worries on that front.” 

“I’m glad,” Maria said with a nod. “And in case I didn’t make it obvious, no part of me will be upset if Negan decides he doesn’t want to give us the same privileges anymore. Well, so long as you promise to give me a spot in the kitchen, so I’m not stuck scrubbing toilets beside Amber.” 

“Deal,” you said with a laugh, glad that the air had been cleared between the two of you, and that she wasn’t harboring ill feelings towards you for taking Negan’s attention away from her and the other wives. Part of you even wondered if she had spent much alone time with him, since she hadn’t been his wife for very long when he stopped sleeping with them, but some things were just better left unknown. Besides, it’s not like he slept cuddled against any of them all night afterwards, or let them in his bed...or his shower.

Your subconscious was feeling awfully smug at that thought, nose in the air as it strutted around with a superiority complex. Meanwhile, your brain was pointing at the padlocked box of questions in annoyance, a motion which the subconscious purposely ignored. 

You chatted with Maria for a bit longer, the conversation much lighter and more frivolous than before. It felt good to just hang out and discuss random topics, the way you had when the two of you were surviving for weeks out in the woods together. You might’ve each taken very different paths when it came to Sanctuary life, but it was a relief to know that the connection you had formed prior to coming here surpassed those differences. You also appreciated that she didn’t push for more information about you and Negan, and didn't even mention his name again. 

When she left a little while later, a glance at your watch showed that dinner prep was in about two hours. Grateful for the chunk of alone time, you finally changed into fresh clothes and propped yourself up in bed with the copy of Harry Potter. You smiled when removing the little piece of paper you had torn from your notebook as a bookmark. While this one was blank, there was a second little piece of paper that was bookmarking a place closer to the beginning of the book. This piece of paper you had marked in pencil with the letter N, and it held the spot where Negan had stopped reading yesterday morning. You had stuck it in there after he left your room, the book having been face down on your side table where he placed it when you woke up and distracted him. Hoping that he’d return to reading it, especially if you kept his place, you couldn’t help but mark his spot. 

Just the thought of his possible reactions to some of the plot twists had you smiling, at the same time as a devious thought crept into your head. If you made sure to get him hooked on the first book, he’d definitely have to find copies of the other ones in the series to share with you, right? There’s no way someone can read the first book and not need to also read the rest.

Both subconscious and brain nodded in agreement at this theory before cuddling up on either side of you, so that they could also see the opened book. Diving back into the story with a contented sigh, you immersed yourself in the magical world, not planning a return to reality and all the awaiting unanswered questions until it was time to head downstairs for dinner prep.

~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~

[hannibard]

Waiting for You

My @thewitchersecretsanta gift for @ofxwordsxandxletters. I tried my best to incorporate the things you said you liked and I sincerely hope you enjoy. Happy Holidays!!!

Crossposted to AO3

Pairing: Geralt x Jaskier

It was early afternoon when Geralt made it back to the village covered in monster guts. It wasn’t a particularly difficult hunt, but it did take him quite a bit of time to actually find the cockatrice before killing it, so he returned later than he had originally planned.

The villagers quickly stopped chatting with each other when they saw him and made sure to avoid him as he and Roach passed through a dense road on their way to the alderman’s house. He had been on the path for many years and by now he was used to their hateful gazes along with the rotten stench of fear they always seemed to eminate.

He dropped the pouch containing the cockatrice’s head on the alderman’s threshold and accepted his meagre payment from the man, without having to exchange a single word with him, before going straight for the inn he and Jaskier were staying at.

He left Roach at the stable next to the building and made his way inside, expecting to find the bard singing to a bunch of drunkards, having started his set already, but when he entered the common room, he found it empty and with only a hint of Jaskier’s smell, meaning it had been at least a couple of hours since he’d last been there.

The witcher ignored the small pang of worry in his chest and hurried upstairs to their shared room. He threw the door open with a little too much force and looked around. The bard wasn’t inside as he had hoped, despite all his stuff was still being in the same place he had carelessly thrown them when they first arrived the day before. Even his lute, aka his most prized possession and love of his life, was here and he rarely ever went somewhere without it.

Geralt pinched the bridge of his nose and took a few deep breaths, suddenly feeling stupid for caring this much. Jaskier was a grown man after all. He could do whatever he wanted and Geralt had no right to keep him by his side, despite how much he secretly wanted to, but it wasn’t the right time for such thoughts.

Anyhow, Jaskier was probably off with some barmaid or stablehand that had caught his fancy and had decided to skip his usual performance seeing as they had more than enough coin saved up as of late.

Assuming his friend would be back after he’d had his fun, Geralt started on his typical post-hunt routine: placing his swords and pack on a corner, taking off his armor (though this time without the help of a certain someone’s skilled fingers), calling for a bath and a meal to be brought up and after he was both clean and fed, kneeling on the bed and meditating.

By the time he was done with everything, the sun had long set and with his enhanced senses Geralt could hear the rest of the inn’s guests getting ready for bed, but his bard had yet to return.

Feeling as though enough time had passed for his feelings of worry to be reasonable, the witcher went downstairs to the bar. He placed his empty plate and tankard on the counter and as a man got reluctantly closer to take them away, he asked:

“Have you seen the bard that was with me when I arrived anywhere?”

The man was startled to be addressed but he looked back at Geralt.

“I think he went to play gwent at ‘The Rusty Rapier’ with some guys around midday.”

Jaskier’s skills in gwent were notorious to involve quite a bit of cheating, and since it had been so many hours since he went off, Geralt had a bad feeling about this.

“How do I find this tavern?”

He was given directions by the other man and after going back up to the room to take his swords, he went straight to that place hoping nothing bad had happened to his bard, though he doubted that was the case since neither of them was ever that lucky.

.......

Locked inside an abandoned shed, Jaskier was sitting on the ground, hugging his knees and trying to calm himself down while rocking back and forth in a rhythmic motion.

When he was first thrown in here by the men he had tried to scam, after they’d given him a small beating and taken all the coin he had on him (thank Melitele he had left his pouch at the inn) it was still day outside and he could see clearly around him because of some holes on the shed’s wooden ceiling. And Jaskier was mostly fine at that point, just cheerfully singing to pass the time and waiting for his dearest friend Geralt to come rescue him.

Sure, the few wounds and bruises he had (admittedly deservingly) acquired from his gwent-playing buddies stung a bit but it was nothing compared to what some cuckolded husbands had done to him in the past. Plus, ultimately both in this case and all the previous ones where he’d been roughened up by someone he had brought it upon himself, so he couldn’t really complain.

And yeah, singing was always more fun when he had his lute with him but that wasn’t enough to faze him, he could easily make do even without any instrumental accompaniment. He was a professional musician after all.

But as the hours went by, one after the other, the light from outside started dimming, the temperature dropping and his optimism dying, Jaskier grew more and more anxious. He has always hated the dark ever since his childhood and the whole situation was making him recall old memories that he had tried his best to forget.

By this point he had run out of his own songs to sing and had moved on to the ones he had been taught at Oxenfurt, his voice much weaker than before.

He went to rub a hand over his face and noticed that it was slightly trembling, together with the rest of his body and even though it was very cold, he suspected it was only half the reason. He clenched his eyes shut and rested his forehead against his knees, hugging them closer to his torso. He really fucking hated the dark.

Deep breaths Julian, he though as he dug his nails to his upper arms in order to distract himself and sighed. You have no reason to fear. Geralt will probably be here soon and then both of us can leave this godforsaken place behind in the morning.

Except… what if Geralt didn’t come? What if he used this chance to finally get rid of him? After all it was a well-known fact that the older man only barely tolerated his presence.

Sure, Jaskier’s songs had helped lesser the prejudice that existed against Witchers and made it easier for him to find work, but that didn’t mean he needed Jaskier in his life, he’d made that perfectly clear from the start of their acquaintance. Hell, he still refused to even call Jaskier his friend for fucks sake. The bard had thought they’d grown closer over time but maybe that was only wishful thinking.

Jaskier was only a burden and a nuisance to Geralt, and he couldn’t deny that no matter how much it hurt to admit. Still, the bard loved and cared for him anyways. He always had since that fateful day in Posada.

He might have attached himself to the witcher’s side for mostly selfish reasons at first, but he quickly realized how kind and caring he was behind his tough exterior and how low his self-esteem had become from decades of dealing with humans’ contempt and so he had vowed to do everything in his power to create a better world for him.

And although he knew this love wasn’t mutual and that he should have been content by being able to stay with him, even if only as a travel companion, a small traitorous part of him would always crave for more...

Nevertheless, if the witcher was aware of Jaskier’s feelings towards him he probably would have ditched him in some backwater town a long time ago, and so the bard was careful to lock them up inside his chest and never let them show.

But what if he had been careless? What if he let his touch linger while washing Geralt’s hair a little too long? What if he had written a few too many love songs recently with references to ‘luscious silver hair’ and ‘perfectly sculpted biceps’?

Perhaps the reason Geralt hadn’t come yet was because he had left the village without him as his way of letting Jaskier down gently.

Or even worse, what if he’d gotten hurt? Cockatrices (as the witcher suspected the monster he was sent to kill this time was) were fairly easy for Geralt to handle if they were by themselves but accidents could always happen.

What if he was bleeding to death from a fatal wound right this moment when Jaskier had no way to find and help him? If he wasn’t such an idiot and gotten himself in this situation, he might have been able to save him.

All those what ifs were making Jaskier more and more distraught and he could feel tears fill his eyes. He buried his face in his hands and started sobbing quietly, no longer able to continue his singing when suddenly the door was kicked open. The musician looked up abruptly, but he couldn’t make out who was in front of him because of the darkness.

“Jaskier?!” yelled a very familiar gruff voice.

The bard’s eyes widened, and he wiped his tears with the back of his hand. “G-Geralt? Is that you?”

The witcher dropped to his knees beside him. “Yes, it’s me.” He said and started running his hands all over Jaskier’s body, checking for injuries. “You don’t seem badly hurt. Can you stand?”

The bard nodded and got up with his friend’s assistance. It was a bit hard since he felt as if his legs had turned to putty after staying in one position for so long but after leaning on the wall for a moment, he was able to take a few trembling steps. Geralt helped him get outside and onto Roach’s back before climbing to sit behind him. “How do you always manage to get in trouble?” The witcher asked as Roach started galloping towards the village.

Jaskier gave a weak laugh in response. “Must be a talent. How did the hunt go? Are you hurt anywhere?”

Geralt sighed and shook his head. “How you had time to worry about others when you were in that situation evades me.”

“Don’t avoid the question!”

“…The hunt went well and I didn’t get hurt.”

“Promise?” the bard asked, knowing the older man had a habit of hiding his injuries from him.

“Promise.”

Jaskier smiled softly and leaned on his chest, all of a sudden feeling very tired. “Good. How’d you find me?”

“I paid a visit to ‘The Rusty Rapier’ and asked about you. After a bit of threatening, the men you cheated at gwent told me where you were.”

“Heh…Took you long enough.” Jaskier grumbled.

“I thought you were just fucking someone’s wife or something, didn’t expect you to be locked in a shed.” Geralt answered but he sounded somewhat apologetic.

Jaskier chuckled. “I was kidding big buy. Thanks for coming.”

Geralt just hummed in response and the bard could feel the vibrations of it on his back as he dozed off.

.......

When he woke up, he found himself back at the inn’s room. He was laying on the bed in his nightclothes and as he sat up, he noticed that his wounds had been bandaged. The sight brought a small smile to his face. He was about to get up when the door opened and Geralt walked in, carrying a bowl of what seemed to be stew and a tankard of ale. He looked surprised to see Jaskier awake. “You’re up.”

“So it seems.”

The witcher placed the food on the table. “How do you feel?”

Jaskier thought about it. “A bit sore.”

Geralt huffed a laugh. “That’s to be expected. Come.”

Jaskier obeyed and got up, making his way to the table. He sat down and started eating eagerly, only now noticing how hungry he was. When he was done, he pushed the empty bowl away and looked up at the older man. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, thank the innkeeper that had to get up and prepare this in the middle of the night.”

“No, not just that. For everything.” He said nodding towards his bandaged arm. “And… I’m sorry for always causing you trouble.”

The witcher looked a bit taken aback by that but he quickly schooled his expression. “It’s fine.”

Jaskier gave him a lopsided smile and looked down on his hands that were resting on his lap.       Geralt waited a bit to see if the bard would say anything and when it was apparent that that wasn’t going to happen, he took hold of the bowl and tankard and went downstairs to leave them somewhere for the innkeeper to find in the morning. He also dropped by the stables to check on Roach.

When he returned, the bard barely noticed his presence. He was still sitting in the same position, not having moved at all, looking dazed and forlorn. Geralt’s brows furrowed in worry and he sat down on the bed.

“Jaskier.”

The musician didn’t turn to look at him, still distracted by his own thoughts. “Hm?”

“What’s wrong?”

Jaskier blinked rapidly a few times and looked up at him. “Nothing’s wrong.”

Geralt sighed and rubbed his face. “You’ve been a bit… out of it. Since I found you.” The witcher had never been good with words, that was Jaskier’s job. But he desperately wanted to help his friend, so he pushed on. “I’ve just never seen you so uh. Quiet. You’ve always been unfazed by any situation, cracking jokes even when that griffin dislocated your shoulder.”

The bard glared at him “Well I though you fucking preferred the quiet.” he snapped and then immediately regretted it, his gaze softening. “Sorry… it’s just-” He cut off himself and sighed. He got up and came to sit next to the witcher. “You might laugh at me when you hear this but… I’m afraid of the dark.”

That definitely wasn’t what Geralt expected. “What? How’s that even possible? We’ve made camp in the woods countless times and you always seemed perfectly fine.”

Jaskier let out a nervous laugh. “That’s because you were there with me. I don’t have an issue when I’m with others but when I’m alone I just kind of lose it. Oh, and there’s also a bit of claustrophobia sprinkled in there.”

“Hm. I never would have guessed.”

The younger man snorted. “Well it’s not like I advertise it.” He scratched his cheek and bit his lower lip. “So that’s why being in that shed affected me this much. Anyhow, I’ll be over it by morning probably.” He bumped the witcher with his shoulder. “Don’t worry, my silly little phobias won’t delay our schedule.”

Geralt immediately felt guilty for making his friend think he would care more about being back on the Path than his mental wellbeing. He frowned and took one of the bard’s hands in his own, giving it a little squeeze. “Jask, if you need more time I wouldn’t mind staying here for a few days longer. I-I just want you to be ok.”

Jaskier’s eyes widened and he looked as if he was about to cry. “Oh Geralt… This means a lot to me. Thank you.”

The witcher smiled at him and gave him a look that seemed full of affection, though Jaskier didn’t dare hope. “Anytime.” He coughed to clear his throat. “So… Do you want to talk about it? Your fear of the dark?”

“Well… There’s not much to say really… It started when I was very young, and my parents decided that to keep me from becoming even more of a disappointment they’d have to find new, stricter ways to punish me for my wrongdoings.” He ran his free hand through his hair. “And one of them was locking me inside a dark storage room for days, without giving me any food until they’d deemed that I had learned my lesson.”

Jaskier was retelling all that casually, as if he was talking about the weather but Geralt was horrified by his words. He always had a hunch that the bard likely didn’t have the best childhood- being a disowned noble and all- but he never guessed that it was actually that bad.

Because how could someone that didn’t receive any love as a child be so full of it as an adult? How could someone that grew up in such a joyless environment be able to spread happiness and laughter wherever he went? How could he wear his heart on his sleeve, letting anyone he met just take it from him and trample it down if he knew better?

“Jaskier that’s fucking horrible, how could you call the fear all that trauma has instilled in you just ‘silly little phobias’?!” His voice raised with each word he spoke, and he was yelling by the end of the sentence.

The bard flinched away from him and avoided his gaze. “Because it’s all in the past Geralt. It’s stupid, to be this affected by it still.”

The witcher was at a loss for words. Jaskier was a pretty talkative guy, always chatting about one thing or the other, but he rarely ever mentioned his family and now the older man could see why, even if he couldn’t completely relate.

Part of him would always resent his mother, Visenna, for abandoning him and thus leading him to the life of a witcher but even still, he had retained many nice memories from their short time together. Instances where she hugged and comforted him or sung him a lullaby to sleep, he treasured all of them dearly.

Because at the end of the day, even though it might not have been as strong in comparison to other mothers, Geralt knew in his heart that Visenna loved him.

And knowing that Jaskier probably couldn’t even be sure about that (because how could a parent that starved their child willingly for days and locked them up have any capacity for love and affection? With that being only one of the punishments) was paining him more than the bard could ever imagine. He wanted nothing more than to envelop him in his arms and protect him from the cruel world they were forced to live in.

He was perfectly aware of what all this meant of course. He might have been bad at dealing with emotions but after the first few years of travelling together, even he couldn’t continue to deny the feelings held towards Jaskier.

It was almost inevitable really. After spending so much time with someone like the bard, with his gorgeous smile and cornflower blue eyes, his easy-going attitude, his beautiful singing voice, someone that had not once been afraid because of him and that had stood up for him when others treated him unfairly, he was bound to fall in love.

“It’s not stupid Jask.” He said after a long exhale. “You’re so strong to have gone through something like that. Most people would have broken under such circumstances.”

Jaskier didn’t look convinced and he smiled wryly while shaking his head. “It’s music that saved me y’know. Whenever I was locked up, I would start singing the melody to whatever few songs I knew, and during those times I could almost forget the hunger and the cold and all the expectations I had failed to meet.” He sniffled and rubbed his eyes. “That’s why I decided to become a bard later on. So that I’d be able to create music too, and maybe help other people when they’re feeling down and give them hope through it.”

When the bard finished speaking, Geralt brought his free hand up and wiped a stray tear that had slid down his cheek. “You’ve done a wonderful job so far. I know I don’t say it much, but I really like all your songs. Yes, even the ones about me.”

Jaskier snickered inelegantly, surprised by his words. “You might regret admitting that darling cause I’m never gonna let you live it down.”

Geralt chuckled. “Hm. True that.” He said and gave the musician a small sad smile. Jaskier rolled his eyes elbowed him in the stomach.

“Oh come on, don’t make that face now! Honestly, if I knew you’d be this affected I wouldn’t have told you.” He said teasingly, trying to make this conversation a bit more lighthearted but the witcher wasn’t having it. He grimaced and maneuvered his body to better face the bard.

“Of course I’m affected Jaskier, how could I possibly not be?! To me you are...” He stopped himself before he could finish that sentence. Nothing good would come if he revealed his feelings to Jaskier. Such a bright person that had their whole life ahead of them would never be interested in a witcher. The bard had helped him see himself in a better light in recent years but that didn’t change the fact that he was a monster, a mutant killing machine that was undeserving of the kind and sweet musician.

Jaskier, unaware of Geralt’s internal monologue, tilted his head the side, looking simultaneously curious and adorable. “…To you I’m what?”

Geralt avoided his gaze. Even in the best-case scenario, the witcher could only hope that the bard would take into consideration their friendship and long history together and not show his disgust too much. Maybe even begin a relationship with him out of pity, but it wouldn’t last long.

Geralt had seen the way Jaskier’s previous flings had gone. He always fell head over heels for some random person that he met during their travels and spent a few weeks, or months at most lavishing them with attention but after that time period passed, he’d fall out of love just as quickly and leave his ex-paramour behind as he rejoined the witcher’s side.

It always secretly pleased Geralt, making him feel superior. Because even if he could never really have Jaskier, not like those other people did, at least he had the knowledge that the younger man would always come back to him. It helped lessen the sting of his jealousy.

And if he ever were to be the recipient of Jaskier’s attentions, no matter how nice it could be at first, he wouldn’t be able to bear it when he became the next person Jaskier left behind, especially after getting a taste of everything he ever wanted. That would only serve to haunt him in his dreams.

But the bard deserved to know. He had just laid down his heart and let Geralt see him at his most vulnerable state. That meant he trusted him enough to do that and the witcher wanted to show him how much he appreciated it by in turn showering him with all the love and affection he held for him. So he took one large breath to brace himself and let the truth out.

“To me you’re everything.”

Jaskier’s eyes widened but he didn’t pull away. “Huh?”

Geralt started tracing circular patterns with his thumb on the other man’s hand. “It’s exactly as I said. When I first met you, I thought you were just a stupid kid looking for adventure and easy coin, and that once you had a taste you’d go back where you came from. But you never did. You stuck next to me through thick and thin, no matter how much I tried to push you away or treated you like shit. You were like an angel, entering my life out of the blue and improving it in every aspect.”

“I hadn’t even realized how lonely I was until you came along. Back then I only focused on my job as a witcher, not really caring if I’d make it out alive whenever I fought a monster. But nowadays I’m extra careful and I try harder just so that I can see you again. You’ve made life worth living again Jask and I… I love you.”

Jaskier just stared at him with his mouth hanging open.

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Was it possible that he was still locked in that shed and had begun to hallucinate from the lack of food? Because this whole situation definitely seemed too good to be true.

He pinched himself hard on the arm for good measure.

“Ouch!” Yeah no, it was real. “Are-are you serious?”

Geralt pursed his lips and nodded, looking almost comically grim. He could hear the other’s heartbeat start to pick up.

“And I understand if you feel uncomfortable and want me to be gone by morning, I’m not expecting anything so-hmph!” He was interrupted as Jaskier’s lips crashed onto his. The witcher froze, not able to comprehend what was happening right away but when he did, he wrapped both arms around the other man’s waist and kissed him back with vigor.

When they eventually had to break apart, they were both breathing heavily and Jaskier rested his forehead on Geralt’s, chest heaving, and felt an involuntary shiver run up his spine. “Gods, I’ve wanted to do this for so long.”

The older man brought his hand up and started petting his hair gently, feeling giddy and a little nervous. “Me too.”

This had gone much better than expected and no matter how things turned out in the future, he would never regret this moment.

Jaskier pulled away to look him with the brightest smile on his lips, his eyes crinkling in the corners with the force of it. “I love you too dear heart, I have since the day we met.”

Geralt blinked in shock. “You have? But you never said anything and you’ve been in a thousand relationships since then.”

“That’s because I never expected you to feel the same way! No one else could ever compare to you witcher and now that I have you, I’ll never look at other people ever again.”

Jaskier laced their hands back together and brought them up to his mouth, giving a kiss on the back of the witcher’s palm, letting his lips linger for a few seconds. “I promise.”

With all his worries gone, Geralt grinned at his bard and pulled him to his chest for a tight embrace.

They sat there like that for a long time, just basking in each other’s presence and their close proximity.

“…We’re both pretty stupid aren’t we?”

“Pffft, we sure are.” Jaskier said as he nuzzled his lover’s chest when a thought entered his mind. “By the way, how long has it been since you last slept?”

“Two days give or take.”

The bard looked up at him horrified. “What the hell Geralt! We have to fix that immediately.” He said and blew out the few candles that were still lighting the room, before pushing the witcher to lie down on the bed and joining him. They curled around each other on their sides, torsos facing, and Jaskier buried his face on Geralt’s neck as the older man pulled the blankets over them. When they were settled, he wrapped his arms around the bard and tangled their feet together.

The younger man was about to fall asleep when he heard the witcher’s deep voice calling his name.

“Jaskier?”

“Yeah?”

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you since before this whole thing happened.”

“M’listening.”

“…Do you want to come to Kaer Morhen with me for the winter?”

Geralt held his breath as he waited for a response. It came in the form of Jaskier pulling back slightly, only to give him a long, gentle kiss.

“Of course I’ll come darling.”

The witcher was relieved and felt excited for the months to come. He smiled softly even though he knew the other man couldn’t see it. “Then we’ll have to buy you one of those thick woolen coats you hate sometime soon.”

Jaskier groaned. “Fuck. I guess it’s worth it.” He gave him one last kiss before closing his eyes once more. “Goodnight love.”

“…Goodnight.” Geralt replied and then dozed off to the best sleep he’d had in decades.

[moneymingyu]

[cw: mentions of death, wonwoo displays a panic attack]

It’s hot.

It’s hot in their normally freezing apartment and that sets off alarms in Wonwoo’s head.

In his sleepy haze, he wills his sleep heavy body to get up and run — urgent. He falls off the bed and croaks out a “Pumpkin!” that’s muffled by the carpet before he all but crawls to the door, the wood flying open so fast that he nearly hits himself in the face.

But it’s so hot and he needs to get out of here—No, he needs to find his siblings first.

He’s throwing open doors and crawling into cabinets in order to find his younger siblings because his apartment is so hot and that isn’t normal.

“Wonwoo?” a voice sounds from behind him.

He jumps up, feels all of his blood fall to his feet so fast that he feels dizzy and when he finally clears his vision in the slightest, he sees Pumpkin rubbing her eyes in the doorway.

She’s standing a lot taller than he remembers. Her signature ponytail is now a flop of loose strands and she had a small pout on her face. “Nu, it’s three in the morning. What are you doing?”

It’s then that he notices that he’s shaking, drenched in sweat and barely able to see. There’s a mess on the bathroom floor from where he’s thrown cleaning products around and he’s managed to spill the mouthwash all over the tiles.

He stares at the mess he’s made and realizes that he’s not 14 anymore.

“There was uh...a roach,” he fumbles in hopes that his sister doesn’t notice his strange behavior.

She’s too tired to even process the tsunami waves and says, “Ok. Well, keep it down. Jeonghan is sleeping on the couch.” He nods, mostly to himself as she turns to leave. “Night, Nu. I love you.”

“I love you too,” he replies, voice foreign.

He sighs and cleans up his mess before going back to his room (if he turns down the heat again and places another blanket on top of Jeonghan, nobody has to know except for the moon).

-

Wonwoo can’t sleep for the rest of the night and that’s fine. It’s fine even though he can feel his eyes burning at first light. It’s fine even though he can feel his head throbbing in pain. It’s fine.

It’s only six in the morning when he gets up to shower, cold water prickling his skin. He downs some pain medication to will away his headache (he still doesn’t know if it’s from lack of sleep or a hangover) afterwards and pulls on a hoodie. He quietly slips out of the door not too long after.

It’s quiet outside. There’s a small gust of wind that reminds him that it’s November and a familiar stillness in the air.

Sunday mornings are his favorite. The part of Sunday morning that nobody gets to see — when the sun is just rising in her blush of pinks and orange. Mingyu says that his dad always used to wake him up at this time and they’d go on a walk. Mingyu said that this is the only time during the week where everything just seemed to stop and for a moment, crime, hatred and harm ceased to exist. It was during that small window of time where Mingyu’s dad wasn’t a firefighter. He was just his dad.

Wonwoo assumes that because of this reason, Mingyu used to always come to the cemetery around this time. He had done it on his own for two years before he started to drag Wonwoo and Pumpkin along, the three of them all shivering with a thermos of hot chocolate during the winter and cool tea during those mornings where humidity had their clothes sticking to their bodies.

He didn’t bring a drink today, though he usually does. He was too afraid to wake up Jeonghan, too afraid to look into his skeptical eyes that are always watching, picking up on your hiccups and painting the big picture in his head.

He loves Jeonghan and Seungcheol, he really does.

But having them know about his past with Mingyu, about how he continues to visit this man would mean that he’d have to go through years of pity stares and hand outs once again and he promised himself that by the 10 year anniversary, he’d have it together for the sake of Pumpkin and if having it together means almost bursting at the seams, at least it’ll still count as one piece of clothing.

Oh, how Jungkook would’ve loved them, he thinks as he fiddles with a ring that is hung around his chest.

It’s gold plated and dingy. He’s gotten it wet a couple of times — Jungkook wore it in the pool once. But it was all he had left of him and it was completely by accident.

He remembers going to bed that night and seeing it on the bathroom sink. He remembers slipping it onto his ring finger because his brother so careless and 13, doesn’t understand how easily things as small as this could be washed away.

Jungkook was always so careless.

“No,” he hears his brother’s voice over his shoulder, a whisper in his ear, “It’s called being carefree, hyung! Whatever happens, happens! And life goes on!”

It was nothing special. It was just a plain band. But to Wonwoo, it was the only piece of his brother that he had left.

He plops down in the grass in front of Mingyu’s late father before the tears can start to fall.

“Hey,” Wonwoo starts. “I see Pumpkin brought you peonies last week,” he says as he eyes the dead bunch of flowers that will be replaced in a couple of hours. “How fitting.”

Joshua slipped to Wonwoo one day that Pumpkin was still visiting Mr. Kim. She thinks that when Mingyu left, Wonwoo cut off every piece of him the way that the younger did to them and didn’t want Mr. Park to feel forgotten. So, for the past five years, she’s been buying flowers to place on his grave just like Mingyu used to do.

What she doesn’t know is that Wonwoo still comes here.

In the five years since Mingyu’s left, he comes and spends the sunrise of Sunday mornings with Mr. Kim and has only missed a handful of days.

It’s a ritual to him. He feels like he’ll have an off week if he doesn’t do so. He’s been doing this for seven years now and doesn’t plan on stopping just because Mingyu doesn’t talk to him anymore.

Mr. Kim saved my life. This is the least that I could do.

Usually, Wonwoo will update Mr. Kim on Mingyu’s youtube channel. He’ll tell him where in the world Mingyu’s ended up and what antics his friends put him up to. He’ll tell him about what he’s posted on social media and about the company his video is being sponsored by this week. Sometimes, he even plays the videos outloud so that Mr. Kim can hear his son’s voice.

On good days, Wonwoo will stay until the world begins to wake then quickly leaves back home before Pumpkin wakes up. On the bad days, he stays much longer and confides in him.

Today is a bad day.

-

Mingyu is standing about twenty feet behind Wonwoo.

There he is, he thinks. So close yet so far away.

There’s a longing that ignites in him. He thinks of long talks sitting at this grave with Wonwoo and Pumpkin, thinks about how they all shared their hopes and dreams in this very spot. He thinks of the times he and Wonwoo would come here and cry together, two boys missing pieces of their hearts. He thinks about how he promised Wonwoo to always protect Pumpkin in the times that he couldn’t because there used to be three Jeon kids and Wonwoo just could not do that again.

All of these thoughts have Mingyu slowly backing away until he’s away from the cemetery.

He can’t face him right now. No, not any time soon.

Because if there was one thing he remembered about the Jeon kids, it was that Wonwoo was the least forgiving one.

He retreats to a bakery that he’s never been to before. The boy behind the counter has a stone cold face but kind eyes and as Mingyu places an order, he can’t help but wonder if Wonwoo’s ever been here before.

He comes back a couple of hours later only to find Pumpkin there this time. There’s a boy standing at the tree nearby with soft eyes. Mingyu stands near him, bowing slightly when they make eye contact.

“Relative?” Mingyu asks, hoping he doesn’t recognize him even though he has a mask and a hat pulled across his face.

The boy tilts his head towards Pumpkin. “She visits him every Sunday. He saved her life when she was younger. You?”

“My dad,” Mingyu nods a bit too numbly. His eyes flicker back to the girl just as she folds her hands into a prayer.

He smiles at her. Some traditions never die, he thinks. Though none of them were ever very religious, Pumpkin always made it a point to pray for the souls in the cemetery and that they find peace on the other side.

She sits back on her knees as Mingyu nods again towards Joshua, venturing further into the cemetery until he finds a bench where he could still see his father’s grave but without being noticed by Pumpkin.

He waits there for about ten minutes, watches Pumpkin talk in the same animated notion that she’s always talked in, all hands and wild eyes and sound effects. The boy behind her smiles with fondness and Mingyu half wonders who he is. He recognizes him from somewhere but his head is already spinning from this new found information that the Jeon kids are still keeping up his Sunday traditions in his absence.

They leave shortly after but not before Pumpkin presses a kiss to her finger tips then brushes them across the headstone.

“He’ll be back soon,” he sees her mouth.

The boy wraps his arm around her shoulder, smiling at her. It reminds him a lot of how Wonwoo looks at her — gentle yet ready to throw himself into harms way for her.

When they’re out of sight, Mingyu walks towards the grave. A bouquet of pink carnations sitting there.

I’ll never forget you.

His chest suddenly feels heavy, eyes watering as he slowly traces his fingers over the letters of his father’s name.

“Dad,” he whispers. “I’m sorry.”

-

Chapter Seven: What I Miss

Summary: If home is where the heart is, then the hearts of Kim Mingyu and the Jeon siblings must lie within the stars. Maybe that’s why the always feel so out of place. Maybe that’s why Mingyu left town and never turned back. Maybe that’s why the Jeon siblings can’t leave this town. Maybe this time, the stars will align and things might start actually making sense.

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a/n: if you guys don’t know why mingyu calls pumpkin hobag, hobag is the korean word for pumpkin 😂 don’t forget to let me know how i did!

a/n 2: personal criticism is that i should’ve done these last couple of chapters closer to the beginning but o well we’re here now.

[greenroverman]

Needs A Title...

The sound of chewing snapped me out of this incredible dream I was having about a redhead in a convertible, a glossy red Ferrari with camel leather interior and custom chrome wheels with the high performance, low-profile tires. I just wanted to drive it around the block four or five times and see what it could do, maybe hit the open road and really open it up. In my dream, I was just about to ask the redhead to scooch on over and then sit in the driver’s seat when I heard the loud gnashing sound. I could feel tingling and moisture on my arm, sharp teeth were tearing into my hand. Surprisingly, I couldn’t feel pain – I guess that’s the first stage of shock. I believe shock is appropriate when being chewed on by a very upset chipmunk. It serves me right for falling dead asleep in that old sagging oak tree in the middle of nowhere. The most important question I had at that time was not: what was a pissed off rodent doing snacking on my arm, but where were my pants?

     Pants are strangely important when lost in the middle of nowhere. My keys, wallet, and a fancy pistol that I took from an exotic dancer named Mercedes were also missing. I’m hoping they were together, waiting for me, maybe huddled together. After kindly removing my bloody appendage from the chipmunk’s mouth, and scolding the little rat for taking advantage of a passed out traveler, I sat up and looked around. The tree was the same, but last time I checked Earth had a blue sky, not green, and we only had one moon not five. I think this situation might bump the pants down to priority two. The air smelled like rotten garbage mixed with old motor oil. The green sky was surprisingly clear and the five moons shone bright, lighting up the vast emptiness surrounding me. I’ve got an oak tree, a chipmunk, and no pants – what was in that last cocktail? This is either an incredibly vivid trip or the most elaborate hoax I’ve ever seen. I guess a distant third choice was that I wound up on some alien planet after having the most insane night ever. I think I’m going to have a flashback here…

     Things had started normal enough: dinner at Jimmy’s Fine Italian dining with my buddy Sal, then out to Bubble’s club on the west side – where there was this amazing act involving a…chipmunk! I knew I had seen that little guy before – he does good work! From there I was just a passenger in Ms. Cheeky LaPoosh’s limo. Cheeky kept plying me with social lubricant to get me to talk about what I do for a living, but why would Cheeky be interested in a trauma monkey like me. I told her I worked the late shift at the Emergency Center on the south side, the one in the neighborhood where gunshot wounds were passed out like popsicles on a summer day at kid’s camp. My job as a surgeon was a lot like an Asian kid in a Nike sweatshop – keep on sewing and keep the stitching tight. I suppose I was getting good at it – made employee of the month in June. But that was all she was getting out of me, at least at that moment.

     The limo stopped at a place called Flush and we all stumbled out. The bouncer recognized Cheeky and hurried us to a private booth in the back. And that’s when thing got interesting: a bottle of some unrecognizable liquid and 3-4 bags filled with an assorted rainbow of pills. I wasn’t the type to participate – I usually just watched and waited for someone to pass out, knowing first aid would be needed. I’m not sure if something fell into my drink or if it was deliberate, but I think I swallowed a green and a red, and maybe a blue. I do know that the room was spinning and I was either on the floor or the ceiling. I finally woke up in the back of the limo with Cheeky and Sal and 4-5 other people I didn’t recognize. A deep conversation about some pop psychology drivel was forming, something about hand washing and moral purity. The theory presented by the pleather couch brigade was that people who wash their hands frequently were more likely to be upstanding humans. Based on the amount of pills and alcohol consumed, this brood had certainly never washed their hands in their lives. But honestly, I couldn’t hear details over the roar of the freight train running through my head. Someone handed me a bottle of something and I drained it – thankfully it was only water. I leaned my head back against the window and closed my eyes.

     I was startled awake by a gunshot and a scream, the smell of gunpowder was close so “we” must’ve done the shooting. Of course, the sound of the scream was also close, so “we” must’ve been shot! One of the girls with us, a delightful stripper stereotypically named after a luxury automobile, Mercedes had shot Sal in the leg for having inappropriate body boundaries, which is normally appropriate, but there may or may not have been a transaction or barter. Can’t say I blame her either way. But eight years as a trauma surgery in the nastiest hospital in the metro-area had prepared me for this moment. I doused the wound with a half-bottle of Vodka then used the ice cube grabber to dig into the wound to remove the bullet. My tie made a decent tourniquet and then my Armani shirt became a compress. Did you know that Armani uses a specific type of wool found only in one particular area of Italy known for its high-absorbance properties – in fact after a rain, the sheep usually can’t move because of the amount of rain they soaked up. Crisis averted, I took away the gun from Mercedes and stuffed it in my suit coat pocket – why did she need a .40 S&W pistol with custom grips, easy-pull trigger, and 16-round high-capacity magazine? I suppose there are those out there that would question why I wouldn’t need one. Although, the thought occurred to me that we do live in a rather violent time in a violent city with creepy guys like Sal around.

     Sal was a little worn out at this point, wanting to go home. We dropped Sal off at his place, it was a dump – walking in you would think that the place was tossed by thieves looking for something, but no, Sal was just a slob. I made sure he was tucked in bed with some pain killers and the roaches. I figure I would check up on him tomorrow on the way to work. I glanced at the clock on the microwave while walking out the door, it screamed 3 A.M., plenty of night left.

I decided to hitch a ride back to my car with Cheeky. I had parked in a dimly light space on the second floor of the hospital parking garage. Cheeky invited me back to her place for a night cap. I figured it would be prudent to turn it down at this point and head home – plus after witnessing the shooting of my best friend, and the strange mixture of whatever I had taken earlier, I figured that would be the safest place for me.

Unlocking the door of my midnight black Mercedes-Benz AMG coupe, I sat in the plush leather sport seat for a moment to catch my breath. I had expected a simple dinner and maybe a few drinks, instead I wound up hanging out with a stripper queen named Cheeky, a gun wielding psycho, and had one hell of a headache. Time to go home, take some Tylenol, (yes, Doctors really recommend it) and go to bed!

I backed out of my space carefully. Despite my foibles, I was a fairly cautious driver, mostly. I cruised down the spiral to the garage exit. The road was empty, so I gave it a blast with my right foot. The twin turbo V-8 engine with excessive horses roared to life and left a decent strip of tire and smoke in my wake. The ridiculous zero-to-sixty time passed smoothly and the speedometer told me I hit 100 mph in around 6 seconds.

Yellow lines blurred into a paste smeared behind me as I cruised on the highway. I decided to take the long winding road, the path I rarely travelled. I had the speedo pegged at about 110 mph when a deer bound out into the middle of the road. Hitting anything at that speed is like running full speed into a brick wall – it’s going to hurt and something will break.

Blood splattered the windshield. I went off the road straight into a tree. I heard the bang, slam, and smelled the acrid smoke pouring out of the engine compartment. Hollywood would lead us to believe that the car would burst into flames at this point and then explode into a three-story fireball. Fortunately, fireballs don’t happen most of the time. The Mercedes was a crumpled mess. I survived, thank God for air bags, and opened the door – good engineering required that the door still be able to open in a catastrophic accident. The deer was in the middle of the road, writhing in pain.

     I never shot anything before, but the poor bastard didn’t deserve to go out like this – suffering from grievous wounds. The .40 S&W was a powerful, highly accurate round – the bullet caught the deer just below the eye socket, leaving a small entry wound but the back of its skull was blown out onto the asphalt. I figure that was the most decent thing I’ve ever done in my life.

     This is the point where I get a little fuzzy. I was standing there shaking from the crash and from putting the deer down and I remember a bright light. I heard a ringing in my ears and a loud sound like a bomb exploding – and no, it wasn’t the Mercedes exploding into a Bay-esque fireball, I checked.

And that’s when I woke up to being a chipmunk snack.

The green sky and the smell of the air had a disconcerting effect on my fragile mind. I had one weird night, but this was over the top. Where were my pants? I don’t swear much, but I feel that this circumstance warrants it. So I looked at the beautiful five moon sky and let out a stream of obscenities that would make a trucker blush.

Bearings. I needed to get my bearings. I was standing in a field next to an oak tree. The chipmunk was a sleep – maybe he was dead – I could only hope! I stretched my legs, after a nasty car crash you would think that I would start to feel sore or cramp up. I surprisingly felt…alive, like I could run, jump, or wrestle an angry chipmunk.

Scanning the horizon, I saw a glimmering object about 30 feet away, hoping it was my pants, I walked towards it. It wasn’t my pants, but the gun. I worked the action and checked the magazine like I’ve seen in the movies; I knew I had at least 2 bullets. I would imagine that having a loaded weapon in a strange world would have a calming effect, but I felt scared. Where was I? What would I face? How do I get home?

I decided to keep walking in the direction I found the gun, maybe my pants were close as well. In front of me was a dense forest of blue pine trees – not blue spruce, but actual blue pines. Was I in a Dr. Suess book? The important thing to note is that they smelled like pine trees, that sweet sappy smell that I love. I closed my eyes and breathed and it was as if I was at home in my backyard. I lived on 20 acres in the woods – I might be a highly-skilled medical doctor, but I was a country boy at heart. Pine has a calming effect on my spirit.

Venturing into the woods further, I crossed a creek that ran with green water. Flowing over rocks and around sand bars, I figured it was safe to drink, even if it seemed to have a high algae content, at least that’s what I figured it was. The banks of the creek were lined with broad leafed plants that formed natural cups. I plucked off the nearest leaf and dipped it into the cool, flowing water. I had to test it, so I dipped my pinky into the water – it didn’t burn or melt my finger off. Test one, successful. I dipped my finger in again and put a drop in my mouth. It was the best tasting water I have ever had in my life. Although it was cold, I felt warmth in my stomach. I took a long pull from the leaf and immediately felt refreshed. I drank until I was satisfied – about half of a leaf full of the amazing water.

I decided to keep moving, those pants weren’t going to find themselves.  After walking for what seemed like an hour, the forest started to thin out. I stopped at the edge of a clearing and there ahead of me was the most amazing sight I had ever seen in my life. A wall. This was a special wall, it was 100 feet tall – I guess. And it looked like it was made out of solid gold! But in my mind, all that mattered was that a wall meant civilization, that meant people, and that meant…pants.

The wall was a journey in itself. It took three hours of hiking around the circumference to find an entrance. The break in the wall was a wooden door, about 20 feet tall. There were cobwebs on the door and rust on the hinges – this obviously wasn’t the main gate. I tried the knob on the door, figuring it was locked. Surprisingly it was not and it opened rather easily. The door opened into the pitch black, but better there than in the woods – I was one step closer to pants.

I figured the room I stepped into was filled with books. There was that musty smell of old paper and leather, aged with time into a crisp mildewed odor mixing with the sweet mahogany of the bookshelves. I felt along the wall of the room for a switch, and was shocked to actually find one. I flipped the switch and a single light bulb flickered and began to give off a faint hum and then warmed into a steady dim glow. Sure enough, I was in a library or archive of some sorts, but from all the dust and spider webs I figure it hadn’t seen visitors in years.

The room wasn’t particularly large, about as big as a bedroom in a suburban house – one of those planned community things – little boxes as the song says. Shelves covered every wall floor to ceiling – and dust covered that. There were a few tables in the room, covered in books as well – stacks 10-12 books high in places, others were open and laying on top of the piles. The floor was just as dusty as the rest of the room and I didn’t see any footprints or signs of life – other than mine.

I had found civilization, but it sure seemed abandoned. I decided to look at the books that were open on the table to see if I could recognize anything about them. Imagine my surprise when I was able to read the writing! I picked up the book and sat in the only place in the room, a huge high backed wooden chair covered with intricate carvings in a foreign script. The seat was padded and covered in a rich red leather – and dust. I began reading the tome and found that it was a treatise on patience and I immediately wanted to skip that book to the next, but I decided to read a few paragraphs and found myself becoming calmer. As I read it seemed as though time stopped and I forgot I was in an alien environment. I finished the book and was amazed at the clarity and reasoning, I felt a measure of new confidence and security – was that book magic?

I picked another book from the pile; it had a wooden cover with the same intricate carvings as the chair, totally unrecognizable symbols. The book was heavy, much heavier than its size would let on, and after reading the first paragraph I figured out why it had so much weight – the subject matter was very deep.

A ship from a safe port had set out to sea, unsure of its destination. It began moving through the ocean in one direction and ran into a terrible storm. The waves pounded the ship and damaged the rudder. The poor ship was throw like a baseball from one wave to another, the sails were torn, and the crew was terrified.

When the storm had passed, the crew made a few repairs to the sails and started moving again, further into the ocean rather than back to the safety of the harbor. Another storm struck the vessel and tore at the mast and ripped at the crew, many lives were lost and the ship took on much water. But then calm came again and the remaining crew set about repairing what damage they could – a tattered sail with patches was the best they could muster. They continued on towards the open waters, hoping to find a new port for repairs. Eventually they came to a port, but it was filled with pirates and thieves, the crew barely escaped in their damaged ship.

Again they sailed out into the open ocean and finally, they ran into a hurricane. The waves ran higher than they had ever seen. The fierce wind hit like a sledgehammer. The ship, already damaged, was destroyed and the crew drowned in the horrible blackness.

The end of the book had a single note:

Think of your life as the ship and the storms as the trials you face. Do you continue aimlessly or do you return to your port of safety?

I sat for a moment after reading and wept. I realize that I had always lived my life going from crisis to crisis, my crazy night was a prime example. What did I need to learn from this?

That’s when I saw something that caught my eye on the table. A tall yellowed piece of parchment with bold lettering across the top: WANTED. The image was a familiar face – button nose, cruel eyes, buck teeth, and whiskers. Apparently his name was Charmine the Chipmunk. He was wanted for horrible, horrible crimes that I won’t mention here. Dead or Alive – I immediately felt for the gun tucked into my tattered underwear. How I wish I had pants!

>

[witcherislovewitcherislife]

For the prompt thing; It's 3 characters, but Geralt introducing little Ciri to his friend Dandelion for the first time. Maybe on their way to Kaer Morhen?

Ooh thanks for this prompt! We need more of little Ciri. :)

Okay just like the last prompt I did, I ended up going in pretty deep on this one but I am very happy with the result. I’m gonna cross post it on AO3. It takes a while to get to the Dandelion parts but hopefully the first part is interesting enough to push everyone forward to the fluffiness that comes later on. Also, Ciri is a super adorable and very shy little girl here, she doesn’t become super brave until she is with the Witchers and Geralt is just trying to be the best dad ever. I would love to here what you guys think about it! I hope you all enjoy, thanks for the prompt and thanks everyone for reading! :)

***************

He had finally found the little girl. The little girl that he feared and believed was dead until he heard “Geralt” screamed from afar. He had never been happier in his life. That being said, he had no clue what to do or how to raise a child. So he would take her to the place he called home. To Kaer Morhen. It was his only hope at this point.

Kaer Morhen was a ways off. A long ways. They would face many dangers but nothing would ever happen to the girl. He would not allow it. Occasionally a bandit or two would attack and Geralt would make quick work of them. He then had to go on damage control, assuring little Ciri that she had nothing to fear from him.

When night came, they made camp on the side of the road, Geralt would pick some apples and give them to the girl. He swore she loved apples as much as Yen loved apple juice. If they could not find enough food then Geralt would go hungry. He had the chance to hunt some rabbits but Ciri begged him not to. They were to cute to eat, she insisted. As long as Ciri was fed then he was happy. Every night, Ciri would snuggle up to Geralt and she would fall asleep in his arms, feeling happy and safe that she now has someone to call family.

Eventually, they traveled to Redania, but instead of continuing North, they took a detour east to Oxenfurt to meet a bard. In case anything should happen to either Geralt or Ciri, this story needed to be told to his friend. The bard was surely able to provide them some food and shelter as well. Geralt had no coin left and food was only available if they were able to find it. Geralt couldn’t take contracts either for he refused to leave Ciri under supervision of some villagers while he went out and fought monsters.

The Witcher had always found Oxenfurt quite pleasant. It was a fairly large city with a population made up of mostly young people and many students. Geralt had found that with high education came high intelligence and thus the students tended to not have a problem with Witchers. They didn’t fear them or think that they were gonna steal the youngins’. They knew better than that. The city guardsman on the other hand, were a whole different story. Those that couldn’t be bothered to use their brain or learn and instead only cared about muscle usually became guards. Many were intelligent but many weren’t. And the ones that weren’t were a lot stupider than the intelligent ones were smart. And stupid guards lead to stupid problems, especially for Witchers. Especially for a Witcher with a young child.

Geralt and Ciri approached the main gate of Oxenfurt, called the “Novigrad Gate.” Beautiful craftsmanship likely built by dwarves years prior. However what stood on the bridge was far less beautiful than the city walls, gateways, and bridges were. Fat, smelly, guardsman that looked at the Witcher with disgust. Geralt got off of Roach and helped Ciri down as he glanced back over at the guards.

“Go take Roach to the stables over there Ciri, they should let you stall her there.”

“Won’t I need coin?”

“Ciri, you’re adorable, use your cuteness.”

“Ah, that’s what I wanted to here, Geralt.” Ciri said confidently. She was a smart-ass even at her young age.

Geralt didn’t need to stall Roach in a stable outside of the city. He knew that there were stables inside the city and that horses were allowed inside the walls but he just didn’t want Ciri around in case things got ugly with the guards.

He approached the guards and while about fifteen feet away they began to speak to him.

“Ay, where did you get the girl from you mutant?” Just as Geralt thought, the fat and stupid guards far outnumbered the ones that just wanted to protect and serve the citizens. If only Yen was here, anyone that called him mutant when she was around was sure to get a lightning bolt to the chest.

Geralt let out a dee sigh and spoke, “She’s my daughter.” He didn’t have the time or the want to explain the story so he simply went with “daughter.”

“Everyone knows that Witchmen can’t have children.” one said. “I bet he put a hex on her.” shouted another.

“Good thing I’m a Witcher not a Witchman.” Geralt retorted. Sarcasm was always one of his strong suits.

“Ay the freak thinks kidnapping is some sort of joke. Kill the freak!” Geralt let out another deep sigh, why do they always have to try.

He made quick work of them. Geralt made the hand sign for Aard and thrusted his arm in their direction causing a heavy blast of wind and force to push the guards off the bridge into the river below. From this height and with the river being shallow, the fall was sure to kill them. The blast missed one of the guards and Geralt had to quickly dodge to the right causing the guard to swing and miss falling to the ground. Geralt used this opportunity to unsheathe his steel sword and lunged the blade through the top of the guards back. Three less pieces of filth in the world as far as Geralt was concerned. Hopefully they did not have families, Geralt thought to himself, but the thought quickly left his mind. No way anyone could stand to be around idiots like that. He picked up the last guards body and tossed it over the bridge railing, joining it with the bodies of the other two. Geralt decided he would return there later when he got the chance to burn the bodies. Not because he was afraid of the consequences but because the water should not be soiled with that kind of filth.

Luckily Ciri was still in the stables when he was finished with the guards. He did not want her to witness that. He could see her little head from afar, standing with Roach and talking to a young man. The Witcher headed towards the stable to return to his newly adopted child. The man saw Geralt coming and spoke. “Ay, I know you, you’re none other that the White Wolf himself, the Witcher Geralt of Rivia.

“Hehe you’re famous Geralt! I know a famous person!” Ciri giggled and exclaimed happily.”

“Uh-huh. And where do you happen to know me from?”

“There’s a man in town. Can’t stop telling tales of your heroic acts. Said he saved you quite a fair number of times as well if I remember correctly. I thought a man like yourself would have no problem saving himself but no matter.”

Geralt ignored the last part. Now there was no question in the man’s identity. Dandelion. “And where might I find this man?”

“Twas stayin’ at the Oxenfurt Inn when I saw him last. You wanna find him, try there.”

“Will do, thanks. Can my horse stay here?”

“Yes master. The little one and I already agreed that the horse can stay.”

“Thank you. We’ll be on our way then.”

“See you around, Witcher.”

Ciri and Geralt then headed back over the bridge and into town. Ciri grabbed onto and held his hand as they walked. This gave the Witcher one of the biggest smiles of his lifetime. If only he had Yennefer, his life would be perfect. One day, perhaps.

It had been some time since Geralt had been in the city. He viewed a signpost and a roadmap and quickly determined where the inn was. Ciri and him headed towards it, still holding hands. Some gave them strange looks as well as some whispered gossip that couldn’t be decipered even with his enhanced hearing. He didn’t blame them, not everyday that you saw a Witcher and extremely rarely would they be with a child.

The pair reached The Alchemy Inn as the sun was setting. It look them a while to make their way through the city crowd and the many buildings. Ciri was appearing to become tired as she was now resting her head against the arm of Geralt as they walked.

They walked through the door and before they could even look around a man shouted and approached them. “Geralt, my friend!” A few bar patrons looked their way but they had drinks and food and that meant that they had better things to worry about.

“Dandelion. I’ve never been happier to see you.”

“I was thinking the same thing, my friend. But who is this little one?” Dandelion kneeled down and stuck out his hand towards the child.

Ciri looked up at Geralt and he nodded, giving her confirmation that this man was friend not foe and was to be trusted. She then took his hand and shook it. His grasp was gentle and caring. It was comforting.

“I’m Ciri.” She said in the adorable voice with her Cintrian accent.

“Nice to meet you, little one.” Normally Ciri would retort that she was not in fact a little one but a whole NINE years old now. Barely. But now she was simply too tired and was speaking to a man whom she did not know.

“Uhh, I’ll explain later.” Geralt chimed back in at this point.

“Come sit, my friend. You look right famished.” Dandelion turned around and led the two through the large room over to his table in the corner. Geralt always preferred the corner tables anyways. Gives him a back rest.

“Order some food, Geralt. You two need it.”

“Uh, I’m a little low on coin.” Geralt replied, partly embarrassed.

“No matter at all. I’ve made a small fortune lately. My poem book is being mass published. Merchants are selling it from Novigrad to the Skellige Isles.”

“Glad to hear that. Congrats, Dandelion.”

“Couldn’t have done it without you. Traveling with you inspired many a poem and many a tale. I’m working on a book full of our adventures at the moment.”“Uh-huh. And let me guess, you save me in more than a few of these.”

“Well no one said that the stories had to be all truthful.” Dandelion replied sheepishly.

Geralt glanced over a nice menu printed on fine paper with exquisite designs on it. When a worker for the inn came over, the Witcher ordered a chicken roast, with some apples and bread and milk. It had been a long while since he had a full meal and he was about to feast. “What do you want, Ciri?” “Apples.” She replied in her typical sweet and quiet voice. Geralt let out a small sigh and a chuckle. “We’ll split the chicken roast.” The waitress smiled at the shyness of small Ciri. What an adorable little girl, she thought to herself as she walked away.

Geralt and Dandelion chatted and played a friendly game of dice poker as they waited for the food. Ciri sat quietly observing the game, trying to understand what was going on but didn’t say anything. She instead just rested her head on Geralt’s shoulder. They had been traveling since early morning and now nightfall had came. There food arrived and Ciri quickly chirped up becoming excited that she would be able to get a full belly. Geralt cut off pieces of the chicken and put them on a plate for her. He also pushed the bowl of apples that the waitress gave them over to her. He doubted he would get many and that was completely okay. As long as she was happy. They ate in silence, Geralt only speaking to check if Ciri needed anything. Dandelion was quiet as well surprisingly, not wanting to disturb his friend or Ciri. Instead he worked on a new ballad. One of a child and a Witcher eating dinner. Not all ballads have to be epic tales after all.

Dandelion had to admit to himself. He was fascinated with the child. A fascination that he had not had in a long time. Who was she? Why was she with his best friend? And why did Geralt seem to care so much for her? Hopefully his questions would be answered soon but now was not the time to ask. Not when she was here at least.

They finished there meal after some time. They had eaten all the chicken, the remaining bread and apples, Dandelion took and put in his pouch to give to the Witcher later. The waitress came back to the table and Dandelion paid her for the meal, giving her a generous tip. Partially because of her kindness and good service and partially for her attractiveness.

“Excuse me, Witcher. Will you be needing a room for the night?” Geralt glanced over at Dandelion and he nodded reassuring the Witcher that he would pay for all expenses.

“Yes please. How much will it be?” The Witcher responded.

“No charge.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“No charge, Master Witcher. You see Mary over there?” She said pointing to an elf women and Geralt nodded his head.

“She saw you deal with those guards earlier. They had been harassing many a non-human. It is good to be rid of them. We appreciate it. The room is on the house tonight.”

“Oh, I, uh, you’re welcome. Thanks for the room.” The waitress nodded and gave a faint smile then proceeded the hand over the Witcher the key to his room for the night. “Third floor, Room 13.” She said and walked away, taking their used dishware with her.

“What happened with the guards, friend?” Dandelion inquisited.

“The usual.”

“Figures. People are different depending on where you are but scum remain the same no matter the location.”

“At least they’re consistent.”

“Geralt, can we go to bed?” Ciri asked.

Geralt nodded and stood up. Taking Ciri by the hand.

“I’ll be here a while longer if you need a drink, Geralt. Otherwise we’ll talk in the morning. I’m staying in Room 7.”

Geralt and Ciri walked through the large room through a doorway and down a short corridor leading to a staircase that led up the the higher floors of the inn. For many patrons, the night was just beginning. A group of musicians played on a small stage in the corner of the larger room and students filled the establishment, looking to get drinks and meet new friends and possible partners.

The Witcher hoped that the noise wouldn’t be too much for Ciri. He needed her to get her rest for the would likely be setting off sooner rather than later. Their room was surprising nice. Geralt figured that they innkeep must’ve given them one of the nicest rooms. There were two large beds, a vanity as well as a bathtub already filled with water and multiple dressers and cabinets and a stool to light the chandelier. Candles and a chandelier lit the room but it was still a bit dark. He set the pouch of food that Dandelion gave him on the dresser located near one of the beds. Ciri took off her small bag and set it on the other dresser. She pulled out a small teddy bear made of plush and wool and climbed into the bed. Geralt didn’t know that she had that, it must’ve been given to her by the family that took her in, he thought.

“Im going to go talk to Dandelion.” The Witcher said, interrupting the silence.

“B-but.” He could tell that Ciri was upset to be left alone.

“It’ll be okay, Ciri. I’ll just be downstairs.” He realized that this was the first time he was leaving her alone since they had reunited.

“But you’re coming back, right?”

“Of course, Ciri. Always. I can stay until you fall asleep if you want.” Ciri nodded as Geralt tucked her tightly into bed. He sat on the bed opposite and watched as she drifted off into slumber. She fell asleep quickly, having nothing to fear. She knew that Geralt would keep her safe.

“Sleep tight, little one.”

Geralt locked the door behind him and came back down to the bar area of the establishment. He noticed Dandelion was surrounded by patrons. Unfortunately they didn’t seem to be the friendly type. Many people were watching on as the bard struggled to explain himself.

“You think you can just sleep with anyone’s wife just because you are a famous bard?” An angry man said to Dandelion. The bard was sitting at the same table, now regretting his decision to sit in the corner. His back was against the wall and there would be no escape.

“Maybe you should please her better and I wouldn’t need to.” The bard retorted. Multiple patrons gasped at hearing such a thing and they believed a murder of the bard may be coming. Geralt heard this as he was approaching the table. He would’ve imagined that someone as cowardly as Dandelion would be smart enough to shut up. Dandelion, the man wouldn’t fight a fly with his fists. But if words could kill then Dandelion would be a serial killer.

“You fuckin wot?” The same angry man said. “Ay, the little punk thinks this is some joke.” Another man said, likely a brother or friend of the first man.

“That Witcher that dun made you famous isn’t here to save you now. How unfortunate.”

“What was that now?” Geralt spoke, now standing behind the confrontational men.

The two men turned around and looked as if they had seen a ghost.

“I’ll give you five seconds to apologize to my friend and I’ll give you another five to leave this inn and never come back.”

“What if we don’t?” One of the men said, deciding to try his luck.

“You’ll end up feed for the drowners in the sewers.”

The men quickly decided that this was not losing their lives over. They turned around and apologized to the bard. “S-s-sorry, sir Dandelion sir.” They said terrified of the Witcher. Then they quickly turned around and hurried out of the inn. Geralt assumed that they would be back, likely with more friends but he didn’t care. Bring an army and Geralt would still fight to defend his friend.

“Wooh, thanks my friend. Close one, huh?”

“Uh-huh. Can’t wait to here how you saved my life in the Alchemy INN in a future tale.” Geralt said letting out a light chuckle and sitting back down at the table.

“So who is the girl, Geralt?” Dandelion asked, quickly changing the subject back to what was on his mind.

“She isn’t just some girl, Dandelion. She’s my child of surprise.” He said quietly, making sure no one else in the inn could here them.

“What? But I thought.” Geralt cut him off, “I know, but she is alive, I found her, Dandelion. I’m beginning to rethink this whole fate and destiny thing.”

Dandelion was astonished but he should have known. How had he not realized this? It didn’t really make sense to him still however. Cintra was attacked, so many died, including all the leader figures. The grandmother of Ciri, Calanthe was one of the deceased and Ciri was in her care. How did Ciri escape and no one else did? She was a fighter, he did know that. And Dandelion knew that there was no one better to take care of her than his best friend. His best friend, the Witcher, The White Wolf, The Butcher of Blaviken, and new father, Geralt of Rivia.

[pbandjesse]

I'm really tired. I just got home from researching for my thesis at the U of M library. Our teacher dropped a few of us off at our houses after but it was a long day.

I slept okay last night. Woke up. Had a shower. Made an omelet. I got a really nice text from my mom giving me some welcomed life updates. I was happy. I felt like I was running late but I actually got to work early. It was a lot colder then I was expecting but it was fine. I felt really cute so that’s all the matters. When I got to work I filled in Don about what was up and how my meeting with Frenchy went. I let Don know he is my emergency contact for the dentist because he’s the only adult I know. He told me he bought me pizza for my birthday I just have to call and they’ll bring it to me. So that’s pretty cool.

I was only working for 2 hours today so I asked to be given a task.

Don showed me the sewing room and asked me to tidy it up and label stuff. I put some music on and got to work. It didn’t take to long but I think I did a pretty good job. I spent the rest of my morning puttering around online and helping Sherry with her laser cutting project. She's making 2000 breads?? I don’t know what the project is but its going to take a lot of time!

I left the school at 1045 and caught the bus downtown. I was early to the dentist but it was fine. They were running a little behind anyway. When I did go in the back it was a different room and a different assistant lady. I told the dentist about a dream I had last night where I came in to get the filling and they just drilled a perfect hole in between my teeth and called it a day. They said they could do that if I wanted but it wasn’t the plan. I was actually pretty nervous about getting it done honestly. I've never had a cavity in my front teeth before so it was scary but it was actually fine.

I tried to just zone out and for the most part it was fine. But at one point something happened. There was floss in my mouth and the drill got caught it in and snapped and like flew across the room. It was really scary but it was fine. I didn’t get hurt. And it was only like an hour. Honestly the whole thing was fine but I was a little put off at the end when they asked if I have a problem biting things. And I said no. but then I thought about it and remembered I use my moth to open stuff a lot and the assistant said don’t do that! Your teeth are all rough. So they smoothed them out. so I went in with bumpyes on my teeth but now they are gone and I don’t really like that. I sort of wish they asked but they do look nice. I'm just not used to it. My mouth was all numb and I couldn’t feel it but it seemed like it was really fat. I took the selfie above right after I left.

I was a bit woozy but I wanted to go to target to get cat food. So I figured out how to get in the skyway and wandered around to get to the target. There were a lot of people in there because it was the lunch hour. But it was nice to wander around the target. I got some nail files to fix my poor broken nail. I also finally picked up that Harry’s brand razer I've wanted. The packaging is just so beautiful. I also bought a whole bunch of cat treats and food. Like enough that when I was checking out the guy behind me asked how many cats I have.

I headed home and had a waffle. My mouth was still really numb but it was fine. I tried to take a nap but I mostly just read and poked around online. Around 330 I saw a bug on my bed and it made me feel realy uncomfortable so I got up and vacuumed and wiped everything down. I don’t know what kind of bug it was, to big to be a bedbug, to small to be a roach. Some kind of leggy thing. I'm not to concerned. I put bug spray around my bed anyway.

I had some dinner and got myself together. Fixed my makeup. And then headed to the studio. I worked on some stuff and then went to hang out with Aaron for a while in his studio. Then up to the kitchen to hang out with some of my other classmates. It was nice.

We headed over to the library and I found some books and a comfy chair. I went through some books I found and some my teacher found for me. His were way better honestly. I typed up some quotes and then worked on editing my paper, adding some places I think the new quotes would work. By 830 though I had a terrible headache and I wanted to go home. Then my computer died and so I read a goofy book about time machines until it was time to go home.

I'm home now. Tired. My allergies are bothering  me. Tomorrow I'm hoping to meet with Don in the morning before our class. We were supposed to have a critique tomorrow but are giving them another week to work. I'm looking forward to it.

I hope you all sleep well. Tomorrow is my last day being 25! Wild!