#and she hired me anyway. scream. remarkable woman. i want to know more about her.

[notjanine]

spent the summer prepping for and taking the worst exam of my life, riding out the lease at the worst place i've ever lived,* then being temporarily kinda homeless,** and getting dozens and dozens of job applications rejected. i had some fun in there, but my anxiety has been through the fucking roof on top of my regular summer depression.

then the last two weeks of august happened 😳

everything happens so much. somehow, i managed to find the perfect apartment for a reasonable rent, and now me and Books are living (together!) in a fantastic and charming new home- lots of space, big kitchen table, a balcony facing undeveloped woods, just off one of the major roads in the city that has my favorite grocery store and our favorite sandwich shop (where we were already regulars). plus, i've gotten not one, not two, but three (three!) job offers- and i can take them all!!! one is with a hospital where i did my favorite internship rotation, and i'm so excited that i get to go back there and get paid to do that job, it was a blast. another is right by my new place and it's similar to the other hospital, but it's slightly bigger and sees more complex cases, so i'll be comfortable and confident, but i'll still get some new, specific clinical experience in areas that i'm interested in.

and the third position is... literally my dream job. it's the job that's been the end goal since the moment i chose my field of study. grad school and the internship made me rethink all of my professional goals and push them back, thinking i wouldn't be able to get to them for so long because i'd need ~more experience~. but now i'm. uh. i did it. i did it??!

the two hospital jobs are just part time, but they both pay well. the other won't start for a few months bc my boss*** has to get insurance approval to add me to her private practice,**** but that's okay, because i have a lot of reading and learning i want to do in the meantime to prepare! and then it will start as part time working up to full time as i build up my case load, but i'll also get to decide my own hours and do some work from home. i'll get to work with my favorite kinds of patients! and i'll get fantastic professional development opportunities for specialization, if i want to. the other dietitians in the practice seem lovely, so i'm excited to work with them. and the pay is realllly good, gosh, for being fresh out of the internship, it's nuts.

so things will pick up as i go through orientation and onboarding for the two hospital jobs next month. but it'll get calmer again after that, so i'll have the time and energy to prepare for the more challenging work that starts later, which is really nice.

and in the meantime, i'll be tending the wee garden on my balcony and playing board games with the love of my life 💗

[makeyoumine69]

Till Death Do Us Part (Chapter Five)

PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Innocent!Fem!Reader; [no y/n]

SUMMARY: Some of the answers can only be found on the line between life and death.

CONTAINS: Drug use, near death experiences, swearing, angst, toxic behavior, NSFW art, misogyny, hurt/comfort, Patrick Bateman is a warning himself.

WORDS: 4.4k

A/N: Sorry guys for the long wait, I was in the hospital, but now I feel better and hope to get back to my writing form. Thank you so much for your support and comments, I love you all!

LINKS: [MASTERLIST]; [SERIES MASTERLIST]; [AO3].

Sighing tiredly, Patrick quickly ran his hand over his face. "Because you told your... 'co-worker' that I'm aggressive." He said quietly. "You can explain why you were absent without being so...so specific. Look, if people think I'm...aggressive, they're going to do a wellness check. And if you keep screaming and crying and acting hysterical, I could get in trouble. Do you really want me to get in trouble?" The man straightened up slightly and furrowed his brow. He felt a deep hatred for you, one that could only be resolved with complete violence. But he held himself still. "How can I trust you to go to work? After your behavior? Hmmm?" His grip on you tightened. "God, I can't deal with you. Do your parents know how...pathetic you are? I'm the least scary thing in this fucking city, honey. I hope you realize that."

Scowling, you yanked your wrist roughly from his grip, rubbing the spot where the dark bruise was sure to bloom. "Leave your cheesy pet names for Courtney, okay?" you hissed, getting up from the bed, ignoring the way the hem of your long shirt was pulled up. "Vincent's picking me up soon, I'll be late tonight because I have to... overwork for missing my shift yesterday," your tired gasp echoed through his opulent bedroom. "Have fun, but...if you're going to bring some hookers here today, you'd better tell me now, because I don't want..." you paused, crossing your arms. "I don't want to be a part of that depraved shit..."

Bateman let you go and stepped back. He inhaled slowly through his nostrils and closed his eyes to calm himself. "Okay...okay…I'm sorry…just…you're stressing me out." He sighed, suddenly exhausted. It was easier to deal with Evelyn because she didn't fucking live with him. Sure, she was a chatterbox, but at least she didn't notice anything he did. He scowled. "I'm not going to hire anyone. I'm going to...take a nap...or something." Patrick said, rubbing his eyes. "Besides, it's not depraved. Everyone does it. Even women. Better get used to it." He crossed his arms over his chest. "Also, wear some fucking clothes, huh? If you're going to act like a jealous bitch around Courtney, then have some dignity, you know?"

A wave of anger washed over you at his last remark. For a brief moment, you stood in the doorway, considering whether to stab him back. "Uh, you keep saying how pathetic I am, but you...you're stuck in a situation where you're marrying a woman you don't like because your mommy said you had to," you chuckled and looked back at him. "While the woman you LIKE," you dragged out the last word. "Is about to marry another guy, so you can just be an errand boy while her fiance is away on business," you licked your suddenly dry lips briefly before picking up your clothes and opening the bedroom door. "Isn't that pathetic, Bateman?"

Huffing angrily, the man stared at you, his arms crossed and his eyes widened slightly at your outburst. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but you're in this situation too, aren't you?" He scowled. "Also, for your information, I don't like Courtney. She's just a great lay. Her fiance is a fucking queer anyway, so, y'know, that won't last long." He ranted, angrily following her to the door. "I'm not pathetic! You are! I have more money than your whole fucking family, sweetheart—I could BUY you! But, oh, who would want that? Who would want a fat-headed, no-good brat in their house?" He was angry now. Bateman grabbed your books off the table and shoved them into your arms, then pushed you out the front door, not caring if you were ready to change or not. "Tell your family the marriage is off. Tell them you've pushed me beyond my breaking point and I'm doing everything in my power not to break your fucking neck right now!" Patrick said this calmly, but there was a burning hatred in his eyes. Then he slammed the door and locked it, pressing his back against it.

When you heard the lock click, you couldn't believe your luck. 'Finally...finally I did it!' You closed your eyes and let out a sigh of relief, hugging your books closer to your chest as you realized you hadn't put on your panties. At first you wanted to knock on the door and ask him to let you take your things, but then you decided that it would only make you look pathetic and you would never give him that kind of pleasure. At least you managed to put on the casual dress you usually wore when you went out. But the lack of underwear made things a little more difficult.

After a few minutes, you left the American Gardens Building and walked down the street to the phone booth, where you dialed your family's home number and thanked God that your mother picked up the phone. "Hey, Mom," you murmured in a shaky voice. "I don't have much time, but...I'm sorry for ruining everything...I know how important this marriage was to our family, but...I couldn't go on like this...it's all over now." And with that, you hung up without even giving your mother a chance to respond when you noticed Vincent's car pulling up to the street.

Your sudden call was like rain on a sunny day, almost giving your mother a heart attack—Mrs. Rice pressed a hand to her chest before asking her maid to bring her some water and a sedative. Breathing heavily, the old lady dialed Mrs. Bateman's number, hoping that Patrick's mother would give her some information about what the hell had happened. When the beeping finally stopped and the old woman heard her friend's voice, she relaxed for a moment before beginning to speak. "Linda, hi, it's Janet," she swallowed and tugged on the phone cord. "My daughter just called me...she said the wedding is off...do you know anything about it?"

Linda lay in her hospital bed staring at the ceiling. She'd been in the sanatorium for years now, and it was easy for her to entertain herself. Time passed quickly now. She jumped when she heard the phone ring and sat up. She picked it up with trembling fingers. "Hello?" She asked tentatively before hearing a familiar voice. "Oh, dear - well... I didn't hear anything, but I'll... I'll call him. I'll put you on the other line, Janet." She clicked a button, then punched in Patrick's number and waited patiently.

Meantime, annoyed and stressed out, Patrick poured himself a J&B. He felt great though, as if an impossible weight had just been lifted from his shoulders. He swallowed it down and walked into the living room, glancing down at the phone as it began to ring. He picked it up and rested it on his shoulder as he walked around. His elation was momentarily dampened when he heard his mother's voice. "Look, Mother—the woman is a lunatic." He moved to lie down in his bed. "She's an ugly pig and I'm really offended that you would set me up with her. There are... thousands of other women in New York who are richer, more attractive, and...well...better than her. Okay? I'm 27 years old. I can make my own decisions." Bateman went to his closet and opened a drawer. He blinked when he saw a small baggie of what looked like cocaine. He picked it up between his fingers and smiled to himself. "Listen, I'll call you later." Patrick hung up the phone and set it on the side of the bed before opening the baggie. He poured some on his AmEx card and snorted, blinking a few times. It was...very strong. Without even thinking, he spread the rest on his teeth with his finger and lay back, closing his eyes.

The day at the hospital had been so fucking horrible, starting with not having any underwear—you couldn't just walk around like that, so you had to find a solution. Thank God you had left some of your clothes in the staff room, so after you changed into the fresh underwear and then into the medical uniform you started to feel so much better, although it was so hard to forget the ride with Vincent because you had to hold your legs together every damn second.

After the work day was over, you praised yourself for not getting upset about the whole situation that had happened in the morning—it was the right decision to get him off, despite all the feelings you had for this man. 'He doesn't exist anymore,' you sighed as you waited for the taxi, the heavy medical kit in your hand. Since you had decided to return to your family's house, you wanted to collect all your things, including those that were trapped in Bateman's apartment. If he didn't let you in, you would tell your mother that all the jewelry she had given you was gone forever.

A taxi ride was quite short, maybe it felt short, but as you stepped out of the elevator on the 11th floor, your senses suddenly warned you—something was definitely wrong. You walked slowly down the clean hallway to Patrick's front door when you noticed it was open. 'What the hell?' You tensed as you remembered how meticulous Bateman was about security. With careful, quiet movements, you opened the door and stepped inside, soon to find an unfamiliar woman in the living room, looking for something as she went through Bateman's CD collection.

"Hey! Who the hell are you?" You yelled, hoping Patrick was nearby. 

The woman stalled before slowly turning around, which helped you notice Bateman's Rolex, his gold cufflinks, and some cash in her hands. "Wait...I...I didn't call an ambulance!"

Frowning, you looked down at your medical uniform before hissing. "I'm not the ambulance...but I'll be a lot worse than that if you don't put all that stuff in its place and leave!"

The unknown woman, who was probably a hooker, sobbed but obeyed and put all the stuff on the coffee table, her hands visibly shaking. "Okay, okay, I'll go, but I... I didn't kill him!"

"What?!"

"I didn't kill him...he just fainted and..." the woman cried, grabbing her head. "I didn’t do it…I swear!"

With that, the hooker stormed out of Bateman's apartment, but that was the last thing you had to worry about after what she had said. Nervously biting your lower lip, you quickly ran into the bedroom to see Patrick lying absolutely naked on the bed, his skin sticky, covered in sweat and...his cum? 

"Patrick!" You called out to him, lifting his pale face. 

(Patrick and Becca art by my gorgeous fairy @anyarlly).

When he didn't respond, you opened his eyes—the pupil was so dilated it was obvious he'd OD'd. 'Did that bitch do this to him?' you thought briefly before rushing to grab the medical kit and find the antidote. 'Stay fucking professional,' you muttered to yourself, not letting the panic get the better of you. As soon as you grabbed the packet of naloxene, you returned to Bateman and sat on top of him, spraying two sprays of the antidote into each of his nostrils. "Patrick, Patrick, can you hear me?" you gently slapped his face to help him regain his senses. Breathing heavily, you began to stress when you realized that Patrick would probably have to be taken to the hospital, but since he had overdosed, that would cause him so much trouble. Not to mention when you noticed that his breathing became so shallow and weak that it scared the hell out of you. 

"Oh, no…Patrick, breathe, breathe you bastard!" You shouted at him and before you started the artificial respiration you also took a dose of naloxene to prevent yourself from overdosing in case you accidentally came into contact with any drugs Patrick was taking. As your lips covered his, you closed his nose and began to inhale the oxygen into his lungs, praying that it would help.

Patrick's vision was dark, his consciousness trapped in the deepest recesses of his mind. All he could remember was taking the drugs and hiring a hooker. Maybe they had sex, but Patrick couldn't remember. He felt cold. Then hot. Then cold again. He wanted to scream, to rip the skin from his flesh, to run outside wearing only a coat and let it fly behind him like a cape, but he couldn't move at all. A spark of light came into his mind. Then another. His breath was short and shallow and he felt like he could just die right now, but the light gave him hope. Something to hold on to. He felt air being pumped into his lungs. Suddenly his eyes opened. His arms desperately flew up and wrapped around you, needing more air. When the man remembered how to breathe properly, he let go of you and closed his eyes, which were bloodshot and sore from the drugs.

If you ever dreamed how your first kiss with Patrick would be, you would never have imagined it would be like this. Panting, you quickly wiped your mouth, feeling a little dizzy. 'Damn, he probably rubbed the coke right into his gum! What a reckless idiot!'  You took a few deep breaths before getting up from Patrick's weak body. "I... I'll get you a shot, you'll feel better," you mumbled and went back to the medical kit, then grabbed a vial and a needle. "Stay with me, Patty," a sudden rush of tenderness coursed through your small frame as you ran a finger along his pale cheek. "You'll be fine," you hummed, taking his hand carefully to find the vein on it. "If your condition doesn't stabilize in fifteen minutes, we'll have to go to the hospital," you closed your eyes for a second and exhaled as you heard Patrick's painful cough, your heart bleeding from the scene. "Just stay with me..." You begged before disinfecting the spot where you were about to make an injection.

The man was panting heavily, his other hand over his heart, which was beating rapidly. He blinked before opening his eyes fully, looking up at you with an unfocused gaze. Nothing was really being processed. His hand tensed from the shot, his veins protruding slightly through the thin skin of his hand. Before he knew it, he was sobbing. Tears rolled down his cheeks and his shoulder shook as a small whimper escaped his lips. Just a few minutes ago, he was teetering on the edge of life and death—and now he was here. 'Thank you . ' Bateman couldn't quite see your face, but your soft, silken voice helped him recognize you. He gripped your hand tightly before loosening his grip to something more comfortable for you. "Don't... don't leave me here..." Patrick choked out, looking up at you tearfully.

His suddenly pleading voice stirred something in your chest, something you tried to bury, but no matter how hard you tried, that something was alive, longing for the man beneath you. "Hey, hey," you pressed your palm against his cheek. "I'm not going to leave you, Patty, you're going to be okay, I promise," you noted the time, you only had fifteen minutes and if the injection didn't help, you would have to think about the possibility of taking him to the hospital. "Patrick, I know that you and your family always get medical treatment at some elite clinic, is that right?" you asked suddenly, adjusting the pillow underneath him to make him more comfortable. "If the medicine doesn't work, you will need medical treatment that can only be provided in a hospital. Do you understand?"

Patrick breathed heavily, his heart slowing slightly as he stabilized himself. The injection made him feel a lot better, thankfully, but he was still scared. He didn't think about anything but not letting you go. He felt that he needed you at this moment. "Y-Yes... I understand..." He said softly. Bateman moved up slightly and wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you down to lie with him. Then, the man wrapped his other arm around your back, burying his head in your neck as he sought comfort. Fuzzy memories from a few hours ago began to return to his mind. Him yelling at you and kicking you out. He sobbed again, clenching his hands into fists. "Oh God..." he choked out. "I'm sorry...please don't go...don't go..." He mumbled, repeating 'I'm sorry' in a hushed tone.

(Patrick art by my amazing queen @somnolenthour).

Paralyzed, you tried to hold your breath and not burst into tears at his sudden unraveling. "I'm here, I won't leave you," you knew his behavior was the result of the side effects of the antidote you had given him, and as soon as he regained his senses— he would forget everything. And that spurred you to go down to Patrick's trembling lips and seal them with yours. It was not even a kiss, just flesh touching flesh. "I love you, Patty," you murmured against his mouth before embracing him and pulling him closer so that his nose could nuzzle the soft skin of your neck. "I always have and I always will, since the day we met, two little kids," you chuckled sadly, on the verge of tears. "You should stop living this life, you deserve much better," your words were more like a mantra, as if you were trying to convince yourself. "Besides... I know Jean cares about you, maybe you should give her a chance?" A small, telltale tear slid down your cheek, but you brushed it away and let it fall onto your medical uniform. 

"No." Patrick said slowly. "I... I don't... I don't want Jean. I want…"

"I'll give you some sedatives and you'll sleep like a baby...after that you'll feel refreshed, I promise." You tried to shush him but he continued.

"I want...you..." Patrick pulled away to look at you, his eyes still bloodshot and filled with tears. He seemed to panic slightly when you mentioned sedatives. The man shook his head quickly and licked his lips to rehydrate them.

His sudden protest against taking any sedatives made you stop and look at him with unspoken concern. "Shhh, it's okay," you cooed to him, but when Patrick put his hands on your breasts, which he probably did accidentally, it almost broke the resistance you had meticulously built up all this time. "All right, no sedatives," you conceded, looking down at his palms holding your breasts, but you didn't try to take them away, thinking that maybe he was relaxing in such a depraved way. "Tell me...tell me what do you want instead of sedatives? I want you to sleep and rest."

"Just…stay..." Bateman murmured tiredly, closing his eyes. He wrapped one leg around your hip, almost trapping you on the bed with him

In another situation, you would feel like the happiest person in the world, but now all you felt was sadness and compassion for the man who had trapped you in his strong arms. "Okay, okay," you kept your tone as sweet as possible, wanting nothing more than for him to fall asleep and feel better. "After you fall asleep and wake up, everything will be back to normal," you murmured, the pain in your voice undeniable. "But I want you to remember this—please don't do drugs, don't risk your life," you quickly ran your finger along his flushed cheek. "I don't want to see you like this, I want you to be happy," you continued whispering, your words lulling Bateman to sleep. "When you wake up, you won't remember everything you told me or the way you held me," as you watched him close his eyes, you sighed and rolled onto your back, quickly kicking off your medical shoes and looking up at the white ceiling above. "How unfortunate that I will remember all of this…"

Patrick nodded slowly, hearing what you said but not really listening. It was hard to really listen when his head was buzzing. The man closed his eyes and breathed slowly, keeping his breathing steady to bring his body back to its usual state. He planted a few soft kisses on your shoulder as his face pressed closer to your body. Before he knew it, consciousness melted away and he was asleep. He didn't dream, as usual, nor did he stir. His grip on you never loosened, and the only evidence that he was still alive was the soft breathing and the gentle smile on his face.

A few hours later, you didn't even notice falling asleep either, but the sudden thunderstorm outside didn't let you get much rest, thankfully it didn't wake Patrick. Slowly, you slipped out of his arms and after tucking him into the blanket, you quietly sneaked into the living room to finally take off your medical uniform, leaving yourself in a tight top and shorts. Then you checked that the front door was locked and that everything was in its place. 'Fuck, should I tell him that the hooker tried to steal his Rolex and some other stuff?' You wondered as you went into the kitchen and turned on the light. Then you opened the fridge to see what you could cook for Bateman, because when he woke up he would feel a terrible hunger as a side effect of the medicine you had injected him with. Looking through the stuff in the fridge, you found some vegetables, meat, and soon you were cooking some pasta for him, although you expected he would not like it since you were not a chef from Dorsia. 'Whatever, if he doesn't like it, I'll eat it myself.' As you strolled past the bedroom to see if Patrick was still asleep, you caught a glimpse of the coffee table and noticed his Walkman and a pair of headphones. Without a second thought, you took everything and came back into the kitchen, now listening to what Patrick had been listening to the last time, and that was TOTO's tape. 'Oh God, I love this band.' You chuckled softly and mixed the ingredients in the pan, moving rhythmically to the Hold The Line song.

Meanwhile, Bateman let out a small whimper as he felt the lack of warmth in his arms. He opened his eyes and blinked a few times, his eyes still slightly sore. Frowning, he groaned and rubbed his eyes, slowly getting to his feet. He noticed that he was naked, but didn't bother to put anything on. A bit clumsily, the man walked from his bedroom to the kitchen, the light hurting his eyes and making him squint. He saw your silhouette behind the counter. The drugs had worn him down, but something inside him wanted to be close to you again. He couldn't remember much about what happened last night, but for some reason he didn't feel the same anger towards you. Patrick wasn't even angry that you were back in his apartment. With a smug grin, he walked over and wrapped his arms around your waist, leaning down to rest his head on your shoulder. He took the Walkman off your head. "If you're going to use my Walkman—at least use the cheap one."

"Patrick...how are you feeling?" You asked before a loud clap of thunder rang out, scaring you a bit. 'Does he remember that I'm afraid of thunderstorms?' you wondered as you turned to face him, even now he looked so perfect, so desirable, so...so Patty.

Slightly confused, Patrick seemed to realize what he was doing and pulled his arms away, taking a step back. He moved behind the counter to hide his naked form. Of course, he would show it at every opportunity, but he felt more vulnerable being completely naked like this. "Uh, I feel fine." The man scratched his head. He couldn't remember anything from last night and he felt a bit dizzy. A terrible feeling, really. He looked up at the ceiling as the thunder rumbled and noticed your frightened reaction. A flash of memory flashed through his mind—him as a boy with a girl about his age—maybe a little younger—huddled together in his parents' house during a thunderstorm. Bateman inhaled sharply, startled by the sudden nostalgia, and began to turn around. The man pulled down the blinds on all the nearby windows, then walked over to his stereo. He picked out a Huey Lewis CD, his favorite, and put it on. Patrick tapped his hands on the stereo to the rhythm of the song before grabbing his Bijan robe from the top of the couch. He wrapped it around his body and walked back to you, standing behind but not touching you. "Uh, by the way...you can...you know... you can still stay here..." He stopped and looked over your shoulder. "What are you doing?"

'No, Patty, I can't stay here.' You were about to say when Patrick asked about the food. "It's... uh... it's pasta bolognese, I hope I pronounced it right," you looked at him, noticing his skeptical look. "Antidote always makes people hungry after a nap, I checked the fridge and when I didn't find anything specific I thought I'd make this," you turned to the pan, the smell was really amazing, though you were sure Patrick wasn't impressed. "If you don't want to eat it, I will, and then you can throw it in the garbage, I won't be offended." With that, you yawned tidily and covered the pan, trying not to focus on Bateman's drilling gaze behind your back.

Patrick chuckled slightly. "Well...I'm sure it won't be Barcadia quality, but it seems hard to mess up pasta." He squinted at you, then sniffed the air. It smelled heavenly. He closed his eyes and sighed softly, crossing his arms. He almost complimented you, but stopped himself. His reverie was interrupted when he heard the word 'antidote'. "Uh, antidote?" He asked suspiciously, moving closer to you. "What... antidote? Did something happen last night?"

You accidentally burned your finger on the hot pan, you squealed, bringing it to your lips to blow on it. "Uh, I..." you turned to face him, noticing how close Bateman was standing to you—dangerously close. 

'I should tell him everything, shouldn't I?'

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

[vennysbottom]

I don’t need it

Wilhemina Venable x FemReader

Words: 2,8K

warning: eating disorders, angst i guess

A/N: I have no idea what this is but I needed to get out of my head. Please, please don’t read this if you think it could trigger you.

*Also, I read something similar on here but couldn’t find it, so if you know, pls tell me so that I could give them credit.

It wasn't enough. The truth was, it was never enough. No number ever seemed right anymore. Each morning you were afraid to weigh yourself, knowing it determined how your day was going to go. For the past few months, the only thing on your mind was weight loss and how you looked. You couldn't focus on anything else, you found it hard to be your positive self and most importantly, you were losing yourself.

You were losing yourself again.

You were not sure how many times this has already happened, but you knew what was going on. There was no reason to try to prevent it though, you felt like you needed to lose a few pounds anyway and saw no harm in doing it this way. Or more accurately, you chose not to see it.

“Y/N baby, I'm leaving” your girlfriend's voice coming from downstairs brought you back to reality. Not realising how long you've been analysing your body in the bathroom; you ran to the front door.

“Still in your pyjamas?” she said while giving you a half-smile. Wilhemina herself was looking as professional as ever, given that it was just 7 AM. She had her hair up, makeup on, and was wearing one of those purple fits that you loved on her. Each morning she amazed you by how good she looked. You leaned in to give her a goodbye-kiss which she gladly returned.

“Have a good day. Love you” you said while getting a hold of her one free hand. She gave it a light squeeze before saying “I made you coffee. I love you too.” And just like that, she was out of the door and you were alone. 

You stood at the doorway for a couple of seconds, deciding what to do today. You had a few online classes that day but they only took up half of the day, leaving the whole afternoon to yourself. 

You went into the kitchen to get your coffee, trying to be as quick as possible. You didn't like being there anymore, it made you feel anxious and guilty. Although, for the majority of your relationship with Mina it has been nothing but nice; you loved cooking dinners for her every day to make her relax and talk about what kind of day the both of you had had, you loved having slow Sunday mornings there. But none of that hasn't happened for quite a while now. Avoiding meals equalled constant lying; on the weekend you’d sleep in since your energy levels were constantly low, and most days you’d lie to get out of eating dinner. You would say that you had to study for a test, had an assignment due or simply that you had already eaten by the time Wilhemina got home.

All of these thoughts were flooding your mind from just standing in the room. You quickly grabbed the cup and left to go into your home office.

Your classes began at 8 and by the time noon arrived you were done for the day. You couldn’t focus on anything your lecturers were saying, which wasn’t uncommon, but this time it wasn’t just the fact that you were exhausted that kept you from paying attention. You kept thinking about how your relationship was slowly starting to fail. You and Mina were in love, but the truth is, your lies were undermining the trust between you two. Until your relapse, you had never lied to her and that’s why she knew that she could always count on you. But she started noticing how distant you were getting and how little time you wanted to spend with her; it hurt her, but she decided to just play along and pretend like everything was fine.

You were aware of all of this. You knew you needed to fix this but sadly enough, you didn’t know how to do that. There was no way you’d be willing to eat - the fear was too overwhelming for you. That’s why you decided to do the next best thing - a quick fix.

The first thing you came up with was a visit at work. There was a high risk of catching your girlfriend taking out her frustrations on one of her poor employees, but the only thing on your mind at that moment was making Wilhemina feel loved. You were mad at yourself for neglecting her because you knew that she deserved way better than that.

You got dressed and made your way to Kineros Robotics, stopping along the way at her favourite coffee shop. You had worked at the company a few years prior, so you knew most of the people by name and knew the place perfectly.

“Hey Jenny!” you greeted your former co-worker with a smile once you’ve made your way up to the front desk. “Y/N! What are you doing here?” she said while looking away from her computer. “Oh, I’m looking for a woman and thought she might be here. You may have seen her actually; long red hair, very kind, the same height as me… Does that ring any bells?”

“Was she wearing purple by any chance?” she asked jokingly.

“You know what? It is possible! How’d you know?” you answered and gave her a toothy smile.

“Try her office Y/N/N. But just a warning: she screamed at me today for letting in a delivery-guy, so she’s probably not in the best mood,” she said while pointing you in the direction.

You knew this was your fault; she does get snappier at work when she's worried about something. So, not only are you two miserable but others get screamed at more frequently. Maybe a quick fix wouldn’t be enough this time, but it was the best you could do for now.

You arrived at Mina’s office to find it empty so you hesitantly made your way down to the guys’ office. It didn’t take long for you to hear muffled voices, one of which belonged to the woman you were looking for, and you could tell that she was upset about something. Upon entering the room, you saw her; she had her back towards you and was supporting herself by the cane in her right hand. Just this image alone was enough to make your heart race. Jeff and Mutt were bending down to sniff what seemed like their daily dose of cocaine. There were also two girls sitting on a table near them, probably just random hookers the guys hired for the day.

“No, no, no, that’s not what I said. What I meant was, that you should watch your temper more” Mutt said loudly before turning around to start typing on his keyboard.

You saw Wilhemina tighten her grip on her cane, “Excuse me?” she said in a cold tone, clearly getting ready to argue.

Jeff stood up after attempting to clean the powder from his nose, “Come on babe. You know you could be nicer to the employees”.

“Shut up Jeff,” you said sternly, making all the heads turn in your direction. “You’re paying her to do all the work around here that you are too lazy to do yourselves, not to be nice to people.” You could see the surprise on Wilhemina's face, but it didn't take her long to regain her composure and protectively reach for your hand once you've reached her side.

Jeff smiled at you and said “Y/N! Long-time no see. Have you finally changed your mind?”

You haven’t seen the two idiots for a couple of months, almost making you forget how gross they were. You took a step forward and stated “I wouldn’t touch your slimy dick with a two-feet pole,” which made both of them laugh slightly. “I'm here to put you in your place since you obviously still need to be reminded,” you continued giving them a cocky smirk. You knew they would not budge, but it was a nostalgic way of entertainment.

“Wow, you don’t have to be so rude baby,” he said pretending to be offended, “Seems to me like Ms.Venable has a bad influence on you.”

Oh, it was on. You were ready to shoot another remark but were stopped by your girlfriend’s hand giving you a squeeze and lightly pulling you back.

“I would choose my next words carefully if I were you; you’re on very thin ice,” Mina said while staring at Jeff. She would normally avoid confrontation with them but her possessive side got the best of her in that moment. Softening her expression, she turned to face you, “Would you wait for me in my office? I need to sort some things out.”

You nodded and turned on your heel to leave. Hearing Jeff shout at you “The offer still stands!” made you turn once more and say truthfully “Hope your brain turns into mush soon, asshole.”

Once you were out of the door and far enough that nobody thought you could hear them anymore Mutt started the conversation, “Damn Ms.Venable, are you even feeding her?” which made a look of confusion appear on Wilhemina's face. “Now, what’s that supposed to mean?” she asked with a hint of offence, trying to find an answer in the face of one of them. Since Jeff was the one who knew you the longest, he decided to explain, “Oh don’t tell me you haven’t noticed anything,” still seeing the puzzled look on his secretary’s face, he went on, “For fuck’s sake, don’t you live together? You must have noticed the weight loss, plus Y/N is never very subtle about this.”

That’s when it clicked and Wilhemina finally understood what Jeff was implying, “She's never subtle? This has happened before?”

She waited impatiently for an answer, hoping that all of this was just a sick joke; the other two exchanged a look of mutual understanding and Mutt finally said: “You should talk to her.”

You paced around the office trying to figure out what to do and how to fix this situation. You knew that Mina was hurt and probably even disappointed; you knew her instinct would be to build her walls up again and you were terrified she wouldn’t let you fully in again. Once you heard the sounds of her cane getting closer, you knew there was no preparing for this.

She entered the room with a somewhat disapproving expression on her face, which she successfully hid when you shot her a warm smile, waiting for her to sit in the chair while you leant on her table. Sitting down, she looked at the cup you were nervously playing with and narrowed her eyes at you. “I thought you might need cheering up today, so I got you your favourite,” you said while placing the coffee on her desk. And you could swear, at that exact moment, you saw love light up her eyes, and the slight smile she offered you gave you butterflies, just like the first time you saw her smile like that. The silence between you that followed made you play with your fingers anxiously but after a while, it was broken by Wilhemina's soft voice, “Well thank you. I appreciate it.”

“But that's not the only reason I stopped by. I've finished all my work for the week…” you traced off preparing yourself to say the latter part, which you'd much rather avoid, “So I thought that I could cook dinner for us tonight because I haven’t done that for a while now. And I wanted to ask you if there was anything you’d like.” At that point your heart was beating so fast you were sure she could hear it.

She could see how uncomfortable you were but wasn’t able to pinpoint the reason for your behaviour; she didn’t know whether it was due to your relationship hitting a rough patch or because Jeff and Mutt might have been right. Either way, she knew she’d find out tonight; playing it cool she kissed you on the cheek and told you that it was completely up to you.

Cooking the food was fine, calming even, but once it was done you realised that you actually had to eat it which caused you to panic. You tried to calm down but your eating disorder made that almost impossible. You sat at the table for what seemed like hours trying to come up with an excuse, eventually deciding to just drink wine and lie if you were to be questioned.

You were disturbed from your state by the door opening and your girlfriend coming into view. She locked eyes with you instantly. You could tell that she was exhausted, that wasn’t anything out of the ordinary after all, but there was more tonight. Wilhemina hasn’t been able to concentrate on anything else than you for the rest of the afternoon. She analysed the situation, her potential steps and their outcomes for the whole ride home. What scared her the most was the fact that in both scenarios, she was running a risk of losing you.  

You were both tense, expecting the other one to start a fight and unable to relax, so you only made small talk. You sat at the table with your glass of wine, playing with the food on your plate while watching Mina observe you closely. Then the tension got too much and she barked out, “Aren't you going to eat?” in a tone so cold, it reminded you of the times you worked for her. She held eye contact with you, almost daring you to lie to her. Almost daring you to start a fight that would break her heart. You quickly answered, saying that you ate right before she came so you were pretty full. Keeping your eyes on her face, you saw her expression change - she went from being irritated to being seemingly sad in a matter of seconds.

“Do you still love me?”

Once the question left her lips, there was no taking it back and it physically hurt you that she had to ask. It hurt to know that Wilhemina felt so abandoned by you, she actually thought you were going to leave her; and judging by the look in her eyes, she was ready for you to say “no”. Wasting no time, you answered, “Of course. Of course, I still love you, Mina.” hoping to sound genuine enough for her to believe you. You watched her closely, waiting for her reaction, but to your surprise, her feelings were shoved back down just as quickly as they surfaced.

She straightened her posture before stating, “Well, in that case, we need to talk.” You felt yourself freeze, knowing exactly what was about to go down.

“Have you been eating?” she asked, not letting you drift your eyes away from hers. You knew she’d catch on eventually and call you out, but you had hoped you had a little more time. With a confused expression on your face, you said, “What do you mean?”.

Wrong answer. Wilhemina was tired of your bullshit and you trying to hide it from her. Her face seemingly hardened as she explained, “I haven’t seen you have a meal in weeks. You’re always making excuses, saying you’re too busy to sit down with me. The two idiots even implied this isn’t the first time this has happened.”

You knew there was no point in pretending anymore, so not caring about the consequences anymore, you snapped, “Oh, so it took Jeff and Mutt telling you everything for you to notice? Good to know.” You got up to leave but the sudden sound of Mina’s cane hitting the floor made you stop in your tracks. “Sit your ass down,” she ordered through gritted teeth. Seeing how mad she was getting and how her knuckles whitened, you thought it was better to obey. Although Wilhemina liked establishing dominance, she very rarely raised her voice at you. But this was different, she was pissed that you refused to take care of yourself and she knew she had to be strict.

“Y/N, eat. Now,” she demanded in a stern tone. You were sitting down, fork in one hand and anxiously pulling the skin on your leg with the other. After a few minutes of silence, she reached for your hand under the table and with a pleading look in her eyes, she said softly, “Baby… please, try. For me.”

You couldn’t stand seeing her like this, so you hesitantly started to eat. You hated it, and the feeling of food in your stomach made you sick. Wilhemina rubbed slow circles on your hand in an attempt to calm you down. Despite her effort, tears started to fall down your cheeks about halfway through the meal, but you still managed to finish everything.

Seeing the plate finally empty caused you to sob uncontrollably. Mina approached you quickly and put her arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug. In between sobs, you whispered, “I hate you so much right now.” In response, she said, “Shhh, I know. I know,” while stroking your hair.

“You did good, little one.”

[along-came-atsushi]

Novel Recap: Osamu Dazai’s Entrance Exam

Prologue & Chapter 1

Man, it’s been some time since I’ve started this little series. And originally I wanted to do Dark Era first. But since 2020 has been a shit year so far I’m not in the mood to read even more depressing stuff. So, I decided for something a little brighter.

Also: “Recap”, that was the word I was looking for, after I failed to come up with a proper name lol.

As most of you probably already know the first light novel is the original story from season 1, episodes 6 & 7. But it’s without Atsushi, since Atsushi hasn’t been introduced as a main character yet. They also gave some of Dazai’s original lines to Atsushi, which I think is not the best decision, since it alters the characterization. There are also some heavy differences between the novel and its anime counterpart. I personally prefer the novel.

But anyway, let’s get started, we’re inside Kunikida’s mind the whole time. This is going to be fun.

The prologue begins with Kunikida explaining what his ideals are, how he met his ideals, why he married his ideals, and when he plans to have babies with his ideals.

My name is Doppo Kunikida, an idealist who lives in reality, a realist who pursues ideals.

I have this stupid mug I bought back when I started studying. It will now forever remind me of Kunikida:

And this is a record of the struggles between a man who yearns for the realization of ideals and a new hire destined to interfere with them.

The following interference of ideals took place between 5 pm and 6 pm [ding ding]

Also here are some interesting excerpts from his ideals...notebook...diary... ideals-diary. I’m gonna call it that now:

Takekoshi came to my house. We took a stroll under the moonlight together.

Ha, gAAAAAAAAYYYY.

I ate a pear. It wasn’t sweet.

Then why did you eat it in the first place????

The story continues to turn into a beginning of a Brooklyn 99 episode, but it’s with Dazai and Kunikida chasing some random thief. Come to think about it, isn’t the ADA supposed to take only cases the police can’t deal with? Guess the police in the BSD universe is even more incompetent than I thought.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s all according to plan. More importantly, guess what I just saw.”

“I don’t care!”

“It’s this incredibly rare book called ‘The Complete Suicide’. I’ve been searching all over for it, and I just noticed it on display in the used bookstore back there-- Ah! I have to go back and buy it before someone else does.”

And that’s how Dazai met the love of his life. Can we also talk about that the title “The Complete Suicide” sounds rather strange? Especially when I translate it into German: “Der Komplette Selbstmord”. Oh god, fuck off, book!

But no matter how twisted my partner’s interests are, no matter how much he tries to sabotage the mission, I will not allow the criminal to escape for failure is not written in my schedule.

“For failure is not written in my schedule.” -> That is an awesome and inspiring quote. I want it on a t-shirt. Or on another mug.

After a chase through a crowd of people they’re able to catch the thief, thanks to Kunikida’s ability and Dazai’s... uh... plan.

One resident speaks up. “J-just who are you people?”

I whip out my detective license and hold it up in the air so everyone can see.

“There is no need for concern. We’re with the Armed Detective Agency.”

[Brooklyn 99 intro starts playing]

.

And that’s it for the prologue! On to chapter 1:

8th

It rained this morning. A quiet shower, but frigid like the depth of winter. I yearn to live for my ideals. I strive for my ideals. I move forward without fear, without fatigue, without hesitation. Neither dreams nor honor will be pursued--for how euphoric it an be to solely devote oneself to quotidian tasks.

Why does this sound like the lyrics to an Evanescence song? *sad Amy Lee voice* Frigiiiii~d like the depth of wiiiiiii~nteeeee~r

Also... Kunikida, you must be a blast to have on a date. No wonder the women swoon over you.

But despite its [the building of the ADA] appearance, it’s so sturdily built that even machine-gun artillery fire from the outside wouldn’t cause any damage to the interior. That may sound oddly specific, but it’s happened to us.

*nods heavily* Sounds like completely normal work hazards to me, don’t know what you’re talking about.

Kunikida tells us that he checks his schedule many times. Like... really many times. Probably also while using the bathroom. I don’t know if this is a normal behaviour, but okay. So he goes to work and finds Dazai being high thanks to shrooms, dancing around in the office, to everyone’s demise.

“Whoa there’s a giant sea anemone outside the window, Kunikida! A banana... It’s eating a banana! And it’s even removing the white stringy bits!”

Yes, this man is a terrifying genius and an ex-Port Mafia executive.

Man, I should try these mushrooms one day, too. Dazai’s visions really sound entertaining.

I pour coffee into my mug as I always do.

I really hope we share the same mug, Kunikida! Don’t disappoint me!

But now, I don’t want to hide my all time fav quote from Dazai from you:

“Oh, I’ve got it. I need to take off my clothes. I need to get naked to get higher ratings! It’s simple, really! Let us undress! After that, we can all put on full-body thighs, go to the bank, and dance the hopak!”

Yes, this man is a terrifying genius and an ex-Port Mafia executive.

I land a roundhouse kick to the back of Dazai’s head, knocking him against the wall and rendering him unconscious.

Everyone in the ADA after that:

.

We’re told how Kunikida and Dazai met and the day he was introduced as a new employee into the ADA

In that moment, I suddenly sense a cold, piercing light in his eyes, as if he were calmly evaluating his senior--no, as if he were staring into my very soul through the eyes of a heavenly, enlightened sage. [...] Was I seeing things? Could my mind have been playing tricks on me?

Dazai uses Leer. It’s very effective.

If you only know the anime version, than you completely missed the fact that Fukuzawa and Kunikida had a conversation about Dazai. They both realize that there must be something wrong about his alleged background, because it doesn’t quite add up. And then there is also the fact that his ability is extremely dangerous.

“I would like you to bring Dazai with you while you work and see if he can be trusted. If you ever feel he could be an emissary, intelligence operative, or spy of some sort, then you are to fire him without hesitation. However, if you sense any sign of wickedness in his heart...”

The president takes a black automatic pistol out from a bag behind him, then presents it to me.

You do not fuck with shachou and his family.

.

The next day they meet with a teenage hacker boy called Rokuzu, because the ADA received an anonymous email requesting them to investigate a haunted building. And since neither the Ghostbusters nor the Winchester brothers reside in Yokohoma that task also falls into the ADA’s hands.

“Anyway, it’s not like you to be late. What, were you on a ‘date’ or something?”

He makes a circle with one hand and shoves a finger in it with the other.

Typical teenage boy behaviour.

“Sorry to disappoint, but I only plan on going on dates with the woman I marry. And according to the ‘Future Plans’ page in my notebook [...] it’s going to be another six years before I get married.”

“Hold up. You already got a girl you’re gonna marry?”

“Not for another four years.”

Thank god, we live in times with apps like tinder and stuff, so we can all schedule our marriage and dating plans.

The next things happen pretty much the same as in the anime. They ask the teenage hacker boy to look up the sender of the mail, they meet with the taxi driver who tells them about the abduction of several people, Dazai tries to Tokyo Drift but fails miserably (which wasn’t shown in the anime) and then they investigate the haunted building, which turns out to be an abandoned hospital. They do this in the middle of the night, of course.

Oh, and Kunikida is absolutely terrified of ghosts. *deep voice* You’re in Silent Hill, son.

They hear a scream for help and run to the rescue, just in time to find a woman named Sasaki almost drowning in a tank. Thankfully she gets rescued by these two gentlemen, otherwise it may have been the end for her.

Aside from Dazai’s overcoat, she’s nearly naked and soaking wet in the middle of the night.

Damn, that poor woman. She must be freezing.

Her hands tightly wrapped around her elbows and her legs stretched out on the floor are especially delicate.

Uuuhhh.... Kunikida? Dunno if this is the right moment to-

The clothes clinging to her body sketch the outline of an alluring figure.

This man needs a hug.

I feel almost as if I could see through her remarkably fine porcelain skin.

Maybe a little bit more than just a hug.

Wet hair clings to her nape as water drips onto her chest.

Kunikida STAHP!

I avert my gaze for absolutely no reason.

“absolutely no reason” -> PFFFFFFFF. Sasaki tells them that there are other people trapped here and wants to lead Dazai and Kunikida to them.

“... Wait.” I place a hand on Miss Sasaki’’s shoulder, stopping her. “Dazai, what do you think?”

“The way she’s dressed makes me feel things,” he says with a straight face.

“Be serious.!”

“with a straight face” -> so no feeling things at all? Dazai stop playing straight already. Even Kunikida doesn’t buy it anymore.

Anyways Dazai thinks Sasaki’s story is a little bit too convenient. They’re searching for the other victims trapped here, but when they find them it’s already too late, since a poison gas trap somehow activates and they have to retreat.

[jacks-wylan]

The townsfolk indeed call for another Witcher. For all Jaskier knows, the baker's wife put a contract in a notice board in the nearest town – Corvo Bianco is small, and it's a bit farther away from any main roads – and, surprisingly, someone has arrived.

It's the innkeeper, that Jaskier meets at the well as he goes to collect water, that says that to him. “It's a Witcher I've never met before,” he says, gruffly, while he weights up two buckets full of water, “He came here this morning, flashed a strange grin when he asked us to take his things, payed a room and went to hell, probably.”

Jaskier is almost afraid to ask, “What is he like?”

The Witcher is obviously not Geralt, because the innkeeper would have known him in that case. Jaskier is scared to hope anyway – he wants him to be Eskel, or Lambert. He needs a familiar face, someone he can talk about and understand his words. A shoulder he can cry on. A friend he can ask to keep an eye on Geralt, because he can't anymore.

“He's, uh, strange. Has scars, pale skin, two swords.”

“Like any Witcher.” Jaskier almost laughs. He can be anyone, really. He doesn't dare to hope.

“Dunno if he'll come back, but he has a room in my inn. You might meet him.”

Jaskier takes a deep breath, “I might.”

He does, that same evening. Jaskier doesn't even know why, after all, if the Witcher is Eskel or Lambert, they know where he lives – and if they already know about Geralt and his break up and they don't want to see him anymore, Jaskier surely doesn't want to impose his presence to someone who doesn't want it. He can be annoying, and most of the time he ignores when a person is annoyed by him, but he can take very well that kind of hint.

But curiosity's got the best of him, and won against the disappointment that is already stinging in his chest, while he walks, slowly, the small roads of Corvo Bianco. The past years, he has taken the same roads so many times that he's lost count, to reach the tavern down the village so he could perform for a, yes, a small crowd, but a very welcoming crowd. A crowd that Jaskier always adored, especially when they warmed up towards an amazed Geralt – still not used to the generosity, kindness and gentleness of this people.

He enters inside the inn and he's greeted by the innkeeper's wife. After a bit of small talks, she immediately points him a table in the center of the common room, where a man dressed of a light, leather armor is eating voraciously, not looking up as the innkeeper's wife tells him, “He's the Witcher!”, even though Jaskier is pretty sure that he's heard them very clearly.

Jaskier doesn't know what he was expecting. Not Geralt, but when his eyes lay on the Witcher's hair, he feels nonetheless a pang of disappointment when he notices that the colour is wrong, it's a too dark shade, not even close at the white strands Jaskier is so fond of. It's not even the brownish, gentle colour of Eskel's, and that is definitely not the chaotic head of Lambert. And he's never met Vesemir, but by the stories he heard, the Witcher is definitely not Geralt's mentor.

He blinks frenetically, but his eyes remain dry. He has half a mind to just turn around and forget about the unknown Witcher – right now, it's not strong enough to deal with the mess of another Witcher – but, the other half... the other half is curious. He wants to know who he is. He's been so lonely lately...

“I'll pay for what he eats.” he says then, to the woman in front of him, “Bring him another bowl of broth.”

“Want some, dear?”

Jaskier shakes his head, “I've already eaten, thank you.” he tells her, as he walks towards the Witcher that now is looking straight at him with a confused stare. He fidgets with a hem of his doublet, feeling a bit intimidated under the Witcher's unnerving eyes.

When Jaskier sits finally in front of him, he notices his medallion. The animal it represents is definitely not a wolf. “You're welcome.” he says, because he doesn't really know how to break the ice.

It works, somehow. The Witcher laughs, with a half seductive smile. “You must be the bard that lives here. There's this little girl that this morning talked my ear off about you, while showing me the way to the inn. She said you're funny and have a funny voice.”

Jaskier laughs. She must be the baker's daughter, the split image of her mother. “That must be me, yes.” The innkeeper's wife comes to them with two steaming bowls of broth, and ignores Jaskier splutters when one of the bowls is settled in front of him. She just looks at him, deadpanned, and makes a tactless remark about the weight he has lost lately, before turning back at her chores. “You're here for that child's parent's contract about a wolf.”

“That girl thinks it's a werewolf. And she's godsdamn right about that, at least.” the Witcher eyes at him through long, thick lashes. His eyes are of a strong yellow, they almost glow in the timid light of the torches. There is smudged kohl decorating his lids, it makes them bigger and more feline. They are like a black cat's. “She's wrong about you, you don't seem funny at all. You have no instruments with you, and I am not hearing a single song danced in miles. You're boring,” he grimaces, then, “And depressed. You're depressing me.”

Jaskier doesn't touch the broth, that's going cold under his nose. And really, as much as he's trying to be better, he can't deny those words. “Sorry for that. I... forgot my lute back at home.” he lies easily. His lute has remained untouched since Rinde, and now it's collecting dust inside his case under the bed. “My name is Jaskier, by the way. I was hoping–” what? What was he hoping to obtain? There is a Witcher in front of him and it's not from the Wolf's school. It's all a waste of time. “Nevermind. You're a Cat Witcher, and, I'll be honest, I haven't heard anything good about Cats. People say that you're cunning, and cruel. I, obviously, don't think it's true, because people say those things to all kind of Witcher, really,” he doesn't say that most of those things was Geralt that told him, “But I thank you for your services. If there's really a werewolf around here, it's... bad. It's a very bad... situation. Rarely we've had this kind of problem, here.”

“You know quite a lot 'bout Witchers, uh.” the Witcher pushes his empty bowl to the side, without lowering his gaze from Jaskier's face, “Name's Aiden. I'm a Cat Witcher, and I am usually cruel, if needed.”

Jaskier tries a smile, “Hopefully, we won't need it. I just wanted to tell you that here, you'll be... treated well. Not as a mutant, that is. They are used to Witchers, so no one will charge you more than needed for food and such, and they will pay you what is owed.”

The Witcher – Aiden – passes a hand against his lips, wiping the grease away with a swift move, “Good. I like when I'm payed fair and well. Now, this has been awkward enough so, if the master bard will permit it, I will head to bed. I spent all the day in the woods and found nothing, so if y'all are so cordial as you're saying, now I deserve a very good rest.” he says, standing up and stretching his long limbs. He's more lean and slender than the Witchers Jaskier knows, with less muscles and more agility, he guesses. I bet his cock is still smaller than Geralt's, Jaskier thinks, then, immediately after, he feels the urge to bang his head against the table.

Jaskier doesn't answer him, too occupied in try not to maim himself. But then, Aiden stop in his track and turns around enough to look at him again, contemplating something that Jaskier cannot read in his expression, “Now that I think 'bout it, I have another contract. Considering that I have to wait the next full moon to do anything with the werewolf, better get done with that too.”

Jaskier shrugs. It's not really his concern, after all. For a second, he has the impulse of telling him that, if only he needs it, he has some witchery potions back at his house. Just in case he hasn't enough supplies with him for both the contracts. After all, Geralt won't use them ever again. But, but something stops him to propose that: fuck, they're Geralt's, regardless of everything.

He won't give Geralt's things to anyone for any reason at all.

“The little girl hired me,” Aiden continues, with a grin. “She said that your house is haunted, because every night all the village hears wails coming from.”

Jaskier blinks, “That's... that's untrue.”

“She said that everyone is just ignoring that. Oh, it must be a very scared– correction, scaring creature living into your house.”

“There is no creature in my house! And no one wails in the night!” Jaskier snaps, incredulous. Whatever the fuck? “Well, I would know if there is something like that in my own house, I live there! There is nothing apart from me!”

Aiden raises an eyebrow.

Suddenly, hot shame creeps up Jaskier's chest, coloring his cheeks in an ugly red. “It's not me, Witcher.”

It's impossible. He doesn't cry since the day the townsfolk sent the pie to him. And during the night he, Gods, he just sleeps. He doesn't have nightmares, he has no reason to wail.

“Oh, I don't know. But worry not, bard, I am the monster hunter here, so I'll soon find out what lurks in your shadows, for very little compensation. See ya later, then!”

“Later?” Jaskier repeats, stunned. All he receives for an answer is the Witcher retreated back, and nothing else. He's totally been ignored, damn it. “Fucking hell.” he softly murmurs, even if all he wants to do is screaming for the terrible fate that has fallen upon his head.

He doesn't want another Witcher in his life. One – three, he lost them all – is enough, and he has already stomped on his poor, fragile heart, surely there's no need for another one to push his finger into the still fresh wound. Aiden will notices the evident presence – late presence – of a Witcher, from Geralt's old armors and weapons hanging on the wall, to the countless potions in the storage, and there will be questions, so many question that Jaskier still doesn't want to answer. And if he, indeed, is the one wailing during the night, he'll want to know the reason, and– and he doesn't want to explain himself. He feels so tired.

Dazed, he leaves a couple of coins on the table, next to the untouched, cold bowl of broth and gets out into the fresh evening air. He blinks while walking, not really acknowledging where he's going but pretty sure that his own feet are taking him home.

He thought he was feeling better. He thought that after a couple of months, he's made peace with what happened in Rinde, considering that it was no one's fault, considering that now Geralt is safer that he'll ever be with him, considering that all he wants is Geralt's happiness even if it's not with him. Sure, Jaskier's always been selfish, and he's always wanted everything despite it all, but– but he thought that with Geralt was different, that he was – is – more important than his foolish humanly desires.

And yet, Gods. And yet, here he is, sad and depressed, still waiting for Geralt to come home.

----------------------------------------------------

read the rest on ao3!

[gilbertsannegirl]

The Scientist

Merry Christmas to @rootedbutfl0wing! Sorry it’s a couple of days late, but I really hope you do enjoy it! Hope your Christmas was wonderful, and it was a lot of fun getting to know you a little bit :) And thank you @kindredspiritssecretsanta (@royalcordelia) for once again hosting this wonderful event! Once again, cannot wait till next year x

Read it on AO3 / fanfiction.net

2019 Fic

2018 Fic

Summary: Based on The Scientist by Coldplay, which I thought kind of fitted Anne and Gilbert a lot (have a listen if you’ve never heard it before! It’s a beautiful song). Major moments of their relationship from Gilbert’s point of view, along with missing scenes and an AU ending, definitely enemies to friends to lovers. Hope you enjoy!

Come up to meet you; Tell you I’m sorry; You don’t know how lovely you are

 Red. He saw it, red hair. Never was there another colour like it. Gilbert slowly turned in his seat to see a scraggly, freckled girl seated next to Diana Barry. Who was this girl? The sun glinted steadily through the window onto that hair that had drawn his eye in the first place. Why it’s as red as carrots, he thought, continuing to do nothing but stare at the girl who he had never seen in his life. She glanced his way, to which he winked at her, smiling smugly that she’d looked.

After a muttered word to Diana, the girl gazed out the window and, at least what Gilbert began to believe, blatantly ignored him. Feeling the need to see those grey-green eyes look his way once more, he began to rack his brain for ideas. Carrots…

“Carrots,” he hissed softly while tugging gently on the red hair he’d already grown so fond of, “Carrots.”

She whirled around in horror, her eyes flashing a delicious shade of green. “How dare you!” she screamed, and the next Gilbert knew was she’d gone and smashed something over his head. Was that a slate? Either way he found himself apologising profusely to Mr. Phillips who’d rushed to the scene.

Ann Shirley has a very bad temper. Ann Shirley must learn to control her temper. * Was written on the board, and the girl grimly marched to the board placing an ‘e’ at the end of each Ann. Anne Shirley. What a beautiful name for a beautiful girl. Anne stood seething under that sign for the rest of the afternoon, glaring every now and then at the boy who started it all.

At the end of the day Gilbert waited behind for Anne to leave after her lecture from Mr. Phillips. Intercepting her at the door, he glanced into her eyes, “I'm awfully sorry I made fun of your hair, Anne," he whispered contritely. "Honest I am. Don't be mad for keeps, now." *

The lovely girl with the golden, red hair snubbed her nose, and marched away with Diana at her side. Despite this, he grinned dumbly. She’s simply lovely, he thought his eyes following her down the road as she made her way towards what he assumed to be her home.

 I had to find you; Tell you I need you; Tell you I set you apart

 With the mayflowers in hand, Gilbert set off towards Patty’s Place, smiling sweetly at what could come of this particular visit. He found Anne in the orchard her head buried in a book, and he smiled slightly at her usual Anne-ness.

Handing her the Mayflowers, he carefully told her of his plans for the summer: staying in Kingsport to work at the Daily News Office. Gilbert watched as her face fell, hoping this was as good of time as any to ask her the question he had yearning in the back of his mind ever since that fateful day he called her carrots. She quickly composed herself however, and before she could make any more excuse to leave to pick violets, he said, “Things can't go on like this any longer. Anne, I love you. You know I do. I - I can't tell you how much. Will you promise me that someday you'll be my wife?” **

Anne quickly turned away shaking her head. Gil’s face fell immediately. Perhaps he was deceiving himself all along. Had she really never loved him? What about at Echo Lodge? Surely there was something in her eyes then. She begged for his forgiveness, and he gently, in person and heart, let go of her hand.

“There isn't anything to forgive. There have been times when I thought you did care. I've deceived myself, that's all. Goodbye, Anne.” ** And as he walked away that day, malice entered his heart. He must never think of Anne Shirley again.

 Tell me your secrets; And ask me your questions; Oh, let’s go back to the start

 Gilbert sat, his work sprawled across his desk as he ran his hands carefully through his curls. Biting his lip, he thought carefully about what was bothering him so. It has been a year, a year to the dot. His eyes glistened with tears once more as he remembered the terrified look on Anne’s face as he told her of his love for her. Oh, how he regretted it now. Shaking his head, he recalled their beautiful friendship, dwelling on the secrets that she had lovingly entrusted him with.

“Gil,” Anne said, a little melancholic after a particularly deep conversation between the two of them, “Could I tell you something? Something I’ve never told anyone else?”

He looked at her curiously, “Not even to Marilla or Diana?” At the shake of her head, he swallowed carefully, “You know you can tell me anything.”

“Well, I never really thought of it till now. Do you really think anyone could love me? I mean romantically? I’m afraid that I’ve not grown up surrounded by love that I don’t know what I’m looking for. Marilla and Diana, they think me foolish with my fantastic ideals of love. But when I was about 5 or 6, I was living with a family who’d hired me as a work hand – to look after the children, you see. I remember their eldest son was much older than their youngest children. He was about 15 or 16. He wrote poetry and was melancholic. He was the only one in that household that ever paid any attention to me and snuck me food when no one was looking. I didn’t love him romantically of course, I was only 6, but I feel that’s where this all sprouted from in the end. Don’t you think it’s strange that these memories come back to us so many years later?”

Gilbert had stopped their walking a while back. He looked deep into her eyes and whispered, “Anne…”

Anne cleared her throat at the intimacy in his voice, and Gilbert immediately thought himself an idiot for letting such intimacy come about in this private moment, “Um, I should… go. I’ll see you later Gilbert.”

Thinking back to this moment now, just a few weeks before they went to Redmond, he knew how idiotic it was to ask for her hand. He wasn’t the brooding hero she had longed for her whole life – he was plain old Gilbert Blythe, ex-best friend of the most remarkable woman to walk the earth. Yes, she was…

 Nobody said it was easy; It’s such a shame for us to part; Nobody said it was easy; No one ever said it would be this hard; Oh, take me back to the start

 Gilbert saw the radiant girl – no, woman – waltz into the newly decorated hall on the arm of Royal Gardner. Her figure was dressed in an apple green with a low scooped neckline, and her ruddy tresses were laced with small snowdrops. She’s simply beyond beautiful tonight, and you can’t have her. He sighed, lacing his fingers with his ruddy curls, and pacing near the wide window that showed the snow covered land. His best friend – ex-best friend, he scoffed – was on the arm of another man and if the whispering around him was true, she would continue to be on his arm forever.

He felt a gentle tap on his shoulder, and he swung around to see Christine Stuart with a small smile gracing her lips. “Gilbert, are you ready for our dance? The band is set up now.” In the short while of pacing, the room had come to life. Women and men dressed to the nines, chatter erupting and creating an atmosphere of warmth. He nodded and grabbed her hand, placing it in the crook of his arm as they meandered to the dance floor.

They twirled and swayed slowly to the tune that was being softly played. Violins, piano, and flutes all filling his head with sweet song. Not as sweet as Anne, the thought rudely interrupted. He shook his head, gracing a glance at the couple dancing not two feet away from him and his partner. And I guess that is the man who will sit and read her Tennyson by firelight. Yes, but you would do that for her too…

“Gilbert, is everything alright?” He quickly looked up and then down, realising that he had stopped their slow dance and there were people hurrying to avoid crashing into them. “You’re awfully pale. Did you want to sit down for a spell, or perhaps get some air?”

“Um, yes please. I just need to be alone for a little while. Will you be alright? I’ll be back by the next dance.” Christine opened her mouth, but Gilbert had already started walking away continuing his pedantic running of fingers through his hair. Oh, why did you ask her to marry you anyway. You ruined everything; she could still be on your arm as a friend – best friend – not on the arm of that Royal guy. He gasped in the cold air and his hardened heart frosted over as the rivers seeped from his eyes.

 I was just guessing at numbers and figures; Pulling your puzzles apart; Questions of science, science, and progress; Do not speak as loud as my heart

 Every day Gilbert placed one foot in front of the other to pull himself out of bed, through the door and into the gates of Redmond to face his studies, and it was paying off. Another year without Anne; another year of topping every class. It was the easiest distraction from the rushing thoughts and escorting Christine around to various social gatherings. Pouring into schoolwork was always something he had enjoyed, but especially now when it was the only thing in his life that he could fully control. Especially when flashes of red hair and green eyes invaded his dreams every night. Especially when he couldn’t have her.

 Tell me you love me; Come back and haunt me; Oh, and I rush to the start; Running in circles, chasing our tails; Coming back as we are

 It hadn’t been so long ago that they were walking through Hester Gray’s garden – she was picking flowers and he was desperately trying to see more in their friendship. Days often turned to dusk while they were together. And oh, they could talk, or rather Anne could. In every memory he had of her, there were glimpses of moments that he had misconstrued as love. Fleeting touches – of course they were by accident – meaningful glances – Miss Lavender’s wedding, I think she did love me then, perhaps for a moment.

Anne was still very much on the arm of Royal Gardner at every social gathering, while Christine Stuart was on his own arm. The distractions of schoolwork and being up for the Cooper prevented Gilbert from taking in much of the gossip that surrounded the couples. In the back of his mind, he knew what they were saying. Gilbert to wed Christine and Royal to wed Anne. He knew the gossip around his love life was not true, Christine was engaged to another man and he didn’t think of her in that way. But Anne… All of those rumours could very well be true. Where would that leave him?

“Gilbert!” No… it couldn’t be her. “Gil!” And just like that her red hair was staring him in the face.

“Anne?”

“Yes, of course. Gilbert, I just wanted to congratulate you. It seems we are both on the honours list, I’ve just come from the dean’s office. Here,” she shoved a piece of paper into his hands, “see for yourself. It’s all so exciting!”

And in that moment Gilbert allowed himself back to those friendship days of Lover’s Lane, the Dryad’s Bubble, the Lake of Shining Waters, and imagined what it would be like to be with her in those places now. She continued to chatter but stopped when he suddenly gathered her into his arms. “Thank you, Carrots.” And he walked away, leaving her mouth wide open and a few tears gathered on her eyelashes.

 Nobody said it was easy; Oh, it’s such a shame for us to part; Nobody said it was easy; No one ever said it would be so hard; I’m going back to the start

 That moment of the honours list sustained him for some time. She was radiant at convocation in her dress with his flowers. His promise to her all those years ago. If we make it to graduation I’m sending you a bunch of Lilies of the Valley. The Cooper’s Prize was his and Anne had made the honour’s list for English. Well, of course. In the times that he has known her she has been the storyteller, and so honours in English was never a negotiable thing.

The dance began and through the crowd he could see her. She was once again in a shroud of pale green taffeta, his flowers laced through her hair. Everything slowed as they made eye contact with one another. He stumbled towards her, dropping Christine from his arm. As if in a daze, he made his way through the ballroom. But then he saw the haze of her eyes, and the shock in her face as she turned towards the entry of the room. She began to run out into the cool of the early summer night.

In that moment Gilbert knew exactly what he was doing, and yet his knees never stopped knocking, his hands never left his curls. He was going after her. And this time nothing was going to stop him. In the craze of the ballroom, he flung himself around dancing couples and out the door. In the moonlight he saw the pale skin of her throat accentuated by the curls let loose down her back.

“Anne!” She stopped her dazed walk but did not turn to face him. He quickly caught up to her and placed both hands on her cold shoulders. “Anne-girl, what’s wrong?”

“You did it again.” She murmured, which he barely caught through the howling wind.

“What?”

“You call me Anne-girl, you send me gifts, flowers, you never break your promises. And yet you look at me in the same way you always have, even after I broke your heart. Gil? How can you still look at me that way? I’ve never deserved it Gil… I’ve never…” It broke his heart more to have this precious girl crying in his arms over unspoken words, glances, and touches. But he did speak his heart over two years ago in that orchard. Could it be that she’s changed her mind? “And now, you’re going to marry Christine and it’s all my fault that I never understood… I never understood…”

“Anne-girl,” he said in reverence, “is that what this is about?” She pulled her head off his chest to look into his kind, hazel eyes, and he reached up to wipe away her tears. “I’m not engaged to marry Christine. It’s all silly rumours, one’s which I never paid much attention to anyway. You see… I have a dream. I persist in dreaming it, although it has often seemed to me that it could never come true. I dream of a home with a hearth-fire in it , a cat and dog, the footsteps of friends – and you!” ***

And there was once again that moment in which Anne looked at him like he thought he must look at her and he knew there was no separating them again.

 *Anne of Green Gables Chapter XV

**Anne of the Island Chapter XX

***Anne of the Island Chapter XLI

[hunnyuwu]

Royal Flour || NCT Jeno

Premise: Y/N is the child of a local baker in a small village within the kingdom's vast circle. While everyone in town is in love with Y/N, the poor child seems to never take notice, committing all of their time to her time to perfecting father's meticulous craft. What happens when the kingdom’s prince first lays his eyes on her?

Pairing: fem! reader x prince! Jeno

WC: 3.5k

Warning: this will be extremely cliche and cringe hehe

__________________________

Y/N hummed to the soft tune that danced into her father's bakery through the open windows. The local string instrument genius was out again like usual, and Y/N was so grateful for the boy who constantly practices out in the courtyard by her house. It gave her so much pleasure to listen to the beautiful tune as she rolled out her millionth dough in her lifetime. Even if it is repetitious, Y/N never saw baking as a chore, the love her father had for it really did transfer straight to her.

"Ah, good morning, Y/N!" Y/N looked up from her pin roller, a gentle smile climbing to her lips.

"Hey, Luna! The usual?"

The girl younger than Y/N by a few years nodded frantically, excited for the steaming, fluffy bread. No one's bread could compete with her father's bakery.

"How has your father been, Y/N?" Luna hummed, looking around the nearly empty shop. It was only the crack of dawn, so it made sense.

"He's recovering, I believe he will be back soon!" Y/N chirped, packaging up five loaves and a few pastries into a large canvas carrier. While Luna used to only get one loaf per two days, the girl now was a daily customer, heaving a whopping five loaves away every day. As a special thanks, Y/N always slipped in extras for Luna, the cute girl had a special place in Y/N's heart.

"That's great to hear. Tell him to get well soon for me, okay!" Luna gave Y/N a sweet look, gratefully accepting the large bag from Y/N.

"Are you sure you will be able to carry those all by yourself, Luna? I can ask a friend to help you. I'd come myself, but I can't leave my father's shop unattended."

Luna waved Y/N's concern off, "Stop worrying, Y/N. I'm capable of this much. I'm off!"

Luna set off to the door, but a question flooded Y/N's mind, "Luna!"

Luna's curly hair spun around, letting the petite girl look back to Y/N.

"I'm just kind of curious. I know all those loaves aren't for your family. Do you give them to someone else?" Y/N was always curious about Luna, she was a complete mystery to her.

Luna winked, "I do give them to someone else. Anyways, I'm late so I really gotta go, see you soon, Y/N!" She gave one last wave before leaving through the large wooden door.

~ ~ ~

Y/N stood over a small stone marking. Nothing within her mind. She set down some flowers, remembering an important person in her life.

"Ah, I see that you're here too." Y/N turned around, not expecting this voice.

"Father? You're not supposed to be out of the infirmary!" The girl chastised, quickly running over to the man who limped her way.

"Ah, you're no fun, Y/N. Besides, those ladies are always so stuck up and nosy. I needed to escape even for a little bit. You have to admit, this is a good reason." Y/N softened, today was her mother's official 20th year passed away. The two always made a point of visiting her mother at least once a year on this day.

Y/N supported her father to her mother's grave, his dear wife's grave. Y/N always felt so bad, her mother passed away while she was in labor with her. The doctors and nurses simply couldn't do anything for her. She only hung on long enough to make sure that her baby was alive and sat before she tragically drew her last breath. A tear flooded into Y/N's eye, it was her fault that such a lovely woman passed away.

"Come on, Y/N. I know exactly what you're thinking right now. The last thing your mother would want you to do is believe that it was all your fault, that you were a mistake. It was a risk that your mother was willing to take, you have no idea how much she loved and cared for you when you were in her belly. Want to know something that she told me, right after she was told that she could either save herself or her baby?" Y/N was silent, tears slowly streaming down her face. She solemnly stared at the tiny stone, the only marking remembering her beautiful mother.

"Yes."

"She told me that you were her greatest accomplishment in life. You were the masterpiece in her life, the only regret your mother had was not being able to see you grow up into the fine woman you have become. You bet your persistent mom is surely watching you from above, smiling and guiding you, just in another form."

Y/N, not able to form a word, simply wrapped her arms around her father. She didn't deserve such amazing parents, even if one wasn't there for her life. She knew her mother was always looking over her.

"Let's get out of here, hm? Mom must be happy that we visited her, but she would be even happier if the two of us stayed safe and happy, right?"

Y/N smiled up at her father's sweet look, "Of course, father. I'll take you back to the infirmary."

Y/N's father grumbled sassily, saying something about those rotten nurses, which Y/N's quickly laughed at.

"They're there to help you, father. Not make your life miserable."

"Says the one who doesn't have to deal with those nagging ladies all day."

(Hmm, why are my eyes sweating?)

~~~

"Breakfast really is the best meal of the day." A male sighed, eating his usual. One hard-boiled egg, a glass of orange juice, and two slices of bread with strawberry jam. He gave a satisfied look to the two ladies in the corner of the room.

"You know, the bread has been amazing lately. Was there a change in the royal baker?" The Prince asked, the two ladies shifted uncomfortably, looking at one another for help. The prince shot a look at the two, weirded out by their odd behavior.

"Yoona, I would also like to know about the baker." The King said, voicing out his son's thoughts.

"U-Uh, well, I don't know the baker personally, may I go figure out for you, your majesty?" Yoona curtseyed to the King quickly rushing out of the room, leaving behind the other maid.

Yoona busted into the kitchen, panic written all over her form.

"WE HAVE A PROBLEM." Yoona screamed, bringing the whole cooking staff to a halt, alarmed by Yoona's exclamation.

"What's wrong, Yoona?" A cute looking girl walked over to the older girl, waiting for her response.

"Who's that baker you always buy from?"

Luna's eyebrows shot up, not expecting this, "From a father, now his daughter, that sell bread in the middle of my village. Her bread is the best, right? I bet the royals love it!" Luna gave Yoona a thumbs up, clearly excited. Yoona, on the other hand was a lot less impressed.

"Yeah, they love it. A little too much I dare say. They want to know who the royal baker is!" Yoona exclaimed once again, leaving everyone a little more nervous than before.

"Huh, yeah we don't have one of those." Luna said, rubbing her chin with her fingers. Yoona desperately wanted to slap her forehead at the girl's innocence.

"Yeah, no duh. What do we do?" Yoona hissed. Another cook came forward, being the head of the staff.

"Well, we have two options. We either tell the truth that we have just been buying from a village baker for a little while, or we fake it till we make it."

"So, it's either that we piss them off now, or we piss them off later..."

Yoona, Luna, and the head cook all looked at one another, making a clear decision. Luna sighed, "Huhh, fine. I'll come clean..."

~~~

It was now later in the day and Luna was nervously twiddling her fingers behind her back. She looked down at her maid's uniform, waiting for her demise.

"Luna, I don't remember you being a baker?" The Queen remarked, hearing that Luna came to announce the arrival of the royal baker.

Luna hummed, ready to make the big reveal, "Well, your Majesties, there is actually not currently  a royal baker." Silence effectively ensued. The King and Queen that were both sitting on their thrones were utterly confused.

"And how could that be, Luna? Who supplies that bakery items then?" The King said gently. Luna sighed.

"I've been buying from a small baker from my home village. It's the Heights District your majesties."

"Why didn't you just hire that baker, Luna? It's much easier than buying from this baker every day?"

The king and queen were taking this a lot better than Luna expected. She didn't want to even think about trying to persuade Y/N from leaving her father's bakery for the royal's kitchen. That task is virtually impossible, and that was Luna's specialty.

"Ah, well the bakers consist of only a father, who is currently in the hospital with a leg injury, and a daughter who has taken over. So-"

"How lovely! We can pay a lot more for her services here I bet. Miss Luna, please convince this amazing baker to come work for us!" The queen gleamed, Luna deadpanned inwardly. The queen was always... a bit of a ditz.

"She will be a bit hard to convince, though, you're majesties."

"Hmm, then bring my son. He is a very good persuader as you know. Now, run along. Hopefully I have good news by tomorrow." The king gave her a look, basically saying that this decision was final. Luna bit her bottom lip, but nodded nonetheless, waltzing out of the room.

She ran down the hallways, out to the expansive pastures behind the royal's castle.

"Your Highness!" Luna yelled, flailing her arms around like a mad man.

The prince, who was on horseback with his companion, quickly trotted over to the small girl, slightly frightening her.

"Is something wrong, Luna?" The prince questioned the girl who seemed like a little ant compared to him on horseback.

"Your parents ordered for me to take to you to my village to hire a baker."

The princes eyebrows raised, why was this his job to complete with a maid?

"It's a hopeless task for me. Your parents said to bring you along to maybe make the baker a part of the royal staff."

The prince sighed, the baker did bake some hella good bread. While he had a lot of questions, he shoved them down for now, trotting back over to his partner from before.

"Princess Mina, I have to depart early today. Sorry for the sudden interruption."

"But Prince-"

"Sorry." He said louder, stopping the princess who yaps like a chihuahua before she could even start. How could his parents even make him attempt to love this... desperate creature.

He quickly departed with Luna as soon as he could.

~~~

"Would you like to take the carriage your-"

"Let's walk, Luna. And besides, how many times do I have to tell you to address me by my name when we are in private?" The prince questioned with a playful smirk as the two finally set out on foot.

"But-"

"Luna." The prince growled.

"Fine... Jeno..."

The crowned prince, Jeno, gave her a fluffy smile, ruffling his hand through her hair. The two were close from a young age, but they also had to hide their close friendship from a young age as well. Once upon a time, Jeno had a large crush on the girl, but she viciously rejected it, saying that she only saw him as an older brother. While he thought he could win her over, he quickly gave in to her wishes as she was quite the stubborn girl.

"So, tell me about this baker, Luna."

Luna smirked, knowing how Jeno would react when he met the girl.

"Mmm, I'm not going to tell you." She said, causing Jeno to give her a deadly glare.

"You know who you're talking to, right?"

Luna shrugged, giving the boy an innocent look, "I thought you said we were friends when we were in private?"

Jeno quietly huffed, looking away, "Fair enough."

The two talked for their decently long journey, about this or that, about their childhood, anything.

"Man, you walk a long journey every day... Why don't you just live in the headquarters?" Jeno asked as they entered Luna's village.

"Ever heard of having a family?" She said, sarcasm dripping from her tone. Jeno rolled his eyes, "Hmm, okay then."

Luna saw Y/N's bakery sign up ahead, it's go time.

"Alright, we are here, Prince."

"I thought I told you-"

Luna ignored him, swinging the bakery's door open, the smell of bread smacking the prince in the face.

"Hello, Y/N! Are you here?" Luna called out as Jeno stepped into the small, but cozy shop behind the girl. He looked around, kind of confused why Luna called out a girl's name. He thought that the baker was supposed to be an older man, according to Luna at least.

"Ah, hello, Luna! You're never here around this time!" A beautiful voice called out, a youthful girl came out of nowhere, surprising Jeno.

Wow...

She's absolutely gorgeous...

Jeno's jaw dropped as he saw the girl fiddle around quickly with some equipment, taking pastries and bread out of a stone oven. Luna smirked, she knew this would happen. Y/N wasn't the village sweetheart for nothing.

Y/N finally turned around, swipping her hands over her floury apron. Her eyes widened when she saw the male standing next to Luna.

"You never told me that you had a boyfriend!" Y/N said joyfully, going on about how Luna was such a mystery. Jeno was so taken aback by her sheer beauty that he couldn't even say anything at the moment.

"Nice to meet you! I'm Y/N, the daughter of the baker who owns this place. He's currently unable to work, so I've been handling the place." Y/N offered her hand for a handshake, completely oblivious as to who Jeno was.

Luna paled as Jeno simply looked down at the baker's outstretched hand.

"A-Ah! No, Y/N!" Luna yanked the confused girl's hand away, giving a nervous glance toward Jeno.

"Well, we have come to explain something to you."

Y/N tilted her head, but complied.

"I just pulled out a batch of pastries, so why don't you two sit down for a little?"

Y/N brought the two to a small  wooden table among the few that they had there. There really wasn't enough space...

Jeno gave Luna a glare immediately after Y/N left.

"You didn't plan on telling me that the baker was a girl my age?" He hissed, keeping his eyes on Y/N to make sure that she wasn't close.

Luna smirked, sipping on the water that Y/N provided to the both of them, "What's the big deal? I thought you were courting Princess Mina right now?" Luna smiled, knowing she was getting on the boys nerves. He was about to retort when some pastries were set in front of the two.

The both looked up to see Y/N standing, staring at the two, probably waiting from them to start.

"Aren't you going to sit with us, Y/N?" Luna said, her features scrunching up.

"No, you two are my honorary customers, so I couldn't possibly sit with you."

Jeno's eyes widened, Luna nor Jeno brought money with them. He heard Y/N chuckle.

"You two aren't paying today, it's on me."

Jeno's heart melted, everything about her...

"Ahem." Luna interjected between Jeno and Y/N's little staring contest.

"So, first of all, bring a darn seat to sit in, Y/N." Luna said with full authority. Y/N sighed, giving in.

"I've noticed that you have been wondering what I do, right Y/N?"

Y/N nodded, full of enthusiasm.

"I work for the royal palace."

Y/N's eyes widened, "Wow, that's so cool, Luna!"

"But, I've been kind of feeding your bread and pastries to the royal family... without telling them it was yours.”

Y/N nodded, a frown forming on her lips, "Did they think it was good?" Luna gasped, thinking that Y/N was going to be furious after hearing the news. But she took it in the most ideal way possible.

Jeno was surprised by her lack of enthusiasm after hearing the news, it's not every day that someone in their kingdom had the honor of having their items or goods used by the royals. There were lines ready to get the royal's approval to gain attraction to their businesses.

Luna nodded, "Y-Yeah, so much in fact that the cooking staff had a panic attack because you are sorta technically the royal baker at this moment..."

Y/N's eyes widened, "You guys don't have a royal baker? How unfortunate... I'd be willing to continue to send my products to their highnesses." Y/N then smiled, directing her smile to Jeno.

Jeno blushed, he'd much rather she become his future wife instead...

"Hmm, the thing is that the king and queen personally requested that you become the royal baker, though..." Luna said, tentatively. Y/N was silent for a moment, Jeno nervously awaited her answer.

"It's an honor, but I'm going to have to politely decline.

~~~

Jeno sighed as he sat down for breakfast the very next morning. He saw that very same loaf of bread from the pretty baker in Luna's village.

Y/N.

Everything about her made Jeno's mind go crazy. She was polite, hard-working, kind, slightly quirky, and had a sweet personality. He so desperately wanted to get to know her, but that would be difficult as she was too difficult to sway when it came down to the decision. He wanted her here, but he also understood why she wanted to stay at her bakery.

Jeno sighed once again, chomping down on the bread freshly made this morning, oh how much he would rather see her face than the product from her hands.

"Son, is something bothering you?"

Jeno looked up to his father giving him a stern look, he straightened up from his slumped position by his food. He gave his father a look, "I'm fine, your highness."

"You look unwell, dear." His mother cooed, concerned for his well being. He was being so difficult just at the thought of the girl.

"You have an engagement with Princess Yeeun today, Son. You better freshen up so that she doesn't see you in your miserable state."

Jeno huffed, while he was fine with Yeeun, he really didn't see her as someone he would spend the rest of his life with. He hated the tradition of engagements and decided who would be best to continue the royal lineage. There were so many girls that wanted to marry him, but just did not take a liking to any of them.

Later in the day, after his 'date' with Yeeun, Jeno walked out into the rose garden, looking around at the blooming flowers. Y/N reminded him of these flowers, maybe if he ever saw her again he could escort her through the gardens one day.

"Prince."

Jeno looked up from his place in the garden, watching a smirking Luna walking his direction.

"What is it, Luna?" He said as she neared him.

"Thinking about a certain someone?" She said, poking some fun at him. He choked, not quite understanding what she could be on about.

"Luna, the only people I think about are my parents and my horse."

Luna rolled her eyes, looking down at the flower that Jeno was cupping in his hand. A gentle smile rose to her thin lips, "First of all, a horse is not a human. Secondly, I saw the way you oogled at Y/N, Jeno. You can't fool me."

"And so what, I'm never going to have her, so why even think about it?"

Luna sighed as she saw Jeno's face gradually go sour. A thought popped up in her mind.

"Why don't you invite her to the King's birthday party?"

Jeno shot his head up, eyes wide. He looked down at his petite friend.

"A-Ah well, I'm going to have to deal with all of my potential suitors, though..."

"So what? I know you could give her a dance. Besides, I'll take her for the rest of the night. You can mingle with all you're girls you want, but her presence will show you how dumb you are."

"How dumb I am?" He barked, causing Luna to chuckle, "Yeah, how dumb you are for not trying to get her. I know your parents are strict, but why not try to court her? At least get to know her. Your dumb face showed me that you fell in love with her immediately after she opened her mouth."

Jeno blushed, why could Luna always read him like a damn book. He thought he was so sly about it.

"I don't know, Luna."

"Well, I'll invite her then."

Jeno gave her a look, "You little snot..."

"All in your best interest, Prince. Besides, every single guy in town wants to court her, and she's coming to an age where her father is starting to ask her about marriage. I'd stomp out your competition before someone does actually whisk her feet off the ground. Just a fruit for thought, though. See you later, Jeno."

Luna turned around, waving to him lazily before departing. Jeno looked down, Luna always had these crazy ideas in her head, but maybe this time it would actually work out? Or it could cause a war between the neighboring kingdoms...

Just a fruit for thought, huh?

_____________________________________

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

Hunnyuwu

^Jeno is a prince and no one can tell me otherwise:)

[smilemoreimagines]

something tragic about you (Geralt x reader)

Chapter 7

length: 2,521

tw: smut

author’s note: fuck me this took forever, so sorry about that.  but it’s finally done.  it’s got smut and it’s the last chapter and i hope y’all enjoy it!  i sure did, i haven’t finished a multi-chapter fic since i was like 14 so i’m pretty proud lol.  it may be a bit out of character at the end, but it made me happy to write so i’m leaving it as is.  once again I hope you enjoy this final part!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

You and the Witcher make quite a pair walking back into Solma, drenched in mud and gore.  His eyes, at least, have returned to their usual gold, so no one runs away screaming--he had warned you that might happen, the casual way he said it weighing on your heart.  On that mostly-silent walk, you resolved that you would stoke the burning warmth that resides in you, chase away the coldness of other people that lingers in the set of his jaw, his hard and guarded face.  

You left that other village because you knew that feelings were creeping up on you; you could have waited for him to return outside of town, but you were too scared of your own emotions.  But you can’t run from them, you don’t want to run from them, not anymore.  

He is clearly headed for an inn, the one he told you Roach is stabled at, but you redirect him.

“We should collect your payment now,” you say, “And I know just where Konrad will be.”

You ignore the question in his eyes, lead him to the bar that those asses entered just a few hours ago.  They are still there, in the crowd that all end up with eyes on the Witcher.  He approaches Konrad, the man who hired him.

“I’ll take my payment,” Geralt says. 

The man, coward that he is, fumbles for his coin purse and hands it over silently, watching Geralt weigh it in his hand, open the bag to check the coin.

“You will find it is all there, Witcher,” he finally says.  “All 250 ducat.”  

Geralt gives a clipped nod, but you aren’t satisfied.  

You step up to the man, tell him, “That’s not nearly the amount he is owed.  You lied about how many Drowners he would find in that swamp, sent him there expecting him to die.  500 ducat.”

He barks out a laugh.  “500?  Who do you think you are, girl?  I do not have that kind of money.”

“Then you will find it.  You hired him saying you’d pay anything knowing that he’d give you a fair price,” you say with a dangerous glint in your eye. “I met your friends earlier, did they tell you about me?  They are alive because the Witcher is.  You are not out of the woods yet; not until he is paid a fair price for the work he’s done.  For saving more of your people from dying.”

It is all an act, one that you are not sure you play well, but he gestures to the men around him and they pass him their coin, most shooting him dirty looks.  He will not be well liked in this town after tonight.

When all of the money is rounded up and counted out, you turn to Geralt.  You cannot tell by his expression what he thinks of any of this, but when you ask him for a bag to fit the coin in, he conjures one.  

On your way out the door, Konrad says, “I am a father in mourning.  You should be ashamed to be taking my coin.”

You pause, remember when he first enlisted Geralt that he said his daughter was one of the people killed.  You feel sorry for her, maybe a little for him as well.  You answer in a softer voice.  “Half of it was not your coin anyway.  I am sorry for your loss, but you should not have lied when the stakes were so high.”  

Outside, you sigh, say, “I need a bath.  I stink like rotting fish.” 

Geralt says nothing and you face him, not sure what to expect, but it certainly isn’t the hint of a lopsided smile that he hides just as you see it.

“What?” You ask.

He hums, considers his words before saying, “You’re more fierce than when we met.”

“Is fierceness a bad look on me?  It feels a little silly,” you admit.

“I have a feeling you’ll grow into it.”

You are not sure what he means by that exactly, but he’s already turned his back on you, conversation ended.  He is walking to the inn; to a bath, you think excitedly, and trot after him.

But as soon as you walk in the door you are shooed back out.

“I’ll not have that mess in here, get out, the two of ya.”  The woman barring entry holds no malice in her voice, at least.  

“We wish to pay for baths and board,” Geralt tries to explain, “We’ll pay well.”

“You need more than a bath!  Filthy, you are…  Save your money, there is a water pump and pail around the building.”  She turns and meanders to a closet, putters around for a moment before finding what she’s looking for.  She returns to the front door and presses soap into Geralt’s hand.  “Get yourselves clean out there.  The brisk air will do you good.  I’ll start the fire in your room so you can warm up inside.”

She slams the door in your faces, but that’s fair enough, you think.  Not that you relish the thought of being drenched with cold water.  Geralt scowls but walks around the building as she said, finding the pump nestled between the inn and the stables.  

You peek in and greet Roach and when you turn around Geralt is in the process of stepping out of his clothes.  You flush and turn back to the stable; of course you’ll need to take off your clothes, they need washed as well, but you hadn’t thought about it.  You listen to him filling the pail and tipping it over his head, fidget in the silence as he cleans.  You busy your hands with your bag, which you’ve been wearing the whole time and is as muddy as the rest of you.  Luckily the things inside of it are clean, if not wet.  You finger the embroidery of your mother’s shawl, tucked safely away.  

“Your turn,” Geralt rumbles, walking past you to get clean clothes from Roach’s saddlebags.  Is nowhere safe for you to look?  He may be confident in his nudity, but you are not, and you ask him to please stay in the stable while you wash.  

You do not hear him step any nearer while you strip or in the time it takes you to upend bucket after freezing bucket over your head--he is lucky he was not half-drowned in mud, you think--but you feel eyes on you at one point or another.  You are not annoyed at him for looking.  

Once clean you call over your shoulder, “Do you have a shirt I might wear for the night?” 

He brings it to you where you stand, shivering, passes it to you and when you turn to take it he is looking away obligingly.  The black fabric is worn soft from time and use, and you relish the slight warmth it brings you; you think he was holding it while he waited.  

Even though you’re clothed now you feel naked under his gaze and hastily suggest, “We should go inside now, to the fire the innkeeper promised us.”

He nods his assent and follows you inside, silent as a cat but you trust that he is there.  The innkeeper insists that she take your bag and clean it and the clothes inside for you.  You take out your mother’s shawl before handing over the bag.  She gives Geralt the key to your room.

The fire is burning merrily, crackling and sparking and heating the cold from you.  You kneel at the hearth and stretch your hands out close to the blaze, groaning at the toasty feeling.  The sleeves of Geralt’s shirt slip and bunch at your elbows, past your healing wounds, and you finger the raised flesh lightly.  

“It’s almost healed,” he remarks, that voice of his rumbling behind you.  “I’m sorry I couldn’t keep it from scarring.”

“What a silly thing to be sorry for,” you retort, glancing at him over your shoulder.  He is standing near the door still, and you roll your eyes at him as you say, “Come here, Geralt.  Sit by the fire; you must be freezing.”

He obeys wordlessly and it startles you when his thigh brushes yours before settling firmly beside you.

“Like a mouse you are,  Geralt,” you say a little breathlessly, “So quiet.  I never know what you’ll do next.”

“I could say the same of you,” he says.

You glance at him only to find that he is already looking at you, the fire’s light playing with his hard features, but his eyes are soft, liquid gold.  You open your mouth with nothing to say and so instead of saying anything you turn toward him fully and close the distance between your lips and his.  He responds immediately, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, his movements almost tentative. Almost, but not quite.  

But still not enough; you want him to hold you like something cherished, something forged in fire, strong and lovely and stable.  You whine your displeasure against his lips and tug lightly on his hair.  

This does something to him, he slows and pulls back the distance of a breath, rumbles out, “Do that again, little elf.”  

He presses himself to you firmly then, teeth nipping at your bottom lip when you tug again, harder, groans when you shift closer, both of you readjusting until you are seated on his lap, legs bracketing one of his thick thighs.  You feel the fabric of his trousers on your nakedness, press down without meaning to, and he pulls back for a moment, pupils blown wide, before trailing his hands up your thighs, bunching up the hem of the shirt he gave you so that he may hold your bare hips and guide your movements.

You have never felt like this before; by your own hand it was good, but with another person you’ve not felt pleasure.  You throw your head back when he grinds you down harder, baring your neck to him, and as he kisses your throat one hand comes up, tucks your hair behind your ear and you look at him, more than a little fear creeping up in your chest, the way he is touching you so like that boy, so many years ago…

He meets your eyes steadily, his movements not slowing, his calloused finger tracing over the scarred shell of your ear and the tenderness of that tiny gesture is what tips you over.  You are coming and he is kissing you through it, slowing the press of your hips until you are still.  You come down from that high to find yourself still wanting, and you shove his shoulders down.  He complies, plays as if you could actually push him to the ground, his lips quirking up into an expression you can only describe as soft, maybe even affectionate.

Looking down at him, you command in a husky voice you barely recognize as your own, “Make me feel that way again, Geralt.”  

As soon as you’ve said the words you regret them; who are you to be ordering around anyone, let alone Geralt of Rivia, and what if he’s displeased by you telling him what to do?  

But then he is sitting up from under you to tug the hem of your shirt over your head, looking at you like he wants to devour you, and all worry leaves your mind.  All there is is the feeling of his thumb brushing over one nipple, his tongue laving over the other, stubble rough on your skin.  

You are torn between wanting to tip your head back to focus on the feeling of what he’s doing to you and wanting to watch his mouth work on you, but then he is moving, lifting you with him to stand, your legs wrapping around his hips and his face brushing against your neck.  He walks you to the bed, shifts you to hold you with one arm so he can pull the blankets back and lay you down.  

You look up at him, slightly breathless and thoroughly debauched.  He looks back, eyes so dark with lust but his face is open, strong jaw relaxed and for a moment you let yourself think he almost appears worshipful.  

I will die a happy sinner, you muse, and then he is tugging off his trousers and settling himself between your thighs and there’s no more time for thoughts because he is doing something with his fingers that feels absolutely delicious.  He works his fingers in you, stretching, gentle, watching your expression all the while for any signs of discomfort but there are none.

“More, Geralt, please,” you sigh, “I need you.”

“You’re sure?”

You nod too enthusiastically and he hides a laugh by kissing you, stealing your gasp when he enters you.  You discover the sweet pleasured sound he makes when he is seated to the hilt, pausing to let you adjust before setting a slow pace.  This tenderness is what you need, the steady rock of his hips against yours quickly building inside of you until you are on the edge and then coming over it, around him; he follows soon after.

For a moment you lay there together, sleepiness starting to cloud your mind until he is standing up and walking away and your heart jumps to your throat.  

You sit up in a panic and he glances over his shoulder with an eyebrow raised cheekily, simply saying, “I’m just getting a cloth. Stay right there, lay back down.”  

Once again you are flushed when he returns, gaze averted until he is under the blankets and resting on one elbow to carefully clean you up.  When done he drops onto his back beside you; you don’t want to presume anything so you stay where you are, just barely touching, before he curls an arm around you and tugs you closer.  It is his warmth and his slow heartbeat that lull you to sleep and soon you are both snoring softly, more relaxed than you have been in a long time.

You wake feeling pleasantly sore, and unlike the last time you shared a bed with Geralt, he is still lying next to you, even though the sun is already decidedly risen.  You turn to face him, eyeing how low on his hips he’s let the blanket get, his hands folded on his belly just above that tantalizing trail down…  And you notice how he’s tipped his face to you, watching you watching him, his lips quirking up as you flush from your cheeks to the tips of your ears.  

“How did you do that?” He eventually asks, voice pitched low.

“Do what?”

“Make me enjoy your company so damned quickly.  Make me like you.  I don’t just do that.”

You shrug, smile giving you away before you can even get the words out.  “I guess I’m just a people person.”

He laughs that laugh again, so rusty with disuse, and you promise to yourself and to the universe that you will get him to make that sound often and openly.  The way he is looking at you makes you think that you can.

[obsidianfr3sk]

Rise of the Renegades (Chapter 3)

Summary:  Heroes come from the most unexpected places. Heroes sometimes feel a little too different, a little too scared, a little too alone. But heroes also know when enough is enough, and that before saving the world, they need to save themselves. And they cannot do it alone.

They were going to be the hope of the world. They were going to call themselves the Renegades. Even if they didn’t know it yet.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26246812/chapters/64645693

Enough of the gays, let’s see what the girls had been up to (? ah, and Evander lol. Uh... this is the first time I don’t have anything to say. Likes and reblogs are appreciated as always, I love y’all, and idk i send you, person reading this, good mexican vibes (? 

Tag list:  @nodrianbcyes @healing-winston-pratt @lethughandsimonkiss @cerenoya @cindersnightmare @itsalittlebitchilly @ohmyskies

A golden medallion, a golden cage

Please picture me in the weeds before I learned civility.

I used to scream ferociously any time I wanted.

Sweet tea in the summer,

cross my heart, won’t tell no other.

Tamaya

When she first arrived at that abandoned store, she thought it would take years for it to feel like home. There were many empty boxes, rats, dust, and rusty pipes. Also, Tamaya had never cleaned in her life. The prospect of having to deal with this mess on her own was not the least bit appealing to her.

However, the idea of going home was even less so.

The first night was uncomfortable. She couldn't sleep at all. Luckily, she had brought a flashlight with her and started to cover all the windows with loose wood and old cardboard. Then, with some chains and furniture, she blocked the entrances. She looked up at the ceiling and realized there was a light catcher.

Tamaya smiled. She wasn’t gonna block it.

She had overestimated how long it would take to clean the whole place. It turns out that when there was nothing else to do, one can work remarkably fast, even without help. Rats were the least of her problems. She wasn't disgusted when she grabbed them, stuffed them into a box, and released them a few blocks further at night. Georgia was so shocked by it that the first thing she did the next day was giving her an antibacterial gel. A luxury item in those times.

Tamaya preferred when Georgia brought her food. She didn’t like that much the fact she was living off the garbage from the place next door.

On the eighth night, she looked at her reflection in the dirty mirror at the back of the room. The candlelight was the only thing that illuminated her. Molly was sitting on her lap. She noticed that her once flawless green dress had tiny spots of an unknown substance.

But Tamaya looked even worse. Clothes had never mattered much to her and her wings were fine. What worried her the most was her hair. It had always been long. She had tried to convince her parents for years to let her cut it off, but they never let her. Why? Her hair was the prettiest thing she had.

It was at that moment, that Tamaya realized that she no longer needed to look pretty to anyone. Beauty was overrated.

She took a pair of scissors and cut her hair.

Her head and soul felt lighter.

The sun hadn't quite risen yet when Georgia entered through the light trap. For a few seconds, Tamaya could see the firmament was as pink as only sunrises could be. Under her arm, Georgia carried a cloth bag.

Tamaya rubbed her eyes wearily. She had been waiting for her sitting on an old chair for a long time.

“Honey, I’m home!” Georgia exclaimed gracefully coming down.

She always made the same joke. And Tamaya always had to pretend she didn’t find it funny.

“Oh, but I haven’t prepared breakfast yet,” she muttered.

Georgia looked at Molly and tossed the cloth bag at her. “Molly, catch it!”

Obviously, Molly didn't catch it. Georgia pretended to smash a cup of glass against the wall and raised herself a few feet off the ground to appear taller than Tamaya. “Tamaya, I want more children. Molly is too lazy and ugly.”

Tamaya put her hand to her mouth and faked a sob. “How can you say that in front of your daughter, Georgia?—” She waved at Molly. “—In front of your daughter!”

Then her friend grunted and lunged at Tamaya, knocking them down onto the mattress. “No! She is not a worthy heir to my wealth!” she exclaimed, sitting on her lap. “Her head is made of plastic! And she’s white! Tamaya, I'm not white! Who is the father?!”

“Of course she's your daughter!” Tamaya replied “You know how I know she’s yours? Because she’s a little piece of shit too!”

Georgia's jaw dropped. She closed her eyes, sighed, and with a dreamy smile, whispered, “A little piece of shit… That's my daughter,” and kissed her on the cheek.

Tamaya had never received kisses in her life. If her parents ever did, she had been too young to remember. But she liked it when Georgia did it because it was like...

Well, as if a sister did it. Or a mom. Or a real friend.

“That was the magic kiss that makes babies, by the—” Suddenly, Georgia dropped to the ground holding her belly. “Oh no, the baby is coming! The baby is coming! “ and, amid false screams worthy of a woman in labor, she took out of her jacket pocket a blue cardboard box with pink details. “Oh… Oh, Tamaya, dear,” she muttered, standing up. “She's beautiful,” and she put it in her arms.

Tamaya looked at it. They were tampons.

She didn't know where she was getting the strength not to laugh.

“Tampons Rae,” she whispered, stroking what would be the cheek of the box.

“Molly will be so jealous…”

“Molly will love her new sister. I'm sure.”

Georgia finally laughed and lay down next to Tamaya. It amazed her that lying on such a small, old mattress didn't bother her. She had never been to her room, but in her head, Tamaya had the image of her friend lying on a bed that could easily fit six people, wearing pajamas worthy of a princess and with the room smelling like vanilla and strawberries. Nothing to do with where they were now.

She looked at the box of tampons more closely. It felt a little lighter than expected, so she assumed Georgia had kept a few for her personal use, which honestly didn’t bother her. Then, she took out what was inside the bag. A bar of soap, a bottle of apple soda, and two bags of walnuts about to expire.

There were fewer supplies than last time.

She arranged them in a loose drawer next to the mattress. There was still an energy bar left that Georgia had brought her a couple of days ago. She took it and handed it to her.

“No, you eat, Tamaya,” Georgia said with a smile. “I have plenty at my house.”

“Okey,” she replied with a shrug. Tamaya took a small bite. It tasted weird. “Has your mom got a job yet?”

“No,” she muttered. “But she is already an older woman. Maybe that's why nobody wants to hire her. And it's not like many people have money to pay one more employee anyways. Also, she may have been an excellent lawyer at the time, but I'm not so sure if she's a good housekeeper or waitress.”

Tamaya nodded. She shouldn't have asked.

“I'm thinking about looking for a job too—”

“She won't let you.”

“So what?” Georgia said challengingly. “That thing about staying at home, reading and embroidering, doesn't suit me.” She crossed her arms. “I'm nineteen years old, I think it's time for me to start making my own decisions.”

Decisions. What a strange word.

Because that implied that she had options.

And Tamaya had already gotten used to not having them.

The good thing is that she was fully aware of it.

Georgia bit her lower lip and stood up. “I guess I should go. You know… to keep looking for a job.”

“Yes,” Tamaya said. "I guess you should.”

Her friend took the cloth bag. Tamaya walked with her until they were just below the light catcher. She should go out in the sun for a bit before people started to go outside.

“I'll come back tomorrow,” Georgia assured her, taking her hand. “I promise.”

She had promised that before and she had not always kept her word. However, Tamaya had already learned that promises were very easy to break and she didn't take it personally.

“I’ll wait for you.”

And she left.

And Tamaya was left alone. Again.

She waited a couple of minutes before sticking her head out of the light trap. She looked up at the morning sky, cold and clear, with the smell of garbage and pollution that characterized it at all hours. There was still no one on the streets, but the lady from the Chinese food place next door was taking out the trash from the day before, like every morning.

Breakfast.

Unlike Tamaya, she never looked up at the sky.

Nobody did. If they did, they would be aware of her presence. But people were too into their own thing that they didn't even bother to see something beyond their noses. Just thinking of themselves and their wishes. Of course, now that there was no longer someone to punish those who disrespected the thin line there was between good and evil, they had taken the opportunity to bring out the most primitive and selfish part of their beings.

Tamaya had spent a lot of her time thinking about it, and she still didn't understand the reason behind it.

Maybe it was that Tamaya would never understand the world of normal people.

Yes. That was probably it.

She waited for the woman to return inside to completely leave her lair. Tamaya was ready to go down to look for her food when a small and slim figure came out from behind some wooden boxes and ran towards the garbage bags.

She was going to take her breakfast.

Tamaya wasn't going to make it so easy for her.

That was what happened when people did not look up to the sky.

Kasumi

She wasn't looking in the trash for food, no. Kasumi was collecting the ingredients for the royal breakfast, which would take place in the most beautiful Chinese garden in the kingdom. It would be held that morning. They would be sitting by the river's edge, on a soft white blanket. She and Evander were going to eat like the monarchs that they were. There would be hard-boiled eggs, fresh plums, strawberries and cream, pancakes, waffles covered with jam, and cookie milkshakes. They would be able to eat whatever they wanted without getting sick to their stomachs. And if they did, they would only have to sing a song to the waters of the river and it would become the sweetest and most effective stomach ache remedy of all.

It was going to be the best feast there could have been.

But first, she had to find the ingredients.

She held her breath as she rummaged through the remains of rotten vegetables and sticky noodles. Think, think, think.

Kasumi was holding her breath because... the ingredients came from a magical bush. They had flowers that gave off a foul odor to scare off intruders. However, when they realized that Kasumi was pure of heart, they would reveal their true scent of grapes and rays of the sun.

Then, among all that mess, she found a box of white foam. She carefully removed a few pieces of grated carrot and tore it open with trembling hands.

Fried rice. A delicious plate of fried rice. And it actually looked edible.

She hugged the box with a lump in her throat. Oh, Evander was going to love this—

“That's mine.”

Kasumi froze.

It was the coldest and most terrifying voice she had ever heard. Hoarse and stern, it rumbled in her head like thunder in a storm.

A tear rolled down her cheek. God, Evander was so hungry. She was so hungry...

“Give it to me. Now.”

Kasumi rubbed her eyes and turned around. She put the foam box on the floor. and was about to look up, when the voice commanded, “Don't look at me.”

She obeyed. The mysterious voice took the box.

“I didn't mean to steal your food,” she muttered. “Sorry.”

A feather fell in front of her. Kasumi was slightly startled. Her head completely forgot what the voice had commanded, and she shone her flashlight.

It was a woman. She had shoulder-length hair and an aquiline nose. That, along with her amber eyes and huge black wings, Kasumi was sure she was seeing a bird. A lady.

A Ladybird.

Ladybird, are you the one who protects the magic bushes?

Ladybird did not like the light on her face. She hissed and slapped the flashlight from Kasumi’s hand. “I told you not to look at me!” she yelled.

At that moment, a flash caught Kasumi's attention. A flash of gold that came from a broken medallion hanging from Ladybird's neck.

She reached into the back pocket of her pants and felt between her fingers the half of that same locket that belonged to her.

Kasumi was wrong. Ladybird did not protect the magic bushes. Ladybird was a thief. Not only had she taken her and Evander's food, but she had also taken Mr. Holbrook's locket.

How delusional of her to believe that there were still people who protected something other than themselves.

Ladybird spread her wings, ready to take off when Kasumi lunged at her and tried to yank the locket from her. She pulled and pulled but the old chain wouldn't give up and Ladybird wouldn't stop yelling, “What the hell?! Let go of me!”

She took her by her long braid and threw her to the ground. However, the adrenaline rush allowed her to jump up and grab onto Ladybird's ankle. “That is not yours!” cried Kasumi. “Thief!”

“IT'S MY FOOD, BITCH!”

“IT'S NOT YOUR MEDALLION!”

The door to the store opened. Kasumi became so flustered that she accidentally let go of Ladybird's ankle and fell backward against the concrete. The lady started yelling rude words at her in an accent Kasumi could barely understand. She got to her feet, dodged the lady's broom, and ran as fast as her legs would allow her.

Regardless, Kasumi wished that Ladybird had escaped in time before the lady saw her. Something told her that she was not going to be nicer to her than she was to Kasumi.

She carefully pushed the rusty trash can. That, and the piece of wood that they put over that hole in the wall, made it impossible for someone unfamiliar with the area to know there was a secret entrance. Kasumi wondered how they would enter when they grew up. She herself sometimes had a little difficulty entering. But surely it was just her imagination. Besides, it wasn't like that wall was especially difficult to pull down.

From the looks of it, that place used to be an apartment complex. All the main entrances had been blocked with rubble and there was not a single window that was not broken. Kasumi and Evander had settled on the third floor. It was a dangerous thing to walk those increasingly unstable stairs, but it would be more dangerous for someone to remove the rubble, enter and see them. On the third floor, they would at least have a little time to escape.

Luckily, it hadn't been necessary yet.

She entered her small apartment and found Evander coloring the wall with pieces of chalk they had found in the park. When he saw her, his dirty freckled face lit up as much as the fireworks that came from his hands. “Kasumi!” he screeched. “Did you bring breakfast? Tell me you brought breakfast!”

Heartbroken, Kasumi swallowed the lump in her throat and clasped her hands behind her back. “Today I brought our favorite food, Vandy…”

Evander smiled even more. Kasumi opened an imaginary box and whispered, “Stardust cookies.”

Her friend's smile twisted a little in an almost imperceptible way. “Stardust cookies!" he exclaimed, taking one. Kasumi moistened her hands with her powers and wiped his face. Now, Evander didn’t look that dirty anymore. “Let me guess, these were cooked by—” he scratched his chin thoughtfully “—Your Mr. Dad!”

“No, it was your Mr. Dad,” Kasumi replied. They sat right in front of the window to eat their stardust cookies. There was still a star left in the sky. Perfect . “Hello Mr. Wade, thanks for the cookies. Evander, don't be rude. Thank to your Mr. Dad.”

Evander put his pieces of chalk in his pockets. He kept a pink one and gave Kasumi the blue one. “Thanks, Dad!” and proceeded to color a flower in the window frame.

Kasumi took a stardust cookie and chewed it. She always imagined stardust cookies as if they were vanilla cookies with pieces of almonds and white chocolates, so soft they left puffs all over the place.

Hopefully one day she could taste some real stardust cookies.

She decided to draw fishes.

“Don’t you think that today's cookies were a bit burnt?” Evander whispered.

“No, they were delicious,” she replied. “Your Mr. Dad showed off. Who do you think cooks better, your Mr. Dad or my Dad?”

“Mom Bertha.”

Kasumi giggled underneath. “You’re right, Vandy.”

They kept coloring.

They had always drawn on the walls. Their drawings, pretty cans, curious rocks, and bunches of sticks that hung from the corded rafters were the only decorations they had. However, lately, they had chosen to draw on the window frame during the early hours of the day.

Maybe it was because there was something romantic about drawing in the light of dawn. Or maybe it was because she liked to think that their parents could see what they were drawing from the stars.

Or both.

“I don't know if I can bear the same breakfast tomorrow,” Evander murmured. “We've been eating stardust cookies for almost two days.”

Don't cry, Kasumi, don't cry.

“And what do you want to eat then?” she asked. “What a pretty flower, by the way.”

Evander shook his head. “No, tell me what you want. And I'll get it myself today.”

Kasumi pursed her lips and scratched her head, pretending to seriously consider her answer. “I would like…” she muttered. “Oh, I know, a giant chocolate cake.”

“No, Kasumi, something easy!” Evander squealed, nudging her slightly. “A giant chocolate cake will crush me!” He threw himself to the ground and pretended to be crushed by a huge chocolate cake. “I'll be like this, dead…”

“How awful!” she exclaimed. “So… maybe a small chocolate cake?”

“Now that sounds a lot more reasonable,” he replied, sitting down again. “At least that one isn't going to crush me.”

“I don't feel comfortable speaking ill about your Mr. Dad’s food in front of him,” Kasumi said. “He's going to say I'm a bad influence and he won't let me hang out with you.”

“Dad, Kasumi is not a bad influence!” Evander yelled to the sky, “I swear!”

Mr. Wade looked at her from above, annoyed.

Kasumi didn't feel bad. She deserved it.

“Look at my flower,” Evander said, pulling her out of her thoughts. He pointed to a pink flower with triangular petals and huge circular leaves. “I just created it, it is a new species. Do you know how I'm going to name it?”

She ran her fingers over the drawing. If she concentrated enough, she could imagine that she was touching those velvety petals and not the hard concrete. “How?”

“Kasumi. Like you.”

Kasumi sighed.

Mrs. Moon, how do I explain that I am not worthy of having such a beautiful flower named in my honor?

Probably Mrs. Moon was upset with her too because she flatly refused to answer her question. She was also hungry. She was also mad at Kasumi for not trying a little more.

“Are you telling me that because you want me to give you the last stardust cookie?” she asked.

“Will you?”

Kasumi rolled her eyes in fake annoyance and handed him the last cookie. Evander almost snatched it from her hands. He went back to his drawing as he chewed it happily, moving to the beat of a song inside his head.

Imaginary music. Imaginary food.

Was he imaginary?

Am I imaginary?

She toyed with his red locks and realized she left traces of blue chalk in his hair. “Oh, sorry,” she mumbled.

Evander turned to see her, confused. “Why?”

Kasumi wanted to answer that she was sorry she had messed his hair.

But actually, she was sorry for everything.

[jessicajonesrp]

Exercise in trust

It was a week before the date of the wedding. Jessica had managed to endure Trish’s growing enthusiasm with as much patience as was possible- she swore the woman was more excited than she herself was, by about a million. She had managed to shoot down her every suggestion of flowers, bands, DJs, fireworks, messages in the air via plane, and in what she hoped was just a joke, hiring a comedian, clown, or mime. She had let Trish choose whatever dress she wanted for her maid of honor dress- hell, she could show up in jeans for all Jessica cared- and after a lot of back and forth discussion, Jessica had finally decided to wear a dress herself. Once. Ever.

 Granted, it was red, not white, had no veil, no fake diamonds or pearls or fancy adornments, and it was cut high in the front and low in the back, falling approximately three inches above her knees with a small slit up the thigh. It looked far more like a dress for a night out than to get married in, but it was the only one Jessica could halfway stand, and Trish had gasped and teared up when she begrudgingly agreed to try it for her.

 “Oh, Jess, you look so beautiful,” she had whispered, her hands half covering her mouth. “I won’t say anything else, but…can I at least take a picture of you in this, even if you won’t wear it on the wedding? Please?”

 So she had ended up getting the dress. She told Trish it was for her, and for Luke, since he probably would have to see it to believe it, but the truth was that Jessica sort of liked it too. She wasn’t someone who thought of herself as pretty, ever, but the dress made her feel comfortable in a different way than her jeans did, in a way that might be close enough to “pretty” to be its neighbor.

 The wedding might be taking place in another country- Keem Bay in Achill, Co. Mayo, Ireland to be exact- but it still involved remarkably little planning, given her and Luke’s lack of fussiness or concern with details. Jessica had thought of Ireland, having some vague Irish ancestry somewhere in her bloodlines and a definite appreciation for their love of drinking, and the beach had been beautiful and remote enough that it suited her purposes just fine. Once the tickets were bought, the date and time was set, and they were all set to fly out in two days’ time, there wasn’t much left to do beyond get the marriage certificate and wait.

  She had wrapped up most of the cases she had open in preparation for her absence, but there were still a few files with needed write ups and loose ends, so she told Luke that she would be home late and made her way to her office for the evening. Once there, though, she found it difficult to concentrate. She wasn’t anxious about being married, and certainly not about being married to Luke. It couldn’t be that much different than living with him, or dating him, after all.

 Still, something had her on edge. She had deliberately made sure she had no more than a few bottles in her office, not wanting to board a very long flight hungover and miserable the next day, but she was tempted to go to the nearest corner store and get more. It would definitely put an end to the restless, keyed up feeling that made her stand up every few minutes and check the room and doors. What the hell was she waiting for, or expecting, anyway?

 Abruptly Jessica went into the bathroom, wetting a washcloth, wringing it out, and scrubbing it hard over the back of her neck, a trick she sometimes used when drunk or on the verge of dissociating to bring herself back into the present. When she raised her eyes up to her reflection in the small bathroom mirror, it wasn’t her own face, but Kilgrave’s, looking back at her.

 Jessica choked back a scream, jumping backward fast enough that her elbow hit the towel bar on the wall, jarring the nerve and sending the bar crashing to the floor. She ignored this, whirring around to see whether Kilgrave was in fact behind her somehow rather than wearing her face in the mirror, but there was no one there. Heart hammering, she raised her eyes back to the mirror slowly, and this time, her face was her own, pale, strained, eyes wide and dilated. But although she couldn’t see Kilgrave, his voice spoke to her, sounding as familiar and real to her as though he were standing beside her all the same.

 “You can go off and try to play the blushing bride, Jessie, but we both know better. This isn’t you, love. It’s just a game you’ll play, a part you’ll try on, until it gets too uncomfortable and you cast it off again, throw it back to the side. That’s what you do when things get hard, isn’t it, Jessica? You run, go back to hiding in the shadows?”

 “Shut up,” she said aloud, hating that her voice shook slightly, and she tensed her jaw, forcing it to come out more firmly as she continued. “This isn’t real. You’re dead. You’re not here.”

  “Maybe not, but does that really matter?” Kilgrave said indifferently. She could see his outline in the corner of her eye and quickly tore her gaze as far from it as possible, unwilling to let herself acknowledge. “You hear me, all the same. You see me. Even if you’re the only one who does, I exist to you.”

 “I’m not doing this,” Jessica declared, more to herself than to Kilgrave’s image. She threw her hands up, addressing the ceiling as though speaking to any being up there who might be listening. “I’m not doing this, I’m not talking to an imaginary dead guy.”

 “Except you are,” Kilgrave pointed out, smirking. “Here’s the point, Jessie. If I’m not real, then your own mind put me here, didn’t it? And if that’s the case, if I’m some sort of representation of your subconscious fears, this is really just you, giving yourself messages you don’t want to acknowledge as your own, but they come from you all the same then, don’t they? So shouldn’t you perhaps listen, if you really don’t believe I’m real and this is all just in your head?”

 Jessica paused, confused, and uncertain as to where there was any validity in this. It sounded to her like whether or not Kilgrave was real, she was damned if she listened and damned if she didn’t, damned if she acknowledged him or denied him. She couldn’t figure out how to respond, so she stayed still, which he seemed to take as acceptance.

 “More of that famous Jessica Jones denial, I see. Run, hide, life in isolation. Tell me, though, Jessie, if you say you love this man- why would you drag him down to that level with you? Hm? If you really admire this man so much, want so much for him in his life, why would you let him settle for you? Do you really think you can make him happy, that you can give him the life he deserves? You, over other women, every other women? Really, Jessie?”

 Jessica didn’t respond, her heart beginning to pound. She kept her gaze averted, trying to shut out Kilgrave’s annoying voice, but she had become so used to listening for it, to recognizing it at any distance, that it was impossible to blur out.

 “You don’t fit in with a man like that, Jessie. You’re too torn and tattered, too rough around the edges and bruised from the outside in. You bring stress, frustration, and danger to everyone who tries to get close. You belong to someone more like you, someone who really knows you…someone with the same inner darkness, the same barely contained urges of violence.”

 He lowered his voice, almost purring. “Someone like me. We were so good together, Jessie, we were the perfect pair. You loved me, I know you did, you just don’t remember now how good it really was. You don’t remember how much pleasure we gave each other, how much-“

 “Shut the fuck up!” she shouted, spinning on her heels, one fist flying out in preparation for a blow. “Shut up, get the fuck out of my head!”

 But there was no one there. Again. It was only her, her reflection strained and trembling, a broken towel rack behind her.

 She took several breaths, hands shaking, and thought of the two bottles in her closet, down depleted to only one. She could get it and drink it, dull the worst of the anxiety threatening to become a full on attack. She would probably end up falling asleep at her desk instead of coming home like she had promised Luke, and he might worry, or worse, just shake his head and be disappointed. She could go to the corner store and buy more, drink it on her way home, and be irritable, snappy, and secretive about what had driven her to this state.

 But instead, she found herself walking very slowly back to her desk, picking up her cell phone, and scrawling to the recent calls to Luke’s name. When he picked up, she spoke in a voice that was unfamiliar to herself, holding a quiet weariness she rarely allowed to be voiced.

 “Luke? Can you…can you come to my office? Please. I just…I want you to come. If you can.”

 It was the first time she could remember reaching out to him in this way, the first time she could recall asking for help or comfort before reaching for a drink or lashing out with fists. It was the first time, and the act of it felt so exhausting that once she hung up, she sat down on the office’s weathered couch, feeling too drained to know what to do or worry what would happen next.

[jaxsteamblog]

First Date

Click here to read the full fic on AO3 (brief depiction of graphic violence)

It rained the entire weekend in Hira’a, so Zuko and Katara spent their time at Noren’s home. Katara watched in fascination one afternoon as Kiyi pulled out a broad canvas and she and Zuko sat cross legged on the floor looking at it. Zuko cupped his chin in a hand and tilted his head as Kiyi rattled off math and color theory. Eventually they got into a discussion on brush strokes so Katara got up to help Noriko with tea.

They watched movies, played board games, and helped around the house doing chores. It was the most mundane yet calming experience of Katara’s life.

After the weekend, she returned to school and things settled down a bit. People would ask her about the Avatar from time to time, but mostly the discussions were about the impending examinations.

Rohan sent her a video of Thuy at one of Toph’s matches, and Katara hadn’t seen such an expression of bi awakening since Sokka was introduced to the warriors of the North Pole.

[Do you think she knows?] Katara texted Rohan.

[She has no idea.] They replied.

More videos came as Thuy started her training; the Avatar cycle demanded that elements were taught in a certain order. So earthbending came first, and Toph proved to be a merciless, albeit chaotically so, master.

She called the Avatar “Wet Wipe.”

Katara sent videos back of her mountain of texts, or the weird things she saw happening in the library at 2 AM.

Zuko was less inclined to use social platforms than Rohan, but still managed to contact her just as much. He sent texts of new teas, or random parts of his day while in the palace. Those pictures were always a bit shocking; his long hair fell loose down his back save for his top knot, and his clothing was much more formal.

For some reason, when he sent her a picture of himself in his court robes, it made Katara blush.

Still, they texted in the morning and before bed, which was dancing at the edge of friendship and romance. It was frightening how long Katara would agonize over an emoji sometimes.

As midterms approached, everyone sent her encouraging messages or memes. Rohan was the best at making her laugh, so she had to resist pulling her phone out during study sessions. Thankfully, her concentration had gotten better since she started attending a PTSD group on campus. The exams still stressed her out, and her sleep schedule was still utter garbage, but at least now she had a plan.

After her final exam, she left out a breath and texted Zuko.

[So, date?]

The plan was a movie and then dinner. That way, Zuko informed her, they would have something to talk about while they ate.

“We might miss our show time.” Zuko said and Katara snorted.

“But we will absolutely have something to talk about.” She replied.

“Be quiet!” A man growled and Katara rolled her eyes.

The rope around her wrists rubbed against her skin painfully. When she leaned back, she felt Zuko’s back stiffen to support her. His hands and feet were encased in metal to keep him from firebending.

They had been grabbed in the parking lot. Zuko, lacking any sense of self-preservation, had gone for Katara as two men held her. This opened him up to the woman behind him, who slammed a baton into the back of his head. As he went down, one of the two men who held her dosed Katara with chloroform.

Waking up in the back of a van had been less than ideal.

“Look, you very clearly were not hired by my father, which means that you’re not of any real caliber of kidnappers to keep me here.” Zuko said. The woman who had knocked him out turned in the passenger seat to glare at him.

“And how do you know that, princeling?” She asked.

“Because you don’t know who my companion is.” Zuko said.

Without the full range of her arms, there was very little Katara could do in the way of bending. But she only had a little bit of liquid to work with anyway, so it didn’t matter.

“The Waterbender? We know your little girlfriend isn’t much of a fighter.” The driver scoffed.

Using her fingers, Katara called the blood from Zuko’s head wound. It came as a glob between her thumb and index finger, so she stretched it into a thin thread. Flicking it out, she mimed the act of sawing with her two fingers and the blood acted it out over the rope around her wrists.

It was going to take awhile.

“So what is it that you want?” Zuko asked. “Ransom?”

“Shut it pretty boy.” The woman hissed.

“Oh that’s original. Sure, make fun of the guy with the burn on his face. I know you’re criminals but do you have to be so insensitive?” Zuko retorted. The woman looked perplexed before turning to the driver.

“Did we get the right guy?” She asked.

“Excuse me, I am one in a million.” Zuko said, sounding offended. “I didn’t get this burn just to be treated like a commoner.”

Katara snorted again and almost lost her focus. She was about halfway through the rope and could feel the loosening.

“We know that your sister is going to train the Avatar and we don’t need that psycho corrupting her.” The driver said. “So you’re going to shut up and be a good little bargaining chip or else we kill your girlfriend.”

“Okay so one, she’s not my girlfriend, yet. We were planning on having a nice date, see how things went, and maybe she’d decide to go out with me again. We’re not rushing things here.” Zuko said and Katara smiled. “Secondly, I totally agree with you about Azula. Same page, totally get it. But, and I am not doubting your reasoning skills for a second, how is kidnapping me supposed to change my father’s mind about that?”

“Because if he wants you back alive, he’ll have the Avatar sent elsewhere for training!” The woman snapped.

“Look, where’s the other guy. He’s been quiet, I want to hear his thoughts on things.” Zuko said.

“We’re clear.” Katara said as she cut through the last loop of rope.

“Never mind.” Zuko said and swung up onto a knee. He slid behind the passenger seat and slammed his metal clad hands on either side of the woman’s head. As he heated the metal, she started to scream.

Katara, staggered by her bound ankles, reached out toward the dash. This was another trick she had picked up after her training with Hama and had been used to disable many vehicles during the war. It only worked when people had gotten lazy on upkeep, which was surprisingly frequent among the more far flung troops.

Closing her fists around the water source, Katara yanked her arms back, pulling water and coolant out of the engine. In a quick motion, Katara used the water to peel apart the metal around Zuko’s hands just as she had done to the factory in Jang Hui. Zuko then went to the driver, who had begun to swerve dramatically, and held a blade of fire by his face.

Katara froze herself to the floor of the van to keep from being tossed about while she cut off her last ropes and freed Zuko’s feet.

“Stop the van and we’ll let you go.” Zuko said, his voice low. As the driver seemed to debate the merits of listening to him, Katara went to the woman. She was huddled in the corner of her seat, whimpering and covering her burns with her eyes closed. Pulling water around her hands - making sure to completely discard the coolant - Katara called out the healing energy, making the water glow.

“What are you doing? Get away from her!” The driver said and the van jerked as Zuko brought the blade closer to his face.

“Don’t you worry what she’s doing. It’s leaps and bounds better than what I’m thinking of doing to you.” Zuko said.

Katara touched the woman’s face and she jumped, but didn’t move as the cooling sensation brought relief to her face.

“This will just take a second.” Katara murmured and the woman opened her eyes. She looked terrified.

“I’m a healer.” Katara added and tears welled in the woman’s eyes.

After a few moments, Katara pulled her hands away and the woman brought her hands up, shaking terribly, to her face. As she felt the unburned skin, she started to cry.

“Look,” Zuko said, sounding calmer. “There’s a noodle restaurant there. Stop and let us out.”

“Haruka, are you okay?” The driver asked.

“Y-yeah.” The woman said, still crying.

The driver grunted and jerked the wheel over, coming to a stop in front of a row of shops.

“Katara?” Zuko asked. Katara went to the side door, pulling it open. After she jumped out, Zuko dissipated the fire and followed after. He barely closed the van door before it pulled away, its tires screaming against the pavement.

“Well that was fun.” He remarked.

“Let me see your head.” Katara said with a sigh and Zuko obediently walked to her. She healed him, washing the blood out of his hair before tossing the water into the gutter.

“Hungry?” He asked.

“I could eat.” Katara said and they laughed.

“Does that happen to you often?” She asked as they started to walk to the shop. People who had stopped to stare at the van watched them go.

“Less than you’d think, but more than other people.” Zuko admitted. He reached the door first, opening it and standing aside. “After you.”

Katara walked in and saw steam burst from behind the counter. It was fairly pretty and smelled like warmth.

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28

[cv-nobody-and-associates]

Nobody Wants to Know

Part II - Oira

“This is it.” I said, putting on my gauntlets. The cold metallic sensation helped to ground me, but it wasn’t enough to completely cease the shaking in my limbs. I couldn’t escape the uncertainty of what were about to do. But no matter how much it terrified me, I had to do it.

Either I would die, or I would finally get answers.

“You sure about this?” Wib asked. It was nice for us to be working together again instead of trying to kill each other, which was far more common. The two of us started as close friends, maybe more if I was to be honest, but it didn’t last. They turned out to be something called a Blockhead, which meant I had to destroy them. That was how I came to Creatorverse.

But then it turned out things weren’t that simple.

Wib didn’t really die. It turned out that we were somehow connected, meaning that neither of us could truly perish whilst the other continued to exist. We met up a few times after that, at first fighting, but it wasn’t long before we started talking again. We both knew something was up, and according to Wib it was connected to some people named Mori and Anis, both exiles of Creatorverse who had been plotting their revenge ever since.

I didn’t pretend I knew much about what was going on, but I knew I needed answers. And they were our only chance. Reluctantly, Wib had agreed to join on the search. Before, they had been working undercover on the side of the enemy, but we both knew that we needed each other for this.

“I’m sure.” I nodded. “We don’t have any other choice. I think it’s fair to say we both know that, huh?” Wib clenched their fist.

“Shut it.” They spat. “You’ve always had more choice than I ever did. You weren’t stolen, you weren’t manipulated, you weren’t twisted into their damn weapon-”

“Wib.” I stopped them short. “I don’t know what they did to me. Without the answers, and without my memories, we can’t be sure who had it worse. So how about we skip the angsty yelling and get our butts in gear.”

“Of course. You don’t remember, so you don’t care.”

“Do we really have to do this now? We have more important things to do right now.”

“Fine.” Wib agreed. “You’re right. We’ll worry about all this later.” They smirked, and for a moment everything was as peaceful as it was before I had come to Creatorverse.

Then the newcomer arrived.

“Sorry, am I interrupting something?” A woman’s voice infiltrated our current hideout, an underground space we had hidden from the rest of the city. It was simultaneously recognisable and completely unfamiliar. “Some remarkable plot-driven revelation? No, it’s too early for that. Perhaps some inter-personal conflict?”

“Nobody, what’s going on?” Wib demanded, getting into a guarded combat-ready stance. “Is this some kind of trick?”

“N-no!” I said. “I swear, I have no idea-”

“I’m sorry, I think they were asking me.” The voice answered, and suddenly a figure appeared from the shadows.

“Y…you’re… me?” I asked, stunned. The figure looked almost identical to myself. Maybe a little taller, and definitely lacking my Siphon Gauntlets and boots, but otherwise the question-mark figure standing before us looked identical to myself.

“In a sense.” My doppelganger answered lazily, shrugging her shoulders. “It’s more accurate to say that you are me. Or rather, a version of me. Though I suspect an intricate explanation of the inner working of the multiverse and how this world is informed by my actions would be beyond you.”

“Are you saying you created this world?” Wib asked, seemingly much more capable of rational thought than I was. I had no idea how I could tell, but my doppelganger smiled at them.

“Ah, of course. You’re the other one. Wib, right?” She turned to face them. “A fantasy I made to explain my lack of answers. A manifestation of my struggles as an antagonist, but one I – or rather, the other me – would learn to accept, leading to the grand revelation where we would finally understand ourself. Makes sense that you would catch on quick. You are correct, if you haven’t guessed. This world is a creation of mine. Sort of.”

“Sort of?” I asked. I felt compelled to draw my sword. None of this was making sense, and it seemed that yet again the only way of getting any sensible answers would be forcing them out. Or so I felt.

“This world is a manifestation of my story, but still its own world.” The doppelganger explained. “In short, I told a story, and the multiverse adapted that story to its own reality. It has been following my design like a script, but I did not make the set or hire the actors.”

“Why are you telling us this?” Wib asked, and I nodded with them. My doppelganger drew her own sword, and we both braced for what seemed to be an inevitable fight.

“I need answers.” She said. “This world contains secrets from my mind, words I could not speak but I suspect leaked out into the page. That is why we are not the same being, Nobody, despite being the same person.”

“Lemme guess – we don’t know these secrets you want either, but you think you’ll find the truth in battle?” I asked, raising my blade to guard. My doppelganger sighed.

“This world is built on the idea of violent conflict. I suppose I should follow the same rules of everyone else.”

She charged forth at me, thrusting her blade towards my head.

“And force the answers out of you!”

---

The doppelganger’s speed was incredible, and I could barely manage to pull my arm up to block their blade with my own, grunting at the sheer impact of the blade. Wib jumped back and moved to position themself behind the doppelganger, waiting for an opening.

I hoped they would find one soon.

“A simple duel of blades then?” The doppelganger said through a non-existent set of gritted teeth. “That’s not going to tell me much. Show me what you can really do!” She punctuated her words with a slash that pushed past my defences and had me slammed into the wall.

“Take this!” Wib came from behind the doppelganger, holding what appeared to be a small dagger with a green blade and gold handle. The doppelganger seemed amused as they effortlessly dodged, sending Wib charging straight me.

“Barrier, CREATE!” I yelled, pulling forth my CREATE button at the last moment. The sheer force was still enough to destroy the wall behind me, but a small barrier in front of me prevented Wib’s blade from striking me. My doppelganger seemed excited to see it, something that had me shivering.

“Yes, the button.” She said, producing a CREATE button identical to my own. She held it floating above her hand. “I’ve always wondered something about it. Can you guess?”

“Don’t listen to her!” Wib protested, even though my doppelganger had raised an interesting question. “We don’t have time to entertain these questions. We gotta take her out, then Mori!”

“It’s the letter, right?” I answered my doppelganger’s question. If it were possible for her to have grinned, I could feel she would have done so. Wib meanwhile rolled their eyes at me, yet uncharacteristically restrained themselves from a remark or attack.

“Yes, yes! I knew you would catch on eventually, you’re me after all!” She walked forth, and I couldn’t help but move back and raise my sword once again, anticipating another attack. “The letter. Almost every button I – even every one we have ever seen; they all say the word CREATE in them. All but ours. We have only the first letter. It’s almost like…”

“Like it’s incomplete.” I said. If I possessed eyes, they no doubt would have widened. My face became an exclamation mark to match my surprise. “Or like it’s just a copy of the real thing! Something we weren’t meant to have, but got anyway!” I didn’t understand even half of what I was saying, but the doppelganger seemed to. I swear I could feel their own interest as though I was the one experiencing it. I supposed it must have been because we were sort of the same person.

Idly, I wondered if I’d get to ask for the details on that.

“A copy. Yes, that sounds right. But why?” My doppelganger asked herself. “It must have something to do with one of the figures from the fog. The humanoid one. Yes, I can feel it. Like some sort of awakening.” She charged forth without warning.

“I need to know more! What else can I learn from you two?!” I blocked another sword slash and tried to counter it with my own, but it failed to have any effect. I glanced over to where Wib was standing before only to find them absent.

“Wib-?”

“Right here!”

“Argh!” My doppelganger screamed as Wib pulled her away from me, grabbing her. “You think you can hold me? How amusing!”

“I’m not gonna be holding you for long.” I heard the voice of Wib come from a second body, and turned to see that they had made a duplicate of themself. I always forgot they could do that, and was glad to see it was being used on someone other than myself.

Sort of. This doppelganger thing was confusing.

The Wib copy kicked the doppelganger at full force right as the original released her, and the result was her flying through the roof. I could see sunlight from the city pouring through the hole she had left.

“We have to make sure she’s down.” I said. I held put my hand and grabbed one of the Wibs. It honestly didn’t matter which body flew me up.

“You sure? We’ll be exposed. That’s going to make what happens next difficult. Plus, you’re a Creator working with a Blockhead. It’s a huge risk.”

“It’s even more of a risk to let her loose!” I cried out. “What if she hunts down someone else for answers? I can’t let her hurt my friends up there!” Wib hesitated, before grunting.

“Fine.” They said. One of their bodies fused with the one I was holding, and together we flew out into the city. The sun was high up in the sky, and for once the city was mostly undisturbed, save for the large hole in the road left as a result of knocking my doppelganger away.

“You’re strong.” I turned, hovering in the air as I released Wib who did the same. My doppelganger still lived, and instead of sounding pained she seemed more amused than anything. “But not nearly strong enough.”

“We need to run!” Wib called out, already flying away before I could respond. I followed, hoping that the doppelganger would do the same. Destroying the city was probably something worth avoiding.

“Are you sure this’ll work?” I asked Wib.

“She’s only after us as far as I can tell.” Wib reasoned. “She might attack anyone in her way, but I think-” I didn’t let them finish, doubling back. The thought of the doppelganger hurting any of my friends was dreadful, and I refused to let it happen.

“Hello? Can you hear me?”

I stopped, both because I had reached the doppelganger and because I had just heard a mysterious voice in my head. If it wasn’t for the sight before me I would have stopped to listen to it. Unfortunately, I was more occupied by what I saw.

She was slaughtering people.

The city was already in shambles, buildings falling to rubble and collapsing as flames surrounded the area. Bloody bodies littered the floors, many far too close to the fire and stuck under rubble. The doppelganger looked to me and I felt a chill run up my spine.

“I heard someone.” She said. “As soon as I started this little exercise in attention.” I clenched my fists and screamed, charging towards her at full force. Our blades met harshly and the ringing sound of metal pierced the air.

“Attention?! THESE PEOPLE ARE DEAD!” I cried, forcing her back with all my strength. She skidded on the ground.

“Oh, you think I care. That’s adorable!” She said, before appearing behind me. It was so fast I barely saw her move, but I heard the rush of wind. I went to block but couldn’t stop myself from being knocked away into a building.

“These worlds? These people? They don’t matter!” She said. Something was different in her tone though. She sounded less sure of herself.

“She can hear me. What about you?”

“Who…?” I groaned out, trying to pry myself out of the rubble I had been forced into. The voice stopped me.

“Don’t move. Not yet. She can feel me, but you can actually hear me.” I gave the smallest of nods.

“Nothing matters! Nothing in this meaningless existence matters!” She was starting to sound incoherent, and I wondered if even she knew what she was saying.

“She’s rambling. That’s good. Well, not for her but one problem at a time.”

“Are you a friend of hers?” I asked.

“I owe her my life, but she doesn’t know that anymore. The three of us lost a lot of our memories.”

“Three? Who else is with her?” I asked the voice. I could tell that she – somehow, I could feel the voice was a she – was somehow connected to the other Nobody. Based on how she was talking, it seemed she was in her head, but I knew it went deeper than that.

“Me and V. But they’d only make things worse. I need you to tell her my name.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s the only way she’ll understand. She’s losing track of who she it, what she is. I can remind her.”

“Okay…” I finally pulled myself to my feet, and my doppelganger turned to take notice. “What’s your name?” I asked the voice as the other Nobody approached. She told me right as my doppelganger grabbed me by the throat and pulled me off the ground.

“O-OIRA!” I cried, and suddenly her grip loosened. Her sword clattered to the ground and she clutched her head.

“Oira. That was her name, right?” I had to keep talking, because whatever she was remembering was stopping her in her tracks. “You saved her. A long time ago.”

“T-the tests…” She muttered, falling to her knees. “Needles, hands, too much. Far too much. She hated it. Wanted it to end. Wanted everything to end.” I recalled something we had said to each other earlier, as the doppelganger seemed to hiss in apparent pain.

I felt bad for her, despite our current surroundings.

“The tests were about the button, right?” I asked, hesitantly stepping closer. Her head went down for a moment, and it was a moment longer before I realised she was trying to nod. “They wanted to do something with it. What did they do?”

“They…” The doppelganger let out a groan of pain between words. Her face appeared to be shifting somehow. One moment it was a question mark like my own, the next it flickered to what appeared to be a musical note. “They wanted to make life. Shapeshifting. Genetics work. That was the key, they thought. It hurt. She didn’t want to hurt. I…I couldn’t let her hurt.”

“Why not?”

“What does it matter?!” She hissed. “It doesn’t matter who I strike down, or why, I’m just a weapon! I wasn’t helping her, I was just saving myself…” Her form seemed to be shifting, almost like she was struggling to maintain control.

“You don’t really believe that, do you?” That was all it took for the last of her resolve to crumble. She raised her head to the sky and screamed.

“SHUT UP!” She cried. “AND GET OUT OF MY HEAD!!!”

There was a blinding flash of light, and then everything went dark.

---

When I awoke, I briefly considered that everything I had just been through was a dream. The city that was once covered in flame was now repaired. No, more than repaired, it was as though it had never been damaged in the first place. As for the people, there were no more corpses. Some were still injured, but most seemed to have been restored just as the city had.

“Hey you, you’re finally awake.” I saw Wib grinning at me, offering a hand which I gratefully took to pull myself up.

“You did not just say that.” I groaned, amused. “I swear, if you try to get me to join the Stormcloaks I’m outta here.” Wib chuckled.

“Nah, you know I was always more of an Imperial type.” They replied, before his expression turned more serious. “Jokes aside, what do you think about our new guest?” They pointed a thumb back to what appeared to be a tall woman, slightly shorter than my doppelganger. She was still all black like her – and myself, I supposed – but in place of a top hat, she had a beanie. She also appeared to be wearing a kind of dress. Or maybe it was just another layer of her body? It was the same pitch black as the rest of her, after all.

Her face and chest both had a musical note symbol instead of a question mark. Similar symbols appeared on her hands and feet as well, though slightly different. Her face and chest appeared to be double notes, whilst the ones on her hands and feet.

“Uh, I don’t know what those things are.” She said. Her voice sounded similar to mine and the doppelgangers, but different somehow. Softer, I supposed. “But I don’t think it matters.”

“Oira, I presume?” She nodded, and Wib raised an eyebrow at me. I made a dismissive gesture with my hand, and they rolled their eyes and crossed their arms. I knew I’d have to explain later. “What happened to… you know, the other one…” I was reluctant to use her name.

“Nobody? She’s been…turned off? Disabled? Knocked out?” Oira seemed to struggle to find the right words to describe what exactly had happened. “It’s hard to explain. Nothing about us really makes complete sense. But I suppose with her unavailable, I took back control of the body.”

“Took back?” Wib interjected. “Was the body originally yours?” Oira scratched at her head in response for a moment.

“Yes and no?” She answered. “The body is a new one, but it was built using mine as a genetic base. My body was already…malleable enough for it from the tests.” She hesitated for a moment. “I’d rather not get into it.”

“I understand.” Wib said, with surprising compassion in their voice. “People can do horrible things in the name of some twisted form of progress…” Oira nodded.

“When I took control, it created a burst of energy.” Oira explained. “That energy mostly reset things back to how they should be, before she appeared. I don’t know the full details. The reality warping is her thing for the most part.”

“What about the injured people still here?” I asked. “Why Didn’t they fully restore?” Oira simply shrugged in response.

“I guess the energy expelled wasn’t enough? Like I said, I don’t know how this works.” She sighed for a moment. “I know you probably have more questions, but I don’t have time. You see, she won’t stay inactive for long. And now that I’m awake, it isn’t long before V follows. And trust me, no matter how bad you think she is, V’s worse.”

“How bad we think she is? She murdered innocent people to get attention.” I said, annoyed. Oira didn’t have a typical face, but I could still feel a sort of fury in her expression regardless.

“She’s done bad things, but she’s done just as much good. You’ve just never seen it before.” She explained indignantly. “Besides, this is a Scripted world. She knew that when she left, things would reset back to normal.”

I prepared to respond to that, but she kept going before I could.

“I don’t expect you to understand her, nor do I expect you’ll forgive her just because of what I say. Best I can ask for?” She paused as something that appeared to be a portal appeared behind her, which she turned to.

“Forget this ever happened.”

“I wouldn’t count on that.” I said. She laughed for a moment.

“Don’t worry. We won’t be coming back anyway.”

END

AN - Finally done! This was meant to be done months ago, but stuff happened and I'm bad at time management. At last, the first of the beings within Nobody is revealed! I plan on sharing more Oira stuff in the near future, but hopefully you understand a little bit about her now. I forgot to get to it in the chapter itself, but her CREATE button is different to Nobody's.

This whole chapter was set in the world of an old CV fanfic I wrote on my main blog, @lordterronus . It's called Creatorverse: Self Indulgent Stories, and it's quite outdated but I still enjoy thinking about it from time to time. This chapter was a chance to show a bit more of what I had originally planned for that story, but never actually did. If anyone wants to ask any more about it, I'm happy to answer anything regarding it on my main blog!

[ampleappleamble]

Chapter 7: Crumbling Castle

Caed Nua stood, a mossy, neglected tombstone hunching above the sprawling, untamed foliage of the Yenwood. Its once mighty towers rose from the center of the ruined castle, climbing only midway to the sky before succumbing to gravity and the ravages of age. The walls surrounding the estate slumped and buckled as well, having sloughed away in places to reveal the overgrown bailey and the collapsed, rotting buildings therein.

Axa let her eyes wander over the derelict keep.

"What a shithole," she muttered.

Her flippant words did little to mask her disappointment, and although Aloth noticed this, he decided to say nothing. Anything he said would probably only make her feel worse, seeing as he was now almost utterly certain that if she was-- if they were to find anyone to advise on matters of the soul, it would not be here, in this place seemingly forsaken by kith. But he also knew by now that trying to deter the little woman from her goals was nigh impossible, so he trailed doggedly behind her, scepter and grimoire at the ready. After all, it wasn't as though he had any more promising leads to follow, and what she lacked in subtlety she more than made up for in determination. A disposition which with I am most certainly well acquainted, he thought bitterly, the resulting headache quite worth the barb.

Edér, either out of ignorance of Axa's true emotional state or in a good-natured attempt to lighten the mood, took a different approach and tried to joke with her, remarking aloud on the poor quality of Maerwald's gardeners. But he'd scarcely gotten the words out when the orlan gesticulated fiercely to him for silence, pivoting her long, tapered ears over to her left and listening intently. It wasn't long before her companions heard it too-- a low, steady humming coming from just beyond the bridge before them, behind the overgrown hedge, right outside of the walls of Caed Nua.

"Oh, good. We're not alone," Aloth whispered, reaching for his grimoire.

"This trip just keeps gettin' better," Edér sighed, drawing his blade.

Axa squinted in the direction of the humming noise, and a strange grin slowly spread across her flaxen face.

"...Is that Sea of Miracles?"

And she marched off confidently toward the moldy castle walls, her companions scrambling to keep up.

---

"Refrain of the Soul, actually," the gigantic man replied, his pointed teeth bared in a friendly smile. "But you were close! Both ballads were composed by the selfsame skald--"

"Uwēno the Elder!" Axa laughed, clapping her hands together. "Of course! And in the same year, if I remember correctly."

Aloth watched the two bards, utterly bemused. No matter how he tried to prepare himself for what might come, the world always managed to defy his expectations in the most bizarre ways. After they'd heard deep, tremulous murmurs in these abandoned ruins, he'd been sure he'd spend the next hour hurling arcane flame at hostile spirits or hungry wildlife, or maybe even bandits or cultists. Instead, he had found himself awkwardly fumbling to secure his weapons, trailing after Axa while she strode directly to the source of the noise: an enormous, very amicable aumaua man with whom she was now excitedly chattering about ancient Rauataian songstresses. After the surprise had worn off, he was obliged to wait quietly while they talked, feeling oddly like a petulant child waiting for his mother to finish speaking with another adult.

Glancing over at Edér, who looked as though he hadn't a thought in his head, Aloth felt a mild twinge of envy.

The farmer grinned back at the elf, content to idle for a few pleasant moments while the large shark man and the tiny cat lady laughed together at jokes he couldn't even begin to understand. Honestly, he was just happy to see the poor girl relaxed and in her element, for once. And they hadn't had to fight any screaming monsters! ...Yet.

"Kana Rua," the giant boomed, bending slightly at the waist to extend his hand to Axa, "of the royal city of Tâkowa and her esteemed lore college. Are you, perchance, here to see Maerwald? I assume you haven't come all this way to discuss music history with strangers!" His dark eyes, wide with curiosity, shifted to the other two men. "And with a retinue, no less!"

"Axa Mala," the little woman chuckled, "and my traveling companions, Aloth Corfiser and Edér Teylecg. We are indeed here for Maerwald's counsel. I'm a Watcher, it seems, and I'm hoping he can offer some insight into our shared condition. And yourself?"

Both Kana's eyes and his smile had grown steadily as she spoke. "You're a Watcher? Truly? ...Well, I'm afraid my own reasons for seeking Maerwald aren't nearly so extraordinary. I was hoping he could direct me to a tablet of great historical and cultural import to my people, the Tanvii ora Toha. Only... I've had some difficulties in actually getting near the place."

He winced in the direction of the stone archway leading past the walls of Caed Nua and into its wild, unkempt yard. They couldn't see the dark spirits beyond the castle gate, but they didn't need to. All four kith could feel the dark spirits' presence, falling silent for a moment as the malevolent essence in the air prickled and picked at the edges of their souls.

"To meet the master of the estate, it seems one must first neutralize his spectral visitants, or else find a way around them. I'm... afraid I haven't had much luck at either by myself."

"Ah," Edér groaned, feeling his bowels churn with the sick, primal fear spirits always instilled in him. "There's that fight I knew was gonna happen."

"But this is a magnificently serendipitous encounter!" Kana grinned again, bigger and brighter than the sun, spreading his arms before the group as though to embrace all of them just for being there. "I was planning to finish jotting down these notes, set up camp for the evening, and simply trek to the nearest village tomorrow to hire a helping hand. But since we've the same goal, and you all look quite capable--"

"A collaborative effort?" Axa finished for him, stepping closer to the huge man. "I'm all for it, as long as there are no objections." The orlan glanced back at her companions.

"You'll hear no dissent from me."

"Hey, the more the merrier."

The little woman turned back to the aumaua with a wink. "That settles it, then! Welcome to my retinue, Kana Rua. With you at our shoulders, we ought to make short work of these ghastlies."

His already broad smile broadened ever further. "And we shall hold conference with Maerwald before sundown! I'm certain of it!"

---

Soldier and marauder. Soldier and marauder and Maerwald.

At sundown, they finished burying the keep's former master.

Axa gazed out over the bailey-- her bailey, this was her keep now (??!!)-- at the freshly filled grave next to the chapel. Her thoughts buzzed frantically like a swarm of panicked hornets behind her eyes, and she couldn't focus on a single thought long enough to make sense of any one of them.

No sleep. No sleep for the Watcher.

"I think... I'm going slightly mad."

Edér frowned sympathetically, placed a heavy, calloused hand on the little woman's shoulder. "Hey, c'mon. It ain't as bad as all that, is it?" He'd done most of the digging, being more acquainted with the work than anyone else, and his hand left a sizable smudge of grave dirt on her tunic.

She didn't look at him. "I'm going to go completely mad. I'm a Watcher, and I'm Awakened, and there's some sort of Woedican cult behind it, and if I can't find them, or if they can't undo this, then I'm going to lose my mind and die. Just like him." To her mild surprise, no tears welled in her eyes or spilled down her cheeks. Although her eyes felt hot and swollen, she supposed she was simply too overwhelmed, too exhausted to cry anymore.

Kana, eye level with the woman as she leaned against the adra pillar under which he was seated, studied her face while he considered his approach. "Well... if it's of any comfort to you, you at least know what to expect in regards to your condition. You know where you're going next, you've an entire keep to set yourself up in while you search." That gregarious smile opened up his face again. "And you've a band of loyal flunkies at your beck and call!"

"And a magic talkin' stone chair lady t' take care of most of the housekeeping for you." Edér grinned down at her, brushing the dirt from her shoulder with a casual familiarity. "All things considered, you got dealt a bad hand, but at least the deck is lookin' like it's stacked in yer favor."

Axa pricked up her ears, and turned to regard the blond man with a mix of wonder and disgust. "...I don't know if that's the best or the worst mixed metaphor I've ever heard."

He chuckled as he stuck his pipe between his teeth. "No idea what yer talkin’ about there, lil' darlin'."

She finally laughed, brushing at her dry, sticky eyes with her fists, and Kana laughed too, throwing an arm around her shoulder. "See there! The ship floats yet. Tomorrow the eastern barbican will be restored, and then off to Defiance Bay, where answers abound! ...If Maerwald spoke true, anyway."

Poor woman. They will take you, too--

"Might look for some answers there myself, if you'll go with me." The farmer let loose a plume of smoke as he spoke, failing to finish exhaling before turning to the little Watcher. "Been thinkin' about what I wanted to ask ol' Maerwald before... well, before all that had to go down. About my brother, Woden. Think I might find at least a... hint or somethin' in the big city." He passed his pipe to her, and she did not hesitate to accept it.

"Mysteries upon mysteries!" Kana's booming voice in her ear made her wince. "The Eyeless Seer must have you in their sights, my friend. Pun fully intended!"

"For the love of the gods," she groaned,

For the gods' love! For their love!! the old man sobbed--

a sudden headache gripping her behind the eyes, "is Aloth finished setting up in there or what?"

---

Nae they willnae.

"Oh yes they will. It's inevitable now."

Aloth's grimoire trembled in his hands, sweat dribbling down his temple as he tried to focus. The large, broken brazier he'd dragged into the middle of the great hall wasn't a small target for a spell, but it wasn't exactly a large one either. And it didn't help that Aloth felt as though he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

They willnae find oot, laddie.

"They will. All because someone can't keep their thoughts to themselves."

It hadn't been difficult to convince the others to allow him to set up camp for the night by himself. Axa had not seemed very eager to socialize after she'd landed the killing blow on the old man, and Edér and Kana had quickly volunteered to take care of the remains. And after the confrontation with Maerwald, after what the old Watcher had told them, Aloth had been desperate for solitude.

Fye, they wouldnae need t' find oot aught if ye'd tellt 'em sooth from th' start as ye oughttae--

He'd rushed his recitation, and now he flourished too haphazardly, and the arcane fire he called forth flashed and spouted violently into the rusty little brazier. Aloth hissed with pain and surprise as the unruly flames licked at his face, singed his hair.

"Damn you!" he screamed, whirling quickly around, shielding his face with his arms. "You dare to-- You always do this, you--" The wizard cut himself off. He squeezed his eyes shut, clenched his fists at his sides. He needed to stop and calm down, right now.

One. He exhaled. He inhaled. He exhaled.

Buck up, Corfiser. Your situation is not that dire.

Two. He shook his hands out of their tight fists, flexed his fingers.

No one has any concrete evidence. Of anything. And no one has said anything. Yet.

Three. His shoulders twitched, tried to lock back up, but finally slumped, laden with nervous exhaustion.

They will find out. About... us. That's an inevitability.

Four. His ears, pressed back flat against his head in irritation, started to slowly droop down and forward.

But that's not necessarily a bad thing.

Five. His hands hung limp at his sides now. His breathing and heart rate slowed.

For one, the same taboos don't apply here like they do back home. Look at how the others responded to Axa, for instance.

Six. He pressed his lips into a thin line, lowering his head until his chin touched his clavicle.

And if Axa can find out more information about her condition, and if she'll have me along, maybe...

Seven. He wrapped his arms around himself, cupping his elbows in his hands.

But... then, if she finds out about... and Kana has made enemies of them, too-- oh gods, this isn't--

Eight. He started pacing back and forth. He was shaking all of a sudden, gasping for breath.

This isn't working-- Why isn't-- I need to--

Nine. He heard the doors to the Great Hall creak slowly open, but he kept his eyes screwed shut. He couldn't open them, couldn't until ten--

Oh gods, if I've been wrong this whole time--

Ten. He opened his eyes.

Axa touched him on the elbow, and he actually yelped in surprise.

"Axa! I'm-- You're back! H-how can... I help you?" He winced, looking away from her as he felt his face grow warm. Kana was off to his right, humming merrily away and taking notes about the keep's interior or somesuch; Edér was rummaging through his things, likely looking for more whiteleaf.

Axa herself looked at him with concern-- or was that just his imagination?-- and cocked her thumb at the now-calm campfire, the meticulously arranged bedrolls. "You've helped more than enough, I'd say. Thank you for doing this."

He prepared to suppress a relieved smile, but she took care of it for him. "Aloth, are you-- have you been feeling alright?"

"Wh-- well, I mean-- yes, yes, of course, just-- I've just been a bit... distracted, processing some of the... unusual things we've all seen as of late." He never knew how he managed to fool anybody: here he was, heart pounding in his chest, fidgeting, eyes darting to and fro, insisting he was just fine, thank you.

Nevertheless, the little woman regarded him with sympathy and spoke in a low, soothing tone. "That's understandable. I think we've all had some rather unsettling revelations recently."

"We certainly have, you foremost among us." Aloth had started to recover and he straightened up, tugging at his clothes, dusting himself off, all those little tricks he'd learned to explain away his tics and outbursts. "If what Maerwald said is true, your very life and future are in jeopardy."

She frowned, turning her attention away from him-- just as he'd hoped she might-- and sighed heavily, staring at her feet. "Yes. Yes, I've got quite a lot to contend with. Whoever or whatever this Leaden Key is, I have to find them. Sooner the better. My sanity, my life could depend on it."

"Indeed." His composure finally restored to a respectable level, Aloth gave the orlan his best diplomatic smile and nod. "Rest assured, I shall accompany you and render what aid I can on our journey to Defiance Bay."

"Why?"

His heart stopped. "...I beg your pardon?"

A look of shock flashed across her face, followed closely by a bashful grimace. "I'm-- I'm sorry. Never mind. It's been a long day, I... I should get some rest. You, too. Long day tomorrow as well." These last few lines were delivered half-mumbled over her shoulder as she shuffled over toward her belongings, which he had carefully arranged a safe distance from the fire, close by to his own things. He tried, but found he could not muster a verbal farewell, instead struggling to keep a neutral facade even as she walked away from him.

"...I think she knows."

An impatient, long-suffering sigh.

Nae she disnae.

---

Maerwald sat at his hearth and watched his fire. Watched the wood burn.

Axa sat in the Great Hall of Caed Nua's keep and gazed into the makeshift campfire.

I'm sorry, old man. At least... I was able to release your soul from this place. You can truly rest, now.

Her three comrades slept peacefully in their bedrolls, the ugly, dark things in the keep-- her keep-- kept at bay by the light and warmth from the fire and from the Steward, both, Axa imagined. Of course, she found herself unable to rest, although she was exhausted. No sleep for the Watcher.

The soul remembers--

A memory. A memory caused this. And that man, the one in the ruins-- he called that memory forth.

Who is he? Was he? Is he the same person from... from my past life? How is that possible...?

Axa squinted into the flames, trying to remember him. She pictured his face--

--you, Anthea? My child, what--

-- and suddenly powerful waves of emotion hammered the little woman's mind, choking out all other thought. Tears flooded her eyes and poured down her face as just the memory of the man's voice, of his cold, stony stare filled her mind with horror and rage and sorrow for which she had no explanation. If only she could remember more, remember the question she--

--ask him ask him ask him please you have to ask him you have to know you have to have to--

Axa crawled to her bedroll, trembling and sniffling, and collapsed, where she remained for the next eleven hours.

She only slept for four of them.

---

[itsclydebitches]

For the prompt; maybe something like Regis reassuring Geralt of his humanity after some asshat human is "witcher-phobic" towards Geralt?

First prompt complete! I’m sorry that you get the initial “How does writing work again??” offering, anon lol 

Varying Words 

Pairing: None, unless you want to read it as Regis/Geralt ;)

Warnings: One passing mention of rape  

Word Count: 1,504

***

Stand your ground. 

Geralt did, allowing the projectile to hit him square in the back of his head. The attacker's aim wasn't bad and based on the clang he heard as the object fell to the cobblestones, he had strength too. When a second assault didn't immediately follow he turned, expecting a blacksmith or maybe a dock hand. 

It was a woman. Arms sculpted from labor in the fields and sporting an inch more than was common in Novigrad, she hefted another cooking pot, teeth bared. 

Not bad, he thought. Put a knife in her hand and she'd be a formidable foe. Although... knives likely weren't far behind if that dishware was any indication. Geralt held his hands at the level of his hips, well away from his swords. 

"Not here to cause any trouble, ma'am," he said. 

She spit. Geralt watched the yellow wad strike the toe of his boot. "Fuck off! Your kind don't need to want trouble to cause it. Years I worked for that coin! Bastard witcher took it off me, then had the gall to go get his neck ripped open by a bunch a' nekkers. Can't even reach his corpse now and whose fault is that, huh? Not mine!” She inched a little closer, voice shaking. “What's the point of you anyway? Some experts. Some heroes. Come into my kitchen, Witcher. Let me introduce you to the light of our Eternal Fire by smashing you face-first into the oven. It would improve your mug I'll tell you that!" 

He stood impassive as the speech progressed, feet rooted to the ground. It seemed the only thing that kept the woman from leaving the safety of her doorway was her husband's hand curled tight in her sleeve. Compared to her he was a slight thing and he flinched when Geralt met his eyes. His brothers would have scoffed at the fellow's weakness, but Geralt was grateful for whatever strength was keeping his wife at bay. There was no scenario in which Geralt wanted to defend himself from a woman lost in grief. 

The morning had gone so well too. 

What he did want was to make her understand that the man she'd hired had not been a witcher. No son of the Schools would ever accept coin before the job was complete, for just such a reason, and only one who was truly inept would fall to a nekker nest. It had likely been a fool who'd had dreams of bringing back  trophies for a tidier sum. Either that, or a swindler who'd paid someone to come back with news of his supposed demise. Either way, a couple's life savings were gone, monsters still roamed, and his reputation had taken another lash it didn't need. 

"Get out of here!" she screamed. 

Rather than listening, Geralt turned back to the woman who'd been standing beside him when this all began. "You okay?" he asked. he extended his hand to help her up as he would for Yennefer, or Ciri, or Regis, Triss, Jaskier, ZoltanRocheLambertEskel —

She slapped it away, then made a show of cleaning that hand on her dress. "Don’t touch me.” 

Like the first. Skirts still hiked up over her waist. Vomit down the front of her blouse, shrieking her head off... I did that. Not the men who’d raped her. 

Me. 

With a growl Geralt stepped around her and took a vicious satisfaction when they all scuttled back. Within seconds he had the street to himself. The only thing that bothered to followed him was a final insult, shouted once they thought he was too far to do anything about it. 

"You're the monster, freak!" 

Geralt rolled his eyes at the heavens, Eternal Fire included. "Real innovative. Never heard that one before." 

Novigrad was the city of sin though. Each person had a secret and every alleyway its shadows. Within seconds Geralt had crossed into a crowd that didn't care about the shouts from a few feet over. Why would they? They had their own lives to live and provided no one got in their way, everyone was free to do exactly as they pleased. It was comforting in its way and by the time Geralt reached The Kingfisher he'd lost a bit of the tension in his shoulders. 

Head still smarted though. He'd reached up to massage his skull when cold hands batted his away. 

"You're late," Regis admonished. 

"Am not. An' I'm fine, leave it." 

The tutting sounded right beside his ear. A moment later Geralt felt fingers press against a sizable bump with unerring accuracy. He hissed. 

"Two lies in two seconds? Really, Geralt. If you'd like to slip one past me you'll have to do far better than that. Perhaps work first on eliminating that mulish expression?" 

"Oh fuck off." 

"Eloquent as always." 

The banter did little for his mood. It took more than a well-aimed pot to fell a witcher, but that hardly meant he had to enjoy the experience. After a few seconds Regis' movements changed from a surgeon's clinical examination to a friend's, weaving fingers through silver strands merely for the comfort of it. They settled on the low wall outside the inn.

Geralt shook him off. Regis just hummed a low note in the back of his throat. 

"Come now. Don't tell me you bought into that woman's nonsense?" 

"You heard?" 

"Indeed. My hearing is rather more acute than yours, though I confess I only caught the tip of the confrontation. I had assumed that you would leave post-haste as I did, more interested in our lunch than whatever swill she chose to spout. Was I wrong?" 

Regis rarely was. Geralt leaned against the wall of the inn and let his gaze slide over the vampire. An aging face, gray in his hair, brown eyes and a welcoming smiling—provided he kept his lips closed. The irony was that Regis more easily passed for human than Geralt did. 

"Sure you still want to dine with a monster?" he asked. The look he received could have melted a glacier.

"Tell me, Geralt. Why is it that I can repeat the same truths to you for years on end and they apparently fail to pierce your astoundingly stubborn nature, yet a few unfounded remarks from a stranger will sit with you for days?" 

"Don't know. Maybe I respond better to crude truths. Less scholar, more drunkard." 

"Oh? Shall I simplify my language then? Perhaps laden my points with the occasional expletive?" 

"Couldn't hurt." 

"Very well then: Geralt of Rivia you are not a fucking monster." 

Geralt threw his head back and laughed, a short but boisterous exhale that drew looks from the passerby. Regis reached over to pat his knee. 

"Had I known that getting you to listen merely required that I change my speech patterns I would have done so long ago." 

"Now who's lying?" 

Behind them the inn was blaring despite the early hour and Novigrad buzzed with thousands of voices, all clamoring to be heard. Geralt tried to focus on a noise other than the ringing in his ears, swallow the sour taste in his mouth so it didn't ruin their meal. He worked to remember the laugh just seconds after he’d given it. 

"Besides," Regis continued. "You needn't take my word for it." 

"Oh?" 

"Your own actions defy those fools' claims. Or did I not see you deliberately allow yourself to get hit rather than risking that woman's pretty features?" 

Never let it be said that Regis wasn't often right and observant. The two probably went hand-in-hand. Yes, he could have dodged the pan, but that likely would have resulted in a bloodied nose for the woman behind him, gaping at all the drama. The same one who'd fallen when the blow had teetered Geralt too close,  shying from his touch again with the slap of a hand. He understood the point, of course. What monster took a blow for another? Weren't they the real monsters here, driven by indiscriminate hatred? It was a debate he and Regis had engaged in numerous times before, often during lunches just like the one they had planned for today. The one they'd begin if Geralt ever stopped moping about it all. 

He could have said any of this, a coded thank you for his friend's wisdom. 

Or...

"You think she's pretty?" 

"Geralt." 

"No, no, I'm happy for you. You should really get out more. How many years since the Queen of the Night? Two hundred?" 

"Geralt." 

"I didn't catch her name, but I'm sure I'd recognize that look of disgust. We could probably find her, if you're really going to abandon me, that is." 

Regis slipped his arm through Geralt's, easy as you please. "As if I ever would." 

"No?" 

"No. I fear you're stuck with me and I do not care what anyone else might have to say about that. If we are monsters than at least we shall be monsters together." 

Well, who was he to argue with that? For that matter, who were those women? 

Geralt let Regis pull him to his feet. “Lunch with a monster sounds great.” 

[thadelightfulone]

The Firm - Chapter 8

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

Summary: Erik has been hired to find an embezzler for an old friend. The investigation is underway but who is after Green and LaNyah.

Pairing: Erik x Black!OC

Genre: Suspense

Words: 5K

--- Two Weeks Later ---

Erik and LaNyah fell into a regular routine as they made way on the audit. LaNyah moved back into her office last week after Erik spent the previous week on the accounting floor working from her office. They still met for their meetings, and on those days, LaNyah worked out of the conference room. Stacey joined both of them for lunch, as they all got to know each other better. LaNyah finally had some friends other than Ashley and Green, and that was exciting for her.

Stacey and Erik watched as LaNyah adapted to the new routine and found her footing. There have not been any repeat instances like at their first meeting. Nevertheless, Stacey has been keeping a watchful eye over them both.

It is a typical non-meeting day on the top floor of GBI. Erik comes out of the office, headed towards the coffee station, passing Stacey's desk along the way. "Hey Boss Man, got a minute?"

“Yeah, let me set this up first,” Erik makes his selection and starts the brew. Walking over to Stacey, “What’s up?”

“You never mentioned what you saw from her office. Inquiring minds want to know.”

“Oh that?” The machine gurgles and sputters to a stop; she waves him away. Erik goes to grab his coffee, he walks back over, taking a sip before leaning over her desk. “Well, your former team is boring as fuck.” Stacey spits out her tea.

She grabs a napkin to start cleaning up the mess on her keyboard. “That was not what I was expecting to hear from you, but go on.”

"Well, while I was observing everyone. I was checking out their login access to the database and their computer activity." He takes another drink of his coffee, "Thank you for that, by the way." Stacey nods her head. "No one is doing anything out of the ordinary; all the analysts and techs check out. Typical boring number crunchers.”

"Not LaNyah," Stacey mumbles to herself. "Really, everyone?" She inquires aloud, “Even Mr. Walking Harassment Suit?” Erik chokes up on his coffee, “Sorry, but that is the best way to describe him after I found all that shit in his file.”

“I heard that, Stace. Don’t start that again.” Her green eyes glance up at him over her tea, "You know what you said. And no, she's not boring, but she fits in with them, that's for sure." He puts his coffee down, tapping his chin, “Actually, do you have some time? I want to pick your brain about a few things before I make my final assessments of everyone.”

"Yeah, I'm available. Give me a few minutes to gather some things, and I will join you." Erik nods and walks over to his office.

Setting his mug down, Erik reaches for his investigation notes on LaNyah’s team. He opens it up to the page with all their names and positions. Stacey walks in and sits on the couch in front of the coffee table. She sets down her own information. Erik’s eyes go wide as he studies the thickness of the folder.

“Oh, I see we came prepared.” Walking over to one of the chairs by the couch, “You knew I would be coming to you for info?”

“Who else would you go to, Erik?” He laughs at her smart ass remark. She grabs her pen and a note pad, “Where do you want to start?”

Erik and Stacey spent the next two hours discussing her former team – backgrounds, experience, position roles, and salaries. Stacey filled in the blanks that Erik had about a few people. Stacey discovered that everyone did just enough and not more than what was required of them, even LaNyah. But she understood that it was different for her than the others. Each of her former team members could have all moved up in the company with all the opportunities GBI affords. None of them applied for or wanted to move, just content in their position and status at GBI.

Her information made it easy for Erik to share his thoughts regarding their team leader, Matthew. Stacey was not surprised to learn that he thinks that he is behind the embezzlement from the funds. Matthew’s habits were consistent with someone hiding something, but because of the lackadaisical attitude of the entire team, no one cares as long as he leaves them alone to do their job. LaNyah, with all her routines, found out what Green had only recently discovered.

“So, have you found out who he has been meeting with during those meetings?” Stacey asks. Erik just told her about him getting private calls, not on his personal or work cell, and then immediately leaving the office for ‘lunch.’

“Nah, I think I will make that my next move after talking to everyone.”

“Why waste your time with the others, if you know it’s him?”

“Gotta be thorough, and not like I am favoring someone.”

“Nyah.” Erik meets her eyes then looks down to put his notes away. “So, what is that anyway?”

“What’s what Stacey?” Erik looks at her as she crosses her arms and glares at him. “How many times do I have to say it’s nothing?” Standing, he grabs the notes and walks to his desk.

“Until you finally speak some truth.” She stands up and leans over the desk as he sits down. “Erik?” She softly goads. He runs his hands over his face before looking up at her.

“Fine.” Breathing deeply, “I am attracted to her.” He suddenly stands from his desk, looking out the windows. A new habit he formed whenever LaNyah crosses his mind, and he needs to reign it in.

Walking over to him, and clasping him on the back, "Now, was that so hard?" She stands back as he turns towards her, a blank expression on his face. "I don’t blame you. She's a beautiful woman. Anyone can see that." Stacey moves to sit in the chair in front of him, "It's not like she's off-limits to you or something." Stacey looks up as Erik plops down into the desk chair.

"She is." Stacey looks at him, confused, "I don't mix business and pleasure. It is not something that I plan to change anytime soon." She bobs her head at his response.

"Does this have anything to do with her background?" Now, Erik looks at her baffled. "I know what Ashley does for a living and how she met LaNyah." Erik's expression remains vacant, so she goes on. "I don't know the details, but I can only speculate it was pretty bad. Like I told you before, Green treats her like his own daughter." She abruptly stops as the words come out. "And you would never do something like that to Green…" Stacey's comment falls off.

“And Ashley,” he finishes her thought. "You sure, you don't want to come work for me when all this is over? You would make a great PI." Stacey laughs and shakes her head no. "Let's just say I know way too much – about Green, Ashley, and now LaNyah. And you think you know my history and skills, well what you could find anyway." He winks at her as she rolls her eyes. "So, let me share something that you may not know. I have been hired as her protector. As you said, that is Ashley and Alex's daughter, and I have been hired for her safety." He stands up, moving back to the windows, his back turned to Stacey facing them again. ”And even with my attraction to her, it is not a boundary I can remove.”

“Says who?” Erik heard that right over his shoulder and turned to Stacey, who is right beside him again. “You don’t think you can protect her and care about her at the same time?” His pensive look and silence let her know it is not something he considered. He protects, or he cares, not both.

He turns back to the sun, moving over their building, casting him in the light. She looks out at the view. “She doesn’t need someone like me caring for her.” They both stand at the windows quietly, watching as the view grows darker with the moving sun.

--- Somewhere Downtown ---

Sitting at the desk with their hands perched together, watching the henchmen bring in the latest person to make a misstep. Disloyalty is not tolerated in this organization. It runs smoothly because it is ruled with a swift and iron fist. There are no second chances nor time for explanations.

“You are fucking up my goal, Freddy.” The groggy man is sitting in the chair in the center of the warehouse. “As much as I want to know how this went wrong. I want you to know you are done here.” Walking by, picking up their favorite aluminum bat, whipping it through the air. Freddy squirms in his seat and moans through the duct tape over his mouth. “Shhhhh, it’s ok.” Running the bat across his legs, moving to a newly added chair right in front of Freddy, “It’s my turn to talk.”

Freddy takes two shots to the stomach with the bat, as his employer starts talking to him. “Your job was to find the locations of each member of the team that killed my brother.” Waving the bat around, “Yeah, I know they said he was ambushed, but I can’t help but think it was friendly fire that killed him. You know he was fine until that little bitch showed up on his team. Accusing him of assault, she was the crazy one.” Swinging the bat like a Kitana sword, listening to the whooshes of air as it picked up speed. "Of all the men, she could have slept with on that team, and she pushes up on her married commander."

THWACK! Freddy screams through the tape as the bat cracks the back of his head.

“My beloved brother did not want that tramp. He loved his wife and kids. He was not the predator she painted him out to be.” Pointing the bat towards Freddy, the bat is swung high through the air and comes down low to the ground taking out the back two legs of the chair, dropping him on the cold cement floor. "I am going to get that bitch. Starting with her husband and his company." Pushing the bat into Freddy's chest, "You, my dear, had one job, and I am still missing a name." Leaning in next to his ear, "It's a wrap for you, Freddy. Say Goodnight." Now rising from the ground, the bat is raised overhead and brought down, crushing the man's skull. "Get him off my floor and clean this up." The bat is tossed to one of the henchmen as they move in to clean up the mess Freddy made.

Breathing deeply, they sit back down at the desk and pick up their phone. Dialing a number and waiting for the call to connect. It is answered on the second ring.

“He-hello.”

“Matthew, dear. My favorite inside man. How are you?”

“I’m go-good. Is there anything I can do for you?”

Grinning evilly, “I love your enthusiasm. As a matter of fact, yes.” Twirling the cord around their finger, “I need you to double the amount we are moving from the funds.”

“Are you sure, Green is having them audited. I told you LaNyah told him about the missing money.”

“Audited? By who?”

“Some stiff ass PI named Erik Stevens. I can’t find out much about him, but he has been here for weeks working with LaNyah while Green is out of the country.”

“Stevens, huh?” Tapping away at the laptop on the desk, Erik Stevens pulls up a lot of redacted military files. “Does he scream military when you look at him?”

“Yeah, actually he does. He almost snapped my wrist about harassing LaNyah the other week. Little bitch.” A shout from the other end of the line forces Matt to drop the phone. “My bad, boss. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

"MATTHEW!!! You have done it, my boy. You found my missing link!" Matt can hear maniacal laughter coming from the line and moves it away from his ear.

“I swear I didn’t do anything bad. I just scared her a little bit, promise.”

"Shut up, Matthew. I am not talking about the girl, not right now anyway. No, Stevens is the last piece to this puzzle." Matt hears whispering and shuffling in the background. "Just make sure the money starts moving faster, got it?"

“Yesssss will do.” He shutters out as the line goes dead. “Damnit, I gotta go check on Laura. This muthafucker is crazy.”

---

Erik decided to continue his official visits to each member of the team. He only had two more that he needed to complete before he could focus on tracking down the person who hired Matt to embezzle the funds and set up LaNyah. Erik picks up his notes and makes his way to the elevator. He gets off on the 31st floor and walks over to Sandi.

"Hi Mr. Stevens. How are you?" The older woman smiles at him from her front cubicle.

“I’m doing well, Sandi. I was hoping to get a few minutes of your time. Is there somewhere we can talk?”

She eyes him in confusion and then recalls, “Oh, I’m sorry. You are talking about the position.” He nods at her. “Yes, we can go into the breakroom. I can have Cynthia cover the phones for me.”

"Sure, I will see you in a few minutes." He walks back and slows up as he nears LaNyah's office. The door is cracked open, so people know she is working but approachable. He smiles at the thought. Erik continues to the breakroom where he selects a table in the back for his chat with Sandi.

Fifteen minutes later, he is walking out with a blushing Sandi and wishing her a good day before walking to LaNyah's office. He knocks on the door, and she calls for him to enter. He walks in, leaving the door cracked as before.

“Hey Erik. What’s up?”

“I came to talk with you.”

“Oh right, Cynthia told me you talked to her last week. I guess it’s my turn now.”

“Yeah, it is. Is now a good time? I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

“Oh no, I was just finishing up this week’s data entries for the scholarship fund.” Pointing to her guest chair, “Have a seat.”

"Great." Erik moves to the chair and pulls out his notebook. He looks over to LaNyah, who has her arms laid out on top of her desk, eyes closed, and taking a few deep breaths. He clears his throat to get her attention, she blinks them open and pulls her hands into her lap. “Ready?”

“Yes, let’s talk.”

Erik starts off by asking the basic questions. How long has she worked there? What funds was she in charge of reconciling each week? Who she reports to when there is an issue? Then he started asking her about her database access, the fund amounts, and her spending habits, among other things.  

"What do you mean, how often do I meet with Green?" LaNyah is confused by the last question Erik asked. “I met him when I got the job, my first day here, and dinner with him and Ashley a few times." She tries to think of any other times. "Oh, and when I told him about the vanishing money."

Erik nods, “So, you and Green didn’t meet to change the accounts where the money is held?”

“What? Are you kidding me?” She stands up, pushing her chair into the wall. “I only have access to see the account numbers and what is in each account. You have seen my lists, Erik.” Voice rising, she continues, “I don’t know what account the money gets added to or how it gets moved somewhere else.”

“Not what I was told.” He makes a note of something, “but you do know that is it possible." LaNyah looks at Erik incredulously. "You have complete access to the whole database the same as Matthew, Stacey, and Green." LaNyah grabs for her chair and drops down into it.

She can’t believe he is accusing her of using access to the database that she wasn’t even aware that she had. She can’t believe he is accusing her of stealing money from Green, the only man who has treated her like a person --- she looks up at Erik, crestfallen, and scoffs. She can’t believe he is accusing her of anything related to this, after telling her that he believes her. Yeah, the only man who gives a damn about her is Green.

She stands up and walks to the door, mumbling along the way. Opening it wide, "GET OUT!" Erik, who was following her movements closely, looks at her in shock. "GET OUT NOW!" Erik stands and slowly makes his way to the door. He stops in front of her, watching her lips quiver and her shaky grip on the door. He reaches for her arm, and she jumps back, eyes watering. “Please just go.”

Erik walks out of her office and looks back in time to see her slam the door shut. He turns around and continues walking towards the front of the accounting floor. He passes Matt, who smirks at him and Sandi, who is perplexed by the loud outburst from LaNyah. Erik forces himself not to react and continue towards the elevators. Pressing hard on the 35, he scowls at anyone looking at him as he waits for the doors to close.

Erik bursts into the office, drops his notes on the coffee table, and knocks everything off his desk. “FUCK!”

---

After working together for most of the morning, Erik decided to work through lunch, and Stacey left for lunch because of the turn their conversation took. She walked back into the office with something for Erik, dropped it on his empty desk, and went back to her desk. She watches as he stands near the windows again before looking at her lit-up phone.

While checking her messages, she sees a missed call from Nyah's extension. Without listening to the voicemail, she immediately calls her back. The phone rings and rings, and right as Stacey prepares to leave a message; she hears the phone pick up.

"LaNyah, did you need to speak with me?" It's quiet, but Stacey can hear some sniffling in the background. “Hey lovely, what’s wrong? What happened?” She slams the phone down and rushes to the elevator. She looks over at Erik, who hasn’t moved from the window. His hands are clasped behind his back, and she decides against telling him where she is going.  

Entering the accounting floor, Stacey fast walks to LaNyah's office. She runs into Sandi and Cynthia, coming out of the breakroom. She waves at them but keeps moving when it looks like they are about to stop her to chat. LaNyah's office door is closed, so Stacey knocks and announces herself.

"Of course, big sister to the rescue." Matt stands in his doorway, watching Stacey and the door. She looks over at him, ready to say something when LaNyah cracks the door, and Stacey slips through closing it behind her.

Stacey looks at the coloring books spread out across the floor, surrounded by piles of balled-up tissues. She finds a clear space and joins Nyah on the floor, grabs the nearest book and some pencils. Stacey picks a picture and starts coloring it until LaNyah starts talking. She explains what happened that sent her into a spiral.

Stacey shakes her head, "LaNyah, look at me." Bloodshot eyes meet her gaze, and she plots to throttle the man who did this to her. “He is just doing his job, honey. I am sure he didn’t mean anything by what he asked.”

Nyah sniffs and blinks away fresh tears. Stacey pulls some Kleenex from the box on the floor and dabs at the corner of LaNyah’s eyes. “He told me he believed me. So, why would he ask me that? Stacey, I only know the pages you showed me on the database.”

She takes LaNyah’s hands in her own, rubbing small circles on them. "I know, sweetie. Green was going to let me train you on some more tasks when all this mess came up. We increased your access." She coughed to cover up the end of her lie. "Don't worry about that now. You know that you did nothing wrong, and that's what matters."

"But how am I supposed to work with him now?" She pulls her hands out of Stacey's. "Things were ok, and I considered both of you, my friends." Nyah weakly smiles at her. “I don’t want to be near him. I just want Green to get back so I can work with him instead.”

Stacey nods at her, "I wish it were that easy. Green cannot be involved with the investigation until it's complete. Erik is the outside investigator, so he will be here until the end."

"Yeah, that makes sense." She stands up, and Stacey follows her lead. "Thank you for coming up here so quickly, Stacey. I didn't want to go into a full-on panic attack here in the office with Ashley out of the country."

"I got you boo. You can call me whenever you need me." Stacey opens her arms, and LaNyah walks into them. "It's ok. I am still your friend even if that big bad boss man isn't anymore." She feels Nyah giggle into her chest. She holds her for a little longer, "Why don't you call it a day? Grab your things, and I will walk you out." Nyah looks at her and nods. They clean the floor, collect her bags, lock her office door, and walk out to the elevators.

--- Near Bakersfield ---

Matt arrives at his future mother-in-law’s about three hours after talking to his other boss. He rings the doorbell with the two bouquets in hand. The door cracks open.

“Hi Martha.” She looks him up and down before opening the door wider.

"Laura, Matt's lame-ass is here." She shuts the door behind him as she takes the flowers. "Thanks. She’s out back with one of my friend's daughters."

Matt makes his way to the back patio but stops short in front of the screen door. Laura turns at the small squeak he makes. She jumps up and greets him.

“Matthew, baby. I want you to meet Mrs. Williams.” She drags Matt forward. “Mrs. Williams, this is my fiancé, Matthew.” His mouth drops as he watches his second boss walk towards him. “Matt, don’t be rude.”

"Matthew, it's so nice to meet you. Laura has told me great things about you." He looks over at Laura, who is all smiles latched onto his arm.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Williams. I didn’t mean to interrupt you both. I haven’t seen Laura since I brought her out here for some fresh air during her pregnancy.”

“Yes, congratulations on that.” She looks between the two and down at Laura’s stomach. “Such a beautiful thing to bring new life into the world.” She moves forward to hug Laura. “I really should be running dear, but we must catch up soon. I’ll say bye to Martha on my wait out.”

"Bye." Matt and Laura say together, watching her leave. As soon as Mrs. Williams is back in the house, Matt drops down on the patio table.

“Laura, we need to talk.”

---

It’s nearly midnight when Matt arrives back home. He took Laura out to dinner and explained who she just met. She screamed and yelled at him, beating him up in the car all on the drive home. Warning him to keep her and the baby safe or she would kill him. The story of his life. As he steps inside, his burner cell rings.

"Matthew. You have a beautiful family. Why don't you keep her closer?" Mrs. Williams snickers, on the other end of the line.

“How did you find her?” Matt sits down on his couch to catch his breath.

“Matthew, Matthew. You don’t think I had you fully vetted before I brought you on. I have known your movements for years. Anyone tied to you, I know all their information. I only use what is necessary.”

“But she is not necessary.”

“Actually, she is now. There has been a slight change in plans.”

Sighing heavily into the phone, “What do you need me to do?”

“Nothing. I have this part in place already. I just need you to push the money to increase ASAP. Since Mr. Stevens is already looking at the accounts and they are still active, I want to give them a greater push to find me.”

Matt pulls the phone away, “How is that gonna change anything?”

“Sweetie, stop thinking. Now, I have the opportunity to get all three of the people I blame for my brother’s death.”

“Oh ok. Wait, what about LaNyah?”

“Oh, Miss Cole. I have something planned for her.” Matt gulps at the change in her tone. “Just make sure I see double tomorrow. I know she finished her data entry for the week.”

“Done.” The line goes dead, and Matt collapses on his couch. “Please don’t hurt Laura.”

---

Stacey storms back upstairs after walking LaNyah to her car. She knows Erik is still in the office. It’s too early to leave, even for him.

“Stevens!” She yells before walking right into his office without knocking. “What the fuck did you do?”

“What the hell, Stacey?”

“Answer the damn question.”

“I would if I knew what you were talking about.”

She walks over to him, “Do you know where I spent my afternoon when I returned from lunch?” Poking him in the chest, “No fuck that. Why did you do it?” She pushes his shoulder, “I know we hit on some hard shit this morning, but why the fuck would you go and do that?”

Erik drops his head. LaNyah. She called her office buddy. Of course, she would since Ashley is not in the country. She needed immediate relief from his interrogation. He knew he pushed too hard earlier, but there has to be more to it for Stacey to be fuming like this.

“Oh, so you do know what I am talking about. Or rather, who?" Erik looks up into fiery green eyes and stands up. In an instant, he has both her hands behind her back while holding her in front of him. "Let me go, Stevens.”

“Not until you calm the fuck down.” She tried to wiggle out of his hold, but there is no room for her to move. “You gonna try and hit me again, or do I need to keep you hemmed up like this so we can talk?” Stacey keeps cussing, taking her heel and stomps down on his foot. “Alright, fine.” Holding her with one hand, he takes his tie off and binds her wrists up. He tosses her on the couch and stands over her before moving back to the desk.

He watches as Stacey rights herself on the cushion. If life was a cartoon, he could see all the smoke clouding around her as pissed as she is right now. They stare each other down for a few minutes. While he waits for her to calm down, he grabs one of the desk chairs and sits down in front of her.

“You good?”

“Heartless asshole.”

“I got time. Let me know when you are ready to talk.”

“For someone who prides himself on how well he does his job, I want you to know you failed this one already.”

“Oh really? How so?”

"Protecting her means not just physically, jack ass." She looks down at the floor before staring back at him. "Emotionally and mentally, Erik. She is probably the most fragile person you have ever encountered, and you interrogated her like a common criminal.”

"I asked her whole team the same questions."

"Sure, you did.” She rolls her eyes, huffing out anger-filled breaths. “But you did not spend weeks building a rapport with them before doing so, right?" She turns around as much as she can on the couch, poking her hands out. "Let me go. I'm good." Erik slowly walks over and unties her wrists. While rubbing them to get the circulation back, she continues. "You do not need to protect them from whoever is trying to fuck over Green and GBI. Did you not tell me that you were hired to be her bodyguard, just this morning?"

“She’ll be fine. She’s a big girl.” Erik throws his tie on top of the desk.

"MEN! You know what. I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt. I figured you would be good for her, once you figured out that she sees you for you." Erik bites his lip in frustration. "Yeah, LaNyah may never need to know all you have done or whatever other skeletons are in your closet. But she clearly liked the guy who was nice to her, appreciated her work, and didn't make her feel stupid for not having experienced life like other women her age.”

“What are you getting at, Stacey? I have work to do.” Frowning, Erik is done with this conversation.

“Oh, you are right about that. Because when your charge no longer trusts you, how are you supposed to keep them safe?” She stands up and straightens out her skirt, and she looks over to Erik, who is sitting stoically at his desk. "It wasn't why you did it; she knew you would have to talk to her. It was how you did it. You have the tact of a bull in a China shop and clearly forgot who you were addressing." She walks over to the office door and turns back to him. “She doesn’t trust you anymore, Erik. But something tells me that you were counting on that. It makes your job much easier now that you know she will keep her interactions with you to a minimum.” She opens the door sighing, “You’re a dick, Stevens.”

Chapter 9

A/N: Thank you for those who are still reading and enjoying this story. As always the tag list is open, so let me know if you want me to add you. 

Taglist: @killmongersaidheyauntie @dacosmicdame @muse-of-mbaku @panthergoddessbast @youreadthatright @princessstevens @eye-raq @stark-red19 @kreolemami @bidibidibombaclaat @iamrheaspeaks @missumuch1918 @simplyyamberr @cheychey10142 @ajspencer1892 @chrismarcs @loosewindmill @sydneebleu @semianta @eyeknowmywrites @alexundefined @itsjustmezari @goddessofthundathighs @purple-apricots @kissmyafropuff @gimmeface @fd-writes @jozigrrl @soufcakmistress @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @shaekingshitup @localtrapgod @post-woke  @theesotericqueen

[experimentalmadness]

Treatment

More one-shots featuring my OC and Harvey Dent, if you’re curious about more of their story you can find other stories here. Hope you like YEARNING, because we are doing some mutual pining in this household tonight. 

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She had broken into many places in her life, but that had been her first pharmacy. Jacky kept to the rooftops. The old apartments here were so close together it was easy enough to jump from building to building, no fancy equipment required. If only all jobs could be so quick and painless. The poor pharmacist was going to be sleeping with the lights on for the foreseeable future, Jacky guessed. Hopefully she’d be true to her word and not snitch. Good kid though, they didn’t have to help them find the right medicine, but they did it anyway. Maybe they thought she was just someone desperate with no insurance.

Well, she was, wasn’t she?

She flinched as the first drop of rain landed on her nose. Oh great. That meant she only had a few more minutes until—a curtain of water descended from the night, slicking the roof tops and soaking Jacky through in less than a minute. A quiet purr of thunder followed. Never could have just a little mist or drizzle in Gotham. Had to be a storm or nothing. 

Luckily she was almost to homebase. 

One more leap was all it took, she skidded on the landed, sliding right for the roof access door and almost losing her balance. No one was around to see this less than graceful entrance. Trying the door she found it locked. Huffing strands of wet, fading-bleached hair out of her eyes, Jacky considered busting the door in. Nah, too much trouble. And she really didn’t fancy getting more soaked than she already was trying to pick the look in the dark either. 

Shortcut it was. 

Heading back over to the roof’s edge, Jacky peered down until she spotted the fire escape. Lining herself up and saying a quick prayer she jumped down, slamming onto the cold, iron grating. The impact went from her knees to her teeth, but at least she was golden. The resident inside the apartment window she’d landed beside gave a single scream. Jacky turned about, raising a half salute before climbing down to the apartments below. Poor lady, hopefully she didn’t get any thoughts about calling the police. Jacky was not in the mood to deal with the GCPD. 

It was two more flights before she arrived at her destination. The curtains were closed, blocking her view inside, but should tell the lights were still on. She rapped at the window twice before giving it an experimental push. 

She hadn’t counted on it being unlocked.

The window flew inward and Jacky had just enough time to think that this was exactly why she really hadn’t gotten into burglary before she tumbled into the apartment, tangling up in the curtains. The unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked kept her still. “It’s just me, boss,” she said through a mouthful of cloth.

“Jacky?” 

Harvey pulled the curtains off of her as she rose to her feet. “We could have shot you.”

“Eh, I liked my odds. Besides it’s not my fault the roof hatch was locked again.” Jacky slicked her short hair back, sniffling as she wiped the rain water from her eyes. 

It had been three months since she started working for him full time and Jacky still couldn’t equate seeing him in this slum. She’d grown up not too far from this street. She knew he’d come from those same roots, but somehow he was always in an orbit far beyond her. Far beyond the scum she’d been trying to kick the dust off of for years. Harvey set the revolver on the small, circular table at the corner of the room that served as the majority of the apartment. 

“What are you doing here?” he snapped, fixing her with his good eye. Sometimes if she tilted her head right he’d look the same. But even that blue eye had an ice, cold edge to it now. 

“Angling for that overtime pay?” 

He did not look amused. “Okay, okay, I got something for you,” she held out her hands in surrender before fishing for the items in her satchel. “Doc says you should be using these—”

“We don’t need those.”

“—every day or there could be serious complications!”

 “Did we hire you to be a goddamn nurse?” It was still taking some getting used to, the voice that was and wasn’t Harvey Dent’s. The person that moved his body around, that possessed him, that was still him in all the ways he didn’t want to admit. 

“No, you hired me to take care of your enemies, and sometimes, Harvey, that’s you.”

She was never sure how far to push the man who was still her friend, a total stranger, and now her employer. Saying yes to the job was easy. She’d already gone down as far as one could go in this city. If anyone was going to follow him down the rabbit hole it had to be her. 

Harvey ran an exasperated hand through his hair. “Get yourself dried off, Jacky, and get out of here.” He gestured to the bathroom off the corner. 

Stubborn. Well he was in here with the champ. But she was soaking wet, still. She grabbed the medical supplies and hauled off into the cramped bathroom, taking a towel she dried off the ends of her hair, wiping down her face, neck. She turned on the tap to get some hot water on her chilled hands. The hottest she could get it was still lukewarm. “Damnit,” she cursed, shutting off the water and slamming the towel against the rim of the tub next to her. Leaning against the sink counter she got a good hard look at the haggard woman staring back at her in the dirty mirror, along with Harvey, leaning against the doorway. 

Her fingers curled against the yellowing counter top. It hurt to look at him. There was still that blue eyed stare that got to her the way no one else’s ever had or ever would. “I’m not leaving,” she said to the reflection. 

“We can make you.”

Two nights ago she’d watched as he broke a man’s neck on the flip of a coin. When only two years ago those same hands had helped her put up campaign flyers and posters in her shop and gestured emphatically about how Gotham was going to change. And a few months before that had held her secure as he danced her across Bruce Wayne’s manor, both of them laughing about made up scandals and whiskey. 

Jacky turned around, hiked herself up on the counter top and sat back. “Alright, heads you throw me right out on my ass out the window, scarred side you try the damn treatment.”

Oh, he was livid. But he still went for the coin in his pocket. It was only three stories up, if he really did throw her out it wouldn’t hurt much. Jacky watched the coin flip, saw how carefully he studied it. The most decisive man she ever knew, basing his every move now on the whim of a silver dollar. He pocketed the coin in silence and padded over to her. She stiffened, back pressed up against the mirror. Shit, he really was going to pick her up and toss her out. 

“So...you gonna show us what exactly is in this damn stuff you got, or—”

Jacky breathed out a shaky, laughing breath, her shoulders rolling forward, muscles releasing every line of tension. She felt for the satchel still at her belt, not taking her eyes off him. “It’s for the scarring, least that’s what the pharmacist said. I made him find the right things.”

“Useless junk,” he mumbled.

“Not if you don’t want to get infected,” Jacky countered. “Let’s see what you do when you can’t even talk back to me ‘cause the skin’s so tight from the scar tissue you can’t even move your damn mouth ‘cause you refuse to get skin grafts, genius. And can you even see out of that eye anymore?” She waved in what she knew was his blindspot. 

“Shadows and light,” Harvey said quietly. “But that’s all we need.”

“You’re gonna lose that eye,” Jacky was already working on the eye dropper bottle, tearing the seal and setting a packet of gauze out on her lap. “And I’m sorry, Harvey, but I’m not gonna just sit here and watch you do that. I’m not. And I know you didn’t hire me for this, but I’m gonna be honest...I’m kinda cashing in on five plus years of friendship on this one. You have to trust me.”

Sometimes he looked at her like he didn’t quite know her. That part she refused to get used to. The expression faded as he nodded. “Alright, Jacky, we trust you.”

He was still looming over her, close enough to touch, close enough to make her aware of how pathetic she’d been for these five odd years. Oh, Jacky, you miserable idiot, what were you thinking? This all felt close to some vivid hallucination. Harvey sat along the edge of the tub, no more smart remarks or resistance. Jacky leaned over him now, the countertop giving her the needed height as she primed the dropper. That pharmacist had better have given her the right stuff or she was going to pay them another far less friendly visit. 

Harvey looked straight up at her and Jacky’s mouth went dry. The scars gave him a permanent snarl where the left edges of his lips had burned away, but on the undamaged side she swore she could see something akin to...disappointment? The burned eye was red, wild, and from this close it really was like looking into two different faces. Yet they were both patient. And they both were as good as their word. 

The pharmacist had said two drops so that’s what Jacky did. Harvey pulled away as they hit the red eye, flinching, trying to blink without eyelids. Jacky was ready for that. She placed the gauze pad over the eye, tearing off medical tape and sticking it delicately around the edges. “You gotta keep it on for the rest of the night, Harvey,” she said. 

“Like how you kept the damn tape on when you got your nose busted?” Harvey jabbed her right in the bridge of the nose in question, pushing her head back gently as she laughed unexpectedly. 

“Hey, that was different,” she bit back a grin as she fished around in the bag, pulling out the ointment.

His laughter nowadays was a grating, raspy, vicious sound. She still loved hearing it. “You know I had that little situation under control before you walked in. Thought you were gonna kill that poor mugger.”

The gel came out clear, she ran a finger’s worth down the middle of his face, where the scar tissue met undamaged skin. 

“We wanted to,” he snapped. 

“I’m flattered, boss.”

She had to bring herself so close in order to do this right. The burned skin felt different than she had imagined. This was a rough map and she was tipping over the edge of it. Jacky didn’t fish for conversation as she smoothed the medicine over his face. She had to focus, trying hard not to catch Harvey’s gaze meant she concentrated harder on this new map she was following. The burns were harder, more twisted in some places, in others almost smooth, like new skin was trying so hard to break past the ruin. She didn’t go near his lower cheek and jaw, where the tendon was barely holding the structure together. 

Blood hit her tongue, and Jacky unclenched her teeth. She should have been there that day. Didn’t matter how impossible that was. Didn’t matter she would never have known, didn’t matter she had only just been released from Blackgate a few weeks prior, didn’t matter she would have had no business being in that courtroom. Then at least he wouldn’t be sitting in this slum of a hideout with her. He’d be home with Gilda and she’d still be going about the necessary work of untangling herself from his association for his own good. 

Jacky really wished in that moment she hadn’t noticed that Harvey wasn’t wearing his wedding ring anymore.

Things were already dangerous enough. 

Her hand went down across his neck where the acid had splashed. The attacker would have had to get in close, possibly only a difference of inches between how close she was to Harvey now. She knew that because the only difference between her and that hitman was who they had signed a contract with. It was sheer dumb luck Maroni had put the hit out first and not Falcone when it cold have easily been him. And it could have easily been her holding that bottle of acid, and what would she have done then? 

Her panic blinkered out as Harvey tilted his head into her hand, eye closed. He pulled in a deep sigh that uncoiled every hidden line of stress in his body. She could feel the tension in his muscles unravel beneath her fingertips and transfer directly into her as she clutched the edge of the sink counter. 

That sigh might have bought her a few years out of purgatory. 

Jacky had managed to interpret the new map of his face in its entirety, but this expression now was utterly foreign. His undamaged side faced hers, good eye still closed. She wanted to reach out and brush aside his hair, tell him she couldn’t work for him. This wasn’t a job. Maybe start telling him about all the impossible things she’d gotten very good at boxing up and locking away. 

Instead, like the coward she always was, she moved her hand away.

Harvey opened his eyes. 

And Jacky continued her work without comment.

She knew there were more burns down his shoulder and chest that she could not get to, and she had to get out of this apartment soon or she was going to lose what little she still had of her mind. She was about to close up the bottle when Harvey held out his hand, letting it rest, palm up in her lap. The only quiet insistence that she wasn’t done yet and the closest thing she was ever going to get to him admitting she had been right about the medicine. 

He flexed his fingers as she soothed more of the medication into his palm. The scars on his hand were the ones she could handle the least. The disfigurements were an adjustment, but the burns on his hand were the reminder of the real brutality. The sudden instinct to defend, the recoil. Jack knew she lingered for a second too long, fingers tracing directionless along the edge of his wrist. 

Some excuse was about to escape her lips when, with his free hand, Harvey reached up to tuck back a loose strand of her hair. “Hey,” he whispered in a voice that sounded like his own, incredulous, and strangely surprised. Why did it sound like he had only now noticed it was her sitting here the whole time? “Hey, Jacky…” He let the piece of hair fall from between his fingers, the backs of his knuckles trailing down her cheek as Jacky forgot to breathe.

His fingers tilted her chin up as he leaned in closer and oh, good Christ, she was going to let this happen. There were no more reasons to stop herself. Her whole world was already upside down. It wouldn’t fix a damn thing, but the medicine wouldn’t magically heal those scars either, that didn’t mean it hadn’t helped. 

She had just about convinced herself to give in when Harvey pulled away, opting instead to dive for the coin in his pocket, his breath coming in short, almost panicked bursts. He tossed it up once and Jacky had to restrain the sheer mania that nearly made her snatch the coin out of the air. Instead he caught it as he always did, uncovering it to reveal the scarred side of the dollar. He stared at it hard, brow knitting into a frown and Jacky felt her heart sink from the unexpected heights it had managed to reach seconds before. She hoped it didn’t show on her face. She looked down, fumbling with the cap to the medicine, pretending none of that had happened. 

“Still want that overtime pay?” Harvey placed his unburnt hand over hers. What remained of his lips tried to smile.

“Didn’t come here for the money.”

“Yeah...yeah I know,” his fingers curled around her wrist, thumb rubbing a half circle around the back of her hand. Jacky felt every pinpoint of pressure; a reminder of how far out to sea she was. 

“You shouldn’t be here, Harvey,” Jacky blurted out, a modicum of real courage seeping into her veins. He shook his head even as the first words left her mouth, rising to his feet, pulling away from her. “I think you should let me drive you to a hospital, a doctor...anyone...I think you should let Miri and I put you up until you can get back on your feet so you’re not hiding out in this slum,” she was losing him. His back was to her as he tried to wave her off. 

“Not going to happen, Jacky,” he said, and was she hallucinating or did she detect a note of genuine disappointment. “You get out of here. Go home. When we got work for you we’ll call.”

“For what?” Jacky hopped down from the sink, grabbing her jacket from the tub and shoving her arms through furiously. “When you need a bank robbed? A hit put out on more of Falcone, or Penguin’s men? You think you’re really gonna take this city?”

“We know we are,” he glared at her, from over his shoulder, his red eye unmoving, unblinking. “We’re gonna give this city back what it gave us double.” He stepped away, idly tossing that damn coin in his good hand. Whatever quiet spell had overtaken them just moments before was gone now. The would-be-mob boss was firmly back in his place. 

“That’s not what you told me,” Jacky said. Maybe he’d shoot her after all. Her fingers were still slick with the gel, she could still feel the map of the burns under her skin. “You told me you were gonna change this city. It’s not too late.”

“If you’re not with us, Jacky, you’re against us.”

That snapped a raw nerve she didn’t even realize she had left. She shoved him back, hard, watching that already snarling face twist further. “You gotta ask me that, Harvey?”

“The name’s Two-Face.”

“Your name is Harvey Dent and I’m not letting you forget it! I think you should come with me, but I can’t make you. So screw it,” she ran an exasperated hand through her hair as a desperate laugh choked out of her. “You want me to shake down a few civilians? Put a bullet in the right person’s head? Yeah, sure, Harv, I’ll do that easy. Whatever you want. But I think you should flip that coin of yours again.”

“Not how it works,” his voice had gone quiet again, but it was still the same persona. “Fate isn’t always fair, Jacky. Please just...go.”

If she was a braver woman she would have ignored fate and finished what they had started. “You gotta remember to use that medicine,” she said leaning hard against the door. 

“We will.”

“You’re a terrible fucking liar, Harvey.”

“So are you.”

“Well,” Jacky sighed, a tired laugh escaping her as she opened the door. “Guess that makes us two sides of the same coin.”