#anyway i will be less vague about what i've been doing once i secure a job lol

[vuele]

i am feeling a lil reflective today, and i want to remember (for the future) that i've always been my own harshest critic. but i shouldn't be!

i was talking to my manager today, who told me that the people he went to school with who were constantly failing back then are all thriving now, because they were tenacious and learned a lot from failing. and i found that so scary! i hate not being good at things, and feeling like i don't meet people's expectations (or my own expectations), and i don't want to fail ever. but... i want to change that!

he also told me that instead of focusing on how much i know, i should focus on how well i can learn, because you never know what might happen in life, and things could drastically change, but if you know how to learn, you can adapt. and reflecting on this past year and a half, it's so true!

there was a lot i liked, and some things i loved, about my old job: i was on a team of almost all women, i got to work with tons of amazing artists, i helped create a space where people from the diaspora could come together to celebrate their culture and feel at home. i never felt like i wasn't capable; whenever i had a new project to tackle or was given a new area to take ownership of, i was able to do it well.

but it was also miserable, because everyone cared about the mission, so the longevity of the organization was the number one priority, at the expense of the employees. i constantly had too much work and was paid too little; by the time i quit, i was managing all of the classes, including ones we offered to corporations, on top of all my other random work, but my title was always just "associate." at one point i was in charge of the bar and constantly had to drive to bevmo in my personal vehicle to pick up alcohol for the events, and one time i had to juice a ton of limes to make a huge batch of mint mojitos for a special event, when i only drink maybe a handful of times a year. i didn't even know what they should taste like!

also! i had to deal with a lot of milquetoast-liberals-who-consider-themselves-leftists who cared more about their feelings than social justice. i still remember, in 2020, we shared a post talking about how there's tons of anti-blackness in the latine community and had to take it down because we were met with so much outrage from people complaining that we were calling them racists. i think that was when i started realizing that we weren't ever going to be able to do anything Actually Radical -- the most we could do was promote corporate EDI values.

anyway, by the end of 2021, i realized that my workplace talked a lot about community, but didn't actually care about our community, or, rather, didn't care if disabled people were included in our community. i was the only one still masking and they made me feel like a nuisance for it, and when i said we should require masking at our events to keep everyone safe, they said they didn't want to "police" anyone, and that people had trauma from policing (?!?!).

so, i secretly started working on my escape plan, and studied hard and got accepted into a selective training program in a completely new field to me, and then i gave like a month's notice before my program started because i felt guilty, lol. and almost a year later, i'm going to graduate from that program! and i didn't have as much experience as some of my cohortmates, but i made it through the intense learning portion, and now i'm interning somewhere that i never ever thought i would be capable of working at! and somehow, even though i feel like i'm lacking in everything, i've been doing well here! and even if i don't get a return offer after this, the things i've been working on these past five months will be used by tons of people!

all of this is to say... i want to be kinder to myself. i want to be the first person who believes in me, instead of the last. and instead of basing my self-worth on things i do, i want to base it on things i am.

ok that's really really all for now!

[maple-the-awesome]

We'll Meet Again...I Know When || Chapter 24

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x GN Reader

Words: 3,065

Overview: Given your old-fashioned personality and obsession with all things 1940s to 1980s, it’s no wonder that most people refer to you as an ‘old soul’ who would’ve rather lived back then than in the modern era. Little do they know, you already did, but with your previous life as Hollie Stark cut short, you’ve been left with some…unfinished business, to say the least. Top of your list? Finally getting to marry your thought-to-be-lost fiancé.

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CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: LET'S JUST TALK

Compared to the decades you've both been apart before, it really hasn't been much longer than a blink of time since you've last seen Bucky, yet you're staring like a deer in headlights anyways, struggling to process all of these damned emotions that overtake you like a tidal wave. At least you're not alone in this reaction, though.

Despite having been the one to call you, Bucky doesn't say anything too quickly himself. He holds the camera at a slightly awkward angle, struggling to keep it level which you aren't sure he realizes. Thankfully, the image remains crystal clear no matter how much he shakes the screen, allowing you to still dwell on his handsome features as if he were standing right here in front of you: his hair and beard have gotten longer, the former tied back into a messy bun; it's a nice look.

"Merry Christmas!" You blurt at last, cursing how much your smile must make you look like a giddy teenager. Oh well, you're too surprised by this unexpected video call to stress over it.

"Merry Christmas," Bucky repeats accompanied by laughter, a smile adorning his own face. You notice it immediately, unable to skip how much happier he seems in the moment compared to months ago. He carries this sort of glow to himself now that you had only ever seen snippets of while on the run, not to mention there's no longer bags under his eyes nor a drag to his voice. He's relaxed, and that alone makes you feel far better than you have been.

Shortly after Siberia, Steve had sent a letter to give you a vague update on things, however that only gave you temporary peace of mind. You often paced around your room wondering just how safe this 'Wakanda' could be for the love of your life. Steve said it's a very secure country and you trust Steve, but cat-man also tried to kill Bucky every time their paths crossed. Will Wakanda really protect him now? Are they capable of protecting him? Is he happy there and not as depressed as your nightmares tell you he is? You could never be quite sure of any answers until finally allowed to confirm them with your own eyes.

"How, um...How have you been?" You ask to get the conversation rolling, struggling to find a comfortable seat leaned against your pillows in the meantime. Not once during your readjustments do you take your eyes away from the tablet.

"I've been good," Bucky answers quickly, although after thinking it over, he decides to add, "I, uh, don't know how much Steve told you, but I actually went under for a while until the Wakandans could find a cure for the Winter Soldier...so that's all better now..."

He tries to play it off as if it's not a big deal, but ends up smiling shyly once you gasp with a huge grin, "Wait, you're serious?! Does that mean there's no more Winter Soldier at all?!"

"W-Well, we tried the trigger words and they didn't work -"

"- Bucky, that's amazing! I'm so happy for you! I was just thinking something seemed different about you, too - that you look more at ease and all. Oh, I'm sure, though! No more worrying about the other guy coming out must really take a big weight off your shoulders, huh?"

He blushes at your kind words, "We shouldn't get our hopes up too high yet...but yeah, it's been pretty nice having one less thing to worry about."

"That's really good news, Bucky - wonderful news!" You can't stop smiling, "What else have you been up to? You'll have to tell me all about Wakanda. They're known for vibranium and I watched King T'Challa's speech, but that's about the extent of my knowledge. What's it like there? Are you enjoying yourself?"

'Are you happy?' Is the question you're trying to hint at, desperately wanting to hear him say the words which will rest your anxieties in regards to everything that happened the last time you saw each other.

Fortunately, Bucky's eager to nod, "It's nice here. They've set me up with this little hut where I'm able to take care of goats all day and the villagers are super nice even though I'm still struggling to learn their language - Oh, and it's all by this huge lake, too. Did you get to see it? I think I put a picture on your tablet. I did it without any help, though, but I think I got it?"

You chuckle, "I did. You set it as the background. I'm assuming you're my secret Santa who sent this then?"

He nods more bashfully this time, "...Do you like it?"

"If it lets me finally catch up with you, then I love it."

This seems to please him as he goes to explain, "Shuri suggested it as a good gift. 'said none of the calls can be tracked by the government, so it would be a safe way to talk to you without giving away either of our locations."

"Smart. Steve sent a burner phone with his letter, but yeah, I didn't want to use it if it would risk any of you seeing as the government's apparently been searching nonstop for your whereabouts."

For the first time, Bucky frowns, the screen shaking a bit as he must've sat down, "...Have they been giving you a lot of trouble because of me?"

His fears dim your own bright spirit, however you don't want to focus on that nor do you want him to. Waving your hand with a so-so sign, you respond truthfully, "Eh, it's been touch and go. I wasn't formally charged with anything at least. Thanks to Tony putting in a good word for me, I pretty much got a slap on the wrist and required monthly meetings with a probation officer, although I do think they've been watching me pretty closely from afar. You know, in case I get into contact with any of my 'fugitive' friends, but seeing as the FBI hasn't busted down my bedroom door yet, they must be slacking off for the holidays."

Bucky gives a dull hum.

"I can't complain, though. Overall, they've been extremely lenient with me all things considered and hey, I get to live in the new Avengers' compound which is a total win! Like, do you see this room? This is first class living right here!" You turn on the opposite camera, proudly showing off your room for Bucky to see, however to your disappointment, it still only brings a vague tug to his lips before they fall back into a frown, "...Okay, what's wrong? Out with it, Barnes."

He fidgets with his own device, not looking into his camera directly even after you turn yours back to your face. When you draw out his name and thus show your refusal to simply drop the topic, he finally caves in, "I don't understand how you aren't upset with me..."

"Why would I ever be upset with you? Bucky, you've done nothing wrong. You were my friend. Together, we were living a peaceful life in Romania which was honestly the happiest months of my life. It was Zemo who came and ruined it. You couldn't have done anything to prevent that. He caught us all by surprise, even the Avengers -"

"- I know...I know..." He whispers, squeezing his eyes shut for a second, "I know you care about me and I know you never hesitate to protect me...But I just keep repaying Siberia in my head. I can't help thinking about when we confronted Zemo and everything that happened afterwards -"

"- Are you mad at me?"

Bucky's head shoots up, looking at you with wide eyes and shock written over his face, "Why would I ever be mad at you?"

It's your turn to shy away from the camera, rubbing the fabric of your pajama sleeves between your fingers as a distraction, "...I don't know. We went all that way together, we almost escaped, then I chose Tony over you at the last minute...I could've gone with Steve and you - "

"- He's your friend -"

"- So are you," you sigh, dropping your head back against your pillows in defeat, "...I didn't even say goodbye to you - I didn't say anything to you! What kind of friend does that?! ...Be honest with me, Buck. Did that upset you?"

He hesitates, "...Yes..."

You inhale through your nose, the guilt pricking your heart the same way it did back then.

"But I wasn't upset with you - not by any means. I was just upset with myself. At first, it was because I saw what I had done. You can argue that I didn't do it physically and that I had no power to stop it, but at the end of the day, Zemo used me to get between the Avengers and it was because you tried protecting me that you almost got into trouble yourself -" When you open your mouth to object, Bucky shakes his head, not giving you the chance, "You can't deny that part, (Y/n). If I wasn't involved, you wouldn't have had a reason to fight your friends or go against the law...That's the other thing that upset me...

"You had given up so much for my sake already - I never wanted to see you sacrifice anything else, yet you were still willingly to. That's why I should've been happy to see you choose Stark's side in the end. I should've been relieved that you finally put me aside for once to make your own choice...but I wasn't happy and that made me angry with myself. Even in that moment, regardless of how much you had given me, I was still hoping you'd go with Steve and I. I felt...lost when you didn't, then guilty for feeling that way because like I said, I should've just been happy for you instead. What right did I have in being that selfish -?"

"- Bucky -"

"- I'm not upset anymore, though - you should know that. I've had a lot of time to think things over for myself here in Wakanda and I thought about, um...- I mean it when I say I'm happy that you've been, uh, happy this whole time, too..." He begins to stumble with his words, trailing off with an eventual curse, "The thing is -...I've realized -...Shit, how do I say this -?"

"- It doesn't feel right when we're apart," you suggest, earning his attention, although you merely shrug with a smile, "No matter what you do, no matter who you're around, you always feel like something or someone's missing. You can be in a room filled with people and still feel lonely without that one person you had gotten so accustomed to being around all the time."

"Y-Yeah..." He rubs the back of his neck with one hand, a faint blush covering his cheeks, "You feel that way, too, then?"

"All the time. It's gotten a little better, but as it turns out, it's surprisingly hard to reset your life after two years."

"Tell me about it," Bucky rolls his eyes and chuckles. He brings his other hand back to the tablet, his mouth moving, however you don't hear anything making you smirk as you realize the reason as to why.

"James, hun, I think you've muted yourself."

He frowns before looking around as he seems to be calling for someone while tapping several buttons in an attempt to fix the problem himself. A girl soon appears on screen temporarily, shouting at him (which you don't need volume to understand) then swatting him away in order to take the tablet and unmute the video herself.

"- I swear, you're worse than a toddler - or my brother for that sake! Always touching stuff and poking buttons! Keep your hands to yourself!" You hear her curse as she walks off, leaving Bucky to pout and look back at you with obvious embarrassment.

"...Is that better?"

"Much," you snuffle your laughter, "You were saying?"

He appears caught off guard by your question and it takes him a good minute or two to remember the exact train of thought he had been having before, yet thanks to you repeating what you had said last yourself, it manages to jog his memory.

"...I was gonna say that I miss you," he admits bashfully, "Don't get me wrong, I like Wakanda and I'm grateful for everything everyone's done for me here even though Shuri can be intimidating at times, but I, um, really miss how it felt living together. I miss how comfortable I automatically felt around you and the way I could just - I don't know, turn around to talk to you. I miss that simple life we had where things actually felt normal as if we weren't on the run or had any terrible secrets to hide...Thanks to you I felt like a normal person and I could never thank you enough for that..."

You feel your heart soar which no doubt shows on your beaming expression, "I meant it earlier when I said those years we spent together were the happiness of my life. I missed -...I've missed you since then. If I'm allowed to be dramatic, it's utter hell whenever I have to go long periods of time without hearing your voice let alone be able to see you with my own eyes. You're a critical part of my life, James. It doesn't matter how much time passes nor what crazy stuff life likes to throw at us, that fact will always remain the same."

Bucky's blush grows brighter and although he dips his head down a bit to hide it, the smile he bites back is enough to let you know your words haven't crossed any line, thus you refuse to take them back.

"Maybe after the smoke's officially cleared, it'll be safe to see each other in person again and, if we're real lucky, we might even be able to, I don't know, live together again - If you're interested in that, of course."

"I'd like that," he nods, his voice breathless despite not having done any kind of exercise, "...I'm just not sure how plausible it'll be. What if the government -"

"- James, it's the government. It took them two years to find us the first time and as much as I hate to admit fault, I think we were getting a bit sloppy towards the end anyways. Living in the city, going on walks and coffee dates - I bet if we used a more concrete strategy, we'd never be found again. As far as the government would be concerned, we dropped off the face of the earth, never to be seen or heard of."

"What's this 'concrete strategy' entail?" Bucky asks, finding himself mirroring the slight smirk you give in response. He knows you well enough to guess you already have a plan in mind and your hum as you pretend to think doesn't fool him into believing he's wrong.

"Hmm...Well, based on the movies I've watched, it seems the go-to spot for hiding is somewhere completely off the grid - preferably the country since I've seen people move to high up mountains and I am not dealing with anywhere colder than Romania."

He chuckles.

"Think about it, though? We'd live off the land, so we wouldn't have to risk going into town for anything and being seen."

"I think living off the land is a lot harder than the movies, dear."

"Oh, we'll figure it out. We're both pretty smart - I am at least," you dismiss while ignoring the nickname he used. You have to worry about one thing at a time and if you make a convincing enough plan for your imaginary futures, you might just get to hear Bucky call you other sweet names that sit directly in your heart, "Also, if we go to the country, you can bring your little goats, too. Good deal, right?"

"I'm not sure if the Wakandans will let me steal their goats."

"I meant we can get you your very own goats. Please don't start stealing goats from people, Bucky. It's frowned upon," you roll your eyes which seems to trigger a yawn you would've never commented on, however Bucky does:

"It's pretty late there, isn't it? I should probably let you sleep -"

"- It's fine. I'm a world champion for lack of sleep, second to only Tony. It's a Stark thing, I suppose."

"Hypocrite," is Bucky's teasing response as he interprets your words in another way than what you had actually meant; a good thing, too, seeing as you're beginning to lose your self control. Yes, you can force your body to stay up for as long as needed to keep talking to him, however is it worth the risk of blurring the lines further between past and present, friend and fiancée?

"Not a hypocrite. I can function just fine on little sleep. You turn into a big grump, though," you counter, muffling another yawn behind your hand. Unfortunately, the smarter side of you eventually forces out the words you've been desperately trying to deny, "...Maybe you're right. Maybe I should get some sleep. It's been a long day..."

Bucky smiles triumphantly, proud to have won an argument with you for once and without having to say much either, although he must secretly admit his own bitter feelings towards the thought of this conversation ending. He could talk to you all night if allowed...

"...Hey (Y/n)...I -'' He starts suddenly after what felt like forever of silent thought, however you cut him off by holding up a hand and giving a tired smile.

"- I think I know what you're going to say, but how about you wait to tell me in person, alright?"

The stress visually melts off his bones into a sigh as he happily accepts not having to worry about those terrifying words right now, after all he prefers your suggestion of waiting for an opportunity to tell you in person anyways, although he does frown slightly at the thought of how long that'll take. This call ending brings him back to reality, reminding him that he doesn't get to see you nearly as often as he would like...How long will he have to wait until you're within arms length again? How long until the right moment to utter those words?

"James?"

"Hmm?"

"You'll start calling regularly, yeah? Remember: it's utter hell for me not to hear from you. You'll take pity on me by calling sometimes, right?"

Bucky smiles gently and nods, "I'll call as often as I can."

NEXT CHAPTER ->

<;- PREVIOUS CHAPTER

[monster--boyfriend]

I'm less angry and exhausted now so I wanna explain exactly what pissed me off so much

Well no not less angry but less exhausted

It's quite the rant

First instance: I had been sitting on the concrete base of a statue for some 3 or 4 hours minding my own buisness and embroidering. The statue is a popular photo spot so to avoid being in peoples way, I sat at the back of the statue. That side is also well shaded. While I sat there, multiple people also stopped and sat for breif periods. People sit there often. There is nothing blocking the back, no signs saying the back is off limits, and in fact intentionally enough room to walk around the back to see the statue from all sides.

When I was getting ready to leave, standing and stretching and putting my vest back on, some old man walked past and shouted at me "theres public washrooms you know. Dont do that behind my statue"

Very confused as I wasn't sure what the fuck he was talking about at first, I dumbly went "huh?"

"You fucking people are disgusting always shitting outside. You shouldn't even be allowed here."

At this point I realized he was assuming I was some unhoused subhuman he was allowed to belittle. Trundled off muttering to himself and as I got my things together I considered letting it go but when I realized that the direction I was heading was the same way he went, I changed my mind.

I confronted him when he was sitting in front of one of the gelato places and told him flat out I had been sitting there since almost noon doing my embroidery. I suspect that was when he realized maybe I wasn't unhoused afterall and he stated back pedaling about how oh people just weren't supposed to be back there.

I continued with pointing out that first that was a flat out lie, second people sat there all the time, and third, even if someone WAS homeless, harassing them for seeking shade and a cool breeze in the heat wave we'd been having was utterly inhumane and cruel.

At this point someone from the gelato shop came out clearly thinking I was harassing this poor old man, asking if something was wrong, and I said yes. This man had been harassing me for sitting at the statue around the corner because he didn't like the look of me and I was informing him how inappropriate that was just in case he'd somehow gone his whole life without anyone telling him how inappropriate that was. I left before he could complain or argue anything else.

Second Instance: I was hungry and decided to try a restaurant I've never gone to before just because they were right there. I walk all the way around to the front door where 3 hostesses are chatting. They give me a look of vague disgust as I approach. This I'm actually accustomed to because I'm fat, gender non-conforming, and easily considered 'gross' because of those things alone.

What I am NOT accustomed to is having one of them say to my face before I can even speak is "we don't have a public washroom."

I stopped dead, amazed that twice in one day people had the fucking audacity to act that way, then reply "Actually I was going to ask for a table for one but fuck you too." And I walked away. In retrospect I probably should have demanded to speak to a manager or something because that was unbelievable but frankly I didn't even want to eat somewhere that would think it's okay to treat someone like that just on the base of assuming homelessness.

Anyway, I am fucking appalled at how people think they can and how they do treat the unhoused. I can see why they jump to that assumption looking at me. Everything I wear and own is older, often stained and worn, I don't care about looking right. I constantly see people looking at me when I'm in nicer stores like they aren't sure if I'm going to steal something. I've been followed by security.

And on the flip side I've had interactions with actual unhoused people where they have been kind, helpful, considerate and even charitable. One man offered me a waterbottle once, out of his own personal stash of bottles, after giving me directions because I was on my bike in an area I didn't know and he said I needed to be hydrated.

A homeless man. Living under a bridge. In a tent. With no running water. And he gave me one of HIS bottles. Because it was hot, I was turned around, and he wanted me to be hydrated.

Twice today I was judged based on my appearance and assumed to be an unhoused person and I am livid at the way people think they can treat folks just because they think they're homeless

[cap-sweet-and-salty-sadness]

“There was something else in there with me, I’m not going back to that house.” Geraskier, first meeting where Jaskier is complaining about the house and Geralt is the only one taking him seriously? Loving your horror stuff!

Hi nonny, thanks for the prompt and the opportunity to write a new AU that's been brewing in my mind for a while, vaguely inspired by the Stonewall Inn's history. I can't remember what documentary I was watching when I got the idea, but my mind went Mafia/Mob gang AU. It's set in the 70s, yes I made a playlist for it, and I already have another prompt that will fit perfectly for a part two of this story, so there will be a follow up. 💜 I hope you enjoy!

-Read on AO3-

The steady beats of the bass vibrated through the wall Jaskier was propped against, the music muffled just enough that he couldn't discern the words of the singer. It didn't matter, he knew the lyrics by heart anyway. He muttered them under his breath as he searched through his jacket for his lighter. The first hit of nicotine did its job of relaxing him, or maybe it was a placebo effect. Either way, he found himself in a better state of mind to answer Essi's prodding.

He'd came in for his shift at the Rosemerrow Inn agitated and tired. He hadn't been sleeping well for a while, and even less so since he'd moved in his new place. It was an improvement from his previous one-bedroom located in a basement he'd had to share with a mice family, but this one had a problem of a different matter, he was starting to discover.

"There was something else in there with me, I'm not going back," he said with a shiver, shaking his head.

"As if you'll get your deposit back and can afford to lose it."

"That's the thing, ain't it? I was wondering why the rent was so cheap. Fucking landlords."

"You still haven't told me what happened exactly."

Jaskier blew away the smoke and watched it swirl in the bright purple light of the neon sign above them. "Honestly? I'm not sure what happened either. It's just, this overwhelming feeling I get whenever I'm in there. Like someone is watching me and doesn't want me there."

"You're sure it's not someone peeping at you through a hole in your wall? It happened to me once." Essi huffed at the memory. Jaskier remembered as well, he'd been the one convincing her not to stick a screwdriver in there and make sure the man couldn't peep at anyone ever again.

"No, I checked. There was no one else in there but me. I've left messages to the landlord but he's yet to return my calls." He sighed. "I wouldn't mind if it was a normal ghost, but this one is angry, really angry, and I'm the one living in what used to be their space."

"Do you want to sleep over mine? I'm sure Eloise wouldn't mind."

"Nah, thank you though. I'll just light up some sage and keep a night lamp on or call a priest, or whoever I need to. I'm still hoping it might be my insomnia making me imagine things that aren't there."

"Maybe." She leaned into him for a second, sharing her warmth, before standing upright. "I'll head back inside, my break's almost over."

"Alright. I still have a few minutes left."

She walked back inside, leaving Jaskier by himself in the alley behind the bar. There was a few other people smoking and talking under the neon lights, but no one Jaskier knew. He was a fairly recent addition to the crew, and other than Essi, he hadn't had time to get acquainted with anyone other than his fellow barkeeper, Yennefer.

She was efficient and took no shit from the misbehaving patrons, not hesitating to call for one of the bouncers to escort them outside. She'd been there when Jaskier had his first incident that resulted in Jaskier almost climbing over the counter to deal with the shithead and Yennefer restraining him with a surprising amount of strength.

Being one of the only queer establishments nearby, Jaskier was glad the security was kept tight. He knew the owners were members of some street gang, but frankly, as long as he could be himself and get paid, he didn't really care who signed his checks. Besides, he'd had the opportunity to meet one of the co-owners, Geralt, and he hadn't seemed half-bad then.

From what he understood with all the gossip circulating in the employee locker room, Geralt could do a majority of the tasks related to working in a bar, from taking care of the administration up in the office to bouncing the door and acting as security. Jaskier had seen him once and he still remembered how massive his arms were as he stoically stood between the patron and the counter, escorting him outside without breaking a sweat or a white hair out of place.

"Could I borrow your light?" A deep voice interrupted his daydreaming with a start.

Geralt was leaning against the brick wall beside him. His white mullet was purple under the neon, which wasn't a bad colour on him. He was wearing high-waisted leather trousers with a loose black sleeveless shirt, his muscled arms bare for Jaskier to enjoy. It took him a second to understand what he'd said, and then he retrieved his lighter.

"Here." He held it up for Geralt to light his cigarette, which felt like intimate between two strangers. Jaskier took the opportunity to take in the other man's features. Beautiful.

"Thanks." Geralt took a long drag and exhaled with a sigh. "You're Jaskier, right?"

"Yeah. I tend the bar."

Geralt hummed. "I couldn't help but hear your conversation with Essi just now."

"Oh." Jaskier felt himself blush in embarrassment. "I moved into a new place, as I'm a starving artist no more, but I acquired an invisible flatmate in the process. That or my imagination has reached a new level."

"Have you imagined being haunted before?"

Jaskier shrugged, just tipsy enough that this conversation didn't feel that weird to have anymore. "Not really. I do hallucinate my bed shifting under me when I'm about to fall sleeping, but my doctor said it's a symptom of my anxiety."

The end of Geralt's cigarette glowed red and reflected in his pale eyes when he tilted his head. Jaskier couldn't identify their colour exactly, but they were pretty. "That presence in your home, does it feels threatening?"

"More at night than during the day, that's for sure. Also..." he pushed up his sleeve to show fresh scratches on his arm. "I woke up this morning with this. It might've been me, but I have no clue how I could've inflicted this to myself."

Geralt gently held his arm as he inspected the wound. "Those look like claw marks." Jaskier was almost disappointed when he let go. A big man handling him delicately was a rare treat.

"I can assure you I haven't been near any cats recently that could've done this, so that was an unpleasant surprise. Anyway, my break's over, and drinks are waiting to be served. I'll see you around." He threw away the butt of his cigarette as he pushed himself away from the wall.

"Before you go, would it be weird if I checked out your place later? Doesn't have to be tonight, but whatever is threatening you seems insistent."

Jaskier blinked in surprise at the request, certainly not expecting that. "Wait. You really think there's a ghost at my place, and you're what, an exorcist?"

"Exorcism is for possession. My family and I, we deal with what you call the paranormal."

That confused Jaskier even more. "And your family also owns a queer bar?"

Geralt chuckled, smiling. "It's complicated."

"Alright then. Why not? I've dated someone who was convinced he was the child of a vampire and a werewolf, I'm not one to judge. You know where to find me after the close."

Geralt nodded, and Jaskier left him to go back to work. He didn't expect the handsome but slightly strange man to keep up his word. Maybe it was just a way to get to his place, and if it was, he really didn't have to work so hard. Either way, it got busy quickly after this and Jaskier stopped thinking about it.

A few hours later the last patron left to the sound of Magic Tramps' Magic in the Moonlight, and Jaskier was wiping the counter down while Yennefer was putting away the last glasses. Renfri and Eskel were done cleaning the tables and were putting the chairs up on them, the floor sticky from too many drinks spilled.

"Lots of tips tonight, I might have to wear this shirt more often."

Yennefer took a look at him. "I think it's less your shirt and more the way it's almost entirely unbuttoned, darling. I'm surprised no one propositioned you to tune them." She gestured at his necklace, a golden tuning fork nestled comfortably between his pectorals, and he laughed.

"I can't say anyone made me that offer before, but thank you for that lovely image."

She smirked and started counting the cash register. That was Jaskier's cue that he could leave.

Someone was smoking by the door when he emerged outside. A familiar white-haired man.

"Oh, hi," Jaskier said, trying to hide his surprise. "You still want to check out my place for ghosts?"

Geralt threw his cigarette on the ground and crushed it under his platform boot. "If that's still alright with you. It can be tomorrow or another day too, but whatever it is injured you already."

Jaskier adjusted his bag. "That's true. Sure then, it can be now. It's much more active at night, I have to warn you."

"Fine by me." He jiggled his car keys. "I can drive us."

His car was a black Porsche Targa - Jaskier only knew because the name was inscribed next to the side window -, small but comfortable, and the inside was clean, unexpectedly so. It smelled like cleaning products in there, actually. There was a duffel bag on the back seat with something made of glass clicking together at every turn. Maybe some booze?

Geralt turned on the radio. The Kinks filled the silence for a few minutes.

"How come you know I don't have a car?" Jaskier asked suddenly.

"I saw you leave a few times by foot. We had cases of patrons waiting for employees and assaulting them, so we installed security cameras around the building."

"That's good to know, that you care about your employees' safety." Jaskier said, drumming his fingers on his bag to the beat of the song.

"Of course we do. There's enough hate crimes, KM doesn't tolerate it within its property."

KM, the official company name that'd owned Rosemerrow Inn for over forty years. Rumours were it used to be a speakeasy where KM would operate their transactions, whatever they were. It wasn't the smartest idea to have such interest in the bar's shady history when he should be only interested in getting paid every week, but Jaskier couldn't help his curiousity.

Jaskier wasn't living far from the bar, and with his directions, only a few songs had played by the time they arrived. It was a nondescript building, generic in the layout and the tacky foyer carpet with the light that only worked half the time. His flat was on the second floor, at the end of the corridor.

"I don't think I've ever lived anywhere that didn't smell like cat litter or garbage in the common rooms, I swear," Jaskier mumbled and unlocked his door, Geralt behind him.

"And you said this was an improvement from your previous flat?" Geralt asked, his presence comforting. He probably didn't live in a place that smelled like cat piss.

"I used to live in a damp basement, there was carpet on the ceiling. So yes, very much so. It's not so bad inside either, come in."

He'd already brought his touch in the flat with decorations and furniture he mostly bought at thrift store and garage sales, making for a colourful ensemble. Geralt didn't seem interested in any of that anyway. As soon as he entered, he grasped his necklace, frowning.

"What is it?" Jaskier inquired as he removed his light jacket. He knew the atmosphere was heavier in here, had stopped trying to convince himself it was his imagination when objects started disappearing and resurfacing at random places he'd never put them at. Shoes in his bed, the remote control in the bathroom cabinet, his glasses in the fridge one time, and so on. It'd started to be scarier when he'd notice a form darker than the shadow in the corner of the rooms at night, following him.

And then the touches at the back of his neck while he was reading or working on a song, like a clawed finger trailing on his skin, and the light pushes having him stumble into walls, but the most dangerous was the apparition of the scratches he was still sporting.

"My medallion tells me when there's paranormal activity," Geralt explained, showing him the metal wolf head. It was vibrating like crazy in his hand.

Oh. Suddenly things making a lot more sense, why Geralt had questioned him about the ghost.

Jaskier blinked and smiled cheekily. "That must be useful for you, in more than one situation," he commented. Geralt rolled his eyes.

"Don't need a magical object for that."

"So you do magic?"

"Not really. A different version."

"I thought you were going to say, it's complicated."

Geralt gave him an amused look. "This part of the process is straight-forward. Any room in particular that I should check first?"

"Not to sound eager, but the bedroom." Jaskier showed him, then kept a respectable distance while Geralt slowly walked around. It didn't take long.

"It's a wraith."

"A what?"

"A type of spectre. It must be bound to this place for some unfinished business. It shouldn't be difficult to take care of it."

Jaskier nodded, half relieved that it could dealt with, but also dubious it'd be this easy. "How does taking care of it works?"

Geralt threw him a look and opened his duffel bag. Inside was a mix of medieval weapons and vials of different sizes and coloured liquids sloshing inside. A few looked like bombs, even.

"Huh. Not what I was expecting. So you're going to what, fight that thing?"

Geralt hummed and took out one of the swords, shinier than iron, or so Jaskier thought. He wasn't knowledgeable in that sort of hobbies, but he could see it was a well-crafted one. He prodded it with one finger. "This is a real sword," he realised, before he was laughing. "I'm sorry, I'm not making fun of you, it's just... really not how I expected the evening to turn out. I certainly didn't expect my boss to be a witcher."

Geralt frowned. "You know about witchers?"

"Of course. You're part of history, and I studied the Liberal Arts at university, I ought to know."

Geralt genuinely looked surprised. "And you don't mind?"

"Mind what? That you're a legendary monster hunter?" Jaskier was delighted to see a blush appear on Geralt's lovely face.

"Not legendary."

"Well, you could've fooled me."

You can find all my tumblr prompts on AO3 over here. I usually post them a day or two after I publish them here.

[spunkymaverick]

Fandom: Undertale, Undertale AU, Fashion Disaster Multiverse

Characters: Void (Nightmare), Mercury (OC)

Tags: @therandomskelekey

Prompt: Allergic Reaction

Word Count: 761

Rated: T (because everything I write is T-rated until told otherwise. also I'm not sure if how to rate a vaguely portrayed allergic reaction)

Note: I'm very slow to get to the point. I really build up to getting to the actual ‘plot’. Also Mercury carries an epipen on her because she's a good friend who is prepared for her friend’s allergies. I'll vote her friend of the year.

* * *

Void adjusts his bowtie that he decides to add on to his regular attire. Bowties are so in-fashion, and anyone who tries to tell him otherwise can taste his fist. Contradicting Void in anything is basically the same as dropping to your knees and begging for a knuckle sandwich.

Straightening out his jacket, Void knocks on the floor to his girlfriend's house. Okay so he's not really wearing the bowtie for fashion but rather as a subtle sign to Mercury that he remembered their one-year anniversary. That's why he's here now, of course: to be with his girlfriend and celebrate the occasion.

Mercury answers the door quickly, and Void watches as her eye sockets fill with excitement, *adoration*. Void decides then that he has to keep her happy. He had planned to do that anyways, but he's absolutely certain now. *Stars* he loves her. She's just so cute.

“Void!” Mercury exclaims with glee, rendering his SOUL a pile of mush.

“Hello, Mercury,” Void greets casually, tossing a smirk onto his face forcing his expression not to betray his infinite affection. Mercury would tease him all day, and that's not a fate he wants to succumb to.

“Come in!” Mercury insists, stepping inside as he follow. Entering Mercury's home, he smells something unfamiliar. It's different. Not a bad different of course, just something he hadn't expected.

“What's that I smell?” Void inquires curiously. He's usually the one that cooks anything when he comes over, and he's 90% certain that scent is some sort of food. Perhaps Mercury wanted to surprise him.

“Oh! Those would be the brownies I'm making,” Mercury informs him. “Since you always look out for me, I thought I'd repay the favor and feed you for once.”

“How sweet. My beloved has decided to bless me with her godly cooking,” Void says. He smirks as Mercury squeaks and covers her heated face.

There's the resounding ring of a timer. Mercury absconds to the kitchen. Void follows after her at a casual pace, entering just in time to see Mercury's hands safely secured in oven mitts extracting the pan of the brownies she had been talking about.

The smell is so good, even better now that they're freed from their hellish prison to grace the world with their aroma.

“They're hot, so don't touch them,” his girlfriend warns him. He knows. He's baked before. He's considered opening a bakery for star's sake. He knows they're going to be hot, but even with this knowledge he wants to feet the squishy warmth of the brownies in his mouth.

Obviously noticing his internal disarray, Mercury informs him, “I want to eat them too. I spent all day preparing these peanut butter brownies. You're not allergic, are you?”

Is he what?

Well, if he doesn't know what it is at this point, Void thinks he can safely assume the answer is no. He responds, “Allergic isn't even in my dictionary.”

“Okay, that's good,” Mercury sighs in relief, the momentary fear washing away with the new calmness. Now he wants to know what it is, but he's too prideful to ask now that the topic has passed.

Void slowly reaches towards the brownies. Mercury narrows her eye sockets as him as his arms inches closer and closer. She finally huffs in annoyance, “Void! I swear if you don't stop I'm never making these again!”

Void grins widely and like some demon of chaos, he digs his fingers into the brownie. He ignores the burning pain and the squishy feel because he's here to make his girlfriend cry in dismay at his chaos.

“Oh my stars! Stop!” Mercury exclaims, a look of horror and disgust settled upon her expression. He stuffs the handful of brownie in his mouth. Wow these are good.

“I've never had peanut butter brownies,” Void says. “These are really good.”

He swallows his mouthful and holds Mercury away as he grabs another. Of course, Mercury's hands aren't really connected to any arms, much less her body, so it's hard to avoid them as he stuffs the handful in his mouth with feels kind of numb now.

“Uh, Void, you really, uh…”

Mercury is nervous now. Void doesn't know how she knows, but now he's kind of in a bit of pain. Maybe more than a bit. He doesn't know why. He feels so heavy, and he wants to just lay down.

He blinks, and Mercury is calling his name.

He blinks, and she's pulling something out of her pocket.

He blinks, and she's stabbing him.

He blinks, and she's begging him to stay awake.

He blinks, and everything goes dark.