#fun thing about being faculty is that i have to do my year one review 5 months after starting the job

[terrainofheartfelt]

I don't WANT to write this self-eval i want to BOOP

[understandableparadox]

Bottom of the barrel isekai reviews:

Todays title: Welcome to demon school iruma

hi, im back, tell a friend.

Anyways we will be looking over something populer, and only a few images this time. I want this to be a nice slide back into the mix while I get ready to boil myself alive by reading shitty isekais.

"b-b-b-b-but dox!" you say, your form emaciated and ghoulish from months of little to no attention "how is it an isekai?"

Normally an isekai requires some form of passage into another world through death, but again, we are going to consider any and all portal fantasies to be on-par with isekais. as death and jumping through a funky portal are really kinda the same thing if you think about it.

so! plot synopsis, we open on the titular character iruma! they are being sold to a demon, don't worry this action will be the literal best thing that has ever happened to them. Also, added treat, slavery is not a running theme in this manga! HURRAY! WE HAVE FOUND OVERCOME THE BARE FUCKING MINIMUM! HUZZAH FOR MEDIOCRITY! MY DESIRE TO RUN MY HEAD THROUGH A ARC OF GONGS UNTIL THE SOUND WAVES LIQUIDATE MY BRAIN MATTER HAS LESSENED!

anyways we get to know some important plot points between the buyer and the product! (our mc)

iruma is a 14 year old yes man. They say yes to everything, even yes to the idea of breaking child labor laws! as their parents are frivolous unimportant freaks that spend way too much money then bolt, leaving him to work off the debt. Anyways, that's how this happened. they wanted dosh, and our buyer, we will call him grandpa!

Why is he so interested in buying a child? simple! He is rich and wants to have a grandson, unfortunately, he does not have a dick due to war injuries... ok thats a lie, he just wants a grand kid.

Anyways this is a very interesting title in the fact that it is still in a way, a power fantasy, but the power in that fantasy is separated towards other things.

It is a story in which you have the power to be helped. The adults in this manga are actual competent adults, they are there for the protection of the children, they are there to guide, nurture, train and help them grow. Despite differences or annoyances some may have, those are secondary to the ferocity they show when it comes to ensuring the protection of their students.

Iruma does have a lot of “i am the chosen one” but it is not something that automatically aids him in most situations, in fact it is the triad of facts of “I am a human”, “I want to help”, “I am determined” that allow him to rise both in power and social standing. The might makes right idealism of the underworld forced to reckon with people that stop to drag someone across the finish line. 

As for the plot, it goes along a few separate arcs; there is a very clear progression of time as Iruma gets older. Mostly split into two parts. Irumas social life, in which we get to see him become better and better friends with the students and faculty at this school. Showing both the give and take as they both show how far they are willing to go for each other. 

The second half is the mystery and political intrigue of the demonic society at large. The idea of a demon king has gone missing, disciples of which are eager to try and resurrect him as they see no one who is more suitable for the role, opposing forces trying to groom the top students at various schools into the role of king in a contest of disciples. 

I think you should give it a read, its cute, the designs are fun and the power system while simple is still enough to give the action that is there a lot of meat. It's also satisfying thing to read if you just got done with a shounen and you are wondering “where the fuck are the adults? Why are these children doing everything?”

Draw backs. Not a lot but some of the students are essentially drawn as adults and there are parts where you will feel slightly skived out by.

[whentherewerebicycles]

snuggly little girl is finally allowed back into the bed after several weeks of being banished due to houseguests :) she is very warm and sleepy and happy about it.

it’s an overcast morning and I woke up feeling bleh but I’m trying to acknowledge the feeling and not get stuck in it. I am working from home today and my tasks are a little ill-defined so I do need to make sure I get up, get dressed, and sit at a desk at some point to ensure I actually focus. here’s what I’d like to do:

7:30-8:30 coffee, lounge, work from bed

8:30 get up and get dressed

8:30-11:30 work session

11:30-12:30 shower/get ready

1-2 ND mtg

2-4 windshield appt—second work session. call Cigna while waiting, finish other work tasks, schedule-send emails to four faculty for next week, make a plan for next week

4-5ish wrap up work if needed

walk the dogs… it’s time to get back into it. I have a hockey podcast to listen to and can start with an easy 40-45 min loop

eat leftovers for dinner & make cold brew to steep overnight

finish ninth house (I’m powering through but letting myself skim the boring parts)

bed by 10 (I’m slowly trying to reset my sleep/wake times to 9:15pm/5:30 or 6am)

okay. I also am open to doing some work over the weekend if 1) it’s fun, and 2) it consoles me (as it often does lol). but here are the things I want to prioritize in today’s work sessions:

review makerspace brainstorming notes and distill conversation into a core list of ideas

organize list by priorities (immediate, academic year, future/aspirational)

figure out some way of annotating priority list. I want to identify the big steps each one would take to research/create/implement, note who on the team we could delegate specific pieces of the work to, and identify the other people or units on campus we’d want to partner with. this will be so fun.

JG asked if I could give an overview of my big priorities for my program next year so he could better understand how this initiative fits into those priorities. I think that’s a great ask and a great opportunity for me to sit down and synthesize what I’ve learned in my first month in the role. one big amorphous thing I’m tasked with is increasing the number of faculty who are incorporating research into their courses, and I was thinking the other day that instead of trying to do this across all majors in a scattershot way, I could use this makerspace access initiative as a focusing lens for that work this year. and then since that project is naturally STEM + business-leaning, maybe I can look for a manageably sized humanities initiative to take on next year too, so there’s a good balance within my portfolio of projects. anyway I think I’m at the point where I have talked to enough people and said yes or tentatively yes to enough things that I am ready to sit down and start drawing up a summer + academic year plan. also I’m not quite there yet but I might almost be ready to start mapping out the calendar so I can do some initial thinking in that direction today if I feel like it. oh and I want to make a note for myself to look for specific areas where I can consult or bring in the person in our office who was handling aspects of my job for a long time before I started… I feel like I can bulldoze a bit when I’m enthusiastic about an idea or project and I don’t want her to feel like I’m undoing all the work she put into building programming etc. so I want to really consciously build in checkpoints where I’m asking for her feedback or drawing on her expertise in a substantive/meaningful way so she doesn’t feel like I swept in and changed everything to fit my own vision.

meet with ND to gather info about student employee development redesign (then spend time updating my earlier notes)

I don’t think I’ll get much deeper into the student worker redesign project today but it might be a thing I block off time for this weekend or next week.

schedule four emails to faculty/staff (should include YP, DH, MK, and maybe BW?)

I think that’s good!! wow and just working on a work plan for today has already put me in a much better & more hopeful mood. time to get started!

[187days]

Day One Hundred Twenty-Two

It was still pretty snowy in the far reaches of our district this morning, but the roads were clear, the buses could run, and we had a regular school day. 

I didn’t actually do a ton of teaching in World, though. First, the school counselors came in to talk about course selection for next year, and about an upcoming trip all our ninth graders will go on: a college visit! We haven’t been able to do this trip for the past couple years because of the pandemic, but now it’s back, and it’s going to be awesome. Students can choose to visit one of four schools (we vary the choices by size, selectivity, programming, etc... to try and have something that’d be useful for everyone). So today was about picking top choices, getting permission slips, all that. 

After that, my students had a vocab quiz to take. I told them they could study first if they wanted, I’d leave it up to them to make that call. Some opted not to, some studied quietly on their own for ten or fifteen minutes, and some went out into the hallway to quiz each other. It all worked well, they did great. Once they finished, I had them take their books out to read (and if they’d already finished reading, the time was theirs). They read, I graded, and then I took the last few minutes to talk about what’s next: lessons on Confucianism and Taoism. 

In APGOV, it’s a test review day. I started by going over some of the economic policy stuff they had to learn on their own yesterday, then opened the floor for questions about anything we’ve covered so far. Once they’d asked all their questions, we played a round of Kahoot, and that took us right to the bell. 

There was a faculty meeting after school. It was supposed to be yesterday, but, of course, it had to be postponed. The admins wanted to give the teachers information about changes to the schedule for next year. A lot of my colleagues are frustrated by how late these changes are being made, or about the fact that we didn’t have much input in them, so... it was not a happy meeting. I mean, it was civil and all, but the vibes were not good. There were a lot of questions, too, so it ran long. 

I’d originally planned to go home afterwards, grab a snack and maybe a coffee, and then come back for winter sports awards. I opted not to, though, because I only had about forty minutes. I just sat at my desk and did some lesson planning instead. 

And then I went to sports awards, and that was awesome. We had a lot of trophies on display, a lot of things to celebrate. All teams gathered in the auditorium for the major awards, then went to separate locations to give out ceritifates, varsity letters, and so on. The indoor track team had a lot to celebrate: a handful of championship medalists, a state champ, a new school record, a generally awesome season. So we had a nice time looking back on all the accomplishments. 

After that, I had to dash down to the auditorium because it was also 8th grade open house night. Our future freshmen and their parents came up to the high school to get information about next year, grab their course selection sheets, attend a clubs and activities fair, tour the building, watch our band and dance team perform, take pictures against our picture wall, and more. Wild: seeing Mr. W- and some of my other friends- there as parents. I can’t believe their kids are that grown!

So, 12+ hour day for me, but most of it was good fun. Whew!

[eponymous-rose]

Tuesday!

Started on email with my morning coffee today - a student who was in my class last quarter requesting a reference letter for an internship (when I realized students were applying for these things in their junior years, I purposely included some research/presentation stuff in that class so I could say more than just "so-and-so got an A in my class" in reference letters - delighted to write another reference for this student!), preliminary stuff for next week's faculty meeting, invitations to publish in totally legit journals they swear, exciting updates about one of the big supercomputers, a conference in-state that I debated sending grad students to (decided against it since the ones with most relevant topics are in crunch mode to finish their theses and genuinely would not enjoy travel at this time), messages from my department chair and IT folks asking me about bringing in new computers to the department, several calls for proposals (sadly not relevant to my work).

Off to work and my GOODNESS it's a beautiful day! I was so waterlogged yesterday that I was worried my shoes would still be wet this morning, and then today was blue skies all over. Perfect day for a field trip!

Introduced my students to our facilities management person in his very impressive machine shop, took all the equipment up to the roof, found out I do not, in fact, have a roof key, ran downstairs looking for anyone in town this week and found an emeritus prof I have never talked to and obtained his key. Set up everything, calibrated, students had a ton of fun! Good stuff. Almost forgot to give back the key. I think he thought I was a grad student. Oh well.

Now to take advantage of some of that sweet, sweet meeting-free office time. Wrote two journal article reviews that have been weighing on me (one very minor revisions, one pretty major, but both on track to being accepted!). That took a long time, but I'm pretty happy with how they both turned out - more excited and encouraging than nitpicky.

Decided at the last minute to add another question to next week's homework assignment, which goes live at midnight tonight on the course management system, so I had to edit the answer key as well. Set up next week's homework assignment while I was at it.

Wrote an abstract for a presentation at a conference in Europe in May and submitted it! So I guess this is actually happening now! Surreal all around.

Now look... I have some student reference letters to write, but nothing due until two weeks from now. I have some research I gotta do but nothing due for quite some time. It's a gorgeous day outside and I'm way ahead on my work. I'm gonna call it an early day and head home.

Something I wanted to do in the New Year is be more aware of how I'm spending my time at work, so I think I'm gonna try to do little summaries here of what each day entails. Hopefully also kind of interesting/useful if anyone's interested in academia?

For reference: we're on the quarter system, classes started on the 3rd, and I currently teach one class per quarter (heavy research-focused department, so very light teaching load). I also currently supervise 1 PhD student, 2 Master's students and 2 undergraduate research interns.

Monday!

Checked email on the bus to work, which mainly consisted of me seeing a colleague had received an endowed professorship, me writing her an effusive congratulatory message, and then me editing back the message a bit so it was less embarrassingly over the top. Also sent my students a reminder about their homework due on Wednesday and our little field trip tomorrow morning and accidentally sent it to last quarter's class, whoops. Luckily a former student quickly notified me of my mistake and I got it fixed!

Class was great - lots of flipped-classroom stuff that worked well even with only two students in the room (it's a conference week, everyone's traveling). I knew from previous years that the students had really, really struggled with this one equation, so I had them do a couple of examples in class and after working through the first one together, they both nailed it on the second try. Had to cancel a meeting with one of my undergrad research interns after class because the other members of our research team are out of town this week. Where is everyone? Well, at a conference and doing a two-month-long field campaign on the east coast. Forgivable. She offered to send me some of the work she's done thus far, so that's handy!

Went to check email after class and found that apparently a new remote meeting had popped on my schedule for immediately after class with an old peer mentoring group of mine (fellow 4th-year assistant profs in tangentially-related fields - we all did a professional development course last year together). Luckily it was cameras off so I could snack and decompress a bit while we caught up and made some strategic plans for the quarter.

Okay, FINALLY time to check email in earnest before my next meeting. 36 new messages since I checked last. New software package I need to bookmark and keep in mind for later work. Updates from the conference I'm technically attending virtually this week. Reference letter request from an undergrad student; add to calendar! Title and abstract to get added to the website for a seminar I'm hosting in a couple weeks. Reminder that the Zoom recording of my class is available to put online (which I promptly did). Triple-check with our tech guy that we're good to go up on the roof tomorrow to set up instrumentation for my class's term projects (all good!). Time flies, so here's the email with research progress from my undergraduate research intern and a handful of questions, we'll answer those and see how she likes jumping into a new dataset. New grant opportunities, job listings, a bunch of easy stuff to mark off. An essay about allocating time each week into the categories of Teaching, Research, and Service and strictly adhering to the percentages laid out by your tenure/promotion committee. Got a few minutes before my next meeting so I'll try it this week? Ish? Maybe? Looked sidelong at the new schedule, sure, we'll try that this week. Sent an email to my collaborator who's on a field project to see if we can do a remote meeting tomorrow to chat about a couple research proposals. Queued an email for next week's seminar speaker to see if he can send me the title and abstract for his talk/PhD entrance exam next week - no sense freaking him out before Wednesday, so we'll do a scheduled send.

Next up, meeting remotely with my former postdoc advisor! We've set up these meetings to "work on research projects" together but honestly this week it was just listening to him tell a very entertaining story about his car breaking down in rural Missouri and also listening to him describe a truly tragic tale of his very fancy sandwich getting thrown out of the office fridge by accident. That's scientific collaboration, baybee. We did talk research for a bit and he mentioned wanting to collaborate on a paper (he offered to pay for it out of the much more substantial research funds that come with his 30 extra years in the field) so I'm gonna come up with something for that by our next meeting in two weeks. I like working with him - we've published a couple papers in some pretty high-impact journals and he's always let me take the lead and go for first authorship without butting in, only providing support - so this is a fun prospect! I do have to submit an abstract this week for a European conference that'll be happening this spring, so maybe I can go ahead and lean into that idea a little.

It's now getting a little dark and rainy and I'm flagging a bit but I still have an hour before the afternoon seminar, so probably time to do a little course prep. Did some "grading" (just checking completion certificates for an introductory module the students had to go through). Fixed a mistake in Wednesday's lecture (why is there an anemometer when I'm talking about thermometers???). Reviewed some of the more complicated topics in Wednesday's lecture to make sure I'm not totally lost (some thermodynamics I haven't looked at in a while, thermocouples, semiconductors). Replacement slides uploaded to our course management system.

Aha! Email back from collaborator, she's going to be on a research flight tomorrow and won't be able to meet. All good, I don't have much to report anyway. That frees up an hour tomorrow, woohoo.

Okay, students have a homework assignment due a week from Wednesday, so I'm gonna post it this Wednesday. I have a good homework assignment prepared, I just needed to go in and write up a nice answer key. Got that done (along with some sample Python code to provide them with) and the homework assignment is scheduled to be posted, so it's time to look at next week's lectures. I've inherited this class from someone whose course notes can be a little scattered, so this is usually a bit of a process. Only two lectures to prep for next week, though!

Took a break from lecture prep to go to today's seminar, which purported to be about a really dodgy geoengineering scheme (redundant descriptor, am I right?) but in fact just rigorously tested said scheme and demonstrated it would actually have the opposite effect. Super fun and interesting seminar!

Okay, back to working on lectures for next week. Somehow got both of next week's lectures done before the end of the day, so those should just need a little polish and they'll be ready to go! Uploaded them to the course management system but sneakily and they won't appear to students until I've checked them over.

Tomorrow: going to the roof with my students to set up their term projects, then tons of sweet, sweet, meeting-free office time carved out. Hope this doesn't come back to bite me with a million meetings on Wednesday (...it will).

Important: work is done by 5PM. I try very hard to adhere to "leave work at work", which is not as much of a pipe dream as it seems, even for R1 tenure-track.

[accidentalrabbit]

BAD BUDDY

(series)

Thailand 2021

RANK: A

A-pairing: Pat x Pran

B-pairing: Ink x Pha

Other character(s) i enjoyed: …we'll circle back to this one

Overall review:

A fluffy everybody-lives Romeo and Juliet remix but also an allegory for homophobia and rejecting the inheritance of trauma? Sure, why not.

Nothing particularly stood out to me about the camerawork, but it's at least very competently produced and edited…visually. We'll get to the audio later, but a couple of the songs are catchy. The set design feels lived in. It's yet another story set at a university, but i literally do not care how many gay college stories the industry comes up with from now until the end of time. It's nice to see new ideas, but if you can do it well, why mess with a trope that gets the job done?

The biggest thing this show does right is the absolutely frenetic chemistry between Pran and Pat. Whatever their emotional frequency is at, it absolutely radiates from the screen. The writing is a decent foundation for the characters; the acting simply blasts it directly over the top. As the soundtrack and voiceover will remind you incessantly, this is a classic enemies-who-don't-want-to-be to lovers-who-can't-be-anything-else progression, with a couple small twists for added flavor. Their flashback scenes really round out the characters and help explain why they can't seem to stop circling one another. Even before Pat realizes he's down bad, the audience knows exactly why he would fall for Pran despite their family feud.

Their story arc is nothing we haven't seen in the past five hundred or so years of dramatic romances, but the tone of Bad Buddy strikes hits a sweet spot for me personally: It's lighthearted, sometimes intense, and occasionally it gives naïve camp—but it's always deeply earnest, and everything gets resolved before anyone gets too hurt. The play-within-a-play trope will always get me (shoutout to my boy Hamlet), and that damn gun showing up in episode 8 is so very stupid in the best possible way.

The parents' storyline (hinted at by the uhhhh title of the show, in case that wasn't clear! love that some of y'all thought Wai was the Big Bad™ for some reason though) is great, and they do a very good job keeping the background tension alive, particularly after Pran's outing when the rival faculties storyline quickly stops mattering. That betrayal, when it finally comes out, is compelling without being overly sympathetic, and it serves the show's theme of rejecting the burdens others demand that you carry. The parents' quiet but very incomplete growth in the finale, particularly for Pran's mom, is equal parts heartwarming and eyeroll-worthy, which is probably the most realistic part of the show.

Speaking of themes, Bad Buddy wants to say a lot. It's very Romeo and Juliet, yes, but there's also a lot about, say, the relationship between capitalism, environmentalism, and sectarian violence in Southeast Asia. (You really shouldn't pretend this is the central conflict, but you wanted to read it that way, the material is technically there!) In terms of the themes the writers cared more openly about, we can start with sexual identity and the political utility of coming out. This is where Bad Buddy takes a strident and surprisingly nuanced position: If coming out is a problem, then take pride in lying through your teeth to everyone who makes it difficult. The finale was a very weird episode of television, but as a manifesto i kind of love the practical position it takes. A lot of the new wave of LGBTQ+ media in general basically takes it as a given that coming out is a Narrative Milestone that must be done to advance your story and cannot be taken back, and Bad Buddy straight up tells its audience that actually, strategic retreat into the closet is fine if you think you need it. There is no shame if you aren't ashamed, and if you can, make sure you have fun while you do it. I don't know if i fully believe it in the way Bad Buddy presents it, but i do love a hot take, and i understand the real-world utility of that message.

The other major theme is more complex and is kind of its own twist on the story of Romeo and Juliet, and it concerns the political relationships between individuals and their communities, and where the burden lies on changing ourselves versus changing the world around us. They make it very ham-fistedly obvious in the last two episodes, but it's kind of omnipresent, and it ties together the environmental themes (surprise! they're actually important) with the themes around homophobia and intergenerational trauma. The last episode espouses an almost word-for-word do-no-harm-take-no-shit ethical code, but i think the rest of the show is more interesting than that. Sometimes it's important to change the way we see ourselves in order to engage with the world (see: Pat, bisexual and Pran, proud boyfriend) and sometimes it's important, even virtuous, to interrupt the cycles of violence that we take for granted (see: stopping friends from fighting, replacing the bus stop, calling out abusive parents, joining anarcho-primitivist fishing communes, etc). You are always changing the world and the world is also always changing you. You are sometimes the world you change.

Our B-couple Ink x Pha storyline is only one of two lesbian pairings in BL productions i've enjoyed so far, and i would like to see additional sapphic girlbosses going forward, thank you. Pha in particular is an excellent disaster gay when she's around Ink. I love that their secret food delivery arc parallels Pat and Pran's but tweaks just enough details that Pha's initial disappointment when she finds out it's Ink...feels good feels organic. And their height difference being played as a genderbent trope from the genre they're appearing in while the height difference between the leads is played down? Good shit. Wanted more.

Finally, i just want to return to and emphasize the point that Pat and Pran are the emotional core of Bad Buddy, and they truly do carry this story even when it feels like its other characters are not quite hitting the mark. Their willingness to trust their feelings, their soft but still (relatively) serious scenes wherein they reaffirm how much they care about each other, the chaotic energy they have when they can finally give into their love—this is a couple you never have doubts rooting for. Even though their character growth is fairly minor (Pran gets less neurotic, Pat gets more bisexual), you get the sense that, after the curtains close, these two are going to be just fine. Their relationship is balanced and subversive, and they have fun doing it. Bad Buddy also does what a lot of the girls refuse to do and delivers knockout kiss after knockout kiss with reckless abandon. There is no artificial scarcity of love. These bitches gay good for them etc.

I had a good time, but:

Toward the end, the story is almost as frenetic as the chemistry between the leads. Starting around episode 9 it really feels like they wrote one scene at a time with only a vague sense that the story would eventually have an ending.

As an allegory for homophobia (which, bafflingly, i have seen some of y'all say is absent from the story, to which i say: it's right there—literally the day that Pat and Pran become neighbors and their parents both pray for them, as infants, to have girlfriends. there's no heteronormativity (or dramatic irony in this scene for that matter) without homophobia. argue with your mother), the story does not do a very good job establishing what the consequences are for Pat and Pran "coming out" as lovers. Why do their friends behave the way they do when they find out, and then why do they start behaving differently? Why do ALL the students suddenly start behaving differently? It's unclear. What are the material consequences of the parents finding out about their relationship while they're still in school? We don't ever find out; they go on vacation. Why do they continue the "breakup" after graduation? Because staying in the closet is sometimes Good, Actually! And i see what the show is doing in each of these moments, i do: The writers and director had a lot of ideas for cute moments and other important messages they wanted to get across. It's just very weird that Bad Buddy wants one of its overall themes to be about not taking up others' burdens when the only burden that seems consistent within the story (the inability to claim each other as lovers) is also the one Pat and Pran seemingly take up of their own free will, for years, for no clear reason other than to please their parents, who are the unambiguous antagonists. And speaking of years…

I am allergic to large timeskips. They're suspiciously tidy…and cover up far too many sins.

Let's stop the car here for a second. I've only watched a handful of Backaof projects and Bad Buddy reminds me a lot of Dark Blue Kiss (2019) in how it builds to a resolution that doesn't quite resolve. Between the two of them, Bad Buddy's finale is more willing to accept that the characters have grown and certain changes are inevitable, but my own tinfoil-hat theory is that this director uses final episodes to squeeze in soothing reminders that the (unsustainable, not ideal) dynamic that originally drew us to the characters is Never Actually Going Away. This uneasy, almost cynical tension between character growth and stagnation is specifically present in a lot of Thai BL, probably because it makes churning out sequels and spinoffs easier if your show is a hit but your writers can't think of new things for the characters to do. Backaof seems to want his characters to grow as people, which is why his shows don't bore me, but a hint of that cynicism always seems to creep back in at the very end. I'm gonna leave that here for now—but if i do get around to rambling about Dark Blue Kiss or literally any other show, we'll get back to it. Hop back in the car.

It's cute that we got a sapphic side story with no weird undercurrents in a show with decent production value, but Ink and Pha should've been allowed to kiss on the lips at least briefly. Ah, well.

Audio quality is usually fine, but occasionally it feels like someone was asleep at the wheel. Sometimes it's completely blown-out, other times nearly inaudible, and Bad Buddy loves a moment where the diegetic music clashes with the soundtrack. Not a big deal but careful with the volume.

Character(s) entitled to financial compensation: This show isn't particularly cruel to any of its characters so this doesn't really apply. But let's take a moment to acknowledge that Wai and Korn are begging for a little extra pizzazz in the way their characters are written, especially toward the end, where apparently the writers want us to intuit a lot of character development happening just offscreen. Korn will beat up people he barely knows for clout but then is also suddenly very sweet and conscientious. What's up with that? And Wai has impulse control issues and the world's shortest fuse but then he…doesn't? The actors do a fine job on the scant writing they're given, but the people are asking: Are these characters or are they plot devices? I wish these two felt a little more lived in and fleshed out. And teasing this pairing without following through was rude.

Conclusion: I didn't think i would say this much about this very sweet, very good show, but it looks like I Had Some Thoughts. I complain because when i care about anything this much, all of its little flaws become very important to me. If you think any of my critiques mean i don't love this show down? you got me fucked up. The first eight episodes of Bad Buddy are S-tier fluff with the perfect amount of low-stakes drama, and the last few, while not perfect, ain't half bad if you let yourself go for the ride. They say you never forget your first, and even though this show introduced me to a whole world of bingeable gay content over the past month, there's something special about Pat and Pran that will probably have me coming back again and again. I had a good fucking time. Also, lesbians.

If you have thoughts that i didn't, feel free to tack on your preferred hot takes, and if you want to hear more about every show i've forced myself to watch over this winter semi-quarantine uhhh engage with this post and i'll talk about why Together With Me (2017) is PEAK television lmk

[epic-potato-crisp]

Courtship - Part 3 (AjinWeek21/1)

Notes: So I decided to continue this for Ajin Week 2021! (although I was torn between making this a Sato fic cause you know. Hat.)

Day 1: Favorite character / summer break/ hat

Favourite character: Both Kei and Kou are among my favourite characters, Kei especially is one of my favourite protagonists of all time, and summer break, because this place during the sweltering time that is training camp. (fun! :D)

————————-

“Really?” Kei asks with growing annoyance as the vampire movie plays out on the screen in front of them. “Really?!”

“I can’t believe you haven’t seen that!” Kou defends himself, depositing the bowl of chips into Kei’s lap so his hands are free to adjust the volume.

“This is not what I had in mind when I agreed to…well, dating you.” Kei says, lowering his volume at the last three words that seem a little too foreign too pronounce.

“Why not?” Kou replies, “Movie nights are a super normal thing to do, not even for a date-“ He in comparison, has zero trouble adequately naming their current situation – “or with friends!” He smirked, which could never mean anything good: “Which you’d know, if you had any-“ Kou winces as Kei’s elbow rams into his side.

“I did have friends.” Kei grumbles through his teeth, stretching out his feet over the old and battered, but still quite comfortable couch. This is, surprisingly, afar more relaxing activity than he had initially anticipated.

Even if the movie is grating on his nerves.

“Why is everyone trying to befriend her?” he asks, exasperatedly. Bella Swan had made it perfectly clear that she was not interested in socializing from the moment she had arrived in her father’s rainy suburban town. And yet, in the first half an hour, not only had her childhood best friend shown up, she’d also been introduced to numerous classmates and faculty, and on top of that, was subtly encouraged to take a glance at a family of – vampire’s, that was his most likely prediction based on what he’d heard of the plot.

“Well, she’s new and people wanna get to know her. Nothing wrong with that.” Kou said diplomatically.

“Ugh.” Kei groans, and takes a sip of his coke. Eriko had always tried to make him watch these movies, which, if he was correct, were five in number, because apparently it was no enough to have a fourth movie. No, it had two be dragged out across two volumes. So far, he had been able to avoid it. Until training camp.

“Which you’d know, if you’d had-“

“Shut the fuck up.” Kei snaps, and the mood sours for a moment.

“Right, right, I’m sorry.” Kou says, after a beat of silence, and then his hand reaches over to grasp Kei’s.

“Is that really necessary?” Kei mutters, feeling his cheeks heat up. He prays that the darkness of the room, only lit up faintly by the TV, serves as enough cover.

“Well, it’s a date, right?”

“Stop saying that all the time.”

“Date. Date. Daaate.” Kou sing-songs, grinning at Kei knowingly.

The latter glowers: “Are you in elementary school?”

Kou laughs. He still doesn’t let go of Kei’s hand.

Kei feels his heartbeat quicken, ever so slightly, nervousness manifesting in the pit of his stomach. He chalks it up to the unfamiliar situation. After all, he really doesn’t know whether the movie will provide suitable entertainment for the next one and a half hours. There is no way it has anything to do with Kou.

At least, it shouldn’t.

“If you could choose between being a vampire and an Ajin, what would you pick?” Kou asks, out of the blue.

The movie had ended just a little while ago, a pointless two hours and six minutes of a supernatural romance that Kei couldn’t care less for. It was a little past ten, and they were not finished for a long while, apparently, if the cover for the second movie, blinking traitorously in Izumi’s streaming library, was anything to go by.

“Not this again.” Kei sighs, “Do you spend all day on these unlikely scenarios?”

“It’s that not unlikely.” Kou argues, “Come on, a few years back, you didn’t even know Ajin existed! And now you’re one!”

“Of course I knew they existed. It’s part of the school curriculum.” Kei deadpans, this particular lesson still rather unsettlingly fresh in his memory.

“Which you’d know if you’d gone to school.” He adds, acidly.

“Wow, harsh.” Kou pouts, “I did go. I just…dropped out. There’s a difference. Everyone knows that.” He mumbles.

“Keep telling yourself that” is on the tip of Kei’s tongue, but he swallows it down, if only to retain the peace. And perhaps because he would feel the tiniest bit guilty further prodding at that sore spot.

But school is something he does not want to think about for a good while again. The memory brings only pain. Betrayal from his classmates, from teachers, a jealousy- one that Kou would never be able to comprehend - on missing out on education that is a given for his former classmates.. A High School degree that he will never receive, if the government has any say in it, after all the years and effort, the hours of studying and revising he has put into it. A bleak future with all paths to prestigious medical universities blocked irreversibly. His only crime had been crossing that road that day. If only I could be reborn, Kei thinks miserably, then I could get a new chance. chance. He is in dire need of a new identity. Perhaps he can later guilt Tosaki into creating one for him.

“So circling back to the topic at hand, vampires.” he says, reluctantly.

“Heck yeah.” Kou agrees, excitedly, “So?”

“There are pros and cons on both sides.” Kei shrugs, “If you were a vampire, you wouldn’t be able to age and have a career, build a reputation. You’d have to get a new identity every few years. That sounds like a hassle. And don’t get me started on the…blood lust.”

The vampires and even humans in the movie had looked hungry in a completely different way whenever that topic came up. As though sucking your body’s circulatory system dry was desirable under any circumstance. Kei shuddered at the thought.

“You mean, you wouldn’t be able to build a family, live out your life with your friends, that kinda stuff?” Kou asks.

“I was referring to the important things, but I suppose.” Kei says loftily.

“Yeah, well, you’re wrong about that. Even vampires enjoy having relationships.” Kou argued.

“Debatable.”

“Bella seems pretty happy with the Edward guy.” his teammate emphasizes, “No matter if he’s a vampire or not.”

“But it is going to be a problem in the future.” Kei argues, “Honestly, she should have just stayed with Jacob and been done with it. It’s a suitable match, why put in any extra effort? She’s just going to grow old while he stays young forever.”

“Figures you’d go with the childhood best friend.” Kou mutters, flicking crumbs of his trousers.

“What?”

But Kou – strangely, for once in his life- doesn’t seem to haven an emergent need to elaborate further on the matter.

Kei probably should have said something a long time ago.

Perhaps he should have stopped Kou from starting the blasted second movie, but “Kei, it’s not that late! And how else will you know how it ends?” (Apparently, never was not a viable option.)

So here they are, sitting through another two hours of what Kou calls an “iconic classic” and Kei under his breath refers to as trash, but not the recyclable kind.

The cinematography is stunning, he has to admit begrudgingly, and the plot, albeit ridiculous, still manages to draw him in enough for him to forego his plans of turning the movie off several times, which is quite bothersome.

Well, fine then, Kei thinks to himself, at least now if Eriko badgers him about those movies again, he can give her a detailed review of every single logical error he has discovered so far.

He is considering starting a list, just so as to have some backup proof. His little sister’s education doesn’t have to suffer any more than it already had.

“Is she really going to sit around for months and wait for him to come back?” Kei complains, grabbing a fist full of popcorn from the bowl Hirasawa had made for them, “That’s a complete waste of time.”

“I don’t know, don’t you think some people are worth waiting for?” Kou threw in, giving Kei a knowing -sort-of-look that he couldn’t place.

It was the first sentence he had spoken in a while. Apart from his rambling monologue to get Izumi to join them a while prior when she came in to check if the streaming service was working.

“Did you see these movies already, Izumi-san?” Kou had asked and Kei surely hadn’t imagined the blush pinkening her cheeks.

“Oh, those? Just…once.” she’d replied, her voice sounding a little too high-pitched for that to be true, “It all seems fine, so I should get going-“

“Ah, already? Take a seat, take a seat!” Kou says generously, gesturing to the couch, “You need a break too, right?”

And Izumi did, albeit only tentatively on the edge. “I’ll be gone in a few minutes.” she promises.

She lied. Fifteen minutes later, she is still there and Kei doesn’t have the heart to kick her out, despite this being a a date, as he not so subtly communicated to Kou via verbal cues – all of which the other successfully ignored -but then, he bitterly thought, what chance did their pseudo-trial stand against Kou’s immortal woman of his dreams?

His thoughts screech to a halt. What does he even care what Kou thinks about either of them? It was all beyond ridiculous.

“It depends on how long you’re waiting for them.” Kei says, in response to Kou’s earlier question, “What about you, Izumi-san?”

“I think some relationships are worth preserving.” Izumi replies meaningfully, but right before she can say anything else, her phone goes off, the Caller-ID flashing with a familiar name.

“It seems Tosaki-san needs my assistance.” she says, barely concealing a wistful sigh, “Have fun you two.”

“He really needs to stop working you to the bone.” Kou complains.

Kei has the decency to feel guilty about the relief that settles in him when she leaves.

The motorcycle ride looks engaging. An activity Kei himself wouldn’t mind doing, seeing as there was zero risk involved to his safety with his newfound Ajin status.

As he verbalizes all of this, Kou gives him yet another of these knowing looks.

“Well, you were always one for motorcycles, weren’t you?” he says, tone bordering on smug.

Kei frowns. “Where did you get that idea from? I’ve only ridden one so far, but that was with Kaito.”

“I know.” Kou says, and then downs the rest of his coke.

“Refill?” he asks, holding out his hand for Kei’s glass.

“Sure.” Kei says, passing it over. He eyes Nakano skeptically, for any hint as to why his demeanor kept fluctuating.

“Here you go.”

“Thanks.” Kei cautiously takes the glass from him. Their fingers brush, lingering just a second too long to be casual. Kei notices how the tips of Kou’s ears redden and uses his momentary distraction to his advantage.

“You really hate that Jacob guy, don’t you?”

Judging by the look on his teammate’s face, he hit the nail on the head.

“I, uh, well hate is a kinda strong word.” Kou hesitates, stumbling over words, “He’s just not my favourite.”

“Really?” Kei asks, raising an eyebrow. In all honesty, he isn’t very interested in either of the characters, but psychoanalyzing Kou is what gives the evening its spice.

“Why is that so surprising?” Kou pouts.

“Because he’s just the same sort of muscle-brained idiot that you are.” Kei responds, gracing Kou with an exasperated look, before turning back to the movie.

“Oh.”

His words seemed to have had a profound effect on his teammate. Whatever sort of enlightenment had reached Kou, it had visibly brightened his mood.

“He is, isn’t he.” Kou says, with a small laugh.

“I don’t know why that is so surprising.”

“Guess I never thought of it that way.”

Which was exactly why it fit so well, Kei thinks to himself. Kou looks positively thrilled with the new discovery. As much as it pains to admit him, a lot remains about his teammate that he still doesn’t understand.

“I think he might be becoming my new favourite character.” Kou says, conspiratorially, sliding closer to Kei and slinging arm around him.

As the movie goes on, Kei starts to feel more and more tired. The comfortable atmosphere and the constant stream of voices from the TV serve to lull him a sleepy state. “Wake me up when they reach Italy.” he mumbles, the exhaustion of another day spent training finally catching up with him.

Kou mumbles an affirmative, and that’s where Kei’s memory cuts off.

The next thing he knows, someone is prodding at him from the side, instructing him to wake up.

“Fine, five more minutes.” Kei says, swatting the offending hand away.

He blinks as he comes too, shielding his eyes against the sudden brightness of the room.

The movie has ended, but even if hadn’t, Kei wouldn’t have been able to see much of the screen.

Not with Tosaki blocking their view.

“It’s almost 1 am.” he informs them through clenched teeth, “Get upstairs before I sever the internet connection.”

It’s a substantial threat. Substantial enough to briefly distract Kei from the fact that he had fallen asleep right on top of Kou.

“Fuck.” Kei swears under his breath, sitting up straight.

His teammate seems less perturbed.

“You missed the ending.” is all Kou has to say for himself, with a shit-eating grin.

(“It really is pointless.” Kei whispers, later that night, as they are both lying in Kou’s bed, a hair-brained decision that Kei blames his tiredness for.

“The whole being with a vampire. She can’t be, unless someone turns her into one, but that would be the epitome of a ridiculous clishé".

“…”

“Oh God, please tell me I’m wrong.”)

[eclecticstarlightconnoisseur]

EDINBURGH TO BOSTON -CHAPTER 20 - PERMANENCE

Edinburgh to Boston

Chapter 20

Permanence

Hello all, Here is chapter 20 of Edinburgh to Boston. There are several things that you need to know when you read this. It begins directly after the King’s Gambit. In fact it is the same day. We pick up after Jamie teased Claire in bed. The chapter encompasses several days. It starts on a Tuesday and ends on Sunday night before they return to work on Monday morning. There is some concern that readers could get lost because of the changing days, so I just labeled each section with the day of the week for convenience.

I want to thank scubalass as always for her work as the beta, which is not an easy task. I can be pigheaded at times.

I give you Edinburgh to Boston, Chapter 20, Permanence. For better or worse, here goes nothing.

Tuesday afternoon:

“Come here mo chridhe, ” he beamed holding open his arms to her.

Claire eyed him suspiciously, “What are you planning to do?”

“I want tae kiss ye, ” he chuckled.

“Oh no, you don't. You're not going to get me all riled up again and not finish the job. I'm no fool you know.”

“Never thought ye were. I just thought we could start at the beginning and see where it takes us,” he proposed as he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Sound like a plan?”

Claire launched herself into his arms, ”Aye, that sounds wonderful.”

They were entwined in each other’s arms luxuriating in the closeness. He stroked her with a practiced hand. Caressing her. Adoring her.  Whispering words of love in her ear.  They kissed and ignited an inferno. They burned bright and hot becoming blazing twin suns. He moved over her covering her body, He wanted to possess her body and soul. 

“Ye are mine, Sassenach. Now and forever. Body and soul. Whether ye will it or no’. Mine.”

“Yours,” she whimpered.

And loved her tenderly, then furiously until they were sated and sleepy.

Claire yawned contentedly, “I never knew playing chess could make you so tired.” 

Jamie chuckled, “‘Tis a verra rigorous game.” He pulled her against his chest wrapping his arms around her. They closed their eyes and  fell into a blissful sleep.

The bedroom door opened without a sound. Claire crept into the room, careful to not wake a sleeping Jamie. He was still napping after their  “chess game”. Quietly, she pulled the drapes closed muting the vibrant mid-afternoon sunlight so not to disturb his slumber.

She brought a cup of tea with her and placed it on the bedside table. After arranging pillows against the headboard to lean on, she eased herself onto the bed making herself comfortable sitting with one leg tucked under the other.  Normally, she would drink her tea in the kitchen or sitting room, but today was Saturday. This was her last full day with Jamie before returning to her flat, and she didn’t want to miss a single second with him. She shook her head admitting that thought was utter rubbish.  After all, she would be seeing him every day at the hospital. But she would be spending time with him as a professional colleague and not on the intimate level they shared this week. 

Fragrant tendrils of steam rose around her as she inhaled the familiar bouquet. Oolong.  She was pleased that Jamie liked it too. She sipped the tea savoring the taste. It was slightly sweet, fruity, with a honey aroma. What could be better than drinking your favorite tea in bed and watching your lover sleep? And she did love to watch him whether asleep or awake.

She turned to see him asleep on his back, arms crossed over his chest looking like one of the carved figures on the sarcophagi she had seen in Egypt with Lamb. His full lips were slightly parted as he breathed softly through his mouth.

Suddenly, he became restless, muttering something in Gàidhlig. A tender look crossed Claire’s face as she brushed away the curls that fell over his forehead. 

“Shhh, I’m here,” she comforted.

Jamie calmed; a smile crossed his face for the briefest of moments, then vanished.  His breathing evened and his face relaxed as he descended into a deeper slumber. Her forehead crinkled in fascination as she stroked his hair once more only to watch his smile reappear then disappear as it had before. 

“I love you, Jamie Fraser,” she whispered. “I knew from the moment you were introduced during the staff meeting that you would carry my heart in your hands.”

 The conference room had several areas that one could hide in and not be seen. Claire took her usual spot where she could work on her messages without being observed. Another useless weekly faculty meeting. The Chief droned on about creating the preeminent  Cardiothoracic Service in the entire U. K.  To this end he hired an up and coming surgeon to join the team. He would bring new energy to the stalled department. The Chief extolled the accomplishments, awards, and research activities of the new team member.

There had been many applicants for the position. Claire wondered who he had chosen. It certainly wasn’t the woman she had suggested.

“I would like to introduce you to Dr. James Fraser. Come up here dear boy.”

A giant of a man rose from his seat in the audience gracefully striding toward the podium. 

The two men shook hands exchanging general pleasantries. 

“On behalf of the department, I extend our warmest welcome and wish you much success,” droned the Chief. “I’m turning the microphone over to Dr. Fraser for a few words.”

The first thing Claire noticed was his voice. It was deep, smooth, luxurious, and warm. It flowed over her wrapping around her like a favorite blanket. She noticed a definite burr to it that vibrated with command. 

She couldn't see from her vantage point causing her to shift her position a few chairs over. 

Claire looked up and saw the most beautiful man she had ever seen. He was tall with fiery red hair and the deepest blue eyes. He was engaging, serious when it called for it, and charming. The audience was enthralled. 

After he finished speaking Dr. Sandringham returned to the podium. 

“You may have heard, the hospital has decided on a trial of pairing surgeons together as a measure to improve quality care in a cost effective manner. In our department two surgeons have been chosen to pilot this new program based on my recommendations.  The two surgeons designated to lead this programme are Dr. Fraser and Dr. Beauchamp. Claire, where are you, my dear? Come and meet Dr. Fraser.”

Claire’s mouth hung open like a landed fish unable to believe what she heard. She had overheard the rumors about some trial programme partnering surgeons together. “Sandringham! Up to his old tricks,” she thought. “Well, he would not get away with this one. He thought he could stick the newbie on her, but she already was overworked. Why not have MacPherson do it? He sits all day watching the Scottish stock market while she’s busy operating, doing the consults, or running a clinic. Claire decided she wouldn’t let the Chief get away with it this time. She would tell him to bloody well find someone else to hold hands with Fraser, was it?” Closing her mouth she slowly stood.  Her hands flew to her hair, trying to smooth it into place but knew it was useless to try. 

She walked up to Fraser and immediately got lost in his blue eyes. Claire made a little gasping noise then extended her hand, “Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp. I guess you’re stuck with me.” She blushed crimson red. Something she hadn't done since her youth. 

He took her hand in his massive ones tipping his head toward her, “James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser. At your service and I assure you the pleasure is all mine.” 

At that moment, something passed between them. The attraction between them was magnetic. It pulled at them speaking of a time yet to come, of words yet unsaid, and of things yet to happen.  The force drew them as if they were pieces of lodestone being pushed together. They gazed at each other wondering if the other felt it too.

Dr. Fraser reluctantly let go of her hand, gave her a lopsided smile, “I look forward to our first case together, Dr. Beauchamp.”

Claire never did have that conservation with Sandringham. It was the best thing she never did. She smiled at the recollection of their meeting and slid down to curl into his side. Her head came to rest on his chest while her leg found its way over his.  She found contentment and peace lying next to Jamie. She felt at home. Home. Now that was a strange concept to her. She and Lamb lived life like a pair of gypsies, never having the opportunity to put down roots. She enjoyed her travels with Lamb. It was fun and fascinating like being on perpetual vacation. There was, however, something missing in her life. A place to call her own.  A place where she could leave her imprint. Like owning that blue and white vase she had seen during her travels years ago. If she only had a home to display it in. It would say, ‘Claire lives here.’ The idealization of home represented a place where she could feel safe, secure, and happy. She had hoped that she could have made that a reality with Frank, but that was not to be.

Jamie grunted then turned to his side pulling Claire into the refuge of his arms. 

Then it struck her. Safe, secure, and happy within his arms.  Home did not have to be only a physical place or structure. It could be a person too. Smiling broadly, she realized that she could wander the face of the earth with Jamie for the rest of her life and still be home. He was her home now. She basked in the warmth of his embrace, knowing she truly had found her home at last.

Looking at her suitcase in the corner, Claire thought it probably a good idea to leave a few things here since she would stay here on occasion. She mentally reviewed its contents deciding on what she should keep here. 

Her thoughts drifted toward her flat. It was “home” but the space seemed rather plain and utilitarian. Just a place for her to eat, keep her clothes, and sleep. She had little interest in decorating the place since she never had company. To be honest, she never wanted company or invited anyone over. Claire had been content living her solitary life with Ginger, but now everything has changed. Ought she spruce the place up? What about new drapes for more privacy? At least new bed linens, towels for the bathroom. Maybe a throw rug and a few pillows would be nice. She didn’t want Jamie to think she lived like some cloistered nun. 

Claire froze. Perhaps she should reciprocate and make room for him if he wanted to leave some things there. Would he even want to come over to her place? She began to bite her lip with worry. God, this was all so new and she didn’t know how to handle it.

“Mo neighan donn, yer thinking so hard I can hear ye.”

Claire startled at his voice, “I’m sorry did I wake you?” She turned to face Jamie looking directly into his sapphire eyes.

“Nah, ye dinna wake me, but are ye alright?”

“Oh, I’m fine, just lost in thought.”

“About what, my own? ‘Tis it serious?” 

“No, no, no. Just deciding on what to leave here. And reciprocating for you at my place. If you would want to stay that is,” she asked shyly.

“Is yer bed big enough? Ye ken I need a lot of room,” he smirked, giving her a lustful look.

“Was he asking if it was big enough to fit him or was he asked about something else, Claire wondered.”

“I do believe... I’m sure it’s... Fine. Yes,it’s fine. Um, what are we talking about?”

“Yer bed, Sassenach. I wanted to know if it’s big.” He pulled her into his embrace, pressing his hips against her belly.

Claire felt the length of his arousal. “I think it will be more than satisfactory.”

“I would be delighted to spend the night at yer place anytime yer willing to have me,” he smoldered at her.

“Good, very good,” she babbled into his lips.

“Aye, ‘tis good indeed.”

They snuggled together enjoying the quiet and the feel of each other. 

Jamie leaned down to place a kiss on Claire’s brow. It was creased and furrowed. He felt her tense for a moment then relax.

“Claire.”

“Hm?”

“What else is on yer mind? Ye canna hide it, something else is bothering ye. It’s written all over yer face. Ye ken ye can tell me anything.” His finger traced a line over her cheek trying to soothe her.

Claire tipped her head forward and her hair slid across her face like a veil protecting her from his scrutiny, “You know what the rule of thumb is with sexual partners? You not only slept with your partner but with everyone they previously slept with.” Her eyes shied away unable to settle on him. Swallowing the lump in her throat she continued, “As you recall I went to Lamb’s after Frank raped me,” she stopped and took a deep breath to gather her strength again.  “Lamb convinced me to go to the hospital. I told the examining doctor that I had evidence that Frank had multiple partners. So, I was tested for every conceivable STD, and by some miracle, everything turned up negative,” she exhaled. “I had them all repeated when I got back to Scotland after the divorce. Again, everything was negative. I just wanted you to know that I am clean. I should have told this sooner, Jamie. I’m sorry I didn’t.”

She searched his placid blue eyes hoping to find understanding. 

The look of him described his mood, eyebrows pulled down together and his lips narrowed forming thin lines. The very picture of anger. Not because of what she told him. But because he hoped they left the ugliness of Frank behind them. But he should have realized that after her past and current trauma more revelations would arise over time. All he could do was be there for her to support her. And he would for as long as she needed him to.

He cleared his throat, “Since we are talking of such things, ye may as well know that I have been tested too. All negative. And I havenae been with anyone else since I have been tested.”

Jamie stopped and looked at Claire. She still had a troubled look about her.

“Do ye have something else ye want to tell me?”

She gave him a sidelong look, “I brought this up because we have not practiced safe sex.” She paused waiting to see if anything registered with him.

“Aye, ‘tis so and...”

“I have an IUD Jamie. I didn’t want to have children with Frank. Things became more and more unsettled between us and I didn’t want to bring a child into that relationship. My residency, my fellowship. It all seemed too much. So we don’t have to worry about birth control either.”

Jamie went a pale, ashy color. Christ, he didn’t think. He really didn’t think. He lusted after her just like a stag during the rut. No thought of the consequences for her. No, he only thought about himself and wanting her. He felt ashamed. 

“Claire, I’m sorry. I dinna think. I just wanted ye so bad.  And me a doctor. I should have…”

Claire raised a finger to his lips to silence him. “It’s alright. And I wanted you too. I don’t know if I could have stopped myself either  Truthfully, we both share the blame. We should have spoken about this beforehand. I should have told you sooner about the IUD.” 

She quieted allowing a few moments to pass before speaking again, “There is nothing to worry about. We’re both young and healthy. Except for your penchant for getting injured,” she quipped giving him a sly look. 

“Then ‘tis a good thing I’m in love with a doctor so ye can tend my wounds,” he smirked giving her a crooked smile.

“Is that why you want me? So I can tend your wounds.”

“Nay Sassenach. I want ye because I love ye. Now enough talk, just let me hold ye,” as he pulled her closer to his chest.

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

Time is an ethereal thing. It flies swiftly as if borne on the wings of Mercury. Try to grasp it and it will slide through your fingers like grains of sand. For lovers, time is but an enemy. Always pushing the present into the past making the now just a sweet memory.

Wednesday morning broke clear and sunny, but a dark cloud hovered over Jamie. Four more days. That’s all that he had left with his Sassenach. Four days. Then Claire would return to her own flat on Sunday. Time took on a sense of urgency for Jamie Fraser. He was sorry about what happened in Boston, but it worked out, in his point of view, for the best. Leaving Boston early gave him these four days with her all to himself. And he would not waste a single second of this precious time with his Claire.

Beauchamp had always been something of a recluse, never socializing with other staff members. He knew her habits and wants intimately in the operating room, but privately not very well. He knew how she liked her coffee, which scones were her favorite, and she ate whatever she liked without gaining an ounce. She liked to sleep on the left side of the bed. There were, however, a myriad of other things he did not know about her. If he wanted to take care of her, and he did, he would need to know more about her. Uncovering the mystery of Claire Beauchamp would become his life’s mission. He decided they would spend their remaining time together doing as new lovers do, learning the ways of each other. 

Each day for their remaining time, the couple did everything together. 

The mornings were spent together making breakfast. Claire would bake a batch of scones. Jamie would scramble the eggs while the requisite parritach bubbled and burped in its pot. They teased each other, stealing glances, and small touches as they worked together. It made for a thoroughly enjoyable way to start the day. 

They spent their days talking about their lives, family, and adventures. Jamie told Claire tales of the highlands acting out parts of the story, making her laugh until her sides would ache and tears streamed down her face. Hearing that Claire had never read The Hobbit or The Lord of the Rings Jamie took it upon himself to rectify this breach in her knowledge of fine literature. He would read to her, complete with the required sound effects and character voices, as she laid on the settee with her head in his lap. Claire pronounced the book as their book. They watched the telly poking fun at each other's choice of programmes. And they played chess over, and over, and over again never managing to finish a single game.

That was the way of it until Saturday morning arrived…

Jamie rose before Claire deciding they would do something a little different today. It was something he wanted to do for her and he hoped it would please her.

Claire awoke to feel quite refreshed as she stretched luxuriously. The duvet slid from her body exposing her breasts to the chilled air of the room and her nipples instantly hardened.  She chuckled to herself debating the value of leaving a nightgown and pyjamas here since she always ends up sleeping naked next to Jamie. Going to the en-suite, she quickly showered then brushed her teeth. Sneaking a peek at her hair, she sighed then wrestled it into submission.  She put on one of Jamie’s old tee-shirts (which she knew she would take home with her) and padded out into the kitchen. Jamie was not there and breakfast had not been prepared.

“Jamie?”

“In here, Sassenach.”    

Claire followed the sound of his voice finding him sitting on the settee fully dressed in jeans, jumper, and boots. His jacket, scarf, and cap were draped over a chair waiting for him.

“Are you going somewhere,” she inquired.

“We,” he emphasized, “are going somewhere. We have been in this flat since we arrived back in Edinburgh on Monday and I thought it would be nice tae take a walk. Besides that, I have some things that I need tae attend tae. I made ye yer coffee. Drink it as ye get dressed, aye?”

She grabbed her coffee and took a drink of the dark rich brew as she hurried off to get dressed all while wondering what Jamie had on his mind. She dressed quickly pulling on her skinny jeans, a jumper, and her boots. Claire did not remember packing these jeans but happy that she did. She turned to look in the mirror observing her bum and she liked what she saw. She smiled smugly and knew Jamie would like it too. She stuffed her hair up into her hat, wrapped a scarf around her neck, then grabbed her coat.

After depositing her cup in the sink, Claire found Jamie standing at the door with his coat on. She twirled for him, “Do I look alright for our day out?”

He looked at her, admiring how her jeans fit over that magnificent arse wondering if going out was truly a good idea or not.

Jamie swallowed hard, “Aye, ye look verra bonnie.” He held open the door bowing to Claire,” Come along Sassenach the day awaits us,” he urged her out the door before he changed his mind.

For a winter day in Edinburgh, it seemed rather warm. Still, the air had a deliciously crisp and refreshing feel. Jamie reached out, took hold of Claire’s hand, and knitted their fingers together.

Dr. Fraser was well known in the neighbourhood. People, shopkeepers called out to wish him good-day. Heads bent low chattering away like a clan of sparrows that the good doctor had a lady. Jamie smiled knowing full well what the gossips whispered in hushed tones. He grinned as he took his arm and wrapped it around Claire’s shoulder pulling her into his side as close as possible. Let’s give the old bletherskates something to talk about, he thought. And he bent, placing a kiss on Claire’s crown. Mine, he thought and he wanted the whole world to know it.

Claire looked up at him as she snuggled closer to his side.

They stopped in different shops along the street, picking and choosing things they liked. Jamie bought another book to also become their book. Chess had already become their game, but adding another wouldn’t hurt. Or two or three. Jamie smirked wondering how they could get creative with the new games. So the day went, they walked from shop to shop choosing things that they both liked destined to become theirs.

 “Dr. Fraser! Dr. Beauchamp!” they heard a voice call out.

They turned in the direction of the voice. Jamie on seeing the man broke out into a broad smile. 

“A charaid!” he returned the call. “Come, Claire,” he urged tugging at her hand.

A tall balding man of slim wiry build and merry blue eyes stood outside a florist shop waving excitedly at them.

Jamie and the man clasped each other’s hands engaging in a rapid handshake and back-slapping in the manner of old friends.

“Claire, ye remember Ewan MacDonald, do ye no’? We operated on his Da, Graeme, last year. ‘Twas a triple bypass if I recall correctly.”

“Why yes, I do recall. How are you Ewan and your father, how is he doing?” Claire inquired as she took hold of his hand.

“Ach, he’s braw Dr. Beauchamp, just braw, thanks tae ye and Dr. Fraser. Some days we need tae remind him that he’s 80. Always on the go. ‘Tis a sight tae behold,” he grinned. “Where are me manners? Why do ye no come into me shop for a bit and warm-up?” Ewan offered.

“Tapadh leibh,” Jamie smiled. He placed his hand on the small of Claire’s back encouraging her to go forward.

It was like being magically transported from the chill of winter to the warmth and beauty of summer. The shop was perfumed with the scent of fresh-cut flowers, flowers growing in pots, small and large potted foliage plants, dish gardens, and terrariums. An assortment of plain clay pots as well as hand-painted terra cotta planters were scattered around the workbench. In an out of the way corner of the shop exquisite vases could be found for sale.

Claire spied a young woman caring for seedlings sprouting under grow-lights. “If you gentlemen would not mind, I would like to look around,” she said happily.

“Of course, Dr. Beauchamp. Enjoy yerself,” replied Ewan. 

Jamie called to her as she turned to walk away, “Claire, I dinna ken what yer favorite flower is. Could ye tell me?”

“Well, I love all flowers. But, you will think me silly if I told you what my favorite flower is.”

“Yer no’ a silly woman, Beauchamp. Tell me.”

“It’s forget-me-nots.”

“Forget-me-nots? No’ a rose or an orchid or something like that?” Jamie looked puzzled.

“No, forget-me-nots. I planted them on my parents and Uncle Lamb’s graves. The flowers mean remembrance when people are parted or after death,” her face and voice becoming solemn. After a moment, Claire added, “But, they also represent a growing affection between two people, as well as true and undying love.” She looked into his eyes, as blue as the forget-me-nots she spoke of. “So, my favorite flower is the forget-me-not, ” Claire smiled and turned away to join the woman working with the seedlings.

Silent communication crossed between the two men. Jamie raised his eyebrows in question while Ewan vehemently shook his head no. Jamie glared at him, his lips becoming thin. He would not take no for an answer. 

 “‘Tis winter,” Ewan hissed. 

“Aye, ‘tis winter for sure,” Jamie confirmed.

“I dinna ken where I can find any!”

Both men turned their gaze toward her. Claire glowed with happiness. As she spoke, her graceful hands fluttered animatedly as she described something to the woman. 

Ewan turned to look at Jamie and saw his love for her written all over his face as he watched her.

“Ye love her!” Ewan exclaimed in a soft low voice.

“Does it show much?” 

“That it does, mo charaid, that it does,” he chuckled while shaking his head. “And the ladies of the neighbourhood thought ye to be a lifelong bachelor,” he snorted. Ewan sighed heavily, rolled his eyes toward heaven then shook his head yes. “Fer ye and Dr. Beauchamp, aye, I’ll make it happen. I ken a man, a horticulturist by the name of John Bartram, who may have what ye want.” Ewan paused, “He’ll have tae overnight them. It can be pricey, ye ken?”

Jamie nodded in agreement and clapped the man on the shoulder, “For Monday morning, aye? ‘Tis our first day back tae work and I’d like tae have a wee posy tae leave on her desk. ”

“Aye Dr. Fraser. Monday ‘tis.” 

Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp was a woman of science and did not believe in luck, chance, or coincidence. If such things existed, they didn’t apply to her. It was odd that only this morning she thought of the blue and white Chinese vase she wanted to buy all those years ago. How was it that by some strange twist of fate its twin is sitting on the upper shelf of a florist shop in Edinburgh? She gravitated over to where the vases were for a closer look. Could some serendipitous force have led her and Jamie to this shop today?  Perhaps today if luck did exist it would favour her after all.  Maybe this was a second chance to have it and this time it would not slip through her fingers. 

Jamie saw Claire looking at the vase covetously. He drew Ewan’s attention to the vase pointing at it with his chin. Whispering to him, “Put it in a bag for me will ye?”   

“Aye, Dr. Fraser.”

“Claire,” Jamie called to her. “‘Tis time for lunch. My wame is empty.”

“I’d like to speak to Ewan before we go, alright?”

“Ewan, that blue and white vase you have on the second shelf I’d like to buy it.”

“Oh, Dr. Beauchamp, I am sae sorry. It should not be there. Someone else purchased it. I just forgot tae take it down. In fact, the person is coming today tae pick it up,” Ewan said as he reached to take it down. “Siusan, would ye be sae kind as tae wrap this up.”

A look of pained disappointment slipped across Claire’s features at the news.

“I dinna ken ye sold this vase, Ewan.”

Ewan scowled at his shop girl. “I just did tae Dr. Fraser. ‘Tis a gift,” he whispered as he tipped his head toward Claire.

Siusan turned to look at the couple then smiled, “Ach, aye,” she whispered back. “I’ll tend tae this immediately.”

“I shall keep an eye out for another one like it, Dr. Beauchamp. If I find one, I’ll let ye know,” Ewan took her hand and gave her a gentlemanly bow pressing a kiss to her hand.

He smirked as he heard Jamie growl with annoyance.

“Ye ready, Claire?” Jamie questioned as he grabbed hold of their packages.

“Yes, quite ready. I did so enjoy visiting your lovely shop. I do hope to see you again soon. Please give my regards to your father.”

After shaking Ewan’s hand, Jamie took hold of Claire’s hand guiding her toward his favorite cafe for lunch.

After seating, Jamie ordered a soup, sandwich, and chips. Claire opted for the soup and a salad.

Claire was uncharacteristically quiet during lunch. She left her soup untouched and glumly pushed and poked at the greens on the plate. 

Jamie gently raised her chin up trying to read her face without much success. “Sassenach, can ye tell me what’s on your mind?”

Claire gave him a sad little smile. “I’m not upset, truly, it’s...well, more reminiscing about something that happened a long time ago,” she replied as her hand reached to snatch a chip from his plate.

“I’d like to hear about it,” he encouraged.

She munched on Jamie’s chips one after another as she contemplated the telling of her story.

Jamie frowned as he watched his chips disappear little by little into Claire’s waiting mouth. He signaled the server, pointed to his plate of missing chips ordering two more.

 “It happened when Lamb and I were in China for one of his excavations. I had gone to the market to buy supplies when I spotted this beautiful blue and white vase in a little store. Every day I would stop to admire it. I really wanted it, but I didn’t have a place to keep it,’ she said while snatching away another chip. “It didn’t seem practical to carry it around the world with me so I settled for admiring it in the window. One day I went back to look at it and it was gone. The shopkeeper told me someone bought it.  When I saw the one in Ewan’s shop, it looked so much like the one in China. I thought I had a second chance to buy the vase, but I guess it wasn’t meant for me to have,” she said dejectedly.

Jamie leaned over and rummaged in the bags. “Do ye mean this one?” He placed the blue and white vase on the table in front of Claire. “I meant to give this to ye after dinner, but ye look so sad now, I couldna wait.”

Claire gasped in shock as she took in the vase sitting on the table in front of her. It took several serviettes to remove the chip grease from her fingers. With a shaking hand, she reached out and stroked the vase proving to herself that it was indeed real.

Claire looked from the vase to Jamie then back to the vase. “You bought this for me?” her voice filled with emotion.

“Aye, I saw how much ye wanted it so I bought it for ye.” 

She got up and launched herself at Jamie taking his mouth in a fierce kiss. “Thank you. You don’t know what this means to me.” Two fat tears broke free and rolled down her cheek.

He cradled her face in his large warm hands and used his thumbs to gently erase each tear away.  

“Sassenach, dinna cry. ‘Tis only a vase.”

Her face sprang up abruptly. “Only a vase, only a vase! You couldn’t be more wrong, Fraser. It’s not just a vase, it’s-it’s-it’s just everything,” she stuttered.

It didn’t matter to Jamie that they were in a cafe, he pulled Claire closer to his chest, offering her the comfort of his body. His hand ran across her face as he whispered into her hair,  “Claire, why don’t ye tell me all about it then.”

For Chrissakes, Beauchamp, you’re in a public place. What do you think you’re doing making a spectacle of yourself? Claire moved to get up and return to her seat, but Jamie held her fast.

“No. Stay where you are. I dinna care who sees us and neither should ye. Now, if ye dinna mind I’d like to hear ye story.”

She nodded her head, then wrapped her arms around his neck wondering how to explain this to him. 

“I envy you, Jamie,” she began. “You had everything that I have ever wanted. Parents who loved you. Siblings who loved you, played with you, even fought with you. Friends, school mates. A regular school you went to every day. Sporting activities. Even your damn chess club,” she glared at him.  “And, of course, there was Lallybroch. Every day you went to your home, to your room where you could study, daydream, and sleep in your bed.”

“Among other things,” he mumbled.

“Beg your pardon. I didn’t hear that.”

“‘Tis nothing,” he blushed, “Please continue.”

“When I saw the vase, I thought it signified home, my home,” she emphasized. It meant I lived there. It would be a place I would go to every day. To me, that vase represented everything I had ever wanted, had hoped for. The vase meant safety, security, permanence, stability.” She searched his face to see if he understood what she meant and she saw the dawning of understanding. “Mind, I don’t regret my childhood at all. It was magical, a wonderful opportunity most children will never have. And I loved Lamb, so very much. But, sometimes I just wanted…”

“Tae be like every other bairn, aye?”

“Yes. Normal. Not always on the move.”  

“I see.” He paused, letting what she said sink in. “Do ye ken, Claire this is what I had in mind today. I wanted ye tae have things at the flat that would make ye comfortable, so ye would ken ye belonged there. No’ a guest. I wanted ye tae ken ye belonged there just as much as I do. That ‘tis your home if ye want.  Anytime ye want, whenever ye want. I was worried that ye might think this too fast or too soon tae be talking like this, but maybe no’.” He looked at her with a look of sincerity causing her to become overwhelmed by his statement. 

Claire leaned forward resting her forehead against his. “Thank you,” she whispered to him.

“For what, a leannan ? I just want ye tae be happy and I want tae be the one tae make ye happy.” He brought her hand to his mouth and brushed his lips across her fingers.  

Her lips parted as though to say something. She changed her mind and bent forward giving him a passionate kiss. Jamie wrapped his arms around her waist pulling Claire in to deepen the kiss. 

The sound of dishes and cutlery crashing to the floor caught their attention ending the kiss. All eyes were centered on them. Customers gaped with eyes bulging, and mouths agape. The young waitress, with a serious crush on Jamie, had dropped the plates she was about to serve. Claire’s cheeks flushed pink from the heat of the kiss. 

“I think we have worn out our welcome.” 

“From the looks of things, I’d say yer right,” he agreed.

Claire stood, her chin held high as she brushed away imaginary wrinkles from her jumper. She put on her scarf and coat while Jamie did the same. He left money on the table with a rather sizable tip and gathered up their belongings. The shaken waitress came toward the table as Claire grabbed another crisp. 

“Best crisps in all of Edinburgh,” she declared. And they walked with dignity out the door.

He grabbed her hand, each looking at the other as they strode off cackling like two loons. 

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

The weather changed during the day as the sun disappeared behind a mass of gray clouds. A cold, piercing wind blew biting cheeks and noses turning them cherry red. By the time they arrived back at Jamie’s flat in late evening, they were cold and hungry.  Completing all the errands had taken a considerable amount of time. They warmed their fingers and toes in front of the fire Jamie started in the fireplace. They spread their purchases out on the floor while they discussed the proper place for each item.

“I’ll leave ye to it mo chridhe, while I heat up dinner for us,” Jamie said as he walked into the kitchen.

 Claire nodded in agreement as she set about her task. She picked up the last bag and brought it with her to the sofa. It contained the vase. Carefully, she took the vase out and unwrapped it. She turned it around admiring it. It did look like the one that got away. Claire studied the room and finally came to a decision. A credenza, that Jamie used as a bar, stood off to the side displaying glassware on the left and the right. But the center was empty as if waiting for something special to claim the space. Carefully, she placed the vase centering it between the stemware. Stepping back Claire gave it a critical look. She broke out into a broad smile pleased with her decision.

Such a simple ordinary thing, a vase. To Claire, this homey object had been the symbol of the home she longed for and it needed to be shared. Shared with the man who held her heart and had become her home.

“Now it feels like home,” she murmured.

Jamie entered the room silently walking quickly toward Claire. He wrapped his arms around her waist pulling her against him, placing a tender kiss to her temple.

“What are ye about, mo nighean donn? Are ye no’ taking yer vase home with ye?”

Claire turned in his arms resting her cheek against his chest listening to the strong steady thrum of his heart. She stood on tiptoe gently kissing his lips murmuring, “It is home here with you.”

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

It was Sunday already. Heaving a heavy sigh, Claire wondered how time had disappeared so quickly. She felt the spectre of loneliness try to creep back grabbing at her heart and soul with its icy fingers trying to reclaim them. This time she would not allow it. There was love in her life now. Jamie had turned her life around. He filled her life with love, laughter, and tenderness. He banished her pain and emptiness and she felt alive again. Loneliness would never have a chance to possess her again. And the once ever-present shadow vanished like the early mountain mist with the coming of the bright morning sunlight. 

Claire stood staring into Jamie’s closet. She had taken up his offer to leave a few of her things there. She left her favorite little black dress, a pair of heels, some work-appropriate skirts and blouses, and a new lab coat. Her hand ran over his clothes and began to conjure an image of him dressed in them. Inhaling deeply she smelled his garments. Masculine. Pure unadulterated Jamie untainted by anything else. There was no other way to describe it. The scent would comfort her during the nights away from him. Besides, she stole his tee-shirt. The one she would wear to bed and imagine his arms wrapped around her while she slept.

Then there was the bed. The bed they had made love in, discovered each other in. Closing her eyes, Claire remembered what they had done throughout the week. The touches, lips grazing, moans of fulfillment. Last night and this morning were different. Their love-making became more desperate. An attempt to fend off the impending separation. Never had she felt such love, joy, and sadness. It would have to last, to be enough until they could be together again.

“Are ye ready Claire?” Jamie called from the sitting room.

“Yes, I’m coming.”

He drove her home and carried her bags up to her flat.

“I can take it from here,” Claire said in a hushed voice.

They stood there for what may have been a second or an hour. Neither wanting to be the one to say goodbye.

Jamie placed his hands on her hips pulling Claire against him, his head resting on top of hers. The warmth of his body calmed her and she relaxed into him.  

“Jamie, I don’t…,” Claire sniffled.

“Hush, mo ghràdh, I’ll see ye tomorrow. Naught more than twelve hours,” he soothed.

“Do ye need me to pick up yer wee beast for ye?” he asked.

“No, the Bugs will be over with her in about an hour.”

“Then I guess I should be on my way and let ye get settled in. It will be a long day tomorrow for both of us.

“I guess so,” she mumbled as she looked up at him. 

Wordlessly, Jamie  brought his lips down to hers, kissing her tenderly.

“Sleep well, m'eudail. I love ye.”

Jamie hesitated then turned and left looking as if he had just lost his best friend.

Claire stood rooted to the spot watching him as he walked away wanting him to stay here with her.

I didn’t tell him I loved him back.  Panic ensued. She raced outside just in time to  see Jamie drive away. 

Dismayed, she trudged back into her flat. Fuck! She swore, annoyed that she didn’t tell him and that she missed him before he drove off. I’ll call him. No, I’ll text him. Better yet, I’ll do both as soon as he gets home. 

Claire took hold of her luggage and wheeled it into her bedroom.  She hoisted it up on her bed, opened the case, and started to remove her things. There was a rap at the door along with the doorbell ringing.

“Hallo?”

“Claire, ma dearie, we brought yer lass home,” answered Murdina Bug.

Claire opened the door and Ginger bolted into the room almost knocking Claire over in the process. The dog spun around in excited circles, yipping a greeting to her mama. Claire squatted down to the dog’s level stroking her soft fur.

“How’s my girl then?” she laughed. The dog rolled over demanding belly rubs which were promptly given.

Oh, here is the soup, I promised ye. I dinna think ye would have the time to make dinner.” 

“Thank you, Mrs. Bug you didn’t have to do this.” The soup was still warm and had a wonderfully rich aroma making Claire’s mouth water.

“‘Twas naught. Arch and I needta be leaving ye,” she said as she thrust the container of soup in Claire’s hands. “We’re on a date,” she beamed as she looked up at her husband. “The lass has been fed and had a good walk so there is naught for ye tae do. Ye’ll bring her before ye go tae work? She’s a good helper with those rascals. Keeps them in line, ye ken?”

“Yes, you’ve told me what a great help she is to you. We’ll be there in the morning. Enjoy your evening.”

Ginger sat at attention, her tongue lolling out of her mouth. She nosed Claire’s hand looking for a scratch behind the ear. She sneezed. There was something wrong with her mama’s smell. It was different. Ginger licked her mama’s hand. That was fine, she tastes normal. A cold wet nose sniffed at Claire, her ear, hands, arms, eventually finding its way to her legs. The smell was strongest here. The dog inhaled deeply and let out a powerful sneeze. 

“My sweet girl, are you sick?” Claire began to fret. She ran her hands over the dog checking her as best as she could. Her eyes were clear, nose cold and wet, nothing dripping from it. Her breathing did not seem labored. Claire dismissed the sneezing to a dusty room.

“We must clean up. It won’t do to have you sneezing. But first things, first,” she winked at the dog.

Claire reached for her purse taking out her cell. Quickly she sent off her text to Jamie. Before she had a chance to call him, her phone rang. It was Jamie. She smiled answering his call.

Ginger was perplexed by the change in her mama. She raised her nose high in the air turning her head in different directions, sniffing. She followed her nose to the bedroom. The smell was stronger there. Whatever it was it seemed to be coming from her bed. Walking over to the bed, she stood on her hind legs so she could smell Claire’s open suitcase. It positively reeked! Ginger didn’t know what kind of animal her mama had been with while she was away, but she did not like it. Not one bit. The dog jumped up on the bed, took Claire’s clothes out the suitcase scattering them over the bed. She pawed at the clothing until she found what she was looking for. Found it, Ginger thought. The odor was strongest on a shirt and on some of her mama’s clothes. The small clothes that mama wore covering her between her legs. She used her nails to scratch at the shirt trying to tear it to pieces. When that didn’t work she chewed it. The shirt was a soggy mess lying limp like an old rag doll by the time she was done.  For good measure, she rolled over the clothing wanting to eradicate the scent. Mine, the dog thought. This is my mama and I will not share. After she removed the odor from the intruder, and thoroughly covered the garments with her fur, she left the bedroom. 

She settled in her bed knowing that she would get a scolding for what she did. Ginger didn’t care. After all, she was protecting her mama and that was her job. She knew her mama would not see it that way. 

The dog watched Claire walk into the bedroom. Wait for it, wait for it.

“GINGER! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!,” came the bellow.

Claire charged into the sitting room waving Jamie’s sodden shirt. It was covered in dog hair as well.

“What have you done young lady?  Hmm? I was going to sleep in this tonight. And all my other clothes need a good washing too,” Claire frowned holding up her fur covered panties.

The dog looked up at her with large soft chocolate brown eyes full of remorse. She covered her face with her paws as an act of contrition. 

“Oh, all right. You did that because I was gone so long and you missed me,” Claire sighed. She patted the dog on the head in forgiveness. “Just don’t ever do that again. OK?”

She woofed happily, madly wagging her tail.

Two hours later saw the laundry completed. Claire sniffed Jamie’s shirt. The scent may not be as strong as before, but it definitely lingered. It seemed as if his smell permanently embedded itself in the fibers. Deciding to make it an early night Claire completed her nightly ritual, pulling on the tee-shirt marveling at its softness. As it skimmed over her body, it reminded her of Jamie’s loving caresses. 

Jamie. She missed him already. Badly. Only eight more hours before I see him again, she consoled herself. 

After plumping the pillows and pulling back the duvet, Claire snuggled in the bed. The room was dark with only the faintest light from the moon cast shadows along the floor.

Claire tossed and turned. Turning with such regularity the sheets twisted until it resembled a coiled snake. A car drove past. A siren's wail.The creaks and groans of the flat settling. All the noises of the night creating an unwanted symphony determined to keep her awake. At one  point, Claire looked at the opposite side of the bed and imagined Jamie lying next to her. It was so real her hand reached out to touch him. But he was nothing more than illusion.  It was no use. Sleep continued to elude her. The reason she knew was she missed Jamie.

Her phone began to vibrate. Claire wondered who would be calling at that late hour. Jamie’s name blazed across her phone. 

“Hi.”

“I dinna wake ye, did I?” 

“No. I was staring at the ceiling if you must know.”

“Aye, me too.” Jamie hesitated for a moment, “I canna sleep. I...I miss ye. The bed is empty without ye in it.” 

Claire exhaled softly. “I miss you too. The bed seems too big, too lonely without you in it. What are we going to do?”

“Maybe, ye can, if ye dinna have plans, maybe ye can spend the weekend with me?”

She chuckled softly, “No. I don’t have any plans. It’s a date. I’ll make the arrangements for Ginger.”

“That’s great, Sassenach.” He hesitated not wanting to end the call, but knew he should, “Claire, ye need yer sleep. Ye have a big day ahead of ye. Try and get some sleep. I’ll see ye in the morning.”

“You’re right. Get some sleep too. You’ll need to be on your toes with the students trailing you about.”

“Aye, yer right,” he laughed. “They always have a lot of questions.”

“Jamie?”

“Aye?”

“I love you.”

“As I do ye. Good night Claire.” Jamie turned on his side, grasped Claire’s pillow,wrapping his arms around it pretending he was holding Claire. He buried his face inhaling her fragrance and promptly fell asleep.

Sighing, Claire turned on her side and buried her nose inside Jamie’s shirt, breathing in the subtle scent of him. Comforted, she fell asleep too.

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

STD - Sexually transmitted diseases

bletherskates  - gossips, nosy-bodies.

Tapadh leibh, - Thank you. I used the formal expression because Ewan is older than Jamie.

a charaid - Friend

Siusan - no this is not misspelled. It is the Scottish spelling for Susan according to my references and it means lily.

a leannan; m'eudail.  - darling

mo chridhe  - my heart.

If there is any questions, suggestions, comments or gentle criticisms, please don’t hesitate to leave it. I love hearing from you. I hope you enjoyed this.

[agathaharknes]

yennaia + gamer au

This was supposed to be three sentences and definitely not crack but I just had to... sksjsjssksjjs.

Yennaia prompt: Gamer AU.

LINK TO ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN IN THE REPLIES.

Word count: 1.8k+ Pairing: Yennaia. Rating: T.

Tissaia really had no idea why she was doing this. Perhaps to appease Rita. Perhaps because her addiction to nicotine had worsened over the course of one year of a bloody Continent-wide pandemic and she was loath to use her credit card every time she needed a new pack of cigarettes. Perhaps she was going through a midlife crisis to cope with the fact that being the Chancellor of Aretuza College was already stressful enough without half the generations there trying to fool her subordinates into thinking cardboard replicas or even mannequins counted as attendance or simply because the rest of the Board of Governors (Stregobor) couldn't differentiate between what could be said through an email and what required her to clean her entire house so the background of her call was pristine.

Her controller vibrated in her hands, (Why, for the love of the Gods, couldn't that setting be turned off?) her knuckles turning white from gripping it so strongly. "Oh, for fu- heaven's sake." There, she had been ambushed. Again. A funny and wholly unexpected thing happened, though, one of the users turned on her companions, offing the lot of them with clean headshots the brunette definitely couldn't pull off in the span of twenty seconds.

"Uhh..." What does one say when your virtual saviour just betrayed her entire party on a whim and was being cursed at obnoxiously loudly and vulgarly for it?

Yennefer ignored Sabrina calling her names that absolutely applied to her and her hormonal reaction to a lovely blue-eyed MILF the likes of which she had only seen in her dreams. "No thanks needed, love. I was getting tired of seeing you frown like someone had keyed your car every time you got killed. A pretty thing like you should only have cause to smile." Oh, Gods, now she sounded like a creepy old man that lived in his mum's basement. Great. Good job. Her Social Studies major was an absolute hit. Fuck her life. Fuck Oxenfurt College. And fuck Sabrina's witch-like cackling while she was at it. "Name’s Yennefer." She choked out miserably.

Tissaia scowled at her laptop. Hackers. Amazing. This was the best day of her new normal life. "Mind telling me how you broke through the most expensive antivirus in the Continent, dear? Because now I really need a refund." Now she also needed to contact Aretuza’s IT team on a Saturday night, because she was not about to mess any further with these blasphemous machines, thank you very much.

Wait, what? "That wasn't me... You left your camera on." The woman legitimately squealed at that, her oversized jumper sliding down her left shoulder and exposing just a glimpse of her collarbone as she pinned up her hair into a bun with... were those pens fashioned as swords? Oh, bugger, this was so not the time to get turned on! "Are you alright?" Mercifully Sabrina, Renfri and Phillipa were already accosting someone else, else she was sure the brunette would've completely lost it, more than she already was doing, anyways. "Hello?" No answer.

Tissaia was fishing for her boots when she started ranting, “Oh, don’t you worry! I’m fine! Just dandy! This is exactly how I wanted my life to go.” She motioned with her hand to the space around her. “I wished for nothing more than dealing with complete morons from nine to six, five days a week, whilst trying to make sure my sanity doesn't desert me.” Biting her lower lip for a moment she began checking that the ends of the laces were the same length when she pulled them up. “Running right after to my local grocery store to buy more instant meals that are probably going to give me cancer in five years if the bullshit articles my mother keeps sending me-”

Yennefer had told herself she wasn’t going to allow this wasn’t going to get any creepier than her misguided comment but she still had a gift code for that nice liquor store which conveniently had retailers popping up every six blocks everywhere for the last few months, especially in Thanned isle, only Gods knew why. “This bloody succubus of a twat that is my best friend has been forcing me to constantly use this cursed game by changing the password for my email and then Aretuza’s server and then-” Bingo. One text to Philippa and they had her IP address, with a mortified Triss already calling Jaskier since she was the only one that had managed to get a decent scholarship at that posh college.

This was her future wife who was about to jump from a bridge from the looks of her and they just had to do humanity a great service by saving her from herself and from sobriety.

“Can you believe that tosser? I am a lesbian! I spent my teenage years clad in flannel until my girlfriends staged an intervention kind of lesbian! Yes, Vilgefortz, I will sue you for harassment in the workplace and I will blacklist you. No, Vilgefortz, I don’t want to break quarantine to go on a date with you and I definitely do not want your disgusting cologne anywhere near my-” Tissaia’s head shot up, her doorbell was ringing and she pinched the bridge of her nose, reaching for a new, disposable, mask.

“You stay right there.” She threatened the girl, who had the most beautiful violet… Perhaps she really ought to let Coral get her a therapist. It rang again. “Gods-damn-it.” She thought.

Her plan was going marvellously. She would only have to sleep with a knife under her pillow for a few weeks for blackmailing Sabrina (Who honestly hadn’t the slightest talent to pass off plagiarism as a sudden stroke of genius in her final project without her aid.) into going along with this. The blonde was lighting the candles around the monitor without trying to burn her hair off and had given away her best bottle of cheap but still good wine for the cause. Thanks to Renfri and her frankly psychotic, owl obsessed, girlfriend she already knew what she would be replacing her trauma-ridden last name with! Splendid!

The brunette shut the door on Jaskier’s face after taking the brown paper bag from his hands, spraying the bottle of vodka inside it with so much disinfectant that it dripped down onto her carpet. Taking off her gloves and disposing of them, she grabbed a knife from the counter and ignoring the annoying blue light that came from the kitchen table, “Oh, shit. You’re soulmates. I’ll tell the rest of the girls we’re all fucked.” Tissaia cut off the upper part of the glass in one smooth hit, like Calanthe had taught her when the then teacher could still be considered fun by her groups of friends.

“Shut up, tiddybug!” She heard Yennefer sing-song.

Feeling like being crass the blue-eyed woman took a rather large swing directly from the bottle. Sitting back down, she sighed. Yennefer took a dignified sip from her wine; she could do balanced when her significant other to-be needed to let loose. “Did you like the bottle? It has good reviews from… wait a minute… apparently several alcoholics who don’t know what a budget is.”

Tissaia’s face paled. “I thought you weren’t a hacker.” The woman muttered. She didn’t fancy getting kidnapped and… No, no, no. Fucking Rita. What was the cost of moving, again? If she slept four hours less a day and split her cleaning time in two she could probably trade this house for Stregobor's in-

“I am not!” Yennefer cried. Bloody hell. “You just mentioned that you worked at Aretuza and-” Sabrina had probably started a group call and Phillipa was indeed hacking into her computer to save her arse. The Redanian was currently writing a script for her to follow. “Your username in the game is your surname. My friends and I tried to get into that school a few years back and I do remember that the Chancellor is a woman and that her last name is de Vries.” Her username wasn’t her last name, it was actually something that suggested she was an Ice Queen of the highest order. Queen Elsa from the movie Frozen would be intimidated kind of Ice Queen.

“Everyone is aware the highest-ranking members of the faculty live in chalets near the castle, pardon, the building.” True. According to Triss, that was a part of their contract that if unfulfilled prohibited them from working there ever again. To Yennefer that seemed borderline cruel, forcing them to be available at all hours like circus animals for juniors that didn’t deserve their spots.

“My best friend is a student there and she knows which one is your home because she wants to eventually be a teacher.” Partially true. Until that day came, Triss, like any rational individual, avoided the Chapter’s Village like the plague lingered inside, and wouldn’t be caught dead there unless she had to stop Sabrina from doing something stupid because of the anarchist phase she was going through. Jaskier was an acquaintance of hers of sorts because Triss had tutored his boyfriend Geralt in Biology and being daddy’s boy, he knew which one was Tissaia’s house because he had almost gotten expelled like fifteen times.

“I honestly just wanted to do something nice for you, you sounded like you needed it and… I know quarantine hasn’t been lifted once in Temeria since it all started.” Philippa wrote then that she would probably make for a decent actor without flashing her breasts to the audience every five minutes. She pursed her lips and replied in the mock post-it note to fuck off.

“I… I… Thank you. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed- I’m sorry, darling.” Her pale cheeks flushed at the term of endearment that slipped her tongue and Tissaia bowed down her head, red-painted nails caressing the glass bottle almost reverently. “Say, why don’t you tell me what your email address is and I send you my mobile via chat? The explosions in the background aren’t that, uhm, comforting to listen to when I’d much rather be hearing your voice.” Should she have looked up she would have seen the smile that threatened to split Yennefer’s face. “Only if you want to, of course! I- what am I even saying? Never mi-”

“No! Wait!” She placated. Sabrina squeezed her shoulder as she went to retrieve her phone charger, offering her a genuine smile. “I’d love to.”

“Okay.” Said Tissaia, an awed sound leaving her throat when blue finally meet with lilac. Gods, she was drop-dead gorgeous. Rita could have whichever bottle, all the liquor she wanted from the school’s cellar for indirectly enabling this.

Was one week a proper enough courting period to then buy the engagement ring? Or should she just have Philippa get her the best, costliest one from that jewellery eshop they all liked through some minor fraud that would take her like half an hour at most, today? “Good.” Yennefer de Vries had such a nice ring to it.

[crosbytoews]

recent reads

i’m supposed to be reviewing nursing skills but instead let’s review some books! these are the five books i have read most recently

The Mothers by Brit Bennett

the vanishing half was my favorite 2020 release so i was very excited to read this book. i was not disappointed! this story follows a 17 year old who gets pregnant by the pastor’s son and the repercussions for years to follow. lots of great discussions on grief and abortion. do not read if you will not like books where there is cheating. bennett managed to squeeze a lot of great content into less than 300 pages. 

The Love Hypothesis by Ali Hazelwood

this is an instantly hyped reylo fanfic that got published. it’s about a biology grad student who fake dates a faculty member (who is not her professor in case anyone is like me and doesn’t like teacher/student). while this book was very entertaining, i found the circumstances that led them together as well as the circumstances that forced them into pda to be very unbelievable and shaky, even for a fake dating book. i guess i’m just not a fan of fake dating. this was still a fun read with fun nods to stem and i recommend it to people that like fake dating. 

The Night She Disappeared by Lisa Jewell 

if you like mystery/thrillers, lisa jewell is usually a safe bet. this is about a woman whose daughter and her baby daddy disappear after a night out. there are three timelines that end up merging, which is a little confusing. we get the mother’s POV, the POV of an outsider who moves into town, and the POV of the daughter where we see the events before she disappeared. this was a nice, surprisingly atmospheric mystery/thriller with some dark academia adjacent elements.  

Conversations with Friends by Sally Rooney

apparently i love books about cheating recently. this is about two college students who befriend a married couple and one of them starts an affair with the husband. there were so many times i wanted to scream at her lol. she was very frustrating but that doesn’t mean i didn’t enjoy the book. she was going through it. great discussions of mental illnesses as always with rooney books. great lgbt representation. i think my ranking of rooney books is: normal people > conversations with friends > beautiful world, where are you

White Smoke by Tiffany D. Jackson

this is a YA horror about a family moving into a seemingly haunted house on an abandoned block. i read this pretty late at night and there were parts that actually scared me lol. in addition to being a horror, it has good discussions about gentrification and the prison industrial complex. i liked it but it definitely didn’t wrap things up as nicely as i would have liked, especially when it came to the main character’s past. i thought the other book i’ve read by this author, monday’s not coming, was a lot stronger. i do plan on reading from this author again (grown is on my tbr!)

[readyplayerhobi]

Jung hoseok and the magic to happiness is a DELIGHT to read. Like... You've taken all the fun concepts of hogwarts and the wwhp and made it all you own with this story and these characters! I love watching her grow and settle into her role as an educator and create relationships with the faculty! At first I was wondering where we were goin with the jin/miyeon dinner and then I was like ahhhh OF COURSE HOBI GETS AN INVITE TOO. Sneaky jin is doin the mostest trying to help push her along and open her eyes!! He's really the wingman of the year!! But really tho, the way hoseok clearly cares for her is so sweet. Like when he noticed she had skipped breakfast and he's all "breakfast is the most important meal of the day promise me you'll have a good lunch" I about died. It almost makes my heart ache a lil for him. He's clearly in so deep and notices her (and her absence) so much and she's just 🥸🥸 hahaha I get it tho... He's supposed to be JUST her bff's lil brother and overcoming that is hard! But I love watching him try!! My fave scene is the bit of dialogue at the end with jinyeon and miyeon is like hoberto is 10000% in love with her and jins like yo she hasn't noticed he's been taking her on dates this whole time rip haha and I LOVE this characterization of hufflepuff!hobi and his undying patience and loyalty. It's like his heart has just been WAITING FOR HER ALL THESE YEARS ����😭😭 I adore this pairing and I can't wait to see her struggle and overcome the nature of their past and future relationship!! I'm rooting for them!! THANK YOU FOR SHARING THEIR STORY WITH US ALL 💕💕

Ahhh, I loved reading this so much ;-; I forgot how much I loved getting these long and in-depth reviews/comments. It’s one of the reasons I like to do them for other authors because they’re so lovely to read.

I’m happy that you’re enjoying the fic and feel that everything is working well together. And of course, Seokjin is being a good friend to the MC but also being a very good friend to Hoseok. He’s known him longer so he’ll be that unofficial wingman lol.

And yes, I’m trying to make it obvious what his feelings are by the little subtle things he does for her without making a big deal of them. So him coming to make sure she gets lunch or taking stuff to her if she doesn’t go to lunch. Also, him letting her eat some of his own lunch without any complaints! That would’ve been the thing that spurred Seokjin to invite Hoseok as well, wanting to try and speed them along a little lol. He is in so deep ;-; he’s a loyal Hufflepuff and his loyalty to her is absolute. He may have only been a teenager at the time but darn it, his crush is stronger than ever!

I hope you continue to enjoy it in the future :D

[athingthatwantsvirginia]

Of Princess Bride Past

PART THIRTY-TWO OF THE DO YOU SEE HER FACE? SERIES

Pairing: Jess Mariano x Original Character (Ella Stevens)

Warnings: plentiful pop culture references

Word Count: 5.1K

Summary: Ella plays piano for the first time in a long while.

Rushing up the stairs to the apartment, Ella almost tripped more than once. The main floor of Truncheon was empty, books shut and the sign on the front door turned to Closed. Rain showered down hard, and all manner of umbrella patterns could be seen on the sidewalk outside. Her own umbrella, collapsed and dripping, sat next to the front door. She’d practically thrown it down in her hurry. Biting down on her cheek, she was nearly out of breath by the time she made it through the apartment door. Everyone was mingling in the living room, nursing beers and waiting for the last member of the group to arrive. They looked up at the sound of her huffy entrance and offered greetings.

She barely gave anyone a glance as she hung up her raincoat and began undoing her french braid on her walk to the bedroom. “Sorry, sorry. Just give me five minutes and I won’t look like a bank teller anymore.”

Seven o’clock had come and gone, and she had still been stuck in the lecture hall, while her advisor gave her notes on the presentation in art history. All in all, her advisor had been impressed. But she was not one for brevity, and Ella had taken several anxious peeks at her watch during the review. It was the last day of class before spring break, and Ella was eager for the week off. She’d been so busy with midterms, she hadn’t been able to make it to any of Leo’s recent gigs. But he was due on stage at Keeley’s between eight and eight-thirty. And there was no way she was going to the show dressed in her blazer and pencil skirt, gray and stiff. She’d worn it only because one of the oldest men on the entire faculty had been sitting in on her presentation, and Ella had heard about his penchant for professionalism.

Ella thought she heard Chris yell some crack at her outfit after her, but she had already slammed the bedroom door. She stripped out of her clothes, throwing them in the hamper with disdain. She hoped it would be some time before she would have to wear anything of the sort again. Opening up a dresser drawer, she ran her eyes over prospective outfits for the night.

Breathing a frustrated sigh, she pulled a grayish-purple babydoll dress over her head and went to sit down on the bed to tug on her fishnets. After having appraised herself in the mirror above the dresser, she decided her makeup was decent enough and touch-ups would be unnecessary. She was wearing far less than normal, anyway. She had a feeling the ancient history professor who sat in wouldn’t exactly smile upon thick eyeliner or dark lipstick. The need to change her look simply to please the man made her skin crawl, but she could see no other way out. He had once ordered a graduate student out from behind the podium because his shirt had a stain.

The next time she was in class, though, she would be back in her grungy attire. Just putting on the fishnets made her feel more comfortable than she had been all day. She reached under the bed, grabbed her Doc Martens, and laced them up faster than she previously thought was humanly possible.

She was about to go back out into the living room, prepared to return to the flooded streets at a moment’s notice. But then she passed the mirror again and, on second thought, decided she simply couldn’t stand not doing something interesting with her face. She swiped on some dark wine-colored lipstick and gave herself a tiny cateye with a trained, precise hand. Having done winged liner on and off since high school, she found practice had made her skilled enough to get it right on the first try about half the time. It was perhaps her greatest accomplishment in life.

Grabbing her secondhand leather jacket, she trudged back out into the living room. She ran her fingers through her hair a few more times, untangling the remnants of her braid and smoothing down the dark blonde waves.

“We wouldn’t have been late even if we left thirty minutes from now,” Matthew said, standing up with Mabel by his side.

“Well, on time is late, and early is on time,” she replied, crossing her arms over her chest.

Chris rolled his eyes as he also rose, from his armchair, and made his way to the coat rack. “Were you the hall monitor or something in high school?”

Jess snorted a laugh, his nose still buried in a Hunter Thompson book where he sat on the couch. “Far from it.”

“The hell’s that supposed to mean, Mariano?” she asked, furrowing her brows.

Smirking, Jess shut his book and tossed it on the coffee table. He went to grab his black jacket, while everyone mingled by the door, ready to brave the weather on the short walk to Keeley’s. “You threatened to stab me the first time you met me.”

“With a butterknife,” Ella countered defensively.

The rest of the group snickered, exiting the apartment and filing down the stairs.

“Ah, young love,” Chris teased. His pale cheeks were rosy, his blue eyes wide with excitement. Despite how much of a pain in the ass he could be, Ella felt her heart warmed to see how proud he was of his boyfriend.

“I thought he was trying to rob the diner,” Ella continued, grabbing her umbrella again before they went out onto the grimy, damp streets.

The rain had lessened slightly, to a chilly drizzle, but was still wet against her face. Jess took the umbrella from her, then interlaced their fingers with his free hand. She glanced up at him in thanks, and he winked in response. She could feel the scar from where the knife had sliced him the night they planned for their first date.

“Quite the menace, was he?” Matthew asked over his shoulder. Mabel had her arm linked with his, following along with the conversation. They had known her for a few weeks, but Ella suspected she hadn’t quite become comfortable. She was more timid than Ella expected for an actress, but she was truly sweet. Wore her heart on her sleeve, a quality Ella also recognized in Matthew.

“Oh yeah. Dennis was his middle name,” Ella smiled nostalgically. “Think if Sid Vicious and Elvis had a baby. Whose big moves are stealing gnomes and doing close-up magic.”

Chris laughed out loud, nudging Jess in the ribs. Jess blushed, glaring at Ella.

“Aw, were you a little Criss Angel wannabe?” Chris crooned, mocking.

Jess rolled his eyes. “I was not. It seemed to charm Eleanor just fine, anyhow.”

“I was young and misguided,” she said wistfully.

“And you were tripping over your own feet at least once a week,” Jess chimed in. “Though, not much has changed on that front.”

Ella scoffed. “You worked at Walmart.”

“You bought a Train album!”

“That was one time!”

“Once is plenty!”

Staring at him for a long moment, she finally uttered a defeated sigh. “You’re right. Train sucks.”

“Sure does,” Chris chimed in with an amused grin, then shook his head at them fondly and linked up ahead with Mabel and Matthew.

“You’ve won the battle, Mariano,” she warned, pointing a finger at him. “Not the war.”

“Believe me, I know,” he replied, squeezing her hand affectionately, a smirk on his face. “How’d your presentation go today?”

Ella’s face lost a bit of its mirth and she shrugged, dejected. “Okay, I think. My advisor said I was talking too fast, but otherwise I did well. We’ll see.”

“I bet they didn’t know what hit ‘em, honey. I mean, we practiced like fifty times. You had it word-for-word last night,” he said, growing more earnest. “I’m sure you were amazing.”

She averted her eyes from him. “Maybe. I felt like I was getting suffocated up there wearing those clothes, though.”

“I don’t know. It wasn’t the worst outfit,” Jess said. “It had a certain American Psycho thing going for it.”

“And that’s good?” she asked with a doubtful chuckle.

“Not good, per say, but definitely interesting,” he replied, nonchalant. “I can’t believe you can do things like that. Just get up there and speak. I would pass out on the spot.”

“Well, then I’m glad you’ve got a job where you can be all Phantom of the Opera and hide out in that tiny office all day,” she said with a grin.

Over the past few weeks, the guys had finally turned the back rooms of Truncheon, previously just storage space, into offices. Each one could barely hold a desk, but they were enough. Jess had already collected an impressive pile of books in one corner. The Hudson River sketch sat in a small frame next to his bulky, aged computer.

“Yep. Counting my blessings,” he quipped flatly as they approached the bar.

.   .   .

For once, the St. Patrick’s Day decorations hung year-round at Keeley’s were semi-appropriate, with the holiday having been only a week past. They shone, green and tacky, in the yellow light of the main room. Leo sat on a stool on the small stage, doing his final number. An array of instruments were set out around him: guitars, tambourines, a keyboard, a bass. His closing song was played on a ruan, a Chinese lute he’d bought as a teen on a trip to visit his grandparents, when he was just beginning to write his own music. Ella thought it was perhaps his versatility that made Leo such an incredible musician. As only a half-decent piano player, she couldn’t imagine learning something with strings or sticks. She had no idea how he had picked up so many different skills.

Chris, Matthew and Mabel were all floating in the middle distance somewhere between buzzed and fully drunk, nursing local beers and watching Leo with thoughtful, glazed eyes. Both Jess and Ella sipped on club soda, sat in the booth across the table from their friends. No matter how much Ella insisted she didn’t care if Jess drank, he never really did. He thought it was a pretty good idea, considering his own mother’s history with addiction. And what was the point of being drunk if Ella wasn’t going to be drunk with him? It would be no fun if he couldn’t go on the ride with her, anyway.

The crowd had been lively when they first arrived, tables packed and customers chatty. But as the evening wore on, parties left, congestion dissipated. A few lonely individuals sat solemnly at the main bar. Leo had a moderately receptive audience, though the band performing before him had a bit more notoriety and a larger fan-base. By the final number, only the five of them remained at their half-table, half-booth, looking on with pride and intrigue. Ella thought she had never seen Chris smile so big as he did at Leo’s gigs. The starry gaze was a bit saccharine, but most of the time it was tolerable, and even cute.

“He’s really good,” Mabel said softly as Leo reached the instrumental.

“Isn’t he?” Ella whispered back across the table emphatically.

Mabel nodded, her bright brown eyes sparkling. “His voice kinda reminds me of The Smiths”

Ella’s smile widened. “I love them!”

“Oh, they were basically all I listened to in high school,” Mabel said, nodding in agreement.

“Not you too,” Jess chagrined from beside Ella, his arm around her shoulders.

“What?” Mabel asked, raising one of her thick eyebrows. Ella wished she could have Mabel’s eyebrows. They seemed to be shaped perfectly, and didn’t even need to be filled in.  

“Jess thinks he’s too good for indie,” Ella said.

“No, I just never find myself in the mood to listen to some guy whine into the microphone,” Jess said, scoffing slightly.

Ella shook her head in disappointment. “It’s poetry!”

“Even worse,” Jess retorted.

She rolled her eyes at him, but didn’t respond as Leo began singing again. Jess’s fingers ghosted over her shoulder up and down, making pleasant goosebumps rise on her freckled skin. As Leo’s voice rolled gently over the last few words of the song, Ella closed her eyes and felt the notes vibrate in her chest. Jess looked over and found her looking calm, far away inside her mind as she listened. He pressed a kiss to her hair and a tiny smile passed over her lips, though she didn’t open her eyes until the final chord finished its reverberation through the room. The five of them erupted in cheers and applause, which sounded scant in the nearly empty place. Leo smirked at them from the stage and gave a mocking bow.

“They say the underground following is the most devoted,” he muttered into the mic, stripping off his ruan. Then, he looked up at the large clock across the room. “But since we’ve still got ten minutes left, why don’t we get secret musical prodigy Ella Stevens up here?”

Ella’s brow crinkled with confusion, and her smile faltered. “What?”

“You never told me about the piano thing! C’mon, take advantage of this keyboard,” Leo called over the mic.

She glared over at Chris, who pretended not to feel her eyes on him. “What did you tell him?”

After a moment, Chris slowly craned his neck in her direction. “Who? Me?”

“Asshole,” she hissed under her breath, narrowing her eyes.

“Hey, I was simply relaying what little interesting information exists about you,” he said, raising his hands in surrender.

Ella ran her finger horizontal across her neck, a teasing threat.

“We don’t have all night, Ella,” Leo continued into the mic.

“Yeah, let’s hear it, Ella. I’m sure you’re great,” Mabel said genuinely, leaning over the table, conspiratory and cheerful. The positivity would have been annoying if Mabel were not so down-to-earth.

“Agreed,” Matthew chimed in.

Ella laughed bitterly, shaking her head. “No one wants to subject their ears to that, I promise.”

“I don’t know, Stevens. I was pretty starstruck the one time I heard you play in all six years I’ve known you,” Jess smirked, eyebrows raised.

“Judas,” she spat at him, removing his arm from her shoulder.

“If you can get up in front of two hundred people to talk about the effect of the lost generation on modern art, you can do this, Daria,” he continued, unphased by her grouchiness.

Heaving an ambivalent sigh, she listened to their persistent encouragement. Then, with one final huff of obstinacy, she stood from the table and marched up to the stage. She flipped them off behind her head as they gave hoots of satisfaction and Leo set the keyboard up at the front of the stage, with the stool and microphone.

“I’ll never forgive you for this,” she whispered to Leo.

He gave a nod, humoring her. “Yes, I fear you.”

“Well,” she said sardonically, sitting down and watching as he descended the stairs. “In a minute, you’ll pity me. I did not inherit my mother’s talent!”

She felt her heart expand when she saw Chris give Leo a congratulatory kiss before they settled into their seats next to each other. Then, she rolled her eyes at herself for not sticking to her ill will, and dropped her eyes to the keys. They were shiny white and black, newer but less charming than the piano at Miss Patty’s. Her fingers were poised over the keys, and she swallowed dryly, remembering. She’d couldn’t quite place when the last time she’d played had been.

Glancing up nervously, biting the inside of her cheek, she caught Jess’s eye. He threw her another wink and she let out a scoff at him. The longer she sat up there, the more her heart slowed. She straightened her back, felt herself regaining the old position. Resisting the urge to tug anxiously at her earring, she flipped for a moment through her mental catalogue. Then, she cleared her throat and let a small, wicked grin cross her lips.

“Fine. But this is your funeral, everyone,” she quipped. “This song is dedicated to Chris, who is fucking wrong about Joni Mitchell.”

A final, slight shake of her head and she launched into “Blue.” Her fingers were rusty and creaky, but the song flowed out of her as though she had just learned it. She couldn’t sing nearly as high as was necessary for an exact recreation, but she was getting at more of a tuned down interpretation. Her voice was raspy, and Jess was never surprised how much she identified with Stevie Nicks. Though recently, there had been more Amy Winehouse spinning on the turntable. And Ella knew she could never sound remotely like Amy Winehouse.

The stage light was whitish and soft, and Jess could feel his heart do a skip at the sight of her. She wasn’t the greatest musical talent, but it wasn’t pure talent which made her breathtaking to him. It was the way her eyes shut and her voice lilted with emotion. How she lit up so wholly when she played. And how fearless she had always been, putting herself out there with not a care in the world for what others thought of her. No stage fright, only perfectionism holding her back. She was only ever completely herself, perhaps what he admired most about her. His intrepid artist, with dimples and green flecks in her eyes and messy hair and a fashion sense not quite like anyone else. Warmth filled his heart and his body and his mind, and he could only watch her with a tiny smirk on his face. And he had never felt so sure of anything before.

.   .   .

The cap of the red pen was clamped between her teeth, her back against the wall, Nietzche staring overhead. Suppressing a yawn, she placed brackets around a paragraph she liked particularly well. Her first read-through of the new book had taken almost no time at all, as she devoured Jess’s prose fervently. She’d suggested some revisions, added some comments, without being asked. Jess insisted she didn’t have to do that work for him, especially not for free, but she told him she simply enjoyed it. It reminded her of the days when they wrote notes to each other in borrowed texts, those which ended up sitting in a shared pile, all mixed together, in their bedroom. And he had only smiled in response. Once again, it had shocked him how invested she could be in art. Not that he would ever call his writing ‘art,’ especially how much he despised his first novel upon rereading. But Ella asked for the second draft once he had revised, offering her critical eye, if he wanted it. He did, of course. And she was nearly done. There were noticeable improvements, and several new sections. It was coming together before her eyes, and sometimes she wanted to tear up out of pride.

Breeze seeped in through the draughty window, and she tugged the blanket up over herself a little more. Her impromptu performance at the bar, which ended with her flustered in the wake of everyone’s compliments even though she was aware she was nothing compared to Leo, had left her jittery and awake. Even after the presentation at school. Not exactly anxious, but charged with pseudo energy. She was only riding it until the crash. Jess wasn’t snoring yet, and she knew he wasn’t asleep, but dozing. Midnight had already passed into the early morning, and the rain was picking up again, pounding on the roof above them. Every so often, Ella looked precariously up at the water spot near the bedroom door.

Sighing faintly, she turned the page, more semi-stream-of-consciousness insights after a perspective shift. She had to commend him on his recent experimentation. She hadn’t expected it. Her face softened as she read the next paragraph, a new addition to the draft. It was through the eyes of the main character as he watched a woman paint a mural on a nondescript city street.

Racing, racing, racing of his heart, beating against his ribs like footsteps at the sight of the woman. Eyes from bottom to top, from battered shoes to patterned skirt and button-up shirt, protected by a dirty, threadbare apron. Strangers, he thought, strangers everywhere with separate stories to tell, unaware of his thoughts or his feelings or his words or his face. She looked like she belonged, despite her complete uniquity. He couldn’t imagine looking so established in any place, so uniform in unconformity. He wondered who she was painting it for, the ghostly figure surrounded by dead flowers and trash, a vision of the post-industrial American wasteland. Not many people were likely to see it under the bridge, which looked like where teenagers would come to smash light bulbs and kiss each other with teeth clashing together and sweat out their last bit of rebellion. He wondered who had assigned her the location, if she had chosen it herself, if she was painting only for herself.

The intensity in her eyes told him she could have been, green pools of vigor and concentration as he approached, boots rhythmic on the cracked sidewalk. A tragedy, he thought suddenly, staring at her near-finished creation, she was painting a tragedy and she knew it. She could feel it. He saw it not so much in her form as in the eyes of the ghost in the painting, hollow and desolate, with a single jewel of color in the middle. The rest of the piece was only in shades of gray, a hopelessness exacerbated by more small, foolish hope. He almost laughed under his breath, instead allowing his eyes to fall back on her as he passed around her, leaving considerable space between them. He didn’t want to interfere, break her focus, not that she looked as though she could ever be shaken by anything. Their eyes locked for only a moment, as she stepped back to regard her work. She didn’t smile, she didn’t frown, she only saw. She saw, and then she was out of sight again. And another story was behind him.

Smirking slightly as she read, she capped the pen again once she had finished. And she placed the manuscript on the bedside table neatly next to her. She switched off the last lamp and settled down into the sheets. Jess breathed deeply, stirring at her movements. She turned over on one side to face him, their noses only inches apart.

“Jess?” she asked.

“Hm?” he hummed, eyes cracking open.

“Can’t sleep?”

“I’m getting there,” he shrugged, though they both knew it wasn’t exactly the truth.

Ella nodded. “Well, I got to the part where he sees the woman painting the mural. And I have to say, I think I recognize the influences.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine. Maybe James Joyce wasn’t completely incoherent. It wasn’t serious, though. It was meant to be making fun of his adolescent emotionality, like Stephen in Portrait.”

“Ah, I think I’ve officially converted you,” she said, her smile growing wider.

“I think you’re speaking too soon,” he replied.

“Agree to disagree.” Her tone was light and sincere as she continued, though her smile shrank. “Did you really love me when you first saw me?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s it, Chatty Kathy?” she asked, eyebrows raised in annoyance.

Jess sighed. “Well, what do you wanna know?”

“I don’t know. I’m trying to understand it,” she said, studying his face with narrowed eyes. If he knew the section she had just read, he shouldn’t have been surprised by the question. Besides, she had been wondering for a while. How someone who had been bitten by the world so many times could still believe something so romantic. In a way, she was envious, and in another way, she was scared for him. “Why did you tell me it was that day in the gazebo?”

He paused for a long moment, running his hand over his mouth. She could see his grandfather’s necklace peeking out from the collar of his t-shirt and glinting in the moonlight, which streamed through the window. He barely ever took it off.

“Well, first of all, I knew there was no chance you’d run away with me if you thought I was crazy enough to believe in love at first sight,” he explained slowly, trying to ignore the embarrassed squirming in his stomach. “I was trying not to scare you off. Shocking, I know, considering what a Romeo and Juliet stunt I was pulling.”

“He could’ve just waited to drink the poison,” she agreed, earning her a chuckle.

“And, at the time,” he continued, growing a bit more confident in his articulation, “I wasn’t even sure. For a long time, I couldn’t figure out when I fell in love with you. Eventually, I realized the reason was because I had been in love with you the entire time.”

She hummed, her brows furrowing inquisitively. “I just can’t imagine it.”

“Which is why the amount of poetry you read will never make sense,” he said. Then, after a moment more of gathering his thoughts: “And it’s not the same kind of love. It’s still love, but it’s not the same as what I felt after I got to know you.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

Breathing out a long breath, Jess searched again for the right phrases.

“I don’t know, Stevens,” he admitted, biting down on his lip for a moment. “Maybe it’s more like I knew I would love you. I saw you, and I knew I loved you before I knew why I loved you. Now, I know why.”

She nodded earnestly against her pillow, damp hair smelling of lavender. “Curiouser and curiouser, Mariano.”

“Not to the Hemingway fans among us,” he said.

“Well, Hemingway fans are the biggest romantics. It’s a universal law,” she replied, voice growing heavier with fatigue. Finally, it seemed, the rush of the night was wearing off, replaced by a tranquil ease she hadn’t expected. Spring break was long overdue.

“So I’ve heard,” he replied fondly. “I told you the first time we met, y’know.”

“What?”

“That I loved you.”

She furrowed her brows suspiciously, a smirk tugging at one corner of her lips. “I think I would’ve remembered that.”

“Well, I didn’t say it in so many words.” Jess’s eyes twinkled with teasing, and she scoffed.

“You did not.”

“Yes, I certainly did.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious, Daria.”

Her face lost its brevity as she saw he was, in fact, serious, despite how cocky he sounded. Playing the memory over in her mind, she was hit was nostalgia and confusion. Humming Stevie Nicks, spilling salt, empty threats, cleaning tables with Jess following behind her, never losing his wiseass remarks or his sarcastic grin. Then, after a moment, it hit her. As you wish. She had hardly noticed it at the time. Only a reference, leading to their first argument over movies versus books. The words Wesley had spoken to Buttercup in The Princess Bride as a way of saying 'I love you.' She never even considered its meaning.

She let out a breathy, surprised chuckle. Meeting his eyes again, she shoved his shoulder playfully and flipped onto her back. She stared up at the ceiling, noticing the water spot again. The raindrops pattered a steady beat. “Fuck off.”

“What?” he asked, propping himself up on one elbow and tilting his head at her in amused askance.

“Jesus. That is so...sweet and wonderful. And fucking cheesy. Makes me sick,” she said, though she grinned through her words. She sighed and shook her head slightly, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose as she giggled again. “I don’t know whether to murder you or marry you.”

His breath caught in his throat for a second, but he regained his composure before she opened her eyes again and smiled up at him. “Well, maybe meet me in the middle and let’s get our own apartment?”

“Really?” she asked. So much information was flying at her, she didn’t know which thread to latch onto. And, unbeknownst to Jess, she was fighting the lump in her throat. She may have been a realist, but she wasn’t heartless. And she wondered how long she would be able to hold off the tears that threatened to spill over. A deep, aching love spread throughout her. It almost made her dizzy with joy. As you wish, he had said. It played over in her head suddenly, as though she had just heard it.

“Yeah,” he said, averting his gaze hesitantly. “It doesn’t have to be right away. There’ll probably be more leases in the summer once all the students go home. But I thought...maybe we’d have room for a keyboard or something. An easel, too. And we could stop hearing Chris and Matthew argue over which place has the best burritos at three in the morning. What do you think?”

“We could get an actual shelf for all your books,” she said, holding her smile.

“Yeah. You could organize them whatever way, if you want.” Jess tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear as he spoke, then leaving his hand to rest on her cheek. “Or, I could do it. There is a method to my madness, y’know.”

“Okay, I’ll definitely need a couple months to decide whether to do color coordination or alphabetical order, then,” she said.

Jess chuckled. “Yeah, we’ll take some time. But...you want to?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do, James Dean,” she whispered softly. She placed a gentle hand on the back of his neck, and brought him in to place a sweet kiss on his lips. He smiled against her, nerves calming and body relaxing with her touch.

As they broke apart, he laid back down on his side, drawing her closer to him with an arm over her waist.

“I love you, Mariano,” she said, eyes fluttering shut.

“Love you back, Stevens,” he replied, thinking he may not be able to handle the pleasant butterflies erupting in his middle.

She breathed in contentedly. “And your new book is the next Great American Novel.”

“I doubt the New York Times will think so.”

“Well, I do,” she said simply. “You’re the fucking best.”

“It’s been said,” he quipped, finally shutting his own eyes. Their words had turned to murmurs, cozy and soft beneath the sound of the rain.

“But, I especially love how humble you are,” she added, yawning against the back of her hand.

“Right back at ya,” he deadpanned.

Snorting a laugh, Ella shifted so she was flush against him, warm in the cold room. And, by the time the sun rose through the breaking clouds, the rain had stopped completely.

[2telluthetruth]

before i watch some shit i gotta know how the story ends. if not, ima critically analyze the whole movie until i figures it... it usually takes me 30 minutes to figure out the whole plot but that’s besides the point. knowing the ending of a movie allows me to pay attention to alll the little things leading up to the end. the directors choice in lighting, the way that certain actor did a certain movement to portray a certain feeling, setting, like camera work, basically everything i just the last 4 years of my life studying get applied to my enjoyment of a film. 

I wish life was like that... you get to like google how it all ends for you. like what will happen in your life all the way to the end. you can always have what you envisioned for yourself, your plan, your schedule of things but then life has a funny way of letting you know that shit happens. and you learn whatever it is you need to from that incident, apply the lesson, and keep going. it’s actually pretty simple. like looking both ways before you cross the street and still almost getting hit by a car because a person felt the need to speed thru an intersection because maybe he had a family emergency or he had too much to drink. regardless life will thro curveballs, ain’t that fucked up? like bitch. lemme read my book of life so i can move accordingly. but i guess that’s not fun anyways because God would just tell us what to do and there would be no free will. and we all know how people hate being told what to do with there life from a higher up lmao

....but idk none of this shit really applies to me. I guess I’ll just share my testimony here since I'm only people who really give a fuck about me would give a fuck about this post. ( Which i recently found out is ME, i’m the only person who opinions/decisons matter when it comes to me life)

SO HERE IT GOES

Since a child, I always knew i was going to be a very wealthy person. I’m smarter than my peers, i’m stronger than my peers, and way more wiser than most of people i meet. It’s very rare I met a person who’s intellect is as diverse as mine in terms of emotional knowledge and regular book smart shit. Like i’m sort of a hood intellectual, but like different because my Dad is a foreigner who comes from i guess what you would call a decent background, My grandfather was an engineer in Germany lmao. Like wtf. That’s very hard to do. Them mfs got some history of disrcrimnation if you know what I mean. And another ancestor of mine on my father side was adopted by the priest of a missionary because he was so smart, hence why my last name has french origins. and you know what i found out this year during my research dives on the different religions in the world..

There is a Saint in the catholic religion named St. Malo and his birthday is the same birthday as mine. He’s french as well. LMAO SO like i said I AM BUILT DIFFERENT. But that’s not what i really wanted to go talk about so let’s talk about how I’ve always knew I am dying a extremely rich woman. First of my name type shit.

So yeah. 

I LOVE PERFORMING AND PUTTING ON A SHOW OKAY! SINCE BIRTH!

I’m not even dramatic. I remember dancing in front of my family all the time.   Ask my auntie teena and she’d tell ya I would dance in front of anybody at any place in a drop of a dime. There’s literal footage of me dancing at every function at BayBay (Vivian) house. Lmao I still dance with all my family members at the bbqs I attend. Dancing really is my shit.

 Singing is too.

 I remember going to church with my daddy, some spot in LA/ the Jamaican jawn with uncle Jerry, and singing “Because of who you are” in front of everybody. No fucks given, And i kid you not I felt the holy ghost. That’s the best feeling in the world. Happened to me a couple times but I’ll tell ya bout it later some day when it matters. i remember one time coming home and singing and HITTING THAT HIGH PITCH ASS MARIAH CAREY NOTE! ( we got the same birthday too)

and i always loved music. the only time i didn’t cry was in my daddy cars listening to the reggae and bass booming thru the fucking trunk. 

During school I remember performing all the time. School plays, I got the lead role. School assembly, I’m putting on a show. Shit even for my 5th graduation I choreographed the whole MJ we are the world dance routine. Lol for hispanic heritage month I always was the girl who had the authentic skirt for the folklore dance. it was black and red. Very pretty. Mrs. Sanchez was enamored with me girl. She was like your the star you gone be centerstage in the middle only black girl while everyone else wonder why your on stage lmao. We were so good we entered a competition and got a trophy. 

Basketball was fun. I do not like team sports so that ain’t work out. Plus i think i suck. Well I couldn’t have been that bad because in middle school I made the All City team. I didn’t play because my hair wasn’t done I kept the jersey though LMAO. They was hot. HS was whatever. Lowkey only did it because of the niggas and cheer was boring/got too intense for me. I had commitment issues back then like crazy lmao.

Track was fun too. Made championships when I ran. Heart really wasn’t into to it if I’m keeping it G-Real. Didn’t fuck with the track meets plus the girls on the team hated me. I was always with the guys but the weren’t like the guys i hung out with all the time. them niggas was squares, homeschooled and all that. i hung out with delinquents lmao. Shit they always more fun. I know why Jesus hung out with the sinners mmkay. They loyal and know how to have a good time.

In middle school, I won a poetry contest about this poem I had about being a tree and not falling despite what happens. I also got like  award for being the top 3% of scoring in the whole district a couple times. Moms got me a iPod touch lmao.

High school ASB President, got accepted into more than 20+ colleges, in AVID. Cheer team. Basketball team. My drama Teacher, Mrs. Borek called me the baby Viola Davis. I directed and produced my own play lol. Boy, when I graduated I was on stage with admin and faculty. 

But anyways overall, 

I’ve always been the cream of the crop in any arena I apply myself. And I’ve never ever experienced a situation where I’ve been down bad that I didn’t plot and maneuver my way out of it (besides the shit that happened this year 2020 but i’ll give my 2020 review later ). I’m continuously blessed. Even when  I shouldn’t be. 

In elementary, I could’ve caught a case because I punched this boy in the head and he hit the tetherball pole then the floor. Buddy was knotted up lmao

In elementary school during after school day care I banged this girl head on the table and a pole lmao. 

In the carmelitos i gave this girl the business at auntie meanies house. Abri said beat her ass so I did. Trust me daddy, I’m always on go lmao. Her family was from some type of hood. They ain’t retaliate. 

Middle school I was beating boys up after school never got in trouble. LMAO None of the girls wanted to fight with they scary ass. 

High school I did the dumbest shit freshman year but didn’t get suspended. \bro i’m tired. i’ll tell the rest later.  but closing statement life’s a gamble for people who don’ t know the code. once you figure out your role play to the best of your ability and pray to God to constantly look out for you. *  4:48 

[let-it-raines]

I LOVED your boarding school teacher fic! That's so funny that the entire school is so into gossip!!!! Can we get more please? I don't know what but more!!!

Original prompt: Two boarding school teachers finally, FINALLY get together. Everyone around them is way too invested and knows way too much.

Hi, nonnie 👋 This has been sitting in my inbox for months now, but since @idristardis requested a follow-up to What Would We Do Without Internet? as  her gift for my fic giveaway, I can finally answer your request! @idristardis I believe I got most, if not all of your requests into this story, and I hope you enjoy ❤️ It picks up in Emma’s POV directly after the non-epilogue-ish part of the original!

AO3: Part One | Part Two 

-/-

“How long have you been together?”

“Was it this weekend?”

“Or was it before but we’re just now finding out?”

“Do you love him?”

“Does he love you?”

All of Emma’s day has been filled with those five questions or, at least, a variation of them. Some of her students are more creative with their wording and their questioning, and some of them simply want to talk to her about the fact that they know that she slept with Killian this weekend. How they all know that is a mystery to her. They shouldn’t. It should be a private matter between she and Killian and absolutely no one else.

Especially not one hundred sixteen-and-seventeen-year-old students.

She woke up this morning with the guy she really likes in bed with her and with this stupid smile on her face that she knew would carry her throughout a long Monday, and then she walked into her first period World History class and was bombarded by questions about her dating life.

Decidedly not a good start to her morning when she did not and still does not want to be part of Storybrooke Academy’s never-ending gossip mill. It’s all fun and games until it’s her life being talked about and picked apart by the student body.

(The faculty are definitely talking about her behind her back.)

They’ve got to get internet in the dorms in this place so that the kids have something to focus on other than who’s dating whom and whether or not the headmaster is actually dying from some kind of contagious disease or not.

(Emma sure as hell hopes not on that second part since she had a performance review last week and had to sit in the headmaster’s office for an hour.)

“Ms. Swan,” Jackie whines, “aren’t you going to answer any of our questions?”

Emma shakes out of her thoughts and blinks, taking in the thirty students who are currently sitting in front of her waiting for her to start teaching her fifth period American history lessons.

“Um, no,” she mumbles, “I’m not. I don’t know what you’ve all heard or think, and I really don’t care. I won’t be talking about my personal life or any rumors about it to you all. Now, you have a project due next week. Let’s talk about that.”

When the bell rings and her class is dismissed, each of them walking out the door upset with her as if she owes them details about her personal life, Emma buries her face on her desk and wonders if there’s any way to call out sick for the rest of the day…or the year. The year would be nice.

If the pay here wasn’t so good, Emma would pack her bags and go teach somewhere where she didn’t have to have her entire life displayed for a couple hundred people.

There’s a knock at her classroom door, and when Emma looks up, she sees Killian standing there with his shoulder against the archway. He’s already got his coat on, a fitted blue peacoat that she’s always loved on him, and has a knitted beanie tugged down over his ears so that only the slightest bit of black hair peeks out. She smiles to herself knowing that he’s got a little red mark beneath his ear from her. It shouldn’t bring her so much joy, but it does.

(Her thighs are red with beard burn, and even though she’s a bit sore when she walks, that brings her joy too.)

“Hey, Swan.”

“Hey.”

He cocks his head to the side and raises a brow. “You have time to get lunch?”

“I do,” she sighs, “but I don’t think I can handle the cafeteria or the teacher’s lounge right now. It’s been – ”

“Absolutely insane?” Killian laughs. “Have you been getting the questions?”

She’s not sure if she’s relieved or not that Killian is getting the same questions as she is, but it definitely makes her feel something. Maybe she’s experiencing whiplash. That would explain a lot with how the past few days have been.

“So many questions. I don’t even know where to begin with them.”

“I feel the same way.” He walks into the classroom and holds his hand out for her to take it, and she imagines in his head he’s thinking about always being a gentleman or some other Killian quip that she’s grown used to in the three years of knowing him. She takes his hand, and he pulls her up until she’s standing beside him. “Why don’t we go get our lunches out of the lounge? I have a place for us to eat in privacy.”

“Is it one of our apartments? Because apparently those aren’t private.”

“No, love, it’s actually not.”

It ends up being an old classroom on the fourth floor of the fine arts building, a place neither of them have any business being unless they’re watching one of the semi-annual performances the drama club puts on during each semester, but the ease with which Killian guides her through the hallways makes her think that he’s here a little more often than that. Once they’re in the room, she can see why. It’s perched at just the right spot where if she looks to her left, she can see most of campus and the white snow that’s currently blanketing it, and if she looks to her right, the small town of Storybrooke and the ocean are just on the horizon. Killian’s always had a thing with the sea. Maybe that’s how he discovered this place.

Or maybe this is where he’s taking all of the teachers he’s sleeping with.

She has no idea if it’s only her, and for the first time in a long time, she actually wants someone that’s hers and who she doesn’t have to share. What kind of craziness is any of this? Why did she kiss him? That was such a bad idea looking back. It could have gone horribly wrong, and she doesn’t know if –

“Emma,” Killian interrupts as a table scrapes across the old hardwood until it’s in the middle of the room. He’s got their food, leftover Chinese they both must have taken from her place this morning, already spread out in the middle. “You okay, there?”

“I’m fine,” she lies, quickly closing her eyes and centering herself so that she doesn’t freak out. She won’t freak out. Nope. It’s not going to happen. This is good. This is…fine. “How did you discover this place?”

He doesn’t answer at first, too busy grabbing her a chair and holding it out for her until she sits down, but once he’s settled and taking off his coat so that he’s left in a dress shirt and a vest, he looks up at her with this broad grin that makes her flashback to this weekend once more.

“I was helping move some furniture that the school didn’t want to throw away but had nowhere to keep, and this is where the entire maintenance crew decided to bring it. I don’t know, it’s kind of a fascinating place, and it allows me to have a space to breathe without having to walk across campus to my apartment. You’re the first person I ever brought up here. The view is amazing, right?”

Well, that answers her question about this being the place where he takes all of the women he’s sleeping with. At least, it kind of does.

“Yeah,” Emma agrees, “it is.”

Killian smiles at her again. It feels like he’s trying to encourage her to keep talking, to say something else, but she’s at a loss for words. The two of them have been bantering (flirting) back and forth at each other for years, only stopped talking this weekend when they literally couldn’t anymore, and now she has nothing to say because the only thing in her mind are her own questions about how the hell this is going to work as well as her students’ questions.

“How long have you been together?”

“Was it just this weekend?”

“Or was it before but we’re just now finding out?”

“Do you love him?”

“Does he love you?”

Her life would be far less dramatic if she’d stayed in Bar Harbor and worked at a regular high school where instead of caring about her personal life, her students were freaked out by running into her at the grocery store. She’s only ten years older than a lot of them, and while a decade doesn’t seem like too long, it’s an eternity to her. The fact that her students don’t seem to think so worries her.

“You want to tell me what’s going on in that head of yours?”

Emma jumps, and she knows that she isn’t able to cover herself when Killian starts laughing even as he bites down on an eggroll. “I’m kind of freaked out by the entire school knowing that we slept together. I want to know how they know too. This was supposed to be private and something we kept quiet while we figured it out and now – ”

“Everything is out in the open, and every move we make is going to be scrutinized by every person here?”

“Exactly. No one has a life or entertainment at night and ugh,” she groans, spearing a piece of chicken with her fork. “I just…I love these kids. I really do, but I’m not comfortable having my relationship that I’m not even sure is a relationship be the center of all this attention.”

Killian reaches over the table and threads their fingers together and brings their knuckles to his lips so that she feels a scratchy kiss while her heart flutters. In the good way though. Not the way that would send her to the hospital.

She’s a mess today.

“It’ll die down, Swan,” he promises before kissing her wrist over her buttercup tattoo. “Next week or the week after that, some other thing will happen, and everyone will forget about us. And if you’d like this to be a relationship, I’m more than happy with that.”

“Yeah?”

He nods and places their hands down on the table. “Absolutely. I feel like I’ve already told you this, but I’ve fancied you for quite awhile, Swan. That’s not something that’s going to change even if a nosy student saw me go into your apartment and then not leave for most of the weekend except for the few trips we made up to my place.”

“How would they even know that? They’d have to be in our building and – oh. It was Henry Mills, wasn’t it? He must have been visiting his mom.”

“Apparently, he and several other students were in the building because it was Henry’s birthday, and his mum was cooking for all of his friends. Caroline Abbot saw me go to your apartment from down in the lobby, and they seemed to find entertainment in figuring out what we were doing.”

“That’s creepy.”

“Aye, quite a bit. If the building wasn’t so open, I believe we would have gotten away with it with no interference.”

“You sound like a villain on Scooby Doo.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had a woman reference Scooby Doo while out on a date.”

“Oh, is that what this is? A date?”

“Absolutely. We’re not going to get a lot of privacy, so I’m taking every opportunity to court you that I can get. If we only counted the quiet moments, I doubt we’d ever get one.”

“You’re so old-fashioned.”

Killian winks, bringing their joined hands to his lips again. “As I’ve said before, I’m always a gentleman.”

“If you say so,” Emma teases. She takes a bite of her chicken. “Do you want to come over for dinner tonight?”

“I’ve got dorm duty tonight and tomorrow. Wednesday?”

“I have dorm duty until Friday. This weekend?”

“It’s my weekend to be on call for chaperoning the trips into town. You could always come with me.”

“And have everyone stare and talk about us more? No thank you. I don’t…I think I’d prefer we don’t show any affection or – ” she waves her hand between them “ – whatever this is. I think it’ll help everything to die down a bit.”

Killian nods, lips tight, and Emma’s stomach twists. Is she disappointing him by not wanting to walk around campus with her fingers threaded through his or with his arm around her waist?

Is this going to be a thing between them that’s going to make it all burst into flames?

“Your heart’s desire, Swan. I promise that’s all I want you to have.”

“The same to you.”

-/-

To say that getting used to dating someone again is difficult is an understatement. Emma may have been the one to barge into Killian’s classroom and pretty much give him an ultimatum (even if that’s not at all what happened) for the two of them to stop dancing around each other and just go for it, but that’s not her, not usually. It was reckless and unthinking, and as calculated as Emma can be now, that isn’t how she used to be.

Sometimes it’s thrilling to still get to be like that and have the rush of adrenaline running down her spine when she does something like that.

Or when Killian looks at her.

God, his smile kills her. He’s got this this soft one, lips pressed together and eyes so incredibly blue, and she selfishly likes to think that the smile is reserved for her. But the soft smile can quickly transform into a wicked smirk that has Emma’s stomach fluttering and heat curling in between her thighs.

The smile, or smiles really, are what keep her sane as February chills into March, snow still fluttering around and the cold clinging to every inch of the ground and each particle of air. The questions from her students about her relationship stay steady for two weeks before slowly tapering off, but not a day goes by where there isn’t some question from a student or inquiry from a fellow staff member. Mary Margaret, bless her, is particularly excited about Emma’s recent relationship development, and she invites Emma and Killian over to her apartment for what is essentially a double date with Mary Margaret and David.

(Emma’s never been on a double date, and despite how much she loves the Nolans, there’s something so peppy about them that it makes her hesitate.)

They end up going.

It’s a great time.

The wine is good, the food even better somehow, and Emma is pleasantly surprised by how easy it is to slip into the role of someone who is happy and does things like dinners with other couples while her boyfriend’s hand rests on her inner thigh under the table.

Is twenty-eight too old to call someone her boyfriend? Partner sounds too serious. Significant other too boring. Lover too creepy sounding even if it’s true. So maybe boyfriend is the best word. Maybe that’s not important.

What is important, however, is that as she and Killian adjust to being together, it becomes easier by the day. They’ve been friends and colleagues for years, which made the stakes seem so much higher at first, but in reality, all it’s done is make this transition smoother than she ever thought possible.

(Smooth doesn’t mean she didn’t struggle. She definitely did, but her fears at the beginning were definitely overexaggerated.)

Emma already knows all about Killian’s work and knows how passionate he is about it even if she knows that high school math teacher was never his ultimate goal and is still not his goal. He likes classical music and reading a book a day and is an absolute and total know-it-all. She knows that he eats far too much fish, and he knows that she absolutely despises fish in all of its forms which is most definitely why he tries to kiss her every time he’s eating it.

The asshole.

Who she really, really likes.

She doesn’t need the gossip around the school to let her know that he feels the same way.

There are days when she wants to pull his hair out and days where she doesn’t want to stop kissing him or laughing with him, and when the school year ends and they’re allowed a month of vacation with no workshops or lesson planning, they get the opportunity to do all of that without any students around them.

None at all.

It’s glorious.

Killian finds them a small one-bedroom cottage to rent out in Boothbay that’s right on the beach and only a short drive away from town, and Emma almost cries in relief the moment she steps in the front door and all of the weights of the school year disappear from her shoulders. She loves what she does for work, but by the time summer inches closer, she needs a break. Getting to go off and live at the beach with her boyfriend for a month is the exact thing she needs even if she knows he’s about to eat a hell of a lot of fish.

“I think this place might be heaven,” she sighs as she walks into the living room and sees the large windows that look right out onto the sand and the cresting waves. She can hear the ocean, can smell the salt in the air, and somehow, it’s different than the ocean in Storybrooke. It’s warmer and more inviting and she can’t wait to dive in until her skin is tanned and wrinkled.

Killian steps up behind her and wraps his arms around her waist and rests his chin on her shoulder, scratchy scruff pressing into her neck. He’s warm and solid, and she leans back into him, content.

“I’m glad you like it, love. Thank you for agreeing to come away with me.”

Emma pats his hand over her stomach. “Thank you for finding a place for us to get away that didn’t make us go completely broke.”

Killian laughs, something deep and low, and for some reason it has her twisting her head and pressing her lips into his. He tastes like the mint of his gum that he was chewing on the drive down here, and it’s spicy on her tongue when his lips quickly part and his tongue runs along the seam of her lips. They haven’t had time to be truly alone and away from students and other faculty during their entire relationship, and it’s what has Emma turning her body and fumbling for the buttons on Killian’s shirt.

There’s a rush of air between them as clothes fall away and hands brush over warm skin, and Emma can scarcely breathe by the time they’re fumbling back toward the couch, falling onto unfamiliar cushions with throw pillows scattering across the room. They may have a month of this, a month of complete privacy and no one but each other, but they come together hurriedly and without much finesse. Killian’s thrusts are quick and harsh, and Emma’s nails hook into the skin of his back while her legs wrap around his ass.

The heat in her belly keeps building, the fire being stroked, and faster than Emma can think about how damn good this feels, she reaches that high. There’s only the beating of her heart, the slap of skin against skin, the feeling of Killian pulsing within her.

There’s only the feeling of Killian.

Of them.

“Well,” Killian pants when they’re both trying to catch their breath, “that certainly didn’t take long.”

Emma huffs. “Next time make me work for it, you know? I feel like I should at least have to take you out for dinner first.”

“A man does like to be courted.”

“You’re ridiculous.”“Aye, but you like me. You’ve said so yourself.”

“Shut up,” Emma chuckles before kissing him again.

-/-

Over the weeks, Killian’s skin gradually tans, and it somehow makes the dark patches of hair on his chest more prominent. She’s always loved the little tufts that sometimes show through his dress shirt or over the top of his sweaters, but there’s something undeniably attractive about seeing him walk around with tanned skin and lean, defined muscles and mostly no shirt on. She’s used to seeing him in sweaters and blazers and those awful school-mandated scarves, so having him constantly be walking around in low-slung sweatpants with no shirt or swim trunks with no shirt (emphasis on the no shirt part, obviously) has been a pretty good bonus of this month-long vacation they’re taking.

Emma’s sure that Killian feels the same way about her lack of clothes and sun-kissed skin as well, but none of that matters as she sits on the couch in the living room with a cup of coffee in her hands while she looks at the muscles of his back and the curve of his ass while he stands in front of the sliding doors that lead out to the ocean. The sun is illuminating him, and he almost doesn’t look real.

But he is.

And so is their relationship.

And so is the fact that Emma knows that she loves him. Her stomach nearly heaves at the thought, at knowing that she’s got feelings this deep for someone else again, and if she doesn’t tell him soon, she might implode.

Holding it in for a month has nearly killed her. She’s wanted to tell him, wanted to let him know that she feels about him the way that she knows he feels about her, but that little niggling fear of it all going to shit has held her back.

Emma’s a coward, and love freaks her out so that she can barely breathe.

Right now, she’s thinking breathing might be overrated.

“I love you.”

Killian’s shoulder’s tense, muscles visibly moving, and while Emma’s heart pounds, she watches his shoulders fall and his posture relax. He’s still looking out at the ocean. Maybe he didn’t hear her. Maybe that was all an illusion.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

But then he’s turning around and smiling at her. It’s the soft smile, the one that’s just for her.

Mine, she thinks.

“Did you mean to say that out loud, or should I pretend I didn’t hear it?”

Stupid man. He’s ridiculous. Only he would actually ask her that.

But she loves him. And it’s not terrifying…unless he doesn’t say it back soon.

Please say it back soon.

“I meant to say it.”

His smile stays the same as he walks closer to her, taking her coffee out of her hands and placing it on the table in front of them. He leans into her and presses his lips to her neck, leaving warm, lazy kisses in all of the spots that send shivers down her spine.

“I love you, Emma Swan,” he whispers, teeth grazing her ear. She may melt. She doesn’t care how cheesy that sounds. It’s true. “You are magnificent.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

“Please, I’m fucking amazing.”

Emma’s laugh carries through the house and all the way up to the bedroom where they spend the rest of the day.

-/-

“Who is that?”

“Hmm?”

“Who is that?” Emma repeats, discreetly pointing toward the petite blonde woman sitting on the other side of the teacher’s lounge.

Killian looks up from his lesson plans he’s been studying all week, as if he hasn’t been teaching the same formulas and math drills and whatever else it is he teaches (math is not her thing) for the past nine years, and adjusts his glasses.

“Oh, that’s Tink Bell.”

“That is not a real name.”

“It’s what it said in the email sent to the arithmetic apartment about our new member of the faculty.”

“Oh, so she’s a teacher?”

“Aye, love.”

“Have you met her?”

“At our department meeting yesterday.” He leans over and presses his lips to her cheek, and it’s been weeks since they were at the beach but he still smells like salt. “I need to work on these lessons. Something isn’t clicking, and I want it to be perfect for when the school starts. Can I meet you at your apartment for lunch?”

“I’m eating lunch with Mary Margaret. You can come with us if you want.”

“I think I’ll let you girls catch up, but I’ll see you at dinner.”

“Sounds good, babe.”

-/-

As with the beginning of every new school year, the first day is pretty much pointless. All of the students are back together from spending the summer with their parents or on vacation and living in a world with internet access wherever they go. It’s an adjustment for them, especially since they feel the need to catch up on all of the latest news (gossip) while crammed together in classrooms instead of in their dorms at night, and Emma has almost zero control trying to go over the syllabus.

And, of course, the returning students want to know if she and Killian are still dating.

Yes, she tells them, trying not to smile.

And no, she won’t say anything more than that. Killian won’t either.

As the weeks go by and school fully gets into a steady rhythm, Emma is able to keep her students in check and actually work through her lesson plans. There’s the ever-present rumble of gossip and questions, and Emma can’t go a day without having a teenager ask her about her romantic relationships. But it’s fine and normal (at least for her), and as tired as Emma is some days, it’s good to be back.

It’s great to be back.

She loves this job and this place even with all of its quirks.

What she doesn’t love is how little time she and Killian are getting to spend with each other.

Their dorm nights never match up, so if Killian is the supervisor for his dorm on Monday through Wednesday, Emma is the supervisor Thursday through Saturday. They’ve tried to get it changed, but their headmaster has informed them that he won’t be changing their schedules simply because the two of them are dating.

Asshole.

Mary Margaret and David have matching schedules, and no one complained about that.

But it is what it is, and they deal with it. They mostly deal with it in trying to eat at least one meal together a day and making sure to text while in the dorms. Sometimes they have time to find their secret spot with a view of the campus, but those visits are few and far between. It’s different and not what they want, but Emma is happy. She’s happy, and she’ll do what she can to stay that way. Killian’s been her friend for years, and none of that is going to change.

She’d simply like to have a few more opportunities to make out with him.

That would be more than nice.

Emma sees him often walking across the courtyard with Tink Bell, the two of them chatting away.

Good. Killian deserves to have friends who he can geek out about math with. She likes that for him.

What she doesn’t like is when the rumors start.

It starts small. There’s a whisper of Killian and Tink eating dinner together in town. It’s nothing. Emma knows they were both in-town weekend chaperones that week, and they’re friends. Friends get dinner.

But then there’s the two of them eating lunch together on campus on the days that Emma has a different lunch break than Killian and the talk of both of them happening to run at the same time in the mornings. Killian runs at a ridiculous hour, usually when the sun hasn’t risen, and Emma can’t understand why anyone else would want to be up that early to run.

Never in a million years.

Tink Bell likes to get up early to go running.

The rumors may start small, a whisper here and there, but then they spread like a wild fire until Emma is wrapped in a blazing inferno.

And it’s ridiculous because Emma doesn’t listen to rumors at this school. She doesn’t. They’re inane and often untrue, and she has other, better things to do with her time. It’s also ridiculous because she knows that Killian loves her. Their schedules might not match up well, but when they do spend time together, it’s the same laughter filling the room every single time.

They’re fine. They’re good. They’re great.

But Neal.

She had loved Neal too, and Neal had said that he loved her.

But the revolving women coming in and out of his bed told her otherwise.

That’s not…she’s not…trusting again after being cheated on isn’t easy, and Emma hates herself for being this way. She does. Because Killian has been her friend for years, and he has never done anything to hurt her. Not on purpose. Her heart aching over him not knowing about her feelings for him was all on her. That wasn’t on him.

This isn’t either.

It doesn’t help her from thinking all of these insane thoughts.

It certainly doesn’t help keep her from blurting out all of her thoughts and feelings and years old scars of Neal to Killian in the middle of one of the rare moments of them spending time together. She wasn’t going to say anything. She really wasn’t, but apparently some of the students have been rude to Tink because they think she’s trying to get between Emma and Killian and they just can’t have that.

None of this is okay.

“What would possibly make you think that I’m like him?” Killian asks after Emma pretty much word vomits all of the feelings she’s been having for the past month.

“I don’t.”

“You obviously do or else we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“That is not fair.”

“Hell, Emma,” Killian huffs before threading his fingers into his hair and then running his hands down her face. She feels sick. “I don’t know what you want me to say. You’ve dumped a hell of a lot of information on me, and all I want to do is punch that absolute ass in the face. I want to hurt him for what he did to you, and I want to hurt him for making you not trust me.”

“You think that’s what this is about? That I don’t trust you?”

“Is that not what this is about?”

“Of course I trust you!”

“Then why are you pulling away from me? Why are you saying all of this and getting it into your head that these fucking ridiculous rumors are true?”

“Because everyone I’ve ever been with has left me,” she breathes out, her heart heavy and voice cracking. “No one has ever stayed. They’ve all left, and I don’t know what I’d do if you left me. I don’t…every single person in this place would know and would look at me strangely, and I’d be this shell of a person acting like I was okay when I’m not.”

“Emma,” Killian whispers. Her name is so quiet that it gets tugged away with the air. That’s impossible for so many reasons, and Emma has no idea when in the world Killian stepped so close to her. “I don’t intend to let you down.”

“I know.”

Because deep down, she does know.

His lips curve into a half-smile as he reaches forward and tucks her hair behind her ears. “Nothing is ever going to go on between me and Tink. Nothing has, and I know you know that. I know that you let the gossip get to you and that your mind ran wild with thoughts. You’re not crazy for thinking them. You’re human.”

“I feel like an idiot.”

“You’re not.”

Emma huffs and leans forward into Killian, collapsing into his arms and the undeniable warmth of him. She could stay here forever. Maybe she wants to. “I’m sorry. I just – do you want to forget this ever happened and order a ridiculously expensive takeout dinner?”

“I have ingredients for pasta. Why don’t I cook for you? I’ve missed you these past few days, and I’d love to hear about how your first round of exams went.”

She pulls back and looks up to Killian while still holding onto his back. “Only a fellow teacher would care enough to ask me about the first round of exams.”

“Darling, if I did the weather for the local television station, I’d still ask you about the first round of exams.”

“That’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me.”

Killian tilts his head back with laughter before dipping his head forward and brushing his lips over her forehead. Her heart is fluttering in that good way again. “If you want, later we can change into our pajamas and talk over next month’s lesson plans.”

“You are talking dirty to me right now.”

“Good,” Killian mumbles, gently pressing his lips to hers. He’s soft and pliant, and she melts into him. “And if that really gets you in the mood, we can even catch up on our Netflix queue later while eating pop-tarts I have hidden away in the cupboard for you.”

“Have I ever told you that I loved you?”

“Aye, but I wouldn’t mind hearing it more often.”

She presses a kiss against his jaw. “I love you.”

“Damn right you do,” Killian teases before squeezing her ass and pulling back from her to walk backward into his kitchen. “And don’t you forget it.”

Ass.

He’s an such an asshole. Who she loves. Like, a stupid amount.

This entire month has had her all out of sorts, and she’s ready to be back on track.

That starts with sitting their students down and telling them that harassing Ms. Bell is never okay. It doesn’t matter that they were doing it out of wanting Emma and Killian to be together. It’s not appropriate or their business.

No, they’re not breaking up, they tell the students.

Yes, we’re still together.

Mr. Jones and Ms. Bell are just friends.

Ms. Bell and Ms. Swan are also friends.

Just because you hear something doesn’t make it true.

It’s weird and not something Emma ever wants to do again, but when it’s over, she’s relieved.

She feels better actually talking to Tink and getting to know her too.

-/-

“I’d like to live off campus one day.”

“Yeah?” Killian asks, tapping his foot against hers as they sit in their secret spot in the fine arts building and watch January snow fall past the windows, a few flakes sticking against the glass.

“I mean, yeah. If you live off campus, they put your housing here into your paycheck, and you get more privacy. Plus, bigger spaces. Can you imagine having a normal apartment or house like an actual adult and not being someone who’s pretty much living out high school again?”

“Why don’t…we could go look for a place, Swan, if you want.”

Emma arches a brow. “Are you asking me to move in with you?”

“I’m asking if you want to move in together.”

Emma almost chokes on her food, but she manages not to, only a slight cough to keep breathing. “Are you serious?”

“As I can be. We don’t have to, of course, but I do happen to know how much you enjoy sharing a bed with me.”

His brows move up and down his forehead, and Emma’s laugh rumbles through her. “We wouldn’t have to do dorm duty, so that’s sounding like a good idea.”

“Really? Not having to do dorm duty is what’s enticing you to move in with me?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

Killian’s laugh is on his lips when he kisses her.

-/-

They go house hunting in Storybrooke three weeks later.

The first house is a lovely three-story Victorian, but they’re teachers, not doctors, and they can’t afford it. Maybe one day.

The second is smaller than the dorms at the school, and Emma would rather live at the school with no privacy than in an apartment that’s the size of a toddler’s shoebox.

The third is a nice loft apartment, but the bathroom not having a door bothers Killian too much.

“You have to afford a man a little privacy sometimes, Swan.”

The fourth, however, is perfect.

It’s a two-bedroom apartment five minutes from the beach, which Killian loves. The kitchen is pretty much all white with clean lines, which Emma loves even though she probably still won’t cook, and the closet and bathroom are big enough that they won’t get into fights over having enough space.

Hopefully.

“I love it,” Killian says, bringing their joined hands up so he can press his lips there. “What do you think?”

“It’s so much better than our apartments.”

“Aye,” Killian laughs, smiling down at her in the way that makes her heart pound and her lips stretch into the biggest smile.

-/-

They sign the papers for the apartment that day even if they can’t move in until June.

-/-

“Where the hell are we going?”

“Language, darling.”

“You literally use the word ‘fuck’ like it’s my name. I don’t think you can talk to me about language.”

“I’m British. We’re not as uptight about cursing as you Americans are.”

“You say that like you don’t live and work in America and aren’t dating an American.”

“Ah, well, we all make sacrifices.”

“Shut up,” Emma laughs, pushing into his shoulder as they keep walking through downtown Storybrooke in the opposite direction of the car that can take them back to the school. “Seriously, babe, where are we going. It’s February, and I’m wearing a dress. I’m freezing.”

Killian stops walking and shrugs off his coat to put over her shoulders. She’s got a jacket, but it’s not doing anything for her legs. She doesn’t think Killian’s coat is going to do anything but have him freeze to death too.

“Thank you,” she says anyways, tightly tugging it around her before wrapping her arm around his back and rubbing her hand up and down. “Now will you please tell me where we’re going? We had dinner, and we should go home and curl up under the blankets and have another glass of wine.”

“Five minutes, Swan. Give me five more minutes, and then I promise we can go home and get ready for bed like the elderly people we are.”

“Five minutes. No more. No less.”

By the time five minutes have passed, Emma’s toes and fingers are frozen, and the whipping of the wind near the sea isn’t helping warm her up. It’s doing the exact opposite, and she’s going to murder Killian on their first night living together.

That’s got to be some kind of record.

“You lied to me, Jones,” Emma mutters as her teeth clank together. “You’re a big, fat liar.”

“You were walking much slower than I thought you would.”

“These are tall heels.”

His brows wiggle while his lips curl into that damn devilish smirk. “Don’t I know it?”

Emma huffs, her breath coming out in white puffs in the night air, and she has to resist rolling her eyes. “So can we go home now?”

“Give me two minutes.”“I don’t trust you anymore.”

“I know.” His hand moves down her back until it’s caressing her arm, from elbow to wrist. Little bumps pop up over her skin, and they’re not from the cold. “Emma Swan, my love, I know you’re freezing and hate me and probably desperately want to go home and take your bra off.”

“I do.”

Killian chuckles and leans forward to brush his icy lips to her nose. “And we will do that as soon as possible if you could do me a favor and hand me the box in the right pocket of my jacket.”

Emma’s an actual idiot because she hands Killian the palm-sized red velvet box without realizing what she’s handing him. The asshole knows she didn’t figure it out too because as he kneels to the ground, he can’t stop snickering underneath his breath.

“Darling,” Killian starts at the same time as Emma’s heart wells up in her chest, “you are the kindest, wittiest, most caring, and most compassionate person I know. You may not believe those things about yourself, but I think they’re true. I’d like for you to give me a chance to prove that to you every day, and I’d like to do it as your husband. So, what do you say, Swan? Will you marry me?”

She almost makes a joke about only marrying him if he can get her out of the cold, but she figures now isn’t the time for jokes when the man who she loves and thinks all of those wonderful things about is asking her to marry him despite the fact that she is always a mess.

“Yes, Killian, of course I’ll marry you.”

His little, joyful laugh makes Emma chuckle as he slides the diamond ring onto her finger before she helps to pull him up to her height so that she can wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him. He tastes like the damn fish he had at dinner, but she doesn’t care.

She doesn’t care about anything except the two of them and the happiness that is spreading across her body and permanently inking itself into her skin.

“I love you,” she whispers between kisses, her teeth hitting his in her joy.

She can’t seem to stop smiling. Killian can’t either.

“I love you,” he repeats back. “More than anything. Do you think you’d like to go inside now?”

“I think I’m good staying here for just a few more moments.”

“Yeah,” Killian says before resoundingly kissing her again, “me too.”

-/-

They don’t leave her apartment the entire weekend.

But they do unfortunately have work, and as Killian walks her to her classroom Monday morning as he always does, Emma turns to ask him if she should take off the ring since they haven’t told anyone yet.

“Nah, keep it on. I think it’ll be okay.”

“Are you sure?”

“Aye.”

He nods his head toward her classroom, and through the window Emma can see a large banner that reads “Congratulations Mr. Jones and Ms. Swan!”

“How the hell do they know everything?” Emma laughs, her cheeks flaming red. “Seriously.”

“Well, love, I think this one might be on me. Right after I proposed, I saw Caroline Abbot and a few of her friends walking by us. I believe they must have seen the entire thing and reported it back to the school.”

All Emma can do is laugh and be thankful that they are getting their own place now…even if the gossip seems to reach them there too.

It doesn’t matter because she’s happy.

And she loves this stupid school.

(But she’s thrilled to actually get her…their own place in June.)

-/-

-/-

Tagging people who enjoyed the first part: @shireness-says @resident-of-storybrooke @nikkiemms @tiganasummertree @jennjenn615 @lfh1226-linda @jonirobinson64 @kmomof4 @singersdd @spartanguard @jamif @twopulse @notoriouscs @mayquita  @captswanis4vr @shardminds @stahlop @shady-swan-jones @hooksmoak @397bartonstreet @eleveneitherway @mariakov81 @snowbellewells @ultraluckycatnd @galaxyzxstark @captainsjedi @teamhook @stunningswan @karenfrommisthaven @a-faekindagirl @odonowest @xemmaloveskillianx @blowmiakisscolin @thejollyroger-writer @ekr032-blog-blog @superchocovian @onceuponaprincessworld @andiirivera

[187days]

Day One Hundred Sixty-Six

Spring Spirit Week ended with a day of shortened classes, fun activities, and a raucous pep rally. The dress-up theme was school colors + gold, so it was fabulous and sparkly. I wore one of my faculty t-shirts that has gold lettering, added some gold hair ribbons and glittery eyeshadow, and threw myself into the fun.

The changed schedule meant I taught my three sections of World in a row (40 minutes each). Students took their last vocabulary quiz in the course, and they pretty much all crushed it (one kid was so surprised by how well he’d done- because he’d actually studied- that he kept telling me how proud his dad was going to be, and that’s adorable). So they left class feeling good about that. And then I had my GOV students. I had them do a quick review assignment on state and local government, and then we took a leisurely stroll out to the parking lot so they could put their backpacks and stuff in their cars before outdoor activities started. 

Our first activity was kickball against Mr. N’s class (we lost, but they outnumbered us). After that, we watched some students and staff members get dunked in a dunk tank, and then we got to go out front where a local agency that trains service dogs had some of their demo dogs for students to pet and play with. Longtime readers know I’m allergic to dogs, so I just stood back and took pictures, but my seniors loved that. And then we went to lunch- cookout in the courtyard- and enjoyed burgers, hotdogs, pasta salad, and some amazing watermelon. I’d have had fun doing all that with any of my ninth grade classes, but I’m glad I was with my seniors since they’re graduating soon. It was a fun time to spend with them.

And I got to spend the pep rally with them, too, which was an experience. I usually sit in the freshmen section. The senior section is LOUD, and it’s so much fun. The Principal fired everyone up with a cheering competition between the classes (I think being out on the gym floor during a pep rally might be his favorite part of his job), and then the band played the National Anthem. The seniors decided to sing along, so then everyone was singing along, and it went from there. There were some zany games: a human version of hungry hippos that almost got too heated between the juniors and seniors so they cut it short, a bunch of matches in one of those inflatable jousting things, and the most competitive game of musical chairs ever. I repped the faculty in musical chairs, and was one of the last five standing, but then I got knocked out by one of my freshmen. It was a riot, though. But my favorite part was when our drumline performed because they were really good, and everyone gave them a standing ovation afterwards.

It got a little hectic at the end because the student council didn’t plan enough to fill the block, so kids got restless, but it’s been a while since we could do a pep rally like this (our fall one was out in the stadium, and a bit more subdued, and last year, obviously, covid restrictions kept us from gathering as a school), so it’s live and learn. 

I certainly had a fun day!

[biopsychs]

Update (July 9, 2020)

Attended my first big conference in my field (virtually). I was sad to not be able to go on in person, but I got to present my research and, since everything was posted online, I was able to look through all the posters and presentations (which I wouldn’t have had time to do at a typical conference). I learned about so many interesting areas of research!

Finally got ethical approval for my study - I have to collect all of my participants over the next two months, but luckily everything is good to go and I have some help!

Registered for classes! I’m waiting to hear back about some prerequisite waivers so I can take a few classes from another faculty, but I’m very excited overall about my classes next year!

I attended a few online workshops my university is offering! One was about how to conduct literature reviews and now searching for papers is a hundred times easier. I also learned about research data management, which is basically about storing your data securely and organizing it so that you or other people can easily access it in the future. I’m a big supporter of open science so I’m making an effort to learn about this on my own, b/c there’s no guarantee anyone else will teach me.

I’m applying for a grant with my prof to fund my study next year! My study is kind of covid-related so we were going to apply to funding allocated for that. We ended up not being able to apply for the initial grant I found (administrative stuff out of our control), but we can still use the research proposal I put together to apply for another grant due at the end of the month. I’m super grateful that my prof has been so supportive :)

And I’m still trying to have a bit of fun this summer! I’ve been going for hikes and having picnics with my friends. There’s a drive in theatre close by, so a few of us are going at the end of the week. It’s different than what I thought my summer would look like, but I’m trying to make the best of things.