#i have my hair done every 3 weeks for $120 and I'm going to someone cheap

[and-im-his-friend-jesus]

Fuel and maintenance for one's vehicle...doctor visits and prescriptions for those of us trapped in the USA... fucking period products for those of us with vaginas and on that goddamned note....

Bullfuckingshit fucking Pink Tax shit for those of us cis women who fucking work in *professional* shit environments that fucking demand bullshit like our goddamned nails be done and fucking hair done and fuck fuck fuckitall expensive-ass wardrobes and we have to spend so much goddamned money to make ourselves "professionally presentable" when we're paid less for the same goddamned jobs and literally anyone who demands these things of the women in their employ should be drawn and quartered.

[threemoonsareshining]

i think you're such a cool person can you do as many as you'd like of the get to know you asks? i couldn't choose! i'm just desperate to know you lol

Hi anon! There are a lot of asks and I’m not that cool but I’m sad and bored again so I’ll do as many as I can.

1. Who was the last person you held hands with? I don’t think I’ve ever really held hands for real with anyone but I’m pretty sure the last time was about a week ago with one of my best friends bc we were in a place with lots of people and we didn’t want to get lost 2. Are you outgoing or shy? I’m the shyest person I know (actually no, I know a girl who is even shyer than me but I’m pretty close)3. Who are you looking forward to seeing? Not to sound cheesy or anything but I really want to see this guy I had something weird going on with not because of any special reason I just want to know where things are going4. Are you easy to get along with? I’d like to say I am but actually it’s really really hard to keep in touch with me and I’m not good at making conversation at all6. What kind of people are you attracted to? First of all, I’m not usually attracted to people at all, I don’t know why and when I am I always ask myself “girl why this one exactly?” and honestly, I don’t know. There are just some persons I feel comfortable with in a specific way and  then attraction grows from there idk I’m really not used to being attracted to anyone9. Does talking about sex make you uncomfortable? Extremely10. Who was the last person you had a deep conversation with? A friend of mine when I was really drunk at his house waiting for my parents to pick me up. I don’t really remember what we talked about but it felt very nice.11. What does the most recent text that you sent say? it says “no da miedo hihihi” which translates to “it’s not scary hihihi”12. What are your 5 favorite songs right now? right now I can’t stop listening to Fiji Water by Owl City (i’m so excited he’s releasing new music!), Your Mother’s Eyes, Rythm and Blues and Take a Walk by The head and the heart and It’s only life by The Shins.13. Do you like it when people play with your hair? I like it because it feels so so relaxing but at the same time it makes me anxious because I think that the more people touch it the dirtier and more damaged it gets and as a person who spends a considerable amount of time on my hair, that is not so nice15. What good thing happened this summer? I went to a festival in the town next to mine and I got to see all my friends after a long time and I had such a good time my heart hurts every time I think about it16. Would you kiss the last person you kissed again? Yess (idk if it’s bc I really like him or I just want to kiss someone)18. Do you still talk to your first crush? No! Actually I saw him a few months ago after… 6 years and we looked at each other like “are you who I think you are?”. I never really talked to him, he treated me like shit and he’s responsible for many of my insecurities so I believe it’s better this way hah21. What are you bad habits? I don’t sleep, I don’t pay as much attention as I should to my loved ones, I forget to eat and shower and I scratch my face like there’s no tomorrow my friend23. Do you have trust issues? Hell yeah I do. Literally everyone I knew left me when I was like 15 or so which is, you know, a crucial stage of your emotional development and stuff so since then I’ve never got close to anyone because what better strategy than not to be invested enough in a relationship so if it ends you don’t feel so bad about it!25. What part of your body are you most uncomfortable with? My ears for sure. They stick out so that’s why I never wear my hair up in public. I thought about getting surgery but I want to stay true to myself and stuff.28. Who are you most comfortable around? I’m not 100% comfortable with anyone but I guess my best friend is a strong candidate.30. Do you ever want to get married? I never think about that because my brain always tells me “first find someone who is actually willing to marry you and then we’ll think about it”31. If your hair long enough for a pony tail? It’s long enough for 6 ponytails if you put your mind into it34. Do you play sports? What sports? Sports are bad and I hate them36. Have you ever liked someone and never told them? I liked this guy for like 6 years and I literally never spoke a word to him but I think the way I looked at him made it pretty obvious (I guess that’s why he avoided me all the time)37. What do you say during awkward silences? I’m the Queen of awkward silences and I’ve learnt that it’s ok to not say anything. Or I’ll just sigh a lot.39. What are your favorite stores to shop in? Don’t make me think about shops rn bc I spent the whole afternoon trying to find something to wear to the 5 million Christmas dinners I have and everything was either too expensive, too ugly or just looked terrible on me so yeah I’m pretty mad40. What do you want to do after high school? I wanted to study something arts-related like filmmaking, music or dance, you know, the only things I actually used to enjoy but instead of that I decided to study economics because I hate myself41. Do you believe everyone deserves a second chance? I think this depends on the circumstances but in my opinion and taking into account my own experience I’ll always give a second chance, maybe not immediately but eventually, I will.42. If you’re being extremely quiet what does it mean? It means I’m being me haha43. Do you smile at strangers? I try to but it’s scary45. What makes you get out of bed in the morning? I have no reason to get out of bed in the morning besides the fact that if I stop doing the things I should do I’ll never be able to catch up and everyone will go on with their lives while I stay the same and become mediocre and that’s just inconceivable to me. So basically I don’t live for myself but for the expectations people have of me.48. Have you ever been drunk? Yes and I wish I was rn honestly49. Have you done anything recently that you hope nobody finds out about? Yes and since I don’t want to tell anyone I won’t say what it is52. One thing you wish you could change about yourself? I wish I wasn’t worried about literally everything because it’s so tiring and it keeps me from thinking about more important stuff64. Tell us the story of your first kiss? About a month ago I was at this party and everyone was telling me one of my friends I had been talking to for a while wanted to hook up with me and I kinda wanted to too but I’m too shy and anxious to make any moves so I got drunk, and  after avoiding him like 6546 times (bc I was really worried I would look stupid not bc I didn’t want to) I finally kissed him in front of an entire crowd of strangers and all my friends found out about it right afterwards so it was like a public event and I felt really exposed so yeah it wan’t ideal~ but also not the worst (I cringed so much while writing this, it was so awkward my god)69. Are you watching tv right now? Not right now but I’m about to watch the new episode of Crazy ex-girlfriend 72. How many pillows do you sleep with? 2, one for my head and other by my side to keep me some company (I’m so lonely oh my god)73. Do you sleep with stuffed animals? A shar-pei puppy dog I have since I was born (it’s so so cute I love it his name is wrinkles)75. Favourite animal? Cats are not only my favourite animals but one of my favourite things on earth78. Favourite ice cream flavour? since ice cream is my favourite food I can’t really choose one flavour (anything but banana flavour tho)81. Favourite tv show? GoT and Mr Robot I can’t choose but there are so many82. Favourite movie? Billy Elliot86. Favourite character from Finding Nemo? Bruce the shark, he deserves more recognition94. How many sweaters/hoodies do you have? I own lots of sweaters because you can never own enough sweaters (until you run out of space in your closet which is what’s happening to me)95. Last movie you watched? Tulip Fever. Not one of my favourites but last night I felt like watching some historic drama and romance shit (love it every once in a while). Alicia Vikander and Dane Dehaan tho98. Do you tan a lot? I used to but since I rarely leave my room during the summer I’ve become The Pale Friend™ 99. Have any pets? Two cats and I used to have fish but they weren’t my thing and I decided that no more fish would die because of me (I really tried but they just didn’t survive idk why)100. How are you feeling? I’m feeling really anxious right now and I can’t sleep. Partly it’s because I’ve got a lot of papers to write and a presentation on Monday and none of them are going especially well tbh, but there’s something else that is making me feel extremely uneasy and bad about myself and idk what it is but I’d like it to stop thank you very much102. Do you regret anything from your past? I regret not being able to enjoy these last 3 or 4 years of my life because they could’ve been some of the best years of my life but I was so full of sadness and hatred I just couldn’t pay attention to anything else108. What should you be doing? sleeping since 1 am but it’s 4 am and here we are115. Do you play the Wii? Who would I be without Just dance and Animal Crossing 116. Are you listening to music right now? yes, Rainbow Veins by Owl City (how unexpected)117. Do you like chicken noodle soup? I had that for dinner and it was beautiful118. Do you like Chinese food? The other day I cried tears of happiness because my mom ordered Chinese food for lunch119. Favourite book? Memorias the Idhún120. Are you afraid of the dark? Not so much now but not so long ago I would get what now I can consider almost panic attacks because the dark made me feel so anxious. I’d stay paralysed in my bed, feeling my arms numb and I can swear I heard stuff in my head and I got the feeling that I was literally dying.126. Are you currently bored? A little (these are a lot of questions but I want to finish them now)129. What your zodiac sign? Taurus131. Your bestfriend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do? This is happening right now and I don’t like him that way so I just try to keep everything the same but also I try to keep the distances so he doesn’t misinterpret things (this makes me feel so bad for him sometimes but I’m trying to make him see that not liking him romantically doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy being with him). Let’s hope it works.133. Favourite lyrics right now? “I’ve been down the very road you’re walking now / It doesn’t have to be so dark and lonesome / It takes a while but we can figure this thing out / And turn it back around”  from It’s only life by The Shins.137. How tall are you? 164cm which I think is 5,3 feet138. Curly or Straight hair? My hair is curly af and it’s very inconvenient for… life you know140. Summer or Winter? Summer because of the holidays winter because of the feeling141. Night or Day? Night145. Tea or Coffee? Tea but coffee has been saving my life these past weeks146. Was today a good day? Today was a wasted and disappointing day.150. Get the closest book next to you, open it to page 42, what’s the first line on that page? “Con Elodin nunca se sabe —dije—. Si no está loco, es el mejor actor que he conocido jamás” from The Wise Man’s Fear. It translates to something like “’Who can say with Elodin?’ I said. ‘If he isn’t crazy, he’s the best actor I’ve ever met.’”

Congrats if you’ve managed to read all this without unfollowing me  🍃🍃🍃⛄️⛄️⛄️

[imagineclaireandjamie]

I'm in dire need of a fluffy scene where Claire tries to read the lines on Jamie's palm and she ends up failing miserably.

Liv says: So this isn’t fluff, so to speak—but I hope it’s still fun! Set about 2-3 years before puir Frank the Mailman died in the Three Witches AU. No worries if you haven’t read it. This one stands alone! :)

Intersection: A Three Witches Story

Claire knew this was against coven rules. Like, totally outside the realm of acceptable witch behavior.

To dole out one’s magical talents—particularly at the county fair—was a bit manipulative (in regards to the customers), a bit sad (in regards to Claire). Still, she liked to think she was working for a kind of greater good. Ensuring the happiness of all mankind! And that was almost admirable, wasn’t it? Giving hopeful glimmers of adulthood to the stork-like teenagers, comforting the mopey singletons who trudged around, heads bent? She’d offered such assurances as:

“A new man will come into your life. A handsome one—with a huge prick! His name…I think his name begins with a ‘T’.” (This to the recent divorcee, clutching her naked ring finger like a burn. She hadn’t known what a “prick” was but was no less forthcoming with her money.)

Or this, to the bucktoothed 16-year old picking at his acne scars: “You’ll be the coolest person in college. Captain of the ultimate frisbee team!” He’d been disappointed at that one, enormous chompers clamping over his bottom lip. “Ho ho ho there, young man!” she’d said then. “Ultimate frisbee is cool where you’re going. The coolest cool.” And then he’d smiled, a patchwork of teeth and holes, which Claire hoped someone might find endearing. A nice and wholesome blind girl, maybe.

And then this, to the both of them: “For just $5 more, I can guarantee it! All you have to do is buy this magical rock and carry it with you wherever you go.” Nevermind that said magical rock was actually from Claire’s backyard. Nevermind that several of them were speckled in bird shit. Maybe some cicada guts.

But that was the thing about desperate Mortals. Metaphorically speaking, their whole lives were a succession of bird shit plops and smeared bug guts. So they didn’t even notice when it was covering their $5, not-magical rock.

“Yes please! I’ll take two!” the divorcee had cried, handing Claire a ten dollar bill. (Did she think this would bring two men into her life? Because that’s not how Claire’s bird shit rocks worked.)

“Um. Yeah. That’s sounds pretty sick,” said Beaver Bobby. “I’ll buy a rock.” He’d paid in all quarters but, hey, beggars can’t be choosers.

If her best friend Gillian were here, she would likely call this “an exploitative farce,” two terms she would’ve picked up from her beloved Word of the Day calendar.

“Claire,” she would hiss, “this is such an exploitative (Wednesday’s word) farce (last Friday’s word).” And then she’d pull out her Moleskin, update her word count with a self-satisfied tick. Her record, she claimed, was sixty words in a single morning, and Claire imagined a horrible plague descending upon their town, zombifying everyone until they could only grunt “verisimilitude.” Gillian thought an expanded vocabulary made her smarter but, really, it just increased her smart-assedness to a barely tolerable level.

Luckily, Gillian wasn’t here to offer one of her impressive synonyms because she’d bailed on their plans. If Claire could place money on it—and she couldn’t, with only $7 to her name, the very reason for this “manipulative/sad/exploitative farce”—Gillian was protesting GMO’s one county over. Perhaps arguing for the rights of beluga whales. Or, and this was the most likely, she was loitering at the Creamy Whip, breasts thrust at a very specific angle so that customers’ cones would find their shirts and not their mouths.

Psh! Now if that wasn’t an “exploitative farce” then Claire didn’t know what was. Gillian had mosquito bite boobs and a push-up bra more magical than her own powers.

But here was the thing: Claire wasn’t completely faking it. She wasn’t, so to speak, wearing a bra with three inches of padding. She could read palms, see futures unfurl, weblike, across strangers’ skins. Forks, divots, complex branches—each had such a distinct voice, that Claire had no doubt as to whether or not, say, Mr. Duncan over there would choke on a hot dog and die very suddenly. Or whether young Malva—that girl with the cotton candy and ruffled socks—would pop out a kid by the time she was 17. Claire, being a witch, knew precisely what would befall her clients by simply looking at their hands.

But of course, teenage pregnancy and death by synthetic meat logs weren’t exactly good for customer satisfaction. And so Claire would read Mr. Duncan’s palm, and she would see Mr. Duncan’s red face, gasping on a particularly troublesome bit of hot dog, but say he’d live until he was 85. A little white lie for a happy client. And a happy client meant A) money, B) a potential second visit, and thus C) more money. The $5 rocks weren’t scams, just for-profit business cards.

So she was lying, but not, y’know, totally lying. She’d deal with the prevention of hot dog-induced deaths later, when it better benefitted her monthly budget. (Because just as she wasn’t a complete liar, she wasn’t a complete asshole either.)

The fair had died down to a trickling of stragglers: mostly drunks, a couple of junkies who’d staggered into Nayawenne County for cheap-rate smack. Sighing, Claire stood to begin packing up, turned off the moody sound effects, gathered Gillian’s stack of Tarot cards (all hand-painted variations of herself: man Gillian; tree Gillian; Gillian with bigger-than-mosquito-bite boobs).

In the five hours since Claire had arrived, she’d made $120. Not a terrible turnout if one compared it to last year’s fair, when an angry swarm of Bible-thumpers had tossed her earnings into the funnel cake fryer. Sally Bain—or, as Claire called her, Sally Bane-of-Her-Existence—had rallied her troop of Jesus warriors and thrust crucifixes into Claire’s face, chanting things like, “Begone Satan!” and “This is God’s land!”

Which was kind of funny when you thought about it. If God wanted to claim ownership of Nayawenne—out of every other place in the universe—then he was pretty damn stupid.

Fortunately, Claire had suffered no further Bible-thumping, crucifix-wielding disturbances. Sally Bane-of-Her-Existence had fled town once she’d discovered her husband had fucked the organ player up in the ass. And in the church rectory, no less. (Such irony! Claire’d had absolutely nothing to do with it. Ha.)

It had been a windy afternoon, and Claire’s crystal ball was now coated in a fine layer of dust. Though it was only for decorative purposes—for customer satisfaction!—Claire decided she ought to give it a nice shine, make it look at least halfway capable of revealing visions of tomorrow.

Witch Tip #1: Unbeknownst to Mortals, crystal balls were like kisses from a true love. Which was to say, not powerful in the slightest. The most a kiss could do was give you mouth herpes. And, at its highest power, a crystal ball would fly across a room, break a window and the pinky toe of an irritating significant other. Not that Claire had experience with either situation. Certainly not the mouth herpes.

Claire ripped off a paper towel and went to grab the Windex, only to realize she’d left the Windex at home. Had, by a stroke of poor planning, only brought the herbal tonic she sometimes had to spritz into her eyes when they got a bit cloudy.

Witch Tip #2: Seeing the future had its drawbacks. Your eyes would get all crusty if you did it too much. As if your body was punishing you with goopy morning blindness. Honestly, it was pretty gross.

Well shit, Claire thought. She spat on her hand and rubbed the ball, hoping the couple beside “Whack-A-Democrat” wouldn’t think she was, like, doing something sexual to an inanimate object.

But whatever the couple thought, they were watching her, whispering behind their hands and giving her darting glances. Oh God, Claire thought, Bible-thumper radar blaring. Did Sally Bain send them? Did she organize a sabotage via prayer? Was it possible to raise an army of vengeful Baptists an entire state away? (Claire wouldn’t be surprised. She’d heard of stranger things. Done some of them herself. See also: anally-fucked organ player before he was anally fucked.)  

But no, the couple wasn’t looking at Claire with the fury of God in their eyes—but fascination. The woman, a petite but sturdy thing, was shoving her partner in Claire’s direction. Making a not-so-obvious pointing gesture, like, Her. Her! that he seemed somewhat reluctant to obey. Still, he did, and soon he was striding towards Claire, long legs stomping up clouds of dirt dust, red hair matching the synthetic blood of a “whacked” Bill Clinton.

“Are you…” the man began, looking nervously over his shoulder. The woman pursed her lips, arched her brow like, Do it, you pussy. He shoved his hands in his pockets, defeated. “Are ye done for the day, lass?”

“I was just about to pack up, but I’ve time for another reading if you’re interested.”

“Aye…” he said, completely unconvincing. “Aye, I suppose I’m interested.”

“Well then, take a seat, Mr…?”

“Fraser. Jamie.”

He was huge. Like, mega huge. Like, he could probably eat her. He was also ridiculously attractive, which meant that if he did eat her, Claire would ask him to do it again. She most definitely would not mind being inside his mouth.

“So what’s it going to be this evening, Jamie? Tarot? Crystal ball? A pal—”

“My sister says as I should have ye read my palm.”

“Oh! Splendid. Is that your sister back there?”

“Aye, that’s Jenny.” Again, he looked over his shoulder at the woman, her eyes unblinking despite the tidal wave of dust. As if to explain her behavior, he said, “We just moved here from Scotland. Only been in Nayawenne County for a few weeks now.”

“Dear me,” Claire replied, and then cringed. Attractive, mega huge men made her nervous—and sometimes her nerves made her sound like a 50’s housewife. It was a problem, she now realized, she ought to fix. “I mean, like,” she continued, “bloody hell. That’s a long way.”

“Family orders.” He shrugged. “But yer not so close to home yourself. British, by your accent.”

Claire nodded. “I’ve been here for a while now. Packed my bags when I was 20 and moved for…” She floundered for a plausible explanation. “Well. A guy.”

This, like Claire’s palm reading, was not a total lie. She had, indeed, come to America for a man: Ray, one of her classmates, had sought her input on a new enchantment in ‘04. A healing spell—Claire’s specialty —prepared from some rare fungi found in the hills of Appalachia. But Claire had about as many romantic feelings for Ray as she would a toad. Too many all-nighters spent with his warty nose and her (she liked the think) perfectly attractive nose stuck in the same spell book.

She’d stayed, though, after that. Anything—even bumfuck Ohio—was better than going back to England, where every witch wanted to hex her…

But that was a story for another time. 

This story, right here, continued with a ripple of concern across Jamie’s face. Claire regarded him, wary, but glad Gillian wasn’t here to ruin their conversation with Words of the Day, beluga whales, or push-up bras. Jamie was, at the moment, only hers.

“He’s out of the picture now,” she said. “The guy, that is.”

“Sorry to hear that. I’m just out of a break-up myself. One of the reasons I was none so unhappy about leaving Scotland.”

“Oh, well…” She looked down as if expecting two beverages to materialize, waiting to be held aloft. Instead, she grabbed her bottle of eye tonic. Lamely spritzed it into the air. “Here’s to being single then!”

“Aye, to being single,” he said, the mist falling slowly between them. Claire had never heard a proper guffaw before, but the sound that came from Jamie’s mouth was what she’d always imagined a guffaw to be. Warm, kinda strange, totally hot.

“So,” she began, getting back on track. “You said your sister put you up to this? Any specific reason for that?”

“Dinna ken,” Jamie replied, smiling a little beneath his (also) perfectly attractive nose. “I dinna question Jenny when she tells me to do something. She’s into this kind of…” He looked at the crystal ball, the cards, the rather tasteless turban sitting lopsided on Claire’s head. “Weel, whatever you call this.”

“How wonderful,” Claire said, giving Jenny another once-over. Adorable, really, when Mortals got caught up in the craft. One minute they were watching Oprah, swallowing her New Age-y drivel, and the next thing they thought they were gods. Practicing divinations, performing séances in the streets with Glade candles and getting hit by Aramark trucks. (She’d read about it in the paper once.)

“Well, I suppose we should get on with it then. Will you open your hand for me? Palm up, please.”

Jamie laid his hand on the table. It, like the rest of him, was huge.

The last man Claire went out with had also had large hands. He’d taken her to the theater and—there was really no other description for it—had swallowed her with his bulk. Sucked her face, handled her boobs like a hungry squirrel might stockpile acorns. She could still taste his buttery-saltiness on her tongue, the little bit of crunched kernel that had slid from between his teeth to the back of her throat. She’d coughed, choking, and when he’d reached to pat her back, he’d decided to take a handful of her tit instead. Just held onto it, leech-like, while the fugitive kernel slowly killed her. (Luckily, his other hand—the one not squeezing her boob—handed her the Diet Coke, and she survived.)

Jamie wouldn’t do that, she thought. His big and gentle hand would pat her back first, then return, lightly graze her tit as if by accident. It would, quite possibly, be the most artful tit-graze in all of human history.

And sitting here, trying to read Jamie’s palm, Claire realized she wanted his hand, right there, quite badly. To have his thumb teasing her nipple through her shirt, maybe traveling a bit lower. Slipping beneath the elastic waistband of her panties, to her crotch, which Louise at Louise’s would’ve waxed just for the occasion. The noises she would make would disturb the other viewers, but Jamie, with those big and gentle hands, would not muffle them.

“D’ye see anything interesting?” Jamie asked now, and the image of his hand on her tit, while fingering her in the 13th row of the Regal Cinema, vanished. Was promptly replaced by worry.

“Well, it’s funny, really…”

The true answer was: nope, nada. Nothing. Not even a flicker of Jamie wrapped around a toilet bowl, vomiting bad cheeseburger on a Saturday night. Jamie Fraser’s palm was like one of those ancient texts she and Ray had pored over, all bizarre hieroglyphs and nonsensical syntaxes. But while they had managed a crude translation, this was something entirely different. Jamie Fraser’s palm, Claire knew, would never reveal its secrets—no matter how hard she tried.

Which was why Claire swooned a little bit, and why Jamie had to reach over to keep her from toppling to the ground. His hand, though it did not brush against that sacred spot of her breast, did find the small of her back, stayed there a touch too long. Through her fog of shock, Claire thought: There’s some sort of time etiquette for this kind of thing, right? A three-second max before it veers from a purely platonic gesture into something kinda sexual?

“That bad was it?” Jamie said, smirking.

“Sorry,” Claire replied, leaning into him. She lingered over his face but found no indication that he was feeling the same way, or even thinking, Blimey! That just veered from a purely platonic gesture into some thing kind of sexual!

“Fine. I’m fine. Peachy keen as they say!” Claire cleared her throat to keep her voice from cracking. “It’s just—your hand is a bit unusual is all. I’ve not seen anything like it.”

“Is ‘unusual’ a good thing or a bad thing?”

Well, Claire thought, that depended on what exactly was being called “unusual”. Because what she was feeling was really fucking unusual, and what she was feeling was a bone-deep, stomach-fluttering ache. Like Cupid had shot his arrow straight up her ass, punctured all her gory insides and skewered her heart like a shish kebab.

“I dunno, really. I guess it means—”

“I’m special?”

“You could say that.” Was she blushing? She was blushing. “Mr. Fraser…”

“Jamie.”

“Right. Jamie. I’m afraid—God, this is a little embarrassing—I can’t actually read your palm. There’s nothing there.” She slid the fiver across the table, feeling too frazzled to consider spinning one of her lies.  “These things happen from time to time. I’m, uh, probably just tired. But you can have this back. I won’t take your money.”

“‘Nothing,’ ye said? You didn’t see a thing?”

“Afraid so. Nothing to worry about though. It’s not necessarily a bad omen…It’s—it’s hard to explain.”

For a man being given a very sincere and full refund, Jamie’s face was abnormally pale. The color had drained from his cheeks, and his hands—so incapable of leech-like grabs!—began to tremble. Two crooked fingers beat a nervous rhythm into his pant leg, and he quickly got to his feet.

“Keep the money, lass,” he said, “You can pay me back later.” And if he wasn’t in such a rush, Claire would’ve been able to confirm that she had, in fact, heard him say, “I’ll see you soon, Claire.” That her name wasn’t a tacked-on politeness, but something he’d said with the utmost tenderness.

And if Claire had been an upstanding member of the Coven Coalition— a studious practitioner of spells—she would’ve been able to hear Jenny and Jamie’s conversation from 50 feet away. Instead, she was forced to define Jenny’s smug whoop as if it were Gillian’s Word of the Day.

Jenny’s Smug Whoop (n):

1) a victory celebration, i.e. I told ye so, did I no’?!

2) proof of a mutual understanding of Witch Tip #3, i.e. A witch cannot see her own future (yet another palm-reading glitch). If, for example, Claire read a client’s palm, and her reading was filled with blips of blankness, then she had likely stumbled upon a deep intersection. Or, rather: a point in time where her future and the client’s were so intertwined—beyond family, beyond friendship—that Claire could not see the specific event due to her involvement and the aforementioned glitch.

And so there was one reason—one very momentous reason—that Claire could not read Jamie Fraser’s palm. He had a future, no doubt about it, but every second was marked by a certain curly-haired, British witch. (Refer to: a deep, ongoing intersection.) She, Claire Beauchamp—who was not at all an upstanding member of the Coven Coalition but who would certainly enjoy having those big, gentle hands in her underwear for the rest of her days—was Jamie Fraser’s future. You could, if you were of the romantic persuasion, even say they were soul mates.

The discovery of one’s soul mate has adverse effects on one’s respiratory system, and so Claire found it hard to breathe. She scrambled through her purse, found her flask, and took a hearty pull.

“I take it yer off duty, then?” said an unfamiliar voice. “Claire, is it?”

Claire looked up to find Jenny Fraser, that same smug wash of victory tugging at her eyes.

“Aye, but of course it is. I ken that already.” Jenny cleared her throat, expanded her chest like a sermonizing Sally Bain. “You’re Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp, born October 20th, 1989 in Oxford, England. Parents, deceased—verra sorry for yer loss, by the way—and an uncle, missing in action. Yer also currently broke, by the looks of it, which is why yer selling wee pebbles covered in shite.”

Claire, utterly speechless, simply said, “Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ,” through a mouthful of gin.

“Christ, to be sure. Sadly, Mr. FDR is a bit worse for wear. Got a proper skelping back there.”

Claire looked around wildly and found Jamie watching them—albeit, still visibly flustered—by the freshly bludgeoned Roosevelt.

“Did the Coalition send you?” she asked, frantic. “Am I in trouble? Because…Look! I’ll stop selling the bird shit rocks, all right? Just please don’t report me.”

Jenny shook her head, laughing.

“Nay, it’s nothing like that. It’s only—weel, it appears you’ve just confirmed something I’ve suspected for some time now. About you and my brother.”

Witch Tip #4: Magical beings—witches, wizards, fairies, vampires, etc. etc.—are everywhere. The old woman throwing Reese’s Pieces at the ducks could very well be a shapeshifter. Your random client at the county fair could have a witch for a sister.

“If you’re referring to how I couldn’t read Jamie’s palm, then yeah, I—”

But Jenny interrupted, happily offered her hand for shake.

“I’d say that settles it,” she said. “If yer going to make a lovesick fool of my brother, then I think we should be friends, aye?”