#just sent an email trying to book the venue

[arrowpunk]

Me when I was younger: I just don't really understand the hype for weddings, you get so stressed and spend so much money for One Day why doesn't everyone just elope!

Me, now: Okay still wanna keep this as cheap and affordable as possible but heehee hoohoo wedding planning

[cookinguptales]

So… last week I made a vent post about an accessibility issue I’d had with some podcasters. I really only meant for the post to be read by my followers (who to my knowledge aren’t familiar with the podcast in question) which is why I put minimal tags on it and didn’t name the show.

But… the post got legs that I wasn’t expecting, and eventually a lot of people asked for the name of the show. I hadn’t intended on creating a whole big thing, so I was kind of reluctant, but I did see the logic in what they were saying — as a disabled woman myself, I would also want to know if I were supporting podcasters whose values did not align with mine. So I told people quietly in the notes that the show had been Old Gods of Appalachia.

Things… did not stay quiet.

Frankly speaking, one of the reasons why I don’t write as many posts about disability and ableism these days is because I got tired of people writing to me and telling me that people like me should be dead. So you can imagine what kind of fucking week I’ve been having since all that blew up. It’s been a very high symptom week, too, so I’m just. Very tired and stressed rn.

Personally, I’d be happy to never talk about it again and try to get back to my everyday life, but I did think it was important to note that the creators of OGOA must have gotten wind of the post, and they did contact me.

I won’t post the whole email here, but it was a good response. Since seeing my post, they’d tried getting in contact with the venue and realized very quickly why I’d been so frustrated. They ended up needing to go through their booking agent to get any kind of answers — so like, to the people who sent me a thousand messages telling me I was an entitled idiot who just needed to contact the venue, please know that none of you were remotely helpful.

Again, I’m not going to post the entire email, but I did think it was important to be fair and use the same platform that I used to vent to tell people that they seem committed to doing better in the future. They told me that they would be making sure that they have all this information going forward and that they would no longer allow it to be such a barrier to entry for disabled fans.

They invited me back to the show and… god, I’ll admit it. I really had to think about my answer. Not to sound ungrateful, but after the week I’ve had, even thinking about the podcast, the podcasters, and that damn live show has me stressed af. I had to really consider whether I even wanted to go.

But in the months since I first contacted them, they added a show that’s a lot closer to where I live, so rather than a weekend trip, I could just take a single bus. And it’s near one of my favorite Japanese restaurants in the city, so if all else fails, I can at least have some good katsudon. So I will be going to the Philadelphia show.

(Though for fellow disabled fans, Terakawa Ramen is not wheelchair accessible. 🙃 Most days I can do the two steps into the restaurant, but not always. Philly, I love and loathe you.)

Anyway, I wanted to reply to them before I made a post here, but… yeah. We’ve worked things out, I think. Only the future can tell what they'll do going forward but they do seem committed to doing better.

To me, there are always two goals when I write about disability and ableism. The first is that disabled people will feel seen. That is always, always my primary goal. It’s so easy for us to feel invisible and unimportant, and I always want to make you all feel seen, just like I want to feel seen. The second is that able-bodied folks will listen and learn and do their best to support their disabled peers in the future.

So… I think that my post managed to fulfill both of those goals. A lot of disabled people have reblogged that post and have talked about their own experiences, and a lot of them have explicitly said how much that post makes them feel seen. And the podcasters in question seem to have really reflected on their actions and seem to want to do better going forward.

So as incredibly fucking stressed out as I’ve been, I guess I can’t regret making the post. It’s always good to know that your words can have impact. The post has long since moved out of my friends circle so I assume it’ll just keep circulating and I’ll keep getting shitty anons and chat messages, but I’m just gonna focus on what good has come from it. I’m hopeful that my post will make life tangibly better for at least a few disabled people, and I’m encouraged by the fact that podcasters who I’d formerly liked do actually seem to want to do the work needed to improve.

And uh I’m not answering any more messages from people who just wanna swear at me. I’m tired. Leave me alone.

[doonarose]

Hello internet,

It's 10.30am Monday and I have not checked my work emails since about 9pm Friday. Which is insane, I haven't gone more than 24 hours checking work emails in years and years. What's slightly less insane, but surprising given the not-working, is I've also not really been online.

Saturday was the mad drive down to the city, picking up unexpectedly large karaoke equipment (like, the car was full of speakers and mixers and screens) and then dumping the dog at my parents, making my excuses, dumping my car at my sisters and then taking all the karaoke stuff to the venue in an uber. Then a frantic hour and a half to assemble and get working the karaoke plus laptops hotspotting off phones and playing sportsball highlights. All this for a surprise party my dad was both surprised by and very happy with. Ended up being a great night: I drank the correct excessive amount to loosen up but pay minimal price the next morning, no fights, and I was never actually dragged into doing the karaoke myself.

Yesterday was then a lot more chill but had to go back to the venue and dismantle everything. Mostly just sat around the fire and celebrated his actual birthday, watching more sportsball, and only had a couple of beers. But I also booked myself three nights in a cabin in the forest which I am heading off to in a few hours today!!

Like, actual proper holiday mode activated! This morning I'm back on fic-writing/wrangling duty and hoping that'll take like a duck to water for my little solo romantic writer's mid-week away... we shall see.

I do still need to take all the karaoke stuff back which will take an hour and a half... gonna do that in a minute. And then just chuck everything in my car and take a meandering trip to the cabin. It's only an hour away but I should stop and buy some food and wine on the trip.

Gonna be grand.

Did I mention I've got three whole weeks off work? And I'm NOT going to check emails at all? And also that I sent an absolutely scathing email detailing just how unsustainable and ruined my department is at the moment (uni sector is terrible, blah, blah, but internal surveys recently confirmed that my particular department is about 40% more shit than the university average; also we've lost eight staff in the last four years without any replacement and with increased workload/students... just laid that out and ask how the fuck they were gonna fix it...) pressed send and then logged out. Trying not to think too much about what I might be walking back into.

FOR NOW FIC AND THE WILDERNESS AND WINE AND TREATS AND SLEEP!!!!!!

[rriavian]

Ok so here is a snippet of today's Corintheus week fic! I do intend to post it later on but am currently struggling through the edit (and I still need to decide on a title!) so I'm sharing this a little early :)

For the prompt: Undying devotion ‘this time, do not let go’ wherein Dream agrees to take part in a charity auction.

@dreamlovescori thanks for another amazing prompt!

-

Lucienne was the one who informed Dream about the auction.

The winter celebrations had always included an event for charity, the chosen organisation rotating each year, decided by an office vote taking place at the beginning of September. Dream had implemented an early deadline to ensure they’d have time to book—rarely an issue given their standing contract with the venue—as well as time to plan the scheduled festivities. It was an evening of various events both competitive and otherwise. A paint and sip had been made popular enough that it returned year on year, karaoke was also an office favourite, and depending on the mood there was sometimes a scavenger hunt.

It always ended with an awards ceremony.

The winners were voted upon in the first few weeks of December. That part was only for employees—though select clients were invited to celebrate at least the first half of the evenings events—a light-hearted way to celebrate the years achievements. It was an important occasion, not only an opportunity to network but a time for relaxation before the end of the year.

Anticipation had been building in the office for weeks.

Jessamy had scheduled a meeting to discuss the arrangements, prompt as always, the invite reaching Dream’s inbox at exactly 9:05am on December first.

This year had been a particularly busy one, the celebrations arranged for a date right in the midst of it all. In all honesty, Dream didn’t tend to pay much attention to the preparations, just ensured the funds were available and then allowed his employees to plan it as they wished. He’d almost forgotten about it entirely, had been reminded when Matthew had quite cheerfully given an update in the most recent team meeting. The subsequent email reminder that had been sent around listed out exactly what the schedule would be for the occasion.

Dream would much rather be onboarding the new client.

A latecomer to be sure but that could not be held against them—a novelist pitching a phenomenal detective story Dream had devoured in a few hours and immediately agreed to publish—the contracting process revealed to be far more complex than initially anticipated. It appeared his client dipped into different markets the same way Dream did; this the first novel, not the first venture, one such enterprise a dabbling into a franchise of horror themed escape rooms that was going very well. It may have added weeks of work to the end of the year but that was just part of the job. There was much to be done before the year was over, all needed to ensure a smooth transition.

Yet it was also Dream's responsibility to attend his own charity event. He would not risk creating an impression that he didn’t think it was important.

Still, when Lucienne knocked on the door of his office and explained that there had been a last minute adjustment he’d been sceptical. Then when she’d elaborated on how there would now be a charity auction added to the schedule Dream had stared at her a moment too long to claim neutrality.

“What sort of auction?”

There was much he could donate.

But Dream had his suspicions that this was an occasion of another sort.

“Not one you’re used to.” Lucienne’s smile was amused, but kind, she’d seen what his concern was without him needing to say it. “For your time. A dinner, to be precise.”

Dream frowned. “Who would want to take me to dinner?”

He didn’t try and hide the perplexity in his tone. Lucienne laughed; fond, not mocking, and so it did not rankle despite how it was clear she was laughing at him. “You might be surprised about that.”

“I don’t think I will be.” Dream replied. Then nodded briskly. “Very well. May I request a favour?”

“Depends.”

“Would you bid?” He asked. “To ensure that—”

Dream trailed off, frowned as he realised how he’d intended to end the sentence, unsure where the sudden insecurity had come from. He was not worried about being forced to spend time with someone intolerable—that was already a part of his job—nor was he concerned about no one bidding at all. That was already somewhat certain. Yet something about an unknown entity had him needing to ensure he would spend the evening with someone he knew.

Further explanation didn’t end up being required.

Lucienne’s smile was soft. “Of course. I presume you’re paying?”

The tone turned sly at the end, the gentleness a cushion for it. Dream laughed quietly, tension uncurling. “I will fund your donation.”

He waited a beat before changing tact.

“Now. About the new client.”

[the-grimsqueaker]

Hi! I saw your post about the tickets. I’m really sorry that happened. I have a bad habit of offering potential solutions rather than empathy when empathy is what is needed, so please feel free to ignore this.

May I suggest that along with calling the box office, you have screenshots available of the money coming out of your bank account on your bank app, the confirmation email, screenshots from the website of the seating charts with your seats circled, and a nice picture or digital scan of your ID to prove who you are legally. Make sure you mention the address you would have sent the tickets to and the email address you used in the ordering process. Offer to email all of this to the box office. Actually get the email draft ready with all of these screenshots and details and be ready to just input any email they give you and click send. The more information you have the better, not just because it may help them track down your tickets, but also because it shows that you are willing to try and are a real person, as well as because it gives you a plan of action, which is super helpful for high anxiety situations such as this. Remember to ask for Will-call.

Even if you don’t get tickets ahead of time, if you are able, show up at the concert venue and give them your confirmation receipt at the door. They might not let you in, but they might send you to the correct humans that will actually be able to help you.

If all else fails, make different plans for you and your mom. Don’t let the day be a waste! You have a hotel room, so turn it into a spa day by going to the nearest store and picking up some fancy lotions or face masks and nail polish. Maybe go out and do a scavenger hunt where you challenge each other to find things like “a shoe that would never fit a human” or “a vinyl record of an artist with pun on it” don’t go back to the hotel until you’ve crossed off everything on your list.

I’m sorry if that was a weird or unhelpful message to receive from a stranger. Feel free to ignore this. ❤️

Hey, thank you, I actually genuinely appreciate this.

I was freaking out 6 hours ago, but I have since had a couple of hours sleep (got woken up by the world's loudest and clunkiest air-conditioner) and I have a plan of action to call the box office at 9am and find out exactly what they need from me. I've got my confirmation email up on my phone already so I don't have to find it again, and I've got all my I.D on me and stuff. Hopefully they can either print my tickets at the venue or send them digitally (preferably the first option).

I booked these tickets a year ago, and there were no follow up reminders, and I vaguely remember something about "you will receive your tickets one month before the event" (which I did not) which is dumb why not just send them when they're paid for? Or better yet have the "this email is not your ticket" section of the email be at the tippy top of the email, instead of "you're in!" Followed by my seat information. Which looks suspiciously like a ticket!!

When Pink was last in my city my mum was supposed to come with me and she got the flu the day of the concert and couldn't make it. She'll be devastated if she misses out again just because I'm a moron, particularly after the shitshow of the last couple of years with her getting cancer and going through treatment and beating it and everything.

Like at minimum she might just never speak to me again.

[travelingtheusa]

MONTANA

2023 Jun 16 (Fri) – We rode into town to get fuel and pick up milk at the grocery store.  We stopped in the café for lunch.  It was not very good but we ate it.

      At 3:30 p.m. we went to the pavilion to set up.  At 4:00 p.m. we started the travel meeting despite the fact that everyone was not there (I want to set the stage for promptness so I will not wait for everyone to get there).  The briefing was long but filled with important information.  Johnny did a power point presentation about the Milepost but most everybody was confused just the same.  It will make more sense when we start using it.  Right now, our move tomorrow is not included in the Milepost.  The book only follows the main routes and we will be on side roads for the first two moves.

2023 Jun 15 (Thu) – We worked on caravan “stuff.”  I called campgrounds and venues to confirm our attendance.  At 4:30 p.m. we went down to the pavilion for the potluck dinner.  It has been quite well organized.  First, the group was divided into two groups:  Group 1 and Group 2.  Then each team was assigned a leader.  We are in Group 1.  The menu has been divided into 3 meats, 3 vegetables, 3 desserts, and whatever (I am assigned the whatever is needed).  The theme for tonight was Mexican.  Only 10 of the rigs need to cook while the other 10 enjoy the meal.  I suppose it makes things easier.

      The meal was delicious, of course.  The group organized the meal to include tablecloths and lay out very well.  The caravan is forming up nicely.  There is usually someone you can identify as a problem person who we will have trouble with on the caravan, but no one has emerged as such yet.  Maybe we’ll be lucky and not have one of those on this trip.  We will see what we will see.

2023 Jun 14 (Wed) – We stayed around the campground getting everything ready for tonight’s orientation meeting and welcome dinner.  We went down to the pavilion at 3 p.m. to set out the travel guides, jackets, and goodie bags.  There was a mistake in the jackets.  We got two of the same one and one missing.  It turned out to be both the vendor and my fault.  I sent him an email asking to ship a jacket to us in Alaska.  He’s been so hard to get hold of, I hope he responds quickly.

      The orientation went well.  Paul took pictures as everyone arrived, then sent them to get their items staged in the back of the pavilion.  Everyone was full of questions but lighthearted and ready to begin.  After the meeting, we all went to the Johnson’s of St. Mary café for dinner.  We had bison vegetable soup, bread, bottom round beef with huckleberry sauce, mashed potatoes & gravy, and cole slaw.  It was pretty good.  Everything was served family style.  Day 1 was off to a good start despite a cold and wet day.  The jackets were just what we needed!

2023 Jun 13 (Tue) – Paul and I went down to the café to see what the lay-out will be for tomorrow’s dinner.  It is a cut log cabin style with lots of animal skeletons and skins hung around the room.  The lower dining room is 4 steps down to the dining room.  Not bad.

      We brought out all the items to go into the goody bags for everyone.  Johnny & Linda, Joe & Diane, and us all put the stuff in the bags.  There were books, chocolates, candy, give-aways, and hand-outs.  Hope everyone likes what they get.

       We got an email from the guy at the Western Millar Sawmill.  We had a tour scheduled for June 22.  After trying to get hold of the contact for almost a week, he finally got back and said they couldn’t do the tour.  No real reason why.  Another person sent me an email saying the tours were cancelled during COVID and never resumed.  Then a phone message from the guy at the sawmill intimating that the wildfires in Canada are to blame.  That’s disappointing.

      When we were done with the bags, Johnny & Linda rode with Joe & Diane and we drove to the Many Glacier, after a quick stop at the post office to mail off a birthday gift to our grandson.  We went to the Many Glacier Lodge for lunch.  It was very nice and the lodge was beautiful.  Built in 1915, it has kept most of its old-style charm.

      After lunch, we went to the Ptarmigan falls then to the Weber falls.  They were both invigorating.  When we got back, Paul and I walked around greeting the folks who arrived in the campground during the day.  We now have 13 of the 20 rigs going on the caravan.  Guess 7 will be coming in tomorrow.  At 5 p.m. we had happy hour and we were pleased to see that everyone came to it.  This promises to be a good group that will socialize with one another.  

2023 Jun 12 (Mon) – We had to run into town to the credit union to get another $5,000 for the caravan petty cash fund.  Then I had to go to another bank to exchange that for Canadian money.  My $5,000 turned into $6,150.  Pretty good deal.  We also stop at Albertsons to get some dry food for Sheba.

      We got back to the campground, finished packing up, and pulled out at 10:40 a.m.  It was a pleasant drive through some beautiful country to St. Mary.  We pulled in around 2:30 p.m.  I went into the office and settled the bill for the caravan then drove to our campsite.  Six rigs are already here.  Everyone who knew us came over and gave big hugs and hellos.  After set up, I walked by each rig to find out who was here and what campsite they were in.  Then we all brought our chairs to a site where Joe put up his 10x10 tent and enjoyed some comradery and libations.

      At 6:30 p.m., we called it quits and went in.  Linda made her famous etouffee for us, Joe & Diane, and Dave & Dot.  We set up two picnic tables – they were mini tables that only seated 4 – and ate outside.  It was very pleasant.

2023 Jun 11 (Sun) - We tried to watch the church services back home but the sound was terrible.  We could hardly make out what people were saying.  Apparently, Doug is away and the laity was conducting the service. 

      We did the laundry.  The campground has 2 washers and 4 dryers.  Why so many dryers as compared to washers is anybody’s guess.  While the clothes were drying, we drove into town to get propane and fuel for tomorrow’s move.  We ran out of propane this morning but when Paul went to check on it, the tank was full.  Turned out to be a bad regulator.  So we picked up a new regulator and hose at North 40.  While I was there, I got a present for our grandson who is turning 4 the end of this month.  I also went online and ordered a stamp collecting kit for our other grandson who is turning 11.  They keep getting older.  😊

      Johnny & Linda, our tail gunners on the Alaska Caravan, arrived today.  We happily greeted one another.  After they ran to the store to get needed supplies, we sat and visited, talking about the upcoming caravan and plans for conducting it.

2023 Jun 10 (Sat) – We continued work on the books and other items until 11:30 a.m.  Then we drove to the Roadside Diner to meet Marlin & Beth.  They are also taking a caravan for the first time.  Beth peppered us with questions and concerns.  We answered them all and, again, worked to reassure them as we did Karl & Terri.  They are certainly excited about the trip.  As are we.  Several members of the caravan have been checking in as they move toward our starting point in St. Mary.  One couple is already there and others are arriving from now to when we start on June 14. 

      I continued to call campgrounds and venues to confirm arrangements.  It turned out that the White Pass train ride only has 38 reservations, not 39.  When I asked the clerk to add one, she said they are full.  I have to call back the day before or day of the trip to see if there is a cancellation.  If that doesn’t happen, one of the group (probably Paul or I) will have to sit the trip out.  I keep mumbling to myself, “Remember the ‘F’ word.”  (FLEXIBILITY)  I know there will be changes as we go along but I want this trip to be perfect.  It is the trip of a lifetime for so many people.  We hope it will be the best.

      We went food shopping.  Also stopped at a place called North 40.  It was like a combination Camping World, WalMart, and Ace Hardware.  We were like kids in a candy store, exploring all the items stocked on the shelves in the huge store.

2023 Jun 9 (Fri) – We pulled out at 9 a.m. and headed for Great Falls, MT.  We are staying at Malmstrom AFB FamCamp.  We had reservations at the Annex on base but when I called to confirm and get our site number, we were told we wouldn’t fit in that campground.  Instead, they relocated us to the Gateway off base.  It is a very nice campground – sites are paved with concrete, they are full hook-up with 50 amp, and there is a small laundry room. 

      Another couple from our upcoming caravan – Karl & Terri – are also in Gateway.  They came by to say hi but we were out shopping.  We found their note and walked over later to say hello.  This will be the first caravan they have ever been on and they are pretty excited.  We reassured them, reviewed some of what is coming up, and (hopefully) made them feel a little more comfortable about the trip.

      There is also another couple from our caravan staying in the Annex.  We will meet them for lunch tomorrow at the Roadside Diner.

      We ran out to Staples to pick up the printed Travel Guide, binders, and tabs.  The clerk offered us a 20% discount which we jumped on.  It saved us over $200!  When we got back, we spent the day putting the books together.  Came to discover that one page was off and half the book is right and the back half is off in terms of where the chapters start.  Thank goodness I added pages for notes.  Otherwise, the book would be unusable.  As it is, the notes from the previous chapter will be at the front of the next chapter.  Inconvenient but usable.

2023 Jun 8 (Thu) – It rained most of the day today.  It was overcast and blah.  We went for lunch at Steve’s Café.  I had a cheeseburger; Paul had a chicken sandwich.  It was good.  We also stopped to get fuel for tomorrow’s move.

       We spent the day working on Alaska caravan “stuff.”  I made calls, sent emails, and printed copies.  We are close now!  Unfortunately, Canada is experiencing wildfires now.  The smoke is choking the easter seaboard.  I hope the fires don’t impede us as we travel through Canada to Alaska.

2023 Jun 7 (Wed) – We went to breakfast at the Running Bear Pancake House.  It was crowded but we only had to wait about 10 minutes.  The waitress was a hoot and we wound up leaving her a hefty tip.  It pays to make the customers feel good.

      We returned to the campground, packed up, and left at 9:35 a.m.  Paul has solved the bedroom slide issue (we think), but only brings it out about a foot – just to be on the safe side.  It’s open just enough to squeeze past the bottom of the bed to get to the closet.  The drive was very nice through awesome countryside with meadows, ranches, miles of open, grassy plains, and mountains.  The weather stayed nice for us.  At noon, we stopped at the home of the owner of Precision Guns in Whitehall.  He has a shop in town but also runs business out of his home shop.  There was no parking so we pulled over as far as we could on the side of the road.  He took my shotgun and ammunition to hold until we get back from Alaska in three months.

      Continuing on our way, we arrived at Fort Harrison in Helena.  Unfortunately, they had us down as arriving tomorrow and had no room for us today.  I got on the camping app and found a spot at the Lewis & Clark County Fairgrounds.  They only have 30-amp hookup.  We had to fill our fresh water tank.  They also don’t have sewer hookup or dump station.  It’s pretty bare bones here.  The sites are a little uneven but spacious. 

       We spent the afternoon finalizing the paperwork and hand-outs for the caravan.  I uploaded the travel guide and sent it to Staples for printing.  We will pick 21 copies of the guide along with binders and divider tabs on Friday or Saturday.

2023 Jun 6 (Tue) – We got up early in order to beat the crowd to the park.  We left at 7:30 am and stopped to get breakfast at a café.  When we got to the entrance of Yellowstone, we waited on a long line to get in the park.  So much for an early start. 

      We drove the southern loop around the park.  What a fantastic place!  We stopped at several places to hike down to see waterfalls and thermal locations.  At lunch time, we parked next to the Yellowstone Lake and enjoyed sandwiches while gazing out at the snow covered Grand Teton Mountains in the distance.  It was a long day but just breathtaking.  The weather held out for the entire day,  sprinkling a little on our way out of the park.

2023 Jun 5 (Mon) – We packed up and left Idaho Falls, ID at 9:35.  It was almost a four-hour drive to West Yellowstone, MT.  We are staying at the Wagon Wheel Campground.  It is an older campground and in need of TLC.  The sites are tight and there are lots of overgrown trees in the camp.  There is a hotel next door with the same name.  They charged us $177 for two nights!  It is about 3 minutes from the entrance into Yellowstone National Park.

      After we squeezed into our assigned campsite, we headed out to tour Yellowstone NP.  We took the upper loop road in the north of the park.  Tomorrow we will take the bottom route, or southern loop.  Our Senior Pass got us in for no cost (the entrance fee is $35).  There were many cars there already.  The park was so awesome.  So many different kinds of things to see.  There was still snow around the higher altitudes on the mountain slopes and some of the higher elevation roadways.  We spotted a grizzly with bear cub, elk, and lots of bison.  Looking forward to coming back tomorrow.

[clickingkeyboards]

Story time!

I just finished working on my university’s fringe festival and I took on two shows, one I handed over to another stage manager who wanted to do the in-venue part; and one I saw through to the end.

I was working with Masters students who were all lovely, including this LD.

It was an uncomplicated one man piece, yet somehow we didn’t get far at all during tech, even though the stress levels were low. We debriefed after and the LD asked for more tech time, and I went to the festival team and organised us another hour of tech prior to our show.

After this, the LD asked for the LX op’s phone number, and I gave it to him.

The LD was sending a lot of voice notes talking about his lighting, but the drama didn’t culminate until a week later. He asked me to email the festival team and ask for even more time, and the team told me that one LD had had SIX HOURS of extra tech time.

I had, perhaps obviously, not been in the room for this.

Show day rolls around and we all rock up an hour early to, I think, plot in a few final cues. Five cues, the LD says, just adding sparkles to a few basic states, and then he’ll update the cue sheet for me.

Those ‘five cues’ take an hour.

He then sits down to edit the cue sheet. and isn’t getting it done fast. I’m not too worried, because I’ve got all the cues in my book and had done for weeks and weeks, and the LD assured me there were only minor changes.

Four minutes before the show goes up, I’m handed a cue sheet and told, “It’s all the same as your book up to cue 17.”

There were 58 cues in my book.

The beginning goes well, and in the gaps I’m peering forward to see the changes. After cue 17, it seems okay. There’s a few missing cues, but the LD has skipped over the numbers so the cues are still correct to my script.

The hell begins at LX24, when I call a cue that doesn’t exist.

I stare at the operator and go, “What do you mean?”

The cans we had were shit, so I pantomimed, “What is your next cue?”

“27.”

“What the fuck?”

We were all crammed into a tiny desk, so I had to get the sound operator to move so I could sit next to lighting and we could work out what was going on.

The next chunk of cues led into a battle sequence, and in my cue sheet, updated five minutes before the show, was:

24, 27, 26, 27 (you read that right), 28, and all the way through to 40, 40.1, and 40.2.

What was in the desk, you ask?

27

32

40.1

Me and the operator panic through the rest of the show, and find that nearly half the cues in the cue sheet were missing from the desk, and a handful of what was there didn’t do what the cue sheet described.

We danced back and forth between states, making the last third of the show work off the top of my head with four cues, forgoing the nonsensical cue sheet and just trying to make it look okay.

Afterwards?

The lighting tutor walks up to us before the audience has left and goes, “That was awful and everyone noticed,” and I proceeded to rip into her that only the LD was at fault.

The LD sent me a whingy message saying he felt like everyone was blaming him, when A) one person had spoken to him about it and it was his tutor, and B) YES WE ARE BLAMING YOU BECAUSE IT WAS YOUE FAULT

I didn’t go to the pub after because I was afraid I’d start shouting at the LD if I was tipsy.

Bring on the post-mortem in May.

One reblog and you can hear about the worst LD to ever exist

[airis-paris14]

Starlight Chapter 13

Summary: Amani is an orphaned heiress who's spent most of her life raising her younger sister. T'Challa is a widowed King and Father. Neither of them is expecting much from their night at the Lotus. But the coming months have many milestones in store for these young adults. Will becoming a family be one of them?

Warnings: N/A

Masterlist

2 months later

“Amani, I’m about to head out,” Amare called, grabbing her house keys off of the hook. “Okay, hold on, I'll be right back Baby.” T’Challa nodded into the phone and muted himself to speak to someone off screen. Amani hurried down the stairs and smiled at her little sister. “Okay, passport, keys, tickets, wallet, and medicine in carryon?”

“Yes mother,” Amare smirked.

“I’m just trying to keep you safe kid,” the older Okeke smiled and pulled her in for a hug. “You’re 18, not 21, so please, no sneaking off without telling Shuri’s guards where you all are going. Limit your alcohol intake, I know it’s legal over there but the last thing I need is a call from a German hospital saying you have alcohol poisoning.”

“I promise I will limit the drinking, and the sneaking out.”

“Good. Have fun, be safe. I love you.” Amani smiled and pulled her sister in for another hug. “Love you too sis. I’ll only be gone for a week.”

“I know, but you know I hate saying goodbye. You’re all I have left kid. But I want to let you live, so go before you miss your flight. Hug Shuri for me.

“I’ll call you when I land.” Amare bounded down the front steps and into her already packed car. Amani sighed watching her wave one last time before pulling off down the street. She waved at the patrol car as it drove by on its hourly surveillance drive by, before locking her door and heading up the stairs into her office. “And I’m back,” she plopped into her seat, reopening her MacBook.

“Personally I don’t think it’s fair that our sisters see each other more than we do,” the king teased. Amani rolled her eyes, “This is their first time seeing each other since we came home, it’s only been two months,” Amani laughed. “Yes, and after having you here for three months, I’ve decided that 61 days is too long to be out of your presence.”

“Well you know I’m working to get the venue started up, I just can’t travel as much as usual. You know I would be there if I could,” Her voice began to tremble.

“I know my love,” T’Challa reassured, “I am just teasing,” he frowned, noticing her eyes tearing up. “I know but lately I’ve just been feeling like such a bad girlfriend,” she began to sob and the king panicked. “Hey no, you’re perfect. Nothing's wrong. It’s on both of us and I was gonna tell you that I was planning to surprise you with a visit.”

“Really?” Amani sniffled.

“Yes so please stop crying entle.” The heiress grabbed a tissue from the box she had begun to keep on her desk after noticing that even the little things made her tear up. “I’m sorry. I ruined the surprise again,” she chuckled, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “It is fine, now you have something to look forward to. You hate them anyway,” the king teased.

“Are you sure you’re alright though my love? You have been extra-sensitive lately.”

“In more ways than one,” the heiress murmured. “Have you been to the new doctor, did she run the tests the doctor here ordered?” The king grabbed a stack of papers and began signing them. “Yep,” Amani read over and responded to an email her contractor sent before turning her attention back to T’Challa. “I have an appointment with her tomorrow. She and Dr. Zabulie both sounded very excited so I’m hoping it's a positive result.”

The king smiled at the news, “Well then I’ll be expecting a full report as soon as you know.”

“Of course. I’ll call your mother as well, I wouldn’t even be in this position if you all hadn’t encouraged me to go see another doctor.”

“We both just want what is best for you,” the king smiled, “but unfortunately I have a meeting to attend to my love. I will call you later tonight, okay?”

“Of course, I’ll see you later.” She blew a kiss through the phone before the king had to hang up. After responding to more emails, she scheduled some property manager interviews for later in the week and a building walk through. Her phone caught her attention as it began to ring, “Hello?” She answered. “Hey, Kura and I finished those designs for different set ups and interiors, are you free to go over them?”

“Yeah,” Amani smiled. While in Wakanda she and her friends decided to go into the event business together. They’d bought an old hotel downtown in Atlanta and decided to turn it into a sleepover venue. With suites and rooms designed for different party sizes and moveable features to make the room age appropriate. A spa, boutique, and restaurant, would be located on the grounds as well. There was also a separate grand ballroom and garden that allowed them to market the place as an all in one wedding venue. They’d started work while in Wakanda and now two months later they were weeks away from opening the ballroom, gardens, and other non overnight amenities for event bookings. They would use the money from the rentals to help recover the costs of renovating the hotel rooms.

“Bet. We’ll be over in 30. Sakura has to pick up the pizza first.”

“Cool, don’t forget extra garlic butter sauce. Imma hop in the shower. Y’all can just use your keys to let yourselves in.”

After hanging up the phone Amani hopped in the shower and let the water soothe her muscles. She’d been working so hard to make sure everything came together and it finally was. She was more in love with T’Challa each day, she was starting a business with her friends, and Darius had been spotted in New York living with some family he had there. She still had nightly surveillance, but knowing that he’d move out of the state definitely calmed her nerves.

“Madiyson?” The heiress called as the sound of the front door caught her attention. When she didn’t receive a response she shrugged and figured she had her beats on. She quickly motioned with her coconut oil,slipped into some sweatpants, and pulled a sports bra over her head before a voice sent a chill down her spine. “You’ve been holding out on me Amani.”

Darius got up from his seat behind her on the bed and revealed the kitchen knife he was holding. “If I had known you could look like that, I would’ve made you work out more.”

“How the hell did you get in my house?”

“No Thank you? Darius frowned.

“What do I have to thank you for?”

“Giving you a second chance,” Darius smirked before lunging at the Okeke heiress. Amani, dodged his lunge as he ran into the dresser she was standing in front of. “ A second chance for what you bastard!” The heiress resisted the urge to search for her phone, she knew Darius, he watched her eyes always to anticipate her next move. “You ruined my life. You were supposed to be my wife, look pretty, give me kids. Instead your ass got me locked up for damn near life. Now my dad is all on my ass because he had to call in a favor with the DA and the governor in one sitting-”

“Well maybe your ass should’ve just stayed in jail then!” Amani ducked, expecting the lamp on the nightstand to fly towards her head. She took the moment she dodged the light fixture to locate her phone. It was too far and she knew that she’d never be able to reach it before Darius finished his spiel. She’d have to leave her friends a clue that something had gone wrong.

“Now,” Darius eyed Amani as she backed up against the wall, “as I was saying. Everyone is counting on me to not fuck up! Which means I need to get my old life back, starting with you Ms. Okeke, now heiress of the Okeke Industries Tech Conglomerate.”

“No one will ever believe that we are a happy couple once again Darius, they found me, clinging to life, hypothermic, and bleeding because you literally beat our child out of me. It was on the five o'clock news for weeks straight.” Amani risked eyeing her keys once more, hoping that the plan she was hatching would work.

“What better way to show them that I am a changed man, than by having you forgive me. A redeemed love, a true love,” Darius stepped up to Amani and caressed her cheeks and lips. The woman felt like crawling out of her skin but she held it together. “Why don’t you just find another woman?” Not that Amani wished Darius on any other woman, she’d prefer he’d be locked up in a cell, but she needed to get him to back up. “Does it really matter? I want you, and I’ve already invested a lot in you Amani. You got a little break to have fun and spend time with other men, but you are mine. You always were and you always will be, it’s time I got a return on my investment. “ Darius took a seat on Amani’s bed and she silently rejoiced.

“Okay, then what’s your plan?”

“You don’t need to know all of that. Just know that I’m not leaving you behind Amani.” Darius pointed the knife and Amani nodded, “I’m just gonna grab my keys,” she gestured. “If I go missing, the police will look at all of your father’s and friend’s properties, no one will think I was stupid enought to take you to one of our vacation homes.” At least the waitress hoped this wasn’t the stupidest idea she’d ever had.

“Nah, cause I’m sure your friends and man know all about those places. Not to mention your little sister.”

“Amare is out of the country at a science conference, won’t be home for two weeks, you’ll have time to move me before she can get back. As for the others, they don’t even know we own vacation properties.” Amani scoured through her keys and grabbed the one she knew her sister would recognize as missing first. “Here, we can go to the chateau in the mountains in North Carolina. It’s secluded. No one for miles around.”

Darius stood up, “Nah, there’s a reason you’re helping me. What is it?”

“You’re never gonna leave me alone otherwise. I don’t wanna die, and this is most likely the last time I’ll ever get a decision about something that happens to me. Think of it as my final words.” As soon as the excuse left her mouth Amani felt her mouth go dry and heavy, for some reason, it did feel like she’d sealed her own fate.

“Amani!” Madiyson called as she entered the apartment. Sakura followed in hot on her heels to place the heavy pizzas in the kitchen. “I still don’t know why you ordered four pizzas for 3 people,” Madiyson laughed, dropping all of her interior design sketches and renderings on the table. “As much of a perfectionist each of us is… We're gonna be here all night and y’all are gonna be glad I bought enough pizza.”

“Well if AMANI would BRING. HER. ASS. DOWN. THE. STAIRS we could get started and be done at a godly hour.” Madison yelled up the stairs into the continued silence. “You told her we were coming, right?”Sakura joined her friend at the base of Amani’s stairs and frowned. “Yeah, she said just let ourselves in.”

“Maybe she’s taking a nap, she’s been doing that more often than usual.”

“Oh god, if she’s taking a nap then she’ll be dead to the world right now. You wanna wake her up while I set up?” Madiyson shook her head and walked back over to the couch in the living room. “Sure, just throw me into the lion’s den. You know she hates being woken up by anyone but Amare and Ada.” Sakura whined. “You’ll be fine, she would never hate you. Just make it seem like she woke herself up. Throw a pillow or something.” Madiyson shrugged and opened her laptop.

“Always the sacrifice, never the beneficiary,” Sakura mumbled as she jogged up the stairs into Amani’s room. “Mani,” the afro-asian woman sang as she burst into the room, only to be greeted by a perfectly made bed. “Amani?'' She tried to calm her heartbeat as she checked her friend’s closet and bathroom. “Okay focus, details details,” Sakura chanted to herself. “7:47, no phone in the room, nothing messed up, somebody sat on the bed,” the waitress took note of the room as she backed her way out, down the stairs, and towards the garage. “Hey, did you- what’s wrong,” Madiyson frowned as her best friend opened the garage door and looked out. “Did she say she was gonna leave?” Sakura ignored Madiyson’s original question, feeling her stomach drop at the presence of Amani’s car, and the empty house. “No, she said she was gonna take a shower-”

“Madiyson, She’s not here.”

“Look, I already told you what happened. Madiyson called Amani at 6:30, she picked me up, we picked up the pizzas, let ourselves in, but she wasn’t here when i went to check on her. I went into the room at 7:47. The shower had been turned on and the room was steamy, and someone had sat on her bed but Amani hates that unless she’s about to go to sleep. Except she isn’t in her room sleeping!”

“Why are you all not taking this seriously! Her abusive ex is a known kidnapping threat. For God’s sake she’s had a 24/7 patrol for months because there was fear he would try to retaliate! Now that she’s missing, y’all aren’t doing a damn thing.” Madiyson butted in frustrated at the officers staring at them like they were aliens from outer space.

“Ma’am, we are just trying to get all the facts first-”

I’ve given them to you three times, if you can’t comprehend then we’ve got a bigger problem!” Sakura fumed and the officers stood. “We’ll call headquarters and see what we can do. Technically it has to be 48 hours before we can report and adult as missing-”

“Just get out please,” Madiyson sighed. She held open the door for the officers who hesitated, their feathers obviously ruffled.

“I’ll try calling Amare again.” Sakura stood and walked out after the officers left. Madiyson locked the door and stared up at the clock, realizing she should probably call T’Challa.

“Hello?” Madiyson breathed deeply as the call finally connected to the king, “T, she’s gone,” the woman’s voice warbled but her words shook the king all the same. “What do you mean she is gone?” He stood, immediately stumbling to slip on some shoes and race through the halls to his mother’s room. “Sakura and I came for a meeting, and she wasn’t here. Her car is here but she isn't and she assured us she’d be here taking a shower. Someone else was here because someone was sitting on her bed, at the bottom. You know she hates people ruffling her sheets.”

“Have you talked to Amare? Are you sure she didn’t take her to the airport?”

“We’ve been trying to reach her but she's still on the plane. She would have been back by now if she just went to the airport. She knew we were coming.” Madiyson broke, sobbing into the phone.

T’Challa’s heart dropped, his mind racing back to how he’d begged his lover not to go back until the rumors that her abuser had officially moved were confirmed. Now she was gone and the king felt he had failed to protect her. “Madiyson, Madiyson, I need you to breathe and keep breathing. Did you call the police?”

“Yes, but-“ Madiyson stumbled trying to regain her composure, “they said since it hasn’t been 48 hours it’s not technically a missing persons case.”

The king felt anger rush through his veins, “So they aren’t doing anything?”

“Not really,” Madiyson moved to grab tissue from Amani’s bathroom. “Have her call the detectives over these two imbeciles. She was on 24 hour surveillance due to risk of revenge from her abuser. Them sitting around doesn’t make any sense.”

“I know, I know, I’m heading downstairs right now-” Madison paused as she noticed Amani’s keys on her vanity. “Wait, one of her keys-” Madison trailed off flipping through the keys. “One of her keys is what?” T’Challa knocked on his mother’s door. “It’s missing. When her parents died, she kept keys to all of their properties. With them all labeled with numbers but I don’t know which one is which. Just number three is missing,” Madison ran a hand over her braids and huffed. T’Challa banged on his mother’s door again before taking a step back and pacing the hall. “Okay, You and Sakura just stay there, keep trying to reach Amare. I’m on my way and I’ll try to reach Shuri. See if you can figure out what key is missing.”

“Okay, call us when you land.”

T’Challa hung up the phone, “Umama!” He banged on the door before Ramonda yanked it open. “T’Challa, what in Bast’s name-”

“It’s Amani, she’s missing. We have to go now, can you try to reach Shuri? Her friends think they have a lead but we need to reach Amare.”

“How long has she been missing?” The queen mother rushed back in her room and started to get dressed and pack a bag. “We don’t know, I just got off the phone with Madiyson. They went to the house and she was missing.”

“Did they call the police?”

“They say they can’t report her absence until 48 hours has passed,” T’Challa opened his beads and messaged Okoye. I need you, Ayo, a plane, and five of your best warriors. Meet me on the tarmac in 30.”

“When do we leave?”

“In 30 minutes, I have to pack a bag. Ayo and Okoye will meet us at the tarmac with some back up, can you please try to reach Shuri while I get ready?”

“Yes, I will try calling her.”

The king nodded and turned to rush back to his room. “T’Challa,” Ramonda called out,”We will find her. She will be alright.” He offered his mother a sad smile before continuing down the hall.

“It’s the North Carolina key?”

“Yes. Number 3 it's her favorite number for her favorite house.” Amare insisted as Sakura flipped through the keys again.

“Do you know the address?” Madison interrupted.upiui

“Uh, number 3 Lodge Street Asheville, North Carolina.”

“And you’re sure that is the key that is missing?” T’Challa interrupted Madiyson and Amare. The teen looked at the king through the camera, the lights of the quinjet humming behind her as Shuri watched on. “Yes, I’m positive. Amani is heading to the North Carolina house.”

The king hit the table and turned to his guard, “We are heading to North Carolina. Now.”

“We’ll meet you there-”

“No,” T’Challa and his mother answered at the same time.``You two stay exactly where you are,'' Ramonda demanded. “All due respect, I am not staying over here in Germany when my sister has been kidnapped by her abuser!” Amare rebutted. “Yes, but for all we know he has men looking for you too. As well as Madiyson and Sakura. So until then, at least we know where you are. We are sending Dora Milaje to your hotel.” T’Challa finalized.

“No, I am not standing back when my sister is in danger. I wasn’t there the first time she was saved and opened her eyes, I want to be there this time.” Amare demanded while she teared up and T’Challa sighed. He walked around the desk to look at Okoye and his mother. “You all can head back to Wakanda, once the extra Dora arrive. Once we have her, we’ll bring her back to Shuri’s lab, there you guys can see her.” The king looked at everyone in the room, “Besides, I don’t think it is safe for any of you to be in the US alone right now.”

“So what are you saying?” Sakura sat up from her place on the couch. T’Challa nodded at the general of the Dora Milaje. Okoye tapped her staff and escorted the rest of the warriors out of the home. Once the door had shut the room turned to face T’Challa again. “I have been thinking, especially in light of what has happened to Amani, that you all should move to Wakanda. Stay in the palace of course. I know you two would have to travel for business and Amare we’d have to figure out your schooling, but it is obvious that this government has no vestment in keeping you all safe. I can do something about it and I will, if you all will let me.”

“I don’t know T-” Madiyson started.

“I had been thinking about transferring to study with Shuri, but I don’t know how Amani would take it.” Amare added. “She’s not just gonna give up her independence. She just got it back from Darius,” Sakura added. “I know but it is not safe here, at least for now. As well connected as that fugitive is, who knows what will happen to you all if he goes back to jail. I let Amani convince me she would be safe, and now two months later we are searching for her praying to Bast that she isn’t dead.”

“T’Challa this is not your fault,” Sakura interjected. “I know, but if I can keep you all safe, I have a responsibility to do so. You will have free will and autonomy, but at least inside Wakanda’s borders, I can guarantee your safety.

“I think this is a lovely conversation, but might I remind you all that this is a time sensitive case. Let’s table this discussion until we all make it back to Wakanda” Shuri interrupted the discussion that seemed to be heading towards an endless round table. “Shuri is right, time is of the essence.” Ramonda spoke standing, “everyone comes back to wakanda for the time being. Once we rescue Amani, we send our war dogs to clear any suspicions and make sure it is safe for you all to return. Then we make a decision. Until then-“

“We focus on the task at hand.” Madiyson finished and Ramonda agreed. “Shuri and Amare head back home once the Dora arrive. When we have Amani we’ll let you know.”

“Keep my sister safe T’Challa,” Amare asserted before hanging up. “She’s just nervous,” Sakura reassured. “We are all glad we have someone here to help us this time. But we should get on the road. Darius works fast.” The Afro-Asian waitress added solemnly. The king nodded, “Phambile,” he called and the guards opened the doors escorting everyone to the cars waiting to race to the airport.”

Fourteen Hours Ago

“Amani.” The heiress fumbled to wrap the stick back it s package and hide it on the sink before running out of her bathroom. “Hey,” she offered her younger sister a smile but only received a confused face in return. “Hey, you’re up early, I thought you’d be sleep,” Amare took a seat in one of the overstuffed arm chairs in her sisters bedroom. “I wasn’t feeling well. I got up to take some medicine no biggie,”Amani shrugged. “You go to the doctor again soon right? You should have her check it out.”

“She’s an OBGYN, but I’ll see what she might be able to recommend.”

“Cool, well I’d been thinking-“

“Oh that’s never good,” the heiress laughed as her sister shot daggers her way. “As I was saying. I’ve been thinking about transferring to study in Wakanda with Shuri. It’d make it easier for you to come see Tchalla and I could get accustomed to the culture before we move there-“

“Hey hey, who said we we’re moving to Wakanda?”

“Amani. I’m not dumb or a little girl anymore. I know how marriages and relationships work. I know you live tchalla. I know he loves you. And I know how monarchies work. I also know that T’Challa has asked you to move in or visit more often and that I’m probably the reason you’re hesitant about doing either.”

“You’re right, but I didn’t say anything cause I don’t want you thinking you have to move because of me and T’Challa. I want you to follow your dreams, and dtudying at MIT was one of those dreams.”

“And dreams change, Amare reminded. I used to any to be a ballerina, astronaut, actress, and hear I am studying at MIT. And now, I know that the university of Wakanda can offer me so much more. Plus I’ll get to spend more time with my best friend and take advantage of her lab. It’s a win win!” The young genius insisted. Amani sighed and settled on the chair next to her.

“How about we finish out this fall semester and pick up the conversation over Christmas break. I just don’t want you to regret anything.” The older sister explained.

“That’s fair.” Amare nodded and stood. “Back to you though, are you sure you’re feeling well enough for me to leave?”

“Now you sound like the older sister. I’ll be fine kid, you go have fun at your conference thing in Germany. Have you finished packing?”

“Nope, I wanted to get and early start at the stores so I can pack before my flight.”

“Okay, I’m headed back to sleep. But don’t crash the car and fill up the tank before you come back please.”

“I always do,” Amare smiled before kissing her sister's cheek and slipping out of the room. Once Amani heard the front door shut. She locked herself in the bathroom and unwrapped the third and final test. She sat them all in a row before flopping down on the toilet.

“Shit.”

Taglist: @almostpurelysmut @blackbypurpose @tchoking @sisterwifeudaku @wikiwakanda @royallyprincesslilly @90sinspiredgirl @thedelightfulone @autumn242 @purple-apricots @kumkaniudaku @queertrex @kaciidubs @halfrican-heat @skysynclair19 @dramaqueenamby @leahnicole1219 @kreolemami @mzbritt @derangedcupcake @chaneajoyyy @lalapalooza718 @ororowrites @leahnicole1219 @sarcastic-sunshines @sarahboseman @faatassbitch @lady-love-and-glitter-roses @cxnismajcr @tchallasbabymama

[jensengirl83]

Regret and Redemption Chapter Three

Summary-Reader has left Dean after he was caught cheating. Dean tries to prove that he can do better and wants the reader to come back home. 

AU Mechanic!Dean x reader

Word count-2592

Warnings- Angst, heartbreak, language

A/N- series cover designed and mad by @talesmaniac89​

It had been a little over a week since Y/N had gone by their home that morning to get her belongings. Dean had been served with the separation papers; she knew that because he had blown up her phone with calls and texts that she hadn’t answered. She couldn’t talk to him; she was taking the separation as hard as he was, except none of this had been her fault. Or had it been? She had been pondering over their whole relationship for the last week. She had wondered if some of the reasons he cheated could have been her fault. Had she not been attentive enough? Could she have spent more time with him and less writing her novels? The scenarios had played over and over in her head, always with the same outcome. If he had a problem he should have come and talked to her, not screw his secretary and God knew who else.

Y/N had managed to find a decent apartment across town. She had picked this one simply because of the distance it was away from the home she had loved. She still couldn’t believe this had happened to her. Dean had been such a loving husband in the beginning. Y/N could see the decline in his behavior now that she looked back on it. She wished there was something she could have done to keep her marriage intact, but it was too little too late now.

Dean sat in his office staring at the separation papers that he had gotten a few days ago. His heart ached every time he looked at them. She was serious and didn’t want to be his wife anymore. The thought made him sick to his stomach. He had never felt so lonely as he had the last week she wasn’t there when he got home. The empty side of her bed had been taunting him every time he walked in the room. He had been sleeping on the couch since she left, not able to sleep in their bed alone. Dean picked up his phone and sent her another text. She hadn’t responded to him since she walked away the morning he trashed the house, but he was going to keep trying.

Y/N stood in the kitchen of her new apartment when she heard her phone ding. She knew who it was, but she wanted to make sure. She should have never unblocked his number, but her uncle advised that she needed to let him have a way to contact her for their legal proceedings. She opened her phone to look at who had texted her.

Dean: I love you Y/N and I’m sorry.

She had been right. She wanted to cry and scream at the same time. Her heart ached as she missed her husband, but she also was beyond angry at him. Her emotions had been all over the place the last week. The nights were the hardest. She had not slept alone in over six years. Even with what he had done, she missed his warmth at night. He had betrayed her, but that didn’t mean that she hadn’t once loved him with her whole being and missed the feeling of his body cuddled behind hers. She had been brought back from her daydream by the sound of her phone.

“Hello Dean,” Y/n said with annoyance evident in her voice.

“Hey sweetheart,” Dean said, hoping she wouldn’t hang up on him.

“Please don’t call me that Dean,” Y/N sighed. “We aren’t together anymore.”

“Yes, we are Y/N! You didn’t file for divorce. You filed for separation,” he said, a little annoyed himself.

“Obviously you got the papers but decided not to read them,” she said harshly. “We are legally separated, Dean. That means we are not considered married, but not divorced.”

“What the hell is the point in that?! Why not just file for divorce?” Dean asked her, not understanding the point.

“Because my uncle and my publicist thought this would be the best thing right now for tax purposes. It’s just until my new book comes out and we can figure out what we are going to do with our assets,” she said, “then I will file for a divorce, Dean.”

“You sure that’s what you want, Y/N?” Dean asked her through clenched teeth.

“No Dean, this isn’t what I wanted! I wanted my husband to love me and be faithful to me, but that was obviously too much to ask of you!” Y/N yelled through the phone.

“I do love you Y/N!” Dean shouted back.

“You know how much I wish it would have been enough?” Y/N said through tears as she hung up the phone.

Dean threw his phone across his office after she had hung up. Her words had destroyed him, the truth in them cutting to the bone. He realized at that moment that he hadn’t loved her enough. She hadn’t had his whole heart in a long time and that had been his fault. The booze and the ego boost he had been getting from other women had taken a spot that should have been completely hers.

The next week had flown by and Y/N was grateful. She had been so busy with her publicist getting everything ready for her book launch that she hadn’t had time to ponder on her situation much. Her publicist had set up a book launch party at a huge venue in Kansas City. She didn’t want to throw a party with the mood she had been in, but her publicist said it would really help get the word out. The release party had been scheduled for the following night and she wasn’t looking forward to it. She decided to go to bed and try to get some sleep so she would at least look like her life was together the next evening.

She woke up the next morning with a horrible feeling of dread. She couldn’t quite place it, but she felt like something was going to happen that night. She tried to shake the thought away as she made her way to the shower to get the day going. She had to get all dolled up and that took time and the venue was a four-hour drive. Luckily her publicist had hired her a private car so she could relax on the way there.

Y/N had caught up on her emails and went over her itinerary on the drive, anything to keep her mind occupied. Dean had always accompanied her to this type of thing because he knew they sometimes triggered her anxiety. He had at least been good to her in that way. If only he hadn’t betrayed her and broke her heart, she wouldn’t have to do this alone tonight.

Y/N could feel the anxiety building as they pulled up to the venue. There was already a crowd that had formed outside and all she could think was that she would rather be home. She held her breath as the driver came to open her door for her to step out. She took his hand as he helped her out onto the sidewalk and into the throngs of people. In all the hecticness of trying to get inside, she hadn’t noticed the sleek black Impala parked across the street.

Dean stood back in a corner with a whiskey in his hand as she walked through the door. She looked absolutely beautiful. His heart pounded in his chest, and he hoped she wouldn’t make a scene when she realized he was here. He knew what these things did to her anxiety and he wanted to prove that he still loved her and wanted to be there for her, to show her that he could be the man he was when they had first started dating. He silently prayed that he could prove himself to her.

Dean watched her for a while as she made her way around the room. Y/N had always been the sweet ‘girl next door’ type. No one around her could tell how uncomfortable all this made her, but he could. He could see the nervous twitch in her hands and hear how her voice would rise an octave as she spoke. He had always found that so endearing about her. She would never see herself as the beautiful, intelligent, joyful woman that she was. He had taken that joy from her and he would never forgive himself for that.

“Hi, Y/N! I am so excited to read your new book!” a woman she didn’t know had said to her.

“Thank you. I really hope you enjoy it,” Y/N said with a nervous smile. God, she hated to do stuff like this.

“Hey Y/N. I’m looking forward to the new book. Where’s Dean?” she had heard someone ask. Y/N was frozen to her spot. She didn’t want to talk about her failed marriage to people she barely knew.

“I’m sorry I’m late sweetheart! Traffic was just awful,” his voice had her spinning on her heels. There stood Dean in his three-piece suit.

“What the hell are you doing here Dean?” she whispered in his ear as she leaned in to give him a hug. She didn’t want anyone asking questions about their marriage.

“Y’all mind if I steal my beautiful wife away for a minute?” Dean asked with a fake smile.

Everyone nodded as he linked her arm through his and walked her to a more private place to talk. He could feel how tense she was and knew most of that was because of him, but he knew she wouldn’t make too much of a scene.

“What the hell Dean?!” she asked as they rounded the corner into an empty hallway. “How did you even know about this?!”

“I got an email. You forgot to unlink my email from your list on your itinerary,” Dean said with a small chuckle.

“Dammit! I knew I was forgetting something... but why did you show up?” Y/N asked him with her arms crossed over her chest.

“I know how you get when you have to do this stuff. I wanted to be here for you and I’m sure you didn’t want to answer questions about us tonight,” he said, trying to be honest with her.

“Sure Dean, you showing up here is all about me,” she said as she rolled her eyes.

“I know you don’t believe me, sweetheart...” he was cut off by the glare she was giving him. “Sorry, Y/N. I’m telling you the truth though. I was worried about you and I want to try and prove to you that I’m sorry,” Dean said sadly.

“Dean, I don’t know what to tell you. You broke me. I will never be able to trust you again,” she said as she looked away.

“I’m not asking you to trust me. I’m just asking you to give me a chance to prove that I know I fucked up!” Dean said, almost begging her.

“It won’t change anything Dean. We aren’t going to ever be together again,” she fought back tears as she said those words.

“At least let me play your husband for the rest of the night. I don’t want everyone knowing what’s going on until we have everything figured out,” he said as he reached out his hand.

Y/N looked at Dean and to his hand quite a few times before she finally took his hand. They walked back out to the main hall to the crowd of people that were there for her. She had to stop and talk to a few people as Dean looked around the venue. It had been decorated a lot like their wedding reception had. That thought gave him an idea as he excused himself and snuck to the sound booth.

Y/N had been talking to people for what seemed like an eternity. She had finally made her way to the bar that had been set up to get a drink. Y/N had never been much of a drinker, but she felt like she could use a gallon of it tonight. She had been looking around to see if she could find where Dean had gone when his voice beside her made her jump.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you,” Dean said with a laugh.

“It’s ok, I wasn’t expecting you to be right beside me. What were you saying?” she asked, taking a drink of her whiskey.

“I said that the night is almost over, and we haven’t danced,” he said to her with that crooked smile she loved so much.

“Yeah, and we aren’t going to,” she said, looking out at all the people on the dance floor that had been set up.

“Don’t you think people will find it odd that you didn’t dance with your husband? Considering we have always danced together at these things,” Dean whispered in her ear.

“Fine! No funny business Dean. I want to get this over with and go home,” Y/N said as she held her hand out to him.

Dean led her onto the dance floor. He placed her arms around his neck and then slid his hands down to her hips. He started to lightly sway them to the beat as he looked over her shoulder and nodded. Y/N had noticed but didn’t care to ask. He had probably just seen someone he knew. The notes to the song faded away as the notes to the next one began. It had only taken her seconds to recognize the melody: “Wild Horses” by The Rolling Stones. It was their wedding song, the first song they had danced to as husband and wife.

Dean felt her tense as the song began to play. He had hoped that hearing it would bring back good memories and make her miss what they had. He wrapped his arms around her tighter to hold her to him, afraid she would run if he didn’t. He could hear the sniffles and feel her tears on his chest. His heart was breaking, this had not gone as planned. He hadn’t even finished his thought when she pulled away and ran for the door. Dean was right behind her; he grabbed her arm as she was reaching for the car door.

“Y/N, please just wait!” Dean begged her.

“No! How could you do that to me? Did you really think that playing our wedding song was going to make me come back to you after what you did? Let go of me!” she yelled as she yanked her arm away from him.

“Baby, please! I miss you, Y/N! I fucking miss my wife!” Dean shouted as she opened the car door to get in.

“You should have thought about that before you cheated on me, Dean! Please, just get away from me,” she said, completely defeated.

The look on her face and the desperation in her voice made him step back. He stood on the sidewalk and watched as she disappeared. This had completely backfired. He just wanted his wife back and would do anything to prove it to her. He knew what he had to do, but was terrified to make the call. Dean pulled out his phone and dialed the number and listened as the phone began to ring.

“Please don’t hang up! I really need your help!” he pleaded to the person on the other end of the phone. “I know I have no right to ask you, but she will listen to you. Will you help me please?”

@flamencodiva​​ @sorenmarie87​​ @foxyjwls007​​ @waywardbeanie​​ @emoryhemsworth​​ @voltage-my2dlove​​ @hardcoresupernatural​​ @msmarvelouswinchester​ @lyarr24​ @deanmonandnegansbitch​ @akshi8278​ @midsummereve1993​ @sutton2001​ @emory91​ @halesandy​ @miss-nerd95​ @ellewritesfix05​ @bxbyizzy​ @winchest09​ @adoptdontshoppets​ @defenderrosetyler​ @hobby27​ @whatareyousearchingfordean​ @talesmaniac89​ @deanwanddamons​ @atc74​ @superfanficnatural​ @smol-and-grumpy​ @supernatural-love14​ @vicmc624​ @squirrelnotsam​ @tatted-trina6​ @xhannahbananax03​ @coffeebooksandfandom​ @nihilismworld​ @winchester-wifey​ @mrsfox79​ @malfoysqueen14​ @moron225​ @deans-baby-momma​

[howwemeetimagines]

The Pen Pal

Photo by Gülfer ERGİN on Unsplash

Warnings: None

Word Count: 855

Summary: You meet your mystery e-mail pen pal but you’re up for a big surprise.

A/N: Hi reader! Hope you are having a good day. Please note that this is set before social media, text messaging and instant messaging. So, enjoy and take a little step back in time.

· This is set in the 90s – cellphones were uncommon so no social media, instant messaging, and text messaging. However, there were already bulky computers, the young internet, and emails.

· You are e-mail pen pals with your cousin and you were writing to her about a book you just read. You loved the story though you had some comments on the characters.

· A few days after you send it, you receive a reply from an unknown e-mail address.

· You open and realize that you had sent it to the wrong e-mail. You accidentally swapped out the letter “a” with an “s” in the email address.

· You are embarrassed at first but then you are intrigued as the person apparently has their own comments on the book as well.

· The person ends the email with, “Your fellow reader, S.”

· You quickly send your original email to your cousin with the correct email address this time.

· Although, you reply to S too since you have more to say.

· Similarly, you sign off with, “Your fellow reader, [your initials]”. It seemed fun to keep the mystery and you don’t really know this person anyway.

· Your email exchanges with S continue for months, mainly about books you’ve read. You tell him all about the loopholes and rushed endings that annoy you. He tells you about how he might have done it differently.

· It feels great to have another bookworm to talk to since you are the only one in your family.

· One day, you hear that one of your favorite authors is coming to town for a book signing and you mention this to S.

· You’re hoping to meet S in person, but you try to manage your expectations. You don’t even know if you are in the same country.

· You receive the email from S saying they are going to the event as well. You are so happy you feel like you have stars inside you.

· Both of you tell each other what you’d be wearing on the event date.

· To make things fun, instead of telling each other your actual names, you create a secret code word that each of you are supposed to say.

· Event day comes and you double check the email you sent S to make sure you’re wearing the clothes you described.

· You arrive at the venue, and you see it’s quite packed. The line for the book signing is zig zags across the hall. You can’t even see the desk where the signing is happening.

· Trying to be strategic, you position yourself by the doorway. If S hasn’t arrived, he’d see you as soon as he enters. While if S is leaving the line, he’d have to pass by you.

· Minutes turn to hours and you are already fuming at your post. You’re tired of standing like a security guard, scanning every person who walks by.

· As the line for the book signing dwindles to the last four people, you head to have your book signed.

· You try to cool off while you’re in line. Maybe S has a good reason for not showing up. Although you’ll write a very long email when you get home.

· You’re still thinking about what you’ll say to S when you get right to the front.

· You hear someone say the secret word.

· You look behind you, expecting to see S but no one is there.

· Then, you hear the secret word again and realize it’s coming from the person signing the books.

· You are like a deer in the headlights as you look at how the person is dressed exactly how S said they would dress.

· Cautiously, you mutter your side of the secret word.

· The person smiles and says, “You want to have that signed?”

· You slowly hand over the book, still at a loss for words, as you process everything that is happening.

· Your emotions start bubbling like a beer mug filled from the tap.

· Suddenly you blurt out, “What? How? Is this for real? I can’t believe I said all those things in the e-mail. Are you upset? Can the earth swallow me now? Did you know I was so angry because I thought you hadn’t shown up? I was trying to be strategic by staying near the door…”

· S just laughs through your outburst. “And I thought I was being strategic by staying right here. I knew you’d eventually come up to have your book signed.”

· You smile at how silly you both were and, if you’re being honest with yourself, S looks a lot better than you expected. It’s making your heart flutter.

· “Let me treat you to coffee. After all, you helped me a lot with this book,” S says.

· “Really?” you ask.

· He opens the book to the foreword page, and you see an acknowledgement “I would also like to dedicate this work to my mystery pen pal, [your initials].”

· From then on, you meet each other every so often in person. Though you still do write emails to each other when S is out of town.

· Finally, in typical fairy tale style, you both live happily ever after.

[datheetjoella]

Fantober 2020, Day 18: Music/Dancing

Author: DatHeetJoella Fandom: Free Pairing: MakoHaru Rating: T Part: 18/31 (read the full collection here) Word count: 1,833 Tags: Canonverse, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fiancés, Dance Practice, Wedding Stress Read at: AO3, FFn, or right here!

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

Left foot backwards, right foot to the side and slide close. Or wait, was it right foot backwards, left foot to the side?

Haruka's hesitation made Makoto halt before he could step on his toes and he lost his balance. His hands clenched around the fabric of Haruka's shirt and Haruka caught him just in time before they toppled over and crashed to the floor.

With a sigh, Kisumi turned off the music. "Stop looking at your feet, Haru."

Haruka clicked his tongue. "Easy for you to say, you know what to do."

"I had to learn it like this too," Kisumi said, "You're overthinking it, it's not that hard."

"Swimming isn't that hard either, yet I've never seen you win a competition before."

"Now, now, let's not get personal, alright?" Asahi said, holding up his hands to appease them both before the situation could escalate.

"Why don't we take a short break?" Makoto said, bidding their friends a sheepish smile as if to apologise for Haruka's outburst.

"Fine." Haruka tore himself out of Makoto's arms, stomped over to the couch in the corner of the room and plopped down with a huff.

Deep down, he knew he was being unreasonable. Their friends were trying to help them, but he felt like he was dangling above the pit of despair here.

Their wedding was only a few weeks away and, organised as he was, Haruka made sure they were ahead of schedule and arranged all that needed to be arranged. The venue was booked, the invitations sent out and the cake ordered, and they had appointments for their final suit fittings. From the food served at dinner to the centerpieces and decorations, everything was taken care of. At least, that was what he thought.

During a video chat with Rin earlier this week, he asked how their wedding preparations were going and if they had a choreography for their first dance. When they told him they weren't going to do a first dance since neither of them even knew how to dance, Rin almost jumped through his screen to smack them both across the head. According to him, the first dance as spouses was a beautiful tradition that may not, under any circumstance, be broken.

Makoto and he hadn't been convinced yet, but when they discussed the matter with several other friends and family members, everyone agreed with Rin and insisted that the first dance was a wedding staple. Rei assigned himself the task of coming up with the choreography and Asahi and Kisumi offered to help them learn it and suddenly, Haruka and Makoto found themselves stuck in the center of a storm with no way out. Reluctantly, they agreed to it, on the condition the choreography would be short and simple.

So the following Saturday evening, their living room furniture was shoved aside to create a dance floor and Asahi and Kisumi came over to teach them the choreography Rei put together with the help of Nagisa.

To their credit, they had kept it pretty simple, with a couple of twists and turns and one dip as a grand finale. On top of a video of Nagisa and him dancing it, Rei also wrote a very elaborate explanation on every move and emailed it along. Clear and easy, no issues there. But when they started, the problems rapidly surfaced.

No matter how many times they played the video or watched as Kisumi and Asahi demonstrated the starting steps, they couldn't figure it out. They forgot the difference between left and right, messed up the timing and for the first time in their lives, they felt out of tune with each other. There was no rhythm, no perfect harmony, only two klutzes without a grain of finesse in their bodies, to Haruka's greatest frustration.

They were wasting their time. Not just their own, but Kisumi and Asahi's as well. It was better to throw in the towel than to continue with this shameful display, because there was no way Haruka was embarrassing himself like this at his own wedding.

Noticing his predicament, Makoto handed him a glass of water and sat down beside him. "Are you okay, Haru?" he asked softly so Asahi and Kisumi, who were discussing the matter at the other end of the room, wouldn't hear.

"I can't do this, I give up."

"Don't say that," Makoto said as he nudged Haruka with his elbow. "It's difficult, but I'm sure we'll get the hang of it eventually. You couldn't expect to be able to swim the first time you dove into the water and it's the same with this. If you gave up then, you never would've accomplished what you have now."

Haruka scoffed. "I've always been able to swim, this is completely different."

Makoto chuckled at his attitude. "Fine, walking then. If you gave up with learning how to walk the first time you fell and never got back up, you wouldn't even be here now, trying to learn how to dance."

"If I had stayed down then I wouldn't be having this problem."

"Come on now, Haru," Makoto chided. "Don't be so pessimistic. It's just as hard for me as it is for you, but I'm willing to give it a fair shot. Isn't this fun too?"

"Fun? Makoto, the wedding is in four weeks!"

"So that's what this is about. You're nervous."

"I am about this," Haruka said, defensively turning away from his fiancé and clenching his fingers around the glass. "This is so out of my comfort zone."

"It's out of mine, too, but I still think it's fun," Makoto said as he put a soothing hand on Haruka's knee. "Even if it's something that feels foreign, I think trying something new with you is a fun experience. I'm not confident in my dancing skills at all, but I enjoy dancing with you even if we mess up or step on each other's toes or bump into each other. Because it's another way I can connect with you, something only the two of us share."

Admittedly, Haruka hadn't regarded it like that. But when he thought it over, he found that it wasn't his inability to dance that frustrated him so, it was his inability to dance with Makoto. Everything always went so naturally between the two of them, yet this made him feel as though they were on different wavelengths.

But Makoto felt their connection even though they weren't perfect from the get-go. Maybe they didn't have to be a well-oiled machine to enjoy dancing; maybe twirling around in each other's arms in utter disarray could be fun too, at least until they improved.

"Why don't we get back up and try again?" Makoto suggested with a gentle smile. "We can practice every night, from dusk till dawn, until we get the steps right and you feel comfortable enough. And if you still don't feel comfortable on our big day, then we can forget about it and skip the first dance. It's our wedding, so we can do whatever we want."

After all those sweet words, it would be selfish of Haruka to decline. Their friends were adamant Makoto should lead since he was taller than him, so this was probably even more challenging for him yet Haruka was the one who sat here sulking like a child. The least he could do was try again.

"I guess I could give it another shot."

A wide grin lit up Makoto's handsome face and he leapt up from the couch, grasping Haruka's hand in his. He pressed a kiss to Haruka's knuckles and asked, "May I have this dance?"

Haruka rolled his eyes. "I guess you may," he said, leaning over to put his glass on the coffee table, then he allowed Makoto to pull him up.

"Alright, new plan," Kisumi said after careful deliberation with his assistant. "You can't expect someone who's inside a pool for the first time to swim perfectly, they have to get used to the feeling of the water first. So that's what we're going to do now."

"How?" Makoto asked, equally as confused as Haruka. Images of dancing with Makoto inside the pool flooded Haruka's mind and though the prospect was rather enticing, he was sure that wasn't what Kisumi meant.

"Put your hands on Haru's waist. Haru, you wrap your arms around Makoto's neck," Asahi instructed. When they did as told, he continued, "We're going to put the music back on and you're going to forget we're here and move along to the music. Considering you already live in your own worlds when you're together anyway, I don't think that's going to be very difficult."

"Just do what feels natural," Kisumi said, and with a tap on his phone, the music resumed.

Haruka didn't think this was going to work. It wasn't like he could simply ignore the presence of two loud and boisterous guys disrupting the air in their harmonious living room, and moving along to music could never feel natural to him. The sole place he could freely move as he pleased was inside the water, where he felt fluid and unrestrained.

And yet, as he stared into the forest of Makoto's eyes, how they twinkled with joy and affection, the world around them melted away. His heartbeat spiked and the corners of his lips curled up when he felt how intimate this actually was. Inside the bubble of a soft melody, only Makoto and he remained. As Makoto slowly began to sway along to the rhythm, his own body was swept up in his current.

This beautiful man who held him so gently was going to be his husband. Even though he always knew they were going to spend the rest of their lives together because he loved him more than anything in the entire universe, it was going to be official in four weeks. They were getting married, how could anything else matter?

Every droplet of panic and irritation inside him evaporated, leaving nothing but love and resolve in his veins. Whether it be winning Olympic races and ending up on the podium or dancing a three-minute choreography at their wedding, with Makoto by his side, Haruka was certain he could accomplish anything.

"See, we knew you could do it!"

And with that, the spell was broken and the magic in the air dissolved. Startled, Haruka and Makoto broke away from each other and looked back at their friends, who had blended in with the furniture up until that point.

"Asahi!" Kisumi yelped, but it was already too late.

"Sorry."

"It's alright," Makoto said with his sunshine smile, waving a dismissive hand to Asahi's apology.

"Thank you," Haruka muttered, pushing himself to voice his appreciation, "I think we can try the choreography again."

Learning something new was tough, but with Makoto as his partner and the support of their friends, Haruka was confident they could figure this out right in time before the wedding.

[sabraeal]

Hypewired Unsolved Drinking Game, Rule #2: Shirayuki Despairs Over Obi’s Life Choices

Rule #1

Written for @ruleofexception on the occasion of her BIRTH. I thought this would be more ghost hunting and less metrics, but I should have known I couldn’t resist a premise-building chapter.

[Shirayuki] Have you ever heard of the Gardner Museum Heist?

[Obi] Oohhh.

[Shirayuki] *laughs* What was that?

[Obi] Oh, nothing, nothing. It’s just... I love heists.

[Shirayuki] You love heists? *laughs* No, I take it back, that doesn’t surprise me at all.

[Obi] *laughs* Come on, who doesn’t love a good heist?

[Shirayuki] This one *is* known as the biggest art heist of its kind.

[Obi] Oh ho ho ho. You’re saying all the right things to me.

The thing about haunted houses-- the real kind, not the ones that hire teenagers to wear stage make up and hold fake chainsaws-- is that they’re hard to book.

“Oh, in my hometown, they hired ex-convicts,” Obi says in the same casual way he says anything vaguely terrifying about his childhood, “and they gave them real, working chainsaws.”

Her jaw drops, face still plastered to her phone’s screen. Soft jazz worms into her ear. “That can’t be true. That has to be a-- a rumor or something.”

“Nah, nah, the farm had a work program with the local prison. I think sometimes they did seasonal work too?” He shrugs. “I don’t know. But it definitely made the hayride more popular. Gave it a real element of danger, you know?”

Shirayuki stares. “And they gave them real chainsaws?”

“Well, they only revved them a little.” He twitches his shoulder, as much of a shrug as he ever gives. “One time a guy hopped on the cart and chopped the bale next to me, but I mean, I probably deserved that.”

She might be sitting down, but oh, she could really do to sit down again. Harder. Mentally. Emotionally. “And you’re sure these were ex-convicts?”

“Yeah, probably.” Not an endorsement ringing with confidence. “I mean, I’m sure they were in for non-violent crimes, at least.”

There are two wolves inside of her, and one of them is pleased to hear about a local business working to place disadvantaged community members, and the other-- well, the other thinks that maybe everyone should be a little more solid on the whole non-violent convictions than they are.

Before she has the chance to suggest it, the phone clicks, and a pleasant female voice says, “Hill House, Donna speaking, how may I help you?”

“Oh, hi, yes,” she fumbles, “I’m Shirayuki calling from Hypewire. We would like to talk about booking your location.”

“Hypewire?” Donna pauses, the good long kind that means she’s probably from a generation that prefers to read its news on paper, and not from a website that has an option to react with emojis. “Oh, did you want to do an article on the house?”

“Ah, something like that.” Obi arches a brow, lips twitching as he crams another Funyon between them. He’s far too distracting to have around while she needs to have thinky thoughts, especially if he’s going to make faces at her. “I’m the producer of Hyperwire Unsolved, and we were wondering if we could possibly do a, ah--” she coughs-- “an investigation? Of the house? For the show?”

“Oh, Hypewire Unsolved!” The woman laughs. “My nephew loves you guys. But don’t you do true crime?”

[Sender]: sales@winchesterhouse.com [Recipients]: s.lyon@hypewire.com [Subject]: Re: Episode Filming

Thank you for your interest in our venue for an episode. Some of our interns are big fans of your show! However, we have to admit some confusion, as we were under the impression you were a true crime show…

“How’d they get that impression?” Higata grunts, hunching further over his keyboard. His screen in the only light in the editing bay, castling a ghastly glow over his face. “The art department just sent me six different aliens to pick from for the Roswell episode, and now we’re Serial? Come on.”

Shirayuki sighs. “I know. But it seems our more popular episodes are the ones about collar bombers and serial murderers. At least by the metrics”

Higata might only be twenty-six, but he’d be right at home at the VA buffet with the way he grumbles. “You know His Highness over there was talking to me about making true crime and supernatural separate seasons. Something about...keeping views and organizational groups or something.”

“Huh.” She sits back, nibbling on her lip. “It would certainly give me more of a focus each season. What do you think?”

“I guess it’s fine. Two editing credits for my resume for one show’s work is a good deal.” He overlays a shadowy police sketch into the video, shoulders rounded and tense. “What do I know? I just sit in the dark and pick which ghostly visage I want to layer over your audio.”

She leans in with her sunniest smile, squeezing his arm right above the elbow. “And you’re so good at it!”

“I am.” He’s too much of a professional to look away from his work, shifting the same image three pixels over and then three pixels back, but his bicep relaxes beneath her grip. “I am a top tier spooky face picker. All the commenters say so.”

She blinks. “Oh? They do?”

Higata twists in his seat, gaze somehow even more incredulous in the lack of light. “No, Shirayuki, they don’t. But they should.” He gestures to the screen vaguely. “They mostly just talk about how much they want to fuck Obi.”

“OH.” There’s some information she really, really didn’t need. “That’s um, ah--”

“Your job, according to roughly half our fan base.” His mouth hooks into a grin she does not enjoy. “What do you say, Lyon? I think we could break the bank if you kissed him once on camera.”

“I-- I mean--” it’s a ridiculous request, clearly a joke, but her heart is pounding so loud in her ears she can’t hear her own thoughts-- “that’s not really w-what the show is about.”

Higata laughs. “That’s what you think.”

“What does who think?”

Shirayuki jumps straight out of her chair.

It’s not an exaggeration; there’s literal air between her butt and the seat, and when she lands again, the soft cushion makes the most obvious whoosh noise in existence, only worse, since it’s slow too. No obnoxious whoopee cushion womp, oh no, just an endless, air pump whoosssssshhhhhh that’s as blatant as a rattlesnake in the silence.

“Obi!” His lean shadow fills the doorway—wow, is he actually that tall?—and his head tilts, just enough so that his eyes shimmer gold. “I—nothing! We were, um, nothing?”

“We were talking about true crime,” Higata supplies, darting her a pitying look, “and how that’s what everyone thinks we are. Winchester House just emailed back.”

Obi grimaces, teeth flashing white in the dark. “Ah, great. Another one of those.”

“Yeah,” she sighs, deflating into a slouch. “I could talk about Big Foot until I’m blue in the face, but everyone thinks I have nuanced opinions about Jeffrey Dahmer.”

One narrow brow arches toward his hairline. “But you do have nuanced opinions about Jeffrey Dahmer.”

“I just think animal mutilation is probably a sign things aren’t going right in your life and someone should have noticed.” She waves her hands, at a loss. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to explore a supposedly haunted house.”

His lips twitch, right at one corner. “For a skeptic, you’re really into the idea you could see a ghost.”

“Stories are part of the human experience,” she explains primly. “We use them to understand what feels inexplicable. And ghosts are part of how we compartmentalize death.”

“Or they are the remnants of people who died too soon.” Obi pushes himself off the jamb, sauntering over to where they sit. “Or whatever bad juju is left by human misery—hey, that’s a sweet mugshot. Who’s it supposed to be?”

Higata squints. “I keep thinking it might be Shiira? But the cheeks are all wrong.”

“Huh.” Obi leans between the two of them, nose hovering mere inches away from the screen. His arm presses into her shoulder, too warm. “Brecker.”

“Brecker?” Higata tilts his head. “Oh yeah, I see it now. He’s not gonna like that.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Good thing he doesn’t watch joyless tripe like Unsolved then.”

“Yeah.” Higata snickers, raising the opacity. “Good thing.”

Obi settles back on his heels, hand gripping the back of her chair. She dares a glance up, and there he is, watching her with one of those looks she doesn’t know how to read. “Don’t worry, Lyon,” he says, thumb rubbing at the plastic back. “The season’s only just started. Give it some time.”

“I’d love to,” she mutters, tilting her head back, resting it on his wrist. “But try explaining that to Izana.”

[Obi] I’m just saying, there’s no sexier crime than a heist. ...Well, I mean, that doesn’t involve actual sex.

[Shirayuki] *wheeze*

[Obi] You know what I mean.

[Shirayuki] Do I? Am I finding out too much about you right now? Is this how you get seduced at parties? Girls just cornering you and telling you about high-profile robberies?

[Obi] *laughs* This is absolutely not how I get seduced at parties. Unless you’d like to try...?

[Shirayuki] . . .

[Obi] Besides, it’s not like this is just a regular robbery. Heists don’t happen to normal people. Just the rich ones.

[Shirayuki] Well, this *is* a museum. It’s for learning purposes.

[Obi] Oh, like all that stuff actually *belongs* to a museum anyway.

[Shirayuki] Actually...this time it does!

[Obi] Wow, now there’s a mystery I want to investigate.

“We want to capitalize on the energy from this season.”

Izana isn’t a man who lounges; his mesh office chair is relentlessly ergonomic, only a few aggressively rolled lumbar supports away from a torture device. But still, he gives off the energy of a cat lazing in a sunspot, already gotten into the cream.

“Unsolved has always had excellent metrics, but since the premier--” he glances pointedly at Obi-- “they’re unparalleled by any other digital media Wisteria has put out on any of its platforms.”

Obi sprawls in one of the wire-frame chairs Izana has out, far too big for its delicate frame, every inch of him as still as the grave. Except for his one, bouncing knee, practically vibrating as he asks, “That’s...good right?”

“Very good.” Shirayuki may not be a metrics person, but working with Zen gave her more than a passing acquaintance with what success sounds like. “I think he’s telling us...we’re his cash cow.”

Izana’s lips lift into a smirk. “Just so. You’re more popular than Stand the Heat, and that’s saying something.”

It is saying something-- Obi’s show consistently has the most hits and the highest likes-to-views ratio. It’s been the backbone of Hypewire’s digital media section since it premiered last year, and now-- now Unsolved has passed it. If the graph Izana’s laid out is right, they’ve passed it by...a lot.

Shirayuki sneaks a glance at Obi as he leans over, taking in the numbers. She can’t move, can’t even breathe as he stares, eyes rounding as he understands what’s happening.

He rips the paper off the desk, shaking it at her. “Do you see this?”

She blinks. “Y-yes?”

His mouth breaks into a grin, like a Labrador who has found a particularly giant stick. “We’re awesome.”

“Oh,” she breathes, and wow, this is really not the time to think about the-- the Abayan effect, even if that smile makes it extremely hard not to. “Okay.”

“We should have you on the show.” His knee bounces a mile a minute, words barely keeping pace. “See if that makes the ratings draw even.”

Shirayuki stares at him, but there’s no hint of sarcasm, no undertone of agitation. For all intents and purposes, it seems as if he’s just...inviting her on his highly rated cooking show.

That can’t be right.

“Not a bad thought, Abayan,” Izana hums, fingers tapping at the desk. “Turn that in to me with the rest of your proposals for next season.”

Obi grins. “No problem, boss.”

“Wait.” This is all happening too fast; it’s all too much. Three weeks ago she was scrambling for a new co-host, and now she’s sitting next to Hypewire’s media darling, talking about how she needs to be on his show for his ratings. “I don’t-- we shouldn’t--”

“Oh, can you not cook?” Obi smiles, and it’s-- entirely too much. “Don’t worry, Lyon, you’ll be on top when I’m done with you.”

“N-no!” she chokes. “I-- I’m the daughter of a bar! I mean, my grandparents--” ugh, four years to get a journalism degree, and she still can’t word good-- “they owned a pub.”

“Great.” His teeth flash, half-feral. “Then you’ll know how to follow my lead.”

“I think,” Izana says, tipping her a speculative look, “that Shirayuki is less worried about her prowess in the kitchen, and more about what these sort of numbers might mean to a show like Unsolved. Isn’t that right?”

“Ah, I mean...” It’s terrible how good he is at his job. “It’s all so...quick. We’re still editing this season, and already I’m working on the ideas for next one, and I have to not only write scripts but also scout locations, and Higata is already stretched thin--”

“We’ll get you another editor.”

Her jaw drops. “W-what?”

Izana folds his hands, so calm, and tells her, “We’ll get you another editor.”

Shirayuki stares, mouth utterly dry. It had been a struggle to get Higata last season; after Obi had roasted the idea during Pitch Fight, Hypewire’s higher-ups had been loath to put any actual support behind Unsolved. Only his dogged enthusiasm-- and flagrantly working on the project behind their backs-- had gotten him on board after the pilot took off. And now Izana Wisteria was just handing her someone else. Personally.

She reaches down and pinches herself. Yep, this is-- this is real life. Somehow.

“You want to-- you mean that--” she gulps-- “you want to give Unsolved a team?”

He nods, brusque and efficient. “I can get you another researcher as well. Or if the locations appear to be a problem, perhaps a personal assistant?” He lifts a hand, a Wisteria shrug. “Just let me know your needs, and I’ll see what I can do.”

“Unless it’s time, right?” Obi asks wryly. “That’s straight out.”

Izana’s mouth stretches into the barest grin. “The internet is instant, I’m afraid. You have to strike while the iron’s hot. I hope--” he fixes her with a meaningful look-- “we are all able to make the best of this opportunity.”

kisskissfall4luv: does ne1 no f this guy is gonna b here 4 the hole sesson? i luv Zen but i lik the nu guy 2 hes so funny!

kayla0202: I hope he is! I never thought I’d like something as much as Stand the Heat, especially a show about aliens and weird crime, but Obi and Shirayuki make me tune in every week! How long are Unsolved’s seasons again??

unsolvedjunky42: There’s only one other season, and that was 12 eps, though a lot of those were 10 minutes long, and these ones are averaging 17-20min. It looks like Obi Abayan is credited as co-host for the rest of the season: [follow link] So glad he signed on, I thought Unsolved would be dead in the water without Zen but Obi brings a whole new dynamic I didn’t ever realize the show was missing.

zenluvr999: i no were only 3 eps in but i think im gonna need a new name lmao

“Ah, I understand, but we really are looking to--” Shirayuki clenches her stress artichoke, its plush petals ballooning out from between her fingers, and stifles a sigh. “Yeah, I see. Thank you.”

The call cuts off with a beep, too cheerful a sound for its finality. Another opportunity lost. Shirayuki spills over her keyboard, groan lost beneath the function keys.

“Going that well, huh?” Kihal barely spares her a glance, but she does pull aside a headphone; the way editors show they care. “Tell me again how much you love this job.”

“I do love it,” she insists, muffled by the cool metal of her desk. “It’s just...so much work.”

“You know, we could just get that personal assistant.” Higata drops his headphones around his neck, settling back in his chair. It creaks beneath him, protesting his slouch. “I still can’t believe you said no to that.”

“We don’t need another team member.” Shirayuki lifts her head, just barely, to give him a warning glance. “We already have Kihal. That’s more than enough.”

“Really? We still have half a season left to edit, you have another season to write, and you want to tell me we couldn’t use another set of hands?” His eyebrow twitches up toward his hairline. “You just love making all those phone calls, huh?”

“It’s not that.” She rolls back, lifting herself upright. Her spine reminds her sharply that it doesn’t like doing that, that it was having a fine time as she was, but if there’s one thing Shirayuki knows how to ignore by now, it’s a complainer. “Unsolved was my idea to begin with, and if we can’t do the proposal we submitted last week, it should be me who’s to blame for it, not some poor intern.”

“She’s so cute,” Kihal coos across the cluster. “She’s got morals and everything.”

“That’s rich, coming from you,” Higata deadpans. “Didn’t you unionize the Yuris office?”

Her teeth flash predator white between the crimson stain of her lips. “Why do you think I volunteered to work this gig?”

He sighs, long-suffering. “See, this is the problem: the both of you like working too much. It’s getting in the way of having someone fetch my coffee for me.”

Shirayuki levels her best glare at him, the one she’s honed from one too many long nights in the editing bay. “If we had a PA, their job would not be to get you coffee.”

“If we had a PA, their job would be to make these stupid phone calls so Shirayuki can get actual work done,” Kihal informs him with a playful superiority than makes his eyes roll. “Instead of spending all day in a fugue of sadness and misery because no one will take her seriously.”

Shirayuki almost protests—there’s no fugue, and if anything, the rejections just make her more desperate and determined, but—

Her list of high-profile options has been reduced by a half, red lines spiking through some of her best hits with no relief in sight. She is about two seconds from eating her feelings through the oversized cinnamon buns in the company vending machine, and a fugue state is starting to sound like a preferable way to spend her afternoon.

“Ugh,” she decides, and lays down again.

“There, there,” Kihal croons, patting her back across their desks. “Someone will have to give you the time of day at some point.”

“I’m getting calls back.” She rolls over onto one cheek, thoughtful. “People are fans of the show! They just...don’t think we’re serious.”

Kihal scoffs. “About what? Aliens? Ghosts? I’ve been fielding queries all morning from Shuuka asking which direction we want to go for The Alexandria episode.”

“It’s the whole ghost hunting angle.” Higata leans over, liberating her artichoke from her grip, tossing it between his hands. “If I want to be fair, which I don’t, but here we are—it’s a new direction for the show. I guess it could be confusing to people used to our format.”

“I know, I know.” She pillows her chin with her hands, letting out a sigh. “I just wish one of them would give us a confirmation instead of—“ she waves her hand at her empty schedule—“all this.”

“They will.” She doesn’t know where Higata unearths all this unearned confidence, but she’s glad one of them has. “Let this season run its course. Zen was never big on the supernatural episodes, but these ones with Obi...people are definitely going to pay attention.”

He wouldn’t be saying that if he had to suggest waiting to Izana Wisteria. “They’re already paying attention to Obi. I’m always getting asked if--”

“If I’m as handsome as I look on screen?”

The thing is-- she’s not expecting it. One minute she’s sprawled across her desk, and the next Obi’s purr is tickling her ear, and--

“Ow, fff--” his gaze darts over where he clenches his nose-- “fudge. Sicles.”

“Nice save,” Kihal deadpans. “Now if only you could do that in the first minute of every video.”

“What can I say,” he honks, rubbing his nose. “I’m an off-the-cuff kind of guy.”

“You’re a ‘ruining our monetization’ kind of guy,” she shoots back, though she pushes over an abandoned chair for him to sit on.

“Oh, Obi!” Shirayuki yelps, hands hovering on either side of his face as he sits. “I’m so sorry! I was just--”

“Surprised, yeah, got that part.” he lifts his fingers, wobbling the bridge of his nose. “No harm done.”

“Good thing,” Higata mutters, “that face gets views.”

“Oh please.” Obi grins, devastating as always. “Chicks love a broken nose.”

Kihal barks out a laugh. “When it comes to you, chicks love breathing.”

He shrugs, sliding into a slouch. “Still no luck, I’m guessing?”

“None,” Shirayuki confirms. “Though people have been saying they enjoy the new season.”

“The concierge at the Roosevelt says you’re a lot cuter than Zen,” Kihal offers, needlessly.

Obi’s grin widens, wolfish. “You don’t say.”

“Maybe you should start using that Abayan charm to get us some bookings,” Kihal suggests wryly. “Earn your keep around here.”

“Please, I earn my keep. I’m the eye candy.” He winks. “Besides, I’d be happy to, but the big boss over here always tells me--”

“You don’t need to worry about it,” Shirayuki says, “it’s really my job--”

Higata waves a hand, long suffering. “You see the problem.”

“I do.” Kihal settles back. “Well, if you really just need a place...”

“I’ll take anything at this point,” she says to the particleboard of the ceiling. “Even if it’s just a haunted hole in the ground.”

“All right, well--” Kihal grins, sheepish-- “my condo is haunted.”

[Obi] So you’re telling me that this is just some crazy lady’s house, filled with all her stuff?

[Shirayuki] Isabella Stewart Gardner was a socialite and a philanthropist, *not* a crazy lady.

[Obi] Right, okay, but...she did turn her house into a museum, and then made everyone promise not to touch it. Not exactly what I think of when someone says ‘stable.’

[Shirayuki] Because she *curated* it, Obi!

[Obi] So what you’re telling me is that she knew that from forever to the end of time, she would have better taste than everyone else on the planet.

[Shirayuki] *sputtering* W-well--

[Obi] No, no, you’re right. I retract the crazy lady thing. Because that’s *baller*.

[Shirayuki] *laughs* O-obi!

[Obi] I want to be that lady. Like that is shade from the grave.

[Shirayuki] . . . . She also was personally friends with Monet.

[Obi] SEE? Life goals.

“So,” Obi hums from around a dumpling, his chopsticks already rooting for another, “what do you think?”

Shirayuki looks up, halfway through a very un-dainty bite of her own. “About--? Oh! I can’t believe they’re only fifty cents each! Where did you find this place?”

Despite his reputation on camera-- forward-facing, casual, intimate-- Obi isn’t someone who looks at people head-on. She’ll catch a glance sometimes, or maybe a considering look from the corner of his eyes, but for the most part, he’s always moving, eyes darting around to watch who filters into a room, or at the cars moving outside, or staring down the squirrel that likes to scratch at their window.

So when he looks at her, gold eyes trapping her as thoroughly as amber, she notices.

“Well,” he says after a long moment, “when you run a food show, people do give you some hot tips. But, ah--” he rubs at the back of his head, ears pink at the tips-- “that wasn’t really what I, ah, meant.”

Her mouth rounds. “Oh.”

His hands raise, chopsticks knitted under his knuckles. “Though I’m glad you like it! It’s, ah, one of my favorite places too. I just thought that you might have some, er--” he grimaces-- “thoughts, about the whole haunted condo thing.”

“Oh! That.” She taps her chopsticks on her plate, trying to gather her thoughts. “I just think...I don’t know. It’s not a bad place to start, but I just wanted...”

She blows out her cheeks on a sigh. “The ghost hunting is a new aspect of the show, and I wanted us to come out strong with an actual location...”

His mouth curls at a corner, too knowing. “And having us just carry around proton packs and talk about cold spots in a friend’s house isn’t really going to do much for our supernatural cred?”

“Yeah.” She slumps against the chair, defeat. “That. But I also feel like beggars can’t be choosers, and no one else is telling us yes, so...”

He nods, mouth pressed into a thoughtful line. “So there’s no rush to say no.”

“Right, yeah.” She glances at him from the corners of her eyes. “How about you?”

Obi blinks, eyes fluttering wide. “Me? This isn’t really my--” he hesitates, mouth working, starting a half dozen words-- “ah, I mean, I think...it’s smart. You’re right, a bigger place will give us more credit, but if one doesn’t come through then we have to start somewhere. Besides,” his mouth tics at a corner, twitching toward a smirk-- “I’ve always wondered whether she’s bikini or boyshorts.”

It’s only when her chin hits her chest that she realizes her jaw has dropped. “We’re not there to look in her underwear drawer!”

“Well, we’re not at work for her to look in my gym bag either,” he replies, sour, “but she did anyway.”

“She already said that was an accident--”

“--a likely story--”

“--That’s not what I meant anyway,” she admits with a huff. “I wanted to know if you were okay with the whole, ah...” her shoulders round, shy-- “metrics thing.”

“Metrics?” His head cocks, quizzical, but then-- “you mean, the stuff Izana showed us weeks ago?”

“Two weeks ago,” she corrects, heat flaring on her cheeks, “and, um, yes. I just...you’re not mad?”

Obi stares. “About what?”

“Unsolved.”

He shakes his head. “You’re...really going to have to be more specific than that.”

“The ratings.” She pokes at a dumpling, miserable. “Stand the Heat-- that’s your baby isn’t it? You pitched it and everything.”

“I...did?” he says, brow furrowed. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“It’s just-- Unsolved is doing better.” It’s not bragging, she knows that, but it feels like it. “And it’s-- it’s okay if you’re, um, upset about it. You’ve been doing this for--”

“OH.” Obi coughs, suddenly looking anywhere but at their table. “No, I really-- you don’t need to worry about that. At all. Please.”

She stares. “Obi, it’s okay. I’m not going to take it personally if you--”

“Kid, please,” he begs, holding up his hands. “It’s nothing. I mean, yeah, if Stand the Heat was on top, I’d be happy. I mean, I was happy when it was on top. But, this is...” his fingers twirl his chopstick mindlessly-- “this is good, too.”

“But--”

“Listen, I know you may find this hard to believe, especially with how we, uh, met, but I wasn’t kidding when I said I was a huge fan of the show. Not even a little. Understated it, in fact.” The tips of his ears flush. “So, uh, it’s kind of cool that I joined my favorite show, and now it’s super popular. That’s sort of the whole fanboy dream, right?”

“O-oh!” She stares down at her hands, willing them to stop trembling. “I, uh...I didn’t...I didn’t really think of it like that.”

“Yeah, well, now you know you don’t have to worry about it,” he says with a laugh. “I’m living the dream here. Not only am I on the show, but I’m more popular than the last guy. And I get to take the cute host out to lunch and call it business. The only square I need to finish fanboy bingo is getting to ki--”

His teeth snap down, so loud she hears the click. “Haah, never mind. Hey look, is that the waiter? Could we, ah, get the check?”

[Sender]: iwisteria@wisteriacorp.com [Recipients]: s.lyon@hypewire.com [Subject]: Season 3 Hard Proposal

Is there any reason this isn’t in my inbox already?

Shirayuki closes her inbox with a grimace. “Ah, hey, Kihal?”

Her editor looks up, brows raised. “Yeah?”

She licks her lips, bracing herself. “Just...how haunted do you think your condo is?”

[kasdeyathebitterwoman]

Running Mate - Part 7

Ahh! Part 7, SEVEN! I’m so glad you are loving this series and I’m excited to see where we all end up with Henry and the reader!

If you’d like to be apart of the taglist, please let me know! My inbox is always open for suggestions, recommendations, or if you’d just like to chat!

Word Count: 4,472

CW: confrontation, feelings of betrayal

taglist:

@maeleeme @andyrazzledazzle @fanfictionaddiction99 @jhenno2002 @henrycavillluv32 @blossom-a @oddsnendsfanfics​ 

Because Cannes was still a few days away, you and Henry made a deal. You could continue doing your research for as long as you needed throughout the day, but you would stay with him. This way, he could keep an eye on you to make sure you were eating and sleeping at least somewhat regularly. He helped you pack up your research and was genuinely surprised to find how much work you already had done. You explained that after your first meeting in London months ago, you had begun research just in case. After New York, you really got into doing research.

“I thought you hadn’t heard back yet about that contract?” Henry asked as you climbed into his car to head to his house.

“Well,” you say, sighing. “I’m still not sure if we even will get it. They want to see what kind of research I can put together on my own,” you explain. “Plus, they are waiting to hear back from certain tribes and families in Peru,” you say before clapping your hand over your mouth. “You didn’t hear that!” you exclaim as Henry laughs hysterically from the driver’s seat.

When you pull up to his house, Kal greets you and your work with a comprehensive inspection. Henry does his best to keep him away, but Kal’s curiosity is greater than he can manage. It had been a while since you had been at Henry’s house and you were in awe of how simple he ultimately lived. His house was at least two times bigger than your flat and yet you were pretty sure you had more things than he did hidden away in nooks and crannies.

Henry had set up a small work station for you in what was essentially his dining room. He let you get yourself organized while he did his best to keep Kal out of your things. You giggled as Kal would trot into the room only to dart right back out when he heard Henry coming for him. And so, for the next few days, you would fall asleep in Henry’s arms, wake up in Henry’s arms, work on research for about eight hours, and then spend about two hours editing your proposal before Henry would practically drag you away from the computer.

The night before Cannes, you were satisfied with what you were able to put together. You sent James a link to it for review and editing purposes. When that was done, you closed your laptop and wandered into the living room where Henry was. He was playing a game with headphones on so he wouldn’t disturb you. He caught you out of the corner of his eye, paused his game and pulled off his headphones.

“She’s alive,” he teases. You roll your eyes and laugh as he pulls you down onto his lap and you wrap your arms around his shoulders.

“Only in spirit,” you reply and Henry scoffs.

“What’s up, beautiful?” he asked.

“I’m sorry, who’s beautiful?” you ask in response and Henry sighs deeply.

“I’m not calling you ‘unidentified woman’,” he says in a defeated voice.

“I made myself very clear at the start of this relationship,” you reply theatrically and now Henry rolls his eyes and laughs at you. You laugh with him then say, “I just submitted my proposal to James for review,” and Henry’s eyebrows raise up.

“So you’re done then?” he asks excitedly. You sigh.

“Eh, not technically,” you begin. “I’m waiting for feedback from James,” you explain. “Once I have that, I’ll edit again, send it in, and then I’ll be done. Sort of,” you sigh, exhaustion settling in for the first time in a few days. Henry notices. He glances around you at his computer screen.

“You go lay down,” he says. “Give me about ten more minutes and I’ll join you,” he continues even lower. You smirk then get up from his lap and head to the bedroom. You crawl into bed and without realizing it, you fall asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow. When you wake up again, it’s completely dark and you are enveloped in warmth. You are wrapped in Henry’s arms and it feels like the best place on earth.

The next morning, you, Henry, Kal, Henry’s hairstylist, wardrobe stylist, and assistant climb aboard his personal jet and make the trip down to Cannes. Henry and his crew head over to a hotel room he booked at the last minute while you go to the room you booked weeks in advance. You style your own hair and makeup simply because the dress you chose was simple, yet elegant. When you meet up again with Henry before walking the red carpet and he stares at you for a good minute before doing anything. Despite being with him for almost a year, Henry had a way of making you feel like the prettiest girl in the room. Henry himself looked handsome as ever in a dark charcoal 3-piece suit which complimented your dress well.

And so, you head out to the event where, as predicted, you were basically the talk of the town. Sadly, not for your documentary, but for the fact that Henry was there. With you. Having dealt with this for months, you were used to it, but you were also reaching the max of your bullshit tolerance. You are stopped by a reporter on the red carpet and asked about your film. They subtly ask you about Henry’s presence, but you brush it off. But when the same reporter asks about him for a second time, you decide you won’t hold back anymore.

“So, I see you are here with Henry Cavill,” the reporter starts. “Are you two dating?” She asks.

“No well,” you reply immediately, feeling Henry shift next to you. You glance over your shoulder and ask, “Should I just tell them? I’ll tell them,” you say, answering your question. “No, we both take professional mime classes in London and I asked him to join me here for practice,” you finish and can hear Henry laughing hysterically next to you. You smile at him, then back at the reporter before shrugging your shoulders. You and Henry walked away a few moments later after you answered a few more questions.

“I don’t think that reporter liked my answer,” you say to Henry. He chuckles.

“I’ve no idea why,” he replies, smiling down at you. He followed you as you went down the line answering questions from various reporters. The more they asked about you and Henry the more ridiculous your stories got. He texted the wrong number for a date and you showed up, you were the clown at his nephew’s birthday party and it was love at first sight, and your personal favorite, you were a stunt double on the weekends and ended up helping out on The Witcher season 2 as Henry’s stand-in for the day.

“I haven’t decided if you are truly that devious or just that ridiculous,” Henry muttered as you walked away from the line of reporters. All you offered was a devilish grin in return. Before entering the actual venue, you stop Henry and pull him to the side.

“Hey, by the way,” you begin. “I’m sorry if I just made things hard for you back there. I’m too sarcastic for my own good and I forget that not everyone understands my style of humor,” you say looking up at him. He smiles back at you gently.

“We’ll deal with that when the time comes,” he says quietly pulling you close to him. “Besides, I think it’s all hilarious. They won’t be able to report anything and that’s the best part of it,” he chuckles and you smile as you hold him close to you.

“I just don’t want to screw this up with my smart ass mouth,” you admit and Henry pulls back to look at you. “Don’t tell anyone, but, I kind of love you,” you say, dramatically rolling your eyes and Henry smiles wide.

“Your secret is safe with me,” Henry starts. “As long as you promise to keep kissing me with that smart mouth,” he says, leaning down to kiss you gently. “Also, keep this to yourself, but I kind of love you as well,” he says, a small smile on his lips. You smile back, feeling equal parts panic and love, not sure which is the dominant emotion.

—

Once you were done at the festival, you and Henry head back to your hotel room. He gave the room to his stylists for the night so they could stay and enjoy the rest of their day without him. Henry rushes into the bathroom before you to pee so you take the opportunity to check your email for any update from James. There’s nothing yet and you sigh a little so you give him a call. After three rings he picks up.

“How was Cannes?” he asks after you exchange pleasantries.

“Fine, I kind of stuck my foot in my mouth with the reporters,” you explain. “But hey, what’s new?” you ask jokingly. “Have you finished the edits yet?” you try to ask as nonchalantly as possible.

“Oh yeah,” James says and you hear the clicking of a keyboard. “Yeah, I finished this morning and sent them in,” he says and you frown.

“I haven’t seen anything in my email yet,” you reply.

“Y/n, I sent it in for you,” James says and your blood runs cold.

“I’m sorry, you did what?” you ask, your voice lowering two octaves. James quickly realizes that he did something he shouldn’t have.

“I sent it into NatGeo? Was I not supposed to do that?” James asks innocently and you can’t contain your frustration.

“NO!” you exclaim. Henry is walking out of the restroom at this point, his eyebrows raised and a concerned expression on his face. “No, James, you were not supposed to do that,” you bellow into the phone. You can feel the panic rising in your body as your hands begin to shake. “That is not what I asked you to do,” you say, trying hard to control your breathing. Henry is standing by you at this point, doing what he can to relax you with touch. He’s gently rubbing your shoulders and grazing his hands up and down your arms.

“Y/n, calm down,” James demands, but you cut him off.

“Do not tell me to calm down,” you growl through gritted teeth. Henry’s hands stop rubbing your shoulders. “This is not your reputation on the line, it’s mine,” you hiss, but James is quick to respond.

“As a matter of fact, y/n, it is also my reputation on the line,” he retorts. “Because you see, you are a part of the business that we run together,” he explains. “So yeah, my reputation is also up for debate. Besides, that was a damn good proposal and I knew if I let you get your hands back on it, you’d never let it go. It would never be good enough when the truth is, it was practically flawless,” he spits. You are huffing and breathing heavy through your nose, your jaw still clenched. You know there is a compliment hidden in there somewhere, but you are still reeling from the betrayal. Tired of talking, you say goodbye to James who reminds you to celebrate that your documentary has won a total of eight awards during the festival season. You step from Henry who is standing near you, but no longer touching you.

“Y/n, what’s going on?” he asks quietly and you suck in a breath. For a half a second, you forgot he was there.

“James,” you start, then pause to prevent the tears that are already welling up behind your eyes. “James sent my proposal in without my consent,” you explain and Henry gives you an empathetic look.

“Oh baby, I’m so sorry,” Henry replies, stepping towards you. “But I don’t think he would have done that if he didn’t think it was the best possible version,” he stops short of you when he notices the look you are giving him.

“Why does suddenly everyone seem to think they know what’s best for me?” you ask cooly. Henry stares at you slightly surprised for a moment.

“That’s not what I’m saying,” he begins painfully. “I will never claim to know what’s best for you, but you and I are very much alike. You want your work to be perfect, yet it will never be perfect,” he says. You are clenching your jaw and trying hard to keep back the tears pooling in your eyes.

“I know, I just,” you try to say, but Henry stops you. He steps forward taking your shoulders in his hands.

“Shh, shh,” he hushes you. “You don’t have to explain anything to me,” he pushes your chin up with his hand so you are looking at him. The tears are freely flowing at this point.

“I just feel so betrayed right now,” you cry. “And I’m so angry - not at James, but at myself. Because I know he’s right, but it sucks hearing and gah!” you sob. Henry places his hands on either side of your face.

“I know, I know,” he whispers. He places his forehead on yours and you try hard not to break down even further. He shushes you while gently stroking the side of your face with his right hand. After a moment, you can’t help but chuckle.

“Well, I’m willing to bet you imagined this evening going slightly differently,” you try to joke through your tears. Henry doesn’t laugh, but a small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.

“Holding, touching, and comforting the woman I love?” he rattles off. “I can’t imagine a better evening,” he’s still holding your head gently and you try to smile, but a fresh wave of tears is threatening to erupt. Henry steps closer to you, pulling you into an embrace. It’s the most loving embrace you could possibly imagine. Suddenly you realize how vulnerable you are and the fear overtakes you. You quickly and suddenly pull back from Henry.

“I, uh, I’m going to,” you stutter, gesturing over your shoulder. “I’m going to go take a second. In the bathroom. And um, I’ll just, I’ll be right back,” you say over your shoulder as you shuffle toward the bathroom. Henry doesn’t say anything but watches you leave with a pain in his heart. In the bathroom, you lean on the counter and look at your reflection. Your mascara has run completely, your eyes are puffy, and your face is splotchy. Really attractive you think to yourself. Sighing, you sit down the toilet and place your head in your hands.

You know that both James and Henry are right. You know it. And yet, the sting of the betrayal is no less softened. You want to walk this off like you walked off being kneed in the chest while playing soccer, but this feels harder for some reason. Taking a deep breath in, you square your shoulders, stand back up, and step out of the bathroom. You see Henry sitting on the couch provided. He looks up at you with a mixture of empathy and concern.

“Hey, um, you can head on out,” you begin to say, not looking directly at him. “I know you’ve got stuff to do, things to prepare for like the Durrell Challenge and what not. So. Feel free to head out whenever you need to,” you bob your head as if the two of you are in total agreement.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Henry replies quietly, not getting up from the couch.

“No, Henry, it’s okay,” you try to say, but Henry stops you. He stands up and closes the gap between you.

“No, y/n, I don’t think you understand,” he says. “I see what you’re trying to do and it’s not going to work. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving you,” he looks down at you with those blue eyes and a sweet, yet serious expression on his face. You can’t look at him, so he pushes your chin up with his hand. “I’m not leaving you,” he says quietly and firmly when he is finally able to see your eyes. Your bottom lip begins to tremble, but you laugh a little. Henry looks at you a little confused.

“I keep forgetting you’re smarter than regular men, what with being an alien and all,” you say and Henry snorts.

“Nah, it’s just the rosemary water,” he says with false humility and you laugh. He smiles at the appearance of smiles and laughter from you.

“Whatever, Superman,” you reply with a gentle eye roll and now it’s Henry’s turn to snort. He leans down and kisses you gently.

“I love you, I have faith in you, and I am so incredibly proud of you,” he whispers to you, his forehead pressed against yours. “Whatever happens, I know you will be okay and if you aren’t, I’ve got pretty big shoulders to cry on,” he says. You laugh sardonically.

“You are as thick as a pecan tree,” you reply. Henry tilts your head up to kiss you again. He’s a little more firm as if he’s trying to reiterate his statements through action.

“Now come on,” he says a little louder. “We’ve got an award-winning documentary to celebrate!” he smiles at you and you can’t help but smile back. Regardless of the pain in your heart, you want to be happy with the man you love. So, that’s what you try to do.

--

The next day, you step out of a car with Henry in front of a house. Not just any house, though, you are standing in front of Henry’s family home. You take a shuddering breath in an attempt to settle yourself. Henry glances at you then takes your hand in his.

“They’re going to love you,” he says gently.

“Have you met me?” you ask the rhetorical and sardonic question. Feelings of inadequacy immediately overtake you. You are not the girl someone brings home to meet the folks. You are the girl guys like Henry are told to avoid. The wild child with too much attitude and not enough sense to shut the hell up. Henry squeezes your hand gently, then proceeds to, basically, pull you forward. Kal leads the way and at the front door, Henry lets go of your hand for a moment to open it. The thought to just bolt and not look back crosses your mind, but Henry turns back to look at you. He’s smiling bright, his blue eyes shining with love and you can’t say no. You can’t walk away from him.

“Anyone home?” he calls out in the foyer. A female head pokes out from around a corner and she smiles broadly.

“Henry?” she asks, walking around the corner. “I thought we weren’t seeing you until after the race!” she exclaims jogging up to him. She’s significantly smaller than Henry, but clearly holds her own around him. He dips down to embrace her.

“I thought we’d come by early to say hello,” Henry says. When he lets go, they both turn to you and a wave of panic washes over you.

“Mum, this is y/n,” Henry says gesturing to you. “Y/n, this is my mum, Marianne,” Henry says, beaming at his mother.

“Hello darling,” Marianne says warmly, extending a hand. “Henry has told us so much about you,” she says. Her smile is genuine and bright.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” you say, accepting Marianne’s hand. “Henry has told me so much about you as well,” Marianne smiles at you. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Henry beaming.

“Come on, come on,” Marianne says turning and walking back to the room she originally was. You and Henry follow her. “So y/n, Henry tells us that you’re from Texas. What brings you across the pond?” she asks over her shoulder. You are walking into the kitchen and are amazed by the simplicity of their home. You begin to understand where Henry gets it.

“Work, actually,” you say. “I help produce documentaries with a friend of mine from college,” you explain.

“Y/n actually just got done featuring an incredible documentary at Cannes yesterday,” Henry adds proudly. Your face grows hot with embarrassment.

“Yes, Henry told us all about your film!” Marianne says excitedly. She’s fiddling with a dish of some sort, though you can’t discern what it is. “It sounds amazing,” she offers you a sweet smile that you return.

“Thank you, it’s been a very rewarding experience,” you reply. Henry smiles at you. The three of you chat for a while. Marianne asks you about how you came to be in England, how you met your friend James, and how you met Henry. Throughout, Henry proudly sprinkles information about you that results in you constantly feeling flushed with embarrassment. After a while, another man enters the kitchen with a flurry of sound and movement. You realize the majority of the ruckus is coming from the small children bustling around the space.

“Hey!” Henry exclaims, embracing the man. He looks almost exactly like Henry, but not. He’s definitely younger than Henry. “Charlie, this is y/n,” Henry says, turning to gesture toward you. Charlie beams.

“Hello, y/n,” Charlie says kindly. “I’m Henry’s more charming, more handsome younger brother,” Henry scoffs and rolls his eyes.

“Hi Charlie, you know it’s funny,” you say smiling. “That’s exactly how Henry described you to me,” you grin devilishly at Henry while Charlie barks with laughter. Henry is squinting and shifting his gaze back and forth between you. Marianne is smiling and laughing along with everyone.

Henry introduces you to his nieces and nephews. Everyone accepts you and greets you kindly. Henry’s father comes home from wherever he is and offers you a warm, but tight-lipped smile and a firm handshake.

“Hello young lady,” Colin greets you. You smile back and quickly square your shoulders.

“Hello, sir,” you reply, shaking his hand the way your grandad, dad, and older brother taught you. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir,” you say.

“Dad, this is y/n,” Henry says, his hand on the small of your back. He smiles proudly at you then back at his dad. Quietly, his dad nods at you and his son. Henry’s mom calls him to the kitchen so you are left alone with his dad. Awkwardly you stand for a moment before he speaks.

“Henry tells us that you are a documentarian,” Colin states and you bob your head.

“Yes sir,” you reply. “I like telling stories, sir,” you confess for some reason. Colin chuckles to himself.

“You are dropping ‘sirs’ as if your life depended on it,” he says quietly and you look at him. He has the same eyes as Henry. You drop your gaze and smile.

“That will make the Sarge happy to hear,” you say to your feet. “He always said I wouldn’t be able to use my mouth for anything other than smart ass remarks, but I could at least learn to show some respect to a military man,” you finish, looking up at Henry’s father, blushing profusely. He’s smiling at you warmly, in a way that distinctly reminds you of Henry.

“Is that your father?” he asks.

“No sir, The Sarge is my grandad. He owns the land that my brothers and I grew up on,” you say and Colin bobs his head a little.

“You grew up in Texas, correct?” he continues.

“Yes sir,” you say. “Four wild children growin’ up in the boonies,” you joke and Colin cracks a smile.

“You grew up with three older brothers?” he asks, giving you an amused look.

“Yes, sir. They are eight, five, and three years older than me, sir,” you reply and Colin chuckles.

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to keep calling me sir,” he says and you blush bright red. From the kitchen, Marianne announces that food is ready for everyone to eat. You head on in while Colin says he has to go wash his hands first. Henry looks at you quizzically as you sit next to him, but you just smile. Marianne is on the other side of you and asks you more questions.

“Two of my other sons, Piers, and Nik, will be here tomorrow for the race,” Marianne explains to you.

“Are they also running?” you ask and Marianne nods proudly.

“So y/n,” Charlie calls out from across the table. “How exactly did you meet my brother?” he asks. You smile and glance at Henry, who is blushing slightly and looking down at his plate. You look back at Charlie.

“I smoked his butt while running,” you say. “At least twice,” Charlie laughs hysterically at that. Henry blushes even harder, but he’s smiling wider than you’ve ever seen.

“Will you be running tomorrow?” Marianne asked and you turn your head to her.

“I don’t think so,” you reply. “I forgot to send in my application to join the run,” you explain and Henry shakes his head, tsking.

“Sounds like someone was just being lazy,” Henry teases and you scoff.

“Sounds like someone was out winning awards left and right,” you gloat and the table ooh’s in surprise.

“I was out in the middle of nowhere doing my own stunts,” Henry states. “You were wearing dresses and promoting a film,” he says dryly. Once again, everyone gasps theatrically, though a few giggles escape from someone.

“Have you made grown men ball like children? No? Yeah, that’s what I thought,” you say matter of factly and laugh with everyone. Henry smiles at you and laughs along as well.

“Well if you aren’t running, we can wait for the boys at the finish line and chat,” Marianne says smiling at you.

“That would be great,” you reply and Henry immediately interjects.

“No, nope, there will be none of that,” he says quickly, causing Charlie to laugh hysterically from across the table.

“Oh, Henry don’t worry so much,” Marianne says lightly to him, teasing.

“Yeah, Henry, don’t worry so much,” you muse, giving him an equally teasing smile.

“This is only going to get worse when Piers and Nik show up, isn’t it?” Henry asks to no one in particular. You gently place your head on his shoulder and look up at him.

“Yeah,” you reply, smiling in an overtly goofy way. Charlie and his wife are laughing hysterically. Marianne is giggling and Colin is shaking his head, but smiling at the two of you. Henry looks down at you, there is a glint of love in his blue eyes, though he’s trying desperately to look angry.

[jackohooper]

#Repost @folkloresessions with @make_repost ・・・ In September 2014 a friend of mine asked if I would put on a gig at the pub they worked at... I agreed, not sure what I was really doing. Over 6 and a half years later I am so proud, excited, exhausted and every other emotion to announce that WE. HAVE. A. VENUE 💅🥳🤯 THE FOLKLORE ROOMS LAUNCHES JULY 2021 and is Brighton's newest music venue in the heart of the city. Having teamed up with our friends at @thequadrantbrighton we will be living upstairs and putting on the finest in intimate folk shows with full band capabilities. We will also be moving our monthly showcase to our brand new home which will be returning on the third Tuesday of the month from August... 😍 To get to this point, especially after the last year we have all had and continue to work through is a completely surreal and emotional place to find ourselves in but we did it! This venue is not mine, it's OURS. It's a place for the whole Folklore community to come and perform, watch, drink, eat (@reallyhappychickn available omgggg) together and to have a place to call home. You can get in touch to book your own show at The Folklore Rooms by emailing me at thefolklorerooms@gmail.com and over the next few weeks we will continue to share more photos, videos and news before our launch party... Please FOLLOW the new Instagram page specifically for the venue too, we're on Facebook and Twitter as well so you can keep up to date with all the shows we have coming up at the venue - Including yours if you book with us! @thefolklorerooms 🖤 This new part of the journey has been a long time coming, it's amazing to finally be here and we look forward to welcoming you through our doors... I want to thank every single person that has come to a show, bought a record, sent a message, hosted us at their venue, written a message of support or put up with my rather relentless pursuits whilst trying to just enjoy a pint at the pub. See you all soon - Keep those eyes firmly peeled on our socials for the incredible announcements we already have confirmed. Love, Jacko and The Folklore Team x (at The Folklore Rooms) https://www.instagram.com/p/COu2lrrn_N3/?igshid=7fhryimcw07l

[lapinbunwrites]

Title: Party Mishaps

Rating: G

Warnings: None

Fandom: Fire Emblem Fates

Characters: Lilith, Odin, Laslow, Selena

Tags: Modern AU

Word Count: 1,659

Ao3 Link

Lilith sighed as she leaned on the broom. She held out the broom, putting her free hand on her hip, and looked around at the spotless kitchen. She let out a little giggle, happy she was done way ahead of schedule. When she put her cleaning supplies, she was left her house, walking to her job. Lilith passed the front desk, walking pass all the desks, and stopping at an office of the far end of the room.

"Xander, sir," she said, happily, knocking on the door gently. "It's Lilith."

"Come in," he said, gruffly.

"Corrin told me a couple of days ago you needed extra help with something." She opened the door and standing in front of his desk. She looked around, not seeing really anything that he need help with. His office was tidy, no specs anywhere. "What...did you need help with?"

Xander placed his hand on his face and moving it downwards. Before he could say anything, his door bursted open.

"Ahoy there!" Odin yelled, being followed by Selena and Laslow. "Who do we have to help on this fine day?"

"I hate to ask this, but do you mind looking after these three as they set up for the company party," Xander sighed.

Everyone looked at her, she was pale as a ghost.

"Lilith, Lilith," Laslow said, waving his hand in front of her face.

She shook her head of her trance. "A-Are you sure this is a good idea having the three of them plan a company party?"

"Frankly, I had no say in it, they took command of if," he sighed.

"Heheh, we know how to make a party fun," Selena said, giggling. "We are party royalty."

"I don't think that's a thing," Lilith said, breathing heavily.

"Oh, don't be so dour," Odin reassured her, grabbing her arm. "Nothing goes awry when we are hosts!"

"I don't believe that." Lilith reached back to Xander, waving her hand, wanting him to grab it as she was dragged away.

As they walked around the city, Lilith held her arms together trying to stay calm through the whole thing.

"As ever, we can't have a dull party," Selena said, skipping forward and turning to face them. "We have to go bigger than we did last year."

"I highly doubt that you can." Lilith sighed, she didn't want a repeat of last year. "I'm still trying to figure out how you guys managed to release so many animals from the zoo."

"I'm still surprised your not still not paying for all of that," Laslow chuckled.

"Who says I'm not," she sighed.

Odin, Selena, and Laslow stood in silence. Man, they can't screw up again this year, but they still need to make it better than the last.

"Oho, I have an idea," Odin said after a few seconds of silence.

"It can't involve in a treasure hunt," Selena reminded him.

"We don't want another search party to find you again," Laslow sighed. "I'm still reeling over how you managed to get stuck in the hay stack."

"I don't want to be the one having to figure how to get you again," Lilith shook her head.

Odin let out a groan, visibly upset with his idea completely vetoed.

They kept on thinking as they kept on walking through the city, passing many, many shops, not coming up with any ideas. It wasn't until they passed a club when Selena snapped her fingers, coming up with a brilliant idea.

"What if we do an Ibiza," she said, snapping her fingers. "We can get all the alcohol, lasers everywhere, hire the best bands, have many, many games, and we can rent out the old castle at the end of town."

"No, absolutely not," Lilith vetoed right away. "Too expensive."

"What! No!"

Lilith glared at her until she caved in. There was no way she was going to explain to Xander why he has to fire so many people from their job because of Selena's expensive tastes. She then glared over to Laslow, who's mouth was open, which promptly closed, denying whatever gross idea that he had. She took one sigh and kept walking around, thinking of something else to do. It wasn't until they came across a small town theater when the idea hit them.

"A murder mystery," Odin, Selena, and Laslow said in unison.

"But how will it out do last years party," Lilith asked.

It became silent again.

"Make it as wild as we possibly can," Laslow said softly.

"Do you mean the story or the part itself?"

"Both?"

Lilith sighed. She didn't know why she asked that question. She was just hoping for something plain, nothing too exciting. Most people were expecting that as well. She knew if she didn't agree with this plan, something bad will happen. Lilith shook her head, she was wrong. She knew something bad was going to happen, she didn't want something worse to happen. Hopefully this was this the better option from whatever else they might have planned. Since the approval, they went from shop to shop, getting their supplies, and Lilith made sure that they weren't going over budget. She also made sure that they weren't side tracked, not like last year. She didn't want a repeat of last year.

When they got to a venue that they were able to book last minute, Odin, Selena, and Laslow set up while Lilith sent out emails. If she was lucky enough, no one would come. After everything was set up, Odin and Lilith worked on the script while Selena and Laslow worked on the food. When Lilith saw everyone poured into the venue, she took a deep breath and exhaled, she could only hope that everything went well. She helped Selena and Laslow serve some of the food only for everyone to be surprised minutes later with Laslow's 'death.'

"WHO HAD DONE IT," Odin yelled across the room.

Everyone plainly looked at the two men. Odin began to sweat as everyone slowly went back to eating their food. The only reason why the script didn't die down was Elise's loud giggling. She rushed around, helping Odin being a detective. The two walked around playing idiot and stumbling detectives, questioning everyone around, distracting everyone while Selena and Lilith dragged Laslow's 'dead' body out of the room. Selena rushed to a bathroom close to the dinning room, quickly changed into her costume and rushed back to the dinning room to play her part. Laslow on the other hand rushed to the kitchen to fill a vile full of water. He handed it off to Selena before he next part in the script, leaving it behind for the two detectives to find.

Lilith, in the background, started sniff something burning. She gasped, rushing towards the kitchen to find a fire. She started to freak out. She grabbed the fire extinguisher and tried to put out the fire. Hearing everyone's cheers and gasps as the show went on, did not relax her. After the fire was out, she rushed to find out that they had broken a tank full of fish. She rushed to clean up that mess only to find herself at another fish tank with a fire in it.

"How is that even possible," Lilith heaved.

Regardless, she still managed fix it. By the time she was done, the murder mystery was over and everyone had a great time. Everyone was out of the venue, making their way to the parking lot. The other three caught up with her to tell her the good news.

"My many thank yous, dear Lilith," Odin said, happily. "From the depths of my beating life force."

"Yes, thank you, this was a great party fantastic," Laslow said, giving Lilith a big hug.

"See, we didn't screw up this time," Selena groaned.

Lilith said nothing. They looked at her, she looked pale as a ghost.

"Fair Lilith," Odin said, very concerned, "are you feeling unwell?"

Laslow waved his hand in front of her face, hopefully getting a reaction out of her.

Selena just groaned.

Still nothing.

After a few more seconds, Lilith shacked her head, finally processing what Selena said.

"You screwed up a lot," she sighed.

"In what ways," Selena asked, gruffly.

"A fire was set in the kitchen because someone left a cloth next to a burner that was on. A fish tank was broken and a different fish tank had a fire in it," Lilith said, softly.

The three of them stood in silence, scratching their heads and fiddling with their fingers. They looked at her, surprised at her expression. She wasn't upset, she wasn't mad, she wasn't disappointed, she was just tired.

"You, you don't hate us?" Selena asked, dejectedly.

Lilith let out a sigh, opening her eyes to meet theirs. "No."

They were all confused.

"Honestly," Odin asked, puzzled.

"Yes, I don't hate you guys."

"After every party you were forced to help us with," Laslow asked.

"Yes, I still don't hate you."

The three looked at each other, very confused. They couldn't understand why she didn't hate them. They were even tempted to ask again, but she reassured them before they could.

"If you guys think you need to make something up," Lilith yawned, "you could clean the venue up. We can call that even if it makes you guys feel better."

"But of course," Laslow said in a loud, frantic voice. "We would be more than happy to do that!"

"Yes! We will clean it and make it spotless!" Odin chimed in.

"Yeah, yeah. What they said." Selena grunted.

Lilith smiled faintly. "Thank you."

She slowly left the building, leaving the three to clean up their mess and to fix whatever they broke in the process. It may have been a long night, but it wasn't a bad one. At least the guests had fun and at least she didn't have to clean up at the end of the night.

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

I asked on tumblr for requests, and @tepig62900 had requested the FE Awakening/Fates trio. He asked the trio drag Lilith to a party and them wondering why she doesn't hate him. I hope this works!

If you wish for a request, please go here!

[lia-jones]

Growing Stronger- Chapter Thirty-One - So Close, Yet So Far

Victor was a patient man. 

True, he was known for being tyrannical, unapproachable, brazen, even cold-hearted, (which he was not, for that matter) but he was also patient. Today, however, his patience was being tested to its very limit.

Andrea was late. Ten minutes late, to be exact. They were meeting the wedding planner; they had a schedule to follow. He felt like getting up, waltzing into that room and simply taking his fiancée with him, declaring as he walked away that a Saturday is no day to hold a meeting.

But he was a patient man, and he told her he understood the stress she was in due to the haste of publishing content before the German team, so he would keep his word. And so he shifted on his seat, taking a deep breath to diminish his discomfort, trying not to count the minutes as they passed by.

Victor understood the importance of work and of being industrious. He had dedicated countless hours of his life raising his company to the top, stopping time so the day would have more than twenty-four hours, but what Andrea was doing bordered on ridiculous. Andrea technically lived with him, but it was like he was living alone again, except that now he had an additional worry. She was always on that laptop of hers, studying, analyzing, replying to e-mails, and it was practically impossible to have any kind of conversation with her, because her mind was always far away, buried in books and data, mentally organizing the topics of her study. 

Fifteen minutes late. Victor’s fingers tapped on the steering wheel.

Andrea would barely have any meals with him, saying that she would eat something later, which she would never do, if Victor didn’t eventually bring her a snack so she wouldn’t work on an empty stomach. They didn’t even sleep together anymore, let alone have any kind of intimacy, and rare was the night that Victor didn’t have to scoop her slumbering form from that chair and take her to their bedroom, because her body had simply shut down with exhaustion. And now this. Meetings on a Saturday. The only days she had to relax and take care of other matters, like their wedding, and still she would be pulled to meetings and skype conferences, or she would need to review someone else’s work because, as she put it, in the end it would be her name on that study. Her reputation. And although it was difficult, Victor understood. He was a patient man.

Twenty minutes late. Victor’s leg jumped furiously.

What Victor didn’t understand was how she got herself buried so deep in the first place. He was a businessman himself, he has his duties to fulfill, yet he always found the time for her. Why couldn’t she find time for him? If she wanted to be a good leader, she would have to learn to delegate, to not take all the work for herself, or else all of it would have a tremendous negative impact on her health. No, this wasn’t just because he felt dejected for Andrea not making the time for him. He was worried about her, she would get herself sick if she kept continuing this  way.

Twenty-five minutes late. Victor’s jaw clenched. That’s it. He was done being patient. He was going in. He would drag her out if need be.

The front passenger door flew open, and a very flustered and tired Andrea came in.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” She rambled the apology. “I tried to get out of there as soon as I could, but they kept asking questions, I couldn’t just leave.”

“What questions can they possibly have that can’t wait till Monday?” Victor’s cringed internally at his own tone, that came icier than he intended.

“I’m sorry.” Andrea touched his shoulder softly. “I’m here, now. I’m all yours.”

“I could’ve gone by myself, you know.” Victor complained. “I have met with the planner five times already without you, because you were too busy. He’s probably wondering if my fiancée is imaginary. He keeps asking for you.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Andrea replied, with a sad low voice. Victor’s heart panged. But he had to tell her.

“This is not just my wedding, it’s our wedding, Andrea. I know a lot is being demanded of you now, but you have to make time for this. This is our important day, you have to be more involved in it. Not just me, we.”

“I’m sorry, you have been more than understanding, and I’m so grateful for that. I have been under a lot of stress, but from this moment on, I’m yours. I’m yours for the weekend, no more work, I promise.”

“I’ll take you up on that promise.” Victor let himself relax. “We have some other business to take care of.” He raised an eyebrow, smiling suggestively.

“Oh, that business.” She ran a hand over his chest. “Yeah, it’s been a while.” She made a face.

“Too long, if you ask me.” Victor agreed. “But it’s alright, I am a patient man. And we have all weekend.”

“Yes, we do.” She gave him a mischievous smile, making his heart sing with joy. She was back.

He wished he didn’t have to bring up the next subject, but it was better to deal with all of it at once, and then just enjoy the time they had left.

“I spoke to my father today.” He revealed.

Andrea jumped back slightly.

“You called him about the wedding?” Andrea’s eyes grew bigger. “Finally, Victor! I mean, he’s a piece of work, but he’s still your father.”

“I knew you were going to say that.” Victor scoffed. “No, I didn’t call him, he came over to visit. He said he approves of the wedding, and wants to pay for the whole thing himself. He even wants to throw a New Year’s party to celebrate our engagement. I refused.”

“Wait, what?” Andrea shook her head. “No, Victor, why?”

“You know why.” Victor frowned. “Why are you taking his side on this? I thought I had your support!”

“I’m not taking sides!” Andrea raised her hands defensively. “If anything, I’m taking the i-do-not-want-to-aggravate-my-fiancé side! I always have your back, you know that.”

Victor scoffed. Andrea leaned her face against his arm, kissing the fabric of his suit jacket.

“I know you have your reasons, ok? But the guy is actually making an effort, trying to reconnect with you. He knows he did some very harmful things, but he’s trying to make up for lost time.” He kept his eyes on the road, but he could feel her watching him closely. “I know you don’t trust him, but can you at least try to give him the benefit of the doubt? He’s your father, Victor. Wouldn’t it be nice to have a good relationship with him?”

“We can’t attend his party anyway, we are going to Portugal for the holidays, remember?” Andrea’s family was important to her, so it was a very solid excuse. Besides, he would much rather spend time with her family than with his own.

“We were there two months ago; we can delay our next visit. This is more important.”

Victor took a deep breath. It was no use arguing with her. She had a good relationship with her family, understandably she would want the same for him. If it was that important to her, he could give it a try.

“Fine.” He whined, making her smile wider. “We have more important matters to discuss. We still haven’t found a venue for the wedding. And it’s four months away.”

“Do you have anything in mind?” She asked, leaning her head again on his shoulder.

“My aunt offered her farm, I forgot to tell you.” Victor felt happy that they finally could discuss these matters in peace. “It has plenty of room, a beautiful garden, we could actually use the horses for the entrance. There’s the view to the lake, the willow tree you love. My aunt is actually wanting to do some work in the garden, and I think she can’t afford it, so maybe I could help her with that and use the wedding as an excuse. Maybe redecorate the main room, it’s large enough to hold the banquet. And we would have the ceremony outside, in the garden.”

“Mhm.”

“I know, it doesn’t have much meaning to us as you’d like, we were there for only an afternoon. But it does have meaning to me, most of my happiest moments were spent there, except the ones I live with you. I emailed the blueprints to the planner, to see what he thinks, but I care more about what my future wife thinks.”

Victor kept his eyes on the road, waiting for a reply. Andrea kept silent, however.

“So? What are your thoughts on the matter?” Victor looked at his fiancée.

Andrea was in no condition to think at all, as she was sleeping soundly against his shoulder, completely deaf to his words. Victor sighed, feeling abandoned once again. At least she was sleeping. 

It didn’t take them long to arrive at the wedding planner’s studio. Victor took his seatbelt and shifted his position a little, letting the slumbering girl slide onto his lap. He watched her sleep, softly stroking her golden curls, not wanting to wake her at all. Surprisingly, this was the closest he felt to her in weeks. 

The wedding planner was foreign, and no one really knew where he was from, which added to his mystery, although Victor suspected it was somewhere in Eastern Europe. His accent was thick, his English was surprisingly poor, but he was very good at his job.

“Ah, the beautiful fiancy!” He greeted Andrea with one kiss in each cheek, and was about to do the same with Victor. Victor avoided him gracefully. “Will make a beautiful breed. Do you have dress?”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Meer.” Andrea pushed away discreetly. “No, I’m still unsure of what I want.”

“Please, just Benny. Did you see breedal magazynes I sent through Vicky?”

Andrea was too busy stifling a laugh to answer. The planner didn’t seem to notice, and showed them a table with several folders with cutouts and samples, and asked them to sit.

“I saw pictures and scheme.” Bernard started. “Beautiful place. Horses are must. Carriage for breed, broom in horse. After party, release the doofs and happy couple in carriage, to the sunset. I’ll show my pictures.”

Andrea seemed confused.

“Breed is bride. Broom is groom. Doofs are doves.” Victor whispered to Andrea, discreetly. 

“Oh my.” She chuckled. 

Victor glared at her, silently telling her to behave.

“This is table I imagined. Very roostic yet elegant. Pastel couleurs. Golden and vite plates. Golden utonsils.”

“Excuse me, tonsils?” Andrea was confused once again.

“Yes, fucks and knives.”

Andrea stifled another laugh. Victor squeezed her leg under the table.

“Flowers, beautiful pastel. Roses, orchids or penises. You like penises, no?”

“Peonies!” Victor hurried to correct.

“Yes! Penises!” The planner shouted with excitement. “Baby penises everywhere! White penises, rose penises, even red penises. I can also find blue penises, but those are harder!”

At this point Andrea was completely desperate, her hands still covering her mouth, her shoulders shaking, her eyes watering. 

And Victor’s blood boiling.

“Awww, breed is emotional. You cry because it’s beautiful, no?”

“Yes.” Her voice was a high pitched croak. Victor decided to take matters into his own hands, before the planner noticed and took offense.

“Come here, honey.” Victor leaned Andrea’s face on his chest. “Just let it all out.”

Andrea did bury her face hard into his shirt, finally able to release some of her… tension. Luckily, it looked like she was crying, only Victor knew she was lost in laughter. After a moment, she was able to control herself, and Victor let her go, not before he shot her a scolding look.

“I’m sorry. I get too emotional sometimes. I just can’t believe I’m marrying Vicky!” Her voice was strained on that last part, laughter wanting to erupt again.

“Sure! I used to it already! Now, let’s discuss caca. You know what kind of caca you want? Round caca? Maybe tall caca, many levels of caca? Cupcacas are also in fashion.”

“Oh, cake.” It dawned on Victor what Bernard really meant. And then he noticed Andrea covering her mouth again, her eyes red with the effort of holding laughter. She wouldn’t be able to hold it for much longer. She looked like she was about to burst.

“Excuse me.” Victor took his phone, pretending to read a text. “There has been an issue at the company, we will need to reschedule this for another time.” He took Andrea by the arm, and they both got up, leaving in a hurry.

“I’ll see you soon!” The planner shouted from inside his studio. “We still have to talk about the photoshit!”

“Pffffffft!” Victor heard from his fiancée.

“Get in the car now!” He gritted between his teeth.

In the privacy of his vehicle, Andrea just let it all out, laughing out loud for quite some time. When she spoke again, she was still chuckling, her eyes dropping tears.

“Oh my God! I thought I was going to explode! How am I supposed to work with this man?”

Victor didn’t laugh though. He was fuming, feeling his ears hot with rage.

 “I’m disappointed, quite frankly. Never in a million years would I imagine you would be so childish.” He replied coldly, eyes on the road, feeling he was the one that was about to explode. 

“Childish? Victor, he was screaming baby penises! The blue penises are harder!” Andrea started laughing again. “How could I not laugh? Why were you not laughing?”

“Because I’m an adult, and I have the decency not to mock people for their speech impediments.” Victor retorted.

“Ok, you have to agree this is more than a speech impediment. Besides, you should’ve told me he would be like this! At least I would be prepared!” Andrea was smiling, like the whole situation was just a big joke. He wasn’t finding it funny at all.

“I should have told you?” Victor felt the bad blood rising along with the tone of his voice. “When? When do I ever have the time to talk to you anymore? Tell me, Andrea, where do I possibly fit in your very busy schedule?”

“You’re being unfair…” Andrea’s face dropped.

“Am I really? We were supposed to meet him this morning. Your team called and asked for a meeting. Fine. I rescheduled for the afternoon.” Victor tried hard to keep his tone less aggressive, but was finding it very hard to do. “You show up almost 30 minutes late. Fine. This is the most exclusive wedding planner in the country, maybe the entire planet. You have absolutely no idea how hard it was to convince him to work for us, but I did it, because I will take nothing but the very best for you. All you had to do was to sit with us and plan our wedding, supposedly the most important day in our life as a couple. But no, you couldn’t even do that!”

There was a pause.

“Well, I don’t seem to be able to do anything right these days, am I?” Andrea’s voice was pained.

The question hit Victor hard, and his heart tightened with guilt.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” 

“No, you are right. I have been difficult. This was important, and I screwed it up. I’m sorry.” Andrea looked at Victor with earnest eyes. Suddenly, all rage was gone. She was trying hard.

“You have been under a lot of stress lately, working incessantly.” He downplayed it. “You are allowed to have a silly moment. And yes, I should’ve warned you. We’ll go home, sit and decide what we want, and the next meeting you won’t even have to come along, I’ll go prepared.”

“I’ll try to go with you next time. And I promise I won’t laugh.” 

Victor exhaled heavily, the tension of an upcoming find gone. Fortunately.

“I’m sorry for my outburst. I miss you, is all.” He gazed at her lovingly.

“Well, let’s use this weekend to make up for lost time.”

Victor’s hand left the steering wheel to hold hers. It was no use feeling angry for something so small, when his love was so immense. He would have her that day and the following day, and shower her with love. That was all he wanted, and that was all that mattered.

He should’ve guessed his joy would be shortlived. The moment she stepped foot in the apartment, her phone rang.

“I’m so sorry, there’s something wrong at the faculty, the team needs me there.” Andrea explained. “It’s a short thing, it won’t be long until you have me in your arms again.”

Victor knew very well that was a lie, even if Andrea didn’t. An hour turned into two, three, four, and Victor had dinner alone, reading the several apologetic texts from her. He went to bed, taking with him a glass of brandy and his laptop. He could use a distraction from his indignation. Might as well do some research for the wedding.

Andrea entered the room carefully, eyeing his reaction.

“I’m sorry it took me so long.” She apologized. “How was your evening?”

“Fine.” He answered shortly, annoyed.

“What are you doing?” She tried again, sitting next to him.

“Busy. Wedding research.” Victor knew it was childish to play hard to get, but he wasn’t going to give in easily either.

With a loud sigh, Andrea got up and disappeared into the walking closet. Victor sighed as well. He didn’t want to argue, he didn’t like being upset with her. But he just couldn’t turn it around.

Andrea came out of the closet, standing in front of him, waiting for him to look at her. He looked up, noticing she was wearing his favorite lingerie, the satin burgundy one with lace, that made her breasts look just perfect and went impeccably with her creamy skin tone. Victor looked back at his computer, pretending he didn’t notice and his heart wasn’t pounding hard on his chest. She took the laptop away, closing it and putting it on the nightstand.

“I was using that.” He complained.

“I noticed.” She spoke with her bedroom voice, making something stir inside him. Without any ceremony, she straddled him, taking his face between her hands, looking him softly in the eyes. Victor swallowed hard. “I know that I was gone for longer than expected, and you have every reason to be mad. But I am here now, and we still have a whole day… And a whole night.” She kissed the nape of his neck, causing Victor to take a deep breath. “So… what do you want to do? Do you want to spend some quality time with me?” She kissed him shortly on the lips. “Or do you want to keep looking at flower arrangements?” She kissed him again, this time teasing his top lip with her tongue.

Victor stared into her dark eyes, lost in lust.

“I think you know what I want.” He pulled her for a hungry kiss.

Yes, he could play hard to get. But who was he fooling? She had him the moment she walked in.