#in one of our most stable and WEALTHY years ever

[dreamyfanfix]

Chapter 1: Sharmas Vs The Rich

Present:

Violet got up for the fourth time in the last 30 minutes to wipe the sweat off her son’s forehead. The Ninth Viscount was hospitalised because of drug complications. Anthony had been bouncing around psychiatrists and none of them had done their due diligence to check the prescriptions that he had taken previously. It was not something Violet would ever think could happen to her family she had never felt that kind of fear before and, considering her family history, that was saying something. Violet loves all her kids equally but Anthony would always have a special place in her heart, he was the one who made her mother first. So to see her son, strong and organised as he was, in this state was tough for her. A little thrill went up her spine as she realised this was the first time she would be able to take care of her son since before…

“Don’t worry son. I’ll get her back for you. Then all your stresses will be gone. Mummy will take of it all,” Violet said softly to her unconscious son.

-----

2 Years Ago:

Kate hesitated at the entrance of Mayfair Country Club, her eyes widening at the grandeur of the place. It was a world apart from her usual riding spots, smaller stables across London, where she could escape and find solace in the company of horses and greenery. Don't get Kate wrong she loves being in an urban city like London but considering her upbringing in India, her body sometimes longed to experience nature now and again, and unlike some people, Kate could not afford to take a trip to the countryside whenever she wanted. But today, her friend Simon had insisted on lending her his access card, allowing her to experience a taste of the equestrian life among the wealthy elite. Kate had no qualms in admitting that it was spectacular indeed.

Dressed in her usual navy blue riding attire that hugged her figure, Kate felt a mix of excitement and apprehension as she prepared to mount a magnificent chestnut mare named Luna. The stable hands were friendly although they had misgivings about giving her the horse as most riders found her to be a bit rough. Kate was an experienced rider so mounting the beautiful creature was easy and getting her to trot around was a quick study. It was only after a few turns around the same spot did the stable hands feel calm enough to let her take Luna out alone around the forest-y area of the club.

The elegant surroundings seemed almost surreal to her and Kate began to pick up speed. Kate heard him before she saw him, a rider on her right. Her gaze followed the sound and collided with piercing brown eyes. A handsome stranger who looked at her with confusion at first and then smiled with arrogance. That only irked Kate who then let a mischievous grin tug at the corners of her lips. The stranger was keeping pace with her but for how long? Her competitive spirit flared and she felt a burning desire to prove herself. Their horses galloped side by side, the hooves creating a symphony on the ground beneath them, Kate would edge ahead and then the stranger would catch up. Laughter filled the air as they playfully raced, Kate pushing Luna to her limits. To her delight she outmanoeuvred the handsome stranger, crossing the make-believe finish line ahead of him.

Panting with exhilaration, Kate slowed down. She turned to face him, a victorious smile adorning her face and her hand in the air waving to an imaginary audience. "Looks like I've bested you," she teased, her eyes dancing with amusement.

The stranger chuckled, his gaze lingering on her with interest. "Indeed, you have. You're quite a remarkable rider," he remarked, with a note of admiration in his voice. "Care to wager a rematch sometime?"

Kate hesitated, usually she was up for some competition "Normally, the idea of besting rich country club men would be an offer I couldn't refuse but I am not sure you will be seeing me around here again,"

"What is our Mayfair club not to your liking? Or maybe it's the fact that you won't be able to beat me if I was to be riding my horse, Luna," He said.

Kate's head shot up at that "Luna is your horse?" The stranger nodded "The stable hands made it seem like she was an uncontrollable beast that no one could ride" Kate said scoffing "Then again maybe they were merely referring to the horse's owner,"

"I'll gladly let you take me for a ride if it will help you make the comparison," He said with a dazzlingly charming smile.

Their eyes met and a charge of heat went through Kate's body, it was then that Kate's conscience struck like a lightning bolt. She quickly averted her gaze and said "Well unfortunately I am only visiting,"

"Well, maybe I will see you around the city, Miss...?" The handsome stranger was clearly asking for her name.

Kate looked at his attire fully, the branded gloves, the custom clothing, the well-manicured hair and sighed "I highly doubt. Thank you for the race but I really should get back, I'll take my victory lap on the way," she said as she began to saunter off on Luna.

Kate was not usually a flirt and this was maybe why her winning high that made her forget she had a boyfriend. A good boyfriend, one who she had been seeing for only a few short months but Thomas (Tom) Dorset was a good man who stood out against a sea of insecure men she was used to.

Kate was a solicitor, not for long, but long enough that it was obvious to those she worked with and others in her field that she was already a force. You would think that those in her field would flock to her intelligence and independence. Men hate gold diggers, right? But in essence, the other male solicitors she dated had a knack for complimenting her on her looks and intelligence ('Beauty and brains wow!') but then turning around and making it seem like she was too much for them ('You make me feel like you don't need me.' 'No shit Sherlock but I WANT to be with you, is that not enough?'). All of that to say, Kate was not going to ruin a good thing she had going with Tom for a quick shag with a rich stranger from the Mayfair Country Club.

She was not going back there anyway, Simon be damned. 

Besides, Kate knew those kinds of places were exactly the kinds of places she wanted to either take down or open to a more diverse clientele, one lawsuit at a time. Speaking of, the only reason Kate was in Mayfair in the first place, she had a court hearing in 3 hours.

-----

Kate's heart swelled with a mixture of relief and accomplishment as she stepped through the door of her stepmother's, Mary's, cosy living room. 

The court case against Mayfair Highschool for Girls had been gruelling, but she had emerged triumphant. She had fought against the discriminatory practices that had plagued the school for far too long and won. This was also her second victory in her career, although this was the first case that the firm let her take the lead. In her first case, she lost handsomely because it never occurred to her to use real examples instead of hypotheticals as they did in school. The second she was secondary but got all the ways to interrogate rich people properly, which was simple: Let them talk. Let them ramble and they would eventually spill all the terrible (although they didn't think so) things they had done.

However, as Kate entered the homely apartment, she sensed the tension that hung in the air. Edwina, her younger sister, sat nervously on the couch, facing a powered-off TV, her eyes filled with anxiety. Despite having heard the good news, Edwina seemed apprehensive.

Sitting beside Edwina, Kate places a comforting hand on her sister's trembling ones. "What's the matter bon? We won the case. Mayfair Girls is gonna have to let you in now," she said trying to reassure her. Kate only brought this case to her firm because of her sister, it was the reason that the firm let her take the lead on it because they knew she would be motivated.

Edwina's eyes darted to their mother nervously before meeting Kate's gaze and said "I'm happy that you won the case, Kate... but I don't want everyone at Mayfair to think that I only got in because of the lawsuit," she confessed, her voice quivering.

Kate's heart ached. She knew her sister deserved a place at Mayfair Girls based on her own merits, the pure idea of Edwina being unfairly labelled haunted her. It was a burden no young girl should have to bear. "Bon, you did only get in because of the lawsuit,"

"Thanks, Kate, that helps my anxiety," Edwina said scoffing.

"Edwina, let your sister finish please," Mary said smoothly, looking at Kate to continue.

"Bon, the only reason your admission was pending was that the school had biased admission practices that made it so that despite your merit you didn't get in because you lacked a rich family," Kate squeezed Edwina's hands as she spoke with conviction "Those assholes-" Mary cleared her throat "Those people prioritized legacy admissions, donations and recommendations over your stellar academic record, ballet ability, teacher recommendations AND dedication to volunteering. In a fair world, you wouldn't have had to fight, the lawsuit was merely levelling the playing field,"

"Your sister is right, my love. Kate fought for justice, not just for you but for every student that has been turned away from the school on archaic rules. You. Have. Nothing. To. Be. Ashamed. Of," Mary said both firmly and in a reassuring tone.

Kate took Edwina's chin in her hand and said "And if anyone gives you a hard time, just send them my way. Remind them that your older sister likes to fight, that's why she made it her job,"

Edwina giggled and Mary said, "Or maybe just come to us with any problems and we will make sure it gets sorted out, okay?"

Edwina sniffed then said "Okay,"

Edwina embraces Kate tightly and Mary joined her girls in a comforting hug. This was going to be an interesting couple of months.

-----

Anthony Bridgerton was on the phone with his frantic mother, Violet. Anthony thought this ridiculous lawsuit with his sisters' school would go away but according to his mother, thanks to a sympathetic judge and a strong case from the plaintiff, his mother had just informed him that the school had lost the suit.

"So you are telling me Eloise and Francesca's names came up?" Anthony asked panicked.

"No, not specifically but our family name as well as the Featheringtons were brought up in what the plaintiff's lawyer deemed 'suspicious activity' with the school" Violet said.

"Suspicious activity? What does that even mean?" Anthony asked.

"Oh be smarter dear, you know what that is about,"

Ah yes, the donation. Anthony sighed "Yes I guess I forgot,"

Mayfair Girls was not just a prestigious school it was also the school his mother, aunt and sister attended but over the years the admissions for the school had become a bit stricter because of the stellar record of their graduates. Which was fine for his sister, Daphne, who had only matriculated 4 years ago into the Royal Ballet (which rarely took dancers outside of their associated Royal Ballet School). Daphne was an excellent ballet dancer, smart as a whip, a good pianist, with great social skills to match. In her diverse abilities, she often put everyone in the family to shame. When applying to the school for Daphne, Anthony didn't even have to check the progress of her application, Daphne was a legacy, her family was in the peerage and her record was beyond approach but his other sisters...

It wasn't that Eloise and Francesca weren't accomplished themselves, even if he wasn't their older brother, Anthony would say so but both of them kept getting waitlisted at the school. Now, normally Anthony would not have resorted to such measures but Eloise was supposed to go into her final years in September and Anthony was worried about what it would mean for her university prospects because Mayfair Girls was the feeder school into many prestigious universities. So Anthony wrote an endowment cheque, it was something definitely frowned upon in modern more liberal society but he was desparate.

Once news of what Anthony had planned to do to get the girls in, Eloise and Francesca expressed hesitance. Fran was a gifted pianist, even more so than her sister Daphne. Fran's problem was that she had a knack for getting so immersed in her music that she overlooked her other studies. She would often stay up to the late night hours composing new takes (or 'remixes') to classical compositions, they were beautiful but did not help when she was sporting 60%s for her other classes. Once Fran saw Daphne's first dance in the Royal Ballet last year, she realised how much she could accomplish at the school if she applied herself so she came over to the idea. 

El was the big holdout that was until Anthony made it clear that despite all Eloise's posturing her dreams of being a respected environmental lawyer were in jeopardy because she did participate in any extracurriculars, choosing instead to spend her days reading, whether that was Twitter & Reddit threads or feminist books with her best friend Penelope. Eloise was probably the smartest in the family if he was to be honest, but her inability to be friendly made it tough for people to be around so even if she went out to book clubs, debate teams and public speaking societies, she would be ostracized or asked to leave to make those spaces comfortable and enjoyable for other students. Anthony had to remind Eloise that she couldn't save the world on her own and Mayfair may be a good place to develop her social skills, Eloise but Anthony also had to promise to write a recommendation for Penelope and her sister Prudence Featherington so that Eloise would not have to navigate the new school on her own.

That was about 7 months ago and both his sisters were doing better but this lawsuit brought out his usual protective side "Do you think someone is targeting our family?" he asked his mother.

"No. I think this is more of a mass census of all families like ours. I doubt it will change the status quo really but a few new students have been removed from waitlisting and past applications are being reconsidered," Violet said.

Anthony sighed in relief, it was a small comfort but a comfort at least. Anthony suspected that his mother could feel his unease because she swiftly changed the subject "Anthony have you been seeing anyone recently?"

He winced, dropping the pen he was holding. Memories of his tumultuous relationship with Siena flooded his mind. Despite agreeing to an open relationship and shagging other women, Anthony's jealousy cause their connection to crumble. Which was a shame because Siena in a lot of ways was exactly the person his mother would have loved for him to be with, rich and connected.

Anthony cautiously responded "I actually might be open to something serious these days but I am not entirely sure"

Before he could even finish, his mother interrupted him, her voice filled with delight "Oh Anthony that is wonderful news! I will assist you in your search. I know so many young ladies who would be perfect for you,"

Uncertain if his mother truly understood him Anthony refrained from saying anything in response besides a humm, while his mother went on. His relationship with his mother was delicate enough as it was and as the main patriarch of the family, following his father's untimely death when he was 18, Anthony had shouldered a significant amount of the family's responsibilities. Many decisions had fallen to him during his mother's grieving and almost catatonic state. 

Changing the subject, Anthony inquired about the potential cancellation of Eloise and Francesca's admissions (because private schools could do that as if the students were employees). His mother informed him that their admissions had not been revoked yet, but all newly admitted students from the previous year (no matter the grade) were on probation. They needed to meet the school's rigorous standards or their admissions could be rescinded.

Anthony wondered how it all went so wrong. Yes, what he did was morally wrong but if everyone had the means to pull strings for their family they would have done the same thing. He only ever considered his family in the decisions he made.

-----

Kate stood in the crowded meeting hall of Mayfair Girls, her gaze wandering across the room in search of friendly faces, despite being well aware that these were not people she often socialised with. Except for Simon but that was because she worked with him at Danbury Law, Simon had a life in the peerage despite his disdain for it all. His ire for the whole pomp and circumstance matched that of his Godmother, Agatha Danbury.

Kate didn't always attend Edwina's PTA meetings, especially without her stepmother, but Mary had a shift at the hospital. Kate was also here to get the sentiment from parents and teachers on the updates to Mayfair Girls' admission mandates. Everyone looked on edge but Kate reminded herself to keep a friendly face on and her strong attitude ready. She wasn't a fool making friends with those in the PTA would go a long way to making Edwina's time at Mayfair Girls a successful one. The PTA in private schools had a huge influence over curriculum, extracurriculars and dress rules.

The Sharmas were not a practising Hindu family, despite their vegetarianism and special events, but if Edwina wanted to start wearing sari's to casual days at school then she didn't want a barrage of complaints from teachers and parents alike about the inappropriateness of it all. Kate dealt with it herself when she was younger when her family had first arrived in London from India and her father was very strong and bold in shutting down the ignorance of those people. It was the first time she ever felt the spark of injustice and the first time she got a thrill watching justice being served. It was really the fight that made her want to be a solicitor.

When Kate arrived she had introduced herself to the head of the PTA but as she walked around the room, she lost the red-haired woman somewhere in the crowd. So she took a stroll around the room trying to gauge sentiment but from her eavesdropping, she did not hear people talking about the mandates and Kate was starting to think that either these people did not think the rules would apply to them or maybe it was just a small few who had bought their way in.

Kate noticed a group of people off to the side of the hall and realised she could not hear what was being said so she joined in. The conversation was being led by a few parents although one of the parents seemed way younger than the others and then he turned in her direction and Kate gasped.

It was the handsome stranger from the country club.

I mean Kate knew he had money because he was a member of the country club but this just made London seem like such a small place or maybe it was just Hyde Park.

"Look I am as socially liberal as they come but I think these new admissions and admission mandates could really hurt our kids," one woman with extremely blonde hair said.

"I agree. Some of our girls have been attending schools together since they could walk. I'm sure that most of them will be doing the same in university so why shake things up? Why bring in kids from other backgrounds when they can easily thrive with their own kind?" The handsome stranger said and Kate's heart plummeted. So he was one of those kinds of rich people. Great at least Kate didn't have to worry about liking him anymore.

"Couldn't agree more Lord Bridgerton," said a red-haired woman, who Kate knew to be the head of the PTA. Not great.

Lord Bridgerton? As in Lord Anthony Bridgerton? The same guy who she knows paid an endowment to get his sisters in the school. Why did she think he would be older? When researching this case Kate found out about the Bridgertons and about how Lord Anthony Bridgerton had written a cheque and somehow his waitlisted sisters who normally did not meet Mayfair Girls' standards were accepted. When Kate researched the Featheringtons she found a similar case only they were accepted because they got a recommendation letter from the Bridgertons, it was all very scandalous. Because the case involved kids, Kate refrained from doing a Google image search because she did not want to put faces to the names of the children.

As Kate walked away from the group, being led now by the blonde and red-haired women, as they went on and on about how people like Edwina and others were not a "good fit" for their rich person school, Kate thought again that she really didn't have to worry about liking Anthony because she didn't like him, she despised Lord Anthony Bridgerton.

Just then her boyfriend Tom returned "I got you a bottle of water cause the school does not sell chai and I know how much you hate the dirty brown water that is English tea,"

"Thank you, babe," Kate said, normally she would not be one to show PDA but she went to quickly press a quick kiss to Tom's cheek in thanks. 

It was then that Kate felt something on the back of her neck, first, she put her hand on her neck but didn't feel anything distinctive so then she turned and was hit with sharp brown eyes on her, Anthony Bridgerton had spotted her.

Kate returned Anthony's gaze with an added scowl to display her disapproval, his gaze turned from recognition to confusion and Kate went back to talking to Tom. If you asked Kate what the conversation was about she would not remember but she was glad that Anthony had not chosen to approach her, Kate was not ready to tackle the PTA and a handsome adversary in one day.

-----

Anthony hated PTA meetings, usually, he loved being there for his siblings but he had been attending PTA meetings since he was 18 years old and he always had to reconcile himself with being the youngest person in the room. Today was a little different though, Anthony had spotted Tom Dorset, a friend from his university days here. Tom was escorting his girlfriend and then Anthony's phone rang.

Anthony stood at the edge of the hall on the phone for a while, promising his secretary that he would be in the office in no less than two hours. To be honest, the phone call was a welcome relief, he was glad to be away from the parents who were complaining about the school's new admissions policies. 

Though he had joined in on the ribbing, Anthony soon regretted it, unlike his sisters, Portia Featherington and Lady Cowper's daughters were merely at schools like these to build connections for marriage. Despite being way older even Anthony had to dodge remarks about Cressida Cowper's ever-growing beauty from Lady Cowper. Anthony cringed at the idea of marrying anyone younger than even his eldest sister, a teenager at this moment. Unfortunately, not all men thought that way, especially the rich kind and Anthony had more times than once had almost come to blows with older men leering at his sisters. 

Anthony understood the value of opportunities and would hate to be in a position where his family couldn't access them. That's why the new mandate irked him so much because in a way it was to provide opportunities to less fortunate people but he couldn't help but feel like it came at the expense of his sisters.

That's when Anthony spotted her, as beautiful as the day he saw on horseback, the beautiful stranger from the country club. She was sure he would not see her again and yet here she was. Anthony was going to use that as an opener with her when he saw Dorset approach her. She kissed him on the cheek and Anthony's heart sank into his stomach. The beautiful stranger was Tom's girlfriend. What was her name again? Kate. Anthony could not take his eyes off of her or them and that's when she turned to face him. 

Anthony was surprised yet kept his gaze heatedly on her, but she returned it with a scowl. Anthony was confused. Kate then turned back to Tom and continued talking. At first, Anthony wondered if he should go an introduce himself properly but the Head of the PTA, Portia Featherington made her way over to Kate and they spoke quickly before Portia walked away to the front of the hall.

As people made their way to empty seats Anthony found himself in a position where he could watch Kate and Tom as well as have a good view of Portia in the front of the meeting. He kept trying to focus on the meeting but his gaze drifted to Kate and Tom. One of those times Tom spotted him looking and waved eagerly, and Anthony waved back. Kate looked at Tom and then to Anthony and then spoke to Tom. Tom replied to her and Kate looked shocked. Anthony figured that Tom had told Kate about their connection.

There was not enough time to deal with her surprise because her name was called and she went to the front of the meeting. Kate Sharma. A beautiful name for a beautiful woman, Anthony thought.

"Hi, everyone it's nice to see you all. If you don't me or my name then you will probably recognise my work. I am the solicitor who brought the suit against the school. The suit has made sure the school has updated its admissions mandates which I am sure you have now heard," Kate spoke clearly and firmly.

A solicitor, well that makes sense for why she had no problem staring down the faces of all the parents and teachers in attendance today. That being said, Anthony could not help but feel a bit of irritation at this woman for being the reason his sister's admissions were in jeopardy.

There were murmurs among the group but Kate continued with a smile on her face "I am so excited to help make Mayfair Girls a more inclusive place. As a solicitor, I have had a thorough review of the school's policies and laws set by the Department of Education and I promise to ensure that everyone - parent, teachers and students alike - abide by them," everyone had stopped murmuring at that point and stared at her "I'm sure we all just want to make sure that the girls here are among the very best London has to offer, right?" everyone replied, although hesitantly, with a yes and Kate went back to her seat.

Anthony could not help but note the underlying threat in Kate's words. While she appeared friendly, her implications were clear: Follow the rules and play fair, or face the consequences. 

Despite the challenges her presence posed to his family Anthony could not deny the growing attraction he felt towards her. She was not like any woman he had met before, her gaze was steady her words and face strong but she smiled with warmth and Anthony wondered what it would be like to be on the opposite side of a smile like that. Then again maybe all the smiles she gave him during their ride at the country club would be all he would be able to go off of because she had a boyfriend but also he had a sneaking suspicion from her dirty looks that she knew of him and what he had done to get his sisters in the school.

Anthony smiled to himself. He loved a challenge. 

-----

Present:

"Oh I didn't know anyone was here," Siena said as she entered Anthony's hospital room. "I can leave you two alone, I just wanted to leave these flowers for him,"

Violet spoke "No, come on in. I was going to call you to speak to you anyway dear,"

"Oh," Siena sounded nervous.

"There's not anything to fear dear. I just wanted to know why you were not with Anthony when this all happened. The doctors said he was unconscious for at least 8 hours. Did you guys have a fight?"

Siena looked confused "Fight? Violet me and Anthony have not been together for months,"

"What? He never said-" Violet was taken aback.

"Why would he? He knows how much of his life is a pit of disappointment for you," Siena said sourly.

"I would never think of my son as a disappointment," Siena scoffed again. Violet knew she had said something along those lines every so often but she did not mean it to be a remark on his whole life. Anthony had to know that. Violet spoke again more firmly "I may wish the best for him but I did think that could have been you, Siena, you always seemed happy together,"

"We were never happy Violet. Everything you saw wasn't real. Anthony was a one-woman man despite not having a woman. He hated letting me down because he did not like me enough for me to be the only one but he was jealous," Siena sighed and Violet wondered if this was something Siena has been saying for a while to her son "I really thought you liked me, Violet,"

"I do. What makes you think that I don't?" Violet asked on edge.

Siena looked uneasy on her feet before standing up straight "I spoke to Kate about the ending of her and Anthony's relationship," Violet gasped, she had an idea about where this was going "I thought you liked me Violet but in reality, what you actually liked was my money and connections," Violet wanted to interject but Siena held her hand up to stop her "Most rich people think that poor people are the ones who only see their worth in their money and status but in my experience, it's the rich and titled folk who only concerns themselves with the superficial value of others," Siena took a deep breath and continued "Anthony found somebody who saw through all of that bullshit, was willing to deal with the army of siblings he has and the love they shared together was one of the few real things he had in his life and you drove her away!"

Violet looked towards her son's sleeping form before replying "Siena, I would never drive away anyone who my son actually thought was his true love,"

"How would you know what the difference between regular love and true love is?" Siena now asked with a raised voice.

Violet looked at her unconscious son again before speaking "I know a lot more than you. You young people think you have it all down with your psychiatrists and vegetarianism. You do realise my son is in a hospital bed BECAUSE of psychiatrists,"

Siena cleared her throat and spoke "Everyone knows the story of Violet Bridgerton formally known as Violet Ledger. You literally married the man who was your date at your debutant ball when you were 16. You have not had the extreme unluckiness of having to wade through the filth that is people trying to take advantage of you and it shows Lady Bridgerton!" Violet was now full-blown upset and Siena only increased the volume of her voice "As far as I am concerned Anthony is in the hospital because of you! You are just as much to blame as those psychiatrists! Why do you think he has 4 sessions a week now?" Violet gasped, she didn't know things had gotten so bad with her son "You drove Kate, his actual true love, away and sentenced him to life where he got a taste of true love but now has to live without it. You are the reason he is in here!!"

It was then that a nurse came in to ask about the commotion and if everything was okay and Siena left with little fuss.

Violet watched her leave from the door and then took a breath as she turned to look at her unconscious son.

Only he wasn't unconscious anymore. 

He wasn't sitting up but he was staring directly at her with ire in his eyes, that she had never seen from him before.

"What did you do, Mother?" Anthony asked.

#anthony bridgerton #bridgerton #kate sharma #kathony fanfic #kanthony #kate x anthony #kathani sharma #kathony #anthony x kate #the crazy rich viscount who loved me

[eiirisworkshop]

Of Desire, Preference, and Convenience

The first in a series of Witcher oneshots Also available to read on Ao3 here.

~

The sun was just a sliver clinging to the horizon when Geralt, Jaskier, and, of course, Roach came into sight of the town they had set out from a couple days before. As they drew closer on the road a young man, barely more than a boy, spotted them from where he was sitting at the threshold of his home, whittling by lantern light so the shavings fell outside the door. Upon seeing them, he stood, stared a moment, set aside his woodworking, and ran towards the center of town well ahead of them.

“Well,” Jaskier said, cutting himself off in the midst of kvetching about the several minor injuries he'd sustained over the course of Geralt's hunt, “that's not the worst welcome you've ever gotten.”

“He's not the welcome,” Geralt grunted shortly.

Sure enough, by the time they got there, what felt like most of the town had spilled into the square to gawk. With slight commotion, the crowd parted to let through Geralt’s current employer, the local Baroness, flanked on one side by a retainer, on the other by some relative. Reins in hand, Geralt led Roach forward, hauled the decapitated head of a recently slain monster from under the canvas across Roach's back, and dropped it with a heavy splat on the flagstone at the Baroness's feet. Both noblewoman and mare did the same halfstep back, away from the splatter of gore.

Several parents in the crowd shielded their children's eyes.

“I solved your cockatrice problem.”

“I can see that,” the Baroness said tightly, one hand raised slightly to steady her relation, who had bristled. “You have done a great service for our town and saved untold lives. You have our gratitude.”

“I prefer gratitude in the form of coin,” Geralt said flatly.

“And you will have it,” the Baroness assured. “But we are not a wealthy town, especially this time of year. I offer you the hospitality of my household to make up for the limits of what I can offer you in gold. With my nephew visiting,” she glanced aside to her relation, “there is only one set of rooms available, but it's more comfortable than the inn, we can give you a meal, and a bath, wash your things.”

“Yes, um.” Jaskier sashayed forward and leaned around to preemptively answer on Geralt's behalf. “We gladly and humbly accept.”

~

While Geralt settled Roach into the Baroness's stables, Jaskier sat in the courtyard on the edge of a low wall, lute propped on his thigh, playing for a gathered gaggle of the younger members of the household, including the Baroness's son, his companions, and several servants. There was applause as the song ended. Jaskier lay his palm over the strings to quiet them. “Thank you, thank you! Are there any other requests?”

“I want to hear about the witcher beheading the cockatrice,” one of the servant girls said with a slightly alarming glint to her eye. Judging by the state of her apron, she probably worked in the kitchens, and the thought of her with a knife was also somewhat alarming.

“Ha, well.” Jaskier bowed his head briefly. “It does usually take me more than a few hours to write a new song, I'm afraid.”

“Besides,” the Baroness's son said superiorly, lolling his head toward the kitchen girl, “that'll be gross and gory, nothing a delicate thing like you would want to hear.”

She leveled him with the most unimpressed look. “I've ripped the heads of chickens with my bare hands. It works better if you twist,” she said with unaffected desensitivity. “Even with the head gone the bodies keep moving for a while sometimes.”

The young noble did a very poor job of covering for the full body cringe that ran through him. Jaskier brushed a thumb across his nose and muttered, “Basilisks do that too...”

“And besides,” the girl continued, echoing her young master's tone, “the last three songs have all been about gross gory monster slayings and this pansy narrowly avoiding being beaten to death or eaten.” She jerked a thumb at Jaskier.

“I prefer Dandelion, actually,” Jaskier said, rocking back a bit while he finished processing that, no, really, she had just said that, to his face.

She ignored him completely. “I don't think one more story of the sort would suddenly be a problem for me. I’m not a delicate flower.”

“She's right.”

Jaskier and his audience all looked sharply up and around at the growled comment, Geralt's approach having been preternaturally quiet.

“Hey, now,” Jaskier began, on the verge of taking offense.

“About the twisting. Works the same on anything with a skull small enough to get a hand around.” He shrugged. “Including humans.”

Jaskier bowed his head again to hide his expression of incredulous, horrified, amusement and busied his fingers with a few chords. That served nicely to draw the group's attention, spare anyone the task of figuring out how to respond to that, and give the Baroness's son a moment to pull himself together without any more needling. The kitchen girl, for her part, looked like she might be in love.

“So,” she said after a moment when it became clear Jaskier was just noodling lyriclessly, “since your bard hasn't had a chance to write about it, maybe you could tell us how you beheaded the cockatrice?”

“With a sword,” Geralt said flatly.

She blinked a couple times, stopped fiddling demurely with the end of her braid, and nodded slowly. “Right.”

Jaskier stopped playing and offered, “I do have a song about his swords.”

“You have five,” Geralt corrected. “And they're all shit because that's what you write whenever you can't think of anything else.”

“That is not true!” Jaskier objected, electing to ignore the giggles from his audience. “At least two of them are decent.”

“Excuse me, sirs?”

Geralt and Jaskier both turned toward another, older servant who looked like she might have been the girl's mother. She smiled gently once she had their attention. “Your accommodations are ready.”

“Fantastic,” Jaskier said, standing up.

Geralt clapped one large, rough hand on Jaskier's shoulder and steered the bard in front of him, following the woman. “C'mon, buttercup.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes, said nothing, and resisted the urge to elbow Geralt in the ribs. The effect wasn't worth an additional bruise.

The guest apartment they were shown to was about a room and a half—a bedchamber with a sitting area, and an anteroom with a bath. The servant woman pointed out to them where their bags were stacked by the settee, and the basket that had been provided for their dirty laundry, then she curtsied politely and left them be.

Jaskier shed his doublet easily, tossed it in the direction of the basket, toed off his boots, and went for the tray of food set on the low table. They hadn't made it back into town until after dinnertime, so their meal wasn't elaborate, but there was hot meat, bread that was less than a day old, cheese, fruit-filled pastries, and plenty of wine. He stacked some meat and cheese on a slice of bread, took a bite, made an appreciative sound in his throat, then turned to watch Geralt meticulously divesting himself of his weaponry and armor.

“Food's good.”

Geralt hummed a short acknowledgement. He definitely needed a bath—his hair, what of it was loose, was stringy and dark with grime. It must've felt disgusting. Jaskier felt filthy enough and he hadn't gotten covered in ichor. Geralt got down to his shirt, paused to roll his neck, then stripped to skin. Jaskier turned quickly to pour himself a cup of wine and did not stare at the way the muscles of Geralt's shoulders and back moved as he raised his arms. At least he didn't stare much. He was just observing. For creative purposes. As always.

He did, however, watch as Geralt walked past him naked toward the door of the bath room.

Mouth half full, Jaskier gestured at the food on the table. “Aren't you going to eat?”

“I'll eat when I'm clean.”

“'I'll eat when I'm—' Bah!” Jaskier shifted things around so everything including his cup of wine and one of the bottles fit on the tray. “There's no law that says a man can't eat while he bathes.”

Geralt pulled open the door and took a step back, expression stunned, as though the steam curling lazily from inside had struck him.

Jaskier cocked his head with curious concern. “Are you alright?”

“I'm fine,” Geralt grunted, then continued into the room. Jaskier rolled his eyes, gathered up the tray, and followed. He realized about halfway to the door what had struck the witcher—the steam wafting from the bath smelled distinctly of lemongrass and lavender. It was pleasant, but fairly strong even to Jaskier's ordinary human nose.

The bath itself was part of the room's architecture; a large tiled tub built into a sort of dais raised a couple steps up from the floor, underneath which was a firebox of smoldering coals to keep the water hot. There was an elaborately grated drain in the floor, several additional buckets of clear water, and a basket of bottles, jars, soaps, stones, and brushes perched on the wide rim of the tub.

Geralt grabbed one of the buckets of water, stood on the grate in the floor, and dumped the bucket over his head, water flowing in rivulets down his body, cutting tracks through the grime that had gotten under his clothes. Jaskier turned his back to hook one ankle around the edge of the door and pull it closed so the heat wouldn't all escape.

While Geralt began washing with a cloth from the linen rack, Jaskier set the tray of food on the corner of the dais, then took off the rest of his own clothes, grabbed a cloth, and began to do the same. He finished the process more quickly since he was less dirty to start with, so he carefully moved the tray of food to the edge of the tub. He climbed in and sank into the hot, scented water with a satisfied groan—and a slight hiss when the water hit the scratches he had acquired on the road. He took up his wine in one hand, his stack of bread, meat, and cheese in the other, took a sip, took a bite, and leaned his head back, eyes closed. “I probably shouldn't have expected less from a town whose whole thing is its mineral springs, but this is nice.”

“Mh.”

For a while, they were both quiet, Jaskier eating and drinking by feel while Geralt washed. Then, at the splat of a cloth being discarded, Jaskier opened his eyes again. He watched Geralt snag a piece of cheese from the tray and cram it efficiently in his mouth, then take a stiff-bristled brush from the basket of bath things, sit on the edge of the dais with his emptied bucket partially refilled at his feet, unknot the tie holding his hair out of his face, and start brushing out his own mane as he'd done Roach's not long before.

Jaskier knew Geralt wouldn't believe him if he ever told him, but he really was beautiful. Not in a feminine way, not quite in the compellingly unearthly way Yen was, though that was more like it. With his long white hair and amber eyes, his constellation of scars that told a thousand stories the man himself rarely if ever voiced, his striking stature, the control to his moves which spoke both of strength and of a gentleness a lucky few were blessed to bare witness to, Geralt of Rivia was beautiful in his own way. Not that Jaskier ever would tell him. That...that was another urge to be resisted, for the effect wouldn't be worth the bruises.

Instead, he shifted in the bath, hazy water lapping around his waist, and leaned forward against the side of the tub to eat a pastry without dropping any crumbs or sugar in the water. He sucked a bit of filling off his thumb. “Wouldn't it be less trouble and less mess if you, I don't know, braided your hair back? Or kept it up?”

“Yes,” Geralt sighed and dunked his brush in the bucket.

“Then why don't you?”

Geralt shrugged.

Jaskier grinned slowly. “You like it, don't you? You like the way you look with your hair down.”

Geralt resolutely did not respond.

Jaskier laughed, the sound echoing off the tile brightly. “Melitele's tit's, I'm right!”

Geralt glared at him and he sacrificed one dry hand to splash water at him in rebuttal.

“For what it's worth,” Jaskier continued, “you're right too. You do look good with your hair down.”

Geralt looked at him dubiously. Jaskier shrugged. “You have nice hair. And the way you tend to wear it works well with the whole,” he gestured broadly at his own face with his half a pastry, “jawline-that-could-cut-stone situation.”

That earned him an inscrutable snort. Geralt carried on brushing out his hair. Jaskier finished his pastry, dusted off his fingers, and started snooping through the offerings in the basket. One jar was full of a citrusy smelling powder that fizzed against his damp fingers when he poked it experimentally.

“Oh, that's interesting.” He dumped it in the water where it hissed and produced a thick froth of fine, foamy bubbles. “That's very interesting. I like that quite a lot, actually.” He unstoppered a bottle to sniff at its contents, pulled a face, and moved on to the next, then the next, then the next. “We ought to find the glaziers' shop before we leave town; this glasswork is really excellent. Exactly the sort of thing you tend to carry potions and tinctures around in. I know you've had a few break on you recently. Honestly it must be some sort of cosmic joke that the best inert-but-moldable material to make containers out of is so brittle. Ooh, that's nice! That's, hm, I don't know what that is. Here, smell this.” He held out the bottle.

“I can smell it just fine from over here.” Geralt glowered at him through locks of wet hair. “It's almond.”

“Almond in a poison kind of way, or…?”

“No.”

“Wonderful.” Jaskier sniffed at the bottle again while Geralt dumped out the dingy water he'd been rinsing his brush in, poured a little more from one of the other buckets, and resumed the process. Jaskier poured a little of the bottle's contents into his palm and rubbed it between his fingers. “I think it's a hair oil.”

“Probably,” Geralt agreed and just kept brushing.

“Come here,” Jaskier huffed.

“I don't—”

“Like using soap on your hair, it makes it feel like straw, yes, yes, we've had that conversation a few times,” Jaskier said. “This isn't soap. I know you know the difference. Let me help you.”

Geralt's expression didn't appreciably change but Jaskier could see him considering.

“The sooner your hair is clean, the sooner you can actually get in the bath and relax,” Jaskier pointed out. “Ridiculous strength and healing or no, you've got to be sore. I'm sore and you took significantly more battering.”

With what was definitely not a resigned sigh, Geralt got up and moved to within arm's reach of the tub, his back to Jaskier, who grinned.

“I know you,” Jaskier singsonged as he poured more oil into his hand and started working it into Geralt's hair. It was always amazing to realize, again, just how much hair Geralt had. Truly, mane was the right word for it. And the way he wore it, in addition to being quite fetching, lent itself nicely to dramatic movement. There was a lyric to be found somewhere down that train of thought and Jaskier starting humming to himself as he followed it.

“What are you thinking about?” Geralt asked after a moment, voice low.

“Hm?”

“You hum when you think.”

“Oh.” Jaskier shrugged and scritched his fingers against Geralt's scalp. “Just trying to come up with ways to describe your hair color.”

“It's white.”

“Well, yes, obviously, but that's not very poetic. Also it doesn't—” He broke off and dropped his hands, ceasing his attentions entirely. “You have no idea what light does to your hair, do you? You can't see it.”

“I can see my own hair.” Geralt turned over one shoulder to pin Jaskier with a look that quite plainly questioned his intelligence.

“Sure, but only part of it.” Jaskier leaned on his elbows on the edge of the tub. “Only the ends. And never from behind or from a far.

“I've seen other people with white hair.”

“We're not talking about other people's hair. We're talking about yours. And you don't know how it shines in sunlight, almost too bright to look at; or turns liquid and metallic like quicksilver in moonlight; or reflects a stormy sky as though it, too, could flash with lightning—and sometimes I could swear it does.”

Geralt licked his lips and took a breath. “If you write an entire song about my hair, I will finally kill you.”

“If you were ever actually going to kill me for something like that, you would have done it a long time ago.”

With a sideways tip of his head that was unmistakably reluctant agreement, Geralt got up and went back to his bucket. “I do like,” he said as he started brushing the excess oil out of his hair, and with it the last of the grime, “that you haven't ruled out my killing you for other reasons.”

“I figure horse-related reasons are the most likely,” Jaskier said cheekily, rubbing the rest of the oil from his hands through his own hair.

That drew a snort of what passed for laughter from Geralt. “You haven't been doing anything to make Roach want you dead, have you?”

“Well, not that I know of.” Jaskier almost fumbled his cup of wine in slick fingers as he refilled it. “It's hard to be sure, though—she's almost as inscrutably irascible as you.”

Now Geralt chuckled properly and Jaskier beamed into his wine.

Geralt reached for the partial bucket of clear water, dunked his head in it, then sat up quickly, flipping his wet hair out of his face with an arching spray of water. He ran both hands through his hair, combing with his fingers a few times, then wrung most of the moisture out, manhandled the bulk of his hair up to the crown of his head, twisted it deftly into a bun, and tucked it into itself so it would stay.

“Honestly, that is one of your more impressive talents,” Jaskier said mildly. Geralt grunted, stepped up on the dais, swung one leg over the edge of the tub, then the other, then sank into frothy water up to his neck at the opposite end from Jaskier. He lifted one hand, shook the water and suds off, and folded some meat and cheese together to eat.

“On the subject of your talents,” Jaskier segued. “Namely, y'know, violence—I have to know, what the hell possessed you to tell a group of adolescents, one of whom already seems to have a potentially murderous streak, that ripping the heads off of people is the same as decapitating a chicken?”

Geralt smirked. “Did you see that boy's face?”

“That I did,” Jaskier laughed. “Did you see the girl's face though? The murderous one. I think she's fallen for you.”

Geralt rolled his eyes, finished his meat and cheese wrap, and one-handedly took the bottle of wine for himself. “She's far too young for me.”

“Obviously.” Jaskier pulled a face of disgust. “What do you take me for? Don't answer that. Come back in a decade, though, and she'll be grown and you will be exactly the same. I'm speaking from experience of course.”

“You haven't changed appreciably, either.”

“Myehh.” Jaskier waved a hand dismissively. “I'm just babyfaced. I looked about twelve until the summer before you met me. Trust me, I am quite aware of all the ways I've gotten older.”

“In a decade she'd be married, anyway,” Geralt continued. “And I, unlike you, am not keen to make enemies of husbands”

Jaskier flicked water at Geralt's face, and was rather proud to earn a slight flinch. “She might not be, though. A decade later and I'm still not married.”

“Well, yes, but you're…,” Geralt's nose wrinkled a moment, “you.”

“And what exactly is that supposed to mean?” Jaskier reached across the bath and attempted to snatch the wine back. Geralt held it fast.

“Did I mention the making enemies of husbands?”

“That only happens sometimes!” Jaskier abandoned his cup on the ledge and stood for better leverage on the wine bottle, foam clinging around his waist.

“Of course. Sometimes you're making enemies of wives. Or mothers.” He let go of the bottle and Jaskier fell backward, knocking his breath out on the far side of the tub.

He wheezed and spluttered, then jabbed a finger at Geralt. “It is not my fault that everyone worth my company who'll actually look twice at me is either already married or have a very controlling family.”

He took a swig of wine from the bottle as Geralt had. The witcher arched an eyebrow at him and cocked his head slightly. “Maybe you should focus a little more of your efforts on that third camp.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The ones you think wouldn't look twice at you.”

“Ha. No. That's—no.” Jaskier turned to the tray of food, put the wine down, and intently perused the pastries. “I do rather like my head attached to my shoulders, difficult as that may be to believe. What about you, though?” he asked without looking at Geralt. “And don't say 'because I'm me' or anything like that. I know for a fact your options for willing—eager, even, and of-age—partners are not limited to whores and megalomaniacal sorceresses.”

Geralt sighed. “Everyone but the whores want things I cannot give and bring things I have no desire to possess. Even the whores do, sometimes.”

Jaskier turned back to frown at Geralt over a tiny lemon tart. “What sort of things?”

Geralt shook his head, shrugged, and looked away.

“That's not an answer.”

He shrugged again.

“Geralt.”

“I don't feel things,” Geralt snapped.

“Oh, don't give me that 'witchers don't have emotions' spiel.” Jaskier crossed one arm over his chest and took a bite of his tart. “I know you know that I know that's a crock of horseshit.”

“That's not what I mean,” Geralt rumbled and grabbed the wine back.

“Then what do you mean?”

Geralt took a drink and gestured broadly with the bottle. “People...like people. You seem to constantly be mooning after someone. I'm surprised you haven't spent the past week regaling me with embellished accounts of the beauty and charm of whoever you fixated on as your 'muse' in the last town, whether I want to hear them or not.”

“Do you want a pastry?” Jaskier held the plate out.

Geralt stared at him flatly for a moment. “I'm not hungry.”

“That's just as much horseshit as the idea that you don't have emotions.”

With a roll of his eyes Geralt traded the wine bottle to his damp hand, picked up a pastry with the dry, and took a bite. “The point,” he said, chewing, then took a drink, “is that you have feelings about people you want. I don't do that.”

“You….” Jaskier screwed up his eyes in concentration, then shook his head. “Give me that.” He took the wine from Geralt and drank. “You definitely seem to do that, at least sometimes.”

“I don't.”

“Then I need you to explain Yennefer to me.”

“She's…a friend.”

“I think you and I define 'friendship' differently,” Jaskier said slowly. He shifted how he was sitting, his foot slipped on the bottom of the tub and brushed Geralt's leg under the water. He pulled his foot back quickly.

“I'm not in love with her,” Geralt said, hawk-like eyes following a bit of swirling foam on the surface of the water. “I never was. I've never been in love with anyone. I've cared about people—usually against my better judgement.” His gaze flicked briefly up to Jaskier's face then continued to the ceiling as he leaned back, lifting one elbow to rest on the edge of the tub, bubbles clinging along the line of a scar as water ran off his skin. “Had plenty of sex. Even had sex with people I've cared about.” He shook his head. “Never fallen in love. I don't think I can.” He shoved the rest of his pastry in his mouth.

Cautiously, Jaskier held out the last of the bottle of wine and bumped it against the witcher's fingers in a silent offering that Geralt accepted.

After a moment—needed as much to take stock of his own sinking heart as anything else—Jaskier asked, “Do you want to? Fall in love, I mean.”

Geralt snorted and looked at him. “Seems like an awful lot of trouble.”

“You're not wrong,” Jaskier admitted, grimacing. “Is that a 'no,' then?”

Geralt shrugged. He pushed up on one knee and twisted to set the now-empty bottle safely on the dais.

Jaskier took that as confirmation and sank deeper into the water, pulling his knees to his chest—one of them popped and he winced. “Ow. What if…. What if someone fell in love with you? Really fell in love, someone who knows you.”

“That would be their misfortune.”

“It's not so bad,” Jaskier mumbled. Geralt stared at him. It took a second for Jaskier to notice. “What?”

Geralt continued to stare, brow furrowing.

“What are you looking at me like that for?”

“Are you in love with me?” Geralt asked, either incredulous or horrified. Hard to say which was preferable.

“I—wh—huh? No, no, of course not,” Jaskier stammered. “Not 'of course not;' I don't mean I or someone wouldn't. It's definitely something someone might, hypothetically do—be in love with, I mean.” He clasped his hands in front of his face, knuckles to his lips, choosing to believe the flush he could feel in his face could be blamed on the wine and the warmth of the water. “If, hypothetically, someone were—then what?”

Geralt shook his head. “Why?”

Jaskier dropped his face into his palms. “Fuck.” He tossed his hands up, shaking his own head helplessly. “I don't know.”

Geralt stared a second longer, then stood up to get out of the bath. Jaskier averted his gaze and halfway shielded his eyes with one hand. “I—Geralt, I'm sorry.”

“There's no point in apologizing for things beyond your control.” Geralt poured another half-bucket of clear water over himself to rinse away the salts and suds, then grabbed a bath sheet to dry with and strode out to the main room, hair falling from its unsecured bun, leaving the door open behind him.

“Geralt!” Jaskier swore under his breath, hauled himself out of the bath, rinsed with the rest of the bucket, wrapped himself in a bath sheet and followed. “I'm not apologizing for having feelings or for what they are.”

“Then what are you apologizing for?” Geralt threw Jaskier's pack at him from across the room, flipped his own open, and pulled out a pair of trousers.

Jaskier swore again and more deflected his pack than caught it. “For making you uncomfortable!”

“I'm not uncomfortable.” Geralt hitched his trousers up his hips and tied the laces.

“You are a terrible liar when it's not by omission.” Jaskier stooped to dig through his pack, found a chemise that was long enough to cover himself, and straightened back up, gesturing with the garment. “If you weren't uncomfortable you'd still be in that bath, luxuriating like a frog in a rainstorm because that is the only way you ever relax, and I am kicking myself for fucking that up because I, apparently, am constitutionally incapable of keeping my mouth shut.”

“Apparently.”

“Oh, hush.” Jaskier pulled his chemise on, let his bath sheet drop, crossed his arms, and took a breath. “I didn't mean to say anything. I wasn't going to say anything. I haven't said anything!”

Geralt took a step towards him. “And why not? To keep hanging around under false pretenses?”

“Because it's not important!” Jaskier flung a hand out in a wide gesture of contradiction. “You are, without question, my best friend in the world and nothing about that is false. Having you as a friend is more important to me than whatever one-sided fancy I might be harbouring. You, of all people, know my track record with love affairs is abysmal—we were justtalking about it—and it is far more important to me to not ruin this,” he gestured between them, “and that is why I never said anything.” He took another breath. “Right after you'd gotten through explaining that you don't fall in love is probably the worst possible time to have said anything, so of course that's when I let slip—and I'll admit it stings a little to hear in such certain terms, and I'm still a bit baffled about the whole thing, really, but it doesn't change the situation. I already knew things were hopeless on my end. I am asking for exactly nothing from you but that things stay as they've been. I'll get over it. Eventually.” He shoved a hand through his damp hair and shrugged. “At this rate it might take me another decade but that's, what, three heartbeats for you? It'll be fine.”

Geralt advanced on him, expression unreadable but intense.

Jaskier put his arms up over his face in an ultimately feckless warding gesture, eyes shut tight. “Really should have put horse reasons farther down the murder list,” he squeaked.

Hands closed over his wrists and pulled them to the sides of his shoulders.

“Jaskier,” Geralt said firmly.

He warily opened one eye, then the other, and looked up into Geralt's face, feeling very much like those amber eyes were looking through him.

“What else would you want?” Geralt's tone was as piercing as his gaze.

Jaskier swallowed and shook his head. “I'm not asking for anything. I refuse to ask you for anything you can't give, and you just told me you can't give,” he gestured as much as he could with his arms immobilized, “anything.”

“I'm not asking what you're asking for,” Geralt growled. “I'm asking what you would want.”

Jaskier retreated as much as he could, leaning back away from Geralt to study him warily. Geralt waited. Jaskier closed his eyes a moment. “Fuck it.” He inhaled deeply and looked Geralt in the eye. “Sex, kisses, cuddles. To wake up, not just at your side, but in your arms. To be able to tell you everything I think of you no matter how stupid or overwrought—and, no, I don't do that already. To sing you the songs knocking around in my head I would never dare perform in public. Maybe, occasionally, to be allowed to ride with you when I'm not on death's door. To know—” He stopped to breathe and looked down. “To know, maybe even be told once in a while, that you're glad to have me around.”

Cautiously, he let his gaze find its way back up, over all the scars, to Geralt's face, searching his expression. For a moment that felt like an eternity, nothing happened, then one of his wrists was suddenly free, there was a hand at the base of his skull, and Geralt was kissing him. He kissed back. Then his brain caught up with him and he smacked at Geralt's chest, mumbling, “Wha—? H'ng om, G'ral', w',” until Geralt gave him enough room to actually talk. He took a breath. “I'm very confused; what is happening right now?”

“I'm kissing you,” Geralt said like it was obvious, which, to be fair, it was.

“Yes, I noticed that.” Jaskier realized his hand was still resting on Geralt's chest and he quickly removed it. “Why are you kissing me?”

“You said you wanted to.”

“I said I don't want anything from you, then you demanded I tell you what I would want anyway!” Jaskier huffed. “I don't want to ask you for anything you can't give.”

“You're not.” Geralt let go of him entirely. “You don't get to decide what I can and cannot give; I'm the only judge of that. Nothing you said you'd want is something I can't do.” He paused. “With the possible exception of the songs.”

“Well, I don't want anything you don't want to give, either!”

Geralt looked highly annoyed. “You're such an idiot.”

“Excuse me?”

“I wouldn't do anything if I didn't want to.”

“You just told me—”

“That I don't fall in love.” Geralt rolled his eyes dramatically enough it turned into a rather equine head toss. “You can want to fuck someone without being in love with them.”

It was Jaskier's turn to stare. He ran a hand over his face. “Hang on, hang on. You want to fuck me?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Geralt shrugged and swept a hand in an up and down gesture encompassing Jaskier's whole body. “I have no idea.”

“Why didn't you say anything?!”

“I assumed, given your predisposition towards reckless forwardness, that if you were interested, you would have said so.” Jaskier sighed, hands on his hips, head down. “That's fair, actually.” He looked up. “It doesn't bother you that I'm in love with you? Wow, that feels weird to actually say.”

“Not as long as it doesn't bother you that I don't feel the same.”

“Of course not!” Jaskier said earnestly. “I told you, I'm happy with your friendship. Anything additional is an unexpected, but very welcome, bonus. Though,” he hedged with a grimace, “also liable to ruin my chances of ever actually getting over you.”

“Does that bother you?”

“Why would it bother me to not stop wanting what I want when I have it? I only mention that in case it's a concern for you.”

“It doesn't.” Geralt tilted his head curiously. “You wouldn't rather want someone…more reciprocal instead?”

“No, see, part of the whole being in love thing is wanting that person even if it's not the most practical choice. C'mon, you've seen the kinds of decisions people make.”

“Pavetta,” Geralt sighed.

“Exactly. So, no. I don't want anyone else instead. I can't promise I'll never find any, um, distractions, but I'm not getting the impression you'd object too strongly to that.”

“I don't care.”

“Fantastic! And, of course, you'd be welcome to join.”

Geralt pulled a face.

“Or not!” Jaskier held his hands up, palms out.

“You wouldn't expect me to…include you, would you?”

“With other people? Only if you want to. Far be it from me to tell you how to spend your money. And I am kind of terrified of Yennefer, but—actually, no, I don't think I should tell you that.” Jaskier rubbed at his temple.

“I know you watched.”

“Oh, well, yeah, that is what I wasn't going to say. Anyway, no, do what—and who—you want. With or without me.”

Geralt nodded. “Alright. Then I think we're on the same page about this.”

“Whatever this is,” Jaskier said, gesturing between them.

“How does 'friends who fuck sometimes' sound?”

“Hm, I might prefer 'best friends who fuck a lot.'”

Geralt snorted, a hint of indulgent humor lighting his eyes. “Sure.”

“In that case….” Jaskier took a step forward, putting himself solidly in Geralt's personal space, lay both hands on his chest, then reconsidered and reached up to loop his arms around his neck instead. “Take me.”

Geralt rolled his eyes, but lifted Jaskier by the waist, easily walked the three steps it took to pin him to the nearest wall, and kissed him again, hard. Which, well, that sure was an experience. And Jaskier sure wasn't wearing pants. He tangled his fingers in Geralt's hair and kissed back—kissed down, which, frankly, he was not expecting to find himself doing with Geralt, even if he'd found himself kissing Geralt in the first place, but his wandering fantasies hadn't taken into account the fact that Geralt could throw him around like a rag doll. Truly a glaring oversight.

As it turned out, his wandering fantasies had made several glaring oversights.

~ Sprawled on the coverlet, Jaskier rolled over to smush his face against the nearest part of Geralt, which happened to be his ribs. “Truly,” he said, muffled, “your gifts are wasted on monster hunting.”

Geralt hummed in what could just as easily have been agreement as exasperation, pulled Jaskier up, and tucked his face against Jaskier's neck, arms around his back. Jaskier yelped slightly at being moved, then smiled softly, shifted to lay more comfortably against the unyielding angles of Geralt's body, pressed a kiss to his temple, and combed his fingers through his hair, now almost dry. “You are never getting rid of me now—”

“I already couldn't get rid of you,” Geralt mumbled.

“That's true,” Jaskier mused, still combing. “And you did try, though not very hard, you have to admit. Especially considering you could’ve, apparently, put me up somewhere I couldn't get down from, like a rambunctious kitten or something. I did know, in theory, that you could have—I mean, I've seen you fight—but I'd never really considered the implications. What's even more incredible than your strength, though, and stamina—can't forget the stamina, whew, I am…not nineteen anymore, but that's beside the point—”

“Jaskier.”

“—your precision, Geralt, I swear. And that's to say nothing of your attentiveness. Really, though, you're never getting rid of me, I'm staying right here, because I utterly adore you and because now that I know what I'd be missing I honestly believe any other lover would leave me bereft and unsatis—”

“Jaskier,” Geralt growled, “please shut up.”

He chuckled but obliged, ceasing his combing to trace his fingers along the layered lines of scars on Geralt's shoulder and arm. Some of them he knew the stories—he'd been present for a few of them, written odes to more of them than that—others he didn't know, and knew better than to ask. He started to hum, fingers of his left hand fretting amongst Geralt's hair until they gave up the exercise around the third repetition of a single bar he hummed over and over while he tried to think of a verb that both fit the melody and made any sense in context. By the time he'd settled on rained, which was a bit more metaphorical that he'd been hoping for, but fit, the breath washing over his collarbone had gone even and slow.

“Geralt?” he asked softly. “Are you asleep or just breathing slowly?”

“Breathing,” came the muffled reply.

“Right. Good. It's just a bit hard to tell since I can't see your face and I'm pretty sure your heart rate is half mine or less at any given moment.” Jaskier pushed himself to sit up, sort of peeled himself off Geralt's skin, wincing at the sensation and the certain amount of not-fun hair pulling that went with it, and rearranged himself to press his ear to Geralt's chest.

Geralt sighed. “We need another bath.”

“You have been covered in far worse,” Jaskier pointed out. “Even just today. But,” he conceded, “yes. We did make a bit of a mess.” He poked at a bit of said mess just above Geralt's hip.

A moment later Geralt asked, “Are you going to get up so we can do that?”

“Eventually,” Jaskier hummed. “Probably.”

With a sound so low in his chest Jaskier probably wouldn't have been able to hear it if he didn't have his ear right against his heart, Geralt levered himself up, pushing Jaskier off of him in the process. Jaskier was just about to protest being unceremoniously dumped aside when Geralt scooped him up and tossed him over his shoulder so he wound up squawking indignantly and scrabbling for purchase against Geralt's back instead. “Telling you I enjoy being manhandled was amistake!”

“Probably,” Geralt agreed mildly.

Jaskier craned his neck to try to see exactly where he was being carried. “Geralt, I swear—don't you dare drop me in the bath.”

“You can tell me if it's cold,” Geralt said, then did exactly what Jaskier had just told him not to do.

There was a fair bit of splashing as Jaskier grabbed at the side of the tub to keep his head above water and just barelyavoided knocking over the tray of food still perched there. He huffed and glared. “Not as warm as it was, but amazingly, no, not cold.”

Geralt nodded appraisingly, “Good architecture,” and left the room.

“Where are you going?” Jaskier called after him. He got no answer but Geralt returned shortly with the other bottle of wine from the table and a length of leather cord. He handed Jaskier the wine, wrangled his hair back up into a bun more quickly now that it wasn't so wet, tied it up with the cord, grabbed a couple cloths, and joined Jaskier in the bath.

Jaskier took a swig of the wine, then held it out to Geralt who accepted it and did the same. Most of the foam from earlier had fizzled away by now, leaving only a drifts of fine bubbles swirling on the disturbed surface of the water, which was hazy but still clear enough to see their legs through.

Geralt casually dropped one of the washcloths on Jaskier's head, set the wine aside, and set about giving himself a perfunctory scrub. Jaskier also made a pass at washing. “So…,” he said slowly, then laughed at himself. “Why the hell am I feeling awkward now; we're already through what ought to be the awkward part.”

“Hm,” Geralt hummed unhelpfully.

Jaskier watched him a moment as they washed. “It's just,” he began again, dragging his eyes back to his own lap, “you haven't really said, well, anything, except for telling me to shut up, which isn't exactly unusual for you, nothing to be worried about, but, uh, I would appreciate some feedback?”

He hadn't meant for his voice to pitch that up into a question.

Geralt looked at him curiously.

“I mean,” Jaskier wrung out his cloth and draped it on the side of the tub, “it was good for you, right?”

Something softened in Geralt's gaze and a smile tugged subtly at his mouth. “Yes.”

Jaskier let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and felt something loosen in his chest. “Great! Fantastic. Glad to hear it.” He leaned forward, elbow propped on one knee in the water. “Anything else to say about it? Any notes?”

The softness to Geralt's expression vanished. “It's sex, Jaskier, not a ballad.”

“I will save the argument they're ultimately the same thing for another day,” Jaskier dismissed. “I'm serious, though—is there anything I should know? For next time. Assuming of course that there's going to be a next time? It sounded like we agreed on this being repeatable.”

Geralt rolled his eyes, pulled Jaskier into his lap, and growled against his throat, “There will be a next time.”

“Oh good,” Jaskier breathed, fingers digging into Geralt's shoulders where he'd caught his balance.

“Fucking you is far more convenient and much less fraught than dealing with a brothel.”

“I don't know how I feel about being called convenient but I have definitely been called worse.” He loosened his grip and stroked the upward swept hair at the back of Geralt's head while Geralt traced the tip of his nose along the line of a tendon in his neck, inhaling deeply. “Do you...like how I smell?” Jaskier asked curiously, trying to make sense of the plenty welcome attention.

“Mm; it's situational.”

“Noted,” Jaskier laughed, then took Geralt's jaw in hand and caught his mouth in a kiss. “Is there anything you like that I have voluntarily control over?”

Geralt shrugged. Jaskier gave up with a rueful sort of sigh and leaned their foreheads together for a moment before maneuvering out of Geralt's lap and settling against his side instead. “Let me know if you think of anything.”

“I will,” Geralt promised, and reached for the tray of food.

~~

End of fic! Read the rest of the series on Ao3 here.

#eiiri made this #fanfiction #the witcher #aromantic geralt #aro!geralt

[lifeofkaze]

Wild Flower

They say there is no love comparable to that of a mother to her child. Since becoming a mother myself I have to say that this is something I can wholeheartedly agree with. And yet, something that often gets overlooked or not much talked about is how much of ourselves we sacrifice for the children we love so dearly. Some things we only give up for a little while, while with others we do so permanently. There is an inherent guilt most of us feel in moments when we wish for our old lives - our old selves - back, when everything was easier and the only people we had to think about were ourselves. But missing these times doesn't mean we hate what he have now, and neither does loving our children mean the times when we had to be no one but uncompromisingly ourselves weren't important to us - it only means that we appreciate what we had then as well as what we have now. Life is about change, and change in itself is neither good nor bad, it's merely what me make of it.

In that regard - happy Mother's Day to all my fellow mums out there! You are doing a terrific job and even if it's hard sometimes (and it is) - never forget that you are amazing 💛💛💛

The grand portal leading into Fraser Estate crashed open with a resounding bang, echoing over the courtyard between the house, the stables and the distillery. Selene Fraser didn’t care for the glances shared between her employees as she stormed past them with her skirts swishing behind her. She didn’t care for their mutterings or the pieces of gravel sticking to the hem of her dress either. She didn’t even care when she stumbled as the heel of her boot caught on a bump in the ground.

All she wanted was to get out.

The morning had been chaotic, as they so often were these days. Selene had been up all night, haggling over a business deal with a tradesman who was rumoured to be as wealthy as he was difficult. Now Selene felt exhausted - not only physically, but from the condescending attitude this dunce of an Englishman wasn’t shy to flaunt in her face.

She would have loved to tell him her exact thoughts on his backwards opinions but the Fraser distillery would profit immensely from her being able to secure a partnership; so Selene had bit her tongue and swallowed her anger, loathing herself more by the second.

Her patience had already been close to running out when Caitlin, her four year old daughter, had marched into her study, carrying a glass showcase with a sparkling necklace in one, and a bouquet of dried wildflowers in her other hand. Selene froze at the sight. Rushing over to the little girl, she ripped the necklace out of her hand, the cursed gemstones rattling against the glass of their case. 

“How often have I told you not to play with my things?” Selene snapped, her immense relief to see her daughter unharmed manifesting in a flare or anger. “I forbid you to ever touch that drawer again. Have I made myself clear?”

Caitlin stared at her empty hand, her little face turning red and twisting into a scowl. Tears began streaming down her face. 

“I never get to play with the pretty things,” she sobbed and stomped her foot. “It’s so unfair! I hate you!”

The words stinging deep inside her heart, Selene kneeled down and reached out to touch Caitlin’s curly hair, but the little girl thrust her hand aside. 

“I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!” she raged, throwing the dried flowers she had still been holding to the ground. She turned around and ran out of the study, straight over the flowers which crumpled beneath the soles of her feet. 

“That is the exact reason the education of a child shouldn’t be left in the hands of a woman,” the wry remark of the tradesman sounded in Selene’s back. “The child is out of bounds. She needs someone to put her in her proper place, if I may say so.” 

Selene rose to her feet, feeling something inside her snap. Smoothing out her skirts with shaking hands, she turned around to face the gloating man next to her fireplace.

“If I may be so frank, you may not say so. You may keep your mouth permanently shut, as far as I’m concerned,” she said with what little was left of her composure. “Your opinion is as unvalued in this room as is your presence in my business. If you’ll excuse me, I have more important matters to attend to than listening to your prattling for a second longer.” 

Not caring to wait for a reply, Selene turned and left the room. She walked down the long hallways towards the entrance hall, her pace accelerating with every step, until she burst out of the front entrance and dashed across the courtyard at a neck breaking speed. Her feet took her away from the grey waters of the nearby lake and up the winding path leading into the hills. She was running as fast as she could now, her pulse hammering in her ears and the wind bringing tears to her eyes, running away from the Estate, the man in her study, from what she had said when she knew she shouldn’t have. She was an adult, after all. She was responsible for the distillery and everyone living and working in it. 

Adult. 

Responsible.

The thought made Selene want to throw up, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. She was restless and had been for days now, and all of a sudden she felt like she couldn’t breathe, as if the dress she was wearing was keeping her ribcage from expanding. 

Her thoughts went to the letters lying in her nightstand. They had been sent to her from her friends all over the world, and they spoke of adventures and unexplored places and making an impact in this world. Selene had read all of them many times and each time it had left her feeling a little colder, a little more bitter; she should be among them and not stuck in one place for the rest of her life. 

Selene had reached the top of the steep hills forming the edges of the valley. She was panting, her breath rising before her eyes in steamy clouds. She looked around herself, over the more brown than green hills, interspersed by flecks of bare rock. Come summer, everything would be covered in pink and red heather, but now, with the fog clouding the sky, everything was looking positively dreary.

On a whim, Selene stepped closer to the end of the cliff and sat down, letting her feet dangle over the edge. The wind caught in her hair, caressing the bare skin on her neck with its cold fingers. Selene thought that it smelled like snow. 

She imagined how the wind would take her and carry her away, over the mountains, moors and meadows, over the woods and lakes, until it would carry her towards the sea. If she concentrated hard enough, she could almost hear the crushing of the waves and taste the salt and freedom in the air. A fist closed around her heart and Selene had to suppress a sob. Oh, how she missed the sea.

“I do hope you don’t have it in your mind  to jump. I understand that you were born to fly, but that is more a figure of speech.”

Startled by the voice behind her, Selene cast a glance over her shoulder. The familiar figure of her uncle had emerged from the fog, his bright purple waistcoat shining like a beacon through the fog as he sat down next to her.

“I would never,” Selene muttered, a faint blush spreading on her cheeks. “I was merely taking in the view.”

“And isn’t it a marvellous one indeed?” Uncle Mortimer said wryly, nodding into the grey masses swallowing the world below. 

“On some days it is,” Selene conceded. “Not so much on others.”

“I see,” Mortimer hummed, shrugging out of his coat and hanging it over Selene’s shoulders. The heavy wool smelled comforting, like oranges, firewood and the new whiskey blend Uncle Mortimer was working on. 

“It's a daunting task,” Selene quietly said after a moment of silence, “leading the family business. Being responsible for all the decisions that have to be made.”

“It’s more than the family business,” Mortimer said with a sideways glance. “It’s the family, too. You may not be the eldest, but you’re the head of it now.”

Selene looked sceptical. “How would I be? What about you, or Grandmother and Grandfather?”

“Your Grandfather stopped being the head of the family the moment he declared you his heir, little one. And as for me,” Uncle Mortimer chuckled, “Father would have rather died than leave the distillery to me - to either of his sons, for that matter. I was never fit to lead a business, and as for my dearest brother… Do I have to elaborate?”

Uncle and niece shared a knowing chuckle; the thought of Selene’s elitist father leading the Fraser distillery was ludicrous at best.

“I do not fret with Father’s choice,” Mortimer continued. “This was never the life that I wanted to lead anway.”

“Then what made you stay?” Selene asked, genuinely surprised. “Why didn’t you leave?”

“This is my home,” Mortimer shrugged. “Father needed help. You weren’t ready to step up. I fell in love. There’s many reasons as to why I stayed.”

“You think I was ready to step up?” Selene asked quietly, feeling the crushing sadness from before descending on her again. “Because I wasn’t.”

“And yet, my darling, here you are.”

“Because I had no choice.” She drew her knees to her chest, hugging them tightly. “I couldn’t justify raising Caitlin without a proper home.” 

“Do you regret your decision?” Uncle Mortimer asked quietly.

“Sometimes,” Selene whispered. She imagined how the wind would pick up this simple word and carry it to the sea where it would get lost in its vastness. “Days like these make me feel like I am trapped. I’m a mother - Caitlin’s mother - and I will be her mother until the end of my days. This isn’t something that will go away.”

She absentmindedly turned the heavy signet ring on her middle finger; it was an heirloom of the Fraser family, bearing the head of a golden stag. It should have gone to her father but like so many other things her grandfather had entrusted the ring to her.

“Don’t think badly of me, Uncle,” Selene said, her eyes fixed on the gleaming golden ring. “It sounds like I’m resenting Caitlin but I'm not, I could never. She is my daughter. I love her with every last part of my soul.”

“But it’s just not the life you imagined.”

“No,” she said, “it isn’t. It isn’t the life that I wanted. It isn’t even the life Mother and Father wanted for me.” She clenched her fist at the unfairness of it all. “It’s a life no one wanted.”

“But it’s the life you were given. Be grateful you have one, lass.”

There was sadness in Uncle Mortimer’s voice, and Selene suddenly felt guilty. It hadn’t even been a year since Uncle Mortimer had lost his husband and still he was here, listening to his niece complaining about a life that hadn’t turned out to be the fairytale she’d dreamed it up to be.

“Forgive me, Uncle,” she said softly and laid a hand on his arm. “I didn’t mean to.”

Uncle Mortimer took her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t fret, lassie, I know you didn’t. My pain is my own to bear and it doesn’t make yours less real. But we are graced with so little time in this beautiful life. Do not forget what you have, even if it’s not what you may have asked for. For some, it might be all they could ever want.”

Selene rested her head against Uncle Mortimer’s shoulder. “How did you learn to handle it?” she asked. “Your life having turned out so differently?”

“I accepted that plans can change, as do the things our hearts desire. But the past never leaves us, Selene, not entirely. It’s always with us, one way or another. It’s what me make of it that counts.”

“But how can you be happy when you can’t let go?”

“You adapt. You accept. And then, little wildflower, you can grow. Cherishing what you have doesn’t make what you lost any less precious. If it was close to your heart, how could you not mourn its passing?”

Selene felt the tears burning at the back of her eyes. She took a deep breath, finding comfort in the familiar scent of her uncle that reminded her more of home than anything else. 

“What would I do without you?” she sighed, sniffing slightly.

“All the things you’re doing now. You’re strong Selly, so much stronger than you could ever know. You can do anything by yourself, but you don’t have to. There’s all of us to hold you up, your friends, your family. Darn it, there’s even Alan, that little bugger of a ghost,” he added, making Selene giggle. “And there’s Caitlin, of course.”

“Of course,” Selene repeated softly. “She’s worth it. All of it.”

“She’s a lot like you.”

“She’s a lot like her father. At least she drives me out of my mind as much as he did.”

Uncle Mortimer made a contemplative sound. “Are you ever going to tell me who he is?”

Selene shook her head, thinking about the crumpled wildflowers on the carpet of her study. “It doesn’t matter. My family is here, and he is not. Dwelling on the past doesn’t change anything.”

“Doesn’t mean you don’t miss it.”

“No, it doesn’t.” 

Selene’s smile was tinged with the same sadness Uncle Mortimer saw on his niece’s face every time the talk came towards Caitlin’s father. He got to his feet, holding his hand out for her to take and pulled her off the ground. The fog was thinning and for a moment Selene thought she could see a glimpse of bright blue sky.

“Let’s go back to the house,” Uncle Mortimer suggested. “I took the liberty to tell your guest he can go and roast his blubberbutt over dragon fire.”

“Uncle!” Selene protested, but it was half-heartedly at best. “He would have made a good partner for the distillery.”

“Bollocks, we don’t need him. Let me treat your taste buds to my new blend and you’ll see why.”

Selene felt lighter as they walked back down the path with a swing in her steps she’d been missing for a while. The fog had indeed begun to lift and a glittering ray of sunlight broke on the surface of the lake. They had just entered the courtyard, when a small voice cried out and Caitlin came bounding towards them.

“Mummy!” she cried and flung herself into Selene’s arms, who held onto her daughter tightly and buried her face in Caitlin’s soft, curly hair. 

“Mummy, stop,” Caitlin giggled and wriggled herself from her mother’s embrace. “You’re crushing my bow.”

“Of course, darling,” Selene said softly. “I’m sorry. I’m also sorry for yelling at you. I shouldn’t have.”

“And I shouldn’t have opened your chest,” Caitlin said with a small voice. “And I broke your flowers. You liked those flowers.”

A sad smile tugged at Selene’s lips. “I did.”

“I’m sorry,” Caitlin repeated before breaking into a wide smile. “But look, I brought you new ones.” She held up a bouquet of bright, colourful flowers for Selene to smell. “We can bring them to the library and press them, and then we can make bookmarks out of them.”

“That’s a wonderful idea. Let’s do it straightaway.” A thought struck Selene and she raised an eyebrow at her daughter. “These flowers though. They don’t look like you picked them.”

“I did pick them.”

“Not outside, did you? They look awfully like the ones your great-grandmother is growing in the conservatory.”

Choosing not to answer her mother, Caitlin took her hand and pulled Selene behind her towards the house. “Have I told you that you’re the best mummy in the world and I love you very much? Because I do.”

“I love you, too, my dear,” Selene chuckled, “more than you can ever imagine.”  

#hphl #hogwarts legacy #selene fraser #caitlin fraser #mother's day #happy mother's day

[pappydaddy]

Tiktok is literally hell, most people have the worst takes for characters and completely lack common sense. Stancy is popular there bc they see two pretty people together who had history, slap a Taylor Swift song over it and call it a day. If Jancy had any screentime together we wouldn't see so many edits because people can apparently only focus on one season and disregard any other shit.

A few days ago someone commented under my anti Stancy comment that Nancy was the one who made Steve in the fan favorite character he is. Lmao yeah give all his development to his cheater ex gf who did nothing, she never begged him to change. Steve left his friends at the end of s1 bc he wanted to, granted bc he liked Nancy but still. To completely undermine his character in such a take is disgusting.

In my humble opinion Nancy never truly loved Steve, not in a way he loved her. For her he was a safety blanket, in a way he was kinda like her dad (not personality wise) but in terms of being wealthy and stable so instead of choosing Jonathan, who she always wanted she dragged Steve along for year. Steve represents the suburban life even back in s1 which she absolutely hates and Jonathan was always painted as like rebellion and adventure. I've seen tiktok comments saying oh Steve probably doesn't force her to have kids or that many, so it's fine she can live her dream and he will be a malewife. However why is that Steve is the one who has to hold back his dreams? Like yeah he wouldn't force her but that will only result in them resenting each other. It's clear he wants someone to raise those kids together with not just him alone. They just don't work so I hope the take you mentioned of him confessing to Nancy is him finally moving on he said everything he needed to let go. I'm begging at this point lol.

I still didn't like Nancy in s3, the way she treated Jonathan and their argument said more about her person than anything else. Granted both were wrong but her actions got never any repercussions, instead Jonathan was the one apologizing to her and she was like yeah now never doubt anything I say or do bc I'm never wrong. She can't own her mistakes and the show never addresses it. I like mean women but if there are never any consequences to her actions it's infuriating. Steve never got an apology from her after she cheated and still believes he's the worst bf ever but that's okay bc Nancy is our girlboss with guns.

The best outcome for those three characters would be anyone stay single. Stancy is toxic af, and Steve deserves better. Nancy deserves her career and Jonathan deserves someone who doesn't emotionally cheat as soon as he's not there.

Back to tiktok and their takes, I've seen so many people now saying if Stancy isn't endgame bc it's not going to be they kill Steve off. In fact I've seen ppl beg for it to happen and I'm sick to my stomach. Why doesn't he deserve a happy ending just bc his ex doesn't take him back. Steve dying would impact so many people, especially Dustin it would be cruel of the writers to take away Dustin's other big brother figure. And Robin losing the only person who truly understands her??? How is that fair. The fandom focuses way too much on ships than on the actual characters. I'm just saying how can you ship Stancy and claim to love Steve?

I'm so scared for s5 bc after what they did in vol2 I don't trust them. I love Steve sm as you can probably tell lol, he's like top3 of fictional boyfriends for me and him potentially not getting a happy end or dying for his toxic ex is making me ill. I just want him to live, find a girl or guy whatever to have his big family in the future. He deserves it sm, like I know the show doesn't address his trauma, physical or emotional, but he gave so much for this group and to just die it's not fair.

Obx anon

Ps I'm so sorry for not checking in more regularly life is crazy lol, I hope you're doing good ❤️

ugh, i know! tik tok is pretty bad sometimes, though not quite as bad as twitter yet. they claim that general flaws are toxic, but yet, they are supporting/shipping stancy? make it make sense.

nancy and jonathan's fight in season 3 kinda shows how privileged nancy has been all her life compared to jonathan. she jumped head first into this hunch because she wasn't scared of getting fired. she never once considered how much work jonathan had to put in just to get that job and he wasn't going to lose it over a hunch because that could ruin jonathan's future. they were both at fault in a way, so they both should have recognized their roles. this is exactly what i mean when i say the writers seem to want us to hate nancy because they do shit like what happened in season 4 and what is listed above.

i want nancy to grow as a character and i think that can only be done by her being single and exploring herself. and, whatever they do, not have stancy get back together. their dynamic in season 4 literally made me almost physically sick. hopefully, that was just a repercussion of the upside-down being stuck in 1983 and season 5 will not have this horrible content.

and, back to tik tok, they were all just saying that if steve was killed off they wouldn't watch it anymore? like make up your mind, please?

and, to your last point, that's okay lovely! i love how you back me up with really good points when i post rants like this! and don't i know life is crazy! but i'm surviving and keeping afloat, how about you?

#pappydaddy answers #pappydaddy answers anons #pappydaddy answers anon asks #pappydaddy answers asks #obx anon #anti stancy

[electronicgrowth]

Untitled HotD Series Intro

AN: Okay, this is the beginning snippet of that series I had posted about earlier. I don’t have a name for it yet, I’m playing with some ideas (it will probably be a reference to a song tbh). This is like a prequel of the prequel. I just thought this was an interesting theme to explore within the context of war and the Dance of Dragons. This chapter includes only one original character, the other characters you have already met in the show. You may love them, you may hate them. But here they all get a degree of sympathy. This may undergo edits at some point, but I will definitely let ya’ll know if that happens. I’m not sure when I’ll post the next chapter. I wrote this part really fast and was obsessed with how it came out. So, I got overly excited to post. Here we go! 

WC: 1.1k

“Almost every woman I have ever met has a secret belief that she is just on the edge of madness, that there is some deep, crazy part within her, that she must be on guard constantly against ‘losing control’— of her temper, of her sexuality, of her feelings, of her ambition, of her secret fantasies, of her mind.” Elana Dykewoman 

Dear reader,

When does childhood end? It is different for us all. So, I suppose there is no correct answer. For boys the transition into men is slow, and even after the transition men are able enjoy a certain level of freedom that women never can. 

For little girls the transition happens overnight. And simultaneously, it does not happen at all. One day all little girls wake up, and they are expected to act as a woman, but on the inside they are still that same, scared child. She does not know how to be a woman. She is simply pretending. And she carries on pretending until the day she dies. What does such pretending do to a person? Does it make them mad? 

In the early years of life, little girls are protected by their fathers. The day the guts most girls into women, is the day they discover that their father is not infallible. Realizing that your father is a man, is like losing your religion. If he can allow such atrocities to happen, how can he a god? How can he be my father? He will impose his will upon you, he will not be kind. He is still a man. He will hurt you. His world is about him. Was it all a lie? All those years of protection and affection? Or does that affection fade away once you begin to become your own person? Your father can no longer view you solely as an extension of himself. He will beat you back into line. Back to where he thinks you ought to be. The end of childhood is where our story begins.

We must start long before the main players of our story. We must start with their mothers, and the little girls their mothers once were. 

First, there is Lady Rhea Royce. An only child. She was privileged to be treated almost like the son her father never had. She learned to ride, hunt, and fight. She was a strong girl. Her family was wealthy and she would make a good wife to a man one day. 

Rhea’s childhood ended the day her father told her that she was to wed a man she didn’t even know. Upon her first meeting with said man, she discovered that he was filled with disdain for her. Her mother said that would fade. It never did. Rhea hated her husband, Prince Daemon Targaryen. And he hated her right back. 

Any hope that Rhea had of love was shredded to microscopic pieces. And even worse was the fact that she knew that even if she did have children, those children would be her husband’s. They would be Targaryens, never Royces. She wondered how that was fair.

Next, there was Lady Celia Tully. 

She was the fourth daughter of Lord Bywin Tully. She had little to no chance of marrying the first born son of any leal family. Although, she was beautiful. She had flowing red hair and enchanting green eyes. And she had curves any man would kill to see. Celia knew that she was beautiful, and that was the problem. Stable boys and Lords of Riverlands alike were enamored with Celia. She thought she was untouchable. And they say that pride cometh before the fall. And fall she did.

Celia soon became acquainted with how violent men can be to get what they want. Sometimes nothing can stop a man from hurting you. And no one cares that he’s the one who did the hurting. It’s somehow still the woman’s fault. Why did you entice him? Why didn’t you fight back harder? You must have made him think you wanted it. The woman is left in carnage. Carnage she must wade through to find the pieces of herself. It is knee deep. Nearly impossible to find every missing piece and put them back together. And when you are finally through reassembling yourself, you must clean up the carnage. And you must do it with grace. Celia learned grace at her mother’s feet, but it didn’t save her. And it wouldn’t save her own children either. 

Then, there was Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen. Rhaenyra could pinpoint the exact moment her childhood ended. And it was the day her mother died. Died in the birthing bed. Died in pursuit of a son, an heir for her father. And yet the babe didn’t even live. Her mother’s life was forfeit, for nothing. And it was her father’s fault. 

He told the maester to cut her mother. He relentlessly pursued a son, when truly he did not need one. Was she so unworthy of the Iron Throne? Rhaenyra’s father fell. He fell the farthest out of nearly any father we will speak of. He fell from beloved father to the reason she was motherless. A hard loss to bear.

And yet, Rhaenyra had to deal with her father wedding another woman. No, another girl. Her best friend, Lady Alicent Hightower. 

Oh, Lady Alicent. Is she not the most tragic of our mothers? Her father used her as a tool. A pawn in a game. But how could she ever say no to her father? Or her King? This was not the life she wanted, and yet she would still be punished for reaching for it. 

She would be ridiculed for attempting to make the best of her situation. For trying to protect her children. Yes! She made mistakes. Why is she not allowed to make mistakes? She wanted to scream that at the world. Into a void. But no one would ever answer. 

Finally, we have the youngest of our mothers. Lady Laena Velaryon. Laena’s childhood died alongside Rhaenyra’s and Alicent’s. She quickly discovered that her childhood. Her life. Her body was forfeit if it meant getting her father one step closer to the Iron Throne. The girl had not even bled yet, and was being forced to court a man who could have been her father. 

Lady Laena was lucky, where Lady Alicent was not. The king took Alicent to wife, and Lady Laena got several more years of freedom. She even got to chose her own husband. But soon her husband would prove to be a man. Someone who would let her down. Someone who would not listen to her. 

Each woman thought of her loss of childhood with the birth of her first child. Would this child, and the ones that followed be subjected to such an early loss of childhood? Could it be stopped? Could the child be protected? 

Unfortunately, the answer was no. Their child would have even shorter childhoods than their mothers. Perhaps, their grandchildren may be more fortunate. Maybe. But this is Westeros after all. 

#house of the dragon #hotd fic #rhaenyra targaryen #alicent hightower #rhea royce #laena velaryon #eventual romance #targaryen family

[carewyncromwell]

“A new start --  That's the thing I need to give me new heart... Half a chance in life to find a new part -- Just a simple role that I can play...”

~“A New Life” from Jekyll & Hyde

x~x~x~x

edited with help from Lunapic // original background image here

x~x~x~x

Eli Fawcett had never been the sort to think things through. He was a very “live-in-the-moment” sort of person, even in those days before he’d settled on the first name “Eli” for himself and was solely called “Fawcett” by most of the people around him. It was something his best school friend, the much more composed and logical Ravenclaw Cayde Burke @sirfluffig​, used to chide him for -- that Eli fit the well-worn stereotype of the meathead Gryffindor who prefers to barrel right on through rather than use their brains. But Eli would only ever shrug this off with self-deprecating humor.

“Hey, we all know you’re the brains in this outfit, Cay,” he’d laugh. “The last thing I’d want to do is step on your toes. Unless you want to get up off your rump and come dance with me -- this is a dilly of a tune!”

Even so, just about nobody expected the second-eldest Fawcett child to just up and leave England without a word to anyone, post-Hogwarts. Nobody did -- even if they really probably should have.

Eli had been a “slacker” sort at school. His lack of interest in traditional academics combined with his undiagnosed dyslexia made it that even if he had actively tried to conform to his father and grandmother’s aspirations for him, he probably never would’ve gotten straight O’s the way his older brother Enoch and his younger sister Emilia did. And since Eli truly was too carefree to really ever buckle down and “get serious” about anything, whether his studies or his future, it was inevitable that he earned no NEWTS, after his seventh year. It was the final nail in the coffin for Eli’s father Grover’s dreams that his second-born would join him at the Ministry as Enoch already had, and it prompted Eli’s strict, overbearing grandmother Alice Fawcett to propose another way to secure a successful, stable future for Eli. 

“The Potters have a son who’s just joined the Wizengamot -- a Prefect and Head Boy in his day, graduated from the same house as our Eliza, just six years prior,” said Grandma Fawcett. “The Potters are a well-esteemed family -- wealthy, as well, with a lovely home -- and their son stands to inherit all of it, whenst his father passes. Rumor even says that young Henry recently suffered a most grievous rejection by an unknown sweetheart. Just think of it! Who but our Eliza would be better to bring the man some much-needed sunshine?”

So a meeting was arranged the very next weekend between the Potters and the Fawcetts. Eli did indeed notice how deeply unhappy Henry Potter was -- he seemed both very absent-minded and actively disinterested in the proceedings. Eli was never one to like seeing someone frown, and so, brushing his freshly cut hair out of his eyes, he decided right then and there to play a jaunty tune on the piano to cheer the slightly older man up. 

“Meet me in St. Louis, Louis! Meet me at the fair! Don't tell me the lights are shining Any place but there... We will dance the hoochie-koochie -- I will be your tootsie wootsie,  If you will meet me in St. Louis, Louis... Meet me at the fair!”

It most certainly was not a tune to his grandmother’s liking, and admittedly Eli hated how high his voice sounded when he sang it, but the Potters quite enjoyed it, all the same. Henry was oddly quiet during the whole performance -- it was only when it was over that he invited Eli out onto the front porch of the Potter home. Eli, rather blindsided, tried to lightheartedly turn down the request, only to be not-so-gently pushed to follow the other man by both his father and grandmother. And so rather uncomfortably Eli followed Henry Potter outside, suddenly very painfully aware of why exactly they’d paid this “house call” in the first place.

When they arrived on the Potters’ front porch, Henry lit a cigarette. He was a bit startled when Eli took one out of the box Henry had opened himself and asked to borrow a light. Faintly bemused, Henry conjured another tiny flame with his wand, and Eli took a long drag. The sight of the short-haired “lady” smoking so casually actually seemed to take some of the stiffness out of Henry’s shoulders.

“Good to know I’m not the only one who’s ill at ease,” he said lowly. 

Eli was having trouble keeping his stomach from squirming. He tried very hard to keep an off-hand smile on. 

“Is that what this communicates?” he asked idly. “And here I’ve only ever been able to indulge in these during social events...s’pose I’m a bit out-of-step.”

Henry, however, looked rather serious. 

“I assume you were well-aware of why our parents arranged this meeting between us?” the young man said lowly. 

Eli’s smile faltered, but he tried to keep it on anyway, even as his gaze drifted away. 

“...To say I was aware, prior to your invitation, would be a bit of a stretch. ‘Am’ is more correct.”

He put on the brightest grin he could.

“...Begging your indulgence -- I’m something of a ‘dim bulb,’ by reputation, and I forget sometimes that it’s not completely unwarranted, when it comes to such things...”

Henry seemed startled by this. Then his expression actually softened. 

“...So you mean to say you played that song just to cheer me up?”

Eli blushed a bit as he brought a hand up behind his neck, rubbing it awkwardly. “Well, sure -- couldn’t very well leave you drowning in the blues if I could help it, could I?”

For the first time, Henry’s mouth spread into a smile. 

“You’re a kind sort, Miss Fawcett.”

“Fawcett,” Eli corrected before he could stop himself. His smile twitched ever-so-slightly as he forced it into a more self-deprecating expression. “...Formality isn’t my scene. Just ‘Fawcett’ is jake.”

Henry looked confused, but he took it in stride all the same. “...All right.”

He moved to a pair of chairs set up on the far end of the porch, away from the windows, and sat down, before he silently beckoned for her to sit in the one beside him. Still faintly uneasy, Eli slowly lowered himself down into the chair. 

“Don’t worry,” said Henry. “It should be harder for them to eavesdrop on us from here, as long as we keep our voices down.”

Eli cocked his eyebrows. 

“M -- Fawcett,” Henry said slowly, “I am deeply sorry...but my heart...belongs to another. I have no intention to marry you.”

Eli’s shoulders felt like they were suddenly pounds lighter. His head fell back as his lips spread into a huge, relieved grin. 

“Oh, thank Merlin,” he breathed.

Henry immediately relaxed as well. His lips spread into a relieved, self-conscious smile.

“She and I may be separated for reasons beyond our control,” he explained sadly, “but she is my one true love and soulmate. I would dishonor both myself and her if I wed anyone else.”

Eli beamed. “Well, then, you should marry her! Weddings can be lovely and fun affairs, I’ve heard, when the feelings are sincere. Reckon it’d make those horrid wedding clothes almost bearable,” he added jokingly. 

Henry gave a soft laugh, before he smiled a bit more fully. 

“I am grateful for your understanding,” he said, his modest voice very warm and sincere. “Truly, you are a very good woman, Elizabeth Fawcett.”

“Oh, Merlin’s taint, please,” Eli said in an overdramatically nauseous tone of voice. “Fawcett only! I hear my full name and all I hear is dear old Grandma, scolding the state of my penmanship!”

Henry laughed fully. It made Eli smile that bit brighter, to see it, after how unhappy he’d clearly been. 

Henry and Eli talked for about a half-hour more out there on the porch, smoking the rest of their cigarettes. Once they had finished, the two headed back inside together. 

“Thank you, Fawcett,” Henry said, his eyes sparkling warmly. “Your company and counsel truly have been a joy.”

He extended a hand to Eli. Sensing the man had intended to kiss his hand, Eli instead took it and shook it. Although faintly taken aback, Henry beamed that bit more broadly.

“I shall follow your advice,” he said softly, his smile very bright. “I shall marry my Ida, one day. Whatever the squalls -- no matter how much time I must wait.”

“Cheers,” Eli said with a grin. 

Henry added his other hand on top of Eli’s so he could shake the other man’s hand in both of his. 

“And I hope you shall know just as true of a happiness yourself, one day,” he said warmly. “The joy of being loved, for everything you are.” 

Eli’s smile flickered slightly, betraying surprise and something oddly pensive. Then, like a flower, his expression had bloomed into a warmer expression than ever -- one that made his slightly sleepy-looking eyes sparkle as he clasped Henry Potter’s hands in both of his and shook them in return.  

“‘Everything?’” he joked. “Even the rancid stench emanating off every pair of shoes I own? That might be a bit beyond my reach. But hey -- shoot for the moon, and you fall among the stars, right?”

Henry beamed and nodded.

The Potters and Fawcetts were incredibly disappointed when they learned that Henry had not proposed courtship to Eli, while they’d been together on the porch. They’d heard Henry laughing and thought for sure that it meant they were “getting along nicely,” but Henry pretty quickly corrected the record, and even made his intentions clearer to his parents about where his romantic loyalty lay. The Potters soon enough came to accept his decision -- but Grandma Fawcett was not happy. She was convinced that Eli had “sabotaged himself” in his meeting with Henry, so as to disobey their wishes and avoid a proposal, and when they returned home to Ottery St. Catchpole that evening, she tore into Eli with that very accusation.

“By all accounts, Henry Potter had given up all pretenses of ever proposing to that woman!” spat Alice. “What did you say to him?”

Eli raised his eyebrows in mock innocence. “What did I say to him? Why, I told him to marry her, of course.”

Grover’s mouth dropped open in disbelief. “You what?”

“If he loves her, I say go for it,” said Eli lightly. “So she’s set to marry Arcturus Black -- big deal. Nothing final yet -- she could still ditch that tosser, if she wanted. Maybe she and Henry can run off and elope -- that could be a fun way to spend a Saturday...” 

Alice’s face had flushed a very dark scarlet and she mouthed wordlessly for a moment, clearly having trouble articulating her anger properly. Grover looked incredibly dismayed.

“Eliza, your grandmother and I specifically selected Henry Potter with the expectation that you would be his intended!” he said, trying to keep his voice level despite the frustration and anxiety in it. 

Eli gave an overdramatic shrug. 

“Whoops,” he said with a dry smile. “Oh well -- guess I’ll just have to throw rice at the wedding instead.”

“Eliza, this is no laughing matter!” said Grover, his voice growing a bit louder and shakier. “That man was going to be your future -- he was going to provide a home for you -- a stable income and a family -- ”

“Mm, tempting,” said Eli, his voice laced with considerable dry humor, “but the man’s clearly already taken, and I’m not particularly interested in playing the role of anyone’s mistress.” He laughed brightly. “Say, I know, why not try to hook me up with Septimus Weasley next? Then maybe he’ll finally nuts up enough to finally propose to Cedrella Black -- ”

It was the absolute, faintly mocking flippancy Eli spoke with and his complete inability to be serious that finally pushed Alice over the edge.

Smack.

She’d slapped Eli across the face. It was a very weak little smack, one that was the equivalent of getting splashed in the face, but it still echoed loudly. 

“Mother!” Grover gasped.

Alice herself seemed similarly mortified. Her eyes had gone very wide and upset and she’d started to shake, partially out of shame, partly out of frustration, but mostly out of anxiety. 

“You...ungrateful child...” she rasped. She sounded close to tears. “You thoughtless, arrogant thing! Are you truly so selfish? Have you given absolutely no thought whatsoever to how much your idleness has hampered your prospects? Are you truly so ignorant, to not see how many opportunities you’ve squandered, by not applying yourself the way Enoch and Emilia did? Do you not have any concept of how much you drain and drain from this family, with no chance of replenishment or return? Your one asset -- your greatest, most shining aspect has been always your amiability! You have never been smart, or clever, or sensible, or beautiful, but your cheer and talent have always earned you favor. It’s always earned you admirers -- you’ve always charmed the men around you, even when you’ve been at your most improper. That amiability is now the one thing that could win you the hand of a respectable husband -- to save you from a life of destitution! And yet all you can do, even now, is LAUGH about it!”

“They say all comedy is borne from misery,” Eli said very lightly. 

If someone who knew Eli well, such as Enoch or Cayde, had been there, they surely would’ve taken note of the noticeable, almost bitter edge to Eli’s voice, when he said this. But Grover and Alice took no heed. 

“Enough, Eliza,” Grover shut him down. 

His face, in contrast to his mother’s, had gone very pale and he clutched his second-born child’s shoulder in a very tight, shaking grip. 

“...Stop antagonizing your grandmother,” he said very lowly. His voice was far less harsh than his mother’s, to the point that it was almost beseeching, but deathly serious. “Eliza...your future is too important, for you to not take seriously. The next time I select a candidate for you, you will not hamper the match. And you will consider each candidate seriously as a future husband and father of your children. Do you understand me?”

Eli’s mouth was curled up, but the smile held no joy at all. His eyes had gone very narrow and dark, and he’d gone very quiet. The lack of response unsettled both Grover and Alice.

“Eliza,” Grover prompted Eli again, his voice sounding a bit more beseeching than he meant. “Do you understand me?”

Eli’s eyes drifted absently up onto the ceiling. He clearly had decided to ignore the question outright. The rude silence made Alice lash out a bit, harshly tapping his knuckles lightly with her cane.

“Young lady, you will speak when spoken to!” she barked strictly, but her voice betrayed her anxiety. 

Eli’s eyes drifted down to his grandmother, darkening still further. Then, very slowly, his lips curled up in an even wider, cold smile. 

“Bark, bark,” he said airily. “Bow, wow.”

He turned his back on his father and grandmother, his smile spreading into a white-teethed grin as he removed the ornamental hair comb from his short hair with as much grace as a gardener pulling up weeds. 

“Good boy, Fawcett,” he said in a very cool imitation of his grandmother’s voice. “Good speak.”

Grover opened his mouth to speak again, but Eli had already cut him off in a low whisper.

“I heard you the first two times, Dad. I may not have much in regards to brains...but my ears work fine.”

And with this, he strode purposefully up the stairs, up to his room, and slammed the door shut with an odd amount of force. 

That very night Eli packed up everything he could into a small suitcase and left, never to return. He hopped a spot on the next ocean liner to America, sailing off to the New World with nothing but his paltry savings to sustain him until he could find work. 

And yet when he stood at the railing, looking out toward the endless sparkling blue sea, Eli found himself smiling more easily than he had in a very long time...perhaps because, in that moment, the smile wasn’t for anybody else. It was just for himself. 

“And I hope you shall know just as true of a happiness yourself, one day. The joy of being loved, for everything you are.”

Henry Potter was chasing his own happiness, Eli thought -- why the hell shouldn’t he? Sure, it was probably going to be hard sometimes, and he wasn’t all that smart, and people were probably going to figure out he wasn’t what they thought at first glance...and obviously the rainclouds would come back eventually, and he would be reminded how very insignificant he truly was and how much that happiness or unhappiness he might feel wouldn’t matter, to much of anyone...

But that could wait. That could all wait, for now. For right now, Eli felt like all of the chains that had been weighing him down for so many years had been broken open. He felt light, and nimble, and free...felt better about himself than he had since he and Cayde had fallen out, last year.

In that moment...Eli was happy. 

#fantastic beasts and where to find them #eli fawcett #about eli #my art #cayde burke #grover fawcett #alice fawcett #henry potter

[riverdamien]

Practicing the Cross: Forgiveness

Lent: Newsletter

P.O. Box 642656

San Francisco, CA 94164

www. temenos.org

[email protected]

415-305-2124

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

Journal of An Alien Street Priest:

Sloughing Towards Galilee!

Practicing the Cross: Forgiveness!

Luke 15:

Calling one of the servants he asked what it was all about.

27. The servant told him, "Your brother has come, and your father has killed the calf we had been fattening because he has got him back safe and sound."

28. He was angry then and refused to go in, and his father came out and began to urge him to come in;

29. but he retorted to his father, "All these years I have slaved for you and never once disobeyed any orders of yours, yet you never offered me so much as a kid for me to celebrate with my friends.

30. But, for this son of yours, when he comes back after swallowing up your property -- he and his loose women -- you kill the calf we had been fattening."

31. 'The father said, "My son, you are with me always and all I have is yours.

32. But it was only right we should celebrate and rejoice because your brother here was dead and has come to life; he was lost and is found." '

=====================================

Thirty-five years ago, after being kicked out of my denomination for being gay and becoming the prodigal son, I found myself on the streets being a whore, and ultimately I came back to a life of service which illustrated for me a lesson of God's love that:

Wherever we stray God leads us back to the Rock of Love."

Twenty years ago I was having some major problems with my teeth and put out a request through the newsletter for help in assisting me in paying for the expenses.

I received three responses: two from millionaires, the other from a well-heeled Catholic Worker:

"The two millionaires said almost exactly word for word: "We will pay for you to have your teeth pulled, you have chosen your way of life; the third: "Catholic Workers can not remain stable unless they are married so you are on your own; (I am now on my 30th year)," So I borrowed the money and it was only paid off five years ago by my friend Vicki--a most generous person I ever knew!

I felt like I was nothing, simply nothing for even asking! And for them they lost my total trust, not my friendship, but my trust!

I learned a lesson of not trusting the "have's" of the world like my kids. Money can always be used as a means of control, and no one does that with me. People who give, give for my work, not for me!

We make people "prodigals" when we do not share with others what we have!

But God in Jesus of Nazareth seeks us out, loves us, and welcomes us back.

But there is enough for everyone in this world, and why do I say that, well let's see, 2/3 of the world's population exists on less than $10.00 a day while the wealthy live in luxury.

Our governments, like our City, State, and Federal governments are now doing the same, always pleading scarcity, as their leaders make $150,000.00 plus, but the benefits for the poorest of the poor are cut.

The cross calls us to practice generosity, not scarcity in our lives. Each of us can give from what we have, and help one another.

From our crying scarcity can be found the smile of generosity to feed, and provide health, care, and housing for all.

Let us always remember that  even in our straying God leads us back to the "Rock of Love!"A Rock of generosity, love, courage, always smiling at us! Deo Gratias! Thanks be to God!

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

Stations of the Cross--Good Friday!

March 29, 2024

City Hall, Polk Side

12 Noon-2:00 p.m.

Volunteers Needed for Readers

Contact Fr. River!

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

WE ARE BEGGARS!

Any gifts will be used for socks, food, pastoral care, hotel rooms when needed, prescriptions!

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

[bestboardingschoolsinindia]

The Role of Discipline in Education

What is Discipline?

Discipline is a way of life, a set of rules and regulations that directs the way of living life. It is also said that it is a technique to align our body, mind and soul to process in a certain manner.

Introduction:

The basic ingredient of living a healthy and happy life is including discipline in the life of an individual. Discipline is as crucial as air and water for a living to achieve success. Even in education, the role of discipline is very significant and essential because education starts from a very early age of a child and someone has rightly said the best time to learn discipline is right from the childhood because discipline cannot be learnt in a day. It takes years of hard work and consistency. Education and discipline are dependent on each other. The discipline elaborates how one should carry on education and what kind of efforts are required for attaining education while education teaches an individual how to adopt and follow discipline in life.

The Top Boarding Schools in Delhi NCR are based on the roots of discipline. A disciplined institution can develop the disciplined individuals. Thus, understanding the importance and need of it, every boarding school has followed discipline to the core for the future of the students. Below are some points that elaborates the role of discipline in education:

1) Builds a routine:

Early to bed early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise. The best quotation ever that depicts that establishing a routine and following it with discipline manufactures the most healthy, wealthy and wise individuals in the world. Not just elders but if this routine is followed since childhood for all the activities in a day, the students achieve heights certainly. The boarding schools has a fixed daily routine which is expected from the students to go along with in a disciplined manner.

2) Develops a Healthy mind and body:

In the present scenario of people dealing with depression, anxiety and mental illness, the discipline plays a major role in curing such individuals. In schools like GD Goenka Boarding School, Rohtak, the management has laid the foundation on creating sound individuals having great mental health and super healthy body who are aware of the do’s and dont’s in life. A mentally sound and stable person who is physically fit is the richest person in life. Money can come and go but what a person carries on throughout his life is his own body and nothing else.

3) A positive approach to success:

Discipline ensures the success in life. It is a positive approach towards success. A disciplined student will never feel the failure in life, if at any point he might experience a failure then also his actions towards disciplined life will take him towards the much greater success in life. He/She will eventually be at peace whatever the situations come or go, they will never let their discipline harmed because only a disciplined person understands the meaning of discipline in life.

4) Boosts confidence and Self-esteem:

The other very important role of discipline in education is that the discipline improvises the confidence and self-esteem of the students. Being educated and knowledgeable automatically discovers the confidence but if it is thoroughly mixed with discipline, it will show better results in the life of a student. They will become the best human beings later on in their lives and will also serve as the role models of the youth of the country.

5) Learns the importance of time:

As rightly said, time waits for no one! Time keeps on ticking every second and it never comes back. So, the elders always say to utilize time more efficiently and make the best use of it. There is only 24 hours in a day, it’s you who has to decide the utility of it. One may waste the time and one may utilize every bit of it. But a disciplined one will always make the best out of each second. The successful leaders, entrepreneurs, celebrities or politicians or anyone who has achieved greater heights lead a disciplined life and make best use of time also.

#Discipline in Education #importance of time #Boosts confidence #Builds a routine #Discipline

[generation1point5]

Anxiety feels like your mind running at a million miles per hour in a manic state; lots of overthinking and reading too much into little things. All the little things set you off, the smallest failures like the last chance for success gone. Work hasn’t made me anxious in a while, not since the pandemic when I worked in the private sector. By all material metrics I’m in a much better place than I was back then, but I find myself in much the same place mentally.

Work has always been a means to an end to me, a means to pursue my hobbies. I don’t even necessarily think that’s a bad thing. I’ve seen what making your passion your work does to artists when not properly balanced with the other factors that make a good life. Creativity is like fire, and like any fire there’s a risk of burnout if it is not properly channeled and controlled, but work in this day and age affords little to balance life. I love writing, but my biggest fear if I ever made it my work is that I’d grow to hate it. Neither is there any stability to pursue the arts as a career, at least not as far as the States are concerned. Only a good deal of success could afford a stable means of living, and I am yet unproven. 

At the same time, after many years of wandering from one job to another, I finally find myself in a place where I’m forced to choose between my work and my hobby. It is probably the most singular thing that I hate about capitalism; staying in a certain position for too long is considered stagnation, there must always be growth, not only in profits but also in employee professional development. This would be desirable, if not for the fact that what I do to make a living is not what I love. But at a certain point, and it should be noted that any idea of comfortable living is well beyond said point, people expect a passion for what you do to put into the work that is expected, having worked in a given field for so long.

Especially when it comes to the west, there is an individualistic, liberal notion that people get jobs doing what they love, but the realities of capital preclude that notion in the art industry. There is a necessary barrier of entry, it has to have enough appeal to a broad enough audience to support the work financially, or to attract the patronage of a sufficiently wealthy few. The realities of the market are a reality as old as time, and aren’t apt to change unless a radically different economic model were to be implemented. In our current contexts, making art for a living also rarely means making what you love unless it aligns well with the audience that supports you. But like any other form of work, I think commissions first and foremost are a means of sustenance, not passion, and don’t always align with the interests and inspiration of the creator who takes them on. Even when you make your hobby your job, it doesn’t stop becoming a job; your product is just made with someone other than yourself in mind, and that is a fundamentally distinct act from what is self-generated.

It is an odd conclusion that I arrive at: that art as an expression of identity is often at its most sincere, its most genuine and well-crafted, but as a means of living it is not necessarily sustainable. It is a dangerous thing to tie one’s worth to one’s identity; that kind of conflation leads to all sorts of crises when no validation is forthcoming. For my own part, I don’t mind if my writing isn’t recognized; part of me is kind of relieved that there is no pressure from a huge success to put external pressure to perform in the future. There is freedom of expression in it; I share what I produce out of my own will, able to share in the joys of people who engage with it and not having to fear the rejection of others.

But professionally and materially, I’m at a fork in the road where I’m being forced to choose between work and my hobby, and that thought alone is a maddening one. I have no desire to waste away at a job in which I derive no meaning; in like manner, I do not want to make what I find meaning in to be the sole means by which I live, if indeed it does not have the impact to be financially sustainable. The worth of words is too precious to be expressed in monetary terms; I do not want to find my validation in the opinions and monetary support of others. I am who I am; I wouldn’t want that to be changed by success or failure. It should remain as-is, a mere fact that heeds little the tides and fortunes of a chaotic and apathetic world. My compulsion for self-expression through writing is not a demand to be valued; it is a desire for relationship, using a means that may very well last beyond my lifetime, across cultures and backgrounds with whom I have no affiliation with or will ever know. 

There is nothing transactional at the heart of any form of art; it can be commodified, certainly, and its physical and structural characteristics imitated, but the beauty of art (as I’ve come to understand it) is its ability to connect all sorts of unlike people together. It is what distinguishes humanities from the other disciplines. It is both a means of understanding oneself and the world around us, and the world is so much bigger than the jobs I work to continue living in it. I would never want to lose sight of that by having it become my job. But more and more I am being confronted with the question of whether I can make my passions my job.

I think my will to write will always find its way out, heedless of the circumstances that dictate my material well-being. I would not be able to subdue it, nor do I want to. Life is too short and beautiful to merely subsist through it all. There is something within me that screams to be heard. Should it be silenced, then the rocks themselves would cry out.

#personal #blogging #writing

[fastercarrentals]

5 Reasons Why You Should Choose Ferrari Rental Dubai?

If you're about to rent/buy a car model that can flatter your lifestyle, then you need a Ferrari Rental Dubai. This exceptional brand is famous all around the world ever since it started racing. If we think about each exterior design, we can easily fall in love with it due to how notable each one looks. On the other hand, each model's specifications can fascinate your soul with a glance. Despite the

5 Reasons Why You Should Choose Ferrari Rental Dubai?

It also runs fast and stable on every road. It can provide you with nothing less than strength, energy, and the most spectacular ride.

This brand is known to be a symbol of speed, luxury, and wealth. The surprising part is that it's considered the world's most powerful brand. Each car made is exhibited carefully to make sure you can enjoy a sophisticated trip filled with racing vibes on every single ride.

Why Choose Ferrari?

There are thousands of reasons why you need to pick a Ferrari as your next luxury car. This beauty can say it all with a single roar. As soon as you get behind the wheel of any of their vehicles, you will feel the power of it taking all over you. If you're still wondering why this brand, then here are 5 Reasons Why You Should Choose Ferrari Rental Dubai?

You Can Rely On It!

We all know how most luxury cars can't be used as our everyday transportation methods, making it even more fun to rent one on special occasions. But that's not the deal when it comes to Ferrari. This brand combines its wealthy, speedy, and luxury designs with comfort, reliability, and the most notable specifications. We can consider it as an everyday vehicle that looks flawlessly excellent on every individual trip. If you need a good-looking car that you can rely on in your life. Then this brand might be the perfect one for you.

Customize Your Model

Most luxury car brands don't have the customization offered in their assistance or suggestion list. Well, this brand does! Considering how outstanding their models already look or even how dependable they act, they also suggest you add any other specifications you desire. Their goal is to keep you comfortable, satisfied, and completely happy with the results. Even though it might take up to two whole years to complete your request, the outcomes are worth the wait! How magnificent does that sound?

Beauty 

As we all know, Ferrari Rental Dubai is one of the most remarkable brands ever known. Their designs are amazingly unique, and their specifications are even better. Any model from this brand can easily upgrade your lifestyle into a better one. All you need to do is check which model can steal your heart first and try its power by turning the engine on. With these cars, you are always ready to go!

Faster Than A Bullet!

Most people think that the cars that are made to race shouldn't be used in our everyday lives. You might think it's too risky to drive a race car on the roads with your beloved person in the passenger seat. But the point is, this exquisite brand is known for how reliable and safe their vehicles act. It does run super fast, especially if you have one of their recent models, but it acts amazingly secure too!

The Wealth Of it

When we talk about any car model, we always consider, "Who drives that brand?" Ferrari Rental Dubai is one of the luxury brands that stole many hearts with each design. There are a variety of wealthy and famous people who drive any of their models. Despite how outstanding this brand is, when we see those running any of their models, we need to try it too!

Ferrari Rental Dubai & VIP

Get yourself the most refined driving experience with any Ferrari model you desire from our VIP Car Rental in Dubai. We offer you nothing but to have a pleasant trip with the finest vehicles.

Give us a call: [phone]

Contact us via Email: [email protected]

#Ferrari #rental #Dubai #Ferrari 488 Spider #luxury #cars

[juwelisrealestate]

Northern Cyprus

Dec 1

There were two types of overseas property buyers in Northern Cyprus: investors and relocation ex-pats. Over the past few years, the main reason for purchasing property in north Cyprus was the great sunshine, low cost of living, inexpensive properties with excellent building quality, low crime, and wonderful Mediterranean foods. In the beginning, many middle-class ex-pats chose to retire in Northern Cyprus followed by younger families looking for low crime, cheaper and better international schools for their children. These factors have made Northern Cyprus more popular than ever to invest in real estate!

Thanks to the internet, the power of YouTube, and social media, more people discover Northern Cyprus and compare property prices worldwide. This new age has increased the interest of overseas investors in the Northern Cyprus property market. Northern Cyprus property is not only promising to make a smart financial decision for investors but also becomes a popular destination to relocate to. Unlike some other places like in the Middle East or some European countries where citizenship is being offered or promising certain unrealistic figures to invest in property, Northern Cyprus has so many things working for it that make Northern Cyprus very attractive and continually growing.

Safety

The island of Cyprus was ranked fifth in the list of safest countries in the world in 2013 and Northern Cyprus was rated third in the same year. Many people did not lock their car or house doors. Even today, it’s still a safe place to live and our staff never had a negative incident or uncomfortable feeling during the past year. Don’t be surprised when you see the many bolts on home doors. I’s actually not needed but standard because locals don’t know it any other way,

Reasonable Prices

TRNC’s local currency is Turkish lira, but real estate and cars are sold in foreign currency (British Pounds). Food and daily essentials’ prices are in Turkish lira and the higher the foreign currency, the higher the buying power. That’s why tourists love life and investments in TRNC. Even people living in Southern Cyprus travel to Northern Cyprus for shopping and gas. This fact makes it ideal to invest in real estate and for retirees from wealthy countries like Switzerland, Austria, Germany, Great Britain, Skandinavia or the United States of America.

.

Ready to explore

If you love nature and the outdoors, then Northern Cyprus is for you! There are so many options for exploring. You can discover brand-new places to visit every weekend!

Peaceful

The safe country TRNK is also the address of Peace. The inhabitants of the Island generally live a calm and stress-less life. This is reflected at every stage of life. TRNC offers a peaceful life with its nature, scenery, and climate.

10% increasing investment (annually)

Property prices in Northern Cyprus are rising by up to ten percent per annum in key investment zones. Elsewhere, prices have remained very steady. This is in sharp contradiction to falling prices in other European countries. The reason why Northern Cyprus property prices have remained so stable is that properties have been constructed with private capital and not with loans from the international financial system and because the Northern Cyprus property market was insulated from the global banking crisis.

The most lucrative resale strategy is buying an object at the zero phases of construction when the builder sells it at the lowest possible price. After the construction is complete (usually within one to two years), the object is sold at the market price of completed projects. Property value increases an average by thirty percent during the building process. Buying a property in Northern Cyprus and make a safe long-term investment.

#northernCyprus #business #architecture #cyprus #northerncyprusproperties #Bestretirementcountry #NorthernCyprusRealestate #NorthernCyprusinvestment #RealestatepropertiesnorthernCyprus #real estate #history

[gamelentil77]

How To Host A Dinner Party

A small celebration hosted by a member of the family or good friend might be held at your home or a restaurant. If you might be in search of catering corporations in Las Vegas, NV, your ultimate guest expertise starts with Cut and Taste. From sourcing our elements to serving our guests, we convey our unmatched creativity and refined information to each detail of your event. Whether you are a vegetarian or simply get pleasure from fruity desserts, you will love the various dessert choices from ROUGE Fine Catering. Fruit is a nice way to maintain the sweet treats wholesome however satisfying as nicely. Wrapped up in a vintage 1960 Volkswagen, The Greats of Craft mobile bar has the flexibility to be personalised with unique choices of craft beers, wines, and cocktails. Our unique expertise allows our visitors to have more peace of mind while dining with us. If wealthy, creamy cheeses and candies sound like your sort of scene, seize a couple of pals and meet for dialog, cocktails and a number of the finest food you’ve ever skilled. The Melting Pot invented the Art of Fondue only for people like you. They may be crystal clear about the type of meals they want and even have a few favorite vehicles in mind. Talk with the food truck homeowners about your attendee estimates and what number of prospects they're capable of serving per hour. Provide the truck homeowners with attendee estimates a week before the event to allow them to factor that into their ordering and prep. Meals For Thought Create a particular dinner for 2 meal package should you cater a private event in someone’s home or batch prep a shelf-stable workplace snack for company clients to snack on the next week. Little perks like these add value to the expertise of hiring you and make visitors joyful even after the event is throughout. One of probably the most vital parts of any rehearsal dinner is the meals; not shocking, because the occasion is, after all, a meal. When it comes to selecting the catering option that finest fits what you envision for your rehearsal dinner, you’ll need to hold a few easy pointers in mind. Below, are some of the extra well-liked kinds of food presentation for rehearsal dinners, as properly as some tips to think about when planning your rehearsal dinner. Roasted Potatoes, Family StyleWhen you select family type, each table will get platters of all of the meals objects. Stations are similar to buffets in that they give your visitors a pleasant number of food choices. Stations typically have tables or areas specifically devoted to sure dishes or forms of foods. These are sometimes extra interactive and concerned than a help-yourself buffet, so you will want folks to workers these stations. If your venue doesn’t have in-house catering companies, you’ll wish to provide you with a set of basic (but important!) inquiries to ask potential caterers as you begin your inquiries. If you'd like us to set up your drop off order we can do this as well! If you’re planning an workplace celebration and don’t have the time to go over every thing on the menu, our workers will solely need a headcount and price range to offer you useful suggestions. Hosting a corporate vacation celebration, workplace celebration or a big group for Christmas or New Years Eve? Sit-down Plated DinnerA sit-down, plated dinner is a extra formal celebration. Keep in thoughts that the food prices are about the identical between this kind of meal and a buffet fashion meal, however the variety of servers you'll need will increase. These service types are nice for encouraging friends to socialize, community and mingle. This could be ideal for festive affairs like weddings and event corporate events as well. The plated meal marriage ceremony catering serving type entails cautious and detailed menu planning. Sheila's Catering Co Then, get distinctive budget-friendly centerpiece concepts or summer time event decor ideas. Have a donut tower.Okay, yes, we just mentioned persons are attempting to eat healthier this time of year. But if you’re going to include a dessert in your occasion menu, make sure it’s of these uber colourful treats in an Instagram worthy donut wall. It’s easy to organize, tastes nice in sandwiches, and often works well in buffet style settings. Serve with potato salad, corn on the cob, or one of these other mouth-watering BBQ facet dishes. Oversized electrical spools can double as revolutionary tables or catering shows, as shown in this instance. They add a country or warehouse vibe to your event. These stunning globes create a whimsical show that's reminiscent of childhood bubble blowing. Pastas, mushrooms, and potatoes all get slightly further oomph when you include cream based mostly sauces. Get some Fall themed bonus factors with this pumpkin sage cream sauce recipe. There’s a cause why we love things like candied bacon or tomato soup and grilled cheese. Our Chefs have several wonderful signature dishes so that you can select from. The pattern menus on our web site are a place to begin – a way to introduce you to an array of menu possibilities. Cantaguas founder, Irene Gonzalez and Elva Covarrubias, we are two Latina women who advocate for wholesome beverages access in our community. Cantaguas takes benefit of seasonal fruits, greens, spices, herbs and even edible flowers obtainable at native farmer’s markets and produce retailers. Phoenix Coqui is Arizona's first Puerto Rican meals truck. We are proud to bring the flavors of the Caribbean to the desert providing probably the most genuine Puerto Rican food on wheels. Concession International Llc Recipes Our skilled workers will deliver glorious service while providing a enjoyable and secure surroundings. Please contact us for more specific info and pricing. For instance, your meals truck might double as a catering enterprise. You might promote child meals specifically for infants with sure dietary restrictions. Or, just like the Snaffling Pig, you can sell a pre-packaged snack alongside a complimentary beverage. If you’ve determined to get into the meals business as a first-time merchant, it’s an excellent choice—but you’re in all probability left wondering what comes next. At-home jam jarring machines are relatively cheap, and rising your personal ingredients will add a personal contact to your model that can resonate with clients. Food and Drug Administration provide training and guidance to local well being departments. Local health departments administer the food safety program in counties and districts they serve. Every county or district has an authorized retail food specialist and all food inspectors are registered sanitarians. You can look for some wholesome options to serve at your concession stand to help it stand out from the group. With back to back games and often little time to devour a full meal, the concession stand usually becomes the place for grab-and-go snacking. Parents dashing and cramming in multiple games and fields with potentially a couple of kid don't all the time have time to preplan. So, the concession stand providing choices solely primarily based on the high-fructose corn syrup food plan just isn't perfect for growing the robust, healthy kid that sports activities are intending. Marriage Ceremony Venue, Barn Marriage Ceremony, Marriage Ceremony Ceremony Music was chosen by the couples and were played by dj’s. 外燴 admit the cake was overdone however beautiful but expensive. We had no favors which I actually see no want for. We have always been fond of yard commencement parties as a end result of they really feel extra personal. We advocate renting a tent to keep both your guests and the food out of the solar. Following tips of maintaining guest seating 6 ft apart will impression the dimensions of the tent wanted primarily based on your anticipated guest depend. You will need to keep in mind the house you must work with and dimension of the tent needed to discover out the number of guests you can safely host. Our team, in coordination with a tent rental company, can help you determine the appropriate dimension. It’s nice that I know so many brides, grooms and guests that appreciate this stuff. I clicked on this hyperlink as a result of I was interested in seeing your opinion but I was shocked your listing lined so many great aspects of a marriage. I also like studying a program however normally assume people wasted money once they put them on excessive dollar paper, I will simply recycle if it even makes it home with me. I’m not saying don’t do them simply don’t spend HIGH dollar. Again only a few folks know the exact value of your costume until you inform them. You can get many attire that look awesome and don’t value $10,000. Our indoor space has the flexibility to accommodate a small intimate event or a large gathering. The Carriage House provides a novel setting for any private occasion ranging from a birthday parties to a wedding ceremony and reception. What brings individuals collectively more remarkably than food? 9 New Catering Ideas For Meetings Fish fries relatively shortly and is a wholesome option wealthy in amino acids. You can serve it alongside varied dipping sauce choices to add slightly selection. Just bear in mind to debone the fish, as this might create pointless mess and hassle for attendees. Just have a quantity of flavors of coffee and add-ins like completely different flavored sugars, creams, whipped matters, possibly even some grownup drinks. Let your friends combine up their favourite coffee concoctions, Don’t overlook the ice and some favorite snacks that go nicely with espresso. Plant-based meals are getting lots of buzz lately, as the present focus on environmentally sustainable practices and healthy residing builds. The occasion specialist, Dawn, was with us each step of the way. The meals the day-of was distinctive and the staff have been all tremendous skilled - I did not even know they have been there. On the day-of, Dawn was additionally equally as present and accommodating, ensuring we had everything we needed with out even having to ask. I cannot say sufficient about this catering company and would encourage anyone to decide on them. For lighter fare, think about our lettuce wrap station. This station nonetheless has protein choices (five spice beef, Teriyaki chicken & Old Bay baby shrimp), however it is also a great interactive station for vegetarians or vegans. Our team and most popular distributors can work with you to transform your event and room to your liking. Our magnificent catering hall can accommodate as a lot as 500 visitors; we even have smaller rooms that may accommodate parties as small as 25 and as giant as one hundred fifty. Place an order on-line for a market-style breakfast, lunch, celebration platters, holiday menus, gifts or dessert. Available for drop-off by courier or in-store pickup. Planning this kind of event isn’t more probably to be on the high of your record of issues to do. Our group can take care of every little thing from the menu planning, to table arrangements and clean up. You must be ready to know that a caterer CAN provide what is important to you. If you don't know what these things are, you could be swayed by "worth and promise" only to be disappointed later by delivery or observe via. Catered For You presents full-service, restricted service, or supply service options. You proceed to amaze us Words can not express how simply fantastic you made our celebration with your above and beyond yummy meals and exquisite presentation. You continue to amaze us every time we taste your scrumptious foods. THANK YOU THANK YOU for making our party such a great success and for being so generous together with your time and talent. House Caterer Job Description, Profession As A House Caterer, Salary, Employment We believe in consuming together, and our meals have given our customers the opportunity to do this once more. On-premise catering can be a great choice for occasions that will have more elaborate meals. A Cook’s obligations can vary relying on the restaurant they work for. Generally, specific duties are making ready meals in accordance with recipes. This can embrace washing, measuring, weighing and mixing components. They additionally ensure buyer orders are managed and served in a timely method. Caterers prepare and serve meals objects to purchasers internet hosting events, conferences and events. In some instances, purchasers will retrieve the ordered meals objects to serve guests themselves, and, in different situations, caterers are required to move the meals to an off-site occasion location. In both scenario, caterers have numerous duties and responsibilities to perform. Adapted to new kitchen operations and making ready meals dishes for occasions. Some caterers are fortunate sufficient to have the flexibility to prepare dinner from their own kitchens and to move their food to whatever venue they’re needed at. These individuals often spend cash on methods of transporting meals that will also keep the temperature or moisture of the meals meant for consumption. Demonstrated excellent short-term memory expertise by instantly and accurately memorizing buyer orders for beverage and menu gadgets.

#外燴

[girlpdf]

oh guys. guys.

#just found out that this year #in one of our most stable and WEALTHY years ever #my family was $105 above the poverty line 😇. probably less bc that’s for a fam w 2 kids and we have 3! #if that was on a good year. if that was on a good year. holy shit i don’t even want to think about the bad years. #obviously this is relative poverty!! not absolute. so we absolutely aren’t terribly off. but still

[nelapanela94]

tw: fluff, post-war, Levi's perspective

The day we met for the first time is carved in my memory. I feel it so vivid in heart. You were the new member of that titan freak's squad, walking alongside Moblit as you headed to the lab.

An invisible thread that instantly tied us together obligued me to keep my eyes on you.

"Levi, this is y/n" Moblit's voice seemed distant.

"Nice to meet you, Captain Levi" You smiled at me, not a diplomatic smile, but a real one that draws little wrinkles at the corners of your eyes.

I couldn't help myself; I tried, I swear, but my eyes couldn't stop following you. I don't know what spell you cast on me, but I was bewitched by your laugh and your voice. After all these years, my skin still crawls each time my name falls from your lips like the first time, so sweet like milk with sugar.

And just like the stars had led our ways, I found you in the mess hall late at night, with a book in your lap while drinking tea. There were two cups on the table as if you were waiting for someone.

You looked at me and the ends of your lips turned upwards.

"Try this" you poured some tea in the empty cup.

It was the best tea I'd ever tried.

I wasn't sure whether it was the quality of the herbs and spices, or it was the magic of your hands that had steeped it. "It's great, isn't it?" Your eyes beamed. "I found a place in town that sells the best blends"

"Where is it?" I regretted my voice came out too stern.

You smiled again, but with a tint of playfulness. "I'll tell you, but I want something in return" you winked.

I had no doubts you were a merchant's daughter.

I didn't know what awaited me, yet I nodded.

"I want to go on a date with you" I was perplexed. "Are you free this sunday?"

"Why?"

"Do you prefer sneaking out on a weekday?"

"Why do you want to go on a date with me?" I frowned. "You barely know me, I barely know you"

"That's why" you cuckled. "I want to know what you hide behind those grey eyes"

You wore a dress that didn't cover your knees, which from time to time slipped up 'accidentally' letting me take a glimpse of your thighs.

You talked and talked while I took a sip of my drink, savoring the fruity notes, imagining it was your lips I was tasting. I didn't know myself anymore. You'd awakened in me things I'd never felt before.

We saw each other every Sunday. We had our tea at your favorite place, or went to the theater. We sat in the last row to kiss and fondle; Walls! who knows what those plays were about? You taught me to make up excuses to escape from my duties and meet you behind the tree near the stables.

But then I was enveloped with doubts and the fear of losing you. For me you were real, but I wasn't sure if I was just a game for you. You came from a wealthy family, your parents surely expected their daughter to date the son of a nobleman or other merchant, thus I asked you.

"Why are you doing all this?"

You raised a brow. "All what?"

"Spending your time with me" You giggled.

"Isn't it obvious? we're going to get married" your reply left me dumbfounded.

"My friends are tired of me because you're my only topic of conversation. They tell me not to get my hopes up" You sighed. "but I already picked up the names for our children" and at that moment our future together was drawn before me.

I wanted to get married after the war, but you insisted. We exchanged vows on a dazzling spring day. After finding out about my origins and my last name, I gave it to you.

You smiled more than ever.

You stayed with me, even after the war, when I was no longer the same, the one who had vowed to protect you. I could no longer walk without the aid of a cane. I yelled at you, I made you cry, I told you the most horrible things because I wanted you to get away from me, from this burden. Even though it hurt, I wanted you to meet other people, to travel to all those places you fell in love with in books and stories; I just wanted you to be free.

But you cupped my face in your hands, pressed your lips on mine; then looked at me in the eye and reminded me of the promises we made to each other in the altar.

"I promised to love, honor and cherish you always. I promised to stand by you through good and bad. I promised to be a faithful and loving wife. I promised to be the most understanding in sickness and sorrow. And even if it's still a struggle, I promised to take a short time in the shower, pick up my towel and leave you a heart painted on the mirror"

It's true, you still take your time in the shower and leave the towel lying around, but the heart is always there.

*

"Levi" You poked his cheek.

"Uh?" He came back to the line in the ice cream truck, it was your turn already, and the old man was waiting for him to decide the flavor.

"Lemon or vainilla?" You asked again.

"Both"

You ate your ice creams sitting on a bench under a tree. You watched him, trying to decipher his mysteries, wondering what was stealing his thoughts...

...You, always you, and in every life... you.

#hange zoe #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x reader #levi x you #levi x reader #aot #snk #shingeki no kyoujin #levi ackerman #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #levi attack on titan #snk levi #levi aot #fluff #levi fluff

[blzzrdstryr]

Like a fairy tale

Yandere!Diluc x maid!fem!reader

Wordcount: 1921

CW: Yandere and slightly suggestive themes.

You loved reading fairy tales as a child - they were magical and hopeful, a needed retreat for a child of destitute parents. They were a promise that if you were good and kind and beautiful enough, eventually some faraway prince would come by and save you from poverty. And you tried to be good - you were obedient and hardworking and you pushed your hardest in the local school, yet hardship and scarcity still trailed your every step - the meager earnings your parents made weren't enough to buy you nice clothes or let you eat until you were sated, which in turn made social interactions harder: some kids sneered and humiliated you, some tried to help you out of pity. You disliked both groups: whether they were friendly or aggressive towards you, they still looked down on you.

Thus you decided to distance yourself from your peers - there was no knight in shining armour galloping towards you on a snow white steed, yet a good education could be your golden ticket to a better rich life. It was hard at first - to work and to study and to help your parents all while ignoring the demeaning and insulting comments the bullies made, but you gritted your teeth and pushed forward, imagining how wealthy you’ll become in the future and in the end our efforts were rewarded - you graduated as the best student, that led you to receiving a scholarship from Sumeru academy. Sparks and shine appeared in your eyes as you read the letter, barely stopping yourself from outright squealing and jumping from joy.

The moment of happiness didn’t last long though, as a reality again reminded you that there’s no place for fairy tales in the real world - scholarship covered the full cost of apprenticeship, but only it - you still had to spend money on the journey from Mondstadt to Sumeru, a place to rent and food, and if you still could find a job after your arrival in the foreign country and pay off the later two, trip required mora that you never had. At first you had a mad idea to traverse Teyvat on your own two feet - it would be a slow and arduous process, but cheap nonetheless. You later gave up on this plan - archons didn’t give you any vision, nor did you have fighting and travelling experience to aid you on the trail that no doubt would be full of slimes, hilichurls and other dangerous monsters.

And that’s how you started job hunting - you took on any work that promised you a hefty pay, be it some boring reports for guild of adventurers or an exciting yet risky endeavor of getting information for an extravagant cavalry captain, which then led you to Dawn Winery. Head housemaid, Adelinde, posted a job opening for a maid, and the prospect of a stable salary, free food and comfortable bed was enough to lure you in there - two or three years ago the previous owner of the winery died in the accident and his successor left Mond for some reason, leaving the maintenance and management of the winery on the shoulders of the said housemaid.

After a quick interview, the head maid demanded you to show her your cleaning skills, which you effortlessly did, having to look after the house by yourself all your childhood. It seems she was satisfied, as she nodded to you and asked to follow her as she led you to your room. Compared to the other two maids here, Hillie and Moco, who preferred to spend their work time in idle chat, you came off as highly professional and diligent worker. This contrast raised both your position and salary in the winery, as Adelinde started to entrust you with tasks more interesting than simple sweeping and cleaning.

You were outside the winery the day you met Diluc - returning from the city and carrying several stacks of milk and wheat you got chased by the hilichurls. Monsters didn’t leave you, no matter how long and how far you ran. You were ready to drop all the goods and have Adelinde to scold you for wastefulness and dereliction when Ragnvindr appeared and stole a breath from you. He looked just like the prince from your childhood tales, impossibly pretty and strong, arriving just when the creatures caught up with you and then defeating all of them with a single slash of great claymore. And just like a fairytale prince he helped you to get up and collect the scattered baggage and asked if you were okay. Then you two headed for the winery, you didn't know that he was it's owner at the time, chatting and thanking him, as he carried purchases. Adelinde almost fainted when she saw the return of the prodigal master in your company. After hastily taking goods from his hands, she made you apologize for rudeness and insubordination, but Diluc interrupted you saying it was fine.

Ragnvindr heir returned back to the winery and life went on its own, except the unreadable glares Diluc started to send you when you both were in the same room. It started off small: the quick glances that soon grew into intense staring. With his impassive stone face it was impossible to tell why he was glaring at you so much, so you acted as polite and professional as you could in his vicinity - after all you didn’t want to get fired and look for a new job. The key to this riddle presented itself during one day.

It was a bleak windy morning when Adelinde sent you to the city again, and as you walked the sky darkened and rain started. You returned absolutely soaked and shivering, teeth chattering and limbs slightly numb from cold and when Diluc saw you he ordered you to change in a low commanding voice. Frightened by the possible dismissal, you hurried putting on the uniform. Because of the haste you pulled it too tightly, hiking up a maid dress a little. It wasn’t up enough to reveal your hips or thighs, showing just a portion of knees that was usually hidden by the wide skirt.

Diluc’s eyes were glued on the uncovered joints, a subtle blush appearing on his pale cheeks. You continued to work, feeling how he consumed your legs with his eyes alone. He is lusting after me. You didn't know what to do with that revelation back then, embarrassed and slightly scared of attracting master Diluc's attention.

Nonetheless, an answer quickly came on the next day as you found a bonus to your salary, so big that it could be considered a payment for the next month. Diluc, despite his usually impassive face, seemed to be ashamed of the thoughts he had yesterday, with the body language telling you of his true feelings.

A plan came to mind. You hated yourself for it at first - it was low and disgraceful, you felt like a stereotypical manipulative gold digger, yet still decided to realize it in life - you needed mora, as fast and as much as possible. Over the time you spent working at the Dawn winery you noticed that Diluc, despite his obviously high intelligence, wasn't really good at judging one’s character, so he fell for your scheme pretty easily. Design you had in mind was pretty simple - to stir him up with small, innocuous gestures and changes that would slip past the outsider’s eyes.

Sometimes you applied a thin layer of healing lip balm on your lips, that so conveniently happened shine and glitter under the light, sometimes you donned your dress a little bit higher, opening the view of two delicate knees and sometimes after cleaning and working all day you felt so hot that you had to unfasten one or two buttons to cool off. Diluc, despite not showing it on his face, was obviously distracted and aroused, hands clenched into fists and a shaky, barely controlled exhale escaping his nose.

He started to pile you with bonuses and prizes; “for a well done job”, he said one time, averting his gaze and masking the shame in his voice under a huff. He also started to request you to specifically clean the rooms he occupied, his eyes sizing up almost every inch of your body. You felt how the lust and desire radiated off him, how his hands itched to trace your skin and have you at his mercy, yet he stopped every time with his steel strong control and self-discipline. You sensed how it dwindled little by little.

Diluc, in some perverted sense, was that fair prince of your childhood daydreams that would save you from poverty.

You almost had saved up the needed amount of money when you noticed the loss of your most cherished possession - an invitation to the Sumeru academy and scholarship certificate. With heart booming in your chest you started to look for it in the whole winery, without giving out that you were searching for something. It seems that you were unsuccessful in your attempts, as master of the winery soon called you into the office.

Here, he was sitting behind the desk with a familiar paper in his hand - your eyes widened as you saw it and you had an urge to run up to him and snatch the invitation from him. You performed a curtsy instead, closing the door behind you and waiting for him to speak, eyes still on the sheet in Diluc’s hold.

“[First], you are a diligent and skillful employee, Adelinde has a very high opinion of you” he started from afar, a slight rosy blush dusting his cheeks at "skillful employee".

"So as your employer I wouldn't want any harm to befall on your person, and" he shaked the invitation a couple of times, "it came to my attention that you were planning on travelling to Sumeru. I advise you against this nonsensical idea".

You gritted teeth, careful not to insult him with the couple of barbed words at the tip of your tongue. Nonsensical idea? This was your goal, a main reason why you worked so much and allowed yourself so little.

“I am sorry, master Diluc, I am afraid I can’t abandon this idea”, you say, response flat and controlled, a thunderstorm of emotions hidden beneath the faux calm, “It is my goal, and the main reason why I work here”. So I can have a bright and secure future, in which I won’t have to worry about the tomorrow ever again.

“I also learned that you were born into a low income family and you had to struggle in your life because of that ” a sudden mention of your less than glorious origin makes your face burn from the shame you thought you buried a long time ago. You are stunned, so he continues: “I believe this little endeavor of yours is also motivated by your desire for a stable future. Drop it, I travelled all across the Teyvat and there are horrors that can easily destroy you both in body and spirit”.

He stands up from the desk, and gets closer to you: “I can look after and provide for you, just stay there and you won’t have to worry about the future again ”. His hold on the paper gets tighter, pyro vision shining with a dangerous glint. A faint smell of smoke spreads through the room - a warning if you remain stubborn and unyielding.

Who could have known that the fair prince was a greedy dragon all along?

#yandere genshin impact #Yandere genshin #yandere diluc x reader #Yandere diluc #Yandere genshin impact x reader #Yandere genshin x reader #Yandere #Diluc #Yandere x reader #my writing

[s0ulm8s]

boys like you (1.0)

✿ summary : alone and left in a mansion with nothing but your canvases and the dust slowly collecting on the window sills - a commission and a call from a childhood friend completely changes your life.

✿ genre : ot7 x f!reader, poly au, hybrid au, soulmate au, deer!seokjin, black panther!yoongi, great dane!hoseok, wolf!namjoon, calico cat!jimin, tiger!taehyung, bunny!jungkook

✿ warnings : mentions of death, maybe some mentions of assault, some fluff, reader is described as small (i.e smaller than jimin), slight age gap (reader is younger than jungkook)

✿ word count : 2.2K

✿ author’s note : i am inexperienced in hybrid aus, smut, and series so pls bare with me (not proofread yet)

✿ series masterlist! | 2.0

making yourself buckle down and work on the piece in front of you had proven to be more of a task than you had originally anticipated. the wide expanse of blank canvas you had stretched yourself 3 weeks ago, mocked you from the the sun room. it was only four days before you had to deliver your piece that you had really forced yourself to pick up a paint brush and do something useful.

the endless days spent alone in the vast building you now called home was doing a number on your psyche. the sheer loneliness seemed to eat away at not only your sanity but aided to your artist’s block - it was truly a gruesome cycle. locked away in an beautiful estate that you never asked for.

not only that, but working from home and having an all but nonexistent social life in a country you only permanently moved to a year prior was a fate worse than you had imagined.

you huffed, finally setting your small brush down on the easel, stepping back to assess your final draft. despite being so unmotivated and plum out of ideas, you were still proud of what you created - you had promised yourself long ago that you’d never sell a piece you abhorred, and you’d remained true to that promise thus far.

a blaring ring ripped you out of your critical trance trained on the landscape in front of you, startling you as your heartbeat quickened in pace.

“hello?” you answered, soft voice flowing through the other end as you anticipated the response from the unknown caller.

“yah! y/n! is that you?” the voice that responded was loud and excited, the baritone of it something you could never forget. a staple soundtrack from the summers you spent with your father in south korea.

“mingi? how’d you get my number?” you asked, a genuine smile flooding your face at the sound of his familiar laugh on the other end. 

of course, the two of you had stayed in brief contact since meeting as children. but as you grew, you saw less of each other. three years ago he and his boyfriend, yunho, had successfully started their own rehabilitation and adoption center for hybrids. the first year was hard, but the business quickly gained popularity and as the creator - he’d been exceptionally busy since her permanent move to south korea. they had two permanent doctors on staff, kim hongjoong and park seonghwa, along with a 24 hour staff. the workers were really exceptional, but you had only ever met their core group when the business first started. which included: choi san, jung wooyoung, choi jongho, kang yeosang, the two doctors, and of course the two owners.

“you were commissioned by a friend of mine! which is actually why i wanted to reach out.” he answered happily as your breathing evened and heartbeat finally settled.

“it’s good to hear from you, really. what can i do for you?” you asked sweetly, and mingi only briefly thought about teasing you for your soft tone and giving nature.

“would you be able to come to the adoption wing today? i’m working here all day as we’ve some new hybrids ready to find a new home. maybe in about an hour? you could join me on my rounds and we could talk. i’d like to see you, anyways. i’ve missed you.” mingi spoke professionally, but his admission made tears prick at your eyes. he almost sounded like the sixteen year old boy who had stolen your first kiss when visiting your father that summer and the memory of when things were simpler stung in your chest. your cheeks flushed. mingi smiled at your silence, knowing he had flustered his best childhood friend. you narrowed your eyes briefly, as he had tried to convince you many times in the past to adopt a hybrid of your own - but you had declined, not entirely convinced that you could provide an exceptional life for another being. because even though your knowledge on hybrids wasn't nearly as advanced as mingi’s, you still knew the basics. they weren't just animals, they were human. and there was no guarantee there. there never was with humans. you hesitate.

“y-yes. i can come by, i’ve just got to swing by and deliver my painting beforehand.” you answered as you both agreed on the meeting the time. “oh, and mingi? i’ve missed you, too.” you said genuinely as he broke into a toothy smile. it had been ages since he’d seen you, and though he knew he could blame it on his work - he didn’t know how to face you after the death of your father. he couldn’t bring himself to be there for you, to see you so broken, and he had blamed himself for that everyday. it was a relief to hear you say it. you had always been so forgiving, sometimes to a fault.

after bidding your goodbyes to the tall boy on the other side of the phone, you quickly changed clothes into something not completely ruined by the muted pigments of your paint, loaded up in your small suv, and you were off.

the delivery of your piece went smoothly, no heckling or disapproving gazes from the wealthy couple, which made your trip to TWILIGHT that much faster. you pushed open the double doors connected to the building in the right wing, clearly labeled ADOPTION. 

the smell of roses and lavender was strong in the reception area, the scent was welcoming and calming as you walked up to the front desk. 

“y/n!” the dark haired boy behind the computer called, finally rolling away from behind the screen. kang yeosang. “it’s so good to see you!” he exclaimed, eyes scanning your face as he made his way around the counter and pulled you into a soft embrace.

“likewise, yeo! it’s been a while hasn't it?” you ask rhetorically as you stare up at his daunting height.

“mmm” he hummed with a nod, releasing you. “i'll let mingi know you’re here.” he called, returning to his place behind the sleek desk, paging mingi, and then proceeding to catch up with you.

the small conversation didn’t last long before a pair of heavy footsteps drug your gaze to the wide staircase, mingi barreling down them.

you braced yourself as the giant scooped you up into a bone crushing embrace, spinning your small frame around in a circle as he let out a happy laugh. your arms snaked around the man’s neck to secure your place and return the hug.

you giggled happily as mingi finally set you down in your original place, looking down at you excitedly. had he gotten taller? impossible. maybe you had shrunk?

after an exchange of excited greetings, mingi gestured to his clipboard before finally asking, “you ready?”

you nodded softly and followed close behind as he guided you down the halls of the adoption center. he gave you the rundown of their center, showing you the wide expanse of spotless rooms sealed in by plexiglass to show the hybrids ready to be rescued. he explained that most hybrids were separated by predator, prey, species, breed, etc. but many were grouped together with their respective packs. the rooms were quite lavish, but not very homey. but what could you expect from an adoption clinic? the point was to find homes.

you passed many show exhibits, watching intently at the small dogs or tall humans sitting in the rooms patiently, playing with one another or napping quietly. you cooed at a few.

“so i asked to see you because i’d love to have your art displayed in our business.” he propositioned, leading you into an empty room as the automatic doors opened and shut behind you. you nodded, heart lurching a bit as you recalled your artist’s block. you shook the thought away as you observed the room. it was large, littered with scattered pieces of nice furniture and random toys. “ideally, i’d love to have your pieces throughout the whole establishment but this is my main concern.” he finished, gesturing to the empty space on the large wall, the one you’re faced with when first entering.

“are you wanting a mural?” you ask, voice now stable and a bit louder. 

“i'd like the piece to cover the majority of the wall, but i’d rather have it on canvas if that’s doable. in case it needs to be moved.” he explained as you nodded, taking in rough measurements of the space as mingi explained his vision for the space - effectively helping you circulate a few ideas on what you could create. you accepted his offer as he discussed payment and supplies with you, adding in an extra cost at the large measurement of the canvas you’d need custom made.

the air in the room grew a bit thick at the sound of a small beep, alerting the two of you to another door opening. your skin was now a bit hot and you suddenly became very aware of your surroundings. your fingers tingled a bit. usually a foreign feeling such as the one you were experiencing would send you into a panic, but it didn’t. if anything you felt quite calm as you looked on inquisitively at the distant thump coming toward the two of you.

“ah, it’s look like some of our hybrids are finished with their check ups.” mingi announced as you nodded lazily. he turned to you. “we usually send them into the lounge area for about an hour after routine check ups. helps them calm down.”

suddenly, you could pay no mind to mingi’s words as a black bunny rounded the corner, back foot slapping the tile exceptionally hard every so often as you smiled down at the creature happily. it stopped in it’s tracks as it’s gaze landed upon you, rearing up on it’s back legs, and tilting it’s head innocently as it examined you. 

you knelt down to greet him, the bunny immediately approaching you and sniffing your hand before accepting you and nuzzling into you closer. mingi was taken aback as he observed the usually reserved and nervous rabbit.

“hello.” you cooed, stroking the bunny effortlessly, careful to avoid his ears and tail, briefly recalling how sensitive they could be. “what’s your name?” you asked as mingi coughed.

“this is jeongguk, he’s one of our younger hyrbrids. the youngest in his pack.” he told you as you picked the bunny up and set him into your small lap. mingi almost gasped at the interaction between you and the rabbit as you pet him happily.

your trance was interrupted at the light purr and brush of a small calico next to you. you instinctively reach out to pet him, as he rubbed into your hand. “and who might you be?”

“this is jimin, the two are in a pack.” mingi attempted to explain, trying to understand the absence of jimin’s usually protective behavior and unable to tell you the full story before you asked him something he was not expecting.

“and they’re ready to be adopted?” you asked softly, not even looking up at mingi as he stuttered. the idea of adopting a hybrid didn’t seem so far-fetched now at how taken you were with the two animals in your lap. you could handle the bunny and cat, without a doubt.

“y-yes but we only adopt out entire packs together and -”

“of course, i wouldn’t dream of separating them. is there anyway i could meet them properly, as soon as i possible i think -” you interrupt. starting to gush a bit, voice hushed and excitable.

mingi cut you off, “no, y/n. you aren’t listening. they aren’t just a pack of two.” he sighed, as your gaze finally met his. “in fact they aren’t just bunny and calico, they’re pack also includes that of a wolf, black panther, deer, great dane, and tiger... their pack has been hard to adopt out as it’s so rare for such a large mix of predators and prey... but they found each other and experienced a lot together... it was only inevitable. and we can’t separate them, we refuse to. and they won’t leave one another.” he finally finished explaining as your expression fell. you let out a breath. seven hybrids. all male. and three apex predators, at that. the thought of suddenly thrusting seven knew faces - seven new men - into your home was intimidating to say the least.

you looked down at the two animals in your lap, the bunny almost looked cresfallen. gauging your reaction as his big brown eyes stared at you expectantly. as if he knew you’d reject him. mingi continued rambling on about how many adopters had expressed interest in at least one of the pack but were never willing to bring in all seven. it hurt your heart as you watched on the bunny and calico.

the estate your father had left you was empty, though. begging to be occupied. you had more than enough room and were blessed with an untouched inheritance. maybe this is what you should use it for. you had always felt too guilty to spend it. but nothing seemed more right, which was a shocking realization to someone who never thought they’d adobt a hybrid.

“could i meet them? the seven of them? i’d at least want to give them a chance... truthfully, i dont think i can leave them behind.” you admitted softly, the bunny and cat both perked up, ears raised and twitching.

“of course. i can arrange a meeting and speak with them tonight... i’ll gather their files for you to take home tonight. can you make it back in again tomorrow?” mingi asked after a deafening pause of hesitation, mouth hanging agape before coming back into reality.

“i’ll be here.”

#bts fluff #bts #bts fanfic #hybrid #hybrid au #smut #bts smut #soulmate au #poly #poly bts #poly au #ot7 #bts ot7 #ot7 bts #bts drabble #bts imagines #bts icons #hybrid bts