#I might be able to fit some in when he leaves on Sunday

[bangtann-bangdamn]

I have been informed that we have my nephew for the weekend

[lexirosewrites]

HI ITS THE ANON WHO DOESNT KNOW HOW SLICK SUNDAYS WORK 

Ignore this if it doesn’t fit IM SORRY 

love the idea of beta eddie very obviously trying to court alpha steve but steve is so used to having to do the courting to omegas that he doesn't really understand what eddie's doing, like in highschool when steve was king steve eddie always gave him free weed and offered to smoke with him and had all his favorite snacks for when he got the munchies and he wrote steve little love notes for his locker but Steve didn't know it was eddie and just assumed some shy omega on suppressants made them, 

and the hellfire group sans Dustin and Co bullied eddie relentlessly for falling for the meanest bitchiest alpha in the entire school but eddie likes them mean and cranky, and after the upside down eddie is obsessed with trying to unleash the hidden bitchy part of Steve that he hides from the group because he's trying to Improve Himself (™) and eddie is still obviously very openly courting steve, everyone but steve knows about it, 

its why steve hasn't been able to get any dates even during starcourt, because all the people knew that just outside the shiny glass door was eddie ‘the creep’ Munson glaring daggers at any giggling omega, ready to challenge anyone who tries to so much as scent him, so after the upside down eddie is full on courting him, he's doing both alpha and omega rituals though because betas were never given courting rules like alphas and omegas were, so eddie makes Steve food and helps with his meal prepping and cheers him on when Steve goes running around the track field every Sunday, and he always leaves a few of his sleep shirts on Steve's bed and maybe steals a shirt for himself, and Steve kinda accidentally starts a nest with all eddie’s clothing but he doesnt realize thats what hes doing and eddie is very pleased by this development but doesnt say anything because he knows steve is clueless, hes always touching steve very posessively like hes waiting for someone to challenge him and snarls (as close to a snarl as a beta can get at least) at anyone who he considers a threat to him and Steve mating, and he scents the entire house and Steve, very openly rubbing his face against Steve's scent glands in public, but Steve's had so many hits to the face that he can't really smell how strong it is and Steve kinda struggles with more subtle social cues, like he can be very good with people in certain situations but in other areas his skills fail him.

 Like, eddie is a beta, Steve has meticulous protocol for how to interact with everyone drilled into him by his parents and higher class society but nowhere in the beta folder in Steve's head does he have any rules on how a beta might court him or what to do in that situation since the posh people of hawins are more old fashioned and the idea of an alpha or an omega entertaining a beta in any way has always been taboo or crass to even think about, so because he doesn't have it perfectly cataloged already he just doesn't process that something is happening, 

Now obviously Steve is just as gone as Eddie is but he doesn’t think he has a chance, I’m thinking this goes on for a while and it doesn’t seem like anything is going to change, Eddie’s obsession is going strong and Steve’s cluelessness knows no bounds, UNTIL some omega tries to flirt with Eddie when he’s doing his daily visit to family video to give Steve his courting lunch and of course scent him into oblivion in the break room, cue Steve going near feral at the idea of an omega touching Eddie, snarling at the poor omega, seeing red, and pretty much forcing Eddie by the scruff of his neck into the back room to stake his claim 

Eddie is more than fine with this arrangement. Robin, who clocks in ten minutes later, very much is not. 

i’ll be the first one to admit i don’t utilize betas enough in my fics because i find it hard to fit them into the chaos meaningfully, but this is a great example of making the most of betas and fucking with the construction of the omegaverse society!!!💛

[madrabit]

May I request C, U and M for the fanfic ask game? 😎

C: What member do you identify with most?

Ohhh, this is simultaneously hard to say and the easiest thing in the world, but I do identify the most with Jan. We both have that black cat chaos energy and we both are cat parents 🐈‍⬛🐈, so I'm obviously more inclined to feel similar to him from the get go.

I've also been described as mysterious and confused (less mysterious, more confused), so I feel like that might fit. And we're both kinda sleepy and have a resting 😐🤨 face. I call it lovingly "resting blank face".

Also, I, too, cannot help but want to film Bojan whenever I can or stare at Nace...

U: Share three of your favorite fic writers and why you like them so much.

Ngl, this is a hard pick, so I'll just mention a few ppl I like the writing style and fic of! 🩷

This will be more than three ppl cause I couldn't decide and in no particular order!!

@sizzlingsheepcheesecake // ao3

Does someone want to read some Bo(Jan)²? Well, you're at the right address! Her fics are so good and capture you with their emotional roller coaster they're taking you on! Her writing style is also really nice and pleasant to read 😊✨️

I particularly like her fic Come play with your food, bejbi which is an absolute fluffy vampire Bo(Jan)² fic that has me kicking my feet with how adorable it is. There also are some Bonus bites to this one!

And her poly BoJanKris fic Distortion can leave you happy in one moment and make you cry in another!

She also has a vampire BoKris fic The thrill and the dark, of the hunt and your eyes in which both Bojan and Kris are vampires, it is also really good and definitely worth a read if you haven't yet! And she has so many more fics as well!

@seokoilua // 1236 on ao3

I absolutely adore her writing style. The way she's able to take suffering and resolve it in all the good smut? Yes, definitely one of my favs. I especially like her fic been deprived and the sequel quietly, so if you like angst in your smut, her fics are definitely your thing then!

She also has a vampire BoKris fic ravenous in which vampire Kris picks up Bojan in a club and ngl, I need the second chapter like yesterday 😂

@vampmilf // @fruitybashir on ao3

Sophie has a really, really nice writing style, and I enjoy his Ne Bi Smel verse starting with The Holidate so much! It's so sweet and the smut is so hot and good and spicey and hahsjjskdjdkfkf for a long time having something nice to read every Sunday was just perfect to end the week with! He mainly writes BoKris (also, give Dopamin a read, the way he writes overstimulated Bojan is just so sjjdndndndnndnfmfm so good), but there is also a nice focus on Jance, that I really enjoy :3

I also absolutely love following him and seeing him on my dash, cause every time he reblogs something unhinged about Bojan I just have to giggle and laugh (calling Bojan three blueberries tall is literally everything to me and I love it so much, also letting him be his slutty little self in fics? Yessssss). He's also such an incredible nice person and was very sweet when I met him! 💖

@da-proti-toku-grem // ao3

Maca writes these absolutely adorable Kiss prompts here on tumblr and on ao3. From Jance to BoJure and JureJan, she's got so many ships and all of them are so good and fluffy and adorable or spicy! I really enjoy all of them! And she's made me have an incredibly big soft spot for BoJure :3 💛🩷

An honourable mention goes to @185northgower // ao3

Not only will I read literally everything she writes no matter what pairing or what fandom, but we share one exact braincell, which works perfectly cause we do love collabing on fics together and I couldn't imagine a better co author! 🥹🩷✨️

M: Got any premises on the back burner that you’d care to share?

I actually have a few ideas I've been cooking, a few of them are gonna be joined collabs with North! Next to continuing our DJwD verse (yes, there will be more, these men won't stop and have infected our heads with Daddy Nace and I just cannot, I cannot anymore), we also planned a Romeo & Juliet 🌹 fic, which we won't go into detail yet, since we can't start it yet 🤭

Then I also have a Bo(Jan)² fic started, its the same one I mentioned last time, the one with the skirt, but I cannot shut up about it. I keep calling it the ✨️girlfriend thing✨️ if that helps anyone...

And next to those and continuing with my other fics, I also can't get a vampire Bo(Jan)² fic out of my mind...

[onlyancunin]

Hey guys,

a little update on my situation with my ex if anyone's interested. Gonna be a doozy, but there's just so much in my head right now and I know there might be some worrying about me.

Or maybe I'll just spark a bit of confidence in someone else ✨

You know how you get a pizza, all excited, try it, and it's not good? Like it was fine at first and hey, you were hungry, but with each bite it progressively got worse. Do you stopped after a piece or two or three. And just tossed out the rest.

But it was enough to give you a severe food poisoning. So you spend a good portion of the next however many days throwing up and not being able to meet with friends and family because you're too sick. And you're so frustrated, because the pizza wasn't even that good, and you didn't eat that much, but you're still unable to function??

So yeah, I got severe emotional poisoning from relationship with my ex. But after we broke up I got nowhere to go, and he agreed to continue living together, so that I can move out once I secure money for deposit and whatnot.

Never go for that.

Last Sunday ex threw another jealous fit at me, making me unable to work for another 2 days - and then he was off to holiday with his friends (which couldn't come quick enough, I literally counted hours for him to leave). That left me and severely poisoned, but also gave me opportunity to collect myself and regroup a little away from him.

3 days later I had a new place and just today I got the keys.

Coincidentally my post about him about two months ago sparked a friendship with someone from here (Tumblr is a country okay). She kept me together through all that and let me tell you this was fucking tantalizing. It's surreal how things can change in such a short time. Having her as a friend truly opened my eyes as to what a relationship is NOT, seeing how someone who was just a stranger a few months ago, today cared for me more than he ever did.

I gave myself up for scraps of attention and believed when everyone around was telling me he is "one of the good guys". He came from nice, big family, with stable finances, nice group of friends. A noble job, a paramedic, which always impressed my sorry graphic design/IT developer ass. Like the only thing I'm saving is oceans from existing with the amount of shit that's being produced partly by my designs. So it felt good to be supportive of the good person and finally have a family, since I do not have one of my own.

Which is probably why I took the break-up so badly, even if I initiated it. I felt incredibly guilty for letting everyone around down. Everyone loved him. And I mean everyone. The only thing I ever aired I discussed with people outside of our common friends, and those were the people who told me something doesn't add up. And as I started following my gut feeling (and had a speedrun to breakup by hurting my knee and needing help where my ex completely dropped the ball), he started acting up. Suddenly setting boundaries with his family was me being jealous over him even having one, I just couldn't understand apparently how I'll never be the most important to him. Me asking him to be here for me when I'm having a hard time was met with "You're having a hard time EVERY DAY!".

Essentially I just ruined his family visits, his vacation with my knee injury, his days with my bad moods etc. But he ruined one too many Sundays for me.

So here I am, packing my sh#t and planning what goes where because I know I will be thoroughly exhausted after all things are moved, so I need to plan ahead.

And I still throw up emotionally, sobbing every 10 minutes, I don't even know why anymore. I just cry until I stop and then I continue prepping for move.

It's just a bad pizza.

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Sweet Dreams--Part 13

Calum and you have dance around reality for a few months now. But after Calum leaves and returns from a trip, the reality has to be confronted. 

Weeks are passing and maybe more is blooming between you and Calum than might meet the eye.

Prince!Calum x Reader Insert.

Series Masterlist

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You can feel your pulse in your thighs, a steady thump, thump, thumpity, thump pulsing from your lower back to your toes. It’s this rhythm of your heart in your legs that lets you know the day’s been long and hard. The arch of your shoes presses up into the muscle of your feet and it feels like a thousand pinpricks. You’re ready to take a hot shower, wash the smell of hot grease and oil off your skin. But you’re delayed. A nasty swerve to avoid hitting a dog in the road left you without your car while the mechanic works on the tire you’d hit against the curb. They told you it was the lower control arm and ball joint when you got it to the shop. That particular store didn’t have the parts and had to get them from one of their companion stores not too far from. 

What failed to come to fruition until the work started was just how bad you hit the curb, to the point where it was recommended that you get a new tire and rim. The new parts took an additional day as you had to coordinate with the local dealership to get the dealer standard rim and to lug it back to your mechanic thanks to Calum chauffeuring you around. It still irked you how the shop was trying to insist that you needed a second new tire in order to maintain the balance and tread of the tires. A tactic that you smelled miles away as false considering you’d just replaced all four tires a month prior. But you would replace the one tire that needed and rotate the remaining three, which would hopefully fix the issue and lead you to picking up your car on Monday. 

Today is not Monday though. It’s 7 PM after your Sunday shift. The streetlights are on; you watch cars whizz by. You told Calum that you’d be done by 7PM, given how long it takes to clean the kitchen and how late some orders come in. You don’t see his truck, though he did text you at 6:40 that he was on the way. You figure at the least that it’s just traffic. Your other coworkers are packing themselves into their cars. But PJ halts, a yard or two from you, his keys clacking as he calls out your name. “You okay? You sure you don’t need a ride home?” he asks. 

You take a look at your phone again. Just a couple minutes past seven. “I’m okay,” you call back out. 

If all else actually fails, you do have enough change to get the bus. The last one will come your way around 8:30. You’re hoping that should Calum also be held up by something, you’re notified about it well in advance.

“You sure?” PJ asks, he starts in a jog back in your direction. “I don’t mind. Gotta make sure you get home safe. I know not having your car isn’t fun.”

The words don’t have time to curl your lips to tell PJ that you got here due to the bus and would be able to get home because of it. Calum was originally only picking you up because tomorrow’s the final fitting for your attire to the holiday charity event. It would be easier for him to get you tonight so that you’re already in the palace for the fitting and then he’d take you to get your car tomorrow when you got the call it was ready. But those words don’t get the chance to breathe before your name is called out from the distance behind you. The voice makes your heart race. There’s a bit of a slur to the syllables and you pray. You pray you’re wrong. 

“Diana?” you ask, turning to her. 

She hazards another small step. She’s only in a t-shirt and jeans. Which won’t handle the cold November evening should this altercation take too long. You’re hoping it won’t. But as your heart thunders in your chest, you wonder how long a second can actually feel. What does this mean for how long a minute will last? 

“Hi,” she waves. 

“Do you know her?” PJ questions. 

You nod, though the bitter words on your tongue to say unfortunately you do know her. But you don’t say that. “She’s my mother,” you answer, turning back to him. “Let me-let me handle this and I’ll catch up with you all Tuesday.”

“Oh, yeah, sure. I’m only like ten minutes from here, give me a ring if you still need that ride.”

“Thanks, PJ.” The two of you share a tight lipped smile. It says everything that’s needed--you: an apology for the intrusion, the understanding that this is all strange and new and PJ: the acceptance, the quiet understanding of how much this is an intrusion but not that he’s going to be rude.

“You’re welcome,” he returns and then turns to head back to his car. 

You tread closer to Diana, slowly as you go. She looks wobbly as she approaches. You know deep in your gut that she's been drinking. Her keys dangle from her fingers so loosely you’re already preparing to have to catch them should they slip from her hands. Though you do find yourself questioning how she found out about where you work now, you’re more worried about the fact that she’s driven herself inebriated. It doesn’t even matter what she wants anymore or why she’s come. She risked her life and the lives of everyone else on the road in this state. What was October, when you stopped Charlie from going back into that house, but a warning for what this cold November night is bringing. 

“Diana, what are you doing here?” you whisper out, pressed between tightly pressed teeth like a parent to a child who’s attempting to keep from making a scene. 

“I needed to talk to you,” she returns with a huff. “You’re not an easy person to find.” Her laughter is light, a smile crossing her face of humor at the situation, as if somehow this is the appropriate stage for whatever discussion she needs to have with you. 

“Talk to me about what? Why not call me?”

“It’s the holidays. You should be home, not wherever you are. It’s not right that you’re not there. And you’d never listen for long if I called and you realized it wasn’t about Teagan or Charlie. You’d ha-” a hiccup interrupts her words. “You’d hang up on me. I know it.”

You probably wouldn’t have an indepth conversation. You know that and it’s no shock that she knows it too. But nonetheless, something about the truth from her feels like an open wound doused in alcohol--sharp and leaves you hissing. You didn’t think the confrontation with Melvin was wrong. You just hadn’t seen the reality behind his words. The closer you get to Charlie and Teagan, the more hope grows in your mother. You remember Mrs. Davis from the park, how she said she thought your mother missed you. It’s easy to push things to the side when it’s someone removed from the situation telling you. But there’s no pushing Diana aside. Not when she’s on the sidewalk, keys still dangling on the edge of falling, in a t-shirt and jeans in the cold of this night. 

Diana’s human. You see it as her eyes gaze over you unsteady, like she can’t decide which part she wants to look at first, or perhaps it’s the alcohol that’s got her gaze swaying. You don’t ever remember her ever being this bad when you were young. Perhaps, she’s lost some of her tolerance in the years of sobriety. How unfortunate the diagnosis is to be human, staring your mother who’s also human in the face. 

“Diana, I don’t think you’re in the right state of mind to have this conversation right now.”

“See! It’s that! That drives me insane!” she snaps, keys clacking ruthlessly in the fierce shake of her arms. 

You wish you could articulate that you’re trying to save her--from you, from the consequences. Because you don’t want to be the bad guy. You don’t want to do what’s going to come next. Yet there’s no way around it. Immovable objects meet unstoppable forces--the two of you are colliding and only you know the outcome. Only you see the sparks and embers that are starting the wildfire. But there’s no use in trying to get through to her in this state. You need to deescalate. “Hey, hey, okay. Please, I don’t want to make you upset.”

“You don’t call me Mom. It’s always Diana. It’s always Melvin. We’re you’re fucking parents for crying out loud!” The more she speaks, the louder she gets. This is not a situation you ever had control over, if you did, she wouldn’t have approached you like this. But what little steering you could’ve done to keep the conversation cordial is leaving you. 

Bright lights illuminate behind you. The rumble of an engine is not loud enough to drown out her huffs. Though you suspect it’s Calum, and you feel the twitch to flee, you remain steadfast, watching as you debate how much you can engage with her reasonably. Not that you need to, you know that. But you cannot leave her here; you cannot leave her drunk to drive back home again. You won’t abandon her, not like this. “If you get in with Calum, we’ll take you back. So that you get home safely.”

 “We’re your parents!” she echoes, talking over your words. “And we want you home! You work fifteen fucking minutes from us. And for how long? Huh? How long have you worked so close to us? Were you ever going to tell us? We don’t want Calum. We want you!”

These don’t seem like questions that should they get answered, the answers will make her happy. But you’re not sure the silence helps either. It’s the alcohol you know that’s conflating your mention of Calum with some meaning that you want him to replace you. But you swear as you look at Diana seething in front of you, you see the terror and heartbreak that would befall Teagan and Charlie if you don’t help her. 

“Diana,” you don’t care how much it pisses her off either.  “You’re not in your right mind. Let me just get you home.” You know she’s drunk but you can’t bring yourself to say the words as if somehow if you keep avoiding the truth, you’ll be able to dodge what happens when you get back to the house. As if somehow feigning ignorance will keep you from helping Teagan and Charlie pack their bags. 

“I am your mother! Your mother for crying out loud. Do not call me by my name like that. Just get into the car with me and come home.” Diana flails one arm in the direction of her truck. She points like it’s taking nearly all her strength to stay upright. 

 “Is it about me? Or is this about you?” you question. Patience will save you in the end but yours is wearing thin. To think she could charge down here after you’ve worked all day to make such demands. It’s easy to say it’s the alcohol, but you know that’s only the match to start the fire. Diana’s always been stubborn. “You have a family right now. Two children who love you and need you dearly. A husband who’s made deals with the devil for you. Is this really about wanting me home or is this about you?”

“What? What did Melvin do?” The words rush into each other as Diana speaks. “What are you talking about?”

I just want to save you from me, you think to yourself. A warm hand rests on your back, the smell of Calum’s cologne falling your way due to the change of direction in the breeze. He’s silent otherwise. The car seems to continue to rumble behind the three of you, you can hear the engine though the lights are off. 

Diana waves a hand in front of her face, as if clearing fog in front of her. “You know what, that doesn’t matter. What matters is that I want you back home. Just come back home.” 

It feels hollow. Though you know it has to mean something for Diana to confront you, you just don’t believe that even as intoxicated as she is that there’s nothing more sinister beneath the surface. Perhaps, you keep waiting for it as some sort of vindication. As a way to prove to yourself that Diana will always be selfish in her desires. “Tell me why,” you demand once again. You just need her to say it. 

“You’re going to make me say it? Like I don’t already know I’m a monster for what I’ve done to you? Melvin and I were fucking kids when we had you. You remember being in your early twenties. You were going out with your friends no less, drinking the ni-” a hiccup interrupts her rant, “nights away. You wanted to have fun, let loose. And we couldn’t. Because we had you. And we fucked up, okay? Is that what you want to hear? We fucked up having a kid so young. Fucking imagine it. Twenty-two, twenty-three with your life just starting for it to all come to a screeching halt.

“I didn’t know anything about being a mother. Melvin didn’t know anything about being a father. We were just kids ourselves. And it looked so bleak at the start. Our careers hadn’t quite taken off yet but we could see where it was all going. But what were we going to do with a child too? All we had as some semblance of being parents was keep you alive, get you into school, and try to survive. But we fucked it, because guess what? It was a lot better to numb it all away in vodka, or tequila, or whatever we could get our hands on. Okay? We fucked it all up with you.  Even when Melvin’s parents passed away, we got that house and things started to look okay, we still fucked it.” 

Her laughter escapes her thick and wet. It sounds like the tears are choking on sour amusement. Her head falls, hair falling in a curtain around her face. Graying in the same way you notice Melvin’s--the years have aged them well beyond their early fifties. When she looks back up at you, all you see is how human she is. The wobbly chin, the snot running from her nose. It is a terrible existence to be human. You don’t even know what to say to such an admission of guilt. Your chest tightens but you don’t know if it’s anger or relief. Because you understand a little bit better now that the rush of parenthood could not have been easy. The vulnerability doesn’t make everything all better, just paints a deeper and fuller picture. You’ll still hurt just a little because of what they did. Diana will still be human. She’ll still big the person who was supposed do raise you but still fucked it up. 

Because at the end of the day, she was just unprepared. 

And you were just a kid unprepared too. The three of you thrusted into a whirlwind of life with not a thing to ground any of you, a lightning rod for the heartache and trauma as it turned out. But you’re tired of the lightning striking. Diana fucked up. Melvin fucked up. You fucked up. Because you’re all human. Though you want the words, I’m sorry, to follow you, you wonder if this is the best you’ll get. Your parents admitted to what they did. 

Your mouth falls, jaw slacking just a little but you don’t even have words right now for what you want to say. For wanting to almost thank you for finally admitting the truth. You want to tell her how much you hoped she hurt because you did too, but clearly none of that wishing was well spent. You want to tell her that you’re done. What you have is just what you have, and you don’t want to fight for anything more right now. But all you have are the half started syllables that croak out your throat. 

Diana’s voice is soft as she continues. “What were young twenty-somethings supposed to do in a house that fucking nice, in that neighborhood, besides fuck things up a little. But we’re-” another hiccup, “we’re better now. Just please come home. Let me in. That’s-that’s all I want. Let me in please. I am sick, so sick of everyone in that neighborhood watching you come and go with Charlie and Teagan. And I know they won’t ask. But they don’t need to because they have whatever stories they’ve made up in their heads. The way they just look at me and Melvin! It gets under my skin. It’s like I wear shame tattooed to my forehead. I can’t-I can’t keep going on like this.”

The two of you can’t keep this up. And just as much as you wanted to say thank you, you’re glad you didn’t. Because part of Diana’s desire is selfish, but aren’t they always. “Maybe we have to let each other go,” you return. “Maybe we’ve got to let things go.”

“I can’t. I just can’t. If I do, then I’ve failed.” Her voice shakes more. The sobs come racking up her chest. She curls into herself, keys clattering to the ground with the action. Diana is a leaf in a strong wind as she shakes. “Oh, I’ve failed,” she sobs. 

Your feet are carrying you the foot gap, your backpack thumping against your back. “You’ve got Charlie, and Teagan to be there for. Don’t fail them,” you encourage. It’s awkward as you straighten from grabbing her keys. You know this is where you might hold her to your chest, hug her tight and tell her that you’ll come home. 

But you know you won’t. Instead, you wind an arm around the back of her, guiding her gently towards Calum’s truck. Diana follows, a constant sniffle as she walks. Calum opens the door for her. But he watches you before speaking, “I got her. If that’s okay, of course.” 

The last sentence gives you pause. You watch, a hard line around his mouth at his displeasure. A tension pushing at his jaw like he wants to say more, but he won’t. Or perhaps, he’s asking for permission. Because you did ask him to take a step back with Diana. To let you handle her and only for him to intervene would you say he could. 

You nod. “Yeah, it’s okay, thanks. I’m going to take her car. Just keep her safe, yeah?”

“Always.”

You don’t even make it three steps before you catch the rumble of Calum’s voice. He’s not yelling, but he is clearly firm in his tone. Each word pushed over his lips heavy and weighty. “Are you trying to risk losing all three of your children? You want so much as a mother and I can sympathize with that. That’s your kid too walking to your car right now because you’re much too drunk to drive. Think about Charlie and Teagan who still need their mother. You have to do right by the two of them. Charlie and Teagan need to be your focus, not what you don’t have and not what other people think about you. I’ll take care of my partner. I will be there for them. I will do, be, give, and take care of whatever their needs are. You let me take care of them, let that be my responsibility, okay? But for the sake of your two children still under your care, forgive yourself and focus on them. Learn from the mistakes you’ve already made and do not repeat them again after tonight.”

Diana’s truck’s not hard to miss. Her park is crooked enough to make it obvious how she misjudged where the lines are. But not so obvious that you wondered how no cop pulled her over. The second you turn the engine on, the AC blast through the vents. The cabin has a sharp smell--old alcohol that’s dried down in the air. In the cupholders, you notice a pink tumbler. You shouldn’t. You already know she’s been drinking, but you crack it open and take a smell. The alcohol greets you well before you get the cup to your nose. 

There’s not many places to hide bottles so you turn on the light overhead to find a clean floors. Even in the back, though you do spot the spots where Teagan and Charlie probably sit, there’s not much in terms of crumbs or a mess. You turn back to the front and ease the glovebox open. It’s unlocked which is a saving grace. But as it falls open, you notice the small bottles clicking--collected undoubtedly over the weeks. 

“Oh, Diana,” you whisper as you close it. “I was hoping you’d make this harder for me.” Yet she hadn’t. She’d fallen so perfectly into her own demise and all you had to do was wait. You wanted her to get better. You wanted Melvin to get through to her. But she’s made her choices. And you made yours. 

You pull into the driveway of your childhood home and pull to the side of the house. The lights from Calum’s car cut out behind you but you watch. You watch in the rearview mirror as he gets out first and walks to the passenger side. He cracks open the door and Diana comes spilling out, unsteady and clumsy like a freshly born giraffe. The sight of her makes you question how you even got back to the house. All you could focus on were the rattle of the bottles as you drove, how you imagined they rolled around as you took turns. Did you run any red lights? Were you cutting people off? The memory of the route is so engrained that you just didn’t register the drive until now. Calum’s words, You let me take care of them, let that be my responsibility, ring in your ears. For the sake of your two children still in your care, forgive yourself and focus on them. 

But Charlie and Teagan. But Charlie and Teagan. 

How are they going to take it when you pull them away? Are they going to hate you? Would it even matter? Would their hatred even stop you once you open this car door? Your inhale is timed with the press of the push start to cut off the engine. Your exhale is timed with the cracking of the door. 

At the front steps, Diana reaches for her keys. You hold the keys still in your hand, out of her reach, and knock on the door. The shame crawls up her face. It swallows her even more than Calum’s coat around her frame. The door creaks open. “Di?” You hear Melvin as you watch Diana. She shrinks more into the coat over her shoulders. “Calum?” Melvin questions next. Your name follows in equal confusion. “Oh, damn it, Di, what have you done, baby?”

You hold her keys out to Melvin. He wraps his hands around the fob and you release your grip. “Melvin, are Charlie and Teagan here by chance? Are they asleep?” you ask and turn to face him now. 

He’s dawned in pajamas, clearly retired for the evening. “They’re here. Uh, they’re, they’re watching a movie right now.”

“I’m taking them. For the week.”

“No, no, you can’t,” Diana whimpers. “Please don’t. Please.”

“There’s a vodka bottle in the glovebox of her car as she confessed to me,” Calum interjects. “We are taking Charlie and Teagan for the week.”

“Mel, please,” Diana begs. 

“There are actually several bottles in her glovebox,” you add. “The small ones but still a few. Do you want to go take a trip to see?” you offer, watching the horror widen Diana’s eyes. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry. Please don’t take the kids from us,” she begs. 

“Di, I have been telling you that you needed to get extra help. I’ve told you that there were some consequences I couldn’t stop if things got worse. I’d rather Charlie and Teagan wonder why they got picked up for a week than for them to see much worse.” Melvin takes her hands gently, even as she whimpers and tugs against his hold. She’s ultimately too weak, and possibly too drunk to break Melvin’s hold. Once she’s secure to his chest, Calum’s jacket still around her shoulder, Melvin nods over his shoulder. “They’re in the living room.”

Calum takes your hand, his thumb a steady stroke over your skin. But he doesn’t move. The two of you watch each other, and Calum only nods. Maybe you were waiting for him to remind you this is what you’re supposed to do. Maybe you were waiting for someone to remind you that what you’re doing is coming from the right place.  But it’s enough for your legs to move again. You take the first step, up and over the threshold. The house is warm as you enter it. Diana whimpers behind you but you carry on. The TV gets louder as you get closer, Charlie and Teagan curled up under a shared blanket. 

Charlie spots you first, smiling. “You’re just in time for the best part,” he grins. 

You nod, hoping you can put on a realistic enough smile. “What are you watching?” your voice shakes and it betrays every hope you’ve had for this moment. To ease them out from the comfort of their film, ease them up the stairs, ease them into packing their own clothes for the week. 

His brows pull together. Charlie hands the bowl of popcorn to Teagan as he reaches for the remote. You want to stop him, tell him to keep watching for just a little bit longer. But he’s faster and pauses the movie. “What happened? Is it Mom?”

The little boy you’re dying to protect-the sweet innocent kid who should never have to grow up in the blink of an eye-morphs. You watch the frown lines and you know. Charlie’s probably known more than you ever suspected. “You two are going to spend the week with me and Calum. Is that okay?” you ask. 

“Will you tell me what’s wrong with Mom? Dad won’t tell us,” Charlie presses. 

God, you don’t want to do this. You know it should be Melvin’s job. You feel the trembles now in your own hands. “She really needs some help--doctors you know? Like there’s doctors for eyes, and legs, and hearts. There’s doctor’s for your mind. She just needs a little extra help so she can continue to be the mom that tucks y’all in at night and goes to school plays, and dance practices.”

“Her car smelled funny lately. Is it because of that?” Teagan questions. 

The sob chokes you, but you swallow it mostly down. You knew there was always more that they probably knew. But not that. Never did you ever want that. The tears are hot as you glance up at the ceiling. They sting along your lashes and you fight every ounce, every gram and molecule of your body not to scream. They’d fucked it up with you and that was supposed to be it.  It was only supposed to happen to you. 

Calum’s hand tightens around yours and all you can do is nod at Teagan’s question.  “She’s going to get help though,” Calum interjects. “Okay? That’s the important part. But you two will get an insider scope on the palace for a few days in the meantime.”

“Did you pack like I told you?” Charlie turns to Teagan with the question. And you know you can’t hold it in. The dam you’d been desperate to keep back breaks. 

“Fuck,” you whisper, shaky and behind it a soft but clear sob echoes behind it. “And I know, I know, I owe to the swear jar,” you follow up, almost immediately. 

“We’ll let it slide this time,” Teagan laughs. Her own voice sounds thick and shaky. 

Peeling your hand from Calum’s, you squat down in front of the couch, smoothing a hand over the side of their heads. “I never wanted this to happen to you two. Okay? Never. I wanted you to get all the bedtime stories you could stomach until you threw up. I wanted you two to do ballet, and play sports, and let me sneak you candy and get in trouble with Melvin because of it. I wanted you two to play in the backyard until you lost your voices and have Diana tell you to come inside and to please actually wash your hands before dinner. I know you can have that. But I don’t make the decision to take you from all that lightly. Okay? I love you guys so much.”

“We love you too,” Charlie whispers, slipping his arms around your neck in a hug. “Can we do all that with you?”

You can’t make promises that you don’t know if you can keep. But you know for damn sure, you’ll do everything you can to make it feel like it’s the same. “Kiddo, I’ll give it my best shot,” you whisper before kissing the top of his head. “I’ll do my damndest.”

Teagan wastes very little time to pile on, her body shaking in your hold. “I know, Teag. I know. You can bring the unicorn. I don’t care if we suffocate in that car because of it.”

She laughs, brief albeit, between her cries. But it’s a laugh nonetheless. 

They’re too big, you know that. But you collect Charlie and Teagan into your arms as best you can and cart them up the stairs. Diana and Melvin are nowhere to be found on the first floor, but upstairs may be a totally different story. Teagan tightens her hold around the collar of your t-shirt. She’s only getting a nose full of the grease and fish as it was the special this week. But she doesn’t seem to care. “We’ll all go together,” you promise into her hair. 

It’s not easy work to cart the added weight up the stairs, but you’re thankful for all the days in the gym you do get as you work your way up. You stop at Teagan’s room first. She slips down to crack open the door, but stands for a moment. “This…” she pauses and then looks to you. “Can I swear?”

You nod, holding out a fake note. “There’s your temporary pass.”

“This shit sucks,” she huffs. 

“Yeah,” you agree as Teagan walks inside. Her bedroom’s decked out with cotton candy pink fairy wallpaper, a baby pink canopy bed with her unicorn tucked into one corner of the room. The stuffed animal is huge but Calum wordlessly crosses the room to grab it. You get Charlie down and help Teagan with her bag. You double check it--there’s enough underwear for the week and a change of clothes after school but she’s missing an extra set of pj’s and her uniforms. You gather all that, including her toiletries, and sling the bag on your shoulder. She carries her shoes. 

The four of you carry on to Charlie’s room and follow a similar routine. You check the already prepared bag, add extra socks, pj’s and his school uniforms into the bag. “Anything you want to bring extra?” Calum asks. “Some figurines or books?”

“Can we bring the jumbo puzzle?” Charlie asks, pointing to a box on his shelf. 

“Absolutely,” he nods. 

A coloring book each and pencils gets tacked onto the list, but they keep the extra fairly minimal. Calum offers to take the first round of bags and the unicorn down to the truck. While he does that, you do another round to grab their school bags. They both help you with what they need but thankfully a lot of it are folders, notebooks, a few paperback books but nothing heavy. By the time you descend down the stairs, you notice Melvin waiting by the front door. He looks worried, chewing at his bottom lip. You’d be more upset if he didn’t seem so upset. 

As the stairs creak with your descent, he looks up. “Hey kiddos,” he starts. “It’s going to be hard. It’s okay if it’s scary right now. But I talked to your sibling about this ahead of time. You’ll be back home by Saturday. But I need you two to go with them and Calum for a few days. You’ll be able to call me anytime, okay? Day or night, I’m going to answer.”

“Why is Mom sick?” Teagan asks. “Is she going to the doctors like they say?”

Those are the million dollar questions, you know it. Melvin does too and the only thing you can do for a moment is share the same dead eye stare, because only Teagan would know exactly what to ask. 

Melvin sighs. “Your mom and I made pretty poor choices when we were raising your sibling. I know, a shock, right? Dear old dad making mistakes, no way. But I did. Your mom made mistakes too. We didn’t choose the best way to handle our situation at first and it led to some very big and hard consequences. Your sibling’s definitely been through a lot because of our choices. But your mom and I, we got help so we could do our best not to make those same choices again that might hurt you or Charlie the same-” the words catch. His voice quakes but Melvin continues on. “So we don’t hurt you the same way we hurt your sibling. And while we got better, it’s hard sometimes to always make the best choice. Like that time, Teagan, you forgot to hand me and mom the candy bar and we left the store without paying for it. So we told you that either you could go back with one of us and pay for it yourself or I would go back with it and return the candy because we didn’t pay and you didn’t want to choose either, right?”

Teagan nods. “Yeah, I remember. It was not fun.”

Melvin hums in agreement. “Yeah. Sometimes, the best choice is hard to make and you make the wrong one. Mom’s just having a hard time making the best choice right now. And sometimes the choices are smaller like the candy bar and sometimes they’re bigger. So Mom’s not sick in the same way you get sick with a tummy ache and go to the doctors. But she needs extra help to make the best choice here and there’s doctors that can help her.”

“I just want her to be okay. That’s all,” Teagan states. 

“I know you do, sweetpea. So do I. This won’t be a fun transition. The next couple days are going to be weird. And when you come back, Mom won’t be around for a little bit. It’s going to be strange and that’s okay if it feels heavy.”

“Can we just focus on the next few days? I don’t have a brain for much more,” Charlie interjects. 

“Yeah, yeah, of course, kiddo. Of course. I’m sorry. It is a lot, isn’t it? Let’s just focus on getting your shoes and jackets on. That okay? Then you can go with Calum and your sibling and they’ll take you to the palace.”

“Can we finish Wall-E at the castle?” Teagan questions. 

“It is my favorite,” Calum answers. “So, of course we can.” 

She grins. “I knew I liked you.”

Melvin helps get them both into their shoes and jackets--puffers bundled around their bodies to withstand the chill. It’s all too real when Charlie and Teagan reach a hand out each to you. You’re really taking them. You’re really telling Diana that she can’t repeat history again. You’re really doing the thing you’d wish someone had done with you. There’s a cacophony of ‘I love you’s’ like Charlie, Teagan, and Melvin can’t get them out fast enough. He helps get them into the car, a kiss to both their hands before the doors close. 

You don’t even register how the wind whips until you notice the billowing of Melvin’s flannel pajama pants in the night. “Keep them at home through Tuesday. I’ll call the school and let them know they’ll be out those days. Once I get their work, we can arrange something, yeah? So they don’t fall behind.” 

“I-I’m off tomorrow,” you return. “I have to pick up my car from the mechanics and do a fitting, but we can meet after work for you or something. And then that way, they’ll have the evening to do the work. I’ll call off Tuesday too, I guess.”

“Uh, here’s some cash for extra groceries too,” Melvin hands you the bills, a hundred on the top and a sizable stack in the middle of some smaller denominations. “And whatever else they may need during the week. Uh, no one’s currently on any meds. The last day for the antibiotics for Teagan’s ear infection was a couple days ago. So, she might still be a little bit more thirsty than usual. I’ll reschedule Charlie’s dentist appointment until the new year which will make it easier since Teagan missed hers too thanks to the ear infection. But yeah, I’m sorry this happened this way. Di told me she showed up at your job and that sounds pretty awful. I’m just glad she didn’t hit anyone drunk.”

“Makes two of us. But, I don’t need this much, Melvin. It’s--”

He folds his arms to his chest, closing himself off from the outstretched stack. “Keep it. Just keep it all, please.”

You nod and pocket the money. “Thanks, for telling them. The way you did. That couldn’t have been easy.”

“But they needed the truth. So you’re welcome. My ringer is on. So if you or if they need to give a ring, it’s all okay. Seriously, time doesn’t matter. I did add you to the drop off and pick up list at the school. I just did it Friday actually.”

“Oh. How lucky is that.”

Melvin’s smile is short lived, a short tuft of laughter falling from him. “Yeah, quite lucky. I’m trying to think if there’s anything else you’ll need. But I’m drawing a blank.”

“If, if anything comes up, just give me a ring. I’ll let my job know I need my phone on me because of some family stuff. It shouldn’t be a problem.” 

Melvin nods, but you watch his gaze, locked in where Teagan and Charlie are on the inside of the truck. He’s just a man--a father too--but he’s just a man and he knows he’s faulty. He knows he’s not perfect but all he wants now is to do right by his kids. Whether or not you count yourself in that mix doesn’t matter or stop Melvin from caring. 

“If, if it means anything, I appreciate your strength and courage. I know none of this is easy for you or for them.” It’s strange to offer Melvin that comfort. You don’t know if it’s truly your place or not, but you can see the quake of his lips, how his eyes glaze over. You understand what it means to be human. 

It’s a long moment, Melvin regarding you like someone would a wild animal--in awe, but still cautious. His arms drop, but hang for just a moment in the air like he might go for a hug. You think it may not be a bad idea but you don’t rush forward. His arms fall back down at his sides, but he smiles.  “Thank you. That means a lot.”

The evening falls hard. After you get Teagan and Charlie to the palace and help them with their bags plus yours to the residency wing, all you want to do deep in your bones is crash hard. But you help them settle down, tucked up into the lounge chair of a spare room and Calum runs to his room to get a few extra things to help set up the TV for them to resume Wall-E. It’s thick and awkward once you return from your shower. This isn’t the way you wanted to go down. Yet, this is the way it unfolded and you can’t do anything about it. Calum excuses himself, but presses a kiss to your head and promises that he’ll be back. So there’s only you, and Teagan, and Charlie and the movie still playing softly. 

 Teagan waves you over and you settle onto the end of the couch for her. 

“Yeah, Teag?”

“I’m sorry you went through that. What Dad talked about and what you told us before. Didn’t feel real until now I guess.”

You shake your head. “It’s not your fault, Teagan.”

“I know, but still. You didn’t have anyone. And we have you. I wish it were more fair.”

“Thanks, I’m glad you two have me too.” It’s not her job to worry. But you know she’s going to let it go completely, not when she climbs into your lap. 

Charlie slides in to close the gap. “Do we have to go to bed at our normal time?”

“Tonight, Charlie boy, no.”

“And you won’t leave us tonight, right?”

“You two will be in the bed up there and I’ll be asleep here.” The lounge chair rests right up against the full sized bed. So they should have plenty of space to share and you can rest relatively well on the chair below them. “But please do not wake me up with stinky feet in the morning.”

Charlie laughs but tucks into your side. “Don’t give me any ideas.”

One movie turns into two, then into three and by the time ten thirty rolls around, Charlie and Teagan are fast asleep. They have been for the last twenty minutes or so, but you’ve stayed pretty still to avoid waking them. “I think they’re fully asleep now,” you whisper over to Calum. He settled into the other end of the couch, but hadn’t intervened more than just to help--showing them where the bathroom was or getting snacks. But he’s gotten quiet too in the last hour. Maybe he, too, had succumbed to the day. 

Calum lifts his head, slowly towards you and nods. “I’ll take Charlie,” Calum offers. 

“You sure?”

He’s wordless, gingerly getting Charlie into his arms. You get Teagan into your grasps and help tuck her in. They settle easily and it’s an exhale. Your shoulders drop and instantly, the tears are stinging behind your eyes. “Hey, baby,” Calum coos softly. “It’s okay.”

You walk to the foot of the bed and Calum meets you there. It’s instantaneous as you melt into his hug. You don’t know who you’re crying for--them or yourself. But you don’t worry too much about it. It just feels right, like shedding out of something too small for you--you’re happy that the weight can fall with the tears. 

“I got you,” Calum reassures, a hand steady up and down your back. “I got you.”

_________________________________

The floor’s cold. Calum knew it would be when he refused your offer for you two to share the lounge chair. It would really only fit one of you comfortably and while the two of you could’ve made it work, he would rather himself be a bit sore in the morning than you. But you did make him take extra blankets in return. Which Calum is grateful for, but not even the two extra blankets keeps the chill of the floor fully at bay. 

The room’s pretty quiet. The hum of the heat is faint, which lets him know that it should be getting warmer soon. When Calum finally lets his eyes open, he turns his head to the left. You’re still on the chair, flat on your back, but your feet dangling over the edge a little. It’s clear you’re awake too. Maybe for longer than him, but he’s not sure. It’s hard, he figures. First your car, now this. You shook, and shook in his hold last night. He was sure you’d whither away but he didn’t stop you. He couldn’t. 

“Morning,” he whispers. His voice is thick and gruff but you turn to look at him. 

“Morning.” You sound less hoarse. But you do smile. The tears from last night don’t hold to your face--your eyes aren’t red and there’s no puffiness like a post cry usually leaves you. 

“Been up a while?”

“Maybe an hour?”

Calum’s phone shakes against the carpeted floors. He’d texted a few people that his morning meetings would have to be delayed until next week or moved around this week some. But he’s hoping he hasn’t missed anyone. When the screen lights up again, Calum notices a message from Miranda, What happened last night? Are you two okay? 

“Shit,” he huffs, but pushes up to handle what’s bound to be a mess. It’s not like Miranda to worry too much. But Calum can’t remember right now if he’d messaged her last night or not about the ordeal. Now with this, it’s not shaping up to look too good at this moment. 

“Everything okay?”

“It’s Miranda. Let me call her right quick, okay? Then we get breakfast started for them, yeah?”

“Yeah, okay.” But there’s an unease to the way you answer. Calum knows Miranda asking what happened is not good. And you probably suspect it too. 

“I’ll tell you anything you need to know, baby. I made a promise and I intend to keep it.”

“Like you did with Diana?” you questioned. 

He’d hope you’d understand what he was asking for, that he just needed the moment to step in if you’d let him. Calum nods. “Yeah.”

“Miranda’s a tough one,” you muse and then carry your gaze back to the ceiling. “I trust her.”

“Good, because we really don’t have a choice,” Calum teases. Your exhaled laughter is short, but he pushes to his knees and kisses your cheek. “I’ll be back fast.”

Your hand nestles around his jaw--it’s probably a hair stumbly since he shaved yesterday. Though he did actually replace his razor head like he was supposed to so it’s hopefully still a pretty smooth shave for the rest of today at least. You pull him in for a kiss--short, but firm. “Thanks for yesterday. I didn’t say that yet but it means a lot for you to help like you did.”

“Of course, baby. You’re beyond welcome.”

You two share another kiss, no hesitations or worries about the morning breath you both are sporting and Calum eases himself up and out the room, as to not wake Teagan or Charlie who seem to still be solidly asleep. His phone shakes again just as he gets the door closed behind him. Another message from Miranda, Hello? Are you two okay?

Calum’s call is answered immediately. He doesn’t even think a full ring goes through before Miranda is answering, “Holy moly, thank goodness.”

“What are you hearing? It’s almost like you care about me or something for you to be that nervous.” Calum knows she does, but she’s not been quite as vocal about it previously. 

“Well, yes, yes, I would be quite nervous if what I’m hearing is true. There’s some tweets circulating about you and your partner getting into an altercation outside of Forest with some stranger. Some woman attacked you two. What’s going on? Do you know this person?”

“No one was attacked, Miranda. It was their mother confronting them not totally sober about some family stuff. But we probably shouldn’t let that narrative of being attacked circle for too long. That certainly won’t help anyone.”

“Oh, are they okay? Don’t they have siblings too?”

“Yeah, they’re all okay as they can be. Charlie and Teagan are in the castle right now. I alerted security a couple weeks back that the two might need to stay here for a little bit, so there’s nothing left to do on that front. But for the kids sake, it’s not ideal to say it was an attack. Diana’s--she’s not a harm to anyone. Not that way,” Calum offers. She’s definitely a danger to folks if she keeps driving drunk. But he doubts that confrontation would’ve ever gotten violent. Loud--surely, but not physically dangerous. 

“So, we’re saying it’s a private family matter?” Now that’s a question Calum knows he doesn’t need to answer. “Perhaps, we should ask everyone to respect your partner’s right to privacy. This could save you two from needing to handle anything at the charity event in a couple weeks. Two birds, one stone. It’s not entirely ideal, but should we not be on top of this, their mother is going to get crucified.”

It worries Calum--if there is an official statement, god only knows what it could mean for you and your job in terms of safety. So far, you’d made little mention about being recognized. Though, Calum wonders if a lot of that is tied to how little you’re patron facing. This official statement does mean there’s a bigger can of worms about the relationship--how comfortable you are with being in the public eye- but that’s a can of worms that was going to come up eventually, though time was a precious gem in that scenario. Yet, if there’s no statement a whirlwind of scrutiny will surely come. 

“Do it,” Calum exhales. Ideally, he’d tell you first about it, get you to weigh in on the situation. But it’s a lose-lose in either scenario. The thing he won’t do is have Diana villainized in the media though. Though her previous actions aren’t great, and the way she chose to have that conversation was unproductive, she doesn’t deserve to be out in the media nor does she deserve to be a villain publicly. She’s human--as plain and as simple as that. 

“It’ll be released today. But you both will need to approve it. I’ll slate it for noon, try and get it out with enough time for the evening news cycle to pick it up before there’s too much coverage of whatever social media’s coming up with.”

“Just give me a ring when you get it done and we’ll come to look it over.”

“Will do. I’m glad you two are okay and please pass along my care and concern to your partner. Family matters are never easy.”

“I will. Thanks, Miranda.” 

What a way to start the morning, Calum thinks to himself as he concludes the call with Miranda. His text to his mother’s still unanswered. But knowing his mom, she’s at the very least seen the text. It’s probably too cruel to even think about school, but you don’t seem to be rushing and Calum’s going to follow your lead on that. There’s a bit more noise when he eases back into the room, your voice low but still audible from behind the door. He doesn’t make out anything specific until he’s shuffling back into the room. 

“Oh, the lights, they burn,” Charlie huffs, covering his eyes. 

“Sorry, Charlie,” Calum laughs. His hair sticks up off his head in all kinds of directions. 

“Do we have to go to school today?” Teagan asks. 

“No, not until Wednesday. Melvin’s getting your work for today and tomorrow and I’ll pick it up. Would you two like to come too?” They nod at the question, clearly still under sleep’s spell but coherent. 

“You’ll get to see my suit today too,” you offer.  Like maybe you’re hoping it’ll lift their spirits. 

“Suit? For what?” Charlie asks. 

“I painted something for charity and it’s a big fancy thing in December. But I try the suit on again today to make sure it fits well. And I’m pretty sure we will finalize what accessories I’m wearing too or at least get an idea.  I don’t know. It’s all new to me. But I’ll need help though. If you guys are up for it.” 

“Like a ball?” Teagan questions. 

You shrug. “Sort of. But it’s to help raise money for different places who are helping the community, so it’s not just about the fancy clothes.”

“Like a ball,” Teagan concludes and falls back into the pillows. Charlie follows her lead and reclines back too. His descent is less forceful than hers. 

Calum laughs at their antics, easing behind where you are perched at the end of the bed. “Do you guys want a tour after breakfast?” he offers. The fitting’s not until 2 and there’s a long stretch of time before them. 

The two pop right back up. “Could waffles be a thing at breakfast?” Teagan asks. 

“Uh, we can definitely see if it can be done,” Calum answers. He’s not entirely sure if all the supplies are in the kitchen, but given that it’s a little closing in on 8, he’s hoping that most of the kitchen is clear so it’s a little less embarrassing of a scramble.

“I’m in.” She laughs, peeling the covers off herself. “I just need to get dressed.” 

Charlie volunteers to hang back while you help Teagan get ready, but Calum sees it. The same thing in you, a watchfulness is budding in Charlie. A gaze computing and calculating. Calum settles onto the lounge chair, wanting to approach but not wanting to startle. “Can I ask you a question, Charlie?” Calum starts.

The young boy nods, eyes widening a little when his gaze settles. “Yeah, sure.”

“Is there any particular reason why you told Teagan to have a bag packed? Did you notice anything?”

“Overhead Dad talking one night. It was right before bedtime and I got done with my bath so I was going to ask for a couple more minutes to play, but he was on the phone. Heard him talking about how he was worried about Mom and how he wasn’t sure if he should have bags packed for us to stay elsewhere for a little bit. I didn’t hear it all, just went back to my room and picked out the book to read because I got scared about getting in trouble. But the next day I mentioned it to Teagaon. I didn’t understand why we’d have to leave, but now, I guess it makes more sense.”

“I’m sorry you overheard that and now, too, that you have to deal with this big change.”

“Thanks, Calum. It’s-it’s going to be weird if Mom’s not home when we get back.”

Now that Calum hadn’t considered. How custom they were to both parents being in the house. But Diana does need help, intense help and she needs it now more than ever. “New things are always weird and strange, aren’t they at first? But they get less strange with time.” It’s too dismissive to say that things will get better later. But Calum knows time is the biggest aid to new wounds. 

Charlie nods. “I guess they are, yeah.”

Calum can hear from the bathroom attached to the room that you and Teagan may be getting close to done. And it’ll be better to be proactive, Calum figures. “Do you want help? Getting your stuff ready next?”

It’s only a nod, but Calum takes it as a good sign in the end. Charlie’s rather quick to put together his outfit, but it’s clearly a habit for him to lay it out on the bed. When Charlie looks up to Calum, Calum’s not sure what it means but he looks over the clothes--the long sleeve t-shirt and jeans will suffice for the forecasted weather. “A fan of the arts,” Calum jokes, noticing the spiderman logo screen printed onto the front of the shirt. 

Charlie laughs. “Comics. But sure. It’s okay, though, right? The clothes?”

“Yeah, Charlie, they’re alright.”

The thing Calum is sure won’t be alright though is when he has to tell you about the circulation and stories being created. But he knows he has too. He just needs the right opening. It probably won’t be smart to try and discuss it openly in front of Teagan and Charlie, but he has to act fast. Mirana will be calling back soon as she’ll no double be earlier than her self imposed noon deadline. 

In the interim, after Charlie goes to get ready and Teagan settles in front of her bag and starts pulling out hair boss, Calum knows his window is still not open. 

“Would you be okay if I put together an outfit for you today? Just to take that off your hands,” Calum offers to you. He knows you probably have stuff in your bags. But still, he feels like he should offer, that he should take something off your hands if he can. 

“Oh, sure. Thanks, love. Did everything go okay with Miranda?”

“Well, there’s a statement going out,” Calum hazards slowly. “We’ll need to read it together but I think we should discuss it in more detail later.”

The understanding settles--you glance over to Teagan who’s approaching closer and then back to the closed bathroom door. Calum doesn’t shy away, moving in to kiss your forehead. “I know, baby. I know. Just one thing at a time. Breakfast and a tour. Miranda will call me once she’s done.”

“When it rains, it pours, doesn’t it?” you sigh, but nod.

“It’s a good thing the umbrella was invented. I’ll be back in a few minutes with your clothes.”

“Thanks again.”

Calum’s more than happy to do anything and everything to help through the week. It’s going to be hard, he knows or at least theorizes. But he’s happy to do what he can. So if it’s helping you get ready so that you can get Charlie and Teagan ready, he’ll do it. If it means he has to go out and get stuff for waffles, he’ll do it. It doesn’t matter. Because in the end, he knows the things that will stick with you and your siblings are what people did to help. 

Calum is mindful not to take too long as he showers and gets ready. Where the water might cascade down his skin in a lavishly longer shower, Calum keeps it quick. His own attire is second, as he slips into jeans and a sweatshirt. Efficacy takes president over everything. Though you're not overly picky about your attire, Calum does want you to still feel like you’re put together. So he grabs one of his button ups, a bright orange one, and layers one of your solid long sleeved t-shirts under it to withstand the cold. When he gets back to the guestroom, you’re supervising Charlie while he brushes out his own hair. 

“Should I wear it like Calum’s?” Charlie asks you via your reflection. 

“Well,” you chuckle, pulling his fine hairs back gingerly with your fingers. “It might make you look like Ponyboy which I don’t know if that’s your style just yet.”

Charlie shakes his head and brushes it back into his normal style. “Nope, you’re right. Not my style. Who’s Ponyboy?”

“A character from the book, The Outsiders.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever read that.”

“I read it in high school. So that’s not shocking.”

“Do you think I could read it?”

“Let me re-read it first before I answer that because I don’t remember the plot all that well. Though, it’s definitely violent.”

“Okay.”

Calum slides in as Charlie steps out. “Here, baby.” The clothes and your toiletries rest in his hands. It feels like a humbling offering, that this is all he has, but it’s something. It’s better than nothing. “Thank you,” you whisper and then slip back into the bathroom.

“Is this your room?” Teagan asks, looking around the bedroom a bit more closely. 

Calum shakes his head. “No, mine is a few rooms down. But if I’m honest, my room is too messy, so not grounds for a good first impression.”

“I can’t wait to have a messy room.”

“Your room is already messy,” Charlie interjects to Teagan’s point. 

“It’s got a lot of stuff. It’s not messy. We’re not allowed to have messy rooms. You know this.”

Calum can’t help his laughter. At the very least, this kind of bickering hasn’t gone. It’s something he wished he experienced more of. Him and the boys definitely have it, but it’s not quite the same as a sibling, he figures. Charlie huffs that at least he doesn’t have nearly as much stuffed into his room as Teagan, but there’s a bit of a smile between them as they bicker. They know. Just like Calum does, they do care about each other at the end of the day. 

“I know Teagan wants waffles. Anything you fancy, Charlie?” Calum asks. 

He takes a moment to ponder, head swaying as he seemingly goes through the options. “I think I’m feeling oatmeal, if there’s any of course.”

“I think there should be. It’s a shame, isn’t it? That I don’t even know what’s in my own kitchen.” To be fair, Calum does know vaguely what’s in the fridge. But he has grown accustomed to the sort of rotation of a menu being preplanned and then putting in requests for anything special. Undoubtedly, it’s just easier for everyone in the current system, but it would be nice to be a bit more aware about the little things. 

“You’re probably really busy, so it’s understandable,” Teagan offers.

The bathroom door cracks open, you emerging in the bright orange button up still open, and sleeves pulled up on your forearms. Calum likes you in his clothes. It’s not possessive, not some way to mark you as his. It’s the way you look at home. You wear it like it’s always been yours and it’s probably the way it’s not fully buttoned, the bottom tucked loosely into your jeans, a deep v of the material resting against your chest. Calum’s hoping he can see you more often in his clothes, more often in this environment like you belong. 

But as you round up Teagan and Charlie and lead down to the kitchen, Calum thinks maybe in some ways this the ways you do show up like you belong. When you let them into the kitchen first, and you make a beeline straight for the fridge, perhaps Calum should worry less. The kitchen’s quiet. There’s a glass on the counter, left like someone was still drinking from it and stepped away. But Calum’s not sure who it could be. He thinks it’s the girl that took over the night shift after your departure. He hadn’t gotten her name yet. She’s nice--the food’s good and she’s accommodating. But shockingly, even with Calum’s habit of evening snacking, he doesn’t run into her too much. 

Calum helps Teagan and Charlie into the stools at the island counter and then moves to start your coffee. It’s hard wired now, should you stay in the morning, and though Calum still wants to do more, he doesn’t let go of the little things that he can do. The spoon clinks against the mug as he works in the creamer and sugar. Teagan’s waffles are just hitting the iron by the time he gets the liquid to the right shade of brown and slides it your way. 

“Thank you,” you smile at him. 

“You’re welcome. And Charlie asked for oatmeal, if possible,” he adds cracking open one of the pantry doors. Thankfully, a container of oats stares back at him. A saving grace it is as he pulls it down. 

“Got it. What do you want? Usual?”

“Well, minus biscuits,” Calum teases. 

“Next time,” you laugh.

“Oh, hi.” Calum turns at the sound of Teagan’s voice and he spots the new girl on the night shift. Teagan and Charlie wave at her. She waves back, but the shock is still evident on her face. 

“Hi, Val,” you call out over your shoulder. “Those are my siblings--Teagan and Charlie. Sorry if we’re in the way.”

“No, no,” Val returns. “Not in the way, I’d cleaned up anyway. Just shocked me I guess. I did worry when I didn’t see you, Your Highness, at breakfast.”

“Still kicking,” Calum returns. “Didn’t mean to cause alarm.”

“It’s quite alright. But this seems like a family affair, so I’ll give you all space. Nice meeting you two,” Val states to Tegan and Charlie.

“Nice meeting you too,” they echo.

“Did you eat, Val?” you call out even as she retreats. Her nod comes quickly. “Seriously.”

“I-I did.”

“Sit.” It’s a command. Not one to be ignored either, at least not one Calum would ignore either that’s for sure. Calum watches Val slink back towards the table but not the kitchen island. He takes the opportunity to pull down glasses for Teagan and Charlie. 

“I get that like I took your job once you left. But technically, you can’t boss me around anymore,” Val teases. 

“Yet,” you laugh, “you still sat.”

“You’re terrifying,” she snorts. 

You move with purpose, a dance of stove to fridge to pantry with very few stumbles as you go. It’s a sight Calum’s seen many times but it’s still mesmerizing each time he gets the chance to witness it. The plates clink--Teagan’s two waffles and scrambled eggs. A bowl of oatmeal, topped with blueberries, placed in front of Charlie. Calum knows his plate well before it hits the counter. He takes it but watches you load up another plate too. Without being called, Val shuffles up to collect her plate. Calum’s not going to let you forget about yourself, so he watches carefully as you make another bowl of oatmeal. When your spoon digs in, he finds himself reaching for his own plate. Breakfast passes in relative silence. Just a clink of forks and spoons against plates and bowls. It’s a little awkward, but nothing that doesn’t dissipate with time. 

As Calum gets the last of the dishes into the rack, his phone shakes again from his pocket.  He’s hoping it’s not Miranda. It was still too early even for her to have the statement done and drafted, given that he was partially aware of another meeting between her and some others that was set to occur this morning as well. He had not been needed for such a meeting, but had noticed the invite sitting on his calendar. Yet, Miranda's name is bolded across his screen. Statement is ready. Where are you?

Calum sighs as he works his fingers over the screen. Part of it is fear. He hadn’t been able to talk to you yet but that’s not the conversation to have in front of your siblings. Even he knows that. Could you meet us at the new shed in half an hour? 

“Miranda?” you question. 

He nods. “Yeah.” 

“That was fast.”

He grins, looking up from the screen just as another message loads in. “Why do you think we keep her around?”

“She must never know about my doubt,” you grin around the top of your mug. 

“Secret is safe with me.” Calum glances down back to her response, Half an hour. And though it’s not a lot, Calum knows it’s the affirmative. “She’s going to meet us at the shed in thirty. But,” Calum starts and spins to face Charlie and Teagan who are seated still at the island. “That still gives us plenty of time for the tour.”

The two cheer and work themselves down from their chairs. “Where’s first? Can we see your office too?” Charlie questions. 

It’s a small miracle--that they seem happy and eager to view the castle in the midst of their situation. A saving grace Calum is sure for you more than anything too. “Sure, let’s start on that wing and then work our way down and outside to my mum’s garden. Sound good?”

“Your mom gardens? That’s really cool,” Teagan notes. “I help Mom with her flowers sometimes. But the bugs still freak me out a little.”

“There’s so many legs on some of them. I get it,” Calum offers. “Now, please keep arms and legs inside the ride at all times. There will be a quiz at the end.”

Calum leads the group, Charlie and Teagan in the middle and you bring up the rear. Though Calum can’t show them into the parliament floor-the room that he’s sure they’ve seen most often in their textbooks for all the votes-he does lead them through the halls. Portraits and plaques litter the wall. Perhaps it’s the years Calum’s spent that makes them fade into the background until now. When he points out to his relatives and ancestors and other prominent figure heads, he wonders if he slowed down in these hallways if it would feel the same to him as it does to Charlie and Teagan. 

“Oh, what’s that I hear? The sound of laughter in these halls?” The jovial tone gives it away but Calum looks up from his phone, poised still from snapping the picture of Charlie and Teagan imitating the pose of the stonehead to see his head peering out of his own office door. 

“Hey, Dad. This is Charlie, and Teagan. I’m just showing them around real fast.”

“Hi, Your Royal Majesty,” the two kids echo, all of their laughter sucked up immediately. And Calum gets it--to them this is still the King. 

“Oh, please, I’m David. No need for that title. Makes me feel old. Nice to meet you two. Have heard a lot.”

They turn to you. “You talked to the King about us?” Charlie questions, the shock thick over his words. “I mean like, the King.”

You nod at the question. “David’s Calum’s dad, so yeah, just a little. But I am sure the two of you will remain on your best behavior or else.”

It’s not even a threat you can get out fully before laughing. Calum snickers at it before adding on, “I think the real threat might be my mum. Love you, Dad, but the rosy cheeks are a hard sell in terms of discipline now.”

“Hush,” his dad laughs, as he lands a playful but still firm pat on Calum’s shoulder. “But your mother did have a rather stronger backbone than I did. Not without trying of course.”

“Is Mum in her office by chance? Sorry I haven’t talked more since my messages,” Calum offers. He’d let them both know what was going on and they were both understanding of the situation. 

“In here,” his mum calls out. 

Calum circles around and waves to his mother. She’s perched on the couch, glasses resting on the end of her nose. “Hi, Mum.”

“Are those siblings I hear?”

“Yeah, just showing them around.”

“Well, then,” she laughs before pushing up, “thanks for a heads up. Everyone’s holding up, okay, yeah?”

“Yeah, we are.” It’s a warm hug that she greets Calum with, quick, but still strong. Calum probably wouldn’t even consider the kind of hug if not for the circumstances that had unfolded. But part of him really wants you and your siblings to have the same embrace. Maybe something of a semblance of normalcy in the tumultuous time. 

His mother is gentle as she approaches, wrapping you in a hug first. “So good to see you.”

“Hi, Joy,” you whisper back in the embrace. 

“And your siblings! Hi, Charlie. Hi, Teagan. You two are looking quite well. I haven’t seen a spiderman shirt in so long. Goodness.”

Charlie beams. “He’s one of my favorites, ma’am.”

You slip in close to Calum as Joy laughs. “Perhaps, I should get you one since she hasn’t seen one in a long time.”

He snorts at your verbal jab. It’s the straight face in which you deliver it, like it’s a legitimate consideration. Yet, perhaps for you it could be. “I could match Charlie so it might be nice.” 

“You sap.” The tease is paired by your hand slipping into his. His hold tightens around yours. The touch is familiar but still always electric--a soft assurance that still always manages to send a zap down his spine. As much as Calum wishes he had some sort of rebuttal, he lets himself settle into silence. He is a sap. But you always embrace it. So why would he change that? 

“Do you know where you two are headed next on this tour?” David asks. “There’s quite a bit to see.”

Teagan and Charlie shake their heads. “No clue. Just following Calum’s lead,” Charlie answers. 

“Aye, good, good. Well, I do encourage stopping by the kitchen too. I didn’t tell you this, but I hear there’s perhaps a sweet treat or two in there.”

There’s a gleam, a shine in their eyes at the potential for sweets. You sigh. “After dinner, I promise. But not a second before.”

“Then I guess we shouldn’t wait too long on this tour. I want a treat,” Teagan laughs. 

“I guess that’s our sign,” Calum smiles. 

“Nice meeting you two,” his mother returns, waving as they continue on down and back to a set of stairs. It’ll lead them to the front of the office wing, unlike how they entered. But Calum takes the moment to show off the front lawns, a fountain bubbles on this side in comparison to the residency side where his mother’s garden resides. 

Yet, the closer and closer Calum leads the group to the garden the more he worries about who might’ve been a witness to the events last night. Sure Forest is in the downtown area. It’s rapidly built up and a lot of small businesses are moved into the commercial spaces, which makes it a fun place to spend a Saturday afternoon. One can try out the new coffee shop and spend hours taking laps around the city blocks. The outskirts of the area have roads for cars, but once in the middle of the shopping area, it’s pedestrian traffic only. No cars, but a few cyclists who use the absence of cars as refuge to make their commutes easier. But Sundays are pretty quiet after about four. Though, with the inclusion of a few more bars, it makes sense that perhaps there were some stragglers getting an early start to the Monday blues. 

Though, he may never know. Someone could’ve been passing by and then stopped once they heard the shouting. Or maybe it was some pap who narrowed down where you’d been working and was just waiting for the right moment. It doesn’t make him happy to consider these possibilities. It actively makes his stomach churn at the thought of someone waiting for you, waiting for the right moment to strike. But he can’t ask you to change jobs again. Especially not now. Though maybe he could make some negotiations, make calls for some leverage to keep you and your family safer a bit longer. 

“Oh my god, look at them!” Teagan shouts, pointing to the leaves of some vegetable sprouted from the ground. Calum’s not sure what it is but he watches as you edge nearer to her. “They’re as big as my head!”

“Perhaps, I could plant you as a cabbage,” you tease in return. 

“Good luck with that.”

“Can I go inside?” Charlie asks, pointing to the doors to the renovated shed. The question hangs for a moment and Calum realizes that Charlie is looking in his direction.

“Yeah, of course. Just be careful of the painting,” Calum returns, pulling the key from his pocket. “That’s the one your sibling’s working on for the charity.”

“You got it. Thanks.” 

Calum follows Charlie inside for a few steps, just enough to slick on the small space heater. “Just in case you’re cold, yeah.”

“Teagan, look at this!” Charlie calls out. It’s all she needs before she shuffles past Calum, the materials of her coat swishing as she jogs by. The shed seems to be enough of a distraction for them. 

“How bad is it?” you ask, sliding in next to Calum. The two of you stand a few feet from the shed. It’s still a clear line of sight inside, watching as Charlie and Teagan settle at the bench, laughing amongst themselves. But the distance gives the two of you the illusion of privacy. 

“Bad,” Calum returns. “I wish there was a better way to say it.” He really does. God, what he wouldn’t give to have better news to deliver. Yet he doesn’t have anything other than the truth. “People were saying Diana attacked us and I know, I know that’s so far from the truth. Miranda basically had to confirm our relationship and state that it’s a private family matter and to respect your right to privacy as you handle things. We’re going to do everything we can to make sure Charlie and Teagan don’t get caught up in this.”

“Who else was even in the parking lot though? I know it’s downtown, and that’s a busy area. But I just don’t understand who else would’ve stayed to watch that.”

Calum wishes he had answers to that. He hadn’t seen anyone, but he too was pretty preoccupied by what was unfolding. And all he has are theories, none of which can be thoroughly proven at this point. But that matters less, still their first step is to squash rumors before they worry about who started them. “Could’ve just been a random bystander,” he offers. 

“Could’ve been paparazzi too,” you return with a sigh. 

“But we don’t know that,” Calum counters. Perhaps, if he says it enough it will be the truth. Perhaps, if he says it enough he can still protect you. Not that it’s a failure, not that Calum could keep you out of the public eye forever. It’s hard though to know that your descent into public opinion is this harsh, that it’s this far out of your control or his. If all Calum can do is make the landing softer, he will. 

“Look at the lovebirds,” Miranda calls out. “So, a rather busy morning, but nothing new.” Her approach is tip toed and slow. Calum notices how wet the grass is and knows her heels must be sinking with each step which makes her caution more understandable. 

“We’ll come to you. Stay off the grass. Because I know I’ll hear about your shoes if they get ruined,” Calum laughs. And he would, in all good faith, but she won’t let it go without the occasional jab. Miranda tip toes onto the small rock path and waits, tapping at the screen in her hands. 

“Charlie, Teagan, stay inside for me, yeah? Grab some paper off that back shelf and color if you want. Just don’t touch those paints on the middle shelf please.” It’s a clear directive but you offer it gently, letting them decide for themselves if they’ll take it. 

“Roger!” Charlie hollers back, slipping out to venture towards the shelf. 

The apology burns the tip of Calum’s tongue. He knows it’s not necessarily his fault that this got caught on tape. He knows that it’s not his fault that Dianna decided that drinking was the best choice to make. Calum knows that there’s very little that he could’ve done to stop this. His influence is not that strong or extends that far. Yet, with every step towards Miranda, he battles with himself on if he should say those words. If he should apologize or not; if it would matter at all. 

Miranda flips the tablet over, extending it. “You doing okay?” she asks to you. It’s a genuine question. Even if Miranda is business first and questions later, Calum knows that she can have a gentle touch when needed. 

There’s a shrug before you speak. “I think so. I think once the shock wears off it’ll sink in more.”

“I understand. As a heads up,  I’ve ensured to emphasize that these are family private matters and that respecting your family’s privacy is of the upmost importance. This will spark a broader conversation about you two and the relationship, which ultimately this post will affirm as well. So there is a choice, I want to ask: do you want to proceed with this statement or do you want to stop? Calum opted to make the statement, but I wasn’t able to confirm if you were in the same camp.”

“It feels like a damned if you do, damned if you don’t position we’re in. But can I read first before I decide?”

“Absolutely.”

Your hand hovers, not quite grasping the device but close enough to do it. So Calum takes hold, tapping to keep the screen from going completely dark. He gets it. That if you do read through it it makes the whole thing that much more real. But every little thing  that he can do to help lighten that load just a little, he will do. You slide in a little closer, shoulder centimeters from Calum’s chest as you two read over the screen: In light of the pictures and theories surfacing from a discussion that took place last night, we would like to ask the public to please respect the privacy of everyone involved. While some may be inclined to take these events for entertainment, we urge and ask everyone to please remember that there is a family at the center of these current issues that wish to keep things private. Thank you for your understanding. 

It feels hollow as Calum reads through it. He’d want to say more, how there’s children that also impacted, that you’re impacted, how you didn’t ask for anything of this. But that’s too much and this statement feels like too little. There would never be enough, or a middle ground. This is why Miranda does the important work. It’s why she’s here, because she can get close. But he’s too involved to see the objective here. 

“Anything you want to change?” Calum asks. The seconds have stretched, for far too long and he’s not sure if it’s a bad thing or not. There’s nothing he can think of, but it is about you at the end of it all. 

Your exhale is heavy. “No, no, I don’t think so. I just--I guess it doesn’t really matter. I just want Charlie or Teagan to be safe in all this,” you direct the last piece to Miranda. 

“We’ll do what we can to keep this contained,” Miranda assures. “We’ve got people who will be connecting with some tabloids, ensuring no pictures surface and nothing else comes up.  But we can’t stop them all, unfortunately. The court of public opinion and social media is a wild one, but if we can curb tabloids we can get a strong hold on the issue. The waves may get a little rocky, but we’re still at the helm of this ship. Trust me on that.”

“I trust you. Thanks for this. I’m okay with moving forward.”

Calum hands the tablet back to Miranda. “Thanks, again, Miranda. We appreciate it.”

“Oh, just doing my job. But of course. It’ll be out soon.” Her heels clack over the rocks. Always a woman of business, always waiting for the next shit storm should it come. And in this case, Calum is hoping it never does. His hope may be useless ultimately. But he doesn’t want to let it go just yet. 

The mid-morning remains chilly. Even in the heat of the shed, or Calum’s truck to pick up your car, the weather never truly breaks. It doesn’t stop Calum as he sits in the truck, with the windows cracked. The repairs on the wheel look fine, but he waits, and waits, windows cracked until you let me know you’re okay. When you throw a thumbs up out of the window, Calum responds with the same and the two of you start back onto the road. With grocery already collected, and the looming 2PM deadline, it’s a pretty straight line shot back to the castle. 

The drive helps with the ache. His fingertips buzz, wanting to see what’s happening now. Miranda confirmed that she was able to get up before noon, but had given her standard speech about not looking at the media within the first couple of hours.  It’s going to be loud-the news is always brash and cacophonous the moment news breaks. But Calum wants to be able to tell you it’s better, that the statement’s hardly a drop in the bucket. It most likely won’t be. But the distraction of the road helps, even as his phone buzzes from the cupholder. 

The distraction would help a lot more if the drive didn’t feel so short. By the time he returns to the castle and backs into the spot next to you, Calum’s reaching for his phone. He waves you ahead of him and raises his phone--like it’s something important. And while it is important that Calum does check in on the headlines and the response, it doesn’t have to be right now. 

I didn’t think they were dating that seriously. Hope everything’s okay. 

Who the hell is that?

I mean it was pretty obvious they were together. But who is that woman? She looks crazy as hell

Calum swipes from the responses directly under the post. A stupid idea. All the chatter will be people's way too invested in looking for entertainment and dramatizing the things that happen to others. Perhaps waiting for more of an uproar would’ve been smart too. But choices have been made now. Taking down the statement would only serve to make more of an uproar than anything as well. It was a lose-lose, but there’s still a biting sting at the reality. There’s truly no winning, just options with the least amount of damage. 

There’s little news yet in terms of headlines. A few that sprung up and perhaps, people are waiting for closer to the afternoon news cycle to make their stances. Prince Calum and his partner cornered, reads one tabloid. Not as salacious as Calum thought but he clicks onto the webpage. All it does is divulge that a bystander happened upon the altercation and then concludes with the statement embedded into the article about asking for privacy. But as Calum re-reads the piece a bit of a closer look, he notices a couple of sentences. There’s indication based on the royal family’s response that the person who approached is family. But those who overheard the conversation note that the instigator didn’t appear sober. 

It’s the final nail in the coffin--a sharp strike of metal on metal that echoes in Calum’s brain as he reads the line over and over. But those who overheard the conversation note that the instigator didn’t appear sober. Should your parents still be in a government program for assistance or should a conversation ever come up about  Charlie and Teagan remaining in the care of your mother, this piece of media alone would be her undoing. Calum’s not sure if it would hurt Melvin as well, but considering that they are still married, it might. His first instinct is to send the link to Miranda, see if she can do anything to bury it as deep into the void of news. But would he be overstepping?

“I know I asked this before, and please don’t send me for a beheading, but are you sure you’re okay? You’re a lot quieter than usual.”

Your question is soft, but Calum hears it as hands tug and smooth at his suit adorned on his body. Calum watches your eyes in the reflection of the mirror. The rest of the afternoon passed in a relative blur. He’d kept you and your siblings company, continuing on the drawings from the morning and a couple of movies sprinkled in to kill the dead air. But the haze of the article is heavy for Calum, like he can’t shake the weight of it off him. Behind you Teagan and Charlie are ogling over the accessories, pointing at rings that your stylist has displayed out. But you stand clear in his vision. Didn’t appear sober, the black text feels burned into his retinas. It’s a film over everything he sees, like a tattoo that he cannot erase. 

“I’m worried about you is all.” It’s easy to say that. “But I’m okay.” The qualification--he feels obligated to give it. Like if he doesn’t, it’ll raise more suspicions. He doesn’t want you to worry more than you already have to. Calum wants to take things off your plate, not add them on. He’s hoping that there’s no other articles that mention the same thing. He’s hoping it goes away on its own. 

“I think not being worried would be a worse sign.” It’s a single sentence, complete with a kiss to his cheek. Before he can say more, reassure you that it’s not your job to carry such a burden given the immediate life hurdle you’ve been thrown into the midst of, your name is called out. 

You carry on to the stylist and Calum swears each click of the  shoes you have over the floors echoes, didn’t appear sober. The burn comes back in his fingertips, if it hadn’t been for the need to leave his phone aside, he’s sure he’d crack. He’d message Miranda and tell her to bury it--however she needs to. And the more his fingers ache to send that link, the more he feels the words pressing at the back of his tongue. They are all but begging for him to let them out. 

“How’s the arm length? Good?” Jacky, his own personal stylist, asks. The question is enough to bring Calum back to his own reality. The thing he’s supposed to be focused on. 

Calum raises his arms a little and the pits of the suit jacket raise but don’t cut up into him. “They’re good,” he answers. They’re always good too. His measurements haven’t changed much in a few months now. So it should be relatively standardized now. 

“I don’t think that’s a good piece. Too chunky up there,” Teagan laughs. Calum watches as she gazes back down to the jewelry. 

You hand the necklace back over to Orion, your stylist, and nod. “I agree. I think maybe only one necklace though. So I need you both to agree on it.”

Orion’s smile seems genuine as she too watches your sibling talk in detail about each piece. “I think I might be out of a job with you two around,” she jokes. 

It’s almost like nothing is happening. Like the altercation and the subsequent change in their stay hasn’t happened. Perhaps, for the tiniest moments, you three do feel like nothing’s changing. Sure, they’re not at home. But they know they’ll still be back at school this week. They know that they’ll still have homework to do. You’ll still have a job to go to. Nothing’s changed about those, but just behind the veil, is the truth. Much like Calum worries about what the changes will mean for Charlie and Teagan once they return home, you three worry too. Maybe even more than he does, or he can fathom. 

“You’re all set, Your Highness. What do you think? Any changes you’d like to make?” Another question Jacky has to ask--has to reel Calum back in. 

Calum looks back at himself. The suit is black, but the handkerchief matches the color of your suits--a deep maroon color with gold accents. The black dress shirt beneath fits well around his neck and though he imagines he may not wear it as button up as it’s been done today, it still looks sleek. 

“I think you’ve outdone yourself again,” he smiles. It feels a little stiff, like it hasn’t quite reached his eyes, but the words are genuine. The suit is well fitted. There are a few studded details along the collar of the suit jacket that elevate the look too, he notices now as he takes in the sight a bit more. He does like the attire. It does fit nicely. But in the reflection, there’s you. His attention can never settle on the task at hand. Because there’s you and there’s the way Charlie snaps a bracelet around your wrist and inspects it. But around it, is a cloud, like the reality is waiting to fall onto your backs. The fitting just feels secondary, like he’s going through the motions because he knows it has to be done. But what he cares about is that stupid article and how much it’s going to impact your family. 

“A lot on your mind? Normally, you’ve got a thousand ideas.” 

“I guess I don’t really care how I look when there’s bigger issues going on, you know? Feels a little trivial for me to care.”

Jacky nods, taking the suit jacket by the collar to help him out of it. “Understandable. Well, if you’ve got no notes, I can hand you back over. If you think of anything you need, and I mean anything, just let me know, okay?”

“Thanks, I will.”  It’s a statement that Calum feels really should be directed more at you, but he understands Jacky’s intent. 

By the time Calum changes back into his sweatshirt and jeans, you’re still being doted on. Charlie and Teagan round and round the display of jewelry. They follow each other it seems and though there are a good number of choices, there’s certainly a bit of entertainment in the ordeal. As they playfully bicker about the choices the other makes. You’re a voice of reason to remind them, they don’t have all afternoon to play around with this, but there’s a small smile as you say it. That cloud feels heavier and heavier as Calum waits at your side. 

Your selections are finalized and you step back to change. He feels useless watching as you step behind your privacy screen. He feels useless as Charlie and Teagan stand next to him and ask him about his own suit, if he’s pleased with how it turned out. He feels useless because if he’d just gotten to you on time then maybe he could’ve saved you and your siblings from this fallout. But he’d been lazy on getting gas the night before. If he had just gotten there on time, perhaps the sight of him would’ve made Diana think twice.

If only he hadn’t been so fucking lazy about getting gas the night before. 

If only Diana hadn’t been drinking. 

If only…

If only…

“I’m sorry,” Calum starts, after getting both Charlie and Teagan settled down into the library. 

You met Melvin to grab their makeup work and Calum promised he’d not burn down the kitchen to handle their dinosaur shaped nuggets and frozen veggies. It wasn’t fancy, but it was what they wanted for dinner. It’s the kind of request that couldn’t be denied. Though both you and Calum wanted something more for dinner, Charlie and Teagan were adamant that the nuggets would be enough. But now, after all t-rex’s have been consumed, you asked that they at least do the work they missed today, which has wounded the four of you into the library. Charlie and Teagan are settled at the long desk, pencils scratching over their worksheets as they go. You and him sit on the couch, huddled between two bookcases in the back of the room, but just over the stacks you can still see Charlie and Teagaon work. In the silence, Calum can’t help but apologize. 

You turn from the plate of the leftover nuggets, which you and Calum are sharing for the time being. “You don’t have to apologize,” you offer softly. Though there is distance between you and the kids, both of you are trying to be quiet and gentle in the conversation. The crumbs make a soft click as they fall onto the plastic plate as you rub them off your fingers. 

“I shouldn’t have been late. If I wasn’t late, maybe Diana wouldn’t have confronted you.” The what if’s have been a marathon behind his eyes. What would it look like if he’d gotten to you earlier. What if he’d waited to tell Miranda to make a statement? What if there wasn’t an article that could undo everything for Charlie and Teagan?

“If you were on time, do you think that would’ve stopped her from showing up drunk?” 

“Well, I know I can’t control what she did. But I just wish I’d gotten last yesterday like I told myself to.” His phone burns in his pocket. Because while he is apologizing for his tardiness, he’s got so much more that he’s going to drop. 

“It’s all okay.” You pair the sentiment with a kiss to his cheek, offering up the plate with nuggets to him. 

He collects one, thinks for a moment it could be a triceratops, and then pops it whole into his mouth. His hands are fumbling before he can stop it. Maybe it’s best this way, when his mouth is full and he can’t apologize again. You take the phone, eyes darting over the article. And all he can do is watch. 

“Is this what caused your quiet mood at the fitting?” you ask, looking up from the screen now. 

Calum nods before swallowing. “Didn’t know how you’d react and I didn’t want to make things worse.”

“It’s her funeral,” you return. “She made the choices.”

But even as you say it, Calum watches the way you watch your siblings. As easy as it is to admit that it’s her own actions and her own fault, the both of you know that the consequences of such actions will never just affect her alone. 

“Do you want me to do anything about this? I can talk to Miranda about it,” Calum offers. 

“No,” you return. But you don’t look at him. “I don’t think I can ask that much of you.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I offered.”

You snort, and tap his chest with your knuckles. It has hardly enough force behind it to call it a hit. “Besides, you’ve done enough. Thank you. For checking. For helping. It means a lot.”

“I’d do it a thousand times over,” he answers, pressing a kiss to your temple. Because it’s true. Because he wishes so desperately he could do more. He wishes you’d said yes. He wishes you’d taken up his offer. “I love you,” he whispers against your skin. 

“I love you,” you whisper in return. 

[atonalginger]

Snippet Sunday

Thanks for the tag @eridanidreams! Looks like you got everyone so I will extend the tag to anyone who might have a snippet they want to share.

My snippet today is from the Ranger and the Deputy fic I still haven't started uploading, lol. With Rekindling and Work-Life done I can focus on this one a little more and hopefully start uploading soon, otherwise I will just end up sharing it all in snips and wip previews lol.

anyway here's the snippet

The true shock of yesterday evening’s news hit Kitty like a wet pool noodle as she stood in the shower. When she stood with Del and the Marshal she was able to hold it together, to compartmentalize and tuck it away. She focused on discussing what she knew and where he might have gone, and then buried it down to focus on the fun evening Delgado presented her with. Now she was alone in the shower and the sadness and anger overpowered her, an angry sobbing fit taking hold. He shouldn’t have been alone, he shouldn’t have died. They shouldn’t be running head long into the unknown without properly understanding the risks. She remembered that Andreja and Matteo were also out in the Starfield chasing leads; was she going to be sent to find them dead too? Sam’s argument with Sarah played over in her head, Sarah, she barely survived that attack on Vectera and mentioned Vasco forced her to land on Kreet! She’s overwhelmed and needs rest…no she’s not fine what are you talking about? You have eyes…Just because she walked away doesn’t mean she can handle it…Vasco shouldn’t have forced her to go…No, it’s not okay…just give her a day, Sarah! The tears flowed as freely as the water from overhead as she kicked herself for not listening to Sam. She should have stood up for herself. She should have taken the risk of angering her new boss. It’s not like she chose to join willingly. Every step felt forced, like if she said no Ms. Morgan would have her tied up. Then the memory of the two dead miners hit her mind. Shot dead by those pirates who attacked. Who followed Barrett to the mine. He didn’t even seem to care. Several more were laid out, others checking over their suits and dragging people into the airlocks. Heller was on the ground, physically unharmed but clearly shaken. He looked scared when Lin sided with Barrett, ordering Kitty to leave. He’d argued too, but Lin told him it was out of their hands now. She acted like Barrett held all the power there. She heard the front door close and realized the water was starting to run cool. She calmed herself, rubbing her eyes and splashing water on her face before shutting it off and reaching for a clean towel. She didn’t want to worry Del; they had an important job ahead of them. She wanted to find who did it, wanted to make them pay. She didn’t even really care about the artifact, though she’d grab it if it was there just so whatever bad people killed Sam couldn’t have it. But that was secondary. Delgado was cooking breakfast when she wandered down the hall. He didn’t mention her puffy eyes but she knew he noted them, his smile faltering momentarily before reaching for his coffee. She appreciated that he didn’t ask, she wasn’t ready to talk about it. He’d convinced Jacob to let him at least look at the maps and mentioned heading out before lunchtime to strike them fast. He seemed to know the area and the people by the way he talked. Not the most surprising considering his job. Stories about the Freestar Rangers traveled far and wide and she’d heard some impressive tales, though she knew they were most likely exaggerated like all good stories. They were the lawmen of the FC, similar to sysdef or UC security. Unlike sysdef and UC security, they were few in number and wielded far more power, if the stories were to be believed. They would go undercover and bust smuggling rings and performed daring rescues of hostages. If anyone could figure out who did this, it would be a ranger like Delgado.

[krsonmar]

I don't think I ever posted my Nandermo playlist, so here it is, with annotations: "Their Love Can't Be Put Into a Box full of Oreos and Pedialyte", a Nandermo fan playlist

1.) Please Don't Leave Me--P!nk

One way to describe this show is "it's bouncy and fun and about how horrible we are to the people who know us best". That called for radio pop about knowingly unhealthy relationships, so of course I went for P!nk. Listen to that bridge ("I forgot to say out loud...") and tell me that's not a Nandermo dynamic.

2.) King of Wishful Thinking--cover by Newfound Glory feat. Patrick Stump

Denial is the name of the game, kids! This cover gives the song a nice rock anthem feel. I'm proud of finding this for this playlist.

3.) I WANNA BE YOUR SLAVE--Måneskin

A nice little song about inverting the servant-master dynamic. Who's really dependent on who? And who's really "corrupting" who? Also it's very queer, good old-fashioned campy glam rock. Play it for your Sunday School group!

4.) How's It Going To Be--Third Eye Blind

It's getting to be an unspoken rule when I make a playlist that I have to have one of three songs by Third Eye Blind and one of three by Vertical Horizon. In my defense, these two bands fell into a sweet spot in the late-90s where alt rock was getting just poppy enough but not too poppy.

This one's about knowing you want to leave, you're just waiting for something to happen to finally start the actual ball rolling on it, an inciting incident of some sort: a fight, a snafu you should be able to handle together but that snowballs instead, so on. It's the point in a deteriorating relationship where you've decided you want this to end and you just need an opportunity to enact the decision...but you're also mad at what you've lost. It's before the resignation where there's nothing left to say except "goodbye". Fifteen years and you're not a vampire yet, so please won't the other person give you a reason to leave? Special stuff, kids, and here it has a good singalong chorus and another rockin' bridge.

5.) If You Ever Leave I'm Coming With You--The Wombats

"This relationship degrades me so badly and don't you even think about trying to escape me!" Great to listen to on a loop while nailed into a coffin for weeks while sobbing quietly about how you were *going* to travel the world with your Nan-with your Master!!

6.) I Get A Kick Out Of You--Frank Sinatra

Yeah this one is out-of-place for this playlist but this playlist goes to some weird places. It's a fan playlist about goofy vampires, I do what I damn well want.

Nandor is 700 years old and can't die. He's been a deadly military warlord, watched empires rise and fall, and outlived the majority of his own descendants. He's gotta be pretty jaded. When you drink the blood of other people to live, a lot won't phase you anymore. That's the thinking behind this song. I think Nandor is kind of fascinated with Guillermo's mortality in a way (I wrote a meta post here) and that might play into why he doesn't want to turn him.

Also this song is a standard that gets remade all the time, so if you know of a version that isn't by Old Blue Eyes that you think would fit this playlist, I'd love to hear it.

7.) Dancin' In The Moonlight--either the 1970s original by King's Harvest or the 00s remake by Toploader, take your pick

Ah yes, a good old-fashioned autumnal ball for the supernatural who walk among us, perhaps held on the night when the veil between worlds is thinnest! And a classic song to dance to. I like to imagine our boys having a cute moment to this one; Guillermo trying to spin Nandor around by the hand until he realizes a second too late that the height discrepancy is ridiculous, Nandor doing some medieval Persian dance moves Guillermo tries to copy, long coats sweeping behind them as they twirl and boogie, lots of giggling. It ain't all angst here, folks.

8.) One Week by the Barenaked Ladies (the acoustic version from The Bathroom Sessions, find it on YouTube)

I have always loved this song, so I was thrilled to see it in the Fitness Center episode, and you know I had to get it in here. The song's about having a fight that could end in a breakup but you both know each other too well to stay mad, and this version--recorded in one of the band members bathrooms as an experiment in acoustics-turned-full impromptu YouTube series--conveys a good-natured casual intimacy and amiability that comes from years of deep familiarity--haha--and learning to get things done together and have fun with it while fully expecting each other's shortcomings and planning for them so it'll be okay. Maybe that's me reading a lot into it; yes, it's filmed in a bathroom, and it's an acoustic version of a song the band is known for even to non-fans, so Ed Robertson and Steven Page's easy back-and-forth ad libs have the comfort of years of doing this under it; but also, the song was almost 20 years old at the point this was filmed, so it's *that* level of "we know how to do this", and it you know the band's history, a few years later, the band kicked Steven out due to a lot of drama, with, IIRC, the understanding he could come back at some point if he worked on himself. Knowing that, the recording can read a lot like a comfortable, long-lived domestic relationship that eventually went south, but this is a snapshot of when times were still good.

I'm way overthinking this, but anyway, the song fits that episode of the show really well and I think this version heightens the "why" of that.

9.) You're A God, by Vertical Horizon

This is the other band with three songs that end up on all my playlists somehow. I really think Nandor and Guillermo have each other, despite what it seems, on a pedestal somewhat, and might even see each other as having a type of divinity that makes them untouchable to the other in some sense. Guillermo, to Nandor, is pure, fragile, mortal, in need of protection, unsuited to being "ruined" by vamipirsm...because then what other human would dare risk gracing Nandor with their time of day? Nandor, to Guillermo, is a powerful, aloof being, literally supernatural, infinitely more powerful than him and far less vulnerable (in multiple ways, so it seems), and promising him access to this thing he wants so badly if only he just proves himself enough.

Catholicism ahoy! And I'll take mine with a side of a modified Madonna-Whore Complex, please!

They've got some complexes, these two.

10.) Last one and then you can stop reading (why are you still reading this??)

Total Eclipse of the Heart by Bonnie Tyler, or, depending on a few things, go for the techno remix by Nicki French

This song was actually written by the composer best known for his work with Meatloaf, for a campy rock opera about a human in an emotionally abusive relationship with a vampire. I know, right? If they don't use this song somewhere in the final season, I will riot. A good finale piece; I want to see it used in its techno incarnation for a climactic fight scene, I wrote a stupid thing a couple years ago about the idea. A nice, very fitting wrap-up to the playlist...and the show, perhaps?

Go take a break, you just read way too much meta about a fictional neurotic gay couple.

[imaginependergast]

Been thinking of domestic-ish Pendergast lately. Figured I’d entertain the thought. I think he cooks? If so, is it as intricate as, say, Hannibal’s? (Save for the cannibalism) What is his workout plan/routine?Is he more of a cat or dog person? His favorite movie/book?

Any other little things you can think of?

I, too, love the domestic Pendergast.

I think he primarily leaves the cooking to Mrs. Trask, at least when he's at the mansion. I'd say he can cook, but not to the extent that Diogenes can or to the extent Diogenes likes to. We know cooking is definitely a Diogenes thing from Obsidian Chamber. He can be a solid cook but much prefers eating to cooking. I think it's also worth considering if he does cook it's at least relatively higher end meals so his floor is higher than most people's ceiling.

He meditates for sure so I think that counts. I think he's focus primary on flexibility and cardio, so mainly something like yoga and running. I'm sure he goes to the shooting range to keep his gun skills good and probably does some light strength training, but less than Proctor who has to partially to fit the role of Pendergast's enforcer when need be. We know they were in some military service together so they probably have worked out together in the past but I doubt they'd do so as employer/employee.

Cats or dogs is a good question. I might be biased as a cat person but I'd say cat. I think as much as he would value the loyalty and utility of dogs, he also values the hunting instinct, independence, and curiosity of cats. Plus as much as many cats are incredibly affectionate (like mine!) I think he'd prefer to have a pet that's a bit lower maintenance. I like the idea of Pendergast reading at the fireplace, absinthe in hand, and a cat snuggling on the arm of his chair, in his lap, or across the room being able to be a comfortable companion in silence.

He slagged TV as being loud and vulgar like opera way back in Cabinet of Curiosities so I doubt he'd watch movies or TV, at least not on his own accord. I think most, if not all, of his pop culture knowledge, at least about media, comes from cultural osmosis or spending time with Vinnie, Corrie, or Coldmoon. As for books I honestly don't know where to start because fine literature isn't my forte. I'd assume it's something classic in nature, either literally from the ancient Greeks or Romans or something a bit more modern.

I make my husbando Pendergast watch the Law and Orders with me plus old episodes of The FBI Files.

Some others...hm.

I think he'd be one of those people that, since he has nearly all the banalities of daily life taken care for him, he sometimes has issues doing super basic things. Like he has no idea to check if dishes and cups are dishwasher safe or might do laundry without all the right things (detergent, dryer sheets, etc.) or be slightly confounded by different cable or streaming service packages, having no idea what, if any, is better regarding content.

I also think domestic!Pendergast would stay in bed a bit longer on weekends, or at least Sundays, if he had a partner. I could see breakfast in bed being something he would indulge in. Maybe not every weekend, but enough where it's not uncommon. If he and his partner are at the Dakota I think he'd be the one who puts the coffee/tea on in the morning.

[equallyshaw]

all in a days work, feat. willy nylander.

Warnings: none.

Word Count: 1.6k +

Just a cute blurb!

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Fanny had never ever, watched a single hockey game in her life; due to the fact that she was from California where hockey was still not very popular. Even more so, her family never watched it so she had never been interested in watching it. That was why her boss at Saturday Night (Defunct Canadian Magazine), decided she would be the perfect fit. She’d hopefully be able to get a bigger scope outside of hockey, and it might make the interviewee more comfortable. Fanny had only been at the magazine for three months as a guest editor, after leaving The New Yorker and LeFlair Magazine in California. Nevertheless, here she was now sitting inside a boutique-esque, very Toronto townhouse.

She smiled at the two pups that were bringing her toys, and vying for her attention. Which she adored. “Pablo!” William called over, before whistling. The two pups both ran over to where he was calling, and the two ran back out with two chew sticks, each going into opposite ends of the room. “Little one, still doesn’t understand that his name is not Pablo but here we are.” He mused, bringing out a cup of two shots of expresso with half and half, and some brown sugar. “Thank you, so much! My golden did not understand that her name wasn’t my lab’s name. It takes a while, unfortunately.” She said taking the one cup, and instantly blowing on it to cool it down a bit. William laughed at the sentiment she just shared and nodded. “So, where do you want to begin?” He asked sitting down on the couch across from her. “Where to begin, where to begin.” She joked, crossing one leg over the other. She looked down at her notes, before looking back at William. “How would you describe yourself to somebody that has never watched hockey, does not know you have two cute pups, are from Sweden, and are blonde? What would you say?” He laughed at the question, running a hand through his very blonde hair. He smiled, “I would say I am a dog dad, lover of books which many people would never imagine that I do, I love watching some good tv shows, a movie here and there, uh..im a huge baker. Brownies? I gotchu covered. Muffins? Oh yeah. (Editors Note: very Canadian pronunciation) Chocolate chip cookies? Eh. I’m still working on those.” He paused as they both laughed. “Okay good, I know what not to ask for.” She mused, pointing her iPad pencil toward him. “I’m a huge family person, I don’t go a day without talking to my family in our group chat. Another thing is that I love some good expresso, fantastic little-known coffee shops, and early Sunday morning walks in the park.” He added and she nodded, giving him a small smile. “Go to coffee order?” She quirked, “Right answers only.” She added quickly, making him smile. A genuine smile, that was reserved for those closest to him.

“Ouu, maybe an iced americano or cold brew. Sometimes ill get a latte with oat milk- it depends.” He answered, “Though on game days it would be a small cold brew for sure. Plain, so no upset tummies.” He quickly added, she grinned. She nodded, “I’m glad you said that, I was about to ask about that. Are you a more coffee-at-home guy on game days or a go-out type of guy? I would assume how you feel that day if you don’t have a ‘superstition’.” She responded. “Oh yeah, I don’t have that with coffee. As you said, it depends on the day and how I’m feeling, when the game is, etc.” She quickly wrote that down on her iPad. “Superstition? Eh, I guess you’ve heard a bit about hockey then?” He quirked, thinking about the information that he got in an email from the magazine. She softly smiled, “My brother is a soccer player, so I imagine superstitions are universal if I’m correct?” She asked for clarity, to which William nodded. “You’d be right about that.” he responded. “Fanny, what would you say about a walk with the pups?” He questioned. She was taken by surprise and went to respond but she closed her mouth quickly. She then smiled and nodded. “That’d be lovely.”

The two walked through High Park, taking in all the sights and sounds. He was relatively left alone, only receiving a smile or nod here and there. William commented on that, being thankful for nobody fussing over him. "Have you ever been here?" He asked, and she shook her head no. "Nah, I've only been here two months but most of that has been spent in the office or at home doing more work." She sighed, sipping some of her water. He nodded, "Well over there you've got Hillside Gardens, which as you can see is the big Canadian leaf." He pointed as the two got closer, and she smiled. "Its gigantic!" She exclaimed, pulling out her phone to take a picture. William smiled as he watched her giddy as she took a photo. "Next we should head to the dog off-leash area." and so they did, watching the two pups run around with some other dogs for about 20 minutes. The two laughed with one another, watching the pups, interacting with other dogs and owners, etc. Next, the two went onto the Spring Creek, nature trail. The trail walk took about 2 hours later and the two were ready to get something to eat. So Wiliam took Fanny and the two pups to a local cafe a few blocks form the park, called Gasper Cafe which had some outdoor seating for them.

They spent the next hour continuing to cheat, before heading back to his place. He even took a photo of her while she took one of him, though he said he needed it for his 'be real', while she wanted a behind the scenes picture. Once they were back at his townhouse, she grabbed her things, and he walked her out. She had enjoyed interviewing him and was brewing with ideas about the story, she was going to be writing as soon as she left. “Thank you, William, for allowing me to interview you.” She said as they walked down the front steps to her car parked in front, “I am very excited to get this to my editor as soon as I can, and then your agent will get a copy for y’all to review.” She said stopping to properly look at him. “Oh great! Looking forward to hearing from you.” He smiled, and she nodded. “Have a great one!” She said before walking around to her driver’s side and hopping in. He stood there until she drove off, and as she turned the corner, he knew that he wanted to see her again; outside of the interview.

It was two months later, in early March when they were at the launch party at Soho Toronto. She walked into the private but grand room and looked for her editor. She found him and William together. They posed for pictures as she strolled up, and then once William noticed her, he could not stop looking at her. She turned real quick to greet a coworker and then went to say hi to her editor. She then turn towards William looking dash as ever, and they greeted one another, placing a kiss on each cheek. (like europeans do lol) “You excited?” She asked, taking a fluke of champagne from a tray nearby. He nodded, “Are you? Your editor explained to me that this is your first official piece of being a full-time writer and editor?” He asked moving closer to her, so it was only her that heard it. She nodded, looking back up at him. “Yes! I hope the readers enjoy it. I put a lotta labor of love into it.” She beamed, sipping some of the drink. “I already know I’ll love it.” He grinned, placing a hand on the middle of her back. She nodded, smiling widely. The two spoke for what seemed like hours, but 20 minutes later, she and William were being called for photo ops in front of the magazine cover. William was entranced by her confidence, which was only blossoming. She looked towards William for a brief second, and then back to the cameras.

About an hour later, Fanny stood up on stage, with a microphone in hand, and thanked the people that came for coming and introducing William himself to do a small interview on stage. She smiled, watching him come up, he took ahold of the extra microphone she handed him. Their fingers brushed on another's, but she quickly dismissed it throwing a joke at the blonde. The crowd and he laughed, feeling at ease. And no one could deny the look in William's eyes the whole interview, one's filled with wonder and excitement for the brunette.

It was around midnight when the two decided to walk the streets of Toronto back to her apartment, 2 miles away. The two walked hand in hand, a bit tipsy on both ends and high on life right now. The two honestly, could not get enough of each other. They laughed, they cringed, they cheered, and learned more and more about one another. The two finally made it back to her place, and he smiled down at her, preparing to say goodnight and walk back to his place. Yet, fate had other plans. “Um..you totally don’t have to, but would you like to come upstairs?” She questioned, hoping the bellman was not listening in on the conversation. William nodded, smiling and took Fanny’s hand in his, and followed her lead. As soon as they got into the elevator, the two were on their phones texting their whereabouts, etc, to a few at the party. “Wanna take an Insta story?” She questioned, and he nodded grinning. She took one for her’s without his face, and one for his without hers. The elevator door dinged, and the two got off and walked toward the opposite end. “Oh, forgot to say but I have a cat.” She said whipping around, “And their name is?” He questioned and she smiled. “Her name is Cleo, and I know she’ll love you.” She beamed, flashing her keycard and the door opened. Cleo appeared almost instantly, greeting her human and vying for her attention. Then she saw William and instantly rubbed up against him. She smiled as he kneeled down to pet her, and after a few seconds, Fanny took off her shoes and set her purse down next to her. “Would you like anything to drink? Water?” She asked going to grab some for herself. He nodded and thanked her. She handed it to him, “Do you mind if I change into something more comfortable?” She asked and William waved her off. She came out ten minutes later, to find William on the couch, with Cleo on his chest while he watched TikTok. She smiled, snapping a quick pic. She sat down next to him, and she heard Cleo’s purring. Fanny and William smiled at the same time, as she started. “I think it’s safe to say, she likes you.” Fanny grinned, “Well it’s a good thing I like her mom.” William responded.

_

@fannyy: all in a days work :)

Location: sohoToronto.

99.9k likes, 12.3k comments.

||

@fannyseditor: congrats mon amour, so grateful to have you on my team 🫶🏻

↳ @fannyy: merci beaucoup!!! ���

@alexnylqnder: sick expose !

↳ @fannyy: Thankyou stranger 🫡

↳ @hockeyfan1: OMG THATS HIS BROTHER

@hockeyfan2: such a good story!! Go leafs !

@justinbieber: Willy style 🤝🏻

↳ @fannyy: 😇😇

@williamnylander: had a fantastic time! Thankyou (:

↳ @fannyy: ofc!

@saturdaynigjt: big congrats in order for our girl, so happy you’re in the 6 with us!

↳ @fannyy: no place I’d rather be !

@torontomapleleafs: glad you got his good side 😉😉

↳ @williamnylander: EVERY side is a good side 😌

↳ @fannyy: lolol

@fannyysisters: cutie pie so proud of you

↳ @fannyy: love you!! miss u

@ fanny'sbrother: this is sick

↳ @williamnylander: hey bro, heard im your fave hockey player

↳ @fannyy: the only hockey player he knows...

↳ @williamnylander: im gonna disregard that comment

↳ @fannyysbrother: lololol

||

@williamnylander: its out, tell all your friends!

tags: fannyy & saturdaynightmagazine

123k likes, 21.7k comments.

—

2 months later.

@williamnylander: recents w willy styles.

tag: fannyy

Location: san diego

124.7k likes, 22.8k comments.

||

@alexnylander: that damn sushi

@austonmatthews: woah. not the sushi bro

↳ @hockeyfan3: OMG we are not having a repeat of food poisoning

↳ @williamnylander @austonmatthews: its ok! it is a new place

↳ @fannyy: more reason to be nervous lolol

↳ @Williamnylander: oh shush

@fannyy: meiomi. we love a good California wine :)

↳ @hockeyfan4: WAIT -- DID YOU GET HIM IT??

↳ @hockeyfan5: DID U?!?!?!

↳ @Williamnylander: @fannyy it was delicious, though you know that

↳ @hockey6: ITS CONFIRMED !!!!

↳ @hockey6: THAT WAS HIM IN HER INSTA

@hockeyfan7: doing my daily loop and omg that's fannyy from the magazine who interviewed him!!!!

↳ @hockey6: it def it

@fannyy'ssister: awe

↳ @fannyy: oh hi

↳ @fannyy: bahaha hi

↳ @williamnylander: sup

@mitchmarner: willy with the sushiii

@kappy: oh baby that dinner looks delish

@fannysbrother: no shirt? put on a shirt lmao

↳ @williamnylander: lol 🫡

||

@fannyy: so grateful for a few weeks at home.

location: san diego

tag: williamnylander

235k likes, 23.9k comments.

||

@fannysbrother: Aztecs forever

↳ @fannyy: ROLL TIDE🤝🏻

@fannysmom: so glad to have you two home for some sunshine!

↳ @williamnylander: thankyou for having me, I couldn't have asked for a better time !

↳ @fannyy: aweee mama, im calling u rn

↳ @fannysmom: @williamnylander ofc hun! see you soon!

@fannyssister: disney princess has returned

↳ @fannyy: oh u know it

@alexnylander: still not over u two not inviting me

↳ @williamnylander: cry me a river

↳ @fannyy: bahaha next time alex!

@austonmatthews: heaven on earth

↳ @fannyy: so glad u could make it for a weekend!

@mitchmarner: 😎😎

@sdsuaztecs: so glad we could be apart of your visit back to the college of Journalism! we were very happy to welcome you home, #Aztecsforever

↳ @fannyy: love you all forever! thankyou for allowing me to talk to some wonderful students !

@williamsmom: so cute! glad you both had fun

↳ @fannyy: we did! you raised a gem :)

↳ @williamsmom: I expect nothing less 🤍

@fannysbestfriend: so glad you guys came out, William is one of us now 🥺

↳ @fannysotherbestfriend: oh hell yeah

↳ @fannysguybestfriend: forever bros 🌊

↳ @williamnylander: @fannysguybestfriend: bros 🌊🤝🏻

||

[elvensorceress]

Sunday snippet 💕

since it’s Sunday and the lovely and amazing @fleurdebeton @dickley-buddie @gaydisasterdiaz @lostinabuddiehaze @spotsandsocks @fatedbuck @rogerzsteven @ajunerose @eddiediazisascorpio @monsterrae1 @prettyboybuckley @megslovesbooks @shortsighted-owl @ashavahishta @kananjarus @swiftiebuckleys @sibylsleaves @hetrez @masterminddiaz all tagged me in some things (omgosh I love you all) but I was finishing up Eddie vs Feelings and didn’t post anything, I figured we make up for it today? 

How would we feel about some Love Spell? 💕😘

Eddie opens his jar of crystals and looks through them. When he moves a few to one side, he touches a rose quartz and it mocks him by shutting off and turning dark. No love for you, cursed one. He can’t even touch it any longer. 

He should give away all of those. He’ll never be able to use them again. He has maybe five or six in varying shapes and sizes. He could give them to his parents and sisters, Abuela and Tía Pepa, too. If they wanted to keep them. The last of Eddie’s love should belong to them. 

One by one he picks out the rose quartz and sets them on the bad end table by the broken couch. A couple raw pieces, one smooth and tumbled, a little tower. It all turns dark when he touches it, but clears and becomes light and pink and glowy again when he lets go. But the last one, he holds onto, even as it turns black. It fits neatly in his palm — it’s carved into a smooth, round heart. 

Tía Pepa had given it him. To remind him of softness, sweetness, gentleness, of love that is unconditional and comes in all kinds, sizes, and mysterious ways. 

If he thinks of her, can he still feel it? If he tries hard enough, can he remember having love? 

The crystal is still smooth and carries something soothing. It’s just out of reach. But it’s there. 

It’s there, love exists. It’s just. Not his. 

The steps down to the basement creak with the weight of someone bigger than a six year old. Eddie closes the stone in his hand as if Tía Pepa herself might shield him from whatever is coming. Either it’s his mother coming to shine happiness in his face because he’s getting rid of all magic. Or it’s his father coming to talk because his mother is upset. 

At this point, Eddie doesn’t know which would be worse. He only looks up when his father stops a few feet away from him. 

Eddie goes back to tucking the rest of his crystals safely into his hide box. He slips the heart quartz into his pants pocket. 

“I’ve had a talk with your mother,” is how his father starts, and nausea creeps into Eddie’s stomach. 

So, they’ve reached the lecture part of the program where Eddie is a horrible, inconsiderate son who made his mother cry because of his life choices, in which he always chooses the wrong thing or fails in some way because he’s never good enough. 

His empty chest already has stabs of pain through it, but he breathes slowly and doesn’t look up. He'd argued because it’s stupid and won’t work. Magic is in everything. But if she wants him to pretend like he can't feel it. If she would feel better thinking that magic is the only thing that might break Eddie, then so be it. But he’d been angry. And so had she. 

He gathers a large bundle of dried herbs kept in zip top plastic bags and tucks them into his box to hide away. “What about?”

His father rests a hand on Eddie’s box, his items to hide and keep box, and Eddie freezes. 

He should have done this first. He should have been quicker. Those are all of his favorite crystals, his personal spell jars, his tools, amulets he made, a wand Abuela crafted for him with dried lavender and indigo blue ribbon, pressed leaves that hold dreams, his never-ending candle carved with wishes, his own tarot deck. It’s not one he uses as much as his father has used his own, but it’s his. It’s special. Hell, his first communion rosary is in there because his mother gave it to him and he never could give it away even when he couldn’t use it for its intended purpose anymore. But he kept it with his most precious possessions. 

He should have packed and hidden all his favorite items before he did anything else. Why didn’t he do that? What if he has to give those things away? 

His father looks at him with a heavy, stern gaze. “Are you honestly giving up magic for good?” 

Eddie looks around as if there is something that will tell him the right answer. His father knows magic. His father should understand. At least a little. His mother has never been against magic before. She’s just worried. She’s been upset since Eddie cursed himself. He knows that. 

But Eddie’s empty chest is pounding. He can’t help but look at his box. He has to keep those things. He can’t give up everything. He won’t even use them anymore. He’ll just lock them away and he won’t practice, but they can’t be thrown out and discarded like they’re trash. They’re hopes and dreams and happiness and calmness and gifts and healing and secrets and longing, and everything he has left of his heart. 

His throat is tight and he doesn’t know what to say. So he shrugs. “Mom is worried. She asked me to. I don’t want to hurt her.”

His father frowns and seems displeased, and Eddie just doesn’t want there to be yelling. He can’t take the yelling. He knows he’s a disappointment and a failure and nothing he ever does will be the way his father wants him to do it, but hearing it, feeling the words, the anger, the guilt — it’s too much. Eddie is glass right now. He’ll do something awful and stupid like break or maybe cry. He can’t do that.  

He’s not glass. He’s not. He’s ice, he’s stone, he’s iron, he’s steel, he’s impervious. 

His hands grow cold and start turning, changing, even without him consciously trying to manifest it. His skin, his muscles, the nerves, bones, blood vessels of his fingers, hands, forearms start turning to frozen metal. 

It’s an illusion. It’s temporary. He thinks. He’s pretty sure? But it is also exhausting turning himself cold and inanimate. In a moment, he’ll likely become dizzy, probably more nauseated if the past is any precedent. He might even pass out again. 

He shivers but can’t move. It started at his hands but travels further until it’s engulfing his shoulders and swallowing down his chest, and it’s cold but there’s also nothing. There’s nothing. Nothing. 

He’s nothing. 

He’s weak, and dizzy, and his eyes are so heavy. He could succumb. Plunge into darkness. Finally sleep. Finally rest and never worry about being incomplete or fucked up. 

“Eddie. Eddie. Stop.” His father grips his arms and fire bursts through aching bones and muscles. It makes them normal, it makes them warm. It’s nice being warm. It’s nice being touched, protected, cared about. 

Eddie sways and tries to keep steady but the back and forth is whiplash, and expending his own energy without any magical aids is exhausting. It would be even if he weren’t damaged. “I’m sorry,” he quickly says, and some of the ice stops growing. He can make it recede. It’s not real. He’s in complete control. 

Except he’s in control of nothing and now everything hurts. Is he on fire? Is he frozen? Is he tethered, is he lost? Is he still standing and surviving without pieces of his soul? Or is he shattered and dying? “I wasn’t trying…” he tells his father but doesn’t know what to say. He was trying to be strong and unbothered. He was trying to shove it away, lock it down, move on, get over it. 

The ice metal taking over his body is stronger. It grows even where his father is gripping him. It’s growing blizzard windstorm stinging and changing his skin. It’s stabbing and each one is deeper, chipping away at him, burrowing deeper into his flesh and turning it into something else. 

It’s one more thing Eddie has done wrong, hasn’t been able to do right, and he wants to cry and beg forgiveness. But he can’t. He can’t. He can’t breathe. The air is too thin. His chest and stomach are turning hard, solid in a different way. Iron and ice and stone and steel. 

He conjured impervious. He conjured lifeless. And he doesn’t have any power to stop it. 

He tries to make his fingers move, at least enough to clutch his father before he falls. His throat is thin, his mouth his dry, but he rasps out a plea for forgiveness, even if this is all he’ll ever do. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know.” His father is curt, angry, there’s still anger like fire pulsing against Eddie’s skin, but not part of him. 

Not any longer. 

Eddie had fire once. He doesn’t anymore. There’s whistling like wind and the smell of metallic frost. It’s filling his lungs with sharp stinging when he tries to breathe. 

He’s the whistling. His breath is nothing but thin, reedy gasps. It’s leaving him. It might leave him for good. 

His father holds tightly and takes them over to the lopsided sofa. He directs Eddie to lie on the lumpy cushions while he kneels beside him and rests a hand on Eddie’s forehead. 

Whatever he does, it makes the freezing whirlwind lessen. The pain in Eddie’s hands and arms recedes. It almost feels… it’s almost soft and warm and being tucked in bed and kissed goodnight. 

It’s the one Christmas morning when his father said he had to work but then showed up to be with them anyway. It’s almost the elusive, out of reach, shining thing simmering in the crystal he tucked away and tried to keep. 

It’s warm and right there in his pocket. It’s his. It’s supposed to be. Eddie’s arms hurt to move. They’re stiff and cold, weak, trapped, but he has to reach. He has to find it. He needs it. 

Eddie pulls the stone from his pocket and clutches it to his chest. It’s almost there. The warmth, the softness, the blanket that falls over loneliness and makes it disappear, the laughter, the loyalty and companionship, the arms around him, the inner peace, the affectionate lovemaking, the belonging, being known inside and out and still accepted. It’s love of every kind. 

It’s kind of his. It’s so close. It just doesn’t fit inside his soul anymore. 

He whimpers like he’s splintering. Everything is blurry and all the daylight is fading.

His father strokes his head and touches Eddie’s hand. “Give me the crystal.”

Eddie’s hand trembles and tears prickle his eyes. Not his Tía Pepa stone. Anything but that. He’ll give up everything else, but not this one. 

But he’s weak. He can’t argue, he can’t even hold on to it. His hand goes limp, numb and tingly. His fingers are rigid, purple, frostbitten. His eyes flutter closed, but he tries to keep them open as long as he can.

His father takes the crystal, wraps it in his own palm, and touches it to Eddie’s chest above his heart, but with the barrier of his own fingers. It can’t change the way rose quartz always does when Eddie touches it. The power it has can’t be blocked. It radiates warmth and protection. 

His father whispers something, words Eddie can’t decipher, but there’s love in them. There’s love. He can feel it. The unreachable, untouchable thing that never can belong to him again. It’s still there. 

His father loves him. 

It’s so much and Eddie can’t bear it. But the pain he brought upon himself fades. It’s melting. No more ice, no more metal and stone. His father’s love is bright and unyielding and it swirls through Eddie’s chest and spirals warmth between all his broken pieces. It’s strong enough to drive away his manifestations of frozen death.

 How is he loved? How is he accepted and cherished and not a failure? He grips his dad’s hand and tears burst out of him. He can’t help it. Not when it feels like this. Not when he was sure he would never earn it. 

His father’s thumb strokes over his forehead and he leans closer until his head touches Eddie’s. There are still whispers, incantations Eddie can’t hear, but it pours back into him until he can breathe. 

For a moment, he has love of his own again. His missing, broken heart can’t kill him if he’s still loved. 

He’s still loved. 

His father loves him. 

[heyifinallyhaveablog]

The Defeated

Borderline proud of myself yet again for not succumbing to laziness, and sleeping my way through the Sunday. And bringing myself to finally see this through.

The taglist remains:

@melancholicmonody , @ambidextrousarcher, @chaanv, @vidhurvrika, @bleedinknight, @stxrrynxghts, @supernatasha, @kalpansh, @alwaysthesideofwonder, @raat-jaaga-paakhi, @slayerofthevampire, @demonkidpliz and anyone else at all.

Factual corrects, comments, and constructive criticism are always welcome.

Also, please feel free to drop in with any prompts that you may have. I'm officially out of ideas for any writing at all, and hence on the lookout for inspiration to dawn as an epiphany.

__________________________________________

Fandom: Mahabharat | Star Plus Mahabharat

Pairings: Bheema/Draupadi

Warnings: Mentions of War | PTSD | Trauma | Bloodshed

Summary: The Second Pandava deals with ghosts of the War. Alone.

Disclaimer: This is entirely a work of fiction, based on an idea I had while reading C. Rajagopalachari’s version of the Mahabharata. But I do have to say this, this has a lot to offer that is different from the Mahabharata that is actually popular. I just hope that this resonates with the readers, and you read this, and find this worth your time and your feedback. Please leave a short comment or a like, whatever you may deem fit. And as always!

THANK YOU!

Note: Link to the said source: Here

Links:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2, and

Chapter 3

____________________________

Chapter 4

The Ghosts

“The Grandsire’s Mother,” Draupadi said, after an eternity, “hasn’t been able to cleanse all, it seems.”

“I’d felt it, My Love,” Bheema rose from her lap, breathing into his palms as if trying to regain his breath, “when Jyeshth performed his last rites. The Holy River is never turbulent, never acerbic. She took in all his penance, while he cried himself hoarse. She let him vent his grief, but-”

- “I doubt even she could have borne it all. I felt his grief assume the most tangible form it could as I held him, as I might have heard her calm whisper, as if she unburdened some his grief on my form.”

- “Trust me Panchaali, Pavanputra hasn’t granted me the strength to heave this angst.”

As if it were in Him to erase the sanguine trail of Kurukshetra.

____________________

She thinks of it all, once again.

The Kuru Palace seemed to assume the form of a grandiose crematorium. Dead bodies everywhere.

Gone were the decorated halls, and, perfumed chambers.

Gone were the regal, elephantine embellishments, of gold and silk.

Gone was the resplendence. 

All was bereft of everything, but death, and the pallor of destruction.

Krishna always seemed to emphasise that the means were warranted for the end. But, at the end of it all, what deific poultice could heal wounds that were irreparable? Which God could reverse the deaths of those multitudes?

Could the land of Kurukshetra be cleanse of the rank odour, and sanguine of The Great War, even if their burden was to be meant to be borne by posterities on end?

She tries to not let her memory go down that rabbit hole. The incidents, haven’t yet let themselves take leave of the inner recesses of her memory. Her being still doesn’t allow it.

“I still wonder, Arya,” she breathes, “what if I hadn’t been-”

“Don’t, Panchaali,” Bhima cuts her short.

That was another mark of shame that his mighty frame had been unable to bear, even after all these years -

- Even today, now that the War was over.

- Long over.

It was for them to deal with the Ghosts of their past, their present, and

Their future.

[translucent-at-best]

Scatter-brained...

I can't find the post about the greatest movie deaths to reblog it, but I just want y'all to know that topping my list is Queenie the dog's death in Crooklyn. Also included is Sonny from The Godfather and Samuel L. Jackson's character in Deep Blue Sea.

Life been life-ing like a motherfucker lately. And while some of it is just happening to me through no fault of my own, there is some of it that's also just me dealing with the consequences of my actions. I'm trying to focus on the things I can control, but it's easier said than done.

Death been death-ing like crazy too. From family to friends to friends who are family... This shit don't make no sense.

I'm 33 now. I haven't had a birthday party since I was 9, but I'm planning a birthday brunch for myself next weekend and I'm excited for it. And grateful that I have people to invite and who I know will show up for me. I'm really out here with chosen family. I came out here knowing no one. I might sound like a broken record at this point, but I'll never stop thanking God for that.

Had to kick my roommate's boyfriend out of the apartment a few weeks ago. I'm still shaken up over it. She told me he's not welcome back until I say he is and I told her I don't know if I'll ever be comfortable with that again (read: I absolutely won't be). She says she understands and that that's a consequence he'll just have to live with... but I'm very aware that although she's saying that now, she may not be so understanding on a May 15th or a July 20th or... you get it. I hope I'm wrong, but if she's shown me anything thus far, it's that I can't always believe what she says.

This same boyfriend showed up unannounced at my place last Sunday night to "apologize." We talked through the call box and that was only long enough for me to say (and repeat several times) that I'm not in a place to accept an apology right now. He kept trying to convince me to talk, asking for "a minute of your time" and saying that he's really a good guy.

First off, anyone who calls themselves a "good" person, I'm wary of. I feel like that's the type of thing other people should tell me about you or that I should clearly be able to see for myself through your actions. Secondly, your solution to getting kicked out of some place is to show up to that place unannounced and try to force the person who wanted you out to accept your apology on your time and terms? Fuck all the way out of here. Thirdly, the lack of self awareness it takes to say you understand why what you did (not listening to us when we told you to leave) was wrong, but then to refuse to listen and leave AGAIN as you try to apologize is mind-boggling. Every time I think about it, I end up even more pissed.

I've been closing all my fitness circles nearly every day this month and I'm really proud of me for that. I even went and worked out on my birthday. Who is she?

The economy is a mess, the current job market is big trash, and the non-profit org I work for has fallen on hard times and informed us that there will be layoffs at the end of this school year. I'm applying and have been applying, but finding the energy to keep doing so is draining in a way I don't think I've experienced before.

And, on top of all that, my sleep schedule has been terrible. I thought it was just a side effect of my period this month, but that thing been gone for a minute and I'm still struggling.

April 13th (the day I promised myself I'd get back on a dating app) came and went. I downloaded an app. I created a profile. I consulted friends about which pictures to post and choose... but them fucking prompts? I know I'm supposed to show off my personality, sell myself, etc. I just ain't got the energy right now...

[liam-neesons-best-girl]

Beach Day {Liam Neeson x Reader}

approx. 1,000 words

Summary: You and Liam spend a relaxing day at the beach

Warnings: mainly fluff, F! reader

It was a warm summer day in the middle of July when the two of you arrived at Warm Sands Beach near the Brighton Pier. The streets weren’t busy, probably because it was Sunday, and everyone was heading back to their respective jobs and are winding down from the weekend’s festivities. 

You and Liam were finally able to get away from work, Liam having just got back from a shoot and you just getting off of your double shift, both were desperate to spend the day doing nothing. 

This type of day trip was Liam’s favorite. Getting up with the sun at 6 in the morning to pack the Jeep with a cooler, towels, and his love to head to the beach was the type of Sunday he wishes he could have every weekend. 

You were thrilled to have a day together without interruption. You both planned to leave your phones at home to truly enjoy the solace away from the spotlight that came with Liam’s profession. 

Now walking down the sandy slope connecting the parking lot to the flatter part of the beach, you let down your hair from the bun it was in on the breezy Jeep ride over and Liam can’t help but notice. 

He admires the shine your hair reflects, even as the sun is not yet at its peak. Your natural highlights cascade in front of your face as you bend over to lay out the towels.

“What? Is there something on my face,” you asked as he continued to lovingly gaze down at you.

“No, I was just looking at your hair,”  he said. You gave him a look of surprise but content with his answer.

“Why, do you think I should cut it,” you said as you grabbed the ends and slowly moved your locks higher to show Liam what the hairstyle might look like.

“I have an idea,” he says as he walks towards you, now standing almost flush to your body. You spend a short moment looking into each other's eyes, both with soft grins on your faces. Only when Liam displays a smirk did you know he has something up his sleeve.

His hands go right to your hair and toss your combed straight hair into a mess best likened to a bird’s nest. 

You both erupt into a fit of infectious laughter and decide to walk the length of the beach while the ocean is at low tide. Once back from the shoreline stroll, you decide to lay on the towels and soak up some sun rays. 

Liam couldn't help but smile at the peaceful spirit that radiated from you.

You were reading a book recommended by a friend, a romance/mystery, while Liam was reading the Sunday edition of the New York Times. Liam would periodically release a sigh of contentment while reading, enjoying the sounds of the ocean crashing to the shore and the stress dissolving from his body after a long work week. 

As if on cue, you finished a chapter as Liam folded up his paper and without a word, you both stood and started walking in the direction of the ocean.  You waded in the shallow waves up to your hips and Liam’s thighs. 

It was 2pm by then, and the water was a sparkling reflection of the sunlight surely tinting your skin. 

You was daring, wading further into the water until the water was just beneath your breasts. Liam took your movements as a challenge, following you further into the water, even though his height gave him the advantage of seeming less restricted by the water and able to see incoming waves. 

Perfectly in time with your loudest laugh and the crash of the wave, Liam grabbed you by the waist and swiveled his body so his back was to the wave as it broke around you and had both feet planted on the sandy ocean floor so neither of you went underwater. 

Fading laughter as the moment was ending, you looked into each other’s eyes. Despite the intense heat from the sun, you never want Liam to let you go in moments like these. 

His stomach growls, a reminder that you are not in fact floating on a cloud together but are at the beach awaiting lunch. You break from the hug, holding hands as you wade back to the beach towels. 

Now dry from your swim and adorned with sun kissed skin, you open the picnic basket. 

You had packed up a smorgasbord of healthy and delicious food for you both, but mostly for Liam, to consume. Fresh strawberries, salted almonds, tomato basil mozzarella sandwiches on pita bread, and a chilled bottle prosecco all managed to fit in Liam’s camping cooler. 

“And what did you pack for yourself,” Liam asks with a suppressed laugh, trying to sound as serious as possible as he goes in for a sandwich, knowing he could eat a horse with his strong appetit.

Laughter continues throughout your conversation, intertwined with moments of comfortable silence. 

****

You awaken after an undetermined amount of time, seeing the sunset with gorgeous shades of pink, orange, and yellow. You are laying with your back on Liam’s chest, both sitting on a beach chair. His left arm is lazily wrapped around your stomach and you takes his wrist in your hand to check his watch.

You are surprised to see it is already 6 in the evening. You must have been talking for so long that you needed to rest, and rest you did.

You swivel at your waist to face Liam, who is still fast asleep, oblivious to the time of day.

You could sit and watch him sleep forever, seeing the lines on his face relax and just the slightest upward tug of his lips as he snoozed. However, you knew you would both be much more comfortable sleeping in your own bed at home so you reluctantly woke him up with a slight shake.  

“Will you drive me home,” you asked, already knowing the answer but looking for a cute way to tell him you were tired and ready to leave. 

He rubbed the sleep away from his eyes with his right hand. 

“Under one condition. . . .” Liam trailed on waiting for your impatient nature get the best of you.

“And that would be ? . . . .” You said with a cocked eyebrow.

“If we can do this again next Sunday,” he said with the dopiest smile across the width of his face.

[luckyshotwrites]

Ch. 52 // Hey Again, Short Fuse // Day 40

Contents (Warnings): More angsty bits and itty bitty soft bits! (vore mentions, slight teasing, some action, and as always character/monster info).

Wordcount: 2200+ (another short chapter! Sorry peeps!)

Side note: This will contain experimental writing, first person (Lynette's view) will be implemented alongside third person for the two other essential characters, (mostly) Alexander and (occasionally) Drake. For those third person moments all their text will be italicized and have the characters name in Bold at the start. There may be other characters I write for using this.

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

(Oct. 31st, Monday)

Lynette

"Why were you looking for Lev again?" I asked as we squeezed through a few more monsters. Claudia said 'excuse me' to all of them, and I did too, but she didn't stop going through them for the shortest path. I don't want to get on any more hate lists. I sulked when she tugged. I was like a rag doll in a little kid's hand. Xander always mentions energy, and he did say humans regenerate it, unlike monsters...THOSE MONSTERS DIDN'T EVEN ASK FOR IT! 

Claudia's bright baby blue eye looked back at me, "the shrink potion, remember!" She snickered, "I was able to save it for your silly bet with Lev."

Silly? Lev is not silly. He always finds a way to make my time with him as torturous as possible. Earlier this week, he was eating me, then decided to stop because 'he wanted a better position.' I whimpered, thinking about it.

We reached the middle of the ballroom. Claudia stopped to look around for him.

Wait, the potion I can't take it Thursday, today's- I pulled at her hand. "It can't be used anytime soon, so maybe we should wait to tell him?"

Claudia bounced a bit on her feet. She didn't stop her search nor responded to me, "ha! Gotcha!" She glanced back at me then pulled. "Let's go get 'em!"

I stumbled with her and croaked out with urgency, "CLAudia, I'm LEAVing SatURday morning!"

Her steps slowed. "You're leaving?" We were much closer to the food and drink tables, a little out from the center. While Lev was somewhere under the giant circular staircase/balcony toward the back of the ballroom, according to the direction she pulled me.

I didn't want to mention the wedding again at all. "I-I have a family vacation, so I'll be gone until next Sunday."

Would Xander be mad if he found out? I'd like to think Lev wouldn't care; he eats other people. I also could imagine Lev saying, "since you're going on vacation, we should extend those bets to the whole day, don't you think?"

Being around them alone at work was bad enough. I don't want to deal with them outside of it too. Or...in Xander's case, outside of work more. 

Claudia gave a nod of affirmation, "ah, good luck." She walked backward and got my hands in hers. She shook them up and down, then up high, and brought them down to kiss my fingertips. I flinched with confusion. "If you don't make it back, know that I thought you made it fun to work at the pizzeria."

She let my hands go. What? "Claudia? We're not going anywhere dangerous!" I assured her.

"But you said..." Claudia's smile dropped for a moment. Her face relaxed, and I realized her chirpiness might not have been her natural resting state. Her lips fluttered, and returned her grin, "sorry. What do you plan to do while you're gone?"

"Hanging out," I said, not knowing how to approach this. Something's up with her. How do I ask? Should I ask? I don't know her all that well. She did save me from those beings though. That means she cares right? She didn't have too. I opened my mouth again and she awaited what I might say next. Worry about one thing at a time.

"One, the vacation is a secret between us, do not tell Lev or anyone els-"

"Don't tell me what?~" Lev's vocal cords strummed. He lowered himself to fit in the space between us.

"Lynette's going on vacation!" Claudia said without hesitation.

"A vacation?" He turned to face me, his ring leader hat tipped with him. 

CLAUDIA! WHO'S SIDE ARE YOU ON?!

Claudia moved her face to be close to his, "hey! I was trying to call you earlier too, mister! Why didn't you answer!"

Lev didn't move his. They were extremely close.

He smirked, "I was a little preoccupied, this party has plenty of distractions." He gestured around us.

I took retreated by one step, and he snapped back onto me. Lev's eye slits narrowed. "Why would you want to keep that from me?" The rhetorical tone jingled like a set of keys in my face. "It's not like I would have savored our fun any less."

My mouth pursed to hide my disdain. From Lev's reflective honeyed hue, I could tell he knew I tried to hide more from him.

"When does your vacation start, hmm?" He stood up and took a step toward me. He eagerly wanted to close our distance, "is it the same day Alexander leaves too?"

I flinched, "what?" What does he mean by the same day as Alexander's? Is he going on vacation too?

Claudia chirped back in, peeking from behind Lev and his open jacket. "No wonder Edgar asked me to work all next week!"

Lev chortled, jeeringly, "did your supervisor not tell you?"

Of course, he didn't! Xander and I don't have normal conversations. He's either angry, smug, hungry, or- on the rare occasion when our conversation starts off tame, he twists it around!

My eyes drifted from Lev. "Does he also-" I saw the glowing bones charging for us. I stumbled back, and it caught their attention. Neither of them stopped the being.

I tripped over myself when I tried to run.

The being caught me when we collided. They wrapped me in a surprisingly soft, warm, and gentle hug.

"LYNETTE!" The voice sprang around my brain.

"June?" I pushed out to look over him properly, he wasn't wearing his glasses, and his form was a light black, not blue. So I didn't recognize him. "You scared me!"

He let go, "I got excited to see and hug you sorry!" He gestured back to Elliot at the buffet table. He looked content eating the pumpkin cakes. "Elliot pointed you out!" June glanced back at the other two, "and hey Claudia, hi Lev!"

They both gave him a wave. Luckily, Claudia snatched Lev with her conversation. I didn't like seeing Lev smile though, so I figured the two were plotting against me with the shrink potion. I should have asked for a two week vacation.

"Lynette, do you think I did a good job at being like a human skeleton?!"

I looked at the luminescent bones in his body; each looked tailor-made or real...

"Are those your real bones?"

I don't remember his body having bones. When I looked him up and down it finally clicked. He's not wearing clothes! Is that bad? Should I say something? There's nothing-

He snickered, "I don't have any bones; Viola's partner made these for me." He opened his mouth and pointed to the fake skull in the back, "wanna feel it?"

I gave a light shake of my head. I trust you enough- "I had a little run-in earlier, and I'd rather not think about any part of me being inside anyone's mouth right now." I muttered. I don't want to upset you.

June tilted his head, "huh? HERE?" He grabbed my shoulders and looked over me frantically. "Did you tell them no? Did they hurt you?"

"Claudia helped me. I'm okay." I said.

Elliot finally trudged over to us, and as he got closer I noticed he was in his half form and wearing bright colored pajama's.

June shook me, "why are they so mean to you!"

Elliot looked down at us both, and June peered up at him, "we gotta protect Lynette!"

He nodded, "shouldn't be-"

BOOOOOOOOOOM

The ballroom shook, and some of the guests let out a shriek in response. June hugged me but didn't do anything more than keep me close to his body. And Elliot shielded us both.

The music cut off, and everyone started to make their way out to check out the commotion.

"That doesn't sound good." Claudia chirped as she passed and jogged ahead of us.

...

Alexander

He had calmed down considerably after he had a chance to breathe. Not that the image was leaving his head anytime soon. I should have let her suffer.

He waited for Drake near the main foyer, near the hall Drake went. He's drinking a lot of blood again. What the hell has he been doing lately to cause that? Alexander sighed. He wasn't exactly better, but at least Alexander had a viable excuse. In his mind, anyway.

Suddenly, his body tensed up. The familiar animosity traveled from down the hall. Drake. Alexander pursued it as other monsters not far from him in the main foyer went to the opposite end.

Why is he using that? What happened? Is it to protect Lynette again? The questions spiraled in, and he rushed down the hall. And made it to the double shining swinging doors. He pushed through them.

His hand went out and clutched Drake's forearm. He tugged him off Andras. He put more of his body forward than his best friends. "Who the hell invited you, asshole." Just leave Drake the hell alone and stop coming back! 

Alexander couldn't even control the ready glow of his eyes, let alone the readiness in his body. 

"Oh great." Andras sighed with little interest, "short fuse. Long-time-no-see."

He smugly raised his hands up and aimed his palms at them. Alexander read the spell across them, FUCKER! He grabbed Drake's collar. He threw him out of the kitchen, and a cloak of his concoction wrapped around Drake. 

Andras bit down on his tongue, and the blast erupted from his hands with a fury of the smoldering crack of blue fire.

Alexander put a cloak on himself and tried to get to the surrounding area, but his reaction failed him so much that his cloak suffered for it too. It shattered once his body crashed backward into the hall wall across from the kitchen. 

Meanwhile, the mansion shook on its left side.

Alexander dropped down with a heavy gasp. Some pieces of the wall came with him. His legs twitched with his landing. He still caught himself. 

His costume burned, yet it didn't remain inflamed. 

He tried to squint through his broken spectacles. He wanted to ignore the throbbing, burning pain on his face, arms, and chest. He worked on healing it all in case. 

He stumbled forward, Drake's cloak was fine, but the blast knocked Drake on his ass. 

"COME ON OUT, FUCKER. YOU THINK THESE FLAMES ARE GONNA HIDE YOUR SORRY ASS!" 

There was no response, only the kindling sparks of the now orangish red flame.

He lifted his hand back, doing the same spell Andras did, except as a force instead of an explosive. The gust sputtered every loose piece of metal or dishes into the back of the room and collapsed parts of the walls on either side. We widdled to nothing, and it did what he wanted. It extinguished the flames with its powerful whirlwind.

There was no trace of the curly-haired male. 

Alexander growled. "DAMN IT."

He flicked back to Drake, who stumbled into the shambled kitchen. The waft of burnt everything filled in his nose too. 

Monsters alike buzzed near the hall. Alexander looked over Drake's shoulder for a better view outside the kitchen.

Drake spoke, "I didn't need your help, Chase-"

"Bullshit, Andras had a seal over himself. If you even cut him, it would have activated, and THEN WHAT?!" Alexander banged his fist into the door frame. 

"What happened?!" Wenna shouted. She ran over to them. She looked to want to help Drake.

From the corner of Alexanders' eye, he could see Viola directing some of the monsters along with her brother. 

"Andras, that damn weasel just never gives up," Alexander complained. 

Wenna's eyes widened, "Andras?!" She went to touch Drake, he pulled away. 

"I'm fine. I let him sneak up on me; that's it." He glanced at Alexander, turned away quickly, and muttered, "thanks for the cloak." And tried to leave.

Wenna chased after him, "Hey, no, you can't be alone right now-"

Drake didn't listen and kept walking. He passed their night and morning crew and a few concerned partygoers.

There's no use arguing with him right now. 

Alexander looked over the kitchen one more time. It would have been worse if he didn't wear a cloak for it. He examined the few ashen marks and the spot Andras once laid. If he tried to get Drake with that blast, the other vampires would... 

Alexander's teeth clenched together, so much so that he felt like he'd snap them. A question behind him made him unclench. 

"What happened?" Zane walked inside the kitchen; he got down next to Alexander. I still hate that I don't smell anything from you. 

"Some asshole," Alexander said. He refused to go on.

Zane tilted his head, his long bangs going along with it. He smiled, "a complicated story here, I get it." He said, "glad to see you're okay, would be a shame if you died that easily."

Like, I'd let that Fucker get close to beating my ass. "It wouldn't have ended any other way." Alexander released a hard exhale. His body didn't want him to relax. He felt like Andras was still around somewhere. 

He started to use reversal on whatever he could.

The innocent-appearing girl with heterochromia joined them, "That's a doozy!"

Alexander was ready to slam into her if she tried to praise Andras. It was hard enough to stay focused on the room as a whole. There were way too many intricate objects for him to easily undo. 

He was using his energy fast, "yeah..."

She walked up next to him and gave a few blinks with her giant eyes, "need help?"

From a little demon like you? "As long as it's just fixing the Kitchen."

"Of course," though he could see the hidden plot behind her smile. 

He didn't know what she was planning but accepted her help anyway. 

...

Thank you for reading! :D Have a gouda day! (Nonnegotiable, if you're lactose intolerant, you're about to be in a lot of pain, sorry, not sorry. Lol).

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What I’d do for a Livable Income (Synopsis/Chapter - List)

[worldsokayestbabysitter]

a little snippet that might one day turn into more. a kind of sequel to this

-----

Steve remembers holding his mamas hand every Sunday, the only day they consistently spent together when she was home. Remembers sitting in the pews, trying to keep his eyes open in the midday heat. Remembers looking down at his hand in hers, seeing that his was entirely engulfed by her painter’s hands. Felt like he could survive anything as long as his hand fit in his mom’s.

When he woke up in the hospital, for the third time, for the last time, after he swam his way to consciousness, his mom was at his bedside. And his hand was bigger than hers, his hand was calloused, cut to hell from where he fell running from the end of the world. Her hand was still soft. More wrinkles than he remembered, but still as unblemished. She was gripping his hand like her life depended on it, even in her sleep. Same deceptive strength.

Steve knows it's only been a week since he last saw her. Leaving again, but this time he was grateful. She would be safe.

It feels like it's been an eternity. Just the weight of his mom's hand has brought him back to himself. Time feels like it's passing again, every tick of the clock and every rise and fall of her shoulders rushing through him.

His mom is here. Her hand in his, asleep, but here.

He's alive. It all comes back to him in waves. They all survived, it's over. His mama's here, and it's over.

When she wakes up and sees Steve looking at her, she freezes. Looks at him in disbelief.

They don’t say anything, at first. What is there to say? Where do they even start?

Steve wants to say, where have you been. Steve wants to say, why are you here, just you, and not dad? He wants to say, I did it all without you, I survived without you, I went through hell and lost so much and you weren't there. He wants to say, thank god you were safe, he wants to say, why didn't you protect me?

But he waits for her to speak first, doesn't think he's able to if the dryness of his throat of is anything to go by.

"Oh Steve," she finally whispers. She runs her free hand through his hair and her eyes quickly fill with tears.

"My Steve, my baby, I'm sorry," she says. She could be apologizing for a million things, for leaving him, for the long business trips, for the wounds he's starting to feel, for the years he was left alone, for the horrors he's endured, for showing up now instead of then. She could be apologizing for all of it. And Steve knows he should be angry. Knows that some distant part of him is furious and that that white-hot rage will bubble up to the surface eventually, but his mom is holding his hand, her thumb gliding across his knuckles like they used to in church, and she's here.

"Mom-" Steve chokes out. It comes out rough, through the lump in his dry throat. His mom moves from the chair at his bedside to sit on the edge of the hospital bed, hand never leaving his.

"I know, I'm here, I'm sorry," she says, her voice still soft and wobbly. Tears have started to run freely down her face, and she does nothing to catch them. She leans over and grabs a glass of water, holds it as he takes tentative sips from the straw. When he leans away, she sets it aside, helps him sit up. That same angry relief bubbles up again. Here she is, being his mom, finally. He must have really come close to death this time, he thinks.

They stare at each other again, his mom's hand running through his hair. And it's been too long since he's studied his mom's face, because he can't tell what that emotion is.

"Steve, I-" she takes a breath, struggling to find words. So different from the woman who used to pick out her sentences carefully, used to enter conversations like they were battles. "I don't know what happened, to you or to Hawkins. I know it was bad, that whatever you went through was- that it was bad enough to put you here. There's been a crowd rotating through here and I can't get a straight answer from anyone. But whatever it was, I should have been here. I should have been here a long time ago, and I'm- I'll be sorry for it for the rest of my life. But I'm here now, If you'll have me."

A year ago, hell, a week ago, Steve would've scorned the idea of it, an apology. Forgiveness past the last minute.

But his mom is here. And she's holding his hand.

[theos-epitelesei]

New Wine, Old Wineskins

I can't remember if I've posted about church recently or not. TL;DR, my church has been in hot-mess mode for the last few years. First because of covid, then because of massive staff fallout in which two pastors were let go and basically the whole rest of the office quit within 6 months. It's a whole Thing, and it has sucked horribly.

Anyway, the lead pastor is a few years from retiring so we hired a new pastor who will be taking over in August (praise the Lord). The current lead pastor will transition into a different role but stay on staff.

The new pastor is fantastic. Like... I'm so glad we hired him, because I think he's genuinely what our church needs after the last few years, but change is hard, y'all.

And that's what he preached about this weekend, and I don't like it when sermons are For Me because it leads to ugly crying, usually.

I hate change. I've gotten to a point that I can accept that change is inevitable, and with some minor preparation I can generally handle it well enough that it doesn't ruin my entire week. The trouble is that I also feel very strongly about The Way Things Are Done, and I do not like how things are being done at church right now.

It took me an embarrassingly long time to develop the cognitive flexibility to accept that things can be done differently and that doesn't mean it's wrong. And I don't know how to deal when something is being done differently in a way that I feel strongly is the WRONG way.

So yesterday's sermon was about Jesus saying that no one uses new fabric to patch clothing, or the hole will tear when it's washed. And no one puts new wine into old wineskins, because it will burst and both the wine and the wineskin will be destroyed.

And he said that we struggle with change because we don't always know where we fit into the new thing that's happening. We believe the lie that we have value when we're the expert. But when the thing changes, we're not the expert anymore.

I've spent the last two years feeling less and less valuable at church because the expertise or insight I have about how things are or "should be" done has been ignored, dismissed, brushed off. I've felt pushed out of things I'm knowledgeable about. And some of that I can accept that the timing was right for a change, but that doesn't make it hurt less.

I know my worth isn't in what I know or in being right, but I don't know how to be helpful or useful right now, so instead I feel angry and isolated. I've been at this church for 22 years, and it's changed a lot in that time. The most difficult changes have been in the last two years.

There might not be a point to this, except that I'm not sure what to do. I don't know what God is trying to teach me or show me, or how feeling stressed and lonely at church every Sunday can possibly be turned into something good. I know things change, but I miss how it used to be. I miss being able to worship in service without earplugs. I miss knowing people and feeling seen and known. I miss feeling like I could feel God's presence, hear His voice, see what He's doing in my life at least a little bit. And I do miss being an expert; I miss feeling like my opinion matters at all. I know that's my pride and ego, and I have to let that go, but it's still there in my frustration.

I don't know. It doesn't feel like I'm supposed to leave, but staying right now just really sucks.