#This remains to be the most baffling thing that happens to me on this website

[silvcrignis]

Also if you’re an RP blog but you don’t have any intention of writing with me just unfollow me??? Like I don’t know why you came here but if it’s not to write you may be excused.

[frozenhi-chews]

it's wierd having joined tumblr in 2019. and for the most part i had just assumed that after certain things that happened prior, that would be the worst of it. but THIS?! The stuff that Matt pulled with banning trans women and then having meltdowns over it, to the AI bullcrap??

like, imma keep it real with ya folks, its getting REAL hard to want to stay on tumblr. im still probably drown with the ship and haunt it's remains, but stuff like this with how incompetent and utterly baffling the staff and their choices are is insane to me. Also Staff, you do realize that most of the art on here is FANART, right? you know, copyrighted material that can easily get companies sued. I know that doesnt stop AI bros, but it's still a thing to know and consider. AI bros have been sued in the past for copyright infringement.

seriously, what was the game plan here? Why would you instill this despite the userbase kicking back and telling you left, right, and center that this is a BAD IDEA? Why will you never actually listen to the people that is keeping this entire website alive? Why wont you actually FIX THE BOT AND HARASSMENT PROBLEMS?! this is beyond ridiculous and i'm pissed.

@staff, DO BETTER

[spiderling-space]

May I ask for headcanon of dorm leaders' reaction to MC talking about her crush and trying to hint on the person being them but the guys misunderstood she meant someone else.

It is hard to find occasions where a misunderstanding such as this could happen.

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

Riddle Rosehearts 

“He isn’t on the tall side which makes him cuter than he already is. His big eyes are just another charm. And I love how his uniform is always in the best shape.”

She is talking about Epel. That is the only explanation Riddle can think of. He sure is disappointed but he can’t let this show right?

If she doesn’t have feelings for him, at least they can remain as friends and friends support each other. “I am not the most qualified to say this but telling Epel would be the best solution.”

Confused (Y/N) asks what he meant by Epel and Riddle innocently says that she should let Epel know she likes him.

Amused (Y/N) bursts out laughing before telling him that it is him she likes.

Riddle’s cheeks will adorn with furious blush after her confession. He was not prepared for it at all!

🦁🦁🦁🦁🦁🦁🦁🦁🦁🦁🦁🦁

Leona Kingscholar

“His ears are so cute, I just want to pet them and ruffle his hair.” Leona just wanted to nap but he heard (Y/N) talking with her Heartslabyl friends about her crush.

Leona assumes it is either Jack or Ruggie and is annoyed that he is the second choice or not even a choice at all.

He doesn’t want to hear them anymore so he leaves his spot, “Oi herbivore, you’re interrupting my sleep. Talk elsewhere about your love life.”

When he appears out of nowhere, the Heartslabyl boys abandons (Y/N) alone, taking Grimm with them. He hears the one with heart shape quip about lovebirds.

Leona tsks, “You won’t have one if you keep yapping like that.” – “I like you!”

Leona is taken aback but he won’t let the herbivore know that he is surprised. The smug hoe Leona smirks and acts as if he knew it all along. He appreciates her bravery to confess her feeling, reminding him of the Afterglow Savannah women.

🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙

Azul Ashengrotto

“I know it is stupid but y’know, his shadiness interests me.” Azul overhears (Y/N) and her friends talking about simple things such as first loves and whatnot.

Azul is disappointed that (Y/N) likes Jamil Viper, someone even Azul finds shady but he hopes that get over that disappointment soon. 

What's better than making a deal to get rid of this adversity?

Azul asks (Y/N) to come over the VIP Lounge and tells her that he can help her to get together with Jamil by making a deal.

She asks what he meant and he answers her inquiry which results in (Y/N) giggling. 

When (Y/N) clears up the confusion, Azul is startled, his glasses slide on his nose.

He fixes himself the next second, pushing his glasses where it originally was.

Azul tries to ease the awkwardness in the air while planning his first date with her in his mind; where they will go, what they will eat, what activities they will do...

☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️

Kalim Al Asim

Kalim has liked (Y/N) as more than friends for some time. His heart is crushed when he heard her liking Cater since he is always cheerful and outgoing and likes parties.

Kalim may be saddened that she doesn’t like him the way he likes her but he is her friend before anything else and he wants her to be happy.

Kalim offers (Y/N) to help her get together with Cater since they both are in the light music club. (Y/N) is perplexed and asks why he would do such a thing.

Kalim answers her question and says that even if he liked her more than a friend, he is willing to aid her in any way she needs.

(Y/N) holds Kalim’s face between her hands and lets him know her true crush.

Kalim is too excited to hear it that he yells, making (Y/N) jump. He will hold her hands and ask him out. If she says “yes” then he will throw a party at Scarabia that day. If she doesn’t immediately accept, he will throw a party again to celebrate they like each other.

👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑

Vil Schönheit

When (Y/N) mentioned liking an actor, model and beautiful person, Vil thought she was talking about Neige since he saw her follow Neige on Magicam recently. Vil certainly wasn’t checking out what (Y/N) liked nor who she followed on Magicam. It was pure coincidence.

It annoys Vil to no end. Neige of all people!

Vil will start talking about his photoshoots, acting gigs and of course, his natural beauty when (Y/N) is around.

When (Y/N) asks what’s going on with him, he accidentally says, “I don’t understand what you like about Neige when you’re next to me.”

(Y/N) will giggle and explain that she wasn’t talking about Neige. Vil then acts as if he didn’t say that and he knew all along that (Y/N) was into him.

Vil might offhandedly ask (Y/N) to a date after a couple of days.

💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀

Idia Shroud

“I’m willing to bet he has Greek God-like body but he covers it all the time.”

While Idia doesn’t know what Greek means, he is certain that it is a compliment to whoever (Y/N) is crushing on. Idia assumes it is Malleus since he is covered head to toe all the time and anyone with a half brain can guess he is shredded under those clothes.

Idia is upset that she isn’t returning her feelings but he isn’t surprised.

He sends her dating advice from a website he found on the internet thinking that at least (Y/N) can be happy with someone else.

He is baffled when (Y/N) does the advances which are in the dating advice on him.

He asks if she is practicing on him for Malleus. He freezes when she says she is into Idia, not Malleus.

She needs to give some time for Idia to speak again.

🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉

Malleus Draconia

“I know it is silly but I always liked tall, dark and handsome aura and this guy is the embodiment of it.”

Oh… Malleus thinks. He is a bit upset that (Y/N) likes someone else and irritated that the someone is Leona Kingscholar of all people in NRC. Still, he can’t let her know how she feels but dark clouds start gathering.

“I didn’t know you would be this upset, Malleus. You should just say you don’t like me that way. I would understand.” (Y/N) grows quieter as Malleus tries to make sense of what she has said.

He bluntly asks her what she meant and she tells him.

Oh… Malleus feels happy that the person he likes sees him the same way. He just doesn’t want to remember and embarrass himself for what he presumed before.  

[ebaeschnbliah]

SHERLOCK’S  WEBSITE

‘Reading the document is the same as seeing the author’

This says a Chinese proverb (X). What does it mean then, when John tells Sherlock in A Scandal in Belgravia: ‘nobody is reading your website’?

SHERLOCK: I have a website. JOHN: In which you enumerate two hundred and forty different types of tobacco ash. Nobody’s reading your website.

Some more musings about Sherlock’s website ‘The Science of Deduction’ and its content below the cut ...

Just a little while later in the same episode - while he writes aboout the unsolved plane crash case in Düsseldorf ... ‘Sherlock Holmes baffled’ - John describes his own blog as Sherlock’s ‘living’.

JOHN: Look at that. One thousand, eight hundred and ninety-five. SHERLOCK: Sorry, what? JOHN: I re-set that counter last night. This blog has had nearly two thousand hits in the last eight hours. This is your living, Sherlock – not two hundred and forty different types of tobacco ash. SHERLOCK: Two hundred and forty-three.

‘This is your living’ is basically the same as ‘this is your life’. This is YOU. The way John describes Sherlock on his own blog, shapes how the public eye views the great detective. The same way as Dr Watson did in canon in his stories for The Strand. This fact becomes even more clear during the greenhouse scene in TAB. Although Dr Watson is aware that he doesn’t tell the truth about Holmes, he doesn’t change his stories about him either. 

HOLMES: .... as I have often explained before, all emotion is abhorrent to me. It is the grit in a sensitive instrument ... the crack in the lens. WATSON: Yes. HOLMES: Well, there you are, you see? I’ve said it all before. WATSON: No, I wrote all that. You’re quoting yourself from The Strand Magazine. HOLMES: Well, exactly. WATSON: No, those are my words, not yours! That is the version of you that I present to the public: the brain without a heart; the calculating machine. I write all of that, Holmes, and the readers lap it up, but I do not believe it.

If John’s statement ‘my blog is your living’ can be translated into ‘my blog is your life’ - my blog is YOU - what then can be said about John’s other comment, regarding Sherlock’s website ‘The Science of Deduction’, when he tells Sherlock: ‘nobody’s reading your website’? If the document, the blog, the website reflects the personality of the writer, the author and when nobody is reading Sherlock’s website because nobody is interested in its content ... doesn’t this translate into:  'nobody’s interested in who you really are’?  I assume one can indeed read it that way, because the plot confirms such a translation as well.

Oh, don’t worry. I know who you really are. I’m never off your website.  (THOB,  Dr Frankland)

If Dr Frankland knows who Sherlock really is, just by looking at his website - at Sherlock, the author -  maybe it would be a good idea to take a look as well. ... the same way Sherlock advices Kitty Riley in TRF: ‘Well, look at ME and tell me what you see ... you can just read what you need’. 

First of all, I’m not going to use the external internet website created for Sherlock BBC in this post. @possiblyimbiassed did already a detailed and very interesting analysis of it in ‘The Science of Reduction’. In the comments of that post I tried to exlpain the reasons for my doubts as to whether those external informations - as fascinating and tempting as they are - could lead to a solution for the story told on TV. Anyway, in this post I’m going to look at Sherlock’s website just as it is presented on screen. But what can be deduced about The Sciene of Deduction by using solely informations from TV? There’s not much to go on, one might say ... and as I’m no Sherlock Holmes either, I will most likely ‘miss almost everything of importance’, like John did with Carl’s shoes. But looking at Sherlock, the author, is definitely worth a try  ... :)))) 

The Science of Deduction

Sherlock’s website ‘The Science of Deduction’ can be seen already in the Unaired PILOT when he is about to answer requests from various people. The very first message he is just writing, is directed at his brother Mycroft who apparently contacted him in a somewhat ... ‘impossible situation’. Sherlock’s answer is a quote from canon, probably the most well known and often used statement of the great detective ... in canon as well as in many adaptations:

Eliminate all other factors, and the one which remains must be the truth.  (The Sign of the Four)

How often have I said to you that when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth?  (The Sign of the Four)

It is an old maxim of mine that when you have excluded the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.  (The Adventure of the Beryl Coronet)

We must fall back upon the old axiom that when all other contingencies fail, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.  (Adventure of the Bruce Partington Plans)

When you have eliminated all which is impossible, then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. (Adventure of the Blanched Soldier)

Five more requests wait for Sherlock’s attention. His Inbox is indeed well filled ... at least six possible cases ...

Sherlock answers Gregson’s request about a ‘Church bell theft’. This done, he is clearly pleased about DI Lestrade’s not very informative message ‘Please call me’. When he is about to answer Jones request about ‘Samson and Del’, Mike Stamford and John Watson enter the room and Sherlock stops working through his Inbox. 

The next day Sherlock and John meet for the first time at Baker Street 221b. John mentions that he’d found Sherlock’s website the night prior but contrary to Sherlock’s big expectations, John isn’t much impressed (unlike Jeff Hope who thinks Sherlock’s Science of Deduction is brilliant). This scene happens in both versions - PILOT and ASIP - almost identically.

JOHN: Oh, I, um, looked you up on the internet last night. SHERLOCK: Anything interesting? JOHN: Found your website, The Science of Deduction. SHERLOCK: What did you think? JOHN: Quite amusing, I suppose. SHERLOCK: “Amusing”? JOHN: You said you could identify a software designer by his tie and – what was it? – a retired plumber by his left hand. SHERLOCK: Yes; and I can read your military career by your face and your leg, and your brother’s drinking habits by your mobile phone. JOHN: How? SHERLOCK: You read the article. JOHN: The article was absurd. SHERLOCK: But I know about his drinking habits. I even know that he left his wife.

Sherlock BBC, PILOT

One of the small and also strange differences between the two versions is the ‘identification’ text line from Sherlock’s website, quoted by John. In PILOT Sherlock refers to a plumber and his left hand and in ASIP to an airline pilot and his left thumb. “It is, of course, a trifle, but there is nothing so important as trifles” tells Holmes in The Man with the Twisted Lip and “It has long been an axiom of mine that the little things are infinitely the most important” in A Case of Identity. A lot of such little, seemingly unnecessary modifications and inconsistencies can be found throughout this adaptation. Maybe they are indeed there for a reason?

JOHN: I looked you up on the internet last night. SHERLOCK: Anything interesting? JOHN: Found your website, The Science of Deduction. SHERLOCK: What did you think? JOHN: You said you could identify a software designer by his tie and an airline pilot by his left thumb. SHERLOCK: Yes; and I can read your military career in your face and your leg, and your brother’s drinking habits in your mobile phone. JOHN: How?

Sherlock BBC, ASIP

Why had the profession to be changed from plumber to airline pilot and the body part from hand to thumb, one wonders? Unless it’s because plumbers have to do with water and work down to earth or even underground. They install pipes/tubes or mend broken ones. By the way, in german language the phrase ‘install a pipe’ (ein Rohr verlegen) has the same meaning as the english ‘put up shelves’. Airline pilots on the other hand often tend to be situated high up above the clouds. Well, this sort of topic runs like a red thread throuout the whole story. And that strange change of profession isn’t the only ‘small’ modification from PILOT to ASIP either. 

(Strange little changes   Plumber musings)

Also interesting ... there are no visuals of Sherlock’s website in the official episodes ASIP and TBB. Only in the following episode, TGG, the viewer is able to take a first ‘official’ look at The Science of Deductions, when Sherlock writes his messages to the bomber. The look of his website has changed completely.

The Great Game: the first entry in the Forum is about Carl Powers shoes and botulinum toxin ... that’s the reason for food poisoning.  (Under the microscope)

Next time the website can be seen, is after Sherlock solved the second case and sends his congratulations regarding Ian Monford’s relocation to Columbia ...

And a third time when Sherlock has solved the murder of Conny Prince ...

There is no picture of Sherlock’s website connected to the fake Vermeer painting because this time Sherlock sends the solution not on his laptop but uses the pink phone dublicate instead (Yes, besides 2 Johns, 2 Faiths, 2 Charles, 2 serial killers, 2 empty houses, 2 flights of the dead, various pairs, doubles, twins ... etc, etc ... there are also 2 pink phones present in Sherlock BBC). Anyway, the Science of Deduction can be seen again when Sherlock suggests a meeting with the bomber at the same pool, where once little Carl died, to hand over the stolen missile defence plans ...

There’s no picture of Sherlock’s website in ASIB. The Science of Deduction turns up only in the two short but very interesting pieces of dialogue between John and Sherlock with which I started this post.

John utters the opinion that their clients come to Baker Street just because of his blog. Sherlock reminds him that he too has a website. John then mockingly mentions Sherlock’s analysis of 240 different types of tobacco ash on said website and adds ‘nobody is reading your website’. Sherlock is clearly offended and corrects the number of tobacco ashes from 240 to 243. Some time later John raises the tobacco-ash topic once more, proudly refers to his own blog - and the 1895 hits on it - and tells Sherlock ‘this is your living’.

The next visual presentation of the website can be seen in THOB, when Sherlock shows John the Inbox message of little Kirsty about her vanished, luminous rabbit Bluebell ...

In the same episode Sherlock tells Mrs Hudson that a ‘little blog on the identification of perfumes’ can be found on his website. It turns out that Sherlock hasn’t only extensive knowledge regarding ash, he also knows a lot about perfumes.  (Perfumes in Sherlock BBC by @gosherlocked ) 

The HOUND-episode is also the one in which Dr Frankland tells Sherlock: ’I know who you really are. I’m never off your website’. The Baskerville scientist knows John’s blog as well and is a bit confused that Sherlock isn’t wearing the deerstalker hat, as shown there.

The Science of Deductions turns up next in TRF, in an newspaper article about the recovery of Turner’s masterpiece, the ‘Falls of the Reichenbach’, that Sherlock was able to recover (last line on the left column).

Sherlock’s website is mentioned a last time in TSOT. Not on Sherlock’s laptop but on John’s phone. Mary suggests that John should go on a case with Sherlock. John opens The Science of Deduction on his own phone and asks Sherlock to pick a case from his already ‘bursting Inbox’. Sherlock chooses The Bloody Guardsman. Sadly it’s impossible to get a clear shot of the small mobile-screen. (John’s blog stops at TSOT by @gosherlocked)

THE LOOK

Blue is the main colour Sherlock has chosen for his website ... shades of different blue ... a dark midnight blue and the skyline of a city by night can be dimly seen in the background and - a little bit clearer - on both sides. 

As Sherlock Holmes is one of London’s most popular characters, it’s easy to assume that the skyline used for his website is that of GBs capital. With this in mind, the water in the bottom right corner, that can be seen rather good on the first pic above, should be the Thames and the shallow arch above it, most likely one of its many bridges. On the opposite site, in the upper left corner, next to the small, pale tower and right behind the ‘The’ of the website’s headline, the vast vault of Saint Paul’s Cathedral can be dimly seen (the view is better on a TV screen). 

If one connects the images of river and bridge on the left with St Paul’s on the right, I guess the background of Sherlock’s website could be a panorama photo similar to the one below. That’s a view from the Southbank of the Thames with Blackfriars Bridge in the foreground. And this location does play a role in the story ....

Blackfriars Bridge is located between Southwark Bridge and Waterloo Bridge. The name derives from Black Freres ... the French 'frère' meaning 'brother'. This referes to the black habits of the Dominican monks. A monk is also called a brother, a nun is also called a sister and the opposite of a ‘black brother’ would be a (ghostly) ‘white sister’. Just saying. :) 

(The Roads we walk   Vatican Cameos   A Christmas Tale)

As mentioned above, this particular cityscape plays a role in Sherlock BBC. It’s a crime scene from TGG. 

SHERLOCK: View of the Thames. South Bank – somewhere between Southwark Bridge and Waterloo.

At this place, Alex Woodbridge was found, the security guard and hobby stargazer, killed by the Golem, in the Vermeer case ... the same case which doesn’t turn up in the messages on Sherlock’s website because he uses the pink phone and conveys the solution verbally. Viewed metaphorically ... he speaks through the heart.

Blue is the colour of the sky ... high up, where the aeroplanes fly. Blue is also the colour of the water, deep down below ... where powerful emotions run freely and London is Sherlock’s city. The country, the city, the houses, even cars are closely linked to the famous detective. They seem to represent his ‘body’. 

Just put me back in London. I need to get to know the place again, breathe it in – feel every quiver of its beating heart.  (Sherlock, TEH)

Brother Mycroft IS government and ‘queen’ at the same time. There are all kinds of networks above and below ground and steam trains run behind fake facades. Saint Paul’s Cathedral and the river Thames are often special eye-catcher. The coat of arms ... with dragon, lion and Saint George’s cross ... make their appearance as well as the great fire of London in 1666, the Isle of Dogs and the Greenwich pips. ‘Transport’ goes from standstill to movement ....

666-The number of the beast   Every quiver of his beating heart   Saint Paul’s Cathedral   Still at the centre of the web   From standstill to movement 

WEBSITE ... A SITE FOR THE WEB

Sherlock has a website .... John has a blog. Why the difference? Both men, Sherlock and John, are given strongly internet-related nicknames ... Hat-man and Robin:The web detectives ... Sherlock & John: Blogger Detectives. Sherlock is also called ‘Net Tec’ and ‘net phenomenon’. What’s the difference between Blog and Website:

BLOG:  The word ‘blog’ is short for ‘weblog’ (web=net + log=logbook), jokingly broken into the phrase ‘we blog’. A blog is a discussion or informational website published on the World Wide Web consisting of discrete, often informal diary-style text entries. Posts are typically displayed in reverse chronological order, so that the most recent post appears first, at the top of the web page. 'Blog' and 'blogging' are now loosely used for content creation and sharing on social media, especially when the content is long-form and one creates and shares content on regular basis. (X)

WEBSITE:   The word website consists of web=net + site=place. Literally web-site means ‘a place in the net’. A website can be used in various fashions: a personal website, a corporate website for a company, a government website, an organization website, etc. Websites can be the work of an individual, a business or other organization, and are typically dedicated to a particular topic or purpose. All publicly accessible websites collectively constitute the World Wide Web. (X)

Of course, the word ‘web’ immediately reminds me of Jim Moriarty. The spider at the centre of a criminal web, woven with thousands of threads and Jim knows precisely how each and every single one of them dances. Sherlock is going to monitor the underworld in order to notice every quiver of that web, so he will notice when the spider makes his move. 

As mentioned above, all kinds of networks - above and below ground - play a major role in Sherlock BBC. There are Mycroft’s people, his agents and spies. There are terrorists who threaten London with a massive attack. General Shan has a vast network with thousands of operatives and Sherlock calls it ‘a cult’. A surveillance web is closing in on Baker Street, their attention focussed on Sherlock. An Underground network as well as an underground network runs below the surface of the big city. A secret cult of revenging birdes meets in the crypt of a desanctified church. Sherlock is convinced that the ‘world is woven from billions of lives, every strand crossing every other. What we call premonition is just movement of the web. If you could attenuate to every strand of quivering data, the future would be entirely calculable, as inevitable as mathematics’. So many threads - linked and interwoven - they create a web, a net .... a web-net. Basically, that’s exactly how brains work as well. Every brain is a very vast and highly functional biological network ... and Sherlock’s is faster than most ‘... still catching up with my brain. It’s terribly fast’.

Recent models in modern neuroscience treat the brain as a biological computer, very different in mechanism from an electronic computer, but similar in the sense that it acquires information from the surrounding world, stores it, and processes it in a variety of ways. Neurons typically communicate with one another by means of long fibers, which carry trains of signal pulses to distant parts of the brain or body. (X)

And then there's also Sherlock’s ‘own’ network ... the ‘homeless network’ it is called. According to Sherlock, it is ‘indispensible and faster than the police’. Those group of people is based on the Baker Street Irregulars from canon. There, in Victorian London, they are street boys, sometimes employed by Holmes to run errands for him. Holmes speaks of them as ‘division of the detecitve police force’. Dr Watson describes them as ‘little scoundrels’ and ‘half a dozen of the dirtiest and most ragged street Arabs that ever I clapped eyes on’. 

While the idea of homeless people who sometimes assist Sherlock in his cases is taken from canon, the name - homeless network - is not. Names are always important in this story. So basically, what is a homless network? It is a network that has no home. At times it is usefull for Sherlock and he pays them for their help. In a way this reminds me of Eurus. She says abut herself: 'to remember everything one just needs a big enough hard drive’. Her intellectual abilities are also of occasional use for the government. In return she requires treats. Similar to Sherlock’s homeless network, Eurus has no home either. She lost it long ago in her childhood days. Sherlock has a website ... a site, a place in the web ... but only very few people are interested in it. Actually just Jeff Hope and Dr Frankland as it seems. Sherlock has a homless network ... a network without a home. 

The women of the ‘cult’ from TAB first gave me the idea that all those dangerous groups ... agents, spies, terrorists and the various networks ... could actually be metaphors for something that happens inside Sherlock’s mind. That all those groups represent the awakening of emotional stirrings ... desires, fears, impulses ... that haunt the great detective. There seem to be aspects of Sherlock’s personality which he views as rightous criminal and puts them behind padded walls or elephant glass. Others are just annoying and distracting. Some he ignores most of the time because he considers them to be irrelevant for his system. Some have no home, although they turn out to be usefull now and then. Then something unexpected happens ... something new is coming ... and this marks the beginning of a change of perception in Sherlock Holmes, maybe a revolution.

The reptile in 221b   Underground networks    AGRA-Under the sign of four   Eurus, the emotional memory & The cold war by @raggedyblue

FOUR MESSAGES and a GAP 

Four messages can be read on Sherlock’s website. All of them are from TGG, related to four of the five cases, written by Sherlock and directed at ‘the bomber’. As it turns out at the end of the episode, this person is none other than Jim Moriarty, the spider in the centre of the web. 

FOUND. Pair of trainers belonging to Carl Powers (1978-1989). Botulinum toxin still present. Apply 221b Baker St.

Congratulations to Ian Monkford on his relocation to Columbia.

Raoul de Santos, the house-boy, botox.

xxx

Found. The Bruce-Partington plans. Please collect. The Pool. Midnight.

Only one of the cold cases is not mentioned on Sherlock’s website, because Sherlock uses the pink phone duplicate, sent to him by the bomber in a strong box at the beginning of the ‘great game’, to submit his message. Sometimes it is useful to ‘mind the gap’ as Sherlock says. Sometimes that, what is left out, is just as important as that, what is there. The ‘gap-case’ is the one about the fake Vermeer painting, whose forgery was first noticed by security guard and hobby stargazer Alex Woodbridge, murdered because of it by the Golem. His body was found at the Southbank of the Thames near Blackfriars Bridge ... the same location Sherlock uses as background for his website. Sherlock discovers and proves the truth due to the display of an impossible supernova on the painting. 

A picture pretends to show a scene from the past, but the massive explosion painted on it reveals, that the picture has actually been created much more recently. That massive explosion had never happened in the past.

The bomber’s hostage in the Vermeer case is a kid who is never shown on screen. The little boy transmittes a countdown from 10 to 1, that mirrors Sherlock’s own countdown in TFP (Countdown) while the boy’s plea for help mirrors that of the girl on the plane and also that of Victor Trevor, the boy in the well near Musgrave Hall. Victor Trevor and Musgrave Hall represent two canon stories -  The Adventure of the Gloria Scott and The Musgrave Ritual - both set in Sherlock Holmes’ university time, long before he met Dr Watson. Both cases lead back to a time ‘where Sherlock began’.

(Why Victor Trevor was turned into a child by @sagestreet)

THE HOUND & THE GUARDSMEN

Little Kirsty Stapleton’s cry for help in THOB to ‘please, please, please’ find Bluebell, her vanished, luminous rabbit, marks the beginning of the HOUND case. Chemistry, triggered by the pressure of feet, fills the air and drives everyone exposed to it, crazy. Love is in the air .... At the end Jim Moriarty (Mr Sex) walks free, released from his cell by Mycroft Holmes himself ... 

Private Stephen Bainbridge’s request in TSOT, regarding a mysterious stalker, marks the beginning of the GUARDSMEN case. Jonathan Small (literally: Jonny Little), a brilliant, ruthless monomaniac (who strongly reminds me of Jim Moriarty), stabbs guardians/facades with a ‘meat dagger’. At the end Mary Watson is pregnant ... ‘stabbed’ by ‘Johnny boy’ (Hamish=James) Watson ... the HOUND hidden behind the facade of the facade .... Matroshka ‘poppets’ indeed.

“Mary – lots of love ... poppet ... oodles of love and heaps of good wishes from CAM.”  (Telegram from Magnussen, keeper of the deepest and darkest secrets and scandals,TSOT)

THE BLUEBELL COMPANIONS

Alongside little Kirsty’s message about Bluebell there appear two more requests on the Inbox page of Sherlock’s website (they can be easily read on TV screen). In films neiter images and certainly not texts appear on screen out of coincidence. Pictures are there for certain reasons, even if it’s just for the purpose of a fitting decoration. Texts on the other hand are much more specific. Someone must have had the idea to put it there and someone had to create the image. Especially the makers of Sherlock BBC have repeatedly mentioned that everything that appears on screen has its meaning. With this in mind, what can be deduced about those two earlier requests in Sherlock’s Inbox?

1- Please help victims of China earthquake. It costs just 5p. 

China - right from the beginning a certain ‘easterly’ theme appears and runs from there throughout the whole story like a red ribbon until the moment the Eastwind finally approaches in the shape of Eurus. In a metaphorical reading I connect the East to emotions and memory. 

An earthquake is a sudden outburst of held back and bottled-up energie. When the pressure gets too high it results in a violent release of that energy. Explosions .... rocks crack, the earth shakes. Earthquakes can trigger landslides, volcanic activity or cause a tsunami. Major changes are also often referred to as ‘earthquakes’.

Costs of 5p ... A penny (p) is a coin and a unit of the britisch pound (£), the official currency in the UK (a currency Sherlock doesn’t know how to spend?). 5p is money. The saying goes that time is money. A minute is a unit of time. Viewing it in reversed order ... money is time = 5 penny are 5 minutes. ‘It took her (Eurus) just five minutes to do all of this to us.’

Reading it that way, a possible translation of the first request in Sherlock’s Inbox could be:  “Please help victims of emotional upheaval. It takes just 5 minutes.”  :)

2- Re. Mudchute Query

Mudchute is a railway station situated in the Millwall area on the Isle of Dogs. The name Millwall has its source in the large number of windmills built on the river wall in the 19th century. They were needed to ground corn and wheat into flour that was brought along the Thames. The original station was located on an old Victorian railway line that had been disused for many years. An elevated station opened 1987. When the line was extended under the Thames, the station was rebuilt close to the tunnel entrance. It opened 1999 and was finally completed 2009. The station was originally intended to be named Millwall Park but then renamed in Mudchute, refering to the engineering overspill when Millwall Dock was being created in the 1840s. (X)

Basically ... the second request in Sherlock’s Inbox is about a query regarding a railway station, built in the Victorian area at a place linked to mills (♪ Remember the maid ... the maid of the mill ...♪, TAB), disused for years, rebuilt and elevated, named, renamed ... until it was completed in 2009, the same year the Unaired Pilot was created. Well .... that sounds a bit ... familiar?

PERFUME AND TOBACCO ASHES

Appart from Sherlock’s cold case messages addressed to Jim Moriarty and two requests from - Kirsty Stapleton and Stephen Bainbridge - there are only two other entries on The Science of Deduction ... Sherlock’s own analysis about perfumes and tobacco ashes. Basically that’s about ... scent/smell and fire residues.

SCENT:  From Kasbah Nights to Claire de la Lune, perfumes play a significant role in this story and Sherlock is a true expert in smellig and recognizing the different brands. The first thing that comes to mind, related to the word ‘scent’ is a dog - more precisely a scent dog. One of the most prominent representatives of that breed is the Bloodhound. And it is well known that Sherlock Holmes is indeed compared to a blood hound in ACDs The Sign of Four. That same quote has been adopted in TEH (Sherlock the Bloodhound), it appears on John’s Blog and is read by Mary. But in Sherlock BBC the bloodhound isn’t only linked to Sherlock himself. The HOUND is also connected to John Watson, Jim Moriarty, Victor Trevor, Eurus and Redbeard the Irish Setter, also a scent dog.  

(The dogs in Sherlock’s mind palace  The bloodhound in his hands   Transformation of Redbeard  and the ‘Follow the dog’ series by @sagestreet​)

FIRE RESIDUES:  Sherlock has an extensive knowledge regarding tobacco ashes. This characteristic has also been taken from canon.

I have made a special study of cigar ashes—in fact, I have written a monograph upon the subject. I flatter myself that I can distinguish at a glance the ash of any known brand, either of cigar or of tobacco.  (ACD, A Study in Scarlet)

In TSOT drunken Sherlock proclaims loudly ‘Ash! I know ash!’  Almost the same words (‘I know human ash’) uses the guy from ASIB, whose aunt had been among the plane crash victims in Düsseldorf (’Sherlock Holmes baffled’). In the same episode Sherlock steals an ashtray from Buckingham Palace. In TEH Sherlock’s return from hiatus is underlined with at least half a dozen scetches of phoenixes, rising from the ashes, at the walls of the Landmark Restaurant. Another bird that has great resemblance with a phoenix can be found on Brenda’s gravestone at Musgrave Hall  (Among the funny gravestones).

Ash is the residue of a fire damage. Fire and burning is one of the main themes in Sherlock BBC. From Jim’s threat to burn Sherlock’s heart out to the gingerbread man burned to a crisp, from John’s Guy Fawkes bonfire to Sherlock’s admission ‘I’m burning up’, from the Baker Street living room in flames to the great fire at Musgrave Hall ... not to mention all the exploding or not quite expoding bombs throughout the show ... fire anf burning is never far away in this story.  

(Love is a burning thing   A case ablaze   Set this house on fire by @gosherlocked)

TOBACCO ASHES ... CHEMISTRY BURNED

Tobacco s the common name for plants belonging to the Nicotiana family. It contains the highly addictive stimulant nicotine. The dried leaves of the plant are mainly used for smoking in cigars, cigarettes, pipes, etc ... Nicotine is a widely used legal drug. The burning of tobacco results in smoke and the residue left behind is ash. Sherlock knows ash. Interestingly and unlike to canon, in this modern adaptation Sherlock doesn’t simply know ‘any known brand of cigar or tobacco ash’, he has analysed exactly 243 different types of those ashes and he explicitly corrects the number 240, cited by John. Is this seemingly unimportant correction just there to emphasise Sherlock’s annoyance over John’s mockery or is maybe another meaning hidden behind that corrected number?

243 ... ‘This is your living, Sherlock – not two hundred and forty different types of tobacco ash’ - ‘243!′

243 different types of tobacco ash are not Sherlock’s living. 243 different, tobacco products - burnt to ashes - are not Sherlock’s life.

As mentioned above, tobacco contains nicotine and nicotine is a drug. Viewing Sherlock BBC on a metaphorical level ... all drugs are chemistry and chemistry is love. The chemistry of love, burnt to ashes ... 243 times over. Hmmmm ....  Then an idea hit me and I asked Google a question:

This answer is from January 2020. The first official series of Sherlock BBC aired 2010 and the Unaired Pilot has been produced in 2009. I seem to recall that the first and the second series have been accepted by the BBC at the same time and since 2009 several more Sherlock Holmes adaptations have seen the light of day (Guy Ritchie Holmes, Elementary, New Russian Holmes, Miss Sherlock, Mr Holmes, Sherlock Gnomes, Holmes&Watson, Enola Holmes ... to name just a few). 

Could it be that the number of different tobacco ashes, analysed by Sherlock, mirrors the number of different adaptations about the famous detective? Sherlock Holmes ... reborn again and again with each adaptation, like a phoenix from the ashes, and yet he was never able to live a full life ... including emotions, love and sex?

‘All lives end. All hearts are broken’, that’s what Mycroft tells Sherlock in ASIB. Chemistry burned to ashes in an endless row. ‘So many days not lived, so many words unsaid’ ... says Eurus in TFP and referes to the coffin whose lid is adorned with a brass plate, I LOVE YOU, written on it  (A coffin for love). You are absolutely right  @loveismyrevolution with your idea of Sherlock standing between two ‘angels’ in that scene, although I would rather call them ‘choices’. Because this scene has great resemblance with the three solutions/choices Sherlock has to choose from after the event on Barth’s roof  (Solutions or choices). 

At that time Sherlock is confronted with two elemental forces ... love and sex. The one is represented by Molly (mirror for John) and the other one by Jim Moriarty, Mr Sex. Sherlock chooses neither one of the two. He backs away and walks a third path. He decides to live a celibate life - married to work - solely dedicated to reason and intellect, represented by Mycroft. That’s why he needs to create a strong facade to hide his true feelings for John. But then, unexpected and without noticing it at first (delayed action stabbing), even this facade gets ‘penetrated’ by John. Love (Rosie) is conceived and this changes everything. (Changing of the guard)

After the first shock (shot), Sherlock starts to go deeper into himself than ever before. He repeats the investigations about himself (the pink case) from a different perspective. Everything that happens in S4 reflects, in one way or another, occurances from S1-S3 ... arranged differently and some new actors are added. For example: the morgue-scene in TLD is a mirror of Sherlock’s fall in TRF ... it’s another Reichenbach. Eurus’ five tasks of Sherrinford seem to be a sort of ‘final distillate’ of Sherlock’s repeated analysis. In the coffin-scene Sherlock is once more confronted with a choice. This time though SEX is excluded. Sherlock has to choose between LOVE or BRAIN. And just as he did after the ‘first’ Reichenbach, Sherlock tries again to back away. At that stage though Eurus doesn’t let him. Sherlock’s emotions force him to go back to the very beginning, to find the truth. What that truth is and what consequences will come from it .... is still untold in this story, as I read it. There’s a final distillation but not a final solution at the end of S4.

“This is your living, Sherlock ... not 243 different types of tobacco ash” 

... says John, refering to his own Blog. But is this really the truth? The counter on John’s Blog stops at 1895 in ASIB and the text entry, read by Mary in TEH, is a quote from canon. Already in the first series, in TBB, Sherlock asks John - his blogger/biographer - to pass him the pen and near the end of S4, in TLD, John’s Blog has ‘gone a bit downhill’ and people actually think it's Sherlock’s Blog. This leaves the question: is Sherlock taking over the narrative of his own story now? What kind of story will it be? How will it end? Will Sherlock have to make a third choice in the future? A choice between Dr Watson, the ‘fixed point in a changing age’ and John Watson, who could be so much more than just an ‘eternal’ friend? After all, there are two Faiths in the story, two serial killers and Hamish (Jim, Mr Sex) hides right in the middle of John (H) Watson ... at the very centre of the web, one might say. 

Two times John    Pairs-Twins-DoubleOHs   Double OH seven Bond Air is go   The big question   and an excellent explanation of the idea about ‘Two-John’s’ in the comments on this post by @lukessense

Will Sherlock BBC turn out to be one more adaptation that ends as a ‘missed oportunity’ ... one more chemistry burned to ashes .... another sample of tobacco ash for Sherlock to analyse and add to his list? Or will it be different this time? Something new ... something big? Will it be the story about the emotional and sexual awakening of the literary character Sherlock Holmes? 

Only the future will tell ....

Thanks for reading and thanks @callie-ariane for the scripts.

February, 2021

[rataltouille]

BONFIRE, BONFIRE!: A COLLECTION OF FLASH FICTION + POETRY

so i’ve decided to compile all twenty [these will be split into two so that the post isn’t super long] of the writing pieces i’ve done for my random celebration into one post so that it’s easier to read / access share!! you can also find it here, all put into one work, on wattpad, because i feel nostalgic about that website and decided to just post it!!

NOTE: i know that this shouldn't need to be said, but these 20 pieces belong to me so please don’t copy/repurpose it for your writing!! i plan on using these somewhere in my own writing and either way they’re stuff i’ve written so don’t use them!!

1. cooking + destructive + purple from @andiwriteunderthemoon [also i kind of cheated with this prompt and asked my sis @dreamscanbenightmarestoo for ideas and so the base idea’s from her!!]

I didn’t mean to set my house on fire, alright?

Let me set the scene: I’m sitting in my room, watching the infomercials that blur together, and suddenly there’s a bright purple flash on the glitching screen: /grapes/. They’re shiny, plump, and oh? A recipe for fine wine? Don’t mind if I do. So I pop into my kitchen and cut the grapes, dice them up, finally using the knife after years of not cooking— /mother, are you proud of me now?/— and stick the soft, luminescent fluid into a glass bottle. Following each step of the recipe.

The recipe didn’t mention an explosion.

Destruction rained around my house like a meteor shower. The bubbles from the fluid, frisking up at contact with metal, swam across my shoes and into the living room. It touched the TV, which still flashed the recipe, which I was still cursing at. And then, you know, it burnt up. The couch scorched first, I think. So that was fun. I later realised that I’d used my reserve of petroleum, which I’d put in my kitchen cabinet, instead of vinegar. I think I’ve got to move back in with my mother again.

2. running + quiet + sky blue from @kryskakikomi [i have no idea what this is i drafted this in a fever dream state]

Summer crawled up his skin like a worm. He was seated at his dining table, crosswording his way through the sticky morning, when it struck him that the humidity was new. He’d been caught in summer before, of course, but this year was different. His parents had whisked away to their hometown, and he still didn’t understand why he wasn’t allowed to go. He loved their home— he could have been running on beach sand and waves could have cruised over his feet, and his face would reflect sky blue under palm trees. Instead he sat doodling and scratching at cement walls in a quiet that nagged at his ears, grappling his flesh like a fishing hook, reeling him in. Boredom, him sister told him, before she also left for someone’s home. What would you know? he whispered once the door latched from the outside. Maybe /she’d/ like to sit on the same wooden chair, all the pink paint worn out, and scratch out squares of empty text until the pen poked through the other hand. He scoffed. At least he knew the number of scars on the wood; he could hold that over her when his parents returned.

3. hallucinate + hazy + violet from @chloeswords [i wanted to write something dreamy and ethereal but everytime i look at your url i’m reminded of church mud and indirectly my religious trauma so here we are 🤡]

We hold the book in our arms and chant for God. We don’t know what he looks like. They say that he’s sharp, never pixelating or blurring or showing through, like a hazy image would. No, children, our family says, he will come clothed in gold and velvet— the colour a deep and rich crimson, or chartreuse. And of course, he weaves a violet into his hair. Because he is just that humble. Just that gentle. Loving.

We’ve almost understood now. Pray, clasp our palms together into a transient equinox, and pray. Maybe he will shine down on us. Maybe we will speak so loud and chant so long that our lips will chap. Maybe we’ll simply hallucinate him to salve our bones. Our family says, he will bless you. And so he will.

4. halcyon + pluviophile + beige from anon [i was yearning for cats i am a cat person i love cats]

I remember my life before I moved to London,

Those halcyon days that I spent scooping up cat litter and brushing warm fur,

Being a mother to beige and white and black little felines.

They keep better company than humans.

Now I’m a self-proclaimed businesswoman, artist, influencer, pluviophile,

Even when I’ve barely stepped foot outside during the rain,

[But it needs to be said that when it rains in London, it pours].

I think I’d like to open a cat cafe;

I’m rich enough to pull it off.

5. sing + vulnerable + olive green from @occiidens [this was actually super fun to write because it’s a break from the typically unhinged stories i gravitate towards]

You watch from the highest hill of your town, hand wrapped around the serrated wood of a red oak tree. The bark pokes into your flesh, drawing blood that shouldn’t have been taken from you. You scowl. Just another thing that lives to cause you pain.

Three storeys down is a young man, short and smiling and lovely. He has dark skin and darker hair, walking with the stride of a deer, and he’s smiling; the joy reflects onto your face, even though you can’t hear him. He wears a cotton shirt, the olive green stark against the fire-blue sky. You call out, sing his name, three times in a row.

When he finally looks up, squinting as you silhouette under the sun, the smile widens. A wave. You’re suddenly overcome with embarrassment. Your palm digs into the bark until the wound is freshly dug again, the skin supple and vulnerable. You want to wave, but your hands would look so awkward, and the blood wouldn't help. So you turn on your heel and run— why are you so awkward?— and the grass around you is brighter. This is now a tomorrow issue, you conclude. You’re still smiling.

6. dislocate + ostentatious + blood red from @oasis-of-you [this got really unhinged really fast. TW: body horror]

If you take a turn at Finn Avenue,

Rogue your way down a blood red river,

[It’s not actual blood, do not worry. The colour’s a pigment and it’s saturated enough to give you the texture, the touch, the taste of blood, but I repeat, it isn’t true blood. You might think that it’s ostentatious of us to make you cross a river like that, but you’ll understand why.]

And if can stick your fingers inside the fluid,

You’ll find a bone.

Don’t pull it out fully! Only observe.

[This is a real bone, most likely animal. We may be ominous, but we don’t hurt humans. Not yet.]

So what do you do now? You want passage into a better world.

You came here because you saw the brochure, the flyer,

Radiant Idyll, home for love, but you also saw the jutting anatomy that leads to the city. The pictures were rather clear.

Why do you look so surprised? We’ve put this on the brochure— don’t you ever read the fine print?— to avoid this exact situation. That you would cross a body, a skeleton, pooled over in a fluid that we don’t name, but it’s probably alive.

It’s watching you right now.

So what do you do now?

Hurry up, unhinge your arm, dislocate the elbow, drop it into the blood, forgive me, false blood, and pay for your passage.

Oh! Excellent; that’s record time. We do hope you enjoy your stay!

1. @noteaboy [i’ve interpreted your url as ”note, a boy”]

There’s an orange tree. It’s spring, and there’s an orange tree, and it brims with fruit and citrus perfume. Point your lens flare downwards, and note, a boy. A young man, perhaps, because he combs his hair, uptight and firm, and he wears a tie. A long suit. He doesn’t look up, because his hand holds a book. /He/ holds the book, not the hands— tenderness doesn’t translate through anatomy, I’ve taught you this before. He’s waiting for someone. There’s only the rustle of leaves. He drops the book onto the lap of the tree, crushing the apple that had fallen down. Orange, not apple. Take note better. You only have one chance to get this right.

2. @eatingjupiter [your url is so beautiful omg]

The goddess had said this before she died: you need to watch over him. He needs your sentry to survive. The goddess’ words weren’t heeded. Little baby Jupiter tottered on lava as him parents small-talked with their kingdom. Well, it must have been small talk, because nothing seemed to happen afterwards other than his mother’s face collapsing in agony, anger, annoyance. He knew not to touch them then. He’d fly off into the sun one day, but if his hands were but and charred, he wouldn’t survive even a third of the journey.

The prophecy was simple: the firstborn to the kingdom will metamorph into a celestial, purify themselves so that only stardust remains. Live in the sky forever. The astrologers were baffled; you don’t just become a star. They should have heeded the goddess.

Jupiter was sixteen when he expanded and collapsed all at once. He still lives, they say, and the astrologers /were/ right, in a way: people just don’t become stars. They become almost empty space. Nobody knows if his hands were burnt when they left earth’s orbit forever.

3. @laughtracksonata [your name gave me slight horror vibes idk why!!]

Hahaha. The Horror Movie (don’t ask me for a name, I’m not good with those), with its cymbal crashing and plastic sounds, it’s so loud and scary that it hurts, father. Please turn it off.

Father doesn't listen. I shiver on the couch. The screen flickers like radio static and reflects off our wide eyes. What kind of a home is this anyway? I don’t want to fucking listen to a laugh track or a horror VHS tape or watch the bass crescendo as the serial killer jumpscares the watcher. I don’t think that having hour pupils glued to the same blood-splattered movie, with the same recording looping in his eardrums will help him. He laughs along, sometimes. It’s scary. Father needs a new hobby.

PART TWO COMING SOON!!

anyway this got REALLY long so i’m posting the third prompt group, the one based on songs, as a second part in some time. i hope you enjoy this, and PLEASE do boost!! i spent a lot of time writing these pieces and am pretty proud of them :’)

general taglist: @lovingyou-is @guulabjamuns @andiwriteunderthemoon @coffeeandcalligraphy @melonmilk @silentlylostwriter @charles-joseph-writes @eklavvya @eowynandfaramir @bitterwitchwrites @laughtracksonata @whatwordsdidnttouch @indeliblewrites @thenataliawrites @summersguilt @illimani-gibberish @sarahkelsiwrites @writing-in-delirium @shaelinwrites @sienna-writes @chewingthescenery @jennawritesstories @chloeswords @aelenko @keira-is-writing @cherylinanika @infinitely-empty-pages @jmtwrites @august-iswriting @freedelusionbanana @beetleblue88 @mistercaleb @iwannawritepls @hanwatchingmovies @mortallynuttyqueen @idratherliveinnarnia @maisulli @thegreyboywrites @ahowlinwolf @ravens-and-rivers @oasis-of-you @yanittawrites @chazza-writes-sometimes @skyfirewrites @lovebenders @treybriggsthewriter @themidnxghtwriter @ash-karter @queen-devasena @a-procrastination-addict @gaymityblight @beyondthebracken @madmaxst26 @adielwrites @moonpixxel @hollow-knight-dnd @keep-looking-here @overlap @ashleygarciawrites @ryns-ramblings​ @wordsbynathan @novaemlynlewis​ @sophiewritingstuff​ @howdy-writes​ @occiidens​ @nsanelyawkward​ @viawrites-andacts​

[old-hyper-super-clover]

Omoi yo Hitotsu ni Nare

Feelings, become One

Part 1 of 2

Writer's block is being rough on me, so the only thing I was able to create lately was a short story of my MC Clover and Leviathan. It shows their adorable friendship as they experience an idol live show together.

Enjoy 🧡

One evening, the demon of Envy, Leviathan, made his way to the human exchange students' room. The human girl Clover had borrowed a manga from him, but it happened that Levi needed that exact book right now.

As he was strolling through the hallways, finally he reached the door, so he knocked like a polite creature before coming in.

"Hey" Levi called out into the room. "I need that Ruri-chan manga back for a sec. Some idiot Normie posted stupid fake information on the fanclub's Devcord server and is not believing me when I tell him he's wrong, so I need screenshots to prove what a fake fan he is lolol."

As he had been more eyeing his D.D.D. than paying attention to his surroundings, he only noticed at the end of his comment that a pair of unpleasantly surprised eyes were staring back at him. Levi raised his eyebrows, puzzled, looking back at Clover sitting on her bed, only being illuminated by the small lamp on her bedside table.

Just so making out her reddened eyes, paired with how she was hugging her legs, the demon immediately understood that she was crying.

"C... Clover?"

"A-ah, Levia-tan..." she mumbled, quick to put away the used tissue in her hand. Sniffling shortly, she sprung up in the next moment, walking over to her desk. "I didn't get to read this chapter yet, so I'd like to have it back after you've shown that peasant what a real Ruri stan looks like..."

Handing him the manga, Clover put on a very unconvincing smile.

Unsure how to react, Levi took the book but kept giving her a worried look. "Are you... okay?"

The girl only gave a nod.

"B-because you look, uhm..." Levi could have punched himself for being so bad at social interactions. "Were you crying just now?"

A flash of panic crossed Clover's face, but in the end, she assured him she was fine.

"It's embarrassing but I was, uh, crying over a stupid video. So nothin' to worry about, really!"

Holding the door open, she kind of gestured for him to make his leave, so Levi stepped out into the corridor again.

"Now go get that loser's ass", she cheered, but as she closed the door, Levi caught a tiny glimpse of the frown that was forming on her face.

The demon had planned to go back into his room, yet somehow he found himself in the kitchen instead. Turning his head to the fridge, he spotted Beelzebub head-deep in the ingredients for tomorrow's lunch.

Levi's younger brother noticed his presence when Levi let out a troubled sigh.

"Huh? Levi?" Beel shot him a glance. "Are you hungry, too?"

"Like there would even be anything left for me to eat!" Levi hissed, mustering how Beel's cheek were filled to the brim like those of a hamster. "No, I..." He let out another sigh. "Did something happen to Clover? She seemed really down just now and behaved all weird."

In an instant, Beel stopped his scavenging and closed the fridge to turn towards his brother.

"So you think so, too..." Beel said. "I noticed it when we returned home from RAD today, so I wanted to cook something to cheer her up."

Levi let out a huff. "Doesn't look like you had success in doing that..."

However putting his sarcasm aside, he asked whether Beel knew any reason for Clover's sadness.

"I think she had some stressful days" Beel explained, scratching his head as he actually began to prepare said food. "She had a lot of projects to hand in for her additional courses lately. And it seems the grades she got weren't quite what she expected. Or what she deserved for the amount of work she put in, honestly."

Nodding to himself, Levi indeed remembered that the human girl had been working until late recently. He crossed his arms. "But their grades aren't really that important to the exchange students, right? There's no need to cry over that."

For a while, they remained silent, listening to the veggies sizzling in the frying pan.

Then, Beel spoke up again.

"You know how she is" he said. "She was very passionate about it, and now beats herself up for not doing well enough."

Frowning, Levi narrowed his gaze. "But then why didn't she tell me about it? I thought we were friends..."

Beel had returned to the fridge, originally to grab the next ingredients, but ended up stuffing half of that into his own mouth.

"I thought you of all would understand her reasoning the best" he grumbled into the fridge.

"Huh? What do you mean?"

So Beelzebub shot him another look.

"Aren't you afraid of people thinking low of you, too?"

That evening, Beelzebub continued to take care of the human girl. He had managed to cook her a delicious meal and stayed with her to watch some movies.

Levi was amazed to see how easily his brother had managed to lift her spirits. Overall, it had surprised him to hear how well Beel knew about her feelings in the first place.

But what troubled Levi the most were Beel's last words before he had knocked on Clover's door:

"She'll probably stay this sad for longer. It would be great if you could help, too."

The next day, the avatar of Envy didn't feel like gaming at all. He forced himself to do his daily log-ins to his thirty-ish online games, but his mind kept wandering off to the happenings of the last evening.

Why would anyone think low of Clover because of school grades? Why would she be that sad, even if she put a lot of work into it?

She was his confidant. His friend. That alone meant she had to be a person worthy of one's time.

So... Why would someone like her ever worry about not being good enough?

Lying in his bed/bathtub/really-unsuited-sleeping-spot, Levi bit his lip.

He understood what Beel had meant now. The more he tried to understand Clover, the more he spiralled into self-loathing, toxic thoughts that he knew all too well himself.

And just the thought that Clover might be pained by this nonsense made him so angry that he couldn't focus on anything else than searching for a way to cheer her up.

Grumbling and brainstorming, his messy thoughts suddenly saw a spark of hope when he read a notification on his D.D.D.:

'Aqours 4th LoveLive! ~ Sailing to the Sunshine ~ -- Tickets for sale NOW!!'

Eyes wide, he had this hesitation of "that's too good to be true" when his thumb lowered to press the "see more" button.

But the second after, his otaku mode activated. Baving opened his five favourite websites for booking concert tickets in an instant, Levi was determined to get two tickets for this live show...

Naturally, the period of buying tickets and the actual concert were painfully far apart.

At first, Leviathan wanted to keep it a secret that he had obtained two premium seats for the Aqours concert.

However, Clover's state seemed to worsen as time went by. New things kept piling on her head, and one disappointment set the requirements for her to fail whatever she aimed to do next. It might not seem that bad to others, but as someone who is struggling with his self-worth himself, Levi could guess that Clover's mindset had to be suffering more and more.

So one day, he decided to tell her about the tickets.

Spam-calling her until she would angrily stomp into his room, Levi was waiting for her, the tickets ready in his hands.

"Levia-tan, I'm BEGGING you, if I tell you 'I'll be there in a minute', please don't call me another fifteen times to make sure I wasn't ly-"

She went silent the second her eyes landed on the tickets.

The demon couldn't hide a cheeky grin.

"You were supposed to hurry, Normie" he mocked. "Feeling your concert tickets the second they're out of the printer is a NECESSITY!"

Clover wouldn't respond.

In all honesty, she COULDN'T respond.

Every time she opened her mouth, she was too baffled to press out a single tone.

"Here, this is yours" Levi said as he handed her one ticket. "It's still long until the day of the live show, so make sure to keep this somewhere safe! Ah, you know, actually... If you store the ticket in your room, Mammon might find it and sell it, so it might be for the best if I keep your ticket here with mine... C-Clover?!"

The girl had taken hold of the ticket, staring at it while Levi was rambling. But she had puzzled him when suddenly, tears were dropping on the piece of paper.

"I-is... Is this for real...?" Clover asked with an incredibly thin voice.

"W-wah..." Levi panicked, softly tugging the ticket out of her shaking hands. "It's all wet now... But I guess I can just print it out a second time..."

"Am I... really... going to... Japan...? To... a live show of... of A-aqours...?" Clover asked with a trembling lip.

"You bet!" Levi cheered. "I've been trying to get these tickets for HOURS! It was really tough, but you should never underestimate my Otaku skills!"

"I've... I've always dreamed of... experiencing a live show in person..." Clover continued to mumble. "And now you're being... So kind... What did I do to deserve this..."

Grabbing his phone, Levi tapped on his messenger app to show her something else.

Confused, Clover was looking at Levi's chatroom with Solomon. In his own excitement, Levi had to tell it before Clover could finish reading.

"And don't worry about the language issues. You'll be able to understand it all!" He babbled. "Solomon will do his best to mix you a potion to help with that! See it as subtitles, but send directly into your brain lolol."

The demon grinned from ear to ear,

and, well, expected that the human would do the same...

Or at least, he really didn't expect for her to suddenly burst into loud sobbing, pressing her hands against her face as she couldn't stop crying.

"O-oh..." All colour left Levi's face at once. "Are... Uhm... Are you not happy?"

Looking back and forth between her, the tickets and his phone, he was frantically trying to figure out the reason for her outburst.

His heart broke into pieces as his own toxic mind gave him an answer.

"Oh..." Levi pressed out. "I didn't ask you if you even want to go there if it's with me..." Now he felt really stupid. In all his preparation and anticipation, he forgot what a yucky creature he was. "Uh... I guess... I mean I can understand if you don't want to, it must be really embarrassing to go outside with someone like me, so, y-you can... take someone else along i-if that will make you stop crying... I was looking forward to it, but making you smile again was my utmost priority, so I would... You can... go with, like, Beel or som-"

"L-levia-tan?" Clover suddenly pressed out, not looking up though.

"Y-yes? Are you mad at m-"

"Can I hug you?"

"... Eh?"

"P-please...!" Clover's head shot upwards as she met him with a pleading, crying face. "I d-don't know how to respond to this... this wonderful gesture... I'm..." Not able to hold herself, she engulfed Levi in an embrace.

"I'm so happy..." Clover sobbed into his shoulder. "Thank you so much... Levi..."

Now Levi was the one at loss for words. With cheeks painted a bright pink, he awkwardly wrapped his arms around her body.

"S-so... You're okay with going with... with me?"

"Of course! I'm flattered that you'd even thought of inviting me..." The girl pressed out, slowly letting go of him.

And finally, a grin was spreading on her face again."Please teach me everything I need to know about lives, Levia-sensei!"

The sight was so contagious that Levi was smiling himself.

"Yes! Leave it to me!!"

For the following weeks, the two of them spent huge parts of their free time preparing for the live show.

Leviathan taught Clover all there is to know about using glowsticks: from the shaking technique that destroys your arms and wrists the least, to ultra orange glowstick usage and cycloning. They listened to Aqours' songs so much that at some point Clover remembered all their lyrics perfectly despite not even speaking the language. Additionally, they looked into older live shows to learn where the crowd would engage in which kind of chanting.

"Waah, no, I can't that part of the first live show... I'll cry, Levia-tan...!" Clover had whined.

"Ah, do you mean the performance of 'Omoi yo Hitotsu ni Nare'? Where Rikyako messed up her piano play?"

"Yes... It was so brave that she learned playing piano from scratch just for that song... But then the poor girl was so stressed, messed up and started sobbing... That part just kills me, especially when the rest who were performing the dance came to comfort her... Ugh I love them all so muuuuch..."

The house of Lamentation was glad to see the human girl had regained her joyful energy. Even if, after a few weeks, their patience was being put under the test...

To give a short input:

When greeting the audience at the beginning of the live show, each idol introduces themselves and engages in a unique call and response with the crowd to get everyone pumped.

And so one day, Levi went to Clover saying this:

"We also need to practice our responses to their character introductions! From this day onwards, I will randomly initiate one of the girls' calls, and you have to respond correctly!"

So... Yeah. The other inhabitants of the house didn't quite understand what any of those "Ganbarubyyyy"s or sudden "BUU BUU DESU-WA"s meant, but eventually, even they remembered some of the call & responses.

... Just that not everyone was so amused by the whole ordeal as Leviathan seemed to be.

Not when Clover was preparing breakfast with Satan in a great hurry (because SOMEONE ate what they had prepared earlier...).

You can imagine that, when already stressed out, Satan wasn't really happy over his older brother dashing into the room, shouting a random "KAN KAN" from the top of his lungs.

"Mikan!" Clover had correctly responded, however quiet as she was fully aware of Satan's anger level.

However, as this particular call & response repeated three times, Levi continued to animate the human girl, going once again even louder: "KAN KAN!"

"M-mikan..."

"Come on, I can't hear you... KAAAAN, KAAA-"

He couldn't finish his chanting as Satan had thrown a devil-blood orange right into his face with such force that it pulled Levi off his feet.

"HERE, HAVE YOUR FUCKING MIKAN AND LEAVE!!"

[Mikans are small, japanese oranges (´ ∀ ` *)]

Finally, the day of the concert had come.

Asmodeus had made it his mission to plan Clover's outfit so she'd be as "dazzling as the girls on stage". Levi had been prompting her to go with comfortable, practical clothes instead, so they had to find a middle where neither of them would complain.

Once all done, some of the brothers came to muster the soon leaving duo.

"Hm... Are you sure you don't want to put on any make up, darling?" Asmo asked Clover after doing his final check.

"Absolutely. I will be in tears the second Aqours' enters the stage, so there's no point in that."

Standing in the doorframe, the avatar of Greed gave a huff.

"Isn't that skirt a bit too short? And that whole outfit... No, you can't go out like this."

"Huh?" Clover turned to him in confusion. "Why not?"

"It's way too eye-catching!" He grumbled. "What if some filthy human makes a move on you?"

The girl gave a slight chuckle. "I go to school with incubi and succubi, Mammon. I think compared to that the human world should be pretty safe."

"B-but...!" Mammon wanted to protest, but Beelzebub covered his brother's mouth to silence him.

"I think you look cute" He beamed Clover an encouraging smile. "But be careful nonetheless. Levi, take care of her."

"Y-yes! I will!"

-- to be continued in part two --

[thestylesindependent]

Inside Eroda, the fictional Harry Styles island that’s baffled the internet

Full Text from The Telegraph 4/12/2019

It all started on November 20. A Twitter account opened in October released its first post: “The Isle of Eroda’s rich history is embedded in daily life as the ruins of many structures from the past remain standing across the land. #VisitEroda”

It looked like a new marketing campaign for a little-visited, off-beat beauty spot. But a quick search would show it didn’t actually exist. Yet, Eroda had a website. Advertisements for the place were popping up on Facebook and Google. People interested in all manner of nerdy subcultures were foxed – it had the whiff of a clever marketing campaign about it, but what was it for?

Within hours, an Eroda subreddit had been created to discuss it. People dived deep into web hosting details, and only became more baffled as they seemed legitimate: “it ain't no kid doing a school project”. Was it a scam, a game, an elaborate prank? Some were convinced it was the beginning of a new Cloverfield film, World of Warcraft, a new Channel 4 series or even a means of human trafficking.

Meanwhile, scores of “Harries”, the sub-group of Directioners dedicated to Harry Styles, were piecing bits of evidence together. The pop star was due to release Adore You, the second single off his forthcoming sophomore album. “Adore” backwards was “Eroda”, and the video, released on November 23, looked like it had been shot in St Abbs, the Berwickshire fishing village where Styles had been spotted shooting in August. As Eroda claimed more of the internet, Harries  – some of the most forensic fans in the world – were sent into a flurry of investigation.

The goliath churn of a pop star marketing campaign is fairly familiar by now: cryptic social media teaser, excitable release date news, lyric video, full video, rinse, repeat.

Styles, who will release sophomore album Fine Line on December 13 and Adore You on Friday, satisfied many speculating fans on Monday with a near-three-minute-long trailer for the single, along with an illustration of the star standing in the ocean, surrounded by fish.

To those who had been studying Eroda for the past 10 days it was the confirmation they had been hankering for: Eroda was a Harry Styles project, and it confirmed what they had always known – that he is an artist beyond the normal realms of pop frippery (by contrast, former bandmate Louis Tomlinson spent the same afternoon releasing a video in which he sings in a bunker wearing a Stone Island parka).

Styles’ trailer introduced Eroda, showing it to be an island in the middle of the Irish Sea “shaped unmistakably like a frown, it is home to an all-but-forgotten fishing village that has had perpetual cloud cover for as long as anyone can remember”. Scenes appear of a typical coastal village, with crashing waves and brave little houses facing them. It gets increasingly weird: we learn that it is bad luck to “mention a pig in a fisherman’s pub” and to “whistle in the wind, in case you turn a gust into a gale”; the island mustn’t be left on odd-numbered days.  

The inhabitants of Eroda’s village always frown, calling it “resting fish face”. Until, that is, a beaming baby appears amidst the gloom. Deemed “peculiar” (a word that pops up a lot), the boy – who grows up to become Harry Style – was outcast, leading him to deal with his angst by screaming into jars. “He had lost his smile, and without it, the world grew darker, the wind colder, and the ocean more violent” the pan-European narrator explains. “Loneliness is an ocean full of travellers trying to find their place in the world”, she continues, as Harry finds himself bonding with a stubborn fish, before the film ends “to be continued…”

So far, so intriguing. But delve a little deeper into Eroda and you may find yourself wanting to visit. The island’s website – beautiful island views and a template dating back to the late Noughties – looks remarkably similar to those for any other charming coastal holiday destination, say Bute or Oban. “No Land Quite Like It”, reads Eroda’s strapline, before offering a familiar-enough menu: Accommodations, Attractions, Guide, Home and About Eroda. The video is similarly convincing: “Make memories for your senses at VisitEroda.com”, a dulcet-voiced woman encourages over shots of crabmeat and speedboats.

It didn’t take long for the Harries to take over the Eroda subreddit, moderators becoming increasingly rigid in ruling nuggets of unrelated Eroda flotsam irrelevant to the cause of discovery (such as the user who wanted to discuss Eroda, but without any intervention from the Harries). Tumblr users were similarly invested: “What do the ominous references to Him portend? What are they serving at those town dinners? You think it’s a cute little coastal AU [alternative universe] but upon closer examination it’s full-on Wicker Man meets Hotel California meets Nightvale in the afterlife (which is what most of those places are anyway so sure why not),” posted 1D Discourse of the Day.

The whole thing is littered with wordplay. Eroda, for one, is Adore backwards (Harry’s next single is called Adore You). But, as Directioners have pointed out, the copy throughout the website nods to forthcoming Styles songs: The Fisherman’s Pub is located on the corner of Cherry Street and Golden Way (Cherry is one new song, Golden is another); the album will be released on Friday, 13 December and Eroda recommends avoiding a departure on an odd-numbered day. Eroda’s fishermen wear a single gold earring for good fortune – a look historically sported by Styles.

Directioners went further still: the hosting for VisitEroda.com and Styles’ website, doyouknowwhoyouare.com, were owned by the same company, MarkMonitor.inc. Social media pixels linked pages about Styles with Eroda. Fans became suspicious over Visit Eroda adverts appearing not on their social channels or YouTube, but, of all places, on Wikipedia. “I'M FROM FRICKING PORTUGAL,” a baffled Reddit user posted. “NOTHING EVER HAPPENS HERE. WHY IS THIS HERE”.

Eroda had analog presence, too. A4 pamphlets – the kind of thing one could make on MS Publisher circa 1998 – appeared in the freesheet boxes on the pavements of Manhattan. At a promo event in Paris, Harry was asked about Eroda by a fan. He remained silent, but those who were there claim he “made a face”.

By November 29, more evidence arrived. A short film “advert”, which used footage from the trailer released on Monday, was screened by a new Harry Styles fan account from “Eroda”. They said the film appeared in a cinema in Kinlochbervie, on Scotland’s northern coast; the Eroda account then started to tweet about cinema screening times.  Eagle-eyed fans were swift to post screengrabs, showing similar island formations in the background of both the Eroda advert and that featuring Styles. The two were linked.

Kinlochbervie was, fittingly, a bit of a red herring: the footage shown in both the advert and the video trailer was actually taken in St Abbs, a picturesque fishing village in Berwickshire that’s no stranger to a rolling camera – it was “twinned” with New Asgard after being used as a location for Thor’s new home in Avengers Endgame.

Styles was there in August, shooting, it appears, a few things for the forthcoming album campaign. He and his crew used Angela Morris’s cottage, in St Abbs’ Sea View Terrace, as a green room during the three days of filming in the village, after Morris had responded to a note being popped through the door from a filming company. “One Thursday I was just coming home from work and there was Harry walking into the house,” she tells me. “All of the costumes were in the living room, make-up was going on in the kitchen.

“I asked if I could wait in the garden before my husband and I went out for the evening, so I just sat there when Harry came out,” Morris said. “I think he was having a coffee, and he sat down and chatted, asked me about bits and pieces about the village. I was talking to him about his Gucci clothes and we had a bit of a laugh. I wasn’t too starstruck, really, and I think he appreciated that.” Later on in the shoot, Styles invited Morris and her husband to share a glass of champagne with him and the crew.

While the shoot interrupted the sleepy pace of life on St Abbs for a few days – Morris says that visitor numbers had already been boosted by Avengers Endgame but small crowds of teenage girls began to crop up after word spread of Harry’s location – most villagers, she reckons, are pleased to see the place put on the map: “Most people I saw were embracing it and interested to see what was going on.”

A German artist named Mario Klingemann was, however, more incensed when his holiday collided with the shoot: “I didn't know who Harry Styles was until today when I learned that he's the guy who blocked off the entire St Abbs harbour and prevented us from enjoying our fresh crab rolls," he posted on Twitter, aggrieved.

But Morris found out about Eroda much like everybody else – through Facebook. “It’s really odd,” she assess. “Lovely footage of beautiful St Abbs, though.”

Long-lens pap shots from that shoot certainly seem to match up with what we’ve seen of Eroda so far. Styles gangles around in Seventies suits, befitting the aesthetic of his trailer. The smoking gun, though, is the presence of a young woman with hair that brings to mind a Dr Seuss illustration, or the hat Princess Beatrice wore at the Cambridges’ wedding. VisitEroda’s “about” page explains: “The primary occupation in Eroda is fishing, however, the island’s art scene has recently started to develop. In particular, Erodean hairstyles have become a rather bold expression of self amongst the island’s youth”. Clearly, these are scenes of Eroda that are being filmed.

There’s an unmistakably ominous air to Eroda, and some believe the video for Adore You will see some misfortune befall Styles – there were reports of a (fake) gunshot being filmed in St Abbs while he was there.

But what happens next is arguably less intriguing than what we’ve been given with Eroda so far. We are well-used to being nudged and prodded by pop stars ahead of a new release. Major albums aren’t so much brought out as “dropped” or “leaked”, arriving online in the middle of the night before their fans disseminate them through the internet. Fans, rather than critics, are given early listens – and under tight NDAs. Artists will clear their channels to mark a new direction, only to give us elaborate photoshoots and contrived poetry to create a “concept”.

Eroda is undeniably a “concept” – themes of loneliness, peculiarity, conformity and happiness have been woven into the fictional island from the off. But it’s been artfully done; look deep enough into the Reddit forums and you’ll see non-Styles fans begrudgingly accepting that this is the work of a former boy band frontman, rather than that of a somehow more “serious” game creator, filmmaker or even musician. Furthermore, it’s fun – and that’s all too rare in a pop world where things have become obsessed with authenticity, and a rogue comment can result in “cancellation”. One Directioner popped up on a thread only to add, “As someone who works in marketing/promotion... This is fucking genius. Harry Styles' team is tops”, and it’s difficult to disagree.

After a decade in which stars have had to up their social media presence to survive, tweaking and teasing their listenership in ever-increasing desperation to retain shrinking attention spans, Styles is closing out the 2010s with the greatest album campaign we’ve seen so far. As an artistic statement, it suggests the 2020s will be his to claim.

[cakesunflower]

Fall From Grace [C.H. AU] Part 1

A/N: sooo if any of y’all remember, i had a fanfic called Fall From Grace and i ended up deleting it because i lost inspo. but i just decided to pick it up again bc i got motivated to write it again. so this entire part 1 consists of the 8 chapters that used to be on here, roughly over 24.8k words. part 2 will be everything that comes after, so if you’d read the 8 chaps that used to be on here, this part may seem familiar bc it’s literally the same thing. happy reading!

-----UPDATE: once again tumblr has fucked up and i realized a little too late. please do not read this on desktop, because parts of the story seem to be missing from it. read it on the MOBILE APP. that way, you get the FULL version. this website is so dumb.-----

READ!!! ON!!! MOBILE!!!!!

Part 1

“YOU CAN’T BE serious,” Calum Hood laughed, though even he could hear the slight nervous tinge that slipped into his tone as he stared at his parents, utterly baffled and taken aback at what he just heard. He was sure his parents were kidding, but the stoic expressions on their faces had Calum’s gut twisting in dread.

“Does it look like we’re joking, Calum?” His mother responded, staring at her son in practiced disappointment. He was twenty-three years old, she shouldn’t have to treat him like he was some teenager making mistakes. Yet, here they were, doing exactly that because Calum hadn’t left them with any other choice.

Calum’s hands curled into fists, the same hands that had the initials of the very parents that were doing this to him tattooed on them, exhaling a sharp, affronted breath. “What the hell am I supposed to do in North Carolina?” he demanded, his voice that only carried a hint of his Australian accent deepening with the irritation that ran through his veins.

“Stay away from the limelight you’ve attracted to yourself,” his father answered, not at all perturbed by Calum’s annoyance as he nodded towards the several tabloid magazines on the table between them, all slapped with headlines and pictures of Calum that did not paint him, or his family, well. His dad lifted his chin, continuing, “Your grandparents already have a room ready for you; they expect you at the airport tomorrow evening.”

Calum couldn’t believe this. He loved his parents, he truly did, but having this being done to him made him seriously question their love for him. They would argue they weren’t doing this to him but for him, but in this moment it was all the same to Calum. So what if he got into some trouble here and there—that didn’t justify them sending him to a town that barely had the population of his alma mater. He may be out of school, but it was still the summer—Calum would be damned if he had to spend it in fucking Bridgelake, North Carolina. He wasn’t a child. They couldn’t just ship him off as a way of getting rid of the problem.

He crossed his arms over his chest, the short sleeves of his shirt straining against his muscles as he tautly stated,  You can’t make me go there, let alone spend the entire summer.”

“Actually, we can,” his dad countered smoothly, his accent thicker than his son’s as he pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, leaning back on the couch. Calum remained where he stood, only his gaze flickering towards his dad. “I still have control over your accounts and I’m freezing most of your assets.” Calum froze, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat at the news and muscles tightening in anger. “You’re lucky I’m even sending you across the country in first class. You’ll have limited access to your account; should you run out, your grandparents will give you an allowance as they see fit.”

Calum was sure there would be bruises left on his arms from how tightly he was gripping them, still crossed over his chest as he felt even the material of his rings biting into his skin. Was his dad serious? Part of Calum still hoped that this was some kind of prank his parents were pulling on him, but each passing second had the ball of dread sinking lower in his stomach and his anger over this whole thing spiking.

Before he could get another word out, his mother spoke up once more, this time her voice soft and carrying maternal gentleness. “Sweetheart, you’re out until odd hours of the night and you’re showing up to company events either high out of your mind or drunk off your feet. If you’re not doing that, you’re getting involved with some girl or another or getting kicked out of places for acting out. You’re bringing bad attention to your father’s company and more importantly, to yourself.”

A dull ache formed in Calum’s mouth from clenching his jaw so hard as his mother listed off everything he’s done in the past few months. The partying, the drinking, the drugs—he’s always done that, but he’s always been smart about it. But with each shot of whiskey, drag of a cigarette or hit of a blunt had more and more of Calum’s common sense slipping away and soon enough, he didn’t care who saw him doing what.

Though, he’s pretty sure the recent scandal of some girl he met once leaking messages, videos and pictures of a very nude Calum was the last straw for his parents.

Still, he couldn’t help but grumble, “What happened to there being no such thing as bad press?”

“You’re being careless,” his father snapped, making Calum tighten his jaw once more. “This decision is final, Calum. Maybe staying off the grid in a no-name town will help you realize there’s more to life than getting high or partying every Goddamn night. Besides, it’ll give you some time to spend with your grandparents—it’s been a while since you saw them.”

Calum exhaled sharply through his nose, aggravation running thicker than blood in his veins. He didn’t mind seeing his grandparents; he missed them a lot, actually. But the mere thought of leaving his Los Angeles home to stay in some small-ass North Carolina town for three months made him want to smoke three packs out. He was pissed and, frankly, mildly embarrassed that his parents were treating him like he was thirteen instead of twenty-three. But more so pissed because he had plans with his friends for the summer and now what? He was being dropped in the middle of nowhere?

Fucking hell.

                                           ✩✩✩✩✩

After a seven and a half hour flight with a stop in Charlotte, Calum’s plane finally landed in Wilmington, North Carolina around eight at night. The airport was ridiculously small—the plane from Charlotte to Wilmington didn’t even have first class, though since the flight was only an hour long, Calum didn’t mind too much. But when he greeted his grandfather with a hug after collecting his bags and stepped outside of the airport, a heavy sigh escaped him at the sight of the pouring rain. Los Angeles would never treat him this way.

Though, Calum would admit, the rain was definitely a startling depiction of his mood ever since his parents dropped this news on him.

“Oh, come on, pal. It’s not gonna be like this every day,” Grandpa Daniel assured Calum with a clap on his back, opening up the umbrella as the two of them made their way through the parking lot to where his car was parked. It wasn’t busy and not many people were around, so only the sound of rain pattering against the ground and the rattling of the luggage cart wheels could be heard. “You’ll see the sunshine soon.”

Calum hiked the strap of his duffel bag higher up on his shoulder, hands gripping the bar of the cart as he pushed it along. “It’s not L.A. sunshine,” he grumbled under his breath.

Grandpa Daniel heard him over the rain. “Sun’s the same everywhere, Cal. Only difference is you’ll see it here three hours sooner.”

Rolling his dark eyes, Calum didn’t say anything in response as they finally reached his grandfather’s station wagon, putting all of his luggage in the trunk and refusing Grandpa Daniel’s help before quickly making his way over to the front seat. He had his hood up under his leather jacket, which his grandfather made fun of him for wearing because who wore leather jackets and hoodies during the summer? Apparently Calum.

The drive from Wilmington to Bridgelake didn’t take too long, especially with Calum’s grandfather playing Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin through the car, but that didn’t stop Calum from drearily staring out the raindrop stained windows. They drove through the somewhat busy roads, the small houses and stores nothing but shadows in the night yet a sharp reminder to Calum that he wasn’t in Los Angeles anymore. Even during the night when no one was out and about because of the rain, Calum could see the difference in this town and the city he loved; the fact that it was raining on his first night here was probably a sign on how the rest of his so-called summer was going to go.

Shit, he couldn’t believe his parents did this to him.

It wasn’t long until his grandfather was pulling the car onto the gravel driveway of one story house that Calum couldn’t help but compare to a hotel suite. Correction—he’s stayed in suites larger than his grandparents’ home, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to tell them that. By the time they had arrived, the rain had slowed and the house was a shadowy structure save for the light Calum saw through the window on the house and on the front door.

This time Grandpa Daniel grasped Calum’s duffel and one of the suitcases while Calum carried the other two by the handles, following his grandfather up the steps as the mild drizzle pelted at his jacket and hood. “Here we are,” Grandpa Daniel breathed out, shooting his grandson, who was almost a head taller than him, a grin as he used his keys to unlock the front door. “Home sweet home.”

Calum took in a preparing breath. Not what he would call it.

                                              ✩✩✩✩✩

Olivia wished she was used to the stares that often followed her when she left the comfort of her home, feeling the judgmental gazes burning into her skin like they have been for the past four years. Sure, they weren’t as bad as when she was eighteen, but apparently some people still thought to visualize their opinions whenever Olivia came into view, and all she could do was ignore them and not feed into their contempt.

So she pasted on a smile, kept her head up as much as she could bring herself to, and went on with her day.

Still, that didn’t mean she couldn’t hear the two women standing at the end of the cereal aisle, glancing over at Olivia as if she was a different species. Olivia sighed. Perks of living in a town with a total population matching that of a small school in a big city. Some weren’t as bad as others; they either didn’t care enough to send a glare Olivia’s way every time she stepped out of her apartment or they had moved on altogether, but there would always be some people in Bridgelake that would hate seeing Olivia out and about in the same streets as them.

She could only hope her fourteen year old sister, Alana, wasn’t as hyper aware of others’ stares as she was.

“Alright, I got my Loopies, can we go now?” Alana smiled innocently as she dropped the box of Froot Loops into the cart, staring at her older sister with a hopeful expression.

Olivia raised bemused eyebrows, chin dropping slightly. “Okay, first of all—you’re fourteen. When are you gonna stop calling them Loopies?” Alana rolled her eyes, waving Olivia off, who continued, “And we still have half the grocery list left. Keep it moving.”

Alana’s shoulders dropped with a huff and Olivia had to suppress her amused smile. Her younger sister wasn’t really a fan of going grocery shopping—when whatever Alana wanted was in the cart, she was ready to leave, and sometimes the only way to quell her was to promise a McFlurry from the in-house McDonald’s up front.

Alana walked beside Olivia as she moved the cart along, making their way out of the aisle—they walked past the two women, who noticeably quieted as the two girls walked past and Olivia didn’t spare them a glance, her stomach twisting in annoyance—and towards the back of Walmart. But as they made their way to the wall of milk and juices, another cart made its way through an aisle to their left, causing Olivia to stop short so the two carts didn’t collide.

“Olivia, honey, almost ran right into you!” Came the voice of Claudia Hood, an elderly woman who adored Olivia and Alana as much as they adored her. She was in her late sixties but always on her feet, active especially at the animal shelter she ran. Olivia had met her years ago when she used to volunteer at the shelter when she was in high school, which Alana now volunteers at. “Already time for your weekly shopping, hmm?”

“Yeah,” Olivia responded before shooting her sister a dry smile. “Alana wasted all the eggs trying to bake a cake so, you know, it was time.”

Amusement danced in Claudia’s dark eyes, eyebrows raising. “Did it turn out well, at least?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

Alana scowled at Olivia for her negative answer, the older one just smiling innocently as Claudia laughed at the sisters. “My grandson arrived last night so I brought him with me to stock up on anything he may want to eat,” she informed with a shake of her head. “I’m getting all the healthy food and he’s off somewhere getting snacks.” Claudia then glanced around, a slight furrow in her eyebrows. “Though, he’s been off for some time. Wouldn’t be surprised if he’s gotten himself lost.”

Olivia raised her eyebrows at that, her maternal instincts derived from practically raising her sister for the past four years sending a tiny rush of worry through her at the thought of Claudia’s grandson being lost somewhere in here. Despite the size of the town, the Walmart here was intimidatingly big and easy to get lost in.

“Oh, there he is!” Claudia’s voice suddenly exclaimed, making Olivia look at her as she raised her hand, looking straight ahead as she called, “Calum, over here, love!”

Following Claudia’s gaze, Olivia had expected to see a young boy, maybe even a teenager, since Claudia had never disclosed her grandson’s age. What she hadn’t expected, however, was a six foot tall man with dark curls and tattoos inking his arm that carried some bags of chips and fingers decorated with rings that held a case of beer making his way over. Olivia blinked at the sight of the startlingly handsome guy who was probably around her age, with golden skin and deep, dark brown eyes, making his way down as if he owned the place and didn’t give a shit about it.

He had a bored expression on his face, plump lips pressed together as he approached them and dumped what he carried in his grandmother’s cart with a clatter. “Olivia, Alana, this is my grandson Calum,” Claudia introduced with a smile, gesturing to the man who was a good two heads taller than her. Maybe more. “Calum, this is Olivia and Alana.”

“Hi,” Alana chirped happily, while Olivia offered a polite smile of her own. Calum’s gaze flickered to the younger of the two, his lips twitching into the smallest of smiles, before he looked at Olivia. She felt herself stiffen slightly under his gaze, feeling as though he was looking right through her, and she forced herself to break his intense gaze. Olivia was used to people staring at her—she wasn’t used to people looking at her.

“He’s staying with us for the summer,” Claudia said, bringing Olivia’s attention back to the elderly woman, who smiled happily, “So you’ll be seeing lots of him around town.”

“‘M not exactly a social butterfly, Grams,” Calum’s low voice spoke, crossing his arms over his chest and Olivia tried not to notice how his biceps bulged under the tight black shirt that read GUCCI across his broad chest. She did, however, notice the hint of a lisp in his accented yet raspy voice; Olivia didn’t know someone’s voice could hold so many traits.

“Really, now?” Claudia raised an eyebrow, shooting her grandson an amused yet skeptical look as she clicked her tongue. “That’s not what your father tells me.”

Olivia’s eyebrows lifted curiously, if not by what Claudia said then by the reaction it elicited from Calum, which consisted of his sharp jaw clenching tightly—how could someone have baby-like chubby cheeks but a jaw sharp enough to cut glass?—while turning his head away from his grandmother. He almost reminded Olivia of a petulant child, which would be amusing if it weren’t for the muscle jumping in his jaw.

Calum, on the other hand, was seething with irritation because he didn’t need his dad talking to his grandparents about what Calum got up to. Let them see it on TV, the Internet, or on magazines like the rest of the world. Other people’s words were less incriminating than his own father’s. Calum knew he had no room to be angry about his grandparents learning what he had gotten up to—they may live in the middle of nowhere but they still had Internet and a TV, they could easily find out what Calum got himself wrapped up in—but the last thing he wanted was his parents gossiping to his grandparents about him.

His mood sour, more so than it already was, Calum’s jaw remained tight, ignoring the dull ache his teeth soon began experiencing. Olivia found herself looking at him again as Alana and Claudia talked about one of the dogs at the shelter, wondering what Claudia could’ve meant by her words that had gotten Calum so blatantly pissed off. She didn’t know him at all, but she knew an angry person when she saw one.

Calum just radiated a bad energy at this point, and Olivia felt a bit uncomfortable being around someone who looked like he’d rather be anywhere but here, too used to people giving that vibe when she was near, so Olivia quickly yet politely interrupted Claudia and Alana’s conversation. “Sorry, guys, but we still have some grocery left and gotta stop at the library before it closes,” Olivia smiled apologetically, thanking the universe that her excuse wasn’t really a lie. They did have to do those things and it was coming close to the public library’s closing time, but she hadn’t been in a rush until after meeting Calum.

“Oh, sure, sure, honey,” Claudia nodded, gesturing for the girls to run off.

Alana waved goodbye as Olivia pushed her cart forward, forcing herself to bring her gaze over to Calum, feeling her heart thump particularly harshly when she saw his dark eyed gaze already on her. She forced a smile on her face as she said, “It was nice meeting you, Calum.” He blinked before nodding once, not bothering with a verbal response. Jeez, what was up with him? Shooting a wider, more genuine smile to Claudia, Olivia added, “I’ll see you later!”

The two girls moved along after bidding goodbye, though Olivia could still hear Claudia admonish Calum behind her. “You could at least say a friendly goodbye, Calum. No grandson of mine is going to walk around as if he’s learned no manners.”

Olivia didn’t hear Calum’s response as they kept moving. She didn’t see Claudia or her grandson again as they continued shopping, though Olivia bit the inside of her cheek when she thought about him for a moment. He definitely looked like a city guy; tight shirt and jeans despite the eighty degree weather outside, and she had even noticed his expensive looking boots. Who wore polished black boots to Walmart?

“Claudia’s grandson’s cute, don’t you think?” Alana hummed as they finally got to the self-checkout, loading the items on the belt as Olivia scanned them.

Olivia shot her a glance, trying not to think of the dark eyes and inked skin. “Kind of old for you, isn’t he?”

Her fourteen year old sister rolled her eyes but Olivia didn’t miss the flush in her cheeks, once again trying to hide her amused grin as she double bagged the gallon of milk.

Bridgelake rarely ever got new residents, even if Calum was a temporary one for the summer, Olivia would be lying if she wasn’t curious about the new guy. Even if he did seem like he had a stick shoved up his ass. He was Claudia and Daniel’s grandson, and Olivia and Alana were close with them and enjoyed being around them. Especially because they were such happy, genuinely kind people and were two of the few people who didn’t turn Olivia and Alana away when the accident happened four years ago. So with grandparents like that, Olivia couldn’t help but wonder why Calum seemed to look like he perpetually woke up on the wrong side of the bed.

                                                 ✩✩✩✩✩

Calum could quite honestly name only two things that didn’t make his stay in Bridgelake as intolerable as it potentially could. The first thing was seeing his grandparents and the second was getting to hang out with their German Shepherd, Bruno. His mood remained sour since he arrived from the airport, but even Calum couldn’t keep the smile off his face when he greeted his grandfather at the airport and then his grandmother and Bruno at the house.

If there were two things that could put a smile on Calum’s face, it was family and dogs—even when the former were making him want to put his head through a wall.

He’s been in Bridgelake for three days, and was already fielding calls and messages left and right from his friends back in Los Angeles, asking him where the hell he was. Really, he told his three best friends already about his punishment, all of whom laughed their asses off at Calum’s expense, and everyone else was just wondering where their party provider friend ran off to. Calum sometimes wondered if those people were actually his friends or just wanted him around for the parties he threw and the alcohol he provided.

Technically, he knew the answer, but didn’t want to think about it.

But really—Calum would rather be partying it up with his real and fake friends back home than slouching in his grandfather’s La-Z-Boy, aggravated that he quite literally had nothing to do here. There was always something going on in Los Angeles, so Bridgelake being dryer than dirt was making Calum irrationally irritated. He liked being entertained, he liked going out in L.A. with his friends—none of which could happen here. Being left alone with his own thoughts was a pastime he’d rather not indulge himself in. Especially when they reminded him of how truly alone he was.

As if reading his lamenting mood, Calum’s grandfather spoke up, “You know Bridgelake may not be your fancy big city, but that doesn’t mean there’s nothing to do here, pal.”

Calum leaned his head back in the recliner haphazardly, as if it took too much effort to hold it up so he lolled it to sideways to raise a bemused eyebrow at Gramps, who was sitting on the couch to Calum’s right. “Oh, yeah?” he snorted in disbelief. “Like what?”

Gramps looked up from the book he was reading, gaze landing on Calum. “Well,” he began, taking off his reading glasses. “There’s the cinemas, a new bowling alley opened up a few months ago and—oh, there’s also the beach. That’s something you should definitely be familiar with, eh?”

Calum rarely ever went to the beach in Los Angeles, only when there was a bonfire or if someone was throwing a party at their beach house. But, really, was that list his grandfather just gave him supposed to impress him? It was pathetic—it was nothing. If Calum wanted, he could do all of that in one day and the rest of the three months would be spent in bored misery. “No clubs? Bars?”

His grandfather rolled his eyes. “Sorry to disappoint but we don’t have any of your Californian clubs here.” Then he pointed at Calum with his glasses. “We do have a few bars around town—though, they don’t open until five.”

It was only eleven-thirty in the morning and Calum was two seconds away from calling up his parents and demanding a flight back home. He might as well just smoke to keep himself entertained for a few moments. Calum let out a deep groan, sinking lower into the recliner as he stared up at the ceiling, eyes following the quick movements of the fan whirring around. “Why don’t you go to the shelter, then?” Gramps suggested with a sigh. “I’m sure your grams wouldn’t mind help with the animals.”

It was comical how Calum perked up at the mention of animals—some of the very few things that could put him in a good mood. Maybe being surrounded by little balls of fur would help distract him from being in this miserable town.

So Calum stood up with a huff, ignoring the satisfied expression on his grandfather’s face as he walked out of the living room, past the dining room and kitchen and headed down the end of the hall where his room was. Honestly, it was literally smaller than his bathroom back home, but he wasn’t going to tell his grandparents that. It baffled Calum how his family lived in a house that had a garage the size of his grandparents’ entire home, and they stuck to living in this small space. They had the money and the means, Calum knew, so living here was their choice. He didn’t—couldn’t—understand why.

Once he had put on his jeans, boots and favorite leather jacket over his Led Zeppelin shirt, he left the house after taking the keys to his grandfather’s truck that he was allowed to drive. It was rustic and a deep red color, the engine sputtering to life and not at all familiar to Calum’s ears since he was so used to hearing the roar of his BMW back home, but it’d have to do, he lamented.

The town was small and his grandfather had given him directions to the shelter, which was on First Street, so Calum drove with the air conditioner blasting against his face. It was hot out, and his outfit probably didn’t help, but Calum was used to the California heat so the North Carolina weather really was nothing in comparison.

He drove through the surprisingly busy streets, past houses, restaurants, salons, farmers markets and parks and he almost felt suffocated by how strong the small town vibe this place carried was. Sure, Los Angeles was packed with people and New York was even worse, but something about big cities comforted Calum. He could feel lost and have his own headspace if he wanted, even if eventually his face ended up in front of some tabloid or another. Small towns may be isolated, but even inside them a person had a low chance of getting lost amongst everyone else unlike in a big city. Small towns weren’t as private as his cities were.

It wasn’t hard to find his grandmother’s animal shelter; right in between a bookstore and a photography one, with a blue and white sign labeled New Homes with a paw print in the corner of it. Finding a parking space, Calum stepped out with sunglasses shielding his eyes, shoving the keys in his jeans pocket as he stepped onto the sidewalk before pushing open the door.

Immediately, the many smells of an abundance of animals greeted Calum’s nose, as well as the occasional barking and meowing that overpowered any other sound. It was a spacious place, with the left and right walls lined up with little dens for cats and dogs, roomy enough for them to fit in comfortably with a caged gate to keep them inside. There were playpens in the middle and a counter in the front where all the paperwork was done, and there was a doorway in the back that led to the bathing area, behind the shelves of pet food, toys, and other care products for sale.

Calum took off his sunglasses, taking in the sight of two young kids sitting in one of the playpens, overjoyed to be playing with labrador puppies, and a few adults looking around as he hung his glasses on his neckline. He instantly felt himself drawing closer to the dens where the dogs were, the biggest ones on the ground and the smaller ones higher up on the shelf.

“Hi, buddy,” he murmured quietly, sticking his fingers through one of the den cages where a basset hound sat, tilting his head towards Calum’s fingers to brush up against them. The corner of Calum’s lips tugged up at the puppy trying to get closer to him even with the cage separating them. “You’re pretty cute, huh?”

“Calum, honey,” his grandmother’s voice sounded, making his hand drop from the cage, much to the puppy’s dismay as Calum turned around, watching as his grandmother smiled and made her way over. “Dan told me you were coming. Got bored of sitting around the house, hm?” she asked knowingly, raising a pointed eyebrow.

Calum shoved his fists into the pockets of his leather jacket, feeling the cool metal of his bracelets on either wrist rest against his skin. “Something like that,” he vaguely responded, his attention drawn towards the playpen when the young girl let out a delighted squeal because a puppy was happily licking at her face. Even Calum had to admit it was a heartwarming sight.

“Can you do me a favor, love?” Grams brought his attention back, making him look down at the short woman with dark blonde hair speckled with grey. He lifted his eyebrows silently. “Head off into the back storage room and there’s bags of dog food sitting on a top shelf. Can’t miss it. Bring over two and put them on that shelf over there, will you?”

He wanted to tell her he was just here to see the animals, not be put to work, but the hopeful look on his grandmother’s face had him swallowing his words. So with a nod, he turned to head to the back room, though he still rolled his dark eyes in exasperation. Calum passed all of the other animals, weaving through some of the people loitering around the store as he entered the back. He walked past a bathing area, nose wrinkling at the unsurprising smell of wet dog before reaching another door, where he saw an abundance of products that he saw some of in the actual store.

Catching sight of the large packages of food, Calum picked up two of them and hoisted them on his right shoulder effortlessly, right hand resting on top of it to keep the two pile steady as he made his way back. Once he spotted the shelf he was supposed to put them on, he put the two packages there on display, habitually dusting his hands off together as he turned to make his way back to where his grandmother was, though stopping when the shop door swung open and in came two familiar faces.

It was the two girls from Walmart the other day. Calum had to admit, the older one was ridiculously attractive with brilliant blue eyes, sharp cheekbones and full lips Calum couldn’t help but notice. She—Olivia, her name Calum remembered—was definitely a sight for sore eyes in a town like this, and while Calum had the opportunity to be a decent human being to her, his sour mood prompted him to keep his mouth shut when she appeared. His grandmother had given him an earful for that.

Calum watched as Olivia entered the store behind her younger sister, Alana, who wore the same light blue shirt the other workers in the store did. The two talked to his grandmother for a bit before Alana went off to the side to the cages, leaving just Olivia with his grams as he made his way over.  

“—can’t really afford it, so she wanted me to ask you if she could increase her volunteering hours just by a little bit,” Olivia was saying as Calum leisurely made his way over, watching as the brunette ran her fingers through her wavy hair to push it back. She let out a quiet sigh. “I promised her she could go next year, but she was still pretty disappointed and I feel bad.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you’re doing such a wonderful job raising her—I’m sure Alana understands,” Grams reassured with a smile, giving Olivia’s hand a squeeze right behind she noticed Calum’s presence once he reached them. “Oh, Olivia, you remember my grandson.”

As if I could forget. Olivia smiled at him, the same smile she offered at Walmart that Calum hadn’t even bothered to return, and didn’t feel inclined to do so now because of the heavy weight on his shoulders. His grandmother delivered a sharp yet subtle jab to his side, causing the 6’1” man to grimace slightly before forcing a small smile. “Yeah, good to see you again,” Olivia greeted kindly.

She came off as kind of shy, Calum couldn’t help but observe, especially with how her fingers were fiddling with the strap of her purse. He also noticed how Olivia wore little to no makeup, which was quite a difference from the many women he knew back at home, and while that wasn’t something Calum noticed nor cared about, he couldn’t help but think how Olivia was one of the most attractive girls he’s ever seen.

Calum wanted to snort at himself; what was he supposed to do with that thought? Then again, he figured if he was going to suffer in Bridgelake for three months, then he might as well have something nice to look at.

Suddenly Grams let out a small laugh. “Looks like the retriever pups are having a field day with Alana.”

Calum looked at his grandmother, seeing that she was looking past him and followed her gaze where he saw Alana cradling two of the Golden Retriever puppies, who were happily licking away at her face. “They’re livin’ the dream,” Calum’s low voice sounded, eyes on the sight. He wasn’t sure if he meant his words of if they were supposed to be some kind of sarcastic dig at the fact that he’s most certainly not living his dream in this town.

Olivia peered at him, taking in the curly tousle of his hair and the sharp line of his jaw as he stood tall with shoulders squared and hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. Seriously—how was he wearing that in eighty degree weather? She felt constricted in the capris she was currently wearing. “Yeah,” Olivia found herself slowly speaking, wondering if he was up for holding a conversation. She wasn’t sure if Calum wasn’t the talkative type or if his obvious dislike of the town had him keeping to himself. “Our apartment building doesn’t allow pets so Alana gets her fill volunteering here.”

The smallest of smiles curled at Calum’s lips hearing that, gaze flickering to Olivia. She was also watching Alana, and just by the fond look on her face Calum could tell how much she loved her sister. It made Calum miss his own, who was living her life in New York, as he pursed his lips. Maybe if his parents hadn’t sent him here he could’ve gone to see her.

“Anyways, I should get going to work,” Olivia said, shooting Claudia a smile. “I’ll be back during my lunch break to pick her up.”

Calum watched as Grams shot Olivia a mildly exasperated look. “You know Alana likes staying here for more than just a few hours, especially now that her hours are going to increase,” she said with a light laugh. “I’m more than willing to drop her home.”

Olivia’s lips parted and for a brief second Calum saw the hopeful look flash across her eyes before she worried, “Are you sure?”

Grams shot her a look. “Olivia.”

Then the blue eyed girl grinned, taking a relieved breath as she hiked her bag higher up on her shoulder. “Alright, thank you, Claudia,” Olivia breathed as she walked backwards towards the door. “I’ll see you,” she added with a wave as Grams called back a goodbye and Calum merely pulled at the front of his jacket, hands still fisted into the pocket, as a makeshift wave.

Calum watched after her as she disappeared down the sidewalk, unable to process even a single thought since his grandmother sighed next to him. “Such a hardworking girl, bless her heart.”

He glanced at her, quirking an eyebrow as she moved over to the counter, opening up a binder full of lists that Calum didn’t spare a look at as he lazily followed Grams. “So you, uh, know her well?”

Grams hummed, eyes on the binder. “Oh, yes, for a few years now. It’s unfair what’s happened to her and her sister.”

Calum blinked, unsure of what she meant as he glanced over his shoulder where Alana was playing with the puppies before asking confusedly, “What do you mean?”

A sigh left Grams, left arm folded on top of the counter as she looked up at her grandson. “There was a horrible accident four years ago,” she began quietly, voice lowered so no one else would listen in as Calum found himself leaning in slightly. “The girls’ parents were involved. Their father, Sid, was drunk and had gotten behind the wheel. Swerved into another vehicle and ended up injuring one of the other people involved, and killing three others. One of them was the girls’ mother, Jana.”

Eyes wide, Calum stared at his grandmother in disbelief, her words an unexpected head spinner. That was definitely he hadn’t seen coming, and suddenly Calum’s chest felt tight as he thought of Olivia and Alana, and how he couldn’t possibly imagine what they must have felt, what they must feel, with a past like that.

Grams had a sad, heartbroken look in her eye, gaze distant as her brows furrowed slightly. “Sid’s serving a fifteen to life sentence. Olivia was eighteen when it happened so she got custody of Alana, since the poor girls had no family to take them in. They stayed with a family friend but their mum and grandparents left money for them so Olivia sold their family home and got an apartment for herself and Alana. Been raising her sister ever since.”

He didn’t know Olivia or Alana, but Calum’s jaw dangerously tightened at Grams’ words, feeling a heaviness in his chest at the thought of the two girls being alone after something as horrible as that. Calum couldn’t even imagine what it would be like to live in a world where their father was imprisoned for unintentionally killing their mother, and an uncomfortable shiver traveled down his spine. He didn’t want to even think about something like that; the fact that it was those girls’ lives was horrific, gut twisting uneasily as his throat worked to keep it from tightening.

“But it’s a small town,” Grams continued, bringing Calum’s attention back to her, watching as her thin eyebrows furrowed together in a distasteful frown as she shook her head. “People talk—they haven’t stopped. Many see Olivia and Alana and it’s a reminder that their father killed three people they all knew and loved, even if one of them was the girls’ mother. Give the poor things nasty eyes as if it’s their fault everything happened. People talk and stare and Olivia hears and sees it all and all she does is keep a smile and mind her own business and look after her sister. For someone who’s only twenty-two, she’s been doing an amazing job with Alana. I just wish people would let them be.” she sighed, a dismayed expression washing over her aged face. “That’s one of the harsh things about living in a place as small as Bridgelake—everyone knows everyone and when something like that happens, they never stop talking about it.”

That’s one thing he loved about Grams—and Gramps—that they were both laid back. They had done their duty with Calum’s dad, raising him to be the best he could be, which he did by becoming a successful entrepreneur who owned hundreds of hotels and banks around the world and was constantly attributing his career to his parents, and weren’t at all judgemental or strict or anything like that.

As Grams’ words settled in Calum’s mind, his hands clenched into tighter fists in the pockets of his jacket. Calum was used to having people talk about him, what with him being on every gossip site and magazine issue weekly, but that didn’t mean it didn’t annoy the shit out of him or that he enjoyed people staring at him as if he was an exhibit at the zoo. Some people, his parents sometimes included, thought he was purposefully getting drunk or high or caught doing the walk of shame from one girl’s house to another for the attention when in reality, he was just trying to live his damn life. But of course everyone needed a picture, needed a story to publish, and they were all about him being a party animal with girls hanging off each arm. Not too shabby, sure, but certainly annoying. Certainly the kind of person his parents weren’t too proud of.

He hated the tabloids talking about him—he was well aware he could just stopping putting himself into those situations but he just didn’t want to because he didn’t want to live by anyone’s standards but his own—and he wondered if that’s how Olivia felt with the people in this small-ass town gossiping about her. It was a horrible thing that happened, but it wasn’t her or her sister’s fault. How did everyone blaming them for it make any sense?

And when Grams told him how Olivia’s just kept her head held high in the face of the disapproval stares and plastered a smile on her face for the sake of her sister, told him how she tried to protect Alana as best as she could, Calum felt a twinge of guilt scratching at his gut. He knew he had come off as standoffish and rude towards Olivia. He may have a partying problem and Bridgelake may be the last place on Earth he wants to be, but Calum Hood wasn’t an asshole. At least, not to people who didn’t deserve it. And Olivia most certainly didn’t. Not when all she was trying to do was make a life for herself and her sister.

                                              ✩✩✩✩✩

Olivia shot her best friend, Addy, an exasperated look, who merely returned it with her blue eyes widening hopefully and lower lip jutting out pleadingly. But Olivia averted her gaze, cheek resting against her palm as she ate her Chinese food.

“Come on, Liv, you’ve got no plans and Alana has a sleepover,” Addy begged, sitting across from her at the small. They were both on their lunch break from work, sitting outside at one of the local Chinese restaurants under an umbrella to shield them from the mid afternoon sun. “We haven’t gotten dumb drunk in so long, it’ll be great!”

Olivia’s lips pursed, quirking an unimpressed eyebrow as she swallowed her spoonful of fried rice and orange chicken. “You’re not really selling that too well. I don’t wanna get dumb drunk.”

“Why not?” Addy pouted, her voice a high pitched whine that made Olivia’s lips twitch into a smile. “You’re literally going to be sitting in your living room binge watching Suits for the millionth time. If you ask me, getting drunk with your best friend sounds so much more appealing.”

“Not if Alana wants me to pick her up or something,” Olivia countered pointedly. When her sister was younger, she’d end up calling in the middle of the night because she couldn’t sleep anywhere but her own bed. But over the years Alana became better about sleeping over her friends’ houses, but Olivia would rather be sober for the night just in case Alana’s issues rose up against and she needed to be picked up. And since Uber wasn’t a big thing in Bridgelake and Alana hated bothering her friends’ parents, Olivia was her only ride.

Addy threw her head back with a groan, frustration with her best friend’s refusal of joining her nighttime outing. It’s not like she and Olivia didn’t hang out often—they always did, especially after Addy returned from school since she was a year younger—but their meetups mostly consisted of grabbing lunch or dinner. But Addy yearned for a fun girls night out at the local bar, which there weren’t many of because after her mom’s death, Olivia didn’t drink as often, especially when her sister was under her care.

Sure, Addy had managed to drag Olivia all the way to Charlotte for a concert a few months ago and left Alana under Claudia and Daniel Hood’s care, but Addy couldn’t help but miss her best friend. She was well aware that Olivia’s responsibilities had changed since four years ago, forced to grow up a lot quicker than everyone else their age, but Addy would be lying if she said she wasn’t a little bit selfish.

Glancing at Addy, Olivia felt her chest tighten guiltily at the disappointed expression on her best friend’s face, rolling her lips into her mouth as she thought for a moment. She hadn’t had a proper night out in a bar in a long time, always opting to drink some wine in her apartment with Addy or by herself, which irreversibly meant either Addy would have to find someone else to go with her to the bar when she wanted to or wouldn’t go at all, settling for a night in with Olivia and sometimes Alana. Addy, and her family, have done so much for Olivia and Alana; letting them stay with them when the accident happened and having them over for every holiday and anything else. Maybe one night at a bar wouldn’t hurt.

“Alright, fine,” Olivia relented as she put down her fork, and Addy’s head snapped up, eyes widening in anticipation. “I’ll go but I can’t promise getting dumb drunk. Maybe slightly tipsy, but not out of my mind, okay?”

Hours later, Olivia wasn’t regretting her agreement of coming to the bar with Addy. Alana had assured her she would be fine at the sleepover, and while it was a Thursday night, the bar was still busy. Temperance was one of the two bars in town, the other one being all the way by the shore towards the outer part of Bridgelake, so Olivia and Addy frequented and preferred Temperance because of its proximity. If Olivia was being honest, she’d say she liked when the dive bar was so busy; lots of people in town would be gathered there for drinks or a round of pool or something, and sometimes it made her think that they lived in a big city with so many people in there rather than a practical village.

And while Olivia wasn’t exactly a well-liked person in their town, she still enjoyed being around people, didn’t really shrink under their gaze. You know. . . So long as they didn’t scowl at her too much. Though, her smile was a trained mask that always remained to fool.

Music mixed from the seventies and eighties played through the speakers, joining in with the hum of patrons chattering and the clinking of pool balls, as Olivia and Addy sat in a small booth along the wall. They had taken two shots of tequila and while Grace was nursing a cosmo, Olivia had opted for a Bacardi and coke—though, heavier on the coke in an attempt to overtake the disgustingly bitter taste of Bacardi.

“Is he good looking, though?” Addy asked with a raise of her eyebrows, lowering her glass as the curious expression overtook her face.

Olivia had just finished telling her about Calum, since Addy had been out of town visiting her grandparents and Olivia didn’t really want to tell her about Daniel and Claudia’s visiting grandson over the phone. She preferred having in-person conversations. “Ridiculously,” Olivia answered truthfully, making Addy blink excitedly as she sat up. “Tall, dark curly hair, golden skin with tattoos. . .” Addy grinned widely, thrilled at this new man-candy that just landed in their boring town. “But he’s kind of, like, in a perpetual state of annoyance.”

Addy tilted her head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“Like,” Olivia paused, sucking in a breath as she tried to gather her thoughts and leaned back in the booth, hands outstretched to hold her glass. “I mean, I only saw him twice but both times he looked irritated as fuck. He looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here, honestly.”

Snorting, Addy raised her glass to her mouth once more, shooting Olivia a pointed look over the rim as she returned, “Can you blame him?” before taking a sip. “We live in Bumfuck, North Carolina.”

Olivia shrugged, her gaze wandering around the upbeat, packed bar that seemed to be lively with energy. “I’m used to it,” she mused.

“You don’t ever think of leaving? Living somewhere in a city with more than a schoolyard population?”

“I mean, if there’s an opportunity or if it’ll be good for Alana, then I’d be down to leave,” Olivia answered, returning her gaze to Addy’s blue eyes. “But I’m not actively looking to leave, you know? Can’t really afford it, anyways,” she added with a mumble as she brought her glass up. “Though, getting away from everyone here wouldn’t be the worst thing.”

Addy nodded in understanding as Olivia took a sip of her drink, thinking over her words which were honest and true. Bridgelake may not be the most popular or bustling town, but it was home, and she liked it here. Despite everything that happened, and despite the fact that there were some people around her that shunned her for her father’s mistake. She understood their anger, knew where it was coming from, but it’s not like it was her and her sister that poured the alcohol down his throat or forced him to get behind the wheel.

Nonetheless, there still was a small pool of guilt that he took the lives of two other people, yet some townsfolk seemed to forget that she lost her mother, too. And every time she thought about that—which was everyday—Olivia felt her throat tighten more and more until she couldn’t breathe.

But there were still people in town that still loved her, looked after and cared for her and Alana. Olivia didn’t mind living in Bridgelake, she had a comfortable life, but if given a good enough reason to leave, she wouldn’t let the opportunity slip by without sparing it a thought or two.

She chatted with Addy some more about mundane topics; their jobs, some gossip they read about their favorite celebrities online or the latest town gossip. Addy took another sip of her drink, feeling warmth pool in her stomach because that’s all she consumed, as her gaze flickered past Olivia and towards the door of the bar which just opened.

“Oh, hey, it’s Mr. Hood—oh, my God, that’s his grandson?” Addy demanded, her eyes widening and jaw slackening at the sight in front of her.

Olivia sat up at her best friend’s stunned expression and words, looking over her own shoulder and blinking in realization because, yes, Daniel Hood just walked into the bar with his tall grandson in tow. She watched as Daniel greeted a number of patrons at the bar, shaking hands and grinning before gesturing over to the looming figure behind him, most likely introducing everyone to Calum.

Who, in turn, nodded and shook hands in greeting, left hand still shoved into the pocket of his leather jacket yet a small smile curled politely at his lips. The lighting in the bar consisted of overhead lamps above each booth, lights on the bar and the ones above the pool area, and as Calum and his grandfather sat on the available seats on the side of the bar facing Olivia, she couldn’t help but admire how soft the glow of the yellow lights made his skin appear almost golden.

“Yeah, that’s Calum,” Olivia finally confirmed with a nod.

Addy turned to look back at Olivia, since she had turned in her seat to unabashedly follow Daniel and Calum’s movements as they sat behind her. Olivia wanted to laugh at the wide eyed, dropped jaw look on her best friend’s face. Addy looked absolutely stunned. “That’s gotta be the hottest guy I’ve seen in my life,” she stated, her voice a rushed whisper as she leaned forward on the table. She threw another look over her shoulder. “Holy hell.”

Letting out a laugh, Olivia took another sip of her drink, nodding her head along slightly in agreement. Addy wasn’t wrong—Calum was startlingly good looking. Olivia noticed some of the other women in the bar look over at him, his presence demanding to be acknowledged even by him merely sitting on a barstool. She never met anyone who just drew attention to themselves without meaning to, so effortlessly.

“He really does look like he’d rather be anywhere else in the world,” Addy added with a snort, leaning back in the booth. “He also looks kind of familiar, which is weird because I don’t think I’d ever forget a face like that.”

Olivia raised a confused eyebrow and looked over at Calum once again, taking in the indifferent expression on his face as his ring clad fingers wrapped around a bottle of beer, not even bothering to take part in the conversation his grandfather was having with the two men sitting with them. His dark eyes were lazily wandering over his surroundings, taking in the old movie and band posters on the walls and the shelves of liquor behind the bar, not looking particularly impressed with anything. As for why he looked familiar to Addy, Olivia had no clue, and neither did the girl herself. Where could she have possibly seen Calum before?

Narrowing her eyes at him, the words slipped out of Olivia’s mouth before she could stop them. “He looks like he’s got a stick shoved up his ass.”

Addy nearly choked on her drink, letting out a laugh as she covered her mouth with her napkin and stared at Olivia in amusement. Her best friend rarely ever said anything negative about anyone—especially when she knew first hand what it was like to hear people talking shit about her—so when Olivia uttered the smallest of insults directed at someone, Addy found it a lot funnier than it was. Ever since the accident and everyone giving Olivia and Alana the evil eye, Olivia did her best to ignore it and focus on the positives, especially to put on a brave face for her sister. Olivia was a sweetheart, and if anyone acted out with her, she would just put on a fake smile and move along. Wherease Addy would tell them to fuck right off and not look at her best friend and her sister like that again; sometimes she wished Olivia would stick up for herself more.

“He sticks out like a sore thumb,” Addy hummed, drawing her attention back to Calum.

Olivia agreed, eyes once again finding the dark haired man. She watched as he raised the bottle to his lips, taking in the sharp line of his jaw and the strong column of his throat as he drank the beer. He made a distasteful expression as he drank it, clearly not happy with the taste. Calum stood out in not just the way he looked but the way he dressed; everyone in Bridgelake’s attire consisted of summer shorts and tees because of the hot weather and humidity, along with truckers caps because of the popular rest stop just a few miles out of town. And then there was Calum, dressed in pants, expensive looking boots and a leather jacket that had Olivia’s body temperature rising just by looking at it.

Suddenly, as if feeling her gaze on him, Calum’s head ticked over a smidge, dark eyes meeting Olivia’s green ones from across the bar, causing her to straighten in her seat at the sudden eye contact. She saw the mild recognition flash across his face, brief and gone within a second, and she would be lying if she said she didn’t feel a bit surprised when Calum tipped his bottle towards her in acknowledgment before busying himself on his phone. It wasn’t much, but at least he greeted her in a way. It was something.

“You should talk to him,” Addy suggested, taking in that interaction and cracking a smile when Olivia stared at her in confusion. “What? You’re close with his grandparents and you’ve seen him, like, three times now.”

If anything, Olivia’s bewilderment intensified. “So that means I walk over and talk to him? He doesn’t look like he wants to talk.”

Addy shrugged. “Maybe he just needs a friend.”

Olivia raised an eyebrow, one corner of her lips curling up into a suspicious smile. “And that friend has to be me?” Addy shrugged as if to say sure, why not? Olivia rolled her eyes. “Not tonight. I’m here with you; I’ll befriend the moody Australian some other day.”

Addy grinned excitedly. “Promise?”

“Just finish your cosmo.”

                                                    ✩✩✩✩✩

The shrill sound of Olivia’s phone ringing interrupted the sound of Brooklyn Nine-Nine playing on the television in the living room where Alana was watching it, and Olivia put her plate in the dishwasher before drying her hands and answering Addy’s call. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Hey, oh my God—I figured out why Calum seemed so familiar!” Addy’s voice rang through, not even bothering with a proper greeting.

Quirking an eyebrow, Olivia pressed the phone between her ear and shoulder as she loaded the dishwasher. If she was being honest, it had slipped her mind that Addy had commented that she recognized Calum the other day at the bar. “And why’s that?”

“He’s the son of David Hood!”

Olivia blinked. “Who?” Was that name supposed to mean something to her?

Addy clicked her tongue impatiently. “He’s the CEO and owner of Hood Tower Hotels! They own hotels and resorts around the world and are, like, super rich. Holy shit, I didn’t know Mr. and Mrs Hood’s family were a bunch of millionaires!”

Olivia prided herself in not letting the plate slip out of her grasp at Addy’s words, eyes widening in stunned surprise at this piece of information. Millionaires? If that was true, what the hell were Claudia and Daniel doing living in a town as small and insignificant as Bridgelake? Surely they had the money to live anywhere they wanted, and they chose this place? Did anyone else know about their family? Sure, it was none of Olivia’s business, but she would be lying if she said she wasn’t curious. She’s known these people for years and not once did they mention anything like this.

Though, she didn’t blame them, really. If Olivia or her family had that much money, she wouldn’t go around announcing it to everyone she met.

“There’s more,” Addy’s conspiratorial voice pulled Olivia out of her thoughts, making her quickly shut the dishwasher and dry her hands before leaning against the counter. “Apparently Calum’s gotten, like, a ton of articles written and pictures and videos of him partying it the fuck up. I’m talking, like, drunk off his ass, videos of him smoking pot and even, like pics and videos of him leaked by some girl he’d been hooking up with.”

Olivia’s mouth dropped, staring at the opposite wall of the kitchen where a square table for four sat in absent astonishment, processing Addy’s words. In the living room, she could hear Alana laughing at the show she was watching, oblivious to her sister in the midst of trying to process this information. Calum was from Los Angeles, Olivia knew, and from what Addy told her, it seemed like he lived that lifestyle in its full experience.

Honestly, it was surprising that that’s the kind of person Calum was. He seemed so withdrawn and quiet every time Olivia came across him that the fact he was that much of a partier seemed almost unbelievable. And he had pictures and videos of him leaked by some hook up? Olivia didn’t have to wonder what kinds those would be. If all of that, plus the drinking and weed, warranted for articles to be written about him that told the entire world of his activities, then Olivia couldn’t help but feel bad for Calum. He was a young adult living his life—he shouldn’t have to be judged for any of that by the world. She knew what it was like to have eyes and whispers follow you everywhere you go, but it was a whole new level in Calum’s case.

Was that why he kept to himself since arriving here? Olivia wondered if his life being exposed to everyone made Calum Bridgelake’s new recluse. But then Addy told her how right before Calum arrived to town, there had been articles and pictures concerning him getting kicked out of some restaurant for drunk and disorderly behavior. So it seemed that Calum wasn’t as much of a hermit as he was presenting himself to be.

Safe to say, Olivia’s curiosity and confusion regarding the Australian only intensified.

Moments later, Alana’s footsteps came running into the kitchen as she called, “Olivia!” The elder of the two turned around, Addy still on the line, as Alana held her phone up. “Mrs. Hood just called me—she said she tried calling you but the line was busy.”

“Oops,” Addy said on the line.

Olivia raised an eyebrow. “What did she want?”

Then Alana grinned excitedly, bouncing on her heels. “She invited us over for dinner tonight. Said she’s gonna make a trifle for dessert!”

The thought of having dinner at Claudia’s house brought a smile to Olivia’s face, but then she suddenly remembered the new guest living in that house and Olivia’s mouth dried slightly. Addy gasped, seemingly having the same idea as she needlessly pointed out, “Oh, my God—you’re gonna have dinner with an L.A. boy!”

                                                ✩✩✩✩✩    

Familiar brown eyes stared back at Calum, full of a warmth and happiness that had him wondering if it was still there. Did people still see those things when they looked at him now, as opposed to when he was a young kid, like in this picture? He, for some reason, found himself lingering in the hallway of his grandparents’ home near the staircase, having just used the bathroom and absently stopping in front of the wall that had many pictures hung up.

They were all of his grandparents, aunts and uncles, parents, cousins, his sister and himself. The photograph Calum was currently staring at was one of himself, probably around four or five in age and a wide grin on his chubby cheeks, sitting on his grandfather’s lap. For the life of him he couldn’t remember when or where the picture was taken, but he still found himself smiling at it. He’d been here for nearly a week now, and hadn’t even stopped to look at the pictures until now.

“You know. . .” A hesitating, familiar voice sounded, prompting Calum to glance to his right where Olivia had entered the hallway. She and her sister had arrived to a dinner his grandmother had invited them to, which apparently wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Calum regarded her for a moment as she neared, pretty in a casual pale yellow sundress and a denim jacket on top, until she came to stand next to him. She was so much shorter than him, which was different, because a lot of the girls Calum knew back at home came up at least to his eyes or something. Olivia barely grazed his shoulders. “For a town as small as this one, you’re pretty good at hiding out. Are you trying to be the new Bridgelake recluse because we already have one. His name’s Mr. Dobrosky; he lives next to the public library and tries to steal books from the drop-off box.”

Oh, my God—seriously? Olivia tried not to cringe. Did she really have nothing better to talk about than poor old Mr. Dobrosky and his sticky fingers? In her defense, she didn’t know what to talk about with Calum because even though Addy had filled her in on some of his activities back in California, that didn’t mean she knew him as a person—just what he got up to with his friends. Olivia was just trying to do what Addy had told her to: befriend him. But she doubted comparing him to Mr. Dobrosky was going to help her in that case.

But, much to her surprise, Olivia watched Calum shrug his broad shoulders lightly, eyes trained on the pictures in front of them. She followed his gaze. How had she not connected that one of the little boys in the photos she’s seen a hundred times was him? In a low, cool voice Calum responded, “Not much to do around here that makes me want to leave the house.”

Olivia tilted her head to the side slightly. “How do you know what’s there to do if you don’t leave the house?” she countered with a life of a perfectly plucked brow, her tone taking a challenging, playful lilt to it that even surprised herself.

Brown eyes flickered to meet green as Calum turned to face her properly, tilting his head and answered her question with one of her own, “What is there to do in this small town?”

“Lots of things,” was Olivia’s instant reply, trying not to get too excited over the fact that Calum finally said more than three words to her, allowing her to hear a bit of his accent. He was quiet, contrary to what Addy had informed her of his partying habits, and that somehow made Olivia want to hear from him. “There’s a movie theater and an old drive-in theater that still runs, a bunch of parks that are good for jogging, the beach, a lake where you can go canoeing, the library—”

“Where Mr. Dobrosky tries to steal books from?” Calum cut her off with a quip, a smirk curling at his lips as he raised his eyebrows at her. His gaze was fixed on her face and the way she pressed her lips together to suppress the smile threatening to appear.

Olivia, on the other hand, picked up on the mirth dancing in his dark irises, feeling strangely giddy to see something other than casual indifference he’d been sporting since she met him. He was joking around with her, kind of. “Yeah,” she affirmed, letting go of her fingers behind her back and gesturing absently with one hand. “Charlotte’s also only a couple hours’ drive from here; there’s lots of museums there and lots of musicians come for their tour to the Music Pavillion and The Fillmore.”

She hoped she didn’t sound like some kind of pressuring weirdo, telling Calum all the things he could do. That wasn’t strange, right? She was just being friendly, like Addy had suggested for her to do. No harm in informing Calum of the places he could go to while he was here, right?

Apparently Calum didn’t think so as he lifted his chin a little. “D’you go to lots of concerts there?”

“A couple, yeah,” Olivia answered with a nod and a small smile. “I went to see The Weeknd a couple of months ago with my best friend. It was fun but. . .” She trailed off with a small shrug. “Coming back home was rough.”

Calum’s thick brows furrowed. “How come?”

Olivia’s eyes were trained on the photographs on the wall in front of them, taking in the familiar pictures of Claudia and Daniel’s family. Something in her heart tugged, remembering all of the pictures she took with her sister and parents before everything went to shit, and a ghost of a sad smile tilted her lips. “I don’t really like being away from Alana for too long. Your grandparents watched her while I went but I wanted to get back as soon as the show was over. Except showing up at their doorstep at four in the morning seemed like a dick move.”

She chuckled nervously—why did talking to Calum make her nervous?—as she thought of that night a few months ago. The concert had ended around half past midnight and she and Addy had driven to Charlotte for it. Addy was exhausted and wanted to stay at a motel for the night, even though Olivia wanted to get home for Alana. But Addy reminded her that traffic would be awful, and by the time they’d get back to Bridgelake it’d be four in the morning. So Olivia reluctantly stayed in Charlotte, sending Alana a text that she’d see her in the morning. She hated leaving her sister for too long. Their parents were gone, and Olivia didn’t want Alana to feel any kind of loss again.

Honestly, Olivia panicked over the distance between her and Alana before giving her little sister a chance to.

Then Olivia wondered if Calum knew about her parents, knew if she was Alana’s legal guardian, and quickly explained in case he didn’t, “It’s just the two of us so, like, I’m not fond of leaving her that much.”

There. That was straightforward and to the point, right? She didn’t care if Calum asked about her parents, it was public knowledge, and while she was ashamed of her father’s actions and she missed her mom so fucking much, that topic of conversation wasn’t taboo. Sure as hell wasn’t for the people of Bridgelake.

But Calum didn’t ask, not when he already knew the answer. Not when he already knew Olivia’s mum was dead because of her father’s mistake and that she and her sister were practically social pariahs in this town. His jaw clenched at the thought, especially when he thought of the fourteen year old he could hear giggling in the living room with his grandparents. Neither of them deserved this.

For a strange moment, Calum wondered where Olivia worked, if her job provided enough for her and her sister. Calum was never one to hold down a job—why would he even need one, with how much money his family has?—and he wasn’t interested in much. His parents—despite sending him across the country for his behavior—weren’t hard asses and didn’t expect Calum or his sister to take over the family business someday, so he didn’t have to worry over that.  He used to play soccer in high school until that merely became a hobby and something he was good at, and was admittedly interested in music. Both in writing and producing it, and in that moment he cursed himself for not bringing his guitar or bass with him to North Carolina. Maybe he could ask his parents to send it over.  

But money had never been an issue for Calum, and when he recalled the portion of the conversation between Olivia and his grandmother he heard at the shelter the other day, of her not being able to afford something for Alana, Calum felt a stab of sympathy. He never had to worry about not being able to afford something.

“Dinner’s ready, everyone!” His grandmother’s voice sounded throughout the house, and soon enough everyone was gathered in the dining room.

Gramps at the head, Olivia and Alana on one side and Calum sitting across from Olivia next to his grandmother on the other. The aroma of the food was delicious, effectively watering Calum’s mouth at the side of the pasta, rice, chicken and salad his grandmother had made. The first bite was as amazing as he figured.

Dinner conversation began almost immediately. “So, Livvy, how’s the boutique going?” Gramps questioned, causing Calum’s gaze to flicker up. Livvy? Were his grandparents really that close with Olivia and Alana?

“Pretty good,” Olivia answered with a smile. Guess that answered his pondering of her job. “We’re actually looking to expand, probably buying Mr. Bernard’s space next door.”

Gramps hummed in appraise and Calum watched as Alana nudged her sister. “Tell them about your promotion.”

Grams’ eyebrows raised at that. “Promotion?” she perked up, an excited glint in her eyes.

Olivia rolled her eyes, shooting Alana a look. “It’s just a rumor right now,” she told Calum’s grandparents with a small chuckle. “Apparently Val’s firing Heather and I’m the next choice for manager.” Calum noticed the way his grandparents both looked pleasantly surprised at this news as Olivia quickly emphasized, “But nothing’s been said yet. They’re just rumors, so I don’t know.”

She looked and sounded modest, as if she didn’t really believe that those rumors she was speaking of were true and that she would get the job. But Calum hadn’t missed the hopeful tone in her voice, and apparently neither had his grandfather as he scoffed, waving his fork. “Not promoting you would be a mistake on their part. You’re their hardest working employee and you, my dear, deserve it.”

Olivia rolled her lips into her mouth, though she was unsuccessful in hiding the smile as she dropped her gaze to her plate, cheeks pinkening. One glance at his grandparents and Calum knew they believed what Gramps said wholeheartedly, and Calum understood in that moment, answering his own question from seconds prior, that his grandparents’ relationship with the two sisters sitting across from him was a lot deeper than he figured. Grams and Gramps treated them the same way they treated him, and Calum instantly realized that they saw the two girls as family.

His gaze flickered to Olivia, saw the easy smile on her face as she conversed with his grandparents, and felt his own lips curl upwards a bit.

He hoped she would get that promotion.

                                               ✩✩✩✩✩

Sunday mornings consisted of Olivia waking up just around sunrise, freshening up, changing into her work out clothes and leaving the apartment. Alana was sound asleep, wouldn’t be up until noon, so Olivia walked the short distance to the nearby park where she did her Sunday morning jogs. With music playing in her ears, she began jogging on the path, the area empty as usual, just as she liked it. It was a cool morning for June, thanks to the beach just a few miles away, and the thin layer of sweat on the back of Olivia’s neck by the time she completed three laps was a bit chilling.

Olivia slowed to a stop to catch her breath, heart pounding in her chest as she took a few long gulps from her water bottle, the cool liquid thoroughly rejuvenating her dry throat. She squinted slightly, looking off in the distance; less than a handful of people were on their morning runs as well, some of them familiar to Olivia because of their similar routine.

Reaching to pull her phone out from the pocket of her thin hoodie, Olivia let out a small grunt of annoyance at the tangled headphones. Pausing the music, she pulled them out to begin the tedious process of untangling them, giving her a chance to hear a familiar voice call, “Bruno, slow down, bud!”

Before Olivia could even hope to register the voice, a familiar German Shepherd came running up to her, prompting Olivia to let out a startled gasp before she giggled joyously at the dog licking at her chin, his front paws on her chest to keep himself up as he showed her some love.

“Hi, buddy,” Olivia greeted Claudia and Daniel’s dog, fingers of her right hand tangled around her headphones while her left rubbed at Bruno’s face. “Whatcha doing out and about?”

This was the first time she’d ever seen him out at this time, but her question was soon answered as someone jogged up to them and that same familiar voice breathed out, “Sorry about him.” Olivia glanced away from Bruno, eyes landing on Calum standing right in front of them, wearing black athletic shorts and a green hoodie covering his large frame. “Didn’t expect him to run off like that.”

Olivia laughed lightly as Bruno got off her chest, circling between her and Calum’s feet before settling on the ground, peering up at them with dark eyes. She smiled at him before looking at Calum, taking in the way a few curls peeked out from under the black beanie he wore. “It’s okay,” she assured. “I’m never opposed to Bruno’s kisses.”

Calum chuckled, sliding the beanie down a bit at the back of his head. His eyes took in Olivia’s face as she smiled down at Bruno; her ponytail high and tight with few tendrils slipping out to frame her heart shaped face, cheeks slightly flushed pink from her running and face free of makeup. He would be lying if he said she didn’t look unadulteratedly pretty like this.

“So you took one of my options into consideration, hmm?” Olivia hummed, a smile tilting at her lips as Calum raised his eyebrows. “Looks like you found something to do here.”

Realization dawned on Calum as he let out a short laugh, remembering the dinner the other night when Olivia had listed off a bunch of things he could do in Bridgelake—going to the park being one of them. And she’d been right; Calum had woken up early this morning, annoyed that his eyes opened right when the sun was rising, and out of nowhere he remembered Olivia mentioning a bunch of parks around. So he brought Bruno to the nearest park and here they were—running into the very woman who practically motivated Calum out of the house.

“I did,” Calum conceded with a nod, the smile easily remaining on his face. It seemed almost effortless, to relax in front of Olivia. She seemed so open, so comforting; Calum found himself forgetting that he didn’t want to be in this town, that he was forced here, when she was there. Which was kind of head spinning and bewildering, but Calum didn’t seem to mind. “It helps that I’ve got good company,” he added one hand reaching down to rub at Bruno’s head.

“See?” Olivia smiled, tightening her ponytail. “How often did you get to do this in Los Angeles, huh?”

Not often, Calum realized. He preferred going to the gym he’d been a member of for years, because while he didn’t mind going on a hike every now and then, Calum found himself feeling more relaxed in a weight room than he did out on a jog in a park. Especially because there were often times where the paparazzi would spot him and while getting his picture taken outside of a club was one thing, Calum wasn’t fond of being photographed while he was going for a jog. So he didn’t.

“L.A. isn’t as bad as you think, you know,” Calum found himself saying, feeling strangely, or not so strangely, defensive of his hometown, his favorite place.

Olivia raised her eyebrows, not deaf to the protective lilt his voice took. “I never said it was bad,” she countered lightly with a slight tilt to her head. “I’m just saying—there’s probably things you could do or find here that you wouldn’t be able to in a big city like L.A.”

Calum couldn’t help himself. He let out a droll snort, rolling his eyes at Olivia’s words because he was having a hard time believing her. “Yeah? Like what?” he challenged, his slight accent lifting the last word a bit.

The attitude that he presented when she first ran into him at Walmart was shining through, Olivia noticed. Like being in Bridgelake was the worst possible thing that could happen to him, and she had foolishly hoped that he would no longer feel that way anymore. It’s been, what, two weeks since he’s been here? Shouldn’t he start warming up to the idea of having to be here for a couple of months? Olivia didn’t see what the big deal was, but she wasn’t one to be vocal about it.

So Olivia shrugged, hands on her hips. “Maybe if you got out of the house more, you’d see what a small town has to offer.” Then, with an almost conspiratorial grin, she added almost teasingly, “They can have just as much magic as your big cities, you know.”

But Calum wasn’t buying it as his chin lifted a bit. “I doubt it.”

“What’s the harm in trying to find out?” Olivia hummed with a single shake of her head, raising an eyebrow, not entirely deterred by his skepticism. “You’re stuck here, whether you like it or not, right? Why don’t you try to make the most of it without whining over L.A.?”

Calum’s eyebrows shot up, lips parting as he scoffed. “Excuse me?” he returned, unsure if he’d heard her right. Her tone wasn’t unkind but it most definitely made him sound like a brat, and Calum didn’t appreciate that. He crossed his arms over his chest defensively. “I don’t whine.”

He was getting worked up, Olivia could tell, and while she wasn’t one to purposefully push people’s buttons, she would be lying if she said it wasn’t amusing seeing Calum get all tensed over something so mundane. “You look like you do,” Olivia retorted. “It’s obvious you don’t want to be here. Do you ever think about how that might make Claudia and Daniel feel?”

She touched a nerve, she knew, when she saw Calum’s face tighten and jaw clench, and she’d be intimidated if it weren’t for the fact that she’s been facing people’s angered, near disgusted expressions thrown towards her for years. And while she hadn’t really meant to annoy Calum, Olivia didn’t recoil from his scowl. She was used it. After a while, you just become immune to others’ distaste of you.

Truthfully, Olivia was a bit disappointed Calum was one of those people who gave her that look, even if it wasn’t for the same reason. Somehow a stranger looking at her that way stung more than it did when people she grew up in town did it to her. But she didn’t let it show. She was good at that.

“My grandparents have nothin’ to do with this,” Calum stated firmly, the way his arms crossed over his chest combined with his hoodie making him appear bigger than usual. “I’m happy to be with them.”

“You’re not very good at showing that.”

Calum scowled, unafraid of showing his irritation. He liked Olivia, thought she was sweet and kind and undeserving of whatever treatment people in this town may give her. But who the hell was she to say something like that to him? To just assume he wasn’t glad to see his grandparents? Bridgelake wasn’t his ideal vacation spot, sure, but being with his grandparents was definitely a plus point. So what if Calum wished they were together in Los Angeles rather than North Carolina? It was just a matter of preference.

He tilted his head, almost mockingly, asking with a sarcastic tint in his voice, “Then what d’you reckon I do?”

“Be appreciative of what’s around you,” Olivia answered simply because, to her, it really was simple. She’s faced enough loss in her life, dealt with too many people’s shit for too long to not be happy for what she does have. She misses her mom every day, hopes to keep her memory alive for her sister, and her cheeks often hurt from the forced smile she shoots towards those who are blatantly rude to her. But for Olivia, it always comes down to being grateful for what she has in front of her.

Honestly, things could’ve gone to even more shit than they already were with their mom dying and dad being imprisoned. Olivia could’ve shut down. But she had a younger sister to look after, one who she was solely responsible for, and Olivia wasn’t about to let anything or anyone tear them apart after the losses of their parents. She was grateful for still having Alana, and while living in a world where their mom wasn’t around and their dad was in prison and half the town hated them for what he did, Olivia was glad she was still around. Glad she still had her sister, her best friend, and people who still cared for them.

Upon hearing her words, Calum blinked, face relaxing and tension in his shoulders easing somewhat. He watched as Olivia squinted slightly, the early morning sunlight filtering through the trees and bathing her in a golden glow, blue eyes glinting against the light, giving her irises an almost golden sparkle of their own. And even though Calum was bothered with her insinuation that he didn’t like being around his grandparents, he couldn’t help but think how pretty she looked in the morning sunlight.

“I’m not saying you don’t enjoy your grandparents’ company,” Olivia spoke up once more, as if reading his thoughts. Or, well, part of his thoughts as her blue eyes locked with his brown. “I’m just saying. . . I’ve seen you out with them a few times already and each time you look miserable. And, like, I get it—Bridgelake is no L.A., but you can have just as much of a good time here as you can there. If you give it a shot, that is.”

There was logic behind her words, Calum knew. He also was aware that every time he ventured out with his grandparents, he wasn’t the most willing participant. Being with them was something Calum was up for, but every time he stepped out of the house he was struck with the fact he wasn’t in California and Calum could physically feel his body slump at the reminder. The city boy in him was probably never going to get used to the small town aesthetic Bridgelake wreaked of.

Still, Calum lifted his chin a little, arms still crossed over his chest as he defiantly told the blue eyed girl, “Show me.”

Olivia blinked, bewilderment flickering across her features with furrowed brows and confusedly pouty lips. “What?”

Calum’s gaze briefly glanced at her mouth, pink and inviting, before he averted it half a second later. It wasn’t the appropriate time—or thought?—but Calum couldn’t help but think how unfair it was that Olivia had such inviting lips and he couldn’t kiss them. He quickly refocused on his thoughts as he met her confused stare with a challenging one. “Show me how to have a good time in Bridgelake,” he dared with a shrug of his shoulders. “It’s not gonna happen being by myself. I need someone to keep me company.” Then, with a boyish smirk, Calum teasingly clarified, “I need someone to show me the magic of Bridgelake.”

Her lips parted at his words, not entirely expecting Calum to request—or demand, she wasn’t entirely sure about that—her to show him around. Olivia certainly remembered listing off a bunch of things for him to do in Bridgelake, but she didn’t think he’d want her to come along with him.

Gazing at Calum, Olivia’s throat worked as she saw the quirk of his brow and tilt of his lips. He looked both smug and challenging, and Olivia felt her cheeks heat up against his stare. A person should not have that much of an effect on another human being just by the way they were looking at them.

But still. . . Olivia lifted her own chin slightly, regarding Calum for a moment before finally agreeing, “Alright.” Both of Calum’s eyebrows shot up. Had he not expected her to agree easily? This time, Olivia offered an easy smile. “Are you free tonight?”

Calum scoffed through the smirk dancing on his lips. “What do you think?” he asked, sarcasm tinting his slightly accented tone. As if he had any other plans here.

Olivia’s heart thumped in her chest. “Then tonight it is.”

                                           ✩✩✩✩✩

“It’s a date.”

“It’s not a date.”

“Alana’s right; it’s totally a date.”

Olivia shot an exasperated look towards her best friend and younger sister, who were both sat giggling on Olivia’s bed as if they were a bunch of middle schoolers. Well, Alana was, at least. But both Alana and Addy were teasing Olivia the entire time she got ready for her outing with Calum which was not a date, like the two of them were so convinced it was. And them constantly calling it a date didn’t do anything to ease the nerves swimming in her belly.

It was just a habit of Olivia’s, getting a bit nervous around boys, and it most certainly didn’t help that Calum was most definitely not the average boy she’d see around Bridgelake. He was the epitome of the tall, dark and handsome package and while Olivia found it dumb that she had the potential of getting anxious around someone that good looking, she couldn’t help it. Especially because the point of this night was to prove to Calum that he could have some fun in a small town, and Olivia hoped what she had picked out was going to be enough to at least start pushing him in the direction of seeing Bridgelake in a positive light. Not just as a prison.

“Stop calling it that,” Olivia huffed as she put her lipstick in her bag. She hadn’t done her makeup too heavily, and her outfit consisted of a baby blue romper and a denim jacket in case it got cold. “People only go on dates if they’re interested in each other—which we’re not.”

Addy scoffed with a roll of her eyes, dismissing what she considered Olivia’s negativity. “You never know,” she argued, leaning back against the headboard with her legs stretched out in front of her. With a comically suggestive wiggle of her eyebrows, she added, “Maybe he’ll find the magic of Bridgelake in you.”

Olivia didn’t know whether to cringe at Addy’s words or shoot her a glare because she knew her best friend most definitely did not mean that in an innocent way, and while Alana wasn’t a baby, the mere topic of her own sex life in front of her sister wasn’t something she was too comfortable with.

Thankfully, Alana swooped in as she shot Addy a distasteful look. “You sound like a crappy Hallmark card.”

Addy shoved Alana as Olivia let out a laugh, wholeheartedly agreeing with the fourteen year old. Looking back at the older brunette, Addy asked, “Where are you guys going, anyway?”

“The Orbit,” Olivia answered, brushing the ends of her hair as she stood at the foot of the bed, facing the two sitting on it.

Alana sat up excitedly. “That’s cool. What play are they putting on?”

“West Side Story,” Olivia replied with an unamused snort, because the play of choice wasn’t too surprising. Every summer, putting on West Side Story was a must. The Orbit was an outdoor theater, where anyone interested could sign up to put on a play or act in it throughout the summer. They were all really good, in Olivia’s opinion, since she’d been going since she was a kid. She particularly enjoyed the town’s adaptation of Mamma Mia! which has been her favorite musical for as long as she could remember.

“What if Calum doesn’t like plays?” Addy asked as Olivia put the brush away.

Olivia paused for a moment. She’d thought of that, but she had told him she would show him how to enjoy the small town things, and the plays The Orbit put on always brought a smile to Olivia’s face. She hoped it would do the same for Calum. She shrugged. “He’s just gonna have to suck it up.”

But, really. Olivia hoped he liked plays. Or this could already start off bitterly.

                                                ✩✩✩✩✩

Once he pulled his grandfather’s truck into a vacant parking spot, Calum killed the engine before hopping out of the vehicle. He closed the door behind him, furrowed brows looking ahead and around him as he took in his surroundings, turning to lock the car. Slowly, almost unsure, Calum walked over the curb and towards the area where he saw most of the other people around headed towards. There was an entrance where Calum noticed people behind booths were sitting, and he realized it’s where tickets were being sold and bought as a line of people gathered there before moving on to the few steps that led down to where they could be seated.

He shoved his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, the gravel and road crunching under his boots as he slowly made his way over, unsure of where he was supposed to go. Calum’s dark eyes gazed around in hopes of finding the woman he was meant to meet, passing over the few curious looks being thrown his way. It definitely was a small town by the way some people were looking at him, unsure of who the hell he was.

Meanwhile, Calum was left wondering where the hell Olivia was. He obviously didn’t know about this place when she texted him, and so he had asked Grams, who had told him that The Orbit was one of the more popular locations in Bridgelake. She told him of the plays that were put on here, and Calum wasn’t going to lie—he was kind of interested. He didn’t go to any plays in California, only less than a handful of times when he went to New York to visit his sister, but those were Broadway productions.

He highly doubted he’d see the same level of sophistication at some outdoor theater in Bridgelake, North Carolina.

“See—that’s the face I was talking about.”

Calum blinked, looking around before his gaze went to the left where he saw Olivia approaching him. Immediately he took her in, her blue outfit and loose hair and killer legs before her words registered and he frowned in confusion. “What face?”

Olivia scoffed as she reached him, shaking her head a slightly to move away some locks of hair. “The I’d rather be anywhere but here face,” she countered with a knowing quirk of an eyebrow, as if she could read him easily. Calum bristled. She didn’t have to be so smug about it.

“I’m not wearing that face,” he defended, pursing his lips because even he could hear the bullshit in his voice. Honestly, he hadn’t meant to look like that; he may never have been to something like this, but Calum did find himself wanting to be here with Olivia. It was nice of her to hang out with him—she was a nice girl—and the least he could do was not look like he didn’t want to be here with her. He didn’t want to send that kind of message. “Just—” he huffed before glancing around and asking, “What’re we watching?”

Olivia pulled something out of her purse, Calum’s eyes catching sight of two tickets as she smiled. “West Side Story. Hope you like Romeo & Juliet adaptations,” she hummed while walking past Calum.

He had no choice but to follow after her, his long legs allowing him to easily catch up to her in two strides before falling in her pace, hands still in the pockets of his jacket. As they stood in the line to show their tickets, Calum asked, “How’d you get tickets so quickly?” They’d only been talking this morning.

Olivia shrugged. “I know a guy,” she answered vaguely before biting her tongue. She almost added on, Not everyone in this town hates me, but stopped herself. This was most definitely not the time or place to be self pitying.

Calum quirked an eyebrow, finding her words strangely amusing as the line moved up. “That sounds suspect,” he pointed out, peering down at her with the smallest of smirks tilting at his lips.

She let out a light laugh as she looked up from the tickets, the lights around The Orbit making her blue eyes glitter. The line moved quickly, and as one of the guys working there scanned their tickets, Calum asked, “Do you come here a lot?”

“Whenever there’s a play I really wanna watch,” Olivia answered with a nod as they moved forward. The seats, Calum realized, was that similar to stadium seating, and before they moved to find theirs Olivia glanced at him. “Do you want anything to eat or drink?” she questioned, jutting her chin to something behind him.

Calum glanced over his shoulder, just then catching sight of a small canteen where people were gathered if they weren’t already in their seats. It wasn’t too far, and Calum’s eyes took in one of the signs pasted on it and his eyebrows rose. “They’ve got milkshakes?”

“Mhm,” Olivia hummed with a smile, and not for the first time did Calum notice the way her prominent cheekbones rose at the action. “What flavor do you want? You can get to our seats and I’ll get them.”

“Chocola—wait, no—” Calum frowned. “You got the tickets, the least I can do is get the food.” He knew this was both of their idea, in some way, and if Olivia bought the tickets then it was only fair he spend some of his own money on something.

But Olivia shook her head, her smile turning teasing as she took a step away. “My town, my treat,” she grinned. “Our seats are seven and eight in row eleven. Towards the bottom,” Olivia added, nodding down the steps before swiftly turning around and making her way towards the canteen.

Calum’s lips parted to protest, but she was gone in the growing crowd and he let out a breath. Pressing his lips together, Calum absently made a mental note that next time it would be coming out of his pocket—assuming there was going to be a next time—before proceeding to make his way down the concrete steps.

It wasn’t that big, unsurprisingly. Calum was pretty sure there were more seats on his high school football field back in California. He walked down the steps, looking at the numbers of the rows on the ground, ignoring the few looks he could be felt getting thrown his way. It helped that he was used to being stared at, though he knew that this time it was different. Eyes weren’t following him because he was the son of David Hood; they were on him because he was a stranger in this town, an unfamiliar face amongst those who’ve grown up together.

But it didn’t phase Calum. He found their seats, shuffling past those already seated before plopping down in the seventh seat, the one to his right available for Olivia. Rubbing his hands down his pants, Calum noticed they had a good view of the stage up front, almost in the middle, curtains drawn as people continued to find their seats. Glancing up at the sky, Calum noticed it was mostly clear, just a few clouds drifting here and there and hiding the stars that glittered above, and he let out a sigh as he leaned back in the seat.

He busied himself by texting his friends, all of whom told him both that they missed him and jokingly added they liked not seeing his face every day, and Calum smirked to himself. He missed them, too.

Soon enough, Olivia made her way over and Calum glanced at her, catching sight of the two plastic cups of milkshake she held as she walked over. She caught his eye, offering a smile that Calum found himself returning almost instinctively, sitting up as she came over. But his eyes drifted as she shuffled down the narrow aisle, landing on the few people, mostly middle aged women, sitting a few seats away to Calum’s right, their narrowed eyes following Olivia as she made her way past them.

His eyebrows twitched into a frown, watching as the women looked at Olivia while they whispered amongst themselves, reminding Calum of a bunch of high school gossipers and his lips curled into a sneer. It was obvious they were talking about Olivia, obvious that whatever they saying couldn’t be good, and Calum was about two seconds away from standing up and asking them what the fuck they were saying.

But then Olivia reached him, the easy smile still on her face as she held out one of the cups. Calum’s dark eyes left the women, who were now looking at both of the with raised eyebrows, probably wondering what he was doing with Olivia or she with him or what the fuck ever, and he looked up at the blue eyed girl. He took the cup from her instantly, taking in the pink in her cheeks, wondering why she was flushed, as she sat down.

“Thanks,” Calum told her, taking a sip of the chocolate milkshake. It was really fucking good.

“No problem,” Olivia answered nonchalantly, almost too casually, as she fixed her bag on her lap, gaze straight ahead purposefully.

Don’t look. Don’t give them the satisfaction. But she couldn’t help herself. Olivia glanced to the right, eyes landing on the same women Calum noticed, pulling her lower lip into her mouth as they looked away just when they saw her looking. How fucking hard was it not to be so ridiculously obvious you were talking about someone just a few feet away? Olivia inhaled deeply yet quietly. Calum only noticed because he’d been staring at Olivia unashamedly, and his jaw tightened when he saw her glance down at her lap, lips pursed.

He wanted to say something; tell her that people were assholes and that she shouldn’t have to deal with them. But Calum wasn’t sure if Olivia knew that he knew of how some people in Bridgelake treated her, if she wanted him to know the whole story about her parents and the town even though he already did. How was he supposed to comfort her over something he wasn’t even sure he was supposed to know?

“D’you know any of the people starring in this?” Maybe he could opt to distract her instead.

Olivia glanced at him before looking back at the stage. “A few,” she answered with a nod. “A girl I went to high school with, Raechel, plays Maria and my best friend’s cousin, Barry, plays Riff.”

Calum blinked at her, before his lips curled into a smirk and he raised an eyebrow. “You realize I’ve no idea who any of those characters are, right?”

She returned his gaze, shorter than him and an arm rest separating them yet their shoulders brushed every so often. Olivia let out a laugh, the sound widening Calum’s grin, as she picked up her milkshake. “I’ll point them out, don’t worry,” she assured.

“And explain to me what’s going on?” Olivia shot him an exasperated yet playful look and Calum shrugged defensively. “What? I’ve never seen this before.”

“If you ask me questions every two minutes I’m going to dump your milkshake on you. I promise.”

Calum clicked his tongue, shooting her a mocking disapproving look. “I don’t think that’s gonna help you show me how fun Bridgelake is.”

Olivia sank in her chair as she caught his smirk widening, her cheeks flushing at the sight of it as she pressed her lips together to suppress the growing smile. Calum wasn’t aware of it, but Olivia was grateful that he managed to distract her from the eyes she could feel piercing her skin. She glanced at him, watching as his lips wrapped around the straw as he drank his milkshake, and Olivia forced herself to look away as the heat in her cheeks intensified.

She took a deep breath, sipping her own milkshake. Fun. Right.

                                                 ✩✩✩✩✩

Olivia was trying to fight off the smile from growing on her face as she raised her eyebrows at Calum, who was staring out the window as he sat across from her, fingers tapping the tabletop as his head nodded to the song he was humming. The play had just ended and the two of them were at a nearby diner for a late dinner, and Calum was shamelessly humming the tune of I Feel Pretty after having just heard it at the show they attended.

Much to her relief, Calum seemed to enjoy the play a lot, his eyes following every character on the stage with focused interest and head bopping to the songs being performed, curls lightly bouncing at the movement. And now as they waited for their food, Calum still had that song playing in his head and while satisfaction coursed through Olivia’s veins, the fond smile won over as it graced her lips, gazing at the man sat across from her in the booth.

He looked her way then, taking note of her raised eyebrows and curled lips, and Calum was suddenly aware of what he was doing as he instantly stopped humming and leaned back in the booth. “It’s a catchy song,” he half-heartedly defended, uncharacteristically feeling his face warm at the look Olivia was giving him.

“I know,” she laughed lightly, the bright lights of the diner dancing against her blue eyes. Olivia leaned forward, arms folding on top of the table as she asked, “I’m guessing you liked the play, then?”

“You can say that,” Calum responded, willing himself not to be embarrassed because, really, there was nothing to be embarrassed about. Honestly, he really did enjoy the play, and the performance put on by everyone was amazing. Bridgelake, Calum concluded once the show was over, had some pretty talented people. “Thank you for bringing me to see it,” he found himself adding sincerely, the corners of his lips tilting upwards.

Olivia’s head tilted slightly, her smile widening at the sincerity in his tone, utterly contrasting the indifferent yet bored expression she often saw him wear. “You’re welcome,” she said just as the waitress returned with their food.

Calum’s burger and fries were placed in front of him while Olivia’s grilled chicken sandwich and curly fries instantly watered her mouth, and the two of them dug into their food while the Top 40 songs played throughout the semi busy diner. Things fell quiet between them for a few moments, though it wasn’t an uncomfortable one as they enjoyed their food and, Calum had to admit—his burger was one of the best he’s had.

As he took a bite of his fries, Olivia couldn’t help but muse, “How can you pick regular fries over curly ones?”

Calum paused in his chewing, holding the uneaten halves of his fries as his gaze snapped towards her. When he saw the unimpressed raise of her brows and the small smirk on her lips, Calum let out a short laugh. “Are you judging me on my choice of fries?”

Olivia gave an unapologetic shrug of her shoulders. “I don’t trust anyone who picks regular fries when they have the option of getting curly ones.”

Amusement danced in Calum’s dark eyes as his lips formed an O and he released a mocking offended breath. “Now you’re just hurtin’ my feelings.”

She laughed before taking a sip of her drink, and Olivia couldn’t help but think how easy this felt. Her nerves had been prickling under her skin when she’d been driving over to The Orbit, over thinking if Calum would want to watch a play or if he’d enjoy it, but they had fun. Admittedly, Olivia had kept glancing over at Calum, taking in his reactions to what was happening on stage, and each time she was relieved to see that he looked so into it.

But her grin soon diminished as the door of the diner opened and in walked the three women that had been sitting in their row at The Orbit, the same women who’d been unashamedly been whispering about Olivia when they saw her. She knew of them—Mrs. Dixit, Mrs. Shaw, and Mrs. Rizzo—and was painfully aware that they were just three of many people who weren’t fond of her. So Olivia’s smile vanished as she drank her soda, watching as the women were seated at a table in the middle of the diner a little ways beside them, where she had a perfect view of them and they had one of her.

As per usual, Olivia did her best to pay them no mind, ignoring the looks she could feel them throwing her way every now and then as she ate her dinner and made light, easy conversation with Calum.

And she thought things were going fine, would be fine, until Mrs. Dixit’s voice consisting of a fading Indian accent flowed over. “I heard they’re replacing that poor Heather with her. They’re risky, aren’t they, for hiring her in the first place? Now they’re making her manager?”

Mrs. Rizzo scoffed distastefully. “They’ve lost my business.”

“I stopped going there the day they hired the Moore girl.” Olivia winced at Mrs. Shaw’s haughty tone, eyes casting towards her nearly finished plate, hoping Calum hadn’t noticed the rigidness in her shoulders. Of course he had; she just missed the way his eyes darted in the direction of the women after Olivia broke their gaze.

His eyebrows twitched into a frown, not oblivious to the discomfort Olivia didn’t succeed in hiding as he looked at the three middle aged women. It was kind of ridiculous, how a couple of women their age were so openly and unashamedly talking about Olivia as if she wasn’t even there, not at all perturbed by the fact that she could hear them. They were doing it because she could hear them, Calum figured, and his grip on his glass tightened, rings slightly scraping against it. How pathetic were they to talk about someone younger than them, as if they were a bunch of teenagers in high school taking part in cafeteria gossip?

Olivia glanced up at the sound, eyes going from Calum’s tight grasp on his glass to his face, mildly taken aback at the glare she saw on his face directed towards the women a few tables over. She hadn’t expected him to look so annoyed, eyebrows scrunched into a scowl. “Calum—”

“Why’re you just lettin’ them talk about you like that?” He spoke up at the same time, the muscle in his jaw jumping as he finally looked back at Olivia once more. The irritation in his dark eyes was surprising and, ironically, comforting. His brows were drawn downwards, shaking his head once. “Why don’t you just say somethin’?”

She stared at him for a moment, mouth drying at the curious yet confused look in his demanding eyes. Truthfully, Olivia hadn’t expected Calum to speak up about the women, didn’t think he cared enough to pay attention. Swallowing the dryness from her throat, Olivia answered, “It’s not worth it.”

Calum gaped at her, the irritation being completely replaced with bewilderment. Not worth it? Was she serious? “So you’re just. . .” His eyebrows twitched into a frown just like his lips. “You’re gonna let them disrespect you like that for no reason?”

Olivia inhaled sharply before surprising herself by blurting, “They have a reason.”

And then Calum surprised her even more by countering, “I know the reason. ’S not justified.”

Her eyes widened slightly, this time it was her turn to stare at him disbelief. He knew? What exactly did he know? Most of the town’s dislike for Olivia wasn’t news, it wasn’t a secret, but Calum wasn’t from here and she was hoping that everyone’s opinion of her wasn’t going to morph his opinion of her. It would’ve been refreshing to have someone new who didn’t judge her for someone else’s tragic mistake. “What do you—”

“Grams told me,” Calum confessed with a sigh, a familiar expression crossing his face, one Olivia knew too well. Sympathy. She suppressed a sigh of her own—she hadn’t wanted to see that on Calum’s face. But he leaned forward, arms crossed on the table as his gaze remained locked with hers. “And I agree with her; it isn’t right that you and your sister get judged for something you had no control over.”

Olivia’s lips parted at that, at the sincerity on his face emphasized by the determined frown on his face, like he wanted her to believe his words, shown in the emphasis each word he spoke carried. If Calum found out about Olivia’s family through his grandmother, then no doubt he got the real story rather than some twisted version she knew a bunch of people in this town would have no problem spewing. Some people were disgusting enough to contort the events of that night to say that her father purposefully killed those people in the accident. Yes, it was his fault for driving while he was drunk, something he should have never done, but the way some people spoke of it, it would be easy to assume by their words that it was premeditated. He had made an awful, horrific decision to drive under the influence, something even Olivia herself would never forgive him for, but had to endure the aftermath of.

Calum’s defense of her was kind of surprising, but Olivia was appreciative of it. They didn’t know each other too well and only knew about her situation through Claudia’s words, yet the look in his eyes was determined enough to show her that he was on her side. And Olivia felt her heart swell at that. Playing with her crumpled napkin, she kept her gaze on it as she quietly told him, “If I say anything back, they’re just going to be more annoyed and hate me more than they already do.” She hated that she let out a tired, defeated chuckle at that before shrugging. “Like I said—it’s not worth it.”

He didn’t understand as he took in her downcast blue eyes and the purse of her naturally pouty lips, staring at her with his own lips slightly parted. Calum was the kind of person who, if he ever heard someone talk badly about himself or his family or his friends, wouldn’t hesitate to go on the defense. He knew he couldn’t change everyone’s minds and opinions, but he could let them know he wasn’t going to take their shit.

It almost disturbed Calum that Olivia wasn’t willing to do that for herself.

The waitress came by to drop off their check and before Olivia could even think to reach for it, Calum swiped the small black folder right up. “Wait, no—it’s my treat,” Olivia argued, trying to reach for it from across the table.

Calum merely placed it on his lap, pulling out his wallet and placing the credit card inside the folder without even checking the bill. “You paid for the play and the milkshakes,” he pointed out, lips curling into a small smirk. “Least I can do is pay for dinner.”

She stared at him, lips pursed and bemused, but Calum merely smirked wider when the waitress returned for it and he handed it to her without breaking from Olivia’s gaze. Calum chuckled as he reassured, “Next time you can pay for the food.”

“Oh?” Olivia quirked an eyebrow, feeling some of her previous playfulness creep back as she tilted her head slightly. “So there’s gonna be a next time?”

Calum huffed out a laugh. “After tonight, you’re my official tour guide. I don’t have any other friends here to show me around Bridgelake.”

Both of them were smiling, teasing and maybe even a little bit flirty if Olivia squinted, enough to make her heart flutter because he had such a nice smile. Calum’s cheeks would push up and depending on how much he was smiling there would be crinkles by his eyes, only adding to the adorability of the expression. A much better look, a wonderful difference, than when he barely made any expressions when he first arrived.

“We’re friends now?” Olivia countered, enjoying the banter with a smile. She didn’t have that many friends, only Addy whom Olivia adored the company of and would never get tired of, but she had to admit—a new person’s company was always welcome. Especially when it was someone like Calum.

“Like it or not,” Calum shrugged before thanking the waitress once she brought back the folder so he could retrieve his credit card.

Olivia chuckled as she gathered her purse and the two of them stood up as Calum put the card back in his wallet and then dropped a twenty dollar bill on the table for tip, Olivia’s eyebrows shooting up at the sight because she knew the tip was almost as much as the actual bill. Damn. Glancing at Calum, she sarcastically mused, “I’m honored.”

Calum stood by his side of table so Olivia could walk past him towards the door, and as she did he joked, “I’m honored you’re honored,” earning another laugh from him as she shook her head and kept walking.

He smiled after her. Before following Olivia’s steps, Calum couldn’t help but glance over at the table a few feet away from him, occupied by the women seated there. Unsurprisingly, they were looking over this way, their judgmental gazes burning holes in Olivia’s back before simultaneously—creepily—their eyes shifted over to him. One of them offered a smile while the other two looked at him with expressions mixed with curiosity and coyness, the second not at all in regards to the obvious age difference between them. He was used to older women sending him those kinds of looks—he was from Los Angeles, after all.

And his mother raised him to be respectful of those older than him, and for the most part Calum was. But as soon as the three of the women looked at him, Calum couldn’t help the scowl he sent their way, triggered by the rude words and glares they sent Olivia’s way. They all immediately recoiled, almost affronted yet discouraged, and looked away from him, and the satisfied smirk tugged at Calum’s lips as he fixed his jacket and Olivia out of the diner. He wasn’t afraid to give those women that look if he saw them again.

Easily catching up to Olivia, they walked together in a comfortable silence towards the parking lot that was between The Orbit and the diner they were just at, the night breeze cool and inviting, and a fruity scent suddenly invaded Calum’s nose. He realized it must be Olivia’s shampoo or something, inhaling softly, subtly, because it just smelt so good.

They reached Olivia’s car since Calum silently decided to walk her to it, and as she unlocked the door she faced Calum. Before she could say anything, Calum shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket and said, “Thank you, Olivia,  for tonight.” The street lamp above made his dark eyes glimmer. “I really did have a good time.”

Olivia couldn’t fight the smile as she looked up at him. His curls swayed slightly in the mild breeze, the glow of the light above softening his features. “Enough to change your opinion of Bridgelake?” she asked with a tilt of her head. She knew it wasn’t going to take just a theater show to make Calum fall in love with Bridgelake or something, but she still wanted to get a feel of what he thought.

Calum let out a breathy chuckle, bowing his head as he did so, his curls brushing across his forehead before he lifted his head and smirked at Olivia. “Slowly,” he agreed and Olivia’s smile widened. “Might sound crazy to say but I kind of already prefer The Orbit than Broadway.”

Olivia’s jaw hung with a disbelieving scoff, staring at Calum incredulously before she waved him off. “Alright, psycho, I somehow doubt that,” she laughed, earning another laugh from Calum as he argued, “I’m serious!”

She shook her head in amusement as she stepped aside to open her car door. “Whatever you say, Mr. California,” she responded with a roll of her eyes, giggling at the bemused look he sent her way at the nickname.

“Drive safe, Olivia,” Calum chose to say instead of retorting, smiling fondly at the blue eyed girl.

Then, to her surprise, he pulled his left hand out of his pocket before pulling her in for a one armed hug, and Olivia’s eyes widened as her cheek was pressed against the cool leather of his jacket. But she relaxed in his embrace, in the mesmerizing scent of vanilla, leather and something that seemed like a wonderful mixture of wood and flowers as she returned the hug, unable to stop the smile from growing from her face. How fucking cute. “Goodnight, Calum,” she returned softly, before reluctantly pulling away from the tall man.

Calum smiled at her, stepping back to allow her to get in the car and as he shut the door behind her, Olivia let out a breath as she put her bag on the passenger seat and reached for the seatbelt. He stood by as she started the car, and Olivia sent him a smile and a wave as she pulled out of the parking spot, smile widening as he raised his hand in response.

Olivia couldn’t help but glance at her rearview mirror as she drove off, watching as Calum’s standing figure became smaller and smaller until she had to make a turn, and she let out yet another breath. The smile was still on her face, grip on the steering wheel tightening as the giddiness bubbled in her stomach, only intensifying when Calum’s I’d rather be anywhere but here face hadn’t made an appearance after she called him out for it at the start of the night. Not because he had been actively trying to keep it off his face, but because Olivia could tell he was genuinely enjoying himself, much to her fluttering excitement. She was definitely down to do this again.

                                                    ✩✩✩✩✩

Calum was more of a night owl than a morning person. He enjoyed staying up at night but he also appreciated his sleep, hating when the sun came up to start a new day. And he especially hated it in Bridgelake, when every other day there would be one neighbor or another of his grandparents’ who was mowing their lawn, the roar of the lawn mower jolting Calum out of his sleep practically every other day.

Safe to say, he started most days in a shitty mood.

Rolling out of bed reluctantly, Calum sat up and ran his fingers through his messy curls, a tired sigh escaping him before grunting as he stood up. Pulling on his sweatpants, Calum didn’t bother with a shirt as he used the bathroom before heading to the kitchen, the scent of eggs pulling him to where his grandparents already were. His grandfather sat reading the newspaper while eating his eggs, while his grandmother drank her tea and read whatever she was reading on her iPad.

“Morning, sleepy head,” Grams greeted, just like every other morning, as she smiled fondly at the sight of her sleep ridden grandson. “There’s coffee in the pot.”

Calum mumbled his thanks as he poured some for himself before sitting down next to his grandfather, across from his grandmother as he propped his elbows on the table and took a long sip of the steaming drink. He was quiet in the mornings, which wasn’t unusual, and drank his coffee and ate the pancakes that were left for him as a way of getting energy to brave the day.

Not that he had any plans.

He was still at the table when his grandparents got up to gather their things before walking back into the kitchen, frowning at them in confusion. It was Saturday and the pet shelter didn’t open for another few hours, and his grandfather didn’t have work either. But upon noticing Calum’s expression, his grandfather let out a chuckle. “We’re going for a friend’s birthday up in Wilmington. I told you about it a couple of days ago, bud.”

Calum blinked before his memory stuck, nodding as he recalled being told something like that. “We’ll probably be back around the late evening, so you’re on your own,” Grams teased as she picked up her purse and followed Gramps to the door. “Oh, by the way!” Calum glanced at her over his shoulder as his grandmother sweetly smiled at him. “Mind making a trip today to Olivia’s boutique? There’s some things I ordered that should be ready for pick up and the store’s going to be closed tomorrow. Make sure you go before closing at nine, alright?”

Then they were gone, before Calum could even offer up a response. He leaned back in the chair with a huff, eyes falling to Bruno, who sat on the floor staring up at him with dark eyes. Guess it was just him and his dog for the day.

                                                 ✩✩✩✩✩

It wasn’t until around noon did Calum leave the house and go to run his grandmother’s quick errand. He knew the name of the boutique and knew the name of the street it was on, so it wouldn’t be too hard to find it. Since his grandparents took his gramps’ truck, Calum was left with Grams’ station wagon, and it took him a minute to adjust the seat since his grandmother was significantly shorter and with the settings she had, Calum’s knees were practically up to his chin.

The drive wasn’t long—not that any drive from one location in Bridgelake to another was more than fifteen minutes—and Calum parked the car along the sidewalk before hopping out and pocketing the keys. Calum really hoped Olivia was at the store, but his grandmother had texted him that he could just ask anyone that he was there to pick up stuff for her.

He walked into the boutique called Moonflower, blinking at the store. Everything was split into color coordinated sections, each containing only clothes and accessories of specific colors, which Calum found kind of cool. A woman by the door chirped out a greeting and Calum shot her a quick smile before making his way towards the back where he could see was the register.

It was fairly busy in the store, women of all ages looking about and a few men here and there, and Calum was nearly to the front when he heard a familiar voice call, “Calum?”

He let out a sigh of relief when he caught sight of Olivia and her pretty blue eyes, shoulders sinking as she made her way over to him. She was dressed in dark blue jeans and a black blouse tucked in, complete with a small headset, and Calum was aware of the brief thought that flew by in his mind—a thought that couldn’t help but acknowledge how cute she looked in her uniform.

“Hey,” he greeted her, the smile coming to his face a lot more easily than he thought. “How’re you doin’, Olivia?”

He hadn’t seen her for a few days, since their outing the other night, but the two still texted. She was the only person, other than the boys back home, that Calum came to regularly texting, and he found himself really enjoying her company, whether it be in person or virtually. Olivia was one of the few people in Calum’s life that knew how to keep a conversation going, that was interested in what he had to say and Calum couldn’t help but return the sentiment.

“I’m good,” she smiled, blue eyes glinting under the bright lights of the store before she asked, “What brings you here?”

“Oh, uh, I’m here to pick up something for Grams?” he told her, his answer coming out as a question, wondering if Olivia could help him out. Hoping that she could. “She said she ordered some stuff and that I could just come by and pick it up for her.”

Realization dawned on Olivia as her lips parted. “Oh, yeah, right. Give me a second, yeah? I’ll go get it from the back.”

Calum nodded as Olivia walked around him, heading off to the back of the store as he lingered about. He looked around, noticing the store had practically everything that a boutique did, his eyes on a bunch of scarves and accessories. Calum’s fingers trailed over the soft fabric of the scarves and he looked at the designs for the cell phone cases, wondering if his mum or sister would want something of the sort. It got cold in London. Maybe he could buy a scarf for Mali.

As he waited, Calum’s eyes happened to trail over to a rack of socks, chuckling to himself at the designs on the unisex socks. His eyebrows raised as he caught sight of a pair of blue socks with dogs printed on them, with the furry animals wearing a beanie and glasses, and Calum found himself picking up a packet of those kind and grinning at them, finding them to be the most amusing and best things ever.

“Here you go.”

Calum jumped slightly, hastily putting the socks back on the rack as he turned around, catching sight of Olivia standing there with a Moonflower bag, missing the curious look that flashed across her face. “Oh,” he blinked before taking it from her, smiling as he added, “Thanks, Liv.”

The nickname just slipped out of his mouth, something she was commonly known by but not used by Calum, and for some reason he found himself strangely worrying if she would be okay with that. Some people were weird with nicknames like that.

But then he saw the soft smile on her face, one that even though it was subtle it still emphasized her cheekbones, and Calum couldn’t help but smile back, feeling his neck warm. Jeez—since when did he blush because of a girl? Olivia just smiled and Calum found himself wanting to smile back without pretense.

“So what’re your plans for today?” Olivia asked casually. She knew she should be getting back to work, especially with the promotion just about being handed to her, but walking away from Calum seemed so. . . Unappealing.

Calum raised his eyebrows, his smile turning into a smirk as he mused, “Why? Got another adventure planned?”

Olivia let out a laugh, a sound so pretty to Calum’s ears, enough to make his heart pick up a pace or two. “Depends on your answer.”

He chuckled before shrugging. “Nothing, as usual. Grams and Gramps are in Wilmington for the day and won’t be back ‘til late. So it’s just me.”

Olivia pouted her lips in thought, prompting Calum’s gaze to almost immediately flicker to her mouth, feeling his throat tighten at the sight of her pink lips. Get a fucking grip, man, he chided himself. “Wanna come over to my place for dinner?” Olivia asked, surprising Calum. “Alana and I order tons of food most Saturday nights and have movie marathons. You’re more than welcome to join.” She added with a grin, “It’s not as much of an adventure, but my sister and I are pretty good company.”

A rush of gratitude flooded Calum at that, and not for the first time since the night of seeing the play did Calum feel fortunate to have found a friend in Olivia. Sure, he still didn’t leave the house as much because she was busy with work and he had no one else to hang out with, except for when he took Bruno out on walks or accompanied his grandparents on errands, but Olivia was there, too. Maybe not physically, but they were texting whenever she could, since her schedule was a lot busier than Calum’s.

Maybe he should get a job.

Calum pushed back a snort. Not likely.

“Sure, if you and your sister don’t mind,” he found himself answering, smiling as Olivia’s grin widened.

“Not at all,” she grinned, her face lighting up with that smile of hers. “I’ll text you the address. Come by around, like, six or seven.”

He nodded and Olivia was bidding him goodbye since she had to go back to work, and Calum found himself leaving the boutique with a smile that only Olivia seemed to be able to bring out in him. And it was strange and maybe a little bit crazy, Calum knew, how one girl could somehow so easily change his attitude when he came to Bridgelake with one as moody and bad as his.

There was a little voice in the back of his head teasing him about Olivia’s words, about the magic of Bridgelake. That same voice was telling him maybe it was all Olivia. Calum pushed it away. He truly sounded crazy.

                                             ✩✩✩✩✩

“Oi! What happened to you promising me the last breadstick?”

Alana grinned unapologetically after swallowing the smaller piece of cheesy bread whole, shrugging innocently at Calum as she hummed, “You snooze, you lose.”

“You can’t trust her around your food, Calum,” Olivia said as she wandered back into the living room, a bottle of beer in each hand before handing one to Calum and settling down next to him on the couch. “She’ll steal it right off your plate. Sometimes even off your spoon.”

Calum shook his head in amusement, his grin widening when Alana snickered from where she sat on the floor. The younger girl then grabbed the TV remote, switching over to Netflix so they could find the first movie of the night they were going to watch. Calum had been over for about an hour now and their food had arrived from the local pizza place around twenty minutes ago, and they already finished all the cheesy bread before even picking the first movie.

He felt immediately at home in Olivia’s apartment, big enough for her and her sister with a joint yet open living room and kitchen space with a hallway leading down to where the girls’ bedrooms were. There were many pictures around the house of the girls with their family, and Calum had felt his heart tug in his chest at the smiling pictures of Olivia and Alana with their parents. He couldn’t imagine how they lived with a dead mother and imprisoned father, and with the smiles he’d seen on their faces so far already, he never would’ve guessed the girls had been through hell.

And with the horrendous way some people in this town treated them with, how they still went through with it with smiles.

He took a sip of his beer, sitting tucked in the corner of the three seater couch, right arm on the arm rest and left draped over the back of the couch, when Alana turned her head around to shoot her sister a wicked smirk. “You know what tonight’s theme is, don’t you, Livvy?”

Calum glanced at the older girl, catching the wary expression cross her face. “No. . . What?” Olivia asked hesitantly, her gaze flickering back to the screen and Calum saw the way her face fell. He followed her gaze, saw that Alana had stopped at the horror/thriller section of Netflix, and heard Olivia let out a groan. “Can we not, please?”

“Nope,” Alana happily chirped, scrolling through the options.

Calum quirked an eyebrow at Olivia, whose shoulders had sunk and face fell, and she saw him looking at her as she huffed. “I hate horror films.”

He smirked, amused. “Never would’ve guessed,” he responded, sarcasm tickling his voice as Olivia rolled her blue eyes and muttered for him to shut up.

“Oh, wait, I know!” Alana suddenly yelled, making the other two jump in surprise as the fourteen year old got to her feet. “Oh, my God I know exactly what we can watch!”

She ran off down the hall, bare feet thudding against the floor as Calum and Olivia stared after her with raised eyebrows until Olivia sighed, “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

“I’m sure it won’t be too bad,” Calum assured her, laughing into his beer bottle when the blue eyed girl shot him a deadpanned look. Then, cheekily, Calum shot her a wink as he said, “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

Olivia’s cheeks heated up at his playful words, unsuccessfully hiding her smile in her own bottle as she took a sip, and Calum could tell because he saw the way her cheeks turned up. He felt almost satisfied, knowing he could make her blush.

Alana ran back into the room and without saying anything to either of them, went up to the TV and turned on the DVD player before putting in whatever movie she brought from her room. Olivia and Calum watched, the former a lot more apprehensive than the latter, as Alana switched the channels, and Olivia let out a groan when the words Sinister appeared on the TV.

“Oh, my God—I’m going to die,” Olivia breathed, her eyes wide. She knew of this movie, had seen the trailer for it when Alana played it for her when she was trying to convince her sister to buy it for her. Unlike Olivia, Alana loved scary films. Whether they were trashy, melodramatic horror or full-fledged horror films that left people having nightmares. And just how Alana loved them, Olivia didn’t see any difference in any of them—they all scared her.

Olivia only bought her sister the movie because she knew Alana wouldn’t stop bitching about it, and because she knew her sister never had nightmares about horror films. But Olivia could barely get halfway through the first time Alana tried to get her to watch it with her, and she knew she wasn’t going to be any less scared now.

To make matters worse, Alana excitedly turned off the lights, enveloping the room in complete darkness save for the glow of the TV, and Olivia swallowed the tight lump in her throat as her sister hit play before sitting comfortably on a floor cushion with her back against the couch Olivia and Calum occupied.

Quickly, Olivia finished off the rest of her beer, knowing the potential jump scares were either going to make her spill the drink or choke on it, and put the empty bottle on the coffee table. Calum and Alana were happily munching away on the pizza, and Olivia wasn’t sure if she should even try to pick up a slice, too nervous for any potential scares that would come her way. She really fucking hated scary movies, and of course the universe would give her a little sister that thrived off of them.

At least Ethan Hawke was in the movie. He was hot.

Of course, that wasn’t entirely enough to make Olivia enjoy the movie. In fact, nearly half way through it, she brought her knees up to her chest and faced her body to the arm rest, back to Calum, cheek resting on her knees and hands brought up to cover her eyes to watch the movie through her fingers. There had been a few scary scenes already with that creepy monster thingy the movie revolved around, and the very sight of it freaked Olivia out.

And when another home movie started playing in the movie they were watching, where the music got loud and intense and downright terrifying because people were dying in it, Olivia closed her eyes and pressed her forehead against her knees, truly unable to watch it. She dismissed the fact that she was probably acting like a big baby, with Calum sitting right there, because she couldn’t help it. She was going to kill Alana for this.

The music was still loud, telling Olivia that the scene was still going on, and she let out a gasp when she felt a hand on her left side, quickly looking over her left shoulder—away from the TV—to see Calum reaching over for her. She stared, surprised, as he offered her a smile and gestured for her to come over.

Olivia took in a deep breath, her heart pounding—most definitely not from the movie anymore—and quickly turned, refusing to look at the TV as Calum kept his arm outstretched for her. She shifted towards him, feeling her cheeks warm up as his arm then moved around her shoulder, and Olivia was suddenly enveloped in Calum’s warm embrace with her knees still brought up and face pressed against his chest, cringing when the music grew more intense, hoping to calm herself down when she inhaled Calum’s familiar vanilla scent. It brought her a wave of comfort, especially when she felt his hand rub her arm and his chin rest atop her head to keep her from looking, knowing that she didn’t want to unless the truly frightening parts had passed.

All the while, Olivia wondered if Calum could feel her quickening heart—just like she could feel his under her ear.

Olivia would be embarrassed that Calum had to comfort her during a movie night she invited him to, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Being in his embrace unexpectedly brought her solace that surpassed the terror the stupid movie brought. So instead of feeling like an idiot, Olivia welcomed the comfort Calum was giving her, reveling in the softness of his shirt and his familiarly pleasant scent and his warmth.

When the music from the movie died down, Calum lifted his chin from her head and murmured, “Alright, you can look now.”

Taking a breath, Olivia chanced a glance at the TV, seeing Ethan Hawke’s character talking to a police officer and she let out the breath she just inhaled. Instead of moving away from Calum, she found herself staying close, resting her cheek against his chest and watching the movie, ready to look away if something freaky began happening.

She completely missed the smile growing on Calum’s face at her closeness, but didn’t miss the way his heart was a steady, happy beat under his chest. It may or may not be because of her, but it definitely brought a smile to her face.

After the God forsaken horror movie ended, with a jump scare at the end neither Calum nor Olivia saw coming, resulting in her letting out a short scream and an amused laugh from both Calum and Alana, Olivia demanded they watched something heartfelt and light. No way was she going to bed with that movie being the last thing she watched.

They ended up watching one of the Scooby-Doo movies—which, although it wasn’t a scary film, still had Olivia and Calum sitting right next to each other, sides pressed and welcoming the warmth each other provided. Neither moved, neither wanted to move, away, and Olivia was finding it difficult not to let her lips break out into the smile they desperately fought for.

By the time they were done, it was a little after eleven at night, and all the food and jump scares had tired Olivia out. So the three of them cleaned up the living room, ridding of the empty boxes and putting the dishes into the dishwasher.

“Thanks for coming, Calum,” Alana smiled at the man as he put on his shoes. “It was really fun—you should come again next week.”

Calum playfully narrowed his eyes at her, sitting up straight and shrugging on his leather jacket. “You gonna steal my food next time?”

Her grin widened, not at all innocent, bringing a smile to Calum’s face as she shrugged. “We’ll see.” When Olivia returned from her room, having excused herself to grab something, Alana gave Calum a hug. He was surprised, but returned the gesture with a soaring heart as Olivia smiled at them. “See you later, Calum. Goodnight!” Alana chirped happily before turning and running down the hallway.

Olivia smiled after her sister, her hands behind her back as Calum chuckled softly. “She really likes you,” Olivia told him as they walked towards the door. “Thanks for joining us tonight.”

 “Thanks for inviting me,” Calum returned with a genuine smile as he opened the door. Honestly, he really was grateful that Olivia welcomed him here, included him in a night for her and her sister. He would probably be bored out of his mind at the house if he just stayed there, so being around Olivia and Alana was definitely a step up. Calum found himself enjoying their company—he already knew he liked hanging around Olivia, and he found himself adoring Alana and the utter spunk the young girl carried. “I had fun.”

“Me too,” Olivia nodded before letting out a sheepish laugh. “Even if I was using you to hide from the first movie. Thank you for that,” she added, her cheeks once again warming as she recalled his strong arm around her, the occasional soft words he’d whisper to assure her that it was okay. She felt like a baby needing all of that reassurance, but coming from Calum. . . Olivia found her thoroughly enjoying it.

“And as my thanks,” Olivia began once more, pushing back the thoughts of her and Calum’s proximity, her grin widening as she brought her hands around from behind her back, “I got you something.”

Calum’s eyebrows shot up as he caught sight of the lavender Moonflower bag, letting out a scoff of a laugh as he took it from the grinning brunette. “What’s this?” he asked, dipping his left hand into it. When he pulled it out, Calum let out a louder laugh as he caught sight of the blue socks with dressed dogs on them, the very socks he’d been eyeing at the boutique earlier today. “No way.”

Olivia’s grin widened at the sound of his laugh and wide smile on his face. “Don’t think I didn’t see you eyeing those bad boys,” she teased, clasping her hands behind her back. “Honestly, if you weren’t going to buy them for yourself, I totally was.”

His heart was light, the smile on his face easy and genuine because how fucking great was Olivia? The socks were dorky and adorable and Calum loved them, and he was absolutely surprised that she had managed to see his interest in them and decided to act on it. This gift wasn’t at all necessary, but the mere thought of it had Calum’s body igniting with genuine gratitude.

“Thank you, Olivia,” Calum laughed, grinning at the socks before putting them in the bag. He then brought his free arm up, and Olivia stepped into his embrace as her arms wrapped around his waist. Calum’s eyes closed at their closeness, her flowery scent making his heart race. “You’re absolutely incredible.”

Her blush intensified, cheeks probably resembling tomatoes as she modestly joked, “I try, I try.”

They pulled away and Olivia too a steadying breath, shoving her hands in the pockets of her loose sweatpants as she smiled up at Calum, fingers itching to brush back the few curls swooping across his forehead. Her heart felt as though it was about to fly out of her chest with the way his dark eyes were looking at her, as if he was taking her in, and she honestly prided herself for her legs not giving out beneath her. How was anyone supposed to stand upright when Calum was looking at them like that?

Suddenly there was a sound of a phone beeping, and Calum had to force himself to look away from Olivia as he pulled his phone out, seeing that he had a text from his grandmother, asking when he’d be home. “I should get going,” Calum sighed, looking back at Olivia, the soft smile returning. “Thank you for tonight. And this,” he added, lifting the bag slightly.

Olivia returned the smile, nodding along. “No problem,” she told him earnestly as Calum stepped out in the hallway. She held the doorknob, leaning against the door as she hopefully asked, “Text me when you get home?”

It was a short drive, Olivia knew, one she’s made hundreds of times. But a chance to talk to Calum again even after he left her house from being there for hours? Olivia didn’t want to pass it up.

Neither did Calum, it seemed, as he smiled and promised, “Of course.”

--

tags: @irwinkitten @glitterprincelu @sweetcherrymike @meetashthere @valentinelrh @astroashtonio @hereforlukescruff @calsangel @novacanecalum @captain-what-is-going-on @txcobell @angelbbycal @singt0mecalum @hopelessxcynic @lfwallscouldtalk @bodhi-black @findingliam-o @softlrh @calntynes @calumsmermaid @erikamarie41 @quintodosuniversos @longlastingdaydream @babylon-corgis @lukehemmingsunflower @spideyseavey @imfuckin10plybud @liviibi123 @pastelpapermoons @malumharmonies @conquerwhatliesahead92 @rotten-kandy @metangi @neigcthood @ohhmuke @old-zeppelin-shirt @5sos-and-hessa @trustmeimawhalebiologist @vxlentinecal @pettybassists @vaporshawn @lu-my-golden-boi @heartbreak-5sos @visualm3nte @isabella-mae13 @dontjinx-it @lifeakaharry @neonweeknds @antisocialbandmate @ixcantxdecidexwhosxmyxfave @calpalbby @grreatgooglymoogly @sunnysideblog @cocktail-calum @miahelizaaabeth @madelynerin @dramallamawithsparkles @hzi0 @aulxna @mermaiden004 @theagenderwhocriedwolf @kaytiebug14 @hoodskillerqueen @bitchinbabylon @empathycth @xhaileyreneex @inlovehoodx @calistheloml @aestheticrelated @bloodlinecal @sublimehood @madbomb @raabiac @britnicole11 

[jeanvaljean24601]

Unsolved Mysteries

”Unsolved Mysteries“Boss Offers Updates on Cold Cases and Talks Tackling Ghosts in Upcoming Episodes。Since its debut “Unsolved Mysteries” has been sitting atop Netflix’s “Top 10” queue and while executive producer Terry Dunn Meurer is obviously “thrilled” with the reception of the streaming revival, Meurer also admits the production team “would be happier” if they could have solved the majority of cases explored within.

But perhaps they still can. The 33-year-old series never had the online support of millions of armchair detectives on social media before, nor quite the international reach of streaming giant Netflix. These things combined make for a pretty impressive army of concerned citizens looking to right a wrong.

Despite the decision to ditch its previous formula of actors recreating each mystery in favor of additional interviews with family members and other loved ones of victims, the purpose of “Unsolved Mysteries” remains the same today as it did when it began: to investigate cold cases and reignite hope when there often is none. And occasionally, it will even continue to dip into the paranormal, such as with UFO cases and ghost stories, the latter of which will be included in the upcoming batch of episodes Muerer says have been shot, edited and delivered, and are going to be released “sometime later this year.”Here, Meurer provides Variety with updates on some key cases and offers a look ahead at the next batch of episodes, including whether or not they will look into ghosts.

How do you go about choosing each case?We get story submissions, and we have a database of hundreds of story submissions. It is really challenging to figure out which cases to produce. We knew that we had an order for six [episodes]. So, out of that six, we wanted to make sure there was a variety of categories. There’s unexplained deaths and a missing person and a murder and paranormal. It’s always important to have a variety of categories — there’s something for everyone. Then we wanted to add in some international stories. Out of the 12 [episodes] that we’ve produced, three of them are international. Two of the international stories will be in the second [batch of episodes]. Then we look at every other kind of diversity: We’ve got international versus domestic, we have rural versus urban, we have age diversity, we have ethnic and racial diversity. They all have to have a lot of twists and turns and need to be very intriguing. If they’re intriguing to us, we know that they’re going to be intriguing to an audience.android box

There are also stories like the case of Patrice [Endres]. Is it an unsolved mystery? The internet seems to believe her husband Rob did it.It’s totally an unsolved mystery. Jeremy Jones has not been ruled out as a suspect in this case, and neither has Gary Hilton. We really try and present balanced cases. As far as I’m concerned, Rob is innocent until proven guilty. We take everyone’s interview at face value. Rob’s a character, but he was very, very honest with us in his responses to the interview, and we believe him. We respect him, and we respect everyone we interview. As Mitch Posey, the investigator says, “Everybody remains a suspect until the case is solved,” but it is an unsolved mystery. Who abducted and killed Patrice? That’s the mystery.

What did her son Pistol [Black] think of Rob’s interview?

We haven’t spoken to Pistol. We’ve spoken to Pistol’s dad, Don, but we haven’t spoken directly to Pistol. We know he’s doing fine. With any of these stories, there’s always information that we can’t include. I wish there were a few other things that I wish we could have included. I think he’s pleased with how the story came out, but we haven’t gotten any comments from him about Rob.

How has social media changed the reception of “Unsolved Mysteries” in 2020?

It didn’t exist when we did the original episodes. The show would air on a certain day at a certain time on a network, and you could watch it once. You couldn’t rewind it. I guess you could tape it off the air. And then it would air again, usually in the summer, and that was it. Now the old episodes have been streaming, so people have an opportunity to look at those in more depth again if they want to. We didn’t have the kind of commentary, and the kind of armchair detectives who jump in and really do try and solve these cases and come up with theories. It’s been amazing to see the reaction on social media.

How many email tips have you received?

There’s probably around 2,000 tips and comments at this point [on unsolved.com] but not all of those are credible leads. Somebody asked me, “How many credible leads have you gotten?” I don’t have an answer for that because I don’t know. We pass the leads if there’s law enforcement involved. Like in the Alonzo Brooks case. We’ve been sending leads to them for Alonzo. I’ve been working on the [Rey] Rivera case. And then the lead for Endres is going directly to the Georgia Bureau of Investigation. We know they’re working the leads we’re giving them, and I’m sure they’re getting leads of their own, but we just don’t know. There’s just no way to quantify how many credible leads there are. But a lot has come in. It’s been very active.

How do you assess a credible tip?

If someone names a name, that would be a credible tip [or] if somebody said, “I was a witness.” If somebody who was at the party where Alonzo was said, “I was a witness to what happened to Alonzo,” that would be a credible tip. We haven’t gotten that yet, let me be clear about that. Anything that has specific information is great. If somebody called and said in the Rivera case, “I own that money clip” or “I know where that money clip is,” that would be a credible lead. Or in Endres, if they said, “Oh, I know that blue Lumina with the wildlife tag.”

There’s some vague tips that come in that are very difficult to follow up on: “I know who killed Ray Rivera.” We email back and we say, “Could you give us more information? Can you give us some details?” We don’t pass those leads onto the FBI or to the law enforcement because we know there’s nothing they can do with them. We try to get whoever submitted the tips to give us more specific information as they can. We would rather have law enforcement vet the tips. We’re not investigators, and you never know what they’re going to see in a tip that we aren’t experienced to see.

How many people do you have reading tips on staff?

There’s a team of about five, six people on different shifts so that we have somebody on the website all the time, going through the tips. And we still have tips and leads in cases getting solved from the original shows. There’s a 30-year-old case, it’s probably going to get solved in the next month or two that we’ve been working with a detective on. I kind of always refer to it as a living, breathing television series where it has a life of its own. You never know when you’re going to get a phone call from the French police and they say, “You know what? We found Xavier [Dupont de Ligonnès].” That’s the mission of the show is to solve these cases. That’s the goal.

What’s the old case that you think is going to crack soon?

There was a young man who committed suicide in a church in Idaho. He’s a John Doe — he’s been a John Doe for 30 years. And the investigator in this police department of relatively new investigators decided he wanted to try and solve this case. My understanding is he went to the file, which was in a box, and the only thing that was in the box — the only information in the box — was a VHS copy of “Unsolved Mysteries.” He reached out to us and said, “Do you have anything? Do you have the note this man left behind? Do you have any of the details from the case?” And we actually had it, which was surprising to me after all these years. We gave him the information we had, and this investigator has been working on it. He just recently, in the last couple of weeks, reached out and said, “I think that we might have figured out who this man is.” My heart goes out to people who don’t know what has happened to their loved one. Even if they’ve passed away, they need to know. Solving these John and Jane Doe cases are really, really important to me.

Can we run through each new case? The world is really eager for updates on every episode. What’s happening with Rey Rivera?android tvbox

There’s been a lot of conversation around the note that he left behind, and also the helicopter theory. When you have a case this mysterious and you cannot figure out how Rey came off of that roof and landed where he did — I was up on that roof and I’m baffled — I think people look for stuff. “Well, what other theories are there if he didn’t come off the roof? Well, maybe he was dropped from a helicopter.” That theory has been circulating.

I know with Patrice Endres, the GBI hasn’t shared the tips that have come in on that particular case. [People are] hoping to find Patrice’s wedding ring or somebody who knows what happened to that. Or the blue Lumina. Somebody could connect that to someone that. That would be great, but we don’t have any specifics on that case.

Alonzo Brooks was probably [the case] we’ve received the most emails on. Lots of theories that we had already heard when we were producing the episodes, but there are some new names that have come in and that we forwarded onto the FBI.

Has no one come forward who was at that party?

There were a lot of people there at that party, somebody witnessed what happened. We just hope that they’ll come forward. The FBI offering that $100,000 dollar reward, which they just announced in the last month. That was so incredible and hopefully motivates somebody to come forward with what they know in that case, because somebody knows.

Was the Brooks case reopened because “Unsolved Mysteries” was digging around? [Editor Note: The reward was announced before the show launched.]

We’re told that, when we were producing the episode over a year ago, the FBI started to look at it again and reopen it. But they just recently made the announcement that it was reopened and that the reward was being offered. Because we reached out to the Kansas Bureau of Investigation and the FBI about the case. At the end of the episode, Billy Brooks, Alonzo’s brother says, “This case needs to stay open. It should never have been closed.” And then, there you go. The case was reopened right before the show premiered. We feel like there might’ve been a connection, and we’ve been told there was a connection, our producers.

Yeah. You know, people always say “sad” and they say “tragic” and that’s really true, but the show gives people so much hope. And the Brooks family has hope — Maria, Alonzo’s mom; everyone has hope. Rodney [English], who was his childhood friend, reached out to us by text and said, “Are there really a lot of tips coming in?” They’re so excited. I hope that their hopes aren’t dashed, but that’s what the show does. I think the audience hopes these cases will get solved. They get invested with these characters and they want to see closure. We want it for the families, but we also want it for the audience.

Do you personally feel that Brooks was where he was located the whole time, despite not being found by the KBI?

I go back and forth on that, honestly. That’s one of the most mysterious aspects of this case. Was Alonzo’s body there all the time, and was it underwater and then [it] popped up when a rainstorm came along? Or was his body placed there? We just got a tip from an entomologist, she was looking at these photos of Alonzo’s clothing and there were maggots on that clothing. She said those maggots often can tell a story of how long that body had been exposed. We passed that on to the FBI, and hopefully they have somebody in their system that could take a look at that. It’s probably not going to solve the case, but it could answer the question that you’re asking, which is: “How long was Alonzo’s body there?”

And what is going on with Lena Chaplin’s case?

Well, Lena, we just would hope that someone would come forward and say where Lena is buried. That would be the dream in that case.

Xavier, we got the most interesting tip. Somebody was actually in Chicago, I think they were on Lake Shore Drive, and they heard this guy talking French and they looked at him and they had just seen the episode. They sent us a photo, and it really did look like Xavier. It was striking. So we sent that tip on. But again, this is just a stranger — we don’t have a name, we don’t have anything specific. In the Xavier case, what we’re hoping for is that he’s remarried or he has a girlfriend or he lives next door to somebody or he has a coworker who absolutely 100% knows that’s him. We need a very specific lead, because those leads come in from all over the world. Xavier looks so much like so many other people. With Netflix’s global reach, if Xavier is going to be found, we’re really hoping that the Netflix audience will find him. If he’s alive. That’s the mystery. Did he kill himself after he went through the elaborate work that he did, or is he out there somewhere? So we’re hoping he’s catchable if he’s alive, because of Netflix reach, global reach, or national reach.

In the next six episodes, will there be a ghost episode?

Yes. But I’ll qualify that and say it’s an unusual ghost episode. That’s all I’ll say. It’s different. A bit different.

How has working on this show for so long changed you?tvbox

I don’t know that it has. I guess it makes me more cautious about myself and my children. I think that the scarier stories for people are the ones where somebody is doing everything right, and something goes wrong. But I’ve loved “Mysteries” from the time I was very, very young. I was a Nancy Drew fan and Agatha Christie fan. Recently in looking back, I’ve thought, “How lucky am I that I could take this passion of mine, which is mysteries and intrigue, and twists and turns, and actually have that be my career and almost my life’s work?” We’ve been producing “Unsolved Mysteries”, involved with the brand, created the brand and then been managing the brand for 34 years. That’s probably unusual in the television business where you’re involved with brand for that many years. So it’s been very gratifying, the number of cases that have been solved and the people that we feel like we’ve helped. We just want to keep it going. We just want to keep following more cases. I still have hope. I don’t think it’s changed me a lot. I still have as much hope as I did back when we did the first special that we’re going to solve a case. And I still get that same feeling of excitement when we do solve the case and we get some leads come in. It’s very exciting. And we just very hopeful. So we may maintain the hope that we’ve always had that we can keep solving cases.

“Unsolved Mysteries” is streaming now on Netflix.

[pieceofmymind-forachange-blog]

Sexual Education in Indonesia

Indonesia is experiencing a major development and an intense change, including cultural and social development. Many perspective regarding to sex has been changed ever since. Lately, the number of young adults in Indonesia that participated in pre-marital sexual activities have increased more than ever. With the lack of knowledge, this will lead into unwanted pregnancy, abortion, higher rates of transmission of STDs and others. Unfortunately, conversation regarding sexual and health reproduction is still seen as a taboo thing and against traditional law. 

           ︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵ ︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵ ︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵ 

I am an Indonesian native. Born and raised in this beautiful country of 18,307 islands and at least 300 ethnic groups. And as much I love this country, I was quite baffled when a few years back my internet friend from America told me that they have this thing called “Sex Education” in school. Talking about sexual and health reproduction related was a weird thing for me and my friends to discuss. Sure, we did get about health and reproduction material in biology class. But, they only told you about the organs that helped humans to create another human(s), aren’t they? Or only about the stages of how the baby developed and other related things. Your parents didn’t exactly told you about this thing either because its too awkward, isn’t it? Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not trying to be some kind of weird perverted here. Because, duh, that is ABSOLUTELY UNACCEPTABLE IN THIS HOUSE. And if that’s what you think, then it’s time for you to;

Sexual health education is way much more than that. 

 SO WHAT IS SEXUAL EDUCATION?

Sex education is information about bodily development, sex, sexuality, and relationships, along with skills-building to help young people communicate about and make informed decisions regarding sex and their sexual health. It should include information about puberty and reproduction, abstinence, contraception and condoms, relationships, sexual violence prevention, body image, gender identity and sexual orientation. 

-Advocates for Youth.

Now before you come at me saying “BuT iTs nOt OuR tRaDiTiON1!11!1!1!2!” then the answer is; no, having sexual education in school does not encourage youngster to participate in pre-marital sexual activities. It does not deprive adolescents from their innocence. If anything, this will help teenagers who goes through puberty a lot. So they will know what to do instead of getting the wrong information from peers who goes through the same thing but did not exactly understand stuff. Information should be really accessible for the youth concerning different sexualities.

INDONESIA’S  SOCIETY REGARDING SEXUAL EDUCATION

We already know that Indonesia is a home with so many cultures and various people from different backgrounds in it. I can assure you that these people discouraged anything regarding ‘sexual,’ even if it is for educational purposes.  This behavior is related to several factors: lack of knowledge, religiosity, personal characteristics, and social and cultural factors.  

Most parents felt inadequate to talk to their children about issues related to reproductive health. Because in the past, girls were expected to remain virgin until marriage as it was regarded as a symbol of morality. Failure to prove it, could cause the breakup of the marriage.

WHAT DO INDONESIANS’ YOUNGSTER SAY?

I asked a bunch of people regarding this (around 40 people to be exact). I asked them on what age did they start to know about sexual intercourse and where did they got the information from. As a fellow Indonesian, the answer

I know it from a young age, around the time when I started to hit my puberty days. I know it from the internet and friends.

is not shocking anymore is it? None of these gals are comfortable discussing this with their parents or teachers when they know things. Its possible, but its rare because of the limited knowledge. They did their own research from websites, magazines and videos which sometimes results in negative sexual behavior. Interestingly, none of them said they knew about this stuff from the official government page.

Some of my subjects said that they have had participated in pre-marital sexual intercourse with their significant others. A lot of them said that they are curious of something new and the feeling of desire. They also said that they are too afraid to admit it out loud because they were ashamed if the society bashed on them seeing as pre-marital sexual intercourse is seen as a major sin in Indonesia. Previous studies conducted in Indonesia verified that active sexual negative attitudes are higher in females than in males. It is not rare when adolescents in Indonesia faced a difficult situation and they wished that Indonesia have an open sexual education in school so they’ll know what to do.

WHY DO WE NEED SEXUAL EDUCATION IN SCHOOL

Sexual education does not make it easier for pedophiles to abuse people. They will know when to speak up when something wrong happens to them.

Youngster learn about equality and respect. They will understand the value and authority of each person’s body. 

Train young people of the right to say the word ‘no’ when they are uncomfortable and trapped in an unwanted situation.

Teach the youngsters of what to do when their puberty starts so they don’t have to panic. 

Good-quality sexuality education is grounded in internationally accepted human rights, in particular the right to access appropriate health-related information.

Reduction in teenage pregnancies and abortions and a decline in rates of STDs and HIV infections among young people. 

Increasing confidence and strengthening skills to deal with different challenges, 

Empower young people to develop strong and meaningful relationships.

And here’s my first post, until then--fin. 

Ciao, don’t forget to share your thoughts here.

[vddls-blog]

Friend reader, imagine a place where you could cross 15 clones of the One Piece Hero, eat octopus balls, buy cat ears (stuffed!), Be photographed on the back of a virtual pig or receive a lot of cuddles coming from perfect unknowns … Impossible, do you think? Well no ! This idyllic world, strange, perfect, crazy, kawai (bar useless mentions) exists. His name is Japan Expo!

Favorite robot..

As you say right now, I'm not mad about manga. Although I have the pseudo "BDphilou", it is especially the Franco-Belgian comics that has always fascinated me. Younger, I still loved the cartoon "Akira" which remains a reference of the Manga genre but other than that, few have caught my attention.

In these conditions, why go to the Japan Expo? Especially since I'm not able to quote any minor character of Naruto or to sing the least credits of cartoons appeared after 1985? Well it's simple: Japan Expo is an experience in itself!

For those who do not know at all what Japan Expo is, know that it is a kind of huge living room based at the Paris Nord Villepinte exhibition center. And what do we see? An incredible amount of stands more or less in connection with Japan in general and Jap'animation " in particular.

On the menu of this event many different activities:

Of shopping in the countless shops of the show selling everything and often anything: Who wants to buy cats paws stuffed? Or keychains in the shape of Cup Cake? Or very "kawaïs" stuffed animals representing llamas (yes, I'm still looking for the relationship with Japan), bottles of fruit juice with real pieces of fruit inside? And lots of other objects as useless as necessary.

of the course martial arts, wrestling (!?!), calligraphy, majong, cooking and – in the midst of the deafening sound of the Yoga Salon!

of the restaurants selling a whole lot of Asian specialties as tasty as unexpected. Well, do not count on me to give you my impression on the menus, I had loosely bought my sandwich at the station just before entering the exhibition!

of the scenes where groups of Japanese singers-unknown to ordinary European mortals-whose average age should not exceed 15 years, make a real card to the applaudimeter.

of the conferences more or less surprising. Thus, one could religiously listen to the creator of the hit video game series "Crazy Taxi" that explained how he had designed his game … or go a few tens of meters away to see a huge crowd cheering a big yellow stuffed that had a badly mad to move and who was screaming in incomprehensible language!

of the stands for the less curious where you are offered to sit on a cube and in front of a green background. A snapshot and 2 minutes later, you leave with a picture of you on a virtual pig with written: "Seven Deadly Sins". Why ? How? What happened there? So many questions that will remain unanswered!

Stands video games represented a little by Sony and a lot by Nintendo. It was also the part of the noisiest room. It must be said that the animators visibly confused the verbs "comment" and "scream" to describe what everyone could yet see on giant screens.

But ESPECIALLY: there is Cosplay !

Well sorry for this old-fashioned reference to Captain Flamme, but as I said above, I'm not super up to date on the latest Japanese cartoons. So, back to our sushi, and unlike this as one might think, the most interesting point of the Japan Expo is not necessarily in the various stands and activities on offer. No ! It is indeed in its alleys that is all the "salt" of this event. Indeed, many visitors are " cosplayers ". Understand that they made the trip to walk in the living room fully disguised as heroes of manga and / or video games. But be careful, do not imagine the costume knitted quickly by Tati Huguette the eve of the last year's holiday party. Here it is really about often impressive costumes. We feel that most Cosplayers had to spend a considerable amount of time designing the smallest details of their clothes. It goes from the simplest (The Hero of One Piece with his red jacket and his straw hat was very well represented) to costumes simply impressive or confusing realism. So even though, like me, you only know the 10th characters crossed in the aisles of the show, it is obvious that your eyes will naturally be attracted by all these creations. Thus, Ariel the little Mermaid rubs Cobra with her cigar, Princess Amidala talks with a zombie nurse and the Spartan "300" queues at fast food with a warrior looking straight out of prehistory! Surreal and very fun at the same time. Especially since all this beautiful world is very easily affordable and will be happy to ask for any objective on request from you. Some even give you a business card so you can take a look at their website presenting each of their costumes!

As you can see, strolling the aisles of the show is an attraction of every moment.

To conclude this little report, I realize that I forgot to talk to you about many things. For example, we could notice the locations for dedications of Japanese authors well known who were not so far from those young amateur designers seeking to break through by presenting their first fanzine. I also forgot to mention the presence of a clone of Freddy Mercury vacuuming on stage with a giant panda (!! ??). And how not to mention people walking around with their signs " Free Hugs ". Understand that they propose to hug you, just for fun! I could also talk to you a little about video games by telling you quickly that I was able to watch a fight from the next Super Smash Bros (to be released at the end of the year on Wii U) on a giant screen. This was the 1era European public presentation, if I'm not mistaken. And the baffles are flying low, believe me! I also discovered " Splatoon (Still on Wii U / planned release in February 2015). A game of confrontation with 4 players against 4 where it will be the team repainting the largest area of ​​the playground. To move faster, you must … turn into a squid! (???) A game perfectly in keeping with the spirit of the show: completely barred and incredibly endearing! Well, there are still 1000 things to tell about the Japan Expo but I prefer to leave you the surprise to live them in one of the next editions! Sayonara!

[lorieninksong]

My Journey through PTSD

A more thorough explanation.  I wrote this for Deviantart and wanted to share it here, too.

Warning: The following includes descriptions of abuse against animals, children, hospital patients and suicide mentions.  If this is not safe for you to read please turn back now or skip to the TL;DR section.

 For the first time in a long time I am confident that I'm going to survive and recover from my PTSD.  I'm out of the suicide risk zone, and though my body is still struggling it's no longer life threatening.  Every day I still hurt but its significantly less, and I'm hoping with more recovery time and work I'll be able to not hurt at all one day.  As it turns out the reason my complex PTSD (info: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Complex_… ) was so severe is that I've actually had it for ~20 years.  I grew up in an abusive household, and was essentially raised to believe I was worthless.  My father employed tactics of fear (stomping around the house, shouting at us, insulting us, and even abusing my pets on rare occasion) and my mother groomed me to be her, expressing derision when I tried to be anything different.  She also once threw a vase or bouquet at my head (I can't remember which) as a toddler.  The abuse of one of my parakeets by my father, though she thankfully didn't receive injury, lead into years of nightmares about my birds being hurt in a similar manner.  These were my first PTSD symptoms.  All of these things I was told were my fault, and I deserved it.  I didn't.  No child could.   By the time I was diagnosed I had already been partially mauled by the medical system.  I was prescribed medications based on what was in patent (so more money could be made from me) even though they were less understood and significantly less safe.  My first psych med prescription landed me in the ER twice in 12 hours.  The first time I was dismissed as someone seeking drugs, despite not having any record criminal or otherwise.  When I came back in they had to test me for heart damage.  Things didn't improve with a diagnosis; it took two years and three psychiatrists to start any kind of appropriate treatment.  My first psychiatrist didn't do any kind of evaluation, handed me a list of drugs to chose from, and then abandoned me and all of his other patients with no warning or instruction.  The next psychiatrist I found was obsessed with his own methods, scorning mainstream 'modern' medicine for an endless trial of quackery, lifestyle changes, and medications that did little to help me or caused harm.  He also would have my spouse, who is not medically trained, research and present medications to him for me to try.  This is part of how I ended up in the ER several times over this last winter.     And let me tell you, the ER is an unkind place to the mentally ill.  Also to people with chronic pain issues, and to anyone who happens to have a uterus or identifies as female.  (I'm not a transwoman but I've heard plenty about how the medical industry treats them, not to mention women of color.)  When I tried to kill myself by jumping off a bridge (I was stopped before I jumped) last summer I was taken by ambulance to an ER.  I came in crying, terrified, and having one hell of a panic attack.  Their response was to treat me like a violent criminal.  The staff got aggressive quickly as I cried in a corner of the room I was escorted to, and forced me under threat of being forcibly stripped by a group of strangers (including armed men) to surrender most of my clothing in lieu of scrubs.  Because "You could be hiding a bomb in there".  That is what I was told by a nurse.  They then trapped me in that room for the next twelve hours, and refused to treat the extreme physical pain that came from the physical symptoms of my PTSD.  Additionally they took all of the medicine I had with me so I couldn't take care of myself, and someone helped themselves to some of my pills before they were returned.   This was certainly the most egregious example of abuse I endured in various hospitals and clinics, but it was hardly an isolated incident.  To make matters worse when the hospital I was going to couldn't find an easy explanation for the the severe pain I was experiencing after a few tests they just dumped me back out onto the street.  Even after I was kept overnight for observation hooked up with a special heart monitor because my pulse was high and irregular.  My current psychiatrist (who used to be a manager at a Providence hospital) is still concerned about my heart, and I may need to see a cardiologist.  Even though I still was struggling to eat or sleep, and was still in agony.  I have learned not to go to the hospital unless I think I may die.  It's not worth it otherwise.   Having to fight the medical system alongside the PTSD (and my insurance company constantly harassing me) was bad enough, but I also had to fight my family and friends.  I received very little support from them, regardless of how close we were or how I had supported them in the past.  And reaching out to them was an exercise in frustration at best.  No one wanted to listen.  And recently I found out a couple of family members/friends had labeled my PTSD and related issues as 'drama'.  That they 'didn't have time for'.  These were the same family members that when I wrote about how I was abused at the ER on my blog called me to tell me to delete the post.  If that wasn't bad enough I recently found out that part of their motivation was a belief that I was lying, just exaggerating and being 'dramatic' about what happened.  I'm baffled.  I'm not a dishonest person.  Worst of all nobody asked if I was okay.  After that I stopped expressing myself even online, and became extremely socially isolated.  Trying to reach out to people or express myself was too stressful.  Outside of healthcare providers I didn't see anyone outside of my spouse and his parents, and only had one remaining friend (an online pen-pal) to talk to.   This journal is not a call to action.  I'm explaining what happened to me as a way of striking out at the voice inside of me, formed from the years of abuse, that tells me I deserve this abuse.  Because I didn't deserve this.  No one deserves this.   No child deserves to be blamed for the decisions their parents made for them.  No child deserves being raised by parents who made their resentment known to them about the financial burden of their upbringing.  No child should come to feel guilty for the crime of being born, a miracle of survival that shouldn't be turned into a screwed up curse.  I no longer speak to my parents.  That line was drawn for my own safety, the safety of my new family, of my pets and my husband.  Speaking up about the abuse they inflicted on me is my way of holding them accountable for their decisions.     No family member deserves to have others in the family believe their illness to be a lie, to be told that their experiences aren't true.  Family shouldn't gaslight (info: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gaslight…) family.  It's classified as abuse for a reason.  I've needed to come out about what happened to me to process it and make it through, and for the past several months I've been too anxious to do so.  Partly because of how some of the members of my new family (who I also thought were my friends) have gaslighted me, but also because I have a severe anxiety disorder that required medical intervention beyond my old psychiatrist's insistence I increase my magnesium supplement intake.  Fortunately after I dumped him I found a competent, but difficult psychiatrist.  She knows her medicines well, is frank about what she thinks of each medication, and recommended me the tried and true standard for treating depression and anxiety disorders.  Yep, Prozac.  Between that and continued therapy (EMDR specifically, which you can read about here www.emdr.com/what-is-emdr/ ) I'm starting to recover in earnest.  My pain issues thankfully are being addressed between a specialty pain clinic and my medications.  Fortunately they were able to stumble upon what was actually hurting me; muscle spasms, a common PTSD symptom. I'm working on physical therapy to recover and prevent further pain.  These treatments and my own endurance have gotten me to this point, and I'm proud to say that.  But I'm crushed that I had to fight through friends and family to get here, alongside the medical industry as a whole.  When I first realized I was sick and made a journal about it, someone asked me if I'd write about my experiences in the medical health system.  I didn't realize at the time why.  Now I do. They asked my opinion, so here it is: the mental health system is broken.  I was made significantly worse, to the point of nearly having a stroke (to quote my psychiatrist after I described my last trip to the ER) and likely nearly having died several times.  And having tried to take my life several times.  All of it was unnecessary.  A large part of my suicidal ideation issues were merely the result of a lack of medical treatment.  This part of why I'm working with deathstroke50 to leave the USA and move to Britain.  Its hardly a perfect place, but we think we'll be happier there.  And as it turns out the UK not only has a very informative website about PTSD (www.ptsduk.org/) but their standard treatment to try upon diagnosis is EMDR therapy alongside Prozac.  Great.  Only took me two hellish years and several near death experiences to get there.   TL;DR I've been through some shit.  Honestly I'm surprised I'm alive, after being repeatedly kicked while I was down by the medical system and a few of my family and friends.  But I'm making changes in my life and getting better quickly.  Also I'm trying to move to the UK.  With me luck please~

[my-greatseo-love]

Sleepwear

Regardless of how often my child comes approaching me with purple goop all over that fresh out of the box new shirt, I can't resist the urge to grin when I investigate those eyes, brimming with innocence...they gangs a sort of total surrender that helps me to remember my previous self, before the drudges and worries of life started heaping up. While I am presently the stain remover of the family unit, I feel that each time I scour that little white shirt, it returns me to a period where I didn't need to ponder any obligation life could toss at me, not to mention the need to keep myself clean.

Such wistfulness aside, it can at present be very baffling when you see squeezed orange all over your youngster's recently acquired Hello Kitty child garments. Particularly, might I include, when you remained in line for in excess of a sensible measure of line on Black Friday at your neighborhood discount young ladies' garments outlet to get them at a practically sensible cost. Be that as it may, there is trust. Things being what they are, expelling stains from your kid's jammies can really be to a lesser degree an errand than you may have envisioned. Here are a few hints that should help you in your journey to keep up a level of conventionality in your children's appearance that mirrors the exceptional character that you realize they have. Jimmy Jammys

Try not to spread the stain!

- Upon introductory contact with the stain being referred to, it might be enticing to scour at it angrily trying to contain the breakout before it makes itself a lasting piece of the shirt's plan. In any case, you need to drive yourself to be quiet, and recall that on the off chance that you scour at it too forcefully, you will in all likelihood spread the stain to parts of the shirt that were beforehand unexplored, and would have stayed all things considered had you not got all worked up! Have a go at beginning your wipes in roundabout movements around the stain, and move your path internal to gather however much as could reasonably be expected without making an excess of tumult. This training will help you a ton over the long haul.

Try not to delay!

- Try handling the stain at the earliest opportunity, immediately. On the off chance that little Jimmy runs in with mustard all over his new polo, act rapidly. Get him (utilize your hand to hand fighting preparing, on the off chance that you have any), and supplant his clothing. With karma, you ought to have the option to take out the stain before it has the opportunity to make itself an individual from your family.

Heated Water + Detergent = Job done!

- Forget the most recent cleaning arrangement you purchased when you were up past the point of no return sitting in front of the TV (I mean really...why would you say you were up that late? The least you could do in case you're placing yourself in those circumstances is shroud your charge cards. I digress...). In the event that you take the garments being referred to your pantry, some basic cleanser with boiling water will take out the stain pretty much without fail. One thing to know about, notwithstanding, is that high temp water can will in general make a few stains (very few) more terrible. Protein stains are a genuine case of this.

Ideally this will give you a decent start as you set yourself up for the fights ahead. Godspeed, and recollect that one day, your children will clean your stains. That generally encourages me endure the day.

Have a go at handling the stain at the earliest opportunity, immediately. On the off chance that little Jimmy runs in with mustard all over his new polo, act rapidly. Get him (utilize your hand to hand fighting preparing, on the off chance that you have any), and supplant his clothing. With karma, you ought to have the option to take out the stain before it has the opportunity to make itself an individual from your family. The exact opposite thing you need to happen is to make another excursion to the discount young men's garments store since you stood by too long to even consider cleaning his shirt! Visit This Website=https://jimmyjammys.com.au

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[beingatoaster]

I was reading something just now that reminded me of something that happened during my shift on Tuesday. I took a call at the service desk from a customer who had made an online-pickup order, then had it cancel on her; she wanted to know why, and she was already pretty angry about it when I picked up. I explained to her that the most likely reason was that it was not in stock (I checked to verify this), so the person who went to pull it canceled it when they found the item wasn’t in place. She got even madder, insisting that it showed in stock on the website, which... our website does this. As far as I can tell, it only gets updates from our store inventory a couple times a week (and our store inventory itself only updates around 8 AM every morning, so it’s not even reliable by the end of the night). I tried to explain this to her, and then I said I’d go look in the back myself, put her on hold, and looked in the back myself. It wasn’t there, because we do not have it in stock! So I returned, very apologetically told her that we definitely didn’t have it in stock, and offered to call the store a half-mile down the road, which showed FOUR of the item in stock, and make sure they secured one for her.

She refused, told me this was "completely unacceptable” service and that she was going to call the district manager about it (which I did pretty calmly tell her “please do” about, because customer complaints are the only way system-level things like the website’s shitty inventory tracking have any chance of getting fixed), and when I told her again that I was very sorry, she said, “No you’re not. Enjoy your nine dollars an hour” and hung up.

Now, I wasn’t particularly hurt by this (in part because, while it still isn’t really enough to live on, I do make more than nine dollars an hour). But I was, and remain, baffled, and the thing I read (about Walmart’s staffing practices) reminded me of that bafflement. Because... clearly she knows our store’s starting rate of pay, and clearly she knows that said nine dollars an hour isn’t a lot, or she wouldn’t have tried to use it as a parting shot. And yet, after I went above and beyond for her--if it had been a regular service desk person taking that call, I wouldn’t have expected them to do more than tell her that it cancelled because we were out of stock, but that the store down the road had it in stock if she wanted to re-place her online-pickup order there--she still felt that was “completely unacceptable” service. From someone making, as she presumed, nine dollars an hour.

Like. Ma’am. You get what you pay for. What the hell did you expect from someone making what you clearly know is an inadequate and unmotivating wage?

[pogueman]

The Google Home is the first voice assistant to know who's asking

You probably know what the Amazon Echo (AMZN) is, right? It’s the tall black cylinder that serves as a Siri for your home (here’s my review). From across the room, it can understand and field a huge number of queries—weather, sports, movies, facts—and connect to a huge number of services and home-automation products (Nest, Uber, Domino’s Pizza, etc.).

A few months back, Google (GOOG, GOOGL), without a trace of shame, released its own, nearly identical cylinder, called Google Home ($130). Since Amazon had a five-year head start, it has remained the more capable cylinder. But last month, Google introduced a new feature that changes the game so much, it’s practically a different sport: Person recognition.

The Google Home now knows who’s talking. Usually.

That is, the Google Home now knows who is speaking, and can deliver the answer based on that person’s calendar, work commute, music playlists, Uber account, and so on. (It can distinguish up to six people in a household.)

Training the Google Home to know your voice takes all of 8 seconds.

Training the thing to recognize a new voice is as simple as saying “OK Google” and “Hey Google” twice each into the companion phone app.

Now, there are some important footnotes to this business—more on that in a moment. But in theory, here’s what multi-voice recognition is supposed to get you:

“Hey Google, what’s next on my calendar?” It speaks your next appointment. (Requires, of course, that you keep your agenda on Google Calendar.)

“OK Google, play my Relax playlist.” It begins to play the corresponding playlist from your Spotify, YouTube Music, Pandora, or Google Music account.

“Hey Google: Add cranberry juice to my shopping list.” It adds that item to your shopping list, as maintained on Google Keep.

“Hey Google, how does my commute look?” It speaks the current travel time to your place of work, based on current traffic conditions. (Requires that you’ve entered your home and work addresses in the app.)

“OK Google: Give me the news.” It plays the latest news report from your preferred news source (NPR, for example).

“OK Google, call me an Uber.” Summons the nearest Uber driver, using your Uber account.

When you play a podcast, the Google Home remembers where you left off.

The recommendation engines for services like YouTube and Spotify now keep everybody’s consumption habits separate, so your trash-action-movie habits don’t pollute your wife’s chick-flick history.

In fact, Google says that all add-on features (third-party voice commands that Google calls Services and Amazon calls Skills) are automatically speaker-recognizing. They all store each family member’s history and preferences separately.

Person recognition in practice

All of that is the theory. In practice, there are a few problems left to solve.

The first one is that the recognition just doesn’t work all the time. Too often, the Home responds by saying, “I wasn’t able to verify your voice.” She recommends that you re-train your voice.

Actually, you’re lucky if she says that. In some cases, she doesn’t even let you know that she can’t identify you; instead, she just treats you as a guest, and you’ll never know what went wrong. Here’s what I mean:

For days, I tried to get the shopping-list feature to work. “Add shaving cream to my shopping list,” I’d say—and that would work. Then my assistant Jan would try it. “Add peanut butter to my shopping list”—but it would add peanut butter to my shopping list, alongside the shaving cream.

An emailed cry for help to Google revealed the answer: The company believes that most households maintain a single shopping list. So until you change your settings, everybody’s requests get dumped onto one common list.

(To enable separate shopping lists, people 2, 3, 4, 5, and 6 must open the Google Home app, create a new shopping list, and designate it as their Primary lists.)

But even then it still might not work. If Google Home doesn’t recognize the speaker, she doesn’t say “I wasn’t able to verify the voice.” Instead, she dumps the shopping-list item onto the first person’s list. Baffling.

I kept running into a similar problem with music. If you say, “Play my Party playlist,” Google Home starts playing soft jazz, which is what’s in your Spotify Party playlist. But if your teenager says “Play my Party playlist,” it doesn’t start playing his headbanger heavy-metal; it plays your soft jazz.

Here again, that happens when Google Home isn’t sure who’s speaking. Instead of telling you, she just starts playing the first person’s music.

How to fix the not-recognizing

If you find that Google Home keeps not recognizing you, you’re supposed to open the app and repeat the “Hey Google”/”OK Google” training business.

Two problems. First, it’s ridiculously hard to find that place in the app. (Hint: Tap the Menu icon in top left; tap More Settings; tap Shared Devices; tap “Teach it your voice again.”)

Second problem: What Google doesn’t make clear is that you’re not re-training Google Home; you’re providing additional training. I had assumed that my new “Hey Google/OK Google” recordings would replace the original ones. But in fact, Google says, the more times you do this, the more accurate she’ll get.

So maybe there’s hope for this voice-differentiation thing after all.

Google vs. Amazon

Most head-to-head comparisons of the Google Home and the Amazon Echo declare Amazon the winner, primarily because it does so many more things. It controls far more home-automation devices (“Alexa, make the downstairs two degrees cooler,” “Alexa, turn off the bedroom lights,” etc.). And software companies have created at least 7,000 Skills (add-on commands)—far more than the puny 215 available for Google.

I have to say, though: Even though Amazon’s ecosystem puts Google’s to shame, its technology is not as good. Some examples:

You can’t use any of Amazon’s Skills (add-on commands) until you open the app, find the one you want in a list, and turn it on manually. All of Google’s Services are ready and waiting to use at any time.

Google Home communicates with Google Chromecast, a $35 dongle that plugs into your TV. You can say, “OK Google, play John Oliver on TV,” or “Hey Google, turn on subtitles,” or “OK Google, turn on Netflix.” Just say that! Out loud in the room! And boom, it’s now on your TV. This is pure magic.

You can group multiple Google Homes as a single speaker system, so they all play the same thing simultaneously.

You can use the popular If This, Then That (IFTT) website to create new commands of your own—and you can create wordings of your own (“Turn off all the lights”). With Amazon, you must goofily say “Alexa, trigger ‘Turn off all the lights.’”

In general, most of the Alexa add-on commands are clunkier that way. If you have a Harmony universal remote, for example, you can just say “OK Google, turn on the TV.” But if you have an Echo, you have to say, “Alexa, trigger ‘Turn on the TV.’”

Google Home can walk you through any of 5 million recipes from Bon Appetite, The New York Times, Food Network and so on. You say, “OK Google, next step,” and she speaks the next step in the instructions.

Multi-person recognition. As you know. (Obviously, this feature won’t remain a Google exclusive for long. If Amazon isn’t working on its own similar feature, I’ll eat my hat.)

Of course, there are Google Home limitations, too. You can’t create reminders or To Do lists by voice (you can on the Amazon). The Amazon can order products (from Amazon) and read Audible e-books; the Google can’t.

Google Home is also bizarrely disconnected from Google’s own services. You can’t get it to read your Gmail aloud, or change or add calendar appointments by voice. There’s no integration with Google Docs, and no ability to supply Google Maps driving instructions or send them to your phone.

And, of course, the Google Home costs $130. That’s cheaper than the full-size Amazon Echo ($180), but not as cheap as the compact Echo Dot ($50), which does exactly the same things but doesn’t have as rich-sounding a speaker.

Multi-person

But never mind all that. Because it can now determine who’s speaking (usually), the Google Home just got scarily smarter—and knowing your preferred music, calendar, shopping list, and preferences is only the tip of the iceberg.

This feature could be the gateway to a whole universe of useful features. You could say, “turn off my bedroom lights,” and it’ll know whose bedroom. You can say, “where’s my phone?”, and it’ll ping your phone under the couch. You can say, “Send flowers to my wife,” and it’ll know whose wife.

Which could, you know, kind of matter.

So: Well done, Google.

Your move, Amazon.

More from David Pogue:

Inside the World’s Greatest Scavenger Hunt: Part I

Inside the World’s Greatest Scavenger Hunt: Part 2

The David Pogue Review: Windows 10 Creators Update

Now I get it: Bitcoin

David Pogue tested 47 pill-reminder apps to find the best one

David Pogue’s search for the world’s best air-travel app

The little-known iPhone feature that lets blind people see with their fingers

David Pogue, tech columnist for Yahoo Finance, welcomes nontoxic comments in the comments section below. On the web, he’s davidpogue.com. On Twitter, he’s @pogue. On email, he’s poguester@yahoo.com. You can read all his articles here, or you can sign up to get his columns by email. 

[starwarsnonsense]

"You cannot deny the truth that is Reylo!”

I haven’t written anything remotely long form for a while, but I have been inspired to exercise my typing fingers a bit more than usual by recent events. The last week has been a good one for the Reylo shipping community. Josh Gad’s Instagram video where Judi Dench asks “what’s the deal with Reylo?” was swiftly followed by updates to the StarWars.com Databank that include turns of phrase that many a fanfiction writer might dismiss as being too Mills & Boon-y (”Kylo’s entreaties”, “the fearsome warlord was vulnerable”, “he sensed his destiny and Rey’s were somehow intertwined”, etc., etc.).

What has perhaps been most interesting to me is how these developments have been digested, by both the fandom itself and the wider media. In the Reylo shipping community, these developments have been celebrated not because they are dramatic revelations but because they line up beautifully with interpretations that shippers have been enthusiastically discussing and thrashing out since the first days after The Force Awakens release. The idea that Rey and Kylo share a mystical Force bond has been common currency in Reylo fanfic and meta since day one, so the ‘reveals’ that Kylo and Rey share a “strange connection” and will have “a very interesting relationship moving forward” weren’t really reveals at all. Instead, they only solidified what had their origin as fan theories entrenched in shipping culture.

I usually hate to sound smug, but recent events have given Reylo shippers every damn right to be smug. While we obviously can’t be confident that our predictions for the direction of the story will come to fruition, we absolutely can be confident that our reading of The Force Awakens - which has emphasised how crucial and complex the connection between Rey and Kylo is from the beginning - has been pretty much dead on. While mainstream discourse has been populated by inane Snoke theories and relentless speculation on who donated their genetic material to create the frustratingly surname-less Rey, the #Reylo tag on Tumblr has been filled with thousands of words picking apart every facet of the relationship between Rey and Kylo as it is presented in The Force Awakens and beyond. And this dynamic, if we’re to go by the sheer proportion of words the Databank now dedicates to illuminating it, is what is going to be at the core of Rey and Kylo’s stories going forward.

The most frustrating thing about all of this has been how the contributions that the shipping community has made to analysis and discussion of The Force Awakens have been dismissed as anywhere between silly and trivial and distorting and perverse. When it has not been ignored, the Reylo phenomenon has normally been treated as something of a pariah in Star Wars fandom. It is currently a banned topic on the largest Star Wars forum on the internet (primarily because of the runaway hysteria that breaks out whenever the subject is raised), and where it is discussed it is often subject to intense scorn and ridicule, alluded to with superior sniggers and offhand references to Twilight. It is, essentially, treated as a lesser form of engagement with Star Wars.

What is most ironic about the scorn Reylo receives is that people rarely engage with the arguments shippers themselves use - which just so happen to be the very arguments that are now being vindicated by official sources. People are eager to tear down strawman arguments that presume Reylo shippers desperately long for Rey to swoon into Kylo’s muscular arms, but it’s exceptionally rare to see any of the people who express their dislike of Reylo to engage with the shippers’ arguments using the terms and arguments that the shippers themselves deploy. For these people. the new additions to the Databank and the meta churned out by the #Reylo shipping community can be kept reassuringly separate. It is possible to rationalise the “mysterious connection” as something reassuringly impersonal and mystical - in this way, it’s possible to avoid the taint of shipping culture that inevitably comes with any suggestion of a sexual or romantic bond. The former kind of reading is acceptably sanitized, the latter often deemed a danger to morality (think of the children!) and a twisted perversion of the filmmakers’ intent. 

In the wider internet culture, Reylo is simply too obscure to earn hatred. Instead, it is alternately treated as a baffling internet subculture to be neatly defined for the sake of the uninformed reader and a perplexing invention of fangirls that is so implausible as to be irrelevant to the serious discussions at hand (because we all know the world needs the theory that Snoke is Mace Windu, right?). The Databank material has been raised by various mainstream websites, all seemingly unaware of the long history of fan discussion of Force bond theories and their roots in shipping culture. When the references to a “mysterious connection” are raised, they are often taken to be further support for the theory that Rey and Kylo are cousins or siblings, as people struggle to fathom any other kind of closeness between the characters.

It’s difficult to reach conclusions here, but in a way I think all of this represents a kind of progress, however imperfect and lacking it may be. Even though most people continue to ignore or remain blissfully unaware of the Reylo angle on the sequel trilogy, they are gradually starting to see the potential for a more nuanced future for the Rey and Kylo dynamic than what they might have initially expected (which, for many, seems to have involved Kylo and Rey going ‘grr!’ at each other from across the light/dark divide). And that can only be a good thing for Reylo and shipping culture more generally - while Reylo shippers might not get the credit due to them for being the first figures in the fandom to seriously entertain discussions of once-dismissed concepts like Force bonds and mystical connections, anyone who cares to actually look would now struggle to deny that they’ve been on to something from the beginning. 

For now, let’s just say I will be observing subsequent developments with great interest...