#annual mm update boys

[coldresolve]

Moneymakers, pt.xlvi // The Silence

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Renee follows the departure out the corner of his eye, sees the figure melt into the darkness of the hallway. He hears the door to Davin’s room go, the low click of the lock. An audible draft seeps in from where the window used to be, the occasional whisper through invisible gaps between the plywood panel and the frame, or the crinkling of the plastic sheet.

Tremors muddy the movement of his hands, but he still manages to painstakingly pull the shirt over his head, using the fabric to wipe the brunt of the blood off the lower half of his face. The taste of it is nauseating, that metallic sweetness. A faint pulsing at the bridge of his nose is a millisecond out of sync from the one in his elbow. Different distances from the heart.

Mouth-breathing, goosebumps rising over his naked torso as the chill air of the kitchen washes over him. Dried sweat itching along his hairline. His face feels warm, vision still sailing, and the house is eerily quiet in the aftermath of what just happened. The sort of silence that makes the sound of his recovering, ragged breathing carry. It’s out of place. Doesn’t belong. 

Pushing himself up with his good arm, Renee staggers, and immediately has to catch himself on the edge of the table when his rattled sense of balance nearly makes him trip over his own feet. He stumbles through the warm light of the kitchen, shouldering open the bathroom door. The lights make him squint, and even that small movement sends a lingering jab through the center of his face. His reflection in the mirror looks foreign, and he can only focus on one element at a time, never manages to get the full picture. The blood still leaking out of either nostril, sliding over his upper lip, dripping. The fucking taste. The goddamn fucking taste.

Setting the cartilage straight reinvigorates the bleeding, and whenever he tries to block the flow with pressure, it hurts bad enough for him to see stars. Ten or so minutes are spent frozen, eyes fixed on the red that steadily creeps down the drain, until the flow begins to ebb out. Then he washes his face with cold water, carefully rubs dried flakes from his skin.

With the water still running, Renee props an elbow on the edge of the sink, resting his forehead against his arm. The shout aching to burst out of his lungs is halted by the pain in his throat. All that escapes is a groan, equally as strange as his appearance. It doesn’t belong. This isn’t him.

Five, six months of his life spent preparing to chase a fever dream that crumbled the moment reality started to set in, lured along by a guy who couldn’t care less if Renee threw himself off a cliff. And there’s rage in all that, of course there is, but beneath it - something worse. A bottleneck, a smothering pressure that feels like it’s coming from all sides at once. Makes his stomach churn.

Dread.

Uncertain steps trace back to his bedroom. Sinking down next to the bed, he leans his back against the frame, hand automatically clutching at the ache in his arm, thumb driving into his bicep. He leans his head back, exposing his neck, and hopes, at some level, that the blade of the guillotine would just hurry up and drop already. It’s been teasing for far too long.

Renee’s eyes close. Small dull sounds of the foundation settling, mingled with the ringing in his ears, the feeling that his body is rolling, wavering. There’s a kaleidoscope in the dark, faint across his eyelids. Churning thoughts that hardly go anywhere, but simultaneously span his entire lifetime.

A clarity of sorts, but it hurts to consider. Physically hurts – it accentuates the pain in his throat for some reason, makes his head reel. Makes him sweat and shiver at the same time.

Why is the house so quiet?

It is mourning in advance.

He opens his eyes to the sight of a blank ceiling. The air leaves his chest slowly through gritted teeth, a grimace that has yet to veer into real resolution – and probably never will.

But he still gets up.

💵

00:02

Leaving his phone to charge on a side table, Renee filters rather methodically through the trash in his room, laying everything he might consider keeping on the bed. It predictably ends up taking hours. He tries to snort a line just to keep his energy up, but it turns out to be impossible with a busted nose. So he rubs it on his gums instead, which is gross as hell, the sort of taste you have to spend a few minutes washing down with lemon-flavored tonic water, but it works, so he repeats that ritual continuously, every time he starts to come down.

Once he’s done, it looks like an explosion went off in his room. All drawers out, all closets open, every box opened. Clean and dirty clothes lazily discarded on the floor, piles of knickknacks, cans, and half-full bottles of alcohol, used dishes, empty paper bags. He’s pretty sure he has managed to get this far without making too much noise. Standing back with a sigh, his eyes loosely scan the mess, before he finally moves to the clutter on the bed. A clutter that is four times the size of his backpack.

Some sacrifices have to be made.

Renee winces at that thought.

The stash is the first thing he dumps in. A fresh set of clothes, an empty water bottle, a power bank. Then his laptop – before he immediately changes his mind. Evidence. He fishes it back out, and goes scavenging throughout the house, steps as quiet as he can make them.

Passing Davin’s room, he stops in his tracks and carefully pushes the handle down, slowly enough that the individual clicks of the spring can be heard. It’s locked – he knew it was locked, he heard it. He’s not entirely sure why he even tried.

The drill, he finds upstairs on the floor next to one of the spotlights, the bit still sporting trace amounts of blood in its threads. Pulling the trigger produces a lazy whir, weak and low no matter how hard he clutches it.

The charger for the battery is nowhere to be seen. Half an hour, forty-five minutes of rifling through bags and black containers of equipment, cables and various small electronic devices, soldering wire and plugs, most of it is just Davin’s gear. When Renee finally spots his dad’s old tool case behind a stack of cardboard boxes, he thinks the search is done. But the tool case, too, leaves him empty handed, and then he has to curb the impulse to kick its contents across the floor.

Sneering at the room, pacing as well as he can muster without triggering a creak of the floorboards. His hands are shaking again.

Deep breath.

💵

03:15.

A thin, wet layer of greyish white covers the patio by now, squished so thoroughly under his shoes, he leaves a series of dark prints in his wake. Snowfall across the pitch black sky gives the impression that the air is cushioned. All the sounds are blunt, apart from the melt-off that drips from the gutters.

The light in the small shed on the side of the house flickers briefly to reveal a neatly organized space, in which the dust has been left to collect for, as far as Renee is aware, a year and a half, at the very least. The mower parked in the back, surrounded by steel shelves of lawncare and pesticides, a few cans of gasoline, gardening tools, tubs of grainy fertilizer, plastic bags of different types of soil. Despite his mother’s occasional interest in flowers, Renee knows most of this stuff has only ever been touched by the gardeners. He clanks around different cabinets until he finally, finally finds the drill charger, stocked up behind boxes of other handheld power tools. Plugging it into a wall outlet, he clicks the battery in. For a few seconds, he stands back, locking eyes with the small blinking light, silently daring it to cause another problem. Much to his surprise, it doesn’t.

Rubbing his forehead with his knuckles, he fishes out a cigarette, igniting it under the hum of the fluorescent lights. The smoke mixes with the vapor of his breath, hanging still in the air just underneath the low ceiling. Deep breath. He pulls out his phone.

Can we talk?

yes

The cigarette trembles slightly between his fingers. Deep breath. Deep breath.

you dontt owe me anything laz

Wincing, Renee nestles the knuckle of his free hand between his front teeth, biting down until it feels like the skin breaks. Stops himself, pulls his hand away again, flexing his fingers. A minute passes, then another. No reply comes to alleviate the dark feeling that’s slowly settling in his gut. Lazarus keeps his phone open through the night, he’s never been slow to respond. Five minutes, and the cigarette is burned to the filter. Is Renee reading too much into the silence? Definitely.

What other choice does he have?

He lights another smoke.

💵

04:11.

Reason tells him to eat something for the sake of energy, but as night turns to early morning, Renee finds himself unable to concentrate enough to do anything about it. There are a dozen holes in the hard drive, a folding knife in his pocket, and his backpack is ready to go. Exhaustion wears him down like a heavy weight, and yet he still can’t settle. He paces the open kitchen silently, finds himself compulsively whispering nonsense. Replays of past conversations that should’ve gone differently, or the ones he’s about to have. All devolve into subdued hissing eventually, and he has to force himself to stop, to inhale once or twice through gritted teeth, until something new invariably pops into his head, and the cycle repeats itself.

The nonstop agitation tires him out further. Renee retreats into his room, spends god knows how long sitting on the bed with his back to the wall, hands filtering through his hair, breathing heavily through the quiet. Conrad is probably sedated, he realizes. Bad trips don’t usually go unnoticed, and yet all night, Renee hasn’t heard a peep.

And that nausea again, like a hand wrapped around his stomach, mounting the pressure.

His phone dings as he’s sitting there. Unmoving, but his back tenses up. Fatigue is what finally allows him to pick it up – he finds himself struggling to care if the hole he’s in is about to sink further.

My place. Call me before you take off, bc I have some errands to run. That ok?

Renee swallows. The small indent in the side of his phone is rough against the notches of his fingerprint. Taking a deep breath, he types a proper response, only to immediately delete it. Another two, three minutes, he just stares silently at the screen, until he manages to hit send on mere acknowledgement.

yea

He lets the phone dump back on the mattress, folds his arms over his knees. Stares into the blackness of his room, eyes unfocused. Breathing hurts. It’s going to hurt for a while.

Hours, maybe, of waiting in the distance. He crashes eventually, and he’s too lazy to get off the bed and mitigate it. Heaviness drags at his limbs, the way his posture sags, body leaning into sheer exhaustion. Along comes a more pronounced ache in his body, the final release of the anesthetic qualities of cocaine. His mood doesn’t drop, for some reason – Renee reckons it simply can’t. Once or twice, he dozes off, still sitting there folded over, and only returns when he has to suddenly catch himself from not falling sideways on the bed.

And then, eventually – a sign of life.

A faint, indiscernible sound behind the wall his back is pressed against. Barely noticeable, but present enough that Renee lifts his head. The following quiet lasts long enough that he becomes sure he hallucinated it, until he hears a door go, and casual footsteps pass by in the hallway.

He checks his phone.

06:45, exactly.

Something in his throat feels as though it has swollen over the course of the night; there’s an obstruction as he tries to swallow. Slowly, he untangles himself from his position. The fatigue doesn’t melt away, exactly, but he finds a new rush of adrenaline spike. He picks up the backpack, checks his pockets. Puts on his shoes, his jacket.

There’s a moment where Renee locks in place in the middle of the chaos he has created in his room, staring at nothing. Shoulder poised to carry the weight of his belongings as his mind drifts into empty air. He doesn’t recognize it as doubt until he finds himself reassuring himself, to a debatable reward, that this is necessary.

Once he finally shakes out of it, he casts one final glance around the room, forcing emptiness. He opens the door silently, steps slow as he traces down the hallway.

The kettle is rising to its peak as he rounds the corner to the kitchen; a cabinet closes. Davin’s hair is down, one half trailing down his back as the other obscures his face. He doesn’t look up, even as Renee makes an effort to make his movements audible over the noise. Just calmly measures out two teaspoons of instant coffee,

Renee stops a few feet from the fridge, clearing his throat.

Davin still doesn’t look up. As the kettle beeps, he takes it, casually pouring into his mug. The steam swirls in front of his face. “Rought night, hm?” he mutters. “You’re not very subtle.”

Renee feels his upper lip curl. He shifts his grip on his backpack, and it’s only then that Davin looks at him.

Immediately, he pauses, any hint of casual humor gone from his face as his eyes trail from Renee’s face to the backpack, back again. His expression doesn’t darken, exactly, but it does go blank, and he sets the kettle down on the counter.

Renee takes a deep breath through his nose, pursing his lips. “I—.” He blinks, biting down the urge to cough as his voice gives out. He hadn’t expected speaking to become more painful than it was in the immediate aftermath of the hit. Grimacing, his eyes flicker to the floor as he collects himself. Another deep breath, and an attempt to swallow back the obtrusion in his throat without fully succeeding. Gritting his teeth, he forces it out, raspy and uneven. “I quit.”

Davin keeps looking at him for a long time with that same serious expression, before his gaze trails to the fridge, then down to the kettle. Dark hair fall down from behind his shoulder, hiding his expression entirely.

“Keep the rest of my half,” Renee croaks out. “I don’t give a fuck, I just never want to see you again.”

There’s not much of a reaction, but Renee is tense as he watches Davin’s thumb absentmindedly running down the handle of his coffee cup. Realistically, the silence doesn’t last more than ten seconds, but it feels like an eternity.

Finally, Davin’s hand wraps around the mug, balanced between his fingers. “I could live with that,” he mutters. As he takes a sip, he shoots Renee a sideways glance, one brow raised. “It was worth a shot, mh?”

The urge to scream, or at the very least throw something substantial. It turns into a full sneer. Renee clutches the strap of his backpack hard, gesturing around the room with his free hand. “Just burn it down,” he growls.

Davin nods.

Letting out a huff, Renee turns on his heel, heading for the entrance, movements stiff as he curbs the impulse to destroy anything within arm’s reach.

“Renee.”

But Renee has no intention of listening to whatever bullshit the man has to say for his parting words. He rips open the front door, lets it rebound behind him as he rushes past the threshold, met by a subsequent gust of cold air. The dim light of the dawn illuminates sparse snow drifting across the front lawn he bee-lines across. Heavy breathing marked by the prick of snowflakes in his throat, strangely welcome as a distraction for turmoil. He opens and shuts the door of the Clio with a similar careless aggression, ignoring the creaking of a spring in the front wheel as he ducks in, tossing the backpack to the passenger seat.

The frozen engine struggles to revive itself at the turn of the key, but the wipers easily brush off the thin layer of white covering the windshield. Snow is illuminated in the cones of the headlights, creating the illusion that it falls much heavier than it actually does.

Renee hits the side of the steering wheel once, before he yanks the car into first gear, grimacing at the jolt of pain in his arm. His foot eases on the clutch, and the car begins to move.

He doesn’t think about Conrad.

He doesn’t think.

Previous / Masterlist / Next

[youarejesting]

Femme: 12

[MASTERLIST]

Summary: The year is now 3019. Women were going extinct, cryogenics was the only hope for society. Now Femme Industries is the provider of Females, they use computer analysis and algorithms to match a femme to her male applicants. It is common for femme’s to match with multiple applicants. When you match with seven handsome young men, it is a challenge. But you love a challenge.

Pairing: BTS - OT7 x Reader,

Starring: Big Bang, GOT7,  TXT,  BlackPink, NCT127 and Twice are going to be introduced and explored fully in later chapters.

Rating: Fluff so far

Warnings: Embezzlement and emergency pet care

Length: 1.2k words

The shower was quickly becoming a place for contemplation, you felt your body getting tired. Drying yourself and wrapping your hair into a towel you stepped out, placing the red robe over your form. You were too tired from your big day out to get dressed. Cleansing, an exfoliating mask, a soft milk wash, toning, two serums, eye cream and then a moisturizer you were done for the night.

You went to leave pulling the towel off your head, throwing it into the towel hamper. Your house slippers slid across the floor with ease, Hoseok smiled at you from the couch. He held his arms out and you slowly sat on his lap hugging him, "I'm tired, it was a big day?"

"Mm you did good Jagiya, you look so happy riding bikeu" He turned you in his lap so your back was against his chest, holding your arms out like you were riding the bike. Making noises and pretending to swerve with even more exaggerating noises.

"It was very fun, where is Chimmy?" You asked Hoseok wrapped his arms around your waist and spoke quietly beside your ear. Your fingers tracing patterns up and down his forearms.

"He went to his room" he gently tickled your side and you squirmed.

"No Hobi, I'm too tired just hug me" He laughed and you lent around Hoseok grab in the fabric bag and pulled out the box that held your phone. He smiled watching you set it up, helping with things you didn't understand, you had set it to English.

Hoseok picked up his phone and placed his on top of mine touching a button and his face popped up smiling cutely and his phone number email address and more. "My first contact" he beamed at your comment and buried his head in your hair.

You then added your boss’ number from the piece of paper in the bag. Smiling while you set his name as 'harabeoji'. Sending him a message for him to see in the morning. Surprisingly he replied telling you were to go to get a uniform and that he had already spoke to the owner.

Hoseok got a call, the tune was a catchy hip hop beat. He answered very professionally which made you lose your breath. His tone was no nonsense and you couldn’t help the feeling that washed over you. This wasn’t your sunshine Hobi boy this was Jay oppa. He gently tapped your leg signalling he wanted you to stand. You slid off his lap and he went to his room. When he stepped back out he had changed grabbed his bag he was pulling on his shoes at the door when you walked over.

You whispered to him asking where he was going, Covering the speaker, "there is an emergency at work I have to perform a quick surgery" he smiled, you ran to the fridge and grabbed some left overs and raced to the elevator, it hadn't arrived yet thankfully.

"Wait Hoseok, I don't know how long you will be out, but you might be hungry, be safe" he turned concerned you handed him the leftovers from last night’s dinner. Giving him a peck on the lips, it was for good luck. He surprised you by grabbing your waist and pulling you in for another kiss.

This one was a closed mouth kiss and a few seconds longer. You were breathless and he smirked as the elevator doors opened. He stepped back into the elevator and chuckled at your flushed face. He tapped your nose with a small boop sound effect. "Don't wait up Jagiya"

"What are you doing outside in a robe?" Namjoon said you looked like you had seen a ghost. Blinking you noticed Namjoon and Seokjin were at the table with some papers between them and tea, you didn't think you had been gone that long. But your mind wasn’t really focused on the time once Hoseok had kissed you.

"I was saying goodbye to Hoseok, he was called in to work, one of the animals needs surgery, I quickly chased him to give him some left overs if he got hungry" You walked over and looked at the papers between them, Seokjin looked stressed and Namjoon was trying his best to help. Realizing this was more important than the cinematic replays of all the kisses you had shared, you took a file labelled monthly expenses.

Comparing the months with each other and then the years, you noticed the increase in expenses began two years ago. You noticed something peculiar. There was two duplicate accounts on the monthly report but only one on the annual. Taking the report from two years ago you noticed that the duplicate had definitely been added at this date. Maybe it was a mistake.

Calculating with your right hand on your new phone, you grabbed a clear folder with your left. It was filled with receipts and you went through each and found the two duplicate receipt you were looking for. They had different information. Someone in the company was embezzling funds from Seokjin’s Hotel.

Looking at the information clearly and pulling out the comparison fund of another Hotel franchise outside of Seoul you matched the correct account and the fraud. "Who is lee Shinho?"

"He is one of the council members trying to get me fired for losing profits, he brags about his new car and yacht and mansion" Seokjin growled you laughed.

"So, why is he stealing money from the company?" The two launched over the table to look at your set up as you explained. Someone was mimicking the exact same account and you were paying twice. Namjoon smiled and began tapping away on his computer, you finished the calculations and turned your phone to them. “He has stolen 2.2 million from your hotel in two years”

Jin was pissed yelling in exasperation about being played. "I will have the warrant in about an hour, to further follow the account trails" Namjoon reassured him scanning documents into the computer and filling out the case report "by morning you can present this to the board of directors"

Seokjin was sent to have a shower to cool off. Preparing lunches you tried to make more elaborate things for them to enjoy. Yoongi walked into the kitchen and grabbed your waist gently pulling you into him. He opened the draw in front of you and grabbed a spoon. He then placed his hand on your head resting it on his shoulder as he swung open a cupboard that would have hit you and removed a mug.

Giggling at yourself for thinking he was being romantic. Technically it was sweet gestures but he was just trying to push you out of the way to make coffee. He turned you in, so you were now facing his chest and neck and his face over your shoulder he boiled the kettle and made a strong coffee. "That was smooth"

He raised an eyebrow down at your smaller form. Grabbing his shoulders for balance you pressed up onto your toes and gave him a peck on the lips. He seemed unaffected giving you a single nod, taking his coffee and heading back to his studio. Did he not like kisses? Pushing the feeling aside you sat back down with the boys and Namjoon grinned "we got the warrant time to begin"

Femme Media 12

Next chapter

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@obeythehemmings

[gray-autumn-sky]

Happiness Can’t Be Arranged, Chapter 11

So, I feel like it’s been ages since I’ve updated this...and hopefully, we won’t go months between updates again.

In this chapter, Robin and Regina attend the annual church bazaar.

Previous chapters can be found HERE (though, this probably needs to be updated).

He shouldn’t laugh--but he can’t help it.

He can see her from the stairs, sitting alone in the drawing room, hunched over in a chair working on a needlepoint. Her brow is furrowed and her jaw is tight, and just looking at her, he can see that her shoulders are tense. As he comes closer to the drawing room, he can hear her huffing and hissing at the needlepoint--and though he’s tried, he can’t help but laugh out as her thimble falls from her finger and she mutters a slew of unladylike words.

“Good morning to you, too.”

“It’s hardly morning.”

He shrugs--that’s true, it’s nearly ten. “But I’ve yet to see you today. You left me to dine with my father--who has decided that soft boiled eggs are entirely too soft and made the poor cook make them three times over before finally eating them,” he tells her, chuckling quietly to himself as she scowls and looks up sharply reaching for the thimble and rolls her eyes. “Isn’t that supposed to be auctioned off this evening?”

“Don’t remind me,” she sighs as she tries to refocus on the needlepoint.

“Are those… stars on… strings?”

“Flowers,” she says as tugs on the thread. “They’re flowers.”

His eyes widen. “Oh, well… I see it now,” he lies. “Now that I’m closer, I can definitely see they’re… daisies?”

Rolling her eyes, she looks up at him for an all too brief moment, her eyes darkened with frustration. “Daffodils.”

“Oh, they’re…”

“Terrible. I know.”

Pushing into the room, he sits down on the chair opposite her and watches as she pokes the needle into the canvas, obviously missing her mark. “You know, you don’t have to finish it. You look… stressed.”

“That’s because I am stressed. And, yes, I do have to finish it,” she mutters without looking up. “If I don’t, it’ll just be one more thing my mother has to hold over my head. I have to finish it. Even if it looks like a creature without thumbs made it.”

“It’s just a needlepoint. It’s not--”

“It’s not just a needlepoint, not to my mother.”

“And not to you, I’m guessing.”

“It’s… symbolic of my failure,” she tells him, sighing loudly as she tugs at the yellow string, grimacing as it knots and creates a little loop at the center of one of the flowers. “And, as my mother’s already reminded me, my failure knows no bounds.”

“That’s not true.”

“To her it is.”

“Regina, that’s…”

She blinks up at him, her brow arching in his direction--this is not a topic she’s interested in discussing. “The only reason she volunteered me for this is because she assumed I wouldn’t actually follow through with--it’d be too embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing?”

She nods, again not looking up as her jaw tenses and she forces the needle through the thin canvas--the thread not quite lining up to where it’s supposed to be. “It’s a no-win situation,” she tells him flatly. “If I don’t complete it, I’m a let down who can’t even do a simple thing for charity. But, if I do complete it, this thing gets to go on display for all to see.” Her shoulders shrug dismissively. “It’s all to… remind me of my place.”

“Your place…”

“Well, what my mother believes that to be,” she tells him, briefly allowing her eyes to meet his.

“I see…”

He’s not quite used to seeing her this way--defeated and resigned, and it seems regressive. When she’d first arrived at Sherwood, she’d been so unsure and guarded. Yet, slowly but surely, she’d lowered her walls and let him in. As the days and weeks passed, he’d watched as the life came back into her eyes and her confidence boosted. Still, it wasn’t the life she wanted--it wasn’t the life she’d planned or expected to have--but she was making the best of it, and if he’d dare speak for her, he’d say she was settling into it and even enjoying it.

When it was just the four of them--he and Regina and their sons--he couldn’t help but feel like there was something special there. He found her more at ease, smiling and laughing more often, more forthcoming and less reserved. She didn’t hold her tongue or second-guess herself--she seemed freer and and the weight of her past lives didn’t seem to sit so heavily on her shoulders.

“So, I have to finish it,” she tells him, pulling him back into the present moment. “It’s the lesser failure.”

Regina looks back to the needlepoint and and takes in a short breath--and he knows the topic of her mother and her lofty expectations has been put to rest, but the rest, he can’t quite let go.

“You never know,” he tells her, as a smile edges onto his lips. “It might sell. The church might make a killing off of those starry daffodils.”

“You are delusional.”

“Stranger things have happened and some people like their art a little more abstract… complicated, even.”

She doesn’t look up at him, but her eyes roll and he sees a hint of a grin tugging up from the corner of her mouth. “It’d make a lovely gift for someone you didn’t like.”

He laughs. “I bet it sells.”

“I… bet you’re wrong.”

His grin twists deeper. “So, are we betting on it?”

Regina blinks up at him. “You want to bet in favor of my needlepoint selling at the bazaar.”

“I do,” he tells her with a confident nod as he folds his arms over his chest and settles back in his chair. “We should settle on the stakes.”

“You mean, I should figure out what I want you to do for me when you lose the bet.”

“Or what you can do for me when I win it.”

“You’d be wasting your time and energy,” she tells him as she looks back to the needlepoint.

“I’m wasting nothing,” he counters, as a chuckle rises into his voice. “Besides, I already know what I want.” Slowly, her eyes turn up to meet his. “Dinner,” he tells her simply. “I want you to make me dinner.”

“Dinner…”

“When we take the boys up to the hunting lodge.”

Her brow arches and a grin stretches over lips. “We’re taking them to the hunting lodge? When did you hear back from the staff there?”

“Yesterday. It came with the evening post.”

“And when will this be?”

“Whenever we’re ready,” he tells her, smiling as her bottom lip catches between her teeth and she once more returns to tugging on her needle and thread. “I suggest sooner than later though. Summers up there are quite nice and I think the boys would love horseback riding through the hills and shooting arrows at hay bales and…” He laughs a little, realizing those are all things the boys could do at Sherwood. “And there’s a nice little path through the gardens that leads to an orchard that I think you’d really enjoy.”

“That does sound nice.”

“I’ll arrange it, then,” he tells her as Belle comes into the room. “And then we’ll settle on an evening for the staff to have a night off so you can make me that dinner.”

She laughs and shakes her head, but turns her attention to Belle hovering at the threshold.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, M’lady,” Bells says, looking between them. “But I’ve just returned from the dress shop and, Ruby and Granny made all the alterations you requested, and I wondered if you wanted to see it?” Belle smiles expectantly and Robin watches as Regina’s eyes widen with excitement. “It’s all laid out on your bed,” Belle tells her, as if needing something to entice her. “It would only take a minute.”

“It would give you a much-deserved break from that lovely needlepoint,” Robin says as he rises to his feet. “And it would give me a reason to excuse myself and go write that letter to the housekeeper at the lodge.”

“And I need to think about what I want from you when I win your bet.”

“You do that,” he tells her, laughing softly--and a bit condescending--and her eyes roll as he takes a few steps away. “Oh,” he murmurs, turning back. “Will I be seeing you at luncheon?”

“That depends…”

“I hear the kitchen is scrambling to find a way to repurpose all of the wasted eggs,” he tells her. “If that entices you, at all.”

“Not really,” she replies, laughing as she drops her needlepoint into her lap. “And, I’m sorry to say, if I don’t finish this thing soon, I will not be at luncheon.” She pauses and for a moment, their eyes meet--and he feels his stomach tighten and flop. “You might be able to use those eggs to entice Roland and Henry, though” she suggests. “I am sure they’d love to not have to eat with Celeste,” she chuckles softly, “about as much as you’d like to not have to eat again with your father.”

“You are brilliant, m’lady,” he says, taking a few steps back to her and pressing a fleeting kiss to her cheek--leaving her giggling and flushed as he proceeds through the French doors that lead to the garden where the boys are playing a game of tag.

_____

Regina watches as Belle ties the yellow sash around her waist--a smile drawing onto her lips as she admires the way the fabric hangs on her, the way the colors stand out, and the sheer genius displayed in Ruby’s handiwork. Her eyes trail up and she catches the way Belle looks at the back of the dress as her fingers however over a tight row of pearly buttons.

“After three fittings, I am quite happy with how this turned out,” Regina says, eyeing her maid curiously. “Ruby did an incredible job. Can you remind me to write her a thank you note tomorrow? Everyone always goes on and on about Granny’s talent--and rightfully so--but I think I prefer Ruby’s style a bit more. It’s… younger.”

“Of course,” Belle says, her eyes falling away at the mention of Ruby’s name. “I’ll make sure it goes into the afternoon post.”

Regina nods. “Or, you could take it to her personally after breakfast?” At that, Belle looks up and her gaze catches Regina’s through the mirror. “Unless you’ve other plans?”

“No, no, I can… I can take it to her,” she says, her cheeks flushing. “I like going into town.”

“Mm, the dress shop specifically?” Belle’s cheeks flush and Regina grins as she twists away from the mirror and moves toward her jewelry box to select something to wear--and to give her maid a little space. She selects a string of pearls and fishes for the matching earrings. “So,” she begins, “Are you coming to the bazaar? I don’t think you said.”

“Oh, I wasn’t going to,” Belle says. “I have some things to do around here and, I can’t bid on anything.”

“There will be games and food stands. You don’t have to bid.”

“It’s a charity event. The point is to raise money for the church and I haven’t any to give.”

Regina grins as she plucks one of the earrings from the tray. “I’ll bid on something for you,” she says, looking back over her shoulder. “Then you’ll be absolved from any obligation.”

“That’s kind, but…”

“Belle,” Regina cuts in, turning to face her as she leans against her dressing table. “You’re eighteen. You shouldn’t… be stuck here mending my skirts and cleaning my jewelry.”

Belle grins. “But, I’m your maid. That’s… what maids do. It’s what you pay me to do. It’s… why you hired me.”

“True,” Regina returns with a little laugh. “But you’ve spent the whole week running frivolous errands for me and you’ll be running another tomorrow morning, so--” She grins. “Ruby is going to be there.”

“I know,” Belle says, once again looking away. “She told me.”

“Her grandmother has a stand of ribbon and fabric pins and I’m sure she’d like to sneak away.”

“I’m sure she would,” Belle replies shyly. “Are you… sure you don’t mind?”

“I insist,” Regina says as she turns back to her jewelry box with a satisfied smile. “Besides, you and Ruby being there will give me someone to talk to when I my mother and I need some space.”

Belle shakes her head and comes up behind her, helping her with the earrings and the necklace. Regina sits down at the dressing table as Belle reaches for a container of hair pins--and they slip into a conversation about the various games and stands at the bazaar. They talk about what they think about what the boys will enjoy most--and how uncomfortable the whole thing will make Celeste--and how the boys will likely be too excited to go to sleep and they laugh about how that’ll make Celeste extra cheerful come the next morning.

“Did you finish the needlepoint?” Belle asks, as she slides a pearl comb into Regina’s hair. “You were so stressed about it this afternoon.”

“I did,” Regina sighs. “It’s… quite something.”

“I’m sure it’s lovely.”

“I don’t pay you enough to say that.”

“Mr. Locksley is pretty certain it’ll do well.”

Regina grins, and this time, it’s her turn to look away shyly. “Mr. Locksley is delusional.”

“Delusional is a strong word.”

“Well, you haven’t seen the finished product. The needlepoint is atrocious,” Regina says, drawing in a breath as she looks up at the mirror. “And I can’t wait for my mother to tell me all about it.”

“You shouldn’t be so concerned with what she thinks,” Belle says, as she tucks away a straying strand of Regina’s hair and pins it. “She’s wrong about a lot of things.”

“Maybe…”

“She is,” Belle insists. “She’s too hard on you.”

“Maybe it’s deserved.”

“I don’t think so,” Belle says, reaching for another pin. “And I’m not alone.”

“Robin’s opinion doesn’t count. He’s… oddly bias in his…”

“I’m not talking about Robin,” Belle cuts in. “People in town are always talking about how kind you are, the servants here all say such nice things about how refreshing it is to have you here and,” the maid shrugs. “And my mother always used to say that a parent’s true character could be seen in the disposition of their children, and Henry’s about as sweet as they come.”

“Thank you for that,” Regina says as a small smile tugs onto her lips. “That.. means a lot.”

“So, maybe Mr. Locksley’s opinion does count?”

“I would like to think so,” Robin’s voice cuts in as he steps into the room--and she feels a light fluttering in her chest as as his eyes trail over her. “You look… stunning.”

“Ruby did an amazing job on the dress.”

Robin nods, swallowing as he takes a breath. “Yes, that’s, uh… exactly what I was thinking.” Belle giggles a little as Regina’s cheeks flush and Robin rubs at the back of his neck. “Uh, I was just.. I’m going to go change. We’ll probably leave within the hour. Is that enough time?”

“I think so,” Regina says, with a nod. “Celeste is getting the boys ready, and I just have… a couple more things to do.” A grin edges onto her lips. “I’ll meet you downstairs?”

Robin nods and a smile stretches onto his lips as he takes one more look at her. “I look forward to it.”

“He’s so smitten with you,” Belle laughs as she takes as step away from Regina. “And you are ready.” Regina turns on the stool in front of the dressing table. “So, what else did you need to do? You’re dressed, your hair is done, jewlery is on...did I miss something?”

“Well, sort of,” Regina begins slowly as she rises as she walks to the wardrobe. “You’re not dressed.”

“Oh,” Belle breathes out as she looks down at her plain black dress and white apron. “I have my church dress up--”

“No, no, no,” Regina cuts in. “You’re going to borrow something from me.” Belle blinks and look at her, turning her head to the side as Regina pulls the wardrobe open. “Come on, we’ve only got an hour. Choose something…”

“I couldn’t…”

“Of course you can,” Regina says easily as she pulls out periwinkle dress with floral print sash and matching piping. “You’ve always liked this one,” she says, “And it’d look great with your eyes.”

“But I…”

Rolling her eyes, Regina pushes the wardrobe shut and tosses the dress onto her bed. “Sit,” she instructs as Belle’s eyes widen. “We only have an hour…”

“Regina, you don’t have to--”

“I want to and it’ll be fun,” she insists as she points to the stool in front of her and looks to her maid as a sly little grin edges onto her lips. “And who knows whose eye you’ll catch tonight.”

_____

For the first hour or so that they’re at the church bazaar, they take the boys are around to some of the games and craft tables, letting them throw ball at milk bottles and smear watercolors onto little swatches of canvas. By the time they reach a little stand, handing out slices of honey-glazed peaches, the boys are practically bouncing with excitement--and Celeste’s jaw is already tense.

“Maybe you should take them,” Regina murmurs to Robin as the boys run toward a stand that promises fresh-made, hard fruit-flavored candies. “They’re having so much fun and…”

“We should really discuss the possibility of a nanny who… likes children,” Robin says with a laugh as he looks to Celeste as she half-heartedly reminds the boys they shouldn’t be running--and he rolls his eyes when she whimpers when her request goes ignored. “But I think that might be a good idea.”

“I should make my way to my mother’s stand, then…”

“You still have time.”

“You think that I have time, but my mother…”

“It’s not even six thirty,” Robin sighs. “She told you to be there at seven.”

“Mm, but to my mother seven-sharp is… more like six forty-five,” Regina counters. “And life has taught me that it’s best to be early, so she doesn’t even have time to consider my tardiness.” A frown forms on his lips and he sighs. “It’s for the best,” she tells him with a little laugh.

“But we’re almost to my favorite stand.”

“You have a favorite stand?” she asks, her brow arching. “And which is that?”

“The peppermint stand,” he tells her, his voice rising an octave as a smile edges onto his lips. “It’s quite literally the next stand,” he says, reaching for her hand. “Come on.”

“Robin, I need to--” Her voice halts as he tugs her toward the stand. “I’m serious. I can’t be late.”

“You won’t be,” he insists, looking between her and an elderly man sitting at a table in front of a row of silver trays. “And this way, you’ll have a sweet treat to counter--”

“My mother’s sourness?”

Laughing out, he nods and plucks two of the peppermint candies from the tray. “These ones are my favorites,” he tells her as he drops one into her palm before dropping a few coins into the cup next to the elderly man. “On second thought,” he says, reaching for another, “Your mother may require two of these.”

“Thank you,” she says, grinning as she pops the first candy into her mouth and accepts the second before dropping it down into her pocket. “Now, I should be going.”

“I know,” he sighs. “I wish you didn’t have to though.”

“I wish I didn’t have, too.”

“Then…”

“Robin…”

“We could take the boys apple bob--”

“And I am sure you will tell me all about it after the bazaar,” she cuts in. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go… watch people point and laugh at my needlepoint as my mother scowls at me and tells me what a disappointment I am.”

“Alright,” he says, offering her an empathetic little smile and nods, and looks back at where Celeste is attempting to wipe Roland’s honey-glazed mouth while Henry twists impatiently beside her and eyes the peaches. “But first,” he says, looking back to her. “There’s one more thing we need to do.”

Before she can protest, he’s tugging her along--and her heart is fluttering. He leads her over to one of the games--one he’d been careful to steer the boys away from as they made their rounds through the game booths. The man behind inside the booth--baring a hand-painted Shooting Gallery sign-- hands him a gun and asks if he knows how to play.

Robin nods. “It’s been awhile since I’ve played and I’m more of an archer, but I’m a good shot, regardless.”

“Are you?” Regina asks, her brow arching--she didn’t know--and for some reason, it makes her smile.

“I am,” he nods, as the man flips a switch and three rows of little ducks begin to move back and forth. “Three in a row, right?”

“That’s right…”

“And if I get shoot three, what do I win?”

“Any of the prizes on that table.”

Robin grins and turns, looking back at her over his shoulder. “Pick something.”

“Shouldn’t you win first?” She asks, arching her brow as his grin brightens. “After all…”

“After all, I never miss a shot,” he cuts in, before looking back to the moving ducks and then, he raises the gun to his shoulder and presses his finger to the trigger--and three loud shots later, there are three fewer ducks bobbing behind the booth.

He turns to her, smiling broadly as his eyes widen excitedly--and she can’t help but smile herself, laughing softly as he hands the gun back to the man behind the booth and reaches for her. He tugs her to him and pecks her lips--and her breath catches in her chest as he pulls back and leads her over to the table.

“Pick something!”

Her stomach flutters as he squeezes her hand and he smiles so sweetly as he looks down at the table of prizes--and she plucks a little yellow fabric flower from the selection. Robin smile at it and carefully takes it from her, examining it closely before tucking it into her hair--and she feels her cheeks warm.

“I… should go,” she says reluctantly--wanting nothing more than to stay in the moment with him and see where it leads. “My mother is waiting.”

“Mm,” he nods, “And I hear she gets quite upset when she’s kept waiting.”

“Especially when it’s me she’s waiting for.”

He grins. “You could just… not go.”

“That would be worse.”

“Would it be?” He asks, arching his brow. “I think it’d be quite a lovely evening,” he tells her. “We could take the boys around a few more times, and let them play a few more games, eat a few more treats and head then head back to Sherwood for a nightcap and--”

“I have to go,” she sighs as she leans up onto the tips of her toes and presses a soft kiss to his cheek--and she can’t help but smile when he turns a his face and catches her lips, offering her a sweet kiss goodbye. “Thank you for the flower.”

She walks a couple of feet before turning back and watching as Robin lifts Roland onto his shoulders and reaches for Henry’s hand--and she can’t help it when her smile fades and she finds herself wishing that she were with them. It occurs to her that it’s not too late to join them and that she’s done far worse than stand up her mother--but with a sigh, she turns back and continues to Cora’s rented booth where she’s greeted with a stern look and a disapproving sigh.

“You’re late.”

“I know, I’m… I’m sorry.”

“Are you?” Cora asks as she takes a few steps forward. “I’ve heard you and that husband of yours were putting on quite a show.”

“A show?” Regina asks, her eyes widening a little. “I don’t know what you mean. We just took the boys around, let them play some games and make a few crafts and…”

“That's even worse,” Cora snaps. “In front of the children…”

“Mother,” Regina beings, drawing in a long breath as she tries to stay calm. “I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about.”

“Don’t you? You kissed him in the middle of the bazaar--the church bazaar, Regina!”

She blinks, bristling as her shoulders tense. “That was… hardly a kiss.”

“So, you don’t deny it.”

“Mother…”

“Don’t screw this up, Regina. Everyone is watching, waiting to see what shame you bring to this family next,” Cora says as her voice drops to a raspy whisper. “Robin Locksley might find your antics charming now, but that’ll certainly wear off when he becomes the subject of some sordid scandal--and his father certainly is not amused by any of this.”

“He’s not going to become the subject of anything. I kissed my husband goodbye. It was… completely innocent.” Her arms fold defensively as her jaw tenses and she does her best to push away the little voice at the back of her head telling her that Cora is right. “And Robin is a good man, mother. He wouldn’t just…”

Cora scoffs. “Regina, don’t be so naive. If he only knew everything about you, he’d have never wanted you--and if he finds out, he won’t hesitate to toss you aside… good man, or not. Pity only goes so far.” Regina’s throat tightens as her eyes meet her mothers, watching as Cora’s face softens. “Regina, I’m only trying to look out for you.”

She nods as Cora squeezes her arm and she looks around at the selection of needlepoints, most of which are lovely and framed, on display. “What do you need help with?” She asks, desperately wanting to change the subject.

Cora sighs and rolls her eyes, waving her hand in the direction of Regina’s needlepoint that’s pinned to a board a little board. “Go… stand in front of that thing and smile and, for God’s sake try not to look like you want to be here. You look so sullen!”

“You… want me to draw attention to it?”

“No,” Cora says, shaking her head. “Block it. That’s not even worthy of charity.” Regina's eyes cast down and she takes another breath as Cora’s tongue clicks in a disapproving way. “You're just going to stand there? I’ve been working this booth alone all night, you might as well help out and sell some of the nicer ones, since you obviously couldn't be bothered to put forth any real effort.”

Feeling tears welling in her eyes, she nods and turns to the table where her needlepoint sits, her chest tightening as Cora turns away from her and warmly greets a couple wandering up toward the booth--and if never occurs to her to ask how her mother even knew about her kissing Robin.

_____

Folding up a chair, Regina takes a breath and reminds herself the bazaar is nearly over. She’s vaguely tired and there’s a dull ache in her temples. The handful of hours she spent with her mother in the booth were mentally exhausting and unbelievably boring--talking about shades of pink thead and stitching that she didn't understand, smiling and making small talk about things that were irrelevant. The corners of her mouth and jaw hurt from forcing a smile and gritting her teeth, and now that it was over, she just wants to go home.

“Why don’t you let me help you with that,” Robin calls out. Looking up, she finds a smile drawing onto her lips as she watches him jog toward her--and as soon as he reaches her, he takes the chair and folds it. “How did it go?”

“About as well as expected,” she says, letting out a long sigh as her eyes shift momentarily to her mother then back to Robin, and a feeling of relief washes over her. “Where are the boys?”

“Sound asleep in the carriage with Celeste.”

“So it’s safe to assume they had a good time.”

“A wonderful time,” he confirms.

“I’m glad,” she says, as she reaches for another chair and folds it. “Is Belle with them?”

“No,” he replies slowly. “The last I saw her, she was sitting at a little table sipping tea and eating glazed peaches with Ruby.” Regina looks back to him and a grin instantly forms. “And you seem pleased.”

“I am.”

A grin twists onto his lips. “Is that why your maid is wearing one of your dresses?”

“It is,” she nods. “I wanted her to have a nice time tonight and sometimes, wearing a nice dress can be just enough of a confidence booster…” her voice trails off as she remembers the way Belle had blushed when she looked at her own reflection in Regina’s mirror. “She's a sweet girl.”

Stepping in, Robin takes the other chair from her and his hand finds her waist. “I might say the same of you.”

Bristling, she takes a step back and looks up to see if her mother is watching--and breathes out a momentary sigh of relief when she finds Cora engaged in a conversation with the minister’s wife. Still, though, she takes another step back and reaches for a box, mindful of keeping some distance between her and Robin. “The sooner we get this cleaned up, the sooner we can go home and--” Her voice halts as she watches Zelena pass, offering Cora and the minister’s wife a little wave before looking pointedly at Regina, and Regina feels her stomach drop. “--and I really just want to go home,” she manages to say.

Robin’s head tips to the side, obviously noting the changes in her demeanor, and she takes another step back “Are you alright?”

“Of course,” she says, watching as Zelena passes and disappears around a corner. “I’m just tired.”

“You sure?” She nods and pulls the top form the box and tugs at the table cloth. For a moment, he watches her, studying her as if to try and read her thoughts--and he must succeed because when he speaks again, his tone is completely different and his words offer the distraction she'd been hoping for. “I mean, it must have been a lot of hard work selling your needlepoint.”

“That is where you’re wrong,” she tells him, laughing softly. “No one even looked at it. I know that because I spent the entire evening guarding it.”

“Is that so? The whole evening? You never once wandered away from it?”

“Yes,” she nods. “My mother literally made me stand in front of it to block it.”

“Hm, that’s interesting,” he says, looking past her to a row of leftover needlepoints. “Because it’s not there.”

“What?”

“Look for yourself,” he tells her, pointing to the space where her needlepoint had once been displayed. “Seems that someone had a soft spot for your starry daffodils.”

Blinking, she looks back at the space--and sure enough, her sad little needlepoint is gone. “What did you do?”

Robin’s eyes widen as he tugs at the table cloth in her hands. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Did you buy my needlepoint?”

“No,” he scoffs. “I was with the boys all night, running between booths and games and trying to stop them from eating too much candy. I didn’t have much time for browsing.”

Her eyes narrow. “I don’t believe you.”

A grin twists onto his lips and he shrugs. “Come on,” he says, tugging again at the table cloth in her hands, likely trying to tug her toward him. “Because as you said, the sooner we get all this packed up, the sooner we can go home.” Nodding, she takes a breath. “And, um… then we can discuss our dinner arrangements.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Dinner arrangements,” he says simply, as if it should be obvious to her. “Someone bought your needlepoint, so you owe me dinner.”

Shaking her head, her eyes roll. “It doesn’t count if you bought it,” she tells him. “That’s cheating.”

“It’s not cheating,” he says as his shoulders square in defense. “We didn’t set any rules.”

“So, you’re saying you did buy it?”

“I didn’t say that either,” he tells her, grinning sweetly as he reaches for another table cloth. “But I am positive it went to a good home.”

Folding the table cloth, she shoves it into the box. “Well, if you didn’t buy it I’m sure it was a gift for a child, something she can use as a guide to show her what not to do on her own needlepoints. I'm sure it's a great lesson of why paying attention to instruction is important.”

“Or it was a gift for someone who will cherish it always.”

“You did buy it,” she says, taking his folded table cloth and shoving it down into the box. “You cheated and your bought my needlepoint.”

“So, what if I did?” He murmurs as he steps in beside her and slides his hand over her hip. “Not that I'm confirming anything.”

Again, she tenses and pulls away from him, her eyes once more shifting to Cora as her thoughts move from Robin and the needlepoint to Zelena’s little wave and what that could have meant.

Robin helps clean up--returning chairs and tables to the church vestibule and helping load wooden boxes into carriages to be taken back to the storage shed. And every now and then, he catches her gaze and smiles, offering her reassurance though he doesn't know why.

By the time they arrive back at Sherwood most of the staff has retired for the night and only a few dim candles light the way. Robin carries both boys and Regina trails behind him, and Celeste doesn't even complain when Regina tells her they'll worry about changing the boys and tucking them in, and that she can just go to bed.

“Are you sure you're alright?” Robin asks as they step out into the hall, closing the door to the nursery. “You seem upset.” He pauses for a moment. “Is this about the needlepoint or is it--”

“No,” she says quickly. “It's… just the result of an evening with my mother.”

“You sure?” He asks in a soft voice and with eyes full of concern. “You just seen so… shaken.”

“I'm fine,” she says dismissively. “This is nothing a good night's sleep won't solve.”

With a sigh, Robin nods. “Well, if there's anything you want to talk about, my door is always open to you.”

“Thank you. That's kind,” she murmurs back as she looks up at him. “You're kind.” He smiles and nods, and for a moment it looks like he's about to say something. “Good night, Robin,” she says, leaning up onto her toes and pressing a kiss to his cheek before he can formulate his words. “My mother aside, tonight was a lot of fun.”

He nods as she settles back on her feet, and once again it looks like he's doing to says something, but instead his hand pushes up over her jaw and his finger slip into her hair as he draws her in, kissing her. His lips are warm and soft, and his kiss is just a little bit forceful. Her arms wrap around his shoulders as his hand settles at the small of her back, pulling her against his chest--and for just a moment, she loses herself in him.

When he pulls back, he smiles and rests his forehead against hers. He doesn't let her go, instead holding her as she tries to catch her breath. “You're not alone anymore, Regina, and your past can't hurt you,” he tells her as a smile slowly edges onto his lips and he reaches out and plucks the yellow flower from her hair, his smile brightening as he drags it down over her jaw and lips, then taps it against her nose--and when she laughs, his eyes shine. “Good night, Regina,” he says as he leans in and presses a quick kiss to her cheek and hands her the flower.

And for a moment, she just stands there, her heart fluttering and wishing that he were right about her past.

[xidaer]

State of Xidaer, 1/3/17

CW: Cancer, depression, thoughts of suicide, hospitals, parental death, money stress

Okay, I’ve been meaning to post an update for a while. I’ve had projects- fan fic exchanges, holiday cards, etc- that have gone half done because of the following reason.

life

gah, let’s go over this piece by piece.

Cancer boy:  He’s living in my g-ma’s house (with her permission) rent free and my aunt has been covering utilities. I’ve been handing him cash as needed and buying him groceries (his work placed him on forced leave of absence so he’s got no money coming in) Unfortunately, due to my uncle’s Parkinson's worsening and my aunt having severe caretaker burnout, there has been a crap ton of stress in their marriage. Why would this matter? My aunt married into the family and she’s the one with money. As such, she’s been the one paying for my grandmother’s very lush assisted living facility since my g-ma’s outlived her savings (she’s 92 now). With stress in their marriage, my uncle is hunting for ways to cut off the need for his wife’s support in that matter. Where would he find that money? G-ma’s house. We had been planning to sell it, then Cancer Boy came along.  Now once CB’s dad dies (he also is super-mega dying of cancer), then CB will have the money to buy the house. But his dad just won’t die. The horrible fact is that his dad at this point wants to die, but for whatever reason despite being more tumor than man, his body just won’t quit.

That’s one aspect of money woes

Money/Health woes: My partner is out of PTO and has been taking gobs of unpaid time off to take care of my metamour(MM), who’s been dealing with her severe depression. Now my MM is in the hospital, not for psych stuff, but because on New Year’s Eve she started throwing up at 5 am and just couldn’t stop. Her heart rate was 145 and held steady at that for over 6 hours. Over the past 72 hours, they’ve figured out that she’s got sepsis (infection of the bloodstream) of gram positive anaerobic bacteria and just a few hours ago pinpointed the gallbladder as the source of the infection. She goes into surgery tomorrow. To say the least, that is stressful. But the money woes are because our bills are higher but my partner is bringing in a lot less money. So I’m just bleeding money between covering our bills and covering CB’s cost of living (not to mention buying more expensive vegan food for my submissive). My credit card is just over 2/3 to its limit.

My mental health: STRESS. I’m the point person for CB, almost his exclusive lifeline. I give him money, buy him food, watch his dog overnight, and I keep the secret of his illness from the majority of people and the severity of it from his cousin who I’m friends with. He goes in for brain surgery on Friday (assuming his vitals are strong enough today) and I’m going to be the one in the waiting room for him. In addition to being CB’s person, for the last several months I’ve been on ‘babysitting’ duty for MM, so my partner could have some time off and go to her Japanese class at night. I’ve had to be endlessly upbeat and reassuring to MM, and to be honest while I love her and she’s family and of course I want her to be safe, I just want to scream sometimes.  My uncle is pulling me into his family drama with my aunt because he’s a lawyer (retired) and just can’t turn it off. He thinks she’s going to try and place him into guardianship and she doesn’t want to be his legal guardian, which leaves me to be that person. He is going to fight that scenario tooth and nail if she actually tries for it. It won’t be pretty. Another stressor is my friend T. because I was the one who took her to the psych ER because she wanted to kill herself. Now I’ve committed to cooking for her a couple times a week the entire month of January because she’s finally doing ECT in the hopes that it will knock out her depression. ECT means she just can’t adult very well so a bunch of her friends are pitching in to make sure she has food and other necessities.  I, of course, still have weekly dinner with my g-ma and my sister pesters me for weekly outings. I’m also her point person and needed to work with her staff arranging holiday pick-ups and her annual staffing meeting for updating her paperwork has to be scheduled within the next month. Oh yeah, I also have my full-time job. With all this going on, my depression has reared it’s ugly head, telling me I’m horrible and wouldn’t it be great to think of ways to kill myself?  Trust me, I immediately set up an appointment with my therapist and vented to a friend of mine. That appointment was tough, but good. I see her again this Thursday, too. So, a lot of my projects have fallen by the wayside and I really appreciate everyone’s patience with me.

[adastraradionews]

Meetings for today and Tuesday

Rice County Commissioners this morning will hear a number of departmental updates, discuss an employee hiring and matters involving the county’s web site, and look at a contract for leasing the Quonset building at Lyons Rice County Airport. They will continue discussing assorted repair projects, designation of a primary bank and possible re-drawing of Commissioner districts.

Public works matters will dominate today’s McPherson City Commission meeting. Items on the agenda include approval of a curb and street patch on South Tulip, air compressor repairs, purchase of an HVAC unit for the administration building at the wastewater treatment plant, purchase of pumps for a lift station, and action on construction and inspection contracts for the Eagles Wings Unit II infrastructure projects. Other items today include changes to taxi license fees, a transition for e-mail and operating systems, and review of a job description for an Events Manager at the Community Building.

The South Hutchinson City Council is having a special meeting this evening at 6 at City Hall... the only item on the agenda is an executive session to discuss non-elected personnel. The Council held two special meetings last week, spending over five hours behind closed doors, also on personnel matters. The meeting agenda does not have any provisions for an action item following the session.

The increasingly controversial Summit Learning program at McPherson Middle School will be brought up at tonight’s USD 418 Board of Education meeting. A major part of this is part of responses to questions that were raised at the last meeting and a discussion of a memorandum presented by Superintendent Gordon Mohn to the board at the last meeting regarding the future use of Summit at MMS. The board will also hear an update on the Community Redesign Evaluation Committee. A new date for a board work session will be set and there will be a presentation on special education issues.

The February edition of the Hutchinson USD 308 Board of Education Road Show rolls into Hutchinson Magnet School at Allen this evening at 6. In addition to hearing reports from the Magnet School the board will be taking action on a unified branding policy for the district. Other agenda items include a grant application, medical services agreements, changes to administrative regulations, authorization to dispose of surplus items, and a presentation from the Boys and Girls Club Youth of the Year. An executive session is also scheduled to discuss preliminary matters on possible real estate acquisition.

The Nickerson South Hutchinson USD 309 Board of Education tonight will look at a couple of calendar options for next year. While start dates and spring break... aligned with Hutchinson Community College... are the same in both, there is a different in what the winter break would look like... one option has a two week break and the other has a shorter break but ends the school year two days earlier. The board will also consider an early retirement benefit request, fall sports head coaches and other personnel matters, and receive a recognition from Employer Support for the National Guard and Reserves. 

The Lyons USD 405 Board of Education tonight will deal with multiple personnel matters, including extension of administrator contracts and changes to language in them and negotiations. Finals actio is expected on next year’s school calendar and policy revisions, there will be discussions on a storage building at Lyons High School, strategic plans and presentation of an updated capital outlay plan.

The February meeting of the Buhler USD 313 Board of Education will be held Wednesday evening at 6.

A new board for Ninnescah Township in southeast Reno County is expected to be appointed by Reno County Commissioners Tuesday. Within the past three weeks resignations were submitted by the current board... Trustee Joe Seiwert and treasurer Linda Seiwert resigned January 22nd and clerk Verlan Willhaus resigned February 1st. Two people, David Graver and Charles Breitenbach, have expressed interest in the trustee position, with Sue Breitenbach and Matthew Graber interested in the treasurer position, while Brandon Horsch is interested in the clerk position. Joe Seiwert, who is also the 101st District State Representative, has recommended Dave Graber and Matthew Graber for the trustee and treasurer positions respectively, and Horsch for clerk.

Along with appointing a new Ninnescah Township board, Reno County Commissioners Tuesday will consider appointment of a new clerk for Sylvia Township and appointments to the Reno County Health Department Advisory Board. Other items on their agenda are an agreement for engineering services for RCAT bus shelters, consideration of the annual noxious weed annual report and management plan, and discussion of an environmental engineer evaluation policy and establishment of a food policy council as a Reno County entity.

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WALKING DEAD TP VOL 10 WHAT WE BECOME

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WALKING DEAD TP VOL 12 LIFE AMONG THEM

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WALKING DEAD TP VOL 14 NO WAY OUT (MR)

WALKING DEAD TP VOL 15 WE FIND OURSELVES (MR)

WALKING DEAD TP VOL 16 A LARGER WORLD (MR)

WALKING DEAD TP VOL 17 SOMETHING TO FEAR (MR)

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WARHAMMER BLOOD AND THUNDER GN

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WEIRD DETECTIVE TP

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WIND IN THE WILLOWS HC ILLUS DAVID PETERSEN

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