#the html looks fine on my end

[fingertipsmp3]

So currently my problem is that I don't know how to do my homework so I end up copying the code of people who did it correctly. But then I'm like "are my instructors going to notice and be mad" so I fuck up the code a bit so that it's less obvious. And then it breaks

[year2000electronics]

Your fiddleford monster au design makes me have so many questions in a good way. Gnawing on the bars on my enclosure kind of way. Does the curse seemingly not affect him in his one year stay helping Ford, and so he does that all himself? Does The Curse, as vague as it is, count that; and drive people to modify themselves and draw away from humanity? Like its not just this magical effect that happens but an active thing in the back of your mind to turn away from what you were born as and embrace something else? Ogh. I'm suddenly a lot more invested in this au

VERY INTERESTING QUESTIONS TO BE CERTAIN so fiddleford is a bit of a unique case where his "monster" theming is tied directly to his decline yes!

full answer under the cut it got long

in my mind, monster falls' curse is tied directly to gravity falls' natural law of weirdness magnetism/"the barrier" keeping bill in. once youve stayed there long enough for the curse to even BEGIN, it becomes harder to leave the town. you just feel drawn to it, and a dull ache in your soul if you leave. so obviously, when ford gets turned into a mothman, he does fully accept that because hes always felt more cryptid than man. but when the time comes for him to ask fiddleford for help, he lays out that "hey, youd be doing me a BIG favour if you came to help with the portal, but this town curses you if you stay for too long so itll only be a few weeks, i promise"

fidds agrees, because hey, whats a few weeks with an old friend? besides, he'll have his wife and son as an anchor to go back to. but the more he thinks about it, the more he likes staying with ford, the more he's reminded of those old times, and the more the curse starts influencing those kinds of thoughts to get louder and louder (but its not ALL the curse you know. still some autonomy in the situation) and so he keeps postponing his return date, almost "tempting fate" about the curse, because he doesn't really feel any different! his friend sprouted wings and antennae! he'd know by now, so he won't check! and ford shrugs and is like "well, alright, it's your choice, we can surely get a little closer to the point of no return"

and yknow, fiddleford denying that the curse could possibly be affecting him is almost like him in canon struggling to reconcile with his two "lives"- his home life and his life with ford. he wants to have his cake and eat it too, because he's just too timid to ever say no.

anyways, one day he wakes up and realizing he's heard the sound of technology near him for a while, and looks around, and realizes it's following him from room to room-

the beeping IS him. it's definitely been a year, he's already been cursed. it's just that he's a robot that looks near-human, just near-human enough that he could turn a blind eye to it and pretend like it never happened and that everything was fine. which i think kinda suits how ford loves the supernatural to a very personal degree, meanwhile fidds got roped into the town by pure happenstance

but. yknow, being a robot that looks human means youre still a robot. and it's a lot harder to erase things from a robot's "brain" without causing some major problems. haven't you ever been programming something or filling out an html code, and then you accidentally delete one thing you thought was inconsequential and all of a sudden youre staring at just a wall of code that's busted because whatever you removed, you DEFINITELY SHOULD NOT HAVE removed?

parts of fiddleford just go kaput and start breaking because he's purposely taking out large chunks of code from his own brain that end up being collateral from the memory gun. because, yknow, the memory gun is imprecise! it was designed for human brains! cos thats what fidds was for years! so it's like if you tried to repair a computer by ripping out the motherboard with pliers

thats my take on it anyways. Ya

[domaystic]

It's Domaystic 2024!

Hello, hello! This is the third year of DOMAYSTIC, a domestic trope based prompt event running in May :D

This is the main post for the event and in the picture above there are the prompts.

They're 31 prompts (no alts this time), but they are also divided in three main categories, which I loosely labelled as "people from everyday life" from 1 to 10; "things from everyday life" from A to J; and "general-container-stuff that can be bent to one's own desires" from roman number I to X. Plus, at the very end, a free choice option (we never had one and the days are not even ahahah).

List of prompts

Category: people from everyday life 01. driver 02. shop assistant 03. plumber 04. public servant 05. teacher 06. receptionist 07. mechanic 08. health professional 09. baker 10. landlord

Category: things from everyday life A. konmari B. me/us time C. shopping points D. odd appliances E. building renovations F. frozen G. memento H. wild animal I. ritual J. dreadful weather

Category: general-container-stuff I. proverb II. tutorial III. poll IV. numbers V. emergency VI. quiz VII. cliché VIII. art IX. official document X. song

* free choice

Guidelines, tags example, AO3 link under the cut!

General rules and guidelines

Domaystic is open to any fandom or original content.

Any kind of media is welcome. You choose your way of expression.

There are no limits/restrictions on how your fill should be.

There’s a total of 31 prompts for 31 days.

To join the event one can do a prompt a day following the list as it is; or following the sequence they prefer; or only the ones of their liking, even just one.

Or, and this is my challenge proposition for anyone who wants to take it: try to combine one prompt from each one of the three categories + the free choice. Which in total would produce 10 fills + 1 if all are done.

Share your work anywhere you want or keep it to yourself, that's fine. If you share it on tumblr and tag this blog, I’ll reblog it.

If you also want to combine these prompts with another fandom event, that's okay.

Domaystic runs actively throughout May; if you join or tag the blog on a later date, that's fine too, I just reblog on a lower pace after May is over.

In case of lengthy posts on tumblr, use the "read more" option: ctrl-shift-k on rich text; [[*MORE*]] on html (remove asterisks)

AO3 collection

The domaystic2024 collection is open from May, 1st: click here - info and prompts are also on the profile page.

Tagging your tumblr post:

Mention the blog in your post @domaystic - tracked tag: #domaystic2024

State the fandom name or if it is original content

State if it is sfw or nsfw

Please, always TAG PROPERLY for any trigger warning. I will base my own reblog on your tags so, please, take even a moment longer to carefully tag it. I hope all participants to stay safe in this event.

Here’s an example:

It took me 2 nights to write this @domaystic, look at my stuff! #domaystic2024 #[fandom name or original content] #[sfw or nsfw] #[trigger warnings that I get from your post] tw

And this is it! For any question, doubt, etc. the askbox is always open :)

Hi @thebigbangblogproject, can you reblog this? Thanks :D

[waitineedaname]

when I asked for prompts, @birbliophile suggested the Reddit drama and conspiracy theories following cumplane's disappearance, and I am here to provide! I grappled with so much html for this. fucking hell.

an excerpt, by way of summary:

[ID, courtesy of @princess-of-purple-prose: An excerpt from the fic, formatted to look like a post in r/ProudImmortalDemonWay posted by u/Liukingforlove. It's titled "Enemies-to-lovers Peerless Cucumber/Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky RPF 18+ don’t like don’t read!" and says:

Well, I’ve finally cracked. I had three exams this week and ended up in the hospital a few days ago (im fine, don’t worry about it) but the whims of fanfiction wait for no one! I was inspired by that post a couple months ago theorizing that the reason they’d both disappeared was because Cucumber lost it and tracked Airplane down. Kicking his ass over PIDW is all well and good but… what if they kissed about it. And then did more. I initially said it as a joke, but that's always the first mistake because after that the idea just wouldn't leave my head... Here is the result of me being absolutely haunted by the idea. Now everyone else has to suffer with me ❤ This is RPF so if you don’t like it, kindly go elsewhere!! Go reread your favorite vanilla sex in PIDW or something. You will find no vanilla here >:) [Link]

whets_your_stone: I see we’ve reached this part of a fandom hiatus, huh… jwlxww: You’re insane. End ID]

[tessenpai]

Kono Oto Tomare! Chapter 128.5 Scans and Rough TL

Disclaimer: Please DO NOT use this translation to make your own TL of the chapter!! The KOT TL group works very hard to give you the most accurate translation, that does as much justice to the original script as possible. This is a ROUGH translation. That means is faulty and there must be mistakes in certain places. This is just for impatient people like myself to get a grasp on what is going on in the chapter! You can REFERENCE my TL if you want to discuss the chapter but never USE it as it was your own.

Scans: (I recommend the use of an adblocker to avoid NSFW content) https://klz9.com/jxsh-kono-oto-tomare-raw-chapter-129.html

Page 1

Isaki [thoughts]: On my 27th winter

Isaki [thoughts]: My father passed away.

Side text: The story of how Chika and Isaki met...

Gen [memories]: If something were to happen to me...

Gen [memories]: Please take care of Chika.

Isaki [thoughts]: ---To me

Chika: Whatever. I don't care.

Page 2

Chika: I don't give a shit what you think of me. Not anymore.

Side text: When his grandfather died, his heart did as well---...

Isaki [thoughts]: He left only one request.

Chapter title: #ex [first light]

Page 3

Isaki [thoughts]: ....Whaaa---... No no, you can't be serious... This? You left this to me??

Gen [memories]: His eyes have been full of kindness lately.

Isaki [thoughts]: Where??

Isaki [thoughts]: Those are not the eyes of a child. Normally, it would've been impossible.

Isaki [thoughts]: Something like this... I've never even raised a child before, this is way out of my league---...

Isaki: !!

Isaki: Eh? Wai- Where are you goi--

Chika's father: Leave him!!

Isaki: Still...

Page 4

Gen [thoughts]: I leave it to you.

Isaki [thoughts]: Really, you ask too much...

Isaki [thoughts]: Wow.

Isaki: Excuse me, could borrow an umbrella?

Employee: Go ahead.

Isaki [thoughts]: He couldn't have gone too far yet but... Where should I even look for him?

Isaki [thoughts]: In a place that looks unsafe?

Page 5

Isaki [thoughts]: What should I do if he got in a fight again?

Isaki [thoughts]: There he is...

Isaki [thoughts]: For now, let's just call out to him. He will probably reject me but... Wait, if I get rejected, is there anything I can do after that? We've just met, so... The most practical thing for me to do would be to go back and call my brother.

Page 6

*No text*

Page 7

Isaki: ....Oh. Um...

Isaki: ...

Isaki: ...Do you know who I am? I'm your father's younger sister.

Isaki: Dad... Did Grandpa ever tell you about me?

Chika: ...

Isaki: About my brother... I think he's just a little bit preoccupied right now, so… maybe you should talk to him when he's a bit calmer and...

Chika: It's fine.

Chika: I really couldn't care less about that.

Page 8

Isaki: What? But...

Isaki [thoughts]: He was crying so hard just now...

Isaki [thoughts]: ...Ah.

Isaki [thoughts]: ...I see...

Isaki: You... Truly loved Grandpa.

Page 9

Isaki: I think the time Grandpa spent with you was really fun and joyful to him.

Isaki: I think you made him happy.

Isaki: For being with him until the end... Thank you.

Chika: !!

Page 10

Chika: u... ugh.

Isaki [thoughts]: ...Aaah.

Isaki [thoughts]: Can't do.

Isaki [thoughts]: I definitely

Isaki: Chika

Page 11

Isaki: Come live with me

Isaki [thoughts]: I can't leave this child alone.

Isaki [thoughts]: ---That was

Page 12

Isaki [thoughts]: The beginning for Chika and me.

Isaki: We haaave arrived! This is my humble abode--!

Isaki: The bathroom is over here--- And over there---

Isaki: Who would've thought you could do that...

Chika: What?

Isaki [thoughts]: He is surprisingly well-behaved.

Isaki: Here, this is my room---...

Sfx: Clack...

Page 13

Isaki: If you enter, I will beat you up ☆

Chika: ...

Isaki: Next up is the living room.

Isaki: And finally-- Your room!!

Sfx: Ta-daaaan

Chika: ...

Isaki: You got nothing to say about it...?

Chika: I'm fine just with a place to sleep in.

Isaki [thoughts]: I was just kidding... I planned on partitioning the living room to create a room for him but...

Isaki: ..............Whatever, I guess.

Page 14

Chika [Sfx]: Look around

Isaki: Hm? Are you looking for something?

Chika: ...I was just thinking that there aren't any kotos around here.

Isaki: Aah.

Isaki: I used to play it a little a long time ago. Now, not at all.

Isaki: My job is related to events so I sometimes get exposed to it from time to time.

Chika: Hmmmm.

Isaki: What, did you want to play the koto?

Chika: Nah, I can't play.

Isaki: Is that right? My fathe... Grandpa told me on the phone before

Isaki: "Chika played the koto!" He was so happy when he said that.

Page 15

Isaki [thoughts]: ----Ah.

Chika: ...Hmmm.

Isaki [thoughts]: His eyes light up as soon as Grandpa is mentioned

Isaki [thoughts]: That's probably his true self...

Sfx: Ruuumble

Isaki: ...Did you hear that?

Chika: ...Well, yeah.

Isaki: That's because I'm hungry. It's almost six, let's have dinner.

Isaki: What do you want to eat? We can go eat out or order delivery---

Chika: I don't need anything.

Page 16

Isaki: ...What?

Chika: Food, I mean... I'll be fine even with little food.

Isaki: What are you even saying??

Chika: It's enough if you just lend me a place to sleep.

Chika: I don't plan on coming for anything except to sleep.

Chika: Today I will also go somewhere else until night hits.

Chika: About my clothes... I would be thankful if you let me leave them here.

Isaki: I will make it.

Chika: ------Eh?

Isaki: Today, Isaki-sama, for your well-being, from the bottom of her heart, will cook for you. So eat. Until there isn't a single crumb left.

Page 17

Isaki: Right now, the only things I have in the fridge are water, alcohol, and snacks. I gotta do some shopping.

Chika: Eh? Wai-

Isaki: Ah, are you coming with me?

Chika: If there's anything you need, we can buy it.

Chika: ...Well, no ...There's really nothing.

Isaki: That so? Well, just stay at home then.

Chika: !

Chika: ...

Isaki: What, you coming then? Is there something you want?

Chika: ...There's nothing, really...

Page 18

Isaki [thoughts]: Yeaaaaaah, I don't get it.

Isaki [thoughts]: He is following me, but he is so far away.

Isaki [thoughts]: Well, you know? Of course, right? From a junior high school student's point of view, a woman around 30 years old is considered an old woman, right?. I'm sure it's embarrassing to walk around with one, right?

Isaki [thoughts]: I totally bought too much.

Isaki [thoughts]: Whatever--- It's just a 5-minute walk...

Sfx: Grap.

Page 19

Isaki [thoughts]: Oh?

Isaki [thoughts]: Ooooh...?

Isaki: Wai- At least let me carry one of those.

Chika: ...

Isaki: Hey!

Chika [Sfx]: Power walking

Isaki: Wha-!?

Isaki: Wait right there! Hey!!

Isaki: Don't ignore me!!

Isaki: Listen here!! I get that you don't want to walk with me but

Isaki: That kind of thing is still hurtful, you know!? I'm grateful you are carrying the bags, though!!

Page 20

Chika: Ah, no.

Chika: That's not... it.

Isaki: Come again?

Chika: ...Did you see how it ended up? Gramps house, I mean.

Chika: It'd better for you not to be seen around me.

Page 21

Isaki: Are you underestimating adults?

Isaki: Gramps house? Yeah, I took a good look at it with these two eyes. It was the worst among the worst.

Isaki: I think the people who did that are really shitty kids. And you're a fool for hanging out with them.

Page 22

Isaki: When I first heard about the incident, to be honest, I was super pissed with you.

Isaki: I thought it was too much trouble, I wanted nothing to do with it.

Isaki: But once I actually met you, you were only a child crying for the death of his grandpa.

Isaki: You have reflected and regretted. But you are still someone who hasn't learned how to look forward, at all.

Isaki: Don't you dare try to put yourself in front of me to try and protect me.

Page 23

Isaki: There's no way I will run from some brats who try to belittle my nephew.

Isaki: I will use my power as an adult to turn the tables on them-

Isaki: So you can rest at ease, and walk beside me. And every day, you can come home normally!!

Isaki: Do you understand!?

Page 24

Isaki: Come on, let's go.

Chika: Carrying it like this is embarrassing....

Isaki; Oh, is that so? Let go, then, and let me carry these heaaaavy bags all on my own.

Chika: Ugh...

Chika: ...

Page 25

Isaki [thoughts]: That night

Isaki [thoughts]: For the first time in several years I cooked

Isaki [thoughts]: A fucking disgusting A slightly different curry

Isaki [thoughts]: Chika did exactly as I told him.

Isaki [thoughts]: And didn't leave a single crumb.

Page 26

Isaki [thoughts]: He is more honest than I thought.

Isaki [thoughts]: And he is extremely clumsy.

Isaki [memory]: ----Eh? You don't want to go to high school and want to start working directly instead? Is there a work you are interested in?

Chika[memory]: There's nothing like that but, normally I would have to pay rent, and earn my living. I wanna pay for it.

Isaki[memory]: What, now?

Isaki[memory]: Your father will be paying for all your expenses, isn't that obvious?

Isaki[memory]: You don't want to depend on your father?

Chika[memory]: Ugh...

Isaki[memory]: Well, is not like I don't understand where you are coming from, but.

Page 27

Isaki [memory]: If there's anything you can use, use it.

Isaki[memory]: If you can rely on something or someone, do it.

Isaki[memory]: There's nothing to be embarrassed about.

Isaki[memory]: For once, forget about things like money and whatnot. Just think about what you want for yourself.

Isaki[memory]: But if after that, you still want to work, then I will support you.

Chika [thoughts]: ...What I want for myself...

Chika [thoughts]: ..............

Chika [thoughts]: I have no clue--... I don't have a hobby or any kind of special talent. Nothing.

Page 28

Chika [thoughts]: ...Truly. I really have nothing.

Chika [thoughts]: Nothing...

Gen [memory]: Chika!

Isaki [thoughts]: I'm home---

Chika [Sfx]: Stare

Isaki: Eh? What is it? You are scaring me.

Isaki: What, did you break something?

Chika: I didn't break anything.

Isaki: What is it, then?

Page 29

Chika: .....

Chika: Ther-

Chika: There's something I... Want.

Isaki: ! What is it?

Chika: ----------

Chika: Pi- picture...

Chika: I want a picture.

Chika: ....Of Gramps.

Chika: I

Chika: Don't have even one... so.

Page 30

Chika: If it's not doable, that's fine.

Isaki: Eh- no-! It's totally doable!!! Pictures, huh! I will bring them over!

Isaki: These are albums.

Chika: Are these all Gramps'?

Isaki: Well, there are also other family members in them.

Isaki: You can grab whichever picture you like.

Chika: ...Thanks

Chika [thoughts]: Oooh...

Page 31

Chika [thoughts]: Around this age, I can already tell it's Gramps.

Chika[memory]: Koto club? What's that, a club where you play koto?

Gen [memory]: Yeah. I was the founder of the Tokise Koto Club!

Page 32

Chika: ---...This.

Isaki: Hm? Ahhh, that's a picture of when the Koto Club was first founded.

Chika: ...Does this club

Chika: Still exist?

Isaki: If I remember correctly, it's still there, but----

Gen [memory]: Do you want to give it a try?

Gen [memory]: Haha, you are pretty good.

Gen [memory]: You actually seem pretty talented.

Isaki [memory]: "Chika played the koto!" He was so happy when he said that.

Page 33

Isaki: -----...

Isaki: Did you find what you want to do?

Page 34

Chika: I wonder if it's too late for me to aim to go to high school.

Isaki: Well, that depends on how much effort you put on i---

Isaki: Wait a second!! You have to submit an application form for the entrance exam! When is the deadline!? It's already December!!

Isaki: Will we make it on time?

Chika: I will go ask Tetsuki!!

Isaki: Eh? Who is Tetsuki!?

Chika: It's ok! I will make it on time!! If I tell Tetsuki, it will be fine, for sure!!

Isaki: Ok, but who is Tetsuki!!??

Chika: Uh... I

Chika: Will go to Tokise and

Chika: I will join the Koto Club Gramps created!!!

Page 35

Isaki [thoughts]: Thank you, Dad. For leaving a light for Chika.

Isaki: That's great!!

Isaki: Well then, from now on, it's full-time studying!

Chika: Starting tomorrow I will ask Tetsuki to help me study, so I will pass for sure!

Isaki: What the hell is a Tetsuki!!!???

Side text: I hope this sound reaches the heavens----...

Isaki [thoughts]: Chika won't lose sight of that light, and this time I will be right beside him.

Isaki [thoughts]: Please, look after us.

---Kono Oto Tomare! will continue in the next issue---

[crookedfivefingers]

Ahhhhhhhh hello fellow tenmartha shipper!! I was wondering if you had any fic suggestions? I'm slowly making my way through the tag on AO3 and it's pretty hit or miss...

Also if you haven't checked her out yet, Haleine Delial over on FF.net is the top tier tenmartha writer and I wish she would transfer her stuff over to AO3 where it would get the attention it deserves 😭

https://m.fanfiction.net/u/1248996/?a=s&s=0&cid=0&p=1

Also also, I found a gold mine of fic on live journal over 10 years ago when I was desperately searching for content. This is a permanently open tab on my phone and hopefully you enjoy it if you haven't seen it already!

https://persiflage-1.livejournal.com/306664.html

Hiii! I've been enjoying your journey through my posts! 💜 And thank you so, so, so much for the recs—FFnet is pretty much the only place I haven't bled dry for TenMartha content, so I will definitely be looking into those!

As for my recs...

Oh god, okay, so full disclosure: I tend to only read/write smut-containing fics (unless written by a friend or specifically recommended to me), as I am an animal—so my choices are severely limited in that sense… I also don’t read “established relationship” fics, so that’s another limit. But YES. I absolutely have some recs, I apologize if you’ve already read them all!

(This is by no means a complete list)

First just want to highlight my two faves:

wandererinthefourthdimension—In my opinion, the absolute tippy-top of the best of the best TenMartha writers. (I think I've possibly love-bombed her a bit too hard in my obsession with her works, but) she is exquisite. From dynamite characterizations to possibly the hottest smut I have ever read, she is OUTSTANDING. Here are a few:

Bliss

Informed Consent (has an amazing WIP sequel)

Alive (WIP—but for god's sake, read it)

HDUC—Pretty much anything by this magical smut goddess. Good god, this person needs to be on Ao3 as well, but can only be found on FF. It's quite tragic. Here are just a few of my favorites:

Craving

Contrition

Formalities

Brilliant

Diminished

Some more excellent content:

⭐️ = Added after original post

Moon Landing by TheGoldenAge ⭐️

Our Lack of Social Skills by zauberer_sirin

Time Enough for Love by nonelvis

Lust in the Dust by Pax in Paradoxo

As Hot as a Wandering Sun by lastnightagain

In Half Light by rose_quartz_cave

Of Great Consequence (self-rec; WIP)—co-written with @pax-in-paradoxo The Purpose of Repose (WIP)(If you’re not too bothered by a fic that involves Ten & Rose as well)

A Shadow in the Human Heart by augustrain (DARK as hell—heed the warnings—and not nearly as smutty as anything else I've posted here, but still so so so good; brilliantly written. It's abandoned as well, but ends at a perfectly fine place for it to end)

I hope there's at least a couple here that you've never read and can enjoy! 💜

[drivingafterdark23]

Hello, and welcome to the first 18+ Life Series fan event! As your mod, @redstoneglitch, I’ll be explaining how this will go down.

The first thing to go over are prompt nominations: anyone can submit one, regardless if they want to participate or not! However, if you do want to create something, please fill out the sign-up form as well. Once people have submitted, and the prompt form closes, I’ll put all the prompts into a spreadsheet for participants to pick from.

Following that, there will be three creation rounds, each lasting two weeks. Every round, you’ll (1) create for a prompt, (2) post it to the AO3 collection before the last day of the round, and (3) see if anyone has created for the same prompt as you. If so, you’ll lose 2 out of 3 lives. If you don’t post by 7pm EDT, you’ll lose 1 life.

(Anyone is free to join the game at any time! However, joining in later rounds will leave you with 1-2 lives)

After the collection has been revealed, feel free to look around! Get inspired for the next round if you’d like, and make sure to support your fellow artists and authors by leaving a comment on their work.

Between rounds, I’ll try my best to tally up everyone’s lives, and see where they stand. If you’d rather be a part of the spectator team, and not take part in the game, make sure that you don’t use the sign-up form.

Once all three rounds have passed, whoever has 1 or more lives wins!

And now, onto the rules:

You must be 18 or older to participate

Prompts must include at least one life series character

You must fill the prompt to the best of your ability. If that ends up being 100 words, a stanza, or a sketch, that’s completely fine!

Respect the prompter’s DNWs (Do Not Wants). Failure in doing so may get you disqualified

Tag your pieces appropriately

You must post to the appropriate AO3 collection if you’re playing the game. (If it’s art, feel free to upload your work to an image hosting website, post it privately on tumblr, whatever works best for you – Just make sure to use the following HTML code: <img src="link to the file here"/> or click the “Insert/Edit Image” button if you’re using rich text) Feel free to post on different sites after the round is over!

If you’re part of the spectator team, please don’t post your work until the current round’s works are revealed

[gingkos-eldritch-secret]

Fanfiction commentary and recommendations: Lex Luthor´s ascend from supervillainy to fatherhood Part IV (chapters 16 to 20)

The Original story can be found here.

The previous parts of the commentaries can be found here:

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part V

Part VI

Part VII

So, the classic silly rambling before the actual commentary part is surprisingly part that´s the hardest to do. Go figure.

Well. At least aside from formatting. I may have found out how to make links into hyperlinks, but I still have a problem with getting the HTML code to do what I want and just center the line break. And I´d also love to do blocktext, so that there are the most even edges of text possible on both sides, but I know the second one just WON´T work because different devices and different formattings so it would just look awful. I could still center. But my brain hates HTML code rn. Why is HTML so much easier on AO3?

But to build anticipation: I know that the next few chapters will be kind of wild. Or. not really 'kind of' but actually a bit wild. As in: The Joker´s involved. I mean, with all of the foreshadowing in the past few chapters I was really not surprised, but damn, do I hate the man.

With the knowledge of not being with that knowledge: back to the regularly scheduled program.

○○○••○○•••○○••○○○

So? Which topic do you think chapter 16 starts with? Ding ding ding! You´re right! Lazarus Pits! Or rather: the price some people have to pay for the boon. In Jason´s case? His sanity.

And also the helpless feeling of just. Not knowing. Not knowing why or how he was the only one that suffered such harsh side effects when the rest of the family got away more or less scot-free.

I … can´t imagine how hard it must be to know all the darkness that dwells in oneself can just … erupt like some kind of volcano. Even worse if you wake up after such an eruption and just. Don´t remember. It´s frightening. And that Jason has endured that for years now? Oooof. He needs more hugs from his friends and family ASAP. Especially because he seems to feel like such a burden …

But how did we get to such deep introspection from him? Because he finally feels as if he´s getting back from the pits. You remember what I said about Jason feeling a lurch in his chest?

Yeah. It´s still happening, again and again and it´s kind of crawling up his throat.

And as I can´t imagine that feeling all too pleasant - he just kind of. Slowly falls onto the floor. Or. He would have, if Dick hadn´t caught him, good older brother that he is.

It doesn´t help that Danny collapses as well.

And then he throws up something green and goopy and it starts to move towards Danny and ugh. It sounds so digusting and horrifying I kinda had to take a moment to get a drink because god damn, that was not a comfortable experience to read about and any time I reread this for corrections I feel this imagine return to my mind.

Thank god for Alfred saving the day, because as the only one with his faculties intact he just puts a bowl over this … thing. And it helps! Whoooooo!

But now we have an exhausted Jason, a collapsed Danny and a very worried family. And not just any worried family, but a worried batfamily. Good god that can´t end well, can it?

Because of course, after the discussion about his health problems the family gets even more worried when his heartbeat slows further. And since he´s not awake, he can´t even veto going to a hospital. Thank god for Duke though, because he got them to go to Dr Thom(p?)kins instead.

And of course they´re suspicious now. Probably more of Lex than Danny, but still.

Tim, bless his soul, wants to tell Lex what just happened because any parent should know what happened to their child. Especially since there could be allergies or traumata involved.

But no, bruce just wants to get him to a clinic. It will come back to bite him in the ass - that I can promise.

And where does it come back to bite him in the ass? Right at the clinic. Jason may be fine, but Danny? In the eyes of the doc? Fuck no, he´s not. I mean, he never is, but they don´t know that, do they?

And because of all the radioactivity and the health problems and because he´s a sus mf - what does Bruce do? He wants a blood sample.

Now. We know how Danny is about his blood. It´s a dangerous thing. Thank god for Leslie and her ethics though. Because I don´t think neither Danny nor Lex would forgive him for that breach of trust and bodily autonomy.

Bruce and Damian are both deeply suspicious because the matter seems quite close to Lazarus pits and fear that Lex may be experimenting on him … and also Damian kinda lowkey hates Danny because he has hurt his family twice already, however unintentional and who says he won´t hurt even more of them?

And after that whole ordeal? Danny just decided to take his legs into his hands and get the hell out of dodge.

Can´t blame him tbh. Really, really can´t blame him.

So where does the baby boi end up? At a random roof in Gotham where Harley finds him. Predictably she thinks he maybe wants to jump though our Boy quickly reassures her that that´s not the case.

Doesn´t change the fact that he´s still spooked though. Mainly because he thinks he did something wrong and now the Waynes won´t want him as a friend anymore, because why would they? He hurt them and then they even had to get him to a clinic and Harley, please do something about this, it´s just sad to read :')

And now Danny doesn´t even wanna call Lex, because of the situation because he fear he´ll never be allowed to go anywhere again because he was 'right' and just. Danny I understand your fear, but comunication please.

Of course he deflects by asking if the Joker was around, which somehow leads to Harley taking him to her and Ivy´s place? Don´t ask me how it happened, the only I way I can condense it is if I say: they ranted.

This leads to this part of the conversation:

“Really? Then why did… you know,” he said, looking her up and down. “I know it couldn’t have been just the Joker that made you this way. He’s your… origin story, not your love interest.”

And I think that just endeared danny to her forever.

So while Danny cuddles with Bud and Lou on the Couch, the bats are freaking out because they lost Danny. And what do the bats do best when they panic? Suit up and spread out. 

Lex is finally being called. Suffice to say the conversation does not go well. At all. And Lex is now on the way. Because of course he is. Especially after Bruce basically insulted him by insinuating he´s a bad parent. Way to put your foot in your mouth, Bruce.

And what else does happen on this lovely day? The Joker gets out, because of course he does. Why not make bad things even worse? That´s what this man does best after all.

Meanwhile Ivy is exasperated at Harley´s antics, seeing as she wants to steal Danny from Lex and yeah. Just a typical start to girl´s night i guess? Catwoman will have fun with this situation, i can already tell xD

Now if only I knew what Damian would want those bolt cutters for?

Selina arrives! And instantly thinks Danny was kidnapped as well.

That topic quickly shifts though. And what does it shift into? Bruce´s batdoption problems. It´s just such a good meme and I´m not even mad about it.

It also seems a put a few things into perspective for Danny since she tells him that some people don´t think Lex to be a good parent. For very good reasons to be honest, but I guess it still stings a bit ...

In the end girl night starts with them just trash talking Bruce and his furry tendencies. As well as his hypocrisy when we consider his dating history. How a man with such a moral compass can deal with dating people such as Talia or Catwoman I will never understand. I know, I know. Sexual Tension. But Sexual Tension does not cause you to conceive a child together (that´s just trash as well. I gotta be solidary xD)

So in the typical girl night fashion, they talk about feelings and who may have a crush on whom and how oblivious some people (*cough* Danny *cough*) are and there´s many an adive to be had. They´re just gal pals having fun :D

Meanwhile Lex is annoyed at the Gotham airspace seeing as he can´t get into the city without changing vehilces because a certain clown blew up some buildings.

Meanwhile girl night changed into poker night and well. I don´t think any of them play fair xD

The conversation that follow are easily put under the "What happens on girls’ night, stays on girls' night" category as Ivy suitably calls it.

The bats and birds still haven´t stopped searching. Joker´s still a crazy piece of work and Danny? Danny is just losing at Uno and living his best live.

[qua-qua-qua]

whats your favorite programming language?

ooh that’s hard mind if i go for a bit of a rant? (also i might use some terms you don’t know you can usually find them by googling “<langauge> <concept>” or smth similar or you can ask me)

tl;dr rust is my favorite

so my first language was javascript(/html/css). and it’s a *horrible* language for tons of reasons (that’s a separate rant). but it’s gotten a bunch of nice features recently and i’ve found myself almost liking it somehow. i’m like half convinced it’s stockholm syndrome but who knows. it’s not really a contender for my favorite per se, but i might be most comfortable in it? it’s certainly my favorite scripting language.

the language with the best syntax imo is swift. i love it bc it feels very well designed and the syntax feels very intuitive and clean coming from javascript (as in it fixes some warts i don’t like about js/many c-family languages). one thing i particularly like (and miss in literally every other language) is the ability to infer the object that a property is being applied to. that’s kinda confusing without an example so basically:

let color: Color // some other stuff color = .green // instead of Color.green

it’s super minor but i love it so much and it’s a shame fewer languages have done something similar. i don’t really have many other thoughts on swift though since i haven’t used it in a while. it gets a bad rep as an “apple language” bc they made it, even though it’s open source, has its own organization, and can run anywhere. but bc of that it doesn’t have an amazing ecosystem for running outside of apple devices, so no one does it. it’s a chicken and egg problem. anyways. i want to use it more to try it but haven’t gotten around to it.

okay haskell i’m not very good at it i learned it recently but i absolutely love the functional style. i miss it in all other languages. especially currying. i love functional programming but i have a hard time when everything is perfectly pure. also monads are super cool and i love finding them in other languages. oh i also miss function composition. a lot. it’s so ridiculously useful. i think i’ll enjoy haskell much much more once i get used to it.

finally, what i would say is generally my favorite: rust. it’s very well designed, and i love the zero-cost abstractions. basically (the rust website explains it much better) they mean that rust is about as fast as c, and much faster than any c i could write (and probably as fast as any c an expert could write). i love having everything be so fast but also not having to worry about a ton of low level details eg memory management. (i can’t write a c program for the life of me without leaking memory, causing undefined behavior, or both 💀). perhaps my favorite part of rust is the ecosystem and tooling. cargo (the package manager and build system) is absolutely wonderful and just works™. like literally always. i have zero problems with dependencies and compiling and running and even cross compiling*. and the ecosystem is equally amazing. there’s a crate for pretty much anything under the sun and they’re all open source!! i love how i can just go and look at the code behind the libraries i use just by clicking on “go to definition” in my IDE. and it’s not uncommon for me to be able to understand it too!! and there we go end of rant rust is fun.

\* with one exception: when the rust code links to c code. which is mostly pretty rare but does happen.

actually i lied about ending the rant. i should probably mention python. not because i like it, but bc you prob know it, or at least of it. i’m neutral on it. i don’t know it very well. i wouldn’t say it’s bad, but it’s also not very good. the biggest thing it has going for it is that almost everyone knows it. and it’s a fine scripting language. i’m just not a huge fan personally. (one of my friends would murder me for saying this lmao they love python).

okay sorry for saying so much but um if you have any questions about any of it feel free to ask!!

[wishingstarinajar]

HEY so ive been looking around for a toyhouse alternative for awhile and one of your oldish posts kept coming up, so i wanted to ask if you ever found a good one? hope this question aint too out of nowhere, hah ^^'

Nope, I haven't! Or at least not one that is as extensive as Toyhouse, or allows OC/AU versions of canon characters (this was the main issue back then).

I tried out Refsheet and while it works fine, it doesn't give me much freedom regarding layout or character information because it uses a standard template. The character gallery also felt a little off to me, I can't quite place my finger on why that is.

There was also CharacterHub, but it wasn't clear if they allow OC/AU versions of canon characters. Also, I wasn't too thrilled about their ToS so I dropped that one as a potential replacement.

I was recommended Google Docs by plenty of people and someone was kind to give me a new template that's similar to a wikipage layout, but with Google Docs being all huffy and puffy about suggestive/NSFW content being hosted in Docs, I don't want to risk stuff.

So in the end, I stuck with Toyhouse. It is still one of the better places to archive your OCs if you place a lot of value in freedom of expression (aka page layouts and templates), don't mind fiddling with HTML, have suggestive/NSFW content related to some OCs, or want to link/sell them. I've made my peace that I won't be able to share any Sans, Papyrus, Frisk, Gaster, etc AU characters anymore. Sucks but it is what it is.

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

Sweet Dreams--Part 6

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

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

Prince!Calum x Reader Insert.

CW: Smut across the series. Mentions of parental neglect, and alcohol abuse across the series as well.

Series Masterlist

My Complete Masterlist

The collar’s stiff, not stiff enough that it’ll just stay flat, but stiff enough that it won’t flatten from the half curl it’s in. You don’t have much else to dig out. It’s this shirt or what seemingly feels like having to accept defeat--skip the interview, continue on this dead end journey. And maybe it only feels a little exhausting because you spend your days buried deep in applications--uploading resumes, retyping them, editing cover letters, adding the same information on the PDF you just uploaded into the HTML application that you’re clicking through. Your name, email, last known dates of employment and location, your schooling. You’re stuck on a wheel, a carrot dangling in your face and always just inches from actually getting your teeth on it. 

This is your fifth interview in three weeks, but the track record you’re building is already speaking deeply for itself. Three of the four interviews have wound up being stark rejections. The last one was sweet, noting that your skill and caliber are impressive, but given the two year stint out of the cutthroat business they felt that you might be too much of a liability. So much that being a chef to royalty seems to get you. But you understand. The restaurant business is lethal. It is knife to throat at all times, no shut eye, always looking over your shoulder with a handful of salt at the ready. You have been out of that realm for quite some time. You still had plenty of time to look, but the frustration clouds all your judgment. You just know you need a job. 

As you fight with the collar, you consider if it would be such a bad idea to look into becoming a private chef in the interim until you found something else, until you had a handle on what you’re actually looking for outside of desperation. There had to be someone right enough, much too lazy to do their own cooking to hire you on. And it would give you some of your life back. But you don’t settle for that idea just yet. You don’t give in just yet. You still have this interview in front of you and the collar that won’t fucking cooperate. 

“C’mon!” Your voice booms more than you intend. 

“You really ought to have a steamer,” Calum laughs. His voice is small through the speakers of your phone. You turn to face the phone now, realizing that you probably shouldn’t blow your top over a fucking collar. Calum he motions for you to turn. 

You oblige, shuffling in a circle as you speak, “Buy me one and then I will have one.”

“Is that not classified as knight in shining armor bullshit? Or is that just your being frustrated?” Calum questions. It comes with a laugh, but you know the true meaning. 

“It’s me being frustrated at this fucking job hunt. Is it a no on the shirt?”

“The shirt is fine, baby. You got a dryer in that establishment that I’ve only ever gotten to see on a phone screen?”

You nod at the question, fingers moving to the top buttons of the shirt to undo them. “We both know why you haven’t. I need to be in the new job before I flaunt you to my roommates.”

“Miranda did say that Josie was looking a little suspicious.” 

Josie’s the quietest of the roommates, excluding you. She can’t even humanely capture a fly without the tears brimming in her eyes. Fortunately for her, when the insects do run amuck, you’re usually swift to handle them when you spot them or to call the leasing office to have them schedule a spray. She’s knocked on your door twice for her help with a bug and you’ve never been able to turn her away. 

“About this dryer?” you ask, pulling your arms out of the sleeves. 

“Yes, yes, sorry to Josie. She’s probably a nice woman. But mist that shirt. Don’t soak it. You just want it damp. Then put it on a low cycle for like 15 minutes max. You’ll have to hang the shirt up immediately after taking it out of the dryer though. Think you can handle that?”

“I think so.” 

The interview is scheduled for late in the afternoon. You knew it would be rough for you, meaning you’d get little sleep potentially. But you had to do what needed to be done. So you’d only get up only after a quick nap to get ready. Calum promised to be free to help you prepare and the moment you texted him about being awake, he called. The last twenty minutes you’d been on the phone you’d huffed at the limits of your closest. There were only so many shirts you had to wear for the interview and the last thing you wanted to do was show up in a shirt that you couldn’t be sure if it was clean or not. So you were left to this one, a collar as disobedient as ever. 

“You’re going to land something, baby. It’s going to be okay,” Calum offers. 

“I appreciate it.” You know he means well but it doesn’t necessarily erase all the nerves. Time is the guillotine as it is. You’ve only got so much time to land on your feet before time takes your head. You try to tell yourself, when you lay down for sleep, not to listen to the tick of the clock. 

With your t-shirt slipped back over your torso, you gather your phone off your dresser. “How are sessions?” You keep your voice soft as you ask the question. Calum’s no good as a punching bag. He’s not the person you’re angry with. Though, you don’t know if it’s a person you’re truly angry with anymore anyway.  

“Long,” Calum returns. 

“Any swingers?” you ask. You know it’s really not your business but there is a part of you that is curious. It felt like a slippery slope. As much as Calum wanted to play the game right, as much as Calum wanted to be the good guy, the game he’d been placed into was rigged. It always would be. It would just take Calum a little bit longer to see that, to understand just how much it was an old game with deep roots. He could play it the right way, but he’d have to be okay with a lot of failure. You wonder if Calum’s ever used to failing at anything. Not that you think he’s been handed everything in his life. But you know the wall for him was shorter. He had more people under him, more people to keep the ladder safe and still for him. 

“A couple,” he answers. “It’s…slow, as I’m sure you know. So fucking slow.”

“People on the news say another vote is coming up next week?”

“There is. I don’t think we have the numbers. Not yet.”

There’s something in how Calum keeps his responses short that sets the hairs on the back of your neck up into the air. “What’s wrong?” You don’t want it to come out accusatory. You know that there may not be something wrong, but your gut tells you otherwise. And you’ve got no reason not to listen to it. 

Calum’s exhale is harsh, head dropping back on his shoulders. You watch the expanse of his neck for a moment, how he swallows before bringing his face back into the frame. “It’s not working. It’s just not fucking working,” he huffs. “Playing this fucking straight is killing people. We just got the unemployment numbers. They’ve skyrocketed. When I talk to people about how this happened, I interview CEO’s or get statements from them and they say no one wants to work. So I go to the streets and I hear people are looking for jobs, they’re desperate for it. But not so much that they’ll be exploited. Nine, ten hour shifts with no breaks, no pay increases, buildings that aren’t up to code in the slightest, or just barely passing inspection. And I’m sure there’s some not so great people at the manager helm, but like profit margins are blowing the fucking roof but the employeess can’t afford medication. The people in the cabinet don’t care enough because their checks are still cash. Their coffee still comes out steaming and hot like it’s supposed to. They can still go to the dentist to make sure they don’t get a cavity or fill it without a blink. People are dying and no one wants to get off their asses. And I’m doing this the way it should be done. And the world--.”

Calum’s monologue comes to a crashing halt. His eyes are wild and unfocused. You can see the frustration turning the tips of his ears red. You can see it pushing at his chest. “And the world keeps fucking spinning,” he whispers to conclude the thought that stopped him. 

“The last I heard Galileo had proven the earth orbited the sun, not Cabinet.” It’s a joke. One that you hope breaks Calum out of his daze. It seems to work--but only a little as his lips quirk into a grin. 

“It’s a shame no one’s told the Cabinet that,” Calum teases. 

“You did once. I don’t think that fire’s gone totally. Not if you don’t go it alone. I’m not a mathematician. I don’t know how many you need, who you need of course.”

“We just need enough,” Calum replies. “You deserve better than complacency.”

“Me?” The two of you are talking about thousands of people, hundreds of thousands. But the two of you are not talking about you--singular. Yet Calum is.

It’s only a nod you get and behind the silence the clock on your wall ticks and tocks. You catch the seconds like falling snowflakes--one by one--as you watch Calum’s face settle. He doesn’t seem to want to answer the question but after the quiet gets too long, you press again. “Calum, what do you mean that I deserve better than complacency?”

“You deserve better. Perhaps, you deserve havoc.” 

“Done to, or doing?” you ask. 

“Never done to,” Calum returns quickly. “You don’t deserve any more havoc in your life, but maybe you deserve to bear witness to something done by someone else.” You told Calum that--to wreak havoc until he could get seats turned over. You don’t even really know what it was supposed to mean. You’d hope it would’ve just been comforting enough to help him get through the door and back into the room. You don’t think you would’ve said it if it meant what it does now to Calum. 

“What if there’s no stick or shovel?” you ask. If Calum’s going to get into the deep end, if he’s going to wade through the tall grass, you don’t want him to do so blindly. You don’t want him to do without recognizing that he might become the very thing he was scared of. 

“At least we’ll both know I tried my best then, right?”

You nod. But you remember--how Calum worried about if he didn’t play this game right and got into the mud then he would consider himself as having failed. “And we’ll both know you weren’t a failure, right?”

Calum nods in return. “I think I’d be more of a failure if I didn’t do something.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” You don’t know what this is actually referring to. You don’t know what Calum’s got planned but you do know that look in his eyes--a laser focus. You’re sure that if you were to see his jaw, there would be a small tick to you, the final testament to his resolve. “No bullshit. No bravado. Is this what you actually want to do?” you ask. 

“Have I ever done something I didn’t want?” 

You remember though. You remember how Calum spoke softly about his childhood, how he was allowed the space to be a child, let abandon fall by the wasteside. He always knew where he was going. His path was predetermined by fates outside of his control, his path paved in ways that do not allow for yearning. “Have you ever wanted? Not placed, not disciplined, not assumed. Have you ever actually wanted for something? Do you want this? You can build a house with integrity. It will stand.”

You think Calum’s going to blow you off, the camera shakes for just a moment and you’re praying to the heavens he doesn’t undermine your question. But his face stays. He leans in. “But it’s too damn slow. Besides, this isn’t about my morals anymore, baby. This is about what needs to happen. Those emergency funds need to go out. Legislation needs to change. Asses need a fire under them, more now than ever.”

There’s no turning this tide. Like waves follow the moon, Calum’s being pulled by something. It’s invisible to you right now and you know you can’t press on. Your alarm to remind you about the interview in another hour rings out. You swipe it away to snooze it, knowing you’ve only got nine more minutes before the alarm comes back around. But you can hear the crashing of the waves. You hear what Calum is saying: I need to do it this way.

 “I’ll pick up spare matches.”

“I hear there’s a two for one special,” Calum laughs. “Now I think I heard your alarm. Go on. I’ll call again when you get to the interview. You’ve got a shirt that needs a flat collar.”

A knock sounds from Calum’s end of the call that interrupts your response. “Yes?” Calum calls out. 

“You’re late!” you faintly catch and think it’s Miranda. 

“Shit,” he whispers and then focuses back to you. “Best of luck, baby. Don’t forget to call when you get there! Love you.”

He smiles at you one last time and then the screen goes black. You’re left standing there, phone held up to your face and your reflection staring back at you. Shock’s never looked more like a painting, your mouth agape but not quite in the oval of the scream, as you catch sight of your face in the black screen of your phone. 

“There’s no way he means that right now,” you whisper to yourself. 

You’d always thought the guillotine would drop when you couldn’t find a job and the notices came for all your possessions, and you were left with nothing. You’d yet to consider the guillotine to fall over a phone call, over two words. 

Love you. 

Your alarm sounds again. Right, you’ve got the interview. You’ve got a shirt and collar to get sorted. 

Love you. 

You scramble to get the shirt damp and into the dryer. Thinking the guillotine was losing and handling change is a childish thought. The guillotine is really a fear of what’s been brewing. You can no longer say that you hope or want for Calum. You can no longer say that you watch with curiosity. 

You pray, and fret, and hope with care, with love. You worry because you know the thing you want. You know the thing you’ll fight for now isn’t just selfish anymore. It’s mutual. It’s mutual and all it took was two words: love you. Perhaps, you will find two boxes of matches. 

The building in front of you reminds you of your days with Mrs. Shirley--it looks industrial with the gray walls, like you’re stepping back in time. Though all your missing is Mrs. Shirley maroon pickup truck and the radio. This parking lot is quite full though instead of empty. A shopping cart or two are left behind on the sidewalks. You can hear the twinkle of dog tags. But the building’s mural looks fresh. Like it might’ve just been painted up there. Not what you expect from the restaurant, after reviewing the ratings, but something about it feels comforting.

Your fingers hover over the phone icon. If you call him, are you even going to address what he said? Are you going to light the beacon or let the words carry on like an undercurrent? You can’t not call though. 

“Hi, baby,” Calum answers. You can hear the smile in his voice. 

“Made it to the restaurant,” you return. 

“What’s the first impression so far?”

You shrug, looking out around you from the shelter of your car. “Still assessing. But promising, I hope.”

“We’ll take hope. You’ve got your copies of your resume, right?”

You turn to look at the blue folder on the seat next to you. “I do.”

“At least three questions to ask the interviewer, right?”

“Always,” you laugh. “It’s not my first rodeo, cowboy.”

“No, you’re an experienced rider. Just gotta make sure though.” Calum’s laughter follows his sentence. 

“I appreciate your concern.”

Softly, oh so softly, does Calum’s voice fall and filters through the line. “I think I’ve got a good feeling about this one. Need anything before you head inside? Pep talk? Going over your questions?”

You shake your head no again, knowing he can’t see. Calum’s had a good feeling about the last two interviews. The last one he was sort of spot on until the rejection came. But maybe things were moving in the right direction. 

“No, I’m good. Just wanted to call like promised,” you eventually settle on. Though in the back of your brain you can see still the echoing of Calum’s earlier statement. Would you return it? Should you? What if Calum doesn’t mean it the way you would? 

“Hmm, I do appreciate the call.”

Is Calum going to bring it up? Would he call attention to his own actions? Were you putting too much weight behind the words? 

As the silence stretches on for a second, then two. The time on your radio clicks over. You still have to get inside. Calum’s words are soft--accented in a way you don’t think you’ve heard them spoken before. But a warmth settles over your chest. 

“Good luck,” Calum whispers. 

“I hope your good feeling is good for one more time.”

“It will be. I put in a good word with the ancestors.”

You snort at the joke. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

That’s all there is--you hang up after your goodbyes. The clock on your radio ticks over another minute. The phone feels like lead in your hands and you want to call Calum back. You want to ask him what he meant when he said Love you but you’ve got to go. You grab your folder and push against the door handle of the car. 

At the front of the building, you watch through the glass front windows at the people smiling. Servers drop off plates, patrons focus in on the food in front of them. The place looks inviting. You are intrigued to see more of the inside, see what the inner workings hold for you. So, you press forward. The hostess greets you with a bright smile. “Just one today?”

You shake your head. “I’m actually here for an interview.” You pass along your name and she nods. 

“Just one moment. I’ll be right back.”

From the foyer, you take note of the aroma--it’s earthy but the fringes of it feel heavy. “Here for the interview?” The voice is thick and soft. 

You turn to find an older woman, maybe in her fifties or so. Her skin is dark, nearly matching the black t-shirt she’s adorning. “Yes, that would be me,” you return, pushing up from the plush bench. 

She grins, taking your hand to shake. “C’mon then. I believe you spoke with the assistant manager, Glenn, previously.”

“Yes, I did.”

“I’m Turner. Let’s head back.”

“Nice to meet you, Turner.” You follow behind her through the crowds. You’re careful of course with the servers coming through. The kitchen is alive--you can hear the orders coming through, a string of laughter following behind it though. You’re much more used to shouts of frustration. The kitchen is no place for thin skin, but it intrigues that even on a busy afternoon there’s laughter. 

Before you even realize it, you’re in the back office, settling into the computer chair across from Turner. She pulls a pen out of the bun. “When we saw Vista on your resume, we were quite impressed. I will admit, very few come from fine dining down to us. We’re still pretty young in the game.”

“Well, I don’t think it’s a downgrade, that’s for certain,” you counter. Not after what you’ve seen just so far. Of course, things can and will change once you start. You know that it won’t be rainbows all the time at the job. Yet, you feel a calling in your heart that this might be the right place for you to go at the end of it all. 

“Well, thank you,” she laughs. “I understand this might be a personal question, but if I can, what are you looking for in your next place of work? Were you missing something at your previous jobs?”

That’s the question of the hour. You weren’t missing anything at your current job. It had what you wanted. But matters of the heart with royalty have a complicated path. “I left fine dining because of life situations demanding it. The thing I’m looking for in my next job is not just a place to cook, but a place to grow. I’ve learned a lot in school and use it daily, but I also think there’s only so much you can learn in a textbook. You learn a lot more when you work with a variety of techniques and cuisines.” 

Turner nods. “I see. So you’re looking for a place that has a bit of a challenge for that healthy growth?”

“I think that would be the best way to put it, yes.”

“Your references speak extremely highly of you. I believe Ms. Janet was nearly in tears on the phone with us. It’s a good sign to us at the least. I am interested in hearing a bit more about times where you feel like you learned more outside of your technical training.”

“Of course.” You dive into the time you spent with Mrs. Shirley and what you learned--inside of the world of culinary arts and outside of it. For the entirety of the interview you and Turner trade questions and expectations about the role. The restaurant opens 11 to 8 every day except Sundays, that’s 12-6. Once a month the restaurant connects with a local shelter to house a potluck and provides meals for those in need. You learn that there is talk of expanding the franchise into a non-profit, but the pipeline to get employees who’ve been with the company into the non-profit is the highest priority of course while also including experts to ensure the longevity. 

As the conversation continues you learn about the expectation of the daily operations. You’d be expected to work in the kitchen and unfortunately due to being slightly short staffed, you might have to handle some serving duties. They’d want someone who could man the bar as it could provide a bit more flexibility with other staffing structures. But should you be hired on, they’d pay for the training and licenses when it comes to the bar and mixing drinks. While the staffing concerns raise a small alarm in your head, you know the potential that you’d be called in on your days off would be extremely high, you are a little intrigued to have some normalcy back by having more conventional working hours. It would be nice to grab your siblings for dinner, have dates with Calum at a reasonable time. 

There are efforts to work with other venues and opportunities in the community--seafood festivals, catering corporate picnics and holiday parties. But management does try to balance the demand as best as possible according to Turner. It feels like a lot of cookie jars on the table, but the priority first is always the restaurant. When you ask about the kind of demands on a slow day as compared to that of a higher volume day, specifically in how food is prepared and what the shipments look like, Turner gives you a laugh. 

“I don���t know why I expected anything else from a seasoned vet.” But Turner goes on to explain how the kitchen is prepped and what kind of support to expect. 

You grin. “I’ve been burned in some hot fires before. Experience is the best kind of teacher. But thank you for taking the time to answer that.”

“Of course,” Turner returns. “Training, as you probably already know, is a bit more like that trial by fire. You’ll work with some of our seasoned chefs and they’ll work with you through the menu. Expect this to take you a few weeks to get comfortable with and we’ll take it slow if you need. From what I can see, you’ve been out of this particular game for a couple years and we’d hate to see you get burned again.”

You nod, a bit of your heart releasing from the clutches. Maybe your time away won’t be so much of a detriment here than other places. They’re still growing. They can afford a few more luxuries that other restaurants may not be able to spend. “Thank you.”

By the time you conclude the interview, you’re praying that you actually land this job-not for desperation, but because you think this might be the kind of place that would give you a feeling of peace. There’s care in this place and you don’t want to be left out of that. You settle into the driver seat and immediately pull up Calum’s name. It’s been an hour, much longer than you anticipated for the interview and you know he’s worried. 

The call doesn’t get answered immediately, but you let it ring and ring.  “I’m sorry I missed your call. Please leave your name and number and a brief message and I’ll return your call,” Calum’s voicemail echoes into the bowels of your car. 

“Sorry I missed you,” you start, “Finished the interview now. And I think, well, no, no, I know I want this job. The manager seems really nice and it’s--it’s such a nice place. I want this job more than anything now and I know. I know I said before I’d take whatever, but Forest is actually the kind of place I want to work for. Have the ancestors gotten back to you yet? Hope you’re doing okay though. Call me back when you can. Love you.”

There--it feels a bit cowardice to leave it in a voicemail, but you don’t want to lose this courage either. So you leave it, on a recorded line, where you can’t take it back. But at the very least, it’s out there now. 

______________________________________

Calum’s phone shakes from his pocket. He feels it against his thigh and his immediate reaction is to reach for it, make sure it’s not you calling him back before ignoring the call. But Miranda’s throwing another file his way and he reaches out to catch it. The call will ultimately have to wait. “A heads up would be nice,” Calum huffs. 

“Keep up,” she laughs. 

“Son, you don’t have to do this though,” his father warns. “I can take this angle. I can talk to her.”

“Everyone knows we talk shop, Pops.”

“You’ve--you’ve just always said you wanted a clean game.”

Calum shakes his head, looking up to his father. “It’s not a game, though, Dad. I keep treating this like it’s a match. It’s not a game. It’s never been one. Everyone else thinks it is. But we can’t pretend like it's just a game anymore, where there’s no stakes. There are real consequences for what we do and don’t do. There’s real life in the balance of what we do.”

“But what you’re asking for,” his father warns. “We can’t take this back.”

Calum shrugs. “Well, perhaps, they should’ve been thinking about re-election the entire time.”

  Miranda has the spare keys though it’s not technically her job. Calum cracks open the file and peers up at the ledger in front of him. It’s a tally of the most recent votes--who voted for what. The goal isn’t to have dirt and blackmail. The goal is to have a firm line, a recounting of every choice and consequence that’s come because of it. 

“People are looky quite cushy from my vantage point,” Calum notes. His phone vibrates again against his leg. He’d shockingly forgotten about the call. 

“And you’re sure you can do this before the voting on Thursday,” his dad questions. 

They’ll need the official tally before the end of the week and Thursday was the latest day they could go. Should the bill get passed, it’ll go into effect the middle of the following week. The treasury and department of taxation is just waiting on standby and has been for weeks to start getting payments to roll out. 

“Pops,” Calum laughs, pulling his phone out from his pocket. “I wrote 12 page papers in college the night before they were due. A week is just perfect. I just need you lifting heavy in session, doing most of the talking if you can.”

His father nods. “Of course, I can, son. Of course, I can.”

Miranda settles a ring with two keys onto the table. “You’ll need those. And a lot of coffee. And maybe a miracle.”

“Thank you for your vote of confidence, Miranda,” Calum laughs. 

“And if I can say, which of course I can, I’m about damn ready for someone to actually get something done around here. My back is killing me,” she teases. There’s no worry on her part about the presence of Calum’s father. She’s always had the fearless streak. 

There’s a pass of laughter and Calum turns to see a missed call from you. He notices there’s a voicemail too. Bringing the phone up to his ear, he listens to your voice, “Sorry I missed you,” you start over the recorded message, “Finished the interview now. And I think, well, no, no, I know I want this job. The manager seems really nice and it’s--it’s such a nice place. I want this job more than anything now and I know. I know I said before I’d take whatever, but Forest’s is actually the kind of place I want to work for. Have the ancestors gotten back to you yet? Hope you’re doing okay though. Call me back when you can. Love you.”

Calum’s heart pounds against his ribs. His own breath catches, he can feel the struggle to regulate his breath. Love you, rattles in his brain. Love you. He was hoping you hadn’t caught that. Calum prayed he could somehow pretend that he hadn’t let those words slip. He’d gone on about the rest of his day and you hadn’t said a word. You hadn’t texted him about it. It hadn’t even come up in the brief call you two had before the interview. Calum thought he was in the clear. He’d hoped he was in the clear. 

But clear isn’t standing in front of Calum. Not anymore.

It’s the clattering of his phone against the table that brings Calum back to reality. 

“You okay, son?” His father’s voice is slow, but clear. Calum’s not listening though. He scrambles to pick up his phone and push up out of the seat he’s in. It sends him clattering into the chair a couple feet from the door as he tries to get his phone right side up in his hands. “Calum, please. What’s the matter?”

Calum shuts the heavy wooden doors behind him--though it’s really gravity that does most of the work and Calum just holds the knob with enough pressure to keep it from slamming. The phone rings, even before it’s at his ear, and his ribs ache with the pounding of his heart. 

He was supposed to be in the clear. 

“Hi, can you give me like two seconds?” You don’t wait for an answer, voice sounding a bit further away than before. “Hi, can I get 20 on pump 4 please?”

A voice returns to your question with a response. “You could go thirty and see me less.”

“And what’s the fun in that?” you laugh and as the sound gets closer, Calum is sure his heart will leap up his throat and out of his chest. “I’m back.”

“So?” Calum starts. How should he ask it? Should it even be a question at all? But before any other words come, you’re responding. 

“So.”

Calum wants it to mean what he thinks it does--an answer to his unspoken question. His throat jumps as he opens his mouth and the shakes take over the first attempt at his words. He clears his throat to try again. “I got your voicemail.”

“I presume the ancestors have spoken then.”

Calum laughs--short and all an exhale. “They had to put me on hold. But I-I listened to the whole voicemail.”

The noises of a busy street--cars going past, horns honking, a voice floating in from somewhere behind you--take over the silence for a moment before you respond, “Good.”

“You’re going to make me say it aren’t you?” Calum questions. There’s no way you’d just let Good fall from your lips and not mean more. 

“You already did. I said it second.”

There--there it was,  the yolk oozing from the cracked shell. “You didn’t have to if you weren’t ready. Doesn’t it all feel a bit too soon?”

“You’re honey and I am molasses. Just seconds apart really.”

You say it so easily, like even if Calum is faster than you, even if these things come up sooner you know you’re not far behind. “I didn’t mean to rush you though. I don’t want to say it slipped out. Though that’s what it feels like. Like why wouldn’t I say I love you?”

“Well, why wouldn’t you?”

Your question. doesn’t feel like a challenge. It doesn’t feel like some way for Calum to get out of the hole he feels like he might be teetering on the edge. Maybe it’s meant for Calum to say whatever it is that he needs to say. Calum will take it though, take the leap if you’re going to let him. 

Calum inhales deeply and lets the words fall in his exhale, “That’s the thing. I have no reason why I wouldn’t say it. Because I do. I love you.” He feels no need to qualify that statement, make it mean less or mean something different. There’s no need for that. 

“I wish I could see your face,” Calum confesses. It would make this less awkward maybe. It might ease some of the fear in his chest as he waits. 

“Do you know the painting, The Scream?” you ask. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know the painting,” Calum answers, picturing the figure, hands pressed to the side of their face and mouth gaping open in an oval. 

“That’s my face,” you laugh. 

Calum snorts at the mental image--the shock on your face. He saw it earlier before he hung up on the video call. There was just the briefest moment where Calum was sure he’d messed up and he waited by his phone. He waited for your text, your call, but it never came. 

“It’s scary to admit that you love someone. You know it all the same. I’m scared. And I know it all the same. That I love you.”

“And what makes you scared? Hmm? What’s so scary about it?” He really hadn’t meant to push this sooner than you were ready. But the can had already been opened. There was nothing that could take this back now. 

Your sigh crackles through the line before your response does, “I don’t take saying that lightly. It’s easier to show it. It’s easier to never let it come to the surface. Much, much easier just to let it go unsaid.”

“If it helps, I’ve always seen it. I’ve always known.”

“You’ve always known?” The question falls with a teasing lilt and Calum exhales his laughter alongside you. 

“And if I say, yes, what about it?” Calum teases in return. He’s not truly sure if he’s always known. But he’s had a hunched. Calum could've guessed it, but the sound of your confirmation winds him. 

You continue on though around Calum’s earlier tease. “When you said love you earlier, I wasn’t sure if I should’ve responded or should’ve said anything in return. Then trying to make it on time for the interview took priority. And I didn’t think I’d address it. Not again for a little bit at least. Well, you know the rest. I left that voicemail.”

“Did it slip out? Did you feel like you had to say it?” The fear comes back. He’s not going to be happy if you feel pressured. 

“No, I knew if I didn’t say it then I knew I’d keep finding excuses. A calculated risk, I’d dare to say.”

“You live at your own pace though, baby.”

“I know. And I do. And I did when I left that voicemail. No regrets. I promise.”

It’s final. Calum knows by the tone of your voice, so he nods. You can’t see it. But he nods regardless and drops his head into the wood of the door. “But the interview went well?”

“I think so. I hope I get the job. They’re understaffed. Manager admitted it and I know that means I’m getting in over my head. They’re going to be calling for me to cover shifts. They also want to cross train for the bar. It’s not a perfect job by any means. But it’s something I want. It could give me a leg back into the kitchen, get my sea legs again and get some additional certifications under my wing. Could be a really good stepping stone and I think right now that’s what I need.”

“Extra shifts before the holidays wouldn’t be so bad,” Calum figures. Summer is starting to wind down. The crisp fall winds show up in the early hours of the morning. It won’t be long before the holidays descend. “You now have to compete with giant unicorns.”

“Oh I absolutely do not,” you snort. “You have to compete with them though. Teagan already knows that’s not how it works with me.”

“Well, I hope you get it, baby. Would you be working days again? I assume so, but I could be wrong.”

“Yeah, I’d be working days. I mean, the days are still late. Restaurants open to 8PM most of the week. But I’d get home at a reasonable time. I’d get days off where I don’t spend most of them sleeping. It’s not perfect, but it is better in some rights.”

“Did they say when they’d get back to you?” Calum pushes up off the door. One hand he slips into the pocket of his dress pants as his shoes click against the floors. His walk is short, only a couple feet to the sides until he hits the wall.

“Monday, next week.”

“Do you work here that Tuesday?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Can I take you out to dinner before your shift?” He’d want to phrase it more like a gentle demand, but your schedule is a bit more delicate than his. He’s not sure if it would work out or not. 

“I’d love to get dinner. What would be the occasion?”

“A date. It’ll be a celebration.”

“Calum,” you start. “You say that like you’re sure I’m going to get the job.”

He laughs. “I am sure. The ancestors just got back to me.”

The doors creak open and Calum catches the start of his father’s head out of the space between the crack in the door. “You okay?” his father asks. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay. I’ll be back in. Give me another few minutes,” Calum returns, pulling the speaker away from his mouth just a little. 

“Is everything alright?” you ask. “Was that David?”

His father nods and heads back into the room. Calum brings the phone back closer to his mouth. “Yeah. Everything’s okay. I-I might’ve spooked just a little listening to your voicemail earlier. It’s all okay though. But Tuesday. Dinner before your shift. Say, 6:30?”

“Did you have a heart attack listening to my voicemail?” The laughter is clear in your voice. 

“No, not quite that. I was just working on something and I missed your initial call. Gave Dad a little bit of a fright when I was shocked. But it’s nothing major. No injuries I’m happy to report. Are you okay to meet here and then I’ll drive us to dinner? I could also pick you up but I don’t know how you’d feel about that.”

“I’ll meet you there. I appreciate the offer and we’ll get there. But I didn’t mean to interrupt your work though.”

Calum groans, spinning to face the wall. His forehead hits the warm softly. Yes, yes, work. The tallies. He does need to go through those ledgers. He needs to look at the immediate fall outs of all major votes. He needs that before the votes. He’s got to focus. And Calum can. He knows he can. But he does want to see you too. Ease any worries that you might have and keep your mind off checking your emails or phone for words from Forests.

“Yes, yes, I do. I’d rather talk to you, but it’s important too.”

“What if I swung by for a little bit? I’ve got those two boxes of matches.”

A hum falls over his throat. “That would be nice. To see you.”

“I need to swing by my place and then I’ll be right over. It’ll buy you at least forty minutes.”

“Make it an even hour? I hate to beg. But I can do a lot more damage in an hour while my dad’s still here than once he clocks out for the evening.”

“I think I can find something else to do for the extra twenty minutes. See you then?”

“Oh, don’t make it sound like a question. See you in an hour.”

The call ends, and Calum pushes up from the wall. He’s got an hour. The doors are heavy, creaking just a little as Calum pulls on them. When Calum steps back through, he rolls up the sleeves. He’s gotta make every second count if he’s going to spend some time with you. “Was that who I think it was?” his father asks. 

“Yes, Pops. It was. They know you’re still owed a game of golf.”

“Oh, I’m not worried about that. Did they say how the job hunt is going? It’s rough out there.”

“The interview today went well. Hoping they land it. But before you call it a day in an hour can I still borrow you?”

His father nods. “Of course. How far back are we going?”

“Last five years I’d reckon,” Calum answers. He needs enough substance just to start. If it’s not enough, he can go back even further. But he has to start somewhere at least. 

“And are we looking at any specific kinds of referendums and legislations? Or just anything?”

“I think at this point--grab a notebook and jot down whatever sticks out to you. I’ll go back through your ledgers later if it’s not enough.”

A packet of sticky notes falls onto the pile of their table. “Mark any pages that are interesting with sticky notes. It’ll make your life easier,” Miranda states. “Work smarter, not harder.”

Calum grins over to Miranda. “Knew I liked you.” 

Calum’s not sure how quickly the hour passes. There’s a blur of cursive ink and blue, yellow, and pink stickies. But Calum knows the hour is done when his father sighs. “Think that’s all I’ve got for today,” his father says, hands on knees. It’s the preamble to his push up and off the couch. Calum can’t fault it. There’s a lot of work to be done and it’s his idea. But Calum is grateful to have the extra hands for the time being. 

“Thanks for the help so far,” Calum returns. 

“Of course, son, of course.” 

No sooner than his father cracking open the door Calum’s phone rings. Your name lights up his screen and those ledgers and notes can wait for a later time. “Up on the third floor,” Calum offers in his answer to your call. He’s slipping pages back into order, shutting ledgers. “But I can meet you at the elevators if you head up.” 

“Eager beaver,” you tease. “I’ll see you there.” 

Calum feels the buzz of his skin with excitement. His ribs know just how your chest will press into his and for that, he’s grateful. His lips know the press of yours, how you’ll sigh just a little into the kiss. It comes from somewhere in your throat and sounds like relief. Though Calum will admit that occasionally, he’s not sure if it was your noise or his. It doesn’t matter enough for Calum to piece it apart when the elevator dings and peels open to reveal you. A tiny wave and smile as you step out. 

Calum wastes no time to gather you up, pressing a kiss to your forehead before gently guiding in for a kiss. It’s Calum who sighs first into this kiss. The noise vibrating in his throat, rattling the sound into more of a hum. “Missed you,” he whispers against your lips. 

“Don’t have to anymore,” you return, resting your forehead against his. 

_________________________________

“How’s Santa doing?” Teagan asks as she slips into the backseat. You snort at the question but watch from the open car door as she buckles up. It’s clear as her eyes fall onto yours you know who she’s really referring to. 

“He’s good,” you nod. 

“I have a new Christmas list actually,” Charlie pipes in from the passenger side back seat. 

Your brows raise. “Do you now? It’s a good thing I told him we’ll need to confirm with you if anything changed. We’ll give you some more time to check it over before we seal the deal.”

Charlie’s nod is final and with both of them settled into the car, you shut the door. From the living room windows, you can see your mother watching--her hands on her hips. She watches and you can’t shake the feeling that it’s more than just a motherly gaze. She wasn’t there when you opened the door. Melvin did--Teagan and Charlie at his heels. But you know she’s always watching. Diana’s always in the wings. 

You settle into the driver seat and shut the door, watching her stare. Time will tell what’s up her sleeve--if there’s anything at all too of course. You’re not so blinded by the tug of your stomach to not consider you might be making this all up anyway. From the cup holder, your phone shakes. Once. You watch it, finger frozen as your heart starts to race. You told Turner that afternoons and evenings were the best times to reach you. 

The phone doesn’t buzz anymore. Not a phone call. Your chest deflates a little and the worry begins to bubble. When were you going to get this call back about the job? As you pick up the phone, you notice Calum’s name across the screen. Have you heard…the rest is cut off by the preview screen. Maybe there’s actually more but your eyes don’t see it all. You place the phone back down, slip the seatbelt over your chest, and meet Diana’s eyes again. A hawkish gaze from the windows in the bright afternoon. 

“Where are we going?” Charlie asks. 

You lock eyes with him in the rearview mirror. “Where do you want to go?”

“Ice cream!” he shouts. 

“Teag?” you question, sliding your eyes to her.  

She grins. “Absolutely.”

It might ruin their dinner, but you don’t worry about that. You don’t need to worry about that. “Then ice cream it is,” you answer. 

It’s an easy drive, even as your phone buzzes again a few minutes later with the text from Calum. Charlie and Teagan sing along to the radio--as you always give them control over it when they’re with you. They’re off key, laughing as they flub lyrics. The worry that was bubbling settles. You hear your own laughter around theirs. They’re just kids and they’re doing what kids should do. They should belt lyrics at the top of their lungs and get them wrong. They should laugh. They should make your eardrums rattle. 

When you pull into the lot of the ice cream shop, you watch them. They’re still singing, bodies wiggling in a way that reminds of what dancing almost looks like. With the sun behind them, illuminating their figures, they look like everything you’ve could’ve wanted. When you wished and hoped better for them, this is what it looks like. Though their life is probably far from perfect, though they’ll question why you and your parents aren’t close, they’ll never have to bear first account witnesses to that same kind of pain. 

Three songs play--Charlie and Teagan dancing in the seat, singing to their hearts content before Teagan pauses. “Are we there yet?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “We’re here.”

“Excellent! Can I get a vanilla chocolate swirl?”

“Of course,” you return, pushing out of the car to help them out. Teagan files out first and then Charlie behind her. The backdoors don’t open from the inside thanks to the child safety locks you’ve set to be on so you always fetch them out. They each take one of your hands to cross the parking lot and once at the door, you let them in in front of you. The ice cream shop is cold. The air nips at your skin and you know it’s necessary to keep the sugar confection solid. Somehow the chill shocks you each time though and you follow behind Charlie and Teagan as they peer up into the window in front of the ice cream. 

“What are you thinking, Charlie?” You ask, placing one hand on each of their shoulders. 

“I don’t know. Cotton candy looks really good. But I always get it. And then there’s the rainbow sherbet. Which is also delicious.”

You can hear the true agony in Charlie’s voice, watching as his head flicks back and forth between the two options. 

“You said you might want to try the Strawberry one, right, Charlie?” Teagan asks. 

“Oh that’s right!” he replies, turning to her. “Oh, so many choices.”

You pick up movement from the top of your periphery, causing you to look up. The bright yellow apron catches your eye first. Tentatively, the worker approaches, a tiny smile on their face. You’d hazard a guess it’s a teen working over the summer into the budding fall, but they don’t seem bothered as Charlie and Teagan converse amongst themselves. “Would you like a sample?” they ask, eyes trained in on Charlie. “Sounds like you’re juggling a lot of decisions.”

“Oh, a sample? Yes please.” 

“Of course. Let’s start with strawberry, first.” 

Charlie takes the spoon from you as you take it from the top of the counter. He daps it to his tongue, lips smacking just a little as he lets the flavor coat his tongue. One by one, Charlie tries all three of the flavors. He holds all three of the tiny spoons as he glances back through the glass. You almost ask Charlie if he’s made up his mind, but he speaks before you can. “Can I get the strawberry in a bowl please?” 

The worker nods. “Of course.” Their eyes cut up to you and you prompt Charlie. 

“What size do you want?” you ask. 

“Oh, hmm, just a small please,” Charlie returns. 

“Okay, one small strawberry. And what about you?” the worker asks Teagan. 

“Small bowl of vanilla chocolate swirl please,” she answers with ease. 

“Coming right up. Anything for you?”

You almost miss that the question is directed at you, but raise your eyes to catch the worker. “No, I’m good. Thank you.” They nod, but the gaze lingers for just a minute. You watch too. Is the gaze in recognition? But it only lasts a moment or two until they turn down to the register and punch in for the bowls. 

It could just be paranoia. Maybe that worker doesn’t recognize you for what you think they might. Maybe you’ve come in here before. But there’s something in your stomach that you can’t shake. You knew the world was watching in a way--photos would pop up no matter what. The thing you’re still trying to conceptualize is just how much other people outside of your circle now know your face. You hope though that this won’t impact your siblings. You don’t want it to be weird for them when you go out. 

Charlie carries both bowls while Teagan settles into her seat. You stand, watching for a moment before you’re satisfied that both are comfy in their respect spots. “How’s camp going?” They’re in the final week, but they seem to still be clinging to a youth like hope that summer will hang on forever. 

Around their spoonfuls of ice cream, you catch things like, fun, and we made crafts! But it’s all a little muffled with the melting confection they hold in their mouths. You can only smile and nod, “Good.”

“Mom said that you hate them,” Charlie confesses in a pause on his next spoonful. “Why do you hate them?”

You’re not sure if you want to correct Charlie on the term hate or if you want to let it stand as is. You’re not shocked Diana might be saying like that. You did hate them. You think you might always harbor a small chip on your shoulder because of what they did. You’ve got more things to worry about now though than what your parents did and didn’t do in your childhood. No amount of yearning would fix the past. 

“Do Mom and Dad tuck you into bed at night?” you ask instead. 

“We get two stories each,” Teagan answers with a nod. 

“They’ve always got breakfast ready in the morning and you always get a packed lunch and when you come home there’s dinner on the table too, right?” you ask. 

Charlie answers this time in the affirmative. 

“Then I’m glad you two have it,” you return to his answer. “I’m glad you two have that with Mom and Dad.” You can’t say it. Even though it would all be true, you can’t tell them that you didn’t. You can’t get your lips to curl or your tongue to lift to say that they didn’t do that for you. They don’t need that. 

You can see it on Teagan’s face. The way the wheels are turning and turning. “Did you?” she asks. “You did, right?”

“Your ice cream’s gonna melt, Teag,” you encourage softly. They’re much too young to have any image of their parents shattered. 

“But they did all that stuff for you, right? They had to have,” she counters. 

You’re not going to beg. You’re not going to plead with Teagan to let it go. If you’re honest, you can’t tell if it’s to spare them or yourself. It may be a bit of both. You want to hold that answer on your tongue and to the roof of your mouth for a little bit longer. 

“Your ice cream,” you nod over in the direction of her bowl. 

“But--”

“Teagan.”

It’s just her name. All two syllables that fall from your chest but it’s firm. She bows her head into the bowl and shovels a spoon in with a pout. 

“If they didn’t, then we’ll just need to talk to them. That’s really bad for them not to do,” Charlie comments. “Honestly, downright mean,” he adds on, pointing the spoon out in your direction. 

“Two bedtime stories is quite the deal,” you state, brows rising to emphasize your awe. 

“I’m sorry,” Charlie returns. “I heard Mom and Dad talking. Sounds like maybe I didn’t have the whole story.”

This will be the way. There’s a story and they only have half of it. You don’t want to pull out the cliché adage that they’ll get it when they’re older. All that will do is stir the pot more and more. But Charlie sees it. There’s a lot more to what happened besides what he’d managed to hear. 

“Apology accepted,” you nod. 

“Can I get some money to get a drink?” Teagan asks. Her voice is soft but tilts her head like she always does. 

“Oh, I can go get it,” you offer, but she shakes her head. The lower lip rolls over her chin. It’s a losing battle. You fish out your wallet and hand her a ten. It’s the smallest bill you have that will more than cover the drink, after using up your fives on their ice cream. “Just a drink,” you warn as Teagan takes the bill. 

She nods and pushes away from the table. The shop is quiet. You know it won’t be for too much longer, but you can watch from your seat as Teagan slides up to the counter. Your phone buzzes once from the table. You know you haven’t texted Calum back, but he is aware that you’re picking up your siblings today as well. But then it buzzes again. You have half a mind to ask why the worker is scooping at one of the tubs below the counter but your phone’s buzzing a third time. 

You snap to your phone, lifting it with just enough time to read the digits on lighting up your screen. Forest the ID reads. There’s very little air in your lungs as you unlock the device to answer and greet with your name. Turner’s voice greets you on the other side. She sounds pleased, “Hi, there!” she greets you. 

“Hi, Turner. How are you?” 

You barely catch her voice over the rush of your own heart, the thundering against your ribs. You flick your gaze up and see Teagan standing at the checkout, scrambling to get change back into your pocket as a bowl is handed to her. 

Turner’s voice floats for a moment around your ears. Why was Teagan reaching out for a bowl when she promised a drink? “...because I would like to extend an offer for you to join our team here at Forest. I am quite impressed with your skill, and though your background is varied I think the mindset you have about food and working fits well into the environment we are trying to establish here. I will send an email of course with the specifics for you to look over and give you two days to look it all over. Salary is as we discussed.”

Half your mind clicks--the wheels turning to get Teagan’s attention come to a screeching halt. “You’re offering me the job?”

Turner laughs. “Yes, I am. I am extremely excited to offer you the job. I understand that given the demands we are asking for a lot. Our hope is that soon we can get staff numbers up and rely on less cross training. But if you’re okay with what we can offer now and this kind of asks for the time being, it is my sincere hope and word to give that we will do what we can to meet our promises. We’re a community. We rely on our staff in ways that we cannot always comprehend, but we certainly don’t want to abuse that. The service world is lethal and demanding all on its own.”

Your bones go liquid. You fall back into the chair and exhale. The ceiling is a gray spackle on white, almost reminiscent of a doctor’s office. But you gaze up at the tiles and you can feel your chest drop, the tension melting a little off your shoulders. No job will ever be perfect. You know there’s no such thing. Yet, this is the kind of news you need. This is a silver lining in an otherwise  You don’t want to say yes immediately, though you know you’ll be taking the job no matter what. “I am incredibly grateful for the offer though. I’ll-I’ll read over the email you’re sending and will get back to you.”

“I look forward to your call back.” 

You get out your goodbyes and when you bring your head back to center, Teagan’s slipping back into her seat. In front of you is a bowl of cookies’n’cream ice cream. You can see the chunks of cookies protruding out just a little from the vanilla base. 

“You okay?” Charlie asks. 

You nod. “Yeah, yeah, I’m okay. Good news actually,” you offer. 

“Oh!” he responds, perking up in his seat. His excitement paints his face in a smile. “What’s happening?”

“Getting a new job,” you answer. They don’t need to know the specifics as to why. Not that it seems to matter to them in the slightest though. Charlie cheers in the ice cream shop, arms thrusted into the air with his delight. Teagan claps from her seat. You notice now too that the change is also next to your bowl. 

“What’s this all about, Teag?” you ask, waving around to the bowl. 

“For earlier,” she answers. “And now too for celebration.”

“You don’t-you don’t have to make up for anything you know. That’s not your responsibility.” You’re praying she doesn’t feel like it is. Your only response is a shrug, before she turns back to her own treat. Perhaps, it’s the little victories. Perhaps, it’s the little gestures. But you can’t bring yourself to fuss. She didn’t have to do it, and did it anyway. Maybe she already knows she doesn’t need to do it. It’s not her fault what was done or not done. But she treats it like it is still her duty to express sympathy, to see what wasn’t done and still do something. 

You take the spoon and scope out a bite. “Thank you, Teag,” you state before finishing the bite. 

“You’re welcome.”

_________________________________

Charlie plops down next to you, panting. After the ice cream, they asked if they could go to the park and you obliged. While they played amongst themselves and with the other kids that were also there, you took it with ease to settle down on the open bench to watch them hustle across monkey bars and down slides. “What’s your new job?” he asks. 

You crack open the water bottle--acquired prior to your full departure from the ice cream shop--and hand it over to him. He takes it and chugs down a quarter of it. “I’ll be working in a restaurant, some cooking like I do now but also bartending and serving.”

“And…what do you do right now?”

“Private chef in a way. Handle mostly breakfast for the royal family and help cater some events.”

“And you don’t like that anymore?” he asks, breath still heavy. 

“It’s not that I don’t like it anymore. There’s just other things I want right now and need to change jobs to have them.” It’s vague, but also still true. 

Charlie takes the answer with a nod, hands you back the water bottle and heads back to play. You watch Teagan slip down the metal slide before she books it back around to climb back to the line for the slide. You take the moment, as the breeze nips over your skin, to pull out your phone. Calum’s text still sits, unanswered, from an hour ago. He hasn’t followed up with anything else. You’re not sure if he’s gotten sidetracked with his own agenda, but you open the thread and call. 

You know you still need to read through the email Turner sent. The red notification haunts your home screen, but you can’t read it just yet. You don’t want to get too distracted that you lose sight of Charlie and Teagan on this playground. It’s a rich neighborhood, even you know that. But that doesn’t mean you want that alone to satiate you. The ringing echoes in your ears as you listen for the line to connect or for Calum’s voicemail to start. 

“Hi, baby,” Calum answers. 

“Hi, love.” It’s the first time you’ve ever used a nickname with Calum. You know he’s caught it too when he coughs from the other end of the line. “You can’t die on me,” you tease. 

“But-you-love, as in you called me love?” he coughs out. 

“I got the call,” you answer, cheeks lifting with a smile. Charlie slips, but catches himself in a slide on the mulch of the playground. You sit up straighter and he looks at you before throwing a thumbs up. You throw one out in return and settle back down as he dusts himself off and takes off again. Diana won’t be pleased about the stains, but you hope she’s not the one answering the door later. 

“Like got the call in a good way or got the call in a bad way? And you still need to clarify on what little pet name. I haven’t forgotten about that.”

“They offered me the job. In about two weeks or so, I won’t technically be on your payroll. I figured I could afford now to indulge.”

“Congrats, baby! I’m so proud of you. Told you we’d be celebrating over dinner tomorrow.”

Teagan slides over to you next, taking the unopened bottle from your lap. “Who’s that on the phone?” she grins, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. You grimace a little at the action, but you don’t have anything else to offer to her. 

“Santa,” you answer with a wink. “I’m spreading the holiday cheer early.”

“About the job?” she asks. You nod in return and her grin blinds you. “Tell him I said hi, yeah?”

“Tell Teagan I said hi to her as well,” Calum states, clearly hearing the exchange between the two of you. 

“He says hi back,” you relay. She hands back her water bottle to you and you take it, holding it between your knees as you get the cap back on right. 

“I’m not interrupting, am I?” Calum asks. Teagan’s run echoes as she takes off towards the seesaws. 

“I did call you, you know.” It leaves your throat in a laugh as you pull the sharpie from your pocket to mark Teagan’s bottle with a T on the plastic cap. You mark Charlie’s with a C. It’s with passing gratitude that you thank the heavens you had one in your car before you got out at the park and considered bringing it with you. 

“I wasn’t sure if you called and then something happened.”

“No, we’re at the park right now before I take ‘em back home. Teagan came up for some water before taking off again. You’d think that their summer camp wasn’t fulfilling enough, but it might’ve been the ice cream too.”

Calum’s tuft of laughter brushes through the speakers. “The ice cream might’ve done it. But you got the job, and I’m so incredibly proud of you for that.”

“Thanks. I appreciate that.”

“You’re still free for dinner tomorrow, right?”

“Yes, still free for dinner tomorrow. Thank you, again.”

“No, you don’t have to thank me. But I appreciate that.”

“Speaking of dinner, will I need to dress up at all?”

“No, not at all,” Calum answers easily. “Though, I will warn now it’s a place I’ve been known to visit, so I can’t say with certainty that there won’t be any press of course.”

“You’ll tell me if anything necessary comes up. I appreciate the warning.”

His voice is soft as he speaks. Like he might be attempt to soothe a panicked animal, or like he might actually be melting. But Calum’s voice is so soft. “I gave you a promise and I intended to keep it.”

From the background, you catch whirring--a sharp sound and it pierces your ears. Beyond it, you think you hear something like a drill, but you’re not sure. The metallic sounds and gears all blend into a cacophonous sound. It takes a minute before the noise fades to something quieter in the background. “What are you doing?” you laugh. “I wouldn’t think of you to be doing some handy work at this hour? Have sessions gotten boring?”

Calum laughs. “Long weekend actually. But I’m probably more of a hindrance than a help. Some repairs, is all really. One of the guys got sick today and I volunteered to help.”

“Would it be inappropriate to ask what you’re wearing right now and if it’s sweaty?” you ask, conjuring an image of Calum in blue jeans and long sleeved t-shirt clinging to his chest with a clear dark V from his own sweat. 

The laughter Calum barks is loud, and sounds deep from his chest. It makes your chest feel warm to hear the amusement laced in his voice. “You are not subtle at all.”

“I am not.”

“You’ll just have to see for yourself.”

“I refuse to cut into Teagan and Charlie’s time with me, but I hope to catch you the next time you’re a hindrance of manual labor.” 

There’s a small stretch of silence before Calum’s voice floats through the phone again. You almost speak again to make sure he’s okay but his answer cuts your voice short. “I’m sure you will catch me next time.”

Your phone shakes in your hands. “Your investigation going well?”

“It’s going. I think I’ll have to pivot a little on what I’m researching, lean into poll projections from constituents. Give them a firm reminder that when seats go up for elections I will be taking into account the public’s voice as well. I’ve got some help on that too, which is good. Have Charlie and Teagan coughed up those Christmas lists yet?”

“Oh, hit them where it hurts certainly. They’ve been given instructions to make final adjustments. We’ll get the list here during the first weeks of school.”

“That is starting up again here soon. God, feels like forever again for us.”

You snort, watching Charlie and Teagan approaching you. “It was forever again for us. Give me a second, sorry.” 

“No, I don’t mind.” 

You crack open both their bottles. “You two doing okay?” you ask the pair. They nod. “Let me check that leg that you fell on Charlie, is that alright?”

“Sure,” he returns, helping get the pant leg out of the way. It’s a little red, but no broken skin and thankfully no tears in the pants. It’s just a stain and when you press gingerly into it, Charlie doesn’t flinch. 

“I’ll be needing to get you both back home within the next thirty minutes. How do you want to spend it?” You know dinner time is a strict deadline and you’re not keen on breaking it. 

“Ten more minutes to play and then we cool down for ten?” Teagan questions, looking up to Charlie. He nods in agreement as he works down his gulps. 

“And if you want to call it quits before then, I’ll be right here,” you offer to them. Teagan hands you her bottle, still with a quarter of the water left and Charlie heads towards the bins to toss his empty bottle. 

“I don’t want to take a monopoly if you’ve only got half an hour left with them. I’ll always be a phone call away,” Calum states after you let him know you’re back to continue the conversation. 

“It’s awfully boring on the bench,” you laugh. 

“You know, hearing you with your siblings is nice. The way you care for them.”

You’re not sure how to respond. You’re not sure why your body warms at the confession. “Thanks.”

From the background of Calum’s line, you catch his name being called out. “Can I call you back, baby?”

“Absolutely,” you answer. “Go be a hindrance.”

Calum snorts. “I shall. Love you.”

You feel the shake in your throat, the jump into your jaw takes your breath. You’ve said it already. Granted it was to his voicemail, but you know what you feel. “Love you,” you whisper. It tastes different on your tongue in this kind of situation, when you’re saying it directly to Calum. But now that it’s out there. Now that you’ve gotten used to the weigh after uttering it once, even if softly, you realize how light the words are around the curl of your tongue. It tastes sweet. “Love you,” you repeat steadier, a bit louder. 

“Yeah, I think I could get used to the sound of that. Talk to you later.”

“Later,” you agree and the line goes quiet. 

You turn our attention back to the children. Charlie’s helping a kid on the monkeybars and Teagan’s seemingly made friends with a group of girls who are running in circles. You’re not sure what the objective of the game is. But as long as they’re both safe and accounted for, that’s all that matters. 

When you check your phone again to make sure the call’s fully disconnected, you notice a text from Calum. A selfie loads up on the screen, from his chest up with the sun hitting his face directly that he nearly has to squint. But from what you can tell he is in a gray henley, the few buttons on the shirt undone. Just out of frame you think you catch what might the sleeves of the shirt pushed up on his forearms. But you can’t quite see his whole arm to make a judgment on that aspect. The light gray material is dark in the chest, a deep V shape no doubt a result from whatever work he’s been doing. Tell me if this is what you were imagining, Calum writes underneath. 

Your fingers are drafting a response before you can think it all the way through, It is. Only thing missing is your ass in tight work blue jeans. You doubt you’ll get a response soon. That doesn’t matter though. Not as you scroll you back to the picture and the curls are clearly pressed down and damp from the sweat too. His face is a tad pink, lips pouty but relaxed. The pose is natural, given how quickly he must’ve snapped it. You take the corner of the phone between your teeth gently. This man will be the death of you--you can feel the desire stirring in your abdomen, how much you want to kiss his nose that’s so prominent in the photo and also trail your tongue down his chest. 

Also fuck you for actually sending this photo, you add to your previous reply. But also, fuck me.  

“Literally the devil, that’s who that man is,” you mutter to yourself and put your phone face down on your lap. You need to focus, as boring as it is just a little to watch your siblings run around the playground. 

A few minutes later your phone buzzes. The ass is quite secure don’t you worry, Calum replies but no other photo comes through. You snort at the response. 

Your fingers are hovering over the keys to respond when from your periphery you see a figure approach. They seem unsure of their approach, stopping for a moment. You think they’ll turn tail, but the hesitation is only for that brief moment. They continue their approach to you. Once they’re a little closer, you look up. The face looks vaguely familiar, behind the wire frames the eyes look deep and concerned. “I’m so sorry to bother you, baby. Are-are you kin to Melvin and Diana?”

The question shocks you. You didn’t think anyone would recognize you here. Not with how long you’ve been gone. Not with how little you interacted with the neighbors that were adults. The kids you knew a bit better. You answer the older woman though, regardless of any suspicion, “I-I am.”

The woman whispers your name, shock lacing the word. You rear back a little and drop your gaze back to the kids, not wanting to drop your guard about them either. Charlie’s walking over to Teagan’s group. When you look back up to the woman, she’s smiling at you. “You look so grown up. And of course you are, the last I saw you, you were up to my knees.”

You still can’t place the woman’s face. She seems to catch the confusion and settles on the other end of the bench. There’s a middle portion between you and her though, a safe distance between the two of you. “I’m sorry to spring up on you,” she offers. 

You nod and glance back up to the kids. Charlie and Teagan are closing in, laughing through their pants. You keep an eye on their approach, knowing the last thing you want is to get too distracted that you lose sight of them. Teagan and Charlie look winded but happy as they close the distance. 

You turn back to the woman. She laughs. “I know I'm interrupting your day. I’m Mrs. Davis.”

“Hi, Mrs. Davis,” Charlie calls out as they get closer. You reach out for them, wanting them close to you. Teagan takes the last of her water and drinks it down. 

“Hi, Charlie. Hi, Teagan,” the woman returns to them. She turns to you. “I’m two houses down. You, uh, you loved my apple pie.”

You gaze deeper into the woman’s face. The eyes  still don’t register fully. You know it’s a face you know, but you don’t know why the name and face can’t clicking. But apple pie. You do know a Mrs. Davis who made apple pie. The Mrs. Davis you knew had three moles on the side of her left eye. And you’re not sure why that’s seemingly the only detail you remember, but when you look for the moles you spot them. Like a triangle on the side of her left eye. But now that you can place the face with the apple pie, a warm cinnamon smell that makes your mouth water even at the thought, the pieces click. The kitchen window opens, the breeze, the frog statues in her window and the chicken on her kitchen towel. “Davis, with the frogs in the windows?” you ask. 

The woman laughs with a nod. “Yes, yes, those old wooden frogs are still hanging in there.”

“Oh god, I’m so sorry. I didn’t-hi,” you laugh. 

“No, no, you were hardly Teagan’s age I think the last time we spoke. It’s okay. You doing okay?”

You nod at the question. “Yes ma’am, I am.”

“Good, good.” She reaches out to pat your knee. “Diana’s been talking about you a lot recently. I saw you come in earlier with these two rascals and I’ve got my grandbabies for the evening,” she states, motioning back to the playground. “They’re up in the castle,” she laughs. 

You spot three bodies in there. You don’t know her grandchildren, or how many she has. But  you’re inclined to believe her when she says it. You know she’s older than your parents too. Mrs. Davis had been graying just a little when you were around, but now sports a good blend of gray hairs amongst her dark strands.  

Mrs. Davis continues on, “I wasn’t sure it was you but something in my spirit said it was. And I don’t know. Had to say hi, I guess. You just, you look really good. Happy, I reckon,” she muses. 

If you had to take a full stock of your life, you’d say that you were happier now than before. As boring and as tedious as parts of your life still were, there were things that you could say you were happy to have now that weren’t there before. So you nod at Mrs. Davis words before agreeing, “I am happy.”

“Good, that’s good to hear.”

“But you said that my mom was talking about me?” The question leaves you quicker than you’d like. You really should speak directly to your mother, but you can’t help the feeling from earlier, how much your skin crawled at the way she lingered during the pick up. Could this give you a heads up? 

“Oh, it’s probably not my place to say. She’s just been mentioning you more. Seems like she just misses you, is all.”

You don’t know how much Mrs. Davis knows. You don’t know what your parents have told their friends about you--if they’ve mentioned you at all to anyone new. But Mrs. Davis would watch you occasionally when your parents asked. You always walked to her house when you had to go, bag bumping on your back. 

You nod at Mrs. Davis’ words, noticing the way Mrs. Davis looks away, choosing words carefully. Maybe Mrs. Davis is telling you the truth, that your mother’s just expressed a desire to reconnect. Maybe there’s more, but you don’t think she’ll give you much more than that. Teagan and Charlie are a little restless in your grasps and you turn to find them worse for wear with their play. They’re faces are flush. 

“I should probably get them back and cleaned up before dinner,” you state, using this now as a segway for your exit. “I hope your grandkids enjoy your baking as much as I did. I’ll need that recipe one of these days.”

Mrs. Davis smiles. “Oh, they do. They do. Take care of yourself out there, ya hear?”

“Yes ma’am, I do. Good to see you again.”

It’s a swift exit as you take a hand each from Teagan and Charlie. The three of you make your way back to the car and just before you cross over to pavement, you look back at Mrs. Davis. One of the grandchildren has approached now, face contorted a little into a cry. Mrs. Davis takes the injured limb gingerly and you hope that it’s nothing more than a scratch. It doesn’t seem to rattle the older woman. She’s already reaching down for something and you can’t watch for longer. Your feet are hitting the pavement of the parking lot. You’ve got to get the doors unlocked, help them climb in and get buckled in. You can’t watch Mrs. Davis, but you feel her. Lingering behind you like a whisper.  Diana’s been talking about you a lot recently. 

The drive to drop Charlie and Teagan off is short. They’re quieter in the back than when you first picked them up. They still chat amongst themselves--Teagan asks about the new job. You give her the name of the restaurant with ease. Charlie asks Teagan if she would choose to be a bowl of macaroni and cheese or a bowl of mashed potatoes if she had to be food. It seems out of nowhere, but you discover that night is most likely a mashed potato night at home for them which prompts Charlie’s question. 

“I’d have to go cheese. It tastes better,” Teagan answers. 

“But then you’re orange!” Charlie hollers. “You want to be orange?”

“What’s wrong with orange? It’s a pretty color.”

“Mashed potatoes are better,” Charlie returns. 

“Just because you want to be mashed potatoes doesn’t mean I have to be,” Teagan iterates. 

“I mean, no, you don’t. But macaroni? It’s also burnt on the top,” Charlie offers. 

“That’s the best part. Potatoes are too soft.”

“The softness is the best part!”

You’ve let the car idle for long enough, at the front of the house for the last five minutes or so. So now, when the car settles, turned off, they look forward. You watch them from the rearview mirror. “Looks like you two might have to agree to disagree.”

“Agree to disagree?” Charlie questions. 

“It’s what happens when you and someone else don’t agree on the same thing and probably won’t agree on it. Like, you can’t change Teagan’s mind and she can’t change yours. So you say, you’re right to choose potatoes while I’m also right to choose macaroni and you know that you’re not choosing the same thing. You just go, we don’t agree and it’s okay.”

“Agree to disagree?” Teagan asks Charlie. 

Charlie nods. “Agree to disagree.”

You watch the front curtains. They don’t billow or peel back to reveal anyone. It’s just a yellowish light that you catch. There’s no reason to delay the inevitable. So you peel yourself out of the car and help them out of the back. At the door, you knock, using the decorative hammer and take a step back behind the two kids. The trio of you only wait for a moment before it creeks open. 

“Woof,” Melvin grins, taking in the sight of both kids. “You’ll need to hurry to the bathrooms upstairs to avoid ‘the talk’,” he laughs. 

“Hi, Dad!” Charlie and Teagan echo, embracing his lower half. 

“I’d ask what happened, but I don’t think I need that many details,” he teases. 

Charlie and Teagan turn to you, embracing you individually. You know you’re going to smell like the sweat they’ve worked up. You know you’ll smell like outside for hours until you shower. But you hug them both deeply. “Love you Teag. Love you, Charlie boy,” you whisper to them. 

“Love you too,” they offer to you and then slip inside. You watch them head directly up the steps with no fuss about the instruction given to them earlier. Perhaps, they already know all to well the threat of the talk looming should they get caught dirty by their mother. 

“Sorry for the extra work,” you offer. “Charlie took a spill at the park but no broken skin.”

“Don’t worry. They’re kids.  Thanks for taking them today and getting them back with the extra time to clean ‘em up before dinner.”

“Yeah, of course.” It’s a nod that you give, and a nod that’s returned. You never took more than the first step on the porch. 

You think that’s all it’s going to be, that Melvin will take the kids and clean them up and they’ll carry with them the secret of ice cream before the park. 

“Oh, darling, wait,” you catch from behind you. You don’t suspect it’s directed to you, so you take the step down until your name echoes. When you spin, you turn directly to face Diana. She’s at the top of the porch, door open wide behind her like she might’ve been ready to chase you down.  Seems like she misses you, is all. 

“Yes?” you reply. 

“Why don’t you come in and stay for dinner?”

“I’m not comfortable with that.” You don’t need to explain why you’re not. You don’t need to say more than that. You’ve already made it clear to them what you are comfortable doing. She already knows. You know you can’t voice it like that. You know you can’t point fingers or blame anyone. 

Diana takes a step closer, feet shuffling closer to the first step down. “Charles and Teagan talk all the time about wanting to have a family dinner together.”

“I’d appreciate more notice than this,” you return. “Next time you’d like to extend the invitation, please ask in advance.” You don’t think you’d turn the idea down if you had plenty of notice, if you had some sort of hand in the planning and it weren’t at the house. Public, you think maybe you could handle a public meeting. But definitely not at the last minute and not in that house. And you know you can’t say anything definitive lest it be taken as agreement. You have to be careful here. 

It doesn’t seem to be the right answer though. “What do I have to do? Please just tell me. My own child is a stranger in my life. I have to find out updates about your life through Teagan and Charles. I learn things about you in tabloids. Just tell me what I have to do. I’m sorry. I know your father and I did you wrong. We know that. But you can’t shut us out like this. Please.”

It would be easy to bite back, to say that they were total strangers to you too. But you can hear the shake in her voice. She’s clutching the railing. You always knew your parents were human. You’d gathered that long before now. But now you can see it--a wobbly and naked vulnerability in her stature. She is and always will be a human being before anything else. You feel the divide-- how much you want to yearn for this, tell her that all you need is an apology. But there’s the larger side-the side that wonders if she’s begging for herself or out of sincerity. 

You don’t even know how to respond for a moment to the speech. Do you feed the hope? Do you stay firm on your boundary that you speak with them only on behalf of interacting with Charlie and Teagan? Do you tell your mother that if she means anything that this is a conversation maybe better had at a later time? It’s not fair of course for you to cave into agreeing out of pressure rather than your own true will. 

Like your silence stings, Diana sighs. “Fine, fine!” she huffs, turns on the ball of her foot and heads straight for the door. The door’s slam rattles the frame. 

It almost makes you laugh. How if she’d given a moment longer you think you could’ve told her something closer to the truth, something that wouldn’t dig you into a grave and wouldn’t give her false hope. Perhaps this is the answer to the question you couldn’t ask anyway. Maybe it’s Diana pushing only for her own gain. And maybe it’s true hurt, the rejection that she can’t handle. 

Yet none of that negates where you are--on the walkway of their house with hot tears brimming on your eyelids. You couldn’t even be given a change to answer. You know you cannot move on anyone else’s time table. You cannot move faster than you’re ready. You can’t move if you are never ready in this realm with your parents. 

As you settle back into the driver seat, you can feel the anxiety bubbling. You don’t know Diana for who she is now, after Charlie and Teagan, after the therapy and recovering journey. You only know her for who she was before. And everything in your gut tells you that this is before Diana. This is a hurt woman who can and will lash out no matter the consequences. 

[regnigt]

What makes Usopp so shippable for you (or even overall, what do you enjoy about Usopp's dynamics in his gen/romantic ships)?

He was one of my favorites from the little I've seen/read of OP, so I'm curious to know your thoughts!

What a cool ask! I have an old post both on Tumblr and Dreamwidth about Usopp's emotional role among the Strawhats in general and his platonic dynamics with Luffy, Zoro, Nami, Sanji, and Chopper in particular. The Dreamwidth post is available here: https://rainsometimes.dreamwidth.org/167329.html . In romantic ships, well, when it comes to Luffy, Zoro, Nami, and Sanji, I would just add romantic and sexual attraction to the platonic foundations mentioned above. With Luffy - Usopp is up for silly shenanigans and while he will veto the most bizarre ideas Luffy might come up with in bed, he's likely to caught up in fun flights of fancy. I view Luffy as pretty uninterested in dominance play in the bedroom and I think Usopp would be all on board with that, too. They have a really strong bond in canon and it would be a silly and for the most part - if not always - harmonious ship. (Naturally there would be plenty of slapstick violence when Luffy is being idiotic.) With Zoro - the chill relationship I mentioned in the old post would serve them well in a romantic relationship. Now, I do think that Zoro is someone who will always place Luffy's dream and wellbeing higher than anything else, but I actually think that Usopp is similar to Zoro in that regard, and so it makes good sense to ship them. At the same time that they are mostly pretty chill, there's also an interesting potential tension there especially tied to them both being so much engaged in the idea of being a "warrior", with inner and outer strength, pride, and masculinity - but not in the combative way that Zoro and Sanji have. -That being said, I also think Usopp/Sanji/Zoro makes for a spicy yet ultimately functional three-way-ship.

With Nami: they are just such good buddies and they're easily tactile and it's not that hard for me to see them in a more physical and sensual light. Nami generally doesn't seem to be into dudes but I can see Usopp as her one exception. ...Except I also like both Luffy/Nami/Usopp and Sanji/Nami/Usopp! Look, Usopp is just so great for OT3 ships. With Sanji: it can easily be seen as bros with benefits, but they also both have a romantic side in common, even as they're both heteronormative enough to have assumed that romantic side will be directed towards women. Sanji/Usopp can have a delicious yearning undertone, whether mutually or not. With Robin: here the maturity gap might be just a bit too big (I'm not thinking so much in number of years, more in personality types) but there are still ways I can see them working together. Even more than Robin/Usopp separately, though, I think Franky/Robin/Usopp would be a delightful OT3. With Franky: despite Franky being older than Robin in years, he's got more childish sides to him and I don't feel as much of a maturity gap with him. Him and Usopp have a number of things in common and they hang out a lot. And one more OT3 I've seen in the wild is Franky/Zoro/Usopp which I also think would be a fine ship! (Incidentally, putting Usopp at the end of most of these shipnames here doesn't say anything about my headcanons for sex preferences, it's just a random way of writing the shipnames. Personally I see Usopp as a switch, most of the Strawhats as switches, and Zoro as a bottom. But I'm totally on board with other interpretations too!) Then Kaya of course is the one with the canon shiptease and I think has a pretty good chance of becoming canon at the end. I like the ship - but only if either Usopp is willing to settle down for at least ten years or so on an island and stay put, or Kaya is healthy enough to sail with adventures as a shipdoctor with Usopp. I don't want Usopp to be an absentee husband and father like Yasopp was. I was going to go on naming other ships but if you haven't read or watched much of One Piece I'm not sure if they would mean much to you. Summing up, I think the one caveat with shipping Usopp is that he's pretty young in years and while he's seen and experienced lots of things on their journey, he's still not the most mature character out there. So for these reasons many people in the One Piece world might not be into him. Of course there could be other reasons he wouldn't be their type too. Obviously he's not conventionally handsome or consistently fearless and confident! But many of Usopp's qualities are on the social and emotional side and the way he's a tactile dude with flexible personal boundaries means he's easy to ship all over the place, in my eyes!

[mell-the-dungeon-master]

Dicecloud V1 Guide, pt. 1

credit: 💉on pinterest

Hello to my wonderful players! This post is to serve as my go-to link when I have to run games and my players aren't familiar with Dicecloud.

Disclaimer: Everything I say is of my opinion and personal preference. I do not claim that one is objectively better over the other. If I do, assume that I mean it in a joking manner.

If you still decide to use D&DB after this, that's fine too! I just can't help if something goes terribly wrong.

🌼˗ˏˋ "Why not D&D Beyond?"

Because DC is free, supremely customizable with unlimited character slots and easy to implement homebrew. The catch is that its all manual (aside from the stat math) and at worst you would have to add a list of things in one by one.

Additionally, those who are experienced with Markdown / HTML can use their knowledge to automate some math or functions.

I think its a good thing to have new players learn to create a character from the scratch. D&DB gives you a handful of choices with short descriptions that can be skimmed over, the player won't really understand what the feature is or why they made that choice.

To give you an idea on what DC is like, here are some of my characters ranging from low levels (1-5) to level 30 (it was a heavily homebrewed campaign):

Momo, Level 3 Gestalt Character, Barbarian (Giants)/Druid (Wildfire)

Rowena Lillith Burnette Grey, Level 30 Gestalt Character, Blood Hunter (Mutant)/Ranger (Monster Slayer)

Whiff, Level 6 Character, Rogue (Arcane Trickster)

Lanie Colette Jacquét, Level 6 Character, Ranger (Fey Wanderer)/Warlock (Archfey)

🌼˗ˏˋ "What about sources?" / "How can I find X?"

5e Wikidot. Everything is literally right there for ✨F R E E✨ no subscription or content sharing needed.

🌼˗ˏˋ "How can I roll dice during games?"

I use Owlbear Rodeo and its dice rolling extensions. It just doesn't connect your sheet to the VTT like Beyond20.

I. Signing In to Dicecloud

If you don't already have an account, go ahead and make one (link below)

https://v1.dicecloud.com/

We will be using version 1 (V1) Dicecloud. Its the one I'm familar with and it's the easily customizable one. Version 2 massively overhauls the OGs systems, so I don't know how to use it (plus, no unli slots). If you decide to use V2, that's fine too!

II. Creating a New Character

Great! Now open up the sidebar (☰ on the top left if you're on mobile), click on "Characters", then the big red plus button (bottom right)

It will give you 3 options, select "New Character"

(Check picture below) You'll be greeted to this screen, at the very least fill in the character's name and race. But they will all be changeable later if you decide to change your mind.

One you click "Add" you will be greeted to your character's "Stats" page (keep in mind that I'll call them "Tabs" or "Pages")

From here, I'm assuming you already have a character in mind. If you don't, I have a separate post--a quick guide. Feel free to check it out then come back here.

III. Setting your Base Ability Scores

I have all the pictures below in order. On your character sheet, head to the "Features" page, you will then see the "Base Ability Scores" feature.

Click on that and you will be shown your ability scores, they are 10 by default. To edit them, click on the pencil on the top right of the pop up window.

The pencil puts you in, what I like to call, "editing mode." Earlier you were just in "viewing mode."

Anyways, you will see pencils on the right side. Each of them allows you to edit their corresponding ability score.

Clicking on then brings you here (look below) where you can change the value. Remember, this is your base ability score, that means before you receive any bonuses.

After editing each score, you should end up with something like this. Just hit the check mark (✔) at the top right corner or click outside the pop up window.

Once you've done that for every ability, you should end up with something like this:

This post is getting pretty long, so I'll continue this in another post. I'll update and leave links as I go.

[domaystic]

Domaystic 2023 is back!

link to bigger image: click here

[Image description: a blue clothes hanger with clips where socks are drying under the sun; among the socks the word domyastic is separated in three parts and hanged as well. On the right side: the list of 31 prompts and 5 alternatives.]

Hello! This is THE post for DOMAYSTIC 2023 :D

Domaystic is the combination of “domestic” and “May” and it's a prompt event run on May based on the domestic trope: anything inside, outside, beside the house or that has that normalcy flavor of everyday life.

If any of these prompts inspire your muse, please, don’t hesitate and join!

Text prompts

01 Housewarming   02 A stash of...   03 List   04 Packed lunch    05 Learning something new   06 Under the same umbrella    07 Stained clothes   08 The things in that drawer    09 Mistaken identity   10 Bath   11 Volunteering   12 Crisis    13 Taking turns   14 Parade   15 Junkmail    16 Sleeping habits   17 Marked date on calendar    18 Discount at favourite store   19 Police at the door    20 In the nearby park   21 Handmade gift   22 S/o on the local news    23 Small couch   24 Secret language   25 Misdialed calls    26 Sounds from above   27 Passage through a fence 28 Recycling   29 Lottery   30 Feeling of doing nothing    31 Midnight snack

Alternatives

A. No, no, don't lift it!   B. There's a ... in the room! C. Stop the car, now!   D. Look, I made it work! E. Oh, I can't wait to do it!

Text prompts in German: click here Text prompts in Spanish: click here Text prompts in Italian: click here Text prompts in French: click here

Lots of text under the cut!

General rules and guidelines

All fandoms or original content are welcome.

Any kind of media is welcome: fanfiction, fanart, fanmixes, puzzles, diy art, quizzes, podfics, edits, fic recs or whatever it is you feel like doing. That’s all good.

No restrictions in ships, size, min/max word count or the language you want to write into.

As last year, feel free to mix the domestic prompt with anything you like: more drama and lots of crying? YES! The thrill of an investigation for the disappearance of your characters’ fave socks? YES!

There's one prompt for each day for a total of 31 prompts + 5 alternatives with an exclamation point at the end (predictable!).

You can share your work on any platform you like. If you share it on tumblr and tag the blog, I’ll reblog it.

Combine more prompts together? That’s fine but I will reblog the entry only once here on tumblr.

Combine these prompts with another event? Fine too.

You don’t have to do all the prompts to join the event. Do the ones you enjoy.

The event is consistently checked upon during the month of May, but in case you want to share your creation at a later date, you can. I just reblog on a lower pace after May is over.

As for the reblogs, last year I gave myself a bit of an headache, so this time I’d like to try it this way: once the day of the corresponding prompt comes, people will post their work and then I’ll reblog it when that day comes for me too. Does it make sense? I hope so. I’ll miss the world clocks but let’s just trust each other.

AO3 collection

The domaystic2023 collection is open from May, 1st: click here - all the info and prompts are also on the profile page of the collection.

In your tumblr post I ask you to:

Mention the blog in your post @domaystic - tracked tag: #domaystic2023

State clearly the fandom name or if it is original content

State clearly if it is sfw or nsfw

State clearly which prompt you used

In case of lengthy posts, use the “read more option”: ctrl-shift-k on rich text; [[*MORE*]] on html (remove asterisks)

Please, TAG PROPERLY. If there are any trigger warnings, I will base my own reblog on your tags so, please, take even a moment longer to carefully tag it. I hope all participants to stay safe in this event.

Here’s an example:

blablabla my story is beautiful, look @domaystic ! 

#domaystic2023 #day1 #[extraA - E if alternative prompt is used] #[fandom name or oc] #[sfw or nsfw] #[trigger warnings that I get from your post] tw

If you have any question feel free to send an ask, inbox is always open. :D

Hi, @thebigbangblogproject​ can you reblog this?

[protocolseben]

a regular day in the ISS. | 1685 words alt title : a short story written while i screwed with html. you can use mobile, but landscape please!

you can read the story below the cut without all the jazz. it's pretty much all the same.

408 km above Switzerland / 4:18:48 PM /UTC +1 CET 38 Days - Manned Mission 2-1 LOG : a regular day in the ISS.

"ah, switzerland again!"

"how about australia for once?"

"no."

"alright, suit yourself then."

-----

"Besides, how hard is it to miss Australia? It's...one big thing just. There. Not my fault you can't catch it in time."

"Yes, and your stupid numbers board there."

"I want to win after all."

"Nothing to gain from winning it, love."

(of course seb is winning…)

««« ────── [ approximately 2.5 years ago ]

Mark's half-superior-half-coworker Jonathan Wheatley had once jokingly asked him if he wanted to move to the STELLARIA Section, in which Mark's response was a grimace and a terse "No thank you," given the fact that the fellas of that section was…eccentric to say the least.

He was unsure as to why Horner decided to open a whole section dedicated to just original research, but given that even the man himself had superiors, he was not surprised. Must be the weird old guy from the Munich University again in his ear. Either way, he must be really special to have all the astrophysicists be in their very own area.

"I watched them do their stuff once." Wheatley said in one of break rooms. "I didn't get a single lick of it, even with the math they used. And I had almost full scores in all the Engineering mathematics. They can get real loony."

Mark shrugged his shoulders, in slight agreement. STELLARIA was chock full of these nerds that are constantly fixated on space numbers, but one of them stood out the most for looking like a 15 year old. but at that point the slightly scraggly man -- boy? -- already seemed to be fond of Mark from the get-go. Rocky had brought him over while touring the place, and the twinkle in the latter's eyes easily meant trouble for him in the future.

Theoretical subdiv, Rocky clarified, the guy bringing Seb around. Not the normal Practical use physics that the other sections worked with.

Charming, he thought, but still, it's unfortunate that they would barely see each other considering the differences in what they did. Some other fella named Anton looked at STRUCTURAL once, and slinked away at the massive working machines he and his coworkers went back and fro to. Couldn't blame him.

Wheatley told him that Sebastian had only joined the company a month ago, and apparently as part of his traineeship, or cadetship, something along the lines, while still working on his final fringes of his PhD or the like. It wasn't officially stated yet to the world, but rumours had already persisted that didn't really have any interest in the other agencies. But that was a wild story for another time. Mark wonders how he managed to do so many things at the same time, and was entertaining the thought of him having a twin or clone to help out.

At the end of the break, Mark had pushed away the thought of the starry-eyed section long towards the back of his mind. Not useful, he muttered.

»»» ────── [ present day, present time ]

(being pushed down by 25-year old worth of kilograms)

"what lame ass metal thing are you doing right now?"

"being dragged down by you… why is your hair so ticklish?! it's just last part of today's experiment."

"ok. i think CORE wants to give us a report for today in a few minutes, and then i can knock myself out."

"you get to knock out? i had to drag you to your sleeping bag because you weren't meeting your 8 hours ─"

"the graph was too interesting…"

"oh god it's you two arguing again."

"oops, hello Marlon."

««« ──────

Overtime. He never really minded it, because the peace and quiet was optimal, for when Mark was too caught up in the place building his things, and free to audibly mumble his thoughts.

Unfortunately for him on this fine evening, a person stood waiting behind his back , holding a slice of chocolate bread made with approximately 100% passion and 89% skill 500% flavour. Mark was dumbfounded at the bread hanging in front of him, but he was kind of hungry. It was a bit singed at the edges, but it still tasted good. He thanked Seb, stuffing the piece into his mouth and delighting in the chip flavour burst.

Until you realise that the person's pass was not authorised for this specific part of the building, of course. He whipped his head around and nearly strained his neck --

"How the fuck did you get in?! You are not supposed to be here." Mark had exclaimed in hushed tones, the first time Seb had managed to inflitrate the Section. STRUCTURAL was tightly maintained.

"I know all the corridors to here already." there's that knowing tone again. What a nosy little shit.

"There's nothing interesting in this place mate," Mark threw his hands up, looking around to make his point and hunking pieces of things and thingmabobs, before looking at the kid before him. "all I do every day is testing and make sure the materials are working right. And doing work I'm too slow to finish."

"It's ok, making stuff is fun. My dad used to be a carpenter and make stuff out of wood. Writing space math gets boring when you're sitting there too long."

You couldn't argue with that, he's a curious kid alright.

He let him have a look around. Seb's eyes were immediately drawn to the panel-type mish-mash item laying about in the corner, lifting and turning it gingerly like a new archaeological find. Dents, dings and bumps marred the surface of it, curious materials all welded with different names to them, like "Carbon Fibre" and "Heat Resistant Fibreglass".

"It's just our in-house materials, Seb. Not that big of a deal."

"Still, making a whole new kind of matter, you guys are pretty cool."

»»» ──────

"psst. hey. mark."

"what?"

(rustling sound)

" 'Thermo-Sterilised Chocolate Bread'… STRUCTURAL Section. What? When did they do these?"

"They had a whole investigation to try "compress" it. Also, i thought you were more level-headed, Mark. They told me you got visibly jealous over people snooping for my bread!"

"God, they noticed that…? Was i that serious about it?"

"you were."

"shit."

««« ──────

As much as Mark wanted to entertain Seb's sixty thousand questions, which were basic engineering (but he didn't mind), he wanted to go home more. So he had to gently convince to him to leave, turning the lights out for the night.

By gently convincing, it meant Mark forcing Seb on one of those roller chairs and rolling him out STRUCTURAL Section's main doors, before kicking the empty chair back in. -- "wait let me get my stuff first!!" he had exclaimed, running back to STELLARIA and back to meet Mark in a record of 3 minutes.

Quite a speedy lad. Mark had not seen someone go as fast as that since University Rugby in Australia. He was obliterated on contact by the opponent as he dived for the ball. Three months out with a broken left shoulder. Ah, the wonders of youth.

"You didn't let me see the machines."

"And you didn't even tell me what you like." Mark had grumbled, fumbling for his car keys as they walked out the tall glass doors. "And you can do it anytime, the machines aren't going to grow legs and run away."

Seb simply gave a grin.

oh for fuck's sake. "Fine. Anyway, I'm going off. Goodnight, Seb." He was about to walk off, before realising something. "How… do you go home?"

"Huh? Bus obviously. Salzburg's pretty good with the public transport. Yeah I have a license but I don't care much for driving a lot."

Mark looked at him right in the eye. "Get over here. I'll just drive you back." He wanted to laugh when Seb just stood there in his stupid oversized jacket giving him a questioning look. "I'm being serious. Where do you live anyway? It's faster than just waiting around."

► ► ►

It was the world's most uneventful trip by many standards. In fact, Mark's passenger somehow managed to catch a quick snooze right after telling him the address. Seb lived on the other side of Salzburg, in a simple four-floored apartment. Despite being practically the same as his own, Mark thought the surroundings were more cozy.

He gave Seb a gentle nudge on the shoulder. "Ok sleeping beauty, nice place you have here."

"Huh…what…?" He looked around before realising. "You seriously didn't have to…"

"It's for the bread. Good stuff."

There was a short moment of silence as Seb processed what Mark said, before turning slightly red. "I-if you want, I can give you different flavours every week," he said. "Banana, Raisin,--"

Mark just sat the wheel listening in mild awe. He would've just gone home and knocked out or gotten a beer. It sort of made him want to try baking, but that was probably his illogical brain talking, before realising he had to tell Seb to not get any more ideas. "No, no, you don't need to do it, it's just that you are really impressive, still finding time to bake."

"It's a nice hobby!" Seb laughed. "Ok, ok, i'm leaving now. Goodnight Mark, thanks again. Take care." He clumsily opened the car door and right after, tried to give Mark the awkwardest fist bump attempt on Earth.

► ► ►

Twenty two hours to the first time Seb sneaked into STRUCTURAL, a slightly baffled Mark whipped his head around to the sound of the maintenance exit audibly opening, to a Seb holding some more of his homemade chocolate bread.

"I have a lot more at home in the fridge, actually, if you'd like."

»»» ──────

ISS INTEGRATED VIDEO LOG : // ZVEZDA-20XX-24-01-XX:23:11:98

(zip noises) come on stop struggling Seb.

HU--REN--SOHN!!!

translation : son of a bitch.

there, neat and tidy. good luck waking up tomorrow, i think you'll be fine.

I will throw you out the airlock tomorrow. You watch.

muah. ok, goodnight sweetheart. love you. don't wreck the module.

fuck you..............night.

-- RECORDING ENDED --

»»»───«««

[collectibles-menu]

Unique item found! - Pinned post collected: 1/1

Are you a completionist? Do you just looove when there's trinkets you can pick up? You're in luck! You've just found the collectibles menu!

Details under read more!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Colli prefers he/she/it pronouns but is fine with any pronouns you throw at him. Her color is orange, but if you fancy using HTML, her exact hex code is #C2734E Just as some general appearance notes, he is very tall, pretty much built like a brick house, with draconic features, wears mostly oranges with hints of purple, and constantly carries around bags, satchels or pouches, for collecting purposes.

I, the mod, am an artist who draws sometimes! But I suck ass at focusing so I have no official design for this man yet 😔✌️ In the meantime, if you make any fanart, please please please do tag me because I'd love to see it

I'm 20 and I go by any pronouns! I live in the CEST/CST timezone but I have a shitfucked sleep schedule, shitty internet and unmedicated ADHD so i might take a while to reply </3 I'm unsure if I want to share my main yet, since this is a sideblog, but if you somehow manage to find it in the sea of blogs on this webbed site, feel free to say hi there i guess lmao

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

General tags:

#collectibles hall: the main tag for all collectibles, regardless of type

#collection progress: just collectibles

#collection complete: also collectibles, but a full collection of them all together!

#unique item: rare and special collectibles that you can only get one copy of

#submissions: self-explanatory

#dear visitors: for anons! reoccurring anons are welcome to use nicknames if they so wish

#colli communicates: curator man yaps

#collecting friends: interacting & roleplaying with other members of the epprbcu

#fanart: self-explanatory, also anyone who ends up on this tag deserves every good thing in the world because holy shit. you drew my little guy

#out of character: me, the mod, talking from my omniscient perspective. usually, these posts will be surrounded by brackets. i might also talk ooc in tags, in which case the first ooc tag will look like this -> #[ooc: ...]

Character Tags:

#something‚ everything is wrong [big-bad-evil-guy]

#R you bored yet [R anon]

Tags are subject to change

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What are you doing here still? Go collect stuff!