#Again I'm not even counting the Final Fifteen though that's an example

[sparkkeyper]

This puts into words the huge problem I be with that opening scene. As cute as it is to see angel!Crowley creating nebulas and see the types of things that pushed him to question and Fall, it changes Aziraphale's character so much. Just looking at S1, Aziraphale tried so hard to be a 'good' angel and yet from the beginning he is different. He's open, he's willing to chat with a demon as long as the demon isn't actively attacking him. Heck, he's willing to CONFIDE in a demon about how worried he is about doing the wrong thing.

But from a S2 lense, he's allowing a previous acquaintance to dare talk to him again after joining the Wrong Side. And very possibly just because he was kinda smitten with that acquaintance originally. They have history already, and it's honestly not good history: history in which Aziraphale dashed Crowley's hopes for his creation's future and in which Crowley dragged up rebellious ideas Aziraphale didn't want to acknowledge.

In S1 Aziraphale shelters a random enemy from the new rain of his own initiative. He is kind for the sake of being kind, even to demons, because it doesn't occur to him to be anything else. And that sets him apart from the Archangels even from the start. But from an S2 standpoint he's paying back a debt. Sure, he's noble enough to pay it back even to a demon, but it's not his unique choice anymore.

If we accept S2, we have to admit that with Aziraphale in Eden we're seeing kindness reflected, not kindness born from within. And I think that really hurts Aziraphale's character.

As cute as I found the opening scene to season 2 I just haaate how much it changes the background to their relationship. Like the whole point is that they are friends despite being "hereditary enemies". They showed each other kindness in Eden when they were absolutely not supposed to. Making it so that they knew each other before implies that Aziraphale only engaged in conversation with Crowley because he remembered him as an angel, only sheltered him from the rain to return a favour, and harboured the belief for 6000 years that Crowley would be more acceptable, more lovable if he were to return to his angelic state. It just wrecks a key part of their companionship and affection for one another that was so important to the story.

[canarybell]

Crowley's POV, Part II

(the first part is here)

The first post was made mostly as an observation - about how Aziraphale's distressed face after he heard about the Second Coming was visible to Crowley in all details, and how we can see it from the shots made from Crowley's point of view. This part, though, is more of the speculations - I tried to make a guess what other moments where we see things by Crowley's eyes might mean in a bigger picture.

I also know that this particular director's decision might actually mean nothing, but it is still something that is fun to speculate to me.

A little warning - this post is tied to the idea (theory?) "The Metatron might have watched in the window in the Final Fifteen, or at least Aziraphale assumes so". I made (maybe a little self-confident) post about it back in October, but since then a lot of people expressed this idea a lot better than me back then, so you probably know it already.

Anyway.

The first one for today is from S2E3. Crowley is explaining Jim his vavoom plans. Do you notice there are window frames in a shot, to show us we are looking from Crowley's POV once again?

My first reaction when I looked at this screenshots was wait I saw these placements before. Because yeah, back in the October I was a bit too obsessed with that one observation.

The thing is, Nina is standing exactly where The Metatron would stand in S2E6:

Nina stands between two tables and doesn't look in the direction of the bookshop. There is only one table placed on the veranda at the morning of S2E6 (on that side, I'm not counting the one in the distance), and The Metatron is standing in front of it. Looking...you know in what direction.

And what about Crowley (and Jim) here?

Now, this is not the same position. But - they are standing on the same side of the room, barely in two steps from each other (and Aziraphale is not that far from the window either - not to the point things in a window could become too vague). They are looking in the same direction. If Crowley saw Nina that way - Aziraphale should have seen The Metatron too.

....I mean, I was convinced in it since I noticed the way scene changes here:

But it was a one more reminder, why I think this way.

Now....we should return to the fact that this is a Crowley's POV. Is that important? Actually, I don't know. It might be. It might be not - these moments might not be connected at all. It might be just a reminder for us, viewers. However, if I would make an assumption and wear a tin hat....

The last post was about how Crowley's point of view might show us something that can lead Crowley to the conclusion that something's up in the finale. Can it be the same here?

I'm still not sure if Crowley saw The Metatron in the window. There were a lot of emotions on his side, tears might blur one's vision, I can't see indication that he noticed anything...but still, I don't know, really.

But assuming he didn't notice it back then, but got an idea later that there was something more to think about... There still might be a moment in S3 where he will deduce it. For example, if Crowley is going to interact with Muriel, they might let slip where they were after going outside with a book (sitting at the table at the veranda of a bookshop), and where Metatron was at the same time (standing nearby and looking towards the bookshop). And that might lead Crowley to the 'who stayed where and who saw what' brainstorm.

This brainstorm, in theory, might also bring the third 'Crowley's POV' moment I've noticed. This one is so far-fetched even compared to the previous one that I was wondering whether to talk about it... and yet.

Yes, I'm talking about this one:

Once again, the finale. Once again, Crowley's POV, and him looking through the windows. In Maggie's case, looking through the window and across the street (there are cars passing through the frame), and with her being deep enough in a shop - and yet she's very clearly visible for a demon.

We, viewers, do know that one can see what happens in Maggie's shop while being in Nina's coffee shop, due to the conversation of Nina and Maggie in S2E1. Crowley wasn't there to hear it, but he can see the confirmation here.

So, if we continue with the same idea as above...it might be mentioned in a theoretical "The Metatron watching is indeed a plot point in any way" future, as an example of what might be visible through the window from the street.

Once again, I'm not trying to say that's what will happen. I just see these moments with Crowley's POV showing what is visible through the window and across the Whickber Street, as something curious for myself a certified window maniac.

[juminsmysticmc]

Omg. Requests are open. I'm so happy. Can I have rfa and minor trio helping their kid with math homework? Like these adult people vs. math. Thank you and have a nice day

RFA + Minor Trio helping their kid with Math 

Hello my love! I love these kind of requests and I was so happy to write it! I hope you enjoy it! Tell me your opinion!

Jumin

,,Mommy…?’’ a young boy called through the penthouse, getting out of his room and walking towards the door of his parent’s bedroom.

Just when he was about to open the door, the boy’s father quickly stepped out.

,,Mommy is sleeping. She’s not feeling well, did something happen?’’ Jumin asked his son and took him in his arms.

Usually, his son would play alone in the afternoon for half an hour or do his homework and then spend some time with his family, but today he was pretty long alone in his room.

,,I need mommy,’’ he repeated.

,,I don’t understand Math,’’ the boy whimpered, tears in his eyes.

,,Daddy will help you since Mommy needs to rest. You will be a big brother soon, that’s why Mommy needs to sleep a lot,’’ Jumin told him and took his son and went into his room.

Jumin looked at the worksheets.

,,So, Mommy is in one room and I join, how many people are there?’’ Jumin asked him.

His son looked at him with panic.

But then the young father had an idea.

He got up and returned a few seconds later with a few sweets in his hand.

,,Here, have one,’’ he said and saw how happily his son took the candy.

,,Do you want to have this candy too?’’ he asked him then.

,,How many candies would you have had then?’’ he kept asking his son.

Finally, the young student understood the question and with his father he kept working on his homework.

Zen

,,MOOOOOOOMMMMMYYYYYY!’’ a little white haired girl ran through the house, her book in her hands.

,,Baby, psssst…’’ Zen quickly caught his sunshine and kissed her.

,,Mommy is trying to get Hana to sleep,’’ he explained and kissed his ten year old.

He then asked her if she wanted to show him anything.

He was surprised when she proudly showed him her homework. However, everything was wrong.

,,Come, baby, let’s go over it together,’’ Zen said and carried his princess into her room and sat next to her.

He first erased her wrong answers and then slowly asked her, ,,Imagine you have to count the number five, five times… take a piece of paper and draw five circles,’’ he told her.

She followed his instructions and then looked at him.

,,So, now we have to count them five times,’’ he explained.

,,One… two… three… twenty… twenty-one… twenty-five…?’’ she asked him, looking at him.

,,Right! Twenty-five!’’ he smiled and patted on her head.

He thought that it was kind of cute that her solution was fifty-five.

And so, father and daughter tried to solve all the problems together.

Yoosung

Yoosung looked at his daughter’s worksheet.

Since when did children have such difficult questions? He asked himself and tried to look up a tutorial to help his fifteen year old son.

,,Okay,’’ he mumbled and paused the video.

His son was unmotivated, bored, and depressed that he couldn’t solve that one question.

,,I got it, son. Together, we can do it!’’ Yoosung tried to stay positive.

Indeed, Yoosung could explain the task and didn’t even fail at finding a solution. 

,,We have ten balls: two red, three white, and five blue. The probability of getting a blue ball is five to ten since we have ten balls in total and five balls which are blue,’’ he explained and drew a picture.

His son nodded as he began to understand what his father tried to tell him.

Half an hour later, they finally finished with the homework.

,,You were good! I will give you a cookie for your hard work!’’ Yoosung praised.

Since then, his son always asked his father for help when there was something that he didn’t understand in his homework.

,,I feel as if I am in school again,’’ he whined one night at you while you giggled.

Jaehee

,,Oh dear,’’ you sighted as you looked at the question over and over again.

You hated these kinds of questions.

You were just as depressed as your daughter.

Spending half an hour on a question with only three points, wasn’t the best start.

Luckily, Jaehee saw that both of you were helpless and quickly joined you on this beautiful Saturday afternoon.

,,So, you have these three lines and they are parallel, aren’t they?’’ she asked both of you and quickly could tell you what the task was about.

Indeed, this seemed to be pretty easy for Jaehee.

,,Okay, you will be in charge of math and I will take over everything else. Just don’t make me work on math ever again!’’ you laughed and got up, ready to go for a walk with your beautiful family after working on the hard question for such a long time.

Saeyoung

You expected Saeyoung to be good in math.

But you never thought that he would be that good.

You just spend half an hour on a single task, reading and reading the same question over and over again.

However, you didn’t understand anything.

Your twin girls looked at you.

,,Yesterday you said that mom knows everything,’’ one of your red haired angels told you.

You didn’t want to disappoint them, but for god’s sake, this single question was making you nervous.

It was as if someone would tell you that the sun is yellow and the house is green and ask you how long they took to build up the city.

,,I am home!’’ Saeyoung said after coming home, kissing his girl’s heads and your soft lips.

With a glance, he looked at the topic of his children’s homework.

,,I love this topic! LOLOL, this answer here is wrong,’’

And with that, you demanded that he explain the task to you, his children, and at some point, friends of his daughters.

And you were really glad that Saeyoung was by your side, supporting you as a wonderful father.

Saeran

Helpless.

This was the only thing Saeran felt when he looked at all the numbers of his daughter’s worksheet.

He gulped. 

He was good at hacking and he was good at math, but this was totally bullshit.

He looked at the clock. You were still away for a few more hours.

,,Daddy, you don’t need to if you don’t get it either,’’ his little girl mumbled and was about to close the book and put away her stuff.

,,Don’t worry, I will try it again,’’ he whispered and read the task over and over again.

He tried to write down the most important information of the question and wrote them down.

Step by step, he tried to solve the mystery until he succeeded.

Finally, the solution seemed to be logical.

,,Now, step by step, that’s their question and here is what they give you,’’ he began to explain.

The both of them began to work on the three pages his daughter had as homework.

When you came home, a big smile was on your face.

You softly brushed Saeran’s cheek and kissed your daughter’s head as their sleeping faces laid over their hard work.

Jihyun

,,I wanna go to mommy,’’ Lucy said. A few tears dripped down on her book as she held the pen with a trembling hand.

,,I know, Lucy,’’ Jihyun began.

,,But first, we need to work on these tasks and then I promise that we can go to mommy and your little brother in the hospital, yes?’’ he asked his adopted girl.

The girl looked at him and nodded.

Jihyun knew that the relationship between mother and daughter was different, but he never knew that there could be such a big difference.

And so, the mint haired man sat next to his daughter and observed his daughter’s studies.

,,Lucy, are you sure that 365 divided 5 is 74?’’ Jihyun asked her.

She looked at him and all over again she made the same mistake.  

,,Look,’’ he told her and took a pen in his hand and wrote down the question.

,,If you write down 365: 5, and you only take 36 : 5, you get the number…?’’ Jihyun waited.

,,Seven…?’’ she asked him.

Her father nodded.

,,So, we write down 365 : 5 = 7, but there isn’t a 36 in the multiplication of 5, right?’’

,,No, there’s just  5, 10, 15, 20, 25, 30, 35, and so on,’’ Lucy mumbled.

,,Perfect! So, below the 36 you write down 35. You subtract the numbers and take down the 15.

How often does 15 go into 5?’’ he asked.

Finally, Lucy understood what her father wanted to tell her and since then she calculated the problem his way.

Btw, it should look like that ( I sat 5 minutes at that question because I got confused)

365: 5 = 73

35

——–

  15

  15

——-

    0

Vanderwood

You rubbed your temples and stroked your belly as your son kept crying.

Suddenly your husband stepped in, asking the both of you what was happening.

,,I…I can’t help him anymore, Vanderwood,’’ you began to sob.

Vanderwood patted your head and told you to go to rest since you were already eight months pregnant.

,,The hero of the day will explain the question to him,’’ he told you, trying to make you feel better.

As soon as you stepped out, Vanderwood asked his son if crying would make him intelligent.

,,No? Then stop sobbing. I’m here to help you,’’ Vanderwood said, muting his son in lighting speed.

,,Look,’’ he began.

,,If you draw a point here, here, here, and there, and connect them, it gives you this curve right?

So now we need to use X to find out the calculation for this point,’’ he went on.

,,Let’s calm down and search for an easy walkthrough,’’ Vanderwood told him.

Indeed, the both of them found a way and could easily work on all the questions that were left.

Vanderwood tried his best to teach his son so that he would do well in the exam, which was around the corner.

And even though you couldn’t support them mentally, you decided to bring over some snacks and help them in your own way.

This was really funny, I used my mother as an example. My dad never successfully taught me maths XD I always began to cry with him, lol and I still do because I HATE MATH!

MASTERLIST 1

MASTERLIST 2

MASTERLIST 3

02.04.2020// 00:51 MEST

[merlins-mushrooms]

Surprise, surprise, I'm back again!! I know I ask for a lot of drabbles, but listen,,, they're really good and I want to support!! But uh, could you do a Cedric x Reader drabble about the first time they say I love you? Ft. Lots of fluff and romance? Pretty please with a cherry on top??

I know you requested fluff and romance but some little goblin in my brain kept banging pots and pans together and screaming “ANGST” and I had no choice but to indulge it to get it to shut up

Also if there’s any mistakes in this please take into consideration that it’s currently two in the morning and I chose to finish this instead of sleep. Do not follow my example. Sleep.

You could tell within five seconds of Cedric storming into his workshop that his day had been… rough. He had that look, his patented “I’ve had it with just about every creature on this blasted planet” look. He’d told you on many occasions that you were never one of those creatures, that you could always lift his mood just by paying him a visit, which made you giddy beyond words.

This morning Cedric had asked you to come to his workshop to see him that evening, since he knew he had a busy day and wanted you there so he could end his day on a happy note. You were more than happy to, even though you knew the risks. Specifically, the risks of having to deal with a cranky Cedric.

Like right now, for instance.

“Don’t even start,” you tutted when Cedric started to rant, unable to stop the amused smile creeping onto your face. “I’ve got some tea ready for you, just come sit down and I’ll give you a shoulder massage.”

Cedric closed his mouth, though his expression remained sour. He sat down in the chair you pulled up for him, thanking you as you handed him his cup of tea.

“So,” you said as you began to rub at the muscles in his shoulders, “I’d ask you to tell me about your day, but I think I know enough.”

Cedric grunted. “Awful, as usual.”

You gave a sharp laugh. ‘As usual,’ oh, how dramatic. You knew Cedric’s days were often just fine, that a day like this happened maybe once a month, at most. You stayed quiet though, not wanting to irk Cedric any more.

“I didn’t spend fifteen years perfecting the art of sorcery just to spend my time as the royal sorcerer entertaining children and being subjected to humiliating circumstances. If I’m going to be performing idiotic tricks I should at least be doing it in front of other royalty- adult royalty, thank you. Why can’t anybody respect me…”

Your heart swelled with sympathy. You had seen Cedric do incredible things, he deserved more recognition than he received. “People do respect you, Cedric.”

“Sofia hardly counts,” Cedric said with a sneer. “I’ve seen her have conversations with a rabbit, so her respect for me may not mean much.”

You laughed. “Well, I respect you too,” you said with a warm smile, moving your hands up to rub gingerly at his neck, “I know you’re a great sorcerer.”

Cedric sighed, waving your hands away and turning around to face you. “I know, but that’s not enough.”

The smile on your face dropped instantly. “What do you mean?”

“All my life I’ve had to prove myself to everyone: my parents, my sister, Roland…” Cedric looked to you sadly, “They all think that I’m a bumbling idiot of a sorcerer. But if I finally gained their respect, no one would ever doubt my talents again.”

You quirked an eyebrow questioningly, “So…?”

“So, they’re the ones that matter.”

Cedric realized his mistake in word choice when he saw the hurt look on your face. His heart sank. He started to backtrack, stuttering something about not meaning what he said and just being tired from the long day, but you were already turning to leave with a huff. He stood up to go after you, but he stopped himself. Maybe it was best to let you leave and cool off. After all, what he had said to you was horrible. He didn’t blame you for being angry with him. However, part of him worried that if he let you leave, you’d never come back.

“Wait!” Cedric shouted after you, “Please, don’t leave!”

You snort, grabbing your bag that you had left by the door. “You’ve made it clear how you feel. I wouldn’t want to stay and be in your way of proving yourself to the people who actually matter to you.”

Cedric cringed. He didn’t need to be reminded that he was a rat. “Please, just let me explain-”

“There’s no need.”

“Don’t go!” Cedric was starting to panic, fearing that he may never be able to fix this mistake.

You scoffed. “Why shouldn’t I?”

“Because…” Cedric took a shaky breath, “Because I love you.”

You froze, your hand still tightly gripping the doorknob. You certainly weren’t expecting that. There was a twinge of doubt in your mind, however. He had said it in a heated moment. What if he only said it to catch you off guard and stop you from leaving? Would Cedric really stoop to such a low level?

The fact that you hadn’t moved both worried and relieved Cedric. On the one hand, you hadn’t stormed out of the room, so that must mean something. On the other hand, your silence was disconcerting. Cedric gulped. “Are you going to say anything?”

You were trying to. All of the thoughts and words tumbling around in your head seemed to dry up on your tongue when you tried to summon them. You gave up on speaking and slowly turned around, your heart fluttering in your chest when you saw Cedric’s face, his eyes glassy with unshed tears as he bit his lower lip, a sign of Cedric’s nervousness you had grown familiar with. You could tell he really meant what he said.

Cedric swallowed. “Well, if you aren’t going to say something, then allow me. Of course you matter to me. You’re kind, and wonderful, and you’ve been there for me more times than I can count. I know I haven’t told you this as often as I should, but I appreciate you and everything you do for me. The one thing you can’t do, however, is change the minds of everyone who thinks I’m a terrible sorcerer. I know you try, but it’s just not enough. I wish it were.

“I’m sorry that I said something so hurtful to you, I truly didn’t mean it. When I said I love you, however, that I meant from the bottom of my heart. I’d tell you every reason why I love you, but I think I’ve said enough for tonight. I’m sure that you agree.”

Now your eyes were the ones with unshed tears. The only sound you could manage was a soft “Cedric,” as you stepped away from the door, lowering your bag back to the floor, your eyes never leaving his.

Cedric gave a nervous chuckle, “I will say, I wasn’t planning on blurting it out like I did. I’ve wanted to tell you for some time now, but I wanted to save it for a… better moment than this one, I suppose. The middle of a fight may not have been the best-” Cedric was silenced by your lips on his. He returned the kiss, melting when he felt your hands come up to cup his face.

You pulled away. “I love you too, by the way. Probably should have mentioned that.”

“I-”

You pressed your finger to Cedric’s lips to silence him. “I thought you said you were done talking for the night?” You grinned and resumed the kiss before Cedric could say anything else.

[written-in-silber]

Whispers of moonlight - Part 2

Summary: Celine opens once again the door to strangers and somehow everything gets even more confusing from that point onwards.

Tw: blood, mentions of a previous fight, death threats

Part 1

The doorbell rang for a third time. Celine thought about just ignoring it. She should be in bed by now. Surrounded by pillows and soft blankets. Only trouble came from answering the door. In a different world she would just call the police and bring Wyan and Lyra to the nearest hospital. But that was not the world she was living in, apparently. In this world she would open her door to what ever was strong enough to hurt two grown up werewolves. When did she become suicidal again?

But she didn't really have a choice, did she? Aja would be here soon and whatever was behind that door could be a threat to her as well. Celine did know, in theory, how to protect herself, but she had never been in a fight before and sure as hell didn't want to be in one now, at two am in the morning with two hurt werewolves in her kitchen. Slowly she moved herself in the direction of the door. It was waxing gibbous tonight, so when she reached for her magic, it responded in powerful waves through her body, being almost at its strongest. It was a warm sensation, like being hugged and protected, but at the same time energetic, almost as her magic couldn't wait to be finally released into the world.

There was a knock at the door now, when Celine was almost in front of it. With every slow step she was taking, she hoped to have some kind of genius idea that would bring her out of this misery. But alas, it did not come. "I just wanna talk.", said the deep voice behind the door. He sounded reasonably enough. And if he was able to use a doorbell, he couldn't be a monster, right? Celine let a small bit of magic wash over her, building almost a second skin on her, so she was shimmering lightly. That should (at least in theory) keep the most physical damage from her, if she really would be attacked or the man would try to get in.

"I will not open this door, before you don't tell me who you are and what the fuck you want at my door at two am in the morning!", she even convinced herself with that voice. Her magic positively humming through her, being this confident. Waxing gibbous be damned. "I assure you, I don't wish to intrude or cause you any harm whatsoever. But you're hiding two fugitives of my pack in there and we demand them back." "Great, even more werewolves.", Celine thought. At least she knew now, what she was up against. Even though everything in her told her, that this was a bad idea, she opened the door.

In front of her was quiet the crowd. She counted at least fifteen people, standing at the street before her house, but in some distant. Maybe there were even more in the shadows. Her magic was still washing through her in warm waves of reassurance, apparently not realising the very apparent threat of a whole werewolf pack in front of her. She should think of her next steps very carefully. The man, who had knocked on her door, stepped back a few steps. Putting his hands in the air to show he was not here to put on a fight. Even lowered his head, almost like bowing. His pack following his example. But when his head came back up again, his eyes flashed red for a second, before turning to brown again. His glance sent shivers down her back, but not in the good way.

"If I may introduce myself.", he said. "I'm Adrian, the Alpha of this pack." The young woman next to him flinched, as he said that. But the gesture was so small, Celine almost overlooked it. She had her head still bowed, looking to the ground. Celine looked back at Adrian. He was a middle-aged man, already with white streaks in his light-brown hair and beard. He was not unpleasant looking, but something seemed just wrong about him. "May I enter? So we can speak of these matters inside instead?" He already stepped towards her as he was saying this. "No.", Celine simply said, surprised about her strength in this moment and even more surprised when Adrian actually stopped. "As you wish.", he said, but it was clear, that he was getting angrier by the minute. "It it's rather simple really: just give us the two fugitives and we'll leave you alone."

"I will not do such a thing. They're in no condition to go anywhere and a healer will be here soon. And also they say, that you were the ones that hurt them." "Ah you see, that's were you are mistaken. We did not attack him out of nothing. Wyan challenged me for my Alpha title and he lost. And so, like it's been tradition for a thousand years, his life is mine to take. But he fled with his sister, that's why we're in this unfortunate situation right now.", Adrian smiled, like he had just said the most usual thing like the weather forecast and not that he was actually at Celine's doorstep to take a live. "You want me to give them to you, so you can kill them?!" "Well yes, of course. Not Lyra, if she's willing to submit." "She never will.", said the girl next to Adrian suddenly. She said it like a whisper, but clear enough for Celine to hear. Adrian just quickly looked at her and the girl turned her head back to looking at the ground. She would not say anything again, that was for sure. "I can't do this.", Celine now said. "What do you mean?", asked Adrian as if he really wouldn't understand. "I won't give them to you.", Celine heard herself say. She didn't know where she took the strength or stupidity from. She was clearly outnumbered. No way she could take on this many werewolves. Especially because she wasn't a fighter. "But the tradition?", he was clearly confused. "I don't care for the tradition. I won't give them to you." Adrian now looked really confused as if Celine had somehow insulted herself. "I don't think you understand the situation...", he said now. "Maybe I should tell you again what happened?" "No need.", Celine said. "The healer will come and heal them. And then, when they are alright again, they will leave my place and noone will be bothering me again. I got no business with you or them." "Ah now I understand.", Adrian seemed somewhat happy. "You do not wish to get involved?", he asked like it wasn't obvious. "I have really nothing to do with this." "Very well.", he said. "We'll take over leave then. Sorry for disturbing you at this time.", he quickly looked at the ground again, as if to bow, but in the same instant he was already turning around. His pack leaving with him. Only the girl who stand next to him, turned around once more to look at Celine. A word on her lips, before she too, disappeared in the night.

What the fuck did just happen? Celine still stood at the open door, her hands sweaty. The moon was behind clouds, but she could feel his warm presence calming her racing heart. She didn't know how long she was standing like this, when a black SUV parked right in front of her. Celine almost ran to it and was there, before Aja was even able to close the car door. She pulled her in a deep hug. "You have no idea how glad I am that you're here!" "I kind of get the feeling.", Aja laughed as if all the weird shit didn't happen. "Hard night?" "Definitely too hairy for my taste." "Oh come on, you can do better than this." "Not tonight. All my brain is gone. In hiding." Aja laughed again and somehow Celine got the feeling that everything would be alright from now on. "Wanna show me my patients now, Cici?", Aja asked gently, as she wiped away a tear that escaped Celine's eye. "Yes.", she said. "They're in the kitchen."

[thedaveandkimmershow]

"It can be raining like crazy and then fifteen minutes later it's fine."

That's Kimmer, by the way, commenting on yesterday afternoon's sudden deluge of rain.

Deluge.

Of rain.

All that rain came with intense flashes and branches of lighting accompanied by thunder that was much like a bulldozer careening around an industrial kitchen.

It was very clangy is what I'm saying.

We managed a reservation at Margaritaville for lunch, scoring a table on the covered "Indecision Porch" in front of which everyone on foot passes. From our perch, it's impossible not to see certain things.

For example, a tall young man with his arm draped lazily around the young woman he's with. Kimmer thought first-date. My bet's on they're a couple and she's not super happy about it because at one point he leans down and over to kiss the top of her head and the look on her face at that moment is one of enduring it.

I noticed a number of families wearing uniforms, bright green or orange t-shirts that make them impossible to miss by family members even from low earth orbit. Which is a good thing 'cause all these families have little kids in tow.

I saw a coupla brothers, older and younger, and caught the moment when the older brother put his arm around the younger and they took off running.

Took.

Off.

Running.

I saw a father try to put his arm around his daughter but she kept ducking it. And when he finally relented... she took his hand instead. ♥️♥️♥️

I saw off-season Santa driving an electric cart, dressed from head to toe in a red warm-up suit.

I saw someone wearing a "Free The Dinosaurs" t-shirt and now I want one of those t-shirts too.

Plus, you know, I really do want to free the dinosaurs 'cause I'm environmental like that. 😁

I also realized during lunch that Kimmer's scheduled for us a vacation, a vacation, and a vacation. Right now we're on a three-and-a-half day stay without obligation, responsibility, or agenda. That vacation'll be followed by five days of all things Disney starting Monday. And the last two days are no-obligstion free time again.

Lovely!

Our lunch was also accompanied by a live steel drum band performing popular covers that caused me to indulge a mental game of "Name That Tune". I wasn't very good at it though eventually I figured out most of the songs. Neil Diamond's "Sweet Caroline" was one of the most well known along with the "Guilty Feet Have Got No Rhythm" song by George Michael that's actually "Careless Whisper" by Wham 'cause I just looked it up.

After lunch, it's nap and relax time. And then it's time for night bowling 'cause it's this thing we both really want to do and I stood in line this morning for nearly forty five minutes waiting to get a reservation.

We had a great time, by the way. I started off with three strikes in a row which felt really bizarre. Kimmer took a few frames to get her groove back and ended up improving her score with each game while my game seemed to get worse.

Still.

Night bowling. The missus 'n me.

♥️♥️♥️

Not long after we finished, Linzy's flight landed at Orlando International and, while we were hunting around for a dinner sandwich for her, she managed to land in our hotel's lobby.

She was pretty wiped out much as we were a few evenings ago. It's amazing what air travel takes out of you. Not sure why. And that three hour time difference is always a bigger deal than it has any right to be.

We finished the evening with Linzy getting us hooked on that Netflix series "Lupin", "a retelling of the classic French story about Arsène Lupin, the world-famous gentleman thief and master of disguise." (Wikipedia)

We blew through two hours of this foreign language subtitled action/mystery show, only stopping 'cause it was 230.

A.M.

A few hours later, 6AM, I'm up again 'cause Rachel's plane lands a little after six. It winds up landing about ten minutes after six and I meet her in the hotel lobby after she Lyfts the final leg of her journey to a most welcome sleep 'cause she's been flying all night, having a classic red-eye experience.

Now, we didn't get to bed 'til 230 this morning. And Rachel didn't get any sleep on the plane 'cause they kept it so cold. So I'm figuring she's just gonna maybe say a quick hello to Kimmer 'n Linzy before going to sleep while everyone goes back to sleep.

Haha. NOPE.

We haven't all been together as a family for a long time now and suddenly (and for the week) the band's back together again. So a lot of catching up ensues. And a lot of laughter followed by shhhhh's 'cause it's still earlyish in the morning.

At some point, though, not sure when, I nod off.

It's 10AM!

Yeah. It's 10AM and this is one of those experiences like when I used to get up super early on Sunday morning's to do my paper route and then went back to bed again after finishing it only to get up a few hours later.

It felt like a different day every time. Even after those few hours of sleep.

And so it is this morning.

While the girls remain essentially comatose after their travels, Kimmer slips downstairs to Starbucks whilst I take a glorious shower. "Glorious" in that it really does seem like a completely different day.

:-)

After clearing the room, checking out, and stashing our bags at the front desk for a few hours, the missus 'n I indulge mango smoothies by the pool whilst talking life 'cause that's what old people do. Then we're off to Trader Joe's with Santiago, an Uber driver who shared bits of life with us as we did with him. We talked about New York City where he lived before, we talked a little sights of Orlando where he's lived since oh-three, we talked a little bit Seattle where his best friend's younger brother lives (and also where we were born & raised), and then we talked a touch of Puerto Rico and Hurricane Maria.

It doesn't take us long at Trader Joe's, a coupla bags worth, really, before we hail another Uber back with Carlitos from New York State… . Westchester. We talked old school sports video games as well as the challenges of proper car maintenance before dropping off again for one more best.

Burger.

Ever.

At The Hideaway Bar & Grill.

😁😁😁

Eventually, it's time to end Vacation #1 with a Lyft from our driver, Wanell, to our rental condo at Floridays. We talked the recent Haiti earthquake a little and quickly determining that all his friends and family are okay. Alive and uninjured. Then, because we were passing it, we talked Icon Park with that crazy tall rotating swing guaranteed to induce nausea and vomiting. The Kraken roller coaster was another candidate on which we all voted would produce similar results as we passed Sea World. And then, finally, somehow, we talked alligators 'n fries.

I don't know what to tell you. Rachel was super interested to hear about it.

And so on.

We're pretty much having a Maui experience here where there seems to be more time in our days. More hours than just the 24 we're routinely allotted. Because once you start having to count the time between one event and the next… your day just gets away from you. Sometimes at light speed.

And we're not doing that.

These are not full days of To-Dos. This is nearly all unstructured time. And when it's unstructured time… the day just unfolds and keeps unfolding.

It's crazy how much livable time there is on any given day.

Seriously. There really is.

Anyway, this first vacation, part 1, the one before our Disney vacation, wraps up today. And tomorrow… we dive head first into, well...

We're about to find out.

🙂🤔😁

[dmitri-smerdyakov]

I'm Sorry - an Original Story

Okay, so this is the original story that is to be published in the anthology at my university on Thursday – I’m doing a podcast tomorrow at uni to promote it, and I’ll be reading it at the launch on Thursday evening.

This work HAS been looked over and edited by the anthology people – or, rather, they gave me comments and I edited accordingly. This is the story as it shall appear in the anthology.

Other than that, all I can say is…enjoy!

The beer bottle is cold as I rest it against my leg, my hand securely wrapped around the neck of it; a drop of condensation runs down and splashes onto my shorts. The night air is cool and calm around me as I gaze out, out at the beach, out at the ocean, out into nothing; the only sound is that of waves crashing on the sand, washing up treasures for the dogs to find tomorrow morning on their walk.

The porch door opens and shuts behind me; it’s Sarah, and I watch from the corner of my eye as she sits on one of the other chairs on the deck. Her sunny-blonde hair is tied back in a messy bun, her skin brown from hours spent on the beach that overlooks our house; she is so beautiful, even now with bags under her eyes and her cheekbones sunken into her face. She clutches her own bottle of beer and takes a long swig of it after a moment. I watch her neck tilt back, skin that I know tastes of peaches and perfume, and for a second I try to forget about it all…I pretend that it’s just like every other night.

Except it’s not.

Sarah looks out at the beach like I had before she came out, into the vast nothingness of beach and sea. Her bottom lip quivers slightly, and I hurriedly go back to staring out at the beach too because I can’t think of anything to say, can’t think of the words to comfort her.

I wish I could do something to help her – I wish I could do something to ease her suffering. It doesn’t help that I had left that morning’s newspaper lying on the table in my rush to get to work, the one detailing the discovery of disfigured bodies in California – I would pick it up, throw it away, but all of the fight within me has gone. Neither of us say it, but we know the likelihood.

No. I don’t want to think about that. I don’t want to think about him being-

No.

“He’s out there.”

My voice floats, as if it hadn’t come out of my mouth, as if there’s someone else on the deck with us. Sarah does not look at me.

“We’ll find him…I know we will…”

Her face is pale, drawn, tear-stained; her grip tightens on the bottle like it’s a lifeline. She blames herself, she says, but I know that she really blames me. I blame me.

“Sarah…”

My voice is slurred, this is my fourth bottle of beer tonight, and it probably won’t be the last. I just want to forget, to get away, but even drinking can’t numb the pain for long enough.

“Sarah.”

My voice is firmer, and I reach out to touch her shoulder; she jerks away from my touch, like I’ve burnt her, and I can’t help but recoil myself because she’s never done that before. Her face as she turns to me is angry, hurt, worried, and devastated – she is in pain.

“Jack.” She’s warning me. “Don’t. Don’t you even dare…”

In our five years (to the day) of marriage, she’s never spoken like that to me, never told me to stop talking about something, never told me to stop doing something, at least not seriously. We have our jokes, sure, but this is different. The guilt I suddenly feel for attempting to comfort her – and failing when she refuses it – is almost painful.

We’re silent for five, ten, fifteen minutes. She downs the rest of the bottle and then tosses it out onto the beach. She scolds people who litter normally, and I try to follow her example, but now I don’t say a word to her – I let her have one moment of being imperfect. I drink from my own bottle, wishing I knew the right things to say to her.

Finally, she turns to me; she pulls her knees to her chest, feet resting on the seat, and she seems to curl in on herself. She’s like a new-born kitten – a sharp cry from her usual spitfire personality; grief changes everyone for the worst, and in the hours since her son’s disappearance she’s changed into someone barely recognizable.

“I should have stayed with him,” she whispers; it’s to me, though she looks at her own legs as she speaks. “I told him…I told him not to go too far…I just assumed he would be safe, didn’t even think to go with him…”

I put my half-empty bottle on the floor and sigh heavily. “No. I should have…he wanted to help me fix the boats, but…but I said not today. I should have let him come with me.”

Not today, champ, I had told him early that afternoon, trying not to wince when his face fell; Why don’t you go and have a look around the beach? Who knows, you might find something interesting.

He had gone home, probably spoken to Sarah – probably asked her to go with him, to which she had said no – before heading out. He knew the beach like any kid knows their back-yard, he knew not to go out of sight of the house, to stay close to the more populated areas of the beach.

I can still remember the panic when I arrived home only to find Sarah pacing frantically; she had still been in her t-shirt and shorts, not dressed for the dinner reservations I had booked for us at a nearby restaurant to celebrate our anniversary. Her face had been white as a sheet as she just said it over and over again.

Josh is missing, Jack. I can’t find him. I’ve been up and down the beach, talked to anyone I could find, but no one’s seen him recently. Please, Jack. Please. We need to find him! Please!

Forgetting about the dinner plans, I had gone up and down the beach myself immediately, Sarah jogging to keep up, and I’d asked desperately; I asked families, dog walkers, life guards, anyone who was on the beach. I searched the sand dunes, shouting his name, getting cuts on my shins from the spiky blades of grass that grew about a mile down the beach. We searched for an hour before finally returning to the house and calling the police. They, too, had no idea where he could be; eight year-old boys don’t run away like that, not without any belongings or nourishment, not in this heat. They had assured us that they would search for Josh, of course, that he would be added to the list of missing children to find – but I wasn’t holding out a lot of hope.

We never made it to the restaurant.

“They’ll find him,” I tell her, although that’s unlikely. “He’s going to be okay.”

It’s unlikely because he’s not the first child in the area to disappear; he’s the thirteenth - the other twelve are either still missing or they’ve been found chopped up and unrecognizable. The cops have had no leads, no evidence. Nothing for months.

Josh’s disappearance is just the latest in a long-running pattern.

Sarah bites her lip and fiddles with the hem of her shirt; she’s bitten all of her nails down to the quicks. She hasn’t done that in years. “Yeah. Sure.”

It’s all my fault that she’s lost her son; if I had just told him to help me out with the stupid boat then Josh would have been dropped off at Sarah’s parents’ house, Sarah and I would have gone to our dinner, and we would have probably been going for another round in bed. My wife has lost her son because I was too selfish to let him help me fix some crappy boat engine, and I will never escape that.

We go to bed a few hours later, though it’s more out of habit than a need for sleep – neither of us will sleep, not for a long time, not knowing what we know.

As I lie there, unable to drift into a blissful unconsciousness, I stare at the ceiling; I stare at the fan spinning around and around, at the clear white paint, at the tiny dent that’s always been there. Sarah is awake beside me, but we don’t talk. Sometimes it’s better not to talk.

I think. I think of Josh. I think of his smiling, happy face. I think of his ruffled black hair, of the gap in his teeth, of how he laughed at animal cartoons. I think of him and try to hold it together.

I remember the day I met him; he’d been just over a year-and-a-half, and Sarah introduced me as ‘Jack’ – at that point, we didn’t know we were going to get married. I didn’t think much on it, not even when we got engaged four months later and he still called me ‘Jack’. It was fine by me – he had learnt to know me as ‘Jack’, so it would be less confusing to him if I remained as that. When Sarah and I got married, five years ago exactly to this day, he had been the page boy – he had been there for the whole ceremony, and we were just glad he was there with us, that we were somewhat of a family, albeit an unconventional one.

All of a sudden, I vividly remember taking him to school, running his lines for the school plays that I later had to go to, taking him to soccer practice. I was like a dad, but not a dad. It didn’t really become an issue – it was just the way it was. It was life; it wasn’t really something to dwell on, and I just counted my blessings while they were still there.

Roughly a year ago he had asked to call me ‘dad’. “I’m sorry, Jack,” He apologized profusely whilst Sarah turned to look at him in surprise. “It just slipped out.” I had told him it was fine – that if he wanted to call me that, then by all means he should, and if he wanted to keep calling me by my actual name then that was fine too.

He was well-aware I wasn’t his real father, well-aware that his actual father hadn’t been a very nice man and that his mother had left before anything bad could happen to him when he was a baby. His real father had been a drunk – we had gotten a call from a solicitor shortly after Josh’s fifth birthday saying that he’d died of some alcohol related disease. Sarah didn’t attend the funeral, instead just sending enough money to cover the cost of a coffin and burial plot. I didn’t blame her – I had first met her through mutual friends just a few weeks after she had left him, and I’d seen the bruises. She still had a scar from the surgery she’d had to fix internal bleeding caused by him throwing her down a flight of stairs.

I never did care to learn his name – it was always just him.

Sometimes I had been ‘Jack’ – but more and more often he had taken to calling me ‘dad’ instead. I remember now that Josh had called me ‘Dad’ before I sent him away.

Come on, dad, I promise I won’t get in the way!

I feel tears sting my eyes and wipe them away silently. Dads are meant to protect their children, and I haven’t done that. I do not deserve the title Josh gave me. I’ve let my step-son down, and I’m going to have to live with that for the rest of my life.

I’m sorry, Josh. I am so, so sorry.