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spine-buster · 4 years ago

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The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 34

A/N: Soooo this is the penultimate chapter. This feels very bittersweet to post because we all know how the series turned out. Anyway, other stuff happens to, but the series...🥺

August 8th, 2020

Aberdeen Bloom was thinking about last night. Again.

And she shouldn’t be. She was having breakfast with the team for God’s sake. Everyone was eating pancakes or waffles or avocado toast and she was fantasizing about William fucking her raw from behind and watching him through the mirror. She could swear she still felt his slick and hard cock inside of her. She could swear she still felt him pounding her from behind and grabbing on to her mouth to silence her and—

“Aberdeen.”

—her whimpering and trying to be quiet and the same time—

“Aberdeen.”

—and his low, guttural grunts as he fucked her and made her be quiet and—

“Aberdeen!”

She snapped out of it. She looked to her right to see Jason looking at her like she was crazy. “Your phone is ringing,” he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world – because it was. The thing was blaring out for God knows how long and she was just sitting there.

She grabbed it, not bothering to look at the number, and brought it to her ear. “Hello?”

“So what did the boys get up to last night?” Alec Young’s voice asked from the other end.

That brought her back down to earth. She got up out of her seat and made her way towards the doorway, where it would be much quieter. “What did they get up to?” she feigned ignorance.

“You can’t tell me that after a win like that all they did was go to bed,” he said in a tone of voice that made Aberdeen want to punch him through the phone. She couldn’t believe he was the one responsible for editing her piece, that it was him who was a deciding factor on whether or not she got a job with the magazine. “Did they sneak girls into the hotel? Prostitutes? Did they get one for Matthews for scoring the overtime winner?”

Aberdeen sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. William Nylander fucked the president’s assistant. They’ve been carrying on a secret affair for the better part of a year now and nobody has a fucking clue. They were so desperate for each other that they broke every bubble guideline so he could fuck her raw in her bathroom as she bent over the marble vanity. How’s that for a scoop? “With all due respect, Alec…”

“Aberdeen, come on.”

“I’m trying to take the more balanced approach, the more human side, the—”

“There’s gotta be something!”

She sighed again. She knew he was more or less her editor and all, and her job depended on him, but she was on her last nerve. “You want something? Okay, here’s something. Two days ago Courtney Muzzin and her daughter Luna stood outside of the Royal York Hotel with a giant sign on Bristol board that said ‘We love you, Dada’ and aimed it directly at Jake’s window,” she said, the edge very evident in her voice. “I can’t lie, Alec. I can’t just make up stories about drugs and prostitutes and whatever else you think is going on here. They can fucking sue me.”

“Aberdeen, we need a story. If you don’t give us the story, you’re not working at Toronto Life. That’s it,” he said, hanging up.

Aberdeen felt her chest tighten. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t go back on her morals. She couldn’t just…betray her friends. Her family. Her work family, but her family nonetheless. She had to stay resolute. She was going to get this job, and she was going to get it whether Alec approved of her story or not. She was going to get it whether Alec wanted her there or not. She was going to get it whether he liked her writing or not. She was going to prove him wrong. She was going to do it on her own terms, with her own talent. She was going to bank on herself.

When she got back to her seat, Jason was still eating his breakfast. She picked up her fork and ate a piece of watermelon before moving on to her yogurt parfait. “Who was that?” he asked.

She shook her head slightly, signaling that she didn’t want to talk about it. But when Jason continued looking at her, she knew he wasn’t going to let it pass. “The guy that’s responsible for editing that article I’m submitting to Toronto Life,” she said.

“What did he want?” Jason asked.

She sighed. “He wants a story filled with booze and drugs and women, because he’s convinced so many of you are still like that,” she began. “He thought we would have ordered a stripper or something for Auston last night for scoring his overtime goal. He doesn’t think Courtney and Luna Muzzin standing outside with a sign about loving daddy is going to sell magazines.”

Jason nodded his head in understanding. He’d been around hockey for such a long time – he understood completely where Alec got his mentality from. “And you refuse to write that.”

“It’s not just that I refuse to write it. I can’t write it. None of it would be true. Imagine me writing about you guys with hookers and blow? I’d get sued!”

Jason chuckled. “And he doesn’t get that? How’s this guy an editor for a prominent city magazine?”

“Beats the shit out of me,” Aberdeen shrugged, fiddling around with her spoon. “But…that’s my issue. I’ll figure it out. I’ll write something that will blow his mind and make him wonder why he ever thought he wanted me to write about hookers and blow in the first place.”

Jason smiled. “Atta girl.”

Jason continued to eat as Aberdeen continued to fiddle with her spoon. She looked across the room briefly to see William chowing down on some avocado and a piece of toast. He was scrolling through his phone and, periodically, would look at something Pierre would show him one-third of space away at the table. Less than ten hours ago his body was pressed up against hers. Now they were separated by a sea of tables and hockey players.

“Can I ask you a question?” she asked Jason suddenly.

“Anything,” he didn’t even look at her when he answered.

She hesitated for a second. “If…I mean…if things don’t go the way we want them to go tomorrow…” she began.

“You mean if we lose,” he interrupted, finally staring her dead in the eye. “You can say the words Aberdeen. It’s okay.”

“If we lose tomorrow…I…what should I do? Like, how should I act? What should I say? I don’t want to make you guys even more upset by saying the wrong thing.”

“I doubt you can make anyone on this team upset—”

“Jason.”

He sighed. He set down his flatware and brought his hands together. “I think being there physically is good,” he began. “Like, just being a presence. Telling the guys you’re there if they want to talk. Don’t bring it up unless we do. Some guys are more open. Others bottle it inside and never want to talk about it. You have to figure out who’s who in that sense.”

“I just want to be a good…support. I don’t want to be that person that seems apathetic because I don’t care about hockey as much as you guys. I know how important this is for all of you. I know how hard you guys are working to get it done. I just want to make sure everybody, like…knows that, you know?”

“They know, Aberdeen,” Jason said confidently. “And I’m not just saying that. Trust me. They know.”

***

“How many words do you have now?” William asked through the FaceTime call. They were lying in bed together. Virtually. As always, he was less than 50 feet away in his own bed. Aberdeen felt cold without his touch, now that she had felt it in the bubble. It took every ounce of strength and willpower within her not to sneak into his room and beg him to fuck her again.

“I’m at five thousand right now,” she answered. “I got a call from Alec today. He’s such a dick.”

“It sucks that you’ll have to work under him. I mean, if he’s even your editor at the magazine. He might work in a different department or whatever.”

Aberdeen shuddered at the thought. Him becoming her boss would be a nightmare. Beth Zadakis – who Aberdeen originally met with – would be the much better choice in her eyes. “Here’s hoping he is in another department,” she bit her lip. “But enough about me, Willy. How are you feeling about tomorrow?”

“I don��t know…” he said, giving his own shrug. “I’m not nervous or anything. I just…I know what I need to do. I know what we need to do. We just gotta do it.”

“D’you remember what I told you before we got in here? That I’ll love you whatever happens?” she asked. William nodded his head. “That still stands. Whatever happens tomorrow, I love you.”

William nodded his head gingerly. “If we lose…” he began softly, “it’s gotta be, like, a media blackout for at least a week. Until they make us do those exit interviews or whatever.”

“Deal,” Aberdeen nodded.

“It’s gonna be bad if we lose, Aberdeen,” he warned her. “You’ve never experienced it before because you don’t watch or whatever, but they’ll be saying a whole bunch of shit—”

“—I won’t listen to any of it—”

“—No, Aberdeen, listen,” he cautioned, his tone of voice more serious. “They’ll be saying a whole bunch of shit about me. I didn’t produce, I didn’t perform, I should get traded, blah blah blah. Same shit, different day. I’m always the scapegoat. I just…I know how emotional you got when you read up on everything near my birthday. I just don’t want you getting upset. I’ll never forgive them anyways, like in general, but I’ll really never forgive them if they make you cry again.”

“I won’t, Willy. I don’t – you don’t have to worry about me.”

“I just want to protect you, minskatt.”

“I know you do,” she smiled softly. “But none of that matters. All that matters is that I love you.”

“I love you too.”

***

August 9th, 2020

In the end, it wasn’t shitty play. It wasn’t a patented Leafs Meltdown™. It wasn’t that they weren’t trying. It wasn’t even anything bad.

It was just a hot goalie.

That was the most Aberdeen could have asked for, she guessed. She didn’t really know, because at this point, she was devoid of emotion. Everything in her was just…empty. She couldn’t feel a thing. That was, until, the camera showed a close up of the bench, and she saw Jason hunched over, his head down.

That was when the tears started. She couldn’t care less about Kasperi beside him. It was Jason that she cared about. Here he was, near the end of his career, signed with his hometown team for league minimum trying to chase his dream of winning a Stanley Cup with the team he grew up watching. And now, in this wonky season of benched home openers and valued leadership to a stopped and re-started season due to a global pandemic, everything around him came crashing down. Having to leave his family, his wife, his four daughters, all to chase the dream, all for it to disappear.

“Stop crying,” Brendan said from beside her. She couldn’t discern his voice. He wasn’t giving a command. He wasn’t mad. He wasn’t angry. But it was obvious that he wasn’t happy. He barely blinked as he looked down at the ice, hands shoved in his pockets.

Aberdeen wiped her tears quickly with the back of her hand. “Sorry,” she said meekly, knowing she was offering absolutely nothing.

When the buzzer rang and the teams lined up to shake hands, she made her way out of the box, waiting for Brendan and Kyle to follow. But they didn’t. She waited and waited and waited but they weren’t coming. She peeked back into the room and watched as they stood still, looking down at the ice until the last of the team made their way through the tunnel. Aberdeen realized then that they were staying because the camera was on them. Of course it was. The media was going to squeeze every emotion out of the boys until they were shells of themselves. She bet two of them were being forced into media interviews right now, barely out of their hockey gear.

When they finally made their way down to the locker room, it was eerily quiet. That’s the first thing Aberdeen noticed – the lack of noise. It was so different from just two nights ago when they were all screaming and hugging her. When she walked in behind Brendan and Kyle, and finally saw their faces, she immediately looked for William’s. He looked so defeated. So broken. For a guy who was very apathetic in front of the camera, making it looked like nothing phased him, he was definitely showing his emotion now. Her breath hitched in her throat as more tears threatened to spill. After William, she looked for Jason – then she really had to stop the sob.

She didn’t know if Sheldon had already given his post-game speech. She was almost sure he did, because Kyle and Brendan took so long, and because she absolutely knew he wouldn’t end the night with what he ended up saying, the only thing she heard him say. “Pack your bags tonight. We’re leaving tomorrow morning.”

They’d been through a hell of a season. A wonky start. A shitty coach. A coaching change. A loss to their own Zamboni driver. A fucking worldwide pandemic. A bubble. The media was never on their side. And—

“Go to the media room, see how the conversations are going,” Brendan said, his voice low. “Send Morgan and John out as soon as possible, then make sure the media know about their future availability. We have to speak to the team.”

She furrowed her brows at him. Why would he banish her from the locker room so he could talk to the team? “What are you gonna say?”

“What’s it to you?”

He heart froze. So he was angry. And he was taking it out on her. “Fine,” she huffed. “I thought we were a team, but I guess not.”

***

Nobody ate when they got back to the hotel. There was no point. Everybody just disappeared back into their rooms, probably to pack, probably to wallow in their own self-pity for the night until they had to leave tomorrow and face the world, probably to just lie in bed and stare at the ceiling for hours. Aberdeen knew that’s what she would be doing.

Well, after she got to the bottom of one thing.

“What did Brendan and Kyle say to you guys?” she asked William on the phone.

“I can’t tell you.”

She furrowed her brows – not like he could see her. “What? You can’t tell me?”

“I can’t tell you,” he repeated. “It stays between us. In the locker room.”

“I…you’re being serious.”

“Of course I am. It’s…I can’t tell you.”

Aberdeen knew she wasn’t going to get it out of him. She’d have to give up. Not that she wanted to. “Well, I love you. I’ll always love you,” she said instead, changing the subject. “I’m sorry things didn’t go the way we all wanted them to.”

“I am too. This fucking sucks.”

Suddenly, there was a knock at her door. She rose up immediately from her bed. “Please tell me that’s not you,” she said. “We’re leaving tomorrow morning.”

“What’s not me?” William asked, confused.

Aberdeen stopped. She took her phone off her ear. “Who is it?” she asked out loud.

“It’s me,” she heard Brendan’s voice from the hallway.

She threw her phone dramatically across the room and onto her bed. She threw it so violently it almost hit the wall. “Let me get my mask!” she called out, grabbing one from the dresser before hooking it onto her ears. She took a deep breath before she opened the door. When she did, Brendan walked straight into her room. She was shocked. “You’re coming into my hotel room?”

“Oh fuck it, we’re leaving tomorrow morning,” he mumbled, waving off her concern. The door shut behind her as she walked into her own room gingerly, watching Brendan pace back and forth. He stopped when he noticed her. “I want to apologize for what I said to you today after the game,” he said. “It was out of line.”

“Thank you,” she said.

“There are just some things that need to be said to the team only Aberdeen. Meaning the players. You’re part of the team but it’s—it’s—”

“Don’t worry. I get it.”

Brendan stopped, taking a deep breath to steady himself. “For my entire life I’ve wanted this team to be successful. My entire life. I was born two years after their last Stanley Cup win. And growing up, I adored this team. And when I was a player – it didn’t matter that I was a Red Wing. I love them, too, but in a different way. Not the way I love the Toronto Maple Leafs. And when I was given the opportunity to be the president, I made sure I would never take it for granted. And I made sure – I made a promise to myself – that I would be the one to see this team to victory. And every time that we don’t get to that victory, I break that promise,” he said. Aberdeen understood completely. “None of…this is about you, of course. This is about the team. This is about promises that we make to each other. Promises that we make to ourselves. Promises we make to get better, to succeed, to climb that mountain and get to the promised land. This is about the integrity of our character. The pride we have in this hockey club, to put on that Maple Leaf every night.”

Aberdeen stayed silent. Brendan was bearing his soul to her. Every word he was saying was impassioned and coming directly from his heart. She didn’t want to speak, because there was nothing she could say. She watched as he took a few steps forward and put his hands on her shoulders. “You’re part of this team, Aberdeen. I think you always will be to these boys. You were the soul of this team this year.”

She shook her head. “I don’t believe that.”

“I do,” he said confidently. “I know so.”

“How do you know?”

“Because their soul is hurt right now, but it hasn’t died,” he said. “It’s still there. They still have it in them. Just like you have it in you.”

***

August 10th, 2020

Aberdeen stood absent-mindedly off to the side, the bus being loaded with the team’s bags. Some of the boys had already gotten on the bus. She should have gotten on too, but her feet were planted firmly in place for some reason.

Fifteen days in the bubble. And now it was all over.

“Hey Aberdeen?” she heard Auston’s voice from behind her. She spun around to face him. “I’m sorry we couldn’t do it for you. Like, for your story.”

***

Kasha came to pick up Aberdeen. She brought Minerva in her carrier, who kept meowing at the sight of Aberdeen. Aberdeen took her out and cuddled her against her chest, giving her tons of kisses.

She watched Tyson do the same to Ralph, wondering if he’d still be on the team next year.

***

When she and Kasha got back into her apartment, Aberdeen went straight to her bed. She plopped down dramatically and only moved when she felt Kasha standing in the doorway. “D’you want to go out? You finally have some freedom,” Kasha suggested. “We can go for tacos, for brunch…”

Aberdeen perched herself up on her elbows. “Do you think I’m the soul of someone? Or something?”

Kasha looked at her strangely, but answered the question nonetheless. “I definitely think you have the capacity to be for someone. You know I believe in the concept of soulmates. Why do you ask?”

“For who?”

Kasha shrugged, but a small smile appeared on her face. “For William.”

“Why William?”

“Because from the few times I’ve seen you to interact together – like last year, and then at the Halloween party – he looks at you like you already are his soul.”

***

“You should come over for lunch one of these days,” Jason said to her on the phone. “Jen would love to have you over. I’m sure the girls would love to see you too.”

Aberdeen smiled into the phone. Jason Spezza was deflecting. This was not part of their original conversation. “When you’re okay, maybe I will.”

“I’m always okay,” he defended.

“You’re not right now,” she said definitively. There was no beating around the bush. “But you will be. At your own pace. And when you’re good to go, I’ll come over. And you better cook and let me and Jen sip margaritas in the backyard.”

Jason laughed his infamous laugh. “Deal.”

***

August 11th, 2020

“Media blackout?” Aberdeen asked William on the phone.

William nodded his head on the FaceTime call. “Media blackout.”

“I’ll come over tomorrow when Kasha’s back at the office,” she said. “We can cuddle.”

“That’s all I want to do right now, to be honest.”

***

August 12th, 2020

With Kasha going into the office, Aberdeen was able to sneak away to William’s. He let her in easily, without much fanfare, and he enveloped her in a hug and brought her down with him on the couch as they lay their together, every limb wrapped around the other. Aberdeen was running her fingers through William’s hair soothingly as his head lay on her chest. Hockey was still on in the background. Alex was still playing, and William wanted to support him. Aberdeen already knew he’d be calling his brother after the game.

“I love you so much,” she whispered out of nowhere. She just felt the need to say it.

William looked up at her. “I love you too.”

“That last night at the hotel, Brendan told me I was the soul of the team this year,” she said. His comments were still on her mind. “Do you think that’s true?”

William nodded his head. “I do. I think you’re my soul, too.”

***

The kisses were slow at first. Needy. William needed her. He needed to be comforted. His brother wasn’t around to talk to, and it was the middle of the night in Sweden so he couldn’t call his parents, although Aberdeen was sure they would have picked up the phone if they saw it was William calling in the middle of the night. So until he could speak to his brother and his parents, Aberdeen would be there for him, kissing him as they lay facing each other side-by-side on his couch. There to console him. There to comfort him.

They kissed for a long time. Such a long time. It told Aberdeen that William needed that intimate physical contact, not just flat-out sex, and that he was savouring his time with her as much as she was with him. But who was she kidding? He always did. He always savoured his time with her. It didn’t matter where, or when, or how, or how much they’d lied to the people around them to get some alone time. By the end of it she was sure her lips here swollen and red, and when she opened her eyes to look at his, his were too. So puffy. So soft. In their glory.

She felt his hand dip beneath the hem of her pants and grab the flesh of her ass to squeeze it. She hooked a leg over his torso and could feel his growing erection graze her thigh. She shivered at the feeling, digging her nails into his bicep.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled against her lips.

“Sorry for what?”

“Sorry we couldn’t do it for you and your story. I won’t forgive myself if you don’t get that job,” he revealed.

“Shhhhh…” she cooed, cupping his face and kissing him. “What did I tell you before we got into the bubble, hmm? I love you no matter what happens in there. I love you Willy. I always have and always will.”

“I love you too, minskatt. I need you. Do you need me?”

Aberdeen’s heart fluttered at his question. She nodded her head automatically and gave him a quick kiss. “I need you. I’ll always need you.”

With their pants and underwear pushed down their legs, William slipped himself into her slowly, watching the look on her face change and hearing the long sigh escape her mouth. This is what he loved most about their physical relationship. They could do anything and it would feel like the best time every time. They could have regular sex. They could explore a new position. They could have rough, passionate sex like that night in the bubble. They could have close, intimate sex like right now. Each time was incredible. Each time he loved more than the last.

Each time, William realized how much he needed Aberdeen, and how much Aberdeen needed him. They needed each other.

“You feel so good, Willy,” Aberdeen’s voice brought him back down to earth. The pure euphoria in her voice was music to his ears. “I need you, Willy. I need you.”

He moved his hips to thrust into her, and so did she. Their bodies moved together as they always did, and the pleasure they experienced together was paramount to absolutely anything and everything.

After they both came together, William squeezed his arms around Aberdeen and pressed her against his body even closer than they were before. He nestled his face into the crook of her neck, dragging his lips along her skin until he got to her ear. “I need you more than anything,” he whispered. “You’re my entire life. You’re my entire soul.”

She believed him.

***

August 25th, 2020

Aberdeen was with Camden when the news broke. She was spending the day at her parent’s house because Camden had admitted he missed her, so Aberdeen decided to spend the day. They played video games. They watched Brooklyn 9-9. They went on a bike ride around the neighbourhood with masks on and stopped at a local shop to grab some smoothies. It was perfect sibling bonding time while Siena slaved away in their bedroom studying God knows what for God knows which course come September.

“Did you see the news?!” Camden asked as he emerged from the smoothie shop with both their smoothies.

“See what?” Aberdeen asked, thinking the worst.

“Kasperi was traded!” he announced as he handed her the mango smoothie she requested.

“What?!” she shrieked, grabbing her phone out of her back pocket. She hadn’t looked at it since they went on the bike ride about an hour ago, because she wanted to spend actual quality time with her brother. Now, she saw that she missed the alert from the Leafs app on her phone, and a slew of texts from Willy.

“Yeah. He got traded to Pittsburgh—”

kappy just called me he got traded to pittsburgh just got told r u around? can i come see u? ok so ur not at ur place… ur not at Scotiabank r u?

“—for a first-round pick.”

“A first?!” she shrieked again. She was shocked. Shocked. She didn’t know how Kyle was able to finesse a first-round pick for Kasperi fucking Kapanen. Her mind was in three places at once as she thought about the trade, her brother standing in front of her, and William’s texts. For all his faults and questionable judgement in girlfriends, Kasperi was one of William’s best friends. She knew it would hurt William to see him leave. That’s probably why he was trying to find her.

I’m at my parents hanging with Cam today. He missed me.

i know

You know?????

“Cam, I think we should head home,” she said, hopping back onto her bike.

Camden’s eyes lit up. “Why? Do you think Brendan Shanahan will want to call you?”

He was so cute. To think she was important enough that Brendan Shanahan would call her about a trade. She let him think so. “He might…” she said, opening the Leafs app on her phone. “Let’s just go. You lead the way.”

It wasn’t the smartest choice, but as they biked through their neighbourhood back to their house, Aberdeen read the statement on her phone. PRESS RELEASE -- -- -- The Toronto Maple Leafs announced today that the hockey club has completed a trade with the Pittsburgh Penguins, acquiring the Penguins' first round selection in the 2020 NHL Draft (15th overall), forward Evan Rodrigues, forward Filip Hallander and defenceman David Warsofsky in exchange for forward Kasperi Kapanen, forward Pontus Aberg and defenceman Jesper Lindgren.

So Pontus was leaving too. Another Swede. Aberdeen wondered if William had a strong opinion on him leaving as well, but she doubted it. She thought about what was going through William’s head as she and Cam continued their bike ride home, but as they turned on their street and they got closer to their house, she noticed a car parked on the street. A very familiar looking car.

“Oh Jesus fucking Christ…” she mumbled to herself.

“Whose car is that?” Camden asked, speeding up. “Don’t people know they’re not allowed over houses anymore?!”

Aberdeen mentally prepared herself as she and Camden walked through their front door. And that’s when Aberdeen saw him: William sitting on her couch with her mom, mask dangling from his wrist as he held a mug of tea. “There you two are,” her mom smiled.

“WILLIAM!” Camden screamed as he kicked off his shoes.

“Hey buddy,” William smiled as he watched Camden’s face light up. He watched as Camden readied himself to run over to him for a hug but then stopped himself. It made William sad, knowing Camden couldn’t do what he wanted to do. “How are you?”

“I’m good! I’m – do I have to get my mask? – are you staying for dinner – are you going back to Sweden? – are you—”

“Whoa whoa whoa, slow down young man,” Orla smiled at her son. “I don’t think you’ll be needing your mask. And yes William will be staying for dinner—”

“—YES!—”

“And no, I’m not going back to Sweden. I don’t want to have to quarantine again. I’m done with quarantining,” William added.

“Me too!” Camden said, exasperated, as he plopped himself down on the couch next to him, sipping dramatically on his smoothie. “I haven’t seen anybody besides these guys since March!”

***

Aberdeen was sure William was a near-perfect human being when it came to interacting with Cam. That afternoon saw them playing street hockey and video games, with Aberdeen even leaving them alone together while she helped her mom make dinner. When Mirza came home from work and saw William, his face lit up. Even Siena was happy to see him, despite her stress from studying.

Maybe this would make it easier for when she had to tell everyone that they were dating…eventually.

William promised to drive Aberdeen home, which meant Orla and Mirza could escape into their room to sleep and not worry. They gave Cam special permission to stay up well over an hour passed his bed time. It was only when Aberdeen told Cam that he needed to get ready for bed that she and William had their first moments of alone time the entire day he spent at the house.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t talk about the trade. I know you’re probably feeling like shit right now seeing your best friends being shipped off. Are you okay?” she asked as they lay on opposite ends of the couch.

“Much better now,” he said, his voice soft. “I love your family. They make everything better.”

She smiled. “I think Cam just has so much energy and asks so many questions that it takes your mind off of it,” she giggled slightly.

“That’s part of it, but it’s more than that,” he said. “It’s your mom’s cooking and your dad’s smile and Siena’s, like, stares. It’s Cam being so cute. It’s this house and the vibe, like at Christmas. It’s everything.”

Aberdeen couldn’t keep the smile off her face. “For what it’s worth, they love you too.”

“Do you think we’ll have a family like this?”

Aberdeen would have frozen if she was uncomfortable with the line of questioning and what William was insinuating. But she didn’t, because she wasn’t. She nodded her head before reaching between their bodies to tickle his fingers with her own in a small, unnoticeable sign of intimacy. “I do,” she said softly.

“I love you, Aberdeen.”

“I love you too, Willy.”

“Aberdeen?” Cam’s voice suddenly rang out as he walked back into the living room with his pajamas on.

Their hands separated quickly. “What is it, Cam?” she asked.

“I saw your name all over hockey Twitter.”

Both Aberdeen and William shot up. “What do you mean?” William asked.

“What the hell are you doing on hockey Twitter, Camden?” Aberdeen asked sternly. “You’re twelve.”

“Joey at school has an account and he shares it with me!” he said, as if that would make Aberdeen calm. It just fuelled her anger and made her want to punch a twelve year old boy named Joey. “It was because Saylor Greene talked about you. Who’s Saylor Greene? Does she work with you?” Camden asked.

Aberdeen’s heart fell into the pit of her stomach. William jolted off the couch and typed something into his phone as he walked outside. “Give me your phone,” she held her hand out at her brother.

“But Aberdeen—” he watched William leave to go outside.

“I said give me your phone now,” she repeated.

Camden handed it over. She began to scroll through the screen to see the tweets he saw, and read what he’d just read.

@leafsbabe34: saylor greene is having a meltdown on her twitter about the leafs. she’s a psycho

@coolcoolcool: good luck to kasperi Kapanen and his psycho girlfriend in pittsburgh. Pens PR never ever puts up with this type of bullshit so it will be interesting to see what happens to her. Good riddance.

@amandaaalove44: she brought so much drama to Toronto…bye bye saylor!

Okay…innocent enough. Aberdeen still didn’t like Camden reading all of this but she didn’t see any mention of her name. How the hell was she being dragged into this? She scrolled some more, reading much of the same tweets, and then she saw it.

Aberdeen’s stomach was in knots as she read all the tweets, all the insinuations, and all the outright accusations. Saylor was naming her without naming her. Any hardcore fan would probably know who she was talking about. Hockey twitter would definitely know thanks to the Blueprint birthday video. She felt sick. She felt sick as she saw Saylor’s replies to everyone’s tweets, calling them out and being downright rude to people she didn’t even know. She was sick as she saw fans commenting on the situation and bringing her name up because they knew it was her.

“Aberdeen?” Camden’s voice was soft, confused, as he watched his sister furrowing her brows at his phone screen. She looked at him. “I’m sorry I was on hockey Twitter.”

“You have to promise me to never go on there again,” she said. “I mean it Cam.”

He nodded his head. “I was just trying to see what they were saying about William.”

She inhaled. “Now you really can’t go on there again. Not until you’re thirty.”

“Sixteen.”

“Deal. Now come here,” she extended her arms.

Camden went in for a hug. “Where’d William go?”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “Let me hug you in silence because you’re gonna become a teenager one day and you won’t let me do this anymore.”

Her phone buzzed from beside her. Brendan’s name flashed atop of a text message. I’m taking care of it. And as she continued to hug Cam, she could hear William’s voice vaguely from outside on the deck. “This is twice now with a girl you’ve dated. TWICE!!!!!”

***

August 26th, 2020

“How many words do you have left?” William asked as he massaged Aberdeen’s shoulders.

“I’m just editing,” she said, reaching her hand over and placing it on one of his. “I’ll be done within the hour. I promise.”

William bent down to give her a quick kiss. “You got this.”

***

To: Alec Young [[email protected]] Cc: Beth Zadakis [[email protected]] Bcc: From: Aberdeen Bloom [[email protected]] 23:15 08/25/2020

Hello Alec and Beth,

As requested, here is my 10,000-word report on the NHL Bubble experience. Please note that I have also included photos to accompany the text. I have received express approval from those in the photos that they can be used for this article. If you would like me to send proof of permission, please let me know.

I hope you enjoy my work and choose it for publication in Toronto Life. I understand that the article may, perhaps, be a departure from what was expected. However, I believe the work speaks for itself.

Best, Aberdeen Bloom

***

August 27th, 2020

“So what happens now?” William asked.

“We wait,” Aberdeen said, her breath shaky.

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megsironthrone · 3 years ago

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Meg's Game of Tales: Tale 11

*Familiar characters are NOT mine! The original story of "Rumpelstiltskin" was written by The Brothers Grimm.*

Warnings: Rumpelstiltskin AU, angst, magic, deceit.

Pairings: Petyr Baelish x fem!reader, fem!reader x unnamed prince

The Miller's Daughter. That was all you were to the people in the village nearest to the castle. Your name didn't matter to them. The only thing that mattered was that you made the flour deliveries. You could say you hated your life. But then, it happened. The delivery your father had been waiting for. The first delivery to the castle. The king was finally giving your father a chance. If only you had known the fate that was about to befall you.

See, you didn't know that the prince had a habit of trying to sneak away through the kitchens to avoid his princely duties for a few hours. It was during one of those times that you, quite literally, ran into said prince. As soon as you made contact with the solid mass of human being, your heart sank. One of your bags of flour busted open and the others fell to the floor in a heap of white powder. All your hard work…destroyed.

"Watch where you're going!" you snapped, not even bothering to look up at the offender. "I beg your pardon?! How dare you speak to me that way!" Your head snapped up and you froze as a curse tried to escape your lips. You stood to your full height quickly and curtsied before dusting the flour from your skirts. "Forgive me for snapping, my prince." He arched a brow. "And what of my clothing? You’ve gotten flour all over them!"

"No. You did. I couldn't see around the bags of flour. You should have been paying attention." The prince looked positively gob smacked that you once again had spoken to him the way you did. Only this time, it wasn't the prince who called you out.

"You are speaking to the crowned prince, girl! You could be thrown in the dungeon for such insubordination." You glanced around the prince to see the king and two guards standing in the kitchens. It was clear the king had come down to stop the prince from leaving but had walked in on your interaction instead.

"You would throw me in the dungeon for your son's mistake, Your Majesty? I was simply trying to deliver the flour and I did apologize for my tone," you explained, doing your best to keep your tone from sharpening once again. It didn't help. The king looked furious. "The flour you were supposed to deliver is now all over the floor, you , and my son! You have failed." You wanted to cry. Your father was counting on the commission from the castle since the last miller the castle used had recently died. Your family needed this.

"Please, Your Majesty. My father had nothing to do with this. Please give him another chance." The king crossed his arms over his chest. "He should have taught you better. My answer is no and, should you continue to argue, I will throw you and your father in the dungeon." He beckoned his son to follow him and turned away. "WAIT! Please. Let me prove to you that this will be different. I can give you money. To replace the prince's clothing! I-I can give you enough money to provide for your kingdom for years to come."

The king looked back at you and laughed. "Girl, I am king. I have more gold than you will ever see in your lifetime." You shook your head. "That isn't true. I-I make gold!" You don't know why you said it. You simply said the only thing you could possibly think of that might be able to save you.

"Impossible." You licked your lips as your eyes scanned the room to find a pile of straw in the corner. "It's true. I can spin straw into gold." A boisterous laugh escaped the king's mouth. His entire body shook in merriment. "If you can do that, I'd let you marry the prince." You straightened your back and looked him directly in the eye.

"I can. I will prove it to you." The king stopped laughing and pondered for a moment. "Very well. I will have a room prepared in the tower with straw and a spinning wheel. If, by tomorrow morning, you have spun all the straw into gold as you claim you can, you shall have the prince's hand and your father will never want for anything. Do we have a deal?" You gave him a curtsy. "We do, Your Majesty."

As soon as the royals were out of sight, you nearly ran back to your cart, hopping over the now useless bags of flour, and leaned against it. You were in so much trouble. How in the world were you EVER going to spin straw into gold?! You felt stupid and scared. Your overactive imagination and your willingness to save your father had gotten you into a situation you were certain was going to be the death of you.

That evening, you were shut up in a room in the tower and the door was locked behind you. A spinning wheel sat in the center of the room and a stack of straw was piled high next to it, reaching into the corner of the room. The weight of your lie hit your heart and your shoulders slumped. Obviously your lie was an impossibility. Still, you had to do something while you waited, so you decided to spin the straw. It wouldn't be gold, but at least you'd have something to do with your hands while you waited for your inevitable death.

"Seems you're in a spot of trouble," a voice suddenly said. You jumped nearly a foot off the stool. Your eyes scanned the room to find a man (at least he looked like a man) standing in the corner. "W-Who are you?" He gave you a little smirk. "My name is of no importance. What is important is that I can assist you with your little…dilemma."

You scoffed a bit. "No one can help me. It is impossible to spin straw into gold." His smirk grew, but you saw that no emotion reached his green-grey eyes. "For you, perhaps." You rolled your eyes. "Sure. Now, if you don't mind, I have my death to prepare for and I'd appreciate it if you left."

Instead of leaving, the man slowly approached you. "Aren't you even the least bit curious?" You were done with his questions and games, so you moved off the stool and gestured for him to have a seat. A sort of "put your money where your mouth is" challenge. He took the stool and began to spin. Before your eyes, the yellow straw turned into gold. Your jaw hit the floor.

"How did you do that?!" He chuckled. "Magic. Now, I have a deal for you. I will spin all this straw into gold for you. You'll marry the prince, live happily ever after, blah, blah, blah." Your brows furrowed. "And what's in it for you? You don't seem like the type to do something for nothing." Another chuckle. "You are correct. Your first born child."

"I'm sorry?" you asked, certain you'd misheard. "That is my price. You will give me your first born child." You blinked at him surprised. He stared at you passively for a moment, but there was a slight tic of his lip that showed that he was getting irritated with every second you hesitated. "It isn't a difficult decision. It is life or death, my dear." He was right and you knew that, so you agreed. He immediately got to work spinning gold from all that straw. By the time dawn came, there was not a single ounce of straw left. The man gave you another smirk before disappearing in the darkness as the door opened.

*time skip*

You ended up marrying the prince, as was agreed and a few months later, you brought a little girl into the world. You had all but forgotten about the little man who had saved your life. At least, until one night in your daughter's nursery. You had decided against governess and wet nurses for the time being since your husband wasn't king yet so you didn't have many queenly duties. So when your daughter cried in the night, you got up and walked into the room adjacent to yours to tend to her.

This time, however, when you walked into the room, the shadow of someone almost made you scream. "Now, now, my dear, is that any way to greet the one who saved your life?" You didn't relax, but you didn't scream either. The man turned and you were met the green-grey eyes of the one who spun straw into gold. He held your baby in his arms.

"Why are you here?" He gave you a look. "Surely you haven't forgotten. I'm here to collect my payment. Magic comes at a price, you know." You froze in fear. If he took your child, your husband would know what had happened. That you had lied. "Please, don't. Don't do this. I will give you anything else." He chuckled, his expression twisting into something dark and foreboding. "We made a deal, my dear. I upheld my end of the bargain. Now it's your turn."

You felt tears welling up in your eyes. He regarded your face for a moment before a twisted smile formed on his lips. "However, if you can figure out my name, I will return your child to you." Your heart sank. How were you supposed to figure out the name of this little demon? "How long do I have?" He gave you the time limit of a week before disappearing again.

You spent six days trying to figure things out. Six days of trying to find a clue or two as to his name. Or even where to find him. Finally, your overheard gossip from some of the villagers that brought supplies to the castle. A location. It was all you had, but it was better than nothing and you were running out of time. You kept your down as you made your way to the location and peered in the window. Sure enough, there was the man along with your daughter and someone else.

"This is what you've been up to, Littlefinger?" the other voice asked, "Truly cunning. Stealing an infant." You felt yourself smile. You knew his name now. Without waiting another moment, you burst through the door, surprising the two people. "Littlefinger! That is your name!"

His face fell before contorting in anger. "You cheated." You arched a brow. "Did I, Littlefinger? You never specified how I needed to learn your name. Only that I learn it. I did. Now give me back my baby!" He shook his head. "No." You put your hands on your hips and glared. "A deal is a deal. That is my child and you will give her back this minute, Lit-" he cried out, trying to stop you, but you continued on, "-tlefinger!" Without warning, the little man before you turned to dust. You jumped back.

"What just happened?" Littlefinger's companion smiled. "You said his name three times. His curse was that he could perform great feats of magic but if anyone he has made a deal with says his name three times, he would be destroyed. Now, take your daughter and go, Your Highness." You didn't wait another second.

When you made it back to the castle, you took your daughter to her nursery, made certain the window was locked and sat down with the girl. You rocked with her. You grinned to yourself. Life was wonderful. Littlefinger was gone. You had your prince and your daughter back. No one else would ever know anything about what had happened.

(a/n: I hope you like it! Tags for Game of Tales are still open!)

#meg's game of tales #game of thrones #fairytale au #rumplestiltskin au #petyr baelish #petyr baelish x reader #petyr x reader

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virgil-writes · 3 years ago

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ash & soot

Long before the Winters come into play, a monster stalks the Forbidden Forest that surrounds the Village. Karl Heisenberg is sent to investigate, and heads deeper into darkness to find his prey, a thorn on his side and someone just like him. (Heisenberg x OC)

chapter 8 - great expectations

SFW, but usual blood/gore warning. around 3.5K words.

He barely remembers getting dressed and returning to his quarters after such a relaxing shower. At some point he had slipped inside his pants and slid an undershirt on, thrown himself at the desk chair and poured over plans and schematics, a mess of paper and far more motor oil than necessary. He had written and read until his eyes had grown tired, like every other night, fighting off sleep to the best of his ability. He could sleep when he was dead, or when she was dead, when he was far away from this hellhole, when nothing awaited him come morning.

Some nights he would skip it altogether, keep his eyes wide open when his mind was too fraught with dreadful thoughts. He knew what would come if he finally closed his eyes, the memories that he worked so hard to put away. A dream, it was only a dream, he would tell himself over and over, but it was hard to believe it when he would wake up drenched in sweat and tears, throat sore from screaming at the top of his lungs, that all too familiar twinge of sadness and terror balling up in his chest. It was hard to believe and hard to forget, because he would see it when he held the wrench, when he brought a cup to his lips, when he pressed the buttons to get the conveyor belt running. His hands shook, his fingers lost their strength, and then we would remember it all. It was not real, but it had been once, and he is unsure whether the knowledge makes things better or worse.

Heisenberg remembers nothing but the familiar tingle on his fingertips, the numbness that overtook him, anxiety and fear washing over him like he had been engulfed in a sea of darkness. The scribbles on the paper would be evidence of how he had lost control the night before, how he had pressed the pencil hard to try and force himself to focus, to keep going. The cut on his forehead would tell him that he exhaustion had taken the reigns and he had fallen face first into the table, head hitting the metal clamp and inadvertently helping lull him to sleep.

Much to his surprise, that night, when Heisenberg closed his eyes, he was greeted with the blissful sight of nothing. Head void of dreams, of nightmares, body protesting with the awkward way he’d scattered over his work station, but nothing else. The cut had stained some papers with blood and drool had ruined some others; his arms felt numb in the morning, as they had been left hanging off the desk with his head and neck as the only support. It took him a good few stretches of his hands to feel his fingers again - all things considered, this had been a much better night than most.

If the night was almost-pleasant, the morning was anything but. A hot gust of air blew in when the factory kicked into gear with full force, like it did every day around this time, the whirring of blades and purring of engines his usual white noise. Only this time there was an intruder, a high pitched, repetitive sound that threatened to pierce his eardrums - he woke up to the incessant sound of his phone ringing. The thing sat just inside his office, an old landline that Miranda had insisted on him keeping in case she needed to speak to him urgently. She would call him every now and again, but more often than not it was his siblings that would bother him. Moreau would call to ask if he had found any old VHS tapes or old fiction books, Donna would ask him for blades and all manner of crazy-looking schematics built. Alcina rarely called, but given her interest in the bloodsucking beast that prowled the woods, he was certain that would change very soon.

Not that he intended to answer any of them, naturally. Nine times out of ten he was nowhere near the dumb phone to answer, which made Mother angry and him even angrier, because the last thing he wanted was to interrupt important research to tend to any of their petty, cruel whims. When she called, invariably he would be thrust into something barbarous and despicable; she wanted someone kidnapped, or killed, or turned into a monstrosity. She wanted him to spy or intimidate, put on his best scary mask and drill the fear of the Black God into someone’s mind. She never once asked if his research went well, if he was doing well, and though it had been years of such abuse, he could not help but feel the sting of it every time he heard her speak. Somewhere deep down, he still held onto a sliver of hope that she cared; and she would always dig deeper and deeper, until she found it and choked his feelings to death.

Heisenberg lazily lifted his head, right arm coming up to wipe away the drool at the corner of his mouth, eyes hurting under the bright industrial lights coming in through the window. A strand of hair had sneaked into his eye when he blinked, such a small nuisance upsetting him even further, a simple strand of hair that felt like the devil’s toothpick stabbing his eyeball. The phone had stopped for a few seconds only to resurge like the wailing of a baby, and the ringing prompted him to shoot up and off his armchair in a flash, too disoriented and uncomfortable to fully register what was going on. He almost fell on his way to the phone, tripping over his unbuttoned pants, annoyance levels rising with every step. He rubbed his eyes as he approached the offending object, flicked the room’s light on like it would help him hear better. At least it would keep him awake.

“Heisenberg,” came the voice from the other side, sweet and soft-spoken, domineering and stubborn. “Any news on our quarry?” Our quarry, he mouthed to himself mockingly. As if any of it was a team effort, as if he had anything to gain from this little adventure. Well, as it turns out, he did, but lady super-sized bitch didn’t need to know that. The damn hair was still stuck somewhere between his eyelashes. “A little bird told me you left the forest quite late last night.” A little bird would die a horrible, horrible death as soon as he discovered who it was that had agreed to his sister’s asinine plan of meddling in his business.

“Oh hey, sis. Surprised you get reception all the way up there.” He heard her huff of annoyance, chuckled in response. It bought him enough time to figure out exactly what he would tell her. Hey, yeah, turns out your monster is actually this gorgeous lady with a pair of tits big enough to rival any fertility goddess’? “Slippery little thing, that monster of yours. Found some bodies, some blood,” truth was always easier to tell than lies. “Caught a glimpse of something, too, but it disappeared in the middle of the trees before I could grab it. Little shit gave me the loop, took me quite a while to find the way back.” Heisenberg could practically hear her chest rising and falling as she breathed excitedly, happy to hear something, anything, even if it was a blatant lie. He could hear her nails hitting against wood impatiently, stringing together a tune he did not recognize. “What do you want with this thing anyway, needing a new pet?” Quite the funny thought, really. He was suddenly curious to know if the little witch would put up a fight as a tight collar was snapped around her neck.

“Am I right to assume you will return to the forest soon for another search?” Oh, most definitely, though his intentions were far different from what she expected. She continued without waiting for his answer, clearly aware that he would retort in the crassest manner possible. “I will see you handsomely rewarded once I have it in my possession, brother. House Dimitrescu does not forget such acts of service.” And there it was, brother, the greatest honor she would grant him, a compliment reserved for moments like these, when she desperately needed his help and no one else’s would do.

Blah, blah, blah. What was she going to offer him, a maiden? A scrawny lady with bruises big enough to make one believe her skin was purple, bones showing through her ribs and threatening to poke out at any moment? He had long decided against experimenting on women - they were always so weak and fragile, he would tell himself. Had long left behind his whoring days, too, far too focused on his research to let himself be distracted by a pair of tits. Oh, right; the irony. What else could she give him? A casket of wine made of blood of an innocent, with its thick bouquet of brutality and mercilessness?

She could offer him riches, influence, her undying loyalty. The only reward he wanted was to see her fractured into a thousand tiny pieces, nothing left of her and her daughters but the crystal cores they would dissolve into. The jewelry he would keep, the crystals he would sell to the Duke for a hefty price; the dust he would gather, send to an artist to mix into paint and commission a portrait of himself in his best work attire, his beat up trench coat and ragged hat. To make a statement, his fly would be open and his dick out in the painting, forever immortalizing him as the large, hard Lord of the Castle. With the money he would buy the best brewery he could find and have it make the worst beer, call it Lady D’s Fresh Piss, all in her honor, naturally.

He would bring over his suitcase and set up shop in the castle, tear down every reference to the Dimistrescu family and replace it with cheap replicas of innocent, idyllic landscapes, and dozens of horrible quality photos of his face. The extra large milk pail she called a hat would be used for entertainment when he gathered guests over, shoot the ball into the dead lady’s hat or take another shot. His soldats would clean house, kill every last monster in the basement, replace those god-awful torture tools with something else, anything else - maybe pigs, to pay homage to his dear sister. He would then fire all maids and forbid them from ever setting foot inside the place again, hire an all-male crew to tend to the estate and leave him well enough alone. On a clear day he would grab all of their expensive dresses, the paperwork that dignified her as gentry, her snob literature and photo albums, pile them all into the courtyard and burn it all, the vineyard alongside it, then light his cigar in the blaze and smoke it while facing the inferno, the flames reflecting beautifully on the lenses of his glasses. Once it had all turned to cinders he would strip before going through the front door, waltz around the place while rubbing his dick on all of her favorite spots. He would dump all of her fine wine in the biggest, smelliest cesspool, grab the revenue from the last shipment and throw it from atop the church in the village to watch the peasants fight each other for riches that were supposed to be hers.

Perhaps best of all, he would invite Alcina’s little monster over, encourage her to come in while dragging all the dirt and mud gathered on her bare feet. He would give her a tour of the castle, allow her to decorate every room with a harvest wreath or handmade candle, let her cover the posh couches with handmade quilted throws. Together they would roll up the fancy carpet and throw it in the fireplace, lay down the most unrefined of straw tapestries in its place. The mantle would be a display of their crudeness and peasantry, his schematics and forgotten bits of scrap metal, her incenses and rune-inscribed bones and whatever else her little heart desired. He would allow her to have her pick of his sister’s jewelry, try and convince her to take them all, to wear nothing but her favorite set as she danced under the skylight of the atelier, the flames of all tolling bells and the bright shine of the moon as the only source of light for their unholy, delicious rituals.

When silence settled he would grab her waist and pull her closer, whisper in her ear the most delectable of invitations. Together they would desecrate every last corner of the castle, from the halls to the belfry and the stairwells to the balconies, the cries of agony the place had come to be known for replaced by their sounds of pleasure. When they were far too tired to continue they would work together in the kitchen, he would help her prepare a bloodless meal that they would savor watching the wide open doors to the courtyard. He would sit at Alcina’s spot, ignore every single piece of flatware and eat with his bare hands, audibly chew on every morsel. He would draw every curtain and open every window, let the gelid gale wipe away any trace of her and her daughters. Late at night, he would carry his prized lady up the stairs to her quarters, gently place her on the giant bed and cover her with the decadent expensive sheets. She would ask him to stay, and he would, hold her close as she slumbered and he stared at the top of the canopy and let out a tired sigh almost a hundred years in the making. He would be free, and he would have claimed it all, a fitting end to his sordid tale.

If he wasn’t sure Alcina would rise from the grave and put herself back together out of sheer spite, the whole thing didn’t sound half bad.

Heisenberg barely registered whatever she said after, far too immersed in his little happy place to give a shit. She had talked for what seemed like hours, something about training the beast to present it to Mother Miranda, to allow her to experiment and find out what sort of things they could learn of such a splendorous mutation. Some illusions of grandeur sprinkled here and there, the very obvious wish to become the best, most adored child. He felt like Alcina wished Mother would descend upon her in a ray of light, to lift her up and away towards the heavens to take a place at her side. What a load of crap, though he had to admit it was far more than he would have given her credit for when she came up with this sordid little plan.

At some point, she finally realized she had said too much, exposed too much of her grand plan, had become too excited with the prospect of having that admiration within her reach. That, or she had grown tired of sounding too friendly with the riffraff. She quickly finished saying her piece and hung up without waiting for him to say goodbye, wishing him good luck on the hunt, reminding him she had great expectations. As did he.

He found his mind wandering back to his little witch in the woods as he placed the handle back on its hook. Where did she even come from, anyway? Was she born in that miserable place, brought up among the failed experiments of this village in middle of nowhere, Romania? Did she know how to use money, or were the lei they used foreign to her? He had it in good confidence that she could read, considering all the books he had seen around, but did she know how to write? Had she ever seen electricity at work, or had her life been lived under candlelight? Could she drive a car? Operate a telephone? Did she have toilet paper in her outhouse or did she wipe her ass with ferns or something of the sort? How did she find out about nail polish, of all things?

Had she ever lived outside that lousy shack? Did she ever get a taste of luxury, of fine wine, scrumptious desserts, someone to cook and feed her, maidens to attend to her? Had she always worked the land and tended to livestock, gathered herbs and berries in the forest? Had she cared for her parents or grandparents and learned her trade then, offered her services to lice-ridden villagers when they were no longer in the picture? Had they ever met, some day when he was too busy with his own sorrow to notice her, to take in the beauty that had come to haunt him so? Had she ever shared her body with someone, with a lucky lad or lass that caught her vulnerable and willing on a lonely night? Did she… Did she think of him, as much as he had begun to think of her?

Her shroud of blood and mystery, alongside Alcina’s excitement over the prospect of having her torn apart, had a strange feeling seep within his bones, a pang of anguish tugging at his heartstrings. All the more reason for him to hide the truth for as long as he could - even if the witch turned out to be just really clever with herbs and some hallucinogens, he wouldn’t give dear sister the pleasure of sinking those rusty nails into her flesh. Not when he had so much to discover.

Finally alone with his thoughts and away from his fantasies, he looked down at himself to see his shirt tousled, the fly on his pants undone. He had slept alright, although passed out might be a better description. In his defense, he had tried to fall asleep like a normal human being: sat down and let his mind go blank, eyes firmly shut to try and get some rest. But try as he might, he always startled as he was about to drift off, the sight of the dark horse dissolving into a puddle of blood right before his very eyes, of Sturm’s decapitated arms almost comically flying in his direction. Rage followed soon after - another failure, another waste of time. How would he make that thing rise again? He was then caught in the infinite loop of thinking, and planning, and burning out in frustration, until he could carry on no more.

Of course. He remembered it now, what had finally lulled him to sleep, in the throes of his despair. The way she had distracted him with a well-placed, gentle hand on his face, to work her magic and make his pain disappear, to preserve the secret she worked so hard to maintain. The gash on his hand that had left no trace, the lycans and moroaicas dead but not quite. The way she seemed to have a knack for putting things back together again, to prop them up on strings and have them dance like a puppeteer would. If he brought her here into his den, allowed her a glimpse of his work - would she be able to help him? Would she want to?

At first, he had thought the whole thing was bullshit. So maybe she knew a few plants, knew how to make a mean incense to get him high as a kite and seeing shit. Maybe she had some medical training and could put a nose back in its place, big deal. Maybe she held the world record on fastest, most painless stitching of human flesh, and was in cahoots with the Duke to use whatever seemingly magical substance he put in his antiseptic solution. Whatever she was smoking to say that she could actually heal things, that she might just be able to murder Mother Miranda - he wanted some.

And yet the more he thought of it, the less sense it all made. Her touch was unmistakable when she held his chin up, when the monster’s wispy tendrils had done the same. There was no doubt that she had, indeed, healed his wounds. The decapitated heads were very much alive, the blood pungent, the bite as painful as it should be. If she had killed them, how had she brought them back to life? How had she kept them alive on borrowed time, negated the effects the very creator of the Cadou could not avoid? How far did her powers go? Were they powers, like his and Moreau’s and Donna’s and Alcina’s, or a clever trick of the mind?

Whatever the case, Miranda had spent the better part of a century trying to bring back a dead girl in the body of another, necromancy a far too advanced concept for her young mind back in the late twenties. She had spent countless hours, spilled gallons upon gallons of innocent blood, spread a disease that they no longer had control over in the lycans, all for naught. And suddenly some creepy girl at the ass-end of the woods was the second coming of Jesus? She had knocked him on his ass and somehow morphed into this giant mass of blood that would make the hairiest of grunts shit their pants. If there was any chance that she was for real, then it would change everything. The possibilities were endless. He just needed to tell apart the bullshit from the truth.

#resident evil #resident evil village #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x oc #karl heisenberg x reader #virgil writes #a rather chill chapter but next comes soon

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brave-clarice · 4 years ago

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“Clarice” Liveblog: Episode 7

disclaimer: there’s going to be discussion of a lot of little details I disliked in this one, but as a whole, I liked it a lot better!

honestly? Clarice’s coworkers have every reason to question if she’s “okay” given what we’ve seen so far on this show.

and yeah, coming back from leave a week after being repeatedly tortured does “seem soon”.

AG Martin is using Clarice just as badly as Crawford ever did.

why does Krendler look so sharp? tailored waistcoat, crisp shirt...his costumes would look more in-character for Hannibal than Paul Krendler. I don’t get it.

not sure I like the “my people mined coal, so we know when we’re okay to work” flex, but...whatever.

she makes some truly uninspired costume and hair choices look great

“who am I, James Bond?” are you an FBI agent or aren’t you, Krendler?

BIG Jack Crawford and his Pepto Bismol vibes, but dammit, Krendler should NOT be like Crawford!

now Ardelia’s back to collaborating with Clarice on a case like it’s no big deal??? way to make her look like a hypocrite. again.

idk, I still think Ardelia could have an FBI subplot AND be part of Clarice’s life without constantly working with Clarice within an FBI context (their careers don’t really intersect in the books). those things aren’t mutually exclusive.

“he died instantly” um, is Clarice a medical examiner now? I know she’s got a forensics background, but she’s just now seeing the body.

“Cody didn’t feel any pain” how does Clarice know that and why is confident enough to say it to the kid’s mother?!

also, are victim’s family members usually allowed right into the crime scene like that? paging @special-agent-pendragon!

“let’s talk when we can” Clarice, honey...you literally live with Ardelia, lmao.

the crooked lawyer’s office reminds me a LOT of Chilton’s office in Silence.

Paul Krendler: Good Guy and Faithful Husband...don’t know him!

and again...this is a waste of time on Clarice’s show.

she’s so dang cute!

hey, a reference to Ardelia’s grandma!

Clarice and Ardelia working on a case together at home, off the clock, is way more on brand!

also Clarice eating junk food...that’s my girl :)

I too sometimes eat Lucky Charms out of the box, haha.

omg, Ardelia’s actual grandma!!!

and: a reference to her frying pan, the one Clarice looks into after reading Hannibal’s letter!

Clarice is finally laughing and drinking and having a good time with her best friend...I’m so happy about it.

literally exactly what I wanted/this show NEEDED

“at least my father‘s still alive” oh...my god...they really made Ardelia Mapp say that to Clarice... I...don’t know what to say except that I hate it. the scene was so great otherwise, too.

to be clear, imo this is not an appropriate thing to say to your best friend, ever.

Clarice might be drunk, but her nonchalant reaction (giggling!) is all wrong too, particularly for this Clarice, who’s always been shown as deeply traumatized/haunted.

maybe I’m 100% off-base on this, but I feel like Ardelia’s backstory in this show is at odds with her career choice: why does she go into law enforcement at all? does she truly believe she can make a substantial difference? hope this is addressed at some point.

“I can’t believe you never told me that before” I know this is expository, but I can’t believe it, either, Clarice.

there’s no indication in the books that Mrs. Starling was “always angry” or that Clarice was intimidated by/scared of her outbursts. she saw her mother as a pillar of strength! I don’t like this change tbh.

“he was the law. he was important” mmm...Clarice’s father was not important, and that’s the core of the tragedy, of her anger. it’s why Hannibal calls him the “night watchman” and the reason the Starlings didn’t receive any money or support after his death. he was expendable.

to be fair, I guess maybe this is supposed to be what Clarice’s idea of him was as a child.

this scene is full of little things I don’t like, and Clarice’s father giving her the add-a-bead necklace is definitely one of them.

in the book, Hannibal guesses that Clarice is afraid her beads now look tacky (having been previously trendy in the early-to-mid-80s...so, well after her father’s death). there’s NO indication they had any sentimental value (in fact, they’re never mentioned again iirc)--and with four kids to support, how can he afford to give his eight- or ten-year-old daughter decent jewelry, anyway???

I like the IDEA and the FEELING of that scene. just not the dialogue. and the entire thing is slightly undercut (imo) by Ardelia’s earlier mean-spirited comment. idk. it was cute, but this show’s writing is its own worst enemy.

Ardelia called her “Starling”! :)

Clarice’s costume is yet again blah, while Ardelia’s is great...anything but 199x, though.

money shot!

whew...didn’t see THAT plot twist coming.

Good Guy Paul Krendler continues to be a thing for some reason.

does the Hoover building only have one hallway?

Krendler gaslighting Clarice because someone is blackmailing him doesn’t hit the same as Krendler undercutting her career because he’s a sexist jackass who wants to fuck her. sorry.

Good: Clarice laughing/smiling/joking/having fun with her friend! A (could-have-been-better) bonding scene with Ardelia. Clarice getting to work a field case and the iconic shots that come with that territory. Ardelia’s grandma! Not a single mention of the Bill case, thank God.

Bad: Some of Clarice’s snap forensic judgments...they just felt too fast and unconvincing to me. Everyone’s costumes and hair continue to underwhelm me. (Why has Paul Krendler stolen Hannibal’s wardrobe? Why can’t Clarice wear something even remotely exciting?) Ardelia’s awful “at least my father’s still alive” comment. The muddled implications about Clarice’s mother (especially in an episode about an abusive mother).

Ugly: Krendler subplot, as usual.

Overall? Better. Much better. Absolutely a case of “the whole is greater than the sum of its parts”. Despite its subject matter, this episode was a lot more pleasant to watch than the previous two. Clarice had a limited amount of character development beyond “doe-eyed and traumatized,” she actually got to laugh, enjoy life, eat junk food (!) and solve a case with a friend before it all went to hell.

I want more, though. The writing leaves a lot to be desired. There were a lot of small details of which I was critical, namely Ardelia’s insensitivity towards her best friend (unfortunately, this seems to be part of a pattern) and several minor but jarring and pointless changes to the books (mostly having to do with the Starlings). Most of the ViCAP team is still pretty one-dimensional, Krendler continues to get way too much screentime, Ardelia is hit-or-miss.

And Rebecca Breeds has to milk every moment and every line for whatever nutritional value it’s worth re: Clarice’s character. Even after seven episodes, I don’t feel as Rebecca’s Clarice has been allowed to fully emerge as the iconic character we know from the books. But I’ll keep on hoping...after all, there are at least three episodes to go!

#clarice #cbs clarice #Clarice Starling #rebecca breeds #only a week late this time heh #*a week and a half now oop #sorry for the lateness and the nitpicking but how hard is it NOT to change the book???

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stroni-bomb · 6 years ago

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To Murder A Family

You hadn't meant for it to happen, you hadn't meant to disobey this badly. Your pack was right about you, one day your own rebellion would really be the end of them all.

OC Mingcheng's Backstory - Fairy!Jaehyun's Mate.

-Stroni-

⁎ *⁎°؂✶

You begrudgingly followed your mother and father, Alpha and Luna of your pack. They were on the move again to find a new home, only leaving intervals as small as one hour for everyone to rest before trekking off once again.

"Cheer up, you look like a skunk just sprayed your clean coat. Though that's your normal face nowadays it seems," Tao, your older brother and next in line to be Alpha, cackled beside you in pack link.

You snapped your jaw rather aggressively yet somewhat playful at him. "Shut it, I've got no patience for your games."

Tao grumbled beside you, deciding to pick up the pace and walk alongside your parents. Good riddens, you glared at him from behind, he was always trying to play favourite, not just with your parents either but with the whole pack that followed diligently behind your family. Suck ups, the lot of you- was what you wanted to say in your connected minds, but instead carried on walking, each paw getting more and more sore with each step.

⁎ *⁎°؂✶

"We are stopping here," your mother announced, her yellow eyes turned to face the pack whom had stopped dead in their tracks. "Your Alpha and my son have gone to survey the area. Feel free to shift, we may be staying here for a while."

Everyone seemed to sigh in unison, the instant cracking of bones filling the air. It didn't seem awkward anymore, seeing the whole pack naked. It had happened in so many occasions you were sure you'd be able to identify everyone simply by looking at their belly buttons.

As everyone stretched out their human form you decided to stay as a wolf and have a look around.

"Y/N!" Your mother barked after you, her too in her human form. Your tail instantly sagged, so much for exploring. "Where are you going? Ladies should-"

"Stay and look elegant so the pack feel reassured blah blah blah I get it," you snapped, slumping down onto the floor deciding your pelt was in need of a clean.

"That's not how a lady should cleanse herself," She scolded once again, a disgusted look plastered on her face. Not being able to think of a good comeback in time you simply stuck your tongue out, lifting your top lip as if to pull a silly face in wolf form.

"You're so childish! There's just no talking to you anymore!" She yelled, storming off towards the family of the Betas, second in command.

Laughing to yourself you watched her leave as she vented, presumably about you. "You shouldn't wind your mother up like that daughter," a deep voice said behind you, it was your father who, thankfully, was in wolf form.

"She started it; a lady should do this, a lady should do that, how about a lady does whatever the hell she wants?" Your father gently shook his head then walked towards the trees, signalling for you to follow suite.

You gladly got up, knowing you was in for a more educational lecture, one that didn't end with telling you what to do or how to live your life. Your father was the best in terms that he didn't judge you, he didn't have crazy expectations and he actually treated you ...like a daughter.

For a while he hadn't said anything, allowing you to follow close by his side, something your mother would never allow you to do.

"Y/N," he addressed you with your name, something you weren't used to as 'daughter', 'wife' and 'son' were how he always called his family by. "sometimes I worry for you, maybe I shouldn't. But the way you live, how you do things, do you think they're beneficial to the pack?"

You stood frozen in place. Your heart seemingly stopped beating and your tail immediately drooped between your legs. This didn't sound like father, this sounded like mother, literally anything but father.

"I know I'm not one to tell you what to do but, some things you know you have to, right? To save yourself, to save the lives of your family and the pack-"

"What exactly are you on about? You see me as a threat?" You couldn't help but interrupt, his words sending you over the edge. He suddenly stopped also, looking back at you sympathetically then turning to look at something in front of him. Reluctantly you moved forward, seeing the most beautiful lake you had possibly ever seen in your lifetime.

"It's not that your a threat Y/N. You just have tendencies to disobey even the most important of rules," he paused, looking somewhat thoughtful as his perked ears moved in the wind. "This lake, although beautiful, is cursed. I can smell it, nothing but bad news. Just- don't drink from it okay? That's all."

How could something so pretty be such a threat? You called it as bullshit, assuming it was another of the stupid tests your mother would put your father under to see if you'd do as you're told in an extreme situation. You weren't stupid. You'd already decided to give the lake a visit later to have a sip but in the mean time you gave your father a sure 'yes alpha' before racing him back to the others.

As the last wer finally fell asleep you silently tracked out the path you had walked earlier, following the fading scents until reaching the glistening water. It didn't have a particular scent that screamed 'this lake is cursed'. Even if there was, had your father really thought you were stupid enough to drink from a random lake? The fact that he thought you did only made you want to drink from it more, so here you are.

Without hesitation you lowered your front legs to make it easier for your tongue to reach the water. As soon as your tongue touched the cool liquid your wolf seemed to scream out to you, shouting at you to shift as soon as possible.

"Shut up wolf," you scowled, knowing it was only psychological. "Don't listen to what my dad has to sa-" it hit you all at once though. The feeling of skin stretching, bones growing ten times the size they should be, all whilst you were still a wolf. The pain was excruciating, nothing like you had ever felt before. The scariest thing was, you had no control over yourself anymore. As the floor got further and further away you cried out for everything to just stop but you couldn't. When it eventually halted you were no longer the slightly larger than average wolf, instead you were a beast, one so tall and bulky you could barely recognise your own pelt that covered its body.

A sudden burst of anger had shot through you; flashbacks of everytime you had been ridiculed as a child, disregarded by your parents and even your brother, it surged through you like a toxic drug. Until eventually, you had come to the conclusion of...who ever said you couldn't choose your family? Choose your pack? They didn't create the rules, no no you did, and it was time for a change... your new rule? Well it was simple:

If they've hurt you...kill them.

"And that's what I did," you finished your story to Jaehyun, who laid silently in bed next to you, playing with your hair and grasping your hand whenever your voice had broken.

"You weren't you in that moment," he soothed, finally deeming it appropriate to change your mood to a calmer one. It would've been wrong to have done it before, you wanted to tell him about your past in detail, emotions and everything. "Plus, you still have Tao."

You sighed, not sure if it was relief or frustration. Turning to face Jaehyun you cautiously wrapped your arms around him, taking in his scent as you shuffled closer to his body, snuggling your face into his collarbone. It was unlike you to initiate skinship, usually leaving it to Jaehyun whenever he felt like you weren't going to bite his head off. Dealing with your numerous mood swings was something you really had to commemorate to him, his patience really was immaculate.

His light chuckle gently blew the top of your hair as his arms found their way around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to his chest. He placed a soft kiss to the top of your head, hugging you even tighter, it was amazing to him to have you here, you've been through a lot and after everything to still want to be by his side, it made him more than ecstatic.

"Hyunie...do you like Hyunie?" Acting cute wasn't really something you were known for either, at all, but in rare instances where you were both tired and seemingly under Jaehyun's 'spell' you couldn't help it.

"Hyunie?" He paused to think, not about the name of course, just about how adorable you were being. "I love it."

"Just like I love you," you didn't even have to think as the words just naturally slipped out of your mouth. You had never openly said 'I love you' before, Jaehyun had countless times but for you love was more if an expression of actions rather than words. This time though it was necessary.

"Y-you what?" He asked shocked, not believing that he'd heard you correctly.

"You know what I said doofus don't make me repeat myself," there's the Y/N that he was familiar with.

"I love you so much too Y/N," he cuddled you even tighter, resting his head on top of yours.

"Hyunie!" You pouted, looking up at him, his lips just a small gap from yours. "Why must you always one up me? You love hog."

He smirked as his eyes fell upon your lips, "love hog, huh?"

You lightly shook your head as your eyes seemed to naturally find their way to his lips as well. "You're unbelievable Jung Jaehyun."

"As are you Y/L/N Y/N, just more so."

"Again with the one upping?" Teasingly you bit the corner of your lip, snaking your arms from around his torso to loosely hanging across his shoulders and hooking around his neck. "Just kiss me already, we both know that's what you want."

He didn't hesitate, almost immediately closing the gap between the two of you and locking his lips in perfect unison with yours. It was passionate to say the least, he'd gently pull at the hem of your pyjama bottoms and you'd run your fingers through his hair, occasionally tugging at it lightly every now and then.

It wasn't unusual for you to end up pinned underneath Jaehyun's body as his hair flopped down, some strands sticking to his forehead where a few beads of sweat would roll down. Both of you naked, feeling nothing but love and acceptance radiating from each other, strong feelings showing clearly for the other. You were sure, no, you were absolutely certain that what you had with Jaehyun, that's what is commonly known as... forever.

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gastro-nomique · 8 years ago

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Happy Family Habit #11: Take a Time-In

Be honest… When was the last time you yelled at your kids?

Sometimes right before a major “parent fail,” I can actually see myself about to fly off the handle, yet I still can’t seem to diffuse my emotional momentum in time. Can you relate?

Most days, I’m as cool as a cucumber and can handle a tantrum like I’m Super Mom. Other days, the littlest bit of whining triggers a nasty, snapping response in a voice I can’t believe just came out of my mouth.

What if I told you, most of the time, family meltdowns can be avoided? {Ok, you can laugh now.} But, honestly, stay with me on this…

There are three main factors nearly always involved with dramatic meltdowns:

1. Hunger. A hungry child is a recipe for disaster. (And, just between us, you’re no picnic when you’re starving, either.) Click here for tips on healthy snacks, on-the-go stashes, and meal planning.

2. Physical Exhaustion. A tired child is more likely to act up. And you’re more likely to snap when they do. Click here for family-friendly ways to ensure everyone has energy.

3. Mental Unease. A child that feels “out of sorts” can quickly fall into a downward spiral. When they feel “off” from something as simple as just having “one of those days,” they can become emotionally unraveled. As a parent, when you feel drained or overloaded, everything — and everyone — around you suddenly becomes a source of frustration.

So, what’s the best way to deal with fatigue, in whichever of these three forms it hits your family?

Instead of taking a TIME-OUT, treat yourself to a TIME-IN. This is a personal skill that will help you and your child over a lifetime. I promise.

Time-ins are a restorative way to avoid meltdowns and create an ongoing sense of peace within your home.

We’ve all read about, and have our opinions on, traditional time-outs. A time-in, at our house, has nothing to do with discipline. It’s a simple way to proactively stop a situation from spiraling out of control. The catch? The children and the parents need to participate, openly and completely.

How do you spot when a time-in is needed? Start implementing time-ins by watching your own thoughts and emotions. Are the kids driving you crazy? Take a moment to breathe and ask yourself: Is their behavior actually inappropriate, or are they just being kids and I’m feeling randomly annoyed? If it’s the latter, treat yourself to a time-in to regroup.

The goal is to pause BEFORE your emotions escalate. The same is true for your children… Start to watch for small signs that they’re feeling “off.” You know your child’s personality better than anyone. Watch for subtle shifts in energy or particular facial expressions or catchphrases. Enthusiastically suggest they treat themselves to a quick time-in to refresh, regroup, and recharge themselves before the situation has any possibility of being associated with a punishment.

What does a time-in consist of? A time-in can take a variety of forms. Generally, when a family member takes a time-in, it ranges from 5 to 20 minutes, depending on the situation. A time-in can mean a variety of things for your little one: a quiet solo craft project (we love having a Kiwi Crate on hand for moments like this), taking time to sit quietly to write or draw, looking through and reading a book, or even playing music softly. My daughter also enjoys using videos and books to do kid’s yoga on occasion.

At our house, we prefer battery-free options for the kids. Handing my daughter an iPad to play a game solo would just get her even more wired. However, that doesn’t mean quiet time with a game or digital book isn’t the best solution for YOUR little one. You understand your child’s needs best.

Below is a great list of time-in suggestions for some quiet time and independent play:

As an adult, you have a little more freedom with what a time-in could mean for you. Explore different ways you could reset yourself, depending on your schedule, environment, needs, and interests. Here are a few ideas to get you started:

Meditate. You need exactly 5 minutes and 33 seconds to find peace in the chaos. Here is a great collection of free mindful meditations. (*This is my personal default time-in.)

Take a walk. It doesn’t have to be a big, scheduled thing. Even a brisk walk around the house or block is enough to cool yourself down in a pinch.

Read some enjoyable fiction. Ok, you can read some serious non-fiction too, but be sure what you’re reading won’t make you feel additional stress or fatigue. The point is to feel restored, not riled.

Listen to an audiobook. If you’ve got a really young child and can’t leave them solo, consider taking a time-in with an audiobook together for a few minutes. Never tried them? Here are a few tips on getting started with audiobooks.

Dance. Release any pent-up negative energy by shaking your booty, either solo or with your little ones. “Nobody cares if you can’t dance well. Just get up and dance.” ― Martha Graham

Do yoga. This can be hard when you always have a little one underfoot. Here are some suggestions to work toward kid-free yoga.

On a personal note, I’ve found that defaulting to playing on your smartphone or checking updates on your social networks doesn’t work well. The break always feels too fast, and your mind doesn’t have the opportunity to truly recharge.

How do you get started using time-ins? Start with YOU. Gandhi said, “Be the change that you wish to see in the world.” The same is true here. Be the change you wish to see in YOUR FAMILY.

Start by giving yourself a time-in when the kids are around to hear and see you do it. Try using statements like these:

“I’m feeling out of sorts and just not myself. I’m going to treat myself to a time-in and go read my new book I’ve been looking forward to for 15 minutes.”

“Mom can feel the cranks coming on. I’m going to my bedroom to take a time-in and meditate for a few minutes alone. I’d be happy to make your snack for you as soon as I’m done.”

“I’m feeling a bit blah right now. I need some energy. I’m gonna take a time-in and do a few yoga stretches to help my brain and my body feel better.”

It takes a bit of practice to get into the habit of giving yourself a time-in, but the results are astounding.

I highly recommend that you talk to your partner about tag-teaming your time-ins. And give them advanced permission to suggest a time-in when YOU seem to be acting out of sorts. When that situation arises — and it will — don’t get angry at their suggestion. Instead, smile, know they’re probably right, and take them up on it! Remember to stay positive.

If you’re parenting solo, create a game plan for yourself. Something as simple as plopping your child in front of the TV is a good start: “Honey, sit here on the couch and watch PBS for 5 minutes. Mommy needs a quick time-in.” Look for safe ways to keep your child entertained so you can reset when you need to.

Master showcasing this practice for yourself, then start helping your child recognize when they need a time-in, too. Play with these simple phrases:

“You look like you’re feeling out of sorts. When that happens to me, taking a time-in and reading always makes me feel better. There’s a Reading Picnic with snacks all set up for you on your bedroom floor.”

“It looks like you had a draining day at school. Why don’t you grab the iPad and listen to an audiobook with your headphones in your room? I’ll grab you a quick snack.”

“You look like you’ve got a case of the blahs. I’ve set out the markers and a paper in your room. Be sure to show me your drawing when it is done.”

The ultimate goal is self-regulation… for them and for you. I still remember the first time my daughter told me on her own that she was going to take a time-in. It was music to my ears!

Proactively taking charge of your emotions — BEFORE they take charge of you — is an important life skill. Give your child a head start on that skill by teaching them to self-regulate with enjoyable time-ins now.

Zina is the author of Let’s Lasso the Moon, where she inspires parents and children to interact creatively and enjoy the beauty of everyday moments.

Below are a few of Zina’s recent posts on parenting: The Missing Part of the Sharing Equation A Lifetime of Yes Moments 5 Tips for Getting Kids to WILLINGLY Donate Toys

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