#my mom suggested taking my grandma instead which I understood where she was coming from but

[js337]

my dad was in a car accident last night. he told me he’s okay but is staying with his girlfriend bc he can’t get into his house (told me his car is smashed so I’m assuming keys are not accessible idk, he said he’d call later to tell me more)

we were supposed to hang out today, had this whole lil day planned but he’s understandably too shaken up to go now

[xfangheartx]

The Grandparents

I was kind of in the mood to do some InuKag Modern AU stuff, but I also wanted to do some TogaIza stuff, too, so I combined them a little bit. Hope you guys enjoy the family fluff!

Tagging: @keichanz @clearwillow @cstormsinukagblog @hnnwnchstr @mozart-the-meerkitten @shinidamachu @lavendertwilight89 @inusgirl

Sorry if I missed anyone. ^^;

Enjoy!

 It was 6:45 PM on a Saturday night as Inuyasha stood in front of the mirror, wearing a black suit with polished shoes. After he fastened his necktie, he soon poured a little aftershave on his palm and rubbed it on his cheeks. That was when he felt two arms wrap around him from behind, causing him to crack a crooked grin as he glanced back at his wife, who was wearing a red backless dress, those pearl earrings she got from her mother as a wedding gift, a pair of white stilletos, and cherry blossom pink lipstick.

 "Ooh, look at the handsome man~!" she said in that playfully flirty voice that he loved so damn much.

 "Only for you, wench," Inuyasha smirked as Kagome kissed him on the cheek, causing him to chuckle as he cupped her chin...but as he tilted her head back for a kiss...

 "Mom? Dad?"

 Kagome turned to see Yamako standing in the doorway, wearing his green jacket and turquoise pants with the little paw print pattern.

 "I'm ready to go, now!" the 7-year-old exclaimed, excitedly, causing his parents to glance at each other before they both smiled.

 "Yama," Kagome said as she got down to her son's height level. "We told you, you're not going."

 "Why not?" Yamako asked. "I like going out to dinner!"

 "Yes, but Yama, this is a dinner for me and your dad," Kagome pointed out.

 "But...why not?" Yamako asked with drooping ears.

 "Yama, it's been a long time since your mother and I got to spend any time together," said Inuyasha.

 "That's not true," Yamako argued. "You two were spending time together, earlier this week when-"

 "Whoa, whoa!" Inuyasha and Kagome exclaimed, but then, the former's ears flicked at the sound of a car pulling up.

 "Oh! They're here!" Inuyasha said before he headed out of the bedroom, down the stairs, and opened the door, only to almost get knocked over as his mother came rushing in, throwing her arms around him. "OOF! Hi, Mom...!"

 "Inuyasha!" Izayoi exclaimed. "It's so good to see you, sweetie!"

 "You, too, Mom," Inuyasha replied before he looked over to Toga as he walked in. "Hey, Dad, how's it goin'?"

 "Oh, you know, the usual," Toga answered. "Now, where are-"

 "Grandma! Grandpa!" Yamako and Sanka cheered as they both rushed in to give their grandparents a hug.

 "Oh, there you are!" Toga exclaimed as he picked them both up. "Oof! Wow...is it me, or are you two getting heavy?"

 "Grandpa, look!" Sanka said as she opened her mouth and wiggled one of her front teeth with her tongue. "I got a loose tooth, see?"

 "Oh, wow!" Toga said. "That's great, San!"

 "Hey, Grandma and Grandpa," Ichiro greeted as he casually walked toward them while holding Little Izayoi and Usagi.

 "Oh, Li'l Izzy~!" Izayoi cooed as she took her two youngest granddaughters into her arms, causing them both to giggle. "And you, too, Usagi~! Oh, it's so good to see you both!"

 Not one to be left out, Riki came trotting up to the two grandparents and barked happily in greeting, causing Toga to laugh as he stroked the Akita's fur.

 "And you, too, Riki," said Toga, causing the dog to bark again.

 "Look what I got for you, Riki," Izayoi said as she held up a stick of beef jerky. "Your favorite treat!"

 Riki whined happily before he sat down, allowing her to feed him the small but tasty stick of meat, which caused Ichiro to chuckle.

 "Riki sure loves it when you visit, Grandma," he said, "but if you keep feeding him treats like this, he'll be so round, I'll have to roll him around instead of walking him on a leash."

 Riki seemed to growl in disdain, which caused his boy to pet his head.

 "I'm just kidding, Riki," Ichiro reassured.

 "What are you two doing here, anyway, Grandma and Grandpa?" asked Yamako.

 "Well, while your parents are out," said Izayoi, "your grandfather and I are here to watch you kids and put you to bed."

 "Wait...what?" Yamako asked, nervously. "But...but Mom usually puts us to bed!"

 "Well, she's not tonight, squirt," Ichiro said as he put his headphones on. "Deal with it. I'll be upstairs if anyone needs me."

 "Well, we're off, Mom and Dad," said Inuyasha as he and Kagome walked out the door. "We'll be back in a couple of hours."

 "There are ingredients to make shrimp tempura in the fridge," Kagome pointed out.

 "And try not to let the little ones have too much ice cream before bed, okay?" Inuyasha added.

 "Wait! Mom!" Yamako exclaimed as he jumped out of his grandfather's arms and ran out into the driveway, grabbing the hem of his mother's dress. "Do you have to go? Who's gonna kiss me goodnight?!"

 "Yama, your dad and I will be back while you kids are sleeping," Kagome said, "but I'll still give you a kiss goodnight, okay?"

 "But...but Mom, I won't feel it!" Yamako complained. "Please don't go!"

 "Kagome, come on!" Inuyasha called as he got in his red pickup. "We have reservations and I don't wanna be late!"

 "I'm coming, Yash," Kagome said as she looked down and gently pat her son on the head. "Yama, I gotta go now, okay? Just have fun with Grandma and Grandpa." Dropping a kiss between his little puppy ears, she soon got in the truck with her husband, who promptly backed out of the driveway.

 "See ya, Mom and Dad!" Inuyasha called. "See ya, kids! Be good for your grandparents!"

 "Bye, Mommy! Bye, Daddy!" Sanka waved along with her sisters.

 "Bye..." Yamako muttered, sadly as he watched his parents drive off.

 "Well, kids," Toga began, "what should we do to pass the time until bedtime?"

 "Can you call Mom and Dad ask them to come back?" asked Yamako as he grabbed his grandfather's phone out of his pocket.

 "No, Yamako," Toga said as he quickly took his phone back.

 "But I miss Mom!" Yamako rebuked.

 "Well, you just need to take your mind off of her," Toga replied. "How about we play a game?"

 "Ooh, I know!" Sanka piped as she climbed onto his shoulders. "Let's play Horsey!"

 "Oh, yeah, Horsey!" Yamako exclaimed.

 "Oh, boy..." Toga muttered in slight dread.

XXX

 "YEE-HAW~!!" Yamako cheered as Toga hopped and bucked around on all fours, making whinnying sounds and clicking his tongue to mimic the sound of clopping hoofbeats. Sanka, Little Izayoi, and Usagi all laughed as they sat nearby, clapping their hands while Grandma Izayoi stood in the kitchen, preparing to make the shrimp tempura with an amused smile on her face, all the while. As for Ichiro, he sighed and shook his head as he watched the spectacle before him, having come back downstairs after wondering what all the noise was.

 Eventually, though, Toga stopped and panted as he kneeled on the floor, causing Yamako to slide off his back.

 "Yay, now it's my turn!" Sanka exclaimed as she climbed onto Toga's shoulders.

 "Oh, no, sweetie," Toga said. "Horsey needs a break, now."

 "Aww~!" Sanka pouted while Yamako's ears drooped again.

 "I still miss Mom~!" he whined.

 "Maybe we should play something else," Toga said as he stood up and stretched his back out a bit. "Ooh...something that's a little easier on my back."

 "Ooh, I know!" Sanka exclaimed. "Let's play Follow the Leader!"

 "Yeah!" Yamako agreed. "And you can be the leader, Grandpa!"

 "Oh, this ought to be rich," Ichiro smirked.

 "All right, then!" Toga exclaimed as he stood up straight with his chest puffed out as if he were some sort of army general. "I am your magnificent leader and you two are my loyal followers! Is that understood?!"

 "Yes, sir, Grandpa!" Yamako and Sanka saluted.

 "Right then!" Toga declared. "Off to a better tomorrow!" On that, he started marching along with Yamako, Sanka, and even Little Izayoi and Usagi following along with them.

 "Ichi!" Izayoi called from the kitchen. "If you're not doing anything, can you come and help me?"

 "Sure, Grandma Izayoi!" Ichiro called as he soon went into the kitchen join her, and meanwhile, Toga was still playing Follow the Leader with his younger grandchildren, who giggled as they looked at each other with mischeivous glints in their eyes.

 "Hmm...I'd best make sure that these followers of mine are indeed following me," Toga said...and the moment he turned around, Yamako and Sanka grabbed the twins and hid behind his back. "What the-?!" He turned around, again, but the giggling children quickly hid behind him, once again, causing him to (playfully) growl in frustration. "They've gone!"

 "Heeheeheehee~!!" laughed Yamako and Sanka, as well as their younger sisters.

 "Where's that giggling coming from?" asked Toga as he turned around, but once again, they averted his sight, laughing all the while. "Am I hearing things?!"

 "Shh~!!" Yamako and Sanka both shushed the twins, both of them covering their mouths as they continued to sneakily follow after their grandfather down the stairs and out the backyard.

 "Where are those cheeky followers of mine?!" Toga questioned, causing Yamako to snicker as he and his sister soon stopped behind him. "There's that giggling, again! Where's it coming from?!"

 "Ready?" Yamako whispered.

 "Yeah...!" Sanka nodded.

 "1...2...3!" Yamako counted down before they all took in a deep breath and yelled "BOO!!!!"

 "AAH!!!" Toga yelped as he jumped at least a foot in the air before he turned around. "Aha! There you are, you little traitors!!"

 "RUN!!!" Sanka shouted before they all turned and ran back inside, squealing as their pureblood demon grandfather chased after them before he finally caught them in his arms and held them tight, causing them to laugh as he hugged them.

 "Do it, again, Grandpa!" Sanka exclaimed while Toga sighed and gently set the children down on the floor.

 "Sorry, kids, but...I don't think I have another game in me," he said, causing Sanka to purse her lips in a pout.

 "Maybe you can play a game that doesn't involve Grandpa running out of steam?" Ichiro suggested while he rinsed some shrimp off in the sink.

 "Ooh!" Sanka chirped. "I know! Grandpa, Mommy bought me some new nail polish yesterday! Can I paint your nails?"

 "Well...I..." Toga started.

 "Pretty please~?" asked Sanka while giving her grandfather the old Puppy Dog Eyes and even threw in a little whimper...which, of course, led his heart to turn into a big pile of mush on the inside before he sighed in defeat.

 "Okay, San, you win," he said, causing her to giggle as she hurried upstairs, but then he noticed Yamako standing off to the side, his ears drooping once again. "Do you wanna help your sister, Yama?"

 "I think I'll pass on this one," said Yamako as he went over to the couch, climbed up onto one, and sighed as he sat down, leaning against the arm. It was then that Izayoi came walking in while holding the twins.

 "Yama?" Izayoi asked as she sat down next to him. "Are you okay, sweetie pie?"

 "...I'm trying to have fun," Yamako began, "but...playing with Grandpa only takes my mind off Mom for just a little while...but then I start missing her again."

 "I understand," Izayoi said as she gently put her two youngest granddaughters on the couch, then reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. "I'll tell you what: I'll call your parents and ask them to come back."

 "Really?" Yamako asked, hopefully.

 "Grandma, what are you doing?" Ichiro asked, worriedly, causing her to smile and wink at him, which caused him to gasp quietly. "Ohh...!"

 "Okay...I think I've got your father's name on speed-dial here," Izayoi said while she tapped on the screen, then she held the phone up to her ear.

 "Thanks, Grandma," said Yamako.

 "Oh, of course, honey," said Izayoi. "It's just...well...your mother and father were really looking forward to spending some time together...alone."

 "Well...how come they just don't do it during the day?" asked Yamako.

 "Well, they used to," answered Izayoi, "but they don't do it as often as they would because first they had your brother, and then they had you, and then they had your sisters...not to mention Riki, too. It's not easy when your dad's a police officer and you have five kids to raise."

 "...Oh..." Yamako muttered in realization.

 "You know, Yama," Izayoi began, "when your father was your age, he didn't like me leaving him at home, either. He wanted to be around me, all the time...especially when your grandfather and I tried to go out for dates."

 "Ha! I remember this one time he pretended to have the chickenpox," Toga laughed. "He painted red spots on himself and it took 3 days for them to wash off."

 "Haha!" Yamako laughed. "Silly Dad!"

 "Wait a minute, you mean to tell me that Dad was a mama's boy?" asked Ichiro, incredulously, which caused his grandmother to side-eye him, warningly. "Uh...not that that's a bad thing, of course! Heheh...!"

 "Anyway," Izayoi began, "as your father got older, he started to realize how important it was for the two of us to spend time together as much as we could...and do you know why, Yama?"

 "Why?" asked Yamako.

 "Because your grandmother and I love each other, very much," Toga said as he came up and hugged his beloved Izayoi from behind, tenderly kissing her cheek, which caused her to chuckle while Ichiro stuck his tongue in disgust.

 "Ugh...old people cooties..." he grimaced.

 "And your mother and father love each other very much, too," added Izayoi. "That's why they try to spend as much time as they can with each other. It's nothing against you...it's just that grownups like to have fun, together, too."

 "...Huh," Yamako muttered. "I guess I didn't think about it that way."

 "Well, there you go," Izayoi said as she looked at her phone. "It's ringing..."

 "...Um...Grandma?" asked Yamako. "Can you hang up?"

 "Oh!" Izayoi said. "Are you sure?"

 "Yeah...I don't wanna interrupt Mom and Dad's good time," Yamako replied.

 "...That sounds like a good idea," Izayoi smiled. "How about you and your brother help me in the kitchen while your sisters are playing with Grandpa?"

 "Okay!" answered Yamako before he ran into the kitchen while Ichiro followed after him, gently ruffling his hair as he did.

 "...You weren't really calling Inuyasha and Kagome, were you?" asked Toga while he held the twins.

 "Nope," Izayoi grinned as she held up her phone, revealing it to be set to some candy game, which caused her husband to chuckle.

XXX

 It was almost 3 hours later when Inuyasha and Kagome pulled up to the driveway and got out of the car.

 "Not a single call from your parents," Kagome mused as she headed to the door.

 "Yeah," Inuyasha said. "I hope they didn't wear Dad out too much. He's getting up there in years for a demon." On that, he quietly unlocked the door and pushed it open, taking a peek inside. "Hello? Anybody here?"

 The first thing he noticed when he got inside was that the smell of shrimp tempura was still lingering in the kitchen, even though all the dishes and the pan was clean. The second thing he noticed...were his parents, both of them lying on the couch with the kids in their pajamas, all piled on top of them, all of them passed. Yamako was lying on his grandmother's side while she held the twins and Sanka was lying on top of her grandfather's stomach, and Ichiro snored as he lied on the floor with the dog, who was also curled up beside him.

 "...No wonder," Kagome said with a warm smile.

 "Psst...Mom...Dad..." Inuyasha whispered as he gently shook his mother's shoulder, causing her to moan quietly as she opened her eyes and looked up at him. "Oh, you're back..."

 "Yama..." Kagome called, softly. "I'm home, honey."

 "Mm...Mom...?" Yamako asked as he opened his eyes.

 "Hey...did you have a fun a time with Grandma and Grandpa?" Kagome asked.

 "Yeah...I did," Yamako replied with a sleepy smile, "but I'm glad you're home."

 "...Me, too, honey," Kagome said as she kissed him on the forehead, causing him to giggle while Inuyasha chuckled softly as he went to wake up Ichiro, who groaned as he sat up.

 "What time is it...?" asked Ichiro while Riki let out a tired yawn.

 "It's time for you guys to get in your own beds," Kagome said as she carefully picked up Little Izayoi and Usagi, then carried them up the stairs to bed while Inuyasha picked Sanka up and took her into his arms, cradling her head against his shoulder, then followed his wife upstairs, as well, while Ichiro and Yamako came sleepily lumbering along after him.

 "Oh, by the way," Inuyasha said as he glanced back at his father, "nice nail polish, Dad. Hot pink really suits you."

 Toga's eyes went wide and his face flushed red as he glanced down at his hot pink nails while Izayoi did her best to stifle her laughter.

[hecohansen31]

ok, so roman godfrey; reader invites him for a new year's eve party at her house. reader's parents end up criticizing roman. roman worries he's not good enough and needs cuddling. *and i need some soft boo imagines*. happy 2020, btw.

(A/N): Happy 2020, also to you, lovely nonnie, although I am late!

Thank you for sending it in, I just wanted to say that the family described in the ask is not definitely mine (if I brought Roman home, my dad would literally cry of joy, because he finally ‘managed to take out the trash, permanently’).

As always, if you didn’t like it or anything, you are more tha welcome to send me another ask so that I can rewrite it for you!

I hope you’ll enjoy it!

WARNINGS: Toxic Parents, Psychological Abuse, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Deprecating Talk, Nadia Being The Angel She Is (we don’t deserve her, honestly).

Your family, you knew it by experience, could be a bit… ‘too much’.

So, you had insisted on Roman not coming for your New Year’s Eve party, which you celebrated each year among your family, since you had spent Christmas, alongside Roman, taking care of Nadia exchanging the little gifts you had prepared for each other.

Shelley had also visited you, dropping in her gifts for you, Roman and Nadia, who cooed softly at her aunt, trying to grab her bandaged hands, meanwhile you and Roman hugged each other at the tenderness of the scene.

It had been a calm day and you couldn’t help but be thankful for it, wanting nothing more than your beloved boyfriend and his daughter around you, for these festivities, but Roman had insisted on joining your family on New Year’s Eve.

‘What will your parents think if I don’t show around?’ he had joked, circling you with his eyes, as you finished dressing up in the elegant dress you had chosen ‘… they’ll think I am either a ghost or don’t exist’.

Which you could totally see your parents thinking, but you had just done one last try to dissuade Roman, grabbing softly his face, tucking a few rebel strands behind his ears, looking at him in the eyes and explaining that you were worried he might run away, after having met your parents.

‘Babe, you challenged my mother, Olivia Godfrey… I do think that I can handle your parents’ he had smirked all victoriously and you had been infected by his smiling confidence and ended up making him accompany you to the ‘party’.

You had arrived early, since you knew that your parents would have found it distasteful for you to arrive even simply punctual.

Your parents hosted the party at their house and your entire family attended it, although as you arrived you found only half of the actual family: your grandparents from your father’s side, sleepily lounging on the sofa, meanwhile your mother and aunt worked in the kitchen and you were greeted by your father.

For which you were low key thankful, since he was a bit calmer than your mother.

He grabbed your coats, barely giving a look at Roman, who tried to present himself as soon as you father came back, his hands empty.

‘It’s nice to meet you, Mr. (L/N)” he muttered, offering him his hands “I am Roman Godfrey, (Y/N)’s plus one!”.

“Ahhh it’s nice to finally meet you, Roman!” instead of going for Roman’s outstretched hand, he straight up hugged your boyfriend, startling him “… we almost thought you weren’t real!”.

You felt Roman shudder at that insensitive affirmation, but you put on an small fake smile on your face, gripping back your boyfriend as you joined the laugh, half looking at the kitchen, hoping to find something that might distract your father.

“… ahh isn’t that, Claire?” called you out your grandma, using your cousin’s name, but you welcomed the distraction and brought Roman, alongside you in the kitchen.

Which wasn’t the smartest move since it meant that you and Roman stepped right into the bullseye and both your mother and your aunt set their gaze on you.

You smirked through the annoyance, meanwhile Roman didn’t seem to understand the threat that your family was and smiled at everyone, helping your grandma, with moving onto a chair so she ‘could take a closer look at you and your handsome knight’.

You were thankful that Roman quickly moved to join a ‘casual’ conversation with your grandma, so he was sheltered by your mom and aunt, who went to quickly crowd around you.

“You look lovely, sweetheart!” mumbled your aunt, as your mother pointedly examined you and you knew all too well that she was either analyzing whether you had put on some weight or how much the dress you had chosen was worth.

And then she pushed you in a tight hug, mumbling about how much she had missed you, as you heard your grandma going on with Roman over the fact that she totally believed that you would have remained a ‘spinster’.

You saw Roman’s gripping hands tightening in his lap at that mention, but he kept a serene smile on his face.

“… ah Roman it is also a pleasure to meet you, I don’t want to bother your conversation with granny, but it is nice to meet the man who made an honest woman of my pumpkin”.

Roman turned to her, smirking lightly, before he also offered her a hand, gaining a nod of approval from your mother, since Roman completely met her personal standards: rich, beautiful and young.

“It is an honor to meet you, finally, Mrs. (L/N)” he answered, not realizing the entire tension that had been going on through you.

“Oh, please call me Sandra” she joked, and then let your boyfriend go back to the enlightening conversation with your grandma, as she asked you the details about the relationship.

You were extremely thankful when the other half of the family joined you, your sister more than anyone else, since she had shared half the traumatic experience that your parents were.

But one slip of her tongue shattered the picture-perfect image of that night that you had created.

“… where is Nadia?” she asked at Roman: she had met you and Roman, much before than your family having, once, slept on Roman’s couch, when she was in Hemlock Grove.

You loved your sister and trusted more than all the other members of your family, so you hadn’t been able to stop yourself from welcoming her, once she was visiting Hemlock Grove for a job offer, and her and Roman had seemed to have good chemistry (although she had begrudgingly threatened him with a fork, had he ever solely thought to hurt you).

She had also met Nadia, loving her role as an aunt, but unfortunately hadn’t gotten the memo about not talking of her toyour family, because first of all: you didn’t trust them with the knowledge of Nadia, and secondly, you knew how your mother would have taken such news…

So, you tried to do some damage control.

Whispering back your reply that ‘Nadia was with Destiny and Peter’, so you could hope that maybe… just maybe… your mother hadn’t heard your sister.

But your mother had caught the dialogue, already and immediately shot you a surprised look, quirking an eyebrow in a questioning way, before she uttered.

“… who is Nadia?” you half-wanted to lie that it was either Roman’s sister or a friend but couldn’t help but believe that lying wouldn’t work with your mother.

And again, your sister had another slip of his tongue.

“Roman’s daughter, mom! She is a cutiepie… you should see her!”.

Both you and Roman were frozen on your spot, and slowly your mother’s gaze finally reached yours, as you faked a smile, feigning calm and innocence, as Roman’s hand sneaked to yours.

“You have a child?” she asked, almost unbelieving, as if she had been promised a pony and got a smelly donkey.

“Ahem… yeah… Nadia is my daughter from a previous relationship… the mother died, in childbirth” explained rather calmly Roman, meanwhile your thumb drew soft relaxing patterns on the back of his palm.

“Nadia is a beautiful baby, and I am beyond lucky to have Roman share her with me” you tried to gain some sympathy from your relatives, which seemed to work on almost each one of them, except your mother, whose gaze held an immediate hostility towards you and Roman, making you both shrank in his seat.

You tried to shift the attention away from you and were beyond glad when your father suggested that you and Roman could go to get some new wine, both because of the free air and both because you could completely swallow an entire bottle of alcohol.

As you walked outside, your sister mouthed ‘sorry’, having understood her mistake and you just shook your head, as you headed outside.

“… is something wrong?” asked softly Roman once you were out of earshot, although you still felt your mother’s eyes onto you, a sensation he shook off, hugging you gently “… your mother sounded… troubled when she heard about Nadia”.

You heard completely Roman’s uneasiness in his voice and gently gripped him tighter.

You had been beyond blessed to be welcomed in Nadia and Roman’s safe haven, and it wasn’t something that you took lightly or would let your mother taint with her affirmations: you already knew why that knowledge annoyed her so much, but you didn’t share in the slightest her opinions.

“She is just old-fashioned, but don’t worry about it… I am more than happy to be with you and Nadia” and Roman seemed to be lightly comforted by the soft smirk you had gifted him, before pushing an even softer kiss on his lips “… she’ll have to deal with you and Nadia, because I have no intention to let you go”.

“Neither do I, lovely” he giggled and as he leaned in for a kiss, but you were immediately brought apart by a rather stern cough, not even attempting to seem fake, revealing your mother, sending you two pointed looks.

“.. Roman, you wouldn’t mind meeting with my husband in the kitchen, he is having problem moving the table, so that we could have more space for each other” and as Roman tried to lightly protest, but your mother simply silenced him with a “… don’t worry, I’ll take care of the wine with my daughter”:

You sent Roman away with a smirk that stated your confidence in avoiding killing your mother, but you couldn’t help but be highly unnerved by her prolonged silence, as you moved to the wine cellar, but preferred it to words.

Which didn’t wait long to appear.

“Are you crazy about getting yourself with a man like him?”.

“You seemed to like him, mom” you retorted, meanwhile you fake of looking through the wine bottles, your hands gently caressing the glass of their bodies.

“Before I discovered he had already a daughter on his paycheck!” she made you turn to look at her in the eyes “… you know that not only you’ll never be his number one priority, but also any child that might come from you will never be loved as that… Nadia”.

“Mom I highly doubt it” your mother came from a completely different generation, the one where you married somebody and stayed with them, till they grew old and dead.

Even if they cheated, even if they were violent.

But Roman wasn’t simply ‘it’, because he had already a daughter.

“Don’t come crying at me when he breaks your heart” she retorted, almost spitting on you as she turned on her heels and left you there.

You took a deep breath, but a sob shook your back again and you couldn’t help but take your good time as you tried to calm yourself down.

In the end you chose one of wine and faked not having heard your mother talking so horrendously about your boyfriend.

Roman looked worried as you came back, and you shot him a small smirk, in an attempt to relax him, but it didn’t do much, because Roman’s worry didn’t ease up and he kept you for the rest of the night by his side protectively.

But he wasn’t able to stop your mother’s glares.

Because of those, you literally ran away after the Midnight happened and the New Year came, justifying your escape as having to pick Nadia and your mother sent you a little smirk, as if to say ‘see… this is what your life will be like’.

You and Roman had to go through a rather awkward silence as you drove back home, picking up Nadia from Destiny and Peter, the latter being extremely attached to Nadia, joking about not wanting to giver he back.

As you got her back, justifying your sadness as tiredness, you strapped her to the booster set, and after a few minutes of soft giggling, she went back to sleep.

For which you were thankful since you were honestly without a once of energy and Roman was gracious enough to suggest he set down, to let you undress, having half an idea of having a midnight bath.

When Roman came back, you were checking the temperature of the bath, dressed in a simple light robe and your hair were in a quick updo, letting Roman gently caress you from the back of your hair to your spine, a soft thrill of pleasure running down it, with his movements.

“Care to have one more in the bath” he asked, tiredly, although he was well aware that you wouldn’t have pushed him away, even more after a night like that.

“… wouldn’t have it any other way, beloved” you replied, gently grabbing one of his hands, proceeding to undress him with extreme gentleness, and then let him have the privacy to immerge himself in the warm water, as you pushed aside your robe to join him.

“… now I understand what you meant with your parent being ‘too much’” Roman softly joked, as you settled onto his chest, laying comfortably your head against his shoulder.

“I am sorry you had to deal with them” you mumbled, turning lightly to lay a soft kiss onto his neck.

“I am actually the one sorry…” he muttered, and you raised to look at him in the eyes, confused “… I shouldn’t… I come with a shit ton of baggage, that much is true”.

And you softly turned to him, grabbing his face strongly in your hand.

“All my mom said is shit” you mumbled, pushing him lightly on his shoulder “… you and Nadia are not baggage, you’ll never be”.

“No, no… one day you’ll realize that… you fucking deserve better and… I can’t fucking give it to you”.

“You sound like my mother, when you say this” you shot back with an harsh glare at him, as you raised Roman’s chin so that he could see your eyes properly “I am a big girl, I think that I can decide on my own, without anybody telling me what to do”.

“You are ruining your life, with us, babygirl” muttered almost powerless Roman and you just pushed yourself back against his chest, raising lightly water, which splashed slightly outside.

“I don’t think so…” you replied, as your hand slipped to grip his softly “… you have no idea how I feel whenever Nadia smiles at me and giggles with me, it makes me feel the most cherished ever… something that not even my family could give: she is not baggage, she is family”.

“… are you going to quote ‘Lilo and Stitch’” shot back Roman, but his tone held no bite and you simply smirked, leaning down to press a kiss onto his lips “… we are fucked up”.

“… fucked up in this together” you completed, giggling as Roman’s hands started tickling you, making you squish even more water out and you were just able to lightly fight him and giggle.

In the end, your new year had started amazingly.

[mychemicalimagines]

Happens Like That-Jim Halpert-Chapter 2

Summary: Jim Halpert and Melissa Ford have been best friends since he started at Dunder Mifflin in 1999. Now that a camera crew is following the employees around so they can film a documentary, do they finally tell each other their feelings? Or do they just let them go? Either way, what will become of these two best friends? 

Warnings: Cussing and Smut in later chapters.

Words: 4890

Tag List: @you-a-southpaw-doll @elskinner45 @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl

A/N: I love that you guys are liking this. Please leave comments on what you think. If you guys don’t want me to finish this, I won’t continue. If you would like to be tagged please message or submit an ask.

Melissa’s POV - Same Day, Just Later in the Evening

By the time I get home, half an hour has already passed since I clocked out and left work.  I’m still going to Jim’s house but I wanted to change into something more comfortable. I walk upstairs to my room and change into a tank top and a pair of jeans before I look in the mirror. I brush my hair quickly before putting on a pair of sneakers.

I smile when I see how good I look, and feel proud of myself. I make sure everything is in place and that I look comfortable and ready to hang out, but also making sure I don’t look like I tried too hard. This isn’t the first time I’m going to Jim’s  house. About a year after he started at DM, we started hanging out almost every day of the week. 

We have our routine, doing things we both enjoy. And, most of the time, as long as we’re hanging out, we’re doing something we enjoy. He’s just about the only person I hang out with. Mondays, we sit together and watch basketball, nine times outta ten, it’s at his place since he has the DVR and the bigger TV. 

I’m not a huge basketball fan, but I watch the Philly 76ers with him so we have a chance to hang out. I’m not gonna lie, I’ve come to understand certain things about the sport and appreciate it ‘cause it means I get to spend time with Jim. Since I’ve started getting more into basketball, Jim has offered and has been teaching me how to play for going on three and a half months now. 

It’s been fun, and I might’ve not been the best at the beginning, but I’m getting better! Tuesdays...well, those are our taco nights. We get together at my house and make tacos, usually watching a movie afterwards. Sometimes, we try new types of tacos, or we stick to the good old fashioned ones, like beef tacos, which just so happen to be my favorite, with some guacamole on the side. 

One time, Jim suggested that we try shrimp tacos...let’s just say that didn’t turn out too well and we ended up going to taco bell that night. It was a learning experience, to say the least. Fridays are our movie and dinner nights, with us switching houses every other week. One week it’ll be my place and I pick the movie while he picks what we’re having for dinner. 

The next week, it’ll be at his place and he picks the movie, leaving dinner up to me. This week just so happens to be a little different. I couldn’t make up my mind on what I wanted for dinner, so we agreed I’d pick the movie and he’d get dinner, but we’d still have it at his place. After our movie ends and dinner has been cleaned up, we usually spend the night at the other’s house, just sleeping, nothing more...yet... hopefully one day. 

If I stay at his place, he offers me his bed while he sleeps on the couch. I felt bad the first few times, but he assured me it’s ok. At my place, he insisted I keep my bed and he sleeps on the couch. We do this every Friday night  because on Saturdays we go to the local bar and have a few drinks. And it’s better to go to one destination and be safe than go to two and possibly get hurt in one way or another. 

So, I guess technically, we spend two nights a week together, but we don’t ever cross that line. Yet. The other days of the week are random. Usually, it just depends on how tired or busy we are after work. Sometimes, we’ll hang out, and other times, we’ll just part ways at our cars and go home or run errands or whatever it is we need to do. 

To be honest, if I’m not with him, I usually just stop by McDonald’s or something, grab a bite to eat and go home to take a nap. I have no idea what he does when we’re not hanging out, but it’s ok. I stop at BlockBuster and grab the last copy of the movie he talked about wanting to see today. As I drive toward his house, I see a flower stand on the side of the road. 

I smirk to myself and pull over. Last week, Jim came over for Taco Tuesday and brought me some flowers. It was a really sweet gesture and made me smile. Now it’s my turn to return the favor. I turn off my car and step out, making sure I grab my keys and wallet. Walking right up to the stand, I take a look at the different types of arrangements, colors, and floral designs. 

After a few minutes, I pick up a little thing of cute flowers and walk over to the sweet looking, little old woman running the stand. 

“Oh what’s the occasion?” She asks as she rings up my flowers.

“Just getting a friend some flowers.” 

I smile, and hand her a slightly faded, and worn, ten dollar bill that’s more than enough to cover the cost. She nods, takes the money and hands me my change. I put it in my wallet before grabbing the flowers. Getting inside my car, I make sure the flowers are safe in my passenger’s seat, not before starting my car. 

I drive for ten more minutes to get to Jim’s house, before I carefully pull into his driveway since there’s a big dip at the end of it. The city says it’s to help with water runoff when it rains so it lessens the chance for the roads to flood. His car is usually parked on the left and my car will be parked on the right, just like it is today. 

He joked the other day that this was my parking spot and no one is allowed to park here. And I mean, no one. It doesn’t matter who they are. If they’re not me, then they can’t park here. Jim’s rules, not mine. Last year, Jim had a small BBQ and invited everyone from work. Michael showed up a little earlier than I did and Jim made him move his car before I got there. 

No one understood why it was such a big deal. The big deal was 1) it was my spot, and 2) because I was more than likely sleeping over that night. I did sleep over, but I made sure to help him clean everything up since I helped him cook the night before. That was what kind of, officially, started us staying at each other’s house on a somewhat regular basis.

I turn off my car and grab the flowers from the seat next to me. I step out and  grab my ‘Sleepover at Jim’s’ duffle bag that I keep in my back seat. I hold the flowers behind my back and walk toward his front door. I have no idea why I am so nervous. 

I’ve been here a million times in the last 5 years! I put my duffle bag down and knock on the door. A few seconds later, Jim answers.

“Mel!” He smiles, seeming to be almost shocked it’s me and not someone else.

“Who else?” I giggle and all the nervousness washed away, just like that. I lean against the doorway and ask, “Who else could it have been?”

“The delivery guy. I was hoping the food would get here before you.” He says. He notices my hand behind my back and looks a little confused. “Umm, what is that?” He points.

I smile widely and pull them out. “Daisies.”

He chuckles. “Is this because I brought you sunflowers?”

I shrug and giggle as he lets me in. He grabs my duffle bag for me and I walk straight into his kitchen. Reaching  into one of his cabinets, I grab one of the small vases that I know his mom has probably given him over the years. She has a habit of giving him flowers at least twice a year - Valentine’s Day, ‘cause she feels everyone deserves flowers and she knows he’s been single for a while,  and his birthday. 

The flowers on his birthday have been a tradition since Jim’s grandma died when he was little. She’d always give him a couple flowers on his birthday and his mom kept the tradition up. I fill it up with water and put the daisies inside. He walks in right as I set the  vase on the counter and turn around to face him. 

***

Diversity Day

Monday morning, I’m the first one in the office. This isn’t necessarily rare but being here before Dwight got in was. Dwight is usually always the first person in the office. Yesterday, though, Michael called me and asked for me to be in the office at eight instead of nine. At first, I had no idea why he’d have me come in an hour earlier, but I didn’t question it.

I now know it is because a gentleman, from corporate,  by the man of ‘Mr. Brown’, is going to be coaching us through what Diversity really is. He’s also gonna tell us what we can and can’t say about races and such while we are in the office. We all know the reason is because Michael can say some things that are counted as racist, sexist, and even homophobic at times, and not even realize it. 

I sigh to myself and hang up my jacket. I go into the conference room and start putting the chairs out for everyone.  Should I put one out for Jim or is he going to stand today? I decide to put one out for him just so he has a chance to sit this time. I hear the door to the office open so I glance out the door. 

When I see Jim, I grin from ear to ear and wave him over to where I’m at. He drapes his jacket over the back of his chair and walks to me.

“Hi.” He says, his voice still laced with sleep, as he flashes me a smile.

“Hey, sleepyhead. Late night?” I tease, knowing we both stayed up late last night, texting about random stuff. Mainly about me having to get up early in the morning and that’s why I couldn’t go watch the new Star Wars movie. 

He chuckles slightly and nods. “I thought you could use some help.” 

He puts his hands in his pockets and leans against the doorway.

“Well...I could use the help moving the table.” I point over my shoulder at the table in the middle of the room.

“You got it!” He says, walking over and grabbing one side of said table.

I grab the other side and we lift the table. We walk it over to the side of the room toward the windows and set it down slowly. 

“Thanks. I didn’t wanna have to drag it over.” I giggle slightly. 

He smiles. “It’s no problem, Mel. What else do you have to do?” 

After another half hour of moving things around the room, and getting everything set up, he helps me put up a banner that Mr. Brown sent over. The banner says ‘Diversity Day’. Hopefully the room is the way he wants. Just as Jim helps me down from a chair, the front door opens. Jim and I walk out into office around to see who it is. 

A middle-aged, nice looking, in the sense he seems nice, African American gentleman walks in.

“Hello.” I say, sweetly. “How can I help you?”

“I’m Mr. Brown. I’m doing a lesson today?”

“Yes! Hi, I’m Melissa. I’m Michael’s Assistant!” I put my hand out and he shakes it, smiling.

He looks at Jim. “And you are..?”

“I’m Jim Halpert. I’m one of the Salesmen here.” Jim says, putting his hand out for Mr. Brown to shake. 

“Nice to meet you,” He says, and looks in the conference room where Jim and I just finished everything.

��Wow. You guys did that?”

“Yeah. We came in early to make sure you had room and-” I start saying.

“It’s wonderful. Thank you.”

No One’s P.O.V.

He walks into the conference room and starts setting up the items he brought. About an hour later, everyone arrives at the office, and Michael walks up to Mr. Brown.

“Hey, uh, can I help you in here?” He asks, clearly not really interested in helping.

Mr. Brown looks up, “I’m all set, thanks.”

Michael nods, “Gotcha, good. I’d go with the rows. Good idea.”

“Oh, Melissa and Jim set that up. I’m setting up the papers and the rest of the stuff I brought.” Mr. Brown says, before turning back to the table.

Michael nods and walks out. He pats Jim on the back and gives Melissa a thumbs up. They both smile and Jim continues his sales call.

“That's the thing. It's very sturdy paper and on the back it says, ‘100% post-consumer content.’ What?” The sound of a shredder is heard throughout the office, making Mel look up. “Hello? Uh-huh. Wait. What? I'm sorry, Mr. Decker. I think I'm losing you.” Dwight is shredding all his old paperwork he doesn’t need, at a most inconvenient time nonetheless. “Hello? Hello? Yeah. Hold on one second. I don't know. Hold on one second.” Jim puts the gentleman on the other end of the phone on hold and looks at Dwight. “Do you really have to do that now?”

“Yes I do! I should have done this weeks ago.” Dwight says, putting another piece of paper into the shredder.

Jim takes the gentleman off hold. “Mr. Decker, I'm sorry about that. What were you…” Dwight puts another paper in the shredder. “Can you hold on one second? Yeah, just one second. Thanks.”  Jim reaches over and flips the switch on the power supply, making the shredder shut down. “Hello? That's it. Perfect. So what I was saying…” 

Dwight reaches over and pushes a button to end the phone call. Mel’s eyes widen, not actually believing that Dwight just did that to a customer, or to Jim for that matter. 

“Hello? Thanks, Dwight.” Jim sighs as he puts the phone down.

“Retaliation. Tit for tit.” Dwight says, smirking a little.

“That’s not the expression.” Jim says, sighs. 

The roaring of the shredder starts once more as Dwight pushes the button on the power supply again.

“Well... it should be.” Dwight comments, as he continues to shred his papers.

Jim sighs and looks up when the camera guy pats his shoulder. 

“Hey, come do an interview.” He says.

Jim nods and stands up, pushing in his chair. He glances up at Mel and rolls his eyes. She giggles and looks at Pam.

Melissa’s POV

“I’m going to go talk with Michael about what is gonna happen with my wedding and stuff, okay?” She asks.

“That’s fine. I’ll be here. Checking emails.” I smirk, pulling up Solitaire on the computer.

She giggles, walking around me, toward Michaels office. I start playing Solitaire and when I’m halfway done, Jim walks out of the conference room and straight over to my desk. He leans down, resting his cheek against his hand. 

“Solitaire?” He asks.

I nod. “Freecell.”

He watches for a second and then points. “Six on seven.

“I know. I saw that.” I tease but don’t move the cards.

“So...then...why didn’t you do it?”

“I’m saving that ‘cause I like it when the cards go ‘t-ts-ts-tch-tch-tch’.” I giggle as I move another card on the computer.

“Who doesn’t love that?” Jim chuckles slightly. 

I blush and continues to play my game when Pam walks back. Jim hears his phone rings, he runs over and answers the phone call.

“Mr. Decker! Hello!”

Michael walks out of his office, a few minutes later, with Mr. Brown walking out of the conference room. Michael walks right over to Oscar and starts to talk. Mr. Brown tells Michael he’s ready for us.

“Oh hey, well, diversity, everybody. Let’s do it. Oscar works in...umm  Jim? Could you wrap it up please?”

I look confused as I grab my usual notebook. Doesn’t he want Jim to get this sale? This is one of Jim’s biggest sales. He should be able to finish it. I stand up and walk over to Jim’s desk as Michael goes walks toward the conference room but stops and turns back.

“Yeah, uh, Mr. Decker, please.” Jim says, glancing up.

Michael glances at the camera as he speaks to Jim. “It’s diversity day, Jim. I wish every day was diversity day.” He flashes a smile at the camera.

Jim sighs. “You know what? I’m actually going to have to call you back. Thank you. Sorry about that.” He hangs up and stands.

I whisper. “I’m sorry, Jim.” 

He just puts his hand on my lower back and ushers me toward the conference room. I smile a little at the feeling of his hand on my back. When we get to the conference room, we head to where we normally sit, closer to the back corner and by the windows that look into the main office area. I sit down and Jim sits to my left. 

A few minutes later, Mr. Brown collects the cards he had us fill out. 

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Great.” He murmurs, politely, as he collects the cards from each of us.

“Come on, people! Let’s get ‘em in! Get in the cards! Get in the cards!” Michael says, clapping his hands together in an attempt to hurry us along. 

Mr. Brown on the other hand is soft spoken, and very patiently with us. Once he has all the cards collected, he puts them together and then tucks them in with his stuff. He turns to face us, addressing us in a still much softer tone than Michael’s.

“Thanks for filling these out and I promise this’ll be quick. At Diversity Today, our philosophy is about honesty and positive expectations. We believe that 99% of the problems in the workplace arise simply out of ignorance.” Mr. Brown starts. 

Michael cuts him off from the rest of his speech.

“You know what? This is a color-free-zone here. Stanley, I don’t look at you as another race.” He points to the only other African American in the room.

“Uh, see this is what I’m talking about. We don’t have to pretend we’re color-blind.” Mr. Brown says, looking over at Michael.

They start arguing over ignorance of the situation and I glance over at Jim. He leans back in his chair and puts his arm around me, resting it on the top of my chair. I open my notebook to a blank page. I reach and grab a pen I have attached to the notebook when a hang reaches out. I look and see Jim grabbing the pen before I could. 

Because he is right handed his lines are messy, but he draws a tic-tac-toe board. He puts a messy X in the middle of the board. I giggle quietly and takes the pen from him. I put an O in the top right corner. He stares at the board before taking the pen and putting an X in the middle left box. I smirk to myself and takes the pen. 

I put an O under my last one, cutting off Jim from winning. He breathes hard from his nose and stares at the board. He grabs the pen and puts an X in the top middle box. His eyes widen after realizing what he has done. I giggle again quietly and takes the pen before putting an O in the bottom left corner, marking me as the winner.

I glance up and sighs when I hear Kevin citing something. I realize he’s horribly butchering the Chris Rock skit that Michael tried to impersonate the other day. I shake my head and sigh. This is going to get bad quick!  Michael cuts off Kevin from the Chris Rock skit, and tried to recite it himself. Mr. Brown tries to stop him. 

He does so by trying to cut him off.  Jim’s desk phone starts ringing and he quickly looks over. I look over at him.

“That better not be Mr. Decker,” I whisper.

He glances at me and nods.

He whispers, “It is more than likely.”

“Now, this is a simple acronym. HERO. Uh, at Diversity Today, we believe it is very easy to be a HERO. All you need is honesty, empathy, respect and open-mindedness.” Mr. Brown continues. 

“Excuse me.” Dwight cuts in. “I’m sorry, but that’s not all it takes to be a hero.”

Mr. Brown raises an eyebrow. “Oh great. Well, what is a hero to you?”

“A hero kills people, people that wish him harm.” Dwight says, as if it is obvious.

“Ok.” Mr. Brown stares at him for a minute.

“A hero is part-human and part-supernatural. A hero is born out of a childhood trauma or out of a disaster that must be avenged.” Dwight continues.

“Oh, you’re thinking of a superhero.” Mr. Brown says. 

“We all have a hero in our heart.”

Mr. Brown doesn’t acknowledge Dwight’s comment, but instead picks up a stack of papers from the podium and starts handing them out, while explaining, “Now, I need you to take these forms. This kind of expresses the joint experience we had today. And I need you to look 'em over and sign them as kind of a group pledge.”

I stand up, reaching forward to take a few so Jim and I can get out of here. Michael walks over to Mr. Brown and starts whispering. I grab two pieces of paper and hands Jim one. I sit back down and uses the pen from my notebook to sign my name. I hand the pen over to Jim and he quickly signs his name. 

Standing up, he takes the paper from my hand and walks over to Mr. Brown. I stand and walk out of the room. Jim runs out of the room and quickly over to his desk phone. He picks it up and listens to his voicemail. He sighs and nods at me. It was Mr. Decker. He quickly calls him back.

“Yeah, hi. Is Mr. Decker around? Oh. Well, could you just have him call me after lunch? Thank you.” He hangs up and sighs, leaning back into his chair. 

I reach over and moves his hair from his eyes.

“It’s okay Jim. You’ll talk to him after lunch and you’ll get the sale.” I smile slightly.

“You think so?” He looks up at me.

I nod and sighs when I hear the receptionist phone start ringing. Pam walks quickly out of the conference room and to our desk.

***

About an hour later I’m talking with Pam about her wedding plans when Michael walks out of the conference room. He calls us over so everyone in the room stands up and walks into the office. Jim waits for me. I walk up behind Toby and Jim steps into line behind me.

“All right? Everyone pretty? Come on. Here we go. It’s time. Let’s do some good.” Michael says, ushering us into the conference room.

“Hey, we’re not all going to sit in a circle Indian Style are we?” Toby says, laughing.

Michael says, with a straight face, “Get out.” 

Toby’s eyes widen, “I’m sorry.”

“No this is not a joke, okay? That was offensive and lame. So double offensive. This is an environment of welcoming and you should just get the hell out of here.” Michael says, pointing out the door. 

Toby sighs and turns, gently pushing past me and Jim. He walks out of the room and back over to his desk.

“Let’s go! Let’s do it. Come on. Let’s have some fun, everybody. Here we go. Take a seat. Cop a squat.” Michael says energetically.

Jim and I sit next to each other once again, but I didn’t bring my notebook this time. I am instantly regretting this. I lean back in my chair and cross my arms.

“Uh, thanks for coming in. Um Diversity...is the cornerstone of progress as I’ve always said. But don’t take my word for it. Let’s take a look at the tape.” Michael says leaning against a tv that was rolled in the room. 

He starts the tape and he comes onto the screen, standing in front of our Dunder Mifflin sign. I roll my eyes discreetly and watch tv. I tone out some of video because I know it was going to be boring but I look up when I hear something about Abe Lincoln.

“Abraham Lincoln once said that, ‘If you’re a racist, I will attack you with the North.’ And those are the principles that I carry with me in the workplace.” the video says.

Michael turns off the tv and looks at us. 

“Ok. Questions? Comments? Anybody?” Jim raises his hand. “Jim?”

“Uh, is that it?” He asks.

Michael nods, “Yes. I only had an hour to put it together but I’m going to add on to it later on.”

As time goes on, Kelly leaves, and Michael tries to get us to explain what race and nationality we are. I look over at Jim and sighs. He nods and uncrosses his arms.  He puts an arm behind me resting on my chair as we watch everything that is going on in the office. After Oscar and Michael fight over nationalities, we hear Jim’s phone go off. 

He quickly stands up and runs out of the room.

“Jim! Jim!” Michael sighs and holds up a board with note cards on it. “I have something here. I want you to take a card and put it on your fore-” He notices someone going to look at the card. “Don’t look at the card! I want you to take the card and put it on your forehead. Take a card, any card.” 

I stand up from my seat when Michael walks over to me.

“Take your card.” 

I stare at him for a second. “No.” 

I walk out of the room to Jim’s desk. I hear Michael say something like, ‘Okay..I knew that was coming’. I lean against his desk as he puts down the phone.

“Was it him?” 

He shakes his head no. “Nope. Someone trying to get prices on paper.” He sighs and leans back in his seat again. 

“It’s okay Jim. He’ll call.” I smile. “Come on. Lets listen to how stupid Michaels Diveristy Day is going.” He smiles a little and stands up. 

We walk the few steps to the door and listens in. I notice that Stanley has the card ‘Black’. Dwight has ‘Asian’. Pam has ‘Jewish’. I overhear Michael talking to Pam, who just tried to explain Dwight’s to him. She didn’t do a very good job.

I look at Jim confused. He just shrugs and we continue to watch. After a few minutes, Jim’s phone starts to ring again. He turns and quickly sits down, picking up the phone. 

He talks for a few minutes.

“Mr. Decker, we didn’t lose your sale today, did we? Excellent. Ok Let me just get your..what’s that?” He pauses. I bite my lip in anticipation. “No, we didn’t close last time. I just need your...Oh...W-what code were you given? Oh, ok. That’s actually another salesman here. I can redo it if you want that. Oh, he gave you a discount? No I don’t blame you.” He says goodbye and hangs up. 

I sigh and rub his back. “I’m sorry, Jim.” 

He looks up at me. He opens his mouth to speak but looks down. He stands up, opening his drawer where he kept the champagne bottle and puts it on Dwight’s desk.

“No...” I say, sadly. He just nods and pulls me in for a hug, laying his head on mine.

I rub his back and whisper. “Today’s Monday so I’ll grab dinner and swing by your house so we can watch basketball, okay?” 

He just nods against me. After a few minutes, he pulls away and smiles slightly. He then puts his hand on my lower back and ushers me into the conference room. We sit in the chairs against the window to the office and just listen to the discussion Michael is having. I lay my head against his shoulder. 

Next thing I know Jim is gently moving his shoulder. I look up.

“Hey.” He whispers, smiling.

“Oh, sorry. Hey.” I giggle slightly, moving off his shoulder.

“We can go.” He says. 

“Great.” I smile as I stand up, “I’ll grab dinner and go to your house?” 

“Great.” He stands up.

I smile and walk out, going straight for my desk. I grab my bag and my jacket, walking with Jim to our cars. He waves to me as I get into my car. I close my car door and grab my cell phone. I call the closest Seafood restaurant.

“Hello? Hi, I would like to make an order for Soft Shelled Crab?”

[maddiemccarthy]

WHO: Madison and her mother, with mentions of Ben & Lexi ( @benpucker​ )

WHAT: A confrontation roughly 27 years in the making

WHEN: Sunday, 1/12, late morning

WHERE: Madison’s apartment

WARNINGS: none, just angst from bad parenting

Eleven days. In the past eleven days Madison’s entire world had been rearranged. Bringing a new life into the world, Ben saying he loved her, and saying it back to him, learning how to care for him best, Ben going back to work, Lexi spending the night, Puck “breaking up” with her, Ben bringing up living together - like actually living together - on more than one occasion, an influx of the entire town seemingly always at her front door. It was arguably the most stressful week and a half of her life. But, minus the Puck of it all, also probably one of the happiest. 

Now late on Sunday morning, breakfast had, and Disney movie in place, Lexi was settled on the couch holding Gabe and more focused on him than the movie, Madison and Ben sitting down from her. Madison had her eyes half open, more than happy to relax with the peace that was falling over the apartment. It could last five minutes. It could last an hour. She wasn’t questioning it.

But a knock on the door soon disturbed the stillness. Despite the ever presence of guests, they’d all been good about asking permission before showing up. She glanced at her phone for missed messages, none. Glanced at Ben to see if he’d forgotten to mention someone, he shrugged and shook his head. The knock came again, louder this time and enough to make Gabe stir and whine in his sister’s hold. “Help her with him and I’ll get it?” she asked Ben, pushing off the couch and making her way to the door. A third knock had her exasperated. “I’m coming,” she called, “can you just be pati--”

Madison’s words were unfinished as she saw who was on the other side of the door. Mouth agape and probably not breathing she stared at her mother on her doormat, looking more fit for a country club tea than the still in PJs lounging that was going on there. “Don’t even have a hello for your mom?” she asked, “though I suppose you’ve forgotten how to say a lot of things to me in the past few months.”

“Hi, Mom,” Madison finally managed out, glancing back at Ben who looked as confused as she felt. “What are you doing here? You haven’t made it to Doveport since parents’ weekend freshman year.”

“Well it seemed my invite to the baby shower and birth of my grandson got lost in the mail, so I figured I’d come see him before I miss the first birthday party invite and his high school graduation,” Elizabeth’s face was overall emotionless, stating everything matter-of-factly. She looked past Madison into the apartment, seeing Ben and Lexi, and then met her daughter’s eyes again. “Though it seems there may have been other announcements I missed as well.”

Madison’s eyes closed, and she took a deep breath before stepping aside and inviting the woman in, directing her to the kitchen table before requesting that she wait there. Once the door was closed behind them, she met Ben’s eyes with a face that could only say what the fuck?? and hurried over to him. There was a litany of questions between them. “What is she doing here? Who told her about Gabe? What do we do? How long is she gonna be here? Is she mad? Does she seem mad?” She tried to keep her voice hushed, Ben’s voice hushed. The space was small, there was no keeping secrets from a woman who’s eyes she could feel in the back of her neck. “Can you just take Lexi out? It’s warmer today. You can take Pepper and go for a walk to the playground?” she suggested. She looked at her son for a moment, debating whether to ask Ben to take him as well. But then there was dressing and prepping and making sure the diaper bag was ready and the stoller and… two kids plus the dog was a lot to spring on him at once. So she took Gabe into her arms, resting a calming hand on him as he seemed unsettled in the commotion, and kissed Ben’s cheek. “Please?”

Once he’d agreed and set on getting Lexi ready to go, even to the quiet complaints of “but I wanna stay with Gabe!” on her part, Madison took the baby and sat at the table, opposite her mother and asked again. “What are you doing here, mom?”

“You already asked that, Maddie,” Elizabeth pointed out, her focus clearly on the infant instead of her daughter. “You told me I have a grandson via what I can only imagine was a mass text, which, judging by your reaction of me knowing, I wasn’t even meant to be on the receiving list. If I would have called, you would have told me not to come. If I’d have invited you up you would have said you were too busy, because you’re always too busy.” 

Madison shook her head. A baby in her arms meant she had to stay calm. Hysteric crying sounded like a much better idea. Telling her mom off for all she could remember of eighteen years of her never showing up. Of her being too busy. She heard Ben shuffling towards the door and gave him a wave. “I’ll text you okay?” she said in his direction, and watched them until the door was closed once more.

“And a granddaughter too?” Elizabeth started up again. “That little girl is, what? Four? Five years old? In five years you didn’t think I should know that?”

“Lexi isn’t mine, mom,” Madison corrected quickly. “She’s Ben’s daughter with another woman, he has her every other weekend so she’s here now. Ben… that’s my boyfriend. Gabe, Gabriel’s dad.”

“That’s a lot of development since ‘nothing much going on here’ that you told me on your birthday. Or the ‘just a low-key morning here, Mason and I are watching movies in our PJs’ on Christmas morning.

“In fairness, that is what I did on Christmas. Alex was here, too,” she retorted.

“Madison, look, I’m not naive. I know you and I aren’t the mother-daughter best friend type. I’m not your confidant. You haven’t come to me for help since… I couldn’t even remember the last time. Probably to remind me of one of the bills due when you were living on campus. But you just had a child,” her mother rambled on, gesturing to the bundle in her daughter’s arms. “You had a beautiful baby boy with man you’ve never so much as mentioned to me, and you don’t think that warranted a phone call?”

“I can’t be let down by you anymore,” Madison finally told her. “You came to one. ONE school function in four years I was in college. And you stayed for half of it, because you were busy and needed to get home. You had a lawyer’s retreat the weekend of my college graduation. How many games did you come to when I was cheering in high school? How many competitions? Did you come to plays? Awards Days? And it was the same for Mason too. It wasn’t that you favored him to me, though maybe you do, who knows? It was that you favored basically anything in the entire world to both of us. I had to look out in every crowd and not find you. And every time it stung, but stung a little less. Until finally I stopped looking. And then I stopped telling you. Because you weren’t going to be there anyway. Maybe the birth of your grandson would have warranted attention my high school production of Shrek the musical didn’t, but I couldn’t fathom,” she took a breath, sniffing back tears that pricked the corners of her eyes. “I couldn’t stand the idea of the literal most important thing I’ve ever done in my whole life not being not enough for you to spare your time.”

Elizabeth had sat stunned into silence as her daughter calmly lit into her. She may have known she was never in the running for mother of the year, but the level of hurt in her daughter’s voice and written all over her face was something she’d not been aware of. “I thought you understood with your dad and I’s workload that--”

“Work comes first. Work always comes first,” Madison stated, not letting her make up excuses anymore. The hurt wouldn’t just be explained away this time. “You know, it made a little sense when I started working full time, that sometimes you can’t get out of things. And maybe my little flower shop isn’t as demanding as being a big city attorney, but when something matters enough to you, you can make it work. Maybe it’s not perfect, and maybe you have to compromise, but you can make it work. But that takes an amount of trying that you never did.”

Madison paused, waiting for an argument, for a but I…, but it wasn’t coming. “You can meet your grandson. And you can send him presents and I’ll send you pictures and whatever else you want. But you don’t get to just show up again. Not unless you’re also gonna show up when it matters, when he needs you. I’m not going to let you disappoint another McCarthy child.” She raised an eyebrow at the woman, waiting for an acknowledgement of understanding. When the other woman nodded, Madison’s face changed, night and day to rainbows and sunshine as she focused on Gabe, cooing at him and asking if he wanted to meet Grandma Elizabeth all while standing to place the baby in her arms. When he settled in, no real fussing, just quiet squirming to find his comfy spot again, Madison excused herself.

The click of the bedroom door closing echoed loudly in her ear. She finally noticed the feeling of her heart pounding in her chest as the tears fell down her cheeks. She’d never dreamt of laying out every letdown her mother had caused, never once thought the opportunity would be had. Closing off that portion of her life had been easier. So Madison sat on the edge of her bed, pillow clutched to her, and cried as the hurt washed over her anew.

It couldn’t have been more than a couple minutes, but it felt like forever when she finally heard the distinct sound of Gabriel’s crying, followed quiet shushings from her mom. Madison took a few calming breaths, wiped her face off and sniffed back the last of her tears. She glanced in her mirror before heading out, there would be no hiding her state. So instead she went out with her head held high and greeted her baby with a smile and bloodshot eyes. Her mom started to speak and she quieted her with a shake of her head, taking her son and trying to quiet him herself. “I think somebody’s hungry, yes I do,” she sing-songed to him. “I think you can go,” was all she said to her mom. “You can call me if you figure out how to be a grandparent, or maybe just a parent, that can be counted on.” 

Madison made her way to the door then, pulling it open and looking pointedly between it and the woman at her table. After a long moment of awkward silence, broken only by the sound of Gabe’s fussing, Elizabeth stood, tucked her purse over her shoulder and headed out. “I love you, little boy,” she said, stopping briefly in the doorway to say goodbye, then looked Madison in the eye. “And I love you too, no matter what you might think of me.” With that, she offered a weak smile and passed by, heading for the building’s exit.

[bestfriendforhire]

Children of BFFH, Entry 29

 Hearing the changes in Momma Emma’s breathing and heartbeats, I knew she’d be up soon, so I shut off my school work and pulled out her birthday present.  For this year, I had “painted” her a family portrait and created a heart-covered frame out of oak, growing a protective coating over it as she had shown me so many times.  Keeping my own dark energies out of it completely was still too difficult for me, but I managed to keep any thorns from erupting, guiding the magic to color the wood instead.  Jet black oak was weird, but anyone who looked at this would just think it was chemically treated.

 A sound barrier was erected the moment Momma Emma fully woke up, so I asked “What’s she doing in there?”

 Momma Mila appeared in the mirror in my room, saying, “We’re discussing things.  Just give us half an hour, and then you can give her the present.  I’m looking forward to seeing her reaction.”

 “Think she’ll notice the paint!?” I questioned, grinning at the thought.  Instead of using actual paint, I had used plant pigments combined with oils from other plants to create the effect of a painting, forcing my dark energies to the unseen side of them where the “paints” connected with the wooden frame.  Essentially, the “painting” was a collection of new species grown into a single piece of art.

 “The moment she touches it.  You didn’t trap her birthday present, did you?” she questioned suspiciously.

 Shaking my head, I said, “Of course not, Momma!”  The thought had crossed my mind, but I didn’t want to startle Momma Emma first thing on her birthday.

 She nodded and smiled before saying, “Just join us after the sound barrier is down, and no spying.”

 “Yes, Momma.” I replied, slightly disappointed that I couldn’t see what they’re up to.  They had done this sort of thing regularly since I was born, but I’d figure out what was happening eventually.  I always did.

 Cooking breakfast was out, since Momma Emma would want to eat with everyone today.  Being born on Valentine’s Day, she felt kissing every last one of us was necessary each year.  Breakfast was a good time to catch a large chunk of the household, not that most of us ever tried to dodge her after what happened when I was two.

 One of the newer people here at the time, Frederick Petrov, didn’t see the harm in slipping out early for work.  He didn’t realize that would make Momma Emma consider him to be prey.  Momma Emma had reached the grass before his car had reached the end of the drive.  Needless to say, he was captured, hauled back, and properly kissed on the cheek before being sent off to work.  Fighting Momma Emma on her birthday was like picking a fight with the house, yard, and occasionally your own clothing.  Very few here could win against her when she got serious.

 After thirty minutes of gaming to pass the time, sound started reaching me from the other room.  I quickly logged out, grabbed Momma’s present, and ran to her room, creating a kinetic wall over the actual wall when I ran up it to make the turn.

 “Hey, Sweetie.” she told me, flushed and smiling.  Had she been exercising?

 “Happy birthday, Momma!!!” I exclaimed, handing over her present.

 “Wow.  This is big.” she replied, causing the wrapping paper to unfold with a touch.  Her change of expression gave away that she was already looking at the present.

 I could have used something synthetic instead, but Momma Emma preferred natural materials.  The surprise had lasted long enough anyway.

 “Sweetheart, this is amazing!” she exclaimed, looking our family portrait up and down.  She was obviously sensing it as well.  I could feel her magic coursing through it, but she didn’t make any adjustments.  Stepping closer, she hugged me with all her strength.  “I may have to start using the Boss’ illusion spell if I don’t start aging more.  Another ten years, and we might look like sisters.”

 “Wouldn’t that be awesome!” I exclaimed excitedly, picturing us going out together.  Seeing that she didn’t seem as excited about the idea, I said, “At least I won’t look like your older sister.  Messy already looks like Grandma Aaliyah’s big sister.”

 Momma Emma laughed and said, “Yes.  Yes, she does.”  Then she kissed my forehead.  “Let’s figure out where to hang this before we go out for breakfast.

 “Oh!  I already know!  I sized it for the wall in our living room opposite the TV.” I explained, hoping she liked the idea.

 She pursed her lips and tilted her head as she thought.  “I guess I could see that, moving the other pictures to the sides.”

 I nodded, following as she carried the picture over there.  Then I helped hold the other pictures as she unbonded them from the wall.  We didn’t use nails like some people.  Momma simply merged the back of our pictures with the wood from the wall, so rearranging things was simple.

 Hearing Momma Mila move over to get the door, I wondered who was here.  I didn’t hear anyone out there.  I understood why when I heard Grandma Death and Messy step inside.  They had probably appeared out there rather than making their way through the house.  My jaw dropped as I sensed what Messy carried, wrapped up as a gift.  There was a fruit unlike anything I had ever seen before.  I really, really wanted to taste it, but I forced myself to be patient.  This was for Momma.

 “Happy birthday, Emma!  Daddy'll join us after he finishes work!” exclaimed Grandma Death, skipping over to look at the painting.  “Oooh.  Nice job, Serenity.  She really looks like the queen of her domain, and the forest looks beautiful.  Am I really that short!?”  Her eyes were wide, staring at me as if she was perfectly surprised by the idea despite knowing everything, which was the same expression I had given her in the painting.

 Nodding, I exclaimed “Yep!”

 “I like how your Great Grandma’s hiding behind the throne.  Sis is looking flirtatious, sitting on the armrest like that.” added Messy, her golden gaze taking everything in.  ”But why are you attacking me even in the picture!?”

 I shrugged and said, “Because it’s fun?”

 “Serenity Malice!  You goofball.” stated Momma Emma in a chiding manner.  She hadn’t noticed the small, dark tendrils coming out by Messy’s feet.

 The next several minutes were spent discussing the other features I hid throughout the picture, such as the monsters cowering in the woods and the animals bringing us food.  During the discussion, Momma Emma kissed Grandma Death and Messy on the cheek, hugging them each as she did so.

 "Mind opening your gift?" questioned Messy as she held out the present to Momma Emma.

 "How can I deny my favorite sister-in-law-who-makes-a-cute-niece?" replied Momma with a big grin as she took the present.

 "It's sooo cool!" I insisted, smiling when she gave me a look.

 After opening the package, she gently caressed the smooth black fruit, which instantly split into five equal slices, revealing a black pit.  Black veins ran through the perfectly white flesh.

 When Momma offered, we each greedily grabbed a slice.  The sweet flesh practically turned into a liquid in my mouth, but the chocolatey veins and skin had a satisfying crunch.

 Grabbing Messy by the shoulder, I said, "Messy, showing me up on Momma's birthday isn't fair, but I forgive you."

 "Thank you?" she asked, looking worried.

 “More breakfast?” suggested Grandma, licking her fingers.  “We need time to digest, so we have plenty of room for cake later.”

 “Cake will be served in the evening after dinner.” replied Momma Mila, smirking at her mom.

 Hugging her, Momma Emma said, “Onto breakfast!”

 Messy blocked when I moved to tickle her, creating a floating wall of steel between us in a burst of shadows.

 “So cold, Auntie!” I complained, meaning that the steel was obviously well below room temperature.

 She sighed, never really thinking of me as her niece, but I caught the slight twitch of her lips at my joke.  Momma Emma lifted me up onto her shoulders, making me duck as we passed out of our wing.

 Auntie Raine and Pufflewink were waiting expectantly in the hall just outside of the kitchen, and I used my fey telepathy to convince Pufflewink to give Momma Emma a lick in return when she was kissed.

 Momma set me down, so she could attack people more easily once we were in the kitchen.  The Boss was the first to get a kiss, tilting his head for her as she approached.  Momma Alma and their kids were next.  The kiss attacks would continue for over an hour, I was sure, but I split off with the rest of the kids to eat in the dining hall.  We’d be decorating it for tonight’s party after we finished.  Having read plenty of stories about other places, I sometimes wondered how people elsewhere got by with so few parties each year.

[littleindigochildx]

I think daddy is sick ♡ [drabble]

“Daddy?”

The seven year old said as she stood next to David’s bed shaking him to wake him up. It was almost one in the afternoon. He never slept this long, especially when he had the kids for the weekend, but they had been awake for hours and he had yet to grace them with his presence. “Daddy, why are you still sleepin’?” Savvy asked while checking to make sure he still had a pulse..Something she learned from her mother.

His room reeked of vomit and alcohol. There was a half-empty bottle on his nightstand from the solo party he had after Timmy and Savvy went to bed. Things had been this way for a while. “Are you sick?” The seven year old questioned. David groaned in return and rolled over. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to spend time with his children, he was just too hungover to get out of bed. His head was pounding...A sensation that was only magnified by Savanna’s not-so-quiet-tone. “I’m fine, Savvy…” He mumbled, but it was clear to her that he wasn’t. “Go find your brother and play.” He instructed, but Timmy was already busy with a video game. She was hungry and it was past lunch time. “We want lunch, daddy…” The little girl said softly. Her request was met with silence. She couldn’t tell if David had fallen back to sleep or if he was just ignoring her, but she took his lack of a response as a sign that she and her brother were on their own for lunch, just as they had been on their own for breakfast.

“Timmy...I think daddy is sick.” The little brunette furrowed her brow as she took a seat beside her brother. “He won’t get out’a bed even though it’s lunch time.” A pout was ever present on her face when she stayed with their father...Not because she didn’t want to be there, (which she didn’t) but because it was no longer fun for them to spend time with David. “I wish mommy was here…” Savvy admitted out loud. Victoria always knew what to do. She always knew just how to make them feel better when they were sick so Savanna thought she could make David better too. “Do ya think we need’a get him to a doctor?” The little girl asked. Timmy paused his game to look at his sister. “Dad is a doctor.” He reminded her. In his eight year old mind he thought that meant David was incapable of getting sick, especially since Timmy couldn’t remember a time when he had actually seen his father sick. “I know, but…” Savvy sighed. “I think he has a really bad tummy ache. He got sick in his bed like that time I had a tummy bug.” Timothy seemed more interested in his game than the conversation. He loved his dad, but this version of David was already getting old.

“What does mommy do for us when we are sick?” Savanna asked. Timmy looked up at her again. “She always makes soup...and tea…” He saved his game since it was clear to him that his sister wasn't going to leave until they talked this out. Savvy had his attention now and if David was sick, he needed them to take care of him. “She also gives us that special juice and some medicine.” He added. Savanna was already on her way to the kitchen to see what they had in terms of food she and Timmy could prepare unsupervised. “Mommy said we’re not’a ‘loud ta use the stove...Cause we could get burned. Think cereal will make daddy feel better? He can have some’a my Lucky Charms.” Savanna suggested with a shrug. “Cereal has too much sugar. It’ll make his stomach feel worse.” Timmy replied. “We can make him toast. I know how ta use the toaster...Mom didn’t say we couldn’t use that.” He reached for the bread and took the butter out of the refrigerator. “Timmy. I wanna help.” The seven year old insisted. “You can get dad some juice. Just try not to spill.” Savvy nodded. She was pretty good about not spilling as long as the container wasn’t too full. “What’a ‘bout medicine?” Neither one of them knew the first thing about medication. They knew where David kept his, but they also knew they weren’t allowed to touch it. “I don’t think he needs that.” Timmy finally said. “Some toast and juice should be good.”

Once the toast (that Timmy burned slightly) was ready, they carried it to David’s bedroom to give it to him. “Daddy…” Savanna whispered. “We brought stuff for your tummy.” She placed the glass she was carrying on his night stand. “Mommy gives us this when we are sick.” Savanna explained. David groaned something inaudible and Timmy put the plate with toast beside the juice. “It's not workin'..." Savvy frowned before she was struck with an idea of her own. "Stay here...I got one more idea.” Savanna told her brother.

She disappeared out of the room to head for her own. There was one thing (besides Victoria) that always made her feel better when she was sick or when she was scared. Teddy. She grabbed him off her bed and took him with her back to David’s room. Carefully, she climbed up beside him and placed a loving hand on his cheek. “I bringed this for you. Teddy always makes me feel better cause he smells like mommy’s perfume and he is the best at cuddlin’.” She tucked the well loved stuffed animal into David's arms and she kissed his head. “I hope he makes you feel better too, daddy.”

Timmy had already gone back down to his game, but Savanna stayed with her father. She even fell asleep for a little while but stirred when David began to show signs of life again. He even took a bite of the toast Timmy made for him. It was soggy from the butter, and ice cold, but he was appreciative.

“Daddy, are you feeling better?” She asked through a yawn. David nodded. He looked like Hell and desperately needed a shower, but at least he was awake and upright. “Thank you for taking such good care of me, princess.” He kissed her head. “Daddy is gonna take a shower and then you, your brother, and I are gonna get something to eat before I take your back to your mom.” David ruffled his daughter’s hair and gave her a reassuring smile. He still felt like death warmed over him, but he knew he had to get out of bed. He had to step up and be the father his children deserved before he lost them to DC entirely. “Go on. You two pick a place to eat and I’ll be out in a couple minutes.” He leaned in and kissed the top of Savanna’s messy hair one more time.

David winced as he got out of bed. Hopefully the extra strength Tylenol he had would get rid of his headache. He wasted enough of his children’s day by staying in bed. He wanted to make it up to them by treating them to dinner...Anywhere they wanted to go.

----------

It took David close to an hour to shower and make himself look presentable. He was still visibly hungover, but he was feeling a little better. When he emerged from the bedroom Timmy and Savanna were coloring quietly together. He watched them for a minute...They were still so young and innocent, but somehow they seemed to be more grown up than he was. These quiet moments together were fleeting and now he understood why Victoria wanted to quit her job as a nurse and focus her time on them. She was an incredible mom raising incredible kids who would change the world someday.

“Daddy, are you better now?” Savanna asked when she noticed him standing there. She lifted her completed masterpiece for him to see. “I drew us.” She beamed proudly. “You, me, and Timmy. We are swimmin’ at the beach by grandma and grandpa Thorne’s house….Just like we used ta do. You’re teachin’ us how ta surf.” Savanna explained. David took the pictures to get a better look. His youngest was very talented. Her art was better than most adults. She definitely inherited her gift from Victoria, as she did most things. Aside from her blue eyes, David wasn’t sure what qualities of his she actually had. “This picture is beautiful, princess. I’ll hang it on the fridge so everyone can see it.” David told her. “You two get your shoes on if you want to go eat.”

Timmy couldn’t hop up fast enough. David wasn’t sure if it was because Timmy was excited to spend time with him or if he was that excited to eat, but it made him chuckle softly. “We wanna go to Dave & Busters, dad. We wanna play games!” The eight year old said enthusiastically. There was a D&B the next town over. David had taken the kids there a couple of times before. Each time they left with their arms full of toys and his wallet a couple hundred dollars lighter. “I just need’a grab somethin’ real quick.” Savanna said once her shoes were on. There hadn’t been a need for weekend bags since David moved into a house closer to Limbo. He had clothes, shoes, etc for them, but there were still items Savvy brought with her whenever she stayed. She couldn’t go anywhere without Teddy or the butterfly blanket she and Victoria made last fall. She quickly stuffed the items in her empty book bag and headed back down to the living room. “Now we can go.” She grinned. David took the bag from her to put in the car and he locked the door behind them as they exited the house.

“Daddy…” A voice piped up from the back seat. “You must be feelin’ much much better. This is the most we seed ya all weekend.” Savanna smiled, but her words broke David’s heart. His kids wanted to spend time with him. He was beginning to realize how selfish he was being by spending their weekends together in bed with a hangover instead of making new memories. “You know what Savanna?” David made eye contact with her through the rear view mirror. “Daddy isn’t completely better, but I promise…” He looked back to her for a second, then to Timmy, They were both watching him with big doe eyes and hanging onto every word he said. “No more staying in bed all day. When you two come to my house, we’re going to have nothing but fun. Scouts honor.” He promised them both.

Fulfilling his promise would take more than just crossing his heart. David knew that. He needed help...He couldn’t get well on his own.

----------

8:00PM

Dinner had run a lot later than anticipated. The kids were supposed to be back at Victoria’s no later than 6, but they were having so much fun and David was trying to make up for lost time with them. He cleared it with Victoria before extending their curfew and by the time he showed up at her house both kids were fast asleep in the back seat of his car. He considered waking them, but decided it would be better if he carried them in. There were some things he needed to talk to Victoria about anyway and they needed their rest.

“We’re in the driveway. I’m gonna need a hand.” David sent in a text to Vic before he shut the engine off and climbed out of the driver’s seat. He figured he’d take Timmy, since he was the heavier of the two, and he would come back to help Victoria with Savanna if the little girl’s dead weight was too much for the brunette to handle on her own. “Sorry we’re late...I just wanted to make tonight a special night for them…” There was more he wasn’t saying, that much was obvious, but he felt it was best to wait until after the children were tucked in to explain himself.

David carried Timothy to his room as carefully and as quietly as he could. The boy’s shoes and glasses were removed once he was placed in his bed. “Goodnight, sport.” David whispered as he kissed Timmy’s head and turned off the light. Victoria was tucking Savanna in, but David made sure he kissed her goodnight as well. He wouldn’t be seeing them for a while...Not until he got the help he desperately needed.

----------

“I wanted to talk to you before I go…” David turned on the porch with his hands in his pockets. He hadn’t been able to make eye contact with Vic until now. The wounds were still too fresh and (despite everything) he still had feelings for her. “I’m going to need you to keep Timmy and Savvy for my next couple of weekends with them.” He could tell she was confused by the way she furrowed her brow. “I need help, Vic...I want to be a better father for them, but I can’t do that without help.” It wasn’t easy for David, aka Mr. Perfect, to admit that he had faults. Especially to Victoria. “I’ve been looking at a couple of 12 step programs...In patient…” He was sweating, but he wasn’t sure if it was from nerves or alcohol withdrawal. “...They deserve a better dad. I can't be that person for them if I keep going down the path I'm on.” David wasn’t sure what else to say. He certainly wasn’t looking for any sympathy, he just wanted Vic to know that his kids meant more to him than anything else in the world. Even more than his reputation and the love he had for his job. “I need to do this for them.” He fumbled with his car keys. “Please tell them that I love them and that I’ll see them as soon as I can.”

David turned to head down the stairs and back towards his car, stopping half-way to speak again. “Our kids are pretty perfect, Vic.... I know I have you to thank for that.” He forced a smile and got in his truck without another word. He had a rehabilitation facility he needed to check into if he planned on fulfilling his promise to his children. Waiting wasn't an option. He had to go tonight.

[mhtucker]

The Photograph

The prompt was to START a story with words on the back of a photograph and I just couldn’t be bothered to keep my mind on that. Originally I started with it, but I lost my thought in the process of telling the story and the whole thing changed.

Instead, you get this.

The Photograph

by MH Tucker

The old attic was something that Kaliegh had always been afraid of. The place was never used and to get up to it you had to pull on a string that dangled from the ceiling at the end of the hallway in her grandmother’s house. That string brought down stairs which also had to be pulled  and by the time all of that was done, the open mouth of darkness was ready to swallow you up.

Darkness and tight spaces didn’t agree with her, neither did the idea of rooms seldom used. Using a place kept the bugs and the spiders away. Not using a place, well, she didn’t want to think about it. There was a similar attic out in the garage behind the house and that one was always full of raccoons. Their nests, built of insulation pulled from the walls, would always come tumbling down on your head along with all the poop that was in them. While no one had ever had such a shower in the home attic, Kaleigh still made sure that her brother was the one at the bottom of the steps when the mouth of their destination opened up for them.

“Okay, you first,” she said, reaching out to place both palms on the ladder from behind as if she needed to steady it.

Her brother narrowed his eyes at her. “What are you going to do, send me flying?”

“Huh?” Kaliegh blinked and stared at his face, framed perfectly between the steps of the very solid ladder that she clung to.

“You’re on the wrong side. Push from there and the whole thing closes up. You want me squashed?” He slapped her hand off of the pale wood and tossed a thumb over his shoulder. “Come this way, coward.”

She frowned at him and thrust her hands to her hips, but didn’t move. “I’m not a coward.”

“Won’t go up here though, will you?” Her brother tipped his chin up toward the darkness.

“I will, just not until you’ve gone up first,” she huffed.

Rolling his eyes, Jason started his climb. He was all confidence and perfection, something she wished that she could claim to have even a smattering of. The square patch of oblivion sucked up his head, then his shoulders, and finally his stomach before he let out a grunt and the rest of his body disappeared in one swift motion.

“You okay?” She called up to him, trying to keep her voice steady.

“Yeah.” The answer came with another grunt and was followed by the sound of something scraping against the floor. “Just hard to get up those last few steps. Kinda full up here.”

Kaleigh imagined piles of boxes topped with quilts and lamp shades, smothering the attic above her with the Hollywood ideal made from every horror movie ever imagined. She hated horror movies almost as much as she hated the room above her head.

“Okay,” Jason said at last. She heard a click and then the black square over her head was replaced with the sharp golden glow of a bare light bulb. “Come on up.”

After taking in a deep breath, Kaleigh braced herself for the unknown and began to climb, forcing herself to take each step. There were only seven flat slabs of wood for her feet to touch, but the effort of pushing through her fears left her in a sweat by the time her head broke through the gap in the floor. Jason’s hand reached down in front of her face before she had a chance to take in what might be around her, almost making her leap back with surprise.

“Let me help you up,” he insisted even as she yelped and tried to jerk away. 

“You’re gonna fall. Take my hand.”

“Don’t sneak up on me like that!” She complied, but only so that she could slap her palm to his to try and make him pay for the torments he was putting her through. Thanks to her position she couldn’t put enough force behind the movement and she ended up swatting more than striking, which she found utterly disappointing.

Before long she was standing beside her brother in a small space with an inverted V made of golden beams of wood. The floor was cleaner than she expected, empty in the center, with the traditional box piles pushed to the edges of the space. No lamp shades or quilts, but there was a stack of blankets on the floor. They had a dip in the center of them, as if someone’s cat had once used it as a place to sleep and left behind the evidence as a void.

“Well,” Jason said as he let out a long breath. “I guess we should start going through all of this stuff. Figure out what we’re going to keep and what needs to go before the house sells.”

“How are we supposed to know what Mom wants to keep and what she wants to toss?” Kaleigh eyed the plain brown cubes with suspicion. Their task seemed a whole lot bigger without any sort of parameters to fall back on.

Jason shrugged. “All we have to do is figure out what’s inside and label anything that isn’t. Everyone else will do the rest once they’re done dealing with the furniture.”

“Sure seems strange, sending Grandma off to some apartment building when she doesn’t really need to go.” Kaleigh patted the blankets and a plume of dust erupted from them. Any thought she’d had of sitting on them rushed out of her mind faster than the particles that filled the air. Choosing to kneel on the hard wood of the floor instead, she reached for the nearest box and opened it. Already at work on the other side of the room, Jason grunted through the effort of moving one of boxes to where he could open it. “Better for her to go now than wait until it is too late. It’s a good place and there will be people there for her if she needs them.”

“Yeah, well, she won’t.” The need to defend her grandmother’s strength and longevity filled Kaleigh’s heart. “It’ll be ages before she really needs a place like that.”

There was a pause and the sound of cardboard scraping against itself before Jason chuckled. “Seriously. How many cookbooks does anyone need?” Kaleigh lifted up an envelope of sorts from the box she was investigating. “This one is all pictures.” The yellowed flap drifted up as she displayed the evidence of her claim, tempting her with a glimpse of what was held inside.

“We don’t have time to go snooping,” Jason reminded her, even as her fingers pulled the prints from their snug home.

Ignoring his words, Kaleigh began to flip through the stack, trying to work out where each point in history might have been captured. None of the pictures seemed to be from here. Instead, they were snapshots of a life somewhere else, in a place filled with weathered wood, metal railings, and people in fancy outfits. “Wonder where these were taken,” she muttered before turning the stack over in hopes of finding some kind of answer.

Rectangle after rectangle came up empty, giving her little hope until she reached one that read simply, “Not Georg.”

“Huh. Someone can’t spell, I guess.” Muttering to herself, Kaleigh turned the picture around to stare at the grayish image there. In the distance, on an old, wooden pier, a man was walking away. He seemed large, though there wasn’t really any evidence to prove that since he was alone, and his balding head was tipped upward. It wasn’t as if he were looking up at the sky, but maybe to something off in the distance that the photographer refused to let anyone see. In one hand he held a jacket, in the other, what looked like a scrap of paper. “I have so many questions,” Kaleigh told herself as her brother leaned closer, unable to resist a peek. When she noticed him looking she turned the image around to show him the words and he frowned.

“Of all the things to put on a picture.” His brow furrowed in confusion. “I mean. Grandma knew some famous people, maybe it’s someone’s way of hiding who the person really is? Looks like he’s dressed for a show, right?”

Kaleigh went back through the images to weigh the visuals against her brother’s suggestion. Most of them looked like they could have been taken at a theater or a party either before or after. She nodded. “Maybe. We could always go ask.” “Ask me what?” Their grandmother’s head popped up from the hole in the floor, her bright smile lighting the room more than the bare bulb ever could.

“What’s this picture all about?” Kaleigh held it up even though she was sure she was too far away for any details to be clear. “It says ‘Not George’ but George is spelled wrong.”

“That’s because the man in that photo is German. His name really is Georg.” Her grandmother pronounced the name “Ge-org” as she eased her way up the ladder and pulled herself to a sitting position on the floor. Her wrinkled hand reached out and Kaleigh handed over the photograph, scooting closer in hopes of getting the whole story.

Her grandmother stared down at the image, one finger running along the wood of the pier as if the grains were truly raised and could scratch at her skin. “A friend of ours was in a show that night and we all went to go see it. I took this in what turned out to be the last moments of his life as a single man. Didn’t know it at the time of course, but he was about to meet the woman of his dreams.” “So why does it say he’s not Georg then?” Kaleigh’s tongue stumbled over the unfamiliar pronunciation of the name, but if her grandmother was offended by the attempt, she didn’t say anything.

“Ah. When he met his girl, she asked if that was his name and he just said ‘no’ as if he hadn’t understood a word she’d been saying.”

“But he wouldn’t, though, right? If he was German?” Jason’s voice came at them through the squeak of permanent marker as it scraped out a message on the cardboard he held.

Their grandmother laughed. “No, he understood her. She was German too. He was so awestruck that he just couldn’t get his tongue to work.” She sighed and closed her eyes, then handed the photo back to Kaleigh with a sad smile. “Probably the best picture I’ve ever taken,” she said. “One of those accidents that comes along once in a lifetime.”

History seemed to fill the room in that moment, pressing in on Kaleigh from all around. She got the impression that there was much more to this story than what they were being told, but she didn’t want to push any further. Maybe in a time when things weren’t so hectic she would ask about it again and be able to hear more of this mysterious tale of the man who wasn’t someone even though he was. For now, she put the image away with the rest and picked up her marker, forcing it to squeak out the word “photos” before capping it again.

When that job was done, her grandmother clapped her hands once, and made a joyful announcement. “Now. I know you two just started, but lunch is ready so how about we go eat and then you can finish this up with full stomachs?” Always thinking with his stomach, Jason dropped his marker and made a dash to help their grandmother down the attic steps. “Sounds great.”

Their grandmother laughed and thanked him, then made her way slowly through the mouth of the room and back into the rest of the world that she would soon be leaving behind. Kaleigh watched her go, then looked over at the box and imagined all of the memories trapped inside, bits of history that meant so much to some people and yet nothing to the rest of the world.

“It’s a box of magic,” she told herself. “And I won’t lose the key to keeping it alive.”

[chochmah-binah-daas]

The months since elul 5777 has been a hugely transitional time for me for so many reasons. I’ve been meaning to write about this since, well, late elul, early tishrei but I never had the energy to do so. I broke this up into chunks for easier reading but this is still quite an essay…

I know this is long but please like if you read even a part of this and if you have any insights or advice to offer me, my askbox is open and I’d love some support of any kind!!

Children

I always wrote off the idea of having children, even to the point of being one of those people who thought it was funny to be somewhat hostile towards kids. I did have some legitimate reasons for this, mostly sensory issues, being that I’m autistic and am sensitive to many sensory experiences; however, most of it was me just stubbornly holding onto a general distaste for children. Through the course of my retail job, I found myself more and more warming up to the kids who came into the store to the point where I would go out of my way to make faces and wave at babies at the expense of doing my actual job (not to worry, my job was literally completely ineffective). As I realized just after the High Holy Days began, I didn’t just not hate children anymore, I liked them. I actively like and desire to have children now.

If someone had asked me if I really thought I never wanted kids, I would pretty adamantly say I didn’t, though sometimes I’d admit that I could see myself maybe adopting one child in the future. Now it actively pains me that I don’t have children. Plural. Children. My only image of my future self is me, happily married and raising at least 3 or 4 good Jewish children.

I’m only 23 so I know that I’m not expected by secular society to have kids but seeing my more observant Jewish cousins around my age pursuing marriage really gets me down a lot of the time. I want nothing more right now than to marry a nice gay Jewish man and adopt a few kids. This leads me to my next sections…

Career goals

I never settled on one single thing I wanted to do with my life. I was one of those kids who, probably due to being autistic, was always getting deeply invested in something and then flitting off to another after a couple months. For the last year or two I did have a decent idea in my head that I wanted to get a Master’s of Library and Information Science degree and work in a library or archive. I’m good at that kind of work. It allows me to be quiet and a bit neurotic about my workstation because I’d largely be working alone, away from the general public and most of my coworkers.

After my graduation, my mom and grandma suggested that I consider going to law school. I agreed to at least take the LSAT, which I will be doing in February and oy am I nervous!! My mom, who went to law school, says that she thinks I’d be great at it, that my mind is so well-suited to that type of thinking. I don’t disagree with her but I also can’t imagine myself doing anything with a law degree.

In fact, I can’t imagine myself doing anything in the future. People think I’m joking, but I really do just want to marry someone with a steady, well-paying job and be a house-spouse. I have a deep passion for learning but I have no passion for an actual career that comes along with any path of study. In a perfect world where my mental illness didn’t destroy my ability to read, I would love to go get an MLIS and/or a law degree. I’d even consider going to a yeshiva and studying Torah, Talmud, contemporary Jewish issues, all that. But once I’m out of school, I have no clue what I’d do besides sit at home with all that knowledge swirling around in my head.

Education is never a waste in my opinion, but also formal education is expensive and I’d never be able to afford it without having a prospective career in my future to provide the income for paying off the student loans.

Gender

I never understood the concept of gender. All I know is what language I’m comfortable with, how I like dressing, and what I want my body to be. I am AFAB (assigned female at birth) and I medically transitioned through hormones, chest surgery, and a hysterectomy. My pronouns are they/them or he/him. I am now legally male with a traditionally male name. On most days, I enjoy wearing skirts though I do occasionally choose to wear pants. I could never be cis-passing unless I stuck with wearing pants all the time, which would make me very uncomfortable. If you asked me to get dressed without thinking about it at all, my first choice would be to throw on a skirt, t-shirt, and cardigan. It’s comfortable, psychologically and sensory.

None of this changed during elul 5777; what did change was how my gender and my Judaism were connected. Before, they weren’t. Now, I am working on becoming shomer tznius which involved a major overhaul of my wardrobe, particularly the skirts and dresses. I got rid of almost all of my short and revealing articles unless they could be easily layered and bought a lot of long skirts, three quarter sleeve shirts, cardigans, and other tznius layering essentials.

When it comes to my religious observance, I mix and match though I do mostly connect with the mitzvos for men. In shul and at home, I prefer not to light the shabbos candles if there is a woman who would be able to do it instead. I wear tallis and tefillin to daven and I leyn torah. But I also enjoy occasionally wearing a tichel and being the one who cooks for shabbos, plus the aforementioned movement towards being shomer tznius.

Religious observance

I currently attend, and work for, a Reform shul. I adore my community and the rabbi there. It’s such a loving and supportive community with a small but fantastic group of regulars at Torah study. I’m fortunate in that my community has no problem with the way I present myself. They accept me as a queer Jew who expresses their queerness and their Jewishness in a unique way. But I worry about how other Jewish communities might react towards me, especially since I can see myself being much more observant than I currently am.

Ideally, I would have a kosher kitchen and fully observe shabbos. I would live close enough to walk to shul and I would make sure to raise my children with a strong Jewish identity, and of course a Jewish education. I don’t know if I could have that kind of life while being involved in a Reform community, largely because they don’t tend to celebrate every holiday and also when they do, it can be too lax for my tastes. For example, even in the winter our shabbos services don’t start until 6 or 7 PM, a solid 2 or so hours after shabbos actually begins.

As a queer Jew, who is very obviously gender nonconforming, I don’t know how I would fit into a more traditional community that would probably be more regimented in its separation of genders into a binary. I wear tallis and tefillin when I daven but I would be seen as a woman by some men so I would be immediately singled out as an other. I do wear skirts but I also have a deep voice and facial hair (and my name is Zack) so I’m automatically too male for women-only spaces. Not that I feel entitled to men- or women-only spaces, but I do fear how I could become more observant, when doing so tends to mean an increase in that kind of separation.

Relationships

This is probably the trickiest and most personal portion of this whole shpiel. I’m currently… somewhat in a relationship, I guess? When I transferred to HSU, I thought I was aromantic-asexual and I have since realized that I am neither of those and now identify as someone generally attracted to men. But soon after starting at HSU, I met someone else who identifies as aro-ace and we became really close friends, hanging out all the time in one of our dorm rooms. They were in a non-romantic, queer-platonic relationship with two people and suddenly, they started including me in this relationship. I didn’t mind this so much at the beginning but the more I come to understand my identity and my vague goals and dreams for the future, the more I realize that I just can’t go where I want to go in life and be tied to this relationship.

I know that the longer this goes on, the worse it will be to break it off but I’m terrified to do so, for various reasons I don’t want to get into here. As I said earlier, I want to marry a Jewish guy and have Jewish kids and live a Jewish life. I obviously can’t do that in a household with two pagans and a Catholic, none of whom want kids at all. I know I’m probably becoming one of Those Converts who gets super zealous about Judaism and defensive of their Jewishness but over the last year or so, and especially since elul, I have had this image in my head that I just can’t shake. And that image doesn’t include the people I currently feel tied down to.

[xofanfics]

31 Days - Part 7

Table of Contents: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Epilogue

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Reader

Genre: angst, fluff

Word Count: 3k

Summary: You come to Korea to visit your family after you graduate from college. Soon, you find yourself falling for a guy you meet online. There’s only one problem—you’re only in the country for thirty-one days.

When you woke up, his arms were wrapped tightly around you. You yawned and checked your phone to see what time it was. It was eight in the morning. Since he didn't feel your movements from behind you, it was safe to assume that he was still fast asleep.

You didn't have sex with Tae. You wanted to and you were sure that he wouldn't have minded, but it would've been too much. Instead of giving in to the temporary feeling, you didn't go further than just making out and feeling each other up. After all, you only knew each other for three weeks. Wasn't that too soon to be having sex? Did things like that matter to him?

Before you stopped, he had mentioned that he was a virgin.

And you said, “It’s okay. You should lose it to someone you care about.”

“I care about you, it's just…” He paused. “Maybe we’ll meet again someday.”

It was wishful thinking. You didn't know how much money Tae had or anything like that. It seemed to you that he was an average guy with a job and he just so happened to have a small apartment that his grandmother left behind for him. And you weren't rich either. Your parents had helped get you here but you didn't have much in your savings. Basically, you didn't know the next time you'd get to come back to Korea. And you didn't know when or if Tae would come to the states. It would definitely be easier to meet up there. You wouldn't have an international flight to catch.

And you left it at that, both of you deciding that it wasn't a good time to have sex, even if you wanted to.

You had thought about staying so many times. You didn't mention it to anyone but you definitely spent nights you couldn't sleep thinking about it. What if you didn't go back to New York? What if you applied to jobs here in Korea? What if you started your life here rather than back home? You had a place to stay here. Your grandmother would probably be happy if you stayed. You could help her around the house with cooking and cleaning. You could spend more time with your cousins and improve your Korean. Basically, you had the ability to stay in Korea.

It was stupid, you realized. Your main reason for wanting to stay was Tae. And that wasn't a good enough reason to throw your old life away just to stay here. You liked South Korea a lot and, honestly, you could probably live here without any problems. But, again, it was dumb. Staying wasn't a guarantee that Tae would be with you. Even if it was, there was no guarantee that you would stay together. All things, no matter how good, came to an end. Sometimes bitter, sometimes sweet.

From behind you, he stirred. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. Seeing that you were awake, he said, “Morning. Did you sleep okay?”

You nodded. “Fine.”

He kissed your forehead. “I didn't snore did I?”

You rolled your eyes. “I could hardly get any sleep.”

His cheeks started turning red from embarrassment. “Really?”

You laughed. “I was just kidding, Tae.”

And he laughed, too.

Tae’s time with you was running out. Tomorrow was the last day that he could see you. He had to be back to Seoul the following morning. Unfortunately, he couldn't even see you off.

He saw you today and the day before that. Between those two days he went to the movies with you, to the arcade, to the night market, and he went with you, scrambling around Daegu to get last minute souvenirs. He spent as much time with you as he could. Your grandmother probably wondered where you went each time but she must've assumed that you made a bunch of friends or something.

After he took you back home, he went to the department store you were in earlier. There was a necklace he saw you looking at. He went back and bought it. It was expensive; that was why she walked away at first. But he wanted to buy it for you, no matter what you thought of the price. He wanted you to see the necklace and automatically think of him and the fun times you had in Korea, even if you slowly forget over time.

Of course, he hoped you wouldn't forget him. On his way home, he couldn't help but think of how cruel life was being to him. Sure, he was an idol. He had lived happily like this for a long time. But he had never liked someone like this. He had crushes in middle school and high school but nothing had ever come from it; he kept those feelings to himself and didn't act on them. This was the first time he had the opportunity to act on his feelings and, just his luck, you were leaving at the end of the week. And to make matters worse, he wouldn't even be able to see you the night before. He had to make do with what he had, which was seeing you tomorrow before he left for Seoul again. His break was over and so was yours. It was all bittersweet.

There was a small part of him wished that he hadn't met you. At least if you never met him, he wouldn't feel like this. At least his heart wouldn't hurt every time he thought about the fact that you were leaving. His heart broke over and over again, realizing that soon you'd be thousands of miles away from him. He wouldn't be able to touch you, hug you, or kiss you. He didn't know whether or not you would talk to him after leaving. Would you reach out to him, calling him on FaceTime or just sending him a simple text message? Or would your relationship stay behind in South Korea, no hope of being rekindled in New York. At the concert in March, would you even want to see him?

He hadn't talked to you about his feelings. The most terrifying thing was if he felt more strongly than you did. You said that you liked him but, in reality, those were just words. Did you mean what you said or were the words useless?

He wasn't this worried a few days ago, when you spent the night together. He supposed that it was partially because you were right in front of him. And at that time, he had no worries aside from whether or not you wanted to have sex with him. He'd been so worried. He knew that American culture was different and that it was possible that you were already experienced. But it was also possible that you weren't experienced. Of course, he didn't want to make assumptions about your sexual experiences.

Regardless, it was a bad idea. If he had sex with you, he'd want you more. He would've grown an attachment to you, just a few days before your scheduled departure.

Your cousins were helping you pack up your things, taking your clothes out of the closet and drawers of your aunt’s old bedroom. They were sad to see you leave, too.

“We go back to school this week,” Yubin said, “and you're leaving…”

“Yeah,” added Yuri. “You're the only cousin we have on our mom’s side. We don't really see the ones from our dad’s side.”

Yubin said, “Are you going to come back?”

“I want to,” you explained, “but life doesn't always work out that way.”

“What about Tae?” Yuri asked.

“I mean, hopefully we’ll stay in contact but I don't know. He said that he wants to see me tonight. He has to go back to Seoul in the morning…”

Yubin sighed. “So why didn't you invite him to dinner tonight? Grandma said that you should invite your friends. Why'd you say he was busy?”

“Wouldn't it be too much?”

Yubin shook her head. “Not unless someone mentions that he's an idol.”

Yubin had a point. Your grandmother could hardly keep up with her favorite actors and actresses. She definitely didn't know the names of idols. According to your cousins, she often confused BTS and BTOB. She definitely wouldn't know Tae by face. And if you didn't mention the group, she wouldn't know his status as a celebrity.

Your grandmother had insisted on cooking a big dinner before you left for the states in the morning. You had suggested going out to a restaurant instead but of course, she rejected your suggestion. She said that you needed a home cooked meal before you returned home to her son’s mediocre cooking. And you laughed.

“You're right,” you said, picking up your phone to text him with an invitation to join you for dinner.

You just hoped that your family didn't do anything embarrassing during dinner.

Tae knocked on the door. He was nervous as all hell but he wasn't going to pass up his last opportunity to spend time with you, even if it involved your family. It was a good sign that you wanted him to meet your family, even if it was only your grandmother, aunt, uncle and cousins. Part of him was excited and the other part was ready to turn around and run the other way. But it was too late; he already rang the doorbell.

He wasn't sure what to say. Of course, he wouldn't reveal that he was an idol. He'd make something up. He wished that he didn't have to lie but, of you understood his situation, your family would have to understand too. Especially if you ended up together with him in the future. But, again, that was him being hopeful.

You came to the door, looking as beautiful as ever. Your hair was pulled back and you were wearing a simple outfit–a blouse and a pair of jeans. You looked down at her feet, noticing that she had a pink sock and a grey sock on.

You said, “Nice socks, Y/N.”

“Shutup,” you muttered, giving him a quick hug.

He wanted to hold you and rest his head in the crook of your neck but he didn't want to be disrespectful to your family. He wasn't even sure what you had told them about him. He grew a little curious.

Since you didn't make much of an effort to make more physical contact with him, he thought it was safe to assume that your family didn't know much about your relationship.

“Come,” you said, “Everyone is in the kitchen.” He followed you into the kitchen, where your family was waiting patiently for your guest to enter. “Everyone, this is my friend Taehyung.”

He bowed before your family and said, “Thank you for inviting me.” He held up a bag. “I brought some fruits.”

“Thank you,” your grandmother said. “You seem like a sweet boy. Are you the friend that Y/N is always with?”

He nodded and grinned. “I'm sorry for stealing her away so much.”

“Well she could use a boyfriend…”

“Grandma!”

As she washed the lettuce in the sink, she said, “What?”

“Anyway,” you said. “I hope you're hungry.”

He chuckled. “I was actually going to eat something right before you texted me…”

Yubin said, “We’ve been waiting all day for this food. Grandma told us not to eat lunch so we’ve been starving to death all day.”

“It's a special occasion,” your grandmother said. “Of course you shouldn't eat before a big dinner. You have to eat everything I made.”

Yuri kept stealing glances at Tae. There was an idol in the kitchen after all. She could hardly hold it together.

Your aunt said, “Stop staring, Yuri. If you keep it up, a bug will fly in your mouth.”

Your grandmother turned and said, “He's handsome, right?”

Yuri nodded blankly. From what you remember, V wasn't her favorite member, but you could still understand her being starstruck. He was from one of her favorite kpop groups.

Oh my god. You cast Tae an apologetic look but he just smiled. You were sure he was enjoying seeing your face turn red from embarrassment.

“Let's just eat,” you said, grabbing the bowls of side dishes, heading to the dining room. Your cousins and Tae helped you with the other, smaller dishes, while the adults waited in the kitchen for the meat to finish cooking.

As soon as the four of you were alone together, Yuri said, “It's really you.”

Tae smiled. “Yeah.”

She turned to you. “You're the luckiest girl in the world, you know.”

You looked at Tae with a smile. “I told them not to tell anyone about you being here so you won't have to worry about anything.”

He nodded and turned to your cousins. “Thank you guys so much for respecting my privacy and keeping this all a secret.”

The dining room table was filled with all sorts of dishes, from kimchi to kalbi. Your grandmother had really outdone herself.

Your uncle finished grilling the pork. “Do you eat pork, Taehyung?” He nodded. Your uncle proceeded to place several pieces of pork on his plate.

Tae said, “Thank you.” Then he started stuffing his lettuce wrap with meat.

Your uncle said, “You're our guest so you should eat a lot.”

Your grandmother nodded saying, “Handsome guys like you have to grow up and become tall and strong.”

Tae smiled and continued eating as your uncle passed around pieces of the grilled pork.

Your family hadn’t embarrassed you too much over dinner, thankfully. They got to know Tae a little. They asked about his hobbies and favorite things. It was when they asked about his career that you got nervous.

He finished chewing what he had in his mouth and swallowed. “I work in the entertainment industry.”

Your grandmother raised her eyebrows, intrigued. “Is it music? Acting?”

“Music. I work at a small company.”

“Do you go to school?”

He nodded. “I take online classes. With my schedule, it would be hard.”

Your aunt said, “What company? The girls probably know it.”

He laughed nervously. “Probably not. I don't even think they have any artists that are big.”

Your aunt nodded. You were grateful that she didn't keep pushing the matter. The last thing you wanted was for him to feel uncomfortable at dinner. But he smiled and continued eating. That was a good sign, right?

“I'm sorry my family’s so embarrassing,” you said as you walked him to the door. “I'll walk with you outside…”

You slipped on your shoes and grabbed your coat before heading out.

He said, “I like them. They're good people.”

“They're alright,” you said, walking down the stairs. “Did you have a good time?”

He nodded. “Yeah. It was a good time. I'm glad I spent my last night in Daegu with you.”

You smiled. “I wish I had one more day…”

He said, “Me too.” As you got to the bottom of the staircase, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest. “This is unreal…”

You rested your head on him. “What is?”

Still holding you, he said, “Everything. All of this. Meeting you, getting to know you, you not knowing who I was, kissing you, hugging you… Everything.”

You felt the same, but he continued. “I don't know if you feel the same. Or if your heart beats as fast or as hard as mine when you see me. Or if you're falling for me. But I'm falling for you. No—I already did. I think I'm falling in love with you, Y/N...”

Your lips parted. You didn’t know what to say. He said all of the things you thought about but never had the courage to say. They were things that you couldn’t bring yourself to say out loud. You didn’t want to seem desperate or dumb, so you kept quiet about how you felt.

You were falling in love with someone you could never have. Not completely, at least. Even if he asked you to be his girlfriend right here, right now, you couldn’t go public with your relationship. You’d have to keep it hidden from the world, potentially facing backlash from fans. Your cousins told you about incidents where people broke into idol’s dorms and where fans gave them a hard time out in the street or at the airport. Of course, you wanted to be with him. But would it even be worth it? You didn’t want Tae to have a hard life all because of you, a regular person who barely just graduated from college with your bachelor’s degree and didn’t have a plan.

You wanted nothing but the best for Tae.

“I think I’m falling for you, too,” you whispered.

He pulled away from you, a huge smile on his face. You could tell how relieved he was. After all, you could’ve rejected him completely. And he pressed his lips to yours, cupping your cheek with his hand.

“I have something for you,” he said, reaching into his pocket.

He pulled out the necklace you saw at the department store a few days earlier. Your eyes widened upon seeing it. Had he really been paying that close attention to you? He sensed that you liked it and went back to get it for you. No one had ever done something like that for you. He was so kind and so caring that it was almost too good to be true.

“I wanted to give this to you,” he said, “as a parting gift.”

Your eyes started watering as he unhooked it. He stood behind you and pushed your hair and sweater out of the way. He put it around your neck and hooked it securely. “You didn’t have to do this for me...”

“I wanted to.”

“Thank you, Tae.”

When he went to face you, there were tears in your eyes. You couldn’t help yourself. You broke down. Tae couldn’t stand it, so he just held you in his arms. You took him in completely, his scent, his presence, his touch.

“This isn’t the end,” he said, “I promise.”

[weapon13whitefang]

Mystery Health Issue?

So on June 3rd I broke out between my legs. They were little circular itchy splotches between my legs. They itched like crazy. I thought - since I’ve gotten them before and I’m a thicker girl - it was heat hives. Which are a thing.

I went home, took two Benadryl’s and put topical ointment on my legs and went to sleep. I woke up about five hours later with my face swollen and my body still itchy. I had to call into work and I went to Urgent care. Urgent care couldn’t do anything for me. They told me everything I had done was all they would suggest and with my face swollen up, it was an ER job now. So I went to ER

I’m the ER they gave me a shot, gave me three pills, two of which were Benadryl, and then I was sent home. One of the pills they issued me was Prednisone. Which is a steroid. And they had me get Benadryl topical ointment. Anyway I took it, went to bed, then the next day I’m feeling fine. I’m not itching anymore, the swelling went down. It’s June 4th by this point. And I went to a swap meet and walked around a bit before coming home

When I got home I was swelling up again and itching everywhere. I had to call into work. Once again I went to the ER. They gave me two shots, and more Benadryl and another allergy pill. Me and my mom were in the room for awhile. The itching wouldn’t stop even with two shots and the Benadryl. So then they gave me an antihistamine. That somewhat helped but not really. I was still fairly swollen. And still fairly itchy. But they simply sent me home. With more Prednisone. Woopie.

Saturday rolls around and I’m again at an ER. This time a different one since the other place wasn’t helping. They check me over but because I can breath there’s not much they can do. They give me - surprise - more steroid shots, an antihistamine shot, and an epi pen shot. I’m given more medication- more Prednisone and a few other drugs - before they’re sending me home again with my mother.

Sunday rolls around - June 6th at this point - and I had gone to sleep with no clothes on. Hoping I could sleep - after I hadn’t actually gotten much sleep due to my itching - and not itch as much. It sort of worked and I got a marginal amount of sleep. It’s noon when I try to get out of bed… And realize that I can’t move. As in my entire body has locked up and I have no way of walking. If you’ve ever felt your legs fall asleep then tried to stand up and walk on them, then it was somewhat like that. But while also wearing exercise weights. Like the ones Goku trains in… I couldn’t sit up. I had to literally grab the bed and pull. My body was dead weight. I sat up - with difficulty because my body tried to fold in on itself as I sat in bed - and grabbed a towel on the end of my bed to wrap around my naked self.

I Waite until I could somewhat feel my feet before trying to walk… Bad idea. I stumbled side to side while trying to hold the towel around my body. I fell out of my bedroom like a drunk, crying but laughing because I was so scared of what was happening. I fell in front of mom and stumbled to the bathroom - which is diagonal from my room - unable to lift my legs and my arms up, clutching my towel and scared. My mom - later - would say that with my face being so puffy on one side and me falling to one side more that the other - that she thought I was having a stroke. Or a TIA. Either way it scared her. She had me try to sit down. I say “try” because I couldn’t. I could not get my body to sit on the toilet. Instead I fell over when I tried and was trying to hold myself up on my left side because that’s the side I fell on and where all my weight was trying to go. And instead I fell forward off the toilet. Sliding on my arm rather comically as my younger brother walked by, oblivious to me falling in the bathroom.

I laid on the floor until slowly I got strength in my body to move. Well crawl. I crawled - clutching a towel around me still - until my mom got me one of dads sleep shirts and a pair of boy shorts to put on - with difficulty. Now mind you, the whole time I was bumbling from my bedroom, I could not talk. My words were slurred and I sounded drunk. And when these episodes happen - because that’s right friends, they keep happening- I can’t speak properly. I legitimately sound drunk and I can’t form full coherent thoughts. I struggle to talk and think when these happen.

Obviously spooked, mom and dad rush me to the second ER I had gone to on the 5th. They get me in quickly and assess me. The doctor that sees me is a nice young guy, but immediately he’s thinking I’m having a stroke and/or a TIA. I can not explain what I had happen very well. It took five times of me trying to explain what I felt and what happened to the man. Again I can’t form coherent thoughts and when I try to talk, it’s all garbled or I repeat myself a lot. But eventually he understood what I was saying. He believed the. That it wasn’t a stroke. That I was being pumped full of enough steroids to take out five people and my body was freaking out. So they said no more steroids, take these different meds instead. So I did that. Once again they wouldn’t admit me because I could still breath and wasn’t having a stroke at all. So I was sent home again… Yeah

Monday the 7th rolls around. Grandma comes to pick me up for a visit with a dermatologist. By this point I’m still broken out in hives and itching. But the new meds they gave me - the antihistamine- are helping the hives and itching go down. Well the dermatologist takes a look and is startled by the hives I got. She admits she’s never seen this many hives on a single person. I ask if I could’ve rolled around in something. She explains that you don’t get hives from contact on the skin you get them from ingesting something or they’re idiopathic. Which means I was or had ingested something that triggered these hives and my swelling or they’re chronic and I may never know what caused them. As for my muscles shutting down - which was still happening- she had no idea.

Well after my dermatologist visit, I went to get food with grandma… But then the locking up thing happened… And I couldn’t move. So grandma got upset and took me to the ER. This time to the one I 1st went to when everything started. They got me into the back quick, gave me meds, and I talked with a rather essentric but caring doctor who I told everything to. And he fully assessed “you are not having a stroke, I’ve had enough stroke victims to recognize the signs”. He assessed that my body was panicking from all the meds I’d been pumped with and was dealing with and it was trying to protect me so it started shutting me down basically. So he said “no more prednisone”. Which I wasn’t taking because it wasn’t helping anyway. And two just take the antihistamines until they’re finished.

Now by the 11th I was no longer covered in hives. I still felt off - weak and a bit disoriented and I got sick if I got hot or went outside for too long - but I was feeling better. I didn’t have any limb locking at all… Fast forward to tonight. Embarrassingly I had to call the county EMS to come check on me. My limbs had locked up on my left side. First my whole body felt heavy and stiff. I got a little dizzy and then my left side locked up. For a solid 5 minutes I sat locked up. Before I had to call EMS. And then came the guys I work with. They’re all concerned and looking at me confused as EMS checks my blood pressure and heart and I’m anxious and annoyed and it makes me cry. Which is extra embarrassing. Who wants to cry in front of coworkers? Not me.

Anyway I had to sign paperwork that I didn’t want them taking me to the damn ER. Because I couldn’t stand the very idea of going to the ER again when they’ll - again - tell me they can’t do anything and then send me on my way. But now I gotta get a doctor’s note saying I can be at work. So I gotta go to the doctor anyway 😭

I have no clue what’s going on with me. I’m annoyed and mildly scared and confused…

Last week during all this was supposed to be my vacation… Fuck me sideways 😓

[jackfollmanwriter-blog]

Snow Globe

I didn’t know it at the time, but 2015 would be the last year I carried out one of my most-cherished childhood traditions. Submerging myself down into my grandparents’ basement and feeling that icy chill which hid down in the darkened pit of a room hit me as soon as I made my way onto the first rickety, wooden step seemed to serve as my yearly reminder that it was officially Christmas season.

December 23rd was always the day when I would make the frigid trek down to the basement to retrieve the box of tissue paper-wrapped Christmas ornaments softly tucked into a clear, plastic bin in the corner of the room next to a healthy stack of decomposing magazines.The 23rd was the first night of my family’s yearly three-day Christmas celebration at my grandma and grandpa’s four-bedroom farmhouse up in rural northern Vermont. My less-than-nuclear family of my 15-year-old semi-goth, semi-punk self, my mom and my step-dad made the six-hour drive up from Long Island, stopped just across the Vermont border to pick up our Christmas tree and itched at the pine needles off of us for the last 30 minutes of the drive to the house.

2015 was the first (and ultimately) last year we would have our yearly holiday retreat with the family. Like so many celebrities we mourned on Facebook, both Gram and Gran (that’s what I called them) passed away in 2015. Just two months apart. It was like something out of The Notebook.

The absence of Gram and Gran left a hollow feeling in their spacious farm house on the edge of a town which could barely be classified as a town anymore. I couldn’t smell Gram’s yearly Christmas Eve prime rib roast radiating from the kitchen and into every inch of the house, or the sound of Gran yelling at the quarterback of some podunk college football team like Central Michigan or something as he and my step-dad watched some kind of “bowl game” I didn’t understand.

Knowing that empty feeling would hollow out the three of us as soon as we walked through the door, we considered skipping the 2015 visit to Gram and Gran’s. However, knowing a sale on the house was likely closely in January, we figured one last trip to our holiday retreat was needed to properly honor Gram and Gran.

So now you know. Back to the basement.

I went down to retrieve all of the about 50 Christmas ornaments which rested in the basement, but there was really only one that I cared about. The Gram and Gran snow globe. A snow globe about the size of a baseball, the Gram and Gran snow globe displayed a cozy living room scene of an old gray-haired woman man smoking a pipe  and an old gray-haired woman knitting in easy chairs in front of a red-hot fire and a curled-up brown dog. The thing looked custom made, because the two characters looked exactly like Gram and Gran doing their favorite past times with their since-deceased chocolate lab, Bart, nearby, but it wasn’t. It was just some knick knack my step-dad found in the Duluth, Minnesota airport on a business trip in the 90s. This was confirmed by the almost completely faded-away print of “DULUTH” in red ink on the front of the thing.

The Gram and Gran snow globe was traditionally the last ornament placed on the tree each year and took on a new sadness on the December 23rd of 2015. The faded paint of the old man and woman in the raggedy snow felt symbolic now. The thinning of the fake snow which had been reduced to just a little flurry tugged at the heart as well. Time had passed. Lives were gone. Forever. Gram and Gran were now just as alive as those little ceramic figurines which were forever trapped in glass.

I felt the hot tears start to streak down my face when I yawned after putting the snow globe’s green hook over its usual spot right in the upper center of our proud Douglas Fir.

“Gram and Gran would have been proud,” I heard my mom drunkenly slur from behind me. “We did it one last time doll.”

I turned around to see my mother and her quaff of faded-blonde hair holding up a toast of her White Russian to no one.  My step-dad and his already-finished scotch and 7Up lied passed out next to her on Gram and Gran’s beat-up leather couch.

My mother hadn’t put down a drink since we received the $750,000 offer on Gram and Gran’s place. I understood those six digits on paper meant she could “retire” from her dead end office assistant job in a year or two, but I personally thought the five-week, never-ending celebration was taking things a bit too far.

Here I was, still crying about losing my beloved grandparents and she was over there pickling herself like the Claussen pickles stork. Maybe that was just her way of coping though?

“I’m so proud of you Rebecca,” my mom gurgled from the couch again.

The only thing worse than a parent who never tells you they are proud of you is one that only does when they are at least three drinks in.

I shook off the darkness of my mother and took one last look at the snow globe in hopes its serene nostalgic would help me block out her obnoxious presence.

My plan was an instant disaster. I blinked twice to confirm what I saw in the snow globe was actually there.

Replacing the sweet den scene of Gram and Gran lookalikes was the exact scene which existed around me. Me by the Christmas tree. My step-dad passed out on the couch next to my mom. Even the liquid in the glass my mom held up in her frozen toast was accurately the shade of a milky mud puddle.

I reached up and shook the globe then waited patiently for the meager flurry of snow to set back down. When it did. All seemed right again. The familiar old scene was back. My mom let out a loud, crackling fart from the couch. It was time to go to bed.

Sleep came fast thanks to the swigs of Bailey’s I was able to sneak past my mom. Tucked in by the soft hug of coffee liqeur, I was dreaming within about 30 minutes of walking away from Gram and Gran’s shape-shifting snow globe.

That boozy sleep was not free though. Less than two hours after I first fell asleep, the tickle of my bladder forced me back awake. Snake shit.

Relieving my bladder meant I would have to get up out of my cozy, little, warm, sweet guest room and trek out by the living room where the nearest backroom was nestled down an adjacent hallway. The worst part was that section of the house was heated by just a fireplace which had been put out before we all retreated to our beds.

I readied by cell phone before I got to the door which led out to the living room and hallway with the bathroom. The light switch for the section of the old house was all the way into the living room. The blue light of my phone was going to have to serve as my lone beacon.

However, much to my surprise, my cell phone light was not needed. The rainbow of twinkling lights which snaked all around the Christmas tree beamed out from the center of the living room.

My drunk ass mom must have forgotten to shut off the tree before she stumbled off to bed. Figuring I would protect against a fire hazard and save some energy. I decided I should shut the thing off myself.

Since every lightswitch in the ancient house just had to be difficult, the switches for the living room lights and the tree lights were wedged behind the bristly back of the tree. I had to stick myself into the cruel branches just to flick the lights off.

I felt a pine needle stick hard into my skin as soon as the room went black.

“Ah fuck this,” I fumed in the dark.

I tried to rush out of the living room, but couldn’t. I stepped down hard on something with a bare foot and screamed. It took me a few moments to get over the initial, shocking, sting, but when I did, an even worse feeling took over me. I knew what I stepped on was Gram and Gran’s snow globe. Had I broken it?

My foot still throbbing like I stepped on a scorpion, I went back through the arduous process of getting the tree lights on and quickly spotted the snow globe lying under the tree looking relatively unharmed. Phew. I knelt down and picked it up. I took a look at the scene through the round orb of glass.

I instantly kissed goodbye to that relief because inside that snow globe was a new scene. This one contained Gram and Gran, but the two of them instead both lied in bed, drinking from cups with their backs turned to my mother who was holding a can which read POISON, adorned with a skull and crossbones.

The room got even colder. Something which now clearly should have been a worry of mine was suggested by the snow globe.

Had my mom poisoned Gram and Gran so she could sell their house?

It all started to add up. Gram and Gran dying so quickly in such a close amount of time for reasons limply described as “old age,” even though they were just in their late-70s (hardly ancient these days). My mom taking a lot of trips up to Vermont in the past couple of years for unclear reasons. My mom’s guilt drinking and coping. All those trips my mom took to the casino the last couple of years with my step-dad. Maybe they needed a quick way out of crippling debt?

“Rebecca?” the voice of my step-dad shocked me from behind.

I screamed and jumped. I whipped around to see my step-dad standing at the edge of the living room dressed in just white briefs and black body hair.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“Oh, uh, the tree was on. I went to turn it off, but got hurt.”

My step-dad walked away before I even finished. I knew I could count on his general disinterest in me to end the awkward situation.

“I gotta piss like a beer-drinking race horse,” I heard him mumble on his way down to the hallway.

I was in the clear again. I tucked the snow globe into the pocket of my pajama pants. I was going to have to do some more investigating.

Knowing sleep was not going to come back with my brain so rattled, I dove deep into shaking the snow globe every five minutes in hopes it would reveal a new scene and “hint” per-se. About 195 minutes into this, my body tapped out and I lost the battle with Dr. Sleep.

I wanted to puke when I woke up and saw I had slept in till 10 AM. My snoozing assuredly meant my mom and step-dad were already up and milling around. My mom would probably stick her red face in the door any minute to make sure I was up for no real reason.

That retching feeling was swiftly replaced by two, distinct, haunting feelings. A burning need to pee and a frenzied terror about realizing the snow globe was not in the room.

That urge to finally urinate drove me out into the heart of the house where I could hear my mom and step-dad talking about proper crust on a prime rib in the kitchen. I tried to tip-toe into the bathroom without them noticing, but was caught once I heard my mom’s raspy voice beller from the kitchen.

“Look who’s finally up.”

I had no choice but to head into the kitchen after I relieved myself and greet the morning with my less-than-trustworthy family.

“You really love that snow globe, don’t you?” My mom asked me after exchanging good mornings.

“Uh, yeah,” I stammered back.

“I saw you sleeping with it when I went to check on you this morning,” my mom went on. “Don’t worry, it’s back on the tree, safe and sound.”

My mom seasoning a bloody hunk of meat with thick kosher salt and bony bare hands took on a stomach-churning flavor given the details of what the snow globe showed me the night before. She didn’t have some motivation to off me, did she? Maybe I would skip the customary Christmas Eve prime rib this year? Too sick. So sorry.

I returned my mom’s statement with an awkward half-laugh/half-hiccup and went back to the tree to check in on the snow globe.

The snow globe was in its usual place, but I immediately noticed its contents were again different. A closer look revealed a familiar scene. It was of me in the living room, looking at the snow globe with the poisoning scene it showed me last night inside it. My breath halted in my lungs. Had the snow globe shown this scene to my mom when she took it from me earlier this morning. Did she know, that I knew about what she may have did?

“Rebecca,” my mom’s voice shot out from the kitchen. “You wanna help me with the pie?”

I had to play it cool. Not let on I had any inklings to my mom being some kind of parent murderer. It wasn’t easy, but I managed to remain composed through the entire production of a cherry pie.

*

My cool was kept throughout the entire process of making the pie and getting it into the oven and a bathroom break by my mother as soon as the pie was in the oven provided me with the cover I needed to check on the snow globe. Though that may have been a bad idea.

Another new scene greeted me when I strolled up to the tree while waiting for the sound of my mom’s flush from the bathroom to send me back to the kitchen in a sprint to pretend like I hadn’t moved from the new cookie project we were launching. Waiting for me in the glass of the globe was the cold, dark setting of the basement.

Planted in the middle of the basement was my mom and step-dad, hunched over shovels in a waist-high hole in the dirt floor of the basement, with their feet stuck next to the bodies of Gram and Gran. I audibly gasped once I took it all in.

“You’re obsessed with that frickin thing,” my mom yelled from behind me.

I let go of the snow globe. Turned around to face my mom. She stared at me from the edge of the room. I could have completely been projecting, but it felt like there was a tension buzzing between us.

“Oh yeah,” I shot one last look at the snow globe while I spoke. “Let’s start those cookies so we can relax.”

We finished the cookies (only burnt a couple) and proceeded to “relax.” For my mom that meant a pre-noon White Russian. For me that meant a brisk walk to town to grab a latte and some much-needed alone time.

I discovered my hopes of relaxation were futile as soon as I put my jacket on within eye range of my step-dad.

“Good luck. It’s snowing harder than a wet dog in heat out there,” my step-dad proudly announced from the dining room table.

I opened the door and confirmed his putrid analogy. The couple feet of snow which iced the house when we arrived the afternoon before had been piled on with at least a few more feet of fresh powder and the sky was still raining down more snow at a heavy clip. I was officially trapped with my potentially-murdering mom and potentially-retarded, probably at least complicit step-dad.

It seems to me that in movies and TV, everyone always knows what to do in these situations, but I admit that I had no clue. My only thought was to go look at the snow globe and maybe investigate the basement?

Looking for some long-lost, beloved Christmas Reindeer decorations was the perfect alibi to get me down in the basement and away from my roast-tending, liquoring-up mom. I cleared at least 20 to 30 minutes for research in the basement.

I laid out some boxes of old Christmas decorations all around me as a cover and set myself up over the dirt floor in the center of the room. It looked recently-tampered with right where the snow globe showed me my mom and step-dad did their evil deeds. I even saw twin shovels resting under the stairs. The whole room felt guilty.

The thought of starting a dig tempted me, but I worried it would be incredibly risky. All could be exposed if my mom or step-dad came down and saw me. Besides, I had enough confirmation at the moment.

The snow globe called me back to the living room. I made my way in that direction while taking in the world’s most-savory smell - roasting prime rib and simmering au jus. The level or aroma let me know I would be stuck at the dinner table with my rapidly-growing-frightening family in just a handful of minutes.

My glass-domed friend did not let me down. I could there was a new scene being displayed as soon as I plucked it off the tree.

This image hit me harder than the rest in a nanosecond because of the first thing I was able to identify...the unmistakable image of the bright orange Sthil chainsaw hat my dad always wore. One of those guys who tragically started balding in his 20s, I don’t have a single memory of him in my brain where he wasn’t wearing it.

What I also didn’t have a memory of was the the scene the snow globe presented me. In the glass, I looked at my dad walking through rows of thick trees. Behind him, hiding in the cover of one of those trees, was my step-dad, in his usual blue Red Sox hat, holding a heavy axe.

All I ever knew about my dad’s premature death in his mid-20s was that he died in a logging accident. My brain always pictured the scene of a huge tree lying across his torso as he delivered heroic parting words to a co-worker in a scene that unrealistically contained no gore in the way it would in an old Western movie or black and white World War II film.

My dear friend the snow globe presented me with a different scene. A new narrative. One that suggested my step-dad took care of my dad and staged everything as a “logging accident.” Like Gram and Gran’s deaths, I now had horrifying concerns about the people I was sharing my life with who were listening to old Bob Dylan records in the kitchen and probably already five drinks in.

“Dinner’s ready,” my mom’s announcement from the kitchen told me I either had to fully trust the snow globe, run out of the house and call the cops or stick it out and hope the two of them didn’t have some sinister plan for me they were in the midst of hatching.

I went with option two. Even though option one was oh-so-tempting, it was beyond drastic and could have easily ruined my life had this whole thing been my imagination or incorrect. I would risk ending up in the looney bin. Do they still have looney bins?

Dinner was painful. The food was good, but the drunken conversation between my mom and step-dad which was almost exclusively about “skanks” and “dumb-fucks” they worked with made everything taste sour. Couldn’t we talk about memories of Gram and Gran? You know the whole reason we were there. Not some “dicklicker” named Steve who fucked up a “vendor order?”

I somehow got through dinner with just having to converse with a few courtesy laughs and “ums,” “hums,” and “yeahs.” My first move post-dinner was to check in with the snow globe.

The snow globe presented me with what I would call “check mate” (even though I only loosely know what that term means). Waiting for me inside that little bubble of glass was a scene of me, sleeping in my stuffy guest room bed at Gram and Gran’s with my mom and step-dad standing around the bed, both carrying what looked to be a wealth of chemicals.

It was time to move. I wasn’t going to sit there and wait for my mom and step-dad to carry out whatever they were going to do to me and I was too scared to confront them. I was just going to get the hell out of the house while they were distracted by booze and warm acoustic guitar songs and see if I could find that shelter from the storm Dylan was singing about on their records in the storm outside.

I snagged the snow globe off the tree and stuck it in the jacket of my pocket. It was probably going to come in handy later and I didn’t it tipping off my family that I had literally snuck out the back door.

My jacket cinched up as tight as possible, my pink gloves slapped on and two of those pocket hand warmers snapped open and revving up in my pocket, I slipped out the back door of the house, skated across the thick ice formed in the walkway of the back yard and out into the alley. It appeared no one saw me and hearing the record player crank up just before I stepped out the door gave me the confidence that I had at least 10-15 minutes to get a good headstart on the two drunk asses back at the house.

A heavy blast of wind said hello the second I got into the alley. Based on how bitterly it stung my naked face, I judged that the temperatures were probably hovering somewhere around 10 degrees. I didn’t have long to find a solution or I would have to face a problem maybe even scarier than my mom and some rat poison.

I fought through the wind and was able to make it to the street which ran behind Gram and Gran’s house. I knew the street eventually led back into the meager little town of about 700 people, but I couldn’t remember exactly how long that took and whether or not it passed any houses I could go into for help. Also, knowing rural America, its undying love of guns and hair trigger for confrontation, I didn’t know if walking up and knocking on random doors on a frozen Christmas Eve night was the best idea.

And yes, I have the answer to your question about why I didn’t just dial 911. I already knew I didn’t have service anywhere in Gram and Gran’s poop smear of a backwoods town. Thank you very much T-Mobile.

After staggering for about 15 minutes and knowing my disappearance clock with my family was probably running out of sand, I knew I had to do something. I had yet to pass a house that didn’t look like have at least four broke-down trucks in the driveway and which didn’t look like a set from The Vermont Chainsaw Massacre and had also yet to see a hint of the one Stop sign town I knew eventually would come into play.

Panic started to set in once I felt my bones start to shiver in my skin and my legs grow wobbly. Maybe it was even colder than 10 degrees? The snow was only lightly fluttering down now, but that was almost worse. It’s absence seemed to let the pure, unfiltered cold and harsh wind take over the world all around me.

Everything in my field of vision started to get fuzzy. The trees which lined the road now looked like pipe cleaners. The lights of the town, finally coming into sight ahead, looked like blurry stars on a drunken sky. I was losing it. I could tell.

A few more steps and my legs officially gave out. I fell down hard onto the crunchy snowbank by the side of the road I was following and broke my fall with my thin cotton gloves, instantly felt moisture take them over.

Trying to catch my breath, I rolled onto my back and looked up at the cloudy, white of the sky. I just lied there and watched the snow fall for a few moments before something caught my eye.

Drifting lazily across the sky I could see a giant, pinkish/pale, rounded figure soar across the sky like a plane. It took a few moments to fully focus in, but further review seemed it looked to be a giant finger, nail, hair and all. I kept watching the thing until it stopped high above me in the clouds.

The entire world seemed to shake. Like an earthquake I felt on a trip to Disneyland once. The world shuddered and then stopped again. My eyes glued to the sky the whole time, I watched that giant finger slip away as soon as things got still again.

Through my glossy gaze, I watched the sky then fill with faces which took up the entire horizon. Two very familiar faces. Those of my mom and step-dad. I watched their brows furrow with concern before everything went black.

*

I heard the phrase “cabin fever” come out of my step-dad’s mouth before I even open my eyes.

The first thing I saw once I opened my eyes was my step-dad shaking his head as he examined my face attentively, the way a doctor would.

“She’s up,” he announced gleefully across the living room to my mom who was pacing over by the tree.

“What happened?” I asked with a cloudy head, feeling like Dorothy at the end of The Wizard of Oz.

A smile spread across my step-dad’s face. He seemed genuinely proud that he rescued me. I felt horrible that I acted on what I believed were lies the snow globe shared with me.

“We couldn’t find you in the house so we drove around looking for you and found you sleeping by the road in the snow. You were about to start freezing, but luckily we found you just in time. The fire department said you were real cold and real tired, but okay. We all think the cabin fever of being up here all snowed in got to you and your brain just decided you needed to walk away,” my step-dad explained.

I shook some more cobwebs out. Felt the warmth in the room tickle my soul. My mom came over and wrapped me up in a stiff hug. I felt loved for the first time in a very, very long time.

“I’m just so glad you are okay. I was so worried,” my said right into my ear with the presence of sobriety in her tenor.

My mom and I locked eyes after she pulled away. We smiled at each other. At least I thought I smiled at her. I don’t know. My face may have still been frozen.

“I love you,” my mom said.

*

The rest of the time at Gram and Gran’s was what it was supposed to be...comfortable, cozy, heartwarming and a little sad. I was still wiping tears out of my eyes when we pulled out of the driveway one last time. I let the tears fall down in big fat drops as I whispered “good bye” to the faded white home from the backseat of my step-dad’s snow-covered sedan.

My mind and body seemed to be at peace for a few moments. I took a deep breath and decided it was time to escape into the comfortable world of celebrity gossip, Facebook and Instagram on the phone. I went to retrieve it out of the dark recesses of my purse.

I felt every cell in my body freeze up when I touched a very familiar cold ball of glass stuck in the middle of my purse. I knew exactly what the object was before I even ducked my head down, opened up my purse wide and saw Gram and Gran’s snow globe shining back at me.

I looked off my mom and step-dad for a moment. They didn’t appear to being paying any mind to me. I was free to examine the snow globe without fear.

I kept my hands in the purse and held the sides of the snow globe until the snow inside the glass sifted to the bottom and I saw a fresh, new scene. This one was of me, all tucked up in my jacket, lying by the side of the road. Standing over my body were the figures of my mom and step dad, looking down at me with their hands in their pockets, just off to their side was the sedan we were riding in, a little smoke puffing out the tailpipe.

Without me shaking the snow globe, the snow inside whirled around, clouded the scene and then drifted back to the bottom to show a new scene. This new portrait was of my mom and step-dad getting back in the car, leaving me, freezing, by the side of the road.

The snow whirled around the glass again without my held. Settled. Painted a new scene. This one of a cop car pulling up in front of the car and my mom and step-dad running out of the car like they actually trying to save a life instead of driving away from it to let it freeze to death.

The snow globe stuck on the scene and I impatiently gave it a shake to push it to another scene.

It didn’t disappoint, within a few seconds, I was looking at a dark scene on the edge of a steep cliff over a river. Standing on the edge of the cliff was my mom and step-dad, helping each other carry something large wrapped up in a black trash bag.

I shook the globe again but it wouldn’t give me anything new. I shook it again and it went back to the original scene of Gram and Gran by the fire. I shook it again and again and again and it wouldn’t budge it was as if it suddenly lost its magic.

I never got the snow globe to show me anything else the rest of the ride. I eventually just sat back, went to my phone and tried to shut it all out. Maybe that was the last of the cabin fever getting squeezed out of my brain?

Or maybe it wasn’t? I don’t know, but I keep my bases covered. I still keep Gram and Gran’s snow globe tucked in the nightstand next to my bed so I can shake it each and every night to see if it ever decides to show me something else I might need to know.

Originally published by Thought Catalong on www.ThoughtCatalog.com.

[vitalmindandbody]

If not my surname or my husband’s, could we call our child after a New Zealand volcano?

Franki Cookney and her husband didnt much like each others surnames, so now theyre having a baby theyve are determined to pick a brand-new one

When my husband, Rob, and I marriage last year, the question of what to do about our surnames barely registered our discussions. We are both novelists, so our figures are on every piece of work we do. That we would hinder our own seemed a payed. There was just one niggling indecision. What would happen if we had babes?

I had always thought that we would just stick both our mentions on the birth certification, but I knew this didnt fairly solve the problem. Whose call would go first? And which reputation would end up being used?

We could use a double-barrel mention, but didnt detect our surnames, Cookney and Davies, lent themselves to hyphenation. Whichever tell you have selected, the result is clunky and we were reluctant to saddle small children with it.

We could have just chosen whichever mention seemed best with our babys first name. But in that scenario, one parent intent up not sharing a surname with their child and neither of us craved that. Plus, Id heard too many fables of parents being stopped at airfield protection because the calls on their passports didnt match that of their children.

The traditional alternative of taking my husbands surname was never on the table. Quite apart from the feminist principle of not was intended to abdicate my identity for his, I wasnt keen on the appoint. Rob supported this and was by no means offended. The disturbance was, he wasnt a fan of my identify either. Its precisely a bit unwieldy, he mentioned. Its almost Cockney but not quite. Youre incessantly having to spell it out. We looked at our moms maiden identifies and our grandparents names but ever objective up back in the same situate, feeling that it wasnt equal, that picking one surface of their own families over another wasnt fair.

We hit on the idea of taking a new name about a year ago when before our wed we went to write our wills. As we chitchatted to one of the attorneys, it transpired that he and his wife had done exactly this. Theres a fair fleck of admin, but its good, it wreaks, he alleged , nod decisively. Abruptly, it didnt seem so outlandish. This wasnt some childish uprising or bohemian pretentiousness, this was something solicitors did!

We mooted it with pals, who were largely unfazed. What figure will you go for? was the thing they were most curious about. Good theme. Could we compound the messages of our mentions and make something new, we meditated. Schedules were realized: Dents, Cave, Devine, Kinsey, Dacovnicks Cookies? Nothing of them quite hit the mark.

As our marry gleaned nearer, we introduced the reputation activity on a back burner. But when I became pregnant 3 months later, we were forced to look at the situation afresh and decided to change tacking. How about a region? I suggested. Somewhere weve called that we desired. A backpacking stint before we got married had left us with batch to choose from but most sounded quite bizarre when attached to a couple of ordinary Brits. Rob and Franki Tongariro possessed a certain vigour, but naming yourself after a New Zealand volcano would be ridiculous. And Zhangjiajie might invoke memories of fantastic Chinese mountains, but imagine having to charm it every time you booked a “hairs-breadth” appointment or called your internet provider. For a while Salento and Chaltn were on the listing, after places in Colombia and Argentina. But we werent convinced we could pull off the undoubtedly Latino-sounding former and supposed the latter would lead to a lifetime of correcting people who declared it Charlton.

Then Rob enunciated, What about Stone Town? The beautiful age-old city of Zanzibar City is where he had asked me to marry him. It instantly seemed right. Stone was straightforward but important. It seemed good with both our first names and after a few weeks of trying it on with other calls would work well with almost anything we decide to for our newborn. It was perfect: a solid figure( with a potential for puns that was not lost on us) that felt like a constructive solution to our problem. We would keep our original surnames for act and borrow this new family name for our personal lives.

By law, all you need to do to change your figure is, well, remained unchanged. Simply borrowing and using your new mention is enough. Informing your details and chronicles, however, requires a document of proof such as a marriage certification or, in our case, a deed ballot. “They dont have” official space of acquiring a deed referendum. You can write one yourself utilizing free templates from the internet, but lack of lucidity about the process solutions in some institutions necessitating an original certification despite the fact that no such thing subsists. You can either fight it out or you can do what we did and compensate 15 -2 0 for a company such as the Deed Poll Office to draw up the word on your behalf and publication and stomp it on watermarked paper. Dedicated the inventory of bodies and organisations you have to notify and the potential proofs over what constitutes an original credential, this seemed a reasonable compromise.

Perhaps “its been” naive, but we didnt expect to meet with opposition. Uncertainty, perhaps. Intrigue, for certain. When it is necessary to getting married, we had ditched almost every institution moving, prohibiting the union itself, and no one had wondered us. Surely this too would be seen as a modern update on an outdated habit. But when we announced our decided not to our families, the reaction was mixed.

Franki and Rob. Picture: Christian Sinibaldi for the Guardian

While they understood our predicament, the common restraint was that the child would lose the connection to its family history. Try as I might, I cant know what this is. To me, family history disappears far deeper than ones appoint. Its in accordance with the rules “were living”, our values, the gumption and shared ordeal passed down through generations. It is part of the storytelling our parents did and its in the narrations we, very, “re going to tell” and the beliefs we will share.

Our beginnings are not in our identifies, they are in our centres. My grandmother, whose surname was Jones, is important to me not because of her refer but because of her adoration. My great-grandmother, a midwife I never even assembled, let alone shared a identify with, forms a part of my feel of identity. Why? Because of the behavior my “mothers ” talks about her, because of the pictures she has decorated in my heads of state of that life, that family, that time.

Interestingly, the appoint itself has also supported a sticking point, with a few people commenting that its bearing. Youre doing this really unusual thing but youve picked a really everyday identify, said one colleague, as though by doing something different we are obliged to go the whole hog and announce ourselves Rob and Franki Thundercats.

In fact, the accessibility of the mention was something we fantasized would help us sell the idea. It is about to change “were in” naive there, more. My baby, a former primary school teacher, insisted that someone called Stone would be teased. Another relative describing him as a dead weight of a name.

In my experience, children will come up with nicknames no matter what. I wasted much of my school years known as Franki Cookie while my first name was frequently elongated to Frankenstein, Frankincense or Frankfurter.

Never tell people your epithet picks in advance, admonished one sidekick( too late ). Its as if telling beings in advance is inviting a talk or consultation!

While my familys impressions apparently matter to me, I suspect she might be right. Eventually, this is our decision, based on our motives, and I hope they will come to see it as a practical and positive step , not an irresponsible one.

Its almost impossible to get everyone on board, counselled another friend, who changed her surname by deed referendum in 2004. The suggestion upset my grandma but my papa, her son, understood. When I married my husband, he took my mention. Im still not sure his brother was 100% behind us, but when we had our first son, he was the first to be born into our empire. Im so excited that we are the first in our tree!

This is exactly how I detect. I love the notion that our newborn will be born into this new, specially choice and carefully thought-out family name. And if the working day he or she decides to change it either to something new or to one of our old family names we will fully support that.

Even when you change names, ancestry can still be traced and, if nothing else, I like to think we will be appeared back on as the ones who tried something new; who instead of clearing do with an disappointing place, made creatively about how to solve it. Thats their own families legacy Im happy with.

Read more: www.theguardian.com

The post If not my surname or my husband’s, could we call our child after a New Zealand volcano? appeared first on vitalmindandbody.com.

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[tanmath3-blog]

I’m going to start this interview off a little differently by using an excerpt from his new book. Please welcome R. Patrick Gates to Roadie Notes…..

  One fine day in the middle of the night,

Two dead boys got up to fight.

Back to back they faced each other,

Drew their swords and shot each other.

A deaf policeman heard the noise,

And came and killed the two dead boys.…

The empty airwaves of the mind…

Welcome to TunnelVision – the premium channel streaming from the imagination of R. Patrick Gates to you!

What happens when you lose sight of the forest for the trees?

TunnelVision!

Wilbur Clayton has a personal connection with Jesus – Murder! Abused for most of his life, Wilbur and Jesus are out to make amends and take revenge. With Grandma in his head and Jesus on the TunnelVision, Wilbur knows what must be done and who must be made to pay for the sins of the father…

The only thing standing in his way are a cop with a gift for details and deduction, and a young genius whose reenactments of his favorite books are about to become all too real.

TunnelVision – streaming seven days a week, 24 hours a day!

On the air and in your nightmares!

      1. How old were you when you wrote your first story?

I was seven years old. Every Monday afternoon I had to go to catechism class after school. Leading up to Christmas that year, catechism had a story writing contest. The story had to be about Christmas and its true meaning. I wrote a story about a drug addict who’s addicted to LSD (shows how much I knew about drugs at seven years old) who takes acid and experiences the Nativity and sees God, basically. Afterwards, he finds out that the pusher who sold him the acid was really selling placebos – just sugar pills. I won first place, and the prize was, I think, my very own rosary.

2. How many books have you written?

At present count, I have written 10 adult horror novels (FEAR, GRIMM MEMORIALS, GRIMM REAPINGS, TUNNELVISION, DEATHWALKER,JUMPERS,THE PRISON, ‘VADERS, NOWHERETOHIDE, and SAVAGE), seven young adult horror/mystery novels, of which four (MYSTERY HILL, GUARDIANS, GHOSTLAND and CANDY STRIPES) have been published so far in the U.S.– all were originally published only in Germany and in the German language; the rest will be coming out this year and next in the U.S. In the works is a collection of my poetry and short stories (called DARK STREETS & FUNNY BONES) plus sequels to at least four of my novels. I’m also working on a very long fantasy novel, THE SECRET WAR, you know, the kind that appeals to children ages 8 to 80. I have also produced two children’s picture books. The first, ROLLERCOASTER WORLD, I wrote with my son when he was seven years old (he’s 27 now). We had gone to an amusement park and afterwards riding home he had mused aloud, “I wonder what it would be like if the whole world was made up of roller coasters.” It was just such a great idea I couldn’t forget it. We created the book and self-published it, and gave it as Christmas presents for several years to my son’s cousins. Then a couple of years ago, around Halloween, I was talking with my step-grandkids about how much they loved Halloween, and we came up with the idea of, HALLOWEEN WORLD, and created a book which we self-published and gave as gifts. We are now working on anotherWORLD book entitled, NINJA WORLD. All of my books, including the children’s picture books, are available as Kindle editions at Amazon. The original paperback editions of all my adult novels (except SAVAGE) are available from Amazon and most on-line bookstores, and everything else is exclusively on Amazon Kindle. Handmade editions of the children’s books are available, and can be ordered through my Facebook page by leaving me a post or a personal message at Facebook/R. Patrick Gates.

3. Is there anything you won’t write about?

No, I don’t think there is. I’ve written in just about every genre there is (I’ve been working on a romance novel for several years) and there is no subject that I would find taboo. Of course I would never glorify despicable behavior even while I try to make such a character sympathetic.

4.Tell me about you.

I have been a published author since 1989; and have been writing since I was a boy. Very early on I was labeled a ‘splatter-punk’ writer which is a style of horror generally credited to Clive Barker. I took great offense at that because I was writing what they called ‘splatter’ (graphic horror) long before Barker ever came along. If I’m not mistaken I was one the very first to push the limits of horror by injecting ultra-realistic gore, sex, and violence into my stories. Now, I am 62 years old. I was a middle school language arts teacher for 20 years, and a college Creative Writing Professor for 11 years. I presently work part-time as a Standardized Patient Examiner at UMASS Medical School, which entails teaching medical students how to communicate better with patients. I’m also a Bob Dylan tribute performer on guitar and harmonica. I’ve been in numerous musical groups since I was a teenager, and I’ve written close to one hundred songs that have never seen publication or recording, but hopefully that will change in the near future.

5. What’s your favorite book that you have written?

My favorite book is my most recent one, SAVAGE. It was the hardest book I ever wrote because it reflected a personal tragedy in my life, and was very cathartic for me. A very close second, however, are, GRIMM MEMORIALS, and its sequel, GRIMM REAPINGS, and my novel, THE PRISON.

6. Who or what inspired you to write?

So many people and books/writers. My mom, my sister, Mary; a teacher, Mrs. Risley, and just about every writer I’ve ever read, but most of all Edgar Allen Poe. My mom was probably my biggest inspiration, and the biggest reason I ended up writing horror. I grew up in a haunted house, my mother was psychic and discovered the place was haunted, like the second day after we moved in. She personally exorcised the house and got rid of the ghost, or at least got it to stop scaring her. I grew up hearing this story many, many times. I also had many experiences – ghostly experiences – in that house, as did my son. Also, when I was a boy I was an avid reader, and I was in the habit of acting out the books I read. When I was 12, I was very much into the books of Mark Twain, and after reading Tom Sawyer and then Huckleberry Finn, I convinced my little brother and his best friend to sneak out of the house at midnight to go dig for buried treasure in a cemetery. Then we were going to build a raft and sail it down the polluted Nashua River and have adventures. My mother caught us trying to sneak out (she thought I was the ghost come back) and when I told her what I was doing she suggested that instead of acting out my fantasies I write them down like the authors that I loved to read. I had been dabbling in writing before that (like with the short story for catechism class) but I’d never really considered writing something as substantial as a novel. That same year, the day after Christmas, I was in a terrible sledding accident and suffered a severe head injury/concussion. I had partial amnesia for three days, but the event changed me—made me more creative and, I think, smarter. It also gave me an extraordinary memory.Early on in my life my sister, Mary, inspired me by buying me my first book when I was, I believe, five years old. She was 10 years older than I was and when I was born she became like my second mother. She taught me to read when I was three years old. By the time I was starting school I was reading books at the fifth, sixth grade level. She bought me the collected works of Edgar Allen Poe, a large tome that I still have. I read that book voraciously. I remember now I hardly understood half of what I read, and had to have a dictionary nearby at all times, but it was the style and the tone and the mood that grabbed me. Then when I was in high school I had a teacher, Mrs. Risley, who inspired me further. Every Friday she would display a surrealistic or abstract painting at the front of the room, put on some weird electronic or Indian music, and tell us to write about what we saw in the painting. Man, I just ate that up! It was the greatest writing exercise I have ever had!

7. What do you like to do for fun?

My wife and I like to hike, play tennis, dance, ski, and hang out with our grandkids. I play the guitar and perform as a Dylan tribute artist, and also paint and sculpt. I love movies and going to the movies.

8. Any traditions you do when you finish a book?

No.

9. Where do you write?

I generally write in my home office, but I usually take a notebook with me, like to work, or if I’m going out and I think I might have free time on a long drive, say. I write in the notebook whenever I can. I’m a constant and prolific note writer, and I write all my stuff in longhand to start with, and then transcribe it into the computer. I like to have the tv on in the background—creates a white noise effect—and usually only listen to music when I’m painting.

10. Is there anything you would change about your writing?

Yes, I would make it more lucrative and popular! I’m rewriting nearly all of my novels as they are being republished – some more so than others. I find that with some of my earlier works, they need editing, so I’m glad that I have the chance to do that. Like with, TUNNELVISION, I did a lot of polishing and editing. Most of my novels were written before the advent of cell phones and smart phones and handheld devices so I’ve tried to update and work those things in to make them more current.

11. What is your dream? Famous writer?

I’ve never had a desire to be famous, though I have always wanted to be able to make enough money from my writing to support myself. My dream is to work with my son, who is a director trained at Cal Arts, to turn all of my novels into movies or TV miniseries. We are presently in the screenplay writing stage for a couple. All we need is financial backing.

12. Where do you live?

I live in Massachusetts.

13. Pets?

Two dogs, Polly and Sad-Eyed Sadie of the Low Lands.

14. What’s your favorite thing about writing?

My first love, and first choice for a career, was acting. Second was music, third was art, and fourth was writing. As I got older, in high school and college,I realized that if you really want to be successful as an actor, you have to live in either New York or Los Angeles – or at least a major city, not the sticks of north-central Massachusetts where I lived and still do. I didn’t have the confidence, or the courage I guess, to move and pursue acting. But then, I realized that a writer IS an actor because you have to become your characters in order to make them believable. I generally act out all of the scenes and dialogue in my books, even if only in my head. I think the best way to describe how I feel about writing is that I agree with what Dorothy Parker once said: “I hate writing, but I love having written.” I love the idea that someone I don’t know and have never met is reading a story that I created. I think that’s pretty cool.

15. What is coming next?

I presently have many irons in the fire. I’m rewriting the second book in the TUNNELVISION trilogy, DEATHWALKER, getting it ready for republication from Bloodshot Books, and writing the third, a new one,AND LITTLE LAMBS EAT IVY. I’m also working on the third book in my, GRIMM MEMROIALSsaga and working on readying all my other novels for reprint as I mentioned earlier. I’m working on a rewrite and sequel of my first novel,FEAR (to be renamed QUARRY), a sequel to my science fiction novel. ‘VADERS, and something new for me, a strictly fantasy novel entitled, THE SECRET WAR and a comedic romance called, HEY TEACH! I’ve also been working on a mainstream, slice of life novel entitled, GROWING OLD.

    You can connect with R. Patrick Gates here: 

website/pages, rpatrickgates.com,

Amazon/R. Patrick Gates,

Facebook/R. Patrick Gates.

    Some of R. Patrick Gates books: 

  Getting personal with R. Patrick Gates I'm going to start this interview off a little differently by using an excerpt from his new book.