#this messy newly divorced bitch

[majosullivan]

I can’t get over how unserious Annabel was during episode 79. Girl was truly having the time of her life, thinking Lenore was really getting into their fake rivalry and fully getting in the mood in public, not realising Lenore was about to pull out a different type of strap from behind her back. Did not realise how fucked she was until Lenore directly told her she’s knows what she did to Duke. Fucking loser, I love her to bits

<(25/??)>

[read more]

+Bonus!

[sims3legacytypestuff]

Kenya Kordei, Deceased. 22 Years Old.

The eldest daughter of celebrity photographer and model 'Lola Kordei' and real estate agent 'Jaycen Hendrix' Kenya had the whole world as her oyster and a very large shadow to fill. 

Growing up Kenya never really heard the word "NO", since her mother was always so busy rebuilding her career Kenya spent most of her childhood almost raising herself. Unintentionally surrounded by a world that is 90% plastic and 100% fake Kenya always struggled with her appearance, from a very young age she'd see pictures of her mother and auntie 'Luna Kordei' and she couldn't understand why their faces looked the same but different at the same time. Not being able to understand her feelings and never feeling like she had anyone to turn to Kenya's emotions began to show as jealousy, this jealousy got worse and as a result she became quite mean spirited throughout her high school career. Kenya was very much known as the leader of the mean girls, a group of very popular, very attractive individuals that bullied everyone at some point. 

Being the known bitch in school wasn't necessarily something Kenya would say she's was proud of but it made her popular and growing up in her mothers shadow dealing with the environment that created being popular seemed like everything to a teenage Kenya.

Somehow graduating, Kenya is trying to leave home as soon as possible but she hasn't fully realised her insecurities, who she is or what she wants to do but she knows she wants to exist in a different environment to the one she grew up in. 

With access to her trust fund Kenya moved.

After moving out Kenya's life really got messy, she proposed to her short-time girlfriend Tasha after only living together for a week, her career as a sports star began gaining traction and one of the biggest topics during interviews was ' So Kenya, What's it like being the Daughter of Lola Kordei'. This never set the interview up for success because Kenya would always drop the 'My mother isn't that good bomb' this resulted in Lola cutting Kenya off from her trust fund and kicking her out of the vacation home in Starlight Shores. With surface level success in her career and a very small bank account Kenya had to find somewhere to live and fast, she ended up living with her best friend Kurtis in his little fixer upper home since her newly wed life was following the same path as her relationship with her mother.

After her divorce was finalized and her relationship with her mother worsened Kenya wanted to change the direction of her career, she wanted to use her early twenties to build her own image, a brand separate from the shadow of her mother. To start this transition she decided to change the name she would be known as and addressed her self during interviews as ‘Kenya K. Coleman’ began to focus on areas that she excelled at, things she could do that her mother wasn’t already known for, she began taking work modelling. Shortly into this transition Kenya realised one of things her mother was known for was the modelling industry however she usually managed models launching them into the spotlight, Kenya didn’t want to manage models below her she wanted to be the star but this wasn’t going to be enough to differentiate her from her mother, she had to do something else. This inspired her to conjure her own concept brand, something that she wanted to do but wouldn't be accessible to her for a few years as she needed to get herself into a financially stable situation first.

[bucksfucks]

pause because i will be manifesting an andy barber and ransom drysdale crossover

[artificialqueens]

Come Home to My Heart, Chapter 2 (Lemyanka) - Plastiquedoll

read on ao3 ✨| chapter 1

A/N: hiii, this is chapter 2 of this lemyanka childhood friends, friends to lovers, idiots to lovers whatever you wanna call it. I really wanted to play with the time skips to show different parts of their lives together throughout the years so this is a continuation from chapter 1 a few years later. thanks for reading <3

-2-

At the age of thirteen, there were many things Priyanka loved. The list included: electric blue glittery nail polish, writing her name with a golden pen, pop music and girl groups-especially Britney Spears and The Spice Girls-, any movie with Lindsay Lohan in it, acting in the school productions -especially if she got the main role-, sleepovers over Lemon’s house where they secretly watched The O.C., seeing films with Lemon without an “adult” with them, re-acting scenes of the Cheetah Girls movie with Lemon…

She was at Lemon’s a lot.

The thing was, Lemon was the only child of her parent’s marriage, her parents both worked, and most of the time she had the house on her own. For Priyanka -who lived with her siblings and her parents and couldn’t spare one second of privacy at her own home- it was like paradise. They did everything together, on the weekdays they did homework together and afterward, they would lay in the blonde’s room reading magazines and cutting pictures of celebrities and clothes they liked, or listen to a new CD they had been saving for weeks to buy for hours until they knew the lyrics by heart.

Her room had yellow walls -big shocker- and it was covered in posters and pictures with Priyanka, white carpet on the floor, and a mix of Barbie dolls and makeup over the boudoir. She also had a large single bed only for herself with like a million fluffy pillows they had shared more than once.

Lemon had ballet classes three times per-week and Priyanka had rehearsals with the drama club but those were the only moments they were apart. Being childhood friends, their parents got into the obligation of sending them to the same primary school after finishing kindergarten and now they would attend the same secondary school once summer was over.

It was a warm day of summer, Lemon rolled over her bed and showed Priyanka an item she liked, Crazy in Love by Beyoncé played on the radio while the other girl was trying to cover a pimple on her chin with some foundation she had bought in the mall.

“You’re going to make it worse.” Lemon made her remove her hands.

“It hurts, it’s like a little red dot full of hate.”

“Use toothpaste instead.”

“Does it work?”

“Allegedly.” She shrugged. “I read it somewhere.”

“Okay… What did you want to show me?”

“Look at these,” she pointed at a picture of Hillary Duff. “I need those shoes.”

“That’s a pump.” Priyanka said, unimpressed.

“But it’s pink and yellow. How you don’t like the gradient in the colors? I’m in love.”

“Can you even walk with heels?”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course I can. When you’re short like me, you gotta have some options.”

Priyanka couldn’t argue with that, for her age she was already one of the tallest girls in the classroom. Sometimes she disliked being that tall, she felt like a little deer that couldn’t control its feet, wobbling around awkwardly.

Her best friend flipped a few more pages.

“Look! It’s a poster of Ryan Gosling from that movie… The Notebook.” She sounded excited.

Right. They were supposed to be excited about handsome muscle guys but there was something about it that didn’t click with Priyanka. She thought maybe she was just too young to get it, that when she’d grow older she’d get the feeling but until then, she had become very good at pretending.

“Oh, he’s so hot.” She hoped Lemon didn’t notice the fakeness of her voice.

“I know, right?” She giggled. “Do you want his picture?”

“Ah… you can keep it… I already have Leonardo DiCaprio’s and that’s just too many white guys.”

“Alright.” She picked a pair of scissors and started cutting the actor’s silhouette. The pair of dark-framed glasses she had on kept sliding down her nose bridge.

Priyanka smiled fondly at it.

“I’m home!” It was Lemon’s mom that had just returned from work.

Lemon jumped out of the bed and stood in the door’s frame. She looked even smaller in that oversized t-shirt of the Powerpuff Girls and shorts she wore as pajamas. Her hair was tied in a messy ponytail that brushed her shoulder blades.

“Hi, mom.” She yelled. “Priyanka’s here!”

“Hi, Priyanka!”

“Hello, Mrs. Baptsita!”

Priyanka adored Mrs. Baptista, she was a little wacky for Lemon’s taste but it was because she was younger than most moms with kids their age. She liked Priyanka and she supported their friendship since kindergarten, called them the Ketchup&Mustard duo since that Halloween they had matching costumes.

“Is she staying for dinner?”

Lemon turned around. “Are you staying for dinner?”

Priyanka shrugged. “Sure.”

“She is mom!”

“I’m making spaghetti!”

“Sound good!” She turned back to Priyanka again. “I hope you like spaghetti.”

“You know I do.”

Just a couple of minutes later, they heard the sound of Mr. Baptista’s car at the entrance.

“That’s my dad.” Lemon pointed.

“Hello, I’m home.”

“Hi, dad! Priyanka’s here.”

“Hi Lemon drop, hi Priyanka!”

“Hello, Mr. Baptista!”

Lemon grinned but not even five minutes later than her father’s arrival, the vibe of the kitchen changed and it was clear by the sound of their voices, her parents were arguing. Another argument…

“I swear to God… this is the third time this week."

Lemon sat on the edge of the bed and buried her face in her hands. She looked tired.

Priyanka gently touched her knee offering some comfort. Lemon pulled a weak smile that faded as soon as the voices increased in volume.

"Hey, I have some extra cash, wanna get some pizza?” Priyanka offered.

Lemon bit her bottom lip and nodded. “Let’s go.”

Lemon changed her shorts for pants and put on a pair of sneakers, then she grabbed her keys and both of them were out of the house. It wasn’t that late yet and there was a pizza place a few blocks away they could get on foot; they walked in silence until Lemon’s house was behind, then the blonde let a big sigh out of her chest.

“Pri, I can’t do this…” She sounded fragile as if she was holding the pieces together trying not to break with all her strengths.

Priyanka ran her arm over her shoulder and held her when she seemed about to fall.

“It’s okay, I’m sure they are going to work it out.”

Lemon snorted. “They started going to couple’s counseling and it got worse, they have pretty solid arguments to fight now.”

Priyanka covered her mouth holding back the laughter. “Sorry.”

“You dumb bitch.” Lemon shook her head.

They walked hugged like that the rest of the way, ate greasy pizza with extra cheese, and returned to a sepulchral silent house. Priyanka laid on the bed next to her, so close yet so far. If she extended her hand just a little more, she could touch her shoulder, make sure she was okay but for some reason, she couldn’t. Yet, she hoped that being there for her friend was enough then.

On the other side, Lemon had her eyes wide open, unable to drift off when her mind was going through a million different scenarios. Everything could only go downhill from there.

They didn’t know at that moment but the worst was yet to come.

She dashed out of the house as soon as she got the phone call, barely having the chance to put on a helmet before grabbing her bike. Priyanka was still catching her breath by the time Lemon opened the door.

Her face was bathed in tears, her eyes completely red and she couldn’t stop crying not even to explain what had happened. Priyanka had a vague idea judging by what was said on the phone but it wasn’t until she saw her friend she knew it was bad. Very bad.

Lemon wasn’t the most physically affectionate person in the world but she let Priyanka hug her and cried it out on her chest. They sat on the porch until the blonde began to calm down and could explain it better.

“Pri, they… they are getting divorced. It’s all happening so fast.”

Priyanka held her hand and squeezed it lightly. Lemon looked at her hand and then at her face, her eyes flooded with tears again.

“Hey,” The brunette tried to comfort her. “I’m so sorry, I know you love them both and they love you very much but this is probably for the best.”

“No, Pri, you don’t understand. They are… separating for real. They talked about lawyers and My mom she…” Lemon sobbed. “She wants us to move out…”

“Oh, I mean, that’s normal like-”

“…to New York.” Her voice was weak, defeated.

It took Priyanka a moment to process the newly acquired information.

“New York?!” She repeated in disbelief.

“Apparently, she has a job offer there, and… they think it’s for the best to put some distance between them.”

“I get the ‘moving out thing’ and the distance but that’s a completely different country!”

“I know! That’s what I said. Tell me I’m right, she’s out of her mind.”

“But wait, when does she want you to move out? What about school?”

“She thinks it’s a good idea if we go before the new semester starts so we can settle in and…”

“No, the new semester starts in two weeks… What about your dance lessons? Your life here?”

What about us?

“She said there are plenty of dance academies over there… That I would do fine. I hate it. This doesn’t go with the plan we had.”

Priyanka and Lemon had a life plan since they were ten, sealed with a pinky promise. They were going to graduate high school together and go to university in Toronto where they both would be roommates throughout college. It was their way of being together, to accomplish things in the company of the other, a sign of their unbreakable friendship.

“Wait but… what about your dad?” Can’t you stay with him?“ There was a hint of hope in Priyanka’s voice.

Lemon stared at the wooden floor of the porch for the longest time before looking back at her friend.

"I can’t. My dad travels a lot for business and while he’s going to remain here… my mom gave me no choice. They even said that it’s either New York or some boarding school in Quebec.”

Lemon surely had gone mad about it for her parents to threaten her like that, it didn’t sound like the Baptistas at all.

“This can’t be…” Priyanka shook her head. The tears felt warm on her cheeks.

“We’re leaving next week.”

“No…no, that’s… that’s too soon. You can’t leave… who’s going to help me buy a new outfit for the first day? Who’s going through the first day of school with me?”

“I hate to think about it. They really think this is for the best and then decide to drag me to a different country for the first year of school… «You have to be reasonable» they said, but they are the ones that come with these ideas out of blue.”

It was too sudden it made Priyanka felt dizzy; she couldn’t even begin to imagine what her friend was feeling like.

She squeezed her hand again. “It’s going to be okay.”

“You keep saying that but-” Lemon shook her head.

“Because it is going to be okay. I promise you, we’ll still be together, and… maybe we don’t get to attend the same high-school but we can still go to college together, the plan can still work out.”

“Are you sure?”

“Completely. You’re my best friend in the world; nothing is going to change that.”

Lemon smiled for the first time after getting the news of her parents’ divorce.

“Thanks, Pri.” She went for a hug and was received with open arms.

They hugged for a while without saying a single word, in that situation, words were unnecessary.

The day of Lemon’s moving, ironically the sun was shining and Priyanka kept reminding herself that in different circumstances they’d be at the park with their bikes or at the local pool but no, she was heading to her best friend’s house to say the last goodbye.

Priyanka hadn’t cried in front of her since that day on the porch but she had cried a lot when no one was seeing her. She was sad, upset, and mad about the situation but she didn’t want Lemon to leave with a sad note. So she went ahead and planned a week dedicated to her best friend, to enjoy the things they loved the most.

They had made each other friendship bracelets with their names –Priyanka was red and orange and it had a little golden star hanging next to her name; Lemon’s was pink and yellow and a butterfly next to hers- they had movie nights and sleepovers, karaoke sessions and dancing marathons every day until that awful day arrived.

Priyanka rode her bike like she had done millions of times before. There was a «FOR SALE» sign hanging outside and she hated it with all her soul. There was a truck parked outside as well with many boxes stacked inside and some furniture pieces they were taking to New York. Lemon was sitting on the porch’s stairs with a backpack on, the scene was oddly familiar and for a second time stopped.

She didn’t notice Priyanka’s presence until the brunette touched her shoulder.

“You’re here.” She said and did her best to smile.

“Where else I’d be?”

Lemon stood on her feet and hugged her, Priyanka hugged her back.

“Promise me you’re going to wait for my calls every week… and that you’re not going to have another best friend… ever.” Lemon sobbed on her shoulder.

“I promise it.” Priyanka patted her back in a calming gesture.

“I’ll visit on holidays, my dad is probably going to get a shitty apartment but still, I’ll be here.”

“I know you will.”

Lemon let go of her embrace. “Thank you, Pri. You’re my best friend in the world.”

“I know, right?”

The blonde giggled. “You’re so stupid…”

“Luce, get in the car, it’s time to go.” Her mom called her as she carried one last box.

“I have to go now. I already said good-bye to my dad; he had a flight to catch early but… It feels so empty without him here.”

“Lemz, I’m sorry.” She hugged her one more time. It was quick but it lingered. “Take care and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do in New York.”

“That sets the bar very low, don’t you think?”

Priyanka laughed. “I’ll miss you like crazy.”

“Me too.”

Lemon’s mom waved in their direction, the car was already on and the truck was closed and packed.

“Well, I guess this is our goodbye for now.”

“Count the days because I’m going to be back in no time, okay?”

She nodded.

“Love you, Pri.”

“Love you too.”

And with that said, Lemon started walking toward the car. It was painful to watch her leave but Priyanka didn’t want to look away, she wanted to remember it all until they could meet again.

The car started moving but stopped abruptly as Lemon opened the door and ran back to where Priyanka was.

“Lemon, what…?”

“I almost forgot, I was supposed to give you this the first day of school but…” She was out of breath. Suddenly a brand new CD of Spiceworld was on Priyanka’s hands. “You were so sad when your sister broke the one you had worked so hard to buy and I thought…”

Priyanka was hugging her again. “Oh, Lemon…”

“Please don’t forget me.”

Her mom honked at them, the truck was already hitting the road.

Lemon walked back and this time, she left for real.

[deliriumsdelight7]

Breaking Cycles - Chapter 9

TRIGGER WARNING: The first scene of this chapter contains references to past drug use, as well as a vague description of an established character death (If you've seen California Solo, you know the one). It also contains a fairly vivid description of a panic attack. If you're not comfortable reading this, you can skip it by CTRL-F'ing "Lacey Rose French" to bring you to scene 2.

The world communicated to him in swirls and spirals.  How had he never noticed it before?  Everything around him, everything in him, everything that ever was.  The links of Jed’s silver bracelet.  The curls in Pete’s hair.  Jeff’s silver hoop earring.  The drugs that pumped through his veins, circulating around and around.  The music that eddied out of him, past the whorls of his fingertips, plucked into the tightly-coiled ringlets of his guitar strings, rippling out the speaker of his amp.  The music spiraled around them, swelling in crescendo as the four of them fed on each other’s energy.  Even the mustard-yellow paisley wallpaper danced and swirled in time with their wild melody.

Then, discord.  Panic.  One of the four fell, breaking the quartet.  Terror hammered a snare drum roll in his chest, tasted acrid in his mouth.  Relax.  Give him time - he’ll sleep it off.  Keep going.  Need to finish tonight.  Can’t focus - the music comes out stilted and strained, and eventually not at all.  Just let me fucking check!  Jaw slack, eyes open and unseeing.  Skin cold and stiff under desperate fingers.  Jed’s dead, Lach!  He’s fucking dead!

Lachlan awoke with a choked off scream, clawing at the cloth of his loose-fitting T-shirt with blunt fingernails.  His breath came in short, shallow gasps, and his chest was heavy and aching, like something massive was weighing him down, keeping the air from filling his lungs.  The cold sweat covering him did nothing to alleviate the burning pinpricks that assailed him from head to toe.

Tears stung his eyes, panicked whimpers escaping with each exhale.  Fuck, he was having a heart attack.  Or a stroke.  Or an aneurysm?  He didn’t know what the hell that was, but it sounded bad.  He needed a doctor, or - or a hospital, or maybe just a fucking priest to read him his last rites.  He wanted to reach for his phone, but couldn’t get his shaking hands to relinquish their death grip on his shirt.  He tried to call for help, or just scream wordlessly until his lungs gave out.  But all that came from his throat was a pitiful whine.

This is it, a small corner of his mind thought.  I’m dying.  I’m going to die alone in this bed, and nobody’s going to give a shite.  Nobody would even think to check on him until the stink of rot set in, a few days from now.  Nobody would come to his funeral.  The vultures who descended on his few belongings might take his PC, maybe pick through his CDs and vinyls halfheartedly.  Forty-five years, and his only mark on the world would be a dumpster of old clothes and empty bottles.

He lay tangled in his sweat-soaked sheets, helpless to do anything but wait for the end to come.  Would it hurt?  The sharp pains in his chest were frightening, but not the agony he expected.  Was this how Jed felt when he died?  Or had Lachlan coerced him into taking enough drugs that he’d slipped off quietly?  And what about his parents?  Had they faced death as he did now - alone, in pain, and petrified?  If so, this was no less than he deserved.

Little by little, the tightness in his chest loosened, allowing him to take longer, slower breaths.  His hands relinquished their grip on his shirt and flopped limply to his sides while his pulse gradually slowed.  Clarity of thought returned with the calm.  He wasn’t having a heart attack.  He wasn’t dying.  He was just going bloody barmy.

Stumbling out of bed, he picked his way blindly through his flat without switching the lights on, heading to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water.  He’d much rather wet his parched throat with something stronger, but like a pure numpty he’d finished the last of his whisky on Wednesday after the shite show that was his last… ever?... meeting with Belle.

He quickly shoved thoughts of that last conversation aside.  He didn’t want to think about her just now.  He had enough on his mind right now.

Like nightmares.  He hadn’t had one of those in well over a decade, ever since…  He tried to think, taking a gulp of water between gasps.  Last time he’d had one of these episodes had to have been thirteen years ago, now, shortly after Arianwen was born.  Catherine had begged him to go sober for their baby daughter, and he’d checked himself into a two-week alcohol rehab program when she was eight months along.  She’d gone into labor shortly after he got back, and by the time their little family had been discharged from the hospital she’d been ready to jump into parenthood with both feet.

She hadn’t counted on being woken up by her newly-sober husband’s night terrors on top of their daughter’s nightly feedings and changings.  After those first few months, they were both so frazzled that only consideration for the baby had kept them from having screaming rows every night.  The word “divorce” had been thrown around more than once.  And when he started spending his evenings “practicing guitar” in the basement with his hand on the bottle more than the fretboard, Catherine said nothing.  He was pretty sure she’d just been relieved that she had one less screaming infant to comfort.

Lachlan drained his glass and set it on the counter.  The glowing numbers over the stove told him that it was after four in the morning.  Payday today, finally.  If he could just get through the next twelve hours, he’d have the money to pick up a bottle of whisky and drown out all of the regrets that threatened to overwhelm him.

With an exhausted sigh, he trudged back to bed, collapsing face first into his pillow.  He didn’t have to get up for work for a few more hours.  Chances were good his jittery nerves wouldn’t let him fall back asleep any time soon, but he could at least rest.  

******

“Lacey Rose French!  How many times have I told you to rinse your tupperware when you’re done with them?”  Belle slammed the lid back on the food container with a gag.  “Or at least don’t leave them in your lunch bag for days on end!” she yelled over the music as Lacey turned the volume up on her speakers.

“Yes, mum!” Lacey called from her perch on the couch, where she was painting her toenails.  “Anything else you want to lecture me on?  Want to make sure I did my homework?  Or set me a curfew?”

“I wish I could,” Belle muttered, plunging her arms back into the scalding dishwater.  Life would be infinitely easier if she didn’t have to pick her sister up from various bars and pubs more often than not, occasionally having to cover Lacey’s bar tab and add the sum to the running tally of money and favors that Belle was owed.  She scrubbed vigorously at her baking sheet, her efforts loosening only the top layer of caked on grime.  “And how many times do I have to ask you to use foil or my baking mat if you’re going to make nachos?”

“Oh my god, I get it!”

“Clearly you don’t, or you wouldn’t keep doing it!”  With a sigh, she stopped scrubbing.  Any more and she’d be scratching the surface of her good baking sheet.  Another ten minutes of soaking should loosen more of the crusted-on cheese, sauce and grease.

As she dried her pruned, reddened hands off on a dishtowel, she heard the opening strains of a familiar song.  It was a song from one of the CDs Lachlan had played last Saturday.  The familiar pang of heartache hadn’t really left her all week, but it sometimes liked to give a give a fresh stab to remind her that it was still there.

Spent my days with a woman unkind

Smoked my stuff and drank all my wine

Made up my mind to make a new start

Going to California with an aching in my heart

It had been one of her favorites off of that album, but now she couldn’t stand to listen to it.  “Turn that noise off!”

“Oh my god, Belle, what the fuck!”  Lacey reared up onto her feet, her stance awkward as she tried to keep her still-drying toes separated.  “Why are you being such a bitch this week?”

“Seriously?  You have to ask?”

“What, is this about last weekend?”  She rolled her eyes.  “I said I was sorry about that!  Brad had an emergency and had to leave.  If I’d known your boyfriend was gonna dump you over it, I would’ve sucked it up and called a cab.”

You should’ve done that anyway, she thought bitterly.  “Lachlan wasn’t my boyfriend,” she said, and oh, that shouldn’t have hurt to say as much as it did.  They’d had two dates.  It wasn’t exactly the end of a long-term relationship.  But seeing him, getting to know him and be known by him… it was the one thing she’d had to look forward to.  The one thing she did for herself, apart from reading.

“So his name’s Lachlan?” Lacey asked with a sly grin.  “Sounds like one of those muscley shirtless guys on those dirty books you keep under your bed.  Does he wear a kilt and live in a castle in the highlands?”

“Drop it,” Belle snarled.

Lacey huffed with a scowl.  “You know what?  You’re being fucking unbearable tonight.”  She packed up her pedicure kit (leaving the used cotton balls on the coffee table instead of throwing them away, Belle noticed) and stomped awkwardly off to her room, balancing on her heels to keep her toes apart.

She emerged less than ten minutes later ready to go out: hair pulled into a messy bun, wearing a sleeveless black shirt dress that was unbuttoned low enough to show her lacy violet bra.  On her feet were a pair of black strappy heeled sandals.

“I’m going out,” she announced unnecessarily.

“Wearing that?”

Lacey glared at her mutinously, but didn’t answer the question.  “As I was saying, I’m going out.  I can’t be around you right now.”  She snagged her purse and strode toward the door.  “Don’t wait up.  I’ll find a ride.”  

“Lacey--”

Slam!

With another sigh, Belle swept the used cotton balls off the coffee table and into the trash before the acetone could ruin the wood finish.  While she was at it, she swiped Lacey’s half-empty glass of soda from where it rested on one of Belle’s paperbacks.  The condensation beading on the glass had sunk into the cover; she hoped that in a few hours, the swollen ring would subside.  If it didn’t, at least it would match half of the rest of her books.

Turning in a full circle, she considered the apartment.  Dishes were soaking in the sink, but the kitchen was otherwise clean.  Nearly everything else was either done, or could wait until another day.  The only thing she’d been putting off was washing her sheets.  They’d stopped smelling like Lachlan days ago, but she hadn’t been able to commit to bringing them downstairs to the laundry.  

Tonight seemed as good a night as any, she reflected as she stripped the bed.  Lachlan was clearly done with her if his absence at the library tonight, as well as the lack of calls and texts, was any indication.  She still checked her phone every ten minutes or so, but refused to reach out herself.  She certainly wasn’t going to be the first to break the silence.  If he wanted to ask forgiveness for his unreasonable accusations, she’d be generous enough to hear him out.  As far as she was concerned, she had nothing to apologize for.  No matter how much part of her wanted to.

******

“Tryin’ to burn holes in her dress, Lach?”

“Huh?”  Lachlan tore his eyes from the billiard tables and spun on his barstool to look at his drinking partner.  His coworker, Tom, was sixty years old if he was a day, his brown, unstyled mullet and thick mustache liberally peppered with gray.  The foreman tended to have the two of them working the same jobs every day, so they’d gotten to chatting here and there.  Earlier today, Tom had noticed Lachlan’s shaking hands, and during their lunch break had brought Lachlan to the parking lot, ostensibly to help out with some car trouble.  The swig from the flask Tom kept under his passenger seat had fortified Lachlan enough to get through his shift, and as a repayment Lachlan had bought Tom his first round.

“Ye been lookin’ at that hen for the past half hour. I figure either she owes you money, or ye’d like a good look at what’s under that skirt.”

That hen was Belle as he had never seen her.  Apart from the one time he’d seen her in leggings, she always wore pretty, high-necked tops and flaring skirts that fluttered around her thighs.  Now she wore a black dress that looked more like a long men’s shirt, unbuttoned far enough that he could see her purple bra.  Her eyes, always a startling sky blue, stood out even further in the field of black eyeliner like twin moons in a night sky.  She was currently playing pool with some scruffy, greasy-haired man in a leather jacket… and mopping the floor with him, judging by their expressions.

“Just someone I know,” he said.  “Wasn’t expecting to see her here.”  He signaled the bartender for another whisky.

“So what the fuck are ye sittin’ here with me for, then?  Go talk to her!”

The bartender thunked a new glass in front of Lachlan, who nodded in thanks.  “Can’t,” he told Tom.  “She’s pissed off at me.”

Tom tried to take a swig of his beer and nod sagely at the same time, and wound up spilling down his front.  “Yer fault, I take it.”

“Hers.”  

Tom raised his eyebrows skeptically.  “Aye, that can happen, I s’pose.  Were you an arse about it?”

“Dunno.  Prob’ly, knowing me,” he admitted, taking a swallow of his drink with a grimace.

“So go fuckin’ talk to her!  Tell her yer sorry, make it sound good, and see if she’ll take you home.  Unless you’re lookin’ to spend yer night with me,” he joked, elbowing Lachlan in the ribs.

Lachlan snorted into his glass.  “Ugly bastard like you?  You’ll have to buy me a few more drinks first.”

“Pretty sure the wife wouldn’t want me takin’ home strays, anyway,” he muttered.  “Now go talk to her!  She just sunk the eight ball.  Now’s yer chance.”

He sat, considered.  He was still pissed off at her.  Not about kicking him out of the apartment - not anymore.  It was annoying, but it wasn’t like he was entitled to spend the night there whether she wanted it or not.  But the more he thought about it, the more it frustrated him that she volunteered so little about herself.  Oh, sure, he knew about books she liked, and her love of tea and baked goods, but getting anything personal out of her was like pulling teeth.  Maybe he was being a bit hypocritical - he hadn’t exactly spilled his guts to her - but hadn’t he earned something?  

But he missed her, damn it.  Not just because she got him out of the apartment, and not just for the sex.  Her bright smiles, her flirty giggles, the rapt look on her face when she listened to him, the faraway look in her eyes when she talked about something she cared about - all those little things filled a hole in him he hadn’t even realized was there.  This past week was the most lonely and miserable he’d felt since coming back to Scotland.  Wouldn’t it be worth it to swallow his pride just this once if it meant fixing things between them?

It would, he decided.  But only if she met him halfway.  He wasn’t going to grovel when 

Swallowing the last of his drink to fortify him, Lachlan wove through the tables to get to Belle.  She was currently bent over the table, re-racking the balls, and fuck, he could see her lacy purple knickers where her dress rode up.

“Any other takers?” she called as she stuffed her winnings from the last game into her bra.  Lachlan cleared his throat.  Belle glanced over her shoulder at him, then continued what she was doing.  “Yeah?”

“Belle.”

“Nope.”

He blinked, stricken.  Of all the reactions he might have expected, that definitely wasn’t one of them.  Anger, certainly.  The silent treatment, maybe.  But outright dismissal?  “Belle, can we please just talk?”

“Sorry, buddy, you’re barking up the wrong tree.”  Done racking up the balls, she chalked up a cue.  “If you want, you can call--”

“I don’t want to call you later!  I want to talk now!” he snapped.  Belle turned to face him, eyes narrowed.  Shite, how was he already cocking this up?  Maybe he shouldn’t have had that last drink or two.  “Please, Belle, I don’t want to fight,” he entreated.  “I’m sorry I accused you of cheating on your roommate with me.”  He reached out and laid a hand uncertainly on her shoulder.

She shrugged it off impatiently.  “My roommate.  Right.”  

If anything, she looked even angrier now.  This wasn’t going well at all.  “Belle - I - you’ve got to see things from my perspective,” he pleaded, trying and failing to keep the frustration out of his voice.  “You won’t tell me anything about him, except that he treats you like shite.  He calls you in the middle of the night, right when you were about to--”  He cut himself off.  She probably wouldn’t appreciate him announcing to the entire bar that she’d been about to ride his cock.  “And you just - just throw me out like yesterday’s trash.  Can you really fucking blame me for jumping to conclusions?”

Belle stared at him for a long moment, lips pursed.  He didn’t know if it was just his imagination, or an effect of the thick black eyeliner she wore, but the affection he’d missed so much in her eyes was gone.  He might as well have been a stranger.  Worse - he’d seen her greet strangers at the library with more warmth.  He fumbled nervously with his bracelet.

“Well… Lachlan…”  She paused, as though waiting for something.  Nothing happened, and she continued.  “Maybe I was being kind of a bitch.  Hell, I was probably being a huge bitch, knowing me.”

“I wouldn’t say--”

“I would,” she interrupted.  She leaned on her pool cue, cocking one hip out.  “Look, if it makes you feel any better, I’d rather have you chop my leg off and beat me with it than fuck my roommate.”  She gave an exaggerated shudder.  “She and I barely put up with each other.”  

“So I gathered.”  He rubbed at his face in an effort to clear his head.  Something just felt off about this - something he couldn’t put his finger on.  “Belle, I don’t get it.  I know talking about your roommate is off-limits - god knows why - but I don’t understand why you put yourself out for someone you seem to hate.”

Lachlan must be drunker than he thought, because for a brief second he thought he saw a flash of hurt on her face.  “Who knows why the fuck I do anything,” she muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing.”  After a quick glance around the room, she laid her pool cue back on the table.  “Looks like nobody else has the balls to play me tonight.  Why don’t you buy me a drink, and I’ll tell you a bit about the roommate.”

“I… yeah.  That’d be great.”  Unable to believe his luck, he gestured for her to lead the way to the bar.  

******

Belle flipped over in bed for what was quite possibly the fiftieth time in the past hour.  Between working, cooking, cleaning, and her argument with Lacey, she was utterly exhausted and ready to sleep.  But she just couldn’t turn her brain off long enough to drift off.

If Lacey needed a ride home, she would have called or texted by now.  The bars were all closed by this point.  Objectively, Belle knew that she was probably in bed with one of her boyfriends.  What were their names again?  Brian, Tyler and Brad?  That sounded right.  But she’d never texted to say she wasn’t coming home.

Images played through her head like a silent movie.  Opening credits roll, and the title screen appears: Something Happened to Lacey and It’s All Her Sister’s Fault starring Belle and Lacey French.  Lacey dead in a ditch somewhere, or arrested and deported for drunk driving.  Lacey going home with the wrong guy, or choking on her vomit in a dark alley.  A thousand scenarios played through Belle’s head, each worse than the last, and in every one, the last thing Lacey ever heard from her sister was a complaint about a baking sheet and a criticism of an outfit.  Not “I love you.”  Not “stay safe,” or even “I’ll see you when you get home.”  Her last words to Lacey would be, “wearing that?”

Enough.  She couldn’t just lie in bed, desperately hoping for sleep, for another minute.  Tomorrow… or rather, today, because it was after three in the morning… was Saturday, the library’s busiest day.  In a perfect world, she’d be catching up on some much-needed sleep.  But that clearly wasn’t in the cards tonight.  The part of her that wasn’t currently worried sick about her twin felt a twinge of resentment.  Even when she had the night off from nursing her sister through drunkenness and the subsequent hangover, her night still wasn’t her own.  Not really.

Pacing the living room, Belle cast about for something productive to do.  The kitchen was clean, the floors freshly swept and mopped, laundry done, furniture dusted.  She resisted the temptation to peek into Lacey’s room with an effort; the last time she’d tried to do her sister a favor by folding her laundry and organizing her mail, Lacey had nearly taken her head off.  

There had to be something to do.  She was kneeling down in the kitchen to see if her pots and pans needed to be reorganized, when she noticed that the grout was looking a teensy bit gray.  It hadn’t had a proper scrubbing in… a month, probably.  Perfect.

The cold tile on her hands and knees, the smell of the cleaning product, the rhythm of the brush bristles against the grout - they didn’t soothe her, exactly, so much as give her a physical focus.  Her thoughts were too scattered to read, but this was mindless while still demanding her attention.  She gnawed at a bit of dead skin on her lower lip, teeth clicking together in time with the scrub brush.

By the time she finished scrubbing, rinsing and wiping the tile, the grout in between looked a shade or two lighter.  She nodded in satisfaction, tugging at the last piece of dead skin with her teeth.  She hissed as it came free, pulling a strip of live skin with it.  Tonguing the wound determined that it wasn’t bleeding.  

She really needed to break this habit.

At least her little chore had done its trick.  She was so exhausted she didn’t think she could stay awake another five minutes.  Just in time, too - the first gray of pre-dawn was peeking through the windows.  Collapsing into bed, Belle sent a single text out before succumbing to sleep.

Please just let me know you’re okay.

******

Lachlan cracked his eye to the morning sunlight, immediately squeezing it shut with a hiss when the light lanced through his brain.  His stomach roiled with nausea.  He swallowed hard to quell the urge to vomit.  Not a great start to the day.  It never was.

At least today he wouldn’t be suffering alone.  Last night Belle had matched him drink for drink, only leaving the bar long enough to queue up a few songs on the jukebox.  That had surprised him; he’d been under the impression that she rarely drank, if at all.  He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.  He’d been trying - okay, not very hard, but a bit - to get his drinking under control because he thought it was what she wanted.  Now he was seeing this whole different side of her.  It was… it was something to think about.

Later.  For now, he had a naked woman in his bed, and this time he intended to enjoy waking up next to her this time, even if his head was about to split apart.  Belle hadn’t been remotely interested in cuddling after sex last night, instead preferring to roll over to sleep.  Maybe she’d be in the mood now.  

Hopefully she wouldn’t mind taking a rain check on kissing.  His mouth tasted like a distillery, and he doubted hers was much better.

A quick grope around the bed revealed only empty sheets, devoid of any warmth other than his own.  His eyes snapped open, and he bit back a pained groan as the sunlight made his head throb.  

Belle was nowhere in sight.  The only trace of her was the slight fruity scent of her shampoo clinging to his pillow.  Frowning, he gingerly sat up, breathing hard against the nausea that threatened to bubble over.  Gathering what little strength he had, he heaved himself to his feet and staggered out to the living room. 

“You’ve got to be fucking shitting me!”

Rage churned unpleasantly with the queasiness in his stomach, curdling together into a knot.  She fucking left!  After he’d swallowed his pride and practically begged her to talk to him - for the second time! - and spent the night buying her drinks and listening to her vent about her overbearing roommate.  After letting her crash here so she didn’t have to deal with said roommate, and having sex that felt impersonal and perfunctory compared to last Saturday.  She had the nerve to just leave without so much as a note or a text?

Fuck that.  She might not want to have a conversation with him, but she was getting just that, whether she liked it or not.  He yanked on last night’s clothes, too pissed off to root around his laundry basket for a clean outfit.  He just barely had the presence of mind to remember his sunglasses as he stomped out his apartment door.  Thankfully the day was relatively overcast.

Was this some sort of game to her?  What was the point?  Did she get some sort of rush out of this?  Did it give her an ego boost to find some useless waste, convince him that he mattered, make him fall for her, and cast him aside?  Well, she was about to find that he wouldn’t be ignored so easily.

Sheer indignation and force of will carried him down the street toward the library.  Teeth gritted against the dull throbbing in his head, he stormed toward the circulation desk, where Belle was helping a line of patrons waiting to check out books.  He cut to the front of the line without so much as glancing as anyone else.

“Lachlan, what--”

“We need tae talk,” he snarled.  “Now.”

Her eyebrows rose, unimpressed.  “Okay, first of all, don’t talk to me like that.  You may be angry with me, but I don’t deserve to be snapped at.”  She gestured behind him with a sweeping hand.  “Second, as you can see, I’m busy at the moment.  We can talk later.”

“No, fuck that!  We’re gonnae have this oot now.”  Damn it, he hated what anger did to his accent.  Now, of all times, he wanted to make sure he was damn well understood.  He gestured behind him to the same gawkers who were silently watching the two of them.  “So unless ye wannae give these tossers a show, I suggest ye find someplace private we can talk.”

The silence loomed between them as they stared at each other, her with her jaw set, him with his lips pressed in a thin line.  “Fine,” she bit out.  Then she called over her shoulder.  “Evelyn?”

The head librarian, Mrs. Campbell, emerged from her office.  “Yes, dear?” she asked in a kinder voice than he’d ever heard from the stern woman.  

Belle’s fiery blue eyes never left his.  “I need to take my lunch break a little early.  Can you take over for a bit?”

Her lips puckered a bit, but she nodded.  “Just this once,” she allowed.

“Thank you.  I really appreciate it.”  Circling around the desk, she breezed right past Lachlan, refusing to look back to make sure he followed.  Even with those impossibly high heels, she still managed to keep a pace so brisk he nearly had to trot to keep up.

She led him out of the building and around a corner, to a secluded stone bench.  She perched on one end, slipping a shoe off to rub the arch of her foot.  “Well?”  She gestured impatiently to the other end of the bench.  “You interrupt me at work when you can see I’m busy.  You snap at me and make rude demands, and then you insult my patrons right in front of their faces.  Now I’m giving up my lunch break to talk, just like you wanted.  So talk.”

“Oh, don’t do that.  Don’t act like I’m the arsehole here,” he snapped.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to respond to that.”  Her glare said that she knew exactly how she wanted to react, but chose not to.  “You’ve been angry with me all week.  What makes today so special?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know.”  Her confused look only set him off more.  “Last night,” he clarified.

“‘Last night?’” she echoed.  “Lachlan, I was home all night.  I didn’t call, or text, or do anything more interesting than clean my apartment.”

“Bollocks!  You were at the bar last night, playing pool.”  She opened her mouth to argue, but he cut her off.  “Don’t bother denying it.  I saw you.  We talked.  We slept together.  So unless you’ve got a doppelgänger with the exact same accent, it was you.”

Belle paled.  Without a word, she rummaged through her purse until she found her phone, and made a call.  Her foot tapped impatiently while it rang.  Once it went to voicemail, she spoke.  He’d never heard her sound so angry.  “Lacey Rose French, I know you’re there.  You will video call me in the next five minutes or so help me, I will kick you out and find a roommate who actually pays rent.”  Then she hung up.

“Belle, what--”  

She silenced him with a raised hand.  “This is probably partially my fault,” she admitted quietly.  “I thought, maybe if you never met her, things would be different this time.”  

“Met who?  Your roommate?”  Christ, his head was not up for these hints and riddles.  “I don’t under--”

Her buzzing phone interrupted him.  Belle answered it, but before she could say anything, a familiar voice came through the speaker.  “God, Belle, what now?  Can’t a girl get some shut-eye?  I had a late night.”

“Apparently.”  She turned the phone toward Lachlan.  “Look familiar?” she asked.

Lachlan was about to tell her that she was being utterly ridiculous, when he did a double-take.  The ground seemed to fall out from under his feet, and he sank weakly to the bench.  There, on the screen of the phone in Belle’s hand, was… Belle.

There were subtle differences, he saw now.  Differences he’d been too drunk to look for.  Hadn’t even known to look for, really.  The woman on the phone - Lacey? - wore her hair straight where Belle’s was curled, and wore more eye makeup.  Her cheekbones and chin were sharper, but apart from that, they were identical.  The same blue eyes, the same pale skin and cupid’s bow mouth.

The woman in the phone winced.  “Ah, fuck.  This isn’t--”

Belle turned the phone back around.  “I’ll deal with you when I get home,” she said ominously, ending the call.

The silence loomed between them.  Lachlan leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, hands loosely clasped between them.  He cast his mind back over the past few weeks, the morning’s revelation shining light on so much that had baffled him.  Her roommate was her sister.  Not a boyfriend, or a fuck-buddy.  That was why she dropped everything to pick Lacey up.  He could understand that.  He’d never done the same for Jed - one had to be sober to be a designated driver, and Lachlan could count his sober nights in Manchester on two hands - but he understood wanting to do anything for family.  

But things were different between Belle and her sister than they’d been for him and Jed, he thought with a grimace.  Lachlan had idolized his older brother, and Jed had taken Lachlan under his wing, never letting him feel left out even when his older friends didn’t want to hang out with the little kid.  Even with three years separating them, they’d been thick as thieves all their lives.  But listening to the way Belle and Lacey talked about each other, they could hardly stand to be in the same room.  

“I didn’t know you had a twin,” he finally said stupidly.

“That was the idea,” came her muffled reply.  He looked over her and saw her face buried in her hands.  After a moment she lowered them.  For the first time that morning, he really looked at her.  Without the lens of rage clouding his vision, he finally noticed just how tired she looked.  There were dark circles under her eyes, and her skin lacked its usual luster.  Her face was completely blank, her eyes dull and lifeless.  “I’m sorry,” she said softly.

Lachlan’s brow lowered in confusion.  “For what?”

“Everything.”  She sighed, her shoulders slumping on the exhale.  “For hiding Lacey from you, and getting angry when you called me on it.  For being a jerk when you just wanted an explanation.”  She pinched the bridge of her nose.  “For leading you on.”

His heart stuttered to a halt.  She couldn’t be saying what he thought.  They were just starting to figure things out.  “What are you saying?” he asked.

“I can’t…”  She gestured vaguely.  “...do this.  Be what you want.  Be like…”  She swallowed, sniffed, chewed hard on her lower lip.  “I just don’t have it in me.”

“Belle, no.  You’re what I want.”  He reached a hand out to her.  She flinched away from him, hugging her arms around her stomach like she’d been kicked.  His hand flopped down between them.  

He didn’t know what to do; several rash impulses warred within him.  He wanted to kiss her until she got over whatever the hell was bothering her.  He wanted to shake and snarl at her for keeping secrets and letting this mess pile up between them.  He wanted to beat the ever-loving shite out of himself for not being more patient.  He wanted to chew Lacey out for… fuck it, for everything.  

And under all that, he wanted nothing more than to curl up in a dark room and nurse his hangover with some of the hair of the dog that bit him.

Dimly he recognized that all of those were fucking awful ideas - immediate gratifications that solved nothing.  Story of his life, that.

With a glance at her phone, Belle stood up and dusted off the back of her skirt.  “Break’s over.  I need to go,” she mumbled.  

He didn’t know what to do.  So he let her go.

[selfsaving]

id love to hear more about katie n that cardassian. 👀👀

               this  is  literally  the  most  wonderful  hc  ask  i  have  ever  received  now  watch  me  cry  for  paragraphs   &   paragraphs  abt  katie  and  tekeny  gavet   !!!

(   o ,  also ,  not  2  be  like  this  but  i  have  fully  planned  npcs  for  this  crew  ——  gavet  +  3  klingons ,  and  if  anyone  EVER  wanted  to  uhhhhhhhh  write  one  then  LITERALLY  H E C K   )

a  lil  bit  about  tekeny  i  couldn’t  resist  copying from  my  old  blog

HEADS  UP :  there’s  quite  a  few  triggers  below  and  they’re  all  tagged  in  the  tags  but  yea  watch  out  for  child  abuse  /  alcoholism  /  death  /  mentions  of  food   &   eating  problems.

this  is  he   !!

he  was  39  when  katie  joined  the  ship     (   she  was  14   //   nearly  15   ).

he’s  a  doctor   !

before  katie  came  on  board  he’d  already  essentially  saved  the  life  of  sirella  ——  a  klingon  woman  who  was  the  crew’s  youngest  at  21  until  katie  joined  a  year  or  so  later.  he  sorta  has  an  eye  for  vulnerable  kids  and  tries  to  help  them  somehow  if  he  can.

born  on  kora  ii ,  an  only  child.

bounced  between  divorced  parents  for  the  first  years  of  his  life  ——  father  deeply  involved  in  POLITICAL  EXTREMISM   &   an  abusive  mother  who  drinks  herself  to  death  before  he’s  nine.

tekeny  is  brought  along  to  all  his  father’s  marches   &   protests  that  he  doesn’t  even  know  the  cause  of.  there’s  civil  riots  in  2328  where  he’s  left  forgotten  by  his  father ,  lying  in  the  dust   &   pouring  blood  from  a  head - wound  that’ll  leave  a  scar.  he’s  14.

the  next  day  he  gathers  what  he  has  and  leaves.  lives  alone  off  his  mother’s  inheritance  and  decides  to  be  a  DOCTOR   !     dr.  gavet  emerges ,  newly  graduated ,  in  2341.  goes  on  happily  doing  that  for  nearly  nine  years  until  two  klingons  show  up  at  his  practise  one  day.

he  wakes  up  on  their  ship ,  already  in  orbit   &   about  to  leave ,  and  it  takes  a  good  while  to  persuade  them  that  the  ‘ gavet ’  they’ve  been  paid  to  find is  in  fact  his  FATHER     (   evidently  having  only  made  more  trouble  for  himself  since  tekeny  left   ).

but ,  weirdly ,  it  turns  out  they  have  their  similarities.  and  a  doctor  is  useful  so  tekeny  finds  himself  joining  on  as  the  third  member  of  their  totally  legal  crew   !

some  things  abt  gavet   &   katie’s  relationship

liSTEN.  in  a  crew  of  five  where  three  are  klingons ,  the  non - klingons  gotta  end  up  rooting  for  each  other.  the  ship  was  LOUD ,  messy ,  and  very ,  very  klingon.  tekeny  had  been  standing  up  to  bitches  all  his  life  ——  katie  had  NOT.  he  fought  a  lot  of  katie’s  battles  for  her.

he  was  always  super  secretive ,  and  katie  was  equally  pretty  quiet ,  but  they  opened  up  a  little  to  each  other.  he  was  the  only  one  that  she  was  totally  honest  about  her  past  to.  she  was  the  only  one  on  the  crew  he  even  told  his  FIRST  NAME  to.

he  just   ???     cared  about  her   ??     like ,  listen ,  the  crew  were  all  totally  a  family.  they  loved  each  other  a  bunch  but  …   tekeny  seemed  to  be  the  only  one  who  realised  this  is  literally  a  14 - year - old  girl  who  ran  away  from  home.  where  the  others ,  honestly ,  just  saw  someone  skinny  enough  to  make  a  great  thief ,  he  saw  a  KID.  he  looked  after  her  a  lot  in  the  most  mundane  ways.  y’know ,  helping  her  keep  her  clothes   &   bed  clean  and  how  to  stand  up  to  being  and  make  her  laugh  the  normal  stuff  a  teenager  needs   !!

i  already  mentioned  the  food  thing ,  but  that  as  well.  klingon  food  is  not  all  good  for  a  tiny  14 - yr - old   and  she  lost  a  lot  of  weight  in  those  few  years ,  but  he  cooked  a  lot  for  her  so  they  could  both  avoid  the  klingon  food.

tbh  like.  her  dad  had  been  dead  since  she  was  10.  her  mum  was  less  than  useless.  she’d  been  looking  after  herself  and  FAILING.  it  was  nice  to  have ,  y’know ,  sorta  a  parent  again.

oh  also  one  more  thing   !     he  was  gay  af  and  open  about  it.  and ,  while  katie  had  basically  always  known  she  liked  all  genders     (   her  older  sister  was  the  same   !   ) ,     but  it  was  SUPER  healthy  to  have  an  older  gay  role  model  about  to  reassure  her  that  was  all  ok ,  because  her  parents  would  never  really  even  mention  it.  sirella  was  also  queer ,  actually.  the  three  of  them  went  to  prides  and  stuff  a  few  times  together 

[hot-mysticc-mess-blog]

I love your blog and I was wondering if you could write a headcanon for the RFA+V&Saeran when they see MC who they broke up with for something in the past. Like they miss her and want her, so how would they try to win her back. I'm sorry if I'm being a bit confusing.

My Masterlist

Zen

His contract to keep your relationship quiet, a new fantastic role, a rough patch he knows, in hindsight, was his fault.

He doesn’t really remember but he thinks your last argument was something about fish-shaped bread? How stupid.

It was awkward for a while. Zen used to leave the chatroom anytime you showed up, until you offered to leave in his place

He felt so guilty about it that he always stuck around, lamenting logging into the chatroom in case he found himself trapped watching you chat happily with everyone else

You seemed like you were doing so well

Even after that, the two of you ignored each other for the most part

He texted Yoosung party guest suggestions and made the poor boy ask in Zen’s place, even though he knew you were too nice to turn down a guest just because the suggestion came from your ex

He mellowed out as things got better in his career. He found a new girlfriend. She was pretty, and content with anything she could have of him, even if that did not include his love.

But you still saw each other at the party, and he was still absolutely taken with you

He caught himself staring, his eyes following as you moved throughout the room

A few drinks later and he was itching to touch you, kiss you, beg for your forgiveness

Would that be cheating?

Zen turned to his girlfriend. She caught his eye and smiled.

It would? Damn

His relationship lasted all of another two weeks before he broke it off

Zen tentatively starts conversations with you, notably reserved. Yoosung even mentioned the sharp drop-off in his narcissistic comments.

He spent every spare moment rehearsing the speech he was going to give you. And he waited, for the perfect moment.

Could he have texted you at any time? Or called? Absolutely.

But no, the perfect moment came at 3 AM one evening. Yoosung had just left the chatroom to play games, and Zen was just about to hit the exit button when your name popped up on screen

He spewed out his speech, taking up nearly three whole screens of the chat…and then he couldn’t stop

He just kept on babbling, whatever words he could think of that might get you to come back to him.

Jaehee

Nothing like internalized religious shame to ruin a relationship

It was always something she had fought with, but over time it became too much and she gave in

She was being too greedy, and it would hurt both of you in the end.

Your break-up was a quiet, soft discussion over coffee at table 7

Jaehee already did most of the administrative tasks for the cafe, but she took over what was left

She opened the cafe in the morning. You closed the cafe in the evenings. A manager relayed any communications.

You had never told the rest of the RFA you were together in the first place, and the breakup was somehow even more awkward for it

Things went back to the way they were…except not. It was like peeling a sticker from a bottle only to find that the invisible sticky residue had been left behind.

Jaehee was professional as always, you were polite as always, but everything hurt

The rest of the RFA noticed the gloom, Seven put the pieces together easily enough. Jumin at the very least suspected, which you put together when he offered both of you vague but particularly relevant advice

Jaehee immediately noticed how much she misses your presence

Running the cafe wasn’t half as much fun without you

Sitting at home and watching Zen’s musicals was still very relaxing…but not as enjoyable when she doesn’t have you to enjoy them with

She swears even her coffee isn’t as flavorful when you aren’t around.

She found herself up at wee hours of the morning most nights, looking at the crucifix up on her wall.

“Is this really what you want?” She asked, out loud to an empty house.  

She finally found happiness…why was she sabotaging it for herself?

The next day she came by right at the end of your shift, clinging to a clipboard with the inventory documents in order to avoid anxiously fidgeting.

“MC?” Her voice came out more unsure than she had hoped for. “Would you mind have a cup of coffee with me?”

Audibly sighed with relief when you agreed

She waits until the awkward silence takes over before speaking

“I think, no, I made a mistake when I broke up with you. I thought I was doing the right thing at the time, that I was being too greedy by wanting the coffee shop and such a close relationship with you. I should have just spoken with you about it. You were the one who made me want to chase my happiness, and I wanted to build this cafe with you, together. My life is better with you by my side.”

“Of course, I understand if you don’t want to but I…I would like to try again.”

Yoosung

The process of breaking up was a messy, three weeks of arguing. The actual break-up lasted all of twenty-four hours

School was hard, and you understood that, but he was irritable all the time

Everything that everyone did annoyed him and you two found yourselves arguing over anything he looked at

He brought your fights into the chat room, even when you tried to keep negative conversation to private texts

You suggested maybe he should take a break

He took that phrase, and interpreted it to mean something you hadn’t intended at all. “If we need to take a break, then we shouldn’t be together at all! We’re done!”

Yoosung had about twenty-four hours of rage-based satisfaction before your absence caught up to him

By then, the RFA found out from you what happened.

Zen was torn between his closest friend and you. You told him you would be alright, and that he did not need to come and see you

That was good, because Yoosung arrived at Zen’s apartment 10 minutes later.

Zen updated the chatroom later that evening, letting everyone know Yoosung drank a can of beer, cried, and then Zen put him to bed on the couch

Yoosung was back up again at three am, alone in a chatroom frantically typing out how much he missed you while he paced in Zen’s living room

Then he started calling

You woke up to several voicemails, all apologies from Yoosung

Jumin

He swore he would never let you go. Even when things were bad he couldn’t bring himself to get a divorce

Instead, the two of you separated. Though he felt he could no longer provide support for your emotional well-being, he offered his continued financial support.

The polite refusal you gave him, tears in your eyes and hands on your suitcase, made his chest tighten. He loosened his tie, hoping that would make it feel easier to breathe.

Zen spent the next week with you in Rika’s apartment, doting on your every need and bitching about Jumin every chance he got

Jumin threw himself into his work

He went back to treating you professionally. Seven made the mistake of joking about your newly single status only once before he discovered Jumin’s wrath was not worth it.

You spent the next several months trying to untangle your life from Jumin’s, knowing it would never fully work

Jumin tried to convince himself things would be okay without you. Love was a foolish endeavor. Work was the only thing that mattered.

But you had changed him, and now all of a sudden the idea of going back to a life without love, without the light you brought into his life make his heart ache.

Jaehee took over any communication that involved you, relaying any questions and information Jumin needed.

He made sure that was nothing for the first couple of months, even to the point of procrastinating on things that needed to be done just so he could avoiding saying your name

There were little things you left all around the house by accident. He couldn’t go anywhere without being reminded of you. He left them alone at first, refusing to touch them. If it was in the path of somewhere he needed to go, he had a maid remove it.

Slowly, he started gathering them all up. Whenever he would find something that was yours, he would store it in a box he kept on nightstand on your side of the bed. One day, he would send it to you.

The party came around. The entire RFA is on edge, anxious about the two of you seeing each other for the first time in nearly a year.

Seven helped you get ready beforehand. He made sure you looked great, even without Jumin’s designer gowns and personal stylists.

Jumin had never sent you the box with the last of your things, nor any divorce papers.

Yoosung and Seven had far too much fun pretending to “scout” for you, checking the entire venue for Jumin before you go inside. When he arrived, you knew because your cell phone vibrated four consecutive times with text alerts from the other RFA members

Jumin caught your eye a couple of times, you look away and continue your mingling, but the moment he saw you he knew exactly why he had never fully ended things with you: he never wanted your relationship to end

Those vows he took at the alter when he married you, he meant every word. A year of separation and all the arguments in the world would never change that. He wanted to fix things…but did you?

Jumin kept an eye on you while he networked with other guests, until he finally saw you wander to a quieter corner of the main room for a brief respite.

He ended the conversation he was having rather abruptly, in favor of approaching you with two glasses of wine in hand.

“MC?” He held out one of the glasses for you. “Would you be willing to try couple’s therapy?”

Saeyoung

He thought he could keep you safe from the agency. You were the one who made him believe that

And he could, from his original agency, but then a new agency started to recruit him just as he was getting his civilian life with you in place.

The two of you were engaged now…but if you got married, then your bond would be on paper.

He let his thoughts spiral, panicked one evening at the third attempt to infiltrate his security systems. It didn’t work, of course, but the potential threat was still there.

He pre-packed your things, set up a tracker on your phone, and arranged a Buber to take you to Jumin’s penthouse

The break up was quick. You were in the car and moved out of the house before you had time to process anything that happened.

After you two break up, Saeyoung went quiet.

No one knew if he was actually reading the chat logs at all, but the entire RFA spoke out, asking him to talk to you, to explain what happened, eventually just to say anything

Saeyoung spoke only with Jumin, and did all his work from behind the scenes.

Saeran gave semi-regular updates on his brother in the chatroom after reading the third chat log of you begging to know if he was okay. His brother’s relationship shouldn’t have been any of his business, but he liked you. You were a good person, and no one seemed to understand why Saeyoung did it.

Your role in the RFA only grew. It was rough at first, but the entire RFA was supportive in helping you get back on your feet.

Saeyoung read all the chat logs, including the messages you left for him. He kept an eye on where you were at all times, back to checking on you every 2.35 seconds in his bunker. He made sure to never look you in the eyes, lest it break his resolve.

Saeran lived with him now, but the house was quiet without you around. The twins’ relationship was still tense, but this had just made it worse.

At first, it was just more petty arguments than usual. Then, Saeran started asking why Saeyoung left MC. When Saeyoung wouldn’t answer, it became constant displeased grumbling every time they passed each other. Eventually, it became an outright fight.

“They didn’t do a damn thing and you left them! You left them just like you left me!”

“It’s for her protection Saeran! I took took care of my agency, but if we get married they’re going to be a target for anyone that wants our skills!”

“Did something happen? Did you even talk to them about this!? Why didn’t you ask me for help?”

“I don’t need help. If I told them why I wanted to end things, they wouldn’t have let me do it. It was for their safety. This was the best option.”

“And how did your idea of ‘the best option’ work out for everyone last time!?” Saeran slams his hand down on Saeyoung’s desk, knocking over a long cat bobble toy you had given him as a gift. Saeran’s eyes welled with tears, hands shaking with rage. “MC knew exactly what they were getting into! You had no right to just kick them out of our lives!”

Saeyoung looks up at his brother with wide eyes. Was this what you looked like right now too? Was that the expression and the emotion and the reality that he had been avoiding?

The next day he showed up with a eleven robotic roses that meowed like cats, an IOU for a kitten, and one rose that played a recording of him saying ‘I’m sorry’ over and over again

The sound was awful

Not his best idea

V/ Jihyun

He was the one who decided he was not okay with making you wait

It had been two years of barely keeping in contact

Another cancelled ticket. Another stub for the scrapbook. Another RFA party he would miss, not that he did anything for the group anymore.

You had been amazingly understanding, as usual, even when he broke your heart.

Yoosung already hated him. Jumin was getting a little frustrated, and the rest of the RFA expected him to never really come back. Him breaking up with you? You were the only one particularly heart-broken by the loss.

Everywhere he went, he saw you. Greece, Africa, The United States, Egypt. No matter what country he was in he would see someone on the street and for a few seconds he would be convinced it was you.

God knows how many times he whipped around in the middle of the street only to find himself staring at someone who was…decidedly not you.

Until one day, on a brief return to Korea, when he whipped around and he swore he saw your face. Not the back of your head, not you hands or your clothes, your face.  

“MC?”

You turn to look at him, surprised to see him after all these years.

At first, it just starts with an invitation to a cafe

He’s friendly and kind and apologizes for how things went between the two of you

Of course he wants you back, but he’s not going to force it. He was the one who broke the two of you up to begin with, and he has done nothing to earn your respect or love.

So…he stayed. And he texted. And he logged on to the RFA app to speak with all the members. He rented a studio and slept there on a couch in the back room while he put a life back together in Korea.

Things still aren’t perfect, but he’s trying. He has a place here, and friends, a life he can offer to share now.

He waits until the next RFA party ends, and catches you as you stow away one of the crystal centerpieces for the tables.

“I hope I’m not ruining you evening with this request…would you want to go out on a date with me?”

Saeran

The two of you started your relationship way too early.

He thought he was better now, that he could just live his life

But one day, the feelings hit him hard, like a ton of bricks. All of the progress, all of the work he did to get himself back where he was disappeared.

What was the point? What was the point of trying when it was all going to come back with no warning for the rest of his life?

He doesn’t even remember exactly when he broke up with you, because you never left his side.

It was somewhere between not eating for two days and Saeyoung checking him back into the psychiatric hospital.

“Go home already!” He would shout. You had no idea why, he had been okay with you here just a moment before.

It was because he noticed the glimmer of sadness in your eyes, or the way your expression drooped with disappointment.

Eventually, he got better. They released him from the hospital, but you stopped coming by so often.

It used to be you were there every single day, now you come  by sometimes to talk to Saeyoung, and check in on him briefly before you flee the bunker.

You got eerily quiet in the chatroom; even when he wasn’t around, you just weren’t quite as bright as you had been

He missed seeing you smile. He missed hearing your voice.

It’s another night of being up at three am. Another night of Saeyoung hovering around him, like if he looks away Saeran might try to hurt himself again.

An infomercial for some terrible super fruit health drink is on, and it reminds him of the time he tapped your shoulder to tell you his snarky comment about it, only to find you had fallen asleep on his shoulder.

You were the best thing to ever happen to him

He picks up his phone, and opens the text log.

i’m sorry for what I said

I wish you’d come by more often

I miss you

[dateflight398]

Dating As A Single Dad Reddit

Dating As A Single Dad Reddit Free

Dating Single Parents Reddit

Reddit Dating Advice

A few years ago, I started cracking jokes regularly about hot dads. Then when I met a charming, handsome dude with good taste in music and tacos at a secret Santa vinyl swap party last winter, I started dating one. Suddenly the jokes seemed a little creepy, and although I actively pumped the brakes on making them, those familiar with my menagerie of hot dad puns rose a skeptical eyebrow. I didn't seek out a hot dad, it just happened. Hotness aside, there's some unexpected things that happen when you date a single dad.

I've dated ('dated') divorced dudes before, which might be a little similar, but this relationship marks my first with a parent. When the relationship was brand-spankin' new, a lot of close friends lamented renditions of, 'I could never DATE A PARENT.' They echoed sentiments of kids being deal breakers. But I just figured, we're getting older. Everyone has a past and brings baggage into a relationship. And sometimes that baggage needs soccer lessons. Although, of course, I find my partner's child a deeply charming, fun, hilarious little human who doesn't qualify as 'baggage.' You know what I mean. A man willing and thrilled to take on the dad role shows commitment. It shows a patient man who gives a damn and has a loving heart. These are positive things. However, yeah..dating one of these men summons some unique situations sometimes.

Aug 27, 2018 Single dads have responsibilities, and that’s a sign that they’ll be able to handle a relationship maturely. Speaking of fatherly responsibilities, single dads have to take their kids to the Dentist, the Doctor, and other appointments. This means that it should be relatively easy to meet a single dad if you’re looking to date one. If you’re newly single, ease into it. Remember, you’re the grown-up here. “The decision to date is 100. Single Officers, hows your dating life? I am a Deputy that is currently working in the county jail. I was recently set up on a blind date with a friend of a friend. She was was really cute from her pictures and i was told she was a great person so i agreed. We met for dinner and I was actually having a good time.

He gets along great with your dad

I already knew I was dating a sociable, nice guy, and my dad is the same way, but I don't know how I failed to predict this easy bond. It's kinda unbelievably cute to watch them nerd out on fatherhood together.

He moves easily in different social situations

If he has to make pleasant conversation with other parents during tae kwan do, he can flow harmoniously through your old coworker's new girlfriend's potluck.

Finding tiny clothes in your clean laundry

Or..not even that tiny. Just not yours and not big enough to be his. I recently unearthed a red T-shirt that was definitely not mine in a batch of clean laundry I did at bae's house. Granted, I'm a fairly petite person and my boyfriend's child is seven. Even though I modeled it for jokes above, I resisted the urge to actually don and sport it around. That seemed too far.

Reexamining past relationships

Every situation is different, but my boyfriend is still on amicable terms with his child's mother, who also lives near us. Matters are so peachy that she even shared me on a Google Calendar she, her boyfriend, and my boyfriend share re: who has chief parenting duties when (it's half-and-half, really). This kind of amazing camaraderie made me really look at past relationships I'd previously kept duct-taped in a box and tossed the way-back part of the closet. I'd like to say this exercise made me resurrect toxic romantic relationships as healthy friendships, but that hasn't quite happened yet (and with some specific ones, I honestly can't see that ever happening). More than anything, I think it's helped me recognize the hard fact that all humans have faults and, in general, good intentions. Harmony can exist with a little work. (Though to be fair, I can't take credit for the calendar. That's all his superstar ex's handiwork and maturity.)

Realizing people sure like to make fun of/talk about dads

I actually muted #dadbod from Twitter and had to fake a million smiles for people trying to relate to me by bringing the meme up IRL. Also very tired of the dad joke thing (which is real, sure, but still not a phenom I care to discuss for the 999th time).

There's far less invented drama

Dating As A Single Dad Reddit Free

When a person has to care for another human, they simply have less emotional and physical energy to invent snafus or hang-ups. Nothing is a big deal unless it's an actual Big Deal. He has developed a wisdom to help him identify the difference between the two, and if you haven't already done the same, hanging with him long enough will be educational.

You have an incredibly patient partner

Someone who had to teach a tiny, indignant child how to master the toilet isn't gonna flip when you need to take nine breaks hiking back out of a canyon.

You save money

I've never considered my income sizable until I started thinking of the glaring fact that I don't have to split it with anyone. Since single dads still have to, you know, fund their child, there isn't always a ton of extra dough to fund flippant outings to fancy cocktail bars or jump onto tubing trips you didn't even want to attend in the first place. It inspires you to be more mindful of your own spending habits. As such—

He's wildly creative with cheap and free activities

And knows every single dope park worth visiting in town.

It forces you to address your own insecurities..

So when the kid asks, 'Why are you wearing lipstick?' You can actually think to yourself, '..Yeah. Why am I doing that?' And in a more serious sense, it forces you to dissect immature impulses. Like when you're running late to meet a friend because you're stuck in a child-stuffed lantern parade one town over, you're not allowed to bitch and force your S.O. to help you summon an Uber to pick you up, STAT—because he's too busy pushing the kid on a skateboard inside the festivities to indulge your princess agenda. It makes you take a more discerning look at this princess agenda and brainstorm ways to be more reasonable in general.

..and to be an adult yourself.

I was playing with the kid at a playground near my boyfriend's apartment and when an authority figure from the attached daycare came out to ask if we had permission to be there, I immediately turned to the child. Then I realized, 'Oh fuck. I'm supposed to answer here.' I've always been a touch afraid of authority but knew I had to handle the current situation. It turned out fine, by the way.

Conversely, it means you can't let jealousy get to you with exes. I used to let envy blind me badly in the past—even if a boyfriend managed to remain congenial with an ex, the whole bond made me feel rattled as hell. Now that I'm with a person who's ex will be around in a close way forever and ever amen, I have to be OK with that. Which is the adult thing to do anyway. We can't let ourselves feel threatened for no viable reason.

He knows the world doesn't revolve around him

This can be a difficult quality to find in this world of overgrown Peter Pans on the hunt for their own Mother figure—a person to handle all the less savory household duties, remind them to go to the doctor, praise them constantly, hinge their daily or long-term plans on what Pan wants or says he needs. This situation is different, because he already takes on that role for his child while still taking decent care of himself. Playing Mother to a series of adult Peter Pans got old, so this kind of attitude is a very welcome change of pace.

He is deliberate

Since there's a kid involved, he isn't trying to be all willy-nilly with decisions in life—both those that do and don't concern you. That's pretty hot, TBH.

You can dodge responsibility for your music choices

When 'Uptown Funk' happens six times in a row, I can blame that on the kid (which is true). Same with Katy Perry (which might be an extrapolation or even just my idea).

It's hard to gross him out

Possibly one of the best treats of dating a dad. If your cat got secretly sick and he steps barefoot into a pile of barf, he doesn't love it but he understands that happens (probably because he has experience direct skin-to-someone else's-barf contact before). He also doesn't panic about periods or farts or other body stuff.

Dating Single Parents Reddit

His place is gonna be messy..forever

Cleaning is one of my favorite forms of therapy, likely because if I'm in a highly cluttered space physically, that transfers mentally and makes me feel like a stressed-out trashcan. Very early in this relationship, I suggested I help my boyfriend with an intense cleaning sesh of his kitchen. We had a lot of wine and played loud punk and soon it was gleaming. This lasted about 36 hours. With a child and full-time job and other luxurious duties such as bathing oneself and staying fed (AND keeping the kid fed), cleaning falls to the wayside. Besides not having enough time to clean, kids are just miraculously mess-inducing machines. Tireless ones. As such, I try to see this situation as an opportunity to relax my OCD tendencies and work to become a more patient, understanding person. Of course my apartment is much cleaner—because I only have to account for me. It isn't fair to hold him to the same standard.

You learn how to relinquish some control

I recognize I have some control freak tendencies, relationships included. A lot of life is outside our control and dating someone with a child is a very effective reminder that no matter what, we can't always call the shots. We have to be adaptable. As such, I waited until my boyfriend thought it would be OK to introduce me to his kid. And even then, it's not like I leapt from a cake and shouted, 'I AM YOUR NEW MOM!!!!!!!!!!!' Not at all. I'm still just a buddy who kicks it from time to time to join in on eating pizza or playing 'balloon' or the occasional ride home from school. When and if my boyfriend wants to explain my role in his life to his child, that's not really up to me. It's a discussion he and I can have, but it's not my endeavor to pilot.

You get a bit of perspective about your own age..

It's fun to make fun of Oldsters until you realize you are now one. This is highlighted by the frequency at which you offer anecdotes children don't want to hear, always marked with the beginning, 'When I was a kid..' They don't care, probably. They just don't need to hear about how your lack of skills with Donkey Kong at age seven feeds into your lack of skills with Mario Kart Racing at age 27. They're just stoked to authentically beat an adult.

..and your general level of importance.

Not to say my boyfriend treats me like I'm not important; He treats me with total kindness and respect. It's just that I have dated people in the past who put me on a pedestal, and you know what? The oxygen gets pretty thin up there. Although I'm sure it's meant as an appreciative gesture, it's unrealistic and puts a lot of pressure on the person sitting on top of it. Dating a parent, though, means no matter what, there is always going to be someone more important than I am in the mix. And I am so so OK with that.

There's no room for jealousy

If a sitter falls through last-minute, that means reservations gotta be canceled and dinner gets moved to the living room and the main dish will probably be pizza. You can't take it personally if homie is late because his child's mother got a flat tire so he had to go help out. You also can't get suspicious when he's on the phone with her a lot. These are complicated waters to navigate and if you're even to dip a few toes beneath the surface, you gotta be able to resign yourself to faith and trust—two things that ought to be present in any grown-ass relationship anyway. It's just here, it's especially non-negotiable.

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Reddit Dating Advice

Shit doesn't have to be so serious

I never babysat growing up and none my nieces and nephews live close by, so I don't actually have much experience hanging out with kids. The first time I met my boyfriend's child, I was 900 times more nervous than meeting any adult. What were we supposed to do or talk about? 'Seriously, whatever,' he instructed. After a while, the nerves dissolved and we were playing a stirring game of 'balloon,' which entails whacking a balloon back and forth between two or three people in a living room. Extra rules vary, but usually Taylor Swift is a necessary soundtrack. Things just don't have to be so serious in the sense that kids are very fun and it's almost astounding how quickly you can reverse back to such an easily entertained brain space. It's freeing to launch into some weird accent and spike a deflating balloon in the air without fear of being judged. It scratches a specific existential itch.

There's no ego

Because guess who makes the weird accent and plays balloon when you're not around? Conversely, though— Gaydia gay dating site reviews.

You can have serious conversations without scaring each other

Although I'm sure there are exceptions, most of the time when a single dad is dating, he isn't just screwing around. It's surprisingly refreshing to sink into a relationship and have the comfortable freedom to discuss individual big-scale hopes and goals. In other relationships, talking about the future at all can often be exactly the catalyst to send Pan off packing for a return and permanent trip to Neverland.

You retain a lot of your own time

Often, especially in new relationships, it can be hard to balance love stuff and friends. https://dateflight398.tumblr.com/post/658104267855577088/catholic-dating-app-free. Assuming you're in a situation with split custody in a local setting, that means half the time you get to yourself. It helps slow things down early on and maintain other hobbies, tinkerings, friendships, and such in your own life. It's the antithesis to smothering and fosters vital independence.

Images: TriStar Picturs; Giphy(23); Beca Grimm