stories told

In effort to get my brain on together, I am dropping all of my threads except for a few. If I’m tagging you, I’m keeping our threads. I will be doing new starter calls otherwise, and everyone who’s thread I’ve had to drop I welcome you with new threads!

             ❝ I honestly wonder why I made the blunder of marrying that woman. ❞ He says ‘that woman’ with barely-concealed distaste. James knows why, really, deep down— he was young, naive, and desperate to convince himself that he was straight. (Yeah, right.) Nick and Rhiannon were collateral damage; imagine having not one, but two crazy parents. ❝ Would you do me a favor? When they wake up, take ‘em to breakfast, wherever they want. Here— ❞ He pulls out a few crumpled up bills from his pocket and hands them to Verity. God only knows what currency that is, and at the moment he can’t really bring himself to give a fuck. ❝ I just need a break, just for one mornin’. ❞

             ❝ Ah— what would I do without you? ❞ He gives Verity a half-smile, because it’s the most he can manage at the moment. ❝ Haven’t slept all fuckin’ night. I doubt you have, either. ❞ James gratefully accepts the coffee in the foam cup and downs it all like a tequila shot, not caring if he scalds his tongue. He’s gonna need more than coffee to get through today. ❝ What am I gonna tell the kids? Like, oh yeah, yer maw’s fuckin’ nuts, but you knew that already, look what she’s done now? I mean—– it’s the truth, but… ❞ He shrugs his shoulders and massages his temple. ❝ Bet she’s doin’ this all for attention. Of course she is. ❞

             ❝ The fuckin’ press. ❞ He shakes his head, although truthfully, James is more than relieved that it’s just a rumor. The last thing he wants at this point is a fucking child. ❝ They should make it legal to shoot journalists for sport, especially if they work for the fuckin’ Daily Mail. ❞