#he thinks about you pregnant and alone. fending for yourself in a world full of infected and raiders and his chest grows tight again

[pettyprocrastination]

whoever this beloved anon was I am so touched by your kindness! You definitely didn’t have to do this but I am so happy you enjoy this idea and I will happily expand upon it for you!

this is just a collection of word vomit bullet points for the time being but I will happily answer any and all questions about this pair!!

warnings: violence, angst, child death (Sarah Miller), foul language, the same warnings that apply to tlou, reader is Sarah's mom and described as having similar features to her. 

So the general Idea is that you and Joel are happily married before the outbreak. 

You had been Sarah's mother, his high school sweetheart he got pregnant when neither of you were old enough to have any reaction to the pregnancy test other than a fucking panic attack in one another’s arms. but you made it work 

you both worked but made time for one another and your sweet girl, going to museums every other weekend and joel insisting on swooping you off for a date every now and then 

nothing special. He knows you’re more of a diner gal than anything too fancy that makes you both feel out of place. 

On his birthday in 2003, you had planned to tell him that you were pregnant again. But the memories of your own fears of motherhood from all those years ago begin to swirl through your head again and you get cold feel. deciding to tell him the morning after

it is his birthday afterall, you want to focus on him. 

but when you’re woken up in the middle of the night because tommy needs to get bailed out, Joel kisses you sweetly one last time before promising he’ll be back and you can’t shake the feeling that something bad is happening. 

its you that shakes sarah awake that night. shouting at her to put on her shoes when she’s still rubbing the sleep from her eyes because you’ve been listening to the radio for the past two hours, calling joel again and again and again praying for him to fucking pick up but to no avail. 

Sarah, bless your little girl’s bleeding heart is the one who insists you check on the adler’s against your better suspicions and when you find the eldest looming over her daughter, blood and sinew dripping from her mouth, you grab your daughter hand and burst into a full sprint until something slams into your back and sends you tumbling onto their front lawn

its how joel finds you, struggling to keep the once sweet old woman, whose now nothing more than dead eyes and gnashing teeth straining to snap at your pulse point as you push against her while sarah shrieks before your husband runs forward and cracks her skull with a wrench. 

there’s hardly a moment of pause, just enough for him to pull you up and into his arms before he’s ushering you both into the car with an urgency. 

when the truck crashes, you get separated from them. Perhaps at Tommy’s side when the flames rise and create a wall, separating you from your husband, or maybe pulled into the mob of chaos when trying to escape from those already infected-

all joel knows is that you promise you’ll find him: just get sarah to safety and you’ll meet him at the river

Poor thing is already so frightened, held in her father’s arms with tears streaming down her face insisting they can’t leave you they just can’t but her father kisses her forehead and reassures her its going to be okay 

“we just need to be brave, okay babygirl? Your mama’s real tough, she’s gonna be alright.” 

he isn’t sure if he’s saying it to his daughter or himself. 

but when he comes to the river you aren’t there. Only a soldier who points a gun at the scared little girl in his arms and then he loses everything

its when the light is gone from his daughter’s eyes that he realizes. His voice cracked and raw from sobbing that he looks around to see his brother with drawn in shoulders and tears in his eyes but his wife is nowhere to be found. 

Tommy says you got lost in the chaos. Everything was so loud, so sudden that he turned around and suddenly you weren’t there. 

Joel wants to go back but its Tommy that stops him, that dulls the red in his vision to a sad faded pink because his brother points at the orange horizon not too far from them, so much of the city is already in flames. 

“We’re gonna find her, but not there.” 

So Joel searches. for the first year spent in the world post-outbreak its all he did. 

He became a smuggler because of it. 

Information came at a price and he needed to be able to fucking pay it, whether it be in blood or ration cards. He was willing to do anything to find you or any thin thread that lead your way. 

But it’s Tommy that asks him to give up. Not in those words of course. 

The youngest Miller knows better than to say something so cruel that would make his brother, the only person he has in this world turn on him. 

But his voice is worried when he asks him one night in Boston when he hasn’t even had the chance to wash the blood from his knuckles 

“You think she would have wanted this for you?” 

the fight that followed his words was brutal. Vicious insults and scarred fists slamming against each brother until they're both too tired and bloody to continue. Each leaning against a wall for support and Tommy’s wavering voice breaking the silence. 

“I don’t know where she is, Joel. But I do know you're gonna get yourself killed if you keep lookin’ for her.” 

All he can do is nod. 

It’s a few days later when he meets Tess. Who has heard plenty of stories about the elder miller’s brutality and wants him to put that muscle to good use for some extra profit. 

It begins his new life. One that empty and cold but one he can live. 

Until of course, Ellie comes along. The sweet and incredibly opinionated girl that makes him become something akin to the man he thought died twenty years ago. 

its when he’s traveling with Ellie, that it happens. When a warm familiarity has settled between the two because so much blood and pain has been shared he can’t help but see her as something close, something bright even though all he can force himself to utter in her reference is “cargo” 

when theyre traveling through the woods as Ellie chatters away, probing his memory about a movie that may or may not have existed thirty years ago because her descriptions of the plot are incredibly odd he hears a voice shout for them to stop and finds himself staring at a man- no, a boy- pointing a gun at them. 

Ellie stills, but Joel can see enough to know that from the lanky figure and dimpled face that he’s young. Maybe twenty, twenty-two at the oldest, but his eyes dart from Joel to Ellie with a pinprick of fear that allows Joel the time to charge forward and slam him to the ground before wrestling the gun from his hands. 

He has enough to time to tuck it under the stranger’s chin before he hears the sound of the safety being turned off and finds himself looking up and seeing a gun just inches from his face. 

Joel’s head whips around when Ellie’s voice calls out his name in fear, he turns to see another stranger holding her a gun point, shoulders drawn back and a shadow cast over their face by the had obstructing their identity. 

“You hurt one of mine, I hurt one of yours. That a fair deal?” 

Its takes him a moment to recognize you. It’s been so long since he’s heard your voice, the sweet tease when you would poke at him each time he woke up late despite the fact that you reminded him to set his alarm the night before, the times you’d chide him with a harsh “Joel Miller!” whispered in public anytime he was able to grab you a bit too passionately to be appropriate in public but the laughter in your voice let him know you were never truly mad at him. You didn’t know how to be. 

But that sweetness is buried under a cold rasp that cuts through the air as you point a rifle at the scared little girl in front of you.

“You think I won’t?” You’re older now, skin covered in scars from a life he didn’t know you got the chance to live and your eyes are cold as they regard your husband. “Put the gun down and get the fuck off of him, I won’t repeat myself.” 

Joel mumbles your name in awe. The woman he loved, the woman he mourned the one he fought so hard to find stands before him like some sort of hallucination and suddenly the world feels like its spinning until you bark orders at him again. 

“You’ve got five seconds Joel, make a fucking choice before I make it for you.” 

He looks down and realizes the boy under him, the one with the bleeding nose and snarling face has your eyes and his dimples. 

“One.” 

The one above him has Sarah’s hair. Soft brown curls that shine under the sun. 

“Two”

Wait. No, they both do.

“Three.” 

Twins. Jesus fucking Christ you had twins. 

“Four.” 

Joel holds the rifle up above his head and the one boy standing snatches it from his grasp, tossing it to the ground and kicking it far from his reach. He slowly stands, allowing your son- dear god your son- to scramble to his feet. 

Your voice softens just for a moment. “You okay, Duke?” 

Blood stains the bottom half of his face from where Joel slammed his fist into the boy’s nose just moments before, but he nods nonetheless. 

Now, they both stand on one side of you and he can see the resemblance clear as day the same way he would whenever Sarah was by your side.

When you order him to hand over his bag, he does so without question before telling Ellie to do the same. 

She watches him with wide eyes, her hands still up in the air but gaping at her companion as if he had grown a second head. 

“Joel!” “Just do it, alright?”

He doesn’t miss the way you watch their interaction with narrowed eyes until she tosses her bag to you and you slowly lower your gun. 

“Now, you want to tell me what the fuck you think you’re doin’ at my home?” 

[writeroutoftime]

baby makes three

(gif created by me)

pairing: colin bridgerton x fem!reader (this is for the 3 anons who wanted to see a similar situation with colin being a father!)

summary: snapshots of colin throughout your pregnancy with your first child 

warnings: pregnancy 

words: 1.7k 

a/n: this is the story that kept disappearing in my drafts, but it has reappeared, which is why I’m posting 2 stories back to back! 😂anyway, this is such a sweet thought, and I adored writing it! hopefully it doesn’t seem too choppy, I just thought it would be interesting to write little snippets of colin and yourself preparing to be parents! (as well as some fluff once the baby is born!) anyway, please let me know what you think, and have a lovely day! 

oOoOo

the announcement 

“You’re what?” 

“Pregnant, Colin.” you repeated, unable to keep the smile off your face. “And you’re going to be the most wonderful father!” 

Immediately, Colin’s face morphed from one of disbelief to pure joy in a matter of seconds before he shot forward and wrapped you up in his arms. His laughter and lightheartedness was infectious, and your heart swelled at his reactions. A gasp of surprise left your lips as he spun your around before setting you back down and placing a chaste kiss against your lips. 

Growing up in the Bridgerton family, Colin always knew that he wanted a large family of his own one day. The day he had met you, he knew you were the one for him, and from that day he had imagined starting a family with you. Now, those dreams were coming to fruition, and neither of you could be happier. 

Once recovered, Colin quickly got down on his knees and lovingly placed a kiss to your covered stomach, staring up at you with intense love and devotion in his eyes. You reached down and carded your hand through his thick, chestnut locks, thinking how lucky you were to have someone like Colin in your life. 

“Hello, little bean.” he whispered sweetly. “I cannot wait to meet you, so you just stay safe and keep growing in there until it’s time.” Colin instructed, pulling a laugh from your lips. 

“Little bean?” you questioned the nickname for your unborn child. 

Colin shrugged with a sheepish smile. “Well, we don’t know if we are to have a son or a daughter, so I shall call our precious gift ‘little bean’ for the time being.” he explained as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.  

“Well this little bean and myself love you dearly, Colin.” you praised, smiling down at your husband. 

“And I, the both of you.” he vowed, offering your stomach one more kiss before standing up, unable to keep his lips away from yours. 

5 months 

Colin beamed as he watched you walk into the drawing room and sat down, admiring the glow that you seemed to radiate. The months were passing quickly, and now that there was a visible bump it made your situation feel all the more real. Of course, you had received so much love and support from not only Colin, but the rest of his family, especially the women who had already experienced a pregnancy of their own. It warmed your heart to know you were not alone in this endeavor. 

“Oh!” you suddenly gasped, quickly setting your teacup down and rubbing your stomach where you felt a slight discomfort. 

“Is everything alright, love?” Colin asked as he rushed to your side. “Do we need to call for the doctor? My mother?” he listed, worry glazing over his eyes as he hovered, waiting for your instruction. 

The movement repeated and with your hand rested over your bump, you smiled, realizing what had just happened. “No, no, everything is perfect.” you whispered, lost in wonder and awe. 

“Then what is it?” Colin inquired, still concerned and needing answers. 

Wordlessly, you grabbed his hand and rested it on your stomach, moving it around for a few seconds before pressing down. Colin was about to protest further until he felt the same sensation you did just moments before and his eyes widened at the spot his hand rested on. His eyes then flicked up to meet yours, and neither of you could contain the joy you felt. 

“That’s our little bean in there.” he whispered, voice shaky and eyes misty. 

“That it is.” you whispered, not wanting to disrupt the moment, though you let out a small giggle when you felt the baby kick again. 

“She’s going to be just as beautiful as her mother.” he said. 

“She?” you questioned. “What happened to little bean?” 

“Oh, she’s still our little bean, but I just have a hunch that we’re going to have a daughter to love and spoil.” Colin said, pulling you into your side and soothingly rubbing his hand up and down your bump, and that is where the two of you stayed for the rest of the afternoon. 

8 months 

The further along in your pregnancy you were, the more you found it difficult to sleep, tossing and turning as your child constantly kicked against your stomach. Luckily, Colin was always there to help you and even stayed awake with you on those restless nights. However, one night when sleep was achieved quite easily, you found yourself awakening to Colin’s soft voice. It only took a moment to realize he was talking to your baby, so you kept your eyes closed and your breath even, not wanting to interrupt the moment. 

“I can’t wait until I can hold you in my arms, little bean.” he whispered to your belly, hand supporting his one hand while the other ever so gently rested on your stomach. “You’re mother and I cannot wait for you to be in our lives, and you’re going to be so spoiled between your mother and I and all your aunts and uncles.” 

It was difficult to hold in a laugh as you imagined Colin’s words to be true. The two of you were eager to start your family, and the rest of the Bridgerton clan always enthusiastically welcomed another niece or nephew to dote upon. 

“Speaking of your mother,” Colin continued. “we are so lucky that she is in our lives. I know that this has been difficult for her, but you have been blessed with the best mother. We’ll both have to love and appreciate her as much as possible.” 

By that point, it was exceedingly difficult to keep your act up as you felt tears prickle at the corner of your eyes. How were you so lucky to have such a caring and attentive man like Colin in your life? It seemed as though your baby had been listening and agreed with Colin because right after he spoke, another sharp kick could be felt. 

“Are you giving your mother trouble, little bean?” he asked, brows furrowed as he awaited another kick. “What did I just say about being kind to your mother? It is not nice to kick her that hard, especially at night.” he reprimanded in the gentlest voice. “Even if she is pretending to be asleep.” he added with a smug grin, looking up to meet your eyes. 

Sheepishly, you looked down at your husband. “How did you know I was awake?” you asked, curious as to what it was that gave you away. 

“I could feel your small laugh earlier on.” he admitted, and shifted his body so that he was face to face with you instead of your stomach. “But I truly meant every word I spoke.” he whispered, leaning down to press a soft kiss against your lips. 

When you pulled away, you couldn’t stop the tears that ran down your cheeks, moved by the love Colin always gave you. “I’m so lucky to be doing this with you by my side. You are going to be the best father, Colin.” you told him, your voice watery but sincere. 

Colin gently brushed away your tears and kissed the spots where tear tracks had been left behind as he entwined your hand with his. “I think I am the lucky one, love.” he countered, and curled into your side for the rest of the night. 

birth 

The moment you went into labor, Colin was there to hold your hand while sending out for the midwife and doctor as well as his mother. When the doctor tried to shove him out of the room, Colin held his ground and demanded that he be allowed to stay by his wife’s side; he was not about to leave you to fend for yourself at this hour. Hesitantly, the doctor granted his request, and you sighed a breath of relief, as Violet smiled to herself at the sight, her heart warmed at how dedicated the two of you were to each other. 

Hours later, filled with blood, sweat, and tears, you were propped up in your bed, gently holding your daughter in your arms. It was a tender scene between yourself, Colin, and y/d/n. Colin held you in arms and kissed the top of your head while gently stroking his daughter’s cheek with his thumb. It felt surreal that you child was now here and that your family had grown to three. 

“She’s beautiful.” you said, voice barely above a whisper, unable to tear your eyes from your daughter. 

“Just like her mother.” Colin responded, squeezing you a bit tighter. “Thank you, y/n.” he suddenly said, causing you to look up at him. 

“Whatever for?” you asked. 

Colin took a moment to collect his thoughts before he spoke. “For starting our family, for being so strong to support our daughter until she was ready to meet us, for making me so incredibly happy every single day.” he listed over, each one more passionate than the last. 

It was already an emotional day, and you didn’t think your heart could feel any more full, but as usual, Colin found a way to prove you wrong. “I love you so much.” you told him, and he leant his head down to rest against yours as the two of you spent the next couple hours admiring the newest addition to your family. 

Later that night, Colin found that he could not sleep, the excitement and adrenaline of the previous day’s events still coursing through his veins. Carefully, he untangled himself from your embrace and padded over to the bassinet in the corner of your room where your daughter slept. He knelt down next to her and simply watched as she slept her first night. A few minutes later, your daughter opened her eyes and met Colin’s gaze. 

“Hello there, little bean.” he whispered, not wanting to frighten her or wake you up. “I just want to let you know that I love you so, so much, and I’m always going to be here to protect you.” Colin promised as he offered a finger for your daughter to grab a hold of with her tiny hand, ready for everything the future would bring. 

oOoOo

tagging: @dreaming-about-fanfictions​, @elennox03

[lovehostess]

Since your okay with all the asks I have been sending here is one. Tommy takes you somewhere without phil or techno knowing about it. Pregnant reader or not

Hi!!!! Please ilysm, your ask got me the most engagement and I wanna do a very big shoutout to you & credit for the idea ✨

a/n: Also, I really do apologise for the lack of content, I’ve been dealing with personal issues & school work a lot and haven’t feel inspired to write :( Although hopefully I’ll come back real soon for more contents. But for now, I’ll try to answer asks as best as I can :)

Alright! So we’ve established that Philza and Technoblade are VERY protective over the people that they love.

So when the two worlds collide, and they fell in love with you, protective doesn’t even begin to describe how much they were, well, protective over you.

Technoblade is responsible in the armor & weapons department, making sure that you’re always at full protection. He trains you as well - just in case of situations where you need to fend for yourself.

Philza tried to look for all of the totems possible, he always makes sure that you have atleast three and holds one when you guys go out.

He’s also the one making sure you’re always well fed, although most of the time it’s you who’s cooking. But, since you and Techno are lazy in the morning, Philza will cook up some eggs and toast for you guys. And really, while it is really simple, it’s very good. Excellent breakfast.

These two idiots always want you in the middle when you three go to bed. Both of their arms wrapped protectively over you. 🥰

Philza calls you his angel in his sleep btw. Techno calls you his darlin. :)

When it comes to outdoor activities, they both do let you out. They understand that sometimes you do need some alone time with clean, fresh air.

But, your partners (specifically Techno) just can’t help it but to stalk and follow you within a distance; just to make sure that you’re safe. And, if there are threats he’d be prepared to protect you.

Now, with that being the case; when one sunny afternoon they cannot find you anywhere in the house - they panic. Badly. Really badly.

Techno tried looking for you inside the house while Philza searched the area outside.

It was also during the time where one particular loud british racoon boy was staying at your shared home.

So naturally, both of them feared that a particular green telletubie might have kidnapped you and Tommy.

“I swear Phil I’ll give Dream a taste of this Orphan Obliterator alright.” Technoblade spat.

Phil nods at that, unable to respond as worry clouds all over him. At the same time, Phil started preparing for his & Techno’s mission to find you. Brewing some potions and sharpening the weapons.

The voices in Techno’s head couldn’t shut up. “They’re gone”, “What if they’re injured?” , “FIND THEM” , “BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD”.

Techno didn’t realise how badly he was shaking until Phil placed a hand on his shoulder to calm him down.

He then tells Techno that he should prepare as well.

As they were almost done, the basement door opened and the two men went downstairs immediately.

The sight of you made them let out the biggest sigh ever. All worry washed away as you were there, in front of them, unharmed.

“Where were you?!” Philza asked as he engulfed you in the tightest hug.

“TOMMY WHERE DID YOU TAKE THEM??” Technoblade yells at the poor lad.

“UHHH, I- WE WERE JUST MINING FOR SOME DIAMONDS??” Tommy was super shaken at this point, and realises that maybe he should’ve told either one of your OVERLY protective boyfriends.

“I SWEAR TO GOD TOMMY PLEASE TELL ONE OF US FIRST.”

Once Philza releases you from his hug, Technoblade pulled you in for a kiss - scarring Tommy’s eyesight for life.

“AAHHH NO NO NO TECHNO NOT IN FRONT OF ME. Jesus man!” Tommy yelled as he scurried down to his room.

Technoblade casually carried you bridal style to the bed upstairs.

“Darlin please, tell one of us if you’re leaving. We were scared to death.”Technoblade whispered to you gently.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think it would worry you this much. It wasn’t that far.” You reasoned. Both techno and phil gave you a pointed look which practically tells you ‘no, you should always tell us.’

You sighed and then smiled “Fine, fine. I promise I will tell you.”

Philza & Techno peppers you with kisses everywhere because they thought they had lost you or somethin.

“Love you sweetheart.” Philza mumbled to your ears as he hugs you from behind while Techno does the same.

“Ya know Phil, maybe we should teach Tommy some lesson about permission.”

“I think we should Tech.”

“BOYS!” you yelled as both of your boyfriends laugh.

The three of you eventually falls asleep in your usual position. Dreaming about what to eat for breakfast.

[write-ur-wrongs]

Mother, Mother pt.2

A/N: Finally ready to post part 2 of my dad!Geralt fic!!! Part 2 is loosely based on this prompt Another request with baby!👀🥰 Reader has a newborn and geralt is just watching them thinking about how much have changed and how reader turned his life around...🍪 so I really want to thank that anon for their prompt and their patience! I definitely took some liberties with this story and worry the plot got lost along the way(?) but I really hope you like it nonetheless! Full disclosure I haven’t proof-read this piece so forgive the many typos!!

__________________________________________________________

“I said, no,” Geralt repeated himself slowly and with great authority, “thank you.”

The village healer looked at the witcher with eyes wide in disbelief, unable to accept that there was anything a witcher wouldn’t do for coin. Especially this witcher – the White Wolf – or so they used to call him. He used to be a force to be reckoned with on the continent, but now it seemed there was rarely a job he’d be willing to take.

“No? B-but who will help us!” they shouted desperately, “you can’t just leave this village to fend for itself! The creature will kill us all, Witcher!”

Geralt closed his eyes and took a deep breath before repeating himself yet again. “Please understand, I can’t help you, but I know people who can. Eskel is highly qualified and will be here by the next full moon. He will help you; I assure you.”

“But you’re here now,” the healer said, still shaking his head, “you could resolve this by nightfall! Why should these people wait a week for peace?”

“Hm.” He growled, lowly, biting down on his cheek to keep himself from giving into his rage and his pride. He wasn’t just living for himself anymore, not just living for the coin or by the witcher’s code; he had a family now.

He knew the world wouldn’t be easy to convince regarding his change in career path. Hell, it had taken most of your pregnancy to convince his brothers at Kaer Morhen of his plans. When he first told them you were pregnant, and it was his, they laughed heartily while sharing quick looks of concern between one another; fearing you’d strayed and were trying to play poor Geralt for a fool.

Yet that reaction was nothing compared to the one they gave him when Geralt admitted that his days of being a witcher were over. He’d be a consultant now. He’d travel the continent only when he heard of monsters through Jaskier’s letters, and once he reached these villages, he’d take stock and refer the case to one of his brothers, who’d pay him a modest commission for the referral. Geralt never took contracts he deemed to be too dangerous (which, so it happened, was most of them). The rule was if he wouldn’t readily bring Cirilla along to help, it was too dangerous for him alone.

Once, he let pride take precedence and he accepted a contract he knew was dangerous. It felt good to be back in the saddle, both literally and figuratively. He and Roach took to the forest like birds on a breeze, and his sword was just an extension of himself as he wielded it fiercely and with grace.

While he did conquer the beast in the end, it did put up quite a fight, and everything he thought made the fight worth it was washed away the instant he limped into your home and saw the look on his pregnant wife’s face and heard the cries of his beloved child surprise. To this day, he still feels the panicked sound of Ciri’s fearful shriek and your horrified sob weigh heavily in the pit of his stomach.

He felt this very weight now as he considered this desperate healer’s words. Yes, he’d handled this type of monster many times before, but it wasn’t worth it.

“Listen to me, this type of creature is only a threat during a full moon,” Geralt said, “just educate your people, spread the word, you’re in a position of authority here – use it.”

The healer sighed deeply before muttering to themselves in frustration. They pulled their cloak tighter around their body and made a scene of grabbing the coin-filled sac from the table. Geralt rolled eyes his at the paranoid healer before gesturing for them to head outside.

“Fine, leave! But if you leave now and anyone dies, their blood will be on your hands!” shouted the healer, as Geralt tended to Roach.

Geralt rolled his eyes before mounting Roach, urging her onto the trail.

This isn’t my fight, he thought, and their people will be fine.

You were having a wonderful morning. Wren slept through the night for the first time in who-knows how long, and Ciri was relaxing as she entered her fifth day without a magical episode; those lessons with her aunt Yennefer were definitely paying off.

Now you were savouring the gentle afternoon breeze, resting your knees in the cool earth of the garden as the sun warmed you from above. You loved harvesting produce and tending to the flowers; this year was especially bountiful thanks to a rainy spring and temperate summer. As you picked tomatoes off the vine, you smiled softly at the sound of Ciri celebrating a successful hit on her target across the yard.

Meanwhile, Wren played happily in the dirt at your side. She’s been sitting up on her own now which was such a thrill. Such a small change, but it granted you freedoms you didn’t know you’d been missing.

“Mama, snek!” Wren squealed, proudly holding an earthworm up at you. You laughed in relief upon seeing what she was holding up – for half a second you thought she’d managed to snag an actual snake.

“Wow my girl,” you cooed, “what a find!”

At the sound of your praise, Wren smiled up at you brightly and closed her little fingers around the earthworm with pride.

“Careful now, love! Don’t harm it,” you said, gently prying open her stubby fingers and releasing the worm back into the soil, “these little guys play an important role in the health of our garden.”

“You know she doesn’t understand you, right mom?” Ciri said a little breathlessly after stabbing her sword into the earth.

“I don’t think we can say that with certainty, Ciri. She is a witcher’s daughter after all, we are in for a lifetime of surprises I’d say.” You replied with a small shake of your head. Ciri rolled her eyes at you before making off towards the house at a run.

“Cirilla,” you warned, “don’t leave your sword in the yard! And wipe it down before you take it in – I don’t want dirt tracked in again.”

“Mom!” she groaned, stomping back to get her sword. “Witchers don’t need to do these ridiculous chores…” she said under her breath.

“They don’t get warm meals or comfortable beds either!” you replied in a sing-song, knowing it would drive Ciri crazy – you hated when she grumbled at you. Ciri had great respect for her father but would sometimes treat you like you were nothing more than a headmistress at school. Having spent time with witchers and sorceresses alike, scolding didn’t command respect; at least when you played it light it got her attention.

“Yeah – I know! I’ve lived those lives!” Ciri shouted, storming back towards the house, sword in hand.

Fuck. You forgot she was there when Cintra fell. How could you forget?! She was alone and, on the run, and oh gods if Geralt had been here and heard this he’d –

“Ciri, wait, I’m so sorry. I’m –”

“Sounds like someone could use some help.”

You stopped cold at the sound of the strangers’ voice. It ran through you like mead – ice cold but left a strange burning sensation in its place. Ciri also stopped in her tracks, dropping her hand from the door but keeping a firm grip on the helm of her sword. Ciri cast a quick glance at the stranger standing on the edge of your property before settling her nervous eyes on you.

You did your best to evoke confidence before turning to see this stranger for yourself.

It was Visenna.

Again, you did your best to seem confident as you addressed your eldest. “Ciri,” you said, not taking your eyes off the druid, “take Wren into the house, quickly!”  

“Mom?”

“Cirilla please, take her and go into the house,” you said, impressed at your ability to keep your voice level. “And take your sword with you,” you added, turning to give her what you hopped was a look that encouraged her to stay calm and be careful.

Ciri said nothing but scooped her sister up and onto her hip with one arm while keeping her sword steadily by her side.

Once you heard the door close, you cast a quick glance to make sure your girls were safe before turning your attention back to the woman standing at the gate.

“Why are you here, Visenna?” you asked, holding your head high despite the fact your heart was pounding in your ears.

“Oh child,” her words dripped with condescension, “I never expected my son to write me back, but I had hoped he’d share the contents of my letter with his wife.”

“He told me about the letter,” you said, giving her a tight close-lipped smile, “in fact he told me all about you. So, I’m going to ask you again, why are you here?”

“If you know about the letter, then you know why I’m here.”  

“Could you be so cold as to have you forgotten your history with your son? The way you left him to be tested on like a rat? You have no right to be here.” Your voice cracked as you finished your last sentence, and Visenna tilted her head at your sign of weakness.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about, dear. You weren’t there -”

“Neither were you!” you spat; with a harshness you didn’t think you had in you.

“Hm.” Visenna crossed her arms and watched you closely through narrowed eyes. You hated that she reminded you of Geralt as she seized you up – the had the same mannerisms, the same affinity for the non-verbal. Geralt could never know.

The druid’s scrutinizing glare made you squirm, and when you broke eye contact with her for a moment of reprieve, she moved to open your gate. For the briefest moment, your panic left you paralyzed as you watched the woman begin a confident stride towards the house.

“Stop!”

You whipped your head around as you heard Ciri come bursting out of the front door. She was wielding her sword up in front of her with one hand while the other hugged Wren onto her side.

“Do not come any closer, I am warning you!” she shrieked, her light eyes wild as her mousey hair blew behind her.

“Ciri-” you tried, holding one hand out to calm her.

“No!” she yelled, keeping her eyes and her sword fixed on Visenna, who was now standing stock-still at the gate.

“Stop trying to tame her, dear,” Visenna interjected. “Let the lion cub roar.”

At the sound of her old nickname, you took in a sharp breath and felt your heart drop to your stomach. It felt like the world stopped turning as Ciri reacted to the trigger.

Cirilla could handle discussions about her old life in small doses and only on her terms. Whenever the dreams came to her, it would take you hours to calm her down. More often than not, the episodes left you and Geralt drained and deeply concerned. Yennefer was really the only person Ciri responded to, and while her methods and lessons have helped, sometimes the pain brought on by the memories was simply too great.

Now, as the four of you stood in your garden, you could feel the earth begin to vibrate beneath your feet. Ciri’s jaw was clenched tight and her nostrils were flared. She slowly knelt down and placed Wren onto the ground before standing tall once again.

“Do not call me that.” She seethed, voice dripping with magic.

“Come now, child,” Visenna replied, seemingly unaware of the storm brewing, “I am your grandmother. I can help you; teach you.”

“You are not my grandmother!” Ciri shrieked, pushing a violent wind towards the druid which forced her to take a step back. “Get out of here! Leave!”

“I – I don’t mean any disrespect, Ciri. The Lioness was –”

“Ciri, no, wait –”

Everything happened so quickly. You felt the burning rush of Ciri’s magic roar past you and tried desperately to keep your eyes open so you could see Wren. Though your eyes stung against the harsh blast Ciri was emitting, you saw Wren crying soundlessly behind her sister, her chubby hands reaching out towards you in desperation. You tried to step towards her but an invisible force pushed you to the ground. You pulled yourself up on one elbow and tried to reach towards your baby without luck. Everything was burning and it took all of your strength to stay alert.

Meanwhile, Ciri’s blast of magic shot at Visenna like a bolt of lightening. Out of the tip of her sword and from her outstretched hand came a bright blue flame surrounded by pulses of violent wind. The destructive blast uprooted the gate and surrounding fence, throwing them back into the forest beyond. Burning shrapnel and earth flew towards her at breakneck speed, but the druid reacted quickly, pulling a portal with the help of an amulet and escaped the blast.

The garden in the path of Ciri’s blow burned harshly – leaving nothing behind but ash; except for the pocket where you lay. You tried to call out to Ciri to calm her down but there was no air for you to draw from. You let the force of her magic hold you down for a moment, trying to recuperate your strength, and when you looked up again you saw Wren taking a few wobbly steps toward her sister.

Holy fuck, you thought. These were her first steps.

You watched with wide eyes as Wren took step after step towards her sister, whose magic raged on. You were so drained by the weight of Ciri’s magic that you were convinced your eyes were deceiving you.

You watched in disbelief as Wren took step after step towards Ciri. The moment her little hand reached her sisters leg, the spell broke and Chaos released its hold on Cirilla. Drained from the exertion, she lost consciousness and started to collapse in on herself, her sword falling from her hand and onto the ground with a dull thud.

You scrambled to your feet and raced to Ciri, dropping to your knees once you reached her to catch her in her fall. You smoothed the ashen strands out of her face and rocked her gently from side to side, breathing shakily through your silent tears. You didn’t know when you started to cry, but when Wren waddled her way to you and nestled onto Ciri’s lap to press her face into the crook of your neck, you were sure you’d be crying forever.

“What the fuck,” Geralt growled upon seeing the destruction as he rode up to the house from the trail. In a growing panic, he urged Roach into a canter. When they got to where the gate should have been, he dismounted and ran towards the house at a sprint, his heart pounding in his ears. When he saw you sobbing on the ground with an unconscious Ciri and weeping Wren, he lost all control.

“Y/N! Y/N what happened?! Who did this?” he shouted, panic rising. When he spotted Ciri’s sword on the ground, Geralt fell to his knees beside you and quickly scanned you all for any sign of injury. You were weeping, holding tightly to Ciri, who was unconscious, and Wren, you

“Y/N please talk to me,” he said more harshly than he meant it, while brushing wild strands of hair out of your face gruffly.

“Ciri, she um –” you choked, working to slow your breathing, “she lost control of her magic…”

“Yeah, I can see that, love.” He said with an incredulous laugh, his eyes scanning your ruined garden with disbelief. “What the fuck happened to make her so upset? Did – did she have a nightmare? Did you, hm, say something to her?”

“Geralt – no,” you said quickly, the tears you managed to calm coming back with a vengeance.

“Y/N, I’m sorry I just…” Geralt regretted the insinuation that this might have been your fault but he’d only ever seen Ciri’s magic be this destructive when she was afraid or hurt. He was at a loss.

You shook your head and turned in his arms to look back at him, readjusting Ciri and Wren in your arms to free an arm which you placed onto Geralt’s chest. You held his eyes and took a steadying breath, unsure of how he’d react.

“We – we were in the garden just, just like always and,” you cast a quick glance down at your daughters before bringing your eyes back up to Geralt’s, both to ground yourself and to hopefully remind him of their proximity in order to temper his reaction, “and Visenna appeared at the gate.”

He gasped sharply at your words, and his body around you. You brought your hand up to his face and tried to calm him. His cat-like eyes were wild and unfocused – he looked like a frightened child and it broke your heart to see him like this. Wren seemed to sense this too, as she scrambled up and reached towards her father’s hair.

Wren’s light tugs managed to pull Geralt out of his shock momentarily and his eyes seemed to come back into focus. Seeing this change, you gently redirected his attention back to you.

“Visenna came for Wren… T-to take her or, or to raise her or something? She mentioned the letter…” Geralt clenched his jaw at the reminder.

You hadn’t motioned the letter in months. Geralt wasn’t at all ready to welcome his mother back into his life, and he definitely didn’t want her anywhere near his family.

“What did she do to Ciri? I swear I’ll –” he seethed.

“No, no, Geralt,” you interrupted gently, moving your hand back to his chest, “she didn’t get the chance. I don’t know what she was going to do, but Ciri came out with her sword,” you stopped short to look down at her with pride, “to protect us.”

“She did?” Geralt let out another incredulous breath, shaking his head at his child surprise.

“Yeah, it was like nothing I’ve ever seen. Her magic, it destroyed everything in its path but somehow, she was sheltering me from the blast. Visenna escaped through a portal, I- I think? But Ciri was… unstoppable.”

“Y/N, if Ciri was able to harness Chaos like this at her will, to protect you; this could mean –”

“Oh no, love, I’m sorry I’m not telling this right. She came out of the house with her sword to protect us but she lost control when Visenna called her the Lion Cub.”

“Oh, fuck.”

“Oh, I know,” you agreed emphatically before adding, “and then she called herself Ciri’s grandmother…”

“Fuck!”

“Right,” you sighed, shaking your head as a shudder ran through you.

“Da-ee,” Wren said suddenly, pushing her little hands into her father’s face, causing a shocked laugh to escape his lips. Geralt’s face softened in a way he reserved for his youngest daughter and the sight of it was enough to pull you out of whatever was left of your panic.

“Oh, gods!” you exclaimed, “Geralt you won’t believe this.”

“Hm?” he hummed, not taking his eyes off Wren; he was completely enthralled by his baby.

“She took her first steps – and, gods it was incredible Geralt – when she touched Ciri, it pulled her out of the trance!” You gushed breathlessly.

“She did? That’s my girl!” he beamed, earning a proud giggle from the toddler. “Fuck I hate that I missed this, you’re just full of surprises aren’t you, goose?” he said, peppering light kisses across Wren’s little face.

“I know, love.” You said softly, leaning into his arms once more. “I’m so relieved to have you home.”

“Come on, Y/N, let’s get our girls into the house.” Geralt said as handed Wren off to you before picking Ciri up gently as he stood. You took his outstretched hand rose to your feet along-side him. “I’m not leaving you again, I promise.”

“Geralt, you say that every time.” You tease lightly, holding the front door open for him.

 “No, I mean it this time Y/N, really.” He said quietly, as he laid Ciri down in her room. “I can’t keep doing this. When I’m gone, all I do is think of you and the girls…” he trailed off when he noticed Wren had fallen asleep on the couch. You smiled tenderly as you watched him cradle her into his strong arms.

“My love, you know you’d go crazy if you stayed here with us all the time.” You said as you smoothed his hair out of his face.

“I’d go crazy if anything ever happened to you.” he whispered.

“Hey now… we’re fine,” you tired to reassure him, “today was an anomaly. I doubt Visenna would try that stunt again. Ciri will be fine, she just needs to rest, and tomorrow we can send word out to Yen for support. We – “you paused to take a steadying breath, “we can’t let fear rule our lives, Geralt.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, setting Wren down into her bed before wrapping his arms around your frame, “now when did you get to be so wise?”

“A certain witcher taught me a few things,” you said, a small smirk playing on your lips, “always preaching something or other but sometimes the lessons stick.”

“Is that so?” he growled, a fighting back a smirk of his own.”

“Hmm,” you teased, kissing him deeply.

[setterspirit]

play date with raden

tw; some more serious topics; mentions of drinking, teen pregnancy, etc.

❥ ‑‑‑‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑

“unless raden and you want to go to the park, that was the plan, yes,” you reply, nodding slowly and eyeing your son who seemed unfazed by your look of... disgust.

“unless raden and you want to go to the park, that was the plan, yes,” you reply, nodding slowly and eyeing your son who seemed unfazed by your look of... disgust.

“unless raden and you want to go to the park, that was the plan, yes,” you reply, nodding slowly and eyeing your son who seemed unfazed by your look of... disgust.

“unless raden and you want to go to the park, that was the plan, yes,” you reply, nodding slowly and eyeing your son who seemed unfazed by your look of... disgust.

“unless raden and you want to go to the park, that was the plan, yes,” you reply, nodding slowly and eyeing your son who seemed unfazed by your look of... disgust.

“then i can wear these!” eito declared, punching his fist in the air in triumph, heading over to his legos.

“no, absolutely not,” you insist, shaking your head vigorously and shooing your son back into his room, this time following him to pick out the outfit he would wear today.

“but mama, i want to wear these,” the five year old pouts, a frown on his face as he looks anywhere but at you.

“and i’m saying you cannot,” you reply firmly, placing the clothes you’d picked out on his bed. “i’m amending the rule i made concerning those-” you gesture to the pants he’s wearing, unsure what to even call them. “monstrosities,” you settle on. “you can wear those only around the house if it’s just the two of us.”

“what if uncle kei, uncle kenji, uncle kanji, uncle taka, uncle ken, or auntie mai are here?” the young boy questions, knowing he doesn’t have to look so nice with them.

at “uncle ken” you freeze, eyeing your son curiously. kentarō had only recently allowed for eito to call him uncle, and you still weren’t used to it. he had been so uncaring in the past, often shaking you off or ignoring you whenever you would invite him to join you and the rest of the group in an outing or dinner with eito. but recently, he’d been more willing to go, and at first it had thrown you off, but you eventually got used to it, often enjoying his company when he would join your group.

“yeah, those are the only exemptions,” you finally answered with a tight lipped smile. “now please be a good boy and change before raden gets here,” you finished, turning around and walking out of eito’s room, closing your eyes in exasperation once you’d reached the livingroom. god, sometimes being a mother was difficult, but you honestly wouldn’t change it for anything.

before you can get too lost in your thoughts, a knock at the door sounded, signaling that raden and his parents had arrived. eito, having changed into the clothes you’d picked out for him, raced to the door, excitedly pulling the door open to reveal the smiling face of his best friend and his slightly tired looking mother.

smiling at the woman as she watched her son race away to start playing with the legos eito had abandoned earlier, you offered to let her in, smiling and leading her to the dining room when she accepted your offer.

you were so thankful to the nishimura family, who’d been skeptical about leaving their child alone with you at first, but had soon warmed up to you when they realized just how much you loved and cared for eito. you didn’t blame them for having their skepticisms, it was only natural the family get to know you better before they leave their child in your care. you were, after all, only 20 when you’d first met them. leaving two toddlers with a 20 year old single mother was nerve wracking to any parent, young or old. so they hung out with you, invited you over to have dinner with them, observed how you interacted with their son and your own. for a 20 year old, you were quite mature, probably due to the fact you were raising eito alone.

“so, how have you been, l/n-san?” she questioned, fully turning her attention towards you.

“i’ve been good! i recently reconnected with an old friend, so that’s been keeping me in a happy mood,” you replied with a bright smile. the woman across from you observed your shift in features, from your usual soft smile to a bright, genuinely beaming smile.

“really? who is this ‘old friend?’” the woman questioned, interested to know what kind of person could make your mood shift so much.

“suna rintarō,” you replied excitedly, watching as nishimura’s eyes widened upon the realization of who you were talking about.

“hold on, suna rintarō, as in ejp raijin’s middle blocker suna rintarō?” she questioned in disbelief, with you nodding your head excitedly in response.

“yeah, we used to live next to each other and we went to the same elementary school before i left japan,” you responded, nishimura’s full attention now on you. “i don’t know how he found me, but he did, and we’ve been catching up since that big msby vs adlers game.”

“how do you mean, big?” the woman questioned, eyebrow raised questioningly.

“oh, you didn’t know? that game was like a huge one for old rivals,” you replied. she knew you knew a few famous volleyball players, she did follow your twitter, after all, but she didn’t know that you pretty much knew all the big names in the volleyball world now. “kageyama, ushijima, and hoshiumi used to be rivals, not just with each other, but also with four of the starters on the jackals team, too. sakusa, bokuto, miya atsumu, and hinata. that game was hinata’s welcome back to japan, in a way, and he was playing against his high school setter, kageyama tobio.”

nishimura nodded, intrigued. “and you know them all because?” she wasn’t trying to say you were lying, she would never call you a liar, she was simply curious to know how you knew all of this.

“i was a manager for date tech,” you replied with a small laugh. “and my cousin plays on the sendai team, the frogs, and he played on the same high school team as kageyama and hinata.” let’s just chalk it up to the fact you had a lot of connections to professional volleyball players.

you continued to talk a bit, pausing to watch your sons before nishimura received a text from her husband, asking where she was. it was nearing noon when she finally had to leave, so you bid her goodbye before preparing lunch for yourself, eito, and raden — mac & cheese because what 5 year old didn’t love mac & cheese?

the rest of the day passed rather uneventfully, eito and raden continuing to play with the legos tsukishima had bought eito, with you going around the house tidying things up or cleaning little messes you found they’d made. often times, you’d find yourself texting suna, too, catching up with him during his breaks between practices.

by the time dinner came around, raden had been picked up and taken home, the boys promising they’d see each other again at school. once he’d gone, you had eito clean up his toys that he and raden had missed, helping your son out so you guys could hurry over to mai’s for a dinner and game night with the boys.

TALK ABOUT SURPRISES

[ masterlist | eight | nine | ten ]

word count; 1.5k+

fast facts;

fact #1; there’s a HUGE difference between the way y/n acted in elementary school vs how she acted in high school. she was always the more timid between her and suna, so hearing her say she would willingly go to parties threw suna for a loop.

fact #2; futakuchi was a semi-bad influence in high school, but he mellowed out more in third year because of his newfound title as the vbc captain. that didn’t stop y/n from partying, though, as she sometimes needed to blow off steam and parties were the easiest way.

fact #3; y/n has only had one relationship, the one person being eito’s sperm donor. he walked out on the relationship when y/n told him she was pregnant, so now she’s worried about getting back into a relationship, especially because now she also has to think about eito’s feelings.

fact #4; the nishimura’s have been a huge help to y/n as she raised eito. they’ve given her helpful tips and watched after eito when she needed a babysitter and aiko was busy.

✨) summary; l/n y/n is a single mother living with her 5 year old son in sendai. suna rintarō is a professional volleyball player, the middle blocker for the ejp raijin. the msby black jackals vs the schweiden adlers is a game between two of japan’s v league division 1 teams that bring together many old rivals. y/n is dragged to the game by her cousin, tsukishima kei, claiming she needed to get out and do more than just work and take care of her child. reluctantly, she goes along with the usually salty blond — leaving her 5 year old with a babysitter — to watch the game between two of tsukishima’s ex-teammates. suna makes the executive decision that he will be going to the game to support his former teammate and setter, miya atsumu, with komori asking if he could accompany the middle blocker so he could support his cousin, suna readily agrees and they also invite washio to go with them, knowing he’d want to see bokuto as well. a chance encounter at the game of old reunions brings together two old friends and feelings start to re-emerge. follow y/n and suna as they get to know each other again, fend off any unwanted attention, and work through parenthood in “talk about surprises!”

a/n; some suna x y/n content in the beginning, mama y/n and eito content at the end. i’m really sorry if you want more suna content! i just wanted to show y/n and how she is as a mother. next few chapters should be a rollercoaster, you’ll see. 👀 see ya in the next update, loves! 🤍✨

updates every monday!

taglist; @pieckiya @its-the-aerieljeane @amatee @crayonwriting @reblogthatgoodfanfiction @mint-mai @akaashiwife @kac-chowsballs @sugarb0 @bdanie @the-golden-jhope @goodpop9 @navymacaroons @tendo-sxtori @sirachano0dles @seijqhigh @hannahlxu @mattsunsupremacy @winunk @briidge @kageyamasgirl @yongboxerrr @kiyoovmie @elianetsantana @ofmiceandsharks @bokutokita @honeydrip @tycrackculture @madmelle @kitkozume @gushinim @luckypartyranchmug @kenssister @matsukawaslut @smthn-about-smthn @devilkittymusic @tsukkisfatsimp @k3nma-fairy

bold and strike through means i couldnt tag. ):

check the masterlist to see how you may be added to the taglist. <3

[petri808]

Sanjou no Ai

click to read from beginning

Bakudeku Au fic, final chapter

For the first few months of their new arrangement, the mated pair settled into a routine of sorts. Almost every night, the okami would return to the Shrine after nightfall and spend it with Izuku, but always left before the sun peaked over the horizon the following morning. It was okay for the time being since now Katsuki could take his time in re-educating the kitsune on the ways of a yokai. And there was so much that Izuku had no clue about. Until now, he only had the scant information left by the previous shrine keeper and the instinctual sides he couldn’t avoid. But even those had not gone without question because he didn’t always understand why he felt the way he felt or did the things he did. For instance, he thought he was ‘born’ to live a life in the shrine, but that wasn’t true at all. The god created them for purposes, such as the okami to protect the wolves and forest, the kitsune too had a similar role. Then at some point when the current shrine was built upon the mountain, the kitsune yokai pledged to help the humans. Generations later left the likes of Izuku in a role he didn’t even know why it existed but performed faithfully… until now.

The information left him semi-torn about his life. Should he continue to honor that treaty and stay at the shrine, or give into his instincts and become a free protector of the forest? It shouldn’t be such a difficult choice, but what brought on the anxiety fell more into could he do it? Could he learn to fend for himself? It was an internal battle that’s been raging from before he and Katsuki mated, but now took center stage. Of course, the okami assured his mate that he wouldn’t be alone. As the alpha it was his responsibility to provide for and protect his omega, especially if the kitsune became pregnant. And besides, Izuku needed to give himself more credit for his strength. Katsuki pointed out how the man had risked his life to save an injured wolf, did that not show how strong or brave he could be when needed? Izuku had no argument against such a statement.

Still, that didn’t calm his mind, if anything, new thoughts would come for Izuku to mill over. Okay fine, maybe he would be okay for himself, but what about with the pups Katsuki mentioned. He’d have to worry about protecting their lives. A family was just another topic he was trying to wrap his brain around. Like first off, they were both canines but not the same species. Again, it was the okami who reminded the kitsune of magic, that they don’t operate under the same laws of nature. Which didn’t really explain much at all, so he simply put it aside instead of continuing the conversation. Next, if they were to desire a family, Izuku definitely would need to leave the shrine. Katsuki wasn’t pressing him over the topic, but maybe it was those omegan features kicking in that made the kitsune think about it. Like some hormonal drive to reproduce because he certainly never felt such instincts before!

One night after another mellow round of love making, they lay there cuddled in Izuku’s bed.

“Kacchan,” the kitsune whispered with hesitation in his tone. “Why haven’t I become pregnant considering how often we do this?”

“Where the hell did this question come from?”

“I know it’s random… but, oh, I don’t know, it’s just something I been wondering about for a few weeks now.”

Katsuki’s turned Izuku around to face him. “If you really must know. I’ve been using magic to sterilize my seed because I know you’re not ready.”

That answer made the kitsune a little irritated. Shouldn’t such a decision be made by both of them, together?! Regardless of if he was ready or not. “That’s not fair.” Izuku pouted.

“Oh, and you saying you are? You know full well you cannot be working here and get pregnant. Look, you should be happy that I’m not pressuring you to leave this place immediately and take your place in my nest where you belong.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Izuku whimpered in toil.

Katsuki was digging down deep not to lose his patience right now, but after months of waiting could anyone blame him? He took a deep breath to control himself from growling. “I know you’re scared of being away from here, but I don’t know how many more ways I can say it, you don’t have to be. I’ll take care of you and our family when we have one. You just need to decide between the shrine and me.”

“Decide right now?”

“No. Now you sleep,” Katsuki bundled the kitsune against his body preferring to end the night for now and deal with it later. “But you will need to do it soon.”

But Izuku was no fool and could sense the irritation in his mate. He could tell Katsuki was just holding back from lashing out. “You’re not mad at me… are you?”

“I’m trying not to be. So, go to sleep.”

Izuku’s voice lowered, quivering in tone. “I know you just picked me because I’m the only yokai around, and I’m okay with that. I’m just sorry I’m so weak.”

That was the last straw. Izuku’s self-defeating aura and sadness was oozing out and pissing him off! Even though the alpha within him felt pained, it wasn’t enough to change Katsuki’s mind. He sat up with teeth partially bared and speaking through a gritted tone. “That’s bullshit! I could’ve left the area and found someone else if I’d wanted to! I told you, I picked you because I liked what I saw. Yeah, you ain’t physically strong like me, but you have your own strength, a kind of strength I’d never possess, and if you can’t recognize that, then… Argh! You need to figure shit out! The okami leapt to his feet. “I’m going home! When you’re ready to make a damn decision. You know where to find me!”

“Kacchan!” Izuku cried out as his mate transformed and bounded out of the dwelling, but it was too late. He’d screwed up big time all because he was such a weak fool! How did Katsuki ever see a strength in him? Where was it? Just look at him, he was small, skinny, and always nervous of making a mistake. His mate was right. He couldn’t see whatever it was that Katsuki saw in him.

Izuku curled up into a ball and pulled the blanket over his body as he wept openly. The omegan part of him was in so much pain… it called out for its mate, cried at the loss… oh, it hurt so much! Kami, it felt like someone had ripped his heart right out of his chest and stomped it into the ground. He’d never felt so much pain before and even though physically there was nothing wrong, his entire body was suffering. It ached, every bone, every fiber of his being a wave of numbness and throbbing all mixed together. This must be the bond, Izuku realized. Until now their bond had given nothing but pleasure and now it burned like the hottest fire from the sun.

“Kacchan…” he whimpered into the silent night air. The darkness consumed him inside and out. What to do… what to do… he needed Katsuki to breathe, to live or a broken bond would surely kill him.

He didn’t know at what point he’d fallen asleep, maybe from pure exhaustion, but the next thing Izuku knew he could see light filtering though the blanket. Morning had arrived and with it an absolutely shocking pain, twice the level of anguish as the night before. His mind was reeling, so fogged over from all the turmoil that he could barely move, barely function. “Kacchan!” He screamed out! Ready or not, it couldn’t go on like this. For all his fears and anxieties, the only thing he knew for certain, bond or not, was he needed Katsuki. He loved Katsuki. And so right then and there Izuku knew what he needed to do. It physically hurt to get up, but Izuku did his best to dress himself and stumble into the shrine. All these months he’d hidden any sign of changes. Now it was time to come clean. He couldn’t stay.

The priests were already up and about doing their daily chores like usual. So, while remaining cordial despite his slow, pained movements, Izuku searched for the elder to speak with. Elder priest Toshinori was a kind and caring man, over 80 years old by Izuku’s estimation and had been at this shrine for close to 60 years. Izuku cared a lot about the elder, like a surrogate grandfather figure who was always ready with wise words and guidance for any seeking it out. But he could tell this man’s younger years were hard and laborious. Though thin and aged now, his sinewy tanned skin and worn hands were a testament to a hard upbringing. Izuku often wondered if this is why Toshinori was wiser than many of the others that had passed through these grounds over the centuries. Many priests came from relatively stable but lower-ranking homes who wouldn’t see such a poor upbringing. This man lived and came with experiences to guide his beliefs in a wiser way.

He found the elder in the sanctum reading.

“Mr. Toshinori.”

“Ah, Izuku,” the man looked up from his book. “I was wondering when you might come to me.”

Izuku sat down in front of the man bowing low. “Mr. Toshinori, I don’t know how to say this properly, but I must leave the shrine.”

“I know, and I understand.”

“Wait, how did you know?!” Izuku sat up straight in confusion. “I-I was sure I’d hidden the okami well.”

Toshinori smiled. “For a time, you did, but I sensed changes in you, positive changes. You hid them well, but a sparkle in your eye as you looked at the forest, at times just a pause in your routine as you were deep in thought, smiling to yourself. I knew something was happening to you and I must say it was nice to see you so happy.”

Tears were gathering in Izuku’s eyes at how understanding the priest was being. The internal struggle slowly lessened inside. “I am,” the smile broke free. “He makes me feel so alive, but I’m torn to leave the shrine and everyone here.”

“Young Izuku, it is natural to leave the nest when it is time. This shrine is all you know, and the world can be a very scary place, but it is also part of life to go out into and find your true meaning.”

“Is that what happened to you?”

“In a way,” the man chuckled. “Your kind has served and protected this shrine well for a long time but at the expense of losing your very nature.”

“But I want to continue protecting this shrine! I love this place! I love this forest!”

The man leaned forward with a serious expression. “Izuku, would it be too impossible to achieve from outside of the shrine?”

Izuku quieted in thought for a moment before responding. “No, I suppose not.”

“Then the answer is you can still protect what you love and be with whom you love at the same time.”

“I… I never thought of it that way…” ‘Like how Katsuki had protected the offerings…’ “I can do that!” Izuku bowed again to the priest. “Thank you, Mr. Toshinori! I promise, I’ll still help at the shrine, but I will live in the forest from now on.”

Toshinori placed a hand on Izuku’s bowed head. “I trust you will, young Izuku. And do bring your family around someday, I’d like to meet them before I die.”

Izuku looked up with a blush. “O-Okay, I will!”

The air rushing past his face felt exhilarating in his kitsune form. It had been a while since he’d used the full fox body, but ever since he’d consciously made the decision to go to Katsuki, all the pain relaxed, and he wanted to find his mate as quickly as possible. Izuku couldn’t explain what this newly realized sense of freedom felt like, all he knew is he felt lighter. It might take some time to get used to it after being on such a regimented schedule all his life, but it was simply amazing.

He rushed straight for Katsuki’s den hoping his mate would be there, sending out his scent ahead as a calling card. Oh, how he wanted to just snuggle into the Okami’s thick beautiful fur! ‘Please be there!’ Izuku crooned and whined as the pull of their bond grew stronger and stronger. Katsuki must be close! His body could sense it, feel it as he arrived at the entrance to the cave. “Kacchan!” Izuku called out. Movement up ahead was picked up quickly by the kitsunes sensitivity’s hearing.

Finally, the large form of a wolf stood at the apex of the cavern and tunnel, and the happy tears Izuku had been holding back broke free. It was his mate. Soothing energy flowed out from the okami and wrapped the kitsune in a welcoming embrace.

Izuku whined and pressed forward into the okami’s welcoming embrace. “Kacchan, I’m home!”

[alovesongshewrote]

Douxtober Day 6:  A Lot Happens in a Short Amount of Time | Hisirdoux Casperan

Plot:  You remember the child surprise from the Witcher?  yeah, this was it’s distant cousin, the surprise child.  (No one is pregnant, I promise)

Word Count:  2,442

Warnings:  Children (and i ignore how both kids and adoption work)

A/N:  Oh look, a Douxtober fic!  no whump here!  And it’s technically a part of aaty (if you want it to be)

Tag List:  @furblrwurblr​ @einahpetsyarcip​ @sorrels-scribbling​ @anxious-stitcher​ @alive-and-afraid​ @animedweeb333​ @douxiesdamsel​ @saroski05

Life was a funny thing.  Sometimes you got tortured, sometimes you moved in with your boyfriend, his familiar, sometimes your boyfriend died and came back to life trying to save the world, and sometimes, you accidentally adopted a child.

It just be like that occasionally.

And you could explain this!  You totally could, 100%.  This wasn’t just the two of you plus Archie and technically Zoe shoplifting a kid, there was a lot more to it than that.  

It was about a month after all of the Arcane Order nonsense.  You and Douxie, your aforementioned boyfriend, had returned to Arcadia.  Everything was calm and chill, which was a really nice change from the usual world-ending chaos.  However, Arcadia was still Arcadia, and that meant monsters.

You were decent in a fight, Archie could turn into a goddamn dragon, and Douxie had saved the world multiple times, so you took it upon yourselves to defend the town from the things that went bump in the night.  Besides, you wanted to give the rest of your troll-hunting friends a break.

This turned out to be a pretty good plan.  It kept the town safe, let Archie get some fresh air, and gave you and Douxie time alone.  (Remember kids, monster-fighting is a great activity for date night.)  Sometimes you dragged Zoe out with you, which she enjoyed more than she let on.

All was well, and then suddenly, kid.  

As has been stated, it be like that sometimes.  You know the child surprise from the Witcher?  Yeah, this was its distant cousin, the surprise child.  

You’d been caught in a battle with another friggin shadow mephit or ten, and it wasn’t going super well if you were completely honest.  Zoe was fighting on a roof, Douxie was stuck in a tree, Archie was trying to free Douxie from that tree, and you had given up on your usual weapon for a folding chair.  It was mildly effective, but not enough to save you.  One of the mephits knocked you to the ground, preparing to take a sizable bite of your arm before a blast of purple slapped the bitch away.  You got to your knees, looking out into the night to see a frickin eight-year-old, arms outstretched, purple light surrounding their fists.

“Uh, are you guys seeing this?”  

Zoe gracefully leapt from the roof while Douxie fell out of the tree he was in.

“The child?  Yep.”

“Ow.”

You winced, walking over to help your boyfriend to his feet, “Ah, you okay, babe?”

He nodded, although his focus was on the kid, who was taking out shadow mephits like a bawse.  You would have been confused, but hey, you could fight like that when you were that age.  Though that had come from years on the streets fighting for your life, so there was a place for concern.

“Hey, should we be helping them?”

“Yeah, probably,” you said, picking up your folding chair and yeeting yourself into the fray.

With the extra assistance, the mephits went down a little easier.  You and your gang made sure to watch out for the sudden child, but they were pretty damn capable.  It only took ten minutes for the tide to turn.  Douxie opened the portal to limbo, banishing the mephits from the material plane.

You took half a second to be excited before turning to the random frickin kid who just kicked all the ass.  Their expression was grim, with no trace of pride.  It was kind of a mood, actually.

“Hey, kid!  You ok?”

Their attention was yoinked from the pavement to your face, “I’m fine.”

You nodded, cautiously approaching them, “You fought really well.  Where’d you learn to do that?”

“Why does it matter?” their tone was biting and angry.  Or as biting and angry as a child’s tone could be.

“It doesn’t, I was just curious.”

“Don’t be.  It’s fine.”  Man, did this kid sound like a younger version of you? or what?  It was kind of scary actually.

“Alright, I won’t be,” you raised your hands in surrender, taking a step back.

This ‘fun’ conversation had caught everyone else’s attention.  Archie flew around the kid before landing on your shoulder, “They won’t, but I will be.  Where are your parents?”

“Don’t have any.”

Oh, mood.  For all of you, actually.  

“Do you have another guardian?”

“No.”

“Why are you fighting monsters at this hour?”

“Because I feel like it, ok!?”

Archie pulled back a bit, “It’s a school night…”

You gave the familiar a pat on the head while Zoe made her approach, “No, the cat is right, it is a school night.”

“Cat?  That’s a dragon!” you smiled a little as the kid finally acted like a kid.

“He’s a shapeshifter, actually,” Douxie said, almost making you jump.  You hadn’t realized that he was behind you.  Arch made his way off of your shoulders and onto your boyfriend’s.

“A sHAPESHIFTER!?” the kid cried, magic again at the ready.

“No, no, no!” you exclaimed, putting yourself between the kid and the cat, “He’s a friend. I promise.”

“Your words mean nothing to me!  I don’t know you!  Any of you!”

Ok, that was fair.  You sighed and got down to the kid's level, “Ok.  My name’s (Y/N).  The shapeshifter is called Archie, but that’s not his full name.”

The kid blinked a bit, lowering their hands, “Wh-what’s his full name?”

Archie flew down to the ground beside you, continuing towards the child, “Archibald.  Pleased to meet you.”

“It’s… nice to meet you too-?”  the kid sounded confused, and they were reminding you of yourself more and more with every second.  On the bright side, they dropped their hands completely, magic fading into the night.

“Right, well,” Douxie got on your level, kneeling beside you to meet the kid’s eyes, “I’m Douxie and this is Zoe-”

“‘Sup.”

“What’s your name?”

They hesitated, looking between you and Archie, who was currently sniffing the child.

“My name is Robin.”

You smiled, the ice officially broken, “It’s nice to meet you, Robin.”

You let the kid follow you home.  Through a bit of careful chatting, you learned that Robin was about eight, and their parents were wizards when they were alive.  After their parents passed, Robin was on their own, running around the country and fending for themself.  They reminded you so much of yourself that it hurt.  Now there was a child sleeping on your couch, arms thrown around Archie which the familiar didn’t really mind, and you had no idea what to do next.

You were sitting on your counter, a cup of coffee in one hand while the other messed with Douxie’s hair.  Zoe was at the kitchen table, lying limply across two chairs while her tea cooled in its mug.  Your lovely, lovely wizard boyf was leaning on the counter next to you, pretty relaxed considering the day's events.

“So, what do we do with this child?”

“They might have to stay with us for a while.  It doesn’t sound like they have anywhere else to go.”

Zoe laughed a little, trying to keep quiet for Robin’s sake, “You two just straight up adopted a kid.  Good luck with that one.”

“Thanks, Zo,” your tone was flat, but you too saw the amusement in this situation, “Thank god I studied medicine, honestly.  If I hadn’t we’d be sooo screwed.”

“Well, you know the people in this town,” Douxie moved closer to you, “Nobody tips.”

You nodded your agreement, kissing the top of Douxie’s head.

“We should be careful though.  These days, you never know where the next ‘end of the world’ will come from.”

“Eh,” you said, looking at Robin asleep on your couch.  They looked so peaceful, and you wondered if you ever looked like that at Robin’s age.  They reminded you so much of yourself, so much of what you had once been, “I think it’ll be okay.”

There was a moment of silence as you all lost yourselves in thought.

“Well, I’d love to stay and watch you guys sign the adoption papers, but I have a shift tomorrow, so,” the pink-haired witch jumped up from her chairs and wandered past you guys, “Later nerds.”

“Bye Zo.”

“See you tomorrow.”

You lept off the counter, picking up your mug and Zoe’s and putting them in the sink.  Douxie watched you, still leaning on the counter.  You moved past him again, and he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you to his chest.

“You’re sure we can watch this kid?”

You bit your lip, looking back at the couch before turning back to Douxie, “When I was that age, all I wanted was a home.  Somewhere safe where I didn’t have to worry about tomorrow.  If we can give that to this kid then-” you cut yourself off and shrugged.

Douxie smiled, placing a hand on your cheek, “I love you so much.”

You leaned into his touch, “Besides, we have Archie, and he took care of you, so…”

You both laughed a little at that, pulling each other closer.  His lips met yours in a soft kiss.  You pulled apart from the kiss grinning, but something in Douxie’s eyes confused you.

“Babe?  You good?”

“I’m better than good, darling.  In fact, I-” he cut himself off, looking behind him and around the room before patting himself down, “Oh, fuzzbuckets.”

“Babe?  What’s up?  What are you-?”

“I’ll be right back!”  he said, giving you a quick kiss before running out the door.

“Uh… ok.”

You ran a hand through your hair before walking through your apartment, making sure everything was locked and warded.

“Why are you helping me?”

You spun around to see Robin, clutching Archie in one hand and keeping the other levelled at you.  Purple magic surrounded both hands.

“Well, good morning to you too.”

Archie seemed displeased with your little joke, but he stayed silent for now.

“No jokes!”  were they- were they crying?  “Just tell me why!”

“Robin, I-”

“I was supposed to kill you!  I was supposed to find you and kill you but-” their voice broke, “But you aren’t-” oop, crying child!  Crying child in your living room!

“Woah, hey, hey, hey, what’s wrong kiddo?” you approached Robin slowly.

“Why-” sob “Why are you like this?”

“I ask myself that question every day,” you knelt down to their level once again, “You don’t have to do this.”

“I do!  I have to, or they’ll-”

“They?”

“They… the titans.  If I don’t kill Merlin’s successor then they’ll… they’ll kill me.”

A little smile crossed your face as you took Archie from Robin’s grasp.  The kid was so worked up they didn’t even notice.

“I was in the same place once, almost a thousand years ago.”

“No.  You aren’t old enough!”

You giggled a little at that, “Looks can be deceiving.  Back in the day, I was a spy.  I worked for some very bad guys.  They sent me to get information from Merlin himself.”

“Wh-what did you do?”

“I did what they asked.  I was scared and alone.  But do you wanna know what Douxie did?”

“Douxie’s old too!?”

“Yes, Douxie’s old too.”

“What did he do?”

“Well, he fought with me at first, but in the long run, he saved my life.  He wouldn’t let the bad guys hurt me, and now, we won’t let them hurt you.”

With a sob, Robin jumped at you, not with an attack but with a hug.  You were a little surprised, but you rolled with it.

“Please don’t let them hurt me.”

“We won’t.  I promise.”  you let Robin hug you for as long as they needed, making frantic ‘be quiet’ signs at Douxie when he came through the door.  He looked confused, but stayed quiet and snuck into the kitchen, waiting for you.

“Thank you.”  the kid said, looking a little embarrassed as they pulled away.

“It’s no problem kiddo.  Now, to bed with you.  It’s late and you are a child.”

“And the floor is made of floor.  Goodnight, (Y/N).”  

“Goodnight little bird.”

You made sure they were safely tucked in before motioning for Archie to follow you as you grabbed Douxie from the kitchen and silently dragged him into your bedroom.

“Ok, we’re adopting the kid.”

“I thought we agreed upon that already?”

“Yeah, well, I’m confirming it now.  That’s our kid.”

“And you’re not going to tell him about-”

“Time and place, Arch, time and place.”

Douxie looked between you and his familiar, trying to figure out what he’d missed.  You sighed, knowing that this wouldn’t be something you could keep from him.

“It isn’t my story to tell but the kid was sent here to kill us, but they couldn’t.  Doux, I know that sounds bad, but Robin is eight.  I was nineteen when I was sent to spy on you and Merlin, and you know that messed me up.  We can’t let this kid-”

“I know,” he put his hands on your arms, trying to calm you, “(Y/N), I know.  We won’t let this kid get hurt the way you were, I promise.”

You said nothing, but you hugged Douxie hard enough to make him stumble back a little.  Archie shook his little cat head, but joined in on the hug, “We’ll keep them safe, (Y/N), that’s a promise.”

“Thanks, guys,” you pulled back, absolutely beaming, “I love you both, just a fun fact.” Archie gave your face a lil’ headbutt as cats are prone to do, but Douxie got that look again.  You were about to say his name when he pulled you close to him, his lips grazing your ear as he slipped something into your hand.

“I love you, too.  Marry me.”

There was a ring in the palm of your hand.  Douxie left a kiss on your neck before pulling away to look at you.

“I-”

“Yes.”

“Wait, I had a speech prepared-”

“No speech needed, just,” you kissed him for a second before pulling back, “Marry me.”

“I asked you first.”

“I asked you second,” with that out of the way, you got back to kissing.

Archie realized what had taken place before him and did the cat/dragon equivalent to a face-palm, “Really, Douxie?  The bathroom?”

I mean, fair point, the bathroom wasn't a traditionally romantic space, but love followed you and Douxie around wherever you went, so it didn’t really matter.  You laughed anyway.

“Thanks, Arch.”

The familiar grinned as much as a cat could, “No problem.  Congratulations, though.  I mean that sincerely.”

“Thank you, Archie,” you gave the familiar’s head a lil’ scratch before kissing Douxie, your fiancé, again (and again, and again.)

[chickensarentcheap]

Never Gonna Be Alone- Chapter 11

Title: Old Wounds

Warnings: none. But there’s always profanity, just an FYI

Tagging: @alievans007​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @tragiclyhip​

“Well I’ve got good news and bad news,” Tyler announces, as he descends the stairs later in the evening, pausing at the front entrance to switch off the foyer light and lock the door and set the alarm before joining his wife in the living room. “Which do you want first?”

Esme glances up from the mountains of clean laundry that takes up residence at her feet and on the already cluttered coffee table. Laundry baskets of differing colours are scattered around the room. A larger one that consists of their clothing and smaller containers labelled with each of the kids’ names; the latter eventually being placed in intervals on the stairs in hopes they’ll be carried up to the corresponding rooms. For the most part, the kids are good at getting their assigned chores done. The littles enjoying a ‘sticker chart’ that signifies a treat or toy of their choosing when full, and the older ones satisfied with decent sized allowances. Despite an extremely healthy bank account and money constantly flowing in, they’re still expected to ‘tow the line’; being taught responsibility and learning skills that will help them become self reliant and well functioning adults.

She wrinkles her nose and scowls. “Depends. On a scale of one to ten, how bad IS the bad news?”

“Considering it’s our kids we’re talking about?” He drops heavily onto the couch, wincing at the stiffness in his right knee when he stretches his leg out and places his foot on the edge of the coffee table. The cold weather is aggravating it; causing the arthritis to flare up and bringing with it an incessant ache that seems to have burrowed into the bone. Two reconstructive surgeries and a host of complications later, it’s as good as that leg is going to get. Already told to be prepared for a third surgery before he hits sixty. If he makes it that far. “I don’t know. I guess a four? Five at the most?”

“So that means no broken bones, knocked out teeth, and no one is unconscious or bleeding. In other words, it’s a relatively tame night for our house. Still…” she tosses a pair of mismatched socks into Tanner’s basket. He’s particular; socks always scrunched into a ball, never matching, and his other clothes separated by colour yet not folded, preferring to do it himself once he takes the basket upstairs. “...tell me the good news first. It’s been a weird day.”

“The good news is that all the little ones are already asleep. Tanner’s on his way out but he’s sleeping in the tub in the boys’ bathroom again because TJ and Declan are being too loud. Not even the headphones and locking himself in his happy place were doing the trick. I tried.”

“Well, at least he finds ways to cope and make himself happy, I guess. The bad news?”

“Millie and Alannah are showing no signs of slowing down. So if you’re wanting to actually get some shut eye, you might want to camp out down here. It’s going to be a long ass night.”

“Maybe I’ll borrow Tanner’s headphones,” she says, then grins at him over her shoulder. “That should help fend off your snoring too.”

“It can’t be THAT bad. You’ve been sharing a bed with me for twelve and a half years. I notice you don’t ever head for the couch. You put up with it.”

“Do you know many times in the past twelve and a half years I’ve been tempted to smother you with a pillow? Many. Many. MANY times.”

“Yet I’m still here.”

“Mostly because I wouldn’t do well in jail. I’d never survive in there. And prison jumpsuit orange is NOT my colour.”

“And here I was thinking maybe I’ve survived because you just love me THAT much.”

“It plays a small part in it. But just a small one. Just so you know.”

“You’d miss me. If I wasn’t around.”

“Like a migraine,” she teases, and yelps when he lands a playful yet solid backhand on one of the cheeks of her ass. “That’s not nice. That’s not friends.”

“Is that what we are? Friends? That’s as far as we’ve come in twelve and a half years?”

“Friends with the best benefits,” she chides, and snags an unfolded towel from the pile of laundry on the floor and smacks him upside the head with it. “I wouldn’t complain if I were you. You wouldn’t suddenly want to find yourself facing an extremely long dry spell.”

“I’d be alright. I have three wank files on my phone now.”

“Three? What do you need three for? And how do you even have that many pictures of me in the first place? Are you sneaking them while I’m asleep? Because that’s just...creepy...if you are.”

“Bold of you to assume that it’s just pictures of you.”

She drops her chin to her chest and stares at him pointedly.

“I’m kidding. I only need pictures of you. No one else. Well, there’s a couple of videos too, but…”

“I swear to God, if anyone ever goes into your phone and finds those? I will kill you. In the most brutal and painful way possible. Why do you need videos anyway?”

“Homemade porn. Best you can get.”

“You can’t watch regular porn like regular people?”

“I mean, I COULD. But I don’t want to. I want to watch you. Unleashing your inner porn star. Getting all freaky and kinky and shit. You should watch them with me. Be kind of hot, don’t think? Watch them and make a new one?”

“You’ve got issues. Serious issues.”

“I can’t help it. I can’t help that my wife is a total MILF. That she looks all tiny and cute and innocent but is a freak in bed. You shouldn’t have been so eager and willing if you didn’t want me scooping you up at that quick.”

She smirks. “I thought you said I was a B plus?”

“You were. Until I got a hold of you. Now? Solid A plus, plus, PLUS.”

“So you’re finally admitting that you DID corrupt me. After twelve and a half years denying it.”

“I merely helped you build on your skills. Improve them. I was more than willing to let you experiment on me.”

“Mmmhmm. You know, I was a good girl until you got a hold of me.”

“Like fuck you were. Good girls do NOT bang a guy...for five days straight...that they barely know. Unprotected.”

“I admit, that was not one of my finer judgement calls. But I trusted you. You didn’t seem like the type that didn’t take precautions. I mean, looking like you do and having women in different ports all over the world? That was a given. But you didn’t strike me as the type that wanted kids all over the world. Or STD’s. I trusted you. For some reason.”

“You just wanted the dick. Admit it. You were willing to sacrifice all your morals and standards for it.”

“I will admit to no such things. You were just as into it as I was. You didn’t exactly turn sex down. You didn’t seem too concerned about the whole protection thing. How did you know I wasn’t some hoe crawling with Lord knows what? How’d you know you weren’t going to get the burn?”

“I trusted you. Against my better judgement.”

Smirking, she cocks her head to the side and regards him with a mixture of disdain and amusement.

“You were all cute and tiny and innocent looking. Boy did I learn. Quick.”

“Something tells me you wouldn’t have kept me around if I was TOO cute and innocent. I knew just enough to make you want it, yet still gave you a pretty clean slate to work with. You must be so proud of yourself. Corrupting me like you have. Moulding me into some freak in bed.”

“Babe, you had a freak inside of you, just took good dick to bring it out. You are some of my best work though. You didn’t turn out too bad.”

She gives a derisive snort.

“Aren’t you glad you went along with Nik’s fucked up idea? Was it not the best decision of your life?”

“I don’t know about the best,” she teases, and drops a load of clean wash in his lap. “But you’re on my top five list.”

“Well for what it’s worth, it’s definitely the best decision I ever made. And you have to admit, the whole lack of protection thing? It didn’t turn out too bad.”

“I don’t know about that. She’s turning into quite the hell beast. You know those hellhounds on Supernatural? Millie could be their ruler. In fact, they’d be scared of HER. Although I have figured it out. Why she’s been extra bitchy lately.”

“Please tell me it’s not boys. Bad enough we had one phone here. I don’t want to find out there’s more.”

“It’s not boys. Although…” she drops down onto the couch beside him. “...that will come soon enough. Puberty. It’s puberty.”

“Excuse me?”

“It hasn’t happened yet. The big event. She hasn’t gotten her period.”

“We are NOT having this conversation.”

“As uncomfortable as it makes you, we have to have it. Because it’s going to happen. Soon.”

“She’s eleven.”

“She’ll be twelve in March. I was just shy of twelve when I got mine.”

He turns his attention to the pile of laundry in his lap. “I do NOT want to hear this.”

“I’m just trying to prepare you. The mood swings? The skin breakouts? The fact she’s starting to develop and has already asked me to take her shopping for bras…”

“Don’t. Please don’t. I’m not listening to you. I refuse to listen to you.”

“...means that things are going to happen. Soon. And we need to be prepared. Especially you.”

“Why me? Why do I need to be more prepared than you?”

“Because I’ve had my period for almost thirty years. I’m obviously experienced in these things.”

“And I’ve lived with you for twelve of those thirty years. Who is the one that bears the brunt of the shit storm when you get all mean and moody and shit? Who’s the one that’s been bringing your bitchy ass chocolate and ice cream? Who’s the one that will massage your back and bring you a heating pad when the cramps are bad? Never mind that, who’s had to go to the store and buy you woman stuff?”

“You’ve been very good about it. But in all fairness, if you really think about it? I haven’t had my period that much since we’ve been together. You may have done all those very sweet and amazing things, but you’ve also gotten me pregnant with seven kids. In twelve years.”

“That is a very good point, actually.”

“All I’m saying is that things are going to happen. Soon. And I just want you to be prepared for it. I know it bothers you to think about it. Your baby girl growing up. But she is. Growing up. And she’s doing it very quickly. You need to step up your game and be ready for anything.”

“I really hate you right now.”

“Do you, Tyler? Do you REALLY?”

Leaning into her, he presses a kiss to her temple. “No. Not in the slightest.”

“I just want you to be prepared. In case it happens when I’m not home. So you know what to do.”

“You’re not leaving the house from here on out. Until she DOES get it.”

“You’ll be fine. I’ll make sure everything is in the house that you’ll need in case it does happen. I remember when Riley was going through puberty. My mom was totally useless. It was a disaster when I started mine. She would have been more than willing to just let me bleed all over the place. I had to stuff toilet paper in my underwear and steal money out of her purse so I could go to the store and get necessities.”

He grins. “My wife the felon.”

“So I made sure Riley would never have to go through that kind of humiliation. I made up this basket for her. Pads, tampons, a heating pad, chocolate bars, some pain killers. Everything she’d need. I’ll do that for Millie too. And I’ll put it somewhere where you can find it. So you’re ready if it happens and I’m not home.”

“Do we really have to keep talking about this?”

“Stick your head in the sand all you want, husband. It’s going to happen. Whether you like it or not. I know she’s your little girl. Your miracle baby. But she’s growing up. And it’s happening very fast and there’s nothing we can do to stop it, I’m not exactly happy about it either. This is all happening way too quick for my liking. Where the hell has the last twelve years gone? We’re going to have a teenager. Very soon.”

“Not to make things worse, but we’re going to have three in the house in just over two years.”

“You’re not helping. Seriously though. Where has that time gone? Some days it feels like we just met, don’t you think?”

“Now that I think about it, there are days you drive me as fucking nuts as you did that that first day in Dhaka.”

“Fuck you! I was cute and charming.”

“You were a pain in my ass.”

“But I was a CUTE pain in your ass. You can’t deny that.”

“You were something alright.”

“Look, just because you were having the feels for me and didn’t know how to handle it, that’s not my fault. And for the record, I would have been able to handle myself. In the market. If things went south.”

“Sure you would have. You would have been just fine. All five foot nothing and a hundred pounds of you.”

“Good things come in small packages. You didn’t need to watch me that closely.”

“Yes. I did. I very much did. You know what would have happened if Asif’s thugs got a hold of you? The end result would not have been pretty.”

“I think you use that as an excuse. I think you just wanted me that close because you WERE having feels for me.”

“I am neither going to admit OR deny that.”

“You don’t have to. I’ve caught on to you. You can keep lying to yourself about your motives back then, but I know what you were up to. And it’s very sweet. That you wanted to keep me safe and sound because you had feels for me.”

“Do you want me to be totally honest?”

“Always.”

“I really just wanted to keep you close so I could look at your ass. And because I was hoping to get laid. I needed you to be safe and in one piece for that to happen.”

She stares at him pointedly.

“I’m just saying. You want honesty? There’s your honesty. You were cute and had a wicked body and I was horny as fuck and wanted you to fix that. And boy, did you ever fix it.”

“And I'm still fixing it. Twelve and a half years later. You lucky bastard.”

“I am lucky.” A slow smile spreads across his face. “Very lucky.”

“It’s weird.” She turns her attention back to folding the laundry at her feet. “Sometimes it DOES seem like it was just yesterday. Where DID the time go? How did we end up old enough to have a pre-teen? I don’t know about you, but I don’t feel old enough for that.”

“The way my body is? I feel old enough to have a kid in college, never mind becoming a teenager. Which leads me to the other bad news.”

“Oh God…” Esme groans. “...there’s more?”

“These?” He reaches into the pocket of his sweats and pulls out a pair of reading glasses. “Don’t do shit anymore. I can see up close, but I can’t see fuck all far away. You know what that means?”

“Your eyesight is shit. Which I’ve been telling you for the last three years. Is it just your right eye?”

“That one’s worse.” It’s a mixture of things. The knife that Nathan had dug into his face -the sharp blade cutting deep and causing problems with the surrounding nerves- and the multitude of concussions suffered over the years. The last one five years ago had been the tipping point; causing permanent and extensive damage to the optic nerve. “ But they’re both shit.”

“When we get home you’ll have to call and schedule an eye appointment. And while you’re at it, you should call and get that hearing test done.”

“I don’t need one done. I know my hearing is fucked.”

“Fucked or not, you need one. So you know what you’re dealing with. You might need a hearing aid.”

“That’s a huge ‘fuck no’ from me.”

“I know it makes you feel old; glasses and hearing aids and arthritis and all the aches and pains. But you ARE getting close to fifty. And you’ve had a hard life. There’s been a lot of damage done. Isn’t it better to get on top of those things? So they don’t get worse? I just want you to have a good life. I want you to be around for a long while. And if that means you have to wear glasses on a permanent basis and get a hearing aid…”

“I’m sorry. Are you talking? I couldn’t hear you. It’s my old age.”

“It’s not old age. You’re just an asshole. Always have been, always will be. But you’re my asshole and I want to keep you around. And I know YOU want to stick around. Especially for your kids. So do it for them? Get your eyes and your hearing tested. Please? Because we love you, you insufferable, stubborn pain in my ass. And us loving you? That’s not going to change because you need help hearing and seeing.”

“I’ll be ugly as fuck. If I have to wear glasses all the time.”

“It’s impossible for you to be ugly. In fact…” she plucks the glasses from his hand and slips them onto his face. “...I think you’re quite sexy in them.”

“You know, you’re not half bad looking when I can actually see.”

She laughs and shoves him back against the couch. “You’re a total dick.”

“Fuck you, you love me.”

“I do. Despite my better judgement and the warnings from friends and family.”

Smirking, he lays a hand on the back of her head and pulls her into him; speaking with the tips of their noses pressed together and lips mere inches apart. “Why are you so mean to me? You’re always so mean.”

“I know. You have it so rough. I am the worst wife EVER. I’m horrible. Just horrible. How you put up with me defies all logic.”

“It’s a dirty job, but someone has to do it. It’s my cross to bear.”

“You poor bastard,” she laughs, a palm coming to rest on the side of his face when he kisses her. Long and slow and sweet, followed by a series of small pecks and then concluded with the press of his lips against her forehead; her eyes fluttering closed and a soft smile playing at the corners of her mouth. It’s always been one of her favorite things; those feathery kisses placed on her brow and the weight of his hand on the back of her neck and the warmth of his body so close to hers. It’s sweet and it’s pure; intimacy at its most basic and innocent of levels. And her smile widens when a calloused fingertip softly traces the slope of her nose and his lips press against the tip. “You and your freckles.”

“Well technically, they’re YOUR freckles.”

“You’re staring at them aren’t you.”

“Not staring. Admiring.”

“Admiring what? They’re ugly.”

“They’re adorable. And you’re beautiful.” He presses a kiss to each corner of her mouth, hand smoothing wayward strands of hair away from the sides of her face and neck.

Her eyes flutter open. “Why do you look at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like THAT. How you’re looking at me right now. Just so...I don’t know...I don’t know how to describe it. But you always do it. Your face changes. So does the colour of your eyes. It’s like you’re looking at me for the very first time all over again. Even though you’ve seen me nearly every day for the last twelve and a half years. Yet you still do it. Look at me like that. Like I’m the most amazing thing you’ve ever seen.”

“Maybe you are. Maybe to me you’re the most beautiful woman in the world. Maybe all I see is you. Maybe because everything that is amazing and perfect in my life is because of you. All this? A place like this? My kids? Us? None of that would exist if it wasn’t for you. If you hadn’t stuck around on that bridge…”

“But I did. I DID stick around. And if it happened a thousand times, I would make the exact same decision. No hesitations. I did the right thing. No one can ever tell me different.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m glad you put your ass on the line for a guy that was a complete and utter fucking mess.”

“Well I guess I just saw the potential,” she chides, and then kisses him; fingernails lightly scraping along the bottom of his hairline “You know what I really want right now?”

“I’m hoping you’re going to say sex, but I have a sneaky feeling that’s not it.”

“Leftover Chinese food. And my last chocolate croissant.”

“And then sex?”

Laying a hand on the side of his head, she pulls him closer; placing a series of feathery kisses along his jaw and then grinning against his ear. “Maybe.”

*****

An hour later they sit in the sunroom; the remnants of a late night meal on the coffee table, the area illuminated by strings of multi-colored Christmas lights lining each pane of glass and the soft glow given off by the space heater. It’s the kind of quiet and relaxation that is extremely rare to find especially during the holiday season; one that comes only when everything on your ‘to do list’ has been checked off. It’s a relief to have it all done; every last minute gift snagged, almost all the wrapping relegated to a very accommodating and willing Desi, fridges and freezers stocked and the house fully decorated both inside and out.

It had been a learning process; getting comfortable with celebrating the season while still harbouring painful childhood trauma and the memories of six Christmases with his first child. But Esme had made it easier; never pushing him to ‘get into the spirit’ and knowing what lines shouldn’t be crossing and learning to step back when the trauma of the past would begin to fester. Seeing her enjoyment of the holiday had helped; the excitement she shows over something as simple as a walk or a drive to look at other peoples’ lights, the joy she gets in buying things for the kids and keeping the magic alive and seeing their faces light up on Christmas morning. And he’d come around a little bit at a time; a distaste for the holiday becoming more bearable as the years went on and eventually being replaced with actual enjoyment and appreciation. And now that the hard work is done, it’s time to relish in accomplishment; a quiet house and the ambiance and the press of her head against his chest and the feel of her hair as it slowly slips through his fingers. He’d gladly stay there all the night; away from the giggles and chatter that drift down from their daughter’s room, lulled to sleep by the familiar weight of his wife’s body against his and the warmth that radiates from her. Nothing sexual about it; just quiet, soft intimacy in its purest form.

His eyes flicker open when he feels her move away; head lifting from the back of the couch and as her hair slips from between his fingers. “You okay?”

She gives a sheepish, almost nervous smile. “We need to talk.”

“So no, you’re not.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me. I’m okay.”

“Babe, nothing good ever comes after ‘we need to talk’.”

“Everything’s fine. The kids are good, I’m good, we’re good. Just something has been eating at me all day and I wasn’t even going to bring it up but I just know it’s going to keep me up all night if I don’t get it out.”

“How bad is this thing that’s been eating at you? Because the way you said ‘we need to talk’...”

“It’s not bad. On a scale of one to ten, ten being the worst, it’s maybe a three. A four. At the most.”

“Okay. What is it? What’s going on?”

“Before I tell you…” she turns her body to face him. “.... there’s some other things I need to say. First, I want you to promise you won’t get upset.”

“It’s obviously worse than a four if you think it’s going to upset me. It takes a lot; for you to piss me off.”

“I wouldn’t call it ‘pissing you off’. Just I can totally see why you might take it the wrong way and get defensive. And there’s no reason for you to be. Defensive.”

“It’s not about the job is it? Because we already talked about that and I already said I would stay home. Or at least if I did have to go somewhere, I’d stay completely behind the scenes. So if it’s about that…”

“It’s not about the job. That’s water under the bridge. We dealt with it. And may I add, we dealt with that very well. EXTREMELY well. You didn’t get worked up and we didn’t fight and that’s a big thing for us. A huge thing. And that’s a REALLY nice change; it shows we’re a lot stronger now.”

“So if it’s not about the job…”

“I need you to promise. That you won’t get upset. That you won’t get defensive even though it might seem like you need to be.”

“I promise. I’ll keep my shit together.”

“Second, I need you to know that I love you. More than I ever thought I could love someone. And you ARE the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Hands down. You’re an amazing husband and an even more amazing father and I couldn’t have asked for a better dad for my kids. And I appreciate you so much. Everything you do for us. For our family. How you care for us and provide for us and…”

“As nice as it is to hear all this, you’re rambling. And while I normally find that cute, it’s actually really unnerving right now. So maybe just spit it out? What’s going on? Why are you so edge? What’s got you all worked up?”

“Okay. I’m just going to ask and hope for the best. Just remember, there’s no reason to get defensive and I’m NOT accusing you of anything. It might seem like I am, but I’m not. I promise.”

“Are you going to get it out sometime today or…?”

“How friendly were you? To that neighbour the other day?”

“What neighbour?”

“The new one. The single mom. At the park. Natalie. The tall blond who looks like Sephora threw up on her face? Remember her?”

“What about her?”

“How friendly WERE you with her?”

He can’t help but laugh. “What?”

“You said you talked to her. What did you talk about?”

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“There’s a reason I’m asking. I’m not just asking to ask. I knew you met her and I know you talked to her and…”

“And what? What ARE you trying to ask? Because you said I shouldn’t get defensive and it seems like maybe I should. ARE you accusing me of something?”

“No. I’m not. I am not accusing of anything. I know you, Tyler. I know your heart. I know you love me and that you’d never, EVER cheat on me. So I am not accusing you of that. I never would.”

“So then what the fuck? What do you mean how friendly was I? When have you known me to be friendly with ANYONE? Especially people I don’t know. Are you suggesting I did something? Because that is totally it, Esme. I fucked her...in the dead of winter...in public...with my son twenty feet away. Is that what you WANT to hear?”

“No! God no. And that’s not what I’m suggesting at all. I just want to know. What you talked to her about. That’s it.”

“Why? What the hell does it matter? You’re always on my ass about how I should be more social and make an effort to meet people. Now all of a sudden you’re changing your mind? ‘Cause you’re worried about some neighbour? What the hell…?”

“Hear me out, please,” she begs, and takes both of his hands in hers. “This isn’t about me being neurotic and my self esteem issues and my weirdness about other women.”

“Seriously? Because that’s EXACTLY what this is about. This happens every fucking time we go somewhere. You get all worked up because you think women are paying attention to me. Because you think all these housewives and mothers are so thirsty they’d actually give a fuck about me. You think way too highly of me.”

“Okay, first off, no I don’t. You happen to be incredibly attractive. The blue eyes? The smile? The body? The whole vibe you’ve got going on? The resting bitch face? The tattoos and the scars and the whole intimidation factor? It’s very sexy. Whether you realize it or not. And I know you can’t help it. You’re just naturally beautiful. I’m not blaming you for that. But I do have a reason. For being the way I am. For having the issues I do.”

“Yeah, your brain is fucked up. Just as much as mine is.”

“You may not see it...all the women that check you out and thirst over you...but I do. All the time. But we’re not talking about the soccer park or the school yard. We’re talking about the park. And Natalie. The pretty single mom.”

“She’s not pretty. I don’t think she’s pretty.”

“Are you blind? You must be. Your eyes must be worse than my thought.”

“She’s not pretty. Not to me. She’s not my type.”

“You don’t have a type. In fact, your type used to be anything that walked with a wiggle.”

“I’ve had a type for the last twelve and a half years. If you want to call it having a ‘type’. You. You’re the only one that matters to me. You’re the only woman that I give a shit about. You might as well be the only one that exists on the entire fucking planet. All I want is you. That’s it. So what the fuck…?”

“She showed up here today. Asking for you.”

“Who did?”

Esme sighs in exasperation. “Natalie. The neighbour.”

“She came here?”

“And asked for you. She came calling on another woman’s husband. You don’t find that at least a little bit strange? That she would do that? That she would show up on our doorstep looking for you? You don’t find that even a little weird?”

“I find it a lot weird. I don’t know why she’d come here. I wasn’t THAT nice. It was small talk. Nothing more than that. I was my usual pleasant self.”

“Well, you certainly made an impression on her. Enough that she felt comfortable coming here. And talking to your daughter AND your wife. Let me just say, her social etiquette needs some work. She’s not as charming and witty as she thinks she is. Her people skills are a tad rusty.”

“What did she want?”

“To talk to you. To give you her cookie.”

He chuckles. “Is that a code language for…?”

“No. She literally brought you cookies. That she made for you.”

“What kind of cookies?”

Esme’s eyes narrow.

“I’m kidding. That was a joke. Probably not the best time to make one, mind you.”

“Oatmeal raisin if you need to know ALL the details.”

“Worst cookie EVER. You don’t know betrayal until you bite into one thinking it’s chocolate chip and you find out it’s THAT.”

“I’m pretty sure she was also offering up HER cookie. On a silver platter.”

“And if she was? Who the fuck cares? I don’t want anything from her. I talked to her at the park. Welcomed her to the neighbourhood. That was it. Everything else is on her. If she read too much into it, that’s her problem. Not mine. I made small talk and that was it. And you know how much I hate small talk.”

“I know YOU didn’t do anything. I know you. I know who you are and what you’re like. I wasn’t suggesting that you made a move on her or led her on or anything like that. You know that, right? That I’m not accusing you of anything?”

“I know you’re not. But it does seem like you are.”

“I know. And I don’t mean for it to sound that way. It just upset me. Her showing up here. Asking for you. That is so many shades of wrong. Why would someone do that?”

“Why would a man follow someone’s wife home from the post office? Someone’s noticeably pregnant wife.”

“That’s NOT the same thing.”

“You’re right. It’s not. It’s worse. You were pregnant with my kid. You told him you were married. And he still followed you home.”

“And you took care of it. You scared the shit out of him. Knocked him on his ass. All’s well that ends well.”

“Doesn’t mean I liked it. The fact some fucking asshole followed my wife home. You say I don’t notice things? How come you never notice all the men that pay attention to you? I notice it. Why don’t you?”

“It doesn’t happen that often.”

“It happens all the fucking time. And some of them are actually brave enough to be right out there with it. That takes a lot of balls; being that bold in front of someone’s husband. You think I like THAT? When men check you out?”

“You never say anything. You never act like it’s bothering you. If it does, why don’t you just say something?”

“Because I trust you. Because I’m secure. When it comes to knowing how you feel about me. I don’t see these guys as competition. A pain in the ass. But not competition.”

“That’s because they’re not. I don’t give a shit about any of them. I don’t want anyone else. I want you. I am perfectly happy with you. I love the way things are. With you. None of them matter to me.”

“Then why does it bother you what other women do? Why does it bother you so much? You don’t trust me?”

“What? No. I do. I DO trust you. You are not the problem. They are.”

“That doesn’t make ANY sense. How can they be a problem when I won’t let them be? I don’t give a fuck about any of them. How can they cause issues if I won’t let them? What do you think they’re going to do, Me? You can’t steal someone away unless they WANT to be. And you know what? As much as you drive me fucking insane, I am perfectly happy where I am. With who I have.”

“You don’t know what it’s like. Being around that. Those women. You don’t…”

“I DO know what it’s like. Guys check you out all the time. Do you see me going all neurotic about it?”

“Well, being neurotic IS my thing,” she sheepishly admits.

“This needs to stop. You being like this. It has been twelve and a half years of this, Me. And it’s tiring. I love you. And I have to tell you until my very last breath that I love you and I don’t want anyone else, I’ll do it. But it doesn’t mean it it doesn’t grate on my fucking nerves.”

“You knew I was like this. You knew my issues. Going into things. If they pissed you off THAT bad…”

“They don’t piss me off. Is it annoying, yes? Can I live with it? Also a yes. I will put up with it. Until my dying day. Because I love you. But I would give anything to put an end to it.”

“I can’t help it. Being like this. I’m not you, Tyler. You’re secure and you’re confident and you’re able to just ignore other men.”

“Because I trust you.”

“And I trust YOU. You are NOT the problem. And I know it doesn’t make any sense to you. Me worrying about other women when I know for a fact you’d never cheat on me. But I do. Worry about them.”

“Why? Tell me why you worry about them? What do you think they’re going to do, Esme? Tell me. What do you think is going to happen?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“That is NOT an acceptable answer for anyone over six. Try again.”

“I honestly don’t know. I don’t know what I’m thinking. But you don’t hear what they say. The women at the soccer park on the school yard. I do. I hear it. I hear them talking about how ugly and plain and boring looking I am and how they can’t understand why someone like you would be with someone like me,” she struggles to hold back a threatening flood of tears. “They don’t hide it, Tyler. They don’t talk about these things in secret. They make sure I hear it. And you know what? It hurts. A lot. And if I tell you something hurts me, you don’t have the right to tell me it doesn’t.”

“I’m not doing that, babe. I’m not saying it shouldn’t hurt you. And I’m sorry. That it does. That you hear stuff like that.”

“Why are you sorry? It’s not your fault. You can’t help what they say.”

“Do you want me to say something? To them? The next time I pick the kids up? Because I will. I’m not shy when it comes to telling people off. You know that. And when it comes to protecting you…”

“It would just make things worse. I can just hear them now. Talking about what a cry baby I am and how you deserve a real woman. Don’t say anything. It’ll just set them off. Things are bad enough as they are.”

“Why don’t you tell them to fuck off? You usually don’t back away from shit like that.”

“Because that’s our kids’ school and we’ve been on the principal’s shit list before and I don’t want to make things hard on our kids. But it does bother me. Hearing that stuff. And it DOES hurt.”

“But it shouldn’t. That’s what I’m saying. Just let go in one ear and out the other. Who gives a fuck what they think? What does it matter? I love you. I have always loved you. I always WILL love you. You’re the most beautiful woman in the world to me. Isn’t that enough? What I think? Why isn’t that enough?”

“I don’t know. I want it to be. And I know it should be. I know you love me. I’ve never doubted that. Not even during those six months. Even then, I knew you did. You just needed to get your shit together. I don’t know why it bothers me so much. I don’t why I’m like this. Why I can’t get past it. I think I’m getting better and then something happens and it’s back to square one.”

“Your mom fucked you up. So did Mark. You went through a lot of shit. Especially with him. But I’m not Mark, Esme.”

“I know. I know you’re not.”

“Do you? Because sometimes I’m not sure you do.”

The tears come freely now; body trembling with the force of the emotions that accompany them. And he places a hand on the back of her neck and pulls her into him; a forearm across the small of her back as her body presses tightly against his and her arms immediately circle his neck.

“I’m sorry,” she sobs against his shoulder. “I never meant to make you feel that way. Like I was comparing you to him.”

“I know.” One hand repeatedly strokes his hair, the other settling at the small of her back. “I know you didn’t.”

“Because you’re NOT him. You’re nothing like him. And I’ve never thought you are. I’m sorry, Tyler. For making you that feel that way. I never meant it.”

“I know you didn’t. It’s okay, Me. He fucked you up. Badly. I’m just the guy that came after. The one that has to try and clean up his mess. And if it takes the rest of my life to do that? Then I’ll deal with it. I can’t make it better. I can’t take it all away; make it like it never happened. I wish I could.”

“I don’t want to be this way. I don’t want to be crazy and neurotic and a freaking mess.”

“Well if it’s any consolation, you’re a beautiful mess.”

She manages a small laugh. “I don’t know what to do. To make this better. To make ME better. And it’s not fair to you. To have to deal with this shit.”

“I’ve brought more shit to the table than you have. And you’ve always dealt with it. I figure it’s the least I can do. Put up with your crap.”

“I don’t want to be like this. I can’t live like this for the rest of my life. I just can’t. But I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know how to fix me. And it shouldn’t be up to you to do it.”

“You’re my wife. You’re the mother of my kids. I love you. It’s what we do. Help each other. Fix one another. You’re not in this by yourself.” He presses a kiss to her temple and tightens his hold on her. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll figure it out. We’ll get you past all this.”

“What if we can’t? What if it CAN’T be fixed?”

“Then we live it. I spent the rest of my life constantly reassuring you that I’m not going anywhere. That I love you and think you’re the most beautiful in the world. If that’s what it takes, I’ll do it. I’ll take one for the team.”

“You’re so generous,” she chides. “Always so willing to sacrifice yourself.”

“Well, we do crazy shit for love. When we get home, you should go and talk to Doctor Klein. Tell him what’s going on. How you’ve been feeling. If anyone can figure shit out, it’s him.”

“You’ll come with me, right? I think you should. Come with me.”

“You know I will. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

She pulls away to look at him, sitting back at her heels. “Nothing?”

“Nothing,” he declares, and lays his hands on the sides of her face and uses his thumbs to wipe away the lingering tears.

“I know all snotty nose and puffy eyed isn’t my best look, but maybe we could have sex now?”

He grins. “Maybe. Would it make you feel better?”

She nods. “Being worshipped ALWAYS makes me feel better.”

“What can I say? I’m always willing to cheer you up. Besides, your body’s a temple, babe. It deserves to be worshipped.”

“It’s a temple, alright. Ancient and crumbling. Probably haunted.”

“It’s beautiful,” his hands move to the front of the plaid shirt she wears; enormous and baggy on her tiny frame. “And sexy.”

“Even after seven kids?”

His fingers tend to opening the buttons on the shirt. “ESPECIALLY after seven kids.”

“You always have the right thing to say. Your sweet talking is improving.”

“I thought you preferred dirty talk?”

“I do. Dirty talk is my favourite. Especially YOUR dirty talk. That voice? That accent? I’m wet just thinking about it.”

“Yeah?” With a playful smirk, he forcibly shoves her onto her back; a palm on either side of her head as outstretched arms brace his much heavier and bulkier frame. “In that case, shut up and let me fuck you.”

[secret-rendezvous1d]

Christmas Miracles.

Maybe one where Darcy tells the family she is pregnant on Christmas Day after all the struggles she's been through?

I couldn’t let this one pass by without being written for this years Blogmas; we don’t see much of Darcy and Sam so it was really fun to explore their little relationship. A little back story into their life. And I know that writing about characters other than Harry and the missus, so, we’ll see how this one goes down with you; I’m so used to writing about Harry and his wife, haha.

Just an additional Author’s Note; I’m not sure on the whole adoption process so I’m going by what the internet has told me about what happens. It’s not a long and lengthy story about it - just the section where they tell their family about the good news and it’s all emotional and full of excitement. Lots of grandchildren being introduced in this story so, if you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to ask questions to find out more.

Friends has been a huge help in the inspiration for Darcy’s storyline; with Monica and Chandler being unable to have kids, themselves. If there is anything that seems out of place, please, please tell me. 

Feedback is welcomed, as always.

Enjoy. xx

CHRISTMAS DAY, 2053. 1:30PM. HAMPSTEAD, LONDON.

The house was full. And it was just the way you liked it.

With four kids, close and over thirty, that had officially left home when they were twenty, that were split around London and the south, that were living their own lives and out in the world to fend for themselves, that had their own families to look after, it was rare to have them home for days on end.  Their bedrooms hadn’t been changed, massively, from how they’d left them - posters having been tacked from the walls and rolled up to be stored elsewhere, trinkets and trophies being stacked into boxes, reading books and photo albums, along with photo frames, being taken with them to start their new lives in new homes, the walls now covered in wallpaper rather than a matte finish and their bedsheets had changed from pinks and blues and purples to creams and dark blues and greys  - and they were empty, apart from canvas paintings from friendly artists and from birthday gifts, and ready to bring them comfort for the nights when they decided to stay.

Christmas Day’s and birthday’s being the times when they’d all congregate back into the home they grew up in. That was their first home, their first comforting place to hide away, their first place that held memories that picture frames and albums couldn’t contain. The heartfelt memories that were always fun to look back on; the Sunday mornings when Harry would wake them up with the sweetest of kisses and to inform them that pancakes were on the table, the packing for their holidays and the playful bickering about who was sitting next to who on the plane, the moments when they brought their partners home for the first time and everything had gone swell. The sweet memories that would always bring a tear to the eyes of those listening; the times when one would come home and want nothing but a hug and a cuddle from one of you, the nights when Rose was sick and just wanted cuddles because that’s how she felt better, the kisses and the cuddles shared, and the exchanging of presents that had been passed through generations of the family. The heartbreaking memories that, sometimes, they just wanted to forget about; their first heartaches and heartbreaks with boyfriends and girlfriends, the times when they’d come home and shatter because their days hadn’t gone so well, the death of a close family member that they loved dearly and couldn’t quite understand why they’d been taken away from them.

You cherished the times you got to spend with them.

Cherished every passing moment of every passing second of every passing hour. Cherished the knowledge that the house was full of your children and children married into your sweet family and grandchildren. Cherished the chats that you had over cups of tea and plates of biscuits and enjoyed the company... because it wouldn’t be long before you were saying your goodbyes and watching as they took off, down the roads of Hampstead, back towards their homes, leaving the large house feeling empty, despite yourself and Harry.

The living room had been taken over by two husbands, who had been left alone to mingle by their wives, and three young boys, who had been eager to catch up the sports highlights of the last week. The soft hum of their low chatter, as they discussed certain aspects, filtering through to the kitchen, the shrill of Grayson’s whines of frustration occasionally drowning out the cheers from a football game that played upon the telly, that would be soothed by the shushing and humming of Jack as he tried to calm his nephew down. The fire crackling and you’d, sometimes, hear the tinkle of beer bottles and glasses tinkle as they were placed upon the coffee table. 

Your husband was wandering with a new baby in his arms. Chatting to her and singing Christmas tunes to her, under his breath, as he fed her her dinner and burped her so she was ready to go down for a nap, chatting aimlessly to Connor when he’d drifted away from the sports, before completely revelling in the fact that it had been a long while since he’d held a baby in his arms. Always having found comfort in holding his grandchildren as newborns and spending the longest time with them because he couldn’t get enough of the tiny toes and the delicate fingers that would wrap around on his and the delicious sounds that came squeaking from within them. Letting her happily chew on his finger, or suckle on his thumb, and cosying her close when her face nudged into the hollow of his neck, lulled to silence from the bob in his step and the sway of his hips - a skill he’d learnt from all four of his own babies.

The den had been occupied by an uncle and a niece. Hadley having dragged Alfie away to cuddle with him and to cosy up with him as he slipped on their favourite Christmas movie; a tradition of theirs, that had happened every single year, from the moment she was born. Sharing a bowl of popcorn that he’d make sneakily, because he knew his mother and his sister would scold him for eating before dinner, and letting her have full control over holding the bowl. Speaking the lines before they were said on screen and laughing with one another.  

Three wives had been subdued to taking care of the dining room. Decorating the long table with placemats and chair covers, crackers being set at each seat and cutlery being placed in the right places, and making sure the wine glasses were smear-free and set on coasters, ready to be filled with the chosen wine for the dinner. Nattering amongst themselves as they filled each other in on what they’d gotten themselves up to. Persephone talking about her latest conquest in her interior designing; having been asked, by someone of high authority in the fame world, to decorate the lower level of their house. Ellie chatting about how Alfie had been asked to coach for Finn’s football team. And Rose chatting about how she was handling being a new mum to a brand-new little girl; asking for tips and pointers because she was new to everything.

Yourself having sided off to the kitchen to prepare a dinner that would soon be devoured by everyone. Christmas tunes humming from the radio, the smell of Christmas dinner filling the house and making stomachs rumble, and the smell of Christmas, itself, making its way to your nose and shooting a spark of festive through you.

“Can I offer my assistance in any way, my love?” Harry hummed from the entryway of the kitchen, a 4-month old Celine tucked into the crook of his arm as he gave her bum gentle pats to keep her soothed and comforted, and to keep her from crying, as well as to let her know that he was still there and crooning over her. Startling you and tearing you away from the distant bubble that you’d drifted into whilst stirring the soup for the starter meal. “Is dinner coming along okay?”

“I think you’re doing a wonderful job looking after Celine, there. I think you can sacrifice being my assistant for today,” you smiled warmly, looking over your shoulder as you continued to stir the tomato soup in the soup pan, bubbling away on the cooker. Filling the kitchen with a delicious aroma of spices and pureed tomato, dabbled with a little cream to make it sweeter, and the cooking meats in the oven for the Christmas dinner. “The girls have been popping in and out to help me, anyway. I think they may be huddling over the wine though. They’ve been sporting some pink teeth each time they come in.”

Harry snorted, adjusting the baby in the crook of his arm, as she whimpered at the change of position. Her face pushing into his upper arm, mouth open as a grizzle escaped, as it scrunched up before straightening back out.

“Are you sure you’re doing okay in here? I can put Celine down for her sleep or give her back to Connor,” he suggested, stepping further into the kitchen and siding up to you, wrapping his free arm around your shoulders to pull you, cosily, into his side, “I can get the potatoes going? Or cut up some vegetables for you? I know you like my potatoes cooked in beef fat.”

“I’m doing perfectly fine, mister. It’s not as hectic as I thought it was going to be. I thought I’d have the kids going crazy around me,” you dropped your hands from what they were doing, wiping them on your apron before rapping one hand around his waist. The other coming up to brush your fingertips along your grand-daughter’s downy hair, feeling the soft tufts tickle the tips, feather-light to the touch. “You’ve missed have babies in the house, haven’t you?”

“‘course I have. We’ve passed the stage of having our own babies so I’ve got to squeeze in the time with my little grandbabies, haven’t I?” He pressed his lips to your temple, letting them linger longer than normal, nose nudging into your hairline as you squeezed him closer to your side, “what time did Darcy say they were coming through? They’ll be here before we dish up dinner, yeah?”

The both of you had expected Darcy and Sam to arrive the day before Christmas Eve, the day before everyone else was scheduled to arrive, to squeeze in some time with the both of them before everyone else made their appearances. To see how they were doing because they’d been busy, to know how they were coping with the news of her infertility, and to make sure they were definitely and one hundred percent comfortable with Christmas Day, given how fresh the news had been for everyone. With a brand new baby in the house, you didn’t want to see one of your youngest girls feel overwhelmed because it was something she couldn’t, and would never be able to, have. Having set up the spare bedroom and made sure that their en-suite was full of shampoos and conditioners and shower gels so they needn’t worry about taking space in their bags with shower necessities, before they’d called and apologised about how plans were in need of changing, that Sam was needed, and that they wouldn’t arrive until the early afternoon of Christmas Day.

You nodded and pulled away from him.

“She phoned this morning and said they’d be here just after two. I said I’d be serving dinner at three so it gives them time to settle in, bring in presents, set up in the bedroom upstairs and mingle with everyone before we sit down,” you explained, “go sit yourself down. Go and mingle with the boys.”

“Where’s Alfie?”

“Hadley’s taken him into the den so they could watch some Christmas films,” your eyes glanced into the garden, taking note of the chilled atmosphere and the grey clouds that were starting to appear, covering the blue sheet and hiding the harsh sunlight from piercing through the windows. “I don’t think they were all that interested in watching the sports highlights from this week.”

“Neither were the kiddos. Finn and Grayson are passed out on the floor by the fire, Quentin is almost falling asleep on Jack, and both men are sporting the heavy eyes. Refusing to fall asleep, but, I reckon they’ll be out within the next ten minutes” Harry snickered, his head ducking down to press a soft kiss to her forehead, “I think we’ll go and see what the girls are doing, yeah? Shall we do that, little lady? Shall we go and see what your mummy is up to? Scold her getting into the wine?”

“I’m not in the wine, thank you very much,” Rose’s voice hollered from the dining room, her head poking round the doorframe, “have you put my daughter down at all today, Dad? I don’t want you spilling gravy on her when we sit down for dinner.”

“Within the blink of an eye, she’ll be as old as you and she’ll be as big as you, and I won’t get to hold her like this anymore. I’m making the most of it,” his socked feet took him across the tiles, slipping into the dining room to see his eldest daughter and his daughter-in-law perched at the head of the dining table. Setting the baby back into Rose’s arms with a kiss to his daughter’s cheek. “Mum thinks the three of you have been getting into the red wine.”

“We may have had a couple of glasses of the opened wine,” Persephone grinned, and to Harry’s vision, came the pink teeth that you’d told him of. Tilting her glass in his direction and sending him a wink, as he shook his head in amusement, “Come sit down for a glass, Dad. We’ve just been chatting about our funniest Christmas days. Do you remember the day when Alfie dropped his Christmas dinner down his front? And you let him have a sip of his mulled wine and it sent him on a rush, all day? You thought you’d gotten him drunk,” she cackled.

Harry chuckled lightly. Arms feeling empty as he watched the youngest of his twins cradle her baby, his heart bursting before he spun around, pressing a kiss to Ellie’s cheek before cupping Persephone’s shoulder, hunching over to press a kiss to the top of her head.

“Your mum banned me from having any more mulled wine that day. Your aunt found it funny, I kept asking you to sneak me some glasses, and your poor nan was taking the wrath of Alfie’s excitement,” he reminded her, settling himself down on the chair beside her and wordlessly thanking her for the glass of wine she’d poured for him, “had me on the water for the rest of the night.”

CHRISTMAS DAY, 2053. 2:30PM.

The doorbell, followed by a thumping knock to the front door, filled the house. Surprising you as you checked on the turkey cooking in the oven, a chorus of ‘that must be Darcy’ coming from the dining room as the conversation came to a sudden halt, startling Jack and Connor from their snoozes on the sofa and exciting the three young boys as they shot to their feet in a haste to be the first to open the front door. Hadley’s head poking from around the door of the den as she looked in the direction of the front door, Alfie’s head not too far from following, as the both of them, eagerly, watched the commotion go down. A cheerful ‘hello’ filtering down the hallway as Sam entered, followed by his wife as she carried bags of presents, and balanced a tin of peppermint brownies on her hip.

“Come on, let us through, you buggers.”

Sam’s voice came as the door closed shut with a heavy thud. Excited yells and squeals coming from the two youngest boys as Sam lifted them up, one under each arm, and carried them into the living room, as Finn snuggled underneath Darcy’s free arm, taking the tin of brownies from under her arm. Dropping them onto the sofa before shaking hands with the two men, now, sat upright. Perching on the arm of the chair, sending his wife a smile as she left the present bags, and their personal belongings, at the bottom of the stairs, for him to take up. Striding into the kitchen with her nephew under her arm.

“Merry Christmas, Mum,” she hummed, as Finn wriggled from her side to set the brownies upon the counter, her arms wrapping around you as you welcomed her with a tight hug, “sorry that we’re a bit late. There was traffic, an accident on the motorway or something. We would have been here before twelve because Sam finished early.”

“That’s okay, sweet girl. Dinner’s still on track for three,” you squeezed her cheeks and watched as they blushed, “still staying through till New Year?”

“If you want us to,” she grinned, pulling away from you, “where’s Dad? He’s usually the first to greet everyone.”

You pointed towards the dining room archway, a knowing nod coming from Darcy, as she grinned.

“He’s gotten into the wine, hasn’t he?”

“Surprisingly, it was your sister and Ellie who cracked it open first. He just joined in with them, not too long ago, actually. It’s better than him trying to steal bits and pieces from the dinner,” you laughed, casting your eyes over to Finn as he finished up the last bite of the brownie he’d stolen from the tin, “mister, what are you doing, you cheeky thing?” You teased playfully, stepping over to him to wipe his mouth with the pads of your thumbs. Darcy sneaking away to side into the dining room. “Don’t go telling your mum you’ve had one, okay? She’ll go bonkers.”

*

“Hey, there’s my little rebel,” Harry chortled, standing to his feet and leaving behind his half-empty wine glass, wrapping his arms around her and squeezing her to his front, “I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” she pressed a kiss to his cheek, feeling the prickle of his stubble against the soft flesh before pulling away, “you’re supposed to be helping Mum with the dinner, not having a Mother’s Meeting in the dining room.”

“We have been helping,” he hummed, giving her a tighter squeeze to his front before unravelling his arms from around her, “how was the drive here? Was it good?”

“We hit some traffic on the way but it was pretty smooth,” she nodded, keeping an arm snaked around his waist, “Sam might need some help taking our stuff upstairs. And we have presents in the hallway but we don’t know where to put them. Thought we’d leave that to you.”

He cleared his throat, “do you want a glass of wine? We’re finishing off the open bottle before dinner.”

She nodded and took a seat at the table.

“I’d love one, thanks.”

CHRISTMAS DAY, 2053. 4PM.

The opportunity rose just after dessert had finished.

A quarter of a Christmas pudding, half of a Victoria sponge, a couple of Darcy’s peppermint brownies, a jug full of cream and a jug full of custard, both with dribbles of their content rolling down the sides, were left behind in the middle of the table, being picked at, every so often, and eyed up by those who were hungry but didn’t want to make themselves look greedy by going in for more. The kids having escaped from the table and found comfort, spread out in the den, with flicking through the telly to find something to watch for the afternoon, until everyone settled in the living room for a board game night. Having been a tradition for the Styles family since before Harry was born. Mouths tasting sweet and chocolate still sticking to the corners of their lips, having devoured more than plenty of brownies and ice-cream.

Darcy stayed, cosied, beneath Sam’s arm, as he idly conversed with Connor, sipping on her new glass of wine, white rather than the red that she’d had upon her arrival. The room was silent. Screaming out for them to share the news; news that hadn’t quite settled in their minds yet. That didn’t quite feel real. Because this time, next year, they’d have another child, to spoil rotten with presents. Another to include in the festivities. Another to cuddle with and muck around with. Another child to form traditions with.

She looked up at Sam as he looked down at her, smiling encouragingly, as she cleared her throat and sat up. All eyes and everyone’s attention shifting to her.

“Darce? You alright?” Harry wondered, setting his wine glass on the table. Eyes darting betweens yours and his daughters. “Darcy?”

She smiled softly and nodded.

“We have some news to share,” she announced. Harry’s eyes settling upon your wide orbs as you made contact with his. Sam’s hand squeezing hers tightly, for reassurance and to let her know that, if she needed him to take over, he was there in a heartbeat. “We’ve been going on a really gruelling process of adoption, over the last year, as you know. We’ve had meetings, house visits, interviews, and everything you could possibly imagine,” she looked across to Rose as she cradled Celine in her arms, a smile twitching up her lips, “and this time next year, we’ll be celebrating, hopefully, with another child in the house because, we, uh, we’ve been told that we’ve been approved.”

She didn’t realise that tears were building in her eyes until she blinked and felt one roll down her cheek, the softest of laughs, but it could have been a sob, escaping her parted lips. Her father shooting up from his chair, followed by you, as the both of you made your way around to her and Sam. Persephone’s lips quirking into a grin as she looked across to Rose, both sporting a look of pride and happiness for their sister. Harry’s arms wrapping her up into a hug as you gladly welcomed Sam against your front, hands rubbing his back soothingly, as he squeezed you.

“There’s a young girl, up in Manchester, linked with the agency we’ve signed through. She’s a teenager, seventeen, and she and her family are struggling for money. She’s single, and there’s no chance that she, nor her family, would be able to support and look after the child. They’re against abortion and chose adoption and they chose us, not too long ago,” Sam gushed excitedly, swiping his thumb beneath your eyes as he caught a tear that dribbled from the ducts, “it’s a little girl. She wanted us to know that. Healthy and everything. Growing perfectly. And, she’s due in the new year. End of January, we’ve been told.”

“That’s fantastic news,” Harry croaked, swaying his body from side to side as he kept a close hold upon his daughter. Her eyes seeping with tears, making the hollow of his neck damp, gripping tightly to the sweater that sat upon his torso. “Hey, hey. Don’t cry, sweetheart. This is bloody brilliant. You’re finally going to be a mum.”

“Happy tears, Dad,” she whispered wetly, sniffling and wiping her nose into the sleeve of her hoodie, as she pulled away from him. His thumbs attaching to the apples of her cheeks as he wiped away the moisture. “I’m going to make you a grandad again,” she giggled, his lips pressing against her forehead, “Merry Christmas.”

“Come here, my sweet girl. Let me have a cuddle,” you cooed, arms wide as you waited for her body to collide with yours. Chin resting upon your shoulder as Sam scooted and shuffled in the direction of Harry. Hand stretched out as they shook hands. “Darcy, this is wonderful news. This is why you’ve been so busy? God, you’re a menace for making us worry to death about you working too hard.”

“We couldn’t spoil it. We thought it would have been perfect to surprise you with,” she snickered, holding onto you tightly, “we were thinking that you and dad could come up to Manchester, with us, before the baby’s born, to meet her. She’s the sweetest thing, Mum. She’s so nervous and we’ve been doing everything we can to make her feel as comfortable as possible,” she pulled away and allowed you to press a kiss to her cheek, hands cupping her face, “I’m finally going to be a mummy, Mum. We’re getting a baby.”

“It’s a Christmas miracle, isn’t it?” You crooned, laughing softly as she nodded, cheerfully.

A Christmas miracle... indeed.

[undeservedfavor]

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The Bucketlist

Mini-Series of Short Stories

St. Valentines Day [EN]: FINALE

Dorian stood and went out of the room.

He prayed at the hospital's chapel and went home to grab some of Gisela's things to bring to the hospital...

He found the list again and saw that number 10 is still unchecked.

He just thought of an idea.

He contacted their friends, workmates and including Gisela's old classmates to bring the idea to life.

"We will have some sort of reunion. This is for Gisela. All the cast and staff will be there. I'll tell you all the details when we get there. See you tomorrow night guys." He hung up the phone and sighed.

He knows that it's all wrong to throw a party and all while his woman suffers on the hospital bed but he did it for his own reasons.

Reasons that will make a big change whether she wakes up soon or...

Dorian doesn't wanna entertain the thought and the negativity.

He just wanted this to be a great event.

Dorian stepped on a stage looking at the murmuring people, wondering why they're here.

"I r-really appreciate that you all came. We're here to give praises to Ms. Gisela Valentine, she's-..." He was cut off.

"Why are we here for Gisela? Is it her birthday?" One said.

"No. The woman's still asleep." Dorian said.

"We spent all our efforts for a sleeping woman. Hell. Who can wake her up?" The other man said.

"I wish I knew. The woman I love is not waking up for weeks now in her comfy hospital bed." They all stopped talking when Dorian caught their attention stating Gisela's actual state.

"I just wanted to record what you all think of her. It's her wish. First, we have her cousin Merian to speak in front of us..." Dorian introduced.

"Thank you Mr. Handsome Celeb, Dorian West... Gisela... Was a very thoughtful person. She will always think about others before herself. There's one time that I got pregnant without a father but she helped me confront the guy. But the woman my 'Ex' was living with, dragged Gisela by the hair, out of their condo unit. You know what? It did not stop Gisela. She continued to sacrifice herself and her shame, even though I told her not to, just to convince this guy to support me. She's willing to be a shield and a comforter when you need her to. This woman is one of a kind and I love her for that." Merian said.

The speech of the people continued to the very last person...

The most important one.

Dorian stated his rights...

"Sorry for all your precious time. Hopefully, she would like this speech that I have for her... We gathered here in this Eulogy... Yes. This is a Eulogy. And this is her wish. The reason why is to talk about her in this beautiful day. The one and only Gisela of our lives. The one with the beautiful smile behind those sad eyes. The ever so hard working for she won't let the day pass not accomplishing what she needs to do like she's chasing time. A one extra-ordinarily optimistic woman. She might have been secretive and enduring but she thought me how tough a person can be facing her own demons after pushing it away in the shadows for years now. How brave she can be after all the trauma. Or how courageous she is opening up to someone like me. As she saw me at my worse and my weakest, she have known that I'm not perfect. Like her, I don't have any parents anymore. I grew up without any full-time guidance. In fact, not most people knew that I'm a wrecked soul before I met her. We're both lost and both fallen angels that time. She made me who I am right now. She built my broken interior. She's the one behind my success. My motivation to get my life back on track. I thought I was the one protecting her, but she's the one giving me hope to go on. This life is a mess without her. You had me coming undone. I accepted her in my life and I will continue to do so, not as a difficult challenge but as a person who I respect and love the most. I actually did not expect to say these things in this set-up. This was supposed to be for my marriage proposal or for my wedding vow but it's best to do it now than never, right? Gisela... I love how strong you are to fend off the inner demons. I'll go through all of it with you... If you can hear me wherever you are... I'm still waiting for you to wake up. 'Cause if you do, I will do what I have to... And I will-..." Dorian was cut-off and was astonished as the door of the venue opened revealing a bare-footed woman wearing a white gown.

She weakly walked toward the stage smiling.

The people all looked at where Dorian's eyes landed and are currently locked.

They we're all shocked.

Whether they're scared or joyful...

Never did they know that this would happen today.

She never minded the people as if she's only seeing one person and continued to walk toward the stage.

As Dorian's focus is also not faltering, his eyes began to water.

His eyes are still glued to her...

"Dorian..." She spoke as she went up the stage and she touched his cheek streaking on his own tears.

"Go get him!" Merian screamed.

And she immediately covered her mouth in embarassment when the people looked at her smiling with her giddy comment.

"H-how did you-...?" Dorian was not able to finish the sentence when Gisela used her finger to stop his lips from speaking.

"The Doctors told me what you're planning when I was back in my consciousness. They're actually outside. They were too nice to let me go out of confinement, more so, to accompany me here and to even let me walk. I begged them to let me see you. To go here and touch you because the moment I woke up, you're the first one that I have looked for. I have realized the fact that I have searched for nothing more since the very beginning. It was a wake up call for me to go back. Not the hit on the head, not the coma, but I was shaken to the soul by even thinking about leaving this world. Leaving you behind. I don't wanna lose you. I don't want you to get tired and suffer because of me. I was touched. I have heard every word you said, when I was waiting for the right moment outside. I'm sorry, I didn't let you finish speaking. Don't get me wrong, you're a very good Necrological Service speaker but... I just couldn't stand it and I just couldn't stay away. What can I say? I missed you, though that you're in my dreams the whole, entire time I was asleep." She said.

"You never fail to surprise me." Dorian told her.

"Let's party!" As Merian shouted the words, she turned up the speaker.

She now took over and hosted the event.

She even invited the doctors to join them.

Then all the people celebrated with joy.

She then turned her head to the both of Gisela and Dorian to plan their escape.

"Let's go." Dorian said as he assisted Gisela to walk away with him.

A month has passed and Gisela recovered faster with Dorian's help.

She was preparing for her flight.

She joined a writing contest that will be held in London.

"Do you really wanted to leave the country?" Dorian murmured against Gisela's bare skin as they snuggle together.

Dorian embraced Gisela more tightly from the back...

Though they are still lying on their bed...

She shifted her position and turned to him to caress his cheeks.

He doesn't say it, but his eyes were pleading for her to stay.

"I shouldn't keep you waiting for a long time. Knowing how impatient you are... You might follow me there." She answered.

"Hell! You got that right my dear Piggy. We'll tackle everything together. I'll follow you everywhere. Even in hell, if I have to. But... I'm not really gonna stop you from reaching your dreams. If that will make you happy, well... I'm down with it." Dorian snorted first before giving his serious opinion of letting his girlfriend leave.

"Don't worry. It won't take long. I need you to keep me grounded. I'll be back soon." Gisela stated.

Dorian kissed Gisela on the lips and they smiled at each other as they both stood and had their breakfast.

The man wanted to stop time as he looks at her features carefully while she's eating.

"What are you looking at?" She asked him smiling.

"My future." Dorian said holding Gisela's hand.

He knows how cheesy this is getting but he doesn't care.

"Dorian... Please, stop.  I can't contain the butterflies..." They both chuckled.

"Sorry for my cheesiness..." He smiled apologetically.

"Cheese is good. Especially Mozzarella in Pizza." Dorian stifled a laugh on what Gisela said.

After they have prepared themselves for this day, Dorian accompanied his woman to the Airport.

"I'll miss you. And I'll think of you everyday. I love you my dearest Piggy..." Dorian said.

He's trying to hold off his tears even though he already expected this to happen.

"Don't you dare cry Dorian. You're Godzilla. Dinosaurs doesn't cry. Plus, it doesn't suit you. I'll miss you and I love you too." Gisela warned him and gently reminded him of her love.

"I'm not gonna. Just promise me you'll take care of yourself and that you'll be back." He told his girlfriend.

She nodded and kissed the  man goodbye.

The kiss was lingering...

Like they do not want it to end...

And like they don't wanna let go of each other.

After they parted, Dorian waived goodbye to her.

Then, Gisela threw her last flying kiss to Dorian as she waived back smiling to him.

Later, Gisela was gone, she disappeared, even her traces.

Neither a silhouette, nor a shadow of her can be found.

But Dorian knew that he has to let her find her happiness first, 'cause when she does, she will go back to her love and they won't be dancing on their own and they won't be alone anymore.

With someone to come home to.

With someone to lean on.

With someone who has so much love to give.

Another year has passed but...

Gisela did not come back to Dorian.

Without any communication, like it was cut off, just like that.

However, he did not let that ruin him.

He realized that you will meet someone in your life that you couldn't forget.

Someone who will leave a mark...

The one that got away.

He always knew from the start, that not all of them will stay.

But sometimes, they go into your life, either to just pass-by, teach a lesson or just to be a part of a memory, like nothing ever happened, like it was just a dream, illusion, or a nightmare, well, whatever you may consider it.

He believes from the very beginning, that if it's bound to happen, it will happen...

Like how they first met.

Dorian was now able to focus on his career...

It was booming...

More commercials, TV Shows, movies and albums.

Because of his on-demand TV appearances, he was invited for an interview on one of his favorite pre-noon-time show...

The topics and the flow of the conversation was very light until the interviewer brought up and touched a subject that he tried so hard to avoid and answer for a long time.

"We heard that you had old flames in your life but one has been remarkable in this industry since she's the only one that you have confirmed as you're relationship and because of the trials that you've been through with her. We have sources and they said that she's now a famous writer in UK. So that maybe the reason why we're not seeing you together anymore for quite some time now. Is your fiance going home?" The host asked.

It took a while for him to answer.

The people are dying in anticipation for his response, since Dorian has been respecting his own relationship's privacy for a long time now.

The people are also lost why he's not been talking about HER a lot lately too.

They all think he's blanked off and doesn't know where to get his answer since he's taking his sweet time.

Suddenly, his phone beeped and he received a text message.

A message he's longing and waiting for such a long time.

A tear almost fell from his eyes.

"She will find her way back..." Dorian whispered.

"What was that Dorian? You were saying something? Oh, sorry, you can answer on your pace. Any time now..." The interviewer said.

Dorian was then shaken but...

His lips parted to give his answer.

"Yes, she's coming back." He confirmed to the people with a smile.

~END

[xxsparksxx]

If Caroline had the choice, do you think she would want children? (Thank you for all your work by the way, you do great! And take all the time you need, always)

This is...difficult to answer, anon, without knowing whether you’re a show-only person or somebody who’s also read the books. It’s a very interesting question, but I think I’m going to struggle to answer this without referencing future events that will be seen in s4. Because what Caroline feels about children is quite a complicated thing, and the answer isn’t a straight forward ‘if she had the choice, no/yes’.

I’ll answer under a read-more, anyhow, so you can avoid spoilers if you wish.

The thing with Caroline is that, frequently, she is so flippant about things that it can be hard to perceive her real feelings.

This is what she says when she tells Ross and Demelza that she’s pregnant, near the end of The Four Swans:

‘Of course I don’t want the brat.’‘Caroline!’ said Demelza.‘No, in truth, are they not revolting little specimens when they come? Really I can’t bear babies! Wrinkled, red-faced little tyrants, greedy, selfish, demanding, incontinent, full of crudities and wind, claiming the whole attention of an adult person night and day and never saying thank you for it. They’re warm and moist and clinging, and they smell of urine and sour milk, and there are far too many of ’em in the world already!’Everyone laughed at her but she grimaced and said: ‘No, I mean it! Dwight knows. I have warned him.’‘You have warned us all,’ said Demelza, ‘and we don’t believe it.’‘You have to think of succession,’ Ross said ironically. ‘After all, the world is not a bad place, and it would be a crying pity to leave it altogether to other people’s children.’‘Succession?’ said Caroline. ‘I would not mind so much if I could breed a little Dwight – or even, God help me, a little Caroline. But one’s own child, it always seems to me, turns out to be the living image of one’s least favourite cousin!’

Reading between the lines, I think she both wants and doesn’t want children. I think, given the choice, she would probably be disinclined to have children. If she lived in a modern world of contraceptives, Caroline might well end up choosing not to have children. However, once she has children, that’s a different matter. Although we never hear much about how she feels about birthing and raising her later two children, what we do know is how badly she is affected by losing her first child:

‘Demelza told me Sarah was – ill.’‘She has a cold.’‘That is all?’Dwight made a grimace. ‘It will be enough.’‘Oh, God. Does Caroline know?’‘Yes . . . I felt now I had to tell her.’Ross hit his crop against his boot. ‘I’m no use to you. But I had to come.’‘It’s good of you.’‘No . . . How is she taking it?’‘Very well,’ said a voice from the door. Caroline, as always, the tall stalk of a flower, red-haired, green-eyed, freckled across the nose. The only difference was that her lips were without colour.‘Caroline . . .’‘Yes, Ross, it is all a trifle distressing, is it not. Had Dwight already told you?’‘He’d warned me it might happen.’‘Confidences between men from which wives and mothers are excluded . . . Yes, it has been rather a shock, but Caroline is taking it well, with all the dignity and stoicism of a lady of breeding.’‘Let me get you something, Ross,’ Dwight muttered.‘. . . Caroline, I don’t know what to say. I don’t know why I’ve come; but I felt . . .’ A glass of brandy was in his hand.Caroline looked at the glass Dwight had given her. ‘My husband clearly wishes me to become a toper. Or is it that he thinks drink softens the edges of tragedy and converts it into some lighter form of grief? Or are we proposing a toast to something or someone?’‘Caroline,’ said Dwight. ‘You are deceiving no one. Sit down. Perhaps just sitting quiet for a while . . .’She sipped her drink. ‘D’you know, Ross, I said I didn’t want the wretched little creature – and that was true. I find animals vastly more grateful and rewarding. But, over the months, I have to confess she has wormed her way into my affections. Poor Horace has been quite put out that I have neglected him so. Well, well, Sarah Penvenen. Ave atque vale. How my uncle would have been annoyed that his grandniece was to have so short a stay.’Nothing was said for a while. Some light branch, torn away by the wind, was tapping at the window, like a bird trying to get in.Ross said: ‘Is she? . . . How long?’Dwight said: ‘Hours, I would suppose.’Ross said: ‘I should have brought Demelza.’‘No, no,’ said Caroline, ‘that would have been the greatest of a mistake. You are two strong men and can support me. I am a hard woman and can fend for myself. But Demelza – Demelza would not be so – formal; she would not be so – controlled; she would not be so – dignified. Demelza does not understand dignity and – and all that it stands for . . .’ Caroline sipped her drink again. ‘I believe Demelza would cry – and that, and that, I rather think – would – ruin us all . . .’

Once the child was in existence, once Sarah was a living, breathing thing, Caroline loved her and wanted her and is bitterly, grievously hurt when Sarah dies. So much so that she and Dwight have a period of separation, instigated by Caroline:

Caroline pursed her lips. ‘But you know, Dwight, I was never meant to be a mother.’‘What nonsense! You have been one – and a good one – and I trust you’ll be one again.’‘No . . . Or not yet.’ She took two paces to come behind him and to put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Dwight, I want to leave you.’In the silence some gas blew in the coal, burning brilliant and blue until it was exhausted.Dwight said: ‘What do you mean?’‘Oh, not permanent. Don’t rejoice: you can’t rid yourself of me as easy as that . . . But I want to get away. I want to get away from Killewarren – and Sawle – and the people here. I feel I have failed you, have failed myself, everything – there’s such a weight on me. I’ve never been able to cry about this – you know that – and I carry about in my breast such a weight of unshed tears that it seems it will burst me open. This is a terrible and humiliating confession that I would make to no one but you. But I feel – so long as I stay here, in this house, with its . . . furnishings, and Uncle Ray’s silver, and the medicine bottles and all the servants trying to be kind, and my – my horses, and Ruth Treneglos for company on a day’s hunting, and – and your kind, hurt indulgence – I feel I shall not take any steps to mend.’Dwight got up, closed his book without seeing it, stared at his cuff on which there was some sort of an ink stain, and looked up to meet the brilliance of his wife’s eyes.‘What do you wish to do?’‘I don’t know. Perhaps go to London, stay with my aunt for a month or two. I don’t know.’‘Do you wish me to come with you or do you want to go alone?’‘How can you go? There are fifty – a hundred – two hundred sick people who depend on you. How could I take you away from them? I am already – I already feel sufficiently selfish in saying that I want to get away. There is no such escape for you.’

So yes, it’s a complicated question, for Caroline. There is no straightforward answer. Because she dearly loved Sarah, and in the later two books we see that she clearly loves Sophie and Meliora, her other two daughters (though she is never as openly affectionate a mother as Demelza).

I think what I would say is that Caroline loves her children when they’ve arrived, and particularly once they’re through the very earliest of baby stages. She prefers young children to babies. Once she has them, she loves them and would not be without them, but if she had the choice to have them or not in the first place, before they become a reality in her mind and in her life, she would probably choose not to have them - because she doesn’t know how much she could value and love them. Put Caroline in the 21st century and she would probably choose not to have children. But leave her where she is, with the social mores and medical science of the time, she would not choose abstinence or dangerous medications to prevent or abort pregnancy - not least because she has too high a regard for the value of her own life, but also because Dwight does want children, and at any rate wouldn’t sanction her doing anything to put herself at risk.

I hope that all makes some sense :D

[weirdoofoz]

chapter 47

This is what I imagine it would be like to read just one chapter from a novel I don’t have the guts to write, about a world I’ve been writing and thinking about for 3 years. Criticism is invited.

9, Victoria, and Elyahoo had been on the hunt for two whole days, the constant sweat that drenched their bodies had stopped annoying them after they had to sleep in their clothes. Elyahoo marched on, he understood that his apprentice needed to face his past, that magic is strongest in those with a clear mind, but he was gradually finding it more difficult to keep his own mind clear as he had to chop through the onslaught of branches in his way to defend his face. It felt like even his axe Scindo was tiring. Victoria felt her powers weaken with every breath of the humid air, she was an ice mage -soon to be at least- and she understood that her fellow apprentice needed to get some closure, but didn’t understand why Elyahoo so vehemently believed that she had to come with. She loved 9 to death, but why did she have to come with, her powers were useless here.

This was home, 9 knew it was, he could smell it in the air and feel it in the fire burning in his soul. Every tree seemed to be more familiar than the last. The frogmen they had encountered before had made him finally realize why he didn’t ever seem to get along with the ones down south. All things seemed to be pointing to a crescendo of familiarity, but what that was, 9 didn’t want to think about.

“Water!” cried Victoria, as her head spun wildly on her head, “I can feel it”

“Well if you calm yourself down a bit, you might be able to tell us where it is” responded Elyahoo, looking demandingly at his learning apprentice.

“It’s, it’s…” Victoria continued to spin wildly in circles looking every which way for her precious friend, for the water.

“Victoria. Cool down.” Bade Elyahoo.

Victoria froze, looked over at her mentor, and stubbornly closed her eyes. A moment later her hand shot up as she pointed “there”. And faster than you could say Whitraw’s plea Elyahoo was off, who was followed by Victoria, who was reluctantly followed by 9.

9 was caught up in how the trees seemed to glow. the Draaco forest was fabled to house the most vibrant trees in all of Metrisolem, but never had 9 imagined that trees could take almost as much of a presence as full grown animals. He wasn’t able to get over the thought that each tree somehow housed a story, or a warm soul. He thought about all the dragons that must have lived and died here, and how these trees around him had turned their bodies into what they were now. Then he thought about how many dragons must have died when the dragonmen came, which led him to dragonmen, which is why he decided to focus on following his companions.

9 broke through the last layer of underbrush to get to the large stream that Victoria had found.

“Oh hey there 9” remarked Elyahoo, “just gathering up some provisions is all”

“We have enough water” chastised 9, “we have to get going, you said we’d get to their camp by sundown”

Meanwhile Victoria had totally submerged herself in the water, and was splashing around like a child.

Elyahoo turned back to 9,“Look, I get that you’re excited, Victoria just needs a break, ok? She’s not meant to be this far away from Terrangian Range, getting her to enjoy the hometree was already hard enough.”

“You promised”

“Don’t let impatience ruin your focus, apprentice.”

“As if you haven’t let that happen to you before.”

With a short pause Elyahoo responded, “Touche.”

It took some persuading, but ultimately Victoria did leave her precious water, and the group was off again. The sweat continued to pile on, and the underbrush never ceased to annoy, but the companions marched on. The sun wandered with them, always visible through the trees. At one point 9 thought he saw a dragon flying above them, and everyone looked upwards, and Victoria thought she saw it, but it was hard to see through the leaves, and then it was gone. Still the companions wandered, and the sun wandered with them, and slowly it drooped towards the ground. At one point 9 came to an immediate stop next to one massive tree, and the rest of the group looked quizzically at him. The tree seemed almost electric in how it dominated the surrounding area, 9 felt like he and it were about to burst into flame, like the world was just about to end and and he would come crashing to the ground. He felt the tree and it felt rough like scales. It was warm to the touch, and the bark burnt away beneath his fingers. The group marched on.

When the sun finally abandoned them, Elyahoo ordered that they set up camp. 9 begrudgingly withheld his begrudgement from Elyahoo and started a fire for them all. Everyone set up their respective pile of leaves, and they had just enough light to pick some of the low hanging local fruit.

Victoria was asleep before the sky fully turned navy blue. Elyahoo apologized for not getting to the camp by the end of the day, and then was soon asleep himself. 9 was however energized for the second night in a row, why would he want to sleep if he was so surrounded by this beauty, if he felt so warm and alive. He wanted to stay right here forever, he wanted to be with these friendly trees, and feel warm and breath in air so humid it was like water and breath out warmth like fire.

An arrow whizzed past his ear and he turned his head with a start. Dragonmen. 9 ducked for cover. well then how was he gonna deal with this without waking up the others. He focused, he became nothing, his body became nothing but a tool for the gods and he let them lead him. He breathed in the warm air and closed his eyes, and stepped out as he held his hands in front of him. A stream of flame erupted from his hands, lighting up his face and bring the whole jungle around him into view, and sending a previously roosting flock of birds into the air. He waved the flame back and forth like a rattlesnake, daring his opponents to step to this challenge. The leaves above him caught aflame, and for a moment it seemed a forest fire might catch. 9 however noticed that his attackers had left, turned away and silenced the numerous flames. He accepted the sleepy fist bump from his mentor on his way to bed, and tired from his flammatory exertions immediately entered a deep and restful sleep.

“So today is the big day isn’t it bud” said Elyahoo as he chuckled,“and your folks seem excited to greet you”

“Let’s go” replied 9

“Good morning to you too, 9” said Victoria, sleepily stretching herself.

With that they were back on the trail. Only an hour of wandering passed until the gathering could see the edges of the clearing in which the encampment of dragonmen was.

Elyahoo looked at 9 “so what’s the plan then?”

“I will ask about my father”

“That sounds risky and dangerous”

“I didn’t spend the last three months trying to find this tribe just to head back now”

Elyahoo had expected that 9 would take a quick look at what the dragonmen were and then be happy to return to the hometree, he hadn’t planned for this. He wanted to be supportive, but this was one step too many, this had to stop.

“9, let’s just go home”

“No.”

“I am your mentor, 9”

“You are my mentor, but this is my family and I didn’t talk to two demigods, search a whole town to find my mother was dead, and march through this forest for two days just for you to stop me now”

“No, we’re going back to the hometree”

Victoria intervened, “let’s just let him try”

Elyahoo looked at her and knew he was beat.

“I could even help him” Victoria said hopefully.

Elyahoo Responded “No, your powers are too weak here, 9 will go alone and if he needs help I’ll have to join him, but until then the both of us are just gonna watch, ok?”

She looked at 9 who already seemed to be in his own headspace, and looked back at Elyahoo “Ok.”

Elyahoo and Victoria found a place in the surrounding underbrush to apprehensively watch 9, while staying pretty hidden. Both of them were rearing to go help their companion, but Elyahoo had to stop both of them.

“What’s taking him so long?” whispered Victoria.

“No clue.” answered Elyahoo.

“Oh! There he is!” said Victoria slightly less soft than she should have.

There 9 was, he was amazed by what he was doing and how stupid he was to do this. Everyone on their trip so far had told him that the Dragonmen were dangerous and not to be meddled with, not to mention highly territorial and aggressive. He might not have been dressed like them, but he was one of them, or almost, and he wanted to see if they really were everything people had made them out to be.

“What’re ya searching for here boy?” Said the first dragonman to see him at the edge of camp.

“Uh, Dar-”

“Speak up boy” said the dragonman, they are famously hard of hearing, and rather loud beings.

“Darvic of the Arx clan” announced 9.

“The big man ey?” Chuckled the Dragonman as he picked up the club he had leaned against a tree, and grabbed 9 roughly by the shoulder leaving later noticeable cuts in his shirt leading him to Darvic. Unbeknownst to 9, Darvic was the leader of the Arx clan, a detail all of his sources either left out or didn’t know when he had asked them.

On his walk over to his father with his rough escort 9 got a good look of what he could of dragonman society. Women and men sitting around fires roasting mystery meat of all shapes and sizes and drinking stolen ale. The women nursing babies, fighting with men, or attending to their individual tent like constructions, many were pregnant. Some men were returning with some newly killed game, others were using their clawed hands to sharpen spears. The children seemed tasked with no chores other than competition with one another. Everyone wore leather, hides, and skins loosely sewn and draped over their bodies making their unshapely bodies even more vague. It was obvious that every member could fend for themselves if necessary. Everyone was muscular and nourished, if this was because the dragonmen shared food equally or because the weak simply died out 9 didn’t know, but he strongly suspected the latter.

Finally 9 and his dragonman companion got to where the chief sat.Darvic was at least 2 meters tall, with large chops and a fat muscular build. Only his right eye was still functioning, the other looking pale and dead. His bald head and stern bushy eyebrows gave him a look of cynicism and anger.

Darvic rose from where he was sitting at a fire as he shouted “What’ve ya got there, Erguin?”

Erguin responded “boy says he’s lookin’ for y’” before throwing 9 to the ground before Darvic’s feet.

Darvic proceeded to pick up 9 by the collar and held him a couple of inches above the ground “And who might you be?”

Back in their hideout Victoria’s eyes widened as she cried “we need to go now”

“No!” said Elyahoo pulling her back, “He’s got this” He wasn’t entirely sure of himself either. To their allayment 9 kicked Darvic in the shins and got back on his feet. And as some dragonmen started to go to Darvic to help him he signaled them off.

“Calm yerselves, he’s just a boy” Darvic’s eyes moved from the tribe members he was done easing away and looked back at the boy onfront of him “You’ll regret that.”

“My mother probably felt a lot worse when you got a hold of her.”

“So that’s why you’re here.” Darvic jeered, “Mother revenge, lah-dee lah-dee lah.”

“No” 9 said shaking his head, “I’m one of you” 9 held up his clawed left hand.

“Well show me the other hand then too.”

9 did so, revealing that it was entirely clawless.

“Peh, human” Sneered Darvic, “If I had to sit here and listen to every kid whose mother I’ve raped, I wouldn’t have the time for the raping now would I? Run home, y’ child.”

Back in the underbrush Victoria excitedly said “What is he doing?” getting the attention of a small group of dragonmen nearby.

“I ain’t got no time for you freaks!” continued Darvic, “Yer a waste a flesh, and the most o’ you don’t even know how to kill dragons.”

“You kill dragons?” 9 was amazed, and disappointed, killing dragons was what songs from Perastü might sing about, it was a human endeavour. 9 had come here trying to get away from that, to see that part of his nature that was benevolent toward nature and was a part of, he thought dragonmen were dragonkin.

At that point everyone was distracted by what was happening off to the side, Elyahoo and Victoria in their worry had attracted the attention, of, well, all the dragonmen. In the chaos Darvic charged at and tackled 9 blaming him for what was happening. As the dragonmen charged at Victoria and Elyahoo the two of them had to mobilize their powers quickly, Victoria using what soggy ice she could to block strikes and shoot crystals back. Elyahoo had already split into 4 souls and each were using their version of scindo to strike and block at the mass of dragon infused flesh around them. They were quickly getting surrounded.

9 had already taken fire to the top of Darvic’s head to get him off of his smaller body. Now Darvic stood before him one hand on the burn now on his head and the other groping for the nearest weapon. He found a stolen metallic wood chopping axe that he had taken in the last raid, the craftsmanship was too good to ever have been made by dragonmen. With a quick look at it and a smile he averted his attention back to the boy, who was ready and in stance with his fists raised before him.

“I’ll take y’, friend” said darvic before charging in.

Darvic swung wildly with the axe. 9 was able to dodge each time. This is how the two danced with death, a friendly father and son, being rowdy. 9 could feel his already warm body heat up with the exertion. With Darvic stepping forward with each swing, and 9 each time taking a step back 9 was slowly backed into the edge of the clearing. Behind him was only a tree. Darvic took a second to rear up for the strike that would end it all, and that was when 9 kicked him in the face, almost toppling in the process. Darvic was also dazed, but reared up again. The axe came down.

Meanwhile Victoria and Elyahoo were now fully and entirely surrounded, the corpses of a few dragonmen lay at their feet, but Victoria and the four Elyahoos were back to back and faced the crowd. The dragonmen let out one simultaneous horrifying war cry as they charged toward their foes.

9 was against the tree, this was the end of his life. He would have felt sorrow if it weren’t for the tree at his back, the tree seemed almost empathetic. Calming him with its touch, talking to him of the sorrow of a dragon’s death. 9 Could see it, thousands of years ago a dragon had been flying low above this very spot when the dragonmen had ambushed it, and killed it. Now it looked to prevent its kin from dying. With a dragon’s roar 9 set aflame, and was lifted to the air by his dragon wings of fire. The axe hit him, but was warmed so much that it almost melted at his touch, and Darvic dropped it in fear of another burn. Above the battlefield 9 could see all of his enemies, and with a dragon’s burning hatred he projected his passion onto his foes.

Elyahoo and Victoria could only watch as the surrounding dragonmen were engulfed by the searing inferno, and ran in terror, trying desperately to put it out. 9 swooped through the air on his wings, rekindling any who succeeded. Like funeral pyres these columns of flame ran every which way. Soon nothing was left but smoke and ash, and 9 now made again of flesh, fell from the sky landing with a hard thud.

9, Victoria, and Elyahoo had been on the hunt for two whole days, the constant sweat that drenched their bodies had stopped annoying them after they had to sleep in their clothes. Elyahoo marched on, he understood that his apprentice needed to face his past, that magic is strongest in those with a clear mind, but he was gradually finding it more difficult to keep his own mind clear as he had to chop through the onslaught of branches in his way to defend his face. It felt like even his axe Scindo was tiring. Victoria felt her powers weaken with every breath of the humid air, she was an ice mage -soon to be at least- and she understood that her fellow apprentice needed to get some closure, but didn’t understand why Elyahoo so vehemently believed that she had to come with. She loved 9 to death, but why did she have to come with, her powers were useless here.

This was home, 9 knew it was, he could smell it in the air and feel it in the fire burning in his soul. Every tree seemed to be more familiar than the last. The frogmen they had encountered before had made him finally realize why he didn’t ever seem to get along with the ones down south. All things seemed to be pointing to a crescendo of familiarity, but what that was, 9 didn’t want to think about.

“Water!” cried Victoria, as her head spun wildly on her head, “I can feel it”

“Well if you calm yourself down a bit, you might be able to tell us where it is” responded Elyahoo, looking demandingly at his learning apprentice.

“It’s, it’s…” Victoria continued to spin wildly in circles looking every which way for her precious friend, for the water.

“Victoria. Cool down.” Bade Elyahoo.

Victoria froze, looked over at her mentor, and stubbornly closed her eyes. A moment later her hand shot up as she pointed “there”. And faster than you could say Whitraw’s plea Elyahoo was off, who was followed by Victoria, who was reluctantly followed by 9.

9 was caught up in how the trees seemed to glow. the Draaco forest was fabled to house the most vibrant trees in all of Metrisolem, but never had 9 imagined that trees could take almost as much of a presence as full grown animals. He wasn’t able to get over the thought that each tree somehow housed a story, or a warm soul. He thought about all the dragons that must have lived and died here, and how these trees around him had turned their bodies into what they were now. Then he thought about how many dragons must have died when the dragonmen came, which led him to dragonmen, which is why he decided to focus on following his companions.

9 broke through the last layer of underbrush to get to the large stream that Victoria had found.

“Oh hey there 9” remarked Elyahoo, “just gathering up some provisions is all”

“We have enough water” chastised 9, “we have to get going, you said we’d get to their camp by sundown”

Meanwhile Victoria had totally submerged herself in the water, and was splashing around like a child.

Elyahoo turned back to 9,“Look, I get that you’re excited, Victoria just needs a break, ok? She’s not meant to be this far away from Terrangian Range, getting her to enjoy the hometree was already hard enough.”

“You promised”

“Don’t let impatience ruin your focus, apprentice.”

“As if you haven’t let that happen to you before.”

With a short pause Elyahoo responded, “Touche.”

It took some persuading, but ultimately Victoria did leave her precious water, and the group was off again. The sweat continued to pile on, and the underbrush never ceased to annoy, but the companions marched on. The sun wandered with them, always visible through the trees. At one point 9 thought he saw a dragon flying above them, and everyone looked upwards, and Victoria thought she saw it, but it was hard to see through the leaves, and then it was gone. Still the companions wandered, and the sun wandered with them, and slowly it drooped towards the ground. At one point 9 came to an immediate stop next to one massive tree, and the rest of the group looked quizzically at him. The tree seemed almost electric in how it dominated the surrounding area, 9 felt like he and it were about to burst into flame, like the world was just about to end and and he would come crashing to the ground. He felt the tree and it felt rough like scales. It was warm to the touch, and the bark burnt away beneath his fingers. The group marched on.

When the sun finally abandoned them, Elyahoo ordered that they set up camp. 9 begrudgingly withheld his begrudgement from Elyahoo and started a fire for them all. Everyone set up their respective pile of leaves, and they had just enough light to pick some of the low hanging local fruit.

Victoria was asleep before the sky fully turned navy blue. Elyahoo apologized for not getting to the camp by the end of the day, and then was soon asleep himself. 9 was however energized for the second night in a row, why would he want to sleep if he was so surrounded by this beauty, if he felt so warm and alive. He wanted to stay right here forever, he wanted to be with these friendly trees, and feel warm and breath in air so humid it was like water and breath out warmth like fire.

An arrow whizzed past his ear and he turned his head with a start. Dragonmen. 9 ducked for cover. well then how was he gonna deal with this without waking up the others. He focused, he became nothing, his body became nothing but a tool for the gods and he let them lead him. He breathed in the warm air and closed his eyes, and stepped out as he held his hands in front of him. A stream of flame erupted from his hands, lighting up his face and bring the whole jungle around him into view, and sending a previously roosting flock of birds into the air. He waved the flame back and forth like a rattlesnake, daring his opponents to step to this challenge. The leaves above him caught aflame, and for a moment it seemed a forest fire might catch. 9 however noticed that his attackers had left, turned away and silenced the numerous flames. He accepted the sleepy fist bump from his mentor on his way to bed, and tired from his flammatory exertions immediately entered a deep and restful sleep.

“So today is the big day isn’t it bud” said Elyahoo as he chuckled,“and your folks seem excited to greet you”

“Let’s go” replied 9

“Good morning to you too, 9” said Victoria, sleepily stretching herself.

With that they were back on the trail. Only an hour of wandering passed until the gathering could see the edges of the clearing in which the encampment of dragonmen was.

Elyahoo looked at 9 “so what’s the plan then?”

“I will ask about my father”

“That sounds risky and dangerous”

“I didn’t spend the last three months trying to find this tribe just to head back now”

Elyahoo had expected that 9 would take a quick look at what the dragonmen were and then be happy to return to the hometree, he hadn’t planned for this. He wanted to be supportive, but this was one step too many, this had to stop.

“9, let’s just go home”

“No.”

“I am your mentor, 9”

“You are my mentor, but this is my family and I didn’t talk to two demigods, search a whole town to find my mother was dead, and march through this forest for two days just for you to stop me now”

“No, we’re going back to the hometree”

Victoria intervened, “let’s just let him try”

Elyahoo looked at her and knew he was beat.

“I could even help him” Victoria said hopefully.

Elyahoo Responded “No, your powers are too weak here, 9 will go alone and if he needs help I’ll have to join him, but until then the both of us are just gonna watch, ok?”

She looked at 9 who already seemed to be in his own headspace, and looked back at Elyahoo “Ok.”

Elyahoo and Victoria found a place in the surrounding underbrush to apprehensively watch 9, while staying pretty hidden. Both of them were rearing to go help their companion, but Elyahoo had to stop both of them.

“What’s taking him so long?” whispered Victoria.

“No clue.” answered Elyahoo.

“Oh! There he is!” said Victoria slightly less soft than she should have.

There 9 was, he was amazed by what he was doing and how stupid he was to do this. Everyone on their trip so far had told him that the Dragonmen were dangerous and not to be meddled with, not to mention highly territorial and aggressive. He might not have been dressed like them, but he was one of them, or almost, and he wanted to see if they really were everything people had made them out to be.

“What’re ya searching for here boy?” Said the first dragonman to see him at the edge of camp.

“Uh, Dar-”

“Speak up boy” said the dragonman, they are famously hard of hearing, and rather loud beings.

“Darvic of the Arx clan” announced 9.

“The big man ey?” Chuckled the Dragonman as he picked up the club he had leaned against a tree, and grabbed 9 roughly by the shoulder leaving later noticeable cuts in his shirt leading him to Darvic. Unbeknownst to 9, Darvic was the leader of the Arx clan, a detail all of his sources either left out or didn’t know when he had asked them.

On his walk over to his father with his rough escort 9 got a good look of what he could of dragonman society. Women and men sitting around fires roasting mystery meat of all shapes and sizes and drinking stolen ale. The women nursing babies, fighting with men, or attending to their individual tent like constructions, many were pregnant. Some men were returning with some newly killed game, others were using their clawed hands to sharpen spears. The children seemed tasked with no chores other than competition with one another. Everyone wore leather, hides, and skins loosely sewn and draped over their bodies making their unshapely bodies even more vague. It was obvious that every member could fend for themselves if necessary. Everyone was muscular and nourished, if this was because the dragonmen shared food equally or because the weak simply died out 9 didn’t know, but he strongly suspected the latter.

Finally 9 and his dragonman companion got to where the chief sat.Darvic was at least 2 meters tall, with large chops and a fat muscular build. Only his right eye was still functioning, the other looking pale and dead. His bald head and stern bushy eyebrows gave him a look of cynicism and anger.

Darvic rose from where he was sitting at a fire as he shouted “What’ve ya got there, Erguin?”

Erguin responded “boy says he’s lookin’ for y’” before throwing 9 to the ground before Darvic’s feet.

Darvic proceeded to pick up 9 by the collar and held him a couple of inches above the ground “And who might you be?”

Back in their hideout Victoria’s eyes widened as she cried “we need to go now”

“No!” said Elyahoo pulling her back, “He’s got this” He wasn’t entirely sure of himself either. To their allayment 9 kicked Darvic in the shins and got back on his feet. And as some dragonmen started to go to Darvic to help him he signaled them off.

“Calm yerselves, he’s just a boy” Darvic’s eyes moved from the tribe members he was done easing away and looked back at the boy onfront of him “You’ll regret that.”

“My mother probably felt a lot worse when you got a hold of her.”

“So that’s why you’re here.” Darvic jeered, “Mother revenge, lah-dee lah-dee lah.”

“No” 9 said shaking his head, “I’m one of you” 9 held up his clawed left hand.

“Well show me the other hand then too.”

9 did so, revealing that it was entirely clawless.

“Peh, human” Sneered Darvic, “If I had to sit here and listen to every kid whose mother I’ve raped, I wouldn’t have the time for the raping now would I? Run home, y’ child.”

Back in the underbrush Victoria excitedly said “What is he doing?” getting the attention of a small group of dragonmen nearby.

“I ain’t got no time for you freaks!” continued Darvic, “Yer a waste a flesh, and the most o’ you don’t even know how to kill dragons.”

“You kill dragons?” 9 was amazed, and disappointed, killing dragons was what songs from Perastü might sing about, it was a human endeavour. 9 had come here trying to get away from that, to see that part of his nature that was benevolent toward nature and was a part of, he thought dragonmen were dragonkin.

At that point everyone was distracted by what was happening off to the side, Elyahoo and Victoria in their worry had attracted the attention, of, well, all the dragonmen. In the chaos Darvic charged at and tackled 9 blaming him for what was happening. As the dragonmen charged at Victoria and Elyahoo the two of them had to mobilize their powers quickly, Victoria using what soggy ice she could to block strikes and shoot crystals back. Elyahoo had already split into 4 souls and each were using their version of scindo to strike and block at the mass of dragon infused flesh around them. They were quickly getting surrounded.

9 had already taken fire to the top of Darvic’s head to get him off of his smaller body. Now Darvic stood before him one hand on the burn now on his head and the other groping for the nearest weapon. He found a stolen metallic wood chopping axe that he had taken in the last raid, the craftsmanship was too good to ever have been made by dragonmen. With a quick look at it and a smile he averted his attention back to the boy, who was ready and in stance with his fists raised before him.

“I’ll take y’, friend” said darvic before charging in.

Darvic swung wildly with the axe. 9 was able to dodge each time. This is how the two danced with death, a friendly father and son, being rowdy. 9 could feel his already warm body heat up with the exertion. With Darvic stepping forward with each swing, and 9 each time taking a step back 9 was slowly backed into the edge of the clearing. Behind him was only a tree. Darvic took a second to rear up for the strike that would end it all, and that was when 9 kicked him in the face, almost toppling in the process. Darvic was also dazed, but reared up again. The axe came down.

Meanwhile Victoria and Elyahoo were now fully and entirely surrounded, the corpses of a few dragonmen lay at their feet, but Victoria and the four Elyahoos were back to back and faced the crowd. The dragonmen let out one simultaneous horrifying war cry as they charged toward their foes.

9 was against the tree, this was the end of his life. He would have felt sorrow if it weren’t for the tree at his back, the tree seemed almost empathetic. Calming him with its touch, talking to him of the sorrow of a dragon’s death. 9 Could see it, thousands of years ago a dragon had been flying low above this very spot when the dragonmen had ambushed it, and killed it. Now it looked to prevent its kin from dying. With a dragon’s roar 9 set aflame, and was lifted to the air by his dragon wings of fire. The axe hit him, but was warmed so much that it almost melted at his touch, and Darvic dropped it in fear of another burn. Above the battlefield 9 could see all of his enemies, and with a dragon’s burning hatred he projected his passion onto his foes.

Elyahoo and Victoria could only watch as the surrounding dragonmen were engulfed by the searing inferno, and ran in terror, trying desperately to put it out. 9 swooped through the air on his wings, rekindling any who succeeded. Like funeral pyres these columns of flame ran every which way. Soon nothing was left but smoke and ash, and 9 now made again of flesh, fell from the sky landing with a hard thud.

[aleatoryalarmalligator]

Being 10 in 1999.

So, on a lark I started typing out my life story. I am about 10 at this point of the tale. If you are curious about anything previous to this part of my life, here is

So Rachelle was gone. This left a very big void in my life. For the first time since I was four years old, I was generally alone all the time. My school friends were just that, they never wanted to see me after school. They thought my house was haunted, and Samantha’s father and my father didn’t like each other. She was also forced to do hard labor and rarely got to leave her house to begin with. And she lived six miles away. And she really didn’t like me anymore so much as she tolerated me so there really wasn’t even enough to go on for me to even ask her to come over once in awhile. Catherine wasn’t actually a friend to me at all, and I more or less just tolerated her and ignored her most of the time since she seemed more interested in making animal noises than she did saying things. I had always resented her for taking Samantha away in second grade, and she was incredibly dishonest. I caught her lying once a day, and she stole from everyone who stayed at her house. And when there was an opportunity to do something mean to someone she would. I just didn’t like her. I have no resentments for her now of course. She had a rougher home life than I did and there was no way for me to understand that and have the much needed empathy to move past that. But it didn’t make her pleasant to me and I certainly never accepted her as a friend.

And Sarah-Mae I didn’t know very well. She seemed like royalty, we didn’t seem close at all. We rarely shared the same conversation. Her and Samantha were becoming more and more inseparable. They had a crush on the same boy named Kevin – and for some reason they both enjoyed obsessing over him, stealing his pencils and chewed gum as memorabilia. They liked the same Spice Girls and Ricky Martin albums. They really liked Lion King II. I didn’t listen to those things, though I do admit that I was quite a fan of Aqua’s ‘Barbie Girl’. They left little room in the group for me. I will just go out on a limb here and say that Samantha was trying to actively get rid of me. They were getting more and more exclusive. Sarah-Mae was even offered to eat lunch with the popular girls once or twice, and Samantha was hoping to tag along. Nobody wanted to be unpopular if they could help it. Except me.

Being alone again, having nothing in the real world to keep me entertained, I withdrew very deep back into my mind. I was so entrenched in my own imagination that I sort of stopped paying attention to anything. I started drawing again. I had kind of stopped for the years that I had been running around breaking and entering and tipping over garbage cans. Rachelle didn’t like drawing. I tried several times to get her into art,  but it wasn’t active enough for her, and she would look at my art and mostly feel jealous, which created a dichotomy that I didn’t feel right about, so I avoided drawing around her. Her older sister was a really good painter from what I remember as well. It is never fun to try something new and not only not be naturally good at it – needing more practice than other people, but also being surrounded by people who have perfected the craft. That’s sort of how I feel about music and singing in particular. I have always wanted to be good at music. I love music, a lot more than your average person. But I don’t try making my own anymore. I probably should, but when you surround yourself with musicians, and you just aren’t a natural, it’s hard to find that initial false sense of confidence needed to project you forward. And I imagine that is how Rachelle felt about art.

In my fantasy world, I began collecting pictures in seventeen magazines, mixed with alien pictures that were popular at the time. These scraps of paper were precious to me, and with the, I used them as inspiration to invent these stickish girls that were half alien. I called them Alien Girls – probably not the most inventive, but fairly straight forward. It was kind of my own franchise to an extent. I drew hundreds of them, each having a name that reflected their personal taste in fashion and personality. They were like Betty Spaghetti, Bratz, and actual Greys mixed together. They had big heads, and alien eyes that were kind of cute, but very spaced apart on the sides of their face, tiny noses, little mouths, and long skinny bodies, usually dressed in some ‘cool’ nineties reinvention of sixties fashion that was kind of popular in 1999. There is no way on looking back that their bodies functioned. I never drew them in action, or even posing. I just drew them standing looking straight forward. For the three years that I kept on drawing these girls, It was beyond me what their profiles must have looked like. I never even gave them cheekbones. I created them as a way to make up clothes that either didn’t exist or that I could never wear. They were sort of invented to address my obsession with UFO’s. And they were sort of invented to address the unrealistic beauty standards that were beginning to seep into my impressionable mind. I drew them on all of the assignment papers I got in school. They told me to stop, and I would not. I would get sent to the office, given detentions. I just saw this as more time to draw. It got to where when someone would hand me my homework, I would not even do the homework at all. I would just immediately look for the blank spots on the page and begin drawing compulsively. I became known all through town for these Alien Girls. I think people who weren’t even in school knew about me.

I also started watching a lot of Shirley Temple movies. At one point or another, I have seen every Shirley Temple movie she did as a child, but my favorites for sure were either Bright Eyes or Heidi. I think I got into this because Allison got so much attention for her curls, that were a lot like Shirley Temples. I, on the other hand had thick unmanageable fuzzy hair. I didn’t so much feel resentful. I just wished that my hair would get curly. Strangely enough, it did start to curl. For this reason, as well as others, I have felt that we can sort of project onto ourselves the faces and looks of people we admire. Particularly when we are young. Not to say that you can look like anything you want, but if you stare admiringly at a certain kind of face, your face will start to morph more into that kind of face to the extent that your face can do that. Anyway, I digress.

Thirdly, aside from Alien Girls and Shirley Temple, I kept myself busy with food. Having the misfortune of being born to be genetically predisposed to gain weight for anything I eat ever was unfortunate for me, on top of  misfortune of being born into  a life where the accumulation of hardship left me to using food as a coping mechanism to begin with. I was unfortunate in this way, and it will always have a stamp on me psychologically. I have PCOS, and this is usually the age when PCOS begins to affect girls. It caused me to gain weight to an extent for no reason at all. I was eating very little for all the time my mom and dad had moved out of the house, and I rode my bicycle about five hours a day. There is no reason an eight year old should be getting fatter as active and starved as I was. But it was happening, slowly at first, and then all at once. Rachelle left, and all the neglect from my family, and anxiety at school and loneliness hit me at once. PCOS affects your appetite as well. You will be full, but your brain just keeps that to itself, like an asshole. So being a child, especially one like me who’s head was in the clouds when it came to matters that were practical, I just felt like eating all the time and so I did. It was one of the few comforts I had really. I didn’t get enormous exactly, but my friends were all tiny so I personally felt huge, and compared to them I kind of was. I seem to always have tiny friends. They were still 85 lbs. I was 130. I was another half of them. And we were all getting to the age where we had to start seeing things like identity, size and shape as mattering a whole lot.

One day, for reasons that I have no memory of, I was watching some boys in my class playing football, and I ran out there and attempted to punch one of them in the face. I think someone might have told me that the boy was attacking them, and I felt the need to defend them. However, this kid, James was his name, really could not have done any of the things he had been accused of because he was playing football all recess, and he wasn’t really the type to bother girls – so I suspect I chose to take a completely fabricated statement to heart and use it as an excuse to do something exciting. So I guess I got super defensive of 'my group’ (the one that would not even hang out with me after school0, and I ran out into the field, while a game was going on. I attempted to attack this James kid (I must have looked completely foolish), with everyone watching me. He put his elbow up in defense, and I ran right into it and it gave me a fat lip. Everyone was confused. I was confused. I think I decided in my mind that James punched me, but that’s not what happened. He was just trying to fend off some random person who decided to attack him during a football game.

This did not help my case at being outcast even further from the social order of my school system and peers. It had started when Roxanne got pregnant, and then I had lost my stellar grades when I stopped doing homework when I had no adults in the house. Then I started getting chubby and filling out a little bit before the other girls in my class. Then I started drawing all the time. And my friends all became boy crazy and wanted to be popular, and I didn’t. And it seemed that I related to my environment differently than everyone else. And there was something else. Since I have been about six years old, I started getting extremely depressed. I stopped being that depressed for a few years, but when I was alone by myself or felt misunderstood – which was often, I would get this stabbing sense of meaninglessness, a sense of self worthlessness, and I wanted to kill myself. I started writing secret suicide letters when I was seven years old. I would hide them under my bed because if my family found out I would get punished. Between the ages of seven and fourteen, I had hundreds of suicide letters that I never did anything with. I would have to periodically throw them out, but they would always fill up again under my bed. This was really difficult for me in a way I cannot explain. When I am down now, I know that it is a mood that will pass. I know that having a sense that I am hated is a bit of a mirage my brain makes up. I had no idea then. Everything that happened to me seriously wrecked me.

When I separate my mind and body now – as I think most people can do if they close there eyes and clear their thoughts, I can feel this underlying humanness that is ugly and terrifying. There have been a few times that I have been drunk or once on hallucinogens where I felt like I could almost see the inner workings of reality, like it was a blanket I could rip off the wall. What becomes more clear than anything, is that I am not who I think I am, and the world is definitely not as I think it is. This underlying reason behind everything that happens is not built from godly goodness, or from great evil. It’s this cosmic chaos that I can barely comprehend, and it brings out all that is needy and desperate in me. And underneath that, I try to understand what motivates this inner animal that is the core of who I am, and what I can place and understand of what lies under my motives, feelings, sense of everything around me is something vast and dark and not fully meant for the human mind to understand. I am not at peace with it. This is the human condition, and I don’t know that anyone really is. It’s wisdom, but it’s also death. And from a very early age, while my friends all played on the monkey bars, It just started creeping up on me early. It made me self aware – and different. It left a mark on me. From this point onward in my life, I suffered with this great crack in the facade of the world that made me feel unloved and empty. That was my way of comprehending the world. As an adult, I consider this subtle aching pain a friend of mine. I fight it to a degree, and try to live on my own terms, but I also know that it’s not going anywhere and eventually I will grow weak and die and what comes next is either nothing or a great big mystery I cannot even begin to understand. And I realize that most of the greatest works of art, the things that really reach into me and make the magic in my head work, all of that inspiration comes from that bleak dark underlying sea of cosmic chaos, and to a degree, the world we live in is not real the way we believe it is. It’s better to embrace it than to pretend it isn’t there. And sometimes I even think it’s helpful.

Something in me at this point was derailing, or emerging out of me. I started talking to myself at the bus stop waiting for the bus to take us to school. I just sat down on a rock about twenty feet away from everyone else and began having a conversation. With myself. This caused the other kids to talk about me, or make fun of me. I didn’t notice too much. People just didn’t seem that real to me anymore. The activities in school didn’t seem very enjoyable. I think teachers tried to tell my parents. I don’t remember how I talked exactly, or even what the back and forth of the dialogue even was, though I do remember having some genuine conversations with myself that stuck with me all day, and none of it was for attention. I felt a lot better after I had had a good heart to heart to myself.

I also began having nose bleeds that the school counselor felt were stress induced. I usually would start having a nose bleed at least four times a week. I remember once in fourth grade I was sitting at my desk, and I had my head on the table in my arms as I was blocking out the school environment to daydream. The teacher called my name strictly to get me to pay attention to the class, and when she did, a massive pool of blood was on the desk. It was pouring down my face and onto my shirt. Everyone was shocked. I hadn’t even known I was bleeding. I hadn’t picked my nose or anything. I was just something that happened a lot.

My parents broke up for good this time. People might disagree, but I really don’t feel like this was the cause of my nosebleeds or my self worth. That stuff was just something I had always had in me personally, and had merely decided to show it’s face to the world around the same time as my parent’s divorce. I think that my parent’s relationship has certainly left it’s mark on me to an extent, but I don’t think my problems stem from this element of my parents. Individually, I have had problems with them, but together they really were more annoying to me than anything. I did not thrive in their undying love they did/or did not have with each other. I remember feeling somewhat relieved that they had finally thrown in the towel. My mother I guess was secretly still on again off again with Huleo on the side, and her friend Germaine (who I will discuss later) had advised that she hook up with my father to see if she could get more money from him. She even faked a burglary to get away with keeping some of the valuables.

My sisters had gotten my mother into meth. It was strange, but Maria and Roxanne had decided that their own drug addictions could be fed more easily if they could get my mother personally invested. My mother has always been very spongelike. She takes in whatever the people around her are doing. Her core identity is childish confusion. Due to my mother’s own bad upbringing with a cruel father, she never really grew up. A part of her is still an eight year old girl. So it was very easy for my older sisters to fool her into taking drugs with them.

Roxanne’s grandmother on her father’s side died around this time. She had been very old. It was a day I remember oddly well. I remember the way the clouds looked, and the way everyone was dressed. It was the first funeral I ever attended. I had not known her well. I was dressed up and I sat through the sermon. Everyone was crying. It made me teary eyed. But mostly I was fixated on the fact that Roxanne’s grandma Abel was laying out for everyone to see. I just stared at that dead body the whole time.

I was eating a lot, but there were also short periods of time where I would phase out and forget to eat for a few days. There was one time where I distinctly remember forgetting to eat for three days without realizing it. I found a bag of those little saltines you put in your tomato soup and I ate the whole bag. Then I threw up the whole bag because my stomach was shocked by the food. This happened the first week at the new weekend home in Clarkston WA. I had chosen to stay primarily with my father for obvious reasons. My mother had moved in with her friend Germaine, and I was to stay with her on the weekends.

Germaine lived in a very large unfinished home with five bedrooms. The set up of the house is very hard to explain. It’s like a very rich couple moved in and then started remodeling but then stopped. There were two separate upstairs that were supposed to be connected but were not. One side of the upstairs you could only get to with  a ladder. Germaine never had food in her fridge. She generally began drinking as soon as she woke up in the morning. She didn’t pay for garbage services. Instead she would take the bags of trash and throw them into an unfinished cement swimming pool in the back yard. It was such a disturbing sight. There were old computers, washing machines, countless bags of moldy food waste. I am pretty sure it was illegal. She was very loud, and she had a scratchy voice that sounded like the wicked witch of the west. She was really into Stevie Nicks, Dr. Hook and Steve Miller. Everything tacky about the seventies Germaine loved. She watched the movie Beaches every weekend with Bette Midler. I have seen that movie over 100 times, I am sure of it because of her. The house always smelled like mothballs, and there was always a skunk underneath the house somewhere that often smelled the place up.

Her son Brice would show up for the weekends. He was very hyperactive. I wouldn’t say he was a bad kid exactly, but he was a bit of an asshole if my memory serves me well. He tried to come onto me the first weekend, which disturbed me. He asked me for sex, and we were eventually in a situation where I kicked him hard between the legs. It was a game, and I wasn’t really aware that it really hurt boys that much. But he didn’t like me very much after that. He did however always invite me to help him create the ultimate go-cart. He was obsessed with making go-carts. And Brice had a brilliant mind for a fifth grader. He actually did make an electronic go-cart using scraps from the pool. He would climb into that jungle of filth and come out with scraps from random appliances. This bored me to no end so I stopped participating sooner or later. He also had this monkeyish looking friend named Justin who would not stop asking me out. I was very rude to him, but he didn’t get it at all.

Germaine would sometimes fight with Brice. Often he was being a little brat, but there was a time I remember where she took his head into the cupboards and began slamming his head with the door as hard as she could. Their fights were disturbing and abusive.

I had some very rough nights there. At first, everyone was too drunk and high to give me a place to sleep. There were not enough blankets for everyone. I ended up sleeping on cold concrete. I had cried, but my mom would do nothing about it. Allison found a pile of clothes to sleep in. She was still somewhat of a toddler and I don’t think this bothered her as much. David always slept in the bed with my mother. There was a shortage of food initially. My mother showed no interest in feeding us. She always got food for David, however. They would go to McDonald’s, and Allison and I would just have to figure it out. Maria came to live with my mother and Germaine as well. And she would take the food and blankets. She was pregnant with Earl’s baby, but she had broken it off with Earl. Earl initially was supposed to move in as well, but they had fought and broken up. For the time that he had been there, he kept this disgusting cup of old chew that he spit. It filled up to the top full of tarlike goo. One day, Allison came up to me as a toddler, and she had black all around her little mouth. She kept saying she wanted more yummies. I could not figure out for a moment what it was she had gotten into. And then I found out. She had drank all of Earl’s tobacco spit in the cup. It was probably the grossest thing I have ever witnessed. It makes me want to gag now. She had no idea since she was just a baby.

Eventually they gave me the loft, which was one of parts of the upstairs only accessible with a ladder. I don’t remember why I was so fortunate. It was a nice place for me to get away from everyone. It was a very strange room perched 20 ft above the rest of the house. It was in this dank little room where I began appreciating music. There was a dumb little alarm clock radio in there. At first I didn’t know how to use it, so I was stuck listening to country. But then I learned how to listen to different stations. I quickly became obsessed with the radio. I would sit up there for hours, drawing and filling up notepads. The music I was listening to wasn’t that great to me now, but at the time it was the best. I remember being up there listening to that Aerosmith song that was done for the movie Armageddon. There was also a grand piano where I would play You Are My Sunshine over and over. Usually Maria would make me stop since it was interfering with her soaps. So then I would always move over and play on the Windows 92’. Which I was extremely impressed with.

Maria would eat all the food at first and there was never anything to eat. Germaine had one of those big wooden television sets. We only got one channel. It was the channel that all the soap operas played on, and Friends. Maria would watch television all day and eat all the food. My mother was always either working or at a bar called Smitty’s Barrel. She came home to see my little brother, who was beginning to be kind of a spoiled tyrant in his own right. Maria would often yell at me. She became very abusive to me in general and difficult to live with. She blamed me for everything she felt my father had ever wronged her for. One time she locked me out of the house when it was 105 degrees for nine hours without food or water. I had no shoes, and the town of Clarkston is completely overrun by devils-weed since the area was very arid and dry. To find shade, I had to walk across a field of this stuff, and my feet were bloody by the time I got to the shed to hide. Every weekend I would dread Maria’s pregnant wrath.

Roxanne, her baby Sagen, and her new boyfriend Jody had moved in as well. It was a very full house. Jody and my sister Maria eventually got jobs at the local KFC. After that, they always brought bad KFC food home. My mom had found a new boyfriend. Huleo left her shortly after she broke it off with my father, and then she dated a guy named Shane for awhile. But he could not stand sharing my mother with my little brother either. My mom got involved with this guy named James. People called him Jimbo. He was about 4'5. He had hair down to his knees. He was a drummer in a do nothing concept band that aspired to be the ultimate eighties christian heavy metal band. James was generally unemployed. He always smelled like sweat and hot sauce. And he was always completely stoned. My mother got involved in his band. She started having these corny visions that the band was going to bring about biblical apocalypse. And all these dumb corny eighties guys took her seriously. In her mind, the four horsemen were coming. And when they did, their band – which never had a name would be playing as demonic storms rose against them on a mountainside, and God’s hand would come down and shelter them from the devil’s malice. She felt that the band’s existence, that her own personal existence, had been prophesied in the bible somehow. My mother wrote these semi horrible lyrics. They weren’t actually horrible. They were just what they should be. But the whole thing was so awful. It became this big thing that everyone in the house had to take seriously. It would not have been as bad had they actually practiced, which they didn’t. And the whole thing was a way for them to pretend to be devil worshipers but pretend that they were doin’ it for Christ.

Eventually the singer, Chris moved into the place too and started dating Maria. He was this big caveman. He smelled horrible. He changed his underwear once every two months and he was proud of this. And when he wasn’t sleeping or eating, or trying to sing like Dio, he would take this stuffed animal Barney the Dinosaur that belonged to my little brother and pretend to fight with it on the living room floor. It was disturbing. I would walk into the living room, and there would be this full grown man in his late twenties on the floor screaming at this stuffed animal, wrestling it wildly like it was fighting back or something. His pants would be falling off he was so entangled with this dumb fake fight, and his hairy butt would alarm me.

My mom got about 40,000 of my father’s savings from the divorce. From that, she wasted most all of it. She bought a lot of tasteless items that she never used. I think most of it went to drugs. She bought the band a bunch of speakers. James trashed them and carved upside-down crosses all over them. She bought herself this white Camaro that she ended up having for quite awhile. We eventually named it The White Bitch later on when Allison, David and I were older. Most all of it went to complete waste though.

My mom and Germaine had these horrible parties with thirty or so people. This really bothered me. It was hard to sleep over all the screaming and noise. I know parties can be fun for people, but I had to deal with so many of these parties as a child that I kind of grew resentful of loud parties in general, even to this day. I try very hard not to be critical based on my own personal experience, but the people were completely tasteless. I would wake up in the morning, and everyone was passed out all over the floor. There were piles of vomit everywhere. Later on, overtime, I learned to pickpocket loose change from these drunkards spread about. But at first it was extremely disappointing and shocking to me.

I think these parties did hurt my relationship with my mother what little was left to salvage. I was not nearly as callous then as I am now. Eventually, as the parties became more and more extreme, I would get really upset, because I wanted some stability. I never saw my mom at all, and nobody liked me at school or at home. These seven or so adults were all sitting around the table getting hammered, and I came in and begged my mother to stop drinking. She laughed at me and told me I was not her daughter. Her friends started calling me fat and ugly. I started crying. I tried to get away from them but they followed me, my mother being one of them. I was sobbing uncontrollably at this point. Between sobs I told them all that I didn’t want to be alive anymore and that I was going to kill myself, and they all laughed very hard, my mother being one of these mindless idiots. They told me I should do it. That it would make the world a better place. This traumatized me. I think I cried for eight hours straight very hard till I eventually passed out. After that, I just felt numb. I felt like my thoughts were stuffed with cotton, and there was a certain ringing in my ears everywhere I went. I wasn’t really the same after that experience. I don’t think I was able to process the situation correctly being nine or ten at the time. I truly believe that synapses happened in my brain that night that altered me forever.

On the bright side, Maria got a puppy. James used to watch Conan the Barbarian all the time in his stuffy little room and there is a character in the movie named Crom. He thought it would be really edgy and cool to name the puppy Crom. Crom became my puppy eventually since Maria didn’t want him anymore. And like most things I like, Crom became a fixation. Eventually, I got the dumb idea to take the puppy up the ladder with me so he could be up in the loft with me. I managed to push him up the ladder. But he was not happy up there, in fact, I think it made him become panicked and disoriented. I think it confused poor little Crom. He ended up jumping off of this place where there were no railings. He fell and broke a bunch of bones in his body. I watched the whole thing happen in shock. Maria came in and was screaming at me that I was a murderer. The whole scene was too awful. I thought I had killed another pet dog, for the second time. He ended up going to the vet, and getting fixed up.

When things became too much in the house. Sometimes I would go outside, and I would begin digging up massive ant homes under the dirt. I would sometimes spend endless hours out there studying ants. I decided that I didn’t want to be an artist, a ballerina, a comedian, a playwright or a cartoonist. I just wanted to tear societies apart. As I studied these ants, I really got the feeling that society itself was like ant colonies. And it fascinated me. I had no control over my real life or the people in it at all. I connected with nobody. But I had these ants. They were mine. I could learn to control them and manipulate their simple little lives. Or i could bring food for them and help them rebuild. I was their version of God, or the Devil, whatever i felt like being. I liked inspecting what motivated the ants. I created all sorts of social experiences to see how the ants would respond. I transported some ants from one place to another, to see if they would make their own hives. In this weird way, I think in my mind I felt like I was doing this with people. It gave me perspective.

These were bad, gross, ugly, embarrassing, empty meaningless, cold hard times for me. And sadly ,they were just the beginning.

If you would like to read the first three parts to my life here are these links - 

Part 1

http://aleatoryalarmalligator.tumblr.com/post/160186590059/about-me-life-story-part-1

Part 2

http://aleatoryalarmalligator.tumblr.com/post/160333575899/life-story-part-2

Part 3

http://aleatoryalarmalligator.tumblr.com/post/160399693214/about-me-the-third-part-i-did-it-after-all

So without further ado..

[wakingwriter]

When did you first consider yourself a writer?

I didn’t think of myself as a writer until I swept the awards at San Francisco State University. I was denied admission into the MFA Program before this unprecedented achievement, with the majority of tenured professors voting against me. So, I waltzed into the Creative Writing office and knocked on the Chair’s door, who happened to be Frances Mayes (Under the Tuscan Sun). I told Frances I had an appointment with SFSU’s president to discuss me being denied, and she suddenly said I was worthy of being admitted. That’s when I realized how much of getting ahead as a writer was political and that the majority of professors didn’t know their butt from a hole in the ground.

Why did you choose to write in your particular field or genre?

I think creative nonfiction is an interesting crossroads between fiction and nonfiction, one in which my narrative voice helps shape a historical setting with a focal character in the middle. I usually stick to third person but will be exploring first person in my next book. Creative nonfiction is an excellent way of documenting the lives of family members who have made a difference in your life. Now I don’t mean writing down sugar-coated commercials about relatives for posterity. That’s boring. I mean, who wants to read a brag book? I challenge myself to capture the psychological underpinnings of character by exploring the deep dark interior world of a particular relative, then attempt to gaze out at the world through his or her eyes. Try it. If you can see their parents and siblings through their unique vision, you’re on to something important.

Are you a full-time or part-time writer and how does that affect your writing?

I write full time but have to work part-time as an accountant to pay the bills. There have been times when opportunities opened up overseas. I lectured with the poet Gary Snyder at the Hong Kong International Writers Conference and they paid me the equivalent of what a Hong Kong bank VP makes. My latest journey was to Finland as an Artist-in-Residence, where I explored Helsinki, Stockholm, and the Finnish Archipelago.

What are some day jobs you have held?

In Hawaii, I built lagoon walls, planted coconut trees, and did pick-and-shovel construction in Waikiki. Yes, I wore a hard hat. My work background in San Diego includes car sales at Team Nissan in Encinitas and Rancho Olds on Clairemont Mesa Boulevard. I was also the PR Director for the Carlsbad Inn, where I ran the Great Mercedes Benz Giveaway as a promotion. I am a Current Writer at the San Diego Reader. I’m best known for my gonzo journalism, particularly my take on the First Day of the Del Mar Races. Occasionally I do freelance work and have been paid for pieces in Writer’s Digest, Green Magazine, and Southword Journal out of Ireland.

What have you written so far?

I have written thirteen books to date in various genres, including flash (micro stories), poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction. I have been published in over three-hundred university literary journals, including Harpur Palate, 580 Split, Reed Magazine, Blue Mesa Review, Artful Dodge, Moon City Review, Hawai’i Review, Honolulu Weekly, Hawai’i Pacific Review, and SDSU’s Pacific Review. I also write plays and screenplays. I won the 2018 Las Vegas Screenplay Contest and a stage play set in the Deep South took Third Place at the 2018 Caanes Screenplay Contest. Sometimes I harvest material from my stories when crafting plays such as HOUDINI, which was performed at the Actors Alliance Festival in San Diego. Cross-pollination is a great way to get a lot of material out there fast. My first book of poetry took First Place at the San Diego Book Awards. My most recent play is As Big as a Dallas Cowboy, which opens in downtown Honolulu on April 13th, 2019. The play’s opening coincides with my Honolulu book tour for The Queen of Moloka’i.

How do you feel about indie/alternative vs. conventional publishing?

I’m supportive of writers and poets who go the indie route because of the difficulty landing a publishing contract and/or finding an agent. It’s brutal out there for literary writers because the big publishing houses are mostly interested in making money, not promoting literature. There are exceptions to the rule of course, but generally the big publishers evaluate a manuscript by first considering its monetary value as a mass-marketed commodity. It sucks. I think the editors in New York who work for those houses should be ashamed of themselves. And to top it off, the biggies have many of the top newspaper reviewers in their pockets and can get them to say almost anything about a book they want promoted. Some publishers even go as far as contacting Hollywood celebrities to obtain one-line blurbs. I doubt those stars seldom read even two pages of books they’re touting. Very sad. I fear greed is destroying good literature by discouraging deserving writers and poets.

Is there any marketing technique you used that had an immediate impact on your sales figures?

Getting author interviews is terrific. It’s a way to share your interior world with people interested in you work, which is something most readers are interested in. And if you have an affinity for a writer you’re going to want to buy his or her book right? Another technique that works is to contact libraries directly and ask them to buy the book. Since I am a regional writer of the South Pacific, I focus on the libraries in the islands. It’s also not a bad idea to get on your local TV talk shows, particularly the weekday morning news. I noticed an increased turnout at my signings after my appearance on Fox News in Honolulu.

What advice would you give to aspiring authors?

Read other writers but develop your own voice. Always remember the term “Best Seller” doesn’t necessarily mean the book possesses any literary value. I checked out some of the most popular books on The New York Times Best Seller List and they were filled with horror and gore because the big publishers think that sells. Sad. Those books may be popular now, but they will not stand the test of time. Did you know that The Great Gatsby sold less that 5,000 copies after it was released? Look at it now.

Submit your work to university literary reviews and journals. Get rejected? Submit again and again. Submit multiple times to increase your chances of publication. Take rejection with a grain of salt. Say out loud, “It’s their loss.” If you must choose between online and hard copy publication, I’d go with online because more people will read it. Edit like crazy. Take the advice of editors and keep revising until you have polished jewels. Don’t try to be the next Hemingway, Plath, or Fitzgerald. Just be yourself. Bring your own unique vision into this world by sharing it on paper.

Five chapters from The Queen of Moloka’i manuscript were published online during the writing process. These acceptances gave me momentum. I have found that, by submitting chapters as stand-alone stories, you soon find out if your chapters are worthwhile. My advice to any wannabe writer is to get his or her work in the pages of respected magazines. Yes, it’s great to strive for The New Yorker like Salinger, but there are many other important publications as well. Once my chapters were online, I hunkered down and re-edited them to make them even stronger. I also think it’s important for people to get down the stories of their elders before they pass. Just remember to get down both sides of the coin—the good with the bad.

Can you share with readers a little bit about your latest book?

We are on the verge of the Roaring Twenties in Honolulu. Julia Wright and Sue, her big sister, have met a pair of dashing English brothers sent to Hawaii by a wealthy father to avoid the draft in their home country. Sue strikes gold, receiving a marriage proposal from her overseas beau. Sixteen-year-old Julia has a passionate affair with the younger brother but must fend for herself after he leaves her pregnant. Julia’s rebound affair with a Portuguese sea merchant gets her pregnant again and she now has two infant sons to raise. Luckily, her mother allows her to live at the family home and they raise the half-brothers as best as they can. Then local boy Chipper Gilman returns a hero from the Great War. He’s seven years Julia’s senior and has admired her since her girlhood days. He secures a job at a ranch on the island of Moloka’i and invites Julia to join him, but without her sons. He says they will get married and she can send for her boys if she adapts to the rural lifestyle. Julia leaves her sons behind for her mother to take care of, convinced she can become a country girl. She’s tested every step of the way on the rural island and begins doubting Chipper ever intended to marry her at all.

What made you decide to sit down and actually start writing this book?

Remembering my grandmother and deciding her life should be recorded. Julia Wright was one of six children that grew up in Palolo Valley. Julia was a party girl in Waikiki. She made big mistakes in love, especially after meeting a blond Englishman at the Moana Hotel. He left her hapai (pregnant) after promising he’d send for her once he got settled in San Francisco. Julia never heard from the Englishman again and gave birth to my father the first day of world peace. Then she met a Portuguese sea merchant at the Young Hotel downtown and soon she was hapai again. Julia was forced to raise both sons in her mother’s tiny rental in Kaimuki. Her third love interest was Chipper, a decorated war vet. Chipper asked her to accompany him to the Molokai Ranch, where he’d secured a job as a paniolo (cowboy). Julia said she would. Chipper told her she couldn’t bring her sons along until she proved she could handle the rural lifestyle. She was caught between the fear of becoming an old maid raising two half-brothers or the possibility of marrying her teenage crush.

If you had to choose, which writer would you consider a mentor?

I believe that honor would be shared by Ernest Hemingway and James Joyce. Both writers were extremely influential in my growth as a writer because their coming of age stories resonated with me. In Our Time tracks the maturation process of Nick Adams, particularly his changing relationship with his doctor father and with Marjorie. I love that zone between childhood and adulthood because I feel that’s where the person you become is formed, and both Hemingway and Joyce are masters at revealing the psychological undercurrents of their boy characters. In his story “Araby,” Joyce examines an Irish boy’s crush on Mangan’s sister and his journey to a distant carnival to bring her back the Holy Grail as a sign of his undying devotion.

Want to know more about Kirby?

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  Kirby Michael Wright, author of The Queen of Moloka'i @kibs33 When did you first consider yourself a writer? I didn’t think of myself as a writer until I swept the awards at San Francisco State University.