#this is the grandmother who passed away unexpectedly earlier this month

[fandomsandfeminism]

Yall wanna hear a kinda funny, kinda sad story about my grandmother and hetero-normativity?

Ok, so... when my grandmother was in her 50s (I was an infant), she met a woman at the Unitarian Church. And, as can happen when you meet your soul mate, this event made it impossible for her to deny parts of herself that she had fiercely hidden her whole life.

All the drama- their affair being found out, the divorce with my grandfather, the court battle over who got the house, happened while I was a baby. Even in my earliest memories, it's just Mama Jo and Oma, and my grandfather lived elsewhere (first his own apartment, then a nursing home, then with us.)

But here's the thing- no one ever explained any of this to me. No one ever sat down and was like "hey, Rosie, so do you know what a lesbian is?" It was the 90s. It was Texas. I think my mom was still kinda processing all this, and just assumed that like... I was gonna figure it out. Don't mention it, let it just be normal. Like I think my mom thought that if she explained the situation, she would be making it weird? I dunno.

But like. In the 90s, in all the movies I had seen and books I had read, do you know how many same sex couples I had seen? Like. 0. Do you know how many "platonic best friend/roommates" I had seen? A lot. I had no context, is what I'm saying.

I literally thought this was a Golden Girls, roommates, besties situation until I was like...I dunno, 11? 12?

It was actually their parrot, an African Grey named Spike, imitating my grandmothers voice saying "Johanna, honey, it's getting late", that triggered the MIND BLOWN moment as I realized that *there's only one master bedroom and it only has 1 waterbed* when all the pieces finally clicked.

Anyway. I think it's a real important thing for kids to know queer people exist, for a lot of reasons, but also because kids can be clueless and it's embarrassing to have your grandmother be outted by a parrot because everyone just thought you'd figure it out on your own.

Anyway, here is my grandma and her wife, my Oma, after they moved to Albuquerque to be artsy gay cowboys and live their best life. They helped run a "Lesbian Dude Ranch" out there (basically just with funding and financial support. As Oma has explained "traditionally, most lesbians don't have a lot of money" so they wrote the checks and let the younger ladies actually run the ranch.)

[cyanidefilledcandy]

I apologize for how long this likely will be and how rambly it likely will be, but I just feel like I need to get it out.

I just got a call from my dad that my aunt passed away. I'm sad of course....but maybe not as sad as I should be? Mostly I'm just angry...

I couldn't sleep tonight...even on medication, I was up every hour or so, until I got the call and I knew immediately someone had died... Someone unexpectedly once again taken from my family....at the same time of year around the same time of morning...

For the past 4 years, I've lost someone close to me....always around the same time. (And even before that... It's like the cirmustances are always the same.)

August 2008, I couldn't sleep for more than a few minutes no matter what. Then my little sister woke me up around 3-4am and told me my grandmother, who she and I both lived was gasping for breath and she couldn't wake her up.

A few years later, August, I went to visit my great grandmother, someone I grew up seeing everyday, because she found out she had a deadly illness for years that her doctor didn't tell her abour and again 3-4am, we got a call she passed away.

2018 was when things got kicked into overddrive. 2018, I lost my maternal grandmother around Thanksgiving....after being so excited to be able to spend Christmas with her after years of only seeing her once or twice a year. 3-4am.

I lost my cat a month later; a year later.

I've always been more or less accepting when it comes to death...

Even as a toddler, I was always acutely aware of it, scared of it, its inevitability and permenance. At 4 years old (maybe even younger), I had nightmares of Death, coming after my parents, me. Of inescaple apocalypses and definite countdowns for me and those closest to me. I thought about far more than any child likely did or should, but when it happened, I'd mourn and then move on... fairly quickly. My paternal grandmother's death definitely changed me in some way. She was the person I was closest to and nothing out of the ordinary happened the day before. She did the exact same thing we did every year. She drove around got things ready for my sister and I for the beginning of school the following day. And then....she was gone. I felt grief...deep grief, but maybe not as deep as I should. I was sad. I mourned. But then I was numb...

And I have been ever since....

With every new death from someone I love, grew up with and was close to, upom hearing the news, I'd mostly just feel numb, maybe cry for a bit and then more or less carry on.

That is until 2021 when my little sister died after guving birth. Nothing in the world could've ever prepared me for burying my little sister. No amount of the death dreams I'd had or even my worst nightmare where she was actually killed in front of me instead of us just waiting for could've prepared me for that being a reality. As always, I couldn't sleep that night no matter what (though that's hardly anything new these days), and then....at 3-4am, I heard my dad on the phone with my mom and found out she was gone....after giving birth a few hours earlier; after being mostly fine during that time.

I've never had a death hit me so hard and I don't think I'll ever recover. And it changed me deeply and permenantly as a person....somewhat for the better, mostly for the worst.

For the better (which is honestly the only thing other than wanting to be happy before I die), I decided to try and make time with those I love and get better about communicating.

Family has always meant a lot to mw, but I've always been an extreme introvert. I've always enjoyed my own company. I've always been not super affectionate. I've always hated talking on phones (it's nearly a phobia). And at family events, I'd say hello, and disappear soon after because I never know how to behave around people. I've always felt awkward and have been told I make others feel awkward, so I'd rather just not be around them. I also severely hate driving (again, to the point of nearly phobia) that I don't unless I ABSOLUTELY have to (and sometimes not even then). This all got worse when I got severely depressed in my late teens and with the social awkwardness came anger and iritial irritability, as well as anger for at my family for more reasons than one; so I isolated further.

But I said, I would get better about communicating with people and....in a way I have, but not enough...

I still avoid phones calls, except every now and then with people I know will keep me on the phone a long time. (My aunt was such a person.) And I've always been bad about calling people, somewhat the reason above, sometimes because I'm usually so depressed that I don't want to ruin anyone's mood, but mostly because I'm just super forgetful. I'd been thinking of calling my aunt for the past few days; just to check on her and always either forgot or didn't because the time didn't seem right. I also had two mugs she'd ask me to get her from California that I never seemed to have time to drop off to her. .....and now I can't and this why I'm so angry.

At myself. Literally what the fuck is wrong with me?

When my sister died, I had been wabting to spend Christmas with her and my niece, but got hit with such a bad depressive episode that I felt I couldn't deal with anything. I had also had a possible exposure to COVID and didn't want to risk her or the baby...but the depression was the real reason. Then came the next when she was supposed to give birth. She asked me (begged me) to be with her to deliver; but I mostly thought she was joking because she joked like that all of the time. I planned to, I really did, but the depression was still horrible, plus I had anxiety about driving as well as trying to help my sister with a toddler, a new baby, a likely destroyed house because her BD was useless while I barely had my own shit together.

And then she died. Alone....something she always said she didn't want. She always saidbshe wanted the chance to say goodbye to her family.

And I let it happen....because I couldn't get over my bullshit... She thought the world of me and I couldn't even be a good big sister, as much as I've always tried to be.

And now, here it is again, I've lost two more people who I couldn't be assed to communicate with. My great aunt died last November and now my aunt is dead the following January....

And my mom has lost a mother and daughter and my father, a daughter and a sister (as well as both parents years earlier) and I feel like I should be doing more to comfort them and....I just don't know how. I've done my best to communicate to them to please call me if they need or want ro, but other than that...I just don't fucking know what else to do. Other than visit them, which I do try to do, but still not nearly enough.

And I'm just the worst person during grief because I don't know what to do, and I'm too emotionally distant and numb to be of any help.

And concieted since this post is about nothing except me bitching about myself and my feelings.

I've always felt like a shitty person and people would always ask me why.

This.

This is why.

And on top of that, I'm just... mad at the universe. Like I said, I'd missed a LOT of time with family because if work....most of my adult life, in fact. I was working to try and make things better for us all, true enough, but at the cost of actual time with them. And the MOMENT. The moment I decide to let that go and am actually EXCITED to spend a holiday with them (I haven't been excited about holidays in decades), it's like they all start dropping.

My grandmother, my cat, my sister, my great aunt, my aunt. And always around this time of year....August-January....a time of year that used to be my favorite. Warm holidays spent with family, lots of family birthdays (including my grandmothers, grandfather, sister, niece, and now nephew), my birthday, and just I love fall and winter in general. Now it's just a time of my depression getting worse and death. Everything about this time has been tainted and ruined and my mind just keeps asking, why now? Why this time of year? Why nearly always that time of night. I know it isn't a curse, and yet it feels like it. My family are good people. They have their flaws, but they're ultimately good people who try to do good by others, yet are still continously dealt shitty cards.

And it's made worse by the fact that most of my family photos, especially those of my immediate family (my mom, full sister, dad, and me) are pretty much all lost. Some because my mom lost a storage unit and others because my grandmother's house was left to rot after she died. (I literally went one day to find some of our family photos thrown in the yard like a pile of trash and that broke me way more than her death did.) I saved what I could and then they still wound up lost after I moved states. My sister had some of them in her apartment but they were all gone when we went to search her apartment....I can only guess her PoS BD either threw them or took them for no reason at all because it's not like he cared for my family or even my sister if we're being honest.

If anything was left in my grandmother's house, I'm pretty sure the tornado a couple of days ago finished it off...

It feels like my family isn't just dying; it's being erased.

So, I'm just angry at everything, especially myself. I just want to crawl in a ball and disappear or just swallow a bottle of pills and be done with it all. I don't want to do that to my parents, but I know I won't survive hearing something happened to them.

[kerie-prince]

We're Worlds Apart (8)

Draco Malfoy x American No-Maj!reader

series m.list | general m.list | previous chp

warnings: mentions of smoking, mentions of death

summary: Draco Malfoy is a pureblood wizard. Magic runs through his veins and has been since his birth. You're a Wiccan No-Maj; a non-magical being with ordinary blood through your veins, but practices what you call magick. And this very practice upsets your neighbor.

a/n: god, i had MAJOR writers block for this chapter. i almost got lost in the direction i wanted this series to go and i'm still figuring out a way on how to not let this drag out too long. i'm debating on adding this to wattpad but i don't know how to make aesthetically pleasing cover art so if anyone could teach a bitch how, lmk ✋🏼😩

(gif cred)

Blaise has been acting differently than usual. Not that you had too many complaints considering that you hardly knew him. Better words would be that from the short time you knew him, he started acting different. What was once two nights a week turned into him staying with you almost everyday.

It was kind of annoying, actually. He was here to see Draco, not some random person he just met.

One morning, he got up early and tried to make breakfast, but he had no idea how to work any of the muggle items so rather than your alarm on your bed stand you woke up to the smoke alarm.

You woke up feeling groggy but had a pleasant soreness on your inner thighs. Before you even brushed your hair or teeth, you rushed as much as you could to see what was going on in your house. When you stepped into your kitchen, your toaster was on fire and there was smoke everywhere. Blaise was just standing by it scratching his head. It woke you right up; you ran to your small laundry room and snatched the fire hydrant.

After you put the fire out, you turned to Blaise, “What the hell happened?”

“I guess now would be a bad time to ask you to make breakfast?” He didn't really show that he was sorry. Maybe on the inside he was, but would it kill him to show it? You rubbed the temple of your nose bridge to smooth out the growing headache. Now you have to buy a new toaster and make food for this man.

The bell rang through your house in the early morning. You set the fire hydrant on the counter and walked to the front door to see who it was that was outside. Probably, no, hopefully Theo coming to pick his best friend up to take him out to go anywhere else that wasn't your house.

Fate was decidedly not on your side today. The person that stood on your porch was none other than your mother. “Ma? What are you doing here?”

“Don’t be rude, baby,” she let herself in just like she used to walk into your room when you were younger living in her house. She looked around and had a scrunched up look. “Y/N, what is burning?”

Just when the situation couldn't get any worse, Blaise walked out to the living room also assuming Theo was here to see him. It donned on you now that Blaise was shirtless and his pajama silk bottoms were sitting dangerously low on his hips. You were glad that he was wearing underwear or else your mother would see more than she needed to.

Blaise stood shockingly still and wasn't sure what to do, so he just did the first thing that came to mind. “Hello, I'm Blaise. Nice to meet you,” he held his hand out for your mother to shake.

She stood with a look of horror on her face and kept her hands to her side. As if it was natural, she gave you a disapproving look before looking back at the man in your house. Blaise retracted his hand and looked at you, “I'll just be at Draco’s then.”

You nodded and stayed with your mother as he put on his shirt in your room and left. “Y/N… what are you doing?”

“I could ask you the same thing. Isn't it a long ride from Boston?” you sassed.

“Don't give me that. I wanted to come see you and… and I wanted to say that I’m sorry.” You could tell that it was really hard for her to say the last bit. “I shouldn't have acted the way I acted on Thanksgiving.”

“What happened, ma?” you asked with your arms crossed, “I know it's not because of Stephanie also practicing Wicca. And if it is, then I really don't understand.”

“I just… why are you still doing this? All of this? I get that you wanted to be closer to your grandmother so I let you do whatever you wanted–”

“You let me? You make it sound like this is some hobby!” you yelled.

“IT IS A HOBBY,” she animated with her arms, “Y/N, you are 26 years old. When are you going to move on?”

“This is ridiculous, I need you to leave,” you began to escort your mother out of your house. “No, I’m staying. This was my house–”

“No, it was Grandma’s house and now it’s mine. Goodbye, mother,” you closed the door in her face and turned against it to lean on your back. Your face was in your hands and you wanted to scream.

You checked the time on your oven and saw you still had 45 extra minutes to do whatever you wanted before you had to get ready to open the store. Since Blaise has been over everyday and you haven't opened up to him about your practice, you wanted to spend extra time to soothe all the negative and stressful energy that was building up inside you.

The closet hadn't been opened in a few days and once you were facing all your herbs, crystals, and oils, you immediately felt better.

“It's been a while, girls,” you spoke to yourself. You grabbed some oils, a sage and crystals to get ready. And you had lots of work to do.

—

“Alright, you are good to go,” Draco released a child with their parents. Work has since died down since the huge fiasco earlier in the month. There was still the question as to who and why it all happened, but he decidedly let it go for now.

Recently, he's been getting closer with you with small chats every now and then since the day in Manhattan. Draco deemed you as now ‘okay’ in his book. Your chats were simple but not bad.

One thing that for sure was odd was Blaise suddenly staying there every night. He never got an explanation, nor has he ever asked him. Blaise was acting kind of strange, but Draco liked to think it was due to being homesick.

Thirteen hours had passed and Draco’s day would finally come to an end. Ian and Ashley asked him if he'd like to join them on a drink, but he declined. Theo called him and let him know that Blaise was home, so he was going to drink with the two of them. He had yet to introduce his work friends with his best friends and was planning to before they went back to London.

As he pulled up home, he saw you sitting alone on your porch. You had a stoic look on your face and had a cigarette in between your fingers. Draco didn't think you smoked at all. He has never seen you do it once in the months living next to you.

He figured he’d just be a good neighbor and say hello. He walked over and knocked on the wooden porch to gain your attention. You were pulled out of whatever thought you were in the middle of and looked at him. “Oh, hi,” you greeted without your usual enthusiasm.

Draco went through his coat pockets for his own pack and pulled one out. He then realized that he didn't have one of those muggle lighters and tried to figure out how to light his smoke without magic like he usually did.

To you, it seemed that he just forgot a lighter so you pulled out yours and gestured for Draco to come closer. He leaned in and accepted it, “I didn't know you smoked.”

You chuckled to yourself, “Yeah, I uh, quit a year ago.”

Draco raised an eyebrow, “You don't look like you quit.” He took a couple puffs of his cigarette and looked out on the street. You took a particularly long puff and slowly let the smoke out of your lips, “Well, when you have a mom like mine, you start up old habits again.”

“You’ve never met my father,” Draco commented under his breath, “She seemed nice when I met her.”

“She's nice to everyone but her own daughter,” you rolled your eyes. You let your cigarette out and almost started another one, but something stopped you. You leaned back into your chair and closed your eyes.

“Have you two always fought?” Draco asked. You kept at your position but opened your eyes. You gave it some thought before eventually nodding ‘yes’. “What about your father?”

The question seemed to have affected you; your eyes started getting glossy and your bottom lip quivered. Draco noticed. Should I not have asked that?

“He passed away when I was 12,” you sounded like your breath was cut short. Your hands reached up to cover your eyes and wipe away any tears before they could fall down.

As much as Draco and Lucius never saw eye to eye, he couldn't really imagine losing his father. Sure, Lucius was harsh on his son and always compared him to Potter, but Draco still cared about him. And he knew that Lucius loved him in his own way. Maybe you weren't all that different.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Draco consoled. You stood up to go inside. The weather was cold and your cashmere sweater wasn't doing you any good. “Thank you.” Draco let his cigarette out and told you ‘Good night’ before leaving.

Stepping down, he looked back and called for you, “Y/N.” You hadn't closed the door yet, so you looked back with your door held by your hand, waiting for whatever Draco had to say. “If you ever need to talk… I'm right next door.”

It surprised you to say the least. But it unexpectedly made you warm on the inside. “Thank you, Dray.” He nodded and waved before going home.

Inside, Theo sat on one of the chairs in the kitchen eating leftovers from the night before and Blaise was going through the Daily Prophet. “How was work?” the latter friend asked.

“Alright. Good to see you here for once,” Draco greeted. Blaise laughed without taking his eyes off the paper, “Can't a man be with his girlfriend before he leaves?”

“Ha, is that what you two are?” Theo teased from across the room with his mouth stuffed, “Look at Blaise; he finally settled down. Hell has officially frozen over.”

Blaise listed one hand to flip off Theo. Draco, however, felt a churn in his stomach. It was weird to hear Blaise call you his girlfriend. No one has gotten Blaise to call them that, but somehow you did it.

He wasn't really sure Blaise even knew what it meant to have a girlfriend, or even how to be a boyfriend. He never asked what they did knowing that he'd get endless teasing.

Draco grumbled to himself and went to his room. He changed into comfortable clothes and right when he was about to join Theo in the kitchen, he looked at his window for a moment. He peeked through his window and saw you through yours.

You sat on your bed with your legs up to your chest and your arms wrapped them close. Your face had no expression on it, but considering the conversation less than an hour ago, one could assume that you were sad.

“You fancy her, don't you?” Blaise surprised Draco, making the blond jump. “Merlin, Blaise, don't do that.”

“Well?” Blaise stood against the open door with arms and legs crossed. Draco rolled his eyes and walked towards the door, but Blaise didn't budge from his position. “I don't fancy anybody, now move.”

“I don't care if you do. But I do care when you lie to me. And yourself,” Blaise’s tone was threatening.

“Shouldn't you fancy her? She's your girlfriend,” Draco matched his tone. “Besides, if she was, shouldn't you be pissed if I did?”

“I do fancy her, but I'm not the one living next to her. Eventually, I'm leaving,” Blaise reminded his best friend. “So do us the favor and figure out whatever it is you want, or I'll find a reason to stay.” With that, Blaise left to his shared room and slammed the door.

What in Salazar is his deal? Draco thought. He walked up to his fridge and rummaged through all the containers of leftover food. I really need to learn how to cook.

Theo was still eating when he started talking, “Blaise has been pissy all day. What you reckon is his deal?”

“‘M gonna guess there's trouble in paradise and she's sick of him,” Draco jokes. His eyes land on the Chinese food from a couple nights ago and warms it up with his wand.

“Hm, as if,” Theo commented. He cleaned his mess up when he finished and turned to Draco. “Night, mate. Fingers crossed he doesn't yell at me and I have to sleep on the couch.”

“Night,” Draco replied and sat down on one of the high chairs. He thought a lot about you telling him about your father. He sat and wondered if you told Blaise. Maybe you even opened up to him about your… craft? Draco didn't know what to call it yet.

But he figured that if you did, Draco would be the first person Blaise would tell. And seeing as even Theo, the biggest mouth between the three, hasn't said anything, then that meant that you probably hadn't told Blaise.

And for a quick second, passing just as quickly as it came, he wondered if you would tell him first.

—

It was currently December 18th. Your dad's birthday. Usually you'd ride with your mother to his stone in Boston, but seeing as your latest argument was bothering you, staring at photos of him was going to be enough today.

You hardly remembered much about him since you were young, but you remember the good moments and some of the bad. The bad being the last of his days. His cancer was strong as it was caught too late by doctors.

The store was closed today per usual. You never had it opened on his birthday. Blaise was also at Draco's house. You'd ask him to have the day to yourself and when he asked why, you didn't explain.

Your door bell rang and you groaned, hoping it wasn't your mother again.

"Hey," your brother greeted you. "Y/B/N, hey. Come in, you're probably freezing." Inside, he took his jacket off and hung it on your coat rack. He sat on the couch and your cat ran to sit on his lap. "Sometimes, I think she likes you more than me," you chuckled as your brother gave her head strokes and she purred loudly.

"How come you're by yourself? We missed you today," your brother asked. You sat beside him and closed the photo book. "I didn't feel like fighting with mom again today."

"Y/N/N, I know she's hard to handle, but she needed you today," he reached out for your hand and squeezed it. "I needed you, too."

"Well, she has a funny way of showing it," you stared into nothing. You rested your head on his shoulder and wrapped your throw blanket over your shoulders. "Sometimes, I almost forget what he's like. His laugh, how he made Ma smile. How he smelled," you started.

Your brother was 8 when your dad died, so his memory was limited. But he still remembers how much he loved him. You both sat in silence, hands locked and the only sound being your cats purring.

"Mom told me you have a boyfriend. That true?" he asked.

"I don't know. Maybe? He hasn't said anything, and he leaves after New Years, so maybe not," you half-explained. What was Blaise to you? Did he feel anything when you were together? Was it just physical? You didn't know, and you never asked.

"Well, if he breaks your heart, I don't care where he lives. I'm beating his ass," your brother commented. You hit his shoulder and he laughed. "How's Steph? I haven't been able to call her," you asked.

"Oh. Um, we're taking a break." Your brother sounded sad. You sat up and looked at your baby brother. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, I think Mom just spooked her. But I'll get her back," he sounded only partly sure of himself. You nodded and rested back on his shoulder. He stayed for a few hours; watched a movie and had dinner before he left back for Boston to see your mom once more.

When he left, you sat in your room and lit up some incense to calm your nerves. Out your window, Draco's curtains were closed as usual. Something inside you wanted to talk to someone that wasn't your brother, Blaise, or even Miranda and Bianca.

It wasn't that Draco wasn't the best of friends, but you had an indescribable pull towards him, and you wondered if it was the same for him.

—

next chp

(っ◔◡◔)っ taglist: @beiahadid @malfoy-styles-wife @fivenightslaughter @juneballoon999 @leydileyla @fangirlanotherjust @originalsoulcollector @opiomancy @lipstickandloveletters @ninacotte @daedric-sorceress @frecklesandfirecrackers @hahee154hq @disartrous @oh-those-barricade-boys @lunalovecroft @bornforfangirling @c4th3r1ne @burnin-passion

[rukia-writes]

Eren K. X (fem) reader

Setting: modern au

Storyline: Kruger’s daughter introduces her sexy friend from college to her father and the summer gets hotter.

Masterlist

Warnings: sex, little smut

The atmosphere was thick in Kruger’s kitchen as his sister had unexpectedly arrived. Not only that but to see a sexy young college student cooking in her older brother’s kitchen, something that she didn’t see everyday. Kruger did his best to straighten out the matter, explaining that (Name) was his daughter’s best friend and was a guest.

Kruger’s sister seemed to agree, but Kruger knew that he would hear more about it later.

Even after introducing herself the air was thick tension, it seemed Kruger’s sister was very interested in (Name) as she kept asking questions to which (Name) answered the best she could. Even after cooking it all seemed very tense and things only escalated when Kruger’s sister pointed to Kruger’s marriage finger.

“Hey, where is your ring?”

Both (Name) and Kruger looked at Kruger’s finger that once had a wedding band around it. (Name) didn’t say anything as Kruger scratched the side of his neck only making the tension rise.

“It’s at home. I left it at home.”

“Forgot to bring it?”

“Yeah.”

Kruger’s sister smirked as she looked at (Name) then back to Kruger’s finger. It was true, Kruger’s wife had long passed away. However, Kruger still would wear his wedding band. Even going as far refusing date anyone else, mainly due to raising his daughter and solely concentrated on her future and his work.

“My niece tells me you actually haven’t had your wedding band on in a few weeks.”

At that moment (Name) choked on her drink while Kruger mentally cursed, his daughter was just like him on noticing even the smallest things. The smile on Kruger’s sister lips widened as she waited for the explanation for this one.

“Well, I couldn’t find it for awhile there.”

“Ah, yeah. I’m sure it was very hard to find with all the distractions and all.”

Kruger didn’t like the tone of voice his sister used as though he was being tested and teased. In truth, his sister was also able to notice small things. A family habit. In truth, (Name) thought to herself she had only seen it once and that was many weeks ago, and only once. (Name) did however know the marital situation with Kruger from Kruger himself and from her best friend.

“How long will you be staying?”

“A few weeks, why?”

“No, you can’t stay a few weeks.”

“Yes I can. Who else is going to keep you company?”

The two bickered as (Name) listened in finding their bickering rather amusing. Eating Kruger’s sister found out that her niece was still suffering from a rough hangover, recalling her earlier days of partying. Going upstairs she went to go check on her niece while Kruger and (Name) discussed what would happen next seeing as how they had company joining them.

Which much didn’t change, they would still carry on as before. After all, Kruger’s daughter still had no idea of what was going on. Getting over on his sister wouldn’t be easy however, and Kruger knew that. However, that wouldn’t deter him of having fun.

It was nearly three in the morning when (Name) had managed to make it to Kruger’s room, by passing his sister and daughter’s room. The two did manage to talk for a bit before finding themselves on Kruger’s bed, instead of having rough sex like usual tonight was a bit different. Opting for slower and passionate sex which in (Name)’s opinion was a bit sexier as Kruger took his time and would whisper sweet things in her ear, this would earn Kruger several scratch marks going down his back.

While it was still the middle of summer Kruger knew that summer would end, hence (Name) going back to college. Being away from him.

This thought came to him which made him mutter a “Damn it.” Kissing her neck he heard (Name) whimper a mutter a “More” to which Kruger thrusted his cock inside her harsher. Not realizing his grip on the sheets were tightened by the second as he thought of (Name) leaving him.

Which would happen and there was nothing he could do.

Then of all times another thought came to him of which he wasn’t too fond of, which was (Name) perhaps having eyes for another person while back at college.

Someone younger than himself.

Then again, he thought to himself what could he do?

These thoughts were interrupted when (Name) decided to get on top and ride his cock for once. Which was quite the experience for Kruger as he was the one to call the shots, but having her ride his cock felt amazing to him. Beyond amazing as one moan after another left him while watching her breasts jiggle when she moved or bounced on his cock, his hands on her hips helping her or slapping her ass.

Which whenever he did slap her ass made her clit twitch excited making her moan a loud. Kruger would have told her to be quiet but he was too busy enjoying (Name)’s cunt to care at the moment. As a matter of fact, Kruger would thrust upwards more and more getting control as his cock would hit (Name)’s sweet spot over and over. Resulting in her shamelessly moaning on his cock which was music to Kruger’s ears, his grip on her hips became tighter on her hips.

This carried on into the late hours of the night.

The sun was starting to slowly light up in the sky as the two were laying on their backs catching their breath. (Name) in all her years had never had sex like that, feeling drained yet so satisfied and happy. Kruger himself had never experienced such passionate sex before even with wife, it was something he was really enjoying.

“That was ..so good.”

Was the only thing (Name) could get out then proceeded to cuddle up to him, her face on his chest making surprising Kruger for a second time. Smirking Kruger then rubbed her back and the two were silent for a bit before Kruger heard something he wasn’t expecting.

“What are you going to do when I leave for college?”

(Name)’s tone of voice was soft and laced with worry Kruger could tell, honestly for a few seconds he didn’t know what to say.

“..I don’t know. What will you do when you’re at college? I mean, I know of course you’re going to school..but I mean ..are you going to..see other people?”

Kruger wasn’t a shy person and he wasn’t a nervous person either, but for once in his life he was quite nervous. In the short few months (Name) had managed to do something that no other person could do since his wife’s death and that was finally fall in love again.

“What? No, absolutely not. You’re not going to see other people, right?”

“I haven’t been on a date in years..well over a decade.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

The man couldn’t believe he said that, but it was true. Crawling on top of him (Name) then pinched Kruger’s cheek making him wince in pain.

“Then it’s time for a date, let’s go later this week.”

“I don’t know, it’s going to be hard getting past my sister.”

“We can come up with an-“

“Sweetie! Kruger?! Are you here?”

(Name) looked at the door surprised someone else was in the Kruger’s home without setting the alarm, the person sounded worried. Whispering to Kruger (Name) simply asked,

“Who is th-“

(Name) was interrupted as Kruger sat up and quickly wrapped the bedsheets around (Name) and looking for his clothes while whispering, “it’s my mother.” (Name) gasped as she wrapped the bed sheets around her thinking back to when Kruger’s daughter showed her a picture of her supposed grandmother, she looked young herself yet she was nearly in her sixties.

“Why is she here? She should be back at home-“

“Boy, get out here and show us this pretty girl already.”

(Name) assumed that the second voice was Kruger’s father and the expression on Kruger’s face confirmed it. Grabbing (Name) by the wrist he kindly pushed her towards the closet which was rather spacious but still she wasn’t too thrilled about hiding in a closet.

“You are not putting me in a closet Mr.”

“(Name), you’re going to have to. It won’t be long-“

“Like hell it won’t, I’m not hiding in a closet.”

Kruger sighed as he thought to himself this wasn’t the time nor the place, and neither was the thought of him admiring (Name) wrapped up in his bed sheets. To him she looked quite sexy to him but a knock to the door snapped him out of it. Whispering to (Name) he tried again.

“Get in the closet.”

“..I’ll get in the closet if you take me on a date this week.”

Kruger sighed and scratched his neck then he agreed making (Name) smile, Kruger gave her a warning of “stay very quiet” before closing the door. Not that it mattered to (Name) at this point as she was thrilled at Kruger taking her on a date, something she had wanted all summer. All at once her thoughts were interrupted as she heard the door open and a women enter.

Creaking the door a bit she saw an woman looking around the place saying “Are you okay?” Over and over followed by Kruger saying he was fine. Then a tall older man came into the room asking about a “Young and pretty girl.” (Name) assumed that Kruger’s father was talking about her and that Kruger’s sister really did tell their dad.

“Sweetie, your bed is a mess.”

“I just woke up mom.”

“I’ll make up your bed, why don’t you go downstairs and I’ll make breakfast.”

“My bed is fine, why don’t you go downstairs and rest. I know you two are tired.”

“Babe, I don’t see a pretty girl here.”

(Name) tried not to laugh as Kruger’s father was in the bathroom fixing his hair, Kruger’s mother on the hand waved off her husband.

“I don’t care about this pretty girl, honey. I care about my son-and where is your wedding band?!”

“Pardon? Put your glasses on babe.”

“I don’t need to put my glasses on. He doesn’t have his wedding band on.”

Kruger’s mother held her son’s hand in hers examining his hand and so did the father. (Name) mentally cursed herself as she was supposed to ask about the ring last night but didn’t get a chance. Kruger gave the same answer he did when his sister nearly caught him, it was simply at home. Kruger’s mother gasped knowing it was very out of character of her son, Kruger’s father merely shrugged his shoulders.

“Well, I’m not worried about all that. I’m ready to play some golf, so let’s go boy.”

“Golfing? At this hour? At least have breakfast.”

The two bickered a bit before Kruger’s mother gasped in horror, scaring even Kruger. Bending down Kruger’s mother picked up a familiar sleeveless shirt that belonged to a young and sexy college student. Holding it up to her son who was very nervous at this point while the father was examining the shirt as well.

“Who’s shirt is this? And why is it here?”

✨Rukia-Writes✨

[bigskydreaming]

Okay haha I lied, whoops I do that. THIS is the last one. Again from various parts of ‘Kings of the Sky’ but since I was talking so much about Dick’s grandfather, why not some snippets of him from this series too. (For this AU I imagined what if Dick’s paternal grandparents lived into their eighties, like do we KNOW they couldn’t have? Hmm? Don’t answer that if we do, shh, let me have this. Anyway, so here Dick’s grandmother died when he was two and his grandfather when he was five.)

Dick is retelling this story about him and his grandfather to Jason and Cass.

************

“But there is no King of the Sky, Dickie,” he’d said to me then with a wink. “That’s the joke, you see? No one can claim the sky as theirs, no one can own it. Send your armies to seize it in your name and all you’d see is legions of empty-handed fools all grasping at air! There’s no way to draw your borders, no foundation on which you could build any walls. And where would you even put your throne?”

“He’d laughed then, mischievous and wheezing, as he recalled all the courts the circus had entertained back in its glory days, when Europe’s nobility would always each host some circus or troupe or performers at various festivals. All the kings and queens for whom he’d performed his signature feats, who’d show him off to their most important guests afterwards. The ones who had been invited specifically so they’d see that this court held only the grandest of celebrations, that they and their guests were entertained by only the very best of the best.”

“Oh, but they were always so eager to introduce me by title,” he’d said, rheumy eyes still somehow keeping their sparkle. “There they were, kings and crown princes, pushing me forward and telling their guests to come greet me, this commoner they were all too glad to proclaim royalty no different to them. After all, any king can present his guests with an entertaining spectacle, but how much grander is the king who hosts the spectacle of being entertained by another king? Ah, but they were always more than happy to elevate me if but for the night…in doing so, they elevated themselves as well. Up we all went, all without feet ever leaving the floor!”

“Names can be such a funny thing, don’t you think?” He’d sighed and sort of mused then, stroking his chin like he was pondering some great mystery. “Meaning nothing and everything all at the same time. That’s a powerful trick. Useful too, if you can master it.”

I know I started giggling then, just because as far back as I can remember, names were always kind of a…almost a passion of his, I guess you could say. It was just this thing he did, it was like he could never just let a name be. There was always some trick to a name, he’d insist. You just had to find it. Its why our family colors were red, yellow and green, as a matter of fact. All in only the brightest hues of each, combining to make us the complete opposite of the Gray in our name.

"The crowd comes in to see the acrobat named Grayson,” my grandfather would say, “and what do they expect from just the name? Drab, unremarkable, likely to be lost in the shadows, from just the sound of him. But then he dives off the platform in a burst of colors impossible to miss and the crowd gasps, expectations shattered in an instant….and from there, they think, what more surprises might possibly await? And already you have them at the edge of their seat, eyes caught by the colors of a costume its impossible to lose sight of. You command their attention, you’re unencumbered by their assumptions, and they’re yours from that moment on. And all of that from just a pop of color, a warning that you are not what they thought….and a name. A Flying Grayson, up above as expected, yet unexpectedly the brightest thing in the sky. An inherent contradiction. An impossible sight you can’t help but to see.”

“Anyway, so there I was,” Dick said, straightening up and shaking his head with a slightly rueful smile, as if to physically pull himself out of the undertow of memories tugging him further away from where he’d begun. “Already giggling just from his little chin-stroking act as he started talking about names, because I knew he was bound to say something silly next, just from that. And he’d jumped a little, and turned in his chair to face me directly and with his full focus, because Grandpa thrived off of an engaged audience like nothing else.”

“Yes, a powerful thing, a name,” he’d continued after a moment that was either a dramatic pause or me thinking anything longer than ten seconds might as well be the same as an hour, at that age. “But a tricky business, naming things, as you first have to know what a thing is, before you attempt to claim it by naming it what it is not. Because being named can just as easily be a powerful trap, of course. If a man doesn’t know himself well enough to know he is not what a name claims, he can wind up stuck in a cage that’s not sized to fit him. Simply because he doesn’t know he has more than enough room to slip free of it if he tried.”

“Then he leaned down close enough to me to whisper, and looked around as if checking we were alone before dropping into a raspy whisper like we were conspiring. “But a man who knows what he wants and knows what he’s capable of, and can put the right name to both….that’s where the real magic is. Do you know what kind of power your name has?”

“Richard means lion-hearted,” I remember reporting after some thought. And that he blew a raspberry right after that like he was the five year old of the two of us, but then, Grandpa was just like that sometimes. “Yes, yes, true enough,” he said, making a face like he’d tasted something sour, “But I don’t mean the one your father picked probably to spite me for naming him John in the first place. No matter how many times I tell him I had nothing to do with that, I lost the right to name him in a card game with your Grandmother. Although for the record, I still maintain I didn’t lose, she just cheated. But I still have no idea how she did it so I have to respect that, I suppose. But no. Not that name. The one your mother gave you.”

“And of course then I knew he meant Robin, and said so, and he asked what that meant to me. And I remember thinking long and hard about that one, because as I said, I knew even by that age what Grandpa was like on the subject of names, and so I was sure there was some kind of riddle or game in what he was asking, I just wasn’t sure where. So finally I just referred back to what my Mom always used to say, about me being born on the first day of spring, and being her little Robin. And he just nodded, and then he asked: And do you remember the first time you called yourself Robin to someone else, and why? What you said then?”

*******************

And then from the very last (intended) installment, ‘Its a Long, Long Way To Tipperary,’ again with Dick telling this to Jason and Cass and finishing a conversation started earlier in the series:

“Names have power,” Grandpa said to me, on one of the last days I remember with him before he passed away. We were sitting outside in folding chairs and watching the stars, until he got too cold and we had to go in. But while we were out there, so much of what he said…I didn’t really understand most of it at the time. Honestly, even what I thought I understood, I realized years later wasn’t really right. I could follow the words but so much of what he meant, I didn’t even begin to understand until I happened to look back to that night years later.

But for months I’d heard my parents talking when they thought I couldn’t hear. I’d seen him doubled over and coughing more and more frequently, how tightly he clutched a blanket around him when it wasn’t really all that cold. I may not have fully known what was coming but I think I knew on some level that something was coming to an end.

And I remember him talking so fast that night, words spilling out so quickly in a confusing mess like he couldn’t take the time to shape them properly and just had to get them out….I remember soaking it all in, as much as I could, knowing that it was important even if I didn’t know what it even was, or why. Like I was trying to just….absorb it, make it a part of me the way it almost felt like it was bleeding out of him. I don’t know that the thought, the image of him dying that summer, of soon being without him, I can’t say whether that actually ever occurred to me. I just know that I knew urgency, and I knew Grandpa was only urgent when it mattered, so I listened without understanding and somehow managed to store most of it away. And honestly, I don’t know that he was even trying to make sure he was understood, or even caring….so much as just trying to get it out of him, like what was most important was just that he said it and it was heard. Maybe just so he knew it wouldn’t die with him.

“But however it got there, however it was I managed to remember clearly enough, there it all was, and right when I most needed to hear what he’d said to me that night. The things nobody else could have told me because nobody else knew the secret language of names that he seemed to speak, that he’d spent his whole life learning all so that maybe he could somehow in that find his own name. Not the label he’d been left with, a description or title.....but a name, the one each child is supposed to get, something to say who they are, not merely what.”

“Names have power,” he said to me that night. “They can be magic in the right hands. A man who knows who he is knows his own name. And the things you can do with that, the doors that can be unlocked…oh, Dickie, my boy. There’s a door to anywhere if you can speak the right name when asked for a key. But its not enough to just say them and throw them around, its not the sounds, the words, its what they are. You can’t pretend to know a thing, to know yourself. You have to really, truly know. But once you know….for a boy as bright as you, there’s no end to the possibilities.”

“So here’s what you must always remember, the real trick of it all…..names have power. But the power isn’t in the name. The power is in what you put in that name. You can’t claim a name and therein take its power, you see….because you have to know first what you’re trying to take from it, what you see when you look at it. What you want it to be, want it to give to you, what you want it to make you when you say this is me and I am this. Your father named you Richard, though he calls you Dickie. You were born a Flying Grayson and thus you always will be. Your mother named you her little Robin, born on the first day of spring. And all of these can be you, because no one is just one thing. And yet none of them are you unless you claim them to be.

So if you are to be Robin, as your mother named you but is only you if you choose to say yes that is me…..before you claim it fully, before you truly make it yours, you have to look at Robin and what you want the mirror to show when you look in it and say I am Robin and this is me. You have to see Robin not as even your mother sees her Robin, but as you see your Robin.

That’s the danger and that’s the trick.

You can’t claim Robin while seeing only what someone else sees, and think that by claiming it you’ve claimed its power….instead you’ve just claimed a trap, donned a self that doesn’t suit you because it is not you, only something someone else thought could be you.

Because in claiming that, you claim everything that comes with it….and then you will never be free to be more than whatever they thought you could be. There is no power in that, no potential, no freedom…..just the limitations you’ve accepted as your own, because someone thought you limited by such things, and yet you agreed that they were right when you claimed the name….but only the name as they shaped and imagined it to be.

So who is Robin? What power do you see in that name? Don’t reach out and seize it the moment someone sets it forth in front of you, assuming that is all it can be, the highest it can ever take you. Never claim a name if you haven’t first looked at it as you first see it...and then imagined it bigger, and then imagined it deeper, and then imagined it greater...and then kept going until you can’t imagine any more. And only then will you know what that name is…..when you say this name is who I truly want to be.

Robin is a bird, yes, Robin Red-Breast, a creature of spring, of the air, of new life. You can claim that and make it yours but first…..what else could Robin be?

Can not Robin just as easily be Robin Hood or Robin Goodfellow? Couldn’t you be? And why even be just one, when you can be all three?

No man is ever just one thing, and any man who thinks that he is has more dreaming to do. 

So be Robin, in as much as you imagine Robin to be. Be the bird that flies, or the champion of the poor, or the merry trickster whom even kings fear. Or be all of them in one….there’s power enough for all of that in just that one little name….so long as you put it there first.

Its that simple, and its that tricky. There is no in between. You are whatever you claim as you - but the good and the bad, for better and for worse. The space that name holds and the walls that hold it in.

So if you remember nothing more, Dickie, Richard, Robin times three or however many more Robins you might be…..if someday you say I taught you nothing else, there’s nothing else I gave you or left for you to take with you wherever you go, hear me now, and remember this:

No matter how well you might think it suits you at first, the name you claim because it fits you as you are....will never be more than a trap.

The power in names, the true power…..only comes from claiming the name that fits the you, that you would dream yourself to be.

You can always be more than you are. And any name that tells you otherwise is not truly anything but a lie.

Many kings of the earth have laughed as they introduced your family as Kings of the Sky throughout the years. But the jest they don’t get is for all their riches, they were the ones content to claim titles and deeds that leave them trapped on the ground, confined within borders of their own makings, sealed behind walls they chose to erect between them and everything that was not theirs and thus would never be. But a King of the Sky soars above all of that, needing none of that…..because the sky has no end, and is so much vaster than any of that could ever be.

So if you would someday choose a crown, my little Prince of the Sky, never seek yours on the ground. Reach for one bigger than the ground could ever hold….only that could ever fit all that you might someday be.”

[satan-chillin]

Hereafter (3/7)

Wei Wuxian is sent off of Cloud Recesses, bade by his fathers to “have fun and make friends” which, now that he thinks about it, sounds like a gross oversimplification of what the next six months away from home will entail.

If he happens to form unlikely connections, start a matchmaking, and gets unwittingly involved in the presently strained political state of the cultivation world, those are just par for the course.

Chasing after one of the famed Twin Jades of Lan, however, is an added bonus.

(Or, WWX was sent to Gusu by his fathers Wen Kexing & Zhou Zishu)

Part 2 of Spirited Away Series. Part 1 here.

Also available in Ao3. Hereafter Chapter 1, 2

❆❆❆

The scowl Jiang Wanyin was throwing at him was really uncalled for.

“Is that face supposed to be anger on my behalf or...”

Jiang Wanyin scoffed. “You wish. You’re obviously in the wrong here.”

Wei Wuxian was tempted to smack him if his back wasn’t aching (and itching) as hell. He rolled his eyes. “Throw me in the ditch, will you. At least Nie-xiong thinks—ow!”

“Don’t move much,” came Nie Huaisang’s warning from the other side before dabbing a wet cloth at his back. Wei Wuxian was pretty sure they were both wincing. “And, well, you were guilty for taking the sacred Lan forehead ribbon, Wei-xiong.”

“Fine,” Wei Wuxian grumbled. “In my defense, I didn’t know it’s that important. Are those ribbons made from special silk or something?”

“It has always been part of their tradition,” Jiang Wanyin said, crossing his arms unrepentantly. “Even if it doesn’t make sense to anyone else outside their sect, we respect that as their guests.”

Chastised, Wei Wuxian pouted but did not retort. He understood Jiang Wanyin’s point, and he could imagine a-die’s disapproval that he might have taken it a little too far. Wei Wuxian let the matter go. “Fine, that’s on me, but I didn’t start the fighting!”

He was certain that he had planned to get some air the previous evening to lull his bones to sleep. He’d been delighted, in fact, when Lan Zhan had pulled up short, though he seemed to have gotten it in his head that Wei Wuxian was due for a punishment and not even the fun kind. All that for sleeping late as if Lan Zhan hadn’t been doing the very same thing, and pointing it out broke a bit of that surface calm that had Wei Wuxian defending himself the next moment (or trying not to get hauled, really).

The ruckus and noise that followed resulted in… this.

He hadn’t been disciplined this bad since a-die had him running twenty laps around the manor. He was also sure that the only one suffering was him; Lan Zhan being a Lan was definitely used to this, though he would have to have been unruly himself to develop a thick skin to withstand the strikes.

Wei Wuxian was hard-pressed not to think too much of a porcelain back lined with red—er, not in present company, at least.

“What’s that expression for?” Jiang Wanyin asked haltingly.

“Heh. Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“That better not be another trouble in your mind. Look, carrying you back once is enough. I’m not looking forward to doing that again.”

“Speak for yourself. Nie-xiong can carry me.”

“Ah.” NIe Huaisang chuckled nervously. “I’m not exactly as strong as Wanyin to do it often, Wei-xiong.”

“See?”

“Pft. You’re just jealous you’re not the one being tended right now.”

“What’s that supposed to—A-jie!”

Wei Wuxian found enough energy to turn around towards the ajar door and found a young woman entering with a tray of food that smelled delectable. Jiang Wanyin closed the door behind her and helped her down to where he previously sat.

“Good morning, Young Master Wei. I apologize for barging in like this, but I heard what happened from A-Cheng and thought to bring some soup over,” she said kindly. “It’s a shame that we haven’t been introduced before. My name is Jiang Yanli.”

Wei Wuxian hid a grimace as he sat up and pulled his thin robe over. It wouldn’t do to appear indecent in front of a young lady. He bowed as low as he could. “It’s an honor to meet Maiden Jiang, even if this one is unfit for the company of a maiden.”

He knew he liked Maiden Jiang when she returned his smile brightly, waving off his apology before serving him a bowl of what she called lotus soup. “I’m guessing the three of you haven’t had the morning meal,” she addressed the three of them. “I made enough for us.”

Jiang Wanyin wasn’t exaggerating when he had called his elder sister good-natured, and it was clear why he loved and admired her greatly. She reminded Wei Wuxian of shijie Xiaolian, in fact, with both their caring and motherly nature. She closely treated Nie Huaisang like another younger brother, and based on how concerned she was over Wei Wuxian’s back and empathetic of his situation, she was probably considering him as a new addition.

Wei Wuxian wouldn’t mind, to be honest, but Jiang Wanyin probably would.

“Don’t spoil him much, A-jie,” he reminded her once she began peeling lotus seeds for Wei Wuxian. “He can move his hands.”

“I don’t mind,” Jiang Yanli told him gently. “A friend of A-Cheng is my friend too. Besides, this is the first time I’ve met the person you speak highly of.”

Wei Wuxian snickered at the sudden red on Jiang Wanyin’s cheeks. “Aiya, Jiang-xiong, you never told me,” he couldn’t resist teasing. He inclined his head. “You know, I never quite figured out why you seemed opposed to me spending time with Nie-xiong before, but I think I know now why.”

“If the next thing that will come out of your mouth is another nonsense you can forget it,” Jiang Wanyin replied shortly before offering to clean up and marching out with the dirty dishes. Nie Huaisang excused himself, muttering about fetching another basin of warm water but following Jiang Wanyin’s direction.

Maiden Jiang smiled impishly after them, eyes alight with something like a secret only she was privy of. Once left alone with her, Wei Wuxian stood, not without difficulty, and set about making a pot of tea for her. She looked startled and was about to protest about not needing to be served but thought better of it once she considered their new distance where she now sat across from him. If it was even possible, her ever-present smile softened. She thanked him, both for the cup of tea and his thoughtfulness.

“A-Cheng can be prickly to most,” she began conversationally, “but he’s a good person who finds it hard to express himself. Before, he only had A-Sang who was determined not to be shaken off. I’m glad he has you now too.”

Wei Wuxian grinned toothily then sighed, feigning disappointment. “To be fair, Maiden Jiang, when he told me about you, I thought he wasn’t actually picturing his sister,” he mock-whispered. “Now, though, I understand that you racked up all the patience and left him a sour grape.”

Her clear tinkling laugh was infectious. “I suppose that makes him more suitable for our colors,” she jested. “But you haven’t seen A-Cheng with his dogs, Young Master Wei. He loves them dearly, and they’re his first friends. They must be missing him as much as he misses them.”

“Ah, dogs,” Wei Wuxian repeated weakly. They must be as nice as Maiden Jiang, and Jiang Wanyin, thought of them, but he couldn’t help but repress a shudder. “Are they… cute?” he asked lamely.

“They are. Energetic and very cuddly too.” Maiden Jiang—bless her soul—did not point out the abrupt awkwardness. “I love them as well, but I find that I’m partial to cats. A-sang once brought one with him from Qinghe when he visited us.”

Cats were alright, he thought. There had been a female tabby that his shixiong liked to feed and had shown Wei Wuxian her kittens when he was a child. It had been one of his early memories in the manor, and he told as much to Maiden Jiang who happily listened about his childhood at Four Seasons. It was likely that she knew as much as her brother, though she made no mention of it, telling him instead about her days as a little girl in Lotus Pier and how she had taken up culinary, learning from the head of the kitchen who had been like a grandmother to her.

“Young Master Wei,” she said, “I’d prefer it if you call me Yanli.”

“Only if you call me A-Xian.”

“Very well… A-Xian.”

❆❆❆

Although he was a little better, Wei Wuxian was embarrassingly waddling come afternoon. To make matters worse, he had the misfortune to come across some sniggering peers who followed a haughty-looking young master who barely spared Wei Wuxian a glance before walking the path without pause.

Unexpectedly, though, Jiang Wanyin took a minute to properly greet the young master who merely acknowledged it with a curt nod. Rude.

Wei Wuxian raised an eyebrow. Jiang Wanyin simply muttered, “Prancing peacock.”

“You know him?”

“Who doesn’t?” He rolled his eyes. “Right. That’s Jin Zixuan.”

“I gathered as much,” came the dry reply. Wei Wuxian had made it his mission to memorize as many names as he was able, and he had started with the names of the heirs of the major sects. “I never thought you knew him personally since I’ve never seen him with you or Nie-xiong. I guess you sect heirs have an inner circle.”

“Would’ve been better if we only knew each other in passing,” Jiang Wanyin huffed. Annoyed, he supplied, “He’s A-jie’s betrothed.”

Wei Wuxian blinked at the direction where Jin Zixuan and his lackeys disappeared to. “Huh.”

He had only met Yanli earlier, but already he felt a protectiveness toward her; such a lovely and kind person better be treasured by her future spouse.

Wei Wuxian’s eyes darted once he caught sight of white from his periphery. He noticed Zewu-jun approaching, smiling. “Young Master Wei, Young Master Jiang.”

He could only return the greeting in embarrassment. He hoped that smile wasn’t a dig at his state; after all, he did commit what must have been comparable to a crime to his younger brother.

Gods, that sounded dirty.

Lan Xichen, blissfully unaware of what was going on inside Wei Wuxian’s head, said, ”I honestly did not expect to see you moving about today, but I’m glad to see you well enough to walk.” As if sensing Wei Wuxian wanting to say that it hurt all over, he added, sounding apologetic. “Uncle is strict, but his punishment is worse than necessary. It can take you a week and a half to completely heal.”

Wei Wuxian internally winced. While he wasn’t overly enthusiastic with the lectures—oh, he loved learning, and, truly, that was the only thing motivating him to wake up early and tolerate Lan Qiren’s droning voice—he really didn’t need the dent on his studies.

“I’ll let you know of a place that will help you heal faster so you won’t fall behind in your schooling,” Lan Xichen said. “Nonetheless, I’m pleased to see that Young Master Wei is being taken care of by his friends.”

“It’s kind of Nie-xiong to tend my wounds,” Wei Wuxian said happily. “Young Master Jiang might be getting a little fed up, but I admire his patience, and because of him I get to know Maiden Jiang and her cooking.” He nodded sagely, completely aware of Jiang Wanyin’s growing embarrassment. “I also believe that he’s waiting for me to heal to beat my ass for getting spoiled by his sister and Nie-xiong.”

It was funny how Jiang Wanyin struggled between wanting to throttle him and smack his back and debating whether it was worth it to do either or both in front of the esteemed Zewu-jun.

❆❆❆

The place Lan Xichen mentioned was a stream by the backhills, easy to miss with the light mist that surrounded it. A cold soak could be what he needed.

Wei Wuxian ambled by the bank, untying his belt but stopped when he caught movement in the water. He squinted.

It was Lan Zhan. Naked from waist up.

“What are you doing here?”

He was also murderously glaring at him.

“Zewu-jun told me about this place.” Wei Wuxian cleared his throat, his eyes admittedly lingering at the expanse of skin that seemed to go on indefinitely… and where angry red marks marred his back. As someone who was inflicted with the same punishment, Wei Wuxian knew it was as bad as it felt.

He reached for his sleeve, taking out a small pouch. “Believe me when I say I didn’t know—” He fell silent. He wasn’t planning to return it this soon; later, maybe, after his bath. “I shouldn’t have snatched your ribbon. I’m sorry.”

A flurry of pale cloth completely hid Lan Zhan’s torso from his sight, though he still refused to turn in Wei Wuxian’s direction. He sighed, removing the fan from his waist and propping his sword by a rock. Hesitantly, Wei Wuxian dipped his toe on the water, shivering at the frigid contact.

His soaked robes weighed him down as he trudged further into the cold water, slowing at the progressively slippery smooth stones under his bare feet. He bit his lip, grateful that Lan Zhan’s back was on him or else he’d see how utterly ungraceful he was just to reach him.

“Here,” he said awkwardly, extending the pouch. Lan Zhan determinedly ignored him, though there was an unmistakable pinking at the tip of his ears. Not knowing what to make of it, Wei Wuxian clicked his tongue and clarified, “I have your ribbon inside.” He frowned suddenly, feeling an odd shift in the water. “Wait. Lan Zhan, do you feel that?”

As soon as the words left him, a strong current took him by his ankles, dragging him underwater, and Wei Wuxian knew no more.

[songketalliance]

Home is Not Here

“Months passed and moments are miss from being far away, home is not where my heart is or was; home is not where I currently am or am not. Home is not here. “

by ShaSha Cuadra

The well-known and overused phrase, “Home is where the heart is” has always been a point of fact to me. Vaguely simple but generally understood on a personal level, it’s not something you question at all. Which is why I’ve always deemed the country I originated from as nothing more than an extension of my roots and ancestral history, but never as my home. I knew where home is; I lived in Brunei all my life, so how can Philippines compare when yearly visits that don’t last more than a month or two ever be more than a checkpoint for me?

Universe says otherwise though, as it always proved to do so consistently through my life. 2020 happened, and I find myself unexpectedly stranded away from home. Stranded, yes, because despite having a roof over my head and food on the table to get by, emotionally I was distraught that I was force to stay where I was as the whole world went on a global lockdown. I shouldn’t have a reason to be upset as other might say when in comparison to others who have suffered more greatly, with losses more severe than simply being stranded.

A kind note from me to you: Don’t do this. Don’t invalidate your emotions just because it didn’t meet the criteria of how much you had to endure for it be deemed acceptable. Feelings are valid. But acknowledge that feelings aren’t facts either.

It was a straightforward, downward spiral of going through the 5 stages of grief that followed the next few months. Denial transitioning to Anger was easy; the reactive emotions gave something to burn through to live spitefully, cursing circumstances and the world’s idiocy. Bargaining became a point of desperation of wanting a form of normalcy to come back, of wanting to be back on familiar landmarks and faces. Depression felt like a long solitary winter; texts and calls of friends missing me and waiting for my return were pieces of warmth I held on to for days. But waking up every day in an unfamiliar room living in an unfamiliar house served as a stark reminder that I still wasn’t home.

In between the earlier stages, a lot of things happened at the same time. My grandmother passed on, my friends got married, my beloved cat died, my mental health deteriorated, a close friend stopped talking among other things, like the world breaking under the weight of the global pandemic. Like most people, I found 2020 surreal and a very trying year to get through. Not exactly the year we expected to open the new decade with but that’s what we ended up with.

I’m unsure when Acceptance arrived. Whether it settled in between the peaceful sleep I had one night or in the early mornings of when I took my first sip of the day, or in the strange calm composure I held on a video call with my friends. But it did came. But it didn’t mean I wasn’t still homesick. It didn’t meant I gave up on home and ever going back. It meant that I was finally acknowledging that this is the new normal.

Because acceptance ≠ resignation.

And in that frame of mind, I started to try to get to know Philippines a bit more during my long unplanned stay. Or at least, a very small part of it of where I live. True to Asian form, they love their communal gatherings. Be it a birthday party, a christening party, a Christmas party, a wake, a wedding reception, it’s overwhelming to say the least. Good thing to note is that I still dislike attending large gatherings, family or otherwise.

And like how Bruneians love their karaoke and Dangdut classics, Filipinos love their karaoke and rock ballads a little more. I have lost count how many impromptu karaoke sessions have been conducted weekly and while celebrations are nothing without them, it’s plain ridiculous how someone could fire up a karaoke box with 2 very large booming speakers just to sing the same Steelheart song over and over again just because they feel like it. I’m all for releasing stress and unwinding but karaoke that lasts all day long, starts at 6 am at times (yes, I am for real) and is loud enough to feel the house vibrating from the bass is beyond acceptable. I’d rather listen to Dangdut classics instead.

Where Brunei feels like a collective town who knows everyone or anyone and is related one way or the other to each other, the village where my mother’s family resides in emanates the same community familiarity. It’s oddly soothing in a way, even as I ironically struggle to understand the dialect but the sentiment is undeniably there. There is a sense of detachment between most of my cousins and I, and while I don’t deny that my lack of trying has a big part in it, I appreciate the ones who do try despite our language barrier. It’s in the little things really, and I’m still trying to navigate my way around it carefully but it’s something. I think I owe myself that little bit of effort to be aware of where I came from and where I could have grown up in.

I know home will still be there in Brunei. My friends will still be there, probably married or with kids or with a soaring career and business life. Home will still be bumbling along in its own way as I move forward with my own life. Even as things change, months passed and moments are miss from being far away, home is not where my heart is or was; home is not where I currently am or am not. Home is not here.

Home is here, in where I carry it with me.

by ShaSha Cuadra

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[beatricethecat2]

if/then (2.0) - 20

A few chapters back, I mentioned wrapping this up soon. Flash-forward to now…well, I see where that impulse came from, but also where it falls flat. There needs to be a balance (or as much as I'm capable of) within the narrative arc, so it needs to get pushed farther. That means diving into people and places I'm not as familar with and trying to bring them to life (plus calling back to details and weaving in new ones…you know, writing). So bear with me, it's plotted, but the gaps need filled in. If you’re still on board with this, I thank you heartily. I’m posting two chapters now because I didn't want to leave you hanging at the end of this one. All typos are mine, I’ll do what I can to catch them later (edited 11/30). Look for chapter 21 to be posted soon after this one. Links to other chapters in a reply.

////////////////////////

Despite Morgana’s warnings, the hunt for Helena continues. Myka proceeds with caution, even with Claudia's better-than-government-grade VPN installed on her laptop. Books have become her go-to, with no bots to track or caches to mine. They're slower in the long run but prompt new ideas, which she, in turn, passes off to Claudia.

One thing was certain: even if Helena hadn't planned this ahead of time, Christina’s comfort would be paramount. Cooking classes for kids? After school music activities involving drums? Kempo classes throughout the UK? All searched for and through with little gain. But the question was: how far undercover would Helena and Christina have to go? Was an Interpol intervention different than a regular police one? Claudia watched countless hours of British police shows in hopes of learning more, but was left feeling more paranoid than informed in the end.

Meanwhile, Myka tacked on oddball acquisitions in remote locales to keep from drowning in "what-ifs." There, in relative obscurity, having thrown off her tails, she could scour libraries and bookstores freely. She was at a loss for exactly what to look into, so she grasped onto the list of "Happy Christmases” Helena had taught Christina. She cross-referenced books with internet materials, but kept detailed notes in her sketchbook.

She drew the tiny shape Guernsey and noted the island's pros and cons. At six miles long and three miles wide, it looked like a quaint place to hide. But to travel, they’d need a boat or a plane, and it was closer to France than the UK. And without easy access to a city, Christina wouldn’t be content. She crossed it off the list.

Scottish, she learned, was still spoken in The Outer Hebrides, which, according to one of her guidebooks, boasted an island shaped like an upside-down ice cream cone. Christina would be into that, living on a food-shaped island, so she sketched it out and turned it upside-down. She didn’t exactly see the resemblance, but that wasn’t important. What was: the chain was far from the mainland with only one road plus ferries connecting the islands. Its population was mostly fisherman and crofters; it's landscape, idyllic, but rural. Again, with no city nearby, Helena wouldn’t sequester them there for any length of time. She put it in the “no” column for now.

Northern Ireland was a definite maybe, though they'd included Belfast in their earlier search. She drew the outline of where Belfast and West Belfast met, as apparently, West Belfast held a population of Irish speakers. But Ireland, the island, was massive, the largest part was an entirely different country. That could cause problems if Helena and Christina had to run. She made a note to check into Irish border crossings and moved on.

Cornwall, a fingerlike peninsula jutting out into the Celtic Sea, had multiple transportation options and several cities. They could hide in its rugged countryside while retaining access to several populated towns, and even jet up to London if they were feeling bold. Cornish as a language was only recently being revived, so there was no specific area in which it was spoken. She put a star next to it anyway, as it seemed the most likely. She sent her findings off to Claudia and kept researching.

But then, at an auction a few weeks later, her theory was put to the test. A fifteenth-century atlas lay open to a map of England, Ireland, and Wales, where she traced a path between her researched locations. As a line formed along the furthest edges of Great Britain, it hit her--if one wanted to send their enemies on a wild goose chase, that was it. The “Merry Christmases” were a red herring, something for Christina to broadcast readily, as she'd read children in witness protection programs often gave away their whereabouts accidentally. And she fell for it hook, line, and sinker. Claudia was not going to be pleased.

--------------

She's had months to prepare, but here she is, at the last minute, taking time off work to finish several new paintings. Luiza had hooked her up with this group show at a gallery Amanda raved was “blowing up,” but about a month ago she nearly baled. But Luiza insisted she show, saying their work together would lead to stellar reviews. Plus, Luiza needed the press to bolster her artist visa application, so how could Myka refuse?

Well known in her native Sao Paulo, but working hard to make a name for herself in the States, Maria Luiza Izquierdo's work captivated Myka from day one. Her abstract patterns drew her in, with their brightly colored stripes and weaved textiles, bubbling animatedly off the canvas and onto the floor. Her freedom of concept and command of materials was beyond anything she'd ever seen. She definitely was an artist on the rise, and Myka was glad to have made her aquaintance.

And from the looks of Luiza's impressive resume, Myka was an amateur in comparison. Out of the eight other artists at her residency, she’d bonded with Luiza the most. Her ambition was contagious, mind moving a mile a minute, always seeing the good in things. Plus, her smile lit up the room, making it impossible to sulk in her presence. She wouldn't have made it through the first months of Helena’s disappearance without the distraction.

They met up as often as possible when Luiza was in town, her visits kicking Myka out of her increasingly mechanical routine. It was good for her cover, hanging out with Luiza and her friends, plus it lifted her out of the heavy funk she was buried in. Luiza prodded her to show her new work, much like Helena used to do, inviting herself over when Myka failed to do so promptly. There were many things about Luiza that reminded her of Helena, beyond any physical resemblance, but when those thoughts arose, she promptly tamped them down. Loneliness conjured desperate parallels. If Helena were standing next to her, there’d be no comparison.

Having couch surfed though most of her friends, Luiza asked to crash with Myka for this trip. Since Abigail's visit went smoothly, Myka thought, why not? Having company for a few days, especially someone who could help her with her art, seemed like a good idea. But before she had time to prepare, she was called away unexpectedly on a work trip. She left spare keys with the guard at her office and told Luiza to sleep in her room for now. They'd inflate the air bed when she got back.

Upon her return, as she rolls her suitcase down the hall, a mouth-watering scent fills her lungs. It’s not unusual as her neighbor often cooks for relatives, but she’s surprised when the scent intensifies inside her door. The figure in her kitchen, her long, dark hair glowing in the backlight, stops her in her tracks. She’s transported to a different time, a happier one, one she has hopes to reclaim in the future.

“Olá, Myka!" Luiza greets, turning to face her. "How was your flight?”

“H-Hi!” Luiza’s enunciation, choppy and light, is the exact opposite of Helena’s velvety smoothness. Her messy bangs and bright red lipstick further shatter the illusion. “Not terrible. What’s all this?”

“Mrs. Rodrigues, she made us feijoada!”

Myka ditches her bag and steps into the kitchen, where all resemblance to Helena withers as she stands next to the slightly-taller-than-her Luiza. A pot bubbles on the stove as greens stew in a pan. A steaming pot of rice sits on the counter, accompanied by bowls of colorful garnish, more bowls than she remembers owning.

“Mrs. Rodrigues? I've barely spoken to her.”

“She was very much interested in this stranger entering your home.” Luiza points to herself with her thumb. “She is from Brazil, you know. Santos, where my avó lives."

“Avó?”

“Ah...grandmother,” Luiza says, taking a moment to translate the word in her head. She slips two bowls from a cabinet and sets them on the counter. "She feels bad for you.”

“Me? Why?”

“‘Too skinny. Works too much. No namorado.'” Luiza draws out the “o” and circles a wooden serving spoon in the air.

“Namorado. I think I know what that means. So definitely not.” Myka snags an orange slice from a bowl and pops it in her mouth.

Luiza smacks her hand with the spoon.

“Ow!"

“Save for dinner."

“Sorry.” Myka rubs her hand, flashing a mock pout. "It’s nice she’s feeding us. I was dreading takeout.”

“This is much, much better. And I bought cachaça to make batidas.” Luiza holds up a bottle of spirits, grinning ear to ear.

“Nice!” Myka says, smiling back.

“Only the best for my generous host,” Luiza says, adding a small bow. “Now, we eat.” She hands Myka a bowl and sets to making drinks.

At the gallery the next day, they help install each other's work, though Luiza’s pieces are larger and more complex then Myka's. Myka stands back, contemplating placement and aesthetics, while Luiza enlists several other pairs of hands to assist. Myka's in awe of Luiza’s persuasive charm, yet another trait she shares with Helena. But with Luiza, there's no alternate agenda, whereas Helena’s was often circumspect.

“Perfeito!” Luiza exclaims as she steps away from the completed install. “You are in my head, my friend. I should take you everywhere!” She sweeps Myka into a hug that lingers longer than expected, though a hug like this is not unusual. Luiza’s concept of personal space is more forward than her own.

Dinner takes place at a friend of Luiza’s, at a garden party in Silverlake. Myka mills about, catching up with acquaintances, mingling awkwardly with other guests. When everyone takes a seat, Luiza pats the chair next to her, insisting Myka situate herself there. As the meal progresses, Luiza drapes an arm over the back of Myka's chair, an act which Myka finds slightly unsettling. Again, it's not unusual, as Luiza's done it to others, but Helena used to do something similar as a sign of ownership. But as wine is swapped out for brandy, she shifts her focus toward the lively art and commerce banter. Fielding criticism of the trade is liberating, as at work she so often has to hold her tongue.

The next night is the show opening, and the dress Myka picks out isn’t “LA” enough for Luiza. Luiza takes her to a consignment shop where her friend works, where she’s handed a flowery faux-forties dress to try on. Myka twirls to the left and the right, staring at herself in the dressing room mirror, the knee-length skirt bouncing back and forth gaily. It’s a cheerful, tasteful garment, hitting her curves in all the right places. Not that her current wardrobe doesn’t, but it typically flaunts her assets less. It’s a choice she would have made pre-apartment tragedy, but since then, she’s toned down her style. Which suits her job fine, plus with Helena gone, who would she be trying to impress? But it feels freeing somehow, like she’s entered a portal to a simpler time. When she leaves the dressing room, Luiza gasps, and her friend claps with glee. She decides yes, it is perfect, perfect for the show, perfect for the Myka she needs to project.

The scene is giddy as they dress in Myka's apartment. Luiza styles Myka's hair into a voluminous mass of curls cascading over her shoulders. The shade of lipstick she convinces her to wear is so bright her eyes glow green. But it’s Luiza's blouse that steals the show, handmade by her, matching the warp and weft of her work, upstaging her skin-tight leather pants. Myka hasn't had this much fun preparing for an event since grad school with Abigail. The levity is certainly welcome.

There's an afterparty after the after-party, with drinks flowing freely along the way. Myka has no idea how much she drank nor what time they left, but their cab zooms home in no time. Luiza hangs off Myka's arm as they shuffle down her hall. Both giggle as Myka fumbles with her keys. They throw their bags onto the same chair as they stumble in.

“You need a couuuch, minha amiga," Luiza slurs, marching into Myka’s bedroom and plopping down on the edge of the bed. “We drink more! You bring the cachaça. But first I—” She bends towards her shoes, but topples forward, catching herself just barely, palms down, arms extended as if performing involuntary yoga.

Myka hurries in and levers her up. “My shoes, I am sorry,” Luiza says, bending forward again to finish the task. Myka pushes her back, then tries to kneel but wobbles, grabbing Luiza’s knee as she lowers herself down. She slips off Luiza's heel, and as she attends to the second one, Luisa buries her hands in Myka's curls. Luiza angles her face up and leans forward, pressing their lips together.

She’s kissing me. Why is she kissing me? The act is not entirely unpleasant, but not quite right. Is this my fault? Did I lead her on? I didn't, but...did I? She replays the evening in her head, but it’s hazy.

Luiza's hands slip down, cupping the base of Myka's head, deepening the kiss, urging her to rise. Myka breaks it off just then.

“Finalmente,” Luiza says, her voice soft and low, leaning in for another kiss. Myka jerks away, but Luiza's thrown off balance, hands still buried in Myka's curls. Luiza slips off the bed entirely, and they tumble to the ground.

“I can’t do this,” Myka says, pushing Luiza up at the shoulders.

“You have another lover.”

“It's not that."

“Then why?” Luiza lifts herself up so that her arms and legs are now straddling Myka. "Your eyes were on me tonight." She leans in for another kiss, but Myka turns her head.

“This is your ex,” Luiza snaps and sits back on her heels. “You have found her. You’re going to…” She frowns. “Ask for her back."

“I don’t know where she is.” Where did that come from? Myka scoots back, carefully extracting herself from under Luiza's hold. She lifts on her elbows, but makes no sudden move to rise.

“I see it in your eyes. Something has changed.” Luiza falls back, sliding down the edge of the bed, dramatically thrusting her legs out until she’s in sitting position. “You will visit her in London, this woman who destroyed your heart. Tell me where she is, this-this, desgraça, ela que vá a merda!”

Luiza’s Portuguese slurred, but her tone pushed the point across. Myka bends at her knees and inches further back, sitting up while hugging her legs to her chest. Luiza knows everything about her, the entire fake story about Helena as she’s cried in her beer many times over it. But Luiza’s never become this agitated, and she’s not entirely sure why. “H-How did you know I was going to London?” She only found out a few days ago and knows she hadn’t mentioned it.

Luiza drags a hand, raggedly, through her thick, dark locks and looks off to the side. "It was there, on your phone, the text. You left it on the table. It lit up.”

The text, "Sotheby’s London confirmed,” could have honestly meant anything. And she’s been super careful since Morgana’s warning; she hasn't talked about searching for Helena at all, so why would that text set off this tirade?

“It is good that you find her. You must put her away. She is stopping you from better things.” Luiza pushes off the bed and crawls closer to Myka, reaching out and laying a hand on Myka’s knee.

Myka flinches, her head says, "run away," but gut tells her to stay. Something’s not right here. Something big. If Morgana were here, what would she say?

“Put her to rest so we can begin.” Luiza moves ever closer, threading a curl behind Myka’s ear and pressing kiss to her temple.

Myka’s chest tightens as panic sets in. And here, she thought she was being disingenuous, but all along it was Luiza. Luiza’s been grooming her this whole time, tricking her into trusting her, into giving away details about Helena’s situation.

“I’m sorry, but no,” Myka says, releasing her legs and pushing away. Careful now, rejecting her outright will look suspicious after how close you’ve gotten. “I-I’m really flattered, a-and you’re a beautiful, talented woman, but…” Luiza was alone in her apartment. Did she dig through her files? Plant bugs in the walls? Has she been monitoring her calls and texts this whole time? “I, um…there is someone else, if I’m being completely honest.” If only she’d taken up Morgana’s offer, she’d have someone vetted, but now...

“Que?” Luiza says, raising a brow.

“M-My friend Abigail and I, we’ve been talking.” Wait...if Luiza is a spy then she’ll know that isn't technically true, she’ll already know everything about her. “I-I haven’t said anything yet, but I’m planning to when she's in town for Thanksgiving.”

“Abigail. The doctor who lives far away?”

“Only until her post-doc is over. Then she’ll transfer wherever she wants."

“She is your long-time friend. What has changed?”

“I, um…” A catalyst, Myka, come on…think! “When she came to visit for my birthday, she said…she made a comment about maybe dating women. And that stuck with me.”

“She will return your love?”

“I think so.” Or kill me for being an idiot.

Luiza backs towards the bed, looking genuinely shaken. In the moment, she’s simply a bruised suitor, not a potential spy at all.

"I didn’t want to jinx it by saying it out loud.”

“What is jinx?”

“Mess it up before it starts.”

“Que dá azar. Bad luck. Ok.” Luiza holds Myka’s gaze, seemingly gauging the truth in the situation, nodding her head up and down in tiny strokes.

If she doesn’t believe me, what do I do?

Luiza's eyes close as her head falls back against the bed. She’s silent for a few minutes, then takes a deep breath in. “It is time for sleep. And muitos litros de água. Much water.” She hauls herself up, limbs shaking, and walks as steadily as she can towards the door. "Boms sonhos, Myka,” she says, turning back just before exiting.

“Goodnight,” Myka replies, her voice cracking from the lump stuck in her throat. Once Luiza’s gone, she tries to rise, but gravity pulls her down. What have I done? She rolls onto her back and closes her eyes. I'm stupid. So stupid. She’s not my friend. Why can’t I have a friend? A twinge of pain throbs through her brow, and she pinches the bridge of her nose. I have to fix this, fix this now. I need to call Claudia. Or that number Morgana gave me. She rolls over and sits up. But my phone’s in my bag and my bag's on the chair. I can’t go out there, not tonight. She crawls over to her bed and climbs on top, curling up into a ball. Everything’s fucked. Helena, I can’t take much more of this. Where are you? I need you to come back, now.

-TBC-

[overthinking-love]

this video was taken early 2015. it’s a video of me and my stepdad (my dads husband), mario, dancing and singing along to shake it off. his favourite taylor swift song.

2 months ago my stepdad found out that he had cancer. and unfortunately we only had a month after finding out until he passed away… and I didn’t even get to say goodbye.

to make a long story short, my wife’s grandmother passed away just two weeks prior to this and we traveled to england to attend the funeral.. my stepdad was stable when we left and he was excited to start his treatment, but after his first radiation session it all went downhill and he went into hospital the following day. we attended the funeral in england and then had to get a last minute flight back to sweden, but unfortunately we got to the hospital 30min late.. I keep going over it in my mind and trying to figure out a way to get there 30min earlier but it won’t change anything and this haunts me every single day.

I will never be able to understand how someone like my stepdad, who had such a bright and positive outlook on life, could be taken away from us so quickly and unexpectedly. it has truly broken me.

It’s been extremely tough, but I still have this little bit of happiness and excitement in me because I’m still going to get to see taylor next month, in dublin on my 22nd birthday. the fact that I’m still going to get to see her after everything that’s happened means everything to me. my stepdad knew I was going to this concert, he knew how excited I was and he was so excited for me.

mario was the most colourful person I’ve ever met and I truly believe that he’ll be right there dancing with me during taylors colourful perfomance of shake it off. 

[misssophiachase]

You and Me

25 Days of Klaroline + Favourite Song

I have MANY favourite songs that scream Klaroline, here is just one. The tempo suits a waltz perfectly, hence the theme. All lyrics by Lifehouse.

Ahead of his coronation, Prince Klaus has to polish his waltzing skills, enter dance teacher extraordinaire Caroline Forbes to whip him into shape. 

What day is it. And in what month? This clock never seemed so alive. I can't keep up, and I can't back down. I've been losing so much time.

His eyes flickered to the corner of the palace ballroom consulting the impressive, grandfather clock. It was at that point, Klaus decided that his childhood, superhero dream of flying had suddenly been overtaken by an intense desire to stop time. If only just to breathe and take everything in for a few extra minutes.   

“Ouch,” she muttered, bringing him well and truly back to the present, rubbing her big toe as she did it.

“Your Highness,” it was thinly veiled judgment, more than a polite address. Klaus knew that particular tone all too well since their lessons had begun. “It’s left foot then right.”

“That’s what I was doing.”

“Trust me, you weren’t,” she offered, looking briefly over at his heavyset bodyguard standing in the doorway ominously, a slight smile tugging at his lips although the rest of his face remained impressively stoic. “My left toe can testify to that very fact.”

“Fine,” he huffed, moving to the nearest table and grabbing a water bottle then taking a long swig. “I suppose I was…” 

“Distracted?” 

His beautiful but opinionated, dance teacher knew him too well. It should have scared him after such a short time together but it didn’t. When his mother had insisted he take classes ahead of his coronation next month he’d tried everything to avoid it but to no avail. Esther Mikaelson was a stickler for tradition, even if other members of the family didn’t always follow suit.

Klaus never wanted to be King, he always thought it impossible anyway. He liked the title but he was always the fun loving Prince. It was Elijah that was the perfect epitome of a future King, until tragedy had struck and he’d passed away unexpectedly from a rare form of cancer. His ascension to the throne was then a forgone conclusion but his grief had kept that fact at bay, for a few months at least.

It was something he’d begrudgingly and slowly accepted over time but this circus of a coronation, including dance classes, wasn’t what he signed up for.

“Yes, distracted.”

“I can only imagine given the upcoming coronation. Dancing is probably the last thing on your mind.” That was true but it was after the coronation part that scared him most. “Well and the whole becoming King part.” It was as if she had jumped into his head and rifled through his inner most insecurities. “I mean when you include the Commonwealth countries as well as Great Britain, that’s a lot of people to...” 

“Do you always talk a lot?” He interrupted, choosing not to let her finish that frightening sentence.

“Not when I’m dancing,” she shot back cheekily. “But someone in this room is being a little difficult, and I’m not talking about Ahmed.” She looked over noticing his smile had slightly grown in the last few minutes. Caroline had every intention of making him laugh aloud one day.  

“You know, people don’t usually talk to me like this…”

“I tend to get bossier when I’m overwhelmed by castles, corgis and royalty,” she admitted, somewhat sheepishly. “Your Highness if…”

“I like it,” he soothed, leaning over to place a hand over hers comfortingly. His heartbeat quickened slightly, Klaus usually blamed it on the cardio workout but didn’t have that excuse this time. “But there’s nothing to be overwhelmed about, Caroline.” 

“Nothing to be overwhelmed about? Are you kidding me?”

“You are a highly, accomplished woman. You’re well travelled and…”

“How exactly do you know that?” She asked curiously, her left eyebrow cocked. “Have you been checking up on me?”

“You are working in our employ which makes a security check compulsory. The file MI5 and your CIA gave my personal secretary was a lot more dense than you thought, I guess you could say.”

“I only stole that candy bar because Katherine dared me,” Caroline rambled. The way she scrunched up her nose defensively was the the most adorable thing he’d seen. “And that whole sorority incident was totally blown out of proportion.”

“You broke into a dorm room to steal someone’s knickers,” he smiled knowingly, actually enjoying their dance practice for the very first time.

“I was pledging,” she scoffed. “It’s not my fault the guy happened to be the Dean’s son.”

“I’m extremely interested in this former life as a underwear thief, please tell me more,” he smirked. She didn’t respond immediately just rolled her eyes. 

“Looks like the future King of England is just another guy,” she alluded. Before Elijah’s death, Klaus would have worn that reputation like a badge of honour but her words hurt. He wasn’t quite sure if it was the words or the woman saying them that affected him the most.

“How about we get back to practice?” He asked, not bothering to look at her before resuming his place mid dance floor. She seemed a little taken aback, her blue eyes searching his curiously. He didn’t mean to be so harsh but it was all becoming too familiar and being a future King, Klaus knew that emotion was something he couldn’t afford to betray. “I promise I won’t step on your toes again.”

“Famous last words,” she murmured, stepping into his frame, that delicious, vaniall scent wafting into his nostirls. Klaus closed his eyes momentarily, telling himself that it would all be over soon.    

Why are the things that I want to say, just aren't coming out right? I'm tripping on words. You got my head spinning. I don't know where to go from here.

Caroline Forbes was usually calm and collected. She paid her bills on time, her dentist appointments were scheduled like clockwork and every single day was planned out from start to finish.

The day that her perfectly planned life came undone was an unexpected call to her dance studio in Chelsea. Caroline had moved to London five years earlier from New York, ready for the next challenge in her life. She’d studied diligently at university, earning her Masters in Art History but dancing would prove to be her true passion.  

She’d befriended her cocky, best friend at the Camden Markets one dreary Sunday not long after her move. They’d fought over an antique figurine at one of the smaller stalls. Caroline’s grandmother collected them and he’d been insistent about having it until the end when he’d admitted he was just playing her. She would have killed him but he paid for it himself and shouted her a coffee. The rest, as they say, was history. 

“How’s Prince Hottie?” Enzo had decided to bestow his own nickname. She was fairly certain that he was still hoping the soon-to-be King would decide he would fall in love with him.  

“Shhhh,” she chided, looking around at their fellow patrons anxiously.

“I could be referring to anyone, darling,” he chuckled, taking a sip from his vodka martini. “And we’re in Brixton. I’m pretty sure the Royals don’t frequent this part of town or even know it exists to be honest.”

Caroline had to admit he was right as they enjoyed a drink at Three Eight Four Bar but for some reason every time he mentioned her latest and high profile dance student she became extremely defensive. Maybe it had something to do with the dense CIA file Klaus had alluded to and what might happen if she revealed too much information about said Prince. 

They’d been training together for eleven weeks now. Yes, he was still stubborn and offered his opinion all too freely but over their time together she’d sensed some vulnerability in the man the media dubbed the ‘fun loving Prince.’   

“Earth to Blondie?” Enzo interrupted, throwing a potato crisp in her direction for extra effect. “I was only telling you about my latest date with Josh.”

“And? Are we in love yet, Lorenzo?”

“I’ll keep you posted, but it’s looking promising,” he grinned. “But let’s get back to you and your issues.”

“My issues?” Caroline hissed. If there was anything Caroline didn’t have, it was issues. Her life was perfectly structured, no dangerous icebergs in sight.

“You like him.” 

“Excuse me?”

“I’d name him but I know how protective you are about His Royal Hotness,” he whispered, leaning over his glass and pretending to be discreet as only Enzo could. “It’s okay gorgeous, we’ve all had our celebrity crushes and I can understand being in such close proximity.” 

“I don’t have a crush,” she growled, feeling the heat creep across her cheeks. Damn that royal idiot for messing with her. Caroline’s emotions were always well and truly intact.  Her cell buzzed, she consulted the screen, her heart momentarily stopping at the text displayed. 

They’d been mucking around during break about nicknames and he’d momentarily stolen her cell. She’d assumed he had taken an unsolicited photo during rehearsal but he’d been messing in her contacts. “Who is this Fraser? Looks like a complete idiot to me.”

“Give that back!” She demanded, noticing that Ahmed seemed silently amused by their exchange. Caroline made a mental note that he was going to crack sooner rather than later. 

“Oooh, I’m sensing you like said idiot.” 

“That’s none of your business,” she hissed, snatching it back hoping he hadn’t read any of their texts. Fraser was an idiot but she didn’t want to prove his point given her recent rejection. He was cocky enough as it was. Caroline knew she needed to change the subject and fast.     

“The last thing I would ever want to do is inflate that annoying ego but between you and me, girls love a guy that can dance.”

“Oh do they?” He smirked curiously. “So, you’re saying I can dance?”

“Woah, hold up Fred Astaire, not yet,” she teased, gathering her golden waves into a ponytail to help ward off the Summer heat. “You get this right; all high society women are going to be lining up to dance with you.” 

“Maybe so but it’s not my thing, Caroline.”

“Not your thing? Oh I get it, you’re more into crumping than waltz?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about but I’m game to try that at the coronation. I have a feeling that it might actually spice things up.”

“I may be taking my life into my hands but how about we try that step again? Then I’ll teach you how to crump.”

“Whatever you say but I think it’s best we keep this arrangement from Fraser, wouldn’t want him getting too jealous.”

Enzo yanked at her stray blonde wave, the constant ringing of her cell not only annoying her obviously. “I’m cutting you off after this drink, dreamy.”

“If it isn’t the best dancer on earth,” she drawled after connecting. Trust his arrogant ass to make that his name in her contacts. “Not sure what you need me for then.”

“We all have our talents, love,” he chuckled, his deep voice causing a few unwelcome flutters down below. “I need an urgent lesson though.”

“What? Now? Tonight?”

“Apparently my frame leaves a lot to be desired,” he said repeating her earlier critique. “And I can’t sleep until it’s rectified.”

“Well, it’s going to have to wait,” she hissed, her anger rising with each word. How dare he try and pull royal rank? “I’m actually busy.”

“You must be Fraser?” A voice enquired, interrupting their drink. Caroline’s head whipped around, not immediately recognizing the Prince in a baseball cap and dark jeans.

“Well, that’s just all levels of offensive,” Enzo growled. “I may be gay but know how to treat a woman right.” 

“Ah, the best friend?” He asked, shaking his hand heartily. “Great to meet you mate, and couldn’t agree more about that idiot. He was never good enough for our Caroline.” 

“Our Caroline?” She hissed, wanting to yell every insult in his direction for his sudden appearance and subsequent behavior. Enzo didn’t seem so upset, his long, brown eyelashes fluttering a little faster than usual.  

“I told you, my frame isn’t what it should be,” he offered, sending Enzo another smile.

“And I told you I am busy,” she growled, through gritted teeth.

“She’s not busy,” Enzo shared, looking between the two. “I was just leaving, HRH.” Before she could argue, her best friend with his cute ass wiggling from side to side was gone. Traitor.

“Nice of him to be so formal,” Klaus offered, taking a seat at their table and gesturing towards the waitress. “Next round is on me.”

“But apparently your dance tuition was of the upmost urgency, brooding, bad dancer,” she huffed.

“Brooding, bad dancer?”

“Oh didn’t you know? That’s your name in my contacts,” she argued. “I don’t really appreciate your interfering.” 

“I had a dance emergency,” he insisted. 

“And what exactly was that?” Klaus looked at her sincerely before explaining.

“You’re going to be leaving me soon,” he explained, his blue eyes staring into hers earnestly. “And someone promised me some crumping lessons.”

“What? Tonight?”

“No time like the present,” he smiled, taking the drink from the waitress gratefully.

“Do they know you’re here? The coronation is in two weeks,” she whispered looking around the room. “Where is Ahmed?”

“You always liked him more than me, didn’t you?”

“Have you been drinking?” She hissed. Klaus didn’t respond just sent her a pair of his disarming dimples. There was no doubting the future King of England was drunk and in her presence. He’d been struggling since his brother’s death and sudden ascension to the throne that much was obvious, not that she blamed him. She needed to act fast.

“How about salsa instead? I know this great class.” She lied. In his current state it didn’t take much for her to convince him and they left the bar without anyone recognising him.  

Ahmed appeared from the shadows as they walked down the abandoned street at the back of the establishment. Caroline was relieved, no doubt he’d insisted he keep his distance. “Take him home.”

Ahmed’s eyes were telling her he wanted that but the future King had other plans. “You promised.” Caroline wanted to refuse but she had to get him home before his family or the press noticed. 

“Let’s go back to the Palace,” Ahmed nodded and led them to the waiting car. Klaus seemed pleased that she was sitting by his side and that was all that mattered.    

“Cause it's you and me and all of the people with nothing to do. Nothing to lose. And I don't know why, I can't keep my eyes off of you.”

“Why do we always have to waltz? You promised me crumping then salsa and god knows what else,” Klaus accused his lips barely moving, holding her close while they waltzed around the Kensington Palace ballroom with all eyes on them. 

“I’m saving you from a public relations disaster, you’ll thank me afterwards,” she grinned, her eyes settling on his. Once the formalities were through they both knew what they’d be doing.

It had been five years earlier when she’d been his dance tutor and now they were husband and wife. Her Royal Highness, Princess Niklaus of Wales in fact. Klaus had been equal parts adorable and insistent. She’d usually tell someone that indignant to get lost but unfortunately he had stolen her heart long before even if his dance moves still left a lot to be desired.  

[discovercreate]

Whitney B. Shares Why Wedding Videography is her Priority #1

From SMP blogger bride, Whiney B… I once wrote a paper on the human senses. I know you are thinking, where in the heck is Whitney going with this?! But truly, senses are really a powerful thing. A person’s senses are so intertwined with an experience. You struggle tasting without smell, it’s difficult to see without touching and can be hard to speak without hearing. But the most valuable thing senses bring are the intangible, the nostalgia, the memories, but importantly the feelings.

I’ve said on many occasions, the biggest thief we will face in our lifetime is time itself. In 2004, my mother’s Christmas gift to my sister and I was a video interview she recorded of my grandmother “Mamaw” about her childhood, our ancestry, her relationship with my grandfather, their childhood, their memories. When my sister and I opened it on 12/25/04 it was so meaningful, but admittedly I didn’t understand the importance at the time. If you know the worrier I am, I was alarmed. Did this mean that Mamaw wasn’t going to be with us much longer? I wasn’t ready for that. I packed the CDs (with transcript) in a safe place. I wasn’t ready to listen.

A short 5 months later, my mother tragically and unexpectedly passed away. I’ll never forget going in search for the CDs I had tucked away so unexpectedly just a few short months earlier. I had them, but I still wasn’t ready. I wasn’t ready to hear her voice. 6 weeks later was my 20th my birthday. When I opened up my gift from my sister, was a series of DVDS of home videos she had transferred from VHS as well as a roll of undeveloped film she found in my mom’s safety deposit box. Once developed we were astonished to see it was photos from the day I was born in 1985.

Oh my word, were my senses in full effect! The sight of the photos, the sound of stillness and sadness, the grasp/touch of my sister and grandmother, the taste of salty tears and the smell of my mom, everywhere.

Again, you may wonder where on earth I’m going with this. But if there is one thing a picture can’t capture it is a sound, a mannerism, a personality. I listened to my mom’s interview for the first time with Mamaw (Who just celebrated her 90th!) and the only second time I could listen was with Ricky. I wanted him to get to know her more than a face a camera captured. Her humor, her voice (yes, I think we sound alike), but, also, the dynamic we had as a family that unfortunately he will never, nor will our children ever get to experience firsthand.

Because of this experience, having a wedding videographer was a non-negotiable for us. Not just for Ricky and I, but for the simple fact that there is a circle of life and I want our day to forever be captured. This is our wedding day, our life, our moments. I want to remember them. And our video is not only for ourselves, but also for those around us and our future legacy – to me it’s such a beautiful gift to cherish! 

I want to share so many thanks to Brighter Lights Media for tackling this task head on and with such grace. It was hard to find someone that I could trust to capture our day perfectly, because for me it is one of the most important aspects to our wedding. I am so confident this video will be passed down through the generations, hopefully many. Thank you, Brighter Lights Media, for capturing our families as we are in 2017 so those in 2100 can look back and reminisce at how amazing we were!

Until next time!

xo, Whit

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  Photography: Carly Michelle Photography | Cinematography: Brighter Lights Media | Event Planning + Design: Always Yours Events | Floral Design: The Wild Dahlia | Makeup: Natalie Lelless | Bride: Whitney Bischoff | Hair Artistry: Jennifer Tawa | Rentals: Kadeema Rentals

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Woman, 23, becomes mum-of-seven overnight after mothers sudden death

A 23-year-old woman was forced to become a mother to her five siblings as well as her own two children after her mother’s sudden death. 

Shannon Ellis, of Hartlepool, County Durham, was just 22 when she stepped up to care for the brood of seven after her mother Shelley, 39, died in January this year.

This Mother’s Day she received handmade cards, boxes of chocolates and bouquets of flowers from her brothers and sisters.

Shannon Ellis, 23 (centre), is now legal guardian to her five siblings as well as her own two children. Pictured from left to right (siblings unless specified): Keevie, 10, Bracken, 13, partner Kieren, 23, son Rowan, 2, Shannon, Neve, 15, Blaine, eight, Mia, 16, son Harrison, three

Ms Ellis, who is a full-time mother, said: ‘I always wanted to be a mum, but I never imagined I’d have to fill my own mum’s shoes and go from a mum-of-two to a mum-of-seven overnight’. Pictured is mother Shelley Ellis and daughter Shannon when she was younger

The family will also pay tribute to Shelley by visiting the tree where they spread her ashes near the park she used to take them to.

Ms Ellis already had two of her own children – Harrison, three, and Rowan, two – when she volunteered to raise her five siblings rather than put them into care. 

She took them in with her partner, Kieran Ferguson, 23.

She is the legal guardian for her five siblings – Mia, 16, Neve, 15, Bracken, 13, Keevie, 10, and Blaine, eight.

Ms Ellis, who is a full-time mother, said: ‘I always wanted to be a mum, but I never imagined I’d have to fill my own mum’s shoes and go from a mum-of-two to a mum-of-seven overnight.

‘But I promised mum I’d look after my brother and sisters.

The family’s lives were turned upside down after Shelley was taken unexpectedly ill in January 2018 – and told she had just days to live. Shelley was rushed to the University Hospital of North Tees, Hartlepool, where medics discovered she had a rare disease

‘She’d have hated to see them split up or in care, I never would have let that happen.

‘We have our moments, but we’re still one big, happy family – just as mum wanted.

‘Mum was just brilliant.

‘She did everything to provide for us – despite being a single parent and raising us all on her own.

‘She’d take us on family trips to the seaside and would muck in with us playing games. On a Saturday night she’d always rustle up a huge home-cooked feast.

‘We had an amazing childhood and always felt very loved and protected by her.

‘She made me want to have children of my own and she was over-the-moon when she became a grandmother to my two little boys.’

Shelley Ellis is pictured here in hospital shortly before she died

Ms Ellis was born seven years before her next sibling, so for the first years of her life, she and her mother Shelley were inseparable. Pictured it Shelley Ellis playing a family game before she died

Ms Ellis was born seven years before her next sibling, so for the first years of her life, she and her mother Shelley were inseparable.

‘I was her mini-me,’ Ms Ellis said. ‘We would do everything together.

‘She was both mum and dad to me as my father wasn’t on the scene – but she was also my best friend in the world.

‘I remember watching in admiration as she put her make-up on in the mornings and thinking, I want to be just like her when I grow up.’

For many children, the sudden arrival of new siblings after years of undivided attention would cause upset – but not for Ms Ellis .

Sliding with ease into her role as their big sister, she doted on her younger siblings from the very first time she set eyes on them.

She said: ‘I remember the first time I met Mia and mum said I could give her a kiss. 

‘She was sleeping so peacefully and I carefully kissed her tiny face – I was so scared of breaking her, she was perfect.’

As the number of her siblings grew, the Ellis’ became one big happy family.

Ms Ellis said: ‘We were all really close.

‘We’d have the odd fight as brothers and sisters do, but all-in-all we looked out for each other and mum made sure we were always happy.

‘I would help her out where I could – getting my younger brother and sisters ready for school and out the door – mum couldn’t do it all by herself.’

Shelley was a single mother so life could be hard at times but the family still had fun. They enjoyed trips to Headlands Beach or Summer Hill, near their home in Hartlepool, and caring Shelley would make sure the car was packed with everything they would need

Shelley (pictured) helped with homework and tucked each one of her six children into bed each night

By this time, Ms Ellis’s mother Shelley was no longer with her partner and the father of the younger children but the family still had fun. 

They enjoyed trips to Headlands Beach or Summer Hill, near their home in Hartlepool, and caring Shelley would make sure the car was packed with everything they would need.

She helped with homework and tucked each one of her six children into bed each night, with more than enough love to spread between them all despite having barely any time for herself.

Keen to start a family of her own, Ms Ellis fell pregnant aged 18 after she and Keiran had been dating for eight months and had two sons – who Shelley doted on.

Ms Ellis said: ‘I remember taking the pregnancy test at home first thing in the morning before work.

‘I ran screaming and shouting into mum’s room, jumping on her bed and telling her she was going to be a grandma.

‘Mum knew before Kieran did – that’s how close we were.

‘She was over the moon and although I was nervous about being a young mum, I knew I could do it if I just followed the amazing example my mum had set.’

Harrison, three, was born in May 2015, followed by another son, Rowan, two, in January 2017.

Ms Ellis and her partner Mr Ferguson moved just around the corner after the birth of their two boys to give the family some more space – but that didn’t mean they weren’t together all the time.

Ms Ellis said: ‘Mum was an amazing grandmother – she absolutely adored the boys.

‘Not a day went by where I wouldn’t see my mum.

‘She helped look after the boys if we were busy and taught me the tricks of the trade.

‘She was besotted with her grandchildren, the same look I’d seen when my siblings were born all those years earlier, and I was so happy to have her help throughout their early years.

Ms Ellis and her partner Mr Ferguson moved just around the corner after the birth of their two boys to give the family some more space – but that didn’t mean they weren’t together all the time

When Shelley (pictured) heard she didn’t have long left, she became unbelievably worried about what would happen to her children left behind

‘I always thought she’d be there for me to give me guidance and to watch her children and grandchildren grow up.’

But the family’s lives were turned upside down after Shelley was taken unexpectedly ill in January 2018 – and told she had just days to live.

Shelley was rushed to the University Hospital of North Tees, Hartlepool, where medics discovered she had a rare disease.

Ms Ellis was told by medical staff that her mother would never be the same, and had a maximum of two years to live.

She said: ‘I’ll never forget hearing those words.

‘I couldn’t contemplate losing her but the doctors assured that would be the case.’

When Shelley heard she didn’t have long left, she became unbelievably worried about what would happen to her children left behind.

Ms Ellis said: ‘It was horrible seeing the worry in her face, she loved us all so much.

‘But I promised her that the kids would never be alone and that I would step up to look after them.’

Shelley’s condition deteriorated rapidly, and just two days later they were told the end was imminent.

Shelley was moved to Alice House Hospice, Hartlepool, to make her final days more comfortable, and the family gathered around to make their heart-breaking goodbyes.

Ms Ellis said: ‘I can’t thank the staff there enough, they were brilliant to poor mum.

‘They were so lovely and understanding and made sure she had everything she could have needed until the time came.’

On January 25, 2018, Shelley sadly passed away aged 39 – just nine days after she first started to feel unwell.

Ms Ellis was there when she passed, and curled up on the bed next to her until she knew the time had come to tell the rest of the family.

She said: ‘There’s nothing to describe her death other than a feeling of emptiness.

‘My best friend, my biggest support and my incredible mum had been taken from our lives and I felt so empty.

‘But I had to be there for the kids, and we sat together sobbing for what seemed like hours.’

Having gone from speaking to her mother every single day, Ms Ellis was left lost without her.

But she found strength in her siblings and the unity of their family.

She knew she had to keep her final promise and stepped up to become the legal guardian for her five siblings.

She said: ‘Losing mum was horrendous – it came so out of the blue. It hit us all so hard.

‘One minute she was there and seemed fit and healthy and the next we were told she had days left to live.

‘When she passed away, it didn’t hit me straight away. I just felt numb.

‘But the one thing that kept me going was my brother and sisters and my own boys. I knew I had to get up each day to be there for them and to look after them.

‘I couldn’t have done it all without Kieran – he had no experience of looking after girls, let alone teenagers. But he took my siblings under his wing and was a pillar of strength for all of us.

‘Mum was always a brilliant judge of character and she adored him, so I’m glad she will have known that he will always look after us.

‘I can’t believe how strong my brother and sisters have been.

‘To be so young and suffer such a devastating loss is heartbreaking, but to still act as maturely as they have is amazing.

‘They are coping really well and I’m really proud.

‘We talk about mum all the time and constantly get photos out and laugh about the joy she brought to our family.’

The family all moved in together after the death of their mother, and Ms Ellis and Mr Ferguson have taken them on as their own – just as Shelley had wanted.

From being a mother-of-two to a mother-of-seven overnight, Ms Ellis says she has learnt a lot over the past year and says it gets easier every day.

She said: ‘It has been hard but it’s given me more of a reason to get up and get on with every day normal life. Their strength has given me the strength to carry on.

‘I think she’d be smiling down at us, proud of how we’re doing.

‘She will always be the head of this family, and I am trying every day to follow the incredible example of motherhood she set.’ 

The post Woman, 23, becomes mum-of-seven overnight after mothers sudden death appeared first on Gyrlversion.

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Whitney B. Shares Why Wedding Videography Is Her Priority #1

From SMP blogger bride, Whiney B… I once wrote a paper on the human senses. I know you are thinking, where in the heck is Whitney going with this?! But truly, senses are really a powerful thing. A person’s senses are so intertwined with an experience. You struggle tasting without smell, it’s difficult to see without touching and can be hard to speak without hearing. But the most valuable thing senses bring are the intangible, the nostalgia, the memories, but importantly the feelings.

I’ve said on many occasions, the biggest thief we will face in our lifetime is time itself. In 2004, my mother’s Christmas gift to my sister and I was a video interview she recorded of my grandmother “Mamaw” about her childhood, our ancestry, her relationship with my grandfather, their childhood, their memories. When my sister and I opened it on 12/25/04 it was so meaningful, but admittedly I didn’t understand the importance at the time. If you know the worrier I am, I was alarmed. Did this mean that Mamaw wasn’t going to be with us much longer? I wasn’t ready for that. I packed the CDs (with transcript) in a safe place. I wasn’t ready to listen.

A short 5 months later, my mother tragically and unexpectedly passed away. I’ll never forget going in search for the CDs I had tucked away so unexpectedly just a few short months earlier. I had them, but I still wasn’t ready. I wasn’t ready to hear her voice. 6 weeks later was my 20th my birthday. When I opened up my gift from my sister, was a series of DVDS of home videos she had transferred from VHS as well as a roll of undeveloped film she found in my mom’s safety deposit box. Once developed we were astonished to see it was photos from the day I was born in 1985.

Oh my word, were my senses in full effect! The sight of the photos, the sound of stillness and sadness, the grasp/touch of my sister and grandmother, the taste of salty tears and the smell of my mom, everywhere.

Again, you may wonder where on earth I’m going with this. But if there is one thing a picture can’t capture it is a sound, a mannerism, a personality. I listened to my mom’s interview for the first time with Mamaw (Who just celebrated her 90th!) and the only second time I could listen was with Ricky. I wanted him to get to know her more than a face a camera captured. Her humor, her voice (yes, I think we sound alike), but, also, the dynamic we had as a family that unfortunately he will never, nor will our children ever get to experience firsthand.

Because of this experience, having a wedding videographer was a non-negotiable for us. Not just for Ricky and I, but for the simple fact that there is a circle of life and I want our day to forever be captured. This is our wedding day, our life, our moments. I want to remember them. And our video is not only for ourselves, but also for those around us and our future legacy – to me it’s such a beautiful gift to cherish! 

I want to share so many thanks to Brighter Lights Media for tackling this task head on and with such grace. It was hard to find someone that I could trust to capture our day perfectly, because for me it is one of the most important aspects to our wedding. I am so confident this video will be passed down through the generations, hopefully many. Thank you, Brighter Lights Media, for capturing our families as we are in 2017 so those in 2100 can look back and reminisce at how amazing we were!

Until next time!

xo, Whit

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  Photography: Carly Michelle Photography | Cinematography: Brighter Lights Media | Event Planning + Design: Always Yours Events | Floral Design: The Wild Dahlia | Makeup: Natalie Lelless | Bride: Whitney Bischoff | Hair Artistry: Jennifer Tawa | Rentals: Kadeema Rentals

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Whitney B. Shares Why Wedding Videography Is Her Priority #1 published first on their blog to my feed

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Whitney B. Shares Why Wedding Videography is her Priority #1

From SMP blogger bride, Whiney B… I once wrote a paper on the human senses. I know you are thinking, where in the heck is Whitney going with this?! But truly, senses are really a powerful thing. A person’s senses are so intertwined with an experience. You struggle tasting without smell, it’s difficult to see without touching and can be hard to speak without hearing. But the most valuable thing senses bring are the intangible, the nostalgia, the memories, but importantly the feelings.

I’ve said on many occasions, the biggest thief we will face in our lifetime is time itself. In 2004, my mother’s Christmas gift to my sister and I was a video interview she recorded of my grandmother “Mamaw” about her childhood, our ancestry, her relationship with my grandfather, their childhood, their memories. When my sister and I opened it on 12/25/04 it was so meaningful, but admittedly I didn’t understand the importance at the time. If you know the worrier I am, I was alarmed. Did this mean that Mamaw wasn’t going to be with us much longer? I wasn’t ready for that. I packed the CDs (with transcript) in a safe place. I wasn’t ready to listen.

A short 5 months later, my mother tragically and unexpectedly passed away. I’ll never forget going in search for the CDs I had tucked away so unexpectedly just a few short months earlier. I had them, but I still wasn’t ready. I wasn’t ready to hear her voice. 6 weeks later was my 20th my birthday. When I opened up my gift from my sister, was a series of DVDS of home videos she had transferred from VHS as well as a roll of undeveloped film she found in my mom’s safety deposit box. Once developed we were astonished to see it was photos from the day I was born in 1985.

Oh my word, were my senses in full effect! The sight of the photos, the sound of stillness and sadness, the grasp/touch of my sister and grandmother, the taste of salty tears and the smell of my mom, everywhere.

Again, you may wonder where on earth I’m going with this. But if there is one thing a picture can’t capture it is a sound, a mannerism, a personality. I listened to my mom’s interview for the first time with Mamaw (Who just celebrated her 90th!) and the only second time I could listen was with Ricky. I wanted him to get to know her more than a face a camera captured. Her humor, her voice (yes, I think we sound alike), but, also, the dynamic we had as a family that unfortunately he will never, nor will our children ever get to experience firsthand.

Because of this experience, having a wedding videographer was a non-negotiable for us. Not just for Ricky and I, but for the simple fact that there is a circle of life and I want our day to forever be captured. This is our wedding day, our life, our moments. I want to remember them. And our video is not only for ourselves, but also for those around us and our future legacy – to me it’s such a beautiful gift to cherish! 

I want to share so many thanks to Brighter Lights Media for tackling this task head on and with such grace. It was hard to find someone that I could trust to capture our day perfectly, because for me it is one of the most important aspects to our wedding. I am so confident this video will be passed down through the generations, hopefully many. Thank you, Brighter Lights Media, for capturing our families as we are in 2017 so those in 2100 can look back and reminisce at how amazing we were!

Until next time!

xo, Whit

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 Photography: Carly Michelle Photography | Cinematography: Brighter Lights Media | Event Planning + Design: Always Yours Events | Floral Design: The Wild Dahlia | Makeup: Natalie Lelless | Bride: Whitney Bischoff | Hair Artistry: Jennifer Tawa | Rentals: Kadeema Rentals

© Style Me Pretty, 2017. | Permalink | Comments | Add to del.icio.us Post tags: Blogger Bride, Whitney Bischoff Post categories: Blogger Bride, The Blog, Wedding Resources

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Whitney B. Shares Why Wedding Videography is her Priority #1

From SMP blogger bride, Whiney B… I once wrote a paper on the human senses. I know you are thinking, where in the heck is Whitney going with this?! But truly, senses are really a powerful thing. A person’s senses are so intertwined with an experience. You struggle tasting without smell, it’s difficult to see without touching and can be hard to speak without hearing. But the most valuable thing senses bring are the intangible, the nostalgia, the memories, but importantly the feelings.

I’ve said on many occasions, the biggest thief we will face in our lifetime is time itself. In 2004, my mother’s Christmas gift to my sister and I was a video interview she recorded of my grandmother “Mamaw” about her childhood, our ancestry, her relationship with my grandfather, their childhood, their memories. When my sister and I opened it on 12/25/04 it was so meaningful, but admittedly I didn’t understand the importance at the time. If you know the worrier I am, I was alarmed. Did this mean that Mamaw wasn’t going to be with us much longer? I wasn’t ready for that. I packed the CDs (with transcript) in a safe place. I wasn’t ready to listen.

A short 5 months later, my mother tragically and unexpectedly passed away. I’ll never forget going in search for the CDs I had tucked away so unexpectedly just a few short months earlier. I had them, but I still wasn’t ready. I wasn’t ready to hear her voice. 6 weeks later was my 20th my birthday. When I opened up my gift from my sister, was a series of DVDS of home videos she had transferred from VHS as well as a roll of undeveloped film she found in my mom’s safety deposit box. Once developed we were astonished to see it was photos from the day I was born in 1985.

Oh my word, were my senses in full effect! The sight of the photos, the sound of stillness and sadness, the grasp/touch of my sister and grandmother, the taste of salty tears and the smell of my mom, everywhere.

Again, you may wonder where on earth I’m going with this. But if there is one thing a picture can’t capture it is a sound, a mannerism, a personality. I listened to my mom’s interview for the first time with Mamaw (Who just celebrated her 90th!) and the only second time I could listen was with Ricky. I wanted him to get to know her more than a face a camera captured. Her humor, her voice (yes, I think we sound alike), but, also, the dynamic we had as a family that unfortunately he will never, nor will our children ever get to experience firsthand.

Because of this experience, having a wedding videographer was a non-negotiable for us. Not just for Ricky and I, but for the simple fact that there is a circle of life and I want our day to forever be captured. This is our wedding day, our life, our moments. I want to remember them. And our video is not only for ourselves, but also for those around us and our future legacy – to me it’s such a beautiful gift to cherish! 

I want to share so many thanks to Brighter Lights Media for tackling this task head on and with such grace. It was hard to find someone that I could trust to capture our day perfectly, because for me it is one of the most important aspects to our wedding. I am so confident this video will be passed down through the generations, hopefully many. Thank you, Brighter Lights Media, for capturing our families as we are in 2017 so those in 2100 can look back and reminisce at how amazing we were!

Until next time!

xo, Whit

Share this gorgeous gallery on

  Photography: Carly Michelle Photography | Cinematography: Brighter Lights Media | Event Planning + Design: Always Yours Events | Floral Design: The Wild Dahlia | Makeup: Natalie Lelless | Bride: Whitney Bischoff | Hair Artistry: Jennifer Tawa | Rentals: Kadeema Rentals

© Style Me Pretty, 2017. | Permalink | Comments | Add to del.icio.us Post tags: Blogger Bride, Whitney Bischoff Post categories: Blogger Bride, The Blog, Wedding Resources