#we went to visit my paternal side of the family in the morning + after noon. currently at my maternal grandmother's

[crescentmp3]

fell today. i am literally a 2cm tall little guy and i am being met with such hard challenges

[zerokurokawa]

rindou meeting reader’s family at a get together. (she’s hispanic, so you know it’s a big party with lots of food and music). maybe the tias and abuela’s all love him. pllllsssss.

Sharing Cultures And Meeting The Family | Rindou x Hispanic!Reader <3

Rindou has always been fond of meeting your family. He often begged to meet them, as he would suggest going to a nice restaurant and him even footing the bill for everyone. Little did he know, you were going to take him to a real get together. 

You were studying abroad in Japan when you met the delinquent, and of course, you two hit it off instantly. So when you booked plane tickets to go visit your family, you were more than excited to tell him that he was coming along. Hell, you believed that he was more excited than you were; he had started packing almost a week early. 

Once you both arrived at your family's house, the party already kicking off with your aunts dancings and your grandparents cooking. It was like a scene out of a movie for Rindou as a bright smile spread across his face at the sight. One of your aunts invited him to dance along to the music that was blaring. Rindou had never heard this type of music before, but he loved it!

As he was trying to copy your aunts moves, you stared at him and laughed. He was excited to meet everyone and even went around introducing himself. With him being Japanese, they were all intrigued at his own heritage. That's the beauty of coming from a different background, you thought, cultures and heritages are meant to be shared and loved by others. 

Your grandparents were teaching him how to make traditional hispanic food while asking him about the traditions he had growing up in Japan. The conversation went on for hours it seemed before the food was finally ready and everybody was eating. 

"Rindou, is it?" Your paternal grandmother asked, introducing herself to him as she was the last to show up at the gathering. 

"Yes ma'am." He stuck out his hand for her to take and she gladly accepted it with both hands. 

"Rin, this is my abuela on my father's side!" You said, excitedly. 

Rindou nodded his head and smiled while taking a bite of his meal. You could tell by the way your family was welcoming and accepting that they all adored him. It was beautiful, seeing the way they all interacted with each other; asking questions and learning new words in different languages. Rindou even learned how to say "how are you" in Spanish. Needless to say, he wouldn't stop repeating it. 

Your aunt learned how to say "good morning" in Japanese. The whole scene was wonderful as you all ate, danced, and sang along to the music that was playing. You could tell that Rindou was having the time of his life as he danced along with your aunt once more, learning the steps to each and every song. 

After the party was over and it was time to go home, Rindou didn't want to leave without telling each and everyone goodbye in Spanish. You thought this was adorable as you blushed, seeing your family smile and wave at him and how cute he was learning about your culture and even your language. 

"I had a lot of fun, we should do that again really soon!" He said as you both got in the car, driving to the hotel nearby due to you having to catch a flight back to Japan the next morning. 

"We will, I promise. I love visiting my family and I could tell they loved and adored you." You smiled. 

The evening was perfect and Rindou wouldn't stop saying phrases in Spanish. 

[maerinhearts]

I need a safe space to talk about something in my life.

TW: Death

In February 2015, my paternal grandmother passed away. A lot of my family assumed my grandfather would follow soon after, but he didn't. I was at college in Pennsylvania when it happened, and my older sister, along with my grandfather, got in the car the very next morning to come pick me up for the funeral. I was very close with my grandmother so that was really hard on me.

In May of 2015, on my 20th birthday, I went to visit my grandfather as I had just gotten home from college and wanted to spend time with him. My grandma always kept track of the birthdays for grandpa, so I didn't expect to get a "Happy Birthday" or anything like that. However, he told me on that day that if shooting himself in the head wasn't a one-way ticket to Hell, he would do it. But he can't, because my grandma is in Heaven and he wants to be with her.

I'm sure you can guess how much that hurt.

I distanced myself pretty far after that without really realizing it. Plus, I have an older brother that I have not spoken to since late 2015 for certain reasons and they always took his side, even though he was in the wrong. That's a story for another day though. I always felt ostracized and like I didn't matter much to that side of my family so I distanced myself even more.

In February of 2019, my paternal aunt revealed that she had Metastatic Breast Cancer, stage 4. It had spread to her lymph nodes, her joints and her lungs. We weren't sure how long she had, but I vowed to spend as much time as I could with her. Then COVID happened. She loved camping. So the summer of 2020, when things started opening back up, I started going camping again so that I could see her. And in October of 2020, she passed away when the cancer spread to her brain. Her death was hard for me, I was very close to her as a child.

In May of 2021, my older sister and i received a phone call that my father was dying. He had Multiple Sclerosis (MS) and had been in a nursing home for 10 years. The nursing home stopped caring for him and he was starving by the time he got to the hospital. He could barely talk anymore, and he was a choke risk. The doctor gave us two choices that my sister and I had to make as his next of kin: permanent feeding tube surgery that he had a 5% chance of surviving or moving him into hospice and letting him die peacefully. We chose hospice. I won't go into full detail about the whole thing as his death was very traumatic for me, but he passed in June of 2021.

My grandfather has disowned me god knows how many times for not talking to him while grieving. And I can't imagine how it must have felt to lose your wife and all your children. But we were grieving too. He said some hateful things to me over the years. But even then, when he got rushed to the hospital on the evening of January 14th, I was worried. And I rushed to the hospital on the 15th to see him. His kidneys were failing and he was actively starving due to a mass partially obstructing his esophagus. He had stopped eating completely because he started choking. But he didn't tell any of us. He was rushed to the ER because my baby cousin found him collapsed on the floor. He got out of the hospital later that week and into a nursing home for physical therapy. But he just kept getting worse and worse....

We rushed him to the ER last Tuesday morning, January 31st. We needed him to have emergency feeding tube surgery. Only to find out that he didn't have long left. It was rough... we didn't get moved to a room in the hospital until 4 AM on the 1st. My sister and I didnt get any sleep that night. And we moved him into Hospice at 3 PM later that day... where we spent the next 4 days with him.

He passed at 1:58 AM this morning, February 5th, and I feel fucking lost. So lost. My dad's entire family is gone, and I'm only 27. His last day of consciousness was spent yelling at me about anything because he wasn't sane anymore. I got yelled at about flowers on the floor (there were no flowers) and I got yelled at for not holding his hand.

I'm so exhausted. I'm tired. I'm tired of the people around me dying. I don't want to go plan his funeral tomorrow. I can't say goodbye to the last living link I had to my father. And it didn't help that the situations were similar and they looked the exact same laying unconscious in that bed...

And no one understands how I feel. My sister and two cousins might, but honestly, none of them have the same views on death as I do and none of them understand any of how I have felt for the last 8 years alone. This fucking sucks. I had to driving home at 3:00 this morning after getting all my stuff packed up. I cried the whole way home. I watched him take his last breath and yet it doesn't feel like any of it has happened at all.

I know that people have probably been through something similar, but I just can't help but wonder why me? I'm just fucking tired...

[bipolardisorderadvocacy]

The Reality of Bipolar Disorder

Written and Published by Kamilah Arceneaux

Society’s misunderstanding of and the stigma surrounding bipolar disorder in addition to the symptoms of the disorder itself can be isolating for those who live with it, but it doesn’t necessarily have to be. People with bipolar have a shared experience of high highs and low lows. There are differences among them in how frequently they experience these, or how extreme their highs or lows can get, but more often than not the disorder has a negative impact on the quality of their lives. More than simply an interpersonal issue, the lack of support, understanding, and stability for the emotionally unstable is a huge societal issue. Half of the written and unwritten rules we have in place that prevent these people from functioning are unnecessary and almost seem to be intentionally designed for the disabled to be unable to adhere to them. There is no emphasis on teaching everyone empathy, only conformity. So when someone doesn’t conform because they are unable, they are left behind, and the ones who are able to conform are often so busy trying to conform that they don’t even have time to notice or even to begin to think of why it is that so many people are failing. Currently, mental health is worse than it’s ever been, universally. We suffered an awful pandemic and everyone struggles a little bit more now. But the demands never adjusted or lessened to give anyone grace, especially not those with severe mental health disorders such as bipolar. 

I have bipolar disorder, and I have a family history of it as well. My father and paternal grandmother struggled with it intensely. 

I could tell when my dad was experiencing a high because he would be over at the house at 3 AM making me lunch and already ready for work when I hadn’t even gone to sleep yet. He would prepare elaborate meals and blast music in the middle of the night that was so loud you could hear it down the street. I could tell when he was experiencing a low much more easily because he would avoid any social interaction and was unable to get out of bed, so while his highs were characterized by an intense presence in my life, his lows were characterized by his absence. Often, he would take me grocery shopping before it got too bad so that when he wasn’t able to get out of bed, I had a full pantry so that I could feed myself. In the early morning on June 25th, 2020, my father got up to get ready for work. No one knows the exact details of what happened next, but his death certificate says that it was an “Accidental overdose.” Nobody believed this. My father was a strict Muslim who actively accused other people of abusing drugs and didn’t want me around them for my protection. What likely occurred is that my dad took something to self-medicate for the day ahead of him, and died of a fentanyl overdose. I am still trying to convince myself of this because I know that it is the most reasonable and logical explanation. But reason and logic are not always present for someone suffering from bipolar disorder, especially not in the aftermath of grief. 

When my dad and I went to visit his father’s side of the family when I was a preteen, we went to visit a grave site where much of our family had been buried. In Louisiana, they often have to bury the bodies above ground so that the groundwater doesn’t sweep the coffins away. He played a song for me titled “The Funeral” by a group named Band of Horses. He disclosed to me that he played that song every time a loved one would die, and had reminded me many times before that God doesn’t promise tomorrow to any of us. Years later, two years after his death, I found myself revisiting the lyrics, one of which is: 

“To the outside, the dead leaves lay on the lawn

For they don’t have trees to hang upon”

I have thought about this every day since. My interpretation of this line is that the dead leaves represent those who struggle with mental illness or addiction, and the tree represents a support system for them to rely on or “hang upon”. If the leaves on a tree become sick, they often fall off so that the tree does not become damaged. This isn’t to say that people with this disorder deserve to be absolved of their behaviors completely, or that those around them should continue to attempt to help them at their own expense. The examples that I have given of my father’s struggles are mild in comparison to how scary things could get. I loved my dad, and sometimes, I was terrified of him. Sometimes I had to keep my distance from him for my own well-being. And even he frequently had to keep his distance from his bipolar mother for his own well-being.

On June 25, 2020, the day of his death, I had not seen my father in person for over five years. I had reconnected with him over text a year prior, but the next time that I physically saw him was wrapped in white cloth on the steel table of the funeral parlor at his Janazah, or Islamic funeral. Despite the guilt that I feel, I bring this up to make it clear that the isolation and lack of connection that leads to an event like this remains a societal failure and not a failure of the person with bipolar or the individuals around them. If there were more importance placed on education for the general population about bipolar disorder, adapting societal norms to be more inclusive, as well as treatment methods that consistently worked and didn’t exacerbate symptoms, it wouldn’t be so challenging for people with bipolar disorder to maintain healthy relationships and achieve stability. The responsibility should not lie solely on the individual to get better, and those around them to be their caretakers if it is at the expense of their own well-being. It is especially true that an individual with the disorder can’t be solely responsible due to the reality that an attempt to get better when you have bipolar disorder can actually make your symptoms worse, whether you are attempting to socialize more often but interpersonal relationships are a trigger for mood episodes, or whether you go to a psychiatrist and the medication that they prescribe causes mania or suicidal thoughts. For example, my father was an alcoholic for a long time, abused his ADHD medication to cause mania, drank non-alcoholic beer on his bipolar medication and had multiple DUIs on his criminal record. However, a couple of months before his death he had confided in his brother that he had been experiencing extreme social anxiety and had been prescribed Xanax by his psychiatrist. If my dad who struggles with addictive tendencies due to his bipolar depression weren’t prescribed Xanax, would he still be alive? He knew how badly he needed help, and no matter how hard he tried to get it, every treatment was ineffective, dangerous, or irresponsibly prescribed. 

I believe that a bipolar person living in a society that has little understanding and even less empathy for these behaviors sets us up for a lifetime of isolation, or of being on the precipice between life and death, no matter how well we’ve learned to hide or numb it. Society’s unwritten and written rules can be a huge challenge for someone with bipolar disorder to consistently adhere to. This requires stability, and we are characterized by our consistent instability. 

There are many statistics and research which can be alarming to read, especially if you or a loved one suffer from bipolar disorder. 

They will be listed below. 

Research Shows:

30-50% of people with bipolar disorder will attempt suicide within their lifetime (Monson et al).

10-15% of people with bipolar disorder die from successful suicide attempts, and these rates are 20-30x higher than the general population  (Monson et al).

Bipolar disorder causes a decreased life expectancy of roughly 13 years on average (Miller).

Half of people suffering from bipolar disorder experience hallucinations and delusions (Kerner).

Some of the predictive factors for bipolar disorder include, “trauma, negative life events, deficits in social support, and problems in family relationships.”(Johnson).

The distressing findings of this research is evidence that there is something fundamentally lacking in the way society treats the severely mentally ill. A combination of factors such as pressure to function regardless of whether the person with bipolar disorder has a support system, the symptoms often causing them to push their support systems away, treatment often being ineffective or aggravating symptoms, and little understanding of this disorder and especially the “scarier” effects of it, can lead to social isolation, drug abuse, high levels of stress, can lead to untimely deaths. 

A direct quote from an article on premature mortality in bipolar disorder, authored by Brian Miller, states that: “Bipolar disorder is associated with a two- to threefold increased risk of premature mortality, including not only suicide death, but also cardiovascular disease, respiratory disease, and cancer.” I believe that the physical causes of death that people with bipolar disorder struggle with are due to the high levels of stress associated with living with the disorder and society’s treatment of these individuals. Deaths occurring from unintentional overdose or excessive drug abuse may be more easily prevented if treatment methods were more successful and if there were more understanding of the correlation between bipolar and the risk factors for substance abuse. Suicide deaths may lessen with successful treatment, less stigma around the scarier symptoms, more resources, and a complete overhaul of a society that doesn’t allow the severely mentally ill to be unstable without dire consequences unless they are wealthy or well-supported by family or friends. 

After my father’s death, at his funeral, my uncle from Washington recalls how growing up together, my dad was always the perfect example of what not to do. My aunt from Louisiana who my dad was rarely around recalls my father as her personal Hercules. I believe both stories are true, and that when you have bipolar it is easier to be what people want you to be when you are rarely around them. When you don’t have to be that way consistently. Unsurprisingly, my father wished to be buried in Louisiana instead of Washington where he had lived the majority of his life. And unsurprisingly, until something changes, people who struggle with this disorder will continue to have a higher rate of premature mortality.

Citations

Czeisler MÉ , Lane RI, Petrosky E, et al. Mental Health, Substance Use, and Suicidal Ideation During the COVID-19 Pandemic — United States, June 24–30, 2020. MMWR Morb Mortal Wkly Rep 2020;69:1049–1057. DOI: http://dx.doi.org/10.15585/mmwr.mm6932a1external icon

Miller, Brian MD. “Premature Mortality in Bipolar Disorder.” Psychiatric Times, Psychiatric Times, 15 Mar. 2022,

https://www.psychiatrictimes.com/view/premature-mortality-in-bipolar-disorder. 

Monson, E.T., Shabalin, A.A., Docherty, A.R. et al. Assessment of suicide attempt and death in bipolar affective disorder: a combined clinical and genetic approach. Transl Psychiatry 11, 379 (2021). https://doi.org/10.1038/s41398-021-01500-w

Johnson, Sheri L et al. “The Influence of Trauma, Life Events, and Social Relationships on Bipolar Depression.” The Psychiatric clinics of North America vol. 39,1 (2016): 87-94. doi:10.1016/j.psc.2015.09.003

Kerner, Berit. “Genetics of bipolar disorder.” The application of clinical genetics vol. 7 33-42. 12 Feb. 2014, doi:10.2147/TACG.S39297

.

[almostinsanesposts]

Well, I just came up random and found my sister using the modem, so, why not next episode?

Back to Kahani Suno… as of now, I know, I had got only one reader here and, she had a confusion and I thought I’ll clear it up. So, baby, yea, I am talking about my life here with my own perspectives. Yes, I would love to talk this in front of people, but, you know, the fear on everything around just pulls me back. The art of saying “no” is not there with me. I lack such things and obviously will talk about those as well on coming episodes.

Today, I thought, of discussing about the “FOMO” or about leaving behind your people out of fear. Morning, I heard my dad speaking about the earlier times when I used to go behind him to Kerala, and while leaving how I used to cry quietly. All he knows is that am crying. Why? I don’t know he knew it or he tried to ask me either.

When I came to Tamil Nadu, I was 3 yrs. old. Which means, I was separated due to family politics from my cousin’s very early stage. But I never missed a chance to meet them at Kerala, whenever my dad went to his house. I used to run behind him and hold his hand tight, run up to his shoulder and return back with shit inside my dress. Well, that’s supposed to be the fun part.

So, every time we visited our paternal or maternal house, it was all fun because we didn’t know what the elders were actually discussing. All we cared was our fun. We had all possible fun by not missing out a single second. Though I was not that active compared to my cousins from either side of the family. Of course, had and am hearing complaints about being so. Actually, turned out to be a great red flag in my fucking life. Well, that’s not the case. After all the fun, chitchats, food and story time, at that moment of leaving that place, I used to cry, weep inside me. Dad had once scared me out saying not to raise my voice, even if am crying. So, barely people noticed while I cry. And that was because, I knew that I would never visit them again, feel their warmth again, hear their stories again and I would miss them completely for months and years. And that fear is true now.

We don’t meet anymore. We don’t even talk properly. When they started choosing their way of living, when they started respecting their choices, parents started to back off (that is the hidden truth). They now do all bloody, fucking, fearing things to make them come their way. And parents, family, relatives, everything scares me now. Scares me so much. And there is my fear. I miss them. I love them always. And lost hope of seeing them casually even. Man, I can’t even talk to them or appreciate their success. A life full of fear, I am living.

[restlessfandoming]

“new arrivals” (chilumi oneshot)

Lumine and Childe anticipate the birth of their baby. As always, the two of them never have a moment of peace, and unexpected events arise, throwing everything in danger’s way.

//

hey friends! long time no see :p

i’ve finished my fic “the president and the troublemaker” so i’m back to writing one shots for a bit. if you haven’t read it yet, check it out on my profile :D

this oneshot is in response to this ask i received c:

[Fic Masterlist] // [AO3 Link]

* * *

“new arrivals”

Lumine hated Childe. Well, she hated Childe sometimes. She loved him, she really did, but in this moment, she hated him.

“Just because I am pregnant, doesn’t mean I can’t walk,” she nearly growled at him.

With a sheepish smile, Childe removed his hands from her arms. “Sorry, sorry. Your waddling makes me nervous.”

Lumine scoffed. “Of course I have to waddle.” She patted her swollen belly. “How else can I get around with this thing in me?”

Almost as if in retaliation, Lumine felt a kick inside her—don’t call me ‘thing.’

Instantly, Childe’s hand were resting on her bump, eagerly awaiting their baby’s movements. It truly amazed Lumine at how natural Childe’s paternal instincts were.

Their weekly spars had turned into nightly meetings, and nightly meetings had turned into...Well. Their current situation. It hadn’t been planned, obviously, it had just happened.

It had taken Lumine a whole week of nauseous morning after nauseous morning before Childe finally convinced her to visit Bubu Pharmacy where they both received the shock of their lives. Baizhu had been very compassionate, ensuring the confidentiality of the pregnancy as they left.

Childe had been the first one to get over the shock. For Childe, who had spent his life surrounded by family and younger siblings, he had easily grown accustomed to the idea of his own family—especially one with Lumine.

Lumine, on the other hand, took much, much longer. She hadn’t ever given it a thought: her own family?

She was on a quest to find her brother, of course. To regain her powers, defeat the Unknown God, and leave this world with Aether. She couldn’t just settle down and start a family.

Weeks passed, Lumine’s stomach growing, as she slipped into a dark place, thoughts of failure filling her mind—I’m never going to leave now.

Childe had spent all of his time, taking care of Lumine as she looked after herself less and less. Slowly, he was giving up his duties as a Harbinger; the Tsaritsa and his comrades were growing suspicious. Childe knew if they found out, it would only end in violence. A child between one of their strongest Harbingers and the all-powerful Outlander? They would surely want it as a pawn on their side, if they weren’t going to kill it first.

Childe found them a tiny cottage secluded in the vast mountain ranges of Liyue, with help from Zhongli, who was, of course, the most familiar with the lay of the land. He practically had to carry Lumine there, who was still deep in her depressive state, who spent her days laying in bed, staring blankly at the walls of her inn room, unwilling to move.

Once they were in the cottage, Childe again took care of her as she continued to contemplate her fate, unmoving; he made sure she ate, he cleaned her, and was always there to hold her at night, telling her that he would be with her no matter what she decided to do.

Her love for him only deepened as she saw how selflessly he helped her, how loyal he was. Because of him and his love and devotion, she slowly came to terms with their situation.

The more she thought about it, the more she wanted this life: some secluded home in the mountains with Childe and a bouncing baby on her hip. A slow, peaceful life; it would be such a luxury from what her life was before. But, there was always that pang of guilt that settled in the back of her throat: the anxious thoughts that she was abandoning Aether, her twin brother, for this.

And perhaps it was that guilt that blocked Lumine from having any real connection with the life growing inside her. She hadn’t envisioned whether it would be a son or daughter, whether it would have her hair or Childe’s eyes—she hadn’t even thought of a name. Thinking of this baby only drew up a blank slate, a missing void.

Now nearing the end of her pregnancy, she felt a lot of movement inside. She knew that those moments were supposed to be special, that mothers cherished those feelings, but Lumine’s body registered them more as just...foreign movements.

There was also the fear. The fear of not being able to be a mother in the first place. She envied Childe and his ease with parenthood: knowing all the things to prepare, the foods she should be eating, the first lessons to teach. Lumine had no clue what to say or do.

She and Aether had been abandoned, left to fend for themselves, from a very young age. She never had a solid parental figure in her life.

How am I ever going to be a good mother?

A soft touch to her cheek pulled Lumine from her ruminations.

Childe gave her a smile. “Need anything, Lumi?”

Lumine put her hand over his. “Hm, I am a bit hungry,” she said.

A light chuckle. “How about some sticky honey roast?” His hand slid down from her cheek, his thumb on the corner of her lips. “You’re drooling already.”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “Shouldn’t you be hurrying up then?”

Childe laughed, then kissed her forehead. “I’ll come get you when it’s ready,” he told her, exiting to the kitchen.

Lumine turned, looking out the open window, into their little garden. The earthly scent wafted through the window, the warm sunshine adding an extra tang to the air. Through the window she counted the growing vegetables, taking note of those ready to harvest.

Humming quietly to herself, she made her way to the kitchen, standing in the doorway to watch Childe flutter about the room, pulling various pots, pans, and utensils out from the shelves.

Archons, he was going to be such a good father.

!!!

There was another movement in her womb, this time sharper, a bit more painful. She let out a tiny gasp.

Childe turned, and immediately went to her, brows furrowed. “You okay?”

“Yes,” she sighed. “There’s been a lot of movement lately.”

There was a long pause before Childe spoke. “Must mean it’s nearly time.”

She locked eyes with him. “Already?”

He reached out and soothed out her hair. “Hey, no worries. I will be right here with you—always.” He smiled softly. “We’ll get through it together.”

Lumine nodded, her throat drying. “I’ll be in the garden for a bit.”

“Okay. Can you get some carrots while you’re there? We’re running a bit low.”

She nodded again, leaving the house while Childe returned to his preparations.

She walked through the tall grass, pushing open the wooden fence leading into the garden, her slippers thudding quietly against the little cobblestone path. Finding the patch of carrots, she slowly knelt down, beginning to pull the orange vegetables from the earth.

Birds tweeted, insects chirped, and Lumine again found herself in the vortex of anxiety as she thought about the coming days. Any day from now, she was going to birth a whole new life into the world—a tiny, little, helpless life she was going to have to raise, look after. Can I do it?

She shook her head.

She had helped countless lives, people of all ages and backgrounds, during her time in Teyvat. She had even formed special bonds with so many of them, this child being a result of one of those special bonds. So, surely she would find her way to loving this new life, to caring for it with all her heart, right?

And she would still search for Aether. Aether wouldn’t be angry. He would love a niece or nephew to look after. She was sure her child would love their uncle right back. So, she would have to find Aether for her child and—

BZZT.

Lumine blinked. Was that a bug?

“Found you.”

Lumine looked over her shoulder, finding a familiar blue-haired boy standing behind her. Scaramouche.

“What an annoyance it’s been looking for you,” he said, the ball of electricity crackling dangerously in his hand.

Anxiety pooled into Lumine’s veins. She wouldn’t be able to fight him, not like this. I can’t even stand up quickly right now.

!!!

Another painful movement ripped through Lumine’s body. She bit the side of her cheek in to keep quiet in front of Scaramouche.

“Not going to say anything?” he taunted, taking steps closer to her. “Not even going to raise your weapon at me?”

She dug her nails into the dirt, trying to make the pain go away.

“C’mon. What happened to the almighty Outlander?” His voice continued to drop in annoyance. Lumine could feel the electricity sparking directly behind her now.

“What do you want?” she strained out.

A sardonic laugh rippled through the air as he yanked her up by her hair.

“What I’ve been ordered to do.” He brought the electricity closer to her throat. “To kill—”

He froze, tiny flickers of Electro energy pricking Lumine’s skin. He let her go, stepping around her as she collapsed back onto the ground.

“How...interesting,” he breathed, eyes cast down at Lumine’s pregnant body. “So this is why you’ve hid all this time.” His eyes twitched, calculating what to do with the new information.

Lumine rubbed at her neck. “Are you still going to kill me? Or take me back to your Tsaritsa?”

“Who’s the father?” Violet-blue eyes met amber. “Don’t tell me…” He let out a cynical laugh, eyes growing wide with hysteria. “That idiot? Of course! Why didn’t we see it before? The two of you did disappear around the same time…”

He leaned down, bringing the Electro energy back near Lumine’s face. “Tartaglia’s nearby, isn’t he?”

Lumine glared at him. I can just pull my sword out right now. He was close enough for her to throw a quick jab at. Maybe she could disarm him and get away.

It had been so long since she had last fought, since she last materialized her sword. It was going to take some time to do it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she finally answered. She focused her energy to her palm, searching through the void for her weapon.

“Playing dumb’s not going to work.” There was a surge of power through the ball of electricity. “You should just tell me before I kill you and find out for myself.”

“You don’t even want the child? You’re just going to kill a potentially powerful weapon?” she tried to bargain. She needed more time. She could feel her sword’s particles slowly returning to her.

Scaramouche paused for a brief second to consider. “Sounds like a liability.” He glanced up at the sky. “The Tsaritsa has all she needs. I’d rather not run the risk of another filthy betrayer.”

SHING!

Lumine’s sword appeared in her hand.

Without hesitation, she stabbed up at Scaramouche, forcing all the elemental energy in her body through the weapon.

Anemo and Geo energy struck the Harbinger in his chest, sending him flying across the garden.

Lumine struggled to stand, stumbling her way back to the house, energy already quickly draining from her heavy body. She glanced back at Scaramouche.

He was standing up, his eyes twitching with rage. “You—” He launched an Electro attack directly at her.

She raised her hand, trying to charge her counter attack as fast as she could.

I can’t get it in time—!

A shield of Hydro formed in front of her, dissipating Scaramouche’s attack.

Relief washed over Lumine as she turned around. Childe—

“Mona?!” she blurted.

The twin-tailed astrologist gave her a small smile. “Didn’t expect to see you here,” she said. Her eyes flickered to Lumine’s belly. “And with child?”

“What are you doing here?!”

Mona threw up a Hydro shield as Scaramouche fired another sphere of Electro.

“The Hydro witch again,” he snarled. “You’re really getting on my nerves.”

Scaramouche charged an arc of lightning straight at them.

Mona casted a large bubble of water to surround them, wincing as the lightning collided with the shield, burning sparks deflecting all over.

The lightning didn’t disappear upon collision, instead continuously barraging against the water. Mona closed her eyes in concentration, brows furrowing with each passing second.

Scaramouche twisted his arm, amping the lightning with more energy, the Electro glow brightening.

CRACK!

Mona let out a sharp gasp; a fine line had splintered in the bubble.

Lumine raised her hands, straining her muscles, and mustering any energy in her body to charge a barrier of her own to help her friend.

!!!

She groaned as she collapsed back onto her knees, a horrible, throbbing pain rippling through her abdomen. Her eyes widened, feeling water trickle down the side of her leg.

No, no, no...not now!

“Lumine!” Mona breathed out. “What’s wrong?”

The blonde cried out as her body underwent another contraction. “I—the baby…,” was all she managed to get out before letting out another cry of pain. The baby is coming!

Mona cursed, another line fracturing in her shield.

“It’s over!” Scaramouche yelled. “There’s no use delaying your deaths!”

A smattering of blue Hydro energy rushed past the women, heading directly for the Harbinger. Just as quickly, Scaramouche withdrew his arc of lightning at Mona and Lumine, blocking the oncoming attack.

Childe locked his daggers with Scaramouche’s Electro shield. His face was twisted in a snarl, a dark, evil expression Lumine had never seen before.

“I’m going to kill you,” he said to Scaramouche, voice gravelly, but plain, as if it were just a simple fact being stated.

The blue-haired boy barked out a laugh. “You can’t. You were always the weakest one of us all.”

Childe mimicked the laughter. “I never did like you, Scaramouche.” His ocean eyes narrowed. “I’m going to enjoy this.”

There was an explosion of Hydro, engulfing the two Harbingers. The two struck each other with ultimate speed and precision, only brief glimpses of their fight visible, disembodied clashes of weapons and elements.

Mona let down her own barrier, short of breath, and knelt next to Lumine.

“I’ll teleport us out of here—to safety,” she said.

Lumine reached out, grasping onto her friend’s arm. “No,” she heaved. “Not...without him.” She looked up, eyes tracking Childe. I’m not going to leave you.

“The father?” the mage asked. She worried her lip as she stared ahead, lost in thought. Then, “Wait here,” she said.

The witch shimmered into thin air with a torrent of water, reappearing next to Childe. Both Scaramouche and Childe immediately turned their weapons at her, which she deflected.

She leapt and grabbed Childe by the shoulder, disappearing yet again, rematerializing next to Lumine. Childe and Scaramouche both let out curses as Mona grabbed Lumine’s arm.

WHOOSH!

Lumine blinked, and the three of them were in a thick forest: a distance aways from where they were before.

Mona cried out as Childe knocked her to the ground, foot pinning her arm, dagger at her face.

“Who are you?” he growled.

“Friend!” Lumine croaked out. “She’s my friend!”

Childe turned towards Lumine. He released his weapons, rushing to Lumine’s side. “Are you hurt?” he asked, gently examining her.

“It’s coming,” Lumine whispered.

She felt his muscles tense against her. “Right now?” Upon her nod, he clenched his jaw. He turned back to Mona. “Do you know anything about childbirth?”

Mona glared at him slightly, rubbing at her bruised arm. “No. I’m an astrologist, not a doctor.”

Childe returned the expression. “Could you get us to Liyue Harbor? To BuBu Pharmacy?”

A shake of the head. “It takes a lot of energy to teleport. I won’t be able to do it for a while, unfortunately.”

!!!

Another contraction pulsed through Lumine’s body. “Now,” she groaned. “It has to be now.” It’s coming, it’s coming, it’s coming. Tears gathered in her eyes, from the pain, from the fear barraging her mind.

“Okay, okay,” Childe said, tender. He stroked Lumine’s hair. “You’re going to have the baby right here, okay?”

He yanked off his jacket, laying it under Lumine. He motioned at Mona. “You are going to have to hold her leg.”

Mona came to Lumine’s side, face slightly pale, then took off her cape and folded it into a makeshift pillow under the blonde’s head. “You’re a doctor?”

Childe shook his head. His face was taut. “Lots of younger siblings. I’ve seen my mother deliver before.” He grabbed Lumine’s hand softly. “It’s mostly going to be you from here,” he said. He squeezed her hand. “And I know you’re going to do great. Like you always do.”

I can’t.

All her battles combined didn’t come close to the excruciating pain radiating throughout her body now. Her mind was fleeting, blurred—all of her previous anxieties crashing back; she was senseless, she couldn’t fight them off.

“I can’t,” she finally whispered. “I can’t do this; I can’t be a mother.”

Childe tucked her hair back, leaning in close, lips nestled on her forehead. “There is absolutely no one in this world that compares to you,” he whispered back. “It’s terrifying, I know, but if there’s anyone that can be an amazing mother, it’s you.”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve seen you defeat armies of men, monsters, and gods—”

“Childe, that’s different—”

“—and I’ve seen how brilliantly resilient you are. You would stop at nothing for those you love.”

“Ahem,” Mona coughed awkwardly.

Lumine and Childe looked at her.

She looked away, bashful. “You have this strange ability to have patience, and to care for everyone,” Mona said. “Even when they’re difficult and stubborn...like me.” She finally looked back at Lumine. “I think...I think anyone would be lucky to have you as their mother, Lumine.”

Lumine sniffled loudly. “Mona…”

“Now, now,” the mage interrupted. “Let’s get this on the way. I suppose being an aunt would be fun…”

“She’s right,” Childe added. “I thank the stars everyday that I’m going to be able to love and cherish this child with you. There’s no one else that could ever come close to you, Lumi.”

Tears fully rained from Lumine’s eyes. Slowly, she began to nod.

They were right. She knew herself more than capable. And she wasn’t going to be alone. Even with her fears, she had her loved ones there to support her. Together, they would be strong enough for anything.

I...I can do this.

“Thank you, both,” she breathed. She reached out, putting her hand in Childe’s. “I love you.”

He smiled at her. “I love you too.” He kissed her before kneeling by her feet.

“Deep breathes,” Childe told her. “Then push, okay?”

She nodded, taking in a lungful of air.

Breathe, Lumine, breathe.

Breathe.

PUSH.

Lumine let out a sharp cry, pushing with every ounce of strength left in her body, nerves excruciatingly igniting all over. The trees swayed as the wind picked up around the three.

Pleasepleaseplease—

“Lumine,” Mona murmured, glancing up at the leaves. “Your energy is leaking out.”

Lumine stopped pushing for a second, forehead slick with sweat. “Wha-What does that mean?”

Mona pointed at swirls of Anemo energy forming above, leaves and branches beginning to snap off. “It may very well mean you might level this entire forest.”

Oh no… “I-I can’t control it right now,” Lumine said.

“Can you form a seal of some sort?” Childe asked.

The astrologist bit her lip. “I can certainly try.” She grabbed Lumine’s hand then nodded.

Taking in another deep breath, Lumine started pushing again. Both her and Mona winced as Lumine squeezed their hands together. A blue glow emitted lightly from her body—Mona’s magic—and she felt her elemental energy rattling in her veins.

“You’re doing great, Lumi,” Childe said over her panting. “You’re almost there.”

Almost...there!

Lumine screamed as she felt a final wave of pain, and the intense release of pressure.

Then, a cry.

Not hers, however. The pitched wailing of a baby.

She relaxed back, just listening to the crying as Childe and Mona shuffled around, checking on the baby.

It’s here.

She looked down at her feet where Childe was wrapping the baby in his gray jacket. He was smiling, his blue eyes blissfully aglow.

He carried the bundle to Lumine. “A son,” he told her. The baby was placed in her arms.

For the first time ever, Lumine looked down at her son.

My son.

“He’s so small,” she said, smoothing down his head of light hair. She held him close to her heart, and the crying quieted down. His tiny eyes opened, bleary blue hues taking in the world.

Her heart ached as it swelled with overwhelming emotion. Seeing this tiny creature, this life she carried for many months—a product of her and Childe’s love and passion—she knew she already loved him, that yes, she would give her all to protect him: her new family.

Childe wrapped his arms around her shoulders, looking down at their son as well. “You did it,” he murmured, kissing her forehead.

“Congratulations,” Mona said. “The battle isn’t over quite yet.”

Lumine looked up at her friend. “What do you mean?”

Mona raised a brow. “There is another child, isn’t there?”

…

What?

Both Lumine and Childe stared at the astrologist blankly.

“How do you know?” Childe asked.

“Oh, Archons, you really didn’t know,” Mona responded, panicked. “When I was using my magic to seal away Lumine’s elemental energy, I felt the two different life forms—it’s twins.”

!!!

Lumine felt her muscles tense as her body prepared for another delivery. She let out a gasp, looking up at Childe to confirm, yes, there is another baby.

“Hold the baby,” he said to Mona, moving back down to Lumine’s feet.

Mona gently took the baby into her arms, a look of uncertainty scrawled on her face.

BOOM!

There was a thunderous strike of lightning right next to the group; as the dust settled, Scaramouche stepped out of the fog, purple electricity crackling all over his body.

“Would you look at that,” he growled, eyes narrowing in on the newborn. “Another body to dispose of.” A wicked grin pulled at his lips. “I was going to kill you all quickly, but now I think I’m going to make it slow. And tortuous.”

Childe stood, eyes dark. “Mona, keep Lumine safe.”

Then, he launched towards the other Harbinger, becoming engulfed in electricity as well. The two impacted, an explosion resonating around them, and Childe stepped out from the smoke, his Foul Legacy transformation completed.

Over the deafening sounds of blades crashing, Mona took the cape from under Lumine’s head, laying it under her body. She spoke to Lumine, “Are you ready to start pushing?”

Lumine shook her head feverishly. “I can’t.” Not without Childe.

“You must,” her friend said. “You can’t help him until you do.”

Lumine’s body locked up in pain with another contraction. “Okay,” she strained out.

Mona nodded, conjuring a glob of water, then placing Lumine’s child on it. “It’s the only bassinet I can make right now.”

“Can you still help seal my energy?”

“Of course.” Mona knelt by Lumine’s feet. “Are you ready?”

Lumine swallowed hard, then nodded. After taking in many deep breaths, she mustered all the remaining strength in her body to push.

A labored cry exhaled from her body, every fiber in her body praying for it all to stop.

“It’s almost out,” Mona encouraged. “Just a bit more!”

The edges of her mind blurred. She imagined her and Childe, living their lives peacefully with their two children, watching lovingly as they skipped around in fields of flowers. Aether would walk up, greeting his little nieces and nephews, waving joyfully at Lumine. Her friends—Mona, Xiangling, Zhongli, and countless others—would take turns coming to visit, to see them and their happy little family in their happy little home.

It was such a lovely dream.

Tears ran down her face, and Lumine pushed just one last time.

…

The familiar sound of a newborn’s cries filled the air once more. Lumine fell back, laying down in the dirt, the sight of tangled tree canopies above returning to her vision.

“A girl,” Mona said, carefully wrapping her cape around the baby. She stood, carrying the little girl to Lumine.

BOOM!

The two women snapped their attention back to the fight, watching as Childe’s armor shattered around him. He fell, kneeling, and gasping for breath.

Despite her exhausted body, Lumine scrambled up. “Childe!”

“You’ve grown so weak, Tartaglia,” Scaramouche spat. “You’re out of practice. Too focused on your meaningless family,” he mocked.

“Run,” Childe gasped out weakly to Lumine.

Scaramouche slammed his foot into Childe’s head, cackling as the Eleventh Harbinger fell down.

Something stirred in Lumine’s body.

“I think,” Scaramouche said, turning to Lumine, “I’m going to kill your children first. Right in front of you. How does that sound?”

Something old, ancient—something she hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

“Shield everyone,” Lumine said lowly to Mona. In response, Mona gave a small nod, grabbing the two children, and making her way to Childe inconspicuously.

Scaramouche stalked closer to Lumine. “Are you going to try and fight me?” Another cackle. “You’re even weaker than Tartaglia, especially after what you just went through.”

“You threatened my family,” Lumine nearly growled. “You hurt my family.” She raised her arm, materializing her blade. Quicker than before.

“And you’re going to pay for that,” she finished, her veins ignited with ancient energy.

He smirked. “I’d like to see you try.”

There was an overwhelming ringing in Lumine’s ears as she felt the liquid power coarse through her body. The sensation extended through her back, bursting outwards, until...a pair of wings had formed. Her pair of wings.

Her skin was aglow, a golden haze enveloping her, her wings, and her sword.

It was her old power.

Her powers had come back.

“What is the meaning of this?” Scaramouche sneered.

Lumine glanced over at Mona, the two babies in her arms, hovering over Childe, who was stirring awake. A faint blue glow surrounded them—Mona’s barrier.

She turned her attention back to Scaramouche, who was charging up an Electro attack of his own.

“It’s no use,” Lumine said, echoing his words back to him. She leapt up into the air, flying far above him as he cursed below.

She closed her eyes, thinking of her friends, of Aether, her children, her one true love, Childe—her family.

The sword illuminated, crackling with golden arcs of energy. Then, she plunged down.

A sonic boom erupted around her as she landed, acres of dirt and trees uprooting in the explosion. The mountains shook, the clouds parted, and Lumine used the last bit of her energy to blast the dust away.

Laying before her, lifeless, was Scaramouche.

I did it.

She quickly looked around for her family, crying in relief seeing Mona, Childe, and the babies safely protected.

She felt her ancient power drain from her, and she collapsed on her knees as the pain and exhaustion funneled back into her body.

“Lumine!” she heard Childe shout.

“Childe…,” she responded, voice thin.

Then, her vision went black.

* * *

There was the crying of a baby. No, two babies. It sounded so familiar, yet foreign to Lumine.

She was in a black void, looking around for the source of the crying. Whoever they were, she knew they needed her. And she needed to protect them.

Lumine groggily opened her eyes, the black void from her dreams dissipating. Her vision adjusted, and she realized she was laying in her and Childe’s bed, back at their mountain cottage. Muffled through the walls, she heard the crying of her children, and the voice of Childe trying to calm them.

She slowly sat up, the bed creaking under her. At the sound of movement, Mona stirred awake from the corner.

“You’re awake!” she shouted. She went to the door, throwing it open, and yelling, “She’s awake, she’s awake!”

Lumine blinked at her, still rubbing the sleep from her eyes, while Mona came to her side.

“How are you feeling?” her friend asked.

Lumine stretched a bit. “Very sore.”

“Hmph. I would expect so; you really did level that forest.” Mona looked out the window. “After exerting that kind of power, you should most certainly be dead.” She bit her lip. “But I am glad you are not.”

“Thank you, Mona. For all your help,” Lumine said with a small smile.

The astrologist flung her blue hair over her shoulder. “You are very welcome,” she said, returning the smile.

“You never did tell me why you were here of all places.”

“Ah, yes, that.” She folded her arms across her chest. “After our encounter with that Harbinger, I decided to track his movements—just to make sure he wouldn’t cause any more trouble.” She opened her hydromancy chart, looking over the sigils. “As fate would have it, I followed him here, to you.”

The wailing of the newborns drew closer, and Childe appeared in the doorway, two wriggling bundles in his arms.

His hair was rustled, dark bags under his eyes, and his usual pressed attire was wrinkled and disheveled.

Archons, Lumine loved him.

It was obvious to her that while she was knocked out cold, he had been taking care of their newborn children all on his own. Which was probably the furthest thing from easy...

He gave her a smile, tired at the edges, but filled with love all the same—and she gave him the same smile, yearning to embrace him and their new family.

Mona mumbled something about going to observe the sky for a while, and slipped out of the room as Childe sat on the edge of the bed.

Wordlessly, he placed the two babies in Lumine’s arms, and their cries were instantly quelled.

“Now that’s something I haven’t heard in forever,” he sighed. “Silence.”

“I hope it wasn’t unbearable.” She looked down at her babies, gently smoothing their little light hairs. It would never cease to amaze her, the overwhelming love and joy she felt looking at her twins. Looking at their tiny hands, their tiny feet, seeing their little breaths—any anxiety or fears she had felt before disappeared into thin air.

Childe wrapped his arm around Lumine, looking down at their children as well. “The only thing that was unbearable was not having you around,” he said, pressing a kiss to her temple.

Lumine nodded. “I couldn’t imagine doing this without you.” She leaned into Childe’s chest. “I’ll always be around,” she assured.

“And I’ll always be with you,” he answered. “Our little family.”

Lumine smiled, the happiest of tears coming to her eyes.

“Our little family.”

* * *

[emospritelet]

Twisted Fate - chapter 28/28

Last time, Belle made up with her father, and Gold and Neal had a heart to heart. After all the crap I've put these idiots through, I'm pleased to say that they get their HEA. This is it :)

[AO3]

x

Gold waited for Neal to call Emma, pacing nervously in the hallway as he did so. He tried not to listen to the one-sided conversation, the ‘okay’, the ‘yeah, I know’, and the ‘I guess we’ll see’. Despite their hug, and the tears that had been shed, Neal still sounded cautious. He supposed that was only to be expected; Neal had taken less than a day to consider the matter, and there were tests to be done before paternity could be confirmed, after all. Gold had been honest when he said the outcome didn’t matter to him, but after decades of thinking his father hadn’t even known of his existence, it would matter to Neal. How could it not?

He was pleased that Neal had agreed to come to brunch, and to invite Emma and Henry along with him. It was unlikely that Henry would be told at this stage, but there would be time for that. Neal was willing to talk to him, and to let him get to know his family. All things considered, it was a more positive outcome than he had anticipated. He was trying not to think about how Neal might react if the test came back negative.

The muffled sound of talking ceased in the lounge, and Neal entered the hallway, closing the lounge door behind him and shoving his phone in his pocket.

“Uh - they’re gonna meet us there,” he said, and Gold nodded.

“Right.”

“They’re not far,” added Neal. “We took Henry to the bookshop this morning, and I thought, since I was in the area - well, I thought I may as well stop by.”

“I’m glad you did,” said Gold sincerely, and Neal hesitated only briefly before nodding.

“Yeah,” he said. “Me too.”

The walk to the diner was made in relative silence, Neal’s hands shoved in his pockets as he sauntered along with his head down, seemingly lost in thought. Gold wanted to speak to him, but held back, feeling awkward and unsure of what to say. It was a relief to get to the diner and see Belle seated at one of the tables in the window, a book held open in front of her, pressed flat by the fingers of her right hand, with her left gently rocking Gideon’s stroller as she read. She looked up as they entered the diner, and her face broke into a beautiful smile that made him want to propose there and then. He pressed his lips together and told himself to bloody well wait until he wasn’t an emotional wreck.

“Hey!” she said, reaching out to touch his arm before squeezing Neal’s hand. Neal sent her a lopsided grin.

“Hey there, Mom,” he said, and she giggled, her eyes sparkling.

“Okay, that’s a little weird, not gonna lie.”

“You’re telling me,” he muttered, but he winked at her.

“Are you joining us for brunch?” she asked.

“Yeah, I asked Emma and Henry to come too.”

“Oh, great!” Belle looked from him to Gold and back again. “Does - does that mean..?”

“It means we’re having brunch,” said Gold easily. “And that Neal and I have agreed to take a test and get some answers.”

“Oh. Well, that sounds like a good idea.”

“Yeah, it’s - well, I guess we have to start somewhere, right?” said Neal, scratching the back of his head and pulling a face. Belle closed her book.

“And what better place to start than with cinnamon pastries and good coffee?” she said, and Neal chuckled.

“Wow, you really did become a mom.”

“Loving it so far,” she said, and patted the seat next to her. “Come on, sit down. They do the best Eggs Benedict here. And the pancakes are awesome.”

“One order of pancakes here,” said Neal immediately, taking a menu from her. “Emma’ll probably have the eggs, though.”

“Why don’t I get some drinks?” asked Gold. “Belle? Tea?”

“Iced, please.”

He nodded, smiling, and raised a hand to attract the attention of the waitress. One step at a time.

Their drinks arrived shortly before the rest of the family, Henry running ahead of his mother with a wide grin on his face, interrupting the conversation just as Gold was tentatively suggesting that they might want to visit Storybrooke one day.

“Hey Mr Gold!” said Henry excitedly. “Hey, Belle! I got a new book! It’s about a princess and a dark wizard!”

He waved a hard-backed book in the air, almost knocking Belle’s iced tea over, and she put a hand over the glass as Emma rolled her eyes with a sigh.

“It sounds wonderful,” said Gold, shooting Belle an amused look. “You can read some of it to me after we’ve eaten, if you like.”

“Cool! Can I have pancakes?”

“Take a look and see what you want on ‘em,” said Neal, and Henry flopped into one of the chairs and took the menu from Belle.

“Wow, they have different kinds!”

“I’ll take that menu after you, kid,” said Emma, sliding into the seat between him and Neal. Gold noticed her give Neal’s leg a reassuring squeeze and receive a pat on her hand in return.

“Dad, did you see these waffles?” Henry held up the menu. “They have strawberries and cream!”

“Yeah, they look good, huh?” said Neal. “Did you make a choice yet?”

“Not yet.” Henry bent his head over the menu again, chewing his lip, and Neal and Emma shared a glance.

“Henry,” said Neal. “How would you feel about going up to visit Storybrooke, in Maine?”

“What’s in Storybrooke?” asked Henry curiously, looking up.

“Belle used to live there,” said Neal. “And Mr Gold has a house there. A big one. He says we could stay over for the weekend with him and Belle sometime.”

“There’s a cabin, too,” said Gold. “It’s by a lake in the woods. Plenty of space to play.”

“Ooh! Can we have a barbecue?” asked Henry excitedly, and Gold laughed.

“Yes, we could do that,” he said. “Did you decide what you want on your pancakes?”

Henry wrinkled his nose.

“Actually, the waffles look really good,” he said. “Can I get one of those?”

“You can have whatever you like,” said Gold. “That goes for everyone. This is my treat.”

“That’s really nice of you,” said Emma.

“It’s been some time since I was able to treat anyone,” said Gold, catching her eye. “Looks as though I have a lot of lost time to make up for.”

Emma held his gaze, and nodded.

“You’re here now,” she said. “That counts for something.”

“Yeah,” said Neal quietly. “It counts for a lot.”

He too held Gold’s eye for a moment before turning to help Henry with his brunch choices, and Gold felt something loosen inside his chest, a sense of something that was almost relief beginning to spread through him. He glanced at Belle, and she was smiling at him, a soft look in her eyes that made him want to crawl across the table and kiss her. It was going to be alright. Everything was going to be alright.

-

Two years later

It was a bright and pleasant day in early May when Gold’s Cadillac pulled up outside the pink Victorian on the outskirts of Storybrooke. A U-Haul van was already there, Neal in dark jeans and a blue cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up, opening the back to reveal stacked cardboard boxes. Belle got out of the car, turning her face up to the sun with a sigh of pleasure as she stretched. It felt good to be back in Storybrooke at last, although she had loved the Boston apartment that had been their home for the past couple of years. Her studies were done, Gideon had just turned two, and they had decided to move back to Storybrooke permanently.

“God, someone open the damn door, I gotta go!”

Emma had climbed out of the U-Haul, almost waddling to the path, her hand on her swollen belly. She and Neal were due to have their second child in three weeks, and she had been grumbling about her discomfort for the past two. Gold followed her with his swift, limping stride, reaching the porch before her and fishing out his keys to unlock the door. She headed for the stairs immediately, not looking back, and Belle grinned, remembering her own frequent bathroom trips at that late stage of pregnancy.

“Here, you want a hand with the kids?”

Neal appeared at her side, grinning widely, and Belle smiled back.

“Could you get the stroller out?” she asked. “I can get Gideon.”

“I’ll get him.”

Gold had reappeared, pocketing the front door keys, and leaned in to kiss her with a smile before heading around to the other side to un-clip Gideon from his car seat.

“Here we are, Gid,” he said easily, lifting him out. “Welcome to your new home.”

Belle smiled as Gideon looked around, supremely unconcerned at the news. They had visited Storybrooke a number of times over the past two years, though not since before Christmas. She was looking forward to spending their next Christmas in the house with all their family, including Emma and Neal’s new little one. Though she could have done without the ‘Grandma’ title Henry had cheerfully given her.

Neal had taken out the stroller and unfolded the frame, and Gold put Gideon down, ruffling his hair absently.

“Guess I’ll start taking the boxes,” said Neal.

“I’ll help,” chirped Henry, appearing at his side.

“Don’t lift any of the heavy ones, leave those for your dad,” said Belle, as they headed for the van.

She turned back, watching as Gold reached into the rear of the car to un-clip the seat carrying their new baby daughter. Florence had been born in early April, and Gold was besotted with her. She stared up at him with wide, dark eyes, her head covered with soft brown hair.

“Here we go, my princess,” he said softly, a wide grin on his face, and Belle smiled as he clipped the seat into the stroller and closed the door.

“I’ll take her in and get her changed,” she said. “She’s probably due a feed, too. Would you warm the milk?”

“Of course.”

Gold scooped up the bag containing Florence’s baby things and hurried towards the house. Belle shook her head as he disappeared through the door, wondering where he got his energy after a restless night and a long drive with two small children. Gideon hurtled up the path after his father on sturdy legs.

“Gid, slow down!” she called.

He looked around at her, still running, and tripped, hitting the path with a thump as his arms tried to break his fall. A wail went up, and Belle sighed.

“I’ll get him,” said Neal.

He shifted the box he was carrying into one arm and went to scoop up his little brother. Gideon wrapped his arms around Neal’s neck, still crying, and Neal shushed him, bouncing him in the crook of his arm.

“Hey little guy,” he said soothingly. “You’ll be okay. See what happens when you don’t listen to your momma?”

Gideon calmed in his big brother’s arms, and Neal kissed his cheek.

“There, see?” he said. “All better. What do you say we go see Papa and get a nice cool drink in the kitchen?”

“Cookie?”

“If your Mom says so.” Neal glanced at Belle, who nodded, and he tickled Gideon’s ribs, making him squeal.

“Yeah, let’s get a cookie,” he said. “You’re getting bigger, huh? I bet you’ll eat as much as me at dinner.”

“Go see Ganny?” asked Gideon excitedly.

“Yeah, we’re going to Granny’s for dinner,” promised Neal. “You can show her your new book, how about that?”

“An’ cake!”

“Yeah, you can have some cake, too.”

Belle watched them head up the path, Neal balancing Gideon on his hip with the box in his other arm. She could hardly keep the smile from her face. In the past two years Neal, Emma and Henry had truly become family. At times she had caught Gold looking at his son with pride and something approaching disbelief on his face, as though he was half-expecting to wake up from a dream at any moment.

It hadn’t all been perfect, of course; there had been difficult moments as they went through therapy, and tears on all sides, but it had brought them closer together. Emma had even been talking about getting a job in Storybrooke sheriff’s office in a year or so, and Gold had offered to help Neal set up his own accountancy business. They hadn’t made a firm decision on the move yet, but Belle thought it was only a matter of time. Henry was certainly enthusiastic about the idea, and had already made friends with a couple of the local children. The thought of having her whole family in Storybrooke was wonderful.

She inhaled deeply, drawing the scent of cut grass and fresh flowers into her nose, and began pushing the stroller up the path towards their house. It was good to be home.

-

Belle licked her lips, fingers gripping the sturdy brass key and turning it. It moved smoothly in the lock, a satisfying click sounding, and she pushed open the door.

The library smelt of fresh paint and beeswax polish, the contractors having finished with the decorating the week before. The wooden floor and circulation desk had been polished to a high shine, empty stacks lined up, waiting to be filled with the collection of books that were stacked in cardboard boxes along the wall. Towards the back, there were folding tables and chairs, some sized for adults and some for small children. Belle intended to run some after-school and evening classes, and had already spoken to Mary Margaret about a collaboration with the school.

Stepping forward, her heels clicked on the polished wood, and she walked slowly towards the circulation desk, running a hand along the curved edge as she let her eyes roam around the space.

“Surveying your new domain?”

She smiled at the sound of Gold’s voice, and turned on her toes to face him. He was standing by the doorway, the spring sunshine silhouetting him through the glass, dust motes dancing in the air around him like fireflies.

“Where are the kids?” she asked, and he glanced over his shoulder.

“Emma and Neal are watching them,” he said. “I have you all to myself.”

He was grinning, and Belle shot him a level look.

“No hanky-panky in the library,” she said severely. “I want this place to be successful, and it won’t be if no one comes in because they’re worried about catching us in a compromising position.”

“You say that like it’s inevitable.”

“Do I need to remind you about David walking in on us in the pawn shop that time?”

Gold waved a hand.

“The sign very clearly said Closed,” he said. “It’s not my fault he can’t read.”

Belle giggled, and turned back to look over the library. He stepped forward to stand by her side, eyes flicking over the freshly-painted walls.

“It looks good,” he said. “All ready for the inimitable touch of Storybrooke’s wonderful new librarian.”

Belle slipped her arm through his, resting her head briefly on his shoulder.

“I wouldn’t have it if not for you,” she said. “I’m still amazed you got the Mayor to agree.”

“Well, exerting influence is what I do,” he said. “Besides, she’s an intelligent woman. She knew the building was only standing idle. A relatively small investment of town funds was worth it to provide a valuable public service.”

“I certainly intend to make the most of the opportunity,” said Belle, turning back to run her eyes over the empty stacks. “I thought next Saturday for the grand opening. I’ve asked Granny to prepare some party food, and I need to make some flyers, design some activities for the kids…”

“Get some books on the shelves?” he teased, and she grinned.

“I thought you, Neal and Henry could help with that tomorrow.”

“Hmm.” He looked amused. “I suppose Emma shouldn’t really be carrying books in her condition.”

“She can supervise,” said Belle. “I’ll give her a crash course in the Dewey Decimal system and she can hold a clipboard and boss us around.”

“Sounds like something she’d enjoy,” he said dryly.

“You like being teased by your daughter-in-law, admit it.”

“Certainly not.”

He was grinning, and she turned on her toes to face him, twining her arms around his neck as she leaned in to kiss him gently.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “For believing in me.”

“Well, how could I not?” he said, his grin widening. “Miracles happen whenever you’re around.”

“Sweet-talker.”

“I never exaggerate,” he said gravely. “You should know that by now.”

“I know that I’m a very lucky woman,” she said, and he smiled.

“I’m the lucky one.”

-

The silvery chimes of the old music box played, and Gold crooned a low lullaby as he rocked his baby daughter in his arms. There was a faint sound of laughter and conversation from down in the kitchen, but Florence barely stirred as Gold kissed her forehead and laid her in the crib.

“Sleep well, my darling,” he whispered.

He took a step back, turning to the music box and winding the key to ensure the tune continued to play while she settled into sleep. The music box had sat in the nursery in Boston, playing its tinkling tune first to Gideon, and then to Florence. He was pleased to be returning it to Storybrooke, where he had first acquired it, and where he had painstakingly worked to restore it over the long months when he and Belle were trying to rebuild what was broken between them.

“Is she asleep?”

Belle was leaning in the doorway, and he looked up with a smile.

“Out like a light,” he said. “What about Gideon?”

“Fell asleep before I finished the story,” she said, and he smiled and held out a hand to her.

“Care to dance, Mrs Gold?”

She stepped forward with a smile, taking his hand as the other crept around her waist and pulled her close. He breathed in, pulling the scent of her in through his nose and sighing it out, and Belle let out a tiny noise of contentment.

“I’m so happy I met you, Alexander Gold,” she said.

“So am I,” he murmured. “I got a second chance with you, Belle. A second chance at life. I swear to you, I don’t want to miss a second of it.”

Belle raised her head, shaking her hair back off her shoulders.

“You won’t,” she said decidedly. “We’re going to have an amazing life together.”

“It’s already more than I could ever have dreamed of,” he said sincerely. “I have a beautiful wife who gave me two incredible children. I have my son back in my life, and a daughter-in-law, and soon I’ll have two grandchildren.”

“More family than you know what to do with,” she teased, and he chuckled.

“Oh, I think I could stand to have more,” he said, grinning, and Belle swatted his arm.

“Give me a year or two and we’ll see,” she said, and Gold laughed.

“Deal.”

Her smile grew, and she rested her head on his shoulder. The music tinkled on, and he held her close, feeling the warmth of her body against his as they moved in time. Life was beautiful.

[edupunkn00b]

Punks, Poets, Parents for the fic association/secret ask game 😊 Such an amazing story that has moved me in so many ways 💛💚💙

Thank you so much for the Ask, Lost! :)

The timeline for Punks, Poets, Parents was originally much, much shorter. The end of the story was originally going to be around March, with the story still beginning in the Fall. It felt rushed, though, and from a developmental perspective just didn't make sense.

I took a step back from the fic and realized I was rushing Jay. I also realized I was rushing BCW. Reviews and paternity cases take time. So, I adjusted the timeline to take up essentially the entire first grade, plus just after the 4th of July.

Secret time

This story was very personal for me. I am very nearly Jay's age.

I lived in the Lower East Side in NYC when I was Jay's age. My earliest memory of New York is of ducking under the big yellow turnstile I described in the first chapter.

I went to school at Jay's school in the early '80s, attended the afterschool program there and was his age when I went to CBGBs (with adults XD, not by myself, though I would just go out to the park or to the abandoned lot next to my building early on Saturday mornings to play. I never tried to cook.) I didn't go to CBGBs for rehearsals (we didn't know any of the bands) but for concerts. I was Jay's age the first time I jumped off the stage during a performance (the punks all thought it was hilarious for this little pipsqueak of a kid to jump off during their shows.)

Remus' apartment is laid out just like our apartment was in real life, and we also told time by the Mr. Coffee.

Logan's character is partially modeled after a real teacher I had in elementary school.

I moved part-way through elementary school and at my new school, there was an amazing first grade teacher who I would hear adults whisper about being gay. He was hands-down the best teacher in the school and the little kids loved him, but even as a child, I clearly remember hearing relief when he was switched to teaching older grades. I didn't fully understand. All I knew was that it meant I was lucky enough to have him as my teacher in the fifth grade.

That teacher changed my life. I was severely ostracized, to the extent that I would hide on the closet (ha! little did I know...) to avoid the other kids. The school used standardized test scores to place kids in their classes and so we ended up with the same kids in the same class year after year after year. That also meant that the outcast of the class stayed the same year after year after year.

This teacher refused to put up with it. He was the first—and only—adult in my life who didn't tell me "They're just doing it to get a rise out of you. Don't let it get to you and they'll stop." He refused to let them get away with it. He made them stop.

I think about him all the time and hope he had a happily ever after.

Regarding Patton: as an adult in NY, I used to work with social workers on child abuse cases. They are doing the work of angels, despite social work having roots in racism and eugenics and the fact that BCW had some seriously fucked up policies back in the '80s.

As for Jay's mutism, one of my own children was mildly selectively mute for several years. They would speak to us in the family and to a few children, but it took years for them to speak to another adult, and would sometimes not even be able to speak at home. Sign language and writing were both incredibly helpful for those times (and I suspect texting occasionally serves a similar purpose to this day.)

And, finally, a few years ago I was lucky enough to get to visit the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and stand underneath the old CBGBs awning. It was incredible to see, even if it wasn't the exact same one* that I'd seen as a kid. It both felt so small and so big at the same time.

*The original awning was stolen by Jodie Foster's Army back in the late '80s. You can tell the difference because the old one has 315 and OMFUG written in a slanted font.

[suitofvibraniumarmor]

If You Just Realize

Part One: Blindsided

Summary: Sebastian’s close friend stands by his side as he and his family say a sad goodbye and face new obstacles in the days and weeks to come.  Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader Word Count: 1900 Warnings: Death, angst, sadness. Lots of creative licensing, I’m sure.  Square Filled: This entire series will fill my realized feelings square for @marvelfluffbingo.  A/N: I’ve much enjoyed writing this series, and I hope all of you enjoy reading it! The tag list is open; requests to be added can be done so here. There are bits and pieces of Romanian throughout the series, mostly from Google Translate and the few things I’ve picked up as I learn the language. Happy Reading! 

Dismal notes sounded together in morbid harmony throughout the church as funeral attendees greeted each other in the lobby. The people filed together toward the sanctuary, offering condolences to the family as they passed. Sebastian did his best to be cordial, but between his grief and looking out for the one other person he needed to be there, he feared he wasn’t doing so well interacting with the guests. 

“Calma, Sebastian,” his mother soothed, rubbing a hand over his back before she went to accept the outstretched hand of another guest. “Y/N will be here. She said she will be here, she will be here.”

Sebastian nodded and gave the next person in line a tight, sad smile. He knew that Y/N would be there; she always was when he asked for her support. The unexpected circumstances of his life, however, made him anxious for her presence. 

In the last few days, Sebastian had thought often of a song released sometime around his senior year of high school. The real troubles in life, the spoken-word song warned, are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind; the kind that blindside you at four P.M. on some idle Tuesday. The hour was earlier than four in the afternoon, but it was a Tuesday when he received the call telling him that his sister Irina had been involved in a fatal car accident on her way to work that morning. The doctors had been optimistic taking her into surgery, but her injuries were more extensive than the hospital staff had been able to read on x-rays and CT scans. While on the operating table, Irina’s heart stopped. The surgeon had been unable to restart the organ. 

A pleasantly feminine, floral scent invaded his nostrils as soft fingers intertwined with his, pulling him from his thoughts. He looked to his side to see Y/N Y/L/N next to him. Her eyes met his, and she squeezed his hand. 

“I’m so sorry I’m late, Seb. LaGuardia was a disaster.”

He leaned to kiss her cheek. “Don’t apologize. Thank you for coming. I’m not sure I could have done this without you.”

“Even if you could, I wouldn’t have let you,” she returned. 

Finally, the last of the guests had filed into the sanctuary, and the family could take their places at the front. Sebastian’s mother stepped out of line to hug Y/N and thank her also for being there. Y/N replied in Romanian, something she had learned after becoming friends with Sebastian all those years ago. She wasn’t fluent, but she could comfortably hold a conversation. 

“Trebuia să fiu aici.” She had to be there, not from a sense of obligation, but because she wanted to support Sebastian and his family in whatever way she could. 

When they were all seated, Sebastian between his mother and Y/N, and his stepfather on the other side of his mother, the priest began the service. Sebastian hadn’t let go of Y/N’s hand since she had intertwined their fingers when she arrived. Occasionally, he would squeeze her hand, and she squeezed back every time. If he needed the reminder that she was there, then she would give it. 

After the eulogy and the singing and the praying had all wrapped up, Sebastian stepped out of the pew with the other pallbearers to carry his sister’s casket to the church parking lot where the hearse was waiting to take her to the cemetery. He clenched his jaw in an effort to hold back the tears glazing over his eyes. 

Y/N walked behind his mother and stepfather in the processional out of the sanctuary but hung back with the crowd when the walked to the car at the front of the line of cars. Georgeta turned and motioned for her to join. 

“We know what you mean to my Sebastian,” the older woman assured. “Irina would want you with us as much as possible today.”

Y/N gave her a tight smile and followed the family into the black limousine. Sebastian joined them a couple of minutes later, sliding onto the seat beside her. He took her hand again. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” he told her quietly as the driver pulled out of the church lot. 

She nodded once. “Your mother said Irina would want it this way. I was going to ride with someone else, or take a cab.”

“No, you should be here with us. Mom’s right, Irina would want it this way. But I mean here. For the whole thing.”

She squeezed his hand and held his gaze. “Seb. There’s no way I wasn’t going to be here. I’m around as long as you need me to be, okay?”

He swallowed down the lump in his throat and kissed her forehead. Besides his mother and his sister, no woman was close to him like Y/N. They had become friends when they both had bit parts in the same movie, extremely early on in their careers. The friendship had clicked so easy, they kept in touch and grew closer as the years went on. The media had speculated for years that they were more than friends, but romance had never been a part of their relationship. 

After the burial, the day was only partially over. Sebastian was ready to go home and rest, but there was a whole wake to get through yet. He hoped the gathering would pass quickly and maybe he wouldn’t be required to interact with too many people. 

Guests were busy eating the well-catered food, which gave him the opportunity to visit more with his mother and stepfather. Y/N had gone to the bathroom to freshen up, giving his mother the opportunity to bring up an issue that she hadn’t wanted to stress her son over until they got through the burial. 

“Irina and I talked once about what to do if something like this happened,” Georgeta began. “It was not long after the baby was born. She was supposed to get it in writing, make it all legal. But she was going to school, raising her daughter. She didn’t get it done. And now …”

Sebastian licked his lips and picked up his water glass. “Now it’s too late.”

Georgeta nodded. “She wanted you to take Milena.”

Some mechanism in the swallowing process malfunctioned when his mother made the announcement. He coughed and attempted to clear his throat without causing too much of a scene. He had all but recovered when Y/N returned to the table. 

“Everything all right?” she asked, patting him a couple of times on the back. Nobody said anything. She raised her brow, waiting for Sebastian to come clean. 

Before he could answer, the sound of little feet running in their direction put a halt to the conversation. A little girl in a black dress with curly pigtails was rushing towards them, her arms outstretched. 

“Uncle Seb!” 

“Milena!” Sebastian exclaimed, stepping out of his chair and swooping the toddler up into his arms. Her chubby little hands squeezed his face so that his lips puckered like a fish. Sebastian laughed and switched his hold to balance her on his hip. “I’m so glad you’re here, munchkin. I missed you.”

She leaned her head on his shoulder and whispered, “Miss you.”

Georgeta and Anthony greeted the little girl, but she refused to be held by anyone except Sebastian. Once her grandmother and grandfather were distracted in conversation by the woman who had brought Milena to the reception, the girl pointed to Y/N. 

“Uncle Seb, who that is?” 

Sebastian smiled and sat with Milena so that she could be closer to eye level with Y/N. “This is my very good friend, Y/N. You met her before, but you were a tiny baby, so you probably don’t remember.”

Y/N smiled kindly at the little girl. “Hello, Milena. Your Uncle Seb told me you were pretty. I like your dress — you look just like a princess.”

That was all it took to win the little girl over. She settled comfortably on Seb’s lap while they adults spoke, smiling often at Y/N and asking a couple questions here and there. Y/N was making faces in an effort to make Milena laugh, and distract her from the somewhat heated conversation that seemed to be erupting between the woman who had brought Milena, Sebastian, and his parents. When the voices really got loud, Y/N reached out to take Milena. 

“Are you hungry, princess? We can see what snacks are left at the food table.”

Milena went willingly, walking hand in hand with Y/N, who winked at Sebastian over her shoulder as they walked away. He gave her a grateful smile and turned back to his parents and Milena’s paternal grandmother, Alice. 

“I know that Connor didn’t want to part of Milena’s life,” Alice was saying, “but that doesn’t mean Tim and I don’t want to be. My son’s choices are his own. I think we should explore the option of joint custody.”

Anthony sighed. “We don’t want to keep Milena from you, certainly, but Irina’s wishes were for her to be with her uncle. My daughter was very clear on the matter. Since Connor signed his rights away when the baby was born, I think it best that we honor what her mother wanted for her.”

“I can give her a very good life,” Sebastian interjected, “and you can see her whenever you like. I live right here in the city.”

Alice pursed her lips. “And when you’re working? I know you can afford to give her a good life, but there’s more to raising a child than the financial component.”

Sebastian bit his tongue. He had a lot to say, but none of it was kind or productive. None of it was going to help his case. He leaned back in his chair, letting his parents take over from there. As he glanced around the room, he saw Y/N and Milena standing by the food table. Both of them were smiling, and Milena was pointing to all the different things she wanted to try. Y/N held the plate with two hands as she crouched down so that Milena could pick up a grape in one hand and a cube of cheese in the other. Milena took a bite of the cheese then grinned up at Y/N, wrinkling her little nose. 

The scene comforted him in a way he didn’t think was possible up to that moment. As he continued to watch his best friend and his niece interact, the seed of an idea was planted in Sebastian’s mind. He immediately told himself he was being ridiculous, but the thought tugged at his heartstrings and pulled on one end of his mouth, almost evoking a smile. 

Y/N locked eyes with him as she followed Milena back to the table, a silent warning that any arguments needed to come to a stop. As the conversation between Alice and his parents didn’t seem to be slowing down, Sebastian pushed out of his chair and approached them. 

“How about I take my two favorite girls to the park across the street? I know a little girl who loves to swing,” Sebastian smiled. 

Milena clapped her sticky hands and reached for Sebastian to pick her up. He obliged, and once she had set Milena’s plate of snacks on the table, Y/N followed them out to the park. 

AllOfTheThings: @captain-s-rogers @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @hurricanerin @horsesandbandsforlife @im-not-an-armrest-im-short @captain-rogers-beard @shynara51 @sea040561 @pinknerdpanda @xtina2191 @jackryanplz @beakami @heartsaved @fullprunerebelstatesman @blackwidowismyhomegirl @averyrogers83 @jennmurawski13​

IYJR: @elsatxx​ @tanelle83​ @amanda-teaches​ @etherealwaifgoddess​ @kmuir1​ @ntlmundy​ @jayankles​ @rebekahdawkins​ @denise1605​ @rhadigen​

[the-real-tc]

Fic UPDATE! Wide River to Cross: Homecoming

Author’s Note: So close. We're so close now, dear readers. Thanks for sticking with me this far; not much longer now. I promise. As you'll see from the events in this chapter, it will be impossible to prolong the agony. (Who remembers the actual agony while watching Season 7, wondering what had happened between Jack and Lisa? I remember that agony...) All that aside, the good part about how long this story has taken me is that plot lines that have occurred down the line can be worked in, and they can make some semblance of sense. I hope. Anyway, here's the latest chapter.

Chapter 22: Homecoming

In the darkness of night, the tree-lined drive seemed eerily foreign to Lisa as the town car bore both her and Rachel to their familial estate. Though it was a view she had seen thousands of times in her life, this particular return to Fairfield granted her no trace of comfort or sense of homecoming. It was bordering on close to ten months that she had been absent—one of the longest spells she had been away since her past marriage to Dan and subsequent move to the USA.

Lisa could not help but recall other lengthy absences from Fairfield, particularly in her adolescence when she had attended boarding school in France with Rachel. While she had enjoyed those times away—thanks to her love of French culture and many outings with her doting Aunt Evelyn—the inevitable homesickness was alleviated only upon return. Now, she felt like a stranger returning to a strange place, creeping in like some interloper.

Like a thief in the night, she thought to herself wryly, fighting the encroaching discomposure without much success.

“We’re here, Rach,” Lisa whispered, giving her younger sibling a gentle nudge.

“Huh? Oh, thanks,” Rachel mumbled sleepily. “I didn’t realise I nodded off.”

She smiled slightly, watching as Rachel rubbed bleary eyes before finishing off with a long yawn. Rachel had endured only one flight; Lisa had needed three to return to Alberta. Exhaustion was indeed beginning to overwhelm her, but there was a nervous tension buzzing through her veins, keeping her on an unusual level of alertness. Now that she was back in Hudson, the mere thought of being in the same town as Jack—and potentially encountering him anywhere—set her mind spinning. How would such a meeting play out? What words could pass her lips to express to him all that was in her heart? What words, if any, would he have to say to her?

Security lights illuminated the exteriors of the stables, dispelling the shadows. Night checks would have already been completed by this hour. All was quiet now, though Lisa knew Harry Wilkes would probably still be up in his office, burning the midnight oil while waiting for their arrival.

Good ol’ Harry, Lisa thought with affection. He had been such a constant presence in her life since she was a little girl, working his way up from the very bottom as a stable hand to head groomsman. Matthew Stillman had come to trust the man with just about everything, and Lisa had done the same. Harry was dedicated to the care of the horses in a way that went beyond what was expected of a mere hired hand. Anyone else would have retired from the position by now, but Harry was still logging the same hours as he had during the past forty-five years as a Fairfield employee. He had been there through the lean years and through the successful ones.

Without her realising it, a long pout pulled at Lisa’s face as the car pulled to a stop in front of the sprawling ranch house. She knew Harry was not thrilled with the idea of her selling Fairfield, even though he was guaranteed a handsome severance package. The rest of the staff might be keen on staying on with new owners; Harry would not—Lisa was certain of that.

“Why the long face?” Rachel asked, looking over at her. “Something wrong?”

“Hmm?” Lisa shook herself. “Oh, no. It’s just that... I-I don’t think Harry is pleased with my decision to sell, that’s all.”

“So Harry’s still working here, eh?” Rachel said, lips quirking into a lop-sided smile. “Dad really lucked out when he hired him. He’s been here since before I was even born. Good ol’ Harry.”

“I honestly don’t think I could have managed without him when Dad got sick,” Lisa mused out loud.

Sure enough, the door to the Fairfield business offices opened to reveal the man in question, silhouetted against the interior lights. He waved jauntily at them, and Lisa intuited he was intent on helping them unload their luggage.

“C’mon,” she said to Rachel as she opened her door. “Let’s get out before he gets the idea we’re going to let him carry everything into the house. He’s been up all night waiting; he’s got to be tired after working all day.”

“Right,” Rachel said in agreement, though she was staving off another yawn of exhaustion.

“Ah, the two prettiest girls in Hudson have made their triumphant return,” Harry greeted them affectionately; paternally.

“Oh, Harry,” Lisa said with a chagrined laugh, “I don’t know about ‘triumphant’, and after travelling all day, we look like something the cat dragged in.”

“Ha! Speak for yourself, sis,” Rachel interjected merrily. “Harry, flattery gets you everywhere. It’s good to see you.”

“Likewise, Rachel.”

The three gathered for a warm group hug. As Lisa guessed moments earlier, the next words out of Harry’s mouth were an offer to bring their luggage inside.

“No, no, you take it easy Harry,” Lisa quickly stated. “You’ve had a long day, too. Rachel and I can manage just fine.”

“Nonsense,” Harry said, reaching for the largest of the pieces the chauffeur had just deposited from the trunk. “Your father would be horrified if he saw me standing by idly while you two dragged all this stuff by yourselves.”

“Chivalry isn’t dead in Hudson, I see,” Rachel quipped, following the older man with her carry-on and a smaller suitcase.

“Thanks, Harry,” Lisa said after everything was sitting in the spacious foyer.

“Happy to do it, Lisa,” Harry said. “Welcome home.”

“Yeah... for however long that’s going to be,” Lisa sighed.

“It’s going to be hard seeing this place go,” Harry uttered with a wistful air. “Fairfield has been a big part of Hudson ever since you made it the success it’s become, Lisa. This town won’t be the same without it—or you.”

Not unkindly, Lisa asked: “Is this your way of trying to talk me out of selling?”

Harry shrugged. “Maybe. I know an old fella like me who’s on his way to retirement can’t interfere with the business decisions of his boss, but you know this place has always been more than just a ’job’ for me.”

“I know,” Lisa said warmly, reaching out to touch his arm in a show of understanding. “And I thank you for everything you’ve done from the day my father hired you to this present time.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, placing a hand over hers for a few moments. “I should be on my way. See you in the morning.”

“Of course.”

Harry turned to make his exit, but hesitated on the threshold. “There is something...”

Lisa waited expectantly. “What is it?” she asked when he did not continue.

“Hmmph. Nah, it can wait ‘til tomorrow,” he muttered. “Goodnight, ladies.”

“’Bye,” Rachel said, trying to suppress another yawn.

“Goodnight, Harry,” Lisa said, closing the door behind him, slightly perturbed by the man’s cryptic parting words. Whatever it was, she would learn of it the next day.

--

As cranky as Jack was at the notion of having the woolly creatures on his land, Georgie’s 4H Club project meant sheep at Heartland was good for something. At least the kid could learn about the rearing of an animal she could handle. Lambs weren’t liable to trample you, gore you, buck you off, or kick you in the head. It was decidedly not fun chasing down the specific lamb Georgie and Olivia wanted, especially since they could not agree on which one was the best one for their needs. Jack half-suspected they were changing their fickle minds on purpose, just for the spectacle of his sprawling about in the grass and weeds, grabbing at this lamb or that lamb.  

It should have been Tim’s job seeing after the sheep, but he picked that very week to head to Moose Jaw to visit with his son, Shane, so they could spend Thanksgiving together. Why was it his ex-son-in-law continued to be such an irritant and an imposition in his life? If not for Lou and Amy, the man would never again have darkened the door at Heartland.

After Georgie and Olivia finally settled on a lamb and Jack successfully secured it, he decided a little break was necessary. It was no use getting worked up over the flock again; also, the girls did not need his grumpy mood to ruin things for them. It was trial enough for Georgie to be partnered with Olivia, he knew, so he did his best to keep his cool while in their company.

Once inside the kitchen, he brewed a cup of tea and eased into a chair in the living room—the kitchen having been taken over by Peter and his laptop. The man really needed office space of some kind while he was here, Jack mused.

Why Tim felt the need to saddle his son-in-law with the nickname “The General” was beyond Jack, but then again, Tim knew exactly how to push other people’s buttons. The recent fiasco involving Tricia and her near-delinquent daughter, Jade, at the fishing cabin was a fine example of that.  

Jack sipped at his tea, trying to resolve in his mind yet again why Tim possessed such an unbridled sense of entitlement. He lacked what Jack’s grandmother would have called social graces. His unsolicited comments could be tactless. The frustrating thing was that such comments were often uncomfortable truths no one else wanted to face or accept.

When Tim had first asked how the Arizona trip had been, Jack recalled initially telling him to mind his own business. Tim, ignoring Jack’s desire for privacy had asked, point-blank:

“You missed Lisa, didn’t you?”

”Didn’t I tell you to mind your own business?!” Jack had retorted. “I had a swell time.”

”You’re not fooling me, old man. What did you do with yourself down there the whole time? You couldn’t have been having that much of a ‘swell time’ because you cut it short and came home a week early!”

“I did happen to have some good times, thank you very much!”

“Yeah? Doing what?” Tim had challenged.

“Saddleback trip. Lookin’ at real estate. Meeting nice people. Camping and fishing.”

“Meeting nice people and fishing, eh? Catch anything good down there in Arizona?” Tim asked suggestively.

“As a matter of fact, yes. I hooked a very nice catfish.”

“Oooh! A catfish!” Tim had crooned, pretending to be impressed. “How big was it?”

Knowing he would not be able to lie any further, Jack had groaned in annoyance and decided it was time to cease this line of questioning. “Dunno,” he had sullenly replied. “It pulled free from the hook before I could reel it in. The sun was going down by then. I quit trying after that.”

“Ha!” Tim had laughed triumphantly. “Dinner out of a can that night, right?”

Jack grit his teeth. “No, I forgot to bring a can opener. Are you done, now?”

“You ‘forgot’ to bring a can opener?” Tim crowed in derision. “So why didn’t you just use your knife to open the can, or did you forget to bring a knife, too?”

“Oh, would you just shut up already!”

Jack stalked off and was thus out of earshot when a gleeful, self-righteous Tim muttered, “Ohhh, he totally missed Lisa.”

--

It was already after 10:00 a.m. when Lisa awoke on Saturday morning. The inevitable jet-lag felt especially pronounced this time around, and she groaned when she realised the lateness of the hour. She so wanted to soak up a few more hours of sleep, but knew work was waiting. There was the matter Harry mentioned the night before which she wanted to get to the bottom of, but the first order of business absolutely had to be contacting the real estate agent.

After a quick shower, she shared a hurried breakfast with Rachel. Her sister was still drowsy and not much in the mood to talk while they ate. When Rachel drifted back to bed for a nap, Lisa finally got on the phone to the realtor, glad they were indeed open that day despite it being a holiday long weekend. After all those months in France of dithering on this, it felt almost anti-climactic the sale would finally be happening. The deed is done, Lisa thought after hanging up. She was not sure what emotions she was experiencing now that Fairfield would officially be on the market.

Ruefully, she thought, I really should call Dan and tell him the ‘good’ news. In all truth, her ex-husband was the last person she wanted to speak to after all their less-than-pleasant email correspondences over the past several months. I wonder what Jack would think if I called him and told him I was back in Hudson? Lisa stopped herself cold. Where did that thought come from?! I would have to explain to him that I’m finally selling the old place and moving to France for good, wouldn’t I? I’d have to come up with some excuse as to why I didn’t even tell him I was coming back.

She stood from behind her desk and decided it was time to check in on Harry, brushing aside any further thoughts of both of her exes.

“Ah, Lisa! Good morning,” Harry greeted Lisa brightly when she knocked on the business office door.

“Good morning, Harry. I just got off the phone with the real estate people. Someone’s going to be by later this week to properly assess the property and get some signs posted and such.”

“Of course,” he said with a nod of understanding.

“Harry, about that thing you mentioned last night...”

“Oh, yes. That,” Harry said, lowering his voice.

Lisa caught his tone, and interpreted he was about to tell her something she would not particularly enjoy hearing. “Well, what is it?”

“It’s Dan,” Harry said in a manner that spoke volumes of disapproval.

“Dan? What’s he done now?” Lisa asked guardedly.

“You’d better follow me,” Harry said, rising from his seat.

He led Lisa out to the stables where they stopped in front of Fairfield Flyer’s stall. The champion racer seemed strong and healthy, and Lisa looked at her head groomsman, awaiting an explanation.

“Dan and some of his people and vets have been here to see Flyer and Rhapsody quite a few times while you were gone,” Harry started. “Since you have joint ownership, of course I couldn’t stop him.”

“Stop him from doing what?” Lisa asked, instantly on edge. Rhapsody was one of her broodmares.

“From getting all kinds of lab work done—and cell samples taken from Flyer.”

“Cell samples...” Lisa mused out loud.

Harry continued. “Rhapsody is already nine months pregnant. You had no idea, did you?” he asked warily as he studied her reaction. “Don’t answer that. Your expression tells me all I need to know.”

Lisa felt her cheeks flush. “I always did have a lousy poker face,” she grumbled.

“Ah, I should have known he didn’t tell you, but you know I’m not the type to interfere,” a contrite Harry said. “And given the nature of what he was doing, I wasn’t sure if you were both keeping it a secret, or what. Sorry, Lisa.”

“Don’t apologize; this isn’t remotely your fault. It seems I have a call to make to my ‘business partner’. Thanks, Harry.”

She strode out of the stables, absolutely steaming, trying to decide how best to have this conversation with Dan. Cell samples? That could only mean one thing, Lisa concluded, coupled with Dan’s recent talk about getting into horse cloning. He was trying to warm me up to the idea, she now realised.

“Where do you get off cloning Fairfield Flyer without even consulting with me first?!” Lisa exploded when she had Dan on the line.

“Now hold on just a minute, Lisa—” Dan tried to interrupt.

“No, you hold on; I’m not finished,” Lisa hissed through clenched teeth. “Harry told me you’ve been out to Fairfield to see Flyer and Rhapsody. This is the real reason you’ve been so demanding about the finances, isn’t it? You weren’t concerned about the Avignon facility—you were paying to have Flyer cloned. How many other horses did you have lined up for the procedure?”

From Dan’s silence, Lisa knew she had hit the nail on the head.

“When were you going to tell me?” Lisa fumed. “When were you going to tell me the Avignon deal was all a sham and that you were really using my investment funds to clone Flyer and God knows how many others?”

“Okay, simmer down,” Dan said, trying to placate her. “Avignon is still a go. But the focus has shifted slightly. It could be the best equine cloning facility in Europe, Lisa. If the clone of Flyer is a success, we’re going to take it to Avignon as the poster boy for the procedure in race horses. We’d be one of the first out of the gate doing this. We could make history, Lisa, because the Racing Association is bound to come around once more people get on board.”

“Have you lost your mind?” Lisa had to keep herself from shouting. “You go behind my back, and-and then try to tell me you’re shifting the focus of the breeding facility we planned in France?”

“All that stuff you learned in that Lexington conference about performance markers is great, Lisa,” Dan said, “but that’s yesterday’s science. Cloning is the future. Do you really want to be left behind?”

Lisa realised she was still too angry to have a rational talk with Dan. “Let’s table that question,” she finally said. “I just got into Hudson late last night, and I’m too tired to deal with this right now. But make no mistake, Dan, I’m not impressed you went behind my back.”

“Fair enough, fair enough,” Dan said, sounding almost relieved. “Hang on, did you just say you’re back in Hudson?”

Lisa clenched her teeth in irritation. “How else do you think I found out about Flyer?”

“Uhhh—Harry told you, didn’t he?”

“Of course Harry told me,” snapped Lisa, relishing the discomfort she heard in Dan’s voice. He sounded as if he were a guilty schoolboy.

“I see,” Dan said in resignation. “Wait, if you’re in Hudson, does that mean you’ve finally put Fairfield on the market?”

“Yes, Dan, you’ll be happy to know I took care of that chore before calling you,” Lisa replied testily.

“Good! That’s great!” Dan exclaimed. “Finally. Look, Lisa, I get you’re upset about the cloning thing. You’re right; I should have included you in that decision. But Flyer is mine, too. I think in time, you’ll see—”

“Ah, but Rhapsody is mine,” Lisa cut in. “You’re still on shaky ground, Dan. As I said just now, we’ll discuss this later. You’ll be lucky if I don’t decide to involve my lawyer with this one.”

She heard his exhalation of discontent, but she frankly did not care. Misappropriation of funds, she thought. Yeah, that has a nice ring to it.

“Come on, Lisa. Are you really going to split hairs like that?” he whined. “Aren’t we business partners in this whole breeding venture?”

It took all the control she could muster not to slam down the phone. Instead, she took a steadying breath before responding. “That didn’t give you the right to use Rhapsody for your cloning experiment without consulting with me first. But what’s done is done. Like I said, I’m not in the mood to discuss this right now. Goodbye.”

Lisa did not wait to hear Dan respond before she hung up the call.

Rachel, having awakened from her nap, was sitting at the breakfast nook in the kitchen, flipping through an old edition of the Hudson Times. When Lisa wandered in, Rachel glanced up and said, “Uh-oh. I know that look. Something’s got you mad.”

Lisa groaned. “Ugh. What tipped you off?”

Rachel smirked. “Yeah, see, there’s this vein that always pops out on your forehead whenever you blow a gasket,” she answered, motioning to her own head.

Grumbling, Lisa swiped a self-conscious hand over her face.

“Hey, it’s not like you get mad often, sis,” Rachel said, trying to lighten the mood. “It must be something big.”

Lisa plopped down wearily across from Rachel. “It’s Dan,” she began. “He’s gone and tried to clone one of my best racers—Fairfield Flyer—without even asking me, first.”

“Oh, wow. Is that even legal?” Rachel asked, folding the paper and putting it aside. “I’m not up on my horse cloning ethics.”

“It is legal,” Lisa said, “but it’s damned expensive, comes with a pile of risk factors, and the Racing Association has yet to accept clones in sanctioned races.”

“Didn’t I read something a couple years ago about clones being accepted for show jumping in the Olympics?” asked Rachel.

Lisa nodded. “Yes. The Fédération Equestre Internationale did announce clones could be entered for equestrian events. I still don’t know what Dan was thinking, though. Flyer is a racer, not a jumper, or dressage. It’s infuriating. And it’s not even about the ethics when it comes to cloning; it’s that Dan was hounding me for months to get Fairfield sold so we could get going on an operation out of Avignon.”

“Avignon?” repeated Rachel.

“Yes. You know I always wanted to retire to France, eventually.”

“Right...”

“Anyway,” Lisa continued, “I sold my share of the Dude Ranch back to Lou, and assumed those funds were going towards funding that Avignon operation. Obviously, Dan was funnelling all of it to help make the payments for the cloning procedure.” She let out another huff of frustration; Rachel eyed her with pity.

“C’mon, Lisa,” Rachel said after several moments of silence. “In the end, a horse is a horse, and we both know you love horses. When Rhapsody foals, you’re going to love that clone. So forget Dan, and focus on making sure Rhapsody stays healthy through the rest of the pregnancy.”

The words were like a thunderbolt, bringing a much-needed dose of reality. Lisa stared at Rachel for a few moments, speechless. “Are you sure you’re the younger sister, here?” she eventually asked with an affectionate smile and shake of her head. “When did you get to be so wise?”

“Oh, I have my moments,” Rachel answered airily.

“Well, I hope there’s more wisdom where that came from,” Lisa said, “because even though you’re right about loving it when it arrives, I get the feeling that clone is going to become more like a monkey on my back.”

--

Thanksgiving at Heartland was slightly less crowded than usual owing to the absences of Tim and Lou. Everyone was thankful for Jack’s surviving the heart attack and for Amy’s health and recovery after her recent scare with Zeus; Georgie was thankful in particular for her new family and for Phoenix.

At Fairfield, the celebration was slightly more subdued. Figuring this to be their final Thanksgiving together before the family farm passed into new hands, the Stillman sisters spent much of that holiday Monday* reminiscing about older, happier times, and some not-so-happy times, too.

“I used to love it when Aunt Evelyn would come to visit from wherever she had last been,” Lisa remarked as they sat together in the cozy living room, a roaring fire burning in the hearth.

“Remember her second husband?” Rachel snickered.

“Ah, yes. Uncle Merrill,” Lisa said. “With those massive sideburns we always wished he would shave off.”

“Where did she meet him, again?”

“Wales, I think,” Lisa replied. “But he was from Scotland.”

“He claimed he was some Scottish lord, right?” asked Rachel. “I seem to remember that.”

Lisa nodded seriously. “He apparently had the bank account to prove it, or so Aunt Evelyn told me.”

“Well, she was married to him the longest,” Rachel said.

“That’s true,” Lisa said, taking a sip of cider.

“Until he left her for a newer, younger model,” Rachel said.

“And she took him to the cleaners,” chortled Lisa. “Then promptly found herself another millionaire boyfriend.”

“That one didn’t last very long, did it?”

“Oh, a couple years, maybe? Then she had a few other gentlemen friends whose names I forget. Then she married Charles, the wealthy stockbroker from New York. They met on a cruise ship. Divorced him after five years.”

“Aunt Evelyn is addicted to men and to money,” Rachel said. “And I mean that in the nicest possible way.”

“Rachel, there is no nice way to call someone a gold digger,” Lisa said, a peal of laughter breaking forth.

“Ha! You said it; not me!”

“All right, Aunt Evelyn may have her... flaws... but she’s always been good to us,” Lisa said sincerely.

“Yeah... you’re right,” Rachel said. “Though you’re her favourite, you know.”

Lisa cocked her head and frowned at her sister, puzzled by this comment. “Naw. She totally spoiled us both. What d’you mean by that?”

“Oh, nothing.” Rachel waved a hand dismissively. “I just got the feeling like she doted on you a little more. That’s all.”

“What? Why?”

Rachel stared at her older sister, considering for a few moments how to proceed. She blew out a breath and said, “Okay, remember that horse you had when we were kids? Silver?”

“Yes,” Lisa said, thinking of the dapple grey mare she got as a rescue. She put aside her mug, sensing Rachel was about to say something she had been wanting to say for a long time, but never had the chance to get it off her chest.

“I remember when Silver got sick a few years later,” Rachel said. “Dad didn’t think he could afford to pay for the surgery.”

“That’s right,” Lisa confirmed. “It was colic. Silver was getting old by that point, so Dad didn’t think the risk was worth it.”

“You know, I didn’t even have my own horse at the time, and Aunt Evelyn swooped in and said she’d pay for the surgery,” Rachel said, voice tainted with the slightest stain of bitterness. “You were seven when you got Silver. I remember, because I thought somehow that’s what I would get when I turned seven, too. Funny, isn’t it? We lived on a horse-breeding farm, and I didn’t get my own horse until I was ten.”

“Rachel, it’s a stupid question... did you even really want your own horse?” Lisa asked carefully.

Rachel rolled her eyes. “Of course I wanted my own horse,” she said. “What little girl living in Hudson didn’t ‘want’ her own horse?”

“I know, but ‘wanting’ a horse isn’t the same as loving that horse when you finally get it, is it?”

Lisa thought back to when Rachel did receive her own horse the Christmas after she turned ten, a gift from Evelyn. In the beginning, the girl had been ecstatic, but the excitement had waned, and the horse was sometimes neglected.

“No, it isn’t the same thing,” admitted Rachel. “Look, I don’t mean to sound petty. At the time, I was jealous; I admit it. When I was younger, I thought Aunt Evelyn paying for Silver’s surgery when I didn’t even have my own horse meant she loved you more and was ignoring me.”

“I’m sorry, Rach,” Lisa said sincerely. “I had no idea you felt that way.”

“Like I said, I felt that way when I was younger. I thought having a horse would make me happy the way it seemed to make you happy; like it made other girls around town happy,” Rachel said. “It wasn’t until later I realised I wasn’t actually a horse-crazy girl like everyone else.”

“No, you were more boy-crazy,” Lisa said, a small smile twitching her lips.

“Ohhh, was I ever,” Rachel said, throwing back her head and casting her eyes to the ceiling.

“Do you ever regret leaving home when you did?” Lisa queried. “I mean, do you ever wish you had waited until you were a little more settled? Aunt Evelyn was willing to pay for your post-secondary education anywhere in the world like she did for me, you know.”

“Yeah, I know. And I keep saying that the timing was probably wrong,” Rachel said. “But I always come back to Ben. He’s the reason I don’t have regrets about that. I love my son more than my own life, Lisa. If I do regret anything is that his childhood probably wasn’t as happy as it could have been because of my stupid relationship mistakes.”

“Well, from what I can see, he’s grown into a fine young man, Rachel,” Lisa said, thinking of the rough patch Ben went through during Rachel’s train wreck of a divorce. “He’s learned some valuable life lessons and he’s working hard now to achieve his goals.”

“I admit I’m proud of him,” Rachel said with a smile. “I’m sorry again for dumping him on you—”

“Oh, stop!” Lisa put up a hand. “We’ve been over this a hundred times. Even though I could have done a better job when he was here, it made me realise raising a child isn’t a cakewalk.”

“No, but it is worth it,” Rachel said. “I look at Ben, and I think at least I did something right in the world.”

“Yeah...” Lisa said softly.

“He did appreciate his time here, Lisa,” Rachel said, getting an inkling of where Lisa’s thoughts might have carried her at that moment.

“I hope so,” Lisa uttered. “Though somehow, I think I acted a little more like Aunt Evelyn: dropping expensive gifts instead of making any meaningful impact on his life that would actually matter.”

“I don’t see it that way at all,” Rachel countered. “You give from the heart, Lisa. You’ve always been the generous type. And with Fairfield’s success came bigger ways to show that generosity. To be honest, I was a bit jealous of your giving nature, too.”

“And if I’m going to be honest, I was a bit jealous of you,” Lisa said seriously.

“Of me?” Rachel said, clearly shocked. “Whatever for?”

“You left home. Had a child. You... didn’t have the weight of responsibility for Fairfield that I had,” Lisa admitted. “I have loved building up the business into the success it is today, but I also thought kids would naturally come along when I was married to Dan. When that didn’t happen, I thought about you and how easy it seemed for you.”

“It wasn’t easy at all, especially when Gary walked out on us,” stated Rachel emphatically. “And I thought I’d have more kids too, when the ex-who-shall-not-be-named came into the picture and seemed like he’d be a great step-father to Ben. We all know how that turned out.”

Lisa bobbed her head slowly, knowing no further words were needed on the subject of the breakup of Rachel’s marriage.

At length, Rachel murmured: “I’m glad I came out here one last time. There was a time I couldn’t wait to leave; relieved you were the older daughter that Dad would look to for running the business. I don’t think I’ve ever truly appreciated how much of a burden you’ve shouldered.”

“We’ve both had our burdens and hardships,” Lisa said, looking at the glowing embers in the fireplace.

“I mean it, Lisa,” Rachel insisted. “Thank you for being there for Dad, and for running Fairfield all these years. It’s just a shame he didn’t live long enough to see the success it’s become.”

“A success that’s now coming to a close,” Lisa said quietly. “When I pick up stakes and move to Avignon, it’s going to be a whole new business.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Rachel commented. “You haven’t heard from Jack. You said it yourself that it’s time to make a fresh start.”

“I know,” Lisa said. “And you’re right. But being here in Hudson, well, it’s brought back a lot of memories with him. Good memories. It hurts to finally realise that there won’t be any more of those.”

“Well, who knows? Maybe you’ll meet a fine French gentleman in Avignon,” Rachel said with a mirthful chuckle.

“Oh, no! The last thing I need is to turn into Aunt Evelyn,” Lisa scoffed, chagrined at her sister’s comment. Her thoughts suddenly took her to Toulon and the foul experience she had with Alphonse. It struck her his marriage to the young Audrey had come and gone that spring, and their baby was probably due any time. I sure dodged a bullet with that one, she decided, even if my “friends” thought we would make a good match.

“You could never be like Aunt Evelyn,” Rachel said. “You’re not a gold-digger, and the money you’ve made came through hard work. And the money doesn’t really matter to you, either, does it?”

“I won’t lie,” Lisa replied. “The money matters, because I got to do things and go places I always dreamed of doing and seeing when I was a kid. But what’s money if you don’t have people you love to share it with?”

Rachel looked at her sister with sympathy. “You really did love him, didn’t you?”

Lisa returned Rachel’s glance. “With every fiber of my being. My whole world stopped when Lou told me about his heart attack. Nothing mattered after nearly losing him like that. I just wish I had the chance to tell him so.”

“Look, it’s not my place to tell you what to do or what not to do, Lis,” Rachel said. “But you’re here in Hudson now, and he’s here. This could be your last chance to tell him.”

A slight shiver ran down Lisa’s spine at the notion of facing Jack and baring her heart as she had tried so many months ago, when she made the horrible mistake of renting the hospital bed for him. “I already squandered that ‘last chance’, Rach,” Lisa said sadly. “It’ll take a miracle to convince Jack to see me again. I blew it, and now I’m paying the price.”

--

Thanksgiving dishes were washed and put away; night checks on the horses were finished; everyone was tucked away in bed. Jack, however, lingered by himself in the living room before the fire, sipping on a hot toddy. There was indeed much to be thankful for, he knew, particularly when it came to his own life. There’s much to regret, too, he thought, watching as the flames licked at the seasoned logs. While life moved on, his heart still pined for her. He was still stuck in a place of uncertainty and inaction; of wanting to reach out and of pulling back again. It’s been ten months. Lisa has moved on, surely. It would be wrong of me to call her now, after all that’s gone on between us, and mess up whatever it is she has going. I should be thankful we had whatever it is we had and let her go. With that, Jack pulled himself up from the couch, doused the fire, and crept into his bedroom. As he closed his eyes, his last thought before falling asleep was that given his angry parting words with Lisa, spoken in the heat of the moment, he was undeserving of a second chance with her. Nothing will ever bring us back together; that’s a bridge too far.

--

*To my non-Canadian readers: Thanksgiving in Canada is celebrated on the 2nd Monday of October.

TBC

[efrmellifer]

Missive

(this one has been percolating for a few days; sorry for the uhhh everything)

As Starlight crept ever closer, Etien was finding herself slowing down.

Maybe it was the view outside her window finally lining up with her internal clock, the frosted windowpane and icy streets not quite so incongruous to the mind as the celebrations (Heavensturn was just around the corner, too, after all) bore down on them all. It had been like this in the Black Shroud years ago, too. The way she remembered it, the harvest came and went, a cold wind would sweep down from Coerthas one day, and the Twelveswood would be chilled, if not snowy, and the time had arrived. Not long after then, her family headed into Gridania for the actual festivities.

Maybe it was because the Scions had been settling down, too, and were thus sending her fewer messages with briefing that sounded like they were written to make her feel left out. No, now they were grouping up and making plans for visits and vacations.

So finally, Etien could rest. She could stop feeling guilty for staying locked up—in a city that had only recently allowed people other than its own in, and now she wasn’t going out—and stop trying to push herself to constantly be doing more.

She still sat among furniture that included a chair better suited for nursing than the vanity chair or the straight-backed one on the other side of the room, surrounded by the fine woodwork slowly becoming two cradles. But she could relax. All was being handled in due course.

So she focused instead on cooking.

Holiday treats, pastries with a nut paste kneaded right into them so Aymeric could have something just a little more substantial with his tea in the mornings, boiling down fruits with a little sugar into preserves, Etien was doing it all, filling the kitchen—and then the whole house, as the fragrances traveled—with the scents of her tasks until it was time to focus on the evening’s repast.

So she was still in the kitchen, not having gotten too much done on that yet, when Aymeric came in, giving her a kiss on the forehead and handing over a letter.

“The delivery moogle said it was for you, but that since I would be seeing you presently, I might as well take it with me rather than have you come get it.”

Etien nodded, looking down at the parchment folded so that the letter was its own envelope. The address, in handwriting that was even more loop-heavy than her own, told her everything she needed to  know about where—more accurately, who—the note came from.

It read: Etien, Holy See of Ishgard.

So, someone who knew where she was, but not her title, not her married name, nor where exactly she would be found in Ishgard.

If it had said “Mistress Mellifer, Warrior of Light, Fortemps Manor,” that would have been outdated, but still based in fact.

If it had said “Etien of House Borel,” she would have assumed it was someone who knew her. Maybe not well, but someone familiar with her current situation.

In essence, anything more specific or less knowledgeable would have been easy to ignore, or at least to brush off. But this vague address using her name like that, and the formal name of Ishgard, and written in that hand, well it was telling. And what it was telling her was making her heart sink.

She opened it, separating one layer of parchment from another, held together with a bit of sap-based glue.

She scanned it, and folded it up again, expression grim.

“What is it? I have to admit, I was a touch curious, when it came addressed like that. Then again, it would be hard not to have it find you here, even if it had only said your name.”

“Same as the other one,” she replied flatly. “It’s a letter from my sister this time.”

Aymeric opened his mouth to voice his confusion, but closed it again to weigh his words first. “What did she have to say?”

“An update on some family matters.” She sighed. Why be secretive, especially with him? “A report on our paternal grandmam. She’s been… well, not great, but it’s a little worse now.”

She put the letter down, turning back to the food cooking, stirring it more out of habitual motion than a genuine desire to create a meal.

He laid a hand on hers, again intending to speak, but this time he was cut off by Etien bursting into tears.

“Oh, Etien,” he soothed.

She let go of the cookware and curled herself into his arms, already beginning to sob. “I can’t do this, Aymeric.”

He was quiet for the space of two breaths, simply holding her, and then he asked her, “do what?”

From the sound of her sniffling, this was not a light cry, so he knew he might be waiting for an answer. He just rubbed her back in the meantime.

“I tried to start over,” she spoke, voice halting in her attempts to stop sobbing but not start hiccuping, “and I can’t. I’m—” a heavy, shuddering breath—“’m here, but they keep writing and I can’t just stop caring. How do I stop caring?”

“You do not,” he murmured. Etien looked up at him, blinking in surprise. “Remember, my dearest, you ran. You did not kill M’etien. She still exists, within you, and they write to her. She—you—will never stop caring about your family. And that is all right. Indeed, the fact that you care so much for so many is something that equally many people admire about you.”

She sniffled again, and Aymeric’s hand stilled for a moment, patting between her shoulder blades before going back to rubbing in the same slow oval he had been.

“However. You are here, as you say, and you have a family here. You have started over, just as you wanted. And you have us to help you do this, whatever ‘this’ happens to be. You do not have to face it alone.”

She had still been staring up at him, but now she blinked slowly. “Oh. I suppose that’s true.”

“Come, you can leave this aside. The staff can prepare something tonight—after all, the whole house is scented, beautifully, might I add, with the proof that you were busy all day. Let’s get a coat on you, shall we?”

“Are we going somewhere?” she mumbled.

“Just for a walk. Hopefully some fresh air will clear your head. Either way, I’d like to spend some quality time with you, just us and no distractions.”

Etien nodded her assent, and let him go so she could go get her coat.

When she was shod and bundled up, they headed out, making their way past the Athenaeum Astrologicum, down to Foundation, and out into the central highlands.

It was a simple stroll, the pair watching karakul waddling around in the snow, or drifts falling from the trees. Quiet reigned over the land and the couple both, the only sounds the crunching of the snow under their feet or the sounds of the wildlife. The occasional branch snapped, but in the crisp cool air, there was a certain peace.

And it only deepened when a light snow started to drift down from the sky, thick white flakes seeming to float before their eyes, before landing in Aymeric’s hair or being caught on Etien’s tongue.

“Never broke the habit, hmm?”

She shook her head. “Never any need to. I rarely catch nice flurries like this.”

Aymeric just threaded his hand through hers and kept walking, eyes drifting up to the sky every so often.

While Etien plucked an apple off a tree, he stuck his tongue out while she wasn’t looking, to catch a snowflake of his own.

He had to admit, it was fun. Not half as fun as watching Etien’s ears flick as the flakes drifted over their edges, though.

It was far past sundown now, though, so they turned around and headed for home, huddling closer for warmth as they entered the lamplight of the city.

Just outside the house’s door, Aymeric stopped, turning Etien to face him.

“Any better?”

She nodded, smiling. “I think I needed that.”

“Can you do this?”

She gave him an even bigger smile. “I can certainly try, as long as you help.”

[wolfpawn]

I Hate You, I Love You, Chapter 157

Chapter Summary - Danielle and Tom finish their holiday on the south coast and return to London in time for Wimbledon and minding Lucy, which means informing his family.

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long.  This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously.

Copyright for the photo is the owners, not mine. All image rights belong to their owners

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @jessibelle-nerdy-mum @nonsensicalobsessions @damalseer @hiddlesbitch1 @winterisakiller @fairlightswiftly @salempoe @wolfsmom1 @black-ninja-blade

Danielle and Tom spent the last few hours of their holiday in the house tidying the last of everything and grinning like two fools at their getting engaged. For her part, Danielle was studying the ring constantly with a wide smile on her face while Tom was finding excuses to cease his own work and go and kiss her again.

They decided to ensure that Diana was told as soon as possible, with Emma and Sarah also getting the news but they wanted to tell them face to face and that required them not being spotted with Danielle having the ring on her hand until the following day when she would be caring for Lucy with Diana, so they stayed inside or only had Tom do something that risked being seen, as a few people had ascertained they were in Southampton or the surrounding area by their going to a show in the city that week. James would have to be told also but he had made it clear to call when Tom asked and to come to visit when they had time after so Tom called his father, who gave hearty congratulations and swore he would say nothing should Emma or Sarah contact him.

The drive back to London was only two and a half hours and reluctantly, they forced themselves and their dogs back to the urban jungle, making comment on the notable difference in temperature from the breezy seaside on their arrival. Bobby and Mac availed of the cool tiled floor of the back room turned laundry room to assist them with the heat as Danielle and Tom unpacked.

Snaking his arms around her, Tom kissed the side of Danielle's neck. “We need some shopping, I better make a list and go.”

“It will be here between six and eight,” Danielle informed him. “I ordered it while you were in the shower this morning. Nothing too mad, dinner, breakfast, a nice wine…Tom…” She could not help but giggle as Tom leant in against her, kissing her and rubbing himself against her ass. “Behave.”

“Not possible.”

“You'd think the terrifying prospect of being stuck with me for the remainder of your time on this planet would be a deterrent to amorous thoughts.” She commented.

“On the contrary, I think it a wonderful realisation and one I have every intention of enjoying,” He stated, kissing her again.

“Insatiable,” She smiled before moving away from him, much to Tom's displeasure. “I think we should take this…”

Tom smirked before rushing past her, taking her by the hand and bringing her upstairs eagerly.

*

“Ready?” Danielle asked as they arrived at Emma's home.

Tom was due at Wimbledon soon but he wanted to be there when his family realised what had occurred in the week after their departure, so he left early to drop Danielle, knowing that his mother had stayed the night before to make sure she was up to date with Lucy's routine, as well as let Emma get ready unmolested by her daughter.

Jack was the one to open the door, making comment of the heat and the fact that he would boil alive in the suit as they entered over the threshold while they did so and commenting on Tom having to be in the sun for hours in his own suit.

Tom and Danielle joked and laughed with him for a moment before heading into the kitchen, Jack talking to Tom about the final of the tennis and Anderson and Djokovic's chances. The pair spoke of the tennis as they walked into the kitchen, where Danielle had put on the kettle and had begun making tea.

As though the click of the kettle turning off at its boiling was some manner of beacon, Emma walked into the room, curlers in her hair and her makeup half done. She gave a large smile to her brother and her friend. “Jack, could you heat a bottle?”

“Don't you want to feed her before we leave?” Her husband asked.

“I haven't time to sit still now and do that. I will pump in a while,” She declared rushing off.

“She is not fussing yet, Love, let her wait until you're finished your doing your face and feed her before you put on your dress.” Her mother suggested from the hallway, holding Lucy while Emma rushed around.

“Yeah, okay,” Addled, Emma stared at her brother for a moment. “What?”

“Nothing.” Tom smirked back.

Worried, Emma looked at Danielle who was looking displeased. “Elle, am I…?”

“Don't mind that eejit, you know him and tennis,” Danielle dismissed. “You just need to get finished and get some breakfast.” She ordered, handing a mug of herbal tea that Emma was taking to assist her milk supply to her friend.

Emma smiled gratefully and took the mug before rushing off again.

Tom checked his watch and noted he needed to leave in the next fifteen minutes if he was to get to Wimbledon on time. Giving Danielle a small nod, she decided to do as they had planned.

As she went to talk to Emma again, she saw her friend walking towards her in a dressing gown, ready to put on her dress after having something to eat and feeding Lucy.

Jack got something for Emma while she prepared Lucy to feed, including a nursing muslin cloth. “She actually prefers being under it,” Emma shrugged.

“It's your scent.” Danielle explained nonchalantly. “You have it against your skin and she can smell that.”

“What book did you read that in?” Jack asked, slightly confused as to how Danielle could ever know such a thing.

“Can't remember, I think it was that breastfeeding booklet you got from the nurse.”

“Why did you read what?” He laughed.

“Lucy was asleep and Emma was in the shower.” Danielle shrugged.

“You're just jealous she knows more about this than you.” Emma jested with her husband causing them to laugh a bit before she noticed a small glint as Danielle took a drink of her tea. She focused on Danielle's hand for a moment, specifically because she could not recall her friend ever wearing rings before she realised she knew the ring from somewhere. It then occurred to her that it was on a particular finger on a particular hand. She gasped loudly startling everyone, especially Lucy. “Oh, my God!” She cried out causing Lucy to stop feeding and begin to whimper in shock.

“Em?” Jack asked, completely confused as to why his wife made such a declaration. “Are you okay?”

Emma could hardly hear her husband's words, instead she focused on her brother's proud smile. “You...you did, didn't you?” She squealed. Tom and Danielle merely grinned back. “MUM!!!!!”

Diana had been in the bathroom when Emma shrieked first, but the callout caused the older woman to rush to the kitchen. “What happened? Lucy?”

“Lucy is fine Mum, Emma is just excited because...well,” he looked at Danielle and smiled lovingly as she did the same to him. “She just realised that Elle and I are engaged.”

Diana have a slight gasp before her hand went to her mouth. “You're not joking with me, are you, Tom, I am warning you, do not be joking with me.” His mother threatened.

“It’s no joke, Mum. She has Nan's ring.” He showed his mother Danielle's hand.

“That's where I know it.” Emma recalled. “How come you have it?”

“Because I was the only boy.” He stated proudly. “The rule was to keep it in the Hiddleston family, that was granddad's rule.”

Emma shrugged as she recalled her paternal grandfather being stern regarding rules. “So this is real, you actually are engaged?”

“Yes, matron of honour.” Danielle grinned at her friend.

“Damn hormones.” Emma wiped her eyes as she cried. “I am happy, I swear.”

Danielle and Tom laughed at her before looking to Diana again, going over to her worriedly. “Mum?”

Diana was weeping also. “So you get me to stop badgering you, saying it is not something to consider for another two or three years and you ask only a month later?”

“I didn't want her to feel pressured.” Tom admitted. “And I wanted to make it a surprise.” Diana pulled him to her.

“Where? Tell me everything,” she insisted going over and embracing Danielle who stood up to hug her.

“There's nothing to it really, we went for a walk up the cliffs yesterday, we talked about the future, I took out the ring and I asked her and thankfully, she said yes.” Tom recapped.

Diana beamed, elated at the news before looking at Danielle again. “Who would have thought seven years ago when you were sitting looking lost and scared in my living room that this would happen? Now, look at us all. We'll be busy today now.”

“I knew you'd say that.” Danielle laughed, wiping a tear from her eye.

Diana cupped her face and looked at her lovingly before hugging her tightly. “So, what did your father say when you asked for the ring?” She inquired.

“Nothing much really, told me to get it sized properly and to get a good box.”

“Nothing else?” Diana rarely spoke to her ex-husband, they were amiable when at an event with their children or grandchildren but otherwise they were not two to mingle much.

“He asked me to tell him when I asked, I've called him and we are taking him out for lunch on Sunday.”

“Good,” Diana always encouraged her children to be part of their father's life too.

“He also mentioned you doing the honours again,” Tom informed her with a smile, knowing his mother was wondering about that particular tidbit of information.

“Good, I will send it in for the weekend, do inform Luke as well, won't you?”

Tom nodded and noted Danielle looking at the pair worriedly, not sure of what they were referencing yet knowing it was engagement related so she looked at them concerned. “Mum wants to make an official announcement in the paper as she did with Sarah and Emma.”

“In the paper?”

“It's the done thing in these parts,” Tom explained.

Unsure and confused about the practice, Danielle simply nodded and decided not to bother herself too much about it.

“Can I tell Sarah?” Emma asked excitedly.

“I didn't tell her about your engagement.”

“Well, someone has to tell her before it gets out and she is working.” Diana stated.

“Video call.” Emma took out her phone and dialled her sister's number. A moment later, Sarah came up on screen.

“You're not backing out of the wedding, are you?” Sarah asked, half suspecting Emma to refuse to be away from Lucy, having had several conversations with her sister regarding such concerns while they were on holiday as well as since they returned.

“No, I'm nearly ready. Tom and Elle are here too.”

“Well, Elle is supposed to be helping Mum with Lucy so that's hardly…Emma, what are you crying about, you'll ruin your makeup.”

“I'm happy.”

“About?” Sarah felt as though it was pulling teeth to get Emma to make sense.

Emma walked over to Tom and Danielle who were sitting beside one another. Tom took the phone from Emma and lifted Danielle's hand to reveal the ring.

Sarah focused for a moment before her eyes went wide. “What!”

“Guess who's getting married next year.”

“No….No….Really? Really?” Her voice became more excited as she spoke.

“Really really, so don't say you weren't warned.” Tom chuckled.

“Congratulations!” She shrieked. “You two clearly had an interesting time after we left. I just...ah! So where are we talking, here or Ireland or somewhere else?”

“We haven't even started those discussions and it only happened yesterday so don't run away with ideas just yet.” Danielle explained. “You'll know when Diana starts the real madness.”

“I will not.” Diana dismissed. They all looked at her silently, all of them thinking back to Emma and Jack's wedding. “Oh, hush.”

“Well, I had best get to Wimbledon, so I better say goodbye and see you soon.” Tom rose to his feet and waved at the phone as he handed it back to Emma. “I better contact Luke in a while also.” He leant down and gave Danielle a chaste kiss. “Enjoy the day of indoctrinating a child in cycling.”

“Enjoy the day of watching two men hit a small ball back and forth.” She retorted playfully.

“You two, enjoy being human again.” He commented to Jack and Emma. “And Mum, please don't terrorise Danielle too much with wedding stuff.” He warned. “There's plenty of time and I don't want a text halfway through the day saying she has thought better of it.”

Though she looked disappointed, Diana nodded. “Fine, we will simply discuss a few things.”

“Behave, Mum,” Tom warned, grateful to be leaving, knowing g his mother would be excitedly overthinking about it all for the day. “Will I collect you this evening?” Tom asked Danielle.

“No, you're fine, have a glass of wine or whiskey or two for yourself,” Danielle smiled. “I will get a taxi back.”

With a nod, Tom gave his goodbyes and left.

“So, what are we thinking, Spring or Summer?” Emma asked, knowing that Danielle insisted the Irish idea of longer engagements was a better one.

“Summer?” Diana was less than impressed by such ideas. “That's far too far away.”

“Natalie Dormer has been engaged for about six years.” Danielle pointed out.

“That is not even funny.” Diana shook her head knowing that Danielle was purposely trying to irk her playfully. “In all of this, I notice you have said nothing, Jack.”

Jack finished the last of his tea and rose to finish getting ready. “I was with Tom when he got the ring resized at Christmas, I actually got bored of waiting for this little announcement, I thought he had chickened out of it.” He explained before leaving the room.

“Wait, Christmas?” Danielle asked, following Jack to the hallway, shocked that it had been so long planned.

“Yes, the day we had dinner out and we thought we had food poisoning, that day he sorted it.” He informed her. “He asked me to help think of a way to ask you when the time was right.”

Startled, Danielle could not think of anything to say in response.

[peaceisadirtyword]

It’s over (Modern!Ivar/Reader)

A/N: Hello💜 this was requested by @oneofthelothbroks a few months ago and though I had it written for weeks, I had to rewrite it because I didn’t like it :( and... I got a bit carried away I think😅 I'm sorry about that. Anyway, I hope you like it💞 the ending is awful and I think it’s too rushed, but I had to stop writing because I almost write a fucking book with this😅 also, I’m introducing Thora in every single fic, but it’s because I love her and I need to write more about her♥️

Warnings: angst, fluff, a bit of smut (not very detailed), or at least an attempt, also mentions of alcohol, a break up, Ivar is an asshole, Hvitty is cute.

Words: I'm so sorry I wanted to make this shorter but I couldn’t seriously I feel really bad sorry :( I wrote 5118 words😭

gif belongs to @thenorsequeen

The yelling could be heard even outside of the house. 

Ubbe panicked when he heard it. Though he knew Ivar was more than capable of taking care of himself, he was scared. What if any of you ended up hurt? 

You were the one yelling, though that didn't really reassure him. 

"I'm tired, Ivar!" you were more than angry, you were furious "I'm tired of you treating me like shit because you know I'll come back asking for forgiveness even when I have done nothing wrong!" You scoffed. Ivar was sitting on his bed, his jaw clenching and his blue eyes narrowed at you, annoyed "You know what? This time I won't!"

"Careful with the way you speak to me" he said in a normal tone. He didn't have much patience, but when it came to you, he controlled himself better. This time you were really pissing him off.

"I'll speak to you however I want to because if you don't respect me I won't respect you"

"When have I disrespected you, huh?" He rolled his eyes "As far as I know, I'm not the one who goes out with other people to have coffee every single day"

"Alfred is my friend, Ivar" you pressed your lips together "We go to the same class, I'm not disrespecting anyone when going out with my friends"

"Is he? Does he know he's your friend? Maybe he thinks you're going to get married"

"What the fuck, Ivar?" You raised your eyebrows "Why are you talking about this right now?"

Ubbe entered the room quickly. Ivar and you fought sometimes, small arguments that ended up with both of you in bed. This time sounded a bit more serious, though. 

"Hey, hey what's going on here?"

"Tell your brother to please stop talking nonsense"

"I'm talking nonsense? And what about you?" 

"I just offered to go with you to therapy tomorrow, Ivar"

"Yes, after coming to my house uninvited, why do you always have to be with me? It's annoying, Y/N, to spend every single second of the day with you"

Ubbe frowned at his little brother, not understanding why he was being so mean to you. 

"We haven't seen each other for days" your voice was much lower, and Ubbe could say you were on the verge of tears. 

"And did something happen? No, I think I can go to therapy without you and enjoy a bit of time alone, without you constantly annoying me"

You breathed deeply, maybe to control yourself and not slap him. You could feel tears rolling down your cheeks, and felt humiliated and stupid. While you counted the seconds left to be with him again, planned movie nights and lazy mornings with him excitedly, he was annoyed. He didn't want to spend time with you because you were bothering him. 

"Okay" you nodded, looking away from him "Don't worry, you're going to have a lot of time alone now, sorry for being so fucking annoying" you scoffed, turning around to leave the room, not even looking at Ubbe in your way out. 

Hvitserk was in the couch, sitting and eating a slice of the pizza he told Ivar and you he'd share with both of you. He immediately stood up and approached you, worried.

"Hey, what happened? Why are you crying? Is everything okay?"

"No" you sobbed, rubbing your eyes "It's over, Hvitserk, I'm leaving"

"What? No, hey, come on, you can't just end up things with him without talking..."

"We already talked!" You yelled at him "And it's more than obvious that he doesn't want to be with me, and I can't force anyone to spend time with me so" you shrugged "It's over"

"It's just a small argument" he bit his lip "Come on, do you want some pizza?" 

"No, Hvitty, I'm... I'm tired, I just wanna go home" 

"Okay" he sighed "Do you want me to take you home?" 

"No, I'll take the bus" you muttered, shaking your head "Thank you anyway"

He wanted to insist, but he knew you'd need some time for yourself, so he accompanied you to the main door and hugged you softly after letting you go. 

Ubbe was still in Ivar's room when he got there. Ivar was silent, with his jaw clenched, and Ubbe was trying to get him to say something. 

"What did you say to her?" Hvitserk asked from the door. Ivar rolled his eyes and glared at both of them. 

"Why do you care?"

"Because we worry about you, little brother" Ubbe sighed with a small smile, trying to ruffle his hair. Ivar scoffed and looked away. 

"I'm okay, now leave me alone"

________________________________________________

You looked at the alarm clock on your bedside table. One week. One week and though you promised yourself you'd get out of bed and continue your life, leaving Ivar behind, you just couldn't. 

Tomorrow, you'd think, snuggling under the covers again and closing your eyes, waiting for the sleep to come to you. 

The only times you got up were to grab some food, half of which you didn't eat. You were just dealing with it, and having a really hard time doing so. 

Thora, your roommate and best friend, had been by your side as much as she could, though sometimes you preferred to be alone. Alfred, one of your closest friends, had gone to visit you a couple of times, worried as you didn't pick up the phone. 

Ubbe had texted you a few times, to know how were you and to let you know Hvitserk had collected all the clothes you had left at the Lothbrok's house and would take them to your house. Him checking on you was something normal, something he did constantly since you became Ivar's closest friend and then his girlfriend, you were a part of his family and therefore he cared about you with that paternal instinct he developed when their father left them. 

Hvitserk had texted you too, to try and cheer you up with some memes he found on the internet. You had seen him a few times, as he was starting a thing with Thora and went to pick her up for some dates. 

But Ivar ignored you since that awful day. He hadn't texted or called you as you hoped. Maybe when he calmed down he'd say sorry or at least try to contact you. But he seemed to be enjoying his time alone too much to stop and think about you. 

Though you had had your eyes closed for more than half an hour, you couldn't sleep. And you opened your eyes when Thora knocked at your door. 

"Good morning, sleeping beauty" she smiled, entering the room. She had a small tray in her hands, with a hot chocolate and a waffle, your favorite breakfast "How are you today?" She happily left the tray on your desk and opened the curtains, to let the sunlight into the room. 

You didn't answer, only moaned in pain when your eyes felt the intense light on them. You hadn't opened the curtains for a week and had already gotten used to the darkness of your room. 

Thora sat on your bed, her wide smile faltering when you stayed silent. 

"Come on, get up and have breakfast, Hvitserk made the waffles earlier, they're delicious"

"I'm not hungry" you muttered, sighing. 

"You didn't eat anything yesterday, so get up and have breakfast or I'll call your mom" 

You raised an eyebrow, but didn't move. 

Thora sighed, laying down on your bed with you. 

"You have to stop doing this, Y/N" she muttered, softly caressing your hair. It was greasy and lackluster, but she didn't seem to mind "I get it's hard, but this is life, you have to get up and get going"

Rubbing your eyes, you yawned to hide your tears. 

"I know but..." You bit your lip "I love him, Thora"

"I know" she smiled and hugged you "And it will pass, you'll meet someone else and forget about him and you'll be so fucking happy you won't even remember it" 

"I won't" you groaned into the pillow "I just want to stay here for the rest of my life" 

"I'm afraid you can't do that, honey" she chuckled "Look, why don't you get up, eat something, have a shower, get dressed and we go shopping? I saw a dress the other day that would look beautiful on you"

"And why don't I stay here and you go shopping with Hvitserk?" 

"Because I want to go with you" she smiled "It's been a while since we had a girls' day, and I miss my best friend" she pouted and you looked away, feeling guilty. 

"Are you sure you want to spend time with me? Apparently, I'm annoying" 

Thora scoffed, rolling her eyes. 

"Listen, Y/N, you're one of the most happy, interesting, fun and less annoying persons that I know, and I know a lot of people, so if there's someone that thinks otherwise, they can go fuck themselves because they're wrong" 

You smiled a bit. Thora was the only one that could really make you feel a bit better. 

"You're right, I suppose I should get out of bed" you sighed, and she smiled widely "It's not the end of the world, I mean... There's people with bigger problems that keep going so... I'm going to the shower" you hesitated a bit but finally got out of bed. 

"Good idea, no offense but you smell awfully and your hair looks really bad" she bit her lip "Now, I'll be waiting in the kitchen heating your now cold chocolate" she giggled, picking up the tray and leaving the room "Be quick!"

You bit your lip and finally entered your bathroom, undressing yourself and getting into the shower, moaning when you felt the warm water on your skin.

_________________________________________

Not even 11am and Ivar was already annoyed. 

The last week had been a very weird one. He had been feeling down, but managed to hide it, maybe he cried a couple of times. But he wasn't going to tell everyone. 

Everyone was shocked when they heard about the break up. For years, they had been always together, taking care of each other. 

One of the most shocked by this was Aslaug. Ivar's mother had taken a liking to you and considered you the daughter she could never have, and she could see how much Ivar loved you, even if he made an effort to hide it. 

She could see Ivar's sadness now, how he was quieter and his lips were pressing together in a small pout. He thought no one even suspected it, but his mother and brothers definitely did. 

Ubbe was the one that fought to take Ivar out every day, worried about the way he was slowly locking himself in. 

He found him reading again, locked in his room. He only went out to take his medicines and eat a bit. 

"Hey" he greeted, eyeing him closely. 

Ivar raised his head to look at him, looking slightly irritated for the interruption. 

"Yes, I ate earlier, and yes, I took the painkillers, they don't hurt anymore" he said, rolling his eyes. 

"I know you did" Ubbe tried to smile "I was just wondering if you want to go out with us today"

"No" he simply answered, looking back at his book. 

"Come on, you haven't gone out in a week"

"I'm not feeling like going out"

Ubbe sighed. He knew it would be hard to deal with him. 

Ivar was a person that didn't really liked to show his feelings. You were the exception, Ivar adored you and wasn't afraid to tell you, but sometimes his pride got the worst of him and he'd act like he didn't care about anything or anyone, hurting you in the process. Usually, he realized it soon and would try to fix it, but this time he was being too proud. 

"Ivar" Ubbe tried again "If you miss her, call her and apologize"

Ivar scoffed. 

"She was the one that ended things up, why would she want to hear my apologies? I don't miss her"

Ubbe raised an eyebrow, he knew his brother too well to see through his lies, no matter how convincing. 

"Then why are you staying here? Anyone would say you're hurting"

"I'm not" he frowned, glaring at him "If I go out with you tonight will you leave me alone?" 

"Yes" Ubbe smirked in victory. 

"Okay, then I'll go, but now get out of my room"

"Perfect, Björn will pick us up at eleven o'clock, be ready" he winked at him and chuckled while ruffling his hair. 

_________________________________________

"Thora..." you bit your lip "I don't think..."

"Shut up, you look amazing!" she squealed, excited. Both of you were now locked in a changing room in your favorite shop. You were trying on that lovely dress Thora saw, but weren't too convinced with the result. 

"It's too much cleavage" you muttered, trying to cover your breasts. 

"It's perfect, stop that" she smiled while watching your reflection "You look beautiful, Y/N"

"Do you really think so?" You narrowed your eyes, examining your figure. The dress was black, tight and maybe just a bit too short. It hugged your curves, making your breasts (and ass) look bigger. It favored you a lot, but you felt too... Exposed. 

"Do you know what?" She smiled widely "Why don't we go out tonight so you can wear it?" 

"Go out?" You frowned "No, Thora, I'm staying home"

"Come on, Y/N" she pouted again "What are you going to do? Get in bed again?"

"Maybe watch a movie or something like that" you shrugged. 

"But it will be fun, Y/N" she smiled "You love going out, we can go to that club you love so much... how is it called?" 

"Helheim" you muttered, biting your lip. Ivar was the one who took you there for the first time, and you loved it. It was big, and never too crowded, the drinks were cheaper than in other places and the music was good. 

"There!" she nodded "I'll buy you a drink" Thora promised, looking at you with puppy eyes. 

Though you'd love to stay at home, drowning in your own misery and watching movies starred by dogs while eating ice cream until you got sick, you were aware that she had been worrying about you for days, always asking if you needed anything. She hadn't had time to truly enjoy herself as she was too busy trying to get you out of bed.

Besides, it wasn't healthy for you to keep weeping and hurting for a boy that -he had showed it- didn't deserve you. 

Noticing how you were thinking about it , Thora smirked in victory and hugged you tightly when you nodded your head with a sigh. 

"I have one condition" you raised your eyebrows. When your best friend asked eagerly what was it, you smiled and looked at the outfit she had been trying on "You have to wear that"

_______________________________________

Helheim wasn't a very appealing building. It was in the center of Copenhagen, surrounded by bigger buildings that made it go unnoticed by everyone. On the inside, though, it had two floors and a VIP zone, full of comfortable couches and chairs. The staff was really nice and you could have fun without spending too much money or feeling overwhelmed in the middle of a giant crowd. 

Ivar had taken you there more than once, and you had gone with your friends a couple of times. As he wasn't a big fan of clubs and refused to try and dance with you, you'd always end up in the VIP zone, which was practically the Lothbrok's zone, making out in a couch. 

This time, though, you wouldn't go into the VIP zone. 

The doorman recognized you instantly, flashing you a big smile before opening the door so you and Thora could get in. You smiled back at him and muttered a thank you while blushing. 

"Would you like to enter the VIP zone now, ladies?" The man at the wardrobe asked you as you gave them your jackets. 

You frowned. You had never been asked to enter the VIP zone without Ivar. In fact, they'd never ask him, only lifted the rope that separated it from the rest of the club. 

Thora looked at you, confused. 

"No I..." You bit your lip "I don't think we'll go in there tonight, thanks" you smiled at him.

The man looked confused, but nodded and wished you both a fun night with a small smile. 

"Wow, I didn't know you were the VIP kind of girl" Thora laughed as you started walking to the bar.

"Shut up" you smiled, rolling your eyes "I suppose they were confused, I always came here with Ivar" you shrugged.

"Oh" her smile faded "Well, it's okay, let's go have fun!"

You had to admit you were having fun. After a couple of shots and a drink, your mind stopped thinking about Ivar and focused  on having a great time with your best friend, whom you'd missed a lot. 

But something had to go wrong, as always. 

You were busy asking the girl at the bar for another two drinks and you missed the familiar man that approached your friend from behind and hugged her waist. 

"Hvitserk!" she squealed with a giggle, already a bit tipsy. Hearing his name made you freeze. The Lothbroks were always together. 

"Hi gorgeous" Hvitserk smiled widely at her "I just saw you, what are you doing here? Who are you..." He widened his eyes when he saw you "... with?" He muttered, licking his lips nervously.

"Hi Hvitty" you smiled softly, though you felt like you were going to faint at any moment.

He hugged you tightly, caressing your hair a bit. 

"I'm glad to see you" he looked happy, but nervous. 

"Me too" you answered awkwardly, looking away from him but avoiding the VIP zone, just in case.

Thora was biting her lip with a frown, but she tried to act natural and started telling Hvitserk about the amazing day you both had spent together. 

The bad thing about the VIP was that it was elevated in a tall platform over the dance floor, you could see everything from it and the bar was just in front of it. 

You didn't want to do it, but you looked. Maybe because a part of you wanted to see him while the other preferred to know for sure he wasn't there. 

But what you saw made your heart sink. 

Fuck.

________________________________________

The girl was nice. She had dark hair and clear eyes, and had been eager to sit on his lap. He had agreed and accepted another drink she offered him. Ivar wasn't a heavy drinker, he didn't like to be drunk and had much more fun when he was only tipsy. 

But it would help a lot, especially after seeing that girl with the black dress that looked a lot like you. But Y/N would never wear that dress, would she? 

No, it was too revealing. You didn't exactly dress like a nun, but weren't confident enough to wear that kind of clothes, though Ivar was sure you had the most beautiful body in the world. 

The alcohol had pushed you away from his mind, for the first time in a whole week, and he was grateful for that. 

He could feel Ubbe's eyes on him, and Björn's eyebrows raised while looking at the girl on his lap. He could hear Sigurd's girlfriend asking worriedly what the fuck was he doing. Where is Y/N? 

Yeah, he thought desperately, where is Y/N? 

The girl then leaned to kiss him, after laughing at a very bad joke he had stolen from Hvitserk. And he let her. 

It was weird, kissing someone else. He was so used to kiss you that he was surprised when the girl's lips moved in a different way than yours did. And when he broke the kiss, he saw her eyes, not yours, and his whole body tensed. 

His eyes went to the dance floor. 

And he found your eyes. 

___________________________________

You gasped and then cleared your throat, turning around to look at Thora and Hvitserk, who had seen that too. 

Your friend was looking at you biting her lip, with her eyes wide. 

"I'm... Going home" you said, taking your purse. 

"Wait, I'm going with you" Thora took your arm when you were already turning around.

"No" you smiled at her, shaking your head, and then looked at Hvitserk "Stay, have fun, okay? I'll be okay, I'm just tired, I'll call an Uber"

"Are you sure?" Thora sighed, she really wanted to stay with Hvitserk, and maybe murder Ivar, but she felt bad letting you go all alone.

"Yes, I'd like to be alone" you smiled, though there were tears already gathered in your eyes "Have fun, you two make a beautiful couple"

Thora hugged you tightly, and Hvitserk kissed your cheek with a small smile. He felt guilty as he was the one who proposed they'd go to Helheim that night.

Both of them stood there, looking as you left the club in a hurry, not looking back. 

"I'm going to kill him" Thora grunted, walking to the VIP zone with a confused Hvitserk following her. The man lifted the rope and let her in when he saw she was coming with Hvitserk, and Thora could swear he looked at her in fear. 

Ivar looked confused. The girl wasn't on his lap anymore, as he had pushed her away so he could grab his crutch and stand up. He was looking through the crowd, looking for you. 

"What the fuck were you thinking?" Thora screamed at her, and luckily Ubbe was quick and stood between the both of them so Thora wouldn't break Ivar's nose "Ivar!"

He looked at her, annoyed. 

"I didn't know she was here" he scoffed "Where is she?"

"She left!" She clenched her fists "She fucking left and it's your fault, you stupid asshole!"

"Home? Did she go home?" He asked, ignoring her insults. 

"Yes" Thora sighed "Ivar, you have a chance to fix all of this, if you fuck it up again I will kill you, do you understand? I won't have my best friend crying in bed for another whole week, okay?"

__________________________________________

You couldn't possibly imagine who the hell was ringing at your doorbell at almost three in the morning. It wasn't Thora, as she had her keys, and Alfred was in England visiting his grandfather... 

You opened the door ready to yell at whoever was disturbing you in the middle of your breakdown. You just wanted to fucking cry in peace, for fuck's sake. 

But the scream died in your throat when you saw Ivar standing there. 

He was leaning on his crutch, his eyes fixed on yours and his lips pressed together. He was wearing his white shirt with dark jeans and his hair was pulled back in a man bun. He still looked incredibly handsome. 

Sniffing and quickly drying your tears with your hand, you looked back at him. 

"What are you doing here?" You asked with a frown. Ivar sighed and shook his head.

"You forgot this" he said softly. 

You hadn't realized he had your jacket on his arm, the one you forgot to pick up at the wardrobe when you left. 

You took it and muttered a thank you.

"Anything else?"

Ivar sighed again, and rubbed his eyes with his free hand before looking at you. 

"I'm sorry" 

"For what? For telling me what you truly thought about me? For kissing another girl? You had the right to tell me what you think, and we're not together anymore so you can kiss whoever you want"

He groaned. He wasn't good at apologizing. 

"Can I enter? Please, I just want to talk to you, you can kick me out afterwards if you want"

You hesitated, but finally nodded and opened the door completely, moving aside so he could enter your apartment. 

Ivar walked with small grunts until he reached the living room. You closed the door and followed him. 

"Mind if I sit down?" He asked, one of his hands grabbed his left leg with a pained expression. 

"No, sit down" you shrugged, biting your lip "Are you in pain?" 

"I'm okay" he shook his head "It's just the new therapy, I'm..." he sighed "Look, Y/N, it wasn't my intention to... To say those things"

"You are allowed to say what you think, Ivar" you said coldly. 

"But it's not that, I..."

"Ivar" you interrupted him, irritated "Did Thora told you to come here and tell me all of this?" 

"No" he narrowed his eyes "I came here because..."

"Look, I've been fucking crying for a whole week because you waited years to tell me that I annoyed you and..."

"Well, it was you who broke up with me" he scoffed "I wasn't going to..."

"Did you expect me to smile and kiss you goodbye after you told me that?" 

"No! But..." He groaned in frustration "I didn't want you to come to therapy because it was a surprise!" 

You raised an eyebrow, sitting down on your couch next to him.

"What?" You crossed your arms "What surprise? Ivar, what are you talking about?"

Ivar sighed, shaking his head and rubbing his face with his hands. 

"I'm trying some new braces" he said, looking away "These are more advanced, stronger, and if the treatment goes well, I will be able to walk without the crutches... For now I can only walk with them around the house, and with one of my brothers with me in case I fall" he blushed a bit, clenching his jaw "I wanted to surprise you... One day, when you came home, I'd be walking to open the door and all of that..."

You were left speechless. 

"Then... Why didn't you tell me you didn't want me to go with you to therapy?"

"I did!"

"No, you got angry at me and started talking nonsense" 

"Because I... I don't know, Y/N, I was angry that day, you went out with Alfred and you looked like you had a lot of fun with him and... I just wanted to make you proud of me" his voice lowered, and he looked to the floor.

"Wait, wait, Ivar, I'm already proud of you! If you were able to walk without the crutches I'd be really happy for you, but I already am, you don't have to go through that to..."

"This is exactly what bothers me, Y/N" he looked at you, frowning "I feel like you worry too much about me, you're always accompanying me to the hospital, making sure I take my medicines, asking me if I'm in pain... You're supposed to be my girlfriend, not my mother! I'd enjoy our time together much more if you stopped asking me if I'm okay every three seconds, or when you refuse to have sex with me because you think you'll hurt me! I'm not made of glass, Y/N, I'm not a weak child, I don't need you to be overprotective, I have enough with my mother and Ubbe!"

You parted your lips in shock. 

"I don't..." You bit your lip and your expression softened "I didn't know you felt that way... It's just that I don't want you to be in pain, and I... It wasn't my intention to make you feel weak"

"I know" he covered his face with his hands "But when you act like that... Then you go out with Alfred, and laugh and have fun, and you look like you're having the time of your life with him, but are constantly worried and stressed when you're with me... I don't know if this makes any sense but..." 

"It was that hard to tell me this from the beginning?"  You smiled softly. 

"I didn't want to upset you" he whispered, shrugging.

"And you thought that telling me that I was annoying you would be better?" You raised your eyebrow.

"No I... I don't know Y/N, I've never felt these things for anyone, I don't know how to say I love you, or that I'm sorry for saying those things"

"I'm sorry, too" you smiled softly "I overreacted a bit, maybe, and I didn't know I was making you feel like that"

"You didn't overreact" he shook his head "Honestly, if someone told me that I'd punch them in the face" 

"I can assure you, Ivar, that I enjoy my time with you more than I do with anyone" 

"So... Do you forgive me?" He looked at you with puppy eyes. 

You nodded with a smile, moving closer to him to hug him. 

He hugged you back, burying his face in your neck and breathing deeply. You had missed it, his arms around you and his natural warmth. When he cupped your face with your hand and kissed you, you sighed in delight. His soft and warm lips caressed yours softly, and his arms snaked around your waist. 

It wasn't long until you were naked, stripped from your new dress and straddling his lap moaning as he kissed your neck and caressed your ass. 

As always, the fights ended up with sex, though this time it took a bit longer. 

Ivar moaned when you lined up his member with your entrance and you sank down on it, digging your nails into his chest. You moaned loudly and gasped as he gripped your hips, moving his hips up and down to meet yours. He was hitting that exact spot that made you moan his name, breathless. Ivar cursed, throwing his head back as your walls clenched around his member. 

His fingers circling your clit and his lips around your nipple made you cum too soon, with your legs shaking and your head thrown back, with only his arms holding you so you wouldn't fall off the couch. 

Ivar moaned your name when he came, his eyes closed and his forehead pressed against yours. 

You smiled at him as he panted, his gorgeous blue eyes only half opened and the hint of a smile on his lips. 

"I missed you" he muttered, pushing your body even closer to his.

"Me too, I love you" you kissed his cheek. 

"That dress was new" he raised an eyebrow. He was proud to say he knew every single dress, shirt, skirt or jeans you owned, as he spent hours admiring how they hugged your perfect body "I liked it"

_________________________________________

Tags: @mblaqgi @alicedopey @lol-haha-joke @hallowed-heathen @ivarslittlebadgirl @naaladareia @tephi101 @captstefanbrandt @love-hate-love @titty-teetee @readsalot73 @moondustmemories @thevikingsheaux @therealcalicali @chimera4plums @blushingskywalker @awkwardfangirl02 @gruffle1 @justacripple @love-dria @heartbeats-wildly @letsrunawaytotomorrow @inforapound @sallylebecks @hellogabysblog @trashcanx @winchesterwife27 @hecohansen31 @youbloodymadgenius @akamaiden

I hope I didn’t forget anyone 💕 and sorry again for writing so much and so bad :(

[lovemesomesurveys]

Santa Claus is comin’ to town.

1. Do you have any Christmas-scented candles, air fresheners, or hand soaps in your home? If so - what are they called? I have two Christmas scented room sprays-- ‘Tis the Season and The Perfect Christmas. There’s a Christmas scented hand soap in the kitchen and both bathrooms currently, which are Twisted Peppermint, Frosted Coconut Snowball, Fresh Sparkling Snow, and Merry Cherry Cheer (I got 4, so I had an extra and we go through them fairly quickly). I’ve been super into Bath and Body Works’ hand soaps recently and they usually have a good sale for ‘em.

2. What is one of your favorite Christmas memories that occurred over the years? I’m feeling extra nostalgic and thinking about childhood Christmases. I couldn’t wait for Santa to come and see what Barbies and Barbie accessories he brought me. I started playing with everything right then and there and would be occupied for hours.

3. Do you/your family have any special places that you go and visit around Christmastime every year? Not anymore. As a kid we spent many Christmases at my paternal grandparents house before they decided to move to another state when I was about 9. One of my aunts hosted a few Christmases after that. Our family friend hosted several. We’ve hosted several. About 6 years ago my family and the rest of my family on my dad’s side flew out to spend Christmas with my grandparents, which was nice. It was the first time we all spent Christmas together in a long time. The past few years, however, it’s just been my parents, brother, and I at home.

4. Do you ever go walking or driving around the neighborhood looking at Christmas lights? That was a regular thing growing up. I loved doing that. It’s been a long time since I’ve done that, though. I should start that tradition again. 

5. Do you have any poinsettias in your home around Christmas time? No. We’ve had a fake one before, but as a dog owner we don’t get real ones.

6. Do you typically see cardinals where you live during the wintertime? No.

7. Talk about a Christmas memory that ended in Christmas catastrophe. My dog, Brandie, was sick a couple days before and on Christmas back in 2016, so that was really hard. She sadly passed away the next morning. :( 

8. Do you typically make or buy your own wreaths for Christmas? Do you make or buy wreaths for any other holiday season, or just this one in particular? We have a nice one that we bought a few years ago. We only have one for Christmas. 

9. What is your favorite flavor of hot chocolate? Do you add anything to your hot chocolate, like whipped cream, a peppermint stick, etc? Do you have a favorite holiday mug that you drink out of? I stick to the regular kind and add whipped cream and marshmallows. Adding a candy cane is good, too. I have a big Santa mug that I like to use.

10. Are you a perfectionist/any good at wrapping holiday gifts, or do you wrap like crap? I’m not the best wrapper at all, but I do enjoy doing it and I do try to make it look decent. 

11. Do you have any Christmas-themed puzzles or coloring books that you work on throughout the month of December? I don’t have a Christmas themed coloring book, but I have a coloring book that has a couple Christmas themed pages.

12. Do you have any Christmas-themed board or card games that you and your family/friends play over the holidays? No, but we did play board games of some kind when we’ve had family over. 

13. If you were a parent and were unable to successfully afford Christmas, how would you still make it special for your children? I would do the best I could. It doesn’t have to be extravagant, lavish gifts or even a ton of gifts. I’d try to get what I could, probably asking my family for help. 

14. Have you ever been stranded at an airport or somewhere similar on Christmas Eve/Christmas Day? How did you make the most of it? No. I’ve never flown during the holidays, but it sounds like an absolute nightmare. I think of the scene from the Home Alone movies haha.

15. Who or what do you miss the most around Christmastime, and why? I’ll always miss my dog, Brandie, but since she passed away the day after Christmas and was very sick Christmas day, that makes it hard. My grandpa also passed away about a week before Christmas 2010. I also just miss the Christmases at my grandparent’s house as a kid.

16. Have you ever brought someone home to meet your family for the first time over the Christmas holidays? How did that go? No.

17. What would you say is the most stressful part around Christmas/the holiday season? Or does it differ from year to year? The financial aspect. And this year, there was the added pressure of making sure to order everything by a certain time, which was a little earlier this year because of COVID and more people doing online shopping, both of which causing delays. Pre-COVID days when I physically went out and did some shopping, the crowds were stressful and anxiety-inducing for me. I’ve been doing most of my shopping online the past few years for that reason. This year I did it all online.

18. Do you refer to Santa Claus as anything else, such as St. Nick, Father Christmas, etc? I just call him Santa for the most part.

19. Have you ever written a holiday poem or short story that was not a school-related assignment? How was it received? No.

20. Do you and your family always wear matching Christmas pajamas during the holiday season?   We did the past few years, but this year we don’t have any. We’ll just wear one of the ones we have from before.

(made by: tickle-my-pickle)

[kanene-yaaay]

Vulnerable

Author’s note: 

Thank you all very much for all the support, reblogs, heart and kinds words that you give to me. I can’t call this a christmas gift, but I really hope that you like it and this small oneshot is able to light up your day! ‘w’)s2

Just like all the random ideias this came when I was doing chorus, because, of cooooourse my brain wouldn’t give me a plot when I’m free and with time to write. xDDD

Just a bunch of fluff with all the Light Sides atke caring of Virgil. I love to write these scenarios. sorrey words. No angst today. xP

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* Lee!Virgil and Ler!Logan. However, tickling isn’t the main plot this time. xP

* Hmmm… This is a fluff fanfic with liking for tickling. If you don’t like this kind of stuff, please look for another blog, there are plenty of lovelys and fantastic arts in this site!! ‘u’).

* Something around 4000 words. -w-)b.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any advice is very very welcome!

* Fanfics em português brasileiro (Portuguese Version) ! Thank you so much for reading, my lollipops! Have a wooooonderful day regardless it’s festive or not! Take care of yourself and of your family, friends... Everyone who is dear for you!  Byeioo!~

                   [~*~]

Vulnerable.

 This was a bittersweet word. Maybe a little too much bittersweet. It was that set of letters that provoked a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. That kind of set that if he asked to Logan to define it, would receive a very different answer from the one that he really felt to be the real one.

 Weak.

 He remembers his first days living with the others on the Light Side: spending a lot of time in his room, crackled his fingers with worrying frequency every time he got out from his place and ended up interacting with someone; was always fearful and, when this fear became almost impossible to maintain or hides and someone addressed him a word, the purple lover showed his personality abruptly, with rough and sharp words. The feelings beating, counting the seconds to see how much time it would last until they expelled him from there, because one thing was extremely certain:

 “ – I-I can’t understand. – His voice came out in a mix of tiredness and anger, sparkling almost as hard as his sharp, frustrated look. – Why do all of you still doing this? Why are keeping me here? Why don’t you kick me out? Why pretend that I never did anything wrong?? – His voice stuck in his throat before he could release the main question, that one which made his heart hurt for keep it for so long.

 ‘Why do you treat me like family?’

 - You are an essential part for Thomas’ welfare. – The voice from the logic aspect echoed in the room occupied only by the two sides. In truth, initially it was only for Virgil to be there. However, Logan just settled down a few inches away from the first one, a book in hands and deaf ears for the growl that came from the mouth of the anxious aspect. – Your vigilant and awareness about the reality’s state helps him to keep his two feet on the ground. Something that I am grateful.

 And then he elevates his glare, taking by surprise the pair of brown eyes, which quickly deviated his attention to the wall, before hearing the phrase that let out from the other lips, in a definitely softer tune.

 - None of us is perfect. We never were.

 Virgil felt his body relaxes with relief. Absolutely against his desire.

  He was not like any of them.

 It took a few days for these first reactions to fade little by little. The urge to flee decreased and the frequency he went out increased. He stopped to throw out sharp and rough words to speak less often. He would let himself fall in the steps of the stair and stayed there watching his phone and listening music. Much because it was his favorite hobby, and part because as this he could easily observed (and mot of time unnoticed) the Light Sides interacting.

  “- Hey, easy there. – Warm, loving hands gently held his own, and Virgil controlled his first instinct to retreat and flight, quickly recognizing Patton’s voice and gestures. Was it weird that in such short time he already could recognize each of them? By their voice’s timbre, way to walk, the position they had around him… Would it be weird if some day they knew that he already was aware about of all this? – You will end hurting yourself, son. – As the one who wears glasses spoke, he untangled Virgil’s fingers, since the purple lover was crackling them in five different ways since the beginning of the movie, when he was called to join the Family Movie Night.

 The paternal side has a special skill to utter more than words said, and Virgil felt his ears burn with the blush that hit his face when he realized how deep, delicate and affectionate that phrase was.

 - I am not your son. – Complained in a mix of grumbled and growl that only could be researched and pronounced with a lot of training. Patton laughed and intertwined one of their hands, the other one being free to ruffle the hair strands of the anxious side, who falsely angry puffed, breaking free from the touch.

 - Sure you’re not, Hamilson! – Roman smiled brightly, extremely happy and proud for the reference utilized by the heart’s representation. Logan seemed be the only one who really was paying attention on the movie, and soon Virgil joined him.

 Partly because the plot was really interesting and part because he wanted to ignore the sense of comfort emanating from his hand, which would be totally separated from Patton’s one if it wasn’t for the two little fingers that still tangled. Again, absolutely against his desire.

  And, with the pass (a little more) of time (his own time) he changed from the stairs to the couch and started to do the chores by the morning and not just at dawn, when the others were away or asleep. He also began to smile more from Patton’s dad jokes and the little fights between a Logan without coffee and a sleep-drunk Roman, who didn’t stopped to summon the most eccentrics possible (and impossible) things in the kitchen.

 Virgil began to feel equally comfortable listening to his songs even when he forgot/lost/gave up to find his headphones, and, as a thank you, didn’t complained about the 150 stories and/or performances Roman created based in each one of the lyrics. Even if those didn’t have much of that bitter taste from angst that makes the whole climax even more interesting, in his opinion.

 Just as he felt free to lean against the back of Logan’s armchair, reading over his shoulders when realized that the one who wears tie enjoyed some book about astronomy, since the theories about of how the Universe and everything with it emerged, were too precious to leave the shame kept him from reading.

 The sporadic jumpscares from the logical side as he became suddenly aware about the other’s presence were equally appreciated.

 And, in the end, Virgil relaxed and lowered his guard enough to take a nap when Patton sat at besides him on the couch, either to try ‘just one more!’ of the thousands of handworks that he so much loved, or just to lay down his legs after a particularly hard day on the kitchen. Sometimes he would woke up when the paternal side softly pulled him to rest his head in his shoulder or lap (depending on how much both were sprawled out in the furniture), running his fingers through his purple hair from time to time. Sometimes humming something while working or sometimes let himself lean on Virgil for a small nap, too.

  “Thomas yawed and it might seem, to anyone who watched from the outside, that he covered the other’s mouth, due how suddenly his voice stopped to excitedly fulfill the air.

 - You are tired. – It wasn’t a question. Virgil could not detect the very tone of voice that stuffed his sentence. – You should go to sleep.

 The bed where both were resting shifted a little as the human turned to see the hours before undoing the action until he could stare the purple lover aspect.

 - It’s still early. Logan said that I should stay away from the cellphone for half an hour before bed.

 No answer.

 - Come on… - Thomas replied, his supplicant voice mingled with that puppy eyes that should have been considered a cheating so scandalous until the point to have laws to forbidden them. Virgil began to feel his barriers falling. Damn it. – You know you’re the only one who has enough persistence to keep me from picking up my phone and start to watch animals being cute.

 The one on the hoodie growled.

 - Logan also told me that the yawning is a sign that the body is attempting to stay awake, which means that your theories are so interesting that I am really trying hard to hear any and every bit o-

 - Okay, okay!! – He prevented the other from completing his phrase, covering his mouth and rolling his eyes to the laughter that hit its moments later. – Just, stop with this… sentimental stuff. Urg. – And then withdrew his hand, both turning to face the ceiling of the room, seeing more than could actually explain. – So, where were I? Oh, yes. And that is why, if the aliens remained in the area 51 and it really was in Earth, the time travel…

 …

 And for some time they slept, but, as always, Virgil found himself slightly waking up when he felt the other’s arms wrap him in a firm and affection mixture that had probably taken training and time to research; and, even more surprisingly, the side on hoodie didn’t felt himself pushing him away or sinking to his own room, and yes relaxing and sighing comfortably. Soon allowing his eyes to close and both fall back into the Dream World.

 It took a little longer to feel that he really could lower his guards. Talked more, without fear of being inconvenient, wander by the entire Mental Palace like a lost soul (he was really proud of the amount of jumpscares he manage to get from the family), sporadically visited the others sides  to chat (but only when he was sure that they were in their room and in rare moments, just as he wished it were visits to his own room); and, finally, starting to realize, step by step, memory by memory, fight to fight, discussion to discussion and intern joke to intern joke which Patton’s card, the debates with Logan, the pranks with Roman and the conversation with Thomas mean.

 Which meant being in a famILY.

 Which meant being able to be vulnerable, to be himself, to allow himself to be attacked at any time, by acts or words, just for the simple and liberating fact that none of them would do so, and vice versa. Perhaps happened to exists some bruises, however never really wanting to.

 “- You never showed me your room before. – Virgil uttered, part afraid to bring this subject up, but the other part, the most insistent, being too much curious to let the doubt arrested himself. His feet played, submerged in the water of the small river that crossed this part of the room belonging to the creative side.

- Maybe because you never seemed like a nature lover…? – The prince answered with a touch of doubt, as he wasn’t very sure about his own statement. In the end he shrugged, which was a little weird, since he was floating and keeping himself in the same place between the river flows by an only vine tangled in his wrist.

 - Fair. So, you’re the type that is carried away by the appearances, huh?

 - What!?? – With the fright, Roman almost lost his balance, trying to sit up before remembering that he was in the middle of water and not on a solid surface. For a moment everything became a mess of water being splashed to any and every possible direction, something that would worries the purple side, if it didn’t took more than a few seconds to the creativity side stabilize himself again, staring him as he has been slapped in the face.  – Pardon me?? I am the romantic side! Nothing to me is more important than the soul, the essence, the heart! ~

Virgil was almost sure that it was some flirt in this sentence, which wouldn’t be such a surprise, since it was almost countless all the times Roman flirted with every side who simply happened to pass for him.  The battle between him and Deceit remained as a historical mark in the Mind Palace.

 - Mh hm. – Virgil replied, the sarcasm flying from his tongue with an incredible facility, something that the member of royalty was plenty used to. – Just a sec that I’m gonna be right back after fake that I believe in you.

 - Take the chance and give me my cellphone to call and cancel that intimacy that you think you have with me. – The sharp look released by the one using eyelashes matched with his royal teasing smile. It took a while, as everything else in life, but both finally had researched a point where they knew the limits to play and teasing. Not everything was always clear as water (Ok. Maybe he needs to decrease his time with Patton.) however, one day the two would get there.

 Roman began to suspect when, instead to answer with acid words; the purple lover really got his phone and started to type something. He swam closer to the margin.

 - Hey, Roman. What does “Aqui esta mi numero” mean?

- … Heres my number. – Virgil gave what would have been one last click on the screen of his device, and then, from the prince’s pocket, a sound exploded echoing through all the room.

 - SO CALL ME BABY!!! HEY, I JUST MET YOU, AND IT’S CRAZY!

 The representation of creativity probably would jump something around five feet from the ground if he wasn’t in the river. With clumsy hands and several incoherent half-curses, even more inaudible amid the song and Virgil’s laugh, he took some great time before finally refuse the call, stopping 90% the sound, since the one on hoodie stilled laughing.

 - Ha! Jokes on you, Stormcloud! I do adore ‘Call Me Baby’!

 The purple lover pretended to wipe a tear from his eye, before staring at him with a smirk shining in his face.

 - So, why all the fuzz to hush i- WOW! HEY! – The currents protests was due the vines wrapped his sides, seconds before drop him the water. The prince knew about the other’s swimming skills, so, his only concern was just laughing at his mate.

 - ROMAN! – He emerged, a dangerous look glooming and leading a shiver rand down Roman’s spine and a nervous smile spread over his face. All his expression has an only message: - Run.

 Survive Advice: If the aspect of Fight and Flight tells you to run, you run. Even if you’re in the water.”

  It was about this same time he began to have these dreams, that sweet dreams, which, when you woke up, don’t feel a heavy feeling in the chest but a peace. Those dreams which he would wake up happy, refreshed, ready to open his eyes and feel joy for liking his reality. That kind of dream that was important enough to remember. Most of this kind of dreams involved the three light sides, along with Thomas.

 Due this, there was no way he would leave his room is if he was sleepy. Remus had once confirmed to him that he really did speak in he sleep, and Virgil didn’t wanted to risk the others obtained this knowledge in the most cliche and weird way possible.

 Which would be soooo much easier if Thomas wasn’t going back to the habit of sleeping at F I V E   AM in the days he considered himself on a break.

 Nevertheless, sure, nothing in his existence was easy, was it?

 So, the second the purple lover opened his heavy eyes, he was aware of four thing in the exactly same time:

 1º - He wasn’t in his room.

 2º - A blanket covered him.

 3º - His mouth was dry.

 4º - He had no idea about what time it was.

 Trying to remove the remnants from the nap rubbing his eyes, the representation of anxiety went into the kitchen, soon coming back with a glass of water and sat on the couch, thinking how pleasant his dream had been and that he should soon write down all the details to not forget the butterflies in tummy, which still persisted until now.

 - You talk in your sleep. – It was not a question. It was a statement. Virgil almost dropped his phone, his body paralyzing for a second, the memories running fast and clear through his brain. Soft touches, smiles, that unbearable and yet so good sensation in his skin…

 Laughter.

 His face automatically burned as if he was making a tomato cosplay. With little struggling a look, part relaxed and part nervous, took over his expression.

 - Is that so? Did I said something? – Took a sip of water. It wasn’t cold enough to soothe the heat that still covered his cheeks and not hot enough to dispel the cold in his belly.

 - Affirmative. – Logan adjusted his glasses; putting the bookmarker before close the book and delicacy sets its aside in the coffee table. – Interesting, indeed; and enlightening.

 Curse the day that the one who wears tie began to love mystery books and now liked to talk in codes. Who does he think he is? Yoda?? Virgil almost frowned for irritation, but wouldn’t let himself be carried away by the other’s, who carefully observed Virgil calmly lay in the couch with his phone (turned off, that’s true) in hands, game.

 - I wouldn’t define a dream like that. – Retaliated with a grin. – They aren’t the best example of logic, you know?

 - I do not believe it is more about the dream itself, and yes, what it represents. – It wasn’t his impression, Logan did approached some inches. Virgil’s muscles tensed. – Many times, due being from the human’s subconscious, the dreams can capture things that usually the own conscious mind don’t even realize. Unnoticed memories, ancient facts that seemed been forgotten… - Little break. The representation of Fight and Flight felt the blush increased. He knew. He knew, he knew he knewheknewheknewheknew!! And even worse, he knew that Virgil knew. The purple lover felt a smile starting to struggle to open in his mouth. – Unvoiced wishes.

 The aspect on hoodie jumped from the couch in a millisecond, his mind clouded by the nervousness and euphoria, which started to took over his being just for the unspoken words. Logan knew about his dream. His secret desire that, even being relaxed and adapted and feeling loved around them, he wasn’t told to anyone yet.

 Tickling.

 The aspect of ‘Fight or Flight’ does not trip, Virgil was sure, however, the quickly approaching ground questioned his belief and, when his body collapsed on it and he turned to prevent Logan, realized too late that the said already has sat on his legs, an atypical smile in his face.

 - Don’t. You. Dare. – Half smiling, half defensive. The one on hoodie attempted unsuccessfully to break free, until when those words came out from the other’s lips:

 - Only if you are comfortable with that.

 Maybe it was for the certainty with which this sentence was said, or the affection it represented, or the worry that showed, or even the dream he had before and the chase that made each one of his ticklish spots euphorically tingle with just the thought of fingers wriggling on them.

 Maybe it was even for the sincerity and calm in his glare, as if he had said nothing much. Virgil opened his mouth for some seconds, but no sound came out. His eyes met with the hand on his ribs, the sensation to feeling they still being more unbearable than imagining them moving. His entire face blushed, which he tried to hide on his shoulders.

 - Whatever.

 An amused puff was the only answer from the logic side before his fingers scratched Virgil’s neck, leading the purple lover released a light squeal and pulled his face out of the hiding place, trying to protect the attacked spot. The tickles stopped, which made him open his, almost frustrated, eyes just to find Logan simply wriggling his fingers meticulously in the air, right above his skin, going from a spot to another while spread amount of electrics shivers through his nerves

 - I wonder where I should start the experiment… Should I go up and down? Focus in just one spot? Maybe one per time should be the ideal, since you seem be too ticklish in everywhere… - Virgil began to squirm, stopping in the last second with as a frustrated grumble pushed from his mouth. Knowing the representation of the knowledge and curiosity, these wonders were true. However, the smirk growing in his expression make him doubt about that.

 After sometime, Virgil opened his mouth, ready to ask for him do something (anything!), which showed to be a bad choice, since in that very minute the fingers met his ribs and a quick giggle let out his mouth, didn’t finding any barrier to stop it. The struggle from the purple lover (and, as it seems, tickle lover, too) to escape becoming a little stronger.

 - Nahahahahaha!! Lohohohgan!! – The fingers were making circular motions in the upper ribs. First giving attention to just one, then two, then three then... This before his mind get completely messed and he felt the tem fingers hiking his ribs. – NAHAHAHAHA – Uuuuup. – Wahahahahahahahait! – Dooooown. – NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAT– Up it goes. – TheheheheheHEHEHEheheHEHEHEheHEHE!! – And now he went up and down and in random patters, focusing in just one side before presenting the same treatment to the other. Virgil hugged himself as tightly as he could, seeking prevent his arms to stop the feeling.

 - This sounds like a good place. – The logical aspect continued, his calm and stable voice being betrayed by his playfully (and a little bit crazy, it’s important to mention) painted grin. His hands stopped, moving away from Virgil and giving him time to take some sips of air and struggle to not melt in giggles that escaped from his lips. Logan held one of his hands, delicately pushing it up. – Nevertheless I ask to myself how it going to be with this so well hidden spot.

 - Lohohohohohgan! Nohoho! W-wahahahahahahait! – His face was bright by how huge was his smile, almost as luminously as the sparkle in his glare. The one who (always)  wears tie (and sometimes a unicorn onesie) slightly ned his head, his free hand entering under the hoodie and giving small light squeezes in each one ribs where he slowly walked by, generating a series of laugh intercalated by squeaks and quick jumps. He tried to free his wrist from the other’s hold.

 - Yes, Virgil? Is there something that you want to tell? – The purple side, who had the blush spread to his neck, just shook his head, without being able (or not wanting to) pronounce anything. His nose winkled and his eyes were lightly shouted down, maybe having the conciseness that the dark made him even more sensitive. ~

 Logan began to trace with an only finger irregular patterns in his armpits, happily watching him curl up a little and put even more effort to lower his arm.

 -Plehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehahahahahahase!!

 - Do you want me to speed up? Alright.

 And then all the five tickler fingers attacked all at once. Scratching, poking, wriggling, drumming and exploring every little piece of researchable skin to tickle from the other.

 - LohohohoGAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NAHAHAHAHAHAhahahahahahahaHAHAhaha!!! – Now, the laughter danced more freely and in a higher flow. Logan keep the tickles for a few more minutes, switching between armpits and upper ribs. Since not know the next step seemed essential to get more shrieks and high-pitched laugh.

 The logic side retreated, letting the representation of ‘Fight or Flight’ finally lower his arm and curl up, the laugh coming back to little sporadic giggles. When he opened his eyes again, Virgil faced a long dark-blue feather millimeters away from his bellybutton. His glare met Logan’s, noticing how equally his expression was with that crazy scientists, and wondering, for that brief moment, how his own expression looked like.

 “Like a light.” Logan would answer if he had the ability to read the other’s mind. “Because it looks like capable to light the darkest night.”

 “And…”

 - NononononO!

 He wriggled the feather into Virgil’s navel, who practically jumped with the sensation that hit without any warning his body.

 “He certainly would be a warning to a thunder, or even the coming storm.”

 All his nerves and instincts were laughing. Virgil was absolutely sure about that while his mind became a messy cloudy of laugh and happy tears accumulating in his eye’s corner. His smile went ear to ear and it was really impressive that Logan haven’t been hurled by the strength which he squirmed. The laugh reverberated in his chest and filled him with enjoy.

  “An adorable storm, indeed.”

 He stopped, because the loud sound could attract the others and the most rational side doubted this was something that the one on hoodie would like to. Give him some more to breath.

 - My gohohohohohohohohohosh… - He still squirming slightly, wiping some small fallen tears. – Yohohohou arehehehehe ruthlehehehehehess, right?  

 - I believe that I was quite carried away by the experiment. – He lifted up the feather, unaware about the electric shivers running Virgil’s spine just by this movement. – I suppose that you enjoy light tickles as well, am I right? Would the neck be a good spot for this?

 Virgil didn’t answered for a few moments, ultimately agreeing with a quick nod, and feeling the other rise from his, now numbs, legs. Logan readjusted himself by his side, letting the feather softly dance on his neck, tracing his jaw, which trembled for the small chuckles that escaped from the said, until this spot behind his ear, which made him release gaps of laughter.

 In the end, Logan got up, going towards the coffee table to recall his book, before coming back together with the glass of water in hands, quickly handing over to the purple side, who still couldn’t erase the euphoric wobbly smile from his face. Seconds of comfort silent permeated between both. Virgil fight against which its representation before breaking it.

 - Thank you.

 Logan blinked, a bit surprised, before nodding, putting the feather in his pocket and letting a small smile took over his mouth.

 - I’m glad for we share this… bounding moment. It was quite pleasant.

 - Seriously?

 - Sure.

 - Well it was… pleasant for me, too.

 Quick smiles. Happy glares.

 - Don’t ever talk about this with anyone! Not even about the dream! – Sibilated.

  - I’m afraid to not know what you’re talking about. – And the one who wears tie left the room, his amusing sentence still floating in the air. Virgil couldn’t help but smile one more time, absolutely against his desire, sure.

 Vulnerable.

 Now he understood the sense that this word could assume when surrounded by the right people.

 Trust.

[lezliefaithwade]

The Power of Poetry

When I was growing up, my father would often refer to my mother’s side of the family as though he were speaking in parenthesis. “Your mother’s sister…” or “Your mother’s aunt…” and to be fair, my mother did the same with my dad. Even as a child, the differences between their two worlds were shocking. My mother, nicknamed “Showboat” by my fraternal Grandmother, was both a breath of fresh air and shocking to the strong British stock my father heralded from. There was nothing capricious about the Wadley’s. My grandfather was a train engineer. My grandmother raised five boys during the Depression. They attended Anglican church regularly, played bridge, and ate their meals every night together around the dining room table.   My mother’s family was another story. My paternal grandmother, after having already been widowed twice, lived in “sin” with an Italian cook who worked for my great-grandmother in her restaurant. She had flaming red hair, wore tight dresses, and loved a good time. I can’t ever remember a year my Nana wasn’t on a diet. I never saw her read a book, or cook a single meal – ever. I think she lived for trips to Florida where she and my grandfather would spend days at the pool and nights at the bar.

My parents were a kind of Romeo and Juliet, defying their parent’s wishes for the sake of love. One glance at their wedding pictures tells the whole story. A happy bride and groom stand with their arms entwined while decidedly unhappy in-laws, barely cracking a smile, are photographed outside of the church.

By the time my brother and I were born, we had become the branch on both sides of the family tree that didn’t really belong to either. We were the odd ones out. My mother’s family couldn’t figure out how Anglican children had penetrated their ranks, and my father’s family were apoplectic when they discovered that my brother and I had been enrolled in Catholic school. At Christmas as we opened our gifts inside the home my father grew up in, my grandmother could be heard to comment on the amount, the cost and the suitability of every item. By dinner time, my mother was counting the minutes until we would leave.

The disparity between the two families was never more evident than when my parents would ship us off to a relative when they were going through a particularly difficult rough patch. Most often a relative I didn’t know. Usually a childless female or lonely widow who at a party said in passing something like, “Lezlie is so precocious. I’d love to know what goes on in her mind.”

“Really?” my mother would ask and the next thing I knew I was at my cousin Cheryl’s or my Aunt Gwen’s.  

Cheryl was an attractive woman with wispy blond hair and fine features. A staunch Catholic, she insisted I put a doily on my head then dragged me off to church where I became nauseous from heat and incense. Like many such relatives, Cheryl saw the weekend with me as an opportunity for indoctrination and spent hours reading bible stories about Jonah in the whale and Noah’s ark. Somewhere she missed the memo that I was already reading A Wrinkle in Time and had moved beyond the old Testament to Madeleine L’Engle. I came home insisting my parents never subject me to her good intentions again. Cheryl, now having proven my father’s point about how crazy my mother’s relatives were, would cause him to simply smile and say, “See, that’s what I’m talking about.”

Aunt Gwen was another story altogether. Universally considered “weird” by all my relatives, Gwen lived in a rather nice apartment in the Beaches. She wasn’t religious at all, but an alcoholic who kept her apartment dark and sombre. She’d serve me processes food, that I didn’t like, and once, when I was three, she took me to a funeral parlour. About a month later as my parents were driving past the establishment I blurted out, “I saw a man sleeping in there.” My mother just looked at my father and rolled her eyes. Over time they started keeping score against each other and the points were racking up.

By the time I was in Grade 5 my parent’s marriage was, not surprisingly, on rocky ground. It was probably even before that, but it was Grade 5 when I noticed it for the first time. Both sides of the family were poised for what seemed an inevitable split as I began a new school and a new classroom with my first male teacher, Mr. Koerner. Mr. Koerner didn’t like me. Or maybe to put it more accurately, he preferred the other girls in my class and most notably my best friend, Trinka. Trinka was beautiful, and poised and loved to colour code her notebooks. She cared about her clothes and her nails and had perfect posture. When she started a Greek Mythology card catalogue, she shot up in Mr. Koerner’s estimation as practically perfect. In terms of rank, there was Trinka, Anila, Diane, and then me. I was (before the term had even been coined) the “Duff”.  I wore glasses, spilled food on my clothes, and was a decidedly bad influence on my best friend.  When Trinka and I wrote a radio play about a murderer who chopped up his victims and flushed them down the toilet only to back up the entire city’s sewer system, it was my parents, not Trinka’s who got the call about how disturbing it was. My mother and father knew full well that I was influenced by Creepy Magazine (a series of comic books I loved reading) and thought nothing more of it.

Mr. Koerner did not like my mother, most notably because of two incidents that went all the way to the Superintendent of the school board. The first one occurred one morning when I mentioned in class that she had allowed me to watch the movie “Gypsy.” Never overly concerned with our ability to process movies, my parents frequently watched sophisticated films with my brother and me. They were always available for questions if there was something we didn’t understand and they never subjected us to anything we didn’t want to watch. So, when I happily explained the plot to my classroom one Monday morning during current events, Mr. Koerner was aghast. In front of my class-mates he publicly castigated my parents and humiliated me for what he deemed to be an inappropriate movie for a child of my age to watch (He clearly took issue with strippers). The second incident and probably much worse was the way he insinuated himself into my life when I got my first pair of contact lenses. I’d been wearing glasses since I was two, and by the time I got into grade 5 wearing contact lenses became a viable option…one recommended by my optometrist. Mr. Koerner was shocked the first day I arrived without my spectacles. He told me I was vain and blamed my mother for a decision he thought was not in my best interest. At this point my father got involved. He stormed down to the school and, as I understand it, scared the bejeezus out of Mr. Koerner. For the first time in a long while, my parents were getting along. At night I’d hear them as they shared their common dislike for the man my mother referred to as, “Larry”. I suddenly felt like I was in a version of Disney’s The Parent Trap. What began as me dreading school, turned into me hoping “Larry” would put his foot in his mouth yet again so my parents would come together as a team.

Mr. Koerner had, among his many idiosyncrasies, a penchant for keeping scrapbooks. They weren’t for public consumption, but rather books compiled of our work for his personal pleasure. One day for an assignment, I turned in the following poem:

They’ve all left now

Gone their separate ways

This house once filled with laughter

Must now face empty days

A cold breeze taps my shoulder

And I blink and turn around

I only hope I’ll have such love

For the new home that I’ve found.

Mr. Koerner gave me 90% for the poem with instructions to have it signed by a parent and then returned.

“Returned.” my mother said, “What for?”

“His scrapbook.” I replied between mouthfuls of mashed potatoes.

“What scrapbook?” my father asked.

“The one he keeps our stuff in.” I nonchalantly replied.

“For what purpose?” my father queried.

I shrugged my shoulders. “Beats me. He’s got tons of Trinka’s stuff in there is all I know.”

“Well,” said my mother, “He’s not getting this back.”

I choked. “What do you mean? Everyone has to return their work once it’s been signed.”

“Not this time.” My father chimed in. And that was that.

I loved that my parents were taking a stand as a united front. I did not like being the messenger.

The next day I turned up for school without the poem, hoping Mr. Koerner wouldn’t notice. At the end of the day he stopped me before I could sneak out.

“Lezlie, do you have your poem signed by your parents?”

“Oh, gee, I forgot it. I’ll bring it tomorrow,” I said and left for home.

The next day it was the same. And the day after that. By the end of the week Mr. Koerner was getting wise that something was up.

“Lezlie,” he asked, “What’s going on with the poem? I gave it to you to have signed and then returned. If you don’t bring it back, I’ll have to dock you your mark.”

When I told my parents that I was perilously close to losing my grade if they didn’t return the poem, they were furious.

“He knows what the mark is,” my mother exclaimed.

“Surely he’s recorded your grade already,” my father stated. “What the heck’s up?

In the meantime, my mother had copied the poem and sent it to every member of both her side and my father’s side of the family, selecting to tell them that I had written it and that my teacher was threatening to dock me my mark if I didn’t return it to him. Could they believe the injustice of it all?

For the first time that I can ever remember, there was a universal uproar from both sides.  Even my cousin Cheryl and my Aunt Gwen called to tell my mother how unfair it all was. And the following week, when he threatened once more to dock me my grade, both my mother and my father went to the school to visit him. It was one of those pivotal moments when you know that things will either be better or worse for you, but will definitely not remain as they have been. An hour later when they returned, my father simply said, “Well, that’s that.” Apparently, my dad told Mr. Koerner that if he ever threatened me again about anything, he’d make it his mission in life to have him transferred.  After that, my teacher pretty much ignored me and never asked for a single item of mine for his “scrapbook” ever again.

That year my parents seemed to be closer than ever and the day I found out I had Mr. Koerner for grade 6, I was secretly thrilled.

When my parent’s marriage did, in fact, dissolve a few years later, there was no villain left to unite them.  Lines were drawn in the sand and sides were picked.  Our weird family of four that had never really belonged to either side of the family, were now a family of three and even more conspicuously out of step.

Still, for two brief years I enjoyed the unification of my parents as they fought to protect me against a terrible teacher. And somehow throughout it all, I learned about the incredible power of the written word along with a new found love of poetry.