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artificialqueens · 4 years

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Don't Just Stand There Staring Honey (Try to Move Your Feet) (Taywhora) - Pinkgrapefruit

Georgie lets out one long sigh and lets her head fall back, dirty blonde hair falling onto the couch. “I. Need. A. Date.” She repeats, exasperated. “My friend is getting married in a few months and I need a date for the wedding.”

Tayce raises an eyebrow, repositioning herself on the couch so she can actually look at Georgie. “Georgina Aurora, I’m sure you can find yourself a date,” she smirks, “A’whora.”

A/N -

for my love ortega.

may our clowning be long and prosperous.

It’s times like this when the flat feels too small. Tayce has just gotten out of the shower, water rolling down her calves as she pads down the hall to her room and she can see Georgie doing her Chloe Ting workout - laptop being played through the TV. She’s wearing these tiny little shorts that leave her surprisingly tan legs on full display and her sports bra can barely be considered a sports bra - it’s a wonder the people in the flat across the street haven’t said something.

They’d snatched this place up the second it came on the market - the wall of glass windows in the living room making the two-bed London flat feel bigger than it was (at the time at least). It had been the natural progression from their tiny box flat they’d shared for the last three years of uni.

After living on top of each other for three years, they’d felt like queens in their new place, neither of them sleeping on a pullout sofa bed.

They’d alternated (of course) though Georgie tended to whine if she wasn’t feeling the sofa bed so on occasion they’d both end up in the double bed. By the end, on occasion turned into whenever she was drunk, sad, lonely, uncomfortable, on her period or bored. For all her jokes, Tayce wasn’t really complaining.

She tears her eyes away from Georgie’s ass and hurries into her room before she soaks the hallway rug, too scared of the blonde’s temper to risk ruining another of her interior design choices.

She presses play on Spotify and lays the towel on her unmade bed, perching carefully on the edge before beginning to moisturise her clean-shaven legs.

“I need a date.”

“What?” Tayce yells, eyes fixed on Mortal Kombat but brain anywhere else.

“I need a date,” Georgie replies, perching on the arm of the sofa and positioning her tennis skirt in a way so as not to show her knickers - she never knows when Tayce’s videogame friends might be able to see her (she once flashed one of them and it’s not something she wants to repeat).

There’s a huff of breath from Tayce before she gives up and stops moving, allowing her opponent to kill her. She sets the PlayStation controller down and faces the blonde, confusion clear on her face.

“I repeat, what?” The softness of her welsh accent slips in at times like this - something that six years of living in London hasn’t quite been able to take away.

Tayce raises an eyebrow, repositioning herself on the couch so she can actually look at Georgie. “Georgina Aurora, I’m sure you can find yourself a date,” she smirks, “A’whora.”

It’s a joke from uni about Georgie’s innate ability to find the one person in the club who’s only there for a shag (and then go home with them).

Georgie pouts. She bats her lash extensions and runs a hand through her hair, the other running down her thigh. She knows what she’s doing is flustering Tayce (that’s why she’s doing it) and really tries to play it up.

“They’ll just want me for sex though,” she whines, “They won’t get me like you.” She bats her lashes one more time and sees the exact moment Tayce melts, a pretty blush finally becoming visible.

“Just for you.”

Georgie cups a hand behind her ear, wincing as if she’s having trouble. “What was that? I didn’t quite hear you,” she jokes and it makes Tayce bat an arm at her.

“I’ll do it for you Brat.”

The blonde bounces up, her tennis skirt flying up to show her lace knickers. “You’re the best!” She squeals before pressing a kiss to Tayce’s cheek, “Veronica will be so happy!”

“Have you finished in the shower?” Georgie calls from the hallway, snapping Tayce back into the moment.

“Is the shower still going?” Tayce shouts back sardonically and she hears Georgie hit her door on the way past. “Bitch.” She calls out before falling backwards onto her bed. She can see her outfit out of the corner of her eye and it twists her stomach in knots just looking at it.

It’s pretty simple, grey plaid cigarette trousers - a white shirt with red stitching and a matching suit jacket, but somehow it feels like Chinese handcuffs.

The telltale clunk of the waterpipes tells her that Georgie’s started her shower and she sits up again, feeling around on her bedside table for her hairbrush.

She goes through the motions of getting ready until Georgie is banging on her door again. She yanks it open, intending to say something cutting or at least sarcastic but she finds that it’s quite difficult to speak when your jaw is on the floor. Her’s certainly is.

Georgie’s dress is red satin with a sinfully high slit and her lipstick might just be the same shade of crimson currently on Tayce’s own lips. That might just be wishful thinking.

“Wow’” she stutters out, eyes trailing up and down. She gets caught on the wispy hairs that have come undone from Georgia’s chignon and has to catch herself because she wants to wrap it around her tongue and there isn’t enough time to unpack that.

“Wow, yourself,” Georgie says with a smirk, her tongue darting out between perfectly painted lips. She holds a hand out and Tayce gives her her forearm so she can walk the blonde out of the flat.

They blast Taylor Swift in the car, screaming the lyrics to Out of the Woods while on the A23. Tayce pulls them into the churchyard in Brighton and they both look at the amassing crowd with sighs.

“Damn baby, it’s like half your high school is here,” jokes Tayce as she touches up her powder in the fold-down mirror of the rental car.

Georgie smiles softly, “you don’t wanna meet half my high school,” she replies, remembering how she felt in the Nottingham public school system. She’s grateful, in a way, that Veronica’s new man is from Brighton so they don’t have to return to her hometown.

Tayce insists on coming round to open her car door and they stand arm in arm in front of the church for a moment before they go in. It’s closer to a cathedral than a church but from what Tayce knows, Veronica’s family could afford that. There’s a welcome sign out the front and it makes them both smile.

“Green and Blacks,” Tayce chuckles, “clever.”

Georgie looks at her and smiles, “Joe owns a coffee bar in Brighton and he hired her to sing one day,” she explains, finding the story sweet despite herself. Tayce gently sets her head on top of Georgie’s.

“Bless ‘em,” she hears Tayce murmur. She coughs quickly and they both straighten up. Just as she goes to fiddle with Tayce’s collar she smirks.

“Everyone thinks we’ve been dating for six months,” she whispers, rising up on her toes so her breath brushes Tayce’s ear.

If Tayce curses, Georgie doesn’t hear it. She’s too busy swinging her hips as she walks away.

“Tayceeeee,” comes a whine from the bathroom. None of the letters sound quite right but the meaning is there so Tayce puts down her coffee and slides a well-worn bookmark into an equally well-worn copy of pride and prejudice that she pretends she doesn’t read before hauling herself off the sofa in the direction of the bathroom.

“Georginaaaa,” she mocks back once it’s clear that nothing serious is going on.

Georgie has almost a full face of makeup on, sans lips and eyelashes but she’s still trying her very best to bat what she has. She’s sat on the counter, feet in the sink and toe separators on her feet as she finishes the final coat on her dusty pink toenails.

“Going out?” Tayce asks, a casual eyebrow raised and a soft smirk playing on her lips.

Georgie brightens up, “Astina and Bimini invited me out clubbing,” she explains animatedly. “I get to wear that dress I’ve been showing you but I want the rest to be perfect.

‘That dress’ in question is a slinky little number that’s been on the dress-form in Georgie’s bedroom/office/sewing room/dungeon for months. It’s baby pink and ruched and while Tayce doesn’t know any of the technical terms (she was not in the fashion school, nor does she claim she was) she knows it’s going to look gorgeous.

“Sounds fun,” she replies, though her tone is questioning and Georgie must pick up on that because she holds out a pair of flash eyelashes and an applicator with a smile.

“Can you put them on for me?”

They both know very well that Georgie can put on her own lashes - in the depths of the A’whora days, she wore them nearly every day and used to leave the house before Tayce had drunk enough coffee to feel alive. Nevertheless, Tayce leans forward, one hand holding Georgie’s cheek gently so she won’t move her head and the other hovering a lash over her eye. Her thumb strokes the prominent cheekbone under the soft skin and powder and Georgie’s breath flutters over Tayce’s pulse point.

The moment lasts forever but not quite long enough and Tayce leaves in a hurry, going back to Jane Austen and strong espresso.

She catches Georgie before she leaves, eyes trailing up and down her body appreciatively, though knowing Georgie likes her bike shorts just as much.

“For the love of god George please don’t fight anyone in the kebab shop - we’re running out of places,” she scolds, “And don’t get grumpy when you’re tired, save that for me - the girls won’t know how to handle you.” She feels like she’s wrapping a child up to send them to school but she just unlocks the door for Georgie and tells her that she’ll wait up.

Georgie pecks her on the cheek and leaves. Tayce turns the PlayStation on and tries to forget about the blonde in the pink dress grinding against half of London.

Tayce skitters across the gravel until she reaches Georgie, a hand wrapping around the satin covered waist as they queue to enter the church. She takes a deep breath and lets it out through her nose. She’s never been good with surprises.

Georgie notices (she always does), feels Tayce’s fingertips pressing into her ribs and gently removes the arm, intertwining their fingers instead so she can softly brush her thumb up and down Tayce’s hand.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, head falling against Tayce’s chest briefly. Tayce feels her heart rate slow from the contact and sighs, inhaling the scent of Georgie’s conditioner.

“It’s okay,” She uses her free arm to pat Georgie’s bum, trying to move the blonde along as they near the front of the line into the church.

At the very front of the line, just inside the ornate doors, is an older looking woman with chestnut coloured hair and a lavender chiffon dress. Georgie’s face lights up when she spots her and the woman gives her a motherly smile before embracing the blonde.

“Georgina,” she gushes, “it’s been so long.”

Georgie at least has the propriety to blush and she ducks her head abashedly. “Mrs Green- Margret,” she responds, “I’ve missed you.”

Mrs Green looks up, spotting Tayce hovering by the door and smiles lovingly, beckoning her over. “And who’s this lovely lady,” she asks Georgie with a bemused chuckle, watching as the girl blushes an even deeper red.

Tayce sees this as her moment and slides up next to her, hand wrapping around her waist, cheek resting on the top of her head. “I’m Tayce, Georgie’s girlfriend. It’s lovely to meet you Mrs Green and we’re so happy to be here.”

It slips out all too easy and even if she wasn’t prepared for this situation, somehow she is.

Mrs Green smiles. “Please, call me Margret,” she tells them graciously. “We’ll catch up later Georgina,” she informs them and then points them through another set of double doors.

They seat themselves towards the back of the pews, not wanting to encroach on family seating and Georgie twists her hands together until Tayce takes one of them in her own.

“Margret was like a mother figure to me,” she explains quietly, thoughtfully, “I feel bad for how out of touch I’ve become.”

Tayce just rubs her back, unsure of what to say.

She grew up popular. Her blonde hair was always pin-straight and her eyebrows spent half of high school looking like someone had drawn them on with melted chocolate but that was in vogue.

People loved her and feared her in half measure and she used it to her advantage, getting what she wanted and feeling like she was part of an American high school movie while she did it. That was until she got too high on her own bullshit.

She forgot she was from Worksop, she forgot she has friends from popularity instead of just her personality and she forgot that not everything always went well for the mean girls in the movies.

She came out. She’d known she was gay since she was in primary school when she used to want to play mummies and daddies and always asked to be the daddy. (Until her best friend Jade told her that girls couldn’t be daddies, because daddies couldn’t marry other daddies and girls have to marry daddies).

She came out and suddenly her mean girl personality was abrasive and arrogant, and she had to come to terms with who she was all over again.

Then she met Veronica.

Veronica was lovely and sweet and the captain of the theatre club - who wanted Aurora to help with sewing costumes.

“Call me Georgie,” the blonde has said. She’d wanted people to call her Aurora because she wanted to be special and Georgina was too plain. Apparently 'special’ meant being called a dyke and losing all your friends though, or so she figured.

Veronica did make her feel special.

She’d invite her round for tea - to her house on the nicer side of town - where they’d eat freezer waffles and pizza that tasted a little bit like cardboard but also like home. Margret Green would teach her to crochet and help with designs. And slowly, Worksop felt like home again.

And then she met Tayce - and learnt what it truly meant to feel special.

The ceremony passes quick enough, Tayce’s hand in Georgie’s. They only time they let go is when Georgie has to dig around in her purse for a tissue - the wedding not getting to her, but Tayce.

It’s a short drive to the gazebo for dinner but they still don’t let go of each other’s hands, Georgie’s wrapped over Tayce’s on the gearstick.

They finally let go when they enter the venue for the reception. The ceiling is lit with fairy lights that cast an ethereal glow and there’s ivy in the exposed fittings. There are four long tables set up and the seating chart is hell to find but they eventually spot 'Georgie and Tayce’ opposite Mrs Green making Georgie blush that they’re on the same table as the Bride and Groom.

“I mean I’m honoured,” She mutters to Tayce under her breath as they navigate the chairs, “I just didn’t realise I meant this much to her and honestly I would have worn a nicer dress.”

“Shush you,” Tayce replies, pulling a rustic looking chair out for her. She gently pushes it back in, taking her own seat and patting Georgie’s thigh comfortingly. “You look hot as shit.”

Georgie blushes but suddenly Margret Green sits down and she feels sixteen again. She ducks her head almost shyly and Margret chuckles.

“I’m not going to tell you and your girlfriend off Georgina,” she tells them both, nodding to Tayce who wonders if she might be sweating under the weight of Mrs Green’s gaze. Margret never quite stopped calling her her full name - it took long enough to break the habit of calling her Georgina Aurora. Sometimes you have to pick your battles.

“I know Mam,” Georgie replies, straightening back up with a smile.

“That’s better dear.”

They’ve taken a break from socialisation and are leaning against the bar - the party in full swing behind them. Georgie swirls the stick in her Vodka Cranberry while Tayce leisurely sips on her Mojito. The faintly golden light of the gazebo casts shadows on her face that make her look almost ethereal and Georgie just can’t stop looking.

“You enjoying yourself?” Tayce asks softly, and Georgie blushes under her gaze, nervous she’s been caught staring. She taps the stick against the side of her near-empty glass a few times and sighs.

“It’s nice,” she muses, looking over her shoulder at the rabble. “Weird, but nice.” There’s an odd tone to her voice and Tayce nods for her to continue, quietly sipping her drink.

“I guess I’m a little angry,” Georgie admits after a short pause. “About why they can all accept you with me now - but they couldn’t when I really needed them to."

Tayce reaches across the gap between the chairs, frowning slightly as she brushes a thumb under Georgie’s eye. The pad of it slides along her jaw again before Tayce brings her hand back to her lap and Georgie has to hold back a sigh at the loss.

"I’m sorry baby,” she replies, “I know that doesn’t help fifteen-year-old Georgie but I really am.” Her hand moves back up to cup the blondes Cheek and Georgie brings her own hand up to hold it there. She leans into it, revelling in the warmth.

“It’s okay. Really, it is. I have you now."

The pad of Tayce’s thumb brushes Georgie’s painted bottom lip and she may have been leaning in but Georgie suddenly sits bolt upright. Her eyes are wide and Tayce drops her hand reflexively before grabbing the hand in Georgie’s lap.

"Shit,” Georgie mumbles, eyes still staring at a figure in a suit a few feet away. She tugs on the hand Tayce is holding and drags her over to the dancefloor.

“That’s my ex.” She tells Tayce who’s just looking at her oddly. “He’ll try and hit on me so you,” she pats Tayce’s chest with a wink,“ are going to dance with me.”

Tayce sighs before smiling at the proposition. “Well it’s not exactly Salsa music but I’ll give it a go honey.”

They’re pressed together, chest to chest in the kitchen. As Tayce inhales, chest heaving, it sends vibrations through Georgie’s body.

Tayce has switched the speaker on out of boredom, dancing around where they used to have a dining table and showing off all her moves. She had gotten bored back in uni and used to frequent the salsa society on her free evenings. They’d all made jokes about it but it’s quite clear that none of her friends had taken it seriously when she sees the awe painted on Georgie’s features. She’d offered a hand and the blonde had taken it, allowing herself to be pulled close as they worked through the basics, rocking back and forth.

She spins Georgie but makes sure to pull her close again as the traditional salsa music finishes and a new song comes on.

“Don’t just stand there staring, honey. Try to move your feet,” Tayce sings along, her voice breathy but it doesn’t have to be stronger when her lips are brushing Georgie’s ear. She lets her free hand trace patterns into the parts of the blonde’s back not covered by her flimsy crop top.

“I can make it nice and easy,” she hums, looking down to see Georgie’s eyes are half-lidded, a coy smile playing on her lips. “I'ma take the lead. They ain’t even looking at you, baby."

She drops Georgie but catches her almost immediately - a move that makes the blonde intuitively grip her tighter.

"They’re looking at me."

Georgie locks her eyes on Tayce, not noticing if they drop a bit towards her lips. "Fuck.”

It may not be a salsa but it turns out that Tayce’s dancing skills don’t just lie in the world of Latin.

She pulls Georgie close to her - as she does whenever she has an excuse - and they sway to the music together. It’s reminiscent of the forties - a song for soldiers to dance to with their wives and all the couples are on the floor slow-dancing together.

“Impeccable timing,” Tayce whispers in Georgie’s ear, enjoying the way she shivers and yet moves even closer into Tayce. She always seems to have her bold moments and then goes back to letting Tayce be the big, strong night in shining armour.

Not that she minds.

As Georgie is a few inches shorter, she can tuck her head nicely under Tayce’s chin and it gives her the perfect vantage point to hear the way Tayce’s heartrate seems to be skipping beats.

She lifts her chin, looking up into Tayce’s green eyes and seeing them staring straight at her, a soft smile playing on the taller girls lips.

Tayce gets a funny feeling in her stomach, like she’s ingested butterflies and they’re trying to get out. Suddenly it all makes sense.

She places a hand under Georgie’s chin to hold her gaze and just smiles.

“I love you, you know,” she whispers, feeling like the music is all but silent.

They were drunk, hands travelling to places they wouldn’t normally dare - Tayce’s fingers trailing the lines of Georgie’s underwear through her dress.

The blonde giggles, hiccuping before hoisting herself up on the kitchen counter and pulling her shoes off. They land somewhere that will undoubtedly be a nuisance later but she’s too gone to care.

Tayce stands in between her legs, each hand resting on a smooth ivory thigh. “I can’t believe you shouted at that girl,” she says, lips pressing together as if she’s trying to look disapproving.

Georgie smirks, running a playful finger across the cut of Tayce’s jaw.

“She was looking at you,” she explains as if that’s a perfectly reasonable excuse and it almost makes Tayce chuckle. Instead, the welsh girl mimes biting Georgie’s finger, getting the blonde to laugh.

“She was the kebab girl… The cashier!” She pumps a fist triumphantly at remembering the right word. “She was the cashier. She was meant to look at us.”

“Noooo,” Georgie whines. “You’re not getting it, she was looking at you. Just you.” Tayce quirks her eyebrows, clearly still not getting it and her obliviousness makes Georgie lean forward to rest her forehead on Tayce’s shoulder. A sigh escapes her lips as she wonders if this is how Tayce feels putting up with her.

“She wanted you.” She states as plainly as she can. Her voice drops to just above a whisper, “she wanted you.”

It’s only then that she realises just how close they are - how she can feel Tayce’s hands on her thighs and the smell of daiquiris on her breath.

Their noses meet before their lips do until Tayce tilts her head just a little bit more and then it feels like something inside Georgie has snapped.

She pulls away, the back of her head bumping against the kitchen cabinet as she tries to reconcile what she just did with her own feelings.

It was good, too good, and it scared the living daylights out of her.

She slides sideways off the counter, leaving Tayce standing there - her dumb drunk face frozen in confusion.

Georgie’s eyes widen and then she shuts them, taking a deep breath. When they open again, tayce is still looking at her - though some of the sparkle in her eyes has dimmed and she suddenly feels the need to put all of it back.

She leans up, lets their lips brush against each other in a chaste kiss to test the waters but before she can pull away, Tayce has her bottom lip between her own.

She’s sure they’re being stared at but she can’t bring herself to care because she’s at a wedding and somehow she’s kissing the prettiest woman in the room.

Georgie finally pulls away, lips slightly swollen and lipstick smudging at the edges. her eyes are wet but they’re so bright.

“I love you too,” she murmurs, “ you fucking twat.”

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tinyshe · 4 years

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How to be a hermit.

“I occasionally receive enquiries from folk asking for advice or support in pursuing their own vocation to the hermitage, so I put this page together. The information here is purely of a practical nature, and I write only from my own experience in the UK; it is not exhaustive, and things may be different in your locale and circumstances. I may add to it from time to time. Please let me know if you have further (practical) information which might be included.

The call to hermitage is often a gradual realisation, a growing affinity with solitude, a desire to know God in the ordinariness of simply being alive. It is a call which is falling on increasingly receptive ears. By nature, it is a very individual call, and each individual will realise it in a different way depending upon personal inspiration and circumstance.

I hope you will not be put off by the apparent lack of a support structure around the vocation. It is one of the great joys and freedoms that each one of us interprets the call to hermitage in such a different ways– it is essentially, perhaps, a call to “solitary living in the conscious presence of God”, though I know of hermits who live in small communities as well, so even the solitude is not a given!

You will find that much of the information on this page boils down to, “you have to work it out for yourself”. Please don’t be put off by that. It might take time - longer than you expect - and the solutions might appear to be at odds with any romantic ideals you might have been nursing at the outset, but with determination, a good dose of pragmatism, and a sense of adventure, all things are possible.

By way of encouragement, I discovered (after I had been here 10 years!) that the journey of getting to my hermitage (which took me 15 years) has become a part of the sort of hermit that I am. So don't feel that the eremitical life only begins once you step over the threshold of your hermitage. This long search and struggle for stability is the beginning of it. God is with you.

I hope this page is helpful.

Canon 603

§1 Besides institutes of consecrated life the Church recognizes the eremitic or anchoritic life by which the Christian faithful devote their life to the praise of God and salvation of the world through a stricter separation from the world, the silence of solitude and assiduous prayer and penance.

§2 A hermit is recognized in the law as one dedicated to God in a consecrated life if he or she publicly professes the three evangelical counsels [i.e. chastity, poverty and obedience], confirmed by a vow or other sacred bond, in the hands of the diocesan bishop and observes his or her own plan of life under his direction.”

State of Life

There are very many different ways of living as a hermit within the Roman Catholic Church. A hermit can live anonymously, without being “recognised in the law” (of the church), or they can choose to make some sort of commitment, either privately or publicly. If public, this would usually be into the hands of the local ordinary (bishop). Again, the type of commitment can vary by arrangement with the ordinary.

A bishop will usually expect you to have devised a “rule of life” for yourself before accepting your vows. (more on that later).

If you are considering the possibility of becoming a “canonical” hermit by profession of the Evangelical Counsels you will need to refer to Canon 640ff (“canonical profession” simply means, “profession with reference to the Canons”) which describes the process and requirements (basically a minimum of one year’s guided novitiate, followed by a minimum of 3 years in temporary vows). Or you might be able to come to some other arrangement with your bishop and still be professed, but not canonically…

There is no “hierarchy” of hermitage – no single type of commitment is more valid or worthy than another. Neither a canonical hermit nor a professed hermit , nor a privately vowed hermit is a “better” hermit than one who has taken no vows at all. Most hermits (from the little information which is available) are living simple, anonymous, solitary lives without advertisement.

Rule of Life

This is a guide for daily living. It should be useful rather than beautiful (though it can be both!). Some hermits prefer to adapt monastic rules, or a rule from a religious order to which they feel an affinity. Rules can be of varying length and detail– I have found the primary usefulness of mine to be a reference point for decision making; others might look for something which will more definitively structure their day. From experience I would caution against anything too rigid - it is likely you will be chief cook and bottle washer .. and porter .. and gardener. You will need to have the flexibility to respond easily to circumstance. I would suggest that drawing up a rule might be one of the occupations towards the end of the novitiate year – when you have more of a feel for how you will live in hermitage. We each do it so very differently!

(My own Rule of Life can be viewed here - the first several paragraphs are scriptural and canonical guidance. The practical bit is just the three lines at the end!)

Hermitage and living expenses

Whichever route you take, vowed or un-vowed, you will usually be expected to be self-supporting. There is no centralised source of practical nor financial support for hermits, nor any register of empty-hermitages-seeking-occupants, not in the UK anyway. You will need to find your own living place and some sort of income to pay the bills etc. Many hermits have a working life behind them & so are able to provide their own accommodation. Others are "donated" accommodation in return for caretaker or similar duties, or persuade a convent or monastery or other religious community to loan them an outhouse in return for labour. You have to be pretty pragmatic, determined, and prepared to explore lots of avenues! It isn't easy.

In terms of work, and support from the state: in civil law you are expected to support yourself in the same way as everyone else. You can look for, and express a preference for work which enables you to work alone, but there is no special exemption which entitles you to benefits or financial support if you refuse to work at all, just because the work offered isn't hermitage-friendly.

You may have the skills to earn a living from your hermitage – eg. book-keeping, accountancy, copy-writing, web design etc. all of which which might be financially viable ways of earning a living from your front room. Realistically, some of the more menial jobs like cleaning work and ground maintenance are usually plentiful and reasonably suitable as most cleaners/gardeners seem to work in solitude even if they are part of a team. (I worked as a solitary care assistant to a profoundly disabled woman for 5 years in her own home, which worked out very well). You may find previous skills can be adjusted to become more hermit-friendly eg. my teaching experience still provides a firm basis for occasional private tutoring.

From experience, the pursuit of the artisanal work traditionally associated with hermits and monastics, does not provide a reliable, nor sufficient source of income – not to an unknown hermit – unless you are at the top of your artisanal game and already earning a living this way. Many of these types of activities which help support established monastic communities are reliant on the regular footfall of associates and affiliates to the communities, and the publicity which is inherent in their longstanding, their USP, and the loyalty of their local churches. If it works for you – then great! But if you are just setting out and hoping to make your living from weaving baskets all day, then I would advise you to have a plan B to fall back on. Sometimes God’s providence makes itself best known in the guise of a bit of realistic and prudent forethought.

Spiritual support

If you are seriously exploring a vocation to hermitage then it would be wise to enlist the support of a spiritual director. The life of the solitary can throw any number of oddities and curve balls at you, and it is as well to have some one you can freely consult and who will be able to advise you. Try and find someone with a mature and committed prayer life of their own, who will take you, and hermitage, seriously, who is not in awe of the solitary life, and who will not pander to your whims and fancies!

And finally!

This may not have been the sort of information you were hoping for. Launching into hermitage is not the same as entering an established religious order - there is none of the security and stability which might be found in other forms of consecrated life. It is an adventure with God which will require of you every last wit and ingenuity. I pray and hope for God’s blessing on you.

In prayer, in God.

Rachel (Hermit of the Diocese of Nottingham)”

source

#catholic #st cuthbert #nottingham #uk #hermit #hermitage #how to be a hermit #rachel the hermit

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theladyofspaceandtime · 4 years

Note

Yeah Marian (or Marion, as it's spelled in RoS) nearly gets forced into a marriage a couple of times. Or, well, with de Belleme in Robin Hood and the Sorcerer I would say it's more like an excuse to get her to his castle so he could sacrifice her for Magic Ritual Stuff. But in Herne's Son she actually does get forced into a marriage, that's true.

And yeah RoS Marion is very much an action girl (in Witch of Elsdon she actually beats Robin up to convince him that she's no more a liability than any of the other outlaws). At the time I think that was somewhat new, having her be a part of the gang so to speak. She doesn't get to do a lot of the hand-to-hand fights and generally has no melee weapon, but she shoots as well as any of them. Or better even, maybe. At least in "Seven Poor Knights" in the beginning when the outlaws were sort of competing on who could shoot most accurately, she and Robin were the only ones of to hit the target. But on the other hand in actual fights they always hit the target when it matters, so that doesn't narratively count for anything.

I did get around to watching the first episode of BBC Robin Hood, too, and one sort of half-similarity I noticed is that Much is /definitely/ not the sharpest tool in the shed in either. I find it way more irritating in BBC RH, though. Dunno why. I guess it's just that in RoS Much is not so much stupid as just... well, naive, really, and inexperienced, and youngest of the group (the actor was the youngest, too, only 18 or so when they started filming the show). Whereas with BBC RH Much it's more like cliche comic relief character stupidity which for some reason really gets on my nerves sometimes.

With what you said about Robin and Guy's relationship in Robin of Sherwood... yeah, you're partly right. Keep in mind, RoS has two separate Robins, though (if you've done googling I think you'll probably have already found that out, right?) Gizzy is half-brother to Robert of Huntingdon, but not to Robin of Loxley. Robin of Loxley canonically has no biological siblings, but he was raised by Much's parents so they're basically brothers, the two of them. (Considering that I do find it funny that they have different enough accents that even I can hear it, and I'm not a native English-speaker and my accent ear is downright horrible.)

Fun fact, by the way: according to Kip Carpenter (who created the show and wrote almost all episodes), the reason Guy and Robin number two were revealed to be brothers is that the cast and crew of the show were at some party at one point, and someone pointed out to Kip how funny it was that the only two blondes in the room were Jason Connery and Robert Addie, who played Robin and Gisburne.

I find incredibly funny, by the way, that BBC went and made their Robin Hood both Robin of Locksley and the Earl of Huntingdon at once, and Robin of Sherwood had both Robin of Loxley and Robert of Huntingdon (although Robert wasn't the earl, just the earl's son and heir) as Robin Hood, but kept them separate characters. Like, my understanding is that most adaptations choose one of those two, but not these shows I Guess.

I'll have to admit that one thing that is going to take me some getting used to in BBC Robin Hood is how clean and kind of new everything looks. Like maybe the difference is just made by the sharper image of newer cameras, but like everything in RoS, even various noblemen's places, looks kinda rough around the edges, worn, lived-in. Like in Nottingham castle, there's straws scattered on the floor, servants hurrying somewhere in the background, an open fireplace in the center of the hall rather than on one wall or something, there's always some random items scattered about, and so on. Whereas my first impression of BBC Robin Hood's Nottingham Castle is... kind of like it's all new and shiny, you know? Everything's clean, in perfect condition and orderly, very few things have a look as if they'd been in use for a while.

And I feel like it shows even more with the lower class characters. Sure, their homes and their clothes are less impressive, less showy... but even the buildings don't really look that old, the clothes seem clean and straight as if recently ironed, and it doesn't look as if they've seen much use.

Compare Robin of Sherwood. The ordinary people's homes look kind of shaggy and while they're in good condition, they don't look as if they've been built yesterday, you know? And everyone's clothes, and that includes the outlaws (except Nasir whose clothes somehow always stay neat, but then again half the time Nasir's there mainly to look good so whatever), are kind of like... there's a little bit of stain in them, you might see some mended tears (in some episodes you can see the outlaws actually repairing their own clothes, too, I think) and patches, and frayed edges and such. They're still in good condition, obviously, but they've seen enough use that they no longer look new.

I'm not complaining, mind you, but it just feels weird because I'm not used to it. (So does the show starting by Robin returning from the Holy Land to find everything a mess, even though I think it's a fairly common way of starting Robin Hood stories. In RoS neither of them was at any point involved in the Crusade stuff.)

Yeah, BBC Robin Hood is known for not being accurate with the times when it comes to physical appearances, hence it’s contemporary edge. I mean, the costumes are kind of obvious with it: (Guy’s leather biker armor, Marian’s hair going from straight to curly as if by magic, and a good majority of the characters costumes in general. I could keep going.) And as you’ve pointed out, even some of the sets look as if they are perfectly neat. Despite taking place in the 12th century, they also allude to political things of the 21st century at times and use contractions not yet used in those times. I think they made it this way though to help adapt it to modern times when it came on in 2006 and keep it interesting for the kids (since it is still a kids show too.) It’s cheesy at times, and some things are just so damn obvious it hurts or makes you laugh, but that’s why I love this show. I think the costume department started to do a little better towards the middle of Season 2, but Season 3 is where they really shined with the more historically accurate costumes thanks to new costume designers. I can’t say anything different about the sets though XD.

As for Much, the writers sadly made him the Butt-Monkey a good majority of the time in the show. And it’s sad, cause I actually see a lot of wonderful potential with Much and adore his character as Robin’s former man-servant and best friend. I’m glad to see they have Much in ROS and like the idea of him being Robin’s foster brother. I will warn you that the writing for some characters may get to you at times (the fandom knows that all too well), but it’s still worth the watch. <3

And yes, they are two separate Robin’s which surprised me. In my previous reply, what I was talking about concerning Archer was if the show wasn’t canceled, the writers were planning to make Archer the new Robin (spoiler spoiler), so the two different Robin’s kind of reminded me of that along with the whole half-brother thing. I’ll probably find it a bit weird to get use to, especially since that was something I didn’t like about the Russell Crowe one, but I’ll get to that bridge when I get to it. :)

I love those little tid bits though about how the crew just sat together and was like: lets make the only blondes in the cast related, and bam, Gisborne/Huntingdon became half-brothers. Haha, nice!

#erdariel #chats about Robin Hood

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legolaslovely · 5 years

Text

In Her Hands

A/N: Just rewriting this entire show one fanfic at a time.

Pairing: Guy of Gisborne x Reader

Word Count: 2,348

Warnings: angst but mostly fluff, mentions of blood and torture.

Summary: When Guy is ambushed by (Y/N)’s brother, Robin Hood, she becomes the only one who can save him.

(Y/N) was sitting at the window of her chambers, seething while she mended a rip in her cloak. Guy had locked in her chambers all morning to stop her from leaving the castle. He thought it was best for her and said it would keep her safe from the evil illusion that was Robin Hood. Little did he know, Robin was (Y/N)’s brother and she often helped him in his duties feeding and aiding the poor of Nottingham.

She had watched Guy leave the castle on horseback from her window hours ago. He sent her a smile over his shoulder before he disappeared behind the gates. She knew she should be out in the villages by now, but decided for one day, she could obey orders and gain some of Guy’s trust.

(Y/N) and Guy’s relationship was a difficult one. She avoided and turned down his constant advances while using his knowledge and secrets to help her brother and his band of outlaws. Though he was clueless to her betrayals, her lies gnawed at her every time he showed her a kindness, which was often. She turned down his marriage proposals with promises of friendship, and friends they were, though he yearned for more from her. He showed her a side to him that had her shoving her ever growing thoughts of him out of reach.

Now, even with her anger bubbling, she thought of him as she mended her cloak. He had ripped it in a brawl the night before. She was disguised as an outlaw and he fought her fiercely before she could get away. She wondered what would happen to her and her friendship with Guy if he ever realized her relation to Robin.

She almost pricked her finger with the needle when a loud banging sounded on the door to her chambers. “Yes?”

“(Y/N), open the door, it’s Will.”

She rushed to let him in and he closed the door quickly behind him, leaning against it and catching his breath. “You shouldn’t be in the castle,” she said.

“Robin has Gisborne,” Will said.

“That’s impossible. He went to Locksley hours ago to guard the tax collector.” She handed him a goblet of water, trying to calm him.

Will swallowed hard, nodding. “We ambushed him and Robin brought him to the forest. He’s acting crazy. He thinks Gisborne did something against the King and won’t listen to anyone.”

“Why are you telling me this? Robin would stick an arrow in you if he knew you were here.”

“I think he plans to kill him. I know you care about Guy, (Y/N).”

She turned and fingered the short knife hanging from her waist. “Robin won’t kill him. Guy’s too smart to say anything to push him that far.”

“You know your brother when it comes to the King,” Will said, his voice low.

Her heart was pounding as she paced. She knew well what Robin would do to a traitor. But how could she explain to Guy her presence in the forest? What if he learned the truth? None of it would matter if she didn’t get there in time to save him. She glanced out the window and saw Guy’s horse trotting though the gates with an empty saddle. It’s true, she thought.

She whirled and kissed Will on the cheek. “Thank you for coming to me,” she said, running out of her chambers and racing through the castle.

Once outside, she found Guy’s horse and ripped the reins from a guard’s hands. Despite his protesting, she flew to the steed’s back and rode him as fast as he would run past the gates and into the forest. She knew Robin’s hiding place for those outside the gang.

She leaned forward as the horse raced through the trails and past the trees. Her knuckles turned white from her grip on the reins and tears fell from her eyes from the harsh wind of speed. Then, she heard her brother’s ferocious voice, followed by a defiant laugh of Guy’s. They finally came into view after she turned a sharp corner.

Guy was tied painfully to a large tree, his hands held high above him while her brother snarled in his face. She winced, noticing blood dripping from Guy’s mouth and hard cheekbone. It was clear her brother was losing his patience and that Will may have been right to guess his plans.

After what felt like ages, she finally drew close enough to them and leapt off the horse. “Robin!” she screamed, her voice scratching her throat.

“(Y/N), go home,” he said lowly, not taking his eyes off his prisoner.

She heard Guy say her name, but she ignored it. She refused to look at him, knowing that if she did, she would lose her courage. With all her might, she pushed her brother away and stood between him and Guy. “No, Robin, let him go. Now.”

“(Y/N), what are you doing here?” Guy asked. His heavy breath blew on her shoulder, but still she ignored him. This was between her and her brother.

Robin found his balance and grabbed her arm, trying to pull her away from the tree. “You don’t know what he’s done.”

“Yes I do.”

“No you don’t! You don’t know what he’s done!” His voice cut through her like a sword slashing her skin to the bone.

“I do know.”

His eyes narrowed until they became nothing more than slits. “How can you still care for him? He’s killed innocents. He’s left newborns to starve in this forest. He’s tried to kill our King!”

None of his words surprised her. She knew all of it and more. “Every single one of your men,” she said, pointing to each of them, aware of their raw nerves, “you’ve given them a second chance. I’m giving him his.”

“You can’t do this!”

“Yes I can!” she bellowed, her rage echoing through the trees.

His voice fell to a whisper. “If you do this, you’re a traitor too. If you do this, you are not my- you’re nothing to me.”

She stood tall, retreating from Robin until her back touched Guy’s chest. “I will not step aside and let you hurt him. Killing is not your way, Robin.”

“It is when it comes to traitors.”

She heard Guy roar, “Don’t touch her!” but she didn’t see it coming until it was too late. Robin pushed her aside with such a blow, her lungs emptied of air. She landed hard on the ground, trying to gasp, but feeling sharp pain in her ribs.

Robin’s fist sounded against Guy’s face, but nothing shook her like the sound of his low, painful grunts. Blood flew from his mouth and landed on her skirts, and she summoned the strength left in her to stand. She looked to John and said, “You know this is wrong.”

He nodded and frowned with determination. While Robin was distracted, John closed his great arms around him and pulled him away from Guy who was hanging limp from his restraints.

She ignored Robin’s cries of outrage and pulled the dagger from her hip and slashed the ropes that held him to the tree. He muttered her name and fell over her at first, but quickly regained his resolve. Then, he had the gall to smirk wickedly at Robin and she slammed him against the tree and ground through her teeth, “We’re leaving. Now.”

His eyes flew back to her and softened. He whistled to his horse and climbed to his back and held his hand out to her. She leapt up behind him with little assistance and took one last look at Robin’s red, furious face before wrapping her arms around Guy’s waist and riding back to the castle.

The ride back was silent. The second the horse passed the gates, all the guards stared. Guy brought him to a halt and kicked his leg over the steed’s neck and slid to the ground. He turned to assist her, briefly holding her waist. She hit the ground with a wince and soft whimper of pain. “Are you hurt?” Guy asked.

“I’m fine,” she said. She held her chin high but her gaze fell to the ground. “Come with me, you need to get cleaned up.”

“No, I’ll go to the-”

“Do you want everyone to know what happened today?” she hissed. When he gave no answer, she said, “Follow me.”

She quietly led him to her chambers and the moment the door closed behind him, he was berating her. “What were you doing in the forest? I gave you direct orders to stay in your chambers while I was gone.”

“You do not give me orders. I am not one of your guards.”

He drew back. “You disobeyed me. Again. I’m trying to keep you safe.”

She sighed. She knew that. She gathered bandages and cleaning cloths and sat them next to her on the window ledge. She gestured to the chair before her. “Sit,” she told him.

She looked at his face for the first time since she untied him from the tree. Dark bruises were already forming around his eyes and jaw. Dried blood covered his cheeks and lips. She dipped a cloth into the warm water, lifted his chin with her fingers and dabbed away the sweat, dirt, and blood caked into his hair.

“How did you know?” he asked.

“Know what?”

“Don’t play games with me, (Y/N).” Despite the beating he took, his voice was strong. “How did you know where I was?”

Her eyes never left her work. “I had received a message, saying they were going to kill you. And I thought, who’s going to boss me around all the time if you’re gone?”

The corner of his mouth turned up into the tiniest smirk. “A message from who?”

“A friend.”

He knew that was all she’d give him, so he fired again, though it was more of a statement than a question. “You know Hood. He knew you, his gang knew you.”

She watched the water drip from the cloth and brought it to his cheek. “This may turn into a scar. You should go down to the sheriff’s apothecary tonight, he has ointment to help it heal.”

His brow furrowed. “He knew your name.”

She sighed, pushing his hair off his cheek and behind his ear to clean the wound there. “I knew Robin before he became an outlaw. Before he went to the Holy Land. I had not spoken to him since he returned, until today.” She moved to wipe the blood from his lips. Her fingers shook though she will them to be still.

He spoke when the cloth left his lips. “Will you always keep things from me?” She saw hurt deep in his eyes and she turned away. He stood. “No matter. Now I know where Hood’s hiding. I’ll bring a troop into the forest tomorrow and bring him to the sheriff.”

“Must you always be so reckless?” She shouted, slamming the wet cloth down on the sill. “You could have died today.”

He swiveled around to her, shocked at her outburst, and even more so to see tears of fright, frustration and exhaustion welling in her eyes. She quickly bit them down and returned to her resilient self, but he saw them.

He strode to her, grasping her arms. “(Y/N), I-”

“I’m fine.” She tried to swat his hands away, but they remained. “Seeing you abandoned against that tree today… I was very afraid.” Her eyes finally lifted from the floor and took in his rough, sore face. Her light finger grazed his cheek. “I don’t like seeing you hurt so.”

Despite his aching, Guy felt he could soar at her words. But he watched her soft eyes darken in a blink. She turned out of his arms and opened the door to show him out. “You should visit the apothecary before sundown.”

He stopped in the doorway, then spun and closed it, shutting both of them in her chambers once more. “Tell me one thing. Please.”

She nodded.

“What he said, was it true?”

“What who said? What do you mean?” she asked.

“Hood asked you if you still cared for me after everything I’ve done.”

She hoped he hadn’t heard her brother’s words. Robin was right, how could she? She’d seen the consequences of Guy’s actions, the death, the suffering of innocent people. How could she still care for him?

However, (Y/N) had seen a side of Guy he kept secret. A part of him was kind, tender, passionate, and strong. He was a man that wanted so badly to love and be loved. He had placed his heart in her hands so many times, she wanted to keep it for herself. It seemed an impossible decision for her to make.

He waited for her answer, his shoulders slumped and eyes soft. “Of course I care for you. You are my friend,” she said.

His fingers lifted her chin to face him. “Could I ever be more?”

He couldn’t stand her silence. He leaned down to her and left his lips only inches away, forcing her to make her decision. She took his face in her hands, her fingers barely touching the aching skin. She kissed him softly, only for a moment before pulling away.

He exhaled heavily, his ever present smirk turning into a bright smile. That was enough for her to sling one hand over his tall shoulders and kiss him again, this time deeply and filled with the passion she finally allowed herself to feel. He held her so tight, her feet floated above the floor and she laughed into his mouth.

He set her down triumphantly and his eyes glowed with pure joy. He whispered her name, but before he could say another word, she opened the door and waved him out. “Go to the apothecary before sundown,” she said.

His grin fell.

She stood on her toes, placing a hand to his chest and a kiss to his cheek. “Then come back to me.”

#guy of gisborne #Sir Guy of Gisborne x reader #sir guy #Sir Guy of Gisborne #guy of gisborne x reader #robin hood #robin hood bbc #Richard Armitage #richard armitage x reader #guy x reader

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lilacmoon83 · 5 years

Text

A Darker Curse

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 14: Desperate Souls

The last thing he remembered was raising his cane to this man and then the rage took over. It blinded him to the point that he was only vaguely aware that he was beating the crap out of him. It wasn't until his own son was pulling him away from the man that he realized what had happened.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Neal demanded to know, as Emma checked on his victim.

"I want him...arrested!" Keith rasped, as he looked up at them with a bloodied face.

"Relax...I'll take care of him. Your injuries aren't too serious, but you need to go to the hospital. I'll call a bus," Emma said, as she met Neal's gaze and he got her drift, as he slowly led his father out to the patrol car.

"Hey...what do I tell my boss about the damage?" the bartender questioned.

"Tell him to file a claim. His insurance probably has coverage for this sort of thing," Emma answered, as she called for an ambulance.

"Do I even want to know why you were beating the crap out of that guy?" Neal asked.

"He's scum...back in our land he's…" Gold started to say, but his son cut him.

"I don't care who he was back there!" Neal shouted, silencing him.

"You know, Emma was trying to tell me how you had changed and how you were actually helping her Dad without expecting anything. But now I'm not sure I can believe that!" Neal snapped.

"Bae please...you don't understand…" Rumple pleaded.

"Neal...it's Neal now," he corrected.

"And you're right...I don't get why you were beating the crap out of someone, but it just feels like more of the same from you," he spat, as Emma approached. The ambulance was just leaving and she sighed.

"You know, I don't have a choice, right?" she asked him regrettably. He nodded stiffly.

"Why are you showing him sympathy?" Neal questioned.

"Because despite the fact that beating the crap out of some guy is a really bad move...he's still allied with me and my parents against Cora," Emma replied, as she put him in the backseat. Neal sighed.

"Emma...he'll turn on you the moment it suits him. I've seen him do it," he argued.

"Yep and so have my parents. Cora is still the common enemy," Emma argued back.

"Emma...people fear him for a reason and I'm sorry, but your parents are foolish if they don't," Neal said, but that was the wrong thing to say, as she looked at him sharply.

"That's...that's not what I meant. I just...making deals with him never works out well for those on the other end, unless he's going to get something from it," he stammered.

"And at this point, I don't care if he gets to rule the world out of it, because getting my father back and making Cora pay is all we really care about right now," Emma admitted. Neal sighed.

"Look, I'm arresting him and I'm going to interrogate him when we get back to the station. What more do you want? A public lynching?" she asked.

"Of course not," he answered, as they got in the car.

"Care to share why you went postal on that guy?" Emma inquired.

"Not really," Gold responded.

"Try again," Emma pressed and he sighed in exasperation.

"He accosted a woman...let's leave it at that," he answered. She shrugged.

"Maybe if it wasn't you, then I could. But you're not Prince Charming. I know, because he's my Dad and it would be like him to beat the crap out of a guy for assaulting a woman, though probably not quite as badly as you did. But he's not a stranger to a giving a punch in the face when it's needed," Emma countered, which allowed Gold a small smirk of satisfaction. He appreciated her knowledge of her own history. Snow had done well in that.

"Unless it is your mother that's accosted," he countered back. She gave a nod of acknowledgement.

"Maybe, though my Mom does a lot of her own punching. Which makes me think that a beating like that means you have a history with this woman," Emma said, as they arrived at the station and marched him inside.

"Come on Emma...my Dad is the Dark One. He doesn't have history with any women," Neal argued.

"How the hell would you know?" she argued back and he realized that he wouldn't, so she continued once he closed his mouth.

"Are you really going to make me talk about this?" Gold asked.

"Yeah...because if it involves Cora, even indirectly, we need to know," Emma responded. He sighed.

"The woman is someone I once...cared for very much. Due to Cora's deception and interference, I believed her to have died before the curse," he explained. It was vague, but would be enough to convey why there was anger there.

"And now she just pops up here after all these years and without her memories, I assume?" Emma questioned. He nodded curtly.

"Convenient...but not sure why Cora would want to piss you off more by letting you know about her," the blonde said.

"I thought the same. But then she planned to have my son to use against me. That part just didn't work out for her," he reminded.

"Right…" Emma agreed.

"So then this Keith guy was probably trying to pick her up and it pissed you off," she surmised.

"Something like that and he's not just some guy. He was the Sheriff of Nottingham back in our land," Rumple told her.

"Seriously? That guy?" Emma asked and Gold nodded.

"Yes and trust me...no one would miss him," he replied.

"You know you can't use that as justification to beat the crap out of him," she chided.

"Actually, I could probably make a good case for that with him, but I'd rather just post my bond and go home," he replied.

"Yeah...and I have to wait for Albert Spencer to look over the case since he's our wonderful district attorney and knowing Cora, she's going to press him to deny bond," she admonished.

"The good news is that in less than twenty-four hours, we're electing a new Mayor so we can only hope it's Regina and then she can force him to plead your case down. Until then...I have to lock you up," she said regrettably. He nodded and walked into the cell.

"Well, then Cora better find a really good hiding place when she and your mother win tonight's election," he mused. She smirked.

"You seem confident that it's in the bag," she mused back.

"Well, the people in this town may fear Cora, but they fear me more...and my support is behind Regina. They'll vote accordingly," he boasted and she shook her head with a smirk.

"Or maybe they'll vote for Regina and my mother, because they actually want change and see a way out from Cora," she argued.

"Same thing," he argued back, while Neal watched the casual and somewhat friendly exchange between them with fascination. He knew his father was good at swaying people to do what he wanted, but this was Emma and she was far from easy to do this to. He couldn't quite wrap his mind around this repartee that his father seemed to have with Emma's family and he wasn't sure what exactly to make of it. His father couldn't have changed. It wasn't possible with him being the Dark One. Power controlled him. It was all he cared about. Surely when he got power back or worse actual magic, he was certain his true colors would return and Neal was going to be ready to call him on it when he did.

~*~

Mary stirred and opened her eyes, quickly noticing that she and David had fallen asleep together on the couch. It was innocent of course and she had slept better in his arms here than she ever would have alone in her bed.

"Good morning…" he said softly, as he gazed at her with a smile.

"Good morning…" she said fondly, as she gazed up at him and stretched.

"You know...I'm going to miss working with you at the shelter once you start your new job as Deputy Mayor," he mentioned. She looked at him coyly.

"Regina and I have to get elected first," she reminded.

"Please...this election is just a formality. Trust me, this town finally has the chance to vote Cora out. Regina is definitely going to win," he replied.

"Hopefully...but at least we still get to come home to each other at night and I'm sure as Deputy Mayor, I can find the time to come have lunch with the man I love," she mused, as she gently caressed his face. He smiled softly at that and the way his heart skipped a beat when she said that. He responded by initiating a kiss with her and they smiled at each other once their lips parted and they heard the baby on the monitor. They also heard Emma groan and stumble into his room. They weren't sure when she had gotten in, but from the sounds of it, hadn't been very long.

"I better go help her out. You can have the shower first," she said, as she kissed him quickly and hurried upstairs to help her daughter. David smiled at her, before taking Wilby out and then returning to clean up for the day.

~*~

Regina stood in front of her vanity, as she finished getting ready for the day. She put her earrings on and straightened her dress, before taking a deep breath. This was it. Tonight the town would vote. She would debate her mother in front of the entire town and then they would go to the polls directly after that.

"You shouldn't be nervous," a male voice said, as Ethan put his arms around her waist and kissed her neck. She smiled and turned so she could kiss him properly.

"Normally, I'd agree, but this is my mother we're talking about. She's not above playing dirty to get what she wants," she reminded. He shrugged.

"No doubt, I'm sure...but I have a good feeling about tonight. The people want change," he replied. She smiled.

"I hope you're right," she said, as they kissed again.

"Are you sure you have to go in today?" he asked in a husky tone.

"I assure you that she does," an unwelcome voice sounded from the door that they somehow hadn't heard open.

"Mother…" Regina hissed, as she fumed at the intrusion.

"Ah...guess that's my queue to get dressed," he said, as he made his way to the bathroom.

"I can't believe you…" Regina growled, as she stormed out of her bedroom and downstairs.

"It is one thing for you to barge into my home unannounced, but into my bedroom!" she hissed, as she went to the kitchen to turn on the morning coffee.

"Seems like I came just in time. I understand the need for comforts of the flesh, darling, but a bartender?" Cora said in a disapproving tone.

"Last time I checked, I do not need to run whom I date by you and you know damn well that he's more than a bartender," she hissed in a hushed tone.

"Oh yes...the thief you married and shamed your family with," Cora hissed back.

"I love Robin and you took him away from me during the curse, but it's going to come to an end. And then you're going to pay for everything you've done...especially for what you've done to Snow and David," Regina promised. Cora smirked.

"We'll see," she replied and Regina narrowed her gaze on her mother. She knew that look. It usually meant that her mother knew something that she didn't.

"I came here to offer you one last chance to stop this foolish attempt to unseat me, but I see that it's a waste of time," Cora stated.

"You're here because you're worried," Regina said. But Cora didn't betray any emotion in her expression.

"Tread lightly Regina. None of this will end the way you think it will and I won't be able to protect you...or your family from the consequences," Cora warned. A shiver ran down Regina's spine at that. There it was...the not so thinly veiled threat at her family, which meant Snow, David, Emma, August, and little David were her intended targets.

"You've hurt them enough, mother. You've ripped that family apart and Snow and David have both suffered enough," Regina pleaded.

"Oh, that's where you're wrong. It will never be enough for that wretched little Princess. I won't stop until she's groveling at my feet, begging me to stop torturing her family and I am grinding her bones to dust…" Cora hissed. Regina swallowed and could not keep the look of horror from her features.

"How the hell did you get like this?" she uttered.

"I'll see you tonight at the debate," Cora said simply, as she walked out and pulled out her cell phone.

"The plan is a go...it needs to happen today," she said simply, before hanging up.

~*~

Snow had spent the morning and the better part of the afternoon running errands around town, as she prepared for the debate and election that evening. Regina was facing off against her mother and though they were both fairly confident about her speech, she wanted her sister to have the whole day uninterrupted to prepare. Regina had warned Snow to be careful, because she was certain her mother was planning something shady. Snow had no doubt of that, but thankfully, she had made through all her errands without incident and they were ready for tonight. It was getting late in the day, so she decided to grab a couple of cocoas and then head to the animal shelter. Then she and David could go to City Hall together.

"Thanks Ruby," she said, as she picked up the drink tray and started off that way, just as she a text from August, telling her he was heading to City Hall early to start covering the whole event. She one handed texted that she loved him and would see him there, before she rounded the corner to cut through the alley that led to the animal shelter on a parallel street. But the hair stood up on the back of her neck, as she found Sidney Glass standing in her way. She looked behind her and sure enough, saw two men that were obviously muscle.

"She must really be worried if she's pulling a stunt like this," she commented, but Glass only smirked.

"Let's make this easy, Ms. Swan," he said.

"Oh, I don't do easy," she replied, as she tossed the cups containing the hot liquid at him. He cried out in pain, as the hot liquid made contact with his hands and face, while the two goons grabbed her and tried to restrain her, as she fought. She tried to scream, but one put his hand over her mouth. She responded by biting him and he recoiled, before shoving her into the wall. She hit it hard and her vision blurred, thanks to the contusion on her forehead now and slumped to the ground. She watched them through bleary eyes, as their voices sounded like they were underwater.

"Taking her to the library is too risky. Change of plans...take her out into the woods. We'll deal with her there," Sidney said. Snow vaguely felt herself being lifted up and carried away, before passing out.

~*~

David was about to clock out for the day when the vet called him into his office.

"You wanted to see me, Mr. Dalton?" he asked. The man sighed and nodded, as he motioned for him to come in.

"Yes David, please sit down," he requested and the blonde obliged.

"There is no easy way to say this, David, but I'm afraid that I'm going to have to let you go," he announced. David was stunned, but kept his composure and nodded.

"I see. May I ask why? Did I do something wrong?" he asked.

"No...you are really good with the animals, but I'm just not sure you're the right fit for this job anymore," Mr. Dalton said, clearly very uncomfortable about what he was having to do. David nodded.

"Or maybe it's because the bank owns the loan on this place, right?" David asked and the vet looked like a deer caught in the headlights. He opened his mouth, but David put his hand up.

"It's okay...I don't blame you. One employee certainly isn't worth risking your business over. I'll get my things," David said sadly, as he left quietly. He really loved working with the animals and would miss it, but he wasn't going to buckle under what he knew as a blatant attempt by his soon to be ex-wife to get him to come running back to her. Once he had a small box packed up with his few belongings he kept at work, he made his way out to his truck, only to find Kathryn waiting for him there. He sighed and shook his head, almost angrily, as he ignored her and put the box in the cab.

"David…" she said.

"Just save it," he snapped and she was taken aback by his obvious anger. She did not like this new side of him at all.

"You know what you need to do to get your job back," she said simply. He snorted derisively.

"Yeah...just come crawling back to you, right?" he asked rhetorically.

"Well, you can forget it. I loved this job, but I love my new life more, so go to hell," he responded and she grabbed his arm, squeezing it as hard as she could.

"Dammit David...you will not talk to me like that! You are mine," she warned, as she scrambled to hold onto him. She wasn't even sure why she kept after him when it was so obvious that he loathed her. She was humiliating herself, but Cora had drilled it into her that she had to somehow get David back into her bed, so she had come up with this as a way to do it. But unfortunately for her, it wasn't working and she was just coming off desperate and crazy. She heard the whispers about her. While she was desperately trying to convince them that Mary Margaret Swan was a whore and a tramp, most could only talk about how she was desperate, delusional and a stalker. Cora had insisted though that they would stop seeing her that way if she tore David away from his tramp girlfriend, but nothing was working and she was frantic. And strangely, she was not so worried about the part of David's rejection, but about the part where Cora would be livid with her failure.

"You need to get him back, Kathryn...it's imperative. If you don't...bad things might happen to your father's reputation if certain things came to light," Cora had warned her earlier. Kathryn knew that if Regina beat her mother out as Mayor that all the favors her family garnered would go away. Add to that, Regina would only be too happy to air her family's dirty laundry to August Swan to publish in the Mirror. Essentially, her father had purchased her husband for her and Albert Spencer had sold his step-son. Like property. If it got out...well, she wasn't even sure what the ramifications against her family would be.

"For the last time...I am not yours. I don't care what that piece of paper says," he snapped.

"The only piece of paper I care about between us now is the divorce decree that I'll soon have," he added, as he opened the door to the cab.

"David please...if that gets out…" she started to say, but he interrupted her.

"Do you have any idea what it feels like to know you were sold like a piece of meat?" he snapped, but then shook his head.

"Of course you don't. I was just a kid when all that went down, but I'm finally going to own my own life for the first time and there is nothing you can do to stop me now," he told her.

"You were nothing before me!" she snarled. But he smirked.

"Yeah and two months ago, I probably would have believed you when you said that. But not anymore," he said, as he was about to continue unloading on her, but he suddenly got a funny feeling. He felt a few raindrops hit his skin and the hair on the back of his neck stood up, as he quickly got in the truck.

"David...this isn't over!" she shouted, as it started to pour rain.

"Yes, it is...and I need to find the woman I love," he shouted back, as he took off in the truck. For some reason, he suddenly had a deep, gut feeling that something was wrong. He felt it in his bones like nothing he had ever felt or so he thought. Mary Margaret was in trouble...he didn't know how he knew, but he knew and he had to find her...

#Snowing #SnowxCharming #Charming family #Emma Swan #Neal Cassidy #Swanfire #Rumplestiltskin #August W. Booth #CORA cast the curse #evil Cora #AU #mentions of abuse #nothing graphic #family #romance #adventure #a darker curse

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mumofadaofficial-blog · 6 years

Text

The Gap Filler

Firstly, a massive thank you to everyone that has read my first post! Your messages and comments have been overwhelming and you will never know how much it means to me to know that you all care enough to read our story - you guys are friggin amazing!! And I am so pleased to see that what I am doing seems to be helping or comforting others in some sort of way.

SO - last time I took you through Adas birth and getting her home. I touched very very briefly on the stressful time we had before Ada came off oxygen so I want to give you a run down on that. As traumatic as Adas entrance into the world was, life didn’t seem to get much easier for us and I think it almost completely fried my brain, but hey, we’re all crazy in one way or another right?!

Going back to KL hospital was an exstremely hard thing for me. The memories of what had happened there were still very fresh and very raw. Ultimately though, if it hadn’t of been for the team of people that initially worked on her, she wouldn’t be here today. So I sucked it up, put on my big girl pants and was ready to give it another chance.

There was definitely a big difference to Norwich, mainly I would say communication issues that I’m hoping lessons have been learnt from now. From going through this I have realised that parents really need to be included and told what is happening every step of the way, something which I think can easily be overlooked. When your Childs life is in the hands of someone else you NEED to know what is happening.

I don’t want to dwell too much on the things that were done wrong once we returned but it was a struggle and no parent should have to feel like they are battling with the providers of your Childs care - my advice would be to stand your ground, be strong, ask as many questions as you want and make sure you are happy with the answers and information given.

I also think its important to remember that not all people take the same pride and care in their job as others do, so we always tried to make a point of thanking the people that went the extra mile for us.

On the day that we were finally able to take Ada home we were not allowed to do so until she had undergone an MRI scan on her brain, we were told this was just routine. There wasn’t much explanation as to why. Instantly you think to yourself ‘omg, whats wrong?’ ‘Is there something wrong with her brain’ ‘is this routine or are they hiding something from me’ After doing research and asking questions, it is a routine thing to happen after a baby has been starved of oxygen at birth. Thankfully with Ada there was no signs of damage to her brain in the initial overview and this was then backed up by a specialist team at Nottingham (you still can’t stop your brain from thinking ‘what if?’ Whilst waiting to get those results back). After this she then had to have blood tests and a scan on her liver due to certain enzymes not being at an appropriate level. Without sounding thick, I didn’t even know what that meant and my head was just not processing anything properly. The information given to us on what would happen if it didn’t sort itself out was also very patchy.

Now taking a new born home on oxygen is bloody tough, you find yourself confined to your bedroom or to the lounge, the rooms where we had the oxygen canisters. And you feel very restricted and trapped. So much so that I pretty much only went to my mum and dads or to Tesco if I was feeling super brave. Trying to get a baby out of the car is hard enough when you’ve never done it before, let alone having a back pack with oxygen in it too. Personally we felt that we couldn’t travel up north to see Nathans family as it would be too hard, so unfortunately people had to miss out. Trying to run a house when confined to those two rooms is very hard, that whole sleep whilst the baby sleeps is not even a real thing! When Ada was sleeping I wanted to do my washing, clean up, eat something or even just sit outside and have a coffee. Looking back, I wish I had relaxed a bit more and just thought fuck it! Those jobs were not going to please anyone but myself. Being easier on myself after having a c section would probably of been a better option and I shouldn’t of pushed myself to do so much when it was sometimes really hard to do so. Thankfully Nathan was a good team mate and I have lovely family and friends who all tried to keep me sane and help as much as possible in the process.

In order to assess how Ada was coping and trying to wean her off oxygen it meant having weekly 24hr assessments on an oxygen monitor at home. If you haven’t ever had any experience with one of these its a clever, annoying as shit, little machine that shows her oxygen saturation levels via a sensor on her foot. If they drop below 90 it makes the loudest most annoying bleep you’ve ever heard…great when you’ve just got her to sleep and shes moved and knocked her sensor off 🙄. They are used a lot on premature babies, however, Ada was a full term, strong bruiser of a baby who really enjoyed throwing her feet around and getting into massive strops! (I have absolutely no idea where she gets her attitude from?!) It soon became apparent that trying to get accurate readings from the machine with the amount of movement she was making was going to be hard. The machine would go back, data would be downloaded and the readings were not accurate enough due to movement. It felt like a constant ACCESS DENIED. Back to stage 1, which is really hard on your mental state and emotions when you are desperate to get your baby better. This would mean we would have to repeat the 24hr process and her oxygen level couldn’t be reduced, even though as her parents we knew she was ok and capable. I was left with no choice but to provide a written documentation of EVERY movement that made her sensor drop throughout the 24hr period, sometimes meaning I wouldn’t sleep just to be able to prove that she was doing well. We’re talking like mental person sending in four A4 pages of movements! This went on for weeks, the longer it went on, the stronger Ada was getting and the harder it was to get the readings. At the time she was also struggling with silent reflux which seemed to play up especially for us on the days she had her monitor on - thank god we have now found infant gaviscon!!

As well as trying to cope with the oxygen there was a lot of different appointments at home, the hospital and doctors. Blood test for her liver enzymes again, health visitor, collecting oxygen monitor, hip scan, monitor again, physio, dropping monitor off, monitor again, dropping it off, another blood test, monitor again, health visitor, monitor again, immunisations, monitor again, physio, monitor again, consultant appointment, blood test, another hip scan, more immunisations, monitor again and physio - you get my drift and I’ve probably missed some out! Whilst all of these appointments were happening I was then having to chase for answers and information on the outcomes of all of these as the communication was very poor. But if you ask enough questions and make enough phone calls, eventually someone will answer you and you will find out what you need to know. Personally I don’t think it should have to be like that and it makes the situation a million times more stressful. But I do understand that staffing levels don’t always allow you to be the main concern and if your out of sight you can often be out of mind.

Gradually throughout all of this and my crazy note writing Ada was weaned down off her oxygen one step at a time, then it was stopped in the daytime so she only had to go on it at night.

Finally on the 27th of September we got the call that I had been longing to get! Adas consultant was happy for us to turn her oxygen off, completely! No messing around at night, no more changing plasters and making her face sore (making you feel like the worst person in the world), no more fighting to put her cannula up her nose and no more sleepless stressful nights with a monitor bleeping in your ear! I cried and then rang Nathan and cried a bit more, then I probably rang anyone else in my phone book that would answer, and you guessed it, cried some more. For once throughout this they were tears of happiness and relief. She had finally done it, our miracle baby had stuck her fingers up to the world and smashed it! In the words of the king that is George Michael ‘You got to have faith’ 😉

Now, our only reason to go to the hospital is for extra immunisations against bronchiolitis, unpleasant, but better than her being hospitalised again or poorly. And for routine check ups with her consultant which will happen until Ada is 2.

Deep breath for this part.

The effect that this has had on me has been unreal, and although Ada is fighting fit it still isn’t easy. I was always quite ignorant to issues involving mental health and was one of those ‘just get on with it’ people. I’ve now realised that sometimes this just isn’t possible. When something in your life has been so traumatic and so stressful it can be really hard to deal with and process, my main concern was Ada and to worry about me later. It is also very easy for people to say ‘she’s fine now so don’t worry’ but you do (please don’t take offence if you have said this to me!).

Hiding your feelings and pretending everything is ok is not healthy for anyone, but to seek help was not something I was prepared to do until recently. I am by no means crazy, or a manic depressant but I do have my bad days. Days when things get to me and the stress takes over, flash backs, not being able to sleep because my brain won’t switch off, worrying that something will go wrong, being well and truly put off from having any more children, having to have full control of all situations, and for weeks, I fully blamed myself for what happened to Ada and believed that I should of known something was wrong and prevented the whole situation. I have felt in the past like I am not good enough, like I’m doing a shit job and like I can’t cope. I have struggled to speak about how I feel as I was worried I would be judged or people would think I was a shit mum or that I couldn’t look after Ada properly. I have also pushed help away as I feel compelled to be some sort of ‘super mum’ and that no one else should be doing my job.

I still cannot talk about what happened without crying, and there isn’t a day go by when I don’t relive it at some point. I constantly look to see if Ada is developing as she should and is there any signs that something isn’t right, when I should just enjoy every moment. Living with me is probably a nightmare, Soz Nath, Mum and Dad - cheers for putting up with me 😘 Somedays I will snap at the smallest thing and overreact, whereas another day that same thing wouldn’t bother me in the slightest.

I am a very private person when it comes to my feelings and I have always thought to show people the venerable side of me would make me seem weak, when in fact it does the opposite. From doing this and the responses I’ve had I now realise just how important it is to talk out and show everyone the old saying of ‘It’s ok not to be ok’. To write this down and tell you all what has happened is unbelievably difficult, yet very therapeutic and I strongly believe that if more people were to speak out about how they feel and the effect it has, then it wouldn’t be such a taboo subject. Because it most definitely shouldn’t be and anyone who says they haven’t had a full scale meltdown at some point is most probably lying to you.

Ok, so might as well of just posted a naked picture of myself with the caption ‘HERE I AM’ after all that, but thats probably about as honest as you will find me.

Amy x

#blog #mumblog #mumbloggers #bloggers #nicubaby #nicu #neonatalbaby #mentalhealth #mentalhealthawareness #nicumama

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minhoinator · 6 years

Text

By My Side, A Hogwarts AU (21/75)

promises kept - “Nervous?”

Minho stopped fidgeting for a second, his hands folding in his lap as he looked over at Mom. He was about to answer her, but then a voice called out over the intercom: “Stockport, arriving in five minutes. Stockport, arriving in five minutes.”

“Is that his train?”

master list // AO3 // AFF // first year - muggle-born, sorted, first day, homesick, hallowe’en, deck the halls, possibilities, belonging, exceedingly acceptable, return to king’s cross - second year - diagonally, taking flight, ten points, all that glitters, holly jolly, push and pull, shooting stars, special treat, sleepover, promises made

@lockandminkey @minhosbowties @sapphicshawol @artfulkey @shinyexo @posygal @bumkeyko @usuallydreamin @taespoon-of-sugar (if anyone else wants to be tagged in this, just let me know!)

* - * - *

“Nervous?”

“Is that his train?” he asked as he bounded off the bench and weaved through the crowd to the screen displaying the train numbers and their arrival times.

The click of Mom’s heels followed him, her arm draping over his shoulders. “0525, that’s his train, right?” Minho nodded, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. Kibum would be arriving at Platform 10, should they go there and wait for him to get off the train? “Let’s go back and wait for him on the bench, all right?”

“But…” He turned to watch as she started to walk away. Did Kibum know his way around Muggle train stations? Would he even know where to look for them? While her back was still turned, Minho darted up the steps and ran down the crowded corridor toward Platform 10.

Once he found it, he bounced on the balls of his feet, freezing on his tiptoes when the train pulled up to the platform, the brakes screeching as it came to a stop. Minho grinned when he spotted Kibum peering through the window, returning his wave happily. The other passengers poured out of the doors and on to the platform. It took a while for Kibum to make an appearance in the doorway. He bolted to him once he did, smiling up at him as he stepped down onto the platform.

Minho hugged him as soon as both of his feet were on the ground. “Hey, buddy,” Kibum said, patting his back until Minho let him go. “Where’re your parents?”

“Dad and Minseok are at practice and Mom is waiting on one of the benches.” He gestured to the patched-up satchel hanging at Kibum’s side. “Do we need to go get your luggage?”

“Nope. This is it.”

“Huh.” Kibum laughed as he started following the rest of the passengers off the platform, Minho following him immediately. “Yeah, let’s go find Mom.”

* - * - *

The drive home from the train station was...oddly tense. Kibum tugged on the seatbelt, pulling it away from his neck and slipping it over his head. Minho glanced back at him from his spot in the front seat, offering him a small smile, and looked like he was about to say something. But, a strange jingle started to play, and his attention snapped back over to his mom.

He held his hand out, taking the thin pink device she handed him and flipped it open before he held it up to his ear. “Hey, Dad!” He paused, laughing after a second. “You’re using dad’s phone, stupid, of course I’m gonna think you’re Dad!”

Mrs. Choi smacked Minho’s arm lightly. “Be nice to your brother.”

“You didn’t hear h -- hmm? Okay...okay...yeah...okay, bye.” Minho closed the thin pink thing and slipped it back into his mom’s purse. “Practice is running a little late so you don’t have to have dinner ready until 8.”

She let out a long sigh and Kibum leaned over a little to see the time on the car radio. Damn it, it was only 4:30, but he was already hungry -- he and Grandma usually ate early. As if on cue, his stomach growled and Minho glanced back at him. He glanced between Kibum and his mom, his expression a little weird. Kibum’s brow furrowed when Minho looked back at his mom with a smile.

“What if we got pizza and they got something on the way home?”

“I don’t know.”

“You like pizza, right, Kibum?”

“Uh...” Minho looked back at him and Mrs. Choi met his eyes in the rearview mirror. “I’ve never had it, I don’t think.”

Both of their eyes widened, and Mrs. Choi changed lanes quickly. “Get my phone and text your father.” Minho nodded and grabbed the pink thing from her purse, flipping it open again. “Tell him that they can either have leftover pizza or they can pick something up on the way home.” She met Kibum’s eyes through the mirror again. “I’m sure you’ll love it.”

Kibum smiled at her before she looked back at the road. Soon, they pulled into a parking lot for a place called Croma. They followed Mrs. Choi inside, both peering over her shoulder as she ordered them two pizzas -- a margarita and an Americana, he thought she said -- as well as some garlic bread sticks and salads.

“Grandma grows garlic around the house,” Kibum said as they headed over to the semi-populated waiting area. “Like, all around the house. We use it, of course, for cooking and, like, potions and stuff, but it’s mostly there to keep vampires away.”

Minho’s eyes widened and he started to say something, but they were both quickly shushed by Mrs. Choi. Kibum frowned, glancing around at the curious Muggles in the waiting area. Something dinged inside her purse, and she pulled out the pink thing, ignoring them for a moment.

Minho cleared his throat, leaning toward Kibum to whisper, “When we’re around...other people...we probably shouldn’t talk about...that stuff.”

Kibum glanced past him to his mother, who was still focused on the pink thing. “Even around your family?”

“Uhh...”

“Really?”

“It’s okay sometimes, and Minseok is usually okay with it, but...sorry, I should have mentioned it earlier.”

“It’s okay.” An awkward sort of silence stretched between them, broken when one of the people in the waiting area was called up to get their pizza. “Am I gonna be in trouble?”

Minho laughed. “No, I don’t think so.” He chuckled again before he sobered. “Just be sure not to say anything in front of my dad, because then you might be.”

“Choi!”

They hurried after Mrs. Choi as she made her way back up to the counter. She handed the two pizza boxes to Minho and the foil bag of breadsticks and the salads to Kibum. “Go ahead and sit in the back seat, honey,” she said when they reached the car. Minho slid the pizza into the middle of back seat before he hopped inside. “We’ll be home in ten minutes.”

Kibum thought he had been hungry before, but the smell wafting up from the pizza and the garlic bread was nearly torturous. When his stomach growled loudly again, Minho looked over at him, his eyes alit with silent laughter. He continued to talk to his mom about whatever they were talking about while he slowly unrolled the top of the breadsticks bag. With a finger on his lips, he passed one to Kibum, who ate it quietly and quickly, savoring it as much as he could on the way home.

Prism Lane was quite similar in appearances to Juliette Boulevard, with the small, matching houses and the cobblestone lanes leading to the brightly colored doors. One of the differences, Kibum noticed, were the gardens.

Here, they were pristine, with prim little rose bushes or orchids or carnations lining the homes. Back in Nottingham, however, Kibum knew that at least seven of the other residents were witches and wizards, since some of the kids were also at Hogwarts. The gardens back home were teaming with different plants, to make potions and poultices and salves, or to cook with, since they did not often go to Muggle grocery stores.

They pulled into the driveway and followed her into the house. It was nice and homey, in its own way, but not cozy like Grandma’s house. The walls were painted a cool gray with touches of blue and green accented in the art and the plants. Even though he had only seen the entrance, it seemed oddly clean, compared to Grandma’s house.

“Put the pizza on the counter before you show Kibum to your room, all right?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Minho said, kicking off his shoes and holding the pizza boxes in his arms out to Kibum. “Put those here. I’ll go set them down. Just wait here?” Kibum set the bag of breadsticks and salads on top of the pizza boxes and watched as Minho glided across the hardwood floor to the swinging kitchen door. He reappeared a second later and hurried to put his shoes on top of the cubby by the door. “You can put yours next to mine.”

He set his shoes beside Minho’s and followed him upstairs to his room. “What...”

“Hmm?” Kibum pointed to the bed floating on the floor. “Oh, that’s our air mattress. We had it from when Jinki or Taemin or any of Minseok’s friends would sleep over.”

“Oh.” Tentatively, Kibum sat down on the end.

“I think there’s a hole in it, so we’ll have to blow it up every night.”

“Blow...it up?”

Minho snorted. “Like, with air?” He propped his feet up on the air mattress, jostling Kibum where he sat. Kibum rolled his eyes and started to glare at Minho when they heard a cupboard slam shut downstairs. “Oh, we should hurry,” Minho said, already hopping over the air mattress and reaching for his bedroom door. “We don’t want the pizza to get cold.”

Thankfully, they made it in time. The pizza was...deliciously hot and cheesy and Kibum wondered why the hell he had been deprived of it for so long.

They needed this at Hogwarts.

He was about to ask Minho to suggest it to Sookey when they got back to school, but Mr. Choi and Minseok walked through the door. Mrs. Choi got up to greet them and Kibum glanced at Minho, who set his fork down with a sigh as he looked to the dining room doorway. Kibum sucked the red sauce off his thumb and followed his gaze.

“Hey, Min...” Minseok said as soon as he stepped into the kitchen, grabbing a plate and a couple slices of pizza before he looked up and locked eyes with Kibum. “Hi, I’m -- “

“Minseok, I know. I’m -- “

“Kibum. I know, too.” He slid into the seat across from Minho, glancing between the two of them. “Do you talk about me at school, Min?”

“Occasionally,” he said before he stuffed another bite of pizza into his mouth.

“Only good things.”

Kibum struggled to keep his amusement from showing and Minho kept eating to keep his mouth full. Minseok squinted. “I don’t believe you.” Minho started to laugh, but all three of them quieted with Mr. and Mrs. Choi walked back into the kitchen.

“So,” Mr. Choi said, taking his seat at the head of the table while Mrs. Choi fixed him a plate. “You’re the famous Kibum.”

He spared a quick glance at Minho. The tips of his ears, as well as his cheeks, were a bright red as he stared pointedly at the table. “I don’t know about famous, sir, but yes.”

Minseok snickered, stopping when Mr. Choi cleared his throat. They all started eating after a second of awkward silence. Mr. and Mrs. Choi filled each other in about their days while the boys ate. Once Kibum was full, Minho stopped eating and cleared their plates from the table. Kibum followed him into the kitchen, rinsing the plates when Minho washed them and set them on a towel to dry. They washed the other plates too after Minseok brought them in.

Once the water was drained, Minho led him upstairs, away from the sounds from the other room downstairs. “What was that?” he whispered as they climbed the stairs.

“Dad is probably just watching football on TV. Do you wanna shower before bed?”

“Sure.”

“Okay, grab your stuff and I’ll show you how it works”

It didn’t take Kibum long to shower, and soon he was tucked between his blankets. Minho flicked off the light, accidentally bumping into the air mattress on his way to bed. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Beside him, there came a creak and a sigh, and Kibum glanced over to see that Minho had settled into bed. He stared at his silhouette for a second before he looked up at the stars on the ceiling. "Are...”

“Hmm?”

“Are those in constellations?”

Minho hummed his assent. “I tried, at least.”

“You did a good job.” There came a delayed thanks from the shadows to his right, a hint of a smile coloring Minho’s voice. “So,” Minho’s head turned on his pillow. “What have you told your family about me?” He glanced up when Minho turned on his side to face him.

“Everything, I guess.”

Kibum pulled his blankets up over his shoulder as looked at Minho. The moonlight softly lit the top of his head, the bridge of his nose, and the tips of his fingers peeking out from under his blanket. His face was still cloaked in shadow, but Kibum could feel his eyes on him. Kibum blinked, and the moonlight seemed to fade, if only slightly. “What -- “ he cleared his throat when his voice cracked. “What do you mean by ‘I guess’?”

Minho sighed, his fingers twitching around his blanket. “Everything I could remember, I guess. Like, how you helped me learn English in first year, and then again after my concussion.” He stretched a little as he yawned. “About that one time you almost fell through the lake. When you got sick but wouldn’t admit it...”

“I wasn’t sick. it was allergies.”

“Listen, Bummie, Pomfrey agreed with me so shush.”

“Whatever.” Kibum smiled, warmth blooming in his chest. He wrapped his arms around his pillow, hugging it. “What else?”

Minho yawned again. “I don’t know. Can’t remember. Mom does like you though, I think.”

Kibum’s brow furrowed. “Really?” It didn't necessarily seem like it.

He nodded against his pillow. “Something about...about liking that she knows that...there’s someone at school who cares about me...I think...” His voice grew quieter and quieter until it dropped off completely. Kibum listened to his steady breathing for a moment before he rolled onto his back.

It took him a little while to start to drift off -- being in a strange bed and all. Once he did, however, his throat became increasingly dry. Soon, he was wide awake because of it. With a quiet groan, he sat up, wrapping his blanket around him as he slowly got out of bed and shuffled to the door.

There was a light still on downstairs, stopping Kibum in his tracks. Was it just a nightlight or was someone still up? No, someone was still up, he could hear their voice. He started to descend the stairs, freezing when one of the steps creaked under his foot.

The voices quieted for a second, and a shadow passed over the open kitchen door before they spoke again. “It’s not like he’ll be here much longer,” Mrs. Choi said, her voice sounding like a tired sigh. “It’s just until the end of the week. And it’s not like you’ll be here often.”

Kibum slowly sat down on the step, wrapping his arms around himself. “I don’t want Minseok here either, then, you know, just in case. I’ll take him with me to work.”

“Of course.” Silence stretched between them for a moment. “He is Minho’s friend...I don’t think he’d do anything to harm us.”

“I guess.”

Kibum jumped when a hand grabbed his shoulder. He turned, expecting to see Minho behind him, but found Minseok instead. He gestured behind him, and crept back to his room, Kibum quietly following. He closed the door and flipped on the light once Kibum was inside.

“How much did you hear?” Minseok asked as he walked past him on his way to his bed.

Did he know? Kibum stared at him for a moment, searching his expression for any sort of clues. “Not much, but enough.”

“Yeah.” Minseok rubbed his hands over his face, sighing heavily.

“Is that why he always takes you with him to practice? Because of Minho?” When Minseok didn’t respond right away, Kibum went on. “Like, I know they were talking about me, but it sounds like what happened here last summer.”

Minseok looked up at him, his brow furrowing. “Minho told you about that?” More or less...Kibum nodded. “I think it is, even if Dad won’t admit it.”

Kibum let out a disdained huff before he sank to the floor, crossing his legs beneath him. “What the hell for?”

“I think, well, I think Dad is just, like, struggling with the idea that one of his sons is a wizard. It doesn’t help that Minho refuses to do magic to prove that he actually is a wizard -- “

“That’s against the law for us, though.”

“Right, that’s what he said.” Minseok sighed again. “I think just the fact -- that he’s magical -- really freaked Dad out...He doesn’t talk to me about it, but I’ve heard him say stuff to Mom when they think I can’t hear them.”

Kibum couldn’t help but ask, “What sort of stuff?”

Minseok started to speak, but quickly closed his mouth and averted his gaze, shaking his head. “I don’t remember.”

His hands fisted in his blankets, tugging it a little tighter around himself. “What do you think?” Kibum’s jaw clenched when Minseok met his eyes again. “About Minho? What do you think?”

“I don’t think he’s a freak, if that’s what you’re asking. Like not at all.” Kibum started to relax a little bit. “I wish I could go with him and see all the cool stuff he tells me about, but...yeah.”

Kibum nodded. He seemed nice enough and supportive of Minho, which was good. If Minho’s stories about Minseok were to be believed, he basically hung the sun in the sky. “I...I’m glad he has you to come home to.”

“And I’m glad you’re there for him at school.”

Kibum gave him a small smile before he stood and headed for the door. “Going to practice with your dad tomorrow?”

“Probably. Maybe.” Minseok smiled back. “I might try to stay home.”

“Okay.” Kibum closed the door behind him, tiptoeing down the hall to Minho’s room, his previous thirst forgotten. Carefully and quietly, he crept back into his bed and rolled on his side to face Minho. His hand laid limply off the bed, his thumb twitching occasionally.

It wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t fair that someone as sweet and kind and giving as Minho would have to come home to...to parents who can’t seem to accept a major part of who he was. He already knew this visit was going to be different when they started to plan it last year, but he wasn’t expecting this. He glanced past the tips of Minho’s fingers to where his face was hidden by the night.

“I know you’re asleep, buddy,” Kibum whispered. “But I want you to know that I’ll always be there for you. No matter what. I’ve got your back like you’ve got mine.” He glanced back at his hand, and after a second of thought, he hooked their pinkies together. “I promise.”

* - * - *

In the haze of early morning, Minho’s only warning was a slight clink. By the time his eyes had barely started to open, it was too late.

Ice cold water, followed by the ice cubes themselves, poured onto his neck and back. Minho’s eyes squeezed shut before he launched himself out of bed, tripping over the empty air mattress and falling onto the floor.

Looking up, he saw Minseok standing over his bed, drinking the rest of the water from the glass.

“Breakfast is ready.” He cackled and ran out the door when Minho threw his cleat at him. “Hurry up!” he called from the hall, his heavy footsteps thundering down the stairs.

Grumbling to himself, Minho took off his soaked shirt and tossed it into his hamper. He was about to go downstairs in just his shorts, but then he looked back at the empty air mattress. He could feel his face heat up as he looked around for a shirt of some kind, finding and pulling on one of his many hoodies and heading out the door. Before he went downstairs, however, he hurried to the bathroom, combing his hair into place with his fingers.

“Good morning!” he said as he walked through the doorway and into the kitchen.

Kibum looked up from the table, smiling brightly at him. “Morning!”

The TV was on in the living room, but Minho couldn’t tell what was playing. He scooped some slightly burnt scrambled eggs and a couple slices of bacon from the discarded pans around the kitchen and grabbed two of the frozen waffles from the toaster. “Where’s Mom?”

Kibum shrugged, and Minseok answered from the other room. “Dad took her out for breakfast!”

“Ahh.” Kibum was pouring him a glass of orange juice, and he slid it in front of the seat beside him as Minho came into the dining room. “Sleep okay?”

“Mmhm.” He took a sip of his own juice, his brow furrowing. “So I know that this isn’t pumpkin juice but it kinda looks like it and I’m each time I take a drink I’m surprised.” Minho almost snorted scrambled eggs out of his nose and Kibum patted his back as he coughed. “It wasn’t that funny.”

“It’s not you,” Minseok said as he went through the dining room to the kitchen. “He’s super giggly in the morning.”

“Oh really?”

Both of them turned to him, and Minho’s face felt like it was trying to spontaneously combust. “Leave me alone,” he muttered, trying not to laugh, as he gathered his plate and glass and tried to go hide in the living room. Oh great, Minseok had been watching Shrek...that never made him laugh. Minho situated himself in Dad’s armchair and continued eating his breakfast as Donkey tried to get out of Dragon’s clutches.

Kibum followed him into the room, stopping dead in his tracks as he stared at the TV. “What’s that?”

“You’ve never seen Shrek?” When Kibum shook his head, Minho scrambled for the remote, starting it all the way over. He hummed along to All-Star, and glanced over at Kibum. “This is the song the team listens to before a game.”

“Oh...”

Kibum sat in rapt attention of the movie, not even looking away from the screen when Mom and Dad got home. Minho started to get out of Dad’s chair when he walked into the living room, but he gestured for him to stay put. “Ready to go?” he asked Minseok.

“Can I stay home today?” Minho’s eyes widened as his gaze flicked from Dad to Minseok. “It’s not like I do much of anything when I’m there.”

“But you’re learning the entire time. How are you going to make it as a football player if you don’t learn from the professionals?”

Minho glanced back at Kibum, to check if his attention had shifted from Shrek to the conversation, but it hadn’t.

“It’s just one day. Is one day really gonna make that much of a difference?”

Dad’s jaw tightened and he met Minho’s eyes, seemingly surprised to find him watching. Minho quickly turned back to the TV, lounging as casually as possible in the armchair. “I’ll be late,” he said, kissing Mom’s cheek before he left the room.

In his peripheral vision, Minho saw Minseok visibly relax. When Dad’s car puttered away outside, Minho glanced over at his brother, smiling when he looked back.

Minho -- and Minseok, when he didn’t go with dad to work -- spent the next several days showing Kibum as many Muggle things as possible. It took him a couple of hours to get the hang of how to play video games, but he seemed to prefer to sit back and watch while Minho played.

Unsurprisingly, football, much like Quidditch, was not one of his interests, but he still joined them when he and Minseok went outside to pass the ball around the yard. He sat on the ground, picking at the grass while he chatted with Minho and Minseok. Sometimes, Minho got too involved in their discussion that he forgot to pass the ball back.

One afternoon, when Kibum went inside for a minute to make himself some tea, Minseok called him over. “What’s up with you?”

Minho frowned, confused. “What do you mean?”

“You’re acting like the guys do at school when the girls come to watch us play.” Minho blinked, averting his eyes when his face started to heat up. “It’s only Kibum.”

“I know.”

Minseok lightly kicked the ball back and forth before he kicked it up with his toe. He caught it and tossed it against Minho’s chest, who then caught it. “Pass it back,” he said, gesturing for him to return to his spot across the yard.

Minho started walking back, looking up when the sliding glass door opened and Kibum stepped out, a mug in hand.

One Muggle activity that Kibum really did seem to enjoy was watching TV, specifically movies. The Chois had never really had that big of a movie collection, but Mom had a soft spot for Studio Ghibli movies, so they had a bunch of those. After they had watched Howl’s Moving Castle, Kibum wanted to watch them all, and Minho was more than happy to oblige him.

One night, as they were trying to fall asleep, Kibum whispered, “You know what? I think Miyasaki is a wizard.”

Minho smiled as he glanced over at Kibum’s silhouette. “I think you’re right.”

Most nights, after Mom and Dad thought they had all gone to bed, Minseok would come into Minho’s room and he would ask them questions about Hogwarts and they would regale him with stories about their experience so far. It was nice for him to be able to talk freely about school at home, but it was also fun to watch Kibum get to talk about it, too.

His eyes would light up with each new question that Minseok had for them, and his voice got really fast as he tried to pack as much information -- relative to the question or not -- into each of his answers.

Had Kibum always had dimples? They seemed to be showing up more and more as his visit continued and he felt more comfortable with Minseok...maybe Minho just didn’t notice before.

“Minho, is something wrong?”

“Hm, what?” He blinked, meeting Kibum’s eye as the dimple on his cheek disappeared.

Kibum snorted and Minseok laughed. “You’ve just been staring at me.”

“Sorry, I, uh, I was trying to remember the, uh, wand motions for the spell you were referring to.”

“Petrificus Totalus?”

Sure. Whatever.

Kibum grabbed a licorice wand from the pile of candy he got out of his satchel and did the motion, and Minho nodded, taking the licorice from him and eating it with a grin when Kibum rolled his eyes.

On Kibum’s last night in the Choi household, Minho and Kibum decided to share some Bertie Bott’s beans with Minseok, but not tell him the secret. Kibum poured the entire box into his hand, dividing them evenly between the three of them. He passed Minho’s his with a quick wink.

“Oh, these are just jelly beans,” Minseok said, popping one into his mouth.

When he did not react right away, Minho let out a pent-up breath. “Yeah,” Kibum said as he nonchalantly picked through his. “I didn’t know you guys had them, too.”

Minseok scoffed. “Where’d you think you guys got the idea from?” he asked as he popped a mottled brown bean in his mouth. Dirt...Minho bit his lip to keep from laughing. Minseok grimaced as he chewed and shivered as he swallowed before he grabbed a bright green one. Vomit. Minho saw Kibum start to look toward him and he made himself turn away. “What the fuck?” he sputtered, spitting out the remnants for the bean.

All three were laughing so hard that Dad had to come upstairs to tell them to quiet down and go to bed. After Minseok left the room, they could hear him brushing his teeth for five straight minutes. Both Minho and Kibum couldn’t stop giggling, especially after Minho tried to sober himself enough to say, “It’s not that funny.”

Morning came all too soon, unfortunately.

It wasn’t even nine in the morning by the time Mom had he and Kibum out the door and on the way to the train station. It was stupid to be sad that he wouldn’t be around the house anymore. It had only been a week, but Minho had grown rather accustomed to being with Kibum night and day.

His room would feel so empty, now.

“Got all your stuff?” Mom asked Kibum, who nodded.

All three of them piled out of the car and headed inside, Minho and Kibum hanging back while Mom paid for his ticket with the money Grandma sent.

“I’m gonna miss you,” Minho wanted to say, but he held his tongue. Instead, he clasped his hands behind his back, knocking shoulders with Kibum and grinning when he acted affronted. “I’m coming over in two weeks, right?”

“That’s the plan, so I certainly hope so.” Kibum’s smiled dimmed slightly when Mom started back toward them, handing Kibum his ticket. “Thank you for letting me stay with you, Mrs. Choi.”

“You’re welcome, Kibum. It was no trouble at all.”

He nodded, glancing between the two of them before he waved goodbye to Minho with a dimpled smile. As Kibum started to walk away, Mom’s arm rested across Minho’s shoulder, and she guided him toward the exit. He looked back for one last glimpse of Kibum, but he was already gone.

* - * - *

“Do you think we’ll make it in time?”

Kibum’s grip tightened on the handle as the Knight Bus made a rapid turn around a corner. He and Grandma had set out for Nottingham Station about five minutes ago, which was about twenty minutes later than they were expecting. Mrs. Prue, one of their neighbors, came over to get a couple pinches of powdered unicorn horn from Grandma’s store and the two ended up talking for much longer than Kibum would have liked.

Minho’s train was supposed to be in at noon, and it was ten till that when Grandma hailed the Knight Bus.

“I’m sure we will, sweetheart. And if not, it’s not the end of the world.”

He pouted a little as he peeked outside at the blur of the passing scenery. The bus stopped three more times -- either to let passengers off or on -- before they reached Nottingham Station. Once it came to a stop, Grandma grabbed Kibum’s sleeve before he could bolt for the exit. “Why don’t you go get him and come right back? That way we don’t have to wait for the bus again.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She stood, following him to the door so she could speak to the driver and the shrunken head and ask them to wait for a moment.

Once his feet hit the pavement, Kibum took off toward the entrance, scanning the crowd once he was inside. He was about to call out for Minho, but then he saw him coming out of the restroom. He waved with he spotted Kibum, jogging around people to meet him by the door.

“Hey,” Minho said once he reached him, his voice a little breathless.

“Hi.” He grinned and Kibum couldn’t help but follow suit, but before he got too distracted -- “We gotta go, the bus is waiting.”

“Oh, shit, okay.” He followed Kibum out the door, running across the sidewalk to where the Knight Bus sat idling.

“Took ya long enough!” the shrunken head said when they hurried up the steps.

Minho gasped, grabbing the back of Kibum’s shirt as he stared open-mouthed at the shrunken head. Kibum pulled him along before the head could say anything sarcastic, leading him to where Grandma sat on one of the only bolted down seats on the entire bus. He set his backpack down on the ground before he greeted her with a hug.

“How have you been, darling?” she asked as he sat beside her -- on a non-bolted down seat. Kibum suppressed a smile as he held onto the strap before them.

“Good. What about you, Grandma?”

Any possible conversation from Minho died when the bus jolted forward, swerving madly around in the Muggle traffic on its way out of the Nottingham Station parking lot. By the time they reached home, Minho was clinging to the closest bar for dear life. “Come on, buddy,” Kibum said with a laugh, patting his arm to remind Minho to let go.

They helped Grandma inside and Minho dropped his backpack at the door as he slipped off his shoes, staring at the inside of Kibum’s home with bright-eyed amazement.

The walls were painted a rich mustard, but ivy from the potted plants in the living room crept along the walls and the ceiling, twisting around the banister leading upstairs. Handwoven rugs lined the hall, and Kibum followed him down to the kitchen, both sitting at the counter as Grandma put a kettle on.

“Your house feels like the common room!”

She smiled at Minho as she started making three teabags. “That’s what Kibum said.”

Kibum’s eyes widened when Minho stiffened beside him. He cleared his throat. “When did Jjong’s mom say he’d be done with his guitar lessons?”

“Not sure. I think she said 1 o’clock. Need something, dear?” Kibum glanced over at Minho, who was staring at the icebox.

“I’m really thirsty.” She nodded and moved to get him a glass and fill it from the sink next to the icebox. He drank it in one drink, swallowing thickly. “Would you like more?” she asked as the kettle started to sing.

“I can get it.” He hopped off the chair and went around the counter to pour himself another glass. “Oh, hey, that’s us!” Minho gestured to the polaroids posted on the icebox. He sipped the water and inspected the pictures as Grandma poured their tea behind him. His hand froze in front of one -- at this distance, Kibum couldn’t tell which on it was -- and when Grandma had set their tea on the counter, it was gone and Minho was back in his seat.

Minho started at the sound of the phone ringing, which was rather loud compared to the sound of his mom’s cell phone. Grandma was quick to answer it. “Oh, Sandra, hello!”

Really? Mrs. Prue again? Sighing, Kibum looked over at Minho. “This’ll take a while.”

“Can we take the tea to your room?”

“Oh, yeah! Grab your stuff and I’ll show you where it is.”

Minho followed Kibum to his room, closing the door behind him as soon as he stepped inside. “So, this is it,” Kibum said, gesturing to the small room.

It was a little smaller than Minho’s bedroom, or maybe it just felt that way with how much more stuff Kibum had stuffed in his room. Grandma had charmed the bed to stretch to a queen size, so they could share it instead of making Minho sleep on the very uncomfortable couch downstairs. All along the walls hung the many polaroids from their first two years at school, as well as prints from around the world that Mom took for work. He glanced back at Minho to see his reaction, but found him staring at the polaroid in his hands.

Kibum’s heart sank. If it was the one he took from off the icebox... “I can explain.”

Minho met his eyes, his mouth twisted in a sort of frown. He moved past him to the bed, dropping his backpack at the foot before he sat down. When he tossed the polaroid to the side, Kibum joined him on the bed, picking up the picture. Yup, it was his favorite from his stay in the Hufflepuff dorm, when he was bugging Minho in the common room while he was reading.

“I thought you said you weren’t gonna show her any of these,” he said, his voice quiet.

“I...wasn’t planning on it, but...”

“But, what? You couldn’t help it?”

Kibum’s brow furrowed. “Don’t take that tone with me, you don’t understand.”

“Really? I don’t?”

“You’re family aren’t...” He stopped, shutting his mouth quickly. The door downstairs opened and closed, both of them distracted by the noise. Kibum went to his closet door, opening it and nodding for Minho to get inside. His brow furrowed in utter confusion but he stepped inside and Kibum followed him in, mostly closing the door behind him. “I just don’t want us to be overheard.”

“Mm.” For a moment, the only sound in the closet was their quiet breathing, but Minho soon broke the silence. “I know I’m just a Muggle-born -- “

Kibum squeezed his eyes shut. “Minho, I didn’t mean -- “

“ -- so I don’t understand what it means to be a legacy or whatever at Hogwarts, but I do know you.” Kibum opened his eyes, meeting Minho’s gaze. “It’s gotta be eating you up inside, not being truthful with her. How much longer are you gonna put yourself through this...this stress?”

"I...don't know." Sighing, Kibum shook his head. “You...you won’t tell her this week, will you?”

“Of course not.” Kibum slumped back, his head knocking back against the wall. “It’s not my secret to tell. I won’t mention it again once we step outside the closet.”

“Thank you. And Min?” He glanced at him, his eyebrows raising in question. “I’m sorry for even implying that...because you’re Muggle-born...you...”

Minho’s expression softened. “It’s okay, Bummie, I know you didn’t mean it like that.” He opened his arms and pulled Kibum into a hug. “Are we good?” he mumbled into Kibum’s shoulder.

“Yea -- “

Both froze when Kibum’s bedroom door opened. “Ki?” Oh, it was only Jonghyun. “Grandma said you guys would be up...here...” He opened the ajar closet door, looking up at both of them in bewilderment. “What the hell are you guys doing?”

Slowly, Minho dropped his arms from around Kibum and Kibum took a step back. Minho shrugged and shook his head while Kibum said, “You mean you don’t often hug your friends in closets?”

Jonghyun snorted. “Well, I mean, yeah,” he said as he stepped inside the closet to give Kibum and then Minho a quick hug. “So, what's up, guys?”

* - * - *

Minho felt sort of stupid, now.

He had been quite nervous -- and he kept it from Kibum -- about seeing Jonghyun again. They had only seen each other for maybe ten whole minutes last summer, and, yeah they had gotten along for those ten minutes, but he was here for a full week.

Being greeted with a warm smile and hug? Almost totally eradicated his nervousness, which was a relief. After about a minute of him talking about his music lesson, his eyes widened. “Oh my god, I forgot! Follow me!”

Minho glanced at Kibum, who looked equally confused, and they both followed him downstairs and out the door. Jonghyun had the backyard gate open and closed it behind them. “What are we doing, Jj -- “

“Wait, wait!” He called out behind him, and ran through the back door.

“What do you think it is?” Minho whispered.

“Could be either really good or really stupid. Last time it was a kazoo he found in the street.” Minho couldn’t help but laugh. It wasn’t long before Jonghyun rejoin them outside, a gray and black speckled puppy writhing in his arms in an effort to lick his chin. Kibum gasped, hurrying to meet him and pet the puppy’s head with the tips of her fingers. “I love him.”

“Her.”

“Her. What’s her name?”

“Byulroo.“

Kibum frowned. “Why call her that? It seems rude.”

"We found her in a box on the side of the read on the way home from my lesson. Mom said something like: ‘Oh, that’s really not good,’ and she sorta yipped after that so that’s what I decided to name her.”

Minho held his hand still as she licked his fingers. “She’s so cute.”

“Isn’t she?” Jonghyun grinned up at him before looking back at Byulroo. “You’re so precious. I love you so much.” He cleared his throat, his voice switching from baby-talk to back to normal. “What are we doing today?”

Both Minho and Jonghyun looked at Kibum. “Not sure, but Mom will be home soon and we’re planning on going to Diagon Alley because I need new robes.” He glanced between them. “Other than that, I don’t know.”

“Mind if I come with?”

Kibum looked over at Minho, who gave him the slightest nod. “Sure, if you want, I don’t mind.”

It didn’t take long before Kibum’s mom came home. She found them rather easily, as all three were...loudly giddy at Byulroo’s -- or Roo, as Jonghyun had nicknamed her -- presence. The tiny puppy was soon safely inside with Jonghyun’s mom and sister and the boys were all tucked into the back seat of Kibum’s mom’s car.

On the way to The Leaky Cauldron, Minho and Kibum silently agreed to torment Jonghyun, who had the misfortune of sitting in the middle of the back seat. Kibum kept poking his side, nodding for Minho to do the same after a moment. By the time they reached the pub, Jonghyun had trapped both of their hands in his, tightening his grip when either of them tried to make a move against him.

The lanes between the shops of Diagon Alley were bustling with the back to school crowd, so the boys huddled behind Mrs. Kim as she led them to Madam Malkin’s. When she stepped inside, Kibum turned to them. “Hey, if you want to wait with me, that’s fine, but if you want to look around that’s fine, too.”

Jonghyun patted Minho’s back. “We’ll look around.”

“Meet us at Fortescue’s, I think.”

“Will do.” Kibum nodded, turning around and heading inside. “Do you have all of your school shopping done?” Jonghyun asked once the door swung shut.

“Yeah, Mom and I came once we got the list.”

“Ah.” Both were quiet for a moment. For Minho’s part, he was feeling slightly awkward at being alone with Jonghyun for the first time. It was probably the same for Jonghyun. He stepped back from the stairs as Jonghyun descended them.

“Do...do you miss Hogwarts?” Minho asked as they started walking down the lane.

“Well,” Jonghyun said, drawing out the word. “Yes and no. I wish I could be there with you two because I feel like that’d be so much fun. And I really got along well with Flitwick -- my head of house.”

“Oh, right! Kibum mentioned that you were in Ravenclaw.”

Jonghyun smiled fondly. “Yeah. But I really like Beauxbatons, too. And since I’ve been there longer, it feels more like home than Hogwarts does.”

“Have you learned any French?”

“Oui,” he said with a quick wink, and Minho grinned, turning to hide his slight blush. “My new house is Merprin, which is basically the equivilent of Ravenclaw over there.”

Jonghyun answered any questions Minho had about the differences between the schools as they walked in and out of shops, not paying much mind to which shops they walked into. Much to both their surprise, they were soon assaulted by an overwhelming concoction of perfumes and incense.

“Oh god,” Jonghyun muttered and Minho sneezed twice before the left the shop. “So, that reminds me...one time PJ -- PIerre, one of the roommates I mentioned -- decided to douse Vincent’s pillow in his sister’s perfume.”

“Oh no...”

“Yeah, our room stunk for days, it was bad.”

“I can imagine. One time,” he held back a laugh at the memory. “One time Taemin, one of my friends back in Korea, came to school with a mustache drawn on his face in permanent marker. His older brother did it when he was sleeping.”

“Did he know?”

“Not until second period.”

“Oh my god. Wait...” he stopped, grabbing the sleeve of Minho’s shirt to make him stop, too. “That gives me an idea.” He explained on his way to the ice cream parlor, but it sounded like all they would need to prank Kibum one of these nights was some of Sodam’s new lipstick. “You like chocolate?” Minho nodded, and Jonghyun stepped inside as he gestured for him to wait outside.

Minho settled into one of the chairs, letting out a sigh as he watched the crowd. He spotted Travis and Tanner going into the broomstick shop, but they didn’t see him.

It was nice getting to know Jonghyun. Based on all of Kibum’s stories, he almost sure that he would like him a lot, but he was happy and even relieved that that was turning out to be the case. He searched the lane and soon found Madam Malkin’s shop. As much fun as he was having with Jonghyun, he was looking forward to Kibum’s return.

“Here you go!” Minho looked up at the sound of Jonghyun’s sing-song voice, smiling when he saw the proffered chocolate milkshake.

“Thanks.” Jonghyun sat across from him, sipping happily at his own strawberry milkshake while Minho pulled his straw out and licked the whipped cream off of it before sticking it back in. He glanced over at Jonghyun when he felt his eyes on him, his expression surprisingly sober. “What is it?”

“There’s, uh, something I want to say...and...now that I know you a little better, I think I can.” Minho gulped, dread settling in his chest. Jonghyun continued. “I don’t know how much Kibum has told you about his...well, I don’t want to call it ‘his past’ because that sounds a little weird but that’s what it is. Anyways, I don’t know how much he’s said, but it hasn’t exactly been easy for him.”

“Right.”

“Like,” he paused to drink more of his shake, “He’s moved around a lot and because of that it’s hard for him to keep whatever friendships had. You won’t tell him I told you this -- “ Minho shook his head. “ -- but when he found out that I would be in France during the school year because of my parents' divorce, he cried. Several times, I think.”

“Oh, no...”

“He tried to keep it from me, but the day before I left, he was helping me pack and he started to tear up when he asked me to remember to write to him. Grandma says he has problems with feeling abandoned.”

Minho looked down at his straw before he took a long sip. Maybe that was part of why he kept lying to Grandma about being in Slytherin...because he thought she’d abandon him. It would make sense.

“I’m saying all that to, well, thank you, I guess.”

“Thank me?”

“For being such a great friend to him. God, I can’t tell you how many goddamn letters I’ve gotten where he’s telling me about all the stupid stuff you two do together.” Both of them chuckled, and Minho kept sipping his shake. “He deserves only the best, so I’m glad he has you.”

“And you.”

“Yes, well, that goes without saying.” Minho almost spit his milkshake out and Jonghyun laughed loudly, turning the heads of the people walking into the ice cream parlor.

“What’s so funny?” Kibum asked, Minho jumping at his seemingly sudden reappearance. When neither Minho nor Jonghyun answered immediately, he gestured for Minho to pass him his shake. “Did you guys have fun?” he asked in between sips.

Jonghyun met Minho’s eyes with a smile. “Yeah, we did.”

When they got home, Jonghyun left them to go back to his house. Grandma had dinner practically ready by the time they stepped inside, and Kibum joined her in the kitchen to get the dishes to set the table. Minho straightened his and Kibum’s shoes by the door before he hurried to help him.

Each meal Grandma made during Minho’s visit either reminded him of being back in Korea or being back at Hogwarts.

In the days that followed, Minho and Kibum -- and sometimes Jonghyun -- helped Grandma tend to her backyard garden. The first time Minho saw it, he stood on the porch in awe for a second before Kibum pulled him along with a laugh. It almost looked as though one of the greenhouses at school had been transplanted here in Nottingham.

Apparently, Grandma supplied ingredients to the apothecary in Diagon Alley, which is why Mrs. Prue was over as often as she was since she was one of the healers on staff there.

There were plants there that Minho didn’t recognize, but luckily Grandma sat out on the porch, very much willing to answer any questions he or Kibum may have had while she knitted. Somedays, she let them be, leaving at the appearance of Mrs. Kim.

One day, when Jonghyun was over to help them, Grandma and Mrs. Kim were about to leave. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she told them with a wink.

All three of them nodded, but Kibum waited until the door was closed behind her to say, “Sprout told me a lot of stories. We have more leeway than you might think.”

After dinner most nights, Minho and Kibum took turns showering before they went to bed. Once the lights were out and they were tucked in, they discussed the coming year and how excited they were about the prospect of having different choices for electives.

“I’m thinking about taking Muggle Studies,” Kibum said one night, and Minho hummed in response. “What, don’t you think it’ll be interesting?”

“I mean, probably, but what would I learn from that?”

“True.” He glanced over to where Kibum laid but saw only darkness. “I mean, I guess we don’t have to take the same electives. At least one, I think, if you want.”

“Divination?”

Kibum snorted. “That works. Which other one do you want to take?”

“My dad said I had to take Arithmancy, since that’s the closest one to math which makes it practical.”

“Hm. Good luck with that.”

Minho chuckled. “Thanks.”

One of the nights, closer to the end of Minho’s visit, Jonghyun invited them over to have a camp out in his backyard, complete with the Muggle treats s’mores -- “That’s what they’re called, right?” Minho nodded, amused. Jonghyun’s mom, the other Mrs. Kim, trapped a flame in a jar for them to roast their marshmallows with before she left them to their own devices.

Once the s'mores were eaten and the flame was extinguished, they laid huddled together, reading their fortunes in the stars through the clear ceiling of Jonghyun’s tent. They started out sort of serious, but it soon turned into them concocting the wildest stories for each other just to make the others laugh.

Kibum was the first to fall asleep, his head lolling over to rest on Minho’s shoulder. Minho froze, glancing up at Jonghyun when he pulled a tube of lipstick out of his shorts pocket. He continued to hold still for several minutes, to make sure that Kibum really was asleep, before he nodded. Jonghyun drew all over Kibum’s face as gently as he could, so as to not wake him up, before he passed it over to Minho.

“Your turn.”

Red was streaked all over Kibum’s face, his lips smeared into a terrifying smile. To be quite honest, there really wasn’t anywhere else to draw. Except...Minho carefully uncapped the lipstick with one hand and drew a small circle on the tip of Kibum’s nose.

“Perfect.”

When morning came, Minho was woken to a pillow hitting him in the face. Kibum stood over him, his face and hands stained red in an attempted to clean off the lipstick. The pillow in his hands poised to hit him again. And hit him again it did when Minho burst out laughing.

“It was...Jonghyun’s idea!” he yelled between smacks.

“You swear?”

“I promise.”

Kibum started to turn away, but paused. “Did you draw any of it?”

Minho’s eyes widened and he pointed to the tip of his nose. He half-yelled, half-laughed when Kibum hit him with the pillow again before he ran back inside. Minho quickly wrapped himself up in his blanket, shuffling after him into the house to help him.

Or Jonghyun.

He hadn’t decided yet.

* - * - *

Heat, as well as the smells of pumpkin and warm spices, radiated from the kitchen. Kibum wiped away the sweat on his brow, internally reminding himself that his current discomfort would be worth it, in the end.

It was Minho’s last full day there, so Grandma was giving him a first-hand lesson on how she makes pumpkin pasties.

Kibum turned the page of his book, humming to himself. Really, he wasn’t all that focused on the book -- the page was nothing but a blur of black and white -- he was just trying to distract himself. Looking away from the book and into the kitchen, he saw a very concentrated Minho rolling out the dough, flour dusted across his chin and cheeks and hair.

He smiled to himself as he tried to refocus on his book, only to be distracted again by the front door opening and closing.

Jonghyun dropped into the armchair across from him, the discarded copies of a week’s worth of Daily Prophet’s crinkling beneath him. “Wanna do something?”

“Nah, I’m reading.”

Jonghyun glanced down at the book, smirking. “It’s upside down, genius.”

Kibum blushed to the tips of his ears as he flipped the book right side up. “Don’t you have Roo to play with?”

“Mom took her to get shots or something.”

There came a clatter from the kitchen, and Kibum looked over to find just Grandma standing there. Minho popped up a second later, rolling pin in hand. “Maybe you should just roll it out,” he said.

“No, honey, you’ve got to learn this for yourself.”

Kibum glanced back at Jonghyun before focusing on his book again, only to do a double take and stare at him. His chin was resting on his hands, and he let out a long sigh with a dreamy sort of smile as he fluttered his eyelashes at Kibum.

He blinked once, twice, before he lowered his voice to a whisper. “What the...fuck are you doing?”

“What? Is this not how friends look at each other? With soft adoration?”

Kibum’s face was ablaze, he knew it and he knew Jonghyun could see it, judging by his growing smile. “Soft adoration? Did you learn that in your creative writing class?”

“Maybe so. Doesn’t make it not true for you, though.” Kibum rolled his eyes and went back to re-reading the same sentence for the fifth time.

He made it through a full two pages by the time the pumpkin pasties were ready to eat. Minho brought one in for them both and waited anxiously for them to eat theirs. Kibum ate his quickly, despite it being too warm, savoring it as much as he could.

“This turned out really good. Good job, Min,” Jonghyun said before he directed a pointed stare at Kibum.

“Yeah,” Kibum said, clearing his throat. “Really good.”

Minho beamed at them both, and Kibum looked back down at his book with a sigh.

The next day dawned too soon, taking Minho away on the early morning train. Kibum stared out the window of the Knight Bus. “See you soon!” Minho had said when he let him go before he started to walk away.

“Yeah, in five weeks.”

Minho turned back around, his smile reaching his eyes. “That’s still soon.”

Kibum imagined the blur of the scenery was the train that Minho was on, and he couldn’t help but wish that they lived a little closer. Regardless, school would be here before he knew it, so he might as well enjoy the rest of summer while it lasted.

* - * - *

A/N: Guess what today is?? It's a year since I posted the very first chapter of this fic! Which is crazy to think about. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed the chapter ^^

#minkey #shinee fic #shineefics #shinee au #shinee #hogwarts!minkey au #ff: by my side #my writing #mine #and so begins Kibum and Minseok's 'you love Minho too so you're acceptable in my eyes' friendship #Minseok pouring ice water on Minho? a legit way i woke up my little brother #(he snapped my eyelids until i woke up the day before so....payback's a bitch mf'er)#ye that's right they're watching Shrek sue me (pls don't)#it's comedy gold and an international treasure #the Choi family dynamics are fascinating to me #this will be fun #also Minseok has done nothing wrong ever in his life ever i love him #Miyasaki is absolutely and inspiration to me and I love him and his work #which is why i mention Ghibli films so often in fics lol #but straight up.....ye he was a wizard he absolutely went to the Japanese wizarding school #me: i'm not looking forward to writing this argument (about Kibum lying about Slytherin)#also me: yeah so it's more of a mild and brief disagreement because even in fiction you can't handle confrontation #lmao #btw @ Megan: whenever they call each other 'buddy' they're calling each other 'chingu' in Korean...i might write it in at some point but ye #I hope I did Jonghyun justice #okay so not perfect as always and it's so fucking long #so sorry but i'm tired and tired of looking at it so here you go lol #idk it just feels slightly rushed to me but hopefully y'all enjoyed it

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newmusickarl · 3 years

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Album & EP Recommendations

Hello My Beautiful World by Holy Holy

If you are not familiar with Australian outfit Holy Holy, the brainchild of singer-songwriter Timothy Carroll and guitarist/composer Oscar Dawson, then you have truly been missing out. Having debuted with the impressive, rock-centric When The Storms Would Come, the band developed their sound further on sophomore effort Paint, before then freely experimenting on their last album, My Own Pool of Light. However, all that has simply been building up to this fourth album, which for my money is easily their strongest, most accomplished work to date.

With this new record, Holy Holy sound completely confident and firmly in control as they expand their already adventurous sound into exciting and utterly majestic new directions. Across the 14 tracks here, there are three glorious musical centrepieces in particular, that even come complete with epic, instrumental Codas (The Aftergone, I.C.U. and So Tired). There is also the band’s first foray into hip hop on the Queen P. featuring track Port Rd, as well as the beautiful spoken word piece that marks the album’s title track, something you can listen to above. The musicianship on display here is just amazing, with each track harbouring a sumptuous melody that is backdropped by stunning strings, soaring guitars, and mesmerising electronica.

I really can’t stress enough how much I was blown away by this album. Best thing I can do is simply recommend that you press play on opener Believe Anything (with its catchy chorus of “La, La, Las”, big bassline, wonderfully buzzy guitars and gorgeous strings) and then just enjoy the sonic journey from there – you won’t be disappointed. I know I have already said this about a lot of albums this year, but I think this is another strong favourite.

Listen here

Infinite Granite by Deafheaven

I said a few weeks back that my anticipation for this record had reached fever pitch, so I am glad to firstly report that this album fully delivers on the hype. Now I know there was also a lot of talk in the build-up to this album, from myself included, about how this record is shaping up to be a huge departure in sound for post-metal outfit Deafheaven. The preview singles rightly suggested they were ramping up the clean vocals and moving away from their “blackgaze” roots towards a more distinctive alternative rock sound. However, having now listened to the record several times over this week, I’m not entirely sure that the change is that radical at all.

Like many, Sunbather was the album that introduced me to the mesmerising sound of Deafheaven, that wonderful mix of beauty and horror captivating me straight away on what remains one of my favourite metal albums of the last 10 years. However even on that record, which was predominantly black metal, there was still passages of melodic guitar textures and dreamy shoegaze just like there is here. All Deafheaven have really done is push the metal back and brought those elements further forward, something they were already starting to do to on their last album Ordinary Corrupt Human Love. This definitely isn’t a criticism though, as I’ve always loved that side to their sound. The good news is as well for those that were still hoping the metal elements and scream vocals hadn’t been completely abandoned, the thunderous climax to Villain and second half of eight-minute closer Mombasa should still satisfy old school fans.

For the album itself, this is undoubtedly another masterful work from Deafheaven, which although slightly different is up there with both Sunbather and New Bermuda. It also contains a lot of their best work to date, with recent single In Blur still standing out amongst the pack with its near-anthemic chorus of “What does daylight look like in this chaos of cold?” and it’s really scintillating guitar work.

The Gnashing is another standout - built around a vocal not a million miles away from Interpol’s Paul Banks at times, the song wonderfully builds towards a crescendo of, as the title suggests, some seriously biting guitar riffs. That said though, lead single Great Mass of Color remains one of my favourite tracks of the year so far, with its completely hypnotic guitar melody and distant vocals that gently glide across your ears before eventually erupting into a swarm of heavy guitars and screamy vocals for the triumphant finale. If anything, it’s the perfect combination of Deafheaven’s old and new sound.

Just like Holy Holy, this is an incredible body of work and another Q3 contender for my annual Albums of the Year list.

Listen here

After Midnight by Lola Young

Just a couple of weekends ago, I was introduced to soul singer Lola Young through watching her sensational performance at 110 Above Festival. With her incredible voice and natural charisma, it seems obvious to me that the 20-year-old is destined for big things in the future. This instinct was further solidified this week through listening to her brilliant new 4 track EP, probably one of my favourite short-plays of the year so far.

Across the four tracks, Young navigates the emotion and heartbreak that comes connected with a familiar late-night hook-up, cataloguing the events from the drunken walk back home after a night out to the haze of the sun coming up at 5am the next morning. It’s tightly packaged but at the same time incredibly raw, with Young laying out her vulnerability across some sparse live production, centred around her powerful voice and a simple piano backing. It all makes for quite a stunning and resonant 15 minutes, showing that Lola Young is most definitely a superstar in the making.

Listen here

Solar Power by Lorde

Although Deafheaven might have been my most anticipated record of the week, I think it’s safe to say the world has been awaiting this new album from Lorde ever since the end of the Melodrama cycle. Like many, I thoroughly enjoyed that record however I must say the lead single to this new album hadn’t really captured me in the same way Green Light had in 2017.

With that being the case, I wasn’t sure if this album was going to be for me or not. That doubt soon disappeared though the moment the strum of the folky guitars on opener The Path kicked in, putting my mind immediately at ease. With talent the calibre of Phoebe Bridgers and Clairo providing the background vocals, it is a truly magnificent start and easily my favourite track on the entire record. From there plenty of highlights keep coming, with the bluesy riffs of Fallen Fruit and the sun-soaked meanderings of closer Oceanic Feeling also standing out.

Although beyond The Path I can’t see me returning to this album as much as I did Melodrama, I think the intriguing change of sound Lorde goes for here makes it still worthy of a recommendation.

Listen here

Saturday Night, Sunday Morning by Jake Bugg

Being from Nottingham, I also couldn’t overlook the new album from singer-songwriter Jake Bugg this week, who has once again found his form on this his fifth studio album. Featuring some noticeably glossier production and a bit more of a pop feel, this is Jake’s most consistent record for a while, one I found myself quite enjoying from start-to-finish. To pick just a couple of highlights, dancefloor-ready single Lost with its disco flair and suitably catchy chorus, along with the piano-driven, string-tinged lament of Downtown stand out the most.

Listen here

Tomorrow’s People by Shire T

Elsewhere, Chris Davids - one half of electronic duo Maribou State - released his first solo album this week. Continuing exactly where the band left off with their incredible sophomore album Kingdoms In Colour, the record is an enchanting mix of more traditional sounds, styles and influences from across the globe, juxtaposed nicely against modern synths and beats. It is a great listen and, in many ways, the perfect companion piece to that Kingdoms In Colour record. If you’re a fan of that album, I guarantee you’ll love this one too!

Listen here

Tracks of the Week

Life Is Not The Same by James Blake

The second taste of James Blake’s forthcoming fifth album is a haunting, at times uncomfortable tale of heartbreak, with some fascinating production and a stunning, emotive vocal performance from Blake himself.

Listen here

Carbon Mono by Boston Manor

Coming quickly off the back of their 2020 third album Glue, Blackpool rockers Boston Manor made their seismic return this week with arguably their most anthemic single to date, built on buzzy guitar riffs, glitchy synths and polished production.

Listen here

#holy holy #hello my beautiful world #deafheaven #infinite granite #lorde #solar power #lola young #after midnight #james blake #boston manor #jake bugg #shire t #maribou state #best new music #album of the week #tracks of the week #new music

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thisisamadhouse · 7 years

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OQ Prompt Party Sunday

For the final day of @oqpromptparty here is my 7th contribution. This one is the first part of my second chapter for Join us in the shadows my DOQ Mafia AU. Hopefully I can post the whole thing later today or tomorrow. This is a response to prompt #56. One is a killer/Criminal the other one is trying to catch him/her.

Regina Mills has always been a light sleeper. She guesses it comes from her upbringing, it wasn’t rare to have strange visitors showing up at all hours of the night at the Mills Manor, and, more often than not, Regina’s eyes would pop open and she would strain her ears to catch snippets of conversations between her parents and their latest guest.

So when either of her lovers so much as shifts, she feels it and her peaceful slumber becomes a distant memory. Out of the two, it usually is Robin, Mal only needs some body heat to fall into a 7 to 8-hours coma.

He stirs some more, and she feels the chest she uses as a pillow expand as he sighs.

“You’re thinking again,” she whispers, mindful of the still blissfully unaware blonde on his other side.

His breath catches as he realizes she is awake, and despite her closed eyes, Regina can clearly picture him wincing in apology.

“I’m sorry, my mind just won’t shut down tonight,” he murmurs, drawing random patterns along her satin covered side with the tips of his fingers, making her shiver pleasantly.

“What is it?” She asks, tilting her head back slightly, and finally opening her eyes to study him.

“Sometimes I wonder how I ended up being so lucky, and I’m afraid to wake up one day and find out it was all a dream,” he replies, and he looks so positively stricken by the mere idea that the snort she was about to let out at his cheesy words dies down in her throat.

“What on Earth made you think about this at two a.m?” She wonders, bewildered, bringing her hand from its resting place above his heart to cup his jaw and turn his head towards her.

“I think about it most nights to be quite honest,” he admits, smiling wistfully at her, and she is taken aback.

“You never said anything,” she breathes out, her thumb gently stroking his cheek, enjoying the way his stubble grazes her skin as he nuzzles into her touch. He normally prefers to be clean-shaven, but sometimes they are able to convince him to indulge them.

“I was afraid to jinx it. After all why would two bold, stunning women like you keep a lowly thief like me around?” He looks down at himself with a vague gesture of his hand, his face twisting in a grimace. “Especially given how I found myself involved with you.”

He believes it, Regina thinks, startled, he really believes he is not good enough.

“Probably because, most days, you’re the one person able to keep us sane. I don’t know if you realized it but, before you came along, our moral compass had been pretty much thrown out the window,” she tells him lightly, hoping that some humour will help get him out of this funk, though the events she refers to, when he started working for them, are anything but humorous.

She knows he can’t have forgotten the smell of burned flesh and the dying screams as he had stood by after they had doused Sydney with gasoline, her former closest associate who had betrayed them when he couldn’t cope with the fact that Mal had supplanted him by Regina’s side. Unable to endure his pathetic excuses, Regina had thrown a lighted match in the barrel herself and walked away, never looking back.

Two birds with one stone, they call it: they had sent a message reminding everyone what was the price to pay for talking too much, while testing their newest recruit. Robin had passed with flying colors, his composure impressing them, and he had waited until they were in private to wonder if there may be less drastic ways to proceed in the future. The only thing that had stopped them from lashing out was the fact that there wasn’t any trace of judgement in his voice, just genuine curiosity.

“Of course, Mal would manage to bring home the only noble thief out there,” Regina chuckles softly, shaking her head with a fond expression.

“I don’t know about noble, but I’m certainly glad she did,” he counters, pressing his lips against Regina’s forehead, his gaze suddenly far away as he remembers.

A dear friend, the brother he never really had, begging for help to settle a huge debt, a series of burglaries and larcenies in an otherwise trouble-free, extremely wealthy community, an unrelenting sheriff, and Robin had found himself locked up. He had pleaded guilty, and had received a rather mild sentence, since he had no priors and had kept nothing for himself.

His wife, Marian, had never forgiven him the shame he had brought on his family though. She had divorced him a few months into his four-years sentence, deemed him unfit to be in their son’s life, fought for sole custody with no visitations rights, and won. By the time Robin got out, she had been long gone, taking not just Roland with her, his precious boy who would never know him, but also Keith Nottingham, the Sheriff who had arrested Robin.

She had packed his stuff in his car and into a garage, the key and address to which Robin got from his lawyer. Going through what was left of his possessions, Robin found an old map, closed his eyes and randomly pointed at a spot: the coast of Maine. With no clue as to where he could find his son, a fresh start where no one knew him seemed like the best option.

So, in his beat-up car, with a few clothes and whatever mementos he couldn’t stand to sell, he slowly made his way from Chicago to the East Coast, trying to enjoy his newfound freedom, finding little jobs here and there to pay for food, motel rooms and gaz. When he finally arrived in Storybrooke, he found a quaint little town, where everyone knew everyone, but asked few questions. He helped out at the local diner, Granny’s, in exchange for a room at the adjacent Bed & Breakfast, the no-nonsense, eponymous owner having a soft spot for his dimples.

He thought that he could finally breathe, but luck had not been on his side for a long time now, and he found the local sheriff waiting for him in this room one morning after breakfast. Before he could ask how the man had entered, he let him know in no uncertain terms that he knew all him.

“You see I have been appointed here to put an end to the criminal activities plaguing the county and which seems to originate from this town,” Sheriff Graham revealed, and Robin couldn’t help his raised eyebrows and the way he looked around the tranquil B&B.

“Don’t let appearances fool you, Mr Locksley. There is evil rooted deep in Storybrooke, and I want to purge it, but I can’t do it alone, believe me I tried. You are just the kind of person I need for the job,” the man explained, and Robin appraised him silently for long moments before wondering:

“If you are asking someone like me for help, I guess that this is dangerous, what could possibly motivate me?”

Graham obviously expected the question, though he huffed and clenched his teeth at the idea that Robin would not just jump at the opportunity to help the Police.

“As I said, I know all there is to know about you, if you assist me, I could help you find your son,” he bargained, and Robin immediately straightened up.

“You know where Roland is?”

“It would be easy for me to find out.”

Robin looked at the man intently, looking for any sign of deception, and the Sheriff held his gaze, unflinching.

“Alright, I will do it,” Robin finally acquiesced.

“Perfect, I don’t want to share many details just yet, I only have strong suspicions at this point, could never prove anything, so I think it’s better to work our way up. One thing I do know is that the local cab company seems to be at the center of it all, it would be a good start to find yourself a job there. I will send you a burner phone to contact me, the less we are seen together, the better.”

Robin sent an application, and not long after John, the owner of the cab company, offered him a job.

Given the trust the man was placing in him, Robin felt obligated to reveal some of his history, but John only laughed, and that probably should have worried him more that it did. The man said that he believed in second chances, and Robin was only too happy to be given a chance. He hoped that it would bring him closer to getting help to find Roland.

The first few weeks, it was pretty simple, transporting people coming and going to the airport mostly, a few packages to fetch or drop, always with the strict instruction to not open. They didn’t need bother, Robin had learned in prison how aggressive people could become if you touched their stuff, and he knew better. The Sheriff was pretty interested in the drop-offs, and he asked details about the people he transported. Robin had taken the habit to stash a notebook in his glove box to keep track of all those informations.

He got used to some kind of routine, until one morning when John gave him a special assignment: to pick up a special customer from the airport. She had had to let go of her usual driver, and John was hoping she would use their services from then on.

He gave Robin a sign with the name “Mal Drachen” written on it, and sent him on his way. Robin wasn’t sure what to expect, since he had no idea who to look for, but the tall, blonde woman in a stylish grey pantsuit and matching fedora, meaning business, certainly wasn’t it. She headed straight towards him, looked him up and down, eyes lingering long enough in some places to have him start to feel insecure and wanting to fidget, only to conclude with a “you’ll do”, and preceded him towards the car, her suitcase rolling behind her, leaving him barely a few seconds to recover from his shock before he had to follow.

By the time he had loaded her luggage in the trunk and started the car, she was already on the phone, and Robin understood very quickly that she was no ordinary client, and exactly why John had chosen him specifically. He made his way towards Storybrooke, knowing better than to disturb her to ask for the address, it could wait.

“I’m on my way home, I just got your message, what happened?” He heard her say, keeping his eyes firmly on the road. A pause as she listened intently to her interlocutor’s reply, and then: “He did what?” Her voice became low and deadly cold, it sent an unpleasant shiver running along Robin’s spine.

“This can’t go on, you tried to let him down gently, and it’s obviously not working. He needs to be dealt with… permanently, and the sooner, the better,” she continued, and Robin forced himself not to react. There was only so many ways to interpret this conversation, and he wasn’t sure that he liked where this was going. Could it be that easy? Could he have found an actual lead so quickly?

“Of course, I’m right,” she said, after another pause. “I’ll be there soon, we’ll determine the best course of action then,” and she hung up.

A silence, and then: “I must admit that I’m rather impressed with your self-control. Usually, by this point, after such a conversation, people tend to sweat and look around for the best way to flee,” she remarked, and he looked in the rear-view mirror and caught her eyes for a second before focusing back on the road.

“Well,” he shrugged. “I make it a point to respect my client’s privacy, and I didn’t hear anything that could give me reasons to worry about my safety. Two very good incentives to keep driving,” he looked up again, and saw her smirk.

“I can see why Sheriff Graham was so eager to have you on his side, Mr Locksley,” that made Robin’s blood run cold. “I hope that we can make a competitive offer for your services,” she continued, and the vice like sensation around his heart relaxed slightly.

“How do you know…” He started, before she cut him off.

“You will realise that we know everything that happens in Storybrooke, we are well established, and people around here trust us more than they do some Sheriff thinking they are God’s gift sent to save us all, until their bosses understand that they are no better than the one before and replace them,” she told him, and well he could see her point, he had found Graham to be more than a little arrogant since their first meeting.

“What do you want from me?” He asked.

“Only that you listen to what we have to say, give us a chance to present you with some options,” she replied, and Robin gulped.

“Options?”

“Let’s wait until we are in a more comfortable setting. 108 Mifflin Street will do nicely, I trust you can find it.”

He knew the address, had passed by it several times since his arrival.

The rest of the drive was quiet, her passenger was relaxed in the backseat, while he tightened his grip on the wheel until his knuckles turned white with each mile that brought them closer to their destination.

He took a deep breath after parking the car in front of the rather impressive mansion, and exited from it to open the back door for his client. He gave her the suitcase and followed her inside.

He was surprised to find a small crowd milling about, going from one room to another, some carrying packages, others on their phones or computers, exchanging papers or a few words, in what had looked like a well practiced dance.

Each of them stopped what they were doing when they saw Mal, saluting her as she led Robin towards the back of the house. She knocked once on the door, and entered without waiting for a reply. She closed the door of what Robin quickly realised was a large study and walked to the imposing wooden desk behind which another woman had been working.

She straightened up at their entrance, and Robin’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of her. Mal Drachen had certainly been a vision, but this woman… she was truly delectable. It was the first time in years that he had such a reaction to a woman.

“Robin Locksley...” Mal introduced. “...meet Regina Mills.”

TBC...

#oq prompt party #regina mills #robin of locksley #Maleficent #outlaw queen #dragon outlaw queen #mafia au #marie writes oq

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earwegouk · 11 months

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nowitsdarkfic · 5 years

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chapter four (maya the muse)

“Turn me on, take me for a hard ride, burn me out, leave me on the other side. I yell and tell it that it's not my friend, I tear it down, I tear it down, and then it's born again.” -“Other side”, Red Hot Chili Peppers

November 19, 1988. Somewhere near Manhattan, New York.

“I'm totally deaf right now—huh?”

Lars, Dominique, and Nancy are leading me back to the dressing room. It's after the show and I was utterly enthralled by Mother Love Bone in particular. Their frontman, Andy, is another reminder of myself with his long hair and the big white stars decorated on his navy blue trousers, skipping around and sprinting about the stage: at one point, I literally pictured back to all the times I sang “Indians” live. The sole difference seems to be is he's a golden blond like Matt and he's quite heavier compared to me. They all refer to him as “L'Andrew the Love Child”, a nickname that I feel resonates within me, to every inch of me.

I know Anthrax is right down the block from us but all I can think about is what I had just witnessed following Soundgarden's set. My ears are ringing from the four of us standing there on the side and watching them. I can't get that one song out of my head, the one that goes “Stardog Champion…” or whichever.

Lars guides us further offstage to behind the tapestries and he opens his mouth to tell me something but he sounds like he's about a mile away down a metal pipe.

“Huh?” I ask him, raising my voice. I rub my ears to show that I can't hear him, and then Dominique's voice comes in, sounding as though she's being enhanced by that cybernetic stuff in Seattle and wants to come my way to upstate.

“Lars asked if you want something to eat,” she repeats.

“I do, yeah!”

“It's getting late, you know—” he's saying as the ring fades out from my ears. He checks his wristwatch. “Oh, yeah, it's getting to be pretty late.”

“So how'd you like them?” Nancy asks me, her voice coming in clearer compared to the two of them.

“Mother Love Bone? I'm amazed I still have my guts intact,” I confess to her, rubbing my stomach, and the two girls burst out laughing at me. “And Soundgarden killed once again, too! But yeah, let's get something to eat.”

“Kim told me it'll be a while before Skid Row hits the stage,” Lars points out, his voice clearing up as if I'm surfacing from under water. “And there's a quaint little bar across the street that looks like an ice cream parlor.”

“Oh, yeah, that little place!” I recall, scratching my ear. “I think Frankie and Charlie went there a few times while we were recording Spreading.”

Lars guides down the dim lit corridor, which still smells of burning leaves, towards what I presume to be the side door. He pushes open the door and we're met with a strong gust of bitter cold wind. I tug at the lapels of my jacket and Nancy and Dominique huddle close to me. Lars' long light brown hair streaks back from the side of his head; meanwhile, those tall black wrought iron lamps lining the street are shining golden yellow light upon us and the little bit of drizzle that's starting to fall. It's everything I imagined New York City to be, even now, standing down the block from where my old band is now playing.

I take a glimpse up to the buildings around us and the cold concrete and bricks that surround them. It's hard to believe that Seattle is so far ahead of us as they are at the moment. The City here is still trying to come to terms with it being the twentieth century as I watch some drizzle collecting around the gears of the fire escapes and the bases of the streetlights.

But then there's the little bar across the street, the one with the bright pink and blue neon lights resting in the window and looks exactly like an ice cream place. The neon feels closer to home even with the sight of that before us.

At least there's no street cleaners to keep an eye out for as Lars is leading the way through the space between two cars parked at the curb towards the street. We're using the gold light and the pink neon to light our way; the drizzle's turning into full on rain as we reach the other sidewalk. Lars opens the door for the three of us and we're met with a lush parlor bar that's in every shade of deep red I can think of. The black and white stone floor is so clean and shiny, I could probably eat straight up food off of it. The whole place smells of fresh lemons mixed with gin and juice; there's neon upon the walls shining down on us. I have the mental note of not drinking in mind as we're making our way over to the bar on the left side of the room.

But I spot some black curls over on the other side of the room. I recognize those black curls, too, even as they're ducking out of sight. As the three of them are taking their seats on the narrow black stools, I hold up a finger to Lars.

“I'll be right back,” I tell him.

I hurry over to the other side of the room only to find a small warm lit corridor leading down to the bathrooms. Those black curls and that gorgeous face blurring out of sight before heading into the ladies' room.

“Maya?” I call to her from the entrance of the corridor. She turns to look at me and I recognize that horizontal scar on her forehead. Her eyes widen at the very sight of me.

“Joey—” Her voice is light and delicate like lace. Her knees quiver and shake as she ambles over to me with her arms outstretched; she's like a little billy goat staggering over to me. She holds me close while I keep one hand on the back of her head.

“How'd you get here?” I ask her in a hushed voice.

“How else?” She points at my chest even though I'm not wearing anything other than my shirt. And then I realize what she's talking about.

“A wormhole?” She nods her head. I lean closer to the crown of her head, which smells of grease and new car. She's been in the underbelly of the city.

“I was thinking about you earlier,” I confess to her, bowing in closer to her face to look into her dark eyes; the skin upon her face is as white as bone. I can tell she hasn't eaten. “Like what happened to you.”

“Please forgive me,” she tells me in that gentle British accent. “I didn't mean to frighten you. That has always been my fear—is frightening another soul with what lurks within me.”

I want to tell her about mine and Lars' conversation with Molly down in New Orleans but I don't know how she would react to it.

“I tried to return to Nottingham,” she continues, “but I don't believe there's a wormhole connecting it from where I was in Seattle. I was looking for you. Candace, too, but mostly you.”

“Why were you looking for me?” I ask her in a near whisper. She drops her gaze down to the clean stone floor underneath us and sighs through her nose.

“I need you,” she pleads to me in a voice so soft she almost breathes it. “I need you.”

“What do you need me for?” I kindly ask her. “Huh? Tell me. What do you need?”

She swallows and shifts her weight, and then she lifts her gaze to my face. She's staring right into my eyes: I can make out a thin line of bluish white neon light inside of her pupils. It's a tiny line, but I can see it in there.

“I need you to see me,” she tells me. I knit my eyebrows at that.

“What do you mean?” She swallows and shudders as I move my hands onto her shoulders. She then raises her hands to the collar of her overcoat. She opens the collar and reaches into the interior for something. And then she takes out a little booklet with a black cover.

“New edition?” I ask her.

“Yes. I managed to write this up in the university library in times when the coast was clear. After I transformed, it seemed to have mortified more than—more than you and Lars.”

She hands me the booklet with a solemn look upon her face.

“I have witnessed and experienced the worst of pain, Joey. I need you to feel me here.”

“I do. I do feel you. I feel you're on the brink of death.”

I gently take this latest copy of After the Watershed, once again wrapped in that thick, heavy cardstock. She gazes into my eyes once again; I flash a glimpse at the scar on her forehead, her third eye.

“I need you to see me,” she repeats. “Please.”

“You're a muse, Maya,” I remark to her, opening the front cover to behold the first page. “Of course I'll see you. I promise. Do you mind if I share this with Lars?”

“No,” she begs, her eyes growing large again and her expression resembling to that of a deer in a pair of headlights.

“No? But he's been looking for you, too—he—he should know about where you've been and he should know about this, too. It's only fair.”

“No. Please don't. I just want you to see it for yourself. Joey—”

She leans in closer to my body, so close that I hold the zine to my chest and she presses against my forearms.

“—you're the one who found me. You saved me. You set me free. And you know where to find me.”

I can still only see those faint glints of neon inside of both of her pupils, like they're embedded within her.

“You know where to find me,” she repeats before backing away from me. She doubles back towards the ladies' room and ducks in through the door. I'm alone in the hall with this copy of her zine resting in my hands. She wants me to read it for myself. Okay, then.

I tuck it inside of my jacket and make sure it stays hidden as I return to the bar to join Lars, Dominique, and Nancy.

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b-does-the-write-thing · 8 years

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The House Keeper

So today is @prissyhalliwell birthday and everyone knows I’m trash for her so when she sent me a text about a House Guest remix where Belle is a genie... I was very cross with her because it’s a brilliant idea.

Luckily I contained myself to a one shot because we agreed to not go overboard for birthdays anymore (Pssh) and I know she likes to read stories at breakfast time so I’m publishing it early for her to wake up to.

Happiest of Birthdays dearest.

Nelson Gold was not a kind man. He was not a patient man or a particularly good looking one. He was simply a divorced father who owned a pawn shop in some small backwater town in northern Maine.

It was a rather lovely store if one liked that sort of thing. There were shelves of antiquities, furniture piled in heaps at the front of the narrow storefront before abruptly stopping just short of the glass cases which glittered like polished diamonds. Here were the real treasures, first editions of gothic novellas, vintage jewelry pawned back in the early century that were still patiently waiting for owners to return who had long since passed away, and coins so rare they were worth more than their weight in gold.

Now, this wasn’t always the case. In fact, two years ago, when Mr. Gold had arrived in Storybrooke, he had been a stranger, a Scotsman who had purchased the rundown store from the old proprietor with all its junk and debt to the amusement of the whole town. After all, who came to Storybrooke, Maine to run a pawn shop that no one shopped at to begin with?

No one dared ask the man himself. With his accented voice, heavy with sarcasm and a quiet wit that put people off, Mr. Gold made it clear fast that he did not want or need any friends, business partners or acquaintances. He wanted to be left alone.

For the first month or so, he got his wish.

Until one day while cleaning, he stumbled upon an odd lamp and his entire world changed.

Curled up with a good book, Belle did not even notice the hum of voices indicating someone had come into the shop. She had retreated here after lunch, full and sated to the point of drowsiness with her latest discovery. It wasn’t until she was tipped violently sideways that she even realized someone had picked her up at all.

“Hey, Gold,” a masculine voice boomed. “How much?”

Clapping her hands over her ears, Belle tried to stand upright, leveraging herself off the curved side of her home. Her pillows and cushions scattered around her feet and her book buried somewhere underneath it all. She stayed very quiet and very still, but her heart beat loudly in her chest lest the man holding her heard it. She made a quick run down through her mind of all the ways she could remove this person from the shop and the world entirely when another hand wrapped firmly around her home and gently lifted her away from the stranger.

“Sorry, Mr. Nottingham, I’m afraid this piece isn’t for sale.”

Belle relaxed as the heat from the palm of his hand warmed the lamp. She curled against the side and let her eyes flutter shut in contentment as he gently set her home down safely out of reach of the guests.

“How about this piece?” Gold offered, though his hand stayed securely wrapped around the base of her lamp. Belle placed a small hand where his shadow lay and let her eyes close in contentment as she listened to his voice barter and bargain.

When the shop bell dinged, Gold finally let go of the lamp. “You can come out now,” he said gruffly and in a burst of blue smoke, Belle materialized into the shop.

“Oh, thank you, Master!” she exclaimed as she threw her arms around him. He tensed, but Belle let herself linger just a moment or two longer before she let him gently pry her away. Her master did not like being touched nor did he particularly like being called master.

“You have to be more careful,” he admonished her though his tone was more worried than biting. He lifted her home up in his left hand. “What have I told you about leaving this out on the store floor?”

Belle shrugged guiltily, the bells on her bedlah chiming in the silence between them. “I was reading.”

He smiled crookedly at her but quickly schooled his features back to neutral. “Belle.”

She took a step forward without thinking. He smelled like the wind off the sea and inherently of something wild and feral, something she in the centuries she had been alive had never smelled and which never ceased to fascinate her. “Yes, Master?”

He liked his lips though they were not dry, and hurriedly shook his head. “You should...change,” he rasped as he averted his eyes.

Belle looked down at her bedlah, the golden gauzy fabric see through on her legs and arms and the thicker wrappings covered in filigrees of molten gold and diamonds. “Don’t you like it, Master?” she asked as she looked back up at him.

He cleared his throat as he gently handed her back her lamp. “You look lovely, Belle, it’s just...it’s winter outside and most people aren’t used to…” He gestured helplessly at her bedlah.

“Oh!” Belle brightened immediately. They had talked about this. While her master worried for her health, genies did not catch colds. However, they did attract a lot of attention and she had lost quite a few masters due to their flaunting their genie publicly. So, the whole of Storybrooke knew her as Belle French, the Gold’s live in housekeeper, and housekeepers didn’t dress in bedlahs. With another swirl of smoke, Belle changed into something more fitting. “There?” she exclaimed proudly. “How’s this?”

Straight out of an Instagram post she had seen the day before, she wore a tight mini skirt sewn with every color into a swirl of flowers and a simple white blouse that exposed her sternum. The post had been from someone out in California, a place she was desperate to go visit, so she had also paired it with thigh high suede boots for her master’s sake. He did worry so about the cold.

Gold made a strangled noise in the back of his throat. “That’s fine, Belle,” he said finally before turning and fleeing into the back of his apartment. She followed him. Gold collapsed into his desk chair, and Belle hopped up onto the desk which only heightened her master’s color.

She took his face firmly in her hand and peered down at him. “Why, master,” she murmured. “You're as red as a cherry!”

He clenched his eyes shut tight and moved slightly to the left as if rearranging himself to be more comfortable. Belle made soothing noises as she combed his hair back, completely unaware that at his angle he could see up her skirt and down her button up top.

“Poor master,” Belle whispered as she stroked his long greying hair. He leaned into the caress unintentionally, seeking the comfort of her touch. Though his eyes stayed close they relaxed in bliss as she murmured a language long forgotten into his ear.

Someone coughed politely and Gold exploded out of his seat like a coiled spring. He whirled to face the back of the shop, taking a step in front of Belle without thought, but Belle pushed past him to throw her arms around the newcomer in greeting. “Oh, Neal!” she exclaimed in delight. “How good it is to see you!”

Gold’s teenage son went the color of a tomato. The Gold gene for flushing red with embarrassment as strong as him as it was his father. Belle released him but took his hands in hers. “You’ve grown!”

Neal rolled his eyes over her head at his father who was relaxing his death grip on his cane. “I’ve been gone two months, Belle,” Neal said with a teenager’s grace of sounding both pleased and disgusted by the attention.

“Two months is a long time,” Belle told him seriously as she fiddled with the broken zipper of his hoodie.

“Says the centuries old genie.”

“I didn’t realize you were coming home,” Gold said as he came over to greet his son properly. “Didn’t you have a date this weekend?”

Neal coughed. “Uh, yea, about that…”

Belle clapped her hands as her eyes went wide with the possibilities. “A date!”

Neal shot his father a betrayed look. “Belle,” he said gently. “It’s just a date. No need to get fancy.”

It was too late. “Perhaps an evening in Paris?” she suggested. “No, too overdone. Now, Venice is too cold this time of year, maybe something more tropical?” She clicked her finger, warming to this idea. “New Zealand!”

“Belle,” Neal laughed as he recaptured her hands in his. “I think a hot chocolate at Granny’s and a movie at the Camelot Multiplex will be fine.”

His father gave him a questioning look. “You brought this girl home to Storybrooke?”

Neal had the grace to look slightly apologetic. “Uh…”

“It’s Emma!” Belle crowed as she clapped her hands together in excitement. “Oh, this is wonderful!”

Neal went the color of a tomato again as his father sighed. “Neal… the girl is still a senior.”

“She’s eighteen,” Belle reminded her master with a jab at his chest. “Old enough to know her mind and such a lovely girl!”

Not a fan of Emma Nolan or her parents, Gold grumbled something under his breath and his son darkened. Belle hurried to intervene. “Now, Neal, you’ll have to tell us all about college. I’ve never been but I remember when my old master back in Baghdad-”

“Uh, the date’s tonight actually,” Neal mumbled under his breath. “I was going to see...if I could maybe get some flowers? I forgot to get some before I left Boston and...”

With a wink and a small burst of blue smoke, Blue thrust a bundle of birds of paradise at him. Neal took one look at the tropical flowers and their heady exotic scent and winced. “Belle, maybe something a little more in season?”

With a tsk, Belle winked and the flowers shrank into a small but sweet nest of cosmos. Gold peered at them in interest. “The birth flower of October,” he said casually before Neal could say anything. “Lovely choice.”

“Perfect!” Neal quipped, leaning in to press a quick kiss on her cheek. “Thanks Belle.”

She twisted her lips at him. “You sure you don’t want to go to New Zealand?”

He exchanged one of those odd looks with his father before nodding. “Positive. I’ll be home later.”

“Midnight,” his father said without skipping a beat.

“Papa!”

“The young lady will have a curfew earlier than that, I assure you,” Gold said with a pointed tone. “You best get going if you want to spend more than a few hours with her.”

Neal took the advice. He pressed another kiss to Belle’s cheek, nodded formally at his father and rushed out the door. Her master shook his head ruefully. “Dressed like a vagabond,” he sighed. He gave a small glance out of the corner of his eye to her. “Do you think you might…”

Her master so rarely asked for anything, Belle took pleasure in the request. There was a startled yelp from the back alley as Neal’s usual hoodie and t-shirt transformed into something a little more fitting a first date. When Neal did not materialize back in the shop to demand her to change his outfit back, both of them relaxed.

“Dinner?” Belle suggested cheerfully.

Her master nodded. “Let me go and lock up,” he said but Belle winked before he could take a step. The whirl of noise from the front of the shop signalled the door had been locked, sign flipped, money counted out and the shades drawn for the night. He shot her an exasperated fond look. “You don’t have to be so accommodating,” he assured her. “I’m still capable of closing my own shop.”

“You didn’t eat lunch and you’re dead on your feet,” Belle pointed out. “You won’t let me do a thing for you. If any of my sisters knew, they’d laugh themselves to death!”

“Belle, we’ve been over this. You are not really my maid,” Gold said softly, and in the dimming light of the setting sun here in the backroom, his eyes were dark but gentle.

Hypnotized, Belle leaned in a little closer to him. “No, I’m your genie, Master.”

He shook his head as if the spell was broken but Belle reached out to grab his hand. He stilled and looked back at her with his mouth parted as if words words might spill out.

In all her centuries, in all the places she had lived and all the people she had met, she had never known any quite like Nelson Gold. From the first moment he had rubbed her lamp while cleaning the rust off it, he had been utterly at a loss with what to do with her. A stark comparison to how he lived the rest of his life. With his three piece suits and polished cane, Nelson Gold lived his life to a certain set of principles from which he did not waver.

Neal had been nearly twelve when she had awaken from the lamp, and had he not been there when his father had summoned her, Belle may have very well found herself back in her lamp and tossed down a well. Luckily over the years, her master had warmed to her, though he rarely requested more of her than a simple wish here and there, concentrating more of his time on keeping her out of trouble.

“Belle, are you...are you happy here...with me?”

At the moment, the shop was dark and the smells of furniture polish and old paper mingled with the dust mites that danced in the last of the light. Somewhere, her sisters were serving masters in mansions, giving them all they wanted and more and using their magic to make their masters the most powerful, the strongest, the richest among the masters and here she was in Storybrooke, all but forgotten, living with a simple pawnbroker and his son.

Belle leaned into brush a kiss over the stubble on his cheek. He was an older man, gone gray and already slightly lined with his cares and his worries that he held so gracefully on his slight shoulders. Belle had loved him nearly from the moment she had appeared in the small pawn shop and his eyes had grown wide as his son’s with astonishment and wonder.

“Can’t you tell, Master?” she replied.

“Nelson,” he murmured as his hand caught her own where it lay against his cheek. “Please.”

“Nelson,” she conceded, and the intimacy of his name on her lips sent a shiver down her spine.

“You’re cold,” he said with a frown and before she could stop him, he threw a spare jacket over her shoulders. “Let’s go home,” he said with a nod to the door. His Cadillac would be warm when they arrived, as she made sure to start it before she looped her arm around his and headed out the back door.

“Do you think Neal would like pancakes tomorrow morning?” Belle asked as Gold locked the pawn shop back door behind them. “Or a proper brunch? I saw some delicious quiche dish I could whip up.”

His smile tugged the left corner of his mouth. “He’ll love whatever you serve him. If I know Neal, he’s not eating right up there in those dorms.”

“Oh, he’s eating just fine,” Belle said with a wink. “I’ve been sending him care packages.” Gold opened the door for her and the burst of heat colored his cheeks as the cold northern wind blew across from the docks. She sent a quick burst of magic to start the fire at the house and double seal all the windows. His house was old and drafty and she didn’t need either of her men to get a cold on her watch.

As always, the mention of Neal made Gold talkative on the way home. His small smile stayed firmly in place all through dinner and he even let Belle talk him into sitting with her to watch a movie despite his jaw cracking in yawns.

She chose a movie at random from the great list of movies Neal provided her and settled back with gleeful anticipation. Movies were still new to her, it had been something her and Neal had bonded over and when he had left for college, his father had reluctantly taken up the banner.

“Do you think they’re having a good time?” Belle asked, halfway through the movie.

Gold arched a brow at the couple on screen who were locked in a tight embrace, their clothes shedding at an increasing speed. “If I had to wager a guess, I’d say so.”

“No, Neal and Emma,” Belle said as she hit pause on the movie. Gold shifted slightly again, as he turned to face her on the couch. “Should I check in on them?”

Gold thought about it for a moment but finally shook his head. “Neal knows what he’s doing,” he conceded with a sigh. “If the Nolans didn’t call here yet, I think we’re fine.”

Belle nodded absently. Mary Margaret and David Nolan were just much younger than Gold and despite Neal and Emma’s long friendship, the parents didn’t have much in common with each other. Belle had met them occasionally in her disguise as the Gold’s live in housekeeper, and while good people, the Nolans had a bit of a seniority complex over the single father that galled her.

“He’s fine,” Gold said and he covered her hand where it lay on the couch between them with his own. Her skin warmed rapidly at the casual touch. She smiled sideways at him but couldn’t quite shake the nagging feeling in her chest. “Belle…” Gold said firmly, her name rumbling in his chest. “What is it?”

“What’s a date like?”

His eyes widened but he did not take his hand away. “You’ve never been on a date?”

She shook her head. “Genies don’t go on dates,” she said softly as she grabbed her cellphone. With a few touches, she pulled up her Instagram feed, images splending in color, presentation and splendor and pointed at the top photo.

Gold leaned into peer at it. “Date night with the hubby. So blessed...XOXO?”

“It seems fun,” Belle said quietly as she pulled the phone back into her lap. She flicked through a few of the pictures she had saved, treasured photos of happy couples smiling at each other, hands clasped, foreheads touching…

“Well,” Gold floundered before finding his voice. “A date can be as simple as milkshakes at Granny’s and a movie too...well a dinner at a four star restaurant and a night at the opera or a picnic in the park or a walk on the beach.”

Belle held up another photo of a couple curled in bed. The caption read STAYCATION DATE and the sheets were rumpled in suggestion through the couple curled around each other innocently enough.

“That’s uh,” he coughed, “a more established couple. Married people go on dates too. Or they stay in and...watch movies and eat dinner together. It’s just about spending time with each other...being in the moment with one another”

“You went on dates when you were married?” Belle asked and immediately knew she shouldn’t have. Her master hated discussing his past and Neal’s mother was always off limits.

Before she could apologize or freeze Gold in place long enough to disappear back into her bottle, he shook his head. “I wasn’t a very good husband, Belle,” he said softly. “Or not the husband she needed. I thought love was expressed in taking care of her and Neal, not in showering her with gifts and attention.”

Belle had a brief memory of her last master, a miserly man who wished for all the riches in the world until he had died alone in splendid palace with only her by his side. Her own lamp had been shuffled into the mix and auctioned off until it had ended up in Storybrooke, Maine off all places. She turned her palm up under Gold’s to intertwine her fingers in his. “I think taking care of people is a wonderful way to love them,” she said quietly.

Gold’s eyes flickered in the firelight and he leaned forward so slightly, Belle did not realize she had too until his breath tickled her face. “Are you happy here, Belle?” he repeated. “Now that Neal’s gone off to college...just here with me...don’t you want to go see the world?”

Her hair had fallen out of her makeshift messy bun and it spilled down over her shoulders as she shook her head. “I like it here with you,” she replied honestly. Though her desire to see the world was great, and she knew deep in her heart, she would never get a master so kind as to offer her the world again, she did not dare spend a moment away from Nelson Gold. Humans lived such a short time…

He nodded slowly, and his nose brushed against hers. “You have a home here for as long as you want,” he assured her quietly and his hand tightened where it held her own. “You’re part of this family, Belle. Promise me though...if you ever want anything, you’ll ask?”

It was her turn to nod and if her head twisted ever so slightly to the right, he didn’t notice. His eyes stayed on her own as if searching for the truth there.

“I promise,” she said after a long moment and satisfied he leaned his forehead against hers before pulling away to retreat to hs side of the couch. He pressed play and the movie continued but Belle barely heard it.

After all, according to him, some dates were simple as watching movies together and besides, he was still holding her hand.

Chose the name Nelson in honor of I Dream of Genie’s Major Tony Nelson and a lot of this story was inspired by that show because I love that series.

#b does the write thing #rumbelle fic #house guest remix #the housekeeper

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neverending2012 · 8 years

Text

My Journey To You Chapter 20

CHAPTER 20

SUMMARY: Sam and Mercedes deal with the stress of Rachel's illness; and Rachel continues to battle cancer; her fathers come to visit causing tension with Finn. Abby gets a big surprise.

RATING: Mature

WARNING: Sex scenes, language

NOTES: Please excuse any errors!

ABA AND POP

When Rachel's fathers (Hiram and Sean otherwise known as Aba and Pop, or Zaide and Granddad, depending on whom was addressing them) arrived, Sam wasn't happy to see them. He understood their need to protect Rachel and their grand kids, but he also thought their criticism of Finn was unwarranted. Mercedes and the kids cleaned up the living room, though the rest of the house looked like a cyclone hit it. Hiram was a tall, dark-skinned black man, the color of a starless night sky; he was muscular and broad-shouldered and he always smelled like citrus cologne. Though not classically handsome, he had a rugged, masculinity that made him attractive. He wore a long sleeved cotton blue Henley shirt and black jeans. When he spoke, his voice was a deep rumble, reminding Sam of the voice of God in the old Ten Commandments movie with Charlton Heston. Hiram was originally from England, (Nottingham to be exact) and he spoke with an English accent; he came to the states to attend Harvard, and decided to stay. He leaned over and hugged Sam.

"Lovely to see you again, Sam, he said and handed him two large bags, loaded with groceries, "We made a stop at Orangix Plus. And there's more," he said and called over his shoulder, "Sean, don't forget the stuff in the boot!"

"Thank you, but we have enough – " Sam began to say but was interrupted.

"Yes, but Rachel only eats organic or macrobiotic."

Sam smiled and took the bags to the kitchen, biting his tongue about saying how Rachel wasn't as anal about a lot of things as she used to be. The other day she ate half a powdered sugar donut. Hiram followed him and upon entering the kitchen he said:

"Dear God, what the bloody hell happened in here?"

"Life is what happened," Sam said setting the bags on the counter, "Go on in the living room, that's where everyone is."

"I'll hire a cleaning service for you."

"Thanks, but – "

"It's not up for discussion. This is atrocious. I'll see you in the living room," he said and walked out of the kitchen.

Sam sighed and began putting away the groceries. Sean came into the kitchen with four more bags. He was shorter than his husband and more slender than muscular; he had bright blue eyes and salt and pepper hair that he kept cut rather close. He had the looks of an aging teen idol with his pearly white smile and tanned skin. Many women, young and old, found Sean attractive and since his sexuality was always hard to detect, they were deflated to see him kiss Hiram and introduce the beautiful man as his husband. In his younger days he had modeled and even did some acting, before he switched careers and developed antivirus software; he and Hiram were the owners of Steel Shield Antivirus software, a global corporation that made them a fortune and allowed their only daughter Rachel to live in luxury.

"Hello Sam," he said, setting the bags on the floor.

"Hi Sean, everyone is in the living room."

"I know an excellent cleaning service."

"Hiram is on it."

"Well, he does hate disorder."

"Yeah," Sam said as he put a carton of free range organic eggs into the fridge, "Thanks for the food."

Sean nodded and sat down, moving aside a pile of junk mail on the table, so he could rest his arms.

"Thank you for welcoming Rachel and her family into your new home like this. It's very kind of you especially considering you have children of your own."

"I love my brother; I couldn't see his family on the street."

"He wouldn't have been on the street if he had only listened. They could've stayed with us, heaven knows we have the room."

Sam tried to keep his cool but it was difficult so he changed the subject instead.

"Since you bought so much tea, how about I brew a pot of it and bring it in the living room with some of these gluten free blueberry muffins?"

Sean raised his eyebrows, but he didn't protest, he only stood up and said:

"Sounds good. I'll see you in the living room."

IN MY OLD LIFE

Rachel sat in the recliner with her feet propped up on the ottoman; she was wrapped in a pink prairie star quilt, and she wore big neon pink plush slide slippers on her feet; a white knit cap was on her bald held. Finn sat beside Rachel on the extra ottoman, holding her hand and kissing it now and again, avoiding eye contact with his father in laws, who sat on the loveseat adjacent to them. Rachel looked so thin and frail that Sam's heart broke every time he saw her, and today was no different. He held his composure as he walked into the living room with a tray of refreshments, rooibos tea and blueberry muffins. Mercedes sat on the couch with Rosy and Jake, occupying them with Elmo and Big Bird picture books, while she opened the gifts that Hiram and Sean got for the twins. The presents came in two big white boxes from a boutique called Marie Chantal.

"I've never heard of this store," she said, as she opened the first box.

"It's a boutique in England," Hiram said.

The first box had a beautiful white dress with all the frills and lace for a fairytale princess; it also came with a sparkling tiara. In the second box, was a lovely navy blue suit with a little blue bow tie.

"These clothes are gorgeous, you didn't have to – "

Sean held up his hand.

"You're family. Enough said."

"Thank you," Mercedes said.

"Yes, Thank you, Sam said setting the tray on the coffee table.

Matt, Lucy, and Abby sat on the floor opening their gifts. They all squealed with joy with what they received; Matt got a 200 dollar GameStop gift card, Lucy got VIP tickets to a Taylor Swift concert, and Abby got a pair of brilliant gold and emerald earrings that matched the locket Sam gave her.

Mercedes' eyes widened at the extravagant gift.

"Hiram, Sean, you didn't have to – "

"Oh, Mercedes, it's nothing," Hiram said.

Sam thought it was a nice gesture and said:

"Thank you again, that was very generous of you."

Abby got up from the floor and hugged them.

"Thank you, Zaide, Thank you, Granddad," she said giving them each a kiss on the cheek. Matt and Lucy followed suit.

"Thank you," they said, hugging their grandfathers.

"Thank you," Rachel said, "I appreciate the gifts you brought for them."

"We have a few things for you too," Hiram said.

"Aba, I already have enough stuff."

"You can never have too much, Booba, and you're worth it," Sean said.

"Would you like some tea?" Sam asked Rachel, to break the tension.

"No, I'm fine."

"We'll get our own," Sean said sitting up and leaning over the coffee table, he poured a cup of tea, "Smells wonderful."

Sam sat next to Mercedes on the couch and Rosy crawled onto his lap.

"Da," she said. He kissed the top of her head.

"Hi sweetie."

And little Jake, who was not to be ignored, also found a spot on his father's lap, and kissed his cheek. Sam smiled at his children's affection, giving them both hugs and kisses, and he reached over and grabbed Mercedes' hand squeezing it and kissing it, staring at her for a long moment.

I love you.

I love you too.

Hiram spoke, breaking them out of the stolen moment:

"The tea is good. Nice way to relax after such a long drive."

"Where are you staying this time?" Sam asked.

"St. Paul's Hotel. It's a tad rustic for our taste, but they sell Golden Glory at the bar, and that's a plus," Hiram said, "Rachel dear, when is your next appointment?"

"It's tomorrow at 10."

"We'll drive you," he said, sipping his tea, "I want to talk to that doctor of yours. You know there's specialist I found out about and – "

"Not now, Aba, I like Dr. Jordan and Finn is taking me to my appointment."

"We're still coming," he said, unperturbed by her response. "I want to check out the facility again."

Sean picked up a muffin and bit into it.

"Very tasty," he said chewing, "Finn, we'll follow you in our car."

"You both can fit in mine," Finn said.

"True, but I need leg room," Hiram said.

Finn shrugged.

"Suit yourself."

A rather awkward silence followed after that. Mercedes said:

"What would you two like for dinner?"

"No need to worry about that," Hiram said, "We decided to cook for you. You've done so much for us."

"Ok, but let me know if you need help."

"We will."

The conversation was non-controversial after that, they chatted about the news and where they were traveling to next. Then somehow the topic of horror movies came up and Sean said he played a drunk teenager in an old 80s horror flick.

"Really Pop?" Rachel said, shifting in her chair and adjusting her quilt, "You never told me that."

"Rachel, I've told you that story a hundred times; you laughed every time you heard it."

"No, you haven't. I've never heard that story before."

"Yes, you have. What's gotten into you?"

"Nothing has gotten into me," Rachel said, "Why can't you admit to being wrong?"

"Because I'm not wrong. You've heard this story since you were a little girl."

"You're making that up."

"Booba, why would I make that up?" Sean said.

"Tell me when you first told me that story."

Sean and Hiram looked at each other, bewildered expressions on their faces, and Sean said:

"It was on Halloween. You were 11 years old and you dressed up as a Susan B. Anthony, remember you wore that awful puffy black dress with the high collar and ugly glasses? Anyway, we were sorting through your candy to take out the stuff with the highest sugar content, and you asked me if I had ever been in a scary movie and I told you about the horror movie from the 80s, and every Halloween after that you asked for the same story, and we watched the movie. Sometimes I wore my movie costume and Aba and me would act it out. Now, do you remember?"

Rachel nodded.

"Yes, I remember," she said." But everyone could tell she was lying by the quiver in her voice.

"It was a long time ago," Hiram said, smoothing things over.

"I said I remember," Rachel said, "Just drop it."

"What was the name of the movie?" Matt said.

"It was called Slaughter High 85. I had a mullet and I wore stonewashed jeans. I got my head cut off with a chain saw."

"Granddad, we should watch it tonight," Matt said, picking up a muffin, "I want to see it."

Rachel shook her head.

"That's too violent."

Matt rolled his eyes.

"Come on, Mom, I've seen worse. And you saw it as a kid, Granddad said so."

"I said no."

"I'd rather watch something else. I don't want to see Granddad get his head get cut off." Abby said.

"What other movies were you in?" Sam said.

Sean snuggled up to Hiram, patting his chest.

"Hmmm, let's see. I was in The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas. I was an extra."

"That old Dolly Parton movie?" Finn said.

"Yes, that's the one. I was sitting at a bar."

"Were you ever in anything G-rated?" Finn said.

"I've done some cartoon voiceover work."

"Why did you stop acting?" Lucy said, "It sounds like fun."

"Reality set in. I needed stability. I wasn't that talented anyway. Besides, I met your grandfather and my goals changed."

Hiram leaned over and kissed him.

"So did mine."

"I would've kept doing it," Matt said, biting into his muffin, "I like horror movies."

"Sometimes life has other plans," Sean said and glanced over at Finn, "You change course."

"Finn, I'm tired. Could you help me upstairs?" Rachel said.

"Sure, sweetie," he said and bent down and picked her up like she weighed nothing at all.

"Do you need any help?" Hiram asked.

"I can take care of my wife," Finn said over his shoulder as he walked away with Rachel in his arms.

"I only meant that – " Hiram tried to explain himself but Finn cut him off.

"I don't care what you meant. I know what I'm capable of even if you don't. I'm her husband. I can take care of her."

Rachel touched his cheek.

"Finn, honey, it's ok. You do a great job of caring for me; Aba meant no harm." She kept stroking his face and he calmed down; he kissed her forehead and walked out of the living room to take her upstairs to their bedroom.

Hiram looked at Sean.

"What was that about?"

Lucy got up from where she was sitting in front of the fireplace and sat next to Hiram, holding his hand.

"Zaide, you hurt his feelings."

"How?"

"You made him feel like he can't take care of Mom."

"Bollocks. I only offered help."

"Yes, and things would be better if he had accepted our help all those months ago," Sean said, shaking his head, "I don't understand your father's ways."

"Maybe you two should have a private talk with Finn," Sam said, not wanting the conversation to go any further. "I think there's a lot you're missing."

"Such as?" Sean asked.

"Like I said, talk to Finn. Alone."

"It's getting late," Mercedes said, "And we need to give Rosy and Jake a bath. If you guys want to start dinner, then be our guest."

"Thank you, Mercedes," Hiram said, rising from the couch, "Come along, children, you can watch us at work in the kitchen. But first we must clean it."

"What are you making?" Abby said.

"Beef bourguignon."

"I'd rather have meatloaf and tater tots," Matt said.

Sean clucked his tongue.

"Matthew, I'm disappointed in your middle America taste in food."

Matt, Lucy, and Abby followed Hiram and Sean into the kitchen, leaving Mercedes and Sam alone in the living room with the twins.

"They mean well," Mercedes said, picking up Rosy.

Sam nodded and picked up Jake.

"True. But Finn needs to handle it."

"Things will work out."

"You think so?"

"Well, I'm hoping so."

***

After dinner, Hiram and Sean left to go back to their hotel, with promises to be there the following morning to go to Rachel's next chemo appointment. Sam and Mercedes spent time with Abby, Matt, and Lucy after the twins were put to bed for the night. They played Scrabble, watched movies, talked, and popped fresh popcorn. Finn was upstairs with Rachel. He stayed by her side; and his devotion to her touched Sam to no end.

While they watched Private Beach, a low-budget 80s flick in which Sean played a surfer who drowns in the ocean, Sam oiled Abby's scalp. Everyone waited in anticipation of Sean's infamous scene. About a half hour into the movie, a young, attractive, tanned buff teenager with bright blond hair, appeared on screen, surfing a huge wave, and he yelled out:

"Awesome!"

Matt paused the movie.

"Granddad looks like a kid."

"Well, he was a kid," Sam said, parting Abby's hair and applying coconut oil to her scalp.

"Yeah, I know, but it's so weird."

"Turn it back on," Lucy said, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl on the coffee table.

Synthesizer pop music played in the background as Sean rode the wave and then it turned menacing, and he was pulled underwater, losing his surfboard as he was tossed into the ocean; he screamed for his life and the scene faded to black.

"Wow, Granddad is so old now," Lucy said.

"He's not that old," Abby said.

"Compared to that, he is," Lucy said.

"Yeah, I guess."

They finished watching the movie and it was as corny as Sam thought it would be.

"I liked it," Mercedes said, stretching her arms, "It was cheesy but fun."

"Too bad Granddad had such a small part," Matt said, putting away the Scrabble game, "He did a good job of screaming his head off."

Mercedes laughed.

"Yeah, he did. Now it's past midnight, so off to bed you guys, and no sneaking iPads, phones, or any other devices, got it?"

"Yes, Aunt Mercedes," Matt and Lucy said and they each gave her and Sam a hug and kiss goodnight. Abby did the same.

When they were gone, Sam scooted over to Mercedes and pulled her into his arms.

"Looking good, Mrs. Hummel."

"Sam, it's late, no funny stuff… until we get upstairs."

Sam grinned and kissed her neck.

"Now you're talking."

MEMORIES

"Mercedes, wake up."

Mercedes opened her eyes and saw Rachel standing over her bed. She looked like an apparition with her winter pale skin and long ivory nightgown. The streetlight shining through the curtains gave her a strange, ethereal glow.

"Rachel, why are you… are you ok?" Mercedes said, stumbling over her words; she felt disoriented the way she always did when she was awakened in the middle of the night, then she panicked "Is it Rosy and Jake?"

"No, I can't find the blanket."

"Huh?"

"The blanket. It's pink and – " she paused, "I don't remember where it is."

"You mean your quilt?"

"No, I was knitting it."

Mercedes had no idea what Rachel was talking about, but something felt off. She sat up in bed and said:

"Could you hand me my robe? It's on that chair."

Rachel grabbed the robe and gave it to her.

"I was knitting it. It's pink."

Mercedes put on her robe and got out of bed. Sam slept in a tranquil slumber beside her; he could sleep through a hurricane, and she was glad their conversation didn't wake him. She took Rachel's hand and led her out of the room, and together they walked downstairs. Rachel had a firm hold on the staircase handrail, taking careful steps. When they got to the end of the stairs, Rachel stood in the hallway, looking confused.

"Which way is the living room?"

"Rachel?"

"I don't know which way the living room is. I want to go home."

Mercedes put her arm around her.

"Honey, what's wrong?"

"I don't know. Everything is jumbled. Help me find the blanket."

"Ok. Let's check the basement."

"We're going back to our house, aren't we?" Rachel said, clinging to Mercedes' arm, "We won't be here much longer."

Mercedes had no answer for that. The plan was for them to stay until Rachel got better; but who knew how long that would be. When they moved in, they put a few unpacked boxes in the basement, and she figured Rachel's blanket was in one of them. Mercedes turned on the hall light.

"Come on," she said leading her down the hall to the basement door.

"I'm sorry for waking you up. Finn doesn't know these things."

"It's alright."

"I can't remember what day it is," Rachel said as they went down the stairs to the cold basement that smelled like varnish and sawdust. Sam kept his tools down there and he had a small workshop too.

Mercedes thought for a moment.

"It's Thursday."

"Everything is slipping from me."

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Mercedes pointed to a wooden desk chair that Sam was refinishing and said:

"Sit here and rest."

"I want to look too."

She studied Rachel's face; she looked desperate and afraid; her large, dark eyes were glassy and somewhat unfocused. She wondered what was happening to her and why she was saying bizarre things.

"It's better if I look for it alone, ok?"

Rachel didn't protest and sat down. Mercedes found the cardboard boxes stacked in the corner beside the workbench. She opened the box on the top and inside was a bunch of extra winter clothes like sweaters and heavy socks, but at the bottom she saw two partially knitted blankets: one blue and the other pink. She got them out and handed them to Rachel.

"Here," she said, "There's two of them."

"For Matt and Lucy," Rachel said as if suddenly recalling a long-lost memory; she held the blankets to her heart, "Is there any yarn?"

"No, but we can buy some. It's late. Let's go back to bed."

"Thank you," Rachel said.

"You're welcome."

"Sometimes things get jumbled. I don't remember the way I used to."

"Did you tell Dr. Jordan?"

Rachel didn't answer her.

"I was knitting these back at our house. But sometimes this house feels like our house too… Sometimes I'll be reading and I'll see a word and I can't remember what it means, or Finn will ask me about something and I have to grapple with what he's talking about; yesterday, I couldn't remember Matt and Lucy's birthday, and it takes awhile for me to find the right words of what I'm trying to say. I used to be able to cook breakfast, pay bills, schedule appointments and pack lunches all at the same time, now I'm lucky if I can finish one thing without getting confused. I woke up and remembered knitting… I had to find these. I need something to hold onto; something I can't lose."

Mercedes put her arms around her, hugging her close.

"You have to talk to Dr. Jordan. This isn't normal."

"I have," Rachel said, as tears ran down her cheeks, "It's a side effect of chemotherapy; he called it post-treatment cognitive difficulty. The lay term is chemo brain. It's not known how long it will last. It could be long-term. Mine seems to be severe, he referred me to a neuropsychologist. I'm going tomorrow."

"Rachel, I'm so sorry," Mercedes said, rubbing her back.

"I'm scared. I've lost my hair, my appetite, my energy, my sex drive, but I can't lose my memories too. I can't lose birthdays and Christmases, and moments that defined my life. I started knitting these blankets when they were babies; I don't know why I didn't finish them. I can't have a life unfinished."

"It's not unfinished. Is that why you got mad at your father yesterday when he told us about that horror movie?"

"Yes. Pop loves his damn stories. And I used to know all of them because I loved them too. Now, I'm lucky if I know my own name. I took my anger out on him."

"Come on, let's go back to bed. You need your rest."

"Can I tell you a story?"

Mercedes sighed.

"Alright."

"A baby girl named Rachel was born and put up for adoption. Two wonderful men, her Aba and Pop raised her, and she had the best of everything: a private school education, equestrian lessons, a Broadway vocal coach, and vacations around the world. She pretended not to hear people say her fathers shouldn't have the legal right to raise her and call her Aba the n-word, or call her fathers names that hurt her heart when they thought they were whispering; she never told them she was scared someone would take her away from them; she put on a happy face, sang Don't Rain on My Parade and had green smoothies for breakfast in the sunroom. That was her life, nothing but love, luxury, and pain. She grew up, went to college and graduated with honors. She met a simple, loving man named Finn who came to fix the heater in her fathers' Tennessee cabin, who had no idea who Fanny Brice was, the only French cuisine he knew was French fries, and he made his living truck driving and being a jack-of-all trades. He took her to ball games; she took him to musicals. He tried to impress her by listening to music he couldn't stand and she ate corndogs in a stadium. And they fell in love. She was engaged to a wealthy man who could give her the life her fathers gave her, but after one kiss with Finn, she broke it off and her fathers hated what she did, yet they had to accept it. They got married, had twins named Matthew Peter and Lucille Leona, bought a house and lived their lives."

"Is that the end?" Mercedes asked.

"I don't want it to be. I want it to last for as long it can."

"You were engaged before?"

"Yes, to a man named Daniel Weston. His family owns the Weston Hotel chain."

"Wow."

"Impressed?"

"Very much."

Rachel smiled.

"He had it all. Handsome, smart, rich. Aba and Pop adored him. But I never really loved him, though I tried."

"What happened to him?"

"Remember my cousin Nia from Aba's side of the family? The one I said you reminded me of?"

"Yes."

"They got married and they live in Liverpool."

"Come on, let's go to bed," Mercedes said, standing up.

"Mercedes?"

"Yes?"

"Could you remember my story?"

Mercedes sat back down and held her hand.

"Oh, Rachel I – "

"It's difficult for me to write it down, but I'm trying. I just want someone to remember. To tell Matt and Lucy."

"Ok."

"They love you and Sam very much."

"I'm sure you'll be able to tell them yourself… but why not tell Finn?"

"I tell him other things. This isn't something he could grasp."

"I think I understand."

Rachel hugged Mercedes.

"I love you."

"I love you too, Rachel."

With her blankets tucked under her arm, they went upstairs and got back into bed.

BROKEN AND BRAVE

When Rachel came back from her medical appointments, she was so weak and fragile that Finn took her upstairs to their bedroom to rest. Mercedes watched as he carried her upstairs, kissing her cheeks and forehead, murmuring softly to her, and she thought of their story, the one she had to remember for Matt and Lucy. She sighed and continued folding laundry; the stacks of folded clothes were piled high on the love seat, smelling of fragrant fabric softener. Sam, Matt, Lucy, and Abby were out running errands. Rosy and Jake were taking a nap in their room. Mercedes lifted a big yellow t-shirt that belonged to Finn from the wicker laundry basket and began folding it, she hummed to herself and was getting lost in the song and her own thoughts when Hiram and Sean came into the living room holding large cups of Starbucks coffee.

"Hello Mercedes," Sean said, taking a sip of coffee, "Need any help?"

"Actually, I do. Could you go downstairs and get the load of clothes out of the dryer? It buzzed a few minutes ago."

He smiled at her.

"Sure thing. Would you like me to start a load too?"

"Yes, that would be great."

"No problem."

He went downstairs. Hiram sat on the couch and covered his face with his hands. Mercedes stopped folding clothes and looked at him:

"Are you ok?"

"Just exhausted that's all. It's awful seeing her suffer."

"I can't imagine what you're going through," Mercedes said, "But in the time I've known Rachel, I see that she has strength in her and doesn't give up easily."

"She's resilient and strong willed… the first time I held her, I… I just thought she was the most wonderful thing in the world, tiny little baby… great, big eyes, and she had a thatch of thick brown hair, and when she cried… the whole neighborhood heard it; I thought they would kick us out of our London flat. Sean and I - " he stopped speaking as tears filled his eyes, "well, our world started and ended with her the minute she had our name."

Just then Sean walked into the living room carrying a basket full of towels, he set them on the floor near Mercedes, glancing over at Hiram, he said:

"Sweetie, what's wrong?"

Hiram opened his mouth to speak but only made a strange noise, between moaning and crying and tears ran down his cheeks. Sean rushed over to him and wrapped his arms around him.

"Shhh, we'll get through this."

Hiram clung to his husband as he cried.

"All I want to do is save her," Hiram said through his tears, "If the doctor said he could take the cancer in her and put it in me so that she would live, I would do it. Each day there's less of her. I can't bear to think of the day when there's nothing left."

Sean held him tight.

"We've been through a lot. We can deal with this. I'm terrified of losing her too, but I'm keeping the faith. We fought to be married; we fought to adopt her; we fought to be a family; we've taken some serious blows and we're still here. We raised a gorgeous, intelligent woman who's an awesome wife and mother. I'm not giving up, baby, we can't give up. Booba needs us right now, ok? She needs her Aba and Pop to be strong for her."

"I feel powerless," Hiram said, "Yes, we've fought obstacles before, but this isn't a person or institution, something I can grasp; it's a disease killing our daughter. I don't know how to fight something I can't really grasp. It's like we're fighting dark forces for her soul."

"So cancer is Darth Vader."

Hiram looked at him and laughed through his tears and kissed his cheek.

"Only you would make a Stars Wars joke in the middle of a crisis.

"I'm scared shitless. It's what I do."

"I know."

"We have to be brave."

Hiram laid his head on Sean's shoulder.

"I am brave, love, right now, I'm broken."

"No, you're hurting and so am I. Neither of us is broken, we take whatever comes, no matter what. I'm beside you, baby, this is God awful for me too, but Rachel needs us and we're going to be there for her."

Hiram nodded and raised his head, pressing his lips against Sean's. They whispered to each other and Mercedes' heart broke as she watched them consoling each other. She felt like she was intruding on a private moment, so she decided to leave them alone and check on Rosy and Jake; they didn't even notice her walking out of the room.

When she entered the twins' room and looked in their cribs, each child was fast asleep. She caressed their fat, little cheeks, and though her heart felt heavy, she took solace in her beautiful children, full of life and wonder, keeping her and Sam so busy that they took a breath each time a quiet moment crept up on them. She looked out the window and saw Sam drive up in their SUV.

After he parked the car, he and the kids unloaded the trunk and carried all their shopping bags inside. Matt, Lucy, and Abby were laughing and talking to each other while Sam joined in on the conversation too. She loved hearing their laughter; those kids needed it now more than ever. She sat down in the glider, taking a few minutes for herself, she closed her eyes and fell asleep; she woke up when a pair of familiar plump lips pressed against hers.

"Schäztchen," Sam whispered.

She opened her eyes.

"Hey, baby. I dozed off."

Sam kissed her again.

"Rosy and Jake will be up soon."

"Yeah. Did you get the Drano?"

"I got it. Matt is pouring it down the kitchen sink right now."

"Thank you."

"Are Hiram and Sean ok? They barely said anything when we came inside, and then went into the den."

"They're having a hard time of it."

"I figured as much."

"Where else did you go?"

"We stopped by Michael's and got the pink and blue yarn for Rachel; and I have a little something for you."

Mercedes stroked his cheek that was rough with blond stubble.

"And what would that be?"

He picked up a small brown bag sitting on the floor next to her feet and handed it to her. "Here," he said. Mercedes opened the bag and inside was a bottle of Kiehl's Lavender Foaming-Relaxing Bath with Sea Salts and Aloe. It was her favorite bubble bath. She kissed him. "It was out of stock online. How did you find it?" "A specialty perfume shop in North Star had it." "You went all the way to North Star?" "It's not that far. Besides the kids needed to get out of the house for awhile." "Thank you, sweetheart." Sam held her face in his hands. "Now tonight, we're going to light candles, close the door, and take a long, hot bath together." "Oh, is that what we're doing?" Mercedes said, raising her eyebrows. "Yes, that's what we're doing, Mrs. Hummel." "Very well, Mr. Hummel, I look forward to it."

"And you should. You get to spend a hot evening with your hot husband."

Mercedes laughed and kissed him again.

"You're too much."

"Yet you love me anyway."

They kissed some more until they heard giggling and they looked over and saw Rosy and Jake standing up in their cribs, laughing and smiling at them.

"Ma!" Rosy said, clapping her hands.

"Da!" Jake said, holding up his arms to be lifted out of the crib.

Sam helped Mercedes get up from the glider, kissing her once more and giving her ample behind a quick, yet possessive squeeze, before tending to their babies.

***

Sam and Mercedes set the dining room table. The savory aroma of chicken, parsley, white wine, heavy cream and shallots wafted through the air, as they placed the blue ceramic plates on the long cherry wood table. Mercedes wore a royal blue sundress that hugged her wide, curvaceous hips; the hips he loved to glide his hands over when they danced together to a song only they could hear, or grip when they made love; or hold when he was feeling some kind of way: romantic, crazy, loving, whatever the emotion, he would just reach out and hold onto to those magnificent hips, pull her close, and block out the world.

Her little feet were bare except for the silver chain ankle bracelet she wore; her toenails were painted candy apple red, reminding him of carnivals and Ferris wheels, he thought about the foot massage he gave her the other day during their private time, and how she laughed when he tickled the soles of her satin soft feet, making her laugh; he loved that she had to stand on her tiptoes to kiss him, loved that her hands and feet were so small and delicate.

Sam admired her as she moved about the table, making sure each seat had the right amount of silverware, completely oblivious to him staring at her. The sun was setting, and the fading golden light filled the room in shades of warm yellow, and with Mercedes standing in that light, her rich, brown skin glowed. When they finished setting the table, Sam reached for her, and held her close, her heart beat against his, she was smooth and soft and sweet, and he just had to hold his baby for a while, claim her as his, and she understood, of course she understood because that's how she was, feeling everything he did, knowing his heart without words, she held on tight as he hugged her, and he reveled in the warmth of her embrace and the energy of her spirit, and what a spirit she had, shining brighter than the sun, he could see her light in the darkest places. He kissed her neck, and then pulled back a little to see her face, and he kissed her forehead, cheeks, nose, and then settled on her wonderfully sexy lips.

Sam heard Hiram singing in the kitchen; his deep alto voice drifted into the dining room, the song was familiar, like a long forgotten tune you heard on the radio late at night, and you turned it up and remember when you heard it the first time, what you were doing, how you were feeling… it was like he was singing for them. The first time he saw Mercedes; she had cried in her living room but later she laughed in his kitchen; Hiram's song made him relive that day when he made the silent pledge to keep her laughing despite the tears; keep her smiling for as long as he could. He held on to his blue angel a few moments longer, gave her one more kiss, and then they returned to the kitchen, the stolen moment was brief but they felt it none the less.

When he saw them, Hiram stopped singing and smiled, before he resumed stirring the Chicken Florentine on the stove. A loaf of garlic bread baked in the oven and added to the other delicious aromas. The kids sat around the kitchen table, each chopping vegetables for the salad, with Sean instructing them how to properly handle the knives to prevent any injuries. He teased them about their cutting techniques; and they laughed at his jokes; it was clear that they were enjoying the time they spent with their Granddad and Zaide. When Sean saw Sam and Mercedes, he said:

"You look way too happy, to have just set the table."

"Honey, leave them alone," Hiram said, "But since you said it, I'll have to agree with you."

Mercedes blushed. Sam squeezed her hand.

"Do you need any more help?"

"No, we got it covered. Dinner will be ready in 30 minutes," Sean said, giving them a "I know what you're up to" look and raised his eyebrows, "Avoiding the topic won't make it go away."

Before Sam could say anything else, Finn strolled into the kitchen, giving everyone a tired smile, his eyes were bloodshot.

"Dinner smells great," he said.

"It's Chicken Florentine, Hiram said over his shoulder, "how's Booba?"

"She drank some water and ate a few crackers," Finn said, leaning against the wall, "And now she's sleeping again."

"Today was really hard for her," Sean said opening a cupboard and taking out a box of croutons.

"Every day is hard for her," Finn said, "Well, I'm going for a run. Enjoy dinner."

Lucy got up from the table and grabbed his arm:

"Wait, you're not eating with us?"

"No, you go ahead. I'll eat later."

"You never eat with us any more."

"Sorry, Luce, I need to exercise."

"No you don't. You never exercised like this back home. Me and Matt never see you any more."

"We'll hang out later on, ok?"

"When?"

"I don't know. Like I said later."

"Promise?" she said, her grip on his arm growing tighter.

He looked down into her hazel eyes that were just like his own.

"Yes, I promise."

Lucy smiled and hugged him.

"We can play cards."

He patted her head.

"Sure, thing."

After he left, she sat back down and continued chopping up tomatoes, Matt glanced at her and said:

"He probably won't do it Lucy. So don't get mad if he doesn't."

"Why do you say stuff like that?"

"Because it's true. He's different now, you know that."

"I don't care."

"You need to stop acting like he should be the same. None of us are."

"I just want my father back. I feel like I'm losing Mom and Dad at the same time and I hate it." Lucy dropped her knife onto the cutting board and erupted into tears, "Why won't he talk to us?"

Abby and Matt put their arms around her, whispering to her as she cried, and she held onto them.

"I want to sleep in my old room and listen to the floorboards creak. I want Mom to yell at us for not using the right recycling bin for plastic and make us sing show tunes with her. I want Dad to make jokes and chase us around in the back yard and tell us how much he loves us. I want it all back. Everything. I don't want Mom to die."

Abby and Matt held her tight, no longer whispering, only listening to her breakdown. Sam, Mercedes, Sean and Hiram began to cry as well, and soon they descended on the children and held them all, kissing and hugging them, telling them that they were there for them. What else could they do?

Dinner was somber and quiet. Though it was an incredibly rich and sumptuous meal, it was barely eaten. Only Rosy and Jake enjoyed their tiny bites of food while managing to get more on their faces instead of in their mouths. After the dishes were loaded in the dishwasher and the kitchen cleaned up, Lucy went upstairs to her room, saying she wanted to be alone for a while. Matt and Abby gave her a hug before she bounded up the stairs, her long hair floating behind her.

Finn finally came back from his run, he gave a curt nod to everyone, and then went to take a shower. Abby and Matt played peekaboo with Rosy and Jake on the living room floor. Sam and Mercedes snuggled up on the loveseat drinking tea. The TV was on but nobody was watching it. Sean and Hiram folded the last load of clothes for the day, creating neat color coordinated stacks and even separating the clothes by who they belonged to. Sam figured that they needed the chore to keep them occupied.

"How long do you guys plan to be in town?" Sam asked them, while rubbing Mercedes' bare shoulder; her skin was soft and smelled sweet like vanilla.

"We're sticking around indefinitely," Sean said as he folded one of Rosy's little pink tank tops, "We can work from anywhere in the world. In fact, we're thinking of getting a short term lease apartment in town."

"It's for the best," Hiram said, "We can't leave again. Not with how things are."

"We want you to stay, Zaide," Matt said, "It's nice when you're around."

"You're just saying that to get more gifts," Hiram said, smirking at him, but they both knew he was teasing, "We love you all very much and I'm glad our presence is appreciated."

"At least by most of you," Sean said, and he and Hiram exchanged quick glances.

"Finn appreciates you too," Sam said, "Have you had a talk with him?"

"We tried but he shut down," Hiram said.

"Oh."

"We'll try again soon," Sean said, picking up a pair of red running shorts and folding them carefully, "Say, why don't we all go for a walk? Fresh air would do us some good."

"Ok," Mercedes said, "Let me get the stroller."

After Sam and Mercedes got Rosy and Jake situated in the double stroller, they ventured out into the warm summer evening. Hiram and Sean walked beside them holding hands while Abby and Matt walked slightly ahead. Matt's dark hair was getting longer each day, almost reaching the middle of his back, much to Rachel's consternation, but he refused to get it cut. Abby had a lovely full Afro that shined under the streetlight; the two cousins chatted together, walking closely side by side. Sam noticed that the three cousins had formed a very tight bond in the time that they lived there. They walked around the block, and every once in a while, Sam leaned down and kissed his wife, enjoying the feel of her pillowy lips pressed against his own. The stars twinkled above them; the air smelled like wild honeysuckle and fresh cut grass, and another stolen moment was treasured, despite the hell that surrounded them.

They decided to walk one more time around the block and then everyone went inside where they found Finn sitting in the living room eating a big plate of Chicken Florentine and garlic bread and sorting through a stack of mail, Matt went to his father, leaned over the couch, and put his arms around him.

"We went for a walk," he said.

"Nice night for it," Finn said.

"Too bad you couldn't join us," Hiram said as he and Sean sat beside him on the couch.

"Maybe next time," Finn said and waved a glittering gold envelope at Sam and Mercedes.

"Hey, this is for you."

While Sam got Jake and Rosy out of the stroller, Mercedes walked over to Finn and took the envelope. She looked at it and said to Sam:

"It's from Ryder and Unique."

Sam carried the twins to the love seat and sat down.

"What is it?"

Mercedes opened the envelope and took out a gold card with a pumpkin carriage decorated with sparkling diamond rhinestones on the front; the card smelled like Chanel No. 5 perfume; Sam caught a whiff of the scent when Mercedes sat next to him; she turned the card over and smiled:

"It's a wedding invitation."

They looked at it together. On the other side, the top portion of the card had king and queen crowns made of gold and diamond rhinestones. In gold cursive script written on antique ivory parchment paper, reminiscent of fairytale scrolls, the card announced the upcoming nuptials:

Because you have shared in our lives

and supported our love, we

Unique Amber Adams

and

Ryder Hunter Fabray

request the pleasure of your company

at our marriage

Saturday, the eighteenth of June

two thousand seventeen

at half past two in the afternoon

Searles Castle

21 Searles Road

Windham, New Hampshire 03087

Reception immediately to follow

A gold RSVP card decorated with diamond rhinestones and a gold ink drawing of a medieval castle was also enclosed.

"I'm so happy for them," Mercedes said, gazing at the invitation, "They've been through so much, you know?"

Sam nodded.

"I know. And I didn't miss that line about supporting their love. We should definitely go."

"It's awfully fancy," Matt said, peering over Sam's shoulder; he stood behind the loveseat reading the invitation; "What's with all of the sparkly stuff?"

"Unique loves to sparkle," Mercedes said, "It makes her happy."

"Oh," he said.

"I think it's pretty," Abby said, leaning over the love seat as well, "It reminds me of Cinderella."

"That invitation is the epitome of diva. She sounds like a lot of fun," Hiram said as he put his arm around Sean, giving him a chaste kiss on the forehead.

"She is definitely a diva and the life of the party," Mercedes said.

The card fascinated Jake and Rosy; the shiny rhinestones enthralled them like moths to a flame, and their pudgy little hands tried desperately to grab it from Mercedes, and when this proved to be futile, they began to whine and cry.

"Sounds like the Sandman is coming to get you," Sam said.

Jake shook his head.

"No."

Rosy followed suit.

"No."

"Yes, the Sandman is coming to get my babies. He hears you."

"No sleep," Jake said, and he and Rosy cried. Sam gathered them in his arms.

"Now, crying won't help, the Sandman is coming and that's that."

"Come on, let's go upstairs," Mercedes said putting the card on the coffee table.

"Mr. Sandman bring me a dream, bung, bung, bung," Sam sang over the twins' crying protest of bedtime. For each bung he sang, he blew raspberries on their necks, and despite their crankiness and struggles to get off of his lap, they laughed at his antics.

Mercedes sang the next line as she took Rosy from his arms.

"Make him the cutest that I've ever seen, bung, bung, bung"

"Give him two lips like roses and clover, bung, bung, bung," Sam sang as he rose from the couch and then together he and Mercedes sang:

"Then tell him that his lonesome nights are over."

Jake and Rosy listened to their parents singing instead of trying to escape from their arms and the fate of going upstairs to their cribs. When they stopped, Rosy said:

"More."

Sam and Mercedes looked at each other and laughed and sang the next verse together, while carrying Jake and Rosy upstairs:

"Sandman, I'm so alone

Don't have nobody to call my own

Please turn on your magic beam

Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream."

SAY A PRAYER

After the twins were tucked away in their cribs, and covered with their multi-colored patchwork quilts, Sam and Mercedes kissed their foreheads, and Sam said a prayer:

"Lord, we praise and thank you for Rosy, Jake, and Abby, we are so grateful that they are in our lives. Thank you for blessing us with these miracles; everyday as they grow and learn, from taking their first step, to saying their first word, we are filled with joy. Thank you for giving Abby her voice, heart and wisdom, we watch everyday as she grows into a wonderful young lady; we love and treasure our children so much; please watch over and protect them. Lord, please give Rachel, Finn, Matt, Lucy, Hiram and Sean your strength and love during this trying time; open their hearts so that they can heal. We love them so much. We want them to make it through this storm. Matt and Lucy are great kids, but they're lost without their father, help him find his way back to them, make them whole again. Amen."

"Amen," Mercedes whispered and hugged him. "That was beautiful, Sam."

LAVENDER INTERLUDE

When they finally made it to their bedroom, Mercedes went to the bathroom and Sam changed into his pajamas. It was late and he was exhausted. He pulled back the covers, got into bed, and waited for Mercedes to return, his eyes were closing, and after about fifteen minutes, he wondered what was taking her so long, and he heard her call out to him.

"Sam? Could you come here please?"

Yawning, he got out of bed, rubbing his eyes, he opened the bathroom door and the scent of lavender bubble bath wafted through the air; he found his beautiful wife in their large marble, custom made, sunk-in tub for two, completely submersed in a white, foamy cloud of bubbles, the tops of her big breasts, just peeking above the surface. Her hair was twisted in a bun and held together with a sparkling rhinestone rose hair comb. She looked at him, smiling.

"Hi baby," she said.

"I can't believe you still wanted to …"

"Our time, remember? No matter what. Unless you don't want to?"

Sam was undressed in ten seconds flat. His fatigue immediately evaporated and was replaced with desire. He got into the tub and pulled her into his arms.

"Come here, angel," he murmured, kissing her neck, while fondling her breasts, "I needed this."

"Hmmm, me too."

They didn't talk about cancer or Finn's disappearing acts every time Matt and Lucy tried to connect with him; they didn't talk about how Rachel couldn't remember the days of the week, or how Hiram and Sean cried on their couch asking why their precious Booba was dying. They held each other instead, whispering words of gratitude and praise for the other, Sam mentioned a song he heard on the radio that touched his soul, Mercedes talked about the pictures she took of the sunrise in their back yard.

And when the conversation died, it was replaced with kisses, hugs, and caresses, and then she was on his lap, facing him, straddling his thighs, he gripped her broad hips; she opened up and let him inside her; silent joy rippled through them as they made love, slow and sweet, gentle and tender; the water sloshing about, the golden candlelight illuminating their skin, and Mercedes' doe eyes shined. He held his angel tight as they joined together loving each other as one flesh, one mind. When they shuddered in each other's arms afterwards, gasping for breath, Sam rocked her in his arms, protecting her in the lavender bubble of "our time" surrounded by the four walls; the door locked and closed.

I've got you.

She nodded and held on.

And I have you.

SOMETHING TO CELEBRATE

One month later

"Are you ready for this Abby?" Sam asked her, holding her hand.

She looked up at him, nodded and smiled.

"Yes."

His daughter looked so pretty in her emerald green dress; her hair was French braided with satin green ribbons intertwined with the braids. Her emerald locket hung around her neck and she wore the emerald earrings that Hiram and Sean gave her. He fixed her hair that morning, an everyday ritual that was still going strong.

Mercedes squeezed Sam's hand.

"Come on, sweetheart, we don't want to be late."

Sam kissed her cheek.

"Don't worry. I would never be late for this."

They climbed the gray stone steps of the county courthouse holding hands, the early morning breeze blowing against their faces. Today was the final hearing for his adoption of Abby; they had filed a petition for adoption six months ago, gathered all of the legal documents, including birth certificates and Shane's death certificate and attended a preliminary hearing. Shannon, who they hired as their attorney, was instrumental in guiding them through the process: from preparing the petition, getting the name change certificate that would hyphenate Abby's last name, to attending the hearing and working with the court.

After therapy sessions with Santana and discussing this as a family, they felt confident with their decision and Abby told them she wanted Sam to adopt her. They were thankful that since this was a stepparent adoption that the home-study requirement was waived, which would have made the process longer. Sam was in his best black suit and wore a green tie; and Mercedes wore a dark green silk dress that accentuated her curvy figure. Shannon was waiting for them inside near the entrance; she gave them each a hug, and commented on how nice they looked.

"Well, this is our Sunday best," Sam said with great pride, "We wanted to look good for the judge."

Shannon smoothed the skirt of her navy blue and green pinstriped suit and smiled, emerald earrings sparkled on her ears.

"I can see that. Hopefully this won't take long."

They walked down the hall and went into a large courtroom that only had a few people sitting in the gallery. They sat down in the gallery and waited to be called. The dark reddish brown blood wood walls and floor shined under the white fluorescent lights. The judge was speaking with the bailiff, their voices low. Sam never let go of their hands as they sat together on the hard bench. When they were finally called, Sam kissed Abby's and Mercedes' hands and they stood up with Shannon and approached the judge's bench. The judge was an older man who looked to be in is sixties with white hair, thin nose, and glasses. His soft blue eyes were kind and he smiled when he saw them.

"We're meeting in my chambers," he said.

So they went into the judge's chambers and stood before him and he swore them in and sat behind his big oak wood desk while they sat in the empty red leather chairs positioned in front of it.

Shannon turned to Sam, Mercedes and Abby and asked them to introduce themselves to the judge and they did, and then she asked Sam and Mercedes to give a brief testimony as to why the adoption should happen. Sam spoke first.

"I love Abby. She's a wonderful girl and we have a great relationship; I want her to have all of the legal benefits of my adopting her. I want to raise her and give her everything she needs both emotionally and financially. I also love her mother very much and together we will provide, a solid, loving home for Abby. We don't want to only say that she's my daughter; we want it to be official in the eyes of the law. I'm committed to my wife and family for life."

Mercedes went next.

"Sam is a terrific father and husband. I've been so blessed to be his wife and mother of his children. He's been nothing but kind, loving, caring and a solid provider for our family. Abby adores and loves him. He's dedicated to being the best father he can be to her and he's proven time and again that he's committed to our family. We want nothing more than to have him become her father legally."

"Thank you for those testimonies," Shannon said, "And Sam you do understand that if your marriage should end that you and Mercedes would be equally responsible for Abby should the adoption become approved and finalized today."

"I don't plan on our marriage ending, but yes I fully understand that I would be responsible for Abby and I accept that lifetime commitment," Sam said.

The judge looked at Abby.

"Abby, do you think this adoption should proceed?"

"Yes."

"Could you tell me why?"

Abby nodded.

"Because I love Sam and I want him to be my father. He loves me just as much as my Daddy did when he was alive. Sam looks out for me, he listens to me, he takes cares of me. When I couldn't talk, he loved me anyway. He promised to be a good father to me in front of everybody when he and my mother got married. That's why I want him to adopt me."

"Thank you, Abby."

"You're welcome."

Shannon asked Sam and Mercedes to confirm for the judge that they intended to provide a stable, loving, and secure home for Abby, and after this final confirmation, the judge said:

"All of your papers are in order and I have no objection to this adoption taking place. I hereby declare that this adoption is finalized and approved," he said smiling at all of them, and he turned to Abby, and handed her the gavel.

"Would you like to bang the gavel to close the case?"

Abby laughed and took his gavel and banged it against the desk. The judge signed the decree of adoption and it was official, Sam became Abby's father. He picked her up and twirled her around the room, before putting her down and hugging her tight, kissing her cheeks, and telling her how much he loved her.

As they walked out of the courthouse, Shannon told them that she arranged for three copies of the decree to be made. She would get a copy and two copies would go to Sam and Mercedes.

"Thank you for everything you've done," Mercedes said to Shannon as she gave her a hug, "You're an excellent attorney and an even better friend."

"I'm glad this all worked out," Shannon said, "You've been through so much."

Sam and Abby gave her a hug too and thanked her for helping them. When they got to the bottom of the stone steps, Shannon said:

"Did you two need me to bring – "

But Sam cleared his throat and furiously shook his head no and Abby stood there confused.

"Bring what?"

"Oh, nothing Sugarplum," Sam said, "Come on, we better get on home," he said guiding her toward the parking lot.

Shannon whispered to Mercedes:

"Sorry, I thought she knew."

"Don't worry about it. See you soon."

When they got home, and opened the front door, Abby was shocked to see all of their family and friends gathered in the living room and they yelled out:

"Surprise!"

The living room was decorated with green streamers and balloons and a banner that said: "Congratulations, Abigail Amelia Tinsley-Hummel!" hung from the ceiling. Everyone rushed over to her giving her hugs. Burt and Carole who held Rosy and Jake, Blaine and Kurt, Matt and Lucy, Mike and Tina, LaTonya and Cooper, Hiram and Sean, Stevie, Stacey, Finn, Shannon; it almost overwhelmed her how much love she received. And what was even more surprising was that they all wore different shades of green. It brought tears to her eyes but they were good tears so she let them flow.

Rosy and Jake wanted their big sister to hold them and they reached for her as Burt and Carol gave her a hug, so she sat down and they got in her lap, hugging her.

"Abby," they said, smiling up at her, touching her face. Rosy wore a green sundress with a sunflower on the skirt and Jake wore a green shirt and little khaki pants.

She kissed their cheeks.

"Hi there," she said.

Everyone was talking at once and when the hubbub died down, Sam made a speech.

"Abby, we wanted to celebrate today because we want to show you how much we love you and are happy about the adoption. Everyone in this room loves you and will be there for you whenever you need us."

"Here, here!" Burt said, clapping his hands.

Abby wiped her tears with the back of her hand and said;

"I'm so happy right now. Thank you everyone for giving me this party. I love all of you very much."

She saw a pile of presents stacked on the coffee table and her eyes grew wide.

"Are those for me?"

"Yes, Sugarplum, they're for you."

"But it's not even my birthday."

"But it's a new day for you. A new chapter in your life and we're celebrating that," Sam said, kissing her forehead, "You always do your best and well, you're precious to us Abby."

"Your father is right," Mercedes said, stroking her cheek and giving her a kiss, "Enjoy all of this; you deserve it."

Matt and Lucy came over to her and gave her a hug. Their once long hair was now cut extremely short because they had their hair made into a wig for their mother. Rachel, who was resting in the recliner on the opposite side of the room, and was hooked up to an oxygen tank, wore a beautiful wig of long hair in shades of light and dark brown, a mixture of Matt and Lucy's hair. Matt's hair was much darker than Lucy's but somehow it looked good combined with his sister's lighter shade of brown hair.

"You're our sister and we love you," Lucy said.

Abby returned their hugs and noticed that Rachel was smiling at her and she opened her arms. Abby handed Rosy and Jake to her parents and went to Rachel, hugging her.

"Abby, you look beautiful, I'm so happy for you," she whispered, her voice raspy, "I love you."

"I love you too."

"You've come a long way from the silent little girl I met on Christmas day; you've blossomed into a wonderful young lady."

Rachel's words came out slowly and Abby let her take her time to speak; she never rushed her Aunt Rachel or grew impatient with her; she understood how much she struggled.

"Thank you, Aunt Rachel."

Finn walked over and gave her a hug too and then asked Rachel if she wanted to go upstairs, but Rachel refused saying:

"I like sitting here. I'm fine."

Finn didn't question her further but respected her wishes. As the party got under way and people began eating the spread that was prepared which consisted of all of Abby's favorite foods: lasagna, vanilla cake, steamed broccoli, tossed salad, garlic bread, fruit salad, homemade strawberry ice cream, deviled eggs and spare ribs.

Abby made sure that she talked to everyone. She found Cooper and LaTonya in the dining room, enjoying their food. She gave them each a hug.

"Thank you for coming."

Cooper hugged her tight.

"Miss Abby we wouldn't miss this for the world, I can't tell you how proud I am of you and truly how much I love you."

"I love you too," she said as she sat beside him, "Your eyes are shining."

"Are they now?"

"Yes," she said and looked at LaTonya, "You make them shine."

"If this isn't your child from another life, I don't know who is," LaTonya said, laughing, "She's got some of you in her, Cooper, I don't know how, but she does."

"I'm not sure I believe in reincarnation," Cooper said as he took a bite of lasagna, "And Sam is her father, a very good one at that."

"Oh, Cooper," LaTonya said, and then smiled at Abby, "We would like you to be in our wedding."

"As a flower girl?"

"No, even better. We want everyone who is close to us to stand up with us as we take our vows. You're special to us and want to include you."

"Yes, I want to do it."

"Wonderful!"

"When will we get invitations?"

"We're working on that," LaTonya said, sipping her lemonade, "Work has picked up."

Abby held Cooper's hand.

"I want you to be careful, alright?"

"Abby I – "

"I know you can get hurt… just be safe."

He leaned down and kissed the top of her head.

"I promise to be careful. Now enough worrying about me. Let's enjoy the party."

LaTonya asked her about the color green.

"Is it your favorite?"

Abby wasn't sure how to explain it so she said:

"It means something to me, Mommy and Sam.

"Ok."

After that, they talked about Sherlock Holmes, her new house designs, astronomy, and the birdhouse she and Sam put in her favorite tree in the back yard, it was even bigger than the one they built together back in Tennessee. After their conversation, Sam called her into the living room to unwrap her gifts. She received a new MacBook laptop from Burt and Carol, a basket filled with her favorite hair care and bath products from Lucy and a tool set from Matt.

Cooper and LaTonya got her a complete set of Sherlock Holmes books, a magnifying glass with a monogrammed gold handle and an inscription that read: May you always see clearly, Love Cooper and LaTonya, and a 500.00 dollar Visa gift card. Mercedes got her a telescope due to her recent interest in astronomy and a gorgeous jade green sleeveless ball gown made of tulle with a sweetheart neckline, full, poufy, floor length skirt, a crisscross lace-up back and decorated with tiny silver sequins and rhinestones on the bodice.

"Mommy, this is beautiful," she said holding up the dress for everyone to see, "But where will I wear it?" It was the fanciest dress she had ever owned.

"You'll see," Mercedes said.

Abby also received an assortment of clothes, gift cards, video games and jewelry from everyone else. And Sam's gift came last. He handed her a green envelope, she opened it and inside were two tickets to the Second Annual Daddy Daughter Ball at the Star Pride Science and Observatory Museum. The dance would take place in the museum ballroom and there would also be a star show at the planetarium on the upper floor, and the event was scheduled for that night.

Abby hugged him.

"I can't wait. I've never been to a dance before."

"I wanted your first dance to be with the man who will love you for the rest of your life," Sam said, "And I have something else for you too, he said, handing her a small rectangular blue box from Tiffany's.

She opened it and inside was a 14k gold charm bracelet with six charms dangling from it. The first charm was a solid gold heart with an inscription: Dear Abby, I didn't give you the gift of life. Life gave me the gift of you. Love, Sam. The second charm was a gold birdhouse, the third charm was a bright diamond snowflake, the fourth charm was a gold hammer with tiny emeralds on the handle, the fifth charm was a diamond cut rose gold comb, and the last charm was a gold skillet; this one made Abby chuckle because every Sunday morning she begged Sam to make his famous pancakes. But each charm meant something and she knew exactly why he had chosen them because they were linked to moments in their relationship.

"Thank you so much," Abby said, hugging him as tight as she could, "I love you."

"And I love you. Now tonight a limo is picking us up and taking us to the dance."

Abby smiled and clapped her hands, a Cinderella dress, a limo, a pretty bracelet, a ball room dance, and a star show in the planetarium; she couldn't have imagined all of the wonderful gifts bestowed upon her; she was so happy she could burst.

After the party was over and she said a million goodbyes, gave hugs, kisses, and said I love you to each and every guest, Abby went upstairs and began to get ready for the dance. Her mother drew her a bath in her bathroom and when she was finished bathing, she let her use her scented Estee Lauder Beautiful lotion. Mercedes also washed and deep conditioned Abby's hair using the Shea Moisture products that Lucy gave her as a gift.

As her mother combed through the tangles of her wet hair, and they chatted together, sometimes joking, it reminded her of when they lived in Lima and her Daddy was alive; maybe because whenever her mother would wash her hair, her father would watch and call her Chaka Khan, teasing her in his loving way. She could hear his booming laugh and voice.

My baby got a head full of pretty hair. Looking just like Chaka Khan. I think that's what I'll call you from now on.

Abby laughed. And her mother would only smile and say:

Be quiet and let me finish her hair in peace.

I ain't stopping you. Then he started singing Sweet Thing.

Abby started humming the tune and soon Mercedes was singing with her. And Abby felt her Daddy next to her and it didn't feel sad, only nice like getting a visit from an old friend. When they were finished singing the song, she knew her mother felt the same thing by the way she hugged her.

"I feel him too, Abby."

Abby nodded.

"I know."

Lucy painted her nails and the two laughed and talked and Abby felt so light and free. The only sadness that she carried was for Aunt Rachel, who was now sleeping and Uncle Finn was beside her on the bed, watching TV. Lucy told her that her mother told her to tell Abby to remember all the details so that they could hear all about it tomorrow.

"I'll remember everything," Abby said, "And we'll take lots of pictures."

Matt wandered into the room.

"Do you want me to paint your nails?" Lucy said holding up the bottle of red nail polish.

He rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, whatever," he said plopping on the bed; he reminded Abby of an elf with his super short hair and delicate features. They didn't ask why he was there. The three of them were always near each other some kind of way; their closeness happened naturally over time. First it was just Abby and Lucy, but since they moved in, Matt somehow fit into the fold and they formed a unit. He laid on the bed and leaned his head against Abby's hip and rubbed his feet against Lucy, who tickled his bare soles and he laughed pulling them away. Matt was somewhat of a cuddle bug; he got it from Finn.

Mercedes came into the room with Rosy on her hip and said:

"How would you like your hair styled?"

Abby thought for a moment then said:

"A French twist."

"Good choice. After I finish feeding the babies, I'll come do your hair."

"Thank you, Mommy."

Mercedes smiled and left. After she was gone, Lucy said:

"When you're in the limo you should stick your head out of the roof. I saw them do that in a movie once."

"That sounds like fun."

"Isn't that against the law?" Matt said.

"How do you know?"

He shrugged.

"It sounds dangerous."

Lucy sighed.

"Matt you're a party pooper."

"No, I'm not Luce. I just don't want my sister to get arrested."

It warmed Abby's heart when he said "my sister" that was the first time he ever said it. Since her nails were now dry, she ruffled his hair.

"I'll be fine Matt."

"Have you picked out what movie you want us to see with Zaide and Granddad tonight? It's your turn to choose." Lucy said, getting up from the bed and setting the nail polish on Abby's dresser.

"Nah… I wish Dad would come with us. I wish Mom - " he stopped talking and stared down at the bed.

Lucy doesn't say anything. Abby takes them each by the hand and said:

"Remember, tomorrow night is the Taylor Swift concert."

"Oh yeah," Lucy said, brightening up a bit, "We should go to Sonic before the concert and get chili cheese dogs."

"And cherry limeade," Matt said, "And we can ask them to put in extra maraschino cherries."

"We've got VIP passes too," Abby said.

"I want her to sing Shake It Off twice," Lucy said.

"And Bad Blood," Matt said.

"Hey, Abby, Matt wants to marry Taylor Swift when he grows up," Lucy said.

Matt bopped Lucy with a pillow.

"I do not."

"You do too. You get all moon-eyed over her."

"I don't get moon-eyed Luce. I just think she's pretty."

"Ok, if you say so."

While they teased each other, Abby hopped off the bed and turned on her iPod, soon the room was filled with the sound of Taylor Swift singing Shake It Off, and the three of them started dancing and singing.

Cause the players gonna play, play, play, play, play

And the haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate

Baby, I'm just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake

I shake it off, I shake it off

They shook it off as they sang as loud as they could and jumped around the room dancing. Maybe they couldn't get through to their father just yet, maybe they would have to take each day as it comes, but Abby knew while they danced and sang together in her room, letting loose, waving their arms and legs around, and laughing harder than they had in a long time, that joy was felt in all of their hearts, and this bit of joy would see them through any darkness.

***

When Abby was finally ready, she stood in front of her full-length bedroom mirror and felt like she was in a dream because she almost didn't recognize her own reflection. Her hair was in an elegant French twist. The dress swished against her legs and looked like a green cloud. Mercedes indulged her and let her wear a trace of lip-gloss and two tiny dabs of blush, but anything more was entering beauty pageant territory and that was something she wanted to avoid. Her precious emerald locket hung around her neck and she wore the emerald earrings Hiram and Sean bought for her and her new Tiffany charm bracelet dangled from her small wrist.

"You're ten years old and you're going to look like a ten year old," Mercedes said, when Abby suggested more make-up.

Abby liked how she looked; she just wanted to use her face as a canvas and see what else they could come up with. Mercedes' eyes welled up with tears as she stood before the mirror with Abby, and she put her hands on her shoulders, gazing at her reflection.

"Mommy?" Abby said, looking at her with concern.

"Sorry, sweetie, I'm just overcome with… I don't know happiness and just everything. Look at you."

Abby hugged her mother.

"I have looked at me, and I like how I look."

Mercedes lifted her chin.

"Abigail Amelia."

"Yes?" Abby figured what her mother was about to say was serious because she never used her full name unless she meant business.

"I want you to always like how you look. Wait, forget like. I want you to love how you look. No matter what anyone says you are beautiful. Your black skin is beautiful, your kinky hair, your broad nose. All of it is beautiful. Do you understand?"

"I do."

"And any time you start to even think you are less than beautiful, you come to me and your father and we'll remind you every day, is that clear?"

"Yes, Mommy."

"There's no greater gift that me and your father can give to you than truly loving who you are. Knowing your worth, knowing you're priceless, precious, and rare. I know it's a personal life journey, but if we can give you the tools, you'll get there sooner. I love you, Abby."

"I love you too."

"Come on, your father is waiting downstairs, all decked out in his finest tuxedo. The limo will be here soon."

When they got to the stairs Abby looked down and saw Sam, Lucy and Matt standing in the entryway. They watched as she descended the stairs. Sam started singing and soon Matt and Lucy joined in:

Isn't she lovely

Isn't she wonderful

Isn't she precious

Abby couldn't stop grinning and when she got to the bottom of the stairs, they all hugged her and Sam said:

"My darling daughter, aren't you a beautiful girl."

"Thank you, Sam. You look nice too."

He bowed a little.

"Thank you, my dear."

"Here," Lucy said, handing her a green silk handkerchief, "Mom said to give this to you for the dance."

"It's so pretty," she said, feeling the smooth silk against her fingertips.

"She woke up about ten minutes ago and remembered she had something for you."

"I'm glad she's remembering," Abby said, somewhat wistful, "Tell her I said thank you."

"I will."

"You really do look pretty," Matt said.

Lucy nodded.

"Yeah, you really do."

They hugged once more and Mercedes took pictures of everyone. The limo arrived right on time and Abby and Sam left for their evening out.

THE BALL

The limousine was a black Lincoln MKT with plush black leather interior seating that resembled a J-shaped couch. A mahogany hardwood and lacquer bar console with a steel foot rail to rest your feet on was in front of the seats. Small dome lights that looked like the ones found on airplanes shined down from the ceiling and flaming red neon light fixtures were located in the bar console with fiber optic lighting. The bar was stocked with Abby's favorite drinks: apple juice, lemonade, and sprite. There was even a jar of maraschino cherries and she thought of Matt and smiled. There was also a DVD player, Bluetooth and LCD TV. Abby bounced on the seat and Sam turned on some music. The only thing missing was a place in the roof to stick their heads out of but since she didn't want to get arrested it was probably for the best.

"Would you like something to drink?" Sam asked.

"Yes, I want a sprite mixed with apple juice and two maraschino cherries."

Sam laughed.

"Ok, Sugarplum, coming right up."

He made the drink and handed it to her and she felt very grown-up like a special lady. Sam poured himself a glass of sprite sans the juice and cherries, and they clinked glasses, before each took a sip. The view from the windows was lovely as they passed by the historic buildings of downtown Star Pride and looked at the stars shining in the black velvet night sky.

"There's my favorite building," Abby said pointing to the sliver gray stone Star Pride Archives building with four gargoyles perched on each corner of the roof.

"Why is that your favorite?"

"It reminds me of a castle. The kids at school said that at midnight the gargoyles wake up and fly around."

"Maybe we'll see them fly tonight," Sam said, sipping his soda, humoring her.

"Maybe," Abby said, smiling at him.

They talked about nothing in particular and Abby forgot how much she missed spending alone time with Sam. Things changed a lot after the twins were born and even more when Finn and his family moved in. He still did her hair every morning and they talked when they could and he never neglected to give her a hug or good night kiss before she went to bed, or tell her how much he loved her, but this was different. Spending time together, with just her and Sam, without anyone else. It felt good.

When the limo pulled up to the Star Pride Science and Observatory Museum, and their chauffeur opened their door, and took her hand, helping her out of the car, she was surprised to see the long stretch red carpet leading up to the entrance. Other fathers and daughters dressed in formal attire were walking up the carpet to go inside. Sam looped his arm through hers.

"Come on, Sugarplum, we got a shindig to go to."

Abby laughed as they walked the red carpet. She saw a few girls from her class and waved at them, and while their fathers looked nice in their tuxes, she thought that Sam was the most handsome and strong father there and that she had the prettiest gown. After they checked in and their tickets were scanned, they went into the ballroom. The marble floors gleamed, the crystal chandelier that hung from the ceiling sparkled.

A long table covered with a white lace tablecloth was pushed against the wall and filled with white china trays of sweets: flaky chocolate hazelnut croissants, long, chocolate covered éclairs filled with rich vanilla cream, pink, green and yellow opera cakes soaked in coffee flavored syrup and layered with coffee buttercream and chocolate ganache; and pink butter cream frosted vanilla bean cupcakes sprinkled with hot pink sugar crystals. There was also big glass bowls of punch and bottles of water with pink labels on them that said: Second Annual Daddy Daughter Ball 2016. The old 80s tune "Time of My Life" from Dirty Dancing was playing. Abby grabbed Sam's hand and pulled him out onto the dance floor, and together they danced to the tune and Sam even broke out his Patrick Swayze moves.

All of the satin, tulle, silk and taffeta dresses floated across the ballroom floor in a rainbow sea of dazzling colors and it was like a wonderful dream. Lace and sparkles. Spit shined patent leather shoes that clicked against the marble floor. Fathers in tuxes with slicked back hair, gazing down at their daughters with admiration and love. And the daughters were every size and shape, tall and slender, short and chubby, or somewhere in between, but it didn't matter because they were all beautiful, and they all danced in their own fairytale and Abby was overjoyed to be among them.

The DJ played a mixture of old and new songs and when the old Louis Armstrong song, "What a Wonderful World" began to play, Abby remembered how Sam taught her to keep her back straight and he twirled her around; and she saw shiny tears in his eyes. She liked this song, because it was indeed a wonderful world underneath the chandelier, gliding across the floor, her dress sweeping about like Belle in Beauty and the Beast.

After that, the DJ played a few Beyonce and Rhianna songs, and then she and Sam took a break and got some water and sat down in one of the gold tapestry chairs at the other end of the ballroom.

When Sam finished his water, he looked at his watch and said, "It's almost time for the first star show, let's head up stairs to the planetarium."

"Ok," she said and took his offered hand.

They took the elevator to the top floor. Other fathers and daughters were going up as well. The elevator had plush red carpet and shiny gold doors and walls that you could see your reflection in. Sam put a strong arm around her because it was a tad crowded, and his protective instinct kicked in; she felt so safe when he did that and she leaned against him. A mixture of sweet perfume and heavy cologne hung in the air. Abby laid her head on Sam's arm and then she felt someone tap her shoulder and when she looked behind her, she saw that it was Melanie, a transgender girl from swim class at the local community center.

"Hi Abby, you look so pretty," she said, her long blonde hair hung down her back in a straight, sleek, shiny curtain and her blue eyes were bright, reminding Abby of a swimming pool shimmering in the summer sun. Her dress was almost the same shade of blue as her eyes and tiny blue crystals were on the bodice and the puffy taffeta skirt as well.

"Hi Melanie, you look pretty too."

"Thanks, this is my father," she said, nodding toward an older man who looked more like her grandfather than father, he smiled down at Abby.

"Hello, dear, you're looking lovely this evening."

Sam turned around and shook Melanie's father's hand.

"Hi, I'm Sam Hummel, Abby's father."

"Nice to meet you. I'm Joseph Spencer."

"Like wise," Sam said and peered down at Melanie, "You look pretty as a picture."

Melanie blushed, biting her bottom lip.

"Thank you."

When the elevator chimed everyone got off and headed to the planetarium down the hall. Melanie and her father walked beside Abby and Sam.

"Are you having fun?" Melanie asked, her voice quiet and low.

"Yes. How about you?"

"I am. This is my first dance."

"Mine too!"

The two girls looked at each other and laughed. It felt like a Lucy moment and for a second she missed her sister; that's how they connected, just laughing at a joke that only the two of them understood. Melanie had always been nice to her in swim class, but they never got a chance to talk much. The only reason she knew that she was transgender was because she heard some other girls whispering about it. Some shunned her, but most were kind.

When they got to the planetarium they ended up sitting next to each other; the reclining theatre seats were deep burgundy and had soft cushions and were arranged in a semi- circle. The big raised dome ceiling was white and the lights were dim. Sam took pictures of everything and had Abby pose for a picture with Melanie. Both he and Abby had captured a lot of moments on their phones. While their fathers texted, Abby and Melanie chatted before the show began.

"What do you think other dances will be like?" Melanie asked.

"You mean ones with boys?"

"Yeah."

"Not like this. But they might be fun. I don't know."

"Where do you go to school?"

"Star Pride Academy. How about you?"

"I'm homeschooled."

"Do you like it?"

"It gets lonely sometimes."

"With all the folks at my house, I'm never lonely."

"You have a lot of brothers and sisters?"

"Yes I have a little brother and sister that are twins; they're only a year old and I have an older brother and sister; they're twelve, but they're really my cousins but they feel more like my brother and sister."

Melanie tilted her head.

"I think I understand."

"Anyway they live with us along with their Mom and Dad."

"Full house."

"Yeah."

"What about you?"

"I have an older brother away at college. He doesn't come home much. And I have a poodle that's blind in one eye. He barks at the wall."

"Oh."

Melanie opened up her sparkling blue purse and pulled out a packet of grape pop rocks.

"Want some?"

"I love this stuff."

"Yeah me too. The fizzing is cool."

Just as she poured a heap of purple rocks into Abby's eager hands, the lights went down and the show started. As the grape rocks fizzed on her tongue, filling her mouth with sweetness, Abby laid back in her seat, and stared up at the dome, feeling rather mellow and happy. The show was called the Cosmic Universe and it showed what stars actually were made of and how they came into existence; the space images were breathtaking, and Abby felt like she could climb right into to the cosmos above and float through the Milky Way and pluck away the stars with her fingers. Sam was mesmerized too, and he held her hand, squeezing it tight. When it was over, the announcer requested that they stay for a special bonus treat.

"I wonder what it is?" Abby whispered in Sam's ear.

"I don't know. I hope it's good."

"It probably will be. The first show was great."

"You smell like grape soda," Sam said, chuckling.

"Grape pop rocks."

"Oh, ok."

Suddenly the screen above was filled with stars, and music began to play, after a few notes, Abby realized it was the Star Wars theme. As the theme played the stars danced around in the black sky in time to the music; and it felt like you moved with the stars, though you were anchored to the seat. It was awesome. When it was over, everyone applauded and a few people whistled, the lights came on. Melanie touched her arm.

"We should hang out sometime," she said.

"Sure."

The two girls exchanged numbers and said good-bye. Sam looked at his watch.

"The limo will be here in fifteen minutes. It's time to go."

As they walked to the elevator Abby said:

"Can we stop by the refreshment table?"

"Are you still hungry? We can stop somewhere on the way home," Sam said, putting his arm around her.

"No, I want to take some treats home."

"Is that something Aunt Josephine taught you?"

"Yes, how did you know?"

"It sounds like her, that's why."

"Good food shouldn't go to waste. And I brought Ziploc bags she said."

"Oh, God," Sam said laughing, "Alright, but be quick about it."

When they got to the ballroom, Sam waited by the exit, and Abby went to the refreshment table and grabbed as many treats as her purse could hold, and even took a few bottles of water. Aunt Josephine would've been proud:

Child, if you paid for it, it's yours.

Technically, Sam had paid for it, but she felt the rule applied anyway. She met him by the door and said:

"Ok, I'm done."

Sam smiled and handed her a pink velvet drawstring bag with Second Annual Daddy Daughter Ball written in raised satin gold calligraphy letters across the front.

"This is so cute!"

"It's a goody bag to take home. I don't know what's inside it. They were handing them out at the coat check."

He opened the door, ushering her outside, his hand planted on the small of her back.

"Come on, the limo just pulled up."

The chauffeur tipped his hat and opened the door for them and Abby got in first with Sam following behind her. She kicked off her shoes because they were brand new and pinched her toes a little; she figured she just needed to break them in. She leaned against Sam and yawned.

"Thank you, Sam. I had so much fun tonight."

"You're welcome. I love you, Sugarplum," he said kissing the top of her head, "Your mother, you, Rosy and Jake are my everything. Never forget that."

"I love you too, and I won't ever forget."

"If you do, I'll remind you."

Abby smiled and yawned again.

"I know you will."

They grew quiet. The limo hummed a long. Abby gazed out the window and when they passed by the Star Pride Archives building, she stared at the gargoyles.

Sam rubbed her shoulder.

"Seeing if they can fly?"

"What time is it?"

"About one minute after midnight."

"Well, they can't fly."

"No harm in believing they could."

Abby smiled and rested her head on Sam's shoulder, closing her eyes, the night trailed through her mind, ball gowns and chandeliers, dancing stars, and marble floors, pop rocks fizzing on her tongue, and Sam saying: "I'm Abby's father." That was the best part of all.

END NOTES: Thank you for reading and reviewing! The inscription on the Tiffany charm bracelet is found on jewelry given to adopted children.

#Samcedes fanfiction #Samcedes #Sam and mercedes #sam evans and mercedes jones

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michellelewis7162 · 4 years

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General wellness problem: Poor increasing methods can cause wellness condition for that Bulldogs. There are possibilities of joint, heart and additionally eye health problems in addition to back problems.

Obstinacy: This Bulldog puppies may be really persistent as well as manipulative, exclusively when they are being qualified or even worked out. You need to present them frequently that you are in fact the one in charge. Meals is an excellent incentive to push them to perform various duties; nevertheless, if they are really undoubtedly not exercised effectively, they find yourself being body fat and also unhealthful.

It might be actually unexpected however numerous pet dogs suffer originating from allergic reactions, each ecological in addition to foods, as well as also French Bulldogs can respond quite easily. You may surely not recognize how to recognize the signs and symptoms when you don't recognize what they are Blue French Bulldog Puppies For Sale Cheap.

Smaller sized canines along with light-haired household pet canines are in fact added vulnerable to allergy symptom signs than others, featuring French Bulldog young puppy pets together with their light-toned tinted coat in addition to little development. Some think the little bit of breed of a French Bulldog are so much more in jeopardy to allergic reaction signs as a result of to the reality that they are actually far better to the ground and also toxic irritants like backyard in addition to plant pollen. Their short, fine hair also permits fast and effortless ease of access to the skin to lead to additional swelling. Whatever the factor, allergy symptoms for your French Bulldog new puppy are merely as miserable for him as allergy symptom signs and symptoms are really for you.

French Bulldogs puppy pets with eco-friendly allergic reactions, also called canine atopic eczema, are in fact understood to massage their skin layer on rugs or house household furniture, scrape at their ears as well as additionally eyes above regular along with eat their feet, reduced legs and also pads. If your Frenchie is doing this, it could be due to the fact that the poisonous irritants do his skin layer triggering itching as well as additionally scratching continual. Try scrubing his shoes as well as additionally experience off together with a wet towel after each potty rest outdoors. This are going to certainly assist to do away with a few of the harmful irritants afflicting your pet. And also the cold water will undoubtedly provide some relief to your puppy's skin.

Frequent ear contaminants are additionally a significant indication of allergies. It is actually properly to talk to your creature doctor to find out if this is actually brought about with allergies or even a lot more major ear problem. Relying on the prognosis, your vet could encourage an ear rinse that can be accessed any kind of kind of animal outlet. This will most definitely aid to rinse out any type of allergens that could be in fact putting up all around in the ear channel as correctly as washing away any kind of dust. Your French Bulldog puppy may simply be really specifically vulnerable to ear poisonings because of the substantial sizes of his ears. The ears could be carrying in irritants, plant pollens as effectively as numerous other toxic irritants airborne to damage in the ear channel Blue French Bulldog Puppies For Sale Cheap.

When you understand the indications as well as signs, your pup scraping each of the home household furniture as properly as consuming his shoes may surely not be actually such a significant mystery. Now it is really chance to function versus the toxic irritants!

French Bulldog pups are really frequently great, caring as well as likewise correctly acted pet dogs however a single thing might fail along with any type of kind. Whether it be actually a bad dog breeder that holds out absolutely not adequately socialize or also something you might be performing unsuitable, your younger pup may be assertive. However, do not panic - all odds is in fact certainly not shed. Try these suggestions to stop your French Bulldog new puppy's aggressiveness in its personal screens!

1. Roaring, snapping, snapping in addition to other indicators of animosity might quickly happen unsafe for you along with your member of the family. When your pup displays these practices, it typically suggests that he is actually making an initiative to get superiority over you in addition to the several other participants of your home. To stop those behaviors, you need to show to him that you are actually alpha and also ought to be really valued consequently. In a pet pack, the alpha dog is rarely tested by means of the others. The faster you present your very own personal as the forerunner of the pack, the quicker your young puppy dog's aggressiveness must diminish.

2. Disclosing assertive habits around food products, handles, amusements as properly as bones can additionally be an issue in dogs. Alpha household pet dogs take care of that eats as well as when in the pack - you call for to mimic the alpha in the pack. When you prepare his foods, keep him out of the room so he may not whimper or plunge on you. When you are in fact all set for him to consume, phone him to his consuming area along with make him relax carefully for at least 5 secs just before you provide him his recipe. This will certainly disclose your young puppy pet dog that you are really in demand of when he consumes which signifies you are alpha, certainly not him.

3. Many of all else, do not allow you French Bulldog doggie believe that he can conveniently leave revealing clues of aggressiveness. When your new puppy roars or presents various other harmful practices, rapidly tell him "zero" in a loud, tough tone to make sure that the relevant information is actually loud as well as likewise quite clear.

The typical price of an American bulldog pup is actually around $800. If you suppose that is actually expensive, hang around up till I information the popular cost of a French bulldog. The final possibility I marketed one, the bargain was actually solved favorably at $2000 for a particular new puppy pet dog. The information is really very crystal clear - putting in on a French bulldog is exploring be actually a costly celebration. Unless you possess ample cages of cash funds stockpiled in the basement, I assume you are actually visiting be fine along with an American bulldog. It is difficult to find full-blooded pet canines nowadays. In the being prosperous areas, I will definitely show some steps that might be thought about if you definitely intend to acquire amongst these!

Several websites focus on the list and also investments of French bulldog youthful puppy dogs. Thinking about that those niche market is actually extremely successful, one are heading to discover tons of alleged reputed vendors. Finding the solutions of an amount of the most perfect internet service providers will undoubtedly simplify the rest of the methods. The whole complication of the problem shows up to center on this details location - exactly how will a newbie customer vary in between unwarrantable and legit offers that are actually specified online? Accomplish definitely not stress; support is really at hand considered that I will highlight some little prints that are in fact typically put away by spurious companies.

Spurious distributors will undoubtedly trick the newbie people via revealing never ever simply prior to listened to prices. In some websites, I came across $500 specified for a four-week-old French bulldog new puppy dog. It is actually critical that you need to never ever become for such catches. The genuine gateways are now collecting on enhancing their individual base by seeking for correct i.d.. In a lot less complicated expressions, at this moment the moment you have in fact enrolled in one such portal, you are actually mosting likely to be really asked for to deliver image identification. The web site workers are actually going to verify these details, and also they are going to trigger your profile.

You could be actually competent about the basic fact that as the get older of the household pet rears, the standard price of the identical dog declines. Avoid coming from home owners who ask for $2000 for a 12-week-old youthful puppy. The traditional cost prepare is actually $1000 to $1200 for these youthful new puppies! Take an although to visit the testaments specified by previous clients. The reputed internet websites are going to undoubtedly continually speak with the consumers to offer responses along with will definitely change their organisation style to satisfy the greater needs of the people. Such tasks are going to definitely be actually practically nonexistent in the spurious gateways.

If you are seeking full-blooded French bulldogs, you require to verify it along with the merchant in creating. This will certainly aid you at a later opportunity if the dealer chooses to reclaim his declaration. A considerable amount of the internet sites that deal with the sale of new pups have an internet track record system - the a lot more the internet track record, the a lot far better the client. On top of that, think about the approach of transport; these youthful new puppies need to have to be actually delivered under great environments. Validate whether the supplier prefers to give such facilities. Paying a lot of hundreds extra for the secure transport of the pet dog is actually strongly advised.

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