#I like Alberta that's where a lot of my family came from

[teaboot]

Ive never been to California but that feels right somehow

Loads of crystal shops, overpriced Boba tea, and middle aged women in junky jewelry who practice new age medicine.

I find Alberta culture to be a bit more gruff and grounded, bit more relatable. Like... if you run into a shitty person from Alberta, you imagine an asshole in a jacked up Ford F150 and a large dog throwing his beer can out his window on the highway. Whereas a jerk in BC would be like.... A cunty lady in a tie-dye shirt and birkenstocks in front of a whole foods sniping at you about how taking prescription medication damages your reiki or something

Hey have you ever noticed that British Columbians and Albertans kind of seem to have beef with each other? Not to a ridiculous degree, but definitely somewhat? Because I’ve noticed a lot of BCers being passive aggressive towards Alberta and I’ve noticed the same for Albertans towards BC online, but can’t tell if I’m going crazy or if this is actually a thing

BC has a lot of hippies and tourism while Alberta has a lot more farming and industrial work. I haven't seen a lot of sniping like that, but I can see how we'd clash

[trevorsimp]

Hey! I really love your fics they are fire!! I was wondering if you could do a Sasappis/male ghost reader and/or an Alberta/male ghost reader? I’m not picky on specifics I just love these two so much. Thanks! 🫶🫶

Confessions of a Confirmed Bachelor

Request: ^^^

Pairing: Sasappis x male!ghost!reader

Summary: You and Sasappis

Notes: 759 Words. confessions. mention of previous angst/undertones of past angst.

--------

You and Sasappis lay on the lawn of the Woodstone estate on a particularly warm summer’s day. The wind blew just right through the grass and over the two of you. You kept your eyes closed as you embraced the sun.

“Sasappis, friend, did you often find yourself bathing in the sun during your lifetime?” you asked.

“Not often,” he said, “I was usually doing something to help my family or tribe.”

You hummed, “Neither did I. Ever the eligible bachelor, I was oft up late in the night, sleeping the day away or keeping indoors. I so wish I had spent some time to warm my living flesh.”

Sasappis turned his head to look at you, “Did you enjoy partying?”

“Why yes,” you said, “The attention was magnificent. I would visit the city to visit the parties and meet the ladies out on the market. In the marriage market, when a woman came of age to be wed, her parents would doll her up and introduce her to the proper men. I would bask in their eyes, but I was not looking to be tied down. Nor did I let a young lady believe she had caught my attention. It was a pity to see them heartbroken. Oh but truth be told, if I had my way, I would have stayed unmarried for my life, my long life, and lived with my good friend Leonard.”

“Leonard?” Sasappis asked.

“He was a handsome fellow. I never went too long without finding his company, nor did I ever dare to attend a party without him. He held my hand when my heart failed me the night, from all of the cocaine he and I did before the party, I died in the manor.”

“I remember him,” Sas said, “He looked heartbroken.”

“He was my closest friend. I suppose we could have been lovers in another era… I hope he lived a long and happy life. I hope he managed to escape the draft for the Great War and live in a big house with lots of money and people who loved him.”

“Do you miss him?”

“In a sense,” you said, “I miss him fondly, but my heart does not break over him anymore. I have made a new life, afterlife, I suppose, here. I have friends and a new fancy.”

“Really?” Sasappis sat up, “Who?”

You laughed and sat up too.

“Why Sasappis, you, of course.”

“Me? Why me?”

“I thought you had noticed that I dedicated a vast majority of my time following you around for nearly the past 25 years,” you said, “You make me laugh and smile, you are a joy to be around, you always find a way to fill your day with entertainment. Sasappis… I am so enamored by you. Tell me your heart beats the same way.”

You took his hand in your gloved hand, holding it gingerly as you looked at him in earnest.

“I, I didn’t realize you felt the same way about me, Y/N,” he said, “All this time I thought you were… more like an Edwardian-era Trevor-type.”

“Oh please,” you laughed, “Trevor and I may be similar in manner but we do not have the same type.” You stopped as his words finished marinating in your ears, “You do?”

You threw yourself over Sasappis to embrace him. The two of your rolled a few times before stopping beside each other.

“Sasappis, my story-teller, where should I begin?” you asked, “With my more recent soul-crushing heart-throbbing feelings? When I realized I love you? Or the moment when I woke from ym cocaine crash out and laid my eyes on you?”

“Start from the beginning,” Sasappis said, “I want to hear it all.”

You cleared your throat, “The night was December 23, 1911. It was snowing outside, and I had just taken the very last of my cocaine. I do wish I had kept my backup tin on me, then, we might have been able to get high in the afterlife. Alas, I have just taken my last bit of cocaine. I was going back down the stairs to rejoin the party when I felt my heart seize up. I blacked out, and when I opened my eyes, standing over my corpse, I saw you. There you were, smoldering gaze and luscious long hair, standing at the top of the stairs. There were other people with you, but I only remembered the way I felt I must be in heaven to see a man so dapper waiting to greet me…”

xxx

Masterlist

[renlyslittlerose]

So my estranged grandfather passed away in the wee morning hours today. Seventeen years and one day since my Canadian grandfather died - which is very odd.

He wasn't what I would say was a good grandfather, nor a good father. He wasn't even a very good man. I started distancing myself from him around 2016, and was fully out of his life by 2018. He was verbally and emotionally abusive, enjoyed toying with people and their emotions, used people for his own personal gain, gaslit like it was his fucking job, and was generally neglectful to his duties as a father and a grandfather - especially to my sister and I. I can count on one hand the times he actually remembered my birthday when I was a kid, but even those moments were probably prompted by my mum or his girlfriend or his ex-wife.

But he had his moments, and I think I should say a few words about him and who he was.

He was born in a town in Hungary in 1935, near Lake Balaton. He was the youngest of the children, his brothers old enough to serve during WWII. During the war he talked about how he and his friends would go out to the abandoned battlefields and collect ammunition from the German and Soviet tanks, pile them in cow pastures, and set them off to scare the cows and other livestock. He said once school resumed after the war, a lot of kids came into class with missing fingers or even missing hands. He was lucky in that the only injury he received during his dumbass-ery was slicing his ass open on a destroyed German tank.

After the war he remained in the area, growing up with minimal education and helping run the household (his eldest brother had committed suicide shortly after the war was over). But in 1956, Hungary had their failed revolution in a desperate attempt to kick out the Soviet occupation. My grandfather wasn't part of the fighting, but he had enough sense to listen to one of the elders in the village who said that if they wanted to get the fuck out of Hungary and past the Iron Curtain, now was their time to run.

So he fled to Austria with some of his friends. They stayed in a refugee camp where he tried to learn basic English, before Canada accepted Hungarian refugees in 1958. So, along with some friends he'd made in the camp, he got on a boat and had a miserable trip across the Atlantic to the harbour of Halifax (he said that he could barely eat the entire trip because he was so sea sick). From there, he was put on a train that went across Canada, and he could get off on at any stop and just... start a new life.

It was, of course, the dead of winter when he and his friends arrived. Canada during the winter isn't pleasant - doubly so when you've come from the relatively mild Hungarian countryside. But one of his friends had family in Vancouver, and so he suggested they stay on the train all the way to the West Coast. Satisfied with this idea, my Papa agreed.

Only he made it as far as my home city in Alberta. You see, my city has this funky weather phenomena called a 'chinook.' Chinooks are when warm winds from the Pacific flow into the area and rush down the mountains and across the prairies, causing an inversion of air that rapidly warms up the city for a few days. We can go from -20C degree temperatures one day, to +15C the next. So when my Papa arrived in my city it was warm. Deceptively so. Ignoring his friend's suggestion they just continue on to Vancouver, my Papa decided to get off and start his new life.

The next day the train rolled out, and with it the freezing cold temperatures returned.

Despite it all he remained where he was. Life as a Hungarian refugee was tough. He knew very little English, and wasn't sure how to navigate life in a city that had developed past his home town in Hungary. He told me a story about trying to figure out how an automatic door worked, as well as trying to ask a store clerk where the bars of soap were, only to be taken to the canned soup aisle.

But as he learned English and adapted to Canada, he decided to sign up for architectural classes. He eventually got good enough at the gig that he became an expert in concrete as a building material, and helped to build one of the more iconic buildings in my city that is shaped like a saddle (which, if you know, you know).

In 1961, he and some fellow Hungarians decided to go to a dance at the local German-Canadian club where he met my German grandmother. She'd just moved to Canada, and had made the unfortunate decision to dance with the handsome Hungarian lad in the corner. Few months later she realized she was pregnant with my mum, and they got married before she gave birth.

Their marriage wasn't a happy one. But regardless, my Grandma had two more children with him before filing for divorce.

Growing up my Papa was always this strange, nebulous figure in my life. My sister and I were the eldest of the grandchildren, so we had to deal with his fumbled attempts at trying to be a grandfather when it was clear he didn't care. My mum would take us over to his house where they would argue the whole time, while my sister and I sat in the basement watching Jesus Christ Superstar on repeat. Gifts for birthdays usually came in the form of money, but I can remember the few times he actually bought me something. One time, he took me to the circus which ended up terrifing me because of the loud noises and bright lights. But instead of yelling at me or mocking me, he took me out of the show and bought me a teddy bear to sooth me. It was light brown with a white belly, with a yellow ribbon as a tie. I cherished that thing for a long time.

When I was old enough to carry a conversation, and he realized that I had an interest in ancient history like he did, we started chatting more. For a time it was fine. But then I realized that he liked to poke and prod and jab - liked to make people uncomfortable because it made him laugh. I would say something about my studies, and he would retort with something completely bigoted just to see me get flustered. I'll admit that I put up with it longer than I should have. The final straw was when I told him what my Masters studies would be on - how ancient Greek ideals on masculinity and male same-sex relations influenced the early German Gay Rights movement. His response was 'Good - show the world how your grandmother's people are a bunch of homos.'

He didn't believe what he was saying. He wasn't homophobic - unless he knew he could make it hurt. Which is almost worse, in a way.

After that I distanced myself. I didn't go to any family events he would be present at, and if I was forced to go I wouldn't speak with him. The last time I saw him was a few years ago when he was giving out cheques from his estate, under the assumption that he only had a few years left. I was surprised that I was even included, but then I realized that once again it was someone else in his life that had made sure I was looked after. This time it was my aunt.

I think the last thing I said to him was 'take care' or something along those lines. An impersonal greeting, one made out of social obligation more than anything.

I'm not sad about his passing, but I do worry about those who are left behind. My mother claims she doesn't care, but I know she still has lingering feelings - how could she not, he was her father, after all. My aunts are grieving terribly for a person that I never got to meet. Not really. My cousins who had a better relationship with him for the most part, are probably feeling the loss. And my sister, bless her, is worried for everyone else. His death will leave a crater in the family - one last 'fuck you' to his children, whom he loved to see fight over his affections and attention.

He had a lot of bad qualities, but some good as well. He was determined, he was curious, and he loved to learn. He was brave in the sense of leaving everything he knew behind just for a shot at something better. He had a good sense of humour (when he wasn't being a jerk), and I think deep down he did love his family. Just maybe not as much as he loved himself.

Nyugodjék békében Sandor 💕

[fallowtail]

thinking about hetty again what else is new. putting it under a read more because i feel bad i keep spamming the tag with long posts about my blorbo lol

sorry if none of this makes any sense or is cohesive i'm just rambling ok but i just (clenches fist) the fact they decided to let hetty feel realistic in her place as an upper class victorian woman...(throwing her at the wall) they could have been easy and made her a rich white upper class woman who was still a feminist despite her complete lack of life experience outside the confines of her home, but instead they made her truly feel like she came from her class and stature and i LOVE it. she is so so so fundamentally and deeply flawed

she's awful to people she perceives as below her and she's manipulative and desperate for power and to feel like she's in control and she wants to boss the other ghosts around, and she wasn't a woman who was interested in the idea of feminism because she had no exposure to any other world view than the one she was entrenched in and praised and rewarded for (outside of her direct family situation...we can all agree she was not being rewarded by elias lol) so it didn't even click as an option for her, let alone really even having much awareness of the concept.

she hated how her husband treated her but didn't necessarily think it was wrong of him to be doing so (which we find out from her interaction with molly) bc why would it be, that's just the way things were! we see this "its just the way things were" mindset as well with how hetty is able to bring herself to extend the olive branch to elias despite how much she hates him, because if she is being offered a chance to learn to be good than well...doesn't he deserve that too? until he tells her to fuck off essentially and she immediately, well, we all know what she does with that information lol (i almost wish he hadnt gone down on us so soon after his introduction though, because...would she have kept trying? i think maybe she might have.)

she's managed to get to a place where she realizes how she lived her life was bad and that she's in "purgatory" for a reason, and she realizes that she wants to change and be good, but she struggles with it because she doesn't have any frame of reference to know what about her behavior was bad, and what it was she was doing that made her an awful person. she just doesn't know until someone directly tells her because she has no frame of reference to know these things, and a lot of the times the other ghosts...don't tell her. you get the idea that, up until sam showed up, the other ghosts didn't actually do much to explain things to her, they just get annoyed that she doesn't get it, they roll their eyes because that's just how hetty is, but when stuff actually gets explained to her (sam + flower + alberta, usually) she is able to digest it and we get to watch her very slowly develop empathy and sympathy for other people, even if it takes her some time to get there and if she doesn't fully connect the dots right away.

there's such an interesting plot thread with hetty of the duality of living within a place of privilege and imprisonment at the same time and how that shaped her, and now that she's being exposed to other concepts, to other worldviews, to being able to interact with people outside of her social bubble, she is interested in them, but is repeatedly dragged back down by years of social conditioning (example: the scene where she tells flower not to let pete treat her badly, that she doesn't want to spend her afterlife continuing to forgive the sins of the men in her life, but then continues to do that exact same thing over and over again) because change isn't linear and by god is hetty woodstone walking a wobbly line and looping herself around in circles while she tries to figure it out.

hetty was/is screaming about the yellow wallpaper but instead of tearing herself apart she took it out on everyone else around her, specifically her employees (#girlboss!) because she was in a position to do so with little to no consequences, it was what was expected of her, and it would be the only actual sense of control she had, and she enjoyed it. in the newest episode hetty comes to the conclusion that sam is correct and that you can't treat modern workers that way, in a showcase of how she only ever kind of gets it- the lesson there was that "hetty, treating people like that is (was) wrong period", but she always gets stuck filtering the lesson through the social expectations of her time. she's trying, and making an effort, but she struggles to fully get there, especially when it concerns her own past bad behaviors and isn't something that can bring her a sense of pleasure.

WHEW. hetty woodstone, good lord. what a character.

[loonie-and-proud]

a dream of a dream

Elliot has six when he first dream about Narnia. He was twelve when he found it.

Elliot was six when an enormous thunderstorm wake him up in the middle of the night, he jump out of his bed and run to his parents bedroom. His mother Susan trapped him into a hug quickly, she knew how much her boy hated big noises.

The boy snuggles by his mother sides of the bed, the place just a few months ago was occupied by his father.

Susan kiss his forehead and ask him to sleep but when the storm doesn't stop for a couple of hours they decided to get up.

Elliot could see that his mom was tired but she take him to the kitchen and prepare tea anyways, and listen to him talking about how the other boys in the neighborhood make fun of him for being a coward.

"being scare doesn't make you a coward" his mother says.

But is not just the storm. He felt scare almost everyday since his father die. He was scare that her mother could die too and then he'll be alone.

"You know, I got scare too" says Susan after a long silence. Elliot make a sad smile thinking that his mother is just saying things to make him feel better.

"no you're not, you're brave mama" says Elliot taking a sip of his tea "you're a grown up and Simon says grown ups doesn't get scare like little babies... Like me"

"grown ups get scare, baby. Is just... Not about the same things... Or show it the same way"

"were you scare when dad die?"

Elliot could see the way his mom tense her shoulders at the mention of his father, she wasn't really talkative about him since he pass, maybe it hurt too much, maybe she's suffering like him.

"of course"

She murmured. Take a sip of her own tea.

And with a deep breath tell him "just like when a lost your uncles and aunt"

Elliot eyes sparkle with enthusiasm, he heard stories about his mother siblings before, from aunt Alberta in family reunions or old friends of his mother, a lot of stories with no relation between them except that the four of them were really close.

But she never talk about them and eventually people stop asking about them too.

So he wasn't sure if ask would be the best choice right now.

"You know during the war we... We used to play around the house so your aunt Lucy doesn't get scare" she tells with a smile, but not a sad one "I don't really remember who came with it first but... We pretend that we were in this magical land called Narnia where we were kings and queen with no war or adults to tell us what to do"

"how was it?" he ask "Narnia"

She told him about the woods, the creatures, the cities, the nobles and the magic.

About the stones, and the songs, and the caves.

The parties, the food, the friends and the enemies.

She told him about the Lion.

Later that night in the comfort of her mother bed, Elliot dream about that Lion, playing with him in the coast feeling that they know each other for a very long time, deep down in his heart he felt that was true.

Elliot was twelve when his mother was called by the school, he was failing three classes and got into a fight.

He could hear from outside of the principal office how his mother says the teachers that he's not like that and them telling her how she's wrong.

"Don't get me wrong, Mrs Evans" Elliot heard one of his teachers voice, probably the only one who isn't using a angry tone "Elliot is a great kid but he spent too much time daydreaming"

The trip back home was quiet.

Elliot thought that his mom would be more angry, he was expecting a scream or a disappointing look but instead he got silence?

When they enter the house Elliot took the risk of asking.

"mom are you angry?"

Susan sighs "yes, Elliot I'm angry"

She interrupt herself.

So that's why she wast talking, she didn't want to scream at him, she was struggling with how correct Elliot from something she is sure is her fault.

"why on earth did you punch Simon? I thought you were friends"

"he's an idiot. he's cruel and boring and he started!"

"is this about your stories again?"

"MY stories??"

Suddenly the conversation became full screaming.

"You were the one that tell me is good to believe in something and now you're angry because I do it and you don't?!"

"Don't talk to me like that!" she hated when he get like that, it reminds her of Peter in the worst way, so stubborn "You can't spend your life in a fairytale"

"Is not a fairytale! I know!" he scream trying not to cry, it's ok when other kids say things like that but it hurts when is his mother "It's not my fault that everyone is death inside!"

Susan laugh from exasperation, now he sounds like Lucy, like the morning before the accident when she didn't want to go on that train.

"Oh my God are you even hearing yourself now?! You sound... You sound..."

She didn't want to say crazy. He didn't want to heard crazy.

Of all people, not by his mom.

So he run to his room and slammed the door behind him, let himself fall at the floor with his back in the door.

He cried for a long time, hugging himself. He felt alone, like there was no one in this world who understands him, not even the woman who he though could always count.

She was worried, he guess, it most be hard having him as a son.

Maybe if wasn't here his mom wouldn't have to worry so much, she didn't have anyone to lay on after all.

Elliot crying were interrupted when he felt a cold breeze entering the room, he look up at the window in front of him, the curtains were almost in the roof. He get up decided to close the window when he saw outside.

The woods.

"Imposible" He muttered to himself before going out of the window.

It was Narnia.

[skullhaver]

and if 3.5 years into a D&D campaign I put together an OC playlist for Athren for the first time and wrote up comically detailed accompanying notes, what then

[Menzoberranzan]

1. Why We Build the Wall // Between the Wars - Billy Bragg

The enemy is poverty And the wall keeps out the enemy And we build the wall to keep us free // For theirs is a land with a wall around it And mine is a faith in my fellow man

These two songs function together, both in Billy Bragg's voice. "Why We Build The Wall" functions here as an overarching, archetypal "oppressive society" song. Here we establish our lawfully-reflavoured homebrew Menzoberranzan, with its assigned-at-birth haves and have-nots. Then we zoom in on this ordinary family doing their jobs between extraordinary times of conflict. Athren grows up and becomes a young adult as Just Some Guy during, "The peace we knew between the wars."

2. Second Child, Restless Child - The Oh Hellos

See, I was born the second child With a spirit running wild, running free And they saw trouble in my eyes They were quick to recognize the devil in me This song is so straightforwardly, heart-wrenchingly Athren, it doesn't need annotation. He wants to do his duty but his main character/PC energy is just too strong.

3. A Sadness Runs Through Him - The Hoosiers

Oh, he could not break surface tension He looked in the wrong place for redemption Athren can tolerate chaffing against the restrictions of his caste, but he can't tolerate the abuses perpetrated on him and his family by his House's nobility. Wonder what he's gonna do about it?

4. Santé - Stromae

Et si on célébrait ceux qui ne célèbrent pas Pour une fois, j'aimerais lever mon verre à ceux qui n'en ont pas [In English] What if we celebrated those who don't celebrate For once, I'd like to raise a glass to those who don't have one [also functions as a pun - "raise a glass to the have-nots"] This song salutes ordinary workers (the title, meaning "health," is a toast), including some specific jobs like house cleaners and nannies, who keep life running while the rich party. Fills the narrative role of growing worker solidarity between House Vandree and House Auvryndar during coup strategizing.

5. Blue Automatic - Thank You Scientist

Toxic feeling, pacing back and forth again The floor, the ceiling, feel it closing in This is the end Without a place, to rest your head You got nowhere to go, your Back's against the wall Your back's against the wall I listened to this album a lot while we were first doing character creation and kicking off the campaign. I came to permanently associate it with Athren. This song in particular has long been the "chaos of the failed coup attempt" song.

6. DEBT COLLECTOR - Jhariah

It's all catching up to you now Hope you can run 'Cause soon your past will come and drag you Down, down Immediate aftermath of the failed coup attempt, of course.

[The Underdark Wilds]

7. Far From Home (The Raven) - Sam Tinnesz

The air is cold The night is long I feel like I might fade into the dawn Fade until I'm gone Oh, I'm so far from home Our harrowing and sorrowful transit to the surface.

8. Brother - The Rural Alberta Advantage

There's a dream I had Where somebody watched out for me and you And in the end of life There was no one there for me and you I had trouble finding a song about brothers that fit what I wanted to convey about Athren and Adinar's relationship. This one has an emotional intensity and clarity that spoke to me. Some lines are easier for me to imagine as from Adinar's point of view ("Brother, my brother / You've got to hold yourself together") but broadly this song to me is about Athren's despair at leaving Adinar behind. It's a kind of dream/fantasy that somehow Athren and his parents could go back. Despite how angry he was about the (perceived) betrayal, of course Athren never stopped loving his brother.

[Waterdeep]

9. Heartbreak Feels So Good - Fallout Boy

No matter what they tell you The future's up for grabs, you know No matter what they sell you Is there a word for "bad miracle?" Athren's on the surface now and he's adjusting to the idea that his life is really his own, with all the terrifying uncertainty and glorious possibility that entails.

10. Immigraniada - Gogol Bordello

But if you give me the invitation To hear the bells of freedom chime To hell with your double standards We're coming rougher every time Props to Athren's parents' gumption to go from being a scribe and scout to running a restaurant. That idea originally came about because I thought it would be a funny parallel with another character's family, but as the game's gone on, the Dahanas being an immigrant family has started to feel genuinely poignant and badass.

11. I Guess This Is My Life Now - Roan Martin

I guess this is my life now Will this be my home? A younger me thought by now we'd be grown I guess this is my life now At least it's now my own And what did young me know? Kicking off the songs set solidly during the Dragon Heist campaign, with Athren's eternal mood of, "Haha what the fuck are we doing. I guess this is normal now. I guess this is what 'making it' feels like apparently!"

12. Mr. Invisible - Thank You Scientist

Sole contender For what I believe to be a mess All I know, we'll never put it to the test [...] When I say that you can count on me, it's true But it seems to me that I can't count on you What are you waiting for? As previously stated, I strongly associate this album with Athren. To me, this jazz prog rock odyssey of a song resonates with our party's efforts to parse Waterdeep's various factions and dig deeper into the Grand Game.

13. Old Scars / Future Hearts - All Time Low

I don't wanna be the one that's left behind Don't blame me, don't hate me I don't wanna be the one that's left behind I won't fade away Be forgotten or just cast away This life is mine to live Like "Second Child, Restless Child' this one feels so vivid and so personal, there's almost nothing to say :') Bonus for another use of "walls" to refer obliquely to Menzoberranzan. ("If you could see beyond the walls that you have built" and "But you won't think outside the lines that hold you in")

14. You're Gonna Go Far Kid - The Offspring

With a thousand lies and a good disguise Hit 'em right between the eyes Hit 'em right between the eyes When you walk away, nothing more to say See the lightning in your eyes See 'em running for their lives By the end of the adventure, we've become Big Damn Heroes of Waterdeep and Athren feels like his life is just getting started!!

[Bonus Track] 5 Finger Discount - Choking Victim

'Cause I want to see, what's on sale what's for free Every time I go to shop I steal from enemies Who steal from me, and from you If only you knew, then you would steal too Yes, this punk/ska song is about shoplifting and hiding a package in your pants next to your dick. It's silly. It's unfortunately perfect for him.

[goon-writes-her-thoughts]

Homesick

I believe the answer to that question lies in my memories. No matter how depressing everyone seems to find Edmonton, my happier childhood memories happened within the city. Even when my life was falling apart in Alberta, I’m able to fondly remember so much about the River Valley. I remember the days of driving nearly three hours to go to Edmonton for something to do extremely fondly. Bumming around Strathcona, checking out every record store and comic book store with my dad is etched on my brain, coloured with hazy blue skies and vivid graffiti. Even in the winter, I still held Edmonton dear. Being as I haven’t been there since I was 15, I have a freeze frame of the city in my mind through the lens of childhood wonder. For me, I’ll always remember Edmonton as my happiest place on earth.

I remember, almost a decade ago, I was having a rough time in school. The details of the events in school aren’t something I enjoy remembering, but there came a boiling point where my dad was finally called in. The boiling point came one day in a class with a teacher I couldn’t stand. I blacked out for most of it, but from what I was told, it was an aggressive outburst that culminated in my taking off like a scared horse, ultimately leading to suspension and then finally expulsion. I snapped out of the blackout halfway home, looking down off a bridge to the tracks below. My step mom was calling my name, wondering what I was doing out of school. After that, there was no hiding what was going on with me. Thankfully, my father recognized what was happening to me as distress rather than pure recalcitrance. The next day, he took me into Edmonton, partially to see a shrink on Jasper Ave, partially to lighten my spirits. It was a dad and Goon day. We hit all the record stores, ate at my favourite pub, and even checked out Axe Music so I could play some guitar. That day felt perfect. It was sunny and bright, and it was my first time hearing Joshua Tree cover to cover. To this day, Joshua Tree takes me back to Strathcona on a sunny day where I felt incredibly loved. That’s what the word Edmonton reminds me of: the fact that I was and am loved. It was one of many perfect days spent in Edmonton.

As I grew older, I grew jaded and cynical; especially around the time I moved to New Brunswick. I didn’t know all the cool spots, I wasn’t sandwiched between two cities people outside of Canada had heard of, and the people in my town were from different walks of life. I felt alienated by everyone I met. I was going from one homogeneous group of kids to another, except I was not homogeneous with these people. I was painfully othered, largely due to my own ignorance. Until I was 10, I wasn’t fully aware there were careers other than military, oil worker and garbage man. It wasn’t until I moved to New Brunswick that I actually met people whose parents weren’t any of those things. My worldview needed to shift, but I never knew how to do that. The people I was going to school with had known each other since kindergarten and I was an uncommon new face. At that time, and even still, I couldn’t think of anything more claustrophobic than going through the growing pains of life with such a large audience. Even though I was closer to my birth place than ever before, I felt so disconnected and lonely. It was at this point that my idealistic version of Edmonton made my heart hurt. For the first time in my life, I was homesick.

I know now that what I missed wasn’t just Edmonton, nor was it home. What I missed was a sense of community and an era of my life where I was closer to my family, emotionally speaking. What a lot of people fail to realize about military families, is that no matter where I went, I had my family and a close-knit community of kids in the same boat. I was always an odd kid, but I was odd in a very palatable way to the other kids I grew up with. Fundamentally, our situations were the same: one or both of our parents were in the military. Our personalities and interests were secondary since we already had one important thing in common.

When I moved to a town as far removed from CADPAT as possible, I had inadvertently lost my community. It was for that reason that high school was tough. When I started grade ten, I experienced culture shock. Not only did I lose my community, but I also lost the amenities that came with living close to Edmonton. Moncton was close, but it was a sorry replacement for a place like Edmonton. Halifax, though it’s my birth place, also paled in comparison, even though it's objectively speaking a prettier city. Maybe had I not lost my community, I’d have felt more favourably towards these places, but the damage was done. When I moved to New Brunswick, it felt like I’d lost everything. The people at my high school only made that loss more devastating.

As I spent day after day withdrawn and angry, my family grew further and further apart. I was growing up and it was normal, but I wasn’t ready for it to happen. Through my entire run at my high school in New Brunswick, I never had any friends that I preferred hanging out with over my dad. Unfortunately, part of growing up is hanging out with people who aren’t your dad. Gradually, our Saturday morning drives, our post-dinner shenanigans and our morning coffee faded. All those things I cherished from my childhood were becoming memories. While I should have blamed growing up, I have always blamed New Brunswick. Going through the painful parts of becoming an adult all happened for me feeling completely alone, surrounded by people I called friends that I couldn’t stand, in New Brunswick. I was angry. I wanted to blame my friends, I wanted to blame geographic location, I wanted to blame my school, but it was all just the normal phenomenon of growing up.

Knowing all this now, I’m hesitant to go back to Edmonton. I know I’d see Alberta for what it really is if I were to go back. I’d see it with the same jaded eyes that I’ve been seeing New Brunswick with for almost 9 wretched years. As much as I feel suffocated by having lived in one place as long as I ever had, I would feel so much worse if my idealised version of Alberta was ruined for me. I know that if I were to go back to Edmonton, I’d be disappointed because as much as I can go back to a place, I can’t go back to a time. No matter how much I try, I can’t go back to listening to U2 with my dad in his old toyota. I can’t go back to running around the Old Strathcona Antique Mall looking for old Nintendo games with my dad and brother. I can’t go back to listening to Jack Layton’s funeral on CBC at the Fabyan campsite. I can’t go back to hearing Bittersweet Symphony as I walked down the stairs after a shift at my first job. I can’t go back to Jack’s Place Cafe after my grade 9 band performance for a latte with my dad. I can’t go back to the happiness I felt as a child with a plane ticket. I’ll never get those moments back because I don’t miss a place: I just miss how things were when I lived there. If I were to go back to Edmonton now, what I just said would finally be real in my head. If I were to go back now, those memories of childhood joy would be corrupted by my adulthood cynicism. My heart aches for Edmonton every day, but I’ll never go back.

As a military child, places and life’s eras become so intertwined. A feeling of nostalgia presents as homesickness. Going back home isn’t possible because home doesn’t exist as it does for others. Home is more of an abstract concept, the kind that’s difficult to articulate in words. Home is so personal that, when asked where home is, I feel uncomfortable answering. In a lot of ways, home is where my family is, but my family isn’t all under one roof. They’re scattered around the maritimes, all equally displaced from where they feel is home. Home is somewhere where you feel safe, home is somewhere you you can feel rested and at ease. Home for me will never be in one place. Home is scattered and disjointed, held together by people, emotions and memories. Home is somewhere that was articulated best by Stompin’ Tom Connors: “wherever you find a heart that’s kind, you’re in a part of my stompin’ ground”. I’ve seen many beautiful parts of this country, and I now have the mental clarity to see beauty everywhere. They say home is where the heart is, but I’ve left pieces of my heart in many places I’ve lived and visited. Home is Canada, but more specifically, home is my idealistic version of Edmonton that solely exists in my memory.

[yegarts]

“I Am YEG Arts” Series: Frances Whitford

It’s been said that grandparents are the voices of the past and the door to the future. For Frances Whitford, there are few truer sentiments. It’s why she describes her business, Beadwork & Bannock, as a creation of love and legacy to her grandparents and Métis culture. Lucky for us, that gratitude and knowledge are both gifts she’s eager to share with everyone. From passing down traditions to her children to championing the Indigenous Artists Market Collective (I.A.M), Frances looks forward to continuing to promote and support the perseverance of Indigenous art and culture in our city. Artist, advocate, granddaughter, and teacher—this week’s “I Am YEG Arts” story belongs to Frances Whitford.

Tell us about your connection to Edmonton and why you’ve made it your home.

I have a lot of family here. I’m from northeastern Alberta, just outside of Fort McMurray, so Edmonton was the closest major city and our go-to for everything—so we’ve always been connected to it. Even as a kid, we’d go to Lac Ste. Anne every summer, and then to K-Days because my grandmother had sisters and family here. From there we’d go around to Lac La Biche to the powwow before heading back home. So ever since I was a small child, I’ve spent a few weeks of every single summer here.

As an adult, what really drew me to Edmonton were the opportunities for my three children to grow. Being in a small community is great—the support you have is good, everyone knows your name, and your history, and all of those types of things—but sometimes that can put a real damper on personal growth when it comes to just wanting to spread your wings and be yourself. So all the genres of opportunities presented to them here were very alluring to all of us.

I also found the Indigenous Artists Market Collective (I.A.M) here, and that was amazing. I always say that when I found them, I found my tribe. As Lorrie Lawrence always says, it’s like a melting pot of Indigenous artists.

Tell us a bit about Beadwork & Bannock and how it came to be.

I grew up raised largely by my grandparents. They were very old-school, very Métis lifestyle, so I spent a lot of my youth on our family trapline, which my brother still runs with my cousin Jason. Despite being so immersed in my culture throughout my life, I didn’t realize then how blessed I was—not until 2011 when my grandmother passed away. She had developed Alzheimer’s around 2006, so it really felt like we lost her a lot sooner, but during that time was when I really began to realize that, wow, once she goes, all of this is gone.

My grandmother was an artisan herself and used what she earned to help supplement the family income. I loved watching her work, and a lot of time I’d get to play around sorting beads… but watching her create all these amazing things and seeing every part of the process—from trap to this beautiful pair of moccasins—was pretty cool. So when she passed away, I made my decision to allow myself to dream about making a living preserving my culture and being able to share it with others and teach my kids. Beadwork & Bannock was the answer. And there’s just so much good that has come from it. It is literally a legacy of love for my culture, my grandparents, and everything they’ve instilled in me. There were quite a few years of dreaming it up in my mind and wanting to be where I am now, but just knowing that this knowledge is for me to pass on to as many people as I can reach makes me very happy.

What inspires your design choices and the stories that your beading and clothing tell?

Again, it goes right back to my grandparents and realizing how much culture they preserved in me that I didn’t realize I carried until I was older. A lot of my beadwork designs are inspired by the work of my grandmother and from learning and exploring our Métis culture. As I did my genealogy, I realized just how far-reaching my Métis ancestry is when it comes to Canada and the United States. Because we were the landless people, we travelled so often that there are bits and pieces of my grandfathers’ and great grandfathers’ and great-great grandfathers’ families from Montana all the way through Saskatchewan and Manitoba. It’s pretty amazing to see that. So often I’ll look at all this beadwork from all over these places and feel such a connection to it. And at first, I don’t understand why until I realize it’s that ancestry that draws me in.

What’s one piece of advice you wish you’d had when starting out? And what’s something you knew instinctively that’s still serving you?

The advice I wish I’d had starting out is don’t limit yourself—don’t limit yourself to what you can and cannot do. When I first started, I felt very much that I was in this box and had to stick to mitts and moccasins and the traditional things my grandmother made. But as I’m evolving as an artist, I like to bring in contemporary elements and incorporate new-age thinking with the old—like repurposing fur coats. It’s conservation in itself. And a lot of what we do as trappers is conservation work. Some people have the misconception that we’re out there hauling out these furs and mass-producing and selling them. But, no. We’re actually doing a lot of environmental monitoring. So, for example, if there’s a species that’s low, we’re not going to harvest it. We’re going to refrain. Or if we’ve noticed a species is diseased, we’re submitting that all to the government to be tested to make sure that it’s not something invasive to these species.

The something I just knew from the get-go would probably have to be the importance of transferring knowledge. That was just the biggest driver for me after losing my grandmother and realizing that a lot of her knowledge was gone. Though I only have bits and pieces of it, I’m learning and growing on it every day, remembering more as I carry on. I also realized how important it is for us through truth and reconciliation to share that knowledge back and to give it to our future generations so that they can continue to grow on it and ground themselves with it—because that’s what it did for me.

I strongly believe that the knowledge and traditional practices I was given were meant for me to transfer, not to hold. Letting everyone know there is space for all of us to share and learn these things is something I’m very happy to do.

Tell us about someone who mentored you or helped set you on your path.

That would be my brother. I can really say that my brother has always been one of my biggest supporters and champions. When my grandmother passed away, the two of us sat down and had a conversation about my kids really needing to go to the trapline with him. They were all very small then, but I knew they needed to go with him alone because at that age Mom is everything—Mom, do this. Mom, do that. The trapline is a very wonderful and magical place, but it can also be very dangerous, so I knew they needed to build their relationship with him and the respect he required for them to safely enjoy trapline living—and to learn to grow their wings and be independent. So when my son was around 6 and my other daughter was 10 or 11, they went for their first weekend on the trapline with my brother. And that all started it. That’s when we both realized that if we didn’t transfer that knowledge, it’d be gone. From there, we started to talk about all the things that Grandma would make and decided to give it a try. The rest is history!

Who’s someone inspiring you right now?

Right now, I would probably say the artists with I.A.M. They have so many stories and inspire me so much with their resilience. There’s such an incredible amount of knowledge coming off each of these artists that stems from their families and their histories. And it’s just so inspiring to me to see our art coming back and being appreciated for what it is. The dedication each and every one of them shows to their craft is incredible. We even have one artist, Agnus Jones, who I believe is 89 years old. She does a lot of the similar work that I do, and the last time I saw her at the market I told her that, in my eyes, I am just an apprentice, she is a master, and that—one day—I hope to be as good as her.

Last year, you and your son designed a T-shirt for Orange Shirt Day. What was that experience like for you?

Normally, T-shirts are right out of my element, but I just felt called to tell this story (of our family’s journey of truth and reconciliation)—and to include my children. Part of our coming to knowledge of our past with residential school really shed light on understanding that we have our own story to tell. Knowing that the world is seeing the truth now, we needed to stand in our own truth. So I just really wanted my children to understand their history, as much as I can teach it, and as much as I can learn it myself to pass it on to them so they can understand why we are the way we are these days and which direction we need to move in. I needed a positive outlet to empower them to know that healing is possible, and necessary, and important for them to think about. That’s the real legacy I’d like to leave—that we need to move forward in a positive light, and that sometimes extracting a positive from a negative situation is the best way to grow and heal. That’s what I hope my T-shirts will do.

Tell us a bit about what you’re currently working on or hoping to explore next.

What I’m working on right now is focusing more on my beadwork detail. I just want to grow a little bit more, and explore a little bit more, and venture out into making new things, like satchel-style purses.

I’ve been exploring new mediums and playing around with caribou tufting, too. And it’s like, as soon as I understand my connection to these animals and these things, all of a sudden the creative comes in and I want to work with parts of them!

The kids and I are also working on more Every Child Matters T-shirts and collaborating on some other designs.

What do you want people to understand about the importance of buying Indigenous products from Indigenous artists?

It truly is a preservation of culture and of legacy. Our Indigenous art tells the story of our history, of our connectedness to other cultures and other places, and reminds us of the unity that we need to continue to share. I think it’s good to walk in your individual light and be proud of who you are and where you come from, but it’s also good to be proud of other cultures too—to raise them up and know that you stand in unity with them. So that’s what I’d like people to know: that when they purchase Indigenous art, they’re not only supporting an artist, they’re actually preserving a culture. And that’s an amazing thing.

Describe your perfect day in Edmonton. How do you spend it?

My perfect day in Edmonton would probably be spent exploring one of the many festivals or attractions that you literally find every weekend and everywhere you turn. Spending it with my kids, of course, because I love that.

You visit Edmonton 20 years from now. What do you hope has changed? What do you hope has stayed the same?

Well, I do hope that all the festivals and everything have stayed, but what I really hope to see is more reflection of the Indigenous presence that is here in the architecture and everywhere you turn. It’s starting to look like that now, but I’d really like it to be strongly visible. For example, the history behind the river lot that was here really needs to come to the surface—and in a good way. Because even though it’s a dark history, it’s a very positive place, and I love being there.

Want more YEG Arts Stories? We’ll be sharing them here all year and on social media using the hashtag #IamYegArts. Follow along! Click here to learn more about Frances Whitford, Beadwork & Bannock, and more.

About Frances Whitford

Frances Whitford is originally from Anzac, Alberta, but now calls Edmonton home. She was raised by her grandparents and grew up surrounded by Métis culture and craft, spending much time on the family trapline. Frances learned most of her craft from her grandmother, a Métis artisan, who made various pieces for the family and to sell in an effort to supplement the family’s income. Her grandfather was a trapper who would supply the furs and hides needed for her grandmother’s craft. Today, Frances’s brother has stepped into the role of trapper and supplies a large amount of the hides and furs that allow Frances to continue to learn and hone her skills.

Frances’s pieces, such as moccasins, mukluks, gauntlet mitts, and other Métis-oriented items, are made mainly of traditional and commercial-tanned moose hides, as well as beaver, fox, lynx, rabbit, and various other types of furs. Some of her Beadwork & Bannock pieces also include her beadwork.

As Treasurer of the Indigenous Artists Market Collective (I.A.M), Frances looks forward to continuing to promote, support, and participate in the advocacy and perseverance of Indigenous art and culture that she sees thriving in this city.

[phawareglobal]

Maureen Harper - phaware® interview 495

Maureen Harper, a CTEPH patient from Canada, shares her journey with this rare condition. She initially thought she had an infection in her leg, but further tests revealed enlarged pulmonary arteries and multiple blood clots in her lungs. After being diagnosed with pulmonary hypertension, she underwent a complex surgery in Toronto to attempt to remove the clots. Maureen continues to work full-time as a pharmacy technician, remains active with her family and Girl Guide unit, and maintains a positive outlook, choosing to focus on the positives rather than dwell on the negatives.

I am Maureen Harper, and I’m from Olds, Alberta and I’m a CTEPH patient. I had a lump on the front of my leg, on my shin. It looked like an infection, so the doctors put me on antibiotics. So I did six weeks of oral antibiotics, six days of IV antibiotics, and it kept growing. They decided it was not an infection, so they sent me to a dermatologist. The dermatologist was like, “Well, that’s weird.” And by this point, of course the lump is gone because that was six months later. So, he’s like, “I think it might be something else.” He sent me for an X-ray. The X-ray showed I had an enlarged pulmonary trunk, so he’s like, “Oh, you’re not mine.” He sent me to a cardiologist.   The cardiologist put me on the treadmill to do a stress test, and my heart did great and my oxygen just kept dropping and dropping and dropping. So, they pulled me off the treadmill and I’m like, “Just give me a minute. I recover really quick. I can pop back on and we can finish this. She’s like, “No, no, you can’t.” The cardiologist was like, “Wow, that’s weird. Let’s do a V/Q scan and just rule out pulmonary embolism, so make sure you don’t have blood clots in your lungs.” We went into the V/Q scan. My husband and I were sitting there together and we’re waiting for results. They’re like, “Yeah, the radiologist wanted to talk to you. We’re going to move you to this waiting room.”   They moved us to a waiting room by ourselves. Then, some other people got moved into our waiting room. They moved us to another waiting room, and some more people got added to that waiting room. So, they moved us to a third waiting room. I looked at my husband and went, “Something’s wrong.” He was like, “What do you mean?” I’m said, “They just keep putting us in waiting rooms by ourselves.” He was like, “Oh.” The radiologist came out and said, “So you’ve got embolisms in your lungs and a lot. How are you feeling?” I’m like, “Fine.”    I got to go see my cardiologist. He said, “Yeah, you’re not my patient. We need to treat you now.” He put me on a blood thinner and said, “You need to see a pulmonologist.” That’s how I ended up in the PH clinic. I had one meeting with them and they immediately wanted to do a right heart cath to see what was going on. I was diagnosed with pulmonary hypertension. Then, a little while later, we did some more testing and that’s when we figured out it was CTEPH.   My doctor in Calgary actually didn’t think I would qualify for the surgery, just where all my clots and stuff were, but they sent my stuff off to Toronto anyway. It came back saying, yeah, they think they could help. I was originally booked into surgery at the end of August. I’m said, “Oh my God, I can’t do the end of August.” My daughters had just graduated. They were starting college, and I’m like, “They can’t start college without mom.” I still need to be there in case they need some support or the paperwork didn’t go through or whatever. So, we bumped it until October.   It all kind of goes really quickly. You get flown out to Toronto from Alberta, and we flew out Friday, spent Friday night in a hotel. Saturday, I got admitted into the hospital to start heparin therapy and blood thinning therapy to help make sure I’m safe for surgery. I was there Saturday and Sunday. Monday morning around 6:30, they came in and said, “It’s time to go.” They roll you down. The surgery eight to nine hours. Then, you’re sedated for 24 hours just to give your body a chance to recover. My husband did not enjoy that 24-hour period. I did not wake up from sedation really well. They took three different tries to get me to wake up.    Then, you start the recovery process. We were in Toronto for nine days, flew home. I did really well for the first week or so, and then my daughter came home from work one day and looked at me and said, “Mom, you don’t look very good.” I said, “I don’t feel very good.” I’ve got a headache, and I’m just off. She said, “All right, let’s go.” She packed me off to the hospital and they took one look at me, went, “Well, get comfy, you’re staying.”   We were in a small hospital. I spent a week there and came home for a couple of days and got sick again. That’s when I ended up in the Peter Lougheed for a week. It was a bit of a bumpy ride, but at least I was home for the bumpy part of it. The part in Toronto went pretty smooth. After we did the couple of weeks in and out of hospitals, I actually did really well. I was still working. I worked through the entire process. I would work an eight hour a day and then I could walk four kilometers at night. I was feeling great and doing really well for about 18 months, and then I couldn’t walk anymore.   They did another right heart cath and discovered that my pressures actually had gone up and instead of CTEPH being a cure for me, they were able to get out the big clots, but there’s a bunch of little clots that are very distal, so very deep in my lungs, and they couldn’t get to those. So, those ones get to stay, and I still get to have CTEPH. Medically, they called the surgery unsuccessful.   My husband and I kind of batted that around a little bit, and he said, “It wasn’t unsuccessful. They took out massive clots out of your lungs.” Even though my lung didn’t improve and doesn’t work like it’s supposed to, at least those clots are out of there. So, I might still have little ones all through, but I still have less clot that’s in there. My angiogram before surgery and post-surgery, according to my doctor, looked pretty much the same, so it really didn’t make any difference to my lungs, but at least I’m not fighting the extra clots that were in there.   Medically going forward, I am on oxygen therapy. I’m on Adempas, which is made specifically for CTEPH, and I’m on ambrisentan, which also works for PH. We’re just trying to see if we can figure out a way to figure out my symptoms versus what my blood work says. My blood work says I’m doing real good, but going for a walk says I’m not doing real good.    So not much changed in my life. I work a 40-hour work week. I’m a pharmacy technician, so I’m on my feet all day in a very busy pharmacy. I have three kids. They’re all technically grown-ups now. Then, I have a Girl Guide unit and we do crafts and activities. We go to camps and do everything all the other Girl Guide units can do, and we just kind of keep carrying on like we normally would.   If I’m taking my Girl Guides camp or anything, we go on hikes. Previously, I was able to carry my tank in a backpack, because I didn’t need as much oxygen as I do now. Now, I have my tanks in a rolly cart and it just rolls behind me. We start at the beginning of the year with, “This is my friend, I call him Big Tom.” He comes everywhere with us and he helps me breathe, and they don’t bat an eye at it. Hopefully, from that what they learn is people with disabilities can do stuff too. There’s nothing holding us back. We can do whatever we want.   I guess it was never an option for me that I wouldn’t continue working. I’ve always worked my whole life. The company I was with, I’d been with for many, many years when I got diagnosed. I’d been there about 11 years when I got diagnosed. My pharmacy team and my owner were fantastic and wanted to know what they could do to help. For a lot of the time, it didn’t make any difference. I pop a couple pills a day and they don’t know about it or they don’t do anything about it.   As things have progressed, it has changed. I took time off to go for surgery and stuff like that. Then, when I got put on oxygen, we put a concentrator in the pharmacy and ran tubing. Then, when I could go to a tank, which was easier, I put it in a backpack and I carried it in a backpack and COVID had hit. So when I got put on oxygen, I was wearing a mask. I wear my tubing down my front because I trip on it because I’m a bit of a klutz. Lots of customers didn’t even know I was on oxygen until we stopped wearing masks a couple of years ago. Then, they were all really surprised to see that that’s what I had been doing, but to me, it was never an option to quit, because I didn’t feel sick enough that I needed to quit.   As a support team, I’ve got my husband and I’ve got my three kids and they’ve always got my back. They’ll do whatever I need. If I can’t carry something, then they carry it for me. When I was using tanks at work, my son would bring my extra tanks in, so there was always tanks there for me to switch out.    I’ve been a part of PHA Canada since probably 2018 or so, but I felt like a lot of those people were sicker than I was. I didn’t need their support or it felt like I didn’t need their support. I was always kind of in the background on the Facebook group, just kind of chilling and reading. Most of the people weren’t working and most of the people were having a lot of issues and I wasn’t, so I didn’t feel like I needed the extra support that they had.   I’ve always been a busy person, and I find if you’re busy, then you don’t have time to kind of dwell on the what ifs. PH is not my only chronic condition. I had brain surgery 10 years ago. If you Google the stuff, if you look it up online, it’s terrifying. In my brain surgery group, everybody’s terrified of dying on the table and I’m like, “Oh, that didn’t even really dawn on me, because I trust my surgeons.” So through the brain surgery, through the lung surgery, neither time did it dawn on me or did I dwell on the fact that this is a life-threatening surgery, I could die on it. During the CTEPH surgery, the PTE surgery, they actually stop your heart and your lungs quite a few times as they clean out the clots, so you’re technically dead on the table, because there’s nothing flowing through your system.   But I didn’t look at it that way. Somebody else told me, “You’re dead on the table.” And I’m like, “What? No, no, they’re just busy working. They just need a clean field.” It’s all mentally how you look at it. As a pharmacy technician, in the medical field a bit, I have some more knowledge than maybe the average person, so it didn’t scare me as much as some other people who are maybe not in the field. 

I’ve dealt with a lot of negative people in my life, so I find that you can get up every morning and choose to be happy or you can choose to be miserable. I just choose to be happy. I’m always kind of trying to look for the happy outcomes or the happy side of things in order to keep things positive. If you choose to be miserable, you can have a really miserable life, but I’ve decided to be happy and try to find the positive in everything.   I’m Maureen Harper and I’m aware that I’m rare.

Learn more about pulmonary hypertension trials at www.phaware.global/clinicaltrials. Engage for a cure: www.phaware.global/donate #phaware Share your story: info@phaware.com Like, Subscribe and Follow us: www.phawarepodcast.com. @phacanada 

Listen and View more on the official phaware™ podcast site

[zombielovescore]

I guess because it's late and I have been feeling a lot of emotions today, I'm in a ranting/rambling mood. I have also been drinking (a bit) and I have to take my cat in for dental surgery early tomorrow AND THAT IS ALSO STRESSING ME OUT because she is my child - but I am having thoughts about family.

Families are fucking messy. I don't know or understand why, but they are fucking messy stupid little things. And they shouldn't be, but they are.

I don't even know where I want to go with this post. I just have a lot of thoughts, but don't really know how to formulate any of them.

Like, you'd think a family would be a strong bond of unity between people of famial blood - and a lot of things tell you that it should be. Like, you hear that stupid addage of "blood is thicker than water" - nevermind that there is actually more to the quote, but that's not the point. Families are supposed to be a cohesive unit; they're supposed to work together, but does anyone actually have a family that isn't completely dysfunctional?

When I was growing up, I never knew anyone from my dad's side of the family. My dad left home when he was 18 and joined the army and married a Catholic girl that his parents didn't approve of - this was like the late '50s (for context: my father was much older than my mother - this woman was not my mother) and basically never really spoke to any of his siblings from that point on. My dad's parents died long before I was born. My dad had 3 daughters I had never met, and I only met 2 of them after my father had died. I have resigned myself to the fact that I will probably never meet the last one. I only met my dad's siblings after the only sibling of his I had contact with (again, after he died) died herself and I went to fucking Brantford, Ontario to go to her funeral. This is also where I met the second sister, as only one had come to Calgary for my dad's service.

So, in comparison, my mom's family seemed really fucking functional. I can't say I grew up with my cousins or my grandparents (my mom's side) because I did not. They all lived in the great lakes area of Ontario and we were in Alberta (also, I find it hilarious that both my parents are from Ontario but they both ended up in Calgary, of all places) but when I was young we would go out there every couple of summers and sometimes some of them would come visit us. Yadda, yadda. So I had my cousins, my aunts and uncles, my grandparents, and it was great - we will ignore the fact that I had an uncle I didn't like for reasons I will not get into here, but let's just say he's part of the current family drama, so quelle suprise there.

And I guess when you are a kid, you don't notice the drama going on around you. Because, why would you? Going to Ontario to visit the family was the absolute best. You had your grandparents, your favourite aunt and uncle, you got to swim at the lakes in cottage country- it was fucking awesome.

Anyways, drama llama, fast forward years later, and you start to learn shit you didn't know. You now know things about people who you thought were absolute paragons of Great People. And this sounds omnious, like I'm leading up to a horrible family secret and I'm really not, but you learn that people, even your family, kind of suck.

None of this really came to light until I was in my mid-20s and my grandfather was dying. We had long since stopped "family summer vacation" because all us kids (my mom's kids) were adults and working and it just wasn't a thing anymore. So, whatever, my mom was there, I went there because at the time I was at a job that would actually let me have time off, one of my brothers was living in Ottawa at the time, so he was there. My grandfather died, we had the funeral, and then shit hit the fan.

So, my mother and her brother, were the POAs of financial and medical, respectively, for my grandparents. My mom's oldest sister was absolutely pissed she was not the POA of my grandfather's financials. My mother is a registered accountant, which is why her father chose her. Apparently, this rubbed my aunt the wrong way. Also, apparently, the reason the same said sister was not chosen as POA for health was because my grandfather thought that she would basically let my grandmother die. So, yes, my grandfather, my eldest aunt's very own father, did not chose her as POA for health because he thought she'd let her own mother die, because apparently (according to my mother) she didn't like her. I feel like that says a lot, but nevermind. So, when my grandfather died - my aunt was beyond pissed, and they (being the aunt, her husband- the one I don't like - and her daughter) tried to force their way into my grandparent's house (which my uncle was living in at the time, but owned by my mom) to look through his stuff. And later, this same aunt decided to get my other aunt into a pact where they decided they would not speak to my mom - this was over money. They were mad because apparently they thought my mom was hiding all the assets, completely disregarding the fact that everything went to my grandmother until she died (I am happy to report at this time, almost 7 years later, she is 94 years old and still going strong - if very addled with dementia. She may not know who anyone is, but god damn if that woman can't find a way to escape the locked dementia ward of a senior's home).

So, the short of that is two of my mother's sisters decide to simply stop speaking to her because of money issues that were not even hers to control, other than she had to act according to the will seeing as that's basically how wills work. This was exacerbated by aforementioned least favourite uncle (also said aunt's husband, which I think I mentioned) - who, I learned after the fact, was a complete asshole to my grandfather, and also who basically spent my grandfather's reception at the Legion in Trenton getting drunk with his friends instead of actually spending time with the grieving family - I didn't read too much into it at the time because I was, you know, grieving, as people do at funerals.

So, fast forward now and my mother and one of her sisters have since made up, because her husband had ALS and was actively dying - this is the uncle who is passing away in a few days. The eldest aunt my my mom are still not on speaking terms. But basically, fuck them. If she and TerribleUncle Whom I Have Never Liked want to continue to be assholes, I have suffered no loss.

Anyways, I have learned a lot about my aunt, who my mother is now speaking to, and my uncle who is currently dying in the last few years. These used to be my favourite aunt and uncle. My uncle, in particular, would always take us out on the lake in his boat and it was so awesome. We would go and collect lilypads and bring them back to shore. I absolutely loved this guy. And I still do, honestly, because it's hard to reconcile the people you knew them as with the people you learn that they are. But I learned that both of them actively emotionally abused their eldest daughter and would treat her like shit, while their youngest daughter could basically never do anything wrong. This is why she left home and basically never came back.

I never knew any of this until my mom told me, and I'm one of the only people who still keeps in contact with this cousin, and though she doesn't actively say anything about it, I've learned a lot from her responses and about how in the dark she was about her dad's diagnosis. Literally no one, not her mom, not her dad, not her sister was taking to her. And it took her dad, several years after receiving a terminal diagnosis, when he was actively in full decline, to finally reach out to her and tell her that he was dying. And even now, when he is literally receiving medical assistance to die in a day, he was the only one who bothered to reach out and tell her. Her mother, my aunt, didn't call her, her sister didn't call her. And like, that's a level of fucked up I can't even begin to comprehend. I don't particularly get along with my older brother, but I still fucking called him when my dad died.

And this post really got away from me and it is absolutely way too long and rambling, but I guess the basic gist of it is, is that even if you think your family isn't horrible and dysfunctional, it turns out that they kind of are???

And y'all, we haven't even gotten into the literal novel I could write about the dysfunction of my immediate family.

And I guess if anyone has actually read this and has a burning desire to know, the reason I dislike that particular uncle is because when I was a kid (like 4) he almost set me on fire (unintentional, probably), but also I have a very vivid memory of when I was like maybe 9 and we were at their house in Ajax and I was arguing with my brothers about something (I don't remember what), but I remember they were in the other room and I was sitting at a computer desk and I said something (probably some dumb kid thing), and this fucking man burst into the room and fucking slapped me, very hard, across the face until I cried (intentional, definitely). He did not do the same to my brothers, who were also saying some dumb stupid kid things. And that basically coloured every interaction I've had with him since and made me wonder if he slapped his own daughter that way. (Probably not, because she is an entitled princess). And basically, you don't slap your own child that way, let alone somebody else's.

[jinxxedmisery]

I just wanted to come here and say, I'm sorry I haven't been active lately.

I haven't gotten around to requests in like months.. thankfully only one is in my inbox right now.

I also haven't been doing a lot of art.. things have happened which I will vent about... because my therapy appointment is over a month away and where else can I vent if not tumblr..

Tw mental health stuff, general health stuff, transphobia, relationship drama.

So happy Pride Month... it's nearly over, I know.. but oh well. Like a lot of people are saying, this pride month feels different.. less safe.. I came out as nonbinary to my family last year and started socially transitioning and I have known I was pansexual since 14.... so this stuff kinda hits hard.,

Even being in Canada it's scary seeing all this hate.. it's not as bad here.. but haha.. I happen to live in Alberta.. half the population here is homophobic, godfearing, truckers, cowboys, and farmers.... so I feel a sense of danger every time I'm open about it..

I went to a parade in my town.. we have a yearly event in June.. it's not pride.. but I kinda treat it as a form of pride.. I wore my pronoun pin badge I bought shortly after I came out. One of the town four churches has a Vacation Bible School program and a woman who is a pastor's wife always every year comes up to me and tells me she wants me to volunteer to help them out and kinda forces me to take an info packet....

Yeah.. this year she looked directly at my pin badge and talked to my parents instead basically pretending I didn't exist which was kinda funny and a huge relief.. hope this stops her from bothering me In the future... I did notice a few people look at it as well and like body block their child... which was so stupid.. istg conservatives think we're the boogeyman or some shit. Also kept getting misgendered... some lady who knew me from my childhood says "oh you've grown into such a beautiful young lady" and I straight up felt ill..

Anyway.. during that event my mother had a medical emergency.. she had a mini stroke.. my mom was very confused wasn't aware of her surroundings.. she's normally super resistant to going to the hospital and will fight you.. but she was so confused she got up, got her shoes on and got into the car and walked into the hospital without a fight...later she nearly punched me in the face while we were trying to hold her down so the nurses could get an IV in.. (they don't have daytime security at the local hospital and they don't have restraints) she said she doesn't remember any of it..,

As for my relationship.. I still have a boyfriend.. he's been pretty busy with work though.. his boss moved him to a super inconvenient schedule 3pm to 9pm.. every single day, no days off..

He's also had so much trouble with his car that it's not even funny. It's all been the coolant.. he thinks he's fixed it though so.. I'm hoping that won't be an issue as much.

So it's been hard for us (especially me.., because.. like my last relationship ended shortly after my ex couldn't make it out to see me.., he did finally admit it was excuses so.. I'd be lying if I didn't say I was afraid of that happening again) but we're enduring it.. he's a sweetheart and has been making time to talk to me after work almost every night until he gets too tired to continue..

It helps a lot.. he makes me feel wanted and he is trying his best to make it work so we can see eachother in person 😊he'll be coming out tomorrow morning and staying until 1pm.. we only get 2 hrs together but it's fine.. any amount of time with him that I get is worth it.

I promised him one day if he's able to visit for longer we'll watch Heathers: The Musical and get slushies... mountain dew, cherry or lime flavored ofc (iykyk) he's into that idea thankfully lol..

it's a requirement that everyone in my life watches Heathers at least once... I've seen it so many times I could almost recite the entire thing... 🤭

But that's all for now, when I get the motivation I will write requests!

[college-girl199328]

Sarah Nesbitt turned 40 on Sunday but says she is if she will be around to celebrate many more birthdays. Nesbitt, a resident of Moncton, N.B., said she began experiencing symptoms of a neurological disorder of unknown cause in the summer of 2020.

She is part of a group of New Brunswick patients who say they are from a mystery brain illness. But the provincial government maintains that there is no new neurological disorder and that studies have shown that are likely suffering from known diseases. On Tuesday, Nesbitt joined a group of patients and their families who have called on the provincial government to investigate the link between their symptoms and environmental toxins -- particularly the popular weed killer glyphosate. The news conference was organized by the Green Party of New Brunswick.

Their call for new investigations came after their doctor, Dr. Alier Marrero, asked federal and provincial health authorities in January about the link between their symptoms and the herbicide. "I had a lot of different symptoms that all piled up to realize, 'OK, this is something going on,"' Nesbitt said. "I went to my doctor in November of 2020. And he couldn't find anything."

A slate of tests later, she said her doctor thought she had multiple sclerosis. "For almost two years, I thought that's what I had."

Nesbitt was referred to Marrero last year, who tested for and ruled out diseases such as cancer, epilepsy, and multiple sclerosis, she said. But further tests have shown that she has high levels of glyphosate and other chemicals in her system. Health Canada said on its website that glyphosate is the most widely used herbicide in the country and figures prominently in the agricultural industry. Products containing glyphosate control weeds, including toxic plants such as poison ivy.

Marrero said in a letter dated Jan. 30 to Dr. Theresa Tam, Canada's chief public health officer, and Dr. Yves Leger, New Brunswick's chief medical officer of health, that he has been working with about 147 patients experiencing symptoms such as rapidly progressing dementia, muscle spasms, atrophy, and other complications. Marrero said also been reported in Alberta, Quebec, and Nova Scotia.

"I am particularly concerned about the increase in numbers of young-onset and early-onset neurological syndrome," he said in the letter. "I now call to your attention one of the major hypotheses extensively discussed during previous meetings with national and international experts, including possible environmental toxins."

Tests from patients in Nova Scotia show high amounts of glyphosate and other compounds from that family. "On behalf of our patients and families, I request your support to further and detailed testing of patients and environments for these and other toxins."

New Brunswick health authorities concluded in a February 2022 report that "there is no evidence of a cluster with a neurological syndrome of unknown cause." They said that the cluster of diseases had been subject to "many theories" based on "speculation, uncorroborated opinions, and the absence of a thorough analysis of epidemiological and clinical information."

The province said a review of 48 cases of patients suffering from a neurological syndrome of unknown cause found that the patients didn't have symptoms in common or a shared illness. On Tuesday, New Brunswick Health Minister Bruce Fitch told reporters he was briefed about Marrero's letter.

"Public health is drafting a response," he said. "If they require more information, they will go back to the doctor in question and get that information and then proceed from there," Fitch said that it's difficult for families and patients when they don't get the answers they want.

Nesbitt said she is heartbroken that she had to give up her cabin and dream of living in a rural area because she suffers from seizures, tremors, and moments where she doesn't know where she is, "almost like dementia. The sad part is I'm going to rapidly keep on declining."

[tempestaslokni]

Selin mentioned that she had seen some fishing supplies in the warehouse and that she knew where it was. That was a promising start. "That sounds like a good idea, with my luck I'd get lost on my own. The outdoors is one thing, but I tend to get lost in buildings pretty easily." Lokni admitted, grateful for her assistance. As they made their way in the supposed direction of the warehouse, Selin turned, facing him as she walked backwards, continuing their conversation. It was a very cute gesture, she was very open and amicable. "I've never caught crab before, the best spots were more out west. You do a lot of crab fishing where you're from?" she inquired, her hands clasped behind her back as she spoke. Lokni smiled pensively, "Can't say I got the opportunity to do it too often, but sometimes my mother and I would drive up north to Washington. We would rent a cabin near the ocean and head down to the pier there. Although, those crabs were a little different than the ones here. The ones back home were red." He smiled at the fond memory. Selin had mentioned that she was from Alberta, Edmonton specifically. He knew of that area- had even been there to do a favor for one of his mother's old friends. There was a good amount of Cree up in that area, and his mother's friend, a Cree woman named Ayamis, had asked for some help at an auction. Ayamis worked for the WHOA Society up in that area- she wanted to outbid the meat-buyers that would place bids on the wild horses from that area. It was a lot of complicated business, but essentially if wild horses were removed from private property or highways, according to the law they weren't allowed to be released into the wild again. Lokni thought that it was a load of hogwash, but then again, what did he know. Their facility was up in Sundre, which was closer to Calgary than Edmonton if he was recalling it correctly. Transporting all of those horses would have been pretty difficult for Ayamis by herself, so that's where Lokni and his mother came in. "I know that area, not too well, but I've been to Sundre and Calgary on business. Beautiful land up there, lots of mountains and wide open spaces. What kind of work did you do out there?" In the distance, The Hub was a blur of activity, however, all the sounds seemed to be drowned out as Seline and Lokni walked on, conversing casually. Seline also mentioned that she had a lot of sisters, and at least one brother to boot. "I didn't realize that you came from such a large family. What's that like? What 'number' are you in the order?" Selin did carry herself with an air of responsibility and experience as if she spent a lot of time interacting with and talking to people. She was very easy to talk to. Even Lokni could pick up on that easily enough, he wasn't the best with words, or with talking with people for that matter. He was "a doer, not a talker." At least that's what Big Jim said when introducing him to new ranchhands that were just getting started out. "Do you have any other hidden talents? Besides fishing that is?" He ran a hand through his hair.

"Oh, yeah I can show you where I saw the different fishing stuff. It's probably better to go together, that place is so big I feel like someone could get lost in there." she explained, ignoring the prior thoughts she was having while in exploring the warehouse with Zaid. No way their arrival on this beach would result in some sort of gorey killing game recorded for the entertainment of whatever sick person (or people?) that dropped them here in the first place. But they were here for a reason, but until that reason gets explained to them, she shouldn't go off the deep end.

Perhaps that attempt to rid her mind of any horrible thoughts of what horrible fate awaited them once they collected their bearings was more obvious than she thought. Glancing over to the side Selin could see Lokni adjusting his stride, like he was trying to keep up but not loom too closely over her. Normally Selin would keep herself aware of how closely a man might be lurking behind her, but this didn't feel like one of those times where she felt she needed to be vigilant. So to keep him from thinking she might have been on guard, Selin turned and walked backwards through the sand to keep up conversation.

"I've never caught crab before, the best spots were more out west. You do a lot of crab fishing where you're from?" She was curious about the people here, assuming slipping in little personal questions in casual conversation would make it easier for them to talk. Perhaps there was a correlation between them without them even knowing. Her initial reaction is maybe he lived in BC, the starting and working theory that perhaps everyone lived somewhere in Canada before ending up here. Not that she knew what kind of reasoning for doing this would be because of that but, that's why it was just a working theory.

"I'm from Edmonton. In Alberta. So I got roped into a lot of fishing trips growing up. My dad wanted someone to go with and none of my sisters wanted to go, and my brother was pretty young at the time so my dad would take me with him. And it wasn't all that bad. I guess in this scenario it's a good thing I learned."

[carrickbender]

Friday five:

- Today is my 6th 12 hr shift in a row. Tomorrow, by some miracle of the universe, starts 4 luxurious days off.

"Off"

I have lots of projects on(new faucet, mow the back yard, install more fire extinguishers, replace 3 more outlets, go through boxes that came from the storage unit, make space so that H can finally finish a cabinet project for the family room), plus finally get quotes for a mini-split and refi my personal loan. On top of all that, I have to go drop off a cheque for my mom for her horse about 35 miles away...yeah... "allegedly".

- I'm going to a rummage sale at a local museum tomorrow am, and I'm seriously stoked. There's some Bennett prints on offer, and a ceramic Christmas tree that H really wants, so if I can score it and keep it on the sly, I'm gonna!!! Love silly surprises like that!

- Henry had his first appointment with the speech therapist yesterday, and she pretty much confirmed what we thought: sounds are getting lost between his mouth and his brain. She was pleasantly surprised at the quantity and quality of his vocabulary, as well as his use of please and thank you. H and I just looked at each other and smiled... #parentingwin

- had some reese's pieces this evening. Like a few, then the bag went bye bye. I think I just want a taste, like a reminder, that things tasted the way they did. Tbh, I have no idea when I had that stuff last. But I do know that solves that curiosity.

- My mom has been sending me pics from Northern Alberta, where she and her BF and his son are attending a national "skeet" shooting competition and her BF and his son are competing. They are having monstrous thunderstorms. And while i love those pics, what I can't get over is how gorgeous the prarie looks. It's like a loafing pillow of loamy wonder, the kind of place where things grow not because they are forced to grow but most be coaxed into not growing. All the while, I see these pics and think of the lyric, "And all you hear are the rusty breezes Pushing around the weathervane Jesus". If you want really amazing pics of Alberta, check out @kedveltphoto 's work.

Rest easy yall!

[tippedbykreider]

something just like this | c. parayko

Word count: 14.6k Warnings: Mention of infertility Author’s Note: Colt and Cass are back! There’s been about 1.3k of stuff added to this but everything has remained pretty much the same :) Song title is from ‘Something Just Like This’ by The Chainsmokers Summary: Colton Parayko is no stranger to living life on the road and being away from home, but when a new neighbour moves in to the property next door, Colton comes to learn that perhaps home isn’t a place after all.

Colton Parayko would consider himself to be a lucky man. He had a dream job, he was living in a city that felt like home despite being thousands of miles away from his actual home. He drove a nice car, had a nice house in a good area and his neighbours were some of the kindest people he’d ever had the pleasure of encountering. Sure, there were days where he could kill a man for a Tim Horton’s but had to settle for a Starbucks instead, and those days made a pang of homesickness rear its head in his chest, but they were few and far between and if his biggest gripe was a lack of Tim Horton’s coffee in St Louis, then Colton thought he was doing pretty damn well if he was to say so himself.

He’d been in the city for the better part of five years now and had really found a place where he felt like he could put down roots, or at least for as long as his career would allow. When he’d first moved to the city he’d found himself an apartment right in the heart of Downtown, and while it was exciting and there was never a dull moment, it never really felt like somewhere Colton could see himself long term. He liked to party just like anyone else, but he was happiest when relaxing in his own space with a puzzle or a good book. To some this might seem boring or like he was old before his time but with a life as full on as Colton’s could be, it was a nice change of pace to kick back, relax and unwind. That’s what led him to the house he’d called home for the last couple of years. It was modestly sized but bright and airy and a perfect base for him during the season. The neighbourhood was quiet and filled with a lot of young families and it had that real sense of community that reminded Colton of his hometown back in Canada. He didn’t have to think twice about leaving his number with Laura and Joe or Tom and Martina on either side of him in case of an emergency and he knew that his bins would be taken care of if garbage day fell during one of his stretches on the road.

Things had been the same since he’d moved in and in some ways it seemed like time had stood still in that little corner of St Louis but rather than feeling humdrum and dull, Colton felt like it gave him a safe harbour to come back to during the crazy storm of the hockey season. No matter whatever else was happening in his life, Colton could always rely on the community spirit of his neighbourhood to make him feel like he was at home. But sooner or later, the tides of change sweep in and life as we know it is rearranged, sometimes in small ways, other times beyond all recognition. It started on a Tuesday morning in late-February; it was a rare day off and Colton was locking the front door to his house before heading out on his morning run when he noticed the for-sale sign in the front yard of the house to the right of his. He had no reason for the odd feeling that had sprouted in his stomach and had begun to settle heavily there, but there it was all the same.

He set off down the street at a leisurely jog, casting his mind back to the last conversation he’d had with Tom or Martina to try and remember if they’d mentioned anything to him about them potentially moving elsewhere but he was certain that they hadn’t. He would have remembered something like that, he would. He wasn’t exactly sure why seeing the sign had jarred him so much in the first place because while he was friendly with Tom and Martina and while he had always made sure to buy their son a small gift every Christmas and birthday since moving there, it wasn’t like he would consider himself to be their best friend or anything like that. But even so, Colton always enjoyed hearing Sam play outside on warmer days and he knew that he would miss his raucous laughter, it had reminded him so often of his own niece’s back in St Albert. Perhaps that’s what all this was about, Colton thought, the nostalgia and the sense of normalcy and that feeling of home, but even he understood that all things succumb to the rolling tides of change and that people move on to pastures new. All he could hope was that the new owners were just as nice and friendly as the soon-to-be old ones were.

 It was early April when Colton spotted the removals van parked out on the street and within 48 hours he found himself waving off the Parkers along with the rest of the cul-de-sac. He wondered then who the new owners were, what they were like, whether they had children and hoped beyond hope that they would be willing to help keep an eye on his place while he was either away on the road or back in Alberta. He didn’t give it much more thought after that; the Blues were about to start their playoff campaign and Colton’s mind was firmly fixed on hockey. It was only when he returned home from a two day trip to Minnesota that he noticed a silver Mercedes coupe on the driveway next-door. The neighbourly instinct in him told him to go and introduce himself, but it was getting late and all Colton could think about was getting inside, taking a hot shower and dragging his tired body into bed.

An early practice meant that any semblance of a lie-in was out of the question. He’d decided to forgo breakfast at home in favour of an extra fifteen minutes wrapped up in the warmth of his duvet, figuring that he’d find some time to eat at the rink instead. By 8am he was slipping on his sneakers and heading out the door, a small duffel slung over one shoulder with a travel mug of coffee in his hand and his keys in the other. He was so focused on getting the front door closed and locked without having his bag slip from its precarious perch and spilling his coffee that he didn’t notice his new neighbour going through a similar routine of their own. She had a tan leather satchel balanced on her shoulder and her tote handbag was hooked over the same arm and dangling obnoxiously enough that it was severely impeding her ability to get the front door closed. Colton had just turned to get into his car when he saw her and his eyes immediately went to the comically large travel mug that was being held at an almost dangerous angle while she tried to move the bags out of the path between the door and the frame.

It was a no-brainer for Colton to set his own travel mug down on the roof of his car and cross the distance between the two houses, pocketing his car keys as he went. He couldn’t help the small smile that sparked across his face as her voice came into focus with every step he took.

“Με δουλεύεις? Δεν έχω χρόνο για αυτό! Σκατά στον τάφο σου…”

His brows knitted together in confusion despite the gentle smirk on his lips, stifling a laugh as he approached the porch steps while his new neighbour sighed in pure exasperation, completely unaware of his presence behind her.

“Σάλτα και γαμήσου.”

Colton leaned forward and took the mug, which was now tilted almost horizontally from her efforts, from her hand. She turned her head quickly, a look of surprise on her features that Colton returned with a friendly grin.

“You looked like you were having a bit of trouble there.”

She closed her eyes and offered a small laugh on the exhale of a single breath, the corners of her lips quirking ever so slightly into a hint of a smile.

“Sorry about that,” she said apologetically. “The plan wasn’t to cause a ruckus in the street this morning.”

Colton laughed and offered his hand to take the bags from her which she accepted gratefully, turning and shutting the front door before turning the key in the lock with a sense of finality.

“Sounded like you were really sticking it to that door.” He handed back her bags and waited until she’d pressed the button on her car keys to unlock it before giving her back the mug of coffee, taking in the navy blue pencil skirt suit and the powder blue silk blouse she wore. “You gonna be okay from here?”

“Yeah,” she nodded as she tossed her bags onto the passenger seat and surveyed him with a thankful expression. “Sorry for the theatrics, I just get a little flustered when I think I’m running late, especially on my first day at a new job.”

“Completely understandable,” Colton agreed while nodding sagely. “I’m Colton, by the way.”

“Cassandra,” she replied, offering her hand which he shook. “I’m guessing you live around here?”

“Yep,” Colton pointed to his house, not a stone’s throw away from hers. “Literally just there.”

Cassandra smiled at him, bright and dazzling and a million miles away from the frustrated little grimace she’d had on her face only a few minutes before, as if the incident with the door was already a distant memory.

“Well, it was lucky you came along when you did. Two bags, one of them heavy and a mug full of coffee? Could’ve been messy,” she smirked behind her travel mug as she took a sip, surveying him with chocolate eyes that were keen and warm all at once. “That’ll teach me, huh?”

“Glad to help. Although maybe leave the octopus impression to actual octopuses. Or is octopi? I never know which,” Colton mused, adjusting the strap of his duffel on his shoulder.

“I believe octopuses is the correct plural, grammatically speaking, although I’m not sure they mind either way,” Cassandra contemplated with a bemused smile on her lips before a brief silence fell between them as they surveyed each other with easiness and a gentle intrigue.

She was beautiful, Colton thought, and nothing like any woman he’d ever seen before with her olive skin and hair as dark as her eyes and there was a kind of fire in her belly, of that Colton was sure because in his twenty seven years of life he’d never seen anybody berate an inanimate object with the kind of gusto that she just had, even if he didn’t understand a word of it. He thought it was an odd contrast to the perfect, pristine suit that she was wearing and he found himself wondering just what it was that she did for a living. That thought quickly brought his mind back to the present, remembering that the real world was calling and that they both indeed had to get to their respective jobs, and he made a mental note to ask her about it when they both had a little more time on their hands.

“Well, I uh, I actually gotta shoot for work too but it was really nice meeting you,” Colton announced with what Cassandra interpreted as slight reluctance which she found both intriguing and endearing in equal measure. “And good luck for your first day at work, I hope it goes well for ya.”

“Yeah, you too and uh, thanks again.”

Colton flashed her a toothy grin, one that gave him a boyish kind of charm despite his imposing size, as he replied, warm and genuine, “Anytime.”

Cassandra watched with intrigue as Colton retreated back to his driveway and got into his SUV, a gentle smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She wasn’t sure what exactly the rest of her day would have in store for her, but as she saw the little wave Colton gave her through the window as he pulled away, she could feel a lightness start to spread in her chest and knew without a shadow of a doubt that the small act of kindness from her new neighbour had salvaged her morning.

 It was four days later when Cassandra saw her neighbour again, an unusually warm Friday afternoon to be exact. It was his car in the driveway that she noticed first on account that it had been missing for the last two days and while she knew nothing of the man that had rescued her Monday other than the fact that his name was Colton, she couldn’t help the involuntary smile that had settled on her lips as she turned into the quiet cul-de-sac and saw the dark grey SUV she’d recognised from the other morning. She wondered just exactly when he’d come home, remembering her earlier observation that it was still missing as she reversed off her own driveway a shade past 8am that morning. It was 2:30pm now and all Cassandra could think about was getting out of her tailored dress and court shoes and into something much more comfortable.

She shut the engine off and climbed out of her car, grabbing her purse as she went; she’d come back for her satchel later. She immediately slipped off her shoes, not caring that she hadn’t even made the short distance up the driveway to the house, and tucked them carefully under her arm while she fished in her purse for her keys. She didn’t notice the tall blonde from next door emerge from his house, nor did she notice the bemused smile he wore while he watched her root around her too-large purse for her house keys and she definitely didn’t notice him set down the bucket of water and sponge he had in his hands before starting to cross the short distance between their houses.

“You need some help there?” he called out with a grin, causing her to jump and drop the shoes under her arm and the purse in her hand with a clatter.

“Ιησούς Χριστός!” She turned then, the slightly startled expression on her face melting into a warm smile and a soft laugh as she took in the large man in front of her, playfully prodding his solid chest as payback for the little fright he’d given her before moving to bend down and pick her belongings up off the floor. Colton was quicker though and before she had a chance to really register what was going on, Colton was handing her back the oversized purse, the black court shoes still in his other hand.

“Now, I’m gonna hazard a guess here and say that those aren’t your size,” she added with a devious little smirk, nodding towards his hand and laughing. Colton took a couple of beats to catch up to what she was saying as his eyes drifted from the easy grin she had on her face to the shoes before his face turned an interesting shade of pink and his free hand moved to rub the back of his neck.

“I just, um, I figured I’d keep a hold of them while you looked for your keys,” he offered.

“Very thoughtful of you. I swear I’m not usually this disorganised,” she said while she resumed her search inside of her purse. “It’s the Friday brain.”

“Rough week?”

“I’ve questioned my life choices exactly seven times this week and considered becoming a stripper but then I remembered that I couldn’t dance and my parents would be extremely disappoin- Aha!” She pulled the keys from out of her purse and put them into the lock. Colton was instantly hit with the sweet smell of summer flowers mixed with a scent that he couldn’t quite place the second her front door swung open but it somehow seemed to fit her, despite him still not really knowing her all that well. He wanted to though, because while she was intriguing and piqued Colton’s interest in all manner of ways, she was also incredibly warm, the kind of warmth that would draw even the most adventurous wayfarer to hearth and home. He wasn’t exactly sure what it was about her that gave her this gentle presence, maybe it was her eyes and how they seemed to hold a kind of sincerity that he couldn’t help but be enchanted by. Perhaps that was the reason why he was still standing holding her shoes in his hand even after she’d crossed the threshold into her home, despite him every intention of using the rare sliver of free time he had to do something productive like wash his car.

She’d finished hanging up her purse and was now back in front of him, surveying him with an easy smile while her hands reached out to gently take the shoes from his hand.

“Do you wanna come in for a drink or something? I bought a new espresso machine the other day and it’s the perfect weather to make iced coffee, although other beverages are also available if you’d prefer something else.”

“Oh I don’t wanna interrupt-“

“You’re not,” Cassandra assured. “I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want to, believe me.”

There was a lightness in her tone that matched her smile and Colton found himself nodding in agreement, the bucket and sponge sat on his porch steps forgotten as he followed her inside and closed the door behind him. Her home had a warmness to it, much like the one Cassandra radiated herself, and Colton couldn’t help but be impressed at just how put together and lived in the space looked, despite it not even being two weeks since he was sure she’d moved in.

“Wow,” he said as he followed her deeper into the house. “You wouldn’t think you’d just moved in here, it took me weeks to unpack.”

Cassandra smiled as she grabbed two glasses from the cupboard while Colton settled himself against the kitchen island.

“I don’t have a lot of stuff really. This place is easily two or three times the size of my old apartment back in New York so once the furniture was in there wasn’t really an awful lot left to unpack. I did go to Pottery Barn on like, my second day here, which I’m not sure I’ll ever financially recover from but those chunky merino wool blankets are like crack to me.”

Colton laughed as he allowed his eyes to go to the blankets in question that were arranged over the back of a cosy looking cream fabric corner sofa. There were scatter cushions that somehow managed to look both homey and perfectly placed and while the whole room screamed French farmhouse vibes that wouldn’t have looked out of place on Pinterest, it never lost the inviting and hospitable charm that hit him as soon as he stepped foot inside. He took in the rest of the décor while Cassandra busied herself with their iced coffee, pushing away from the island to get a closer look at the many photographs arranged on the side tables and walls.

His attention was caught by a particularly large framed picture on the wall above a console table, eyes immediately drawn to the large group of smiling faces staring back at him. There must have been at least forty people in this photograph, he noted, all standing in front of a white villa with shutters that were the colour of the bright sky above them. He found Cassandra easily, her smile even more dazzling than the sun was that day. She was stood between a man and a woman whom Colton could only assume to be her parents. She had the same golden olive skin as her father, he thought, and her eyes bore a remarkable similarity to his in the way they crinkled slightly at the corners when she smiled but her smile itself and the rest of her features? They were all her mother’s and Colton caught himself smiling softly as he traced his gaze over each happy face in the photograph.

“Is this your family?”

Cassandra poked her head around the wall to see what Colton was referring to, laughing softly at the sight of him looking at the picture with a mild sense of wonder resting on his face before going back to finish making their drinks.

“Yeah,” she called from the kitchen.

“That’s a, that’s a real big family you got there.”

“Well,” she started, the amusement and teasing clear in her voice. “I am Greek and if you’ve ever seen that movie with John Corbett and Nia Vardalos you’ll understand exactly what it’s like.”

Colton fired a grin at her as he shook his head gently, “can’t say that I have.”

“I wish I could say that they exaggerated what it’s really like for the purposes of the movie but they really, really didn’t,” she laughed over the sound of the espresso machine. “Although I am glad that the swearing the other morning didn’t tip you off, I was trying to stay incognito so I didn’t have to spend my life listening to people talk to me about how good the gyros are here. The ones you guys sell here? Not traditional Greek gyros and frankly I’m insulted.”

She reappeared with two glasses in her hand, sidling up next to Colton with a brush of her shoulder against his bicep as she nudged into him with a playfulness that he couldn’t help but chuckle at, thanking her as he took one of the glasses from her hands.

“I mean, I thought you looked Mediterranean but I wasn’t a hundred percent sure on what language you were yelling at your door in.”

“Sometimes when I’m frustrated I open my mouth and my baba comes out,” Cassandra shrugged casually from behind her glass as she took a sip. “Those genes run pretty strong. They’re a passionate people, the Greeks.”

“So were you born in Greece and then moved here when you were young, or?” Colton asked, following Cassandra as she moved to the patio door and out onto the deck before settling down in the chair next to her.

“Oh no, I’m a born and raised New Yorker,” Cassandra clarified as she set her glass down on the side table between them.

“Really? I’ve been to New York a few times with work and you don’t have much of an accent, if you don’t mind me saying. I uh I don’t mean it rudely it’s just, there’s usually a distinctive accent there.”

“Ah, they beat accents out of you in Law school,” she grinned as she surveyed him. “It’s not professional sounding apparently. Although it’s probably for the best, if I sounded anything like my mother I’d never be taken seriously in my field.”

Colton nodded, becoming more intrigued by the woman sitting beside him by the second. “So your parents came here from Greece,” he hadn’t meant for it to sound so much like a question but he was eager to hear more.

“My dad did, my mom was actually born in New York but my grandparents emigrated here from Italy so you can just imagine my mom’s accent,” she punctuated her answer with a laugh before continuing. “My Nonna is from Naples and my Nonno was born in Bologna. They met and got married in Italy and then emigrated here when they were in their early twenties, it was all very romantic. Nonno passed away a couple of years ago and Nonna took it pretty hard but she has my mom and aunts and uncles around to take care of her.”

“So your mom’s family-“

“Also massive,” Cassandra laughed. “I say that I came to St Louis for work but really it was for the peace and quiet.”

Colton chuckled with her at that, unable to even imagine the size of her combined family. He wondered if they’d ever all been together in the same room during Cassandra’s lifetime and whether it was as chaotic as he thought it might have been based on Cassandra’s words.

“So family gatherings must be pretty wild, huh?”

“Thankfully most of my dad’s family are all in Greece. My paternal grandparents are really old now so they don’t venture very far, let alone this far but my dad’s siblings have been to visit a couple of times and it’s always, um, interesting when mom’s family visit my parents while dad’s relatives are staying there and when I say ‘interesting’ I mean ‘loud’,” she grinned. “Everyone forgets regular social conventions like waiting for the other person to finish speaking before starting to speak themselves and the concept of an indoor voice.”

Colton let out a noise that was halfway between a laugh and a cough as he stopped the mouthful of coffee he’d just taken from reappearing out of his nose, Cassandra laughing along with him before she offered him an apology and a smile.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to make you inhale your drink there.”

“No,no, it’s okay,” he assured. “It was a good mental image, almost curious to see what that’s like.”

“Well, if you ever feel like subjecting yourself to a headache and my family is in town I’ll let you know,” Cassandra winked as a gentle laugh floated past her lips.

“I appreciate it,” Colton grinned in reply, although he couldn’t help the heat rising in his cheeks at the thought, which was an unusual response in itself, he thought, given that the woman sitting beside him was still really an acquaintance. He paused briefly as the light moment they’d shared settled between them, filling the space with a quietness that was by no means uncomfortable despite it being light-years away from their laughter not moments prior. There was a distinct curiosity there, a desire to know her in the way that friends know each other and it was a curiosity that Colton couldn’t trace the source of. She was his neighbour, yes and neighbours often knew a surface level of information about each other and their lives in a kind of shallow and superficial kind of way, and she’d been kind enough to invite him in for coffee, which was probably about as neighbourly as you could get but there was something else about their interactions that felt like more than being just neighbourly. There was a lightness to them, a playfulness that he couldn’t recall experiencing with any of his other neighbours and that curiosity, that need to keep talking to her and listen to her life story, her likes, her dislikes and everything in between, but he also didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, and so he opted to ask her about something safe, something she’d already offered to him in passing.

“You said you went to Law school? I know you probably get this all the time but you must be pretty smart.”

“Yeah, uh, NYU. Graduated a few years back, took the bar examination and then got a job at a decent firm in Manhattan. It’s just so competitive there, y’know? It felt like I couldn’t ever really get ahead no matter how hard I busted my ass because of just how cutthroat that whole scene is and I was sick to death of feeling like I had to prove myself in an old boy’s club just because I was a female in my mid-twenties with a foreign sounding surname so I thought I’d broaden my horizons a little bit. I looked up some reputable firms across the country, sent a few speculative letters and here I am.”

“I can’t even imagine what that’s like, having to jump over hurdles like that just because you’re a woman with a mixed heritage, like I guess I’ve always been aware of how my privilege has meant I’ve never really had to deal with stuff like that but I just can’t even… You’re one tough cookie, you know that?” Colton turned in his seat so that he was facing her better, his glass cradled within his hands.

“I guess you kind of have to be when you work in law, especially as a woman. I spend most of my days around guys who look for opportunities to turn any situation into a dick measuring competition and who look at you like you’re some incompetent newbie who’s only in that position to fulfil some sort of equality and diversity quota bullshit,” Cassandra sighed heavily, meeting Colton’s eyes as she continued. “Real talk? It feels like I lead a double life every single day. I go to work and it feels like I have to put on a persona just to prove that I belong at the table and that shit is fucking exhausting. That person I am when I’m at work? That’s not the real me but people will see that person and make judgments about her, y’know? They’ll say that I’m ‘difficult’ or that I’m ‘cold’ or ‘standoffish’ when in reality they create an environment that is so toxic for women that they force them to be someone they’re not just to get by.”

Cassandra inhaled deeply, filling her lungs back up with air after her mini-tirade had come out on a whoosh of a breath. She was wearing an almost sheepish look as she surveyed Colton, an apologetic smile gracing her lips before she spoke again.

“Sorry for the rant that you literally didn’t ask for or need.”

“Hey,” Colton replied sincerely. “You don’t need to apologise. Honestly? I’m just in awe that you’ve not let the bullshit stop you, most people would have thrown in the towel and peaced out.”

“It’s definitely better now that I’m not working in New York, like, I know it’s still very early days but all my colleagues are really nice and the few attorneys from other firms I’ve dealt with have all been really respectful. I don’t know, it just feels different here. Don’t get me wrong, I love my city, I love New York but I don’t miss the toxicity of working in practice there.”

“Was it hard? Leaving your family and stuff? I mean, it sounds like you’re all pretty close,” Colton asked.

“So hard,” Cassandra nodded solemnly. “Mom and dad were devastated. Their only daughter moving nearly a thousand miles away? God, I remember their faces when I told them. Mom cried, fuck, I didn’t think she was ever gonna stop.” She paused briefly and Colton felt her sigh settle all through his body as her dark eyes found his. “I don’t know how much you know about Greek and Italian culture but family is everything.”

“I don’t but I kind of know what it’s like,” he spoke softly, hoping that she would pick up on the reassurance he was trying to offer her. “Picking up and starting all over again? Leaving your family behind? I know what that’s like and sometimes, when the summer rolls around and my work is done for the year, I almost don’t wanna go back home because it’s hard. It’s hard to see all the things you’ve missed and it’s hard to leave it all behind again but I wouldn’t ever change that feeling because it’s good to know that you have something you miss that much.”

Cassandra took a few moments to let Colton’s words settle in her chest before asking quietly, “where is home?”

“Canada.”

“Wow, so you’re even further away from home than I am. God, I’m sorry. I invite you in for coffee and pleasant conversation and I turn this into a ‘woe is me’ pity party for myself.”

Cassandra looked down into her glass and Colton felt an unfamiliar pull in his chest. It was as if a cloud had passed in front of the sun and the light had dimmed and everything suddenly felt that little bit colder. He wasn’t sure why he all at once felt compelled to open himself up to her, usually being one for his own company and never extending the hand of close friendship to any of his neighbours before, but there was something about Cassandra and the way that she already felt like a ray of sunshine in his life. If there was a way for him to chase the clouds away, even for just a little while, Colton was going to make sure of it.

“Hey, Cassie?” he started, quickly correcting himself. “Um, can I call you Cassie?”

Cassie looked up from her glass to find him looking at her with a newfound softness and she was struck by how much he reminded her of her ancestral home with the rich, warm sand of his hair and the ocean harboured within his eyes. She smiled then and much like a passing cloud, the sun seemed to come back out with that small quirk of her lips.

“You can.”

Colton set his glass down on the table then and folded his hands together, looking at her with a gentleness that was reflected in his voice as he spoke. “I know I’m not always around. My job it- it takes me away quite a bit but I want you to know that you don’t have to feel like you’re alone here. I know how rough it can be starting over in a new city and if I can help or if you ever wanna just talk or hang out, I’m here for you. You can even have my number, if you want, y’know in case you wanna talk or anything while I’m out of town and I just, I want you to remember that it’s okay to feel homesick sometimes.”

Cassie nodded at that because more than his words and the candour with which he spoke, it was the sincerity in his eyes as he looked at her that made her believe him wholeheartedly.

 Colton’s offer of friendship was one that Cassie had taken him up on and it was a state of being that came naturally to the pair. Cassie had learned about Colton’s job as the number one defenceman for the St Louis Blues during their conversation on her patio and while hockey wasn’t a sport that she professed to be well versed in, she still enjoyed hearing about his training, the games and everything that came with it, and she’d been around the Rangers fans in her family long enough to know that he was pretty big deal given that he was a Stanley Cup Champion. Colton, on the other hand, found himself completely in awe of Cassie’s role as a complex litigation lawyer for one of St Louis’ most prestigious firms, especially knowing a little bit more about her struggles to be seen and work her way up the ladder and while he couldn’t profess to be au fait with how it all worked and what was involved in her line of work and the litigation process, he loved to hear about the cases she was working on and how her work helped others. But above those things, their jobs were ones that kept them both busy and it was during the quieter times, the times that would have had them both seeking the solace of their own company once upon a time, that they would seek out each other.

It had started as cups of coffee and quick catch-ups in the brief respites of their hectic schedules, but had soon evolved into making time for lunches and even dinners shared over bottles of wine, continuing long after Colton’s season had ended before finally pausing around mid-July when he would be heading back North to spend the rest of the summer with his family. It had worked out fortuitously though as Cassie’s caseload had multiplied seemingly overnight and she would find herself working longer days and spending more time at the office than her own home. Colton was concerned of course, as any friend would be, and he would check in often when he knew she was working late. It’s not that Colton thought that she shouldn’t be working more hours, understanding enough about her job and role to know that the final push before a big court date often meant extended working hours to get everything ready, but he wanted to make sure that she was taking care of herself and wasn’t putting herself at risk of burnout.

It was a late-August evening when Colton called at around 7:30, just as he had been doing for the last couple of weeks, knowing that Cass would usually be home from the office by that point with her being an hour ahead in Missouri, even with her later working hours recently. The line rang for a few seconds, longer than it usually took for Cassie to answer him and Colt wondered if he’d maybe caught her taking a shower or making dinner. She answered eventually though, a little breathless sounding and an almost forced calmness in her voice.

“Cassandra Constantinou.”

“Cassie? Hey, it’s Colton. Is uh- is everything okay? Is this a bad time?”

“Colt,” she breathed, voice softening immediately. “Hey. God is that the time already?”

She ran a hand through her dark hair as a tired exhale passed her lips which had Colton furrowing his brow at the other end of the line and while Cass couldn’t see the slight worry that rested on his features, she could hear it in his voice as he spoke.

“Are you alright? You never answer your phone with your full name.”

“Sorry,” she murmured, slumping back into her desk chair. “Still in work mode.”

“Wait, are you still at the office?”

“Yeah,” she grimaced as she took a sip of her long-cold cup of coffee. “The court date for that big case I’ve been working on is in two days and I just need to make sure I’ve got all my ducks in a row. Time got away from me a little bit tonight and I was already behind from putting metaphorical fires out earlier in the day.”

Colton sat up from where he had been laid on his bed, unable to keep the concern out of his voice despite the fact that he didn’t want to come across like he was being overbearing.

“Have you eaten?”

“Lately?” Cassandra replied.

“Cassie-“

“I had lunch around 12:15.”

“Cass, that was 8 hours ago,” Colton chided gently. “You gotta eat, πουλάκι μου.”

Cassandra paused her action of moving papers aimlessly around her desk, a grin sparking at her lips for the first time that day and catching like kindling until it had spread the full width of her face and all the way up to her eyes.

“Did you just- have you been googling Greek pet names, Colton Parayko?”

Her tone was light and bright and Colton could feel her smile through the phone, feel the way it crawled through his skin and settled in his bones like a welcome ray of sunshine on a cold day.

“I-I,” Colton was flushing beet red and he was thankful that Cassie couldn’t see him in this moment because the redness in his face was quickly spreading to the tops of his ears. “I’ve been trying to learn Greek.”

“Oh yeah?” Cassie grinned with equal parts mischief and glee, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her desk. “Look, if you wanna learn how to swear at guys on the other team, you might not wanna call them ‘my little bird’, you totally could’ve just asked me if you were wanting to learn some Greek phrases. I can teach you all the good insults.”

“That’s not,” Colton sighed in mild exasperation, although inwardly pleased that this had provided Cassie with a much needed distraction from the stress of her work. “I just wanted to surprise you.”

Cassie’s grin softened immediately and she didn’t miss the way her heart constricted ever so slightly either. Her tone shifted to something much gentler and a world away from her playful teasing not a moment ago.

“Well, consider me surprised.”

“You don’t mind, do you?” Colton asked after a pregnant pause.

“Not at all. I think it’s actually really sweet and thoughtful.”

A silence descended between the pair but it wasn’t one that was uncomfortable, instead it allowed the seed that had been buried deep in Cassie’s chest since the day Colton had gone back to Canada to sprout and it was in that moment that she found herself really missing him. She missed him for a lot of reasons, some she could rattle off like how he looked out for her and made sure that she was taking care of herself, and others she wouldn’t understand fully until later. It was as if Colton could hear that quiet call of her heart in that moment where she found herself wishing that he was back in St Louis because he broke the silence with the words Cass had been longing to hear for weeks.

“So I’m coming back at the end of next week and I was hoping you would be free to hang out.”

“That would be amazing,” Cassie’s voice was rich through the phone with her smile and Colton couldn’t help the slight flutter in his chest when he thought about how pretty she looked when she smiled in the way he was imagining her to be.

“Yeah? I figured I’d come back a couple of weeks early before training camp because… well because I’ve really missed hanging out with you.”

“I’ve missed you too, Colt.”

Colton didn’t miss Cassie’s choice of words and had to fight to resist the urge to analyse them for anything other than what they were. She said it though, not just that she missed hanging out with him, but that she missed him and she had meant it too. She had missed him, more than she thought she ever would and maybe more than friends should miss friends, and despite it being the height of summer, Cass felt like she’d been living under a grey cloud since Colton had left for Canada. It should have rattled her with how easy it had been for Colton to become a part of her life, especially when she had been so used to her own company. It had been the same since she graduated law school – she would work, often long hours as was expected of new associates trying to find their footing in a firm, she would come home tired, she would eat, shower and sleep before getting up and doing it all over again. Any free time was spent either catching up on all the things she didn’t have time to do during her working week or with her family, knowing her parents and grandmother well enough to know that if she didn’t surface frequently there would be a freak-out of epic proportions. Since moving to St Louis though? Cass’s life had changed completely and in ways she never thought possible.

Work was still stressful, yes, but for the first time in a long time she felt valued and appreciated and she was on course for partnership if things kept going the way they were; but more than that, she felt a sense of fulfilment that extended beyond her career. Being friends with Colt was easy and it was as if the two of them had an unspoken mutual understanding of what they needed from each other and their friendship. Cassie understood the pressures of Colton’s job, just as he understood the stresses of hers and it was that awareness of each other and their lives that had allowed their friendship to blossom so easily. That time spent with each other, whether on Cassie’s back patio or curled up on Colton’s couch, was what they both needed to re-center and reset. Sure, they would talk about work but it was always kept brief because neither felt the need to discuss it in great detail, they both knew what it was like for them and they both knew that their time together was an escape from all of that. Some nights they’d sit in companionable silence with nothing more than soft music in the background, others they would talk and talk about everything and anything. But as the weeks had progressed, they found themselves saying goodnight to each other later and later and that hint of reluctance would creep in in the form of a too-long hug or a lingering look. It felt natural though, and good and right, and so it was incredibly easy to make firm plans for when Colton came back to the city.

The end of the work week brought about a successful conclusion to the case that had consumed so much of Cassie’s time and with the resolution that she’d worked so hard for came vast amounts of praise from her bosses and a lighter work load the following week. They’d even gone so far as giving Cassie the Friday off for her efforts but there were a couple of loose ends that needed tying up and so, despite their gentle protests and their best efforts to get her to stay home, Cassie found herself at her desk that Friday morning. As lunchtime approached and all loose ends were sufficiently tied, Cass turned her computer off for the final time that week and said her goodbyes as she headed out of the office. She’d use the afternoon to spruce her house ready for Colton coming over once he was back from the airport and she’d resolved to give her parents a quick Skype after receiving a string of text messages from her mother, with the last one being a threat to fly down to St Louis if she didn’t hear from her soon.

The baking late-August heat had Cass tearing off her pencil skirt and blouse no sooner had she stepped into her house. She cursed as she hopped down the hallway in her heeled pumps, the grey fabric of her skirt bunched around her knees while her clammy hands fumbled with the tiny buttons on the crepe silk blouse.

“Γαμώτο!” she exclaimed as she came dangerously close to slipping on the rug in her hallway and face-planting the floor. “ηλίθιο χαλί.”

She kicked off the shoes that had almost been successful in making her the proud owner of a broken neck and pulled her skirt down her calves, stepping out of it before pulling her half unbuttoned blouse over her head and tossing the discarded clothing into the hamper in the laundry room. She rooted through the shamefully full basket of clean clothing that sat upon the counter top until she found the loose cotton maxi-dress she was looking for.

After indulging in a cool glass of ice-tea, Cass set about tidying the house - not that there was much to do, but growing up in a family full of house-proud women meant that not a single cushion could be out of place if company was coming over, especially if that company was of the male variety (not that she’d ever share that bit of information with her mother). After all, as her Nonna Gioia would say: “a ogni uccello il suo nido è bello,” and even Cassie could appreciate that a beautiful nest was indeed a tidy nest.

It was close to 3pm by the time Cassie settled down on her couch with her laptop, the temperature inside the house much more comfortable with the whisper of a breeze coming through the wide-open patio door. She balanced her computer on the arm of the sofa as she started the Skype call to her parents, her mother’s voice the first thing she heard, even before the video had loaded and before Cass had the chance to say ‘hello’.

“Mamma mia, Cassandra! We thought you’d dropped off the face of the earth!”

“Hi, mom,” Cass smirked. “How’re you?”

“Not funny, il mio passerotta.”

Cassie watched as her mother inched closer to the screen with narrowed eyes, already expecting the next words that came out of her mouth.

“You’re looking thin in the face. Are you eating? Are you sick?”

“No, mama, I’m not sick and yes, I’m eating,” Cassandra replied with as much conviction as she could muster in order to appease her mother, her effort falling short with her mother’s next line of questioning.

“What are you eating?”

“Giovanna,“ Cassie’s father interrupted.

“Look at her, Hector! She’s all skin and bone! Don’t you want to know what she’s been eating? She could be living off celery for all we know! When was the last time you had a proper meal? You’re not doing one of those ridiculous diets are you? They’re no good for you, Cassandra, there’s nothing wrong with a woman having a bit of meat on her bones.”

“I’m fine, mama,” Cassie sighed, keen to steer the conversation away from herself. “How is everyone? Nonna okay?”

“Yes, yes, we’re all fine here. You should call your Nonna though, she misses that pretty face of yours.”

“I’ll call her tomorrow and arrange to Skype next weekend, give her chance to get someone to set things up for her.”

Conversation quickly turned to the family happenings back in New York, much to Cass’s relief. Her father had been incredibly busy with work, she’d learned and he’d finally got around to buying himself a new record player after Cass had spent the better part of four months trying to convince him that there was no salvaging the old one. After half an hour or so of catching up, Cass felt a mild sense of relief wash over her at the sudden realisation that she’d managed to get through any amount of time talking to her parents without the subject of her love-life being brought up.

“Oh, your cousin Antonio had a date with a very lovely girl last week. She’s a hairdresser, such a good girl.”

Ah, fuck.

“Really, mama?” Cass said indifferently, praying to whoever was listening that she wouldn’t follow that up with anything. “Good for him.”

“You know,” her father began, looking over his glasses at her. “If you didn’t work so much then maybe you’d have time to find yourself a man.”

“Baba,” Cass warned gently.

“Your father’s right, Cassandra,” Giovanna gently scolded. “You’re a beautiful girl, why haven’t you found a nice boy yet? You’re too young to be a spinster.”

“Exactly, mama,” Cassandra replied calmly. “I’m too young to be a spinster. I’m working hard to get where I want to be in my career. There’s plenty of time for all the other stuff. Didn’t you tell me to work hard at my job and do well for myself?”

“Well, yes, but I don’t want to be an old Nonna. I want to be able to run after my grandbabies and I’m not getting any younger.”

Cassandra opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by the sound of her front door opening and then closing with a soft click.

“Cass?”

Cassandra’s face flashed with a gentle confusion as she checked the watch on her wrist before contorting into mild horror at the sound of Colton calling her name again, louder this time – loud enough that it carried through the microphone and out through the speakers of her parents’ computer judging by the gleeful expression on their faces.

“Is that a man?” her mother said excitedly. “I heard a man’s voice. Who is he? Why is he letting himself into your house? Is he your boyfriend?! Why didn’t you tell us you had a boyfriend?!”

Colton appeared in the living room, a sheepish look on his face as he spoke.

“Sorry, is this a bad time? I caught an earlier flight and wanted to surprise you.”

“Cassandra Giulia Constantinou, you’d better answer me this second!”

Cass winced at her mother’s voice and threw Colton a glance that she hoped would tell him to run far, far away before her parents started making demands that would make Colton want the ground to swallow him up, demands that she was sure would make their friendship incredibly awkward.

“Bring him in,” her father asserted. “Let me get a good look at him, make sure he’s good enough for you.”

“Baba,” that warning tone was back in Cassandra’s tone and there was a look in her eyes that Colton found adorable but knew better than to make a comment describing it as such.

Whether or not his next move was against his better judgment would remain to be seen but Colton found himself coming deeper into the living room and sitting down on the couch next to Cass, Giovanna audibly gasping as he did so while Hector removed his glasses and surveyed the large man sitting next to his daughter.

“He’s very pale, does he not go outside? Is he sick?” Hector remarked. “It doesn’t snow in St Louis, does it? You’d lose him in a blizzard.”

“Ooooh, Cassandra. Isn’t he tall? And so broad!”

Cassie gave Colton, who had turned an interesting shade of crimson she’d never before seen, an apologetic smile before turning her attention back to her parents.

“Okay, could we try maybe not weirding my friend out? ‘kay, thanks and Jesus Christ, dad, you can’t just say stuff like that to people, I don’t even know where to start with how inappropriate that is.”

“I thought my tan was pretty good this year,” Colton muttered loudly enough that only Cassandra heard him and she had to fight with every bit of self-restraint she had to keep a straight face.

“So, young man,” Hector was speaking again; those eyes that were so remarkably like Cassandra’s were keen on Colton and Cass knew that she wasn’t going to like what was about to come out of her father’s mouth. “What is it that you do? Cassandra is a very bright girl and she shouldn’t be settling for just anybody. She deserves only the very best. Tell me why you think you’re good enough to date my daughter-“

“Okay, that’s it,” Cassandra interrupted, her tone sharper than Colton had ever heard it before. “αυτό είναι απαράδεκτο. δεν τον ανακρίνεις έτσι! είναι φίλος μου και είσαι πολύ αγενής!”

“Cassandra,” her father tried but he was immediately cut off by her once more.

“είμαστε φίλοι και τίποτα άλλο. σταμάτα να με πιέζεις να παντρευτώ” Cassandra paused for a second, as if to catch her breath from whatever tirade she’d given her parents that Colton could only begin to imagine before she spoke again, in English this time. “Now, if you don’t mind, Colton here has just got home from travelling and we have plans. I’ll call you again on Sunday.”

Whatever Cass had said to them must have worked, Colton thought, because their responses were much more subdued and they said their goodbyes rather quickly, Cassie closing her laptop with more force than was necessary and with a long exhale of breath that flared her nostrils.

“I am so sorry,” she started, her eyes apologetic as she surveyed him with a slight crease in her brow that made Colton’s heart tug in his chest.

“Hey, it’s okay. I shoulda-“ he rubbed his large hand over the back of his neck as he spoke softly. “I shoulda called ahead or something. Or knocked. Literally could’ve done a thousand things differently. Sorry for putting you in a spot there.”

“No, no, you’re fine. It’s just them. They mean well but fuck.”

Colton reached across and squeezed her hand gently, the touch managing to warm Cassie’s skin even on a day as hot as that one.

“Y’know,” he began, his tone light with a hint of teasing. “You’re terrifying when you’re pissed and start talking in Greek.”

He grinned as Cassie barked out a laugh, her head thrown back in that carefree way that made his stomach do backflips and her dark eyes sparkled behind her long lashes as she looked at him with a beaming smile, the annoyance that had rested on her features melting away into nothingness.

“Yeah? You’d do well to remember that, Parayko.”

“I wouldn’t dream of fighting you,” he quipped. “You’d kick my ass.”

There was a pregnant pause before Colton spoke again, unsure whether or not to say the words that sat heavily on the tip of his tongue. It was the gentle look in Cassie’s eyes, the smile that still graced her lips as she surveyed him easily and the way her thumb had taken to absentmindedly stroking the back of his hand that spurred him on, sure as he was that he could always be candid with her.

“What um, what did you say to them? I’ve never seen two grown adults look so timid after a telling off.”

Cassie chewed on her bottom lip for a moment, chewing over the words in her mind before she spoke them quietly, her eyes resting on Colton’s hand in hers.

“They just have this thing about me settling down and I get it, I’m their only child, I’m approaching thirty and they want grandkids. Remember how I said that family was really important to Greeks and Italians?”

Colton nodded, his eyes soft on her while he waited for her to continue.

“And every time we talk it’s ‘your cousin is seeing this girl’ or ‘the oldest Maloney girl is pregnant, isn’t that nice?’ and it is nice, it is, like, good for them, y’know? And I know my parents wanted a big family and I can’t even imagine how that must have felt, being told after the birth of your first child that she’d be your only child when they had all these plans to have lots of babies and have a big family. I want to make them happy and give them the grandkids they’d always dreamed they’d have, I do, but I’m not there yet, maybe sometime in the future but it has to be right. It has to be.”

She paused then, the rich earth of her eyes finding the summer skies of his and felt a flicker of a flame stir within her chest at how easy it was to just be like this with him, to be open and honest without fear of him somehow using that vulnerability against her. It was liberating and terrifying and everything Cassandra ever dreamed it would be when she eventually found someone she was comfortable sharing this part of her life with, that vulnerability and intimacy that was often so hard to show because of her line of work. But Colton was good and sweet with a pure heart and purer intentions and so she didn’t need to think twice about sharing this part of herself and what she’d said to her parents with him.

“I told them that they were out of line, that they can’t interrogate you like that and that their behaviour was incredibly rude. I told them that we were just friends and that they needed to stop pushing me to get married.”

Cassandra could’ve sworn that Colton’s expression had deflated slightly at the mention of their relationship status but before she’d even had the chance to process it, Colton had fixed his features back to the easy and gentle expression he usually wore around her.

“They just really care about you, y’know?” Colton said quietly after a brief moment of silence. “They want you to be happy.”

“I am happy,” Cassandra assured and Colton couldn’t help but wonder if the conviction in her voice was for his or her own benefit. “I am. Moving here has been the best thing. Work is awesome, I have a house that I could only have ever dreamed of being able to afford in New York.” She paused again, making sure that she had Colton’s eyes on her before she dropped the volume of her voice to just above a whisper, “and I met you. How could I not be happy?”

Colton smiled, not big and bright, but soft and warm and filled with a tenderness that teetered on the edge of crossing the line of friendship. Here in front of him was someone he would have never imagined would become a good friend in the relatively short time they’d known each other, his best friend in fact and now that she was here, in his life and in his heart, he wondered how he’d ever lived a life without her because with Cassandra, nothing was ever forced and she gave him a strange feeling of freedom that he’d never had before. It was that kind of ease that makes the stresses of life fall away and whenever he was with her it felt like they could be the only two people on earth. She knew when he was struggling with the stresses of his job without him ever needing to say it out loud, just like he would know when she was under pressure with her own work but more than any words of encouragement they could give to each other to alleviate the stresses and burdens of life, it was that peaceful, secure feeling between them, that came so effortlessly, that pulled them towards each other like planets to a sun. It was then, in that moment, that Colton began to understand that maybe home wasn’t a place at all, it was a feeling. It was something that you miss when you’re without it and Colton could say with completely certainty that he’d missed Cassie.

Cassie and Colton would see each other almost every day over the course of weeks that followed. Even with the start of training camp, Colton found himself home every evening and Cassie’s work schedule had eased somewhat, meaning that she was often escaping the office at 5:30 on the dot. They would spend those precious few hours before sleep called them to their respective beds together, talking over dinner with a bottle of wine open between them before eventually retiring to the couch. Sometimes they’d find themselves talking all night, with the TV in the background forgotten about, others they’d watch something easy together (which led to Colton discovering that he really enjoyed Bake Off, much to Cassie’s delight) but their favourite nights together, or at least for Colton anyway, were the nights where they would share their favourite music with each other. Colton had admittedly not been much of a music enthusiast. Sure, he enjoyed listening to it just as much as the next person, but he would be the first person to confess that his listening never really extended beyond the radio. The same couldn’t be said for Cassie.

Much like her father, Cassie was the proud owner of an old record player that had been lovingly refurbished. If asked about it, she’d preface her love of the item by saying that it was probably the most extravagant purchase she’d ever made, but she would also make no hesitation in saying that there was just something about listening to Etta James or Billie Holliday on vinyl that digital versions just couldn’t hold a candle to. Colton loved that Cassie’s music preferences had been influenced by her family, he loved hearing about how her father had fallen in love with Stevie Wonder and Aretha Franklin when he first came to America at the tender age of 21, he loved hearing about how Cass’s father would purchase a new vinyl with every pay-check, something that had started when he first started earning money as a carpenter and handyman and still continued to this day. He loved how Cass could recall, with complete clarity, the way she would sit on the rug in front of the record player as a child while she watched her father unwrap the vinyl, filled with both excitement and anticipation at what wonderful music was held on the black disc in his hands. Colton learned that music had been such a prominent and important part of her childhood, whether it was listening to her father’s music collection with him and telling him about new artists to try or weekends spent at her Nonna and Nonno’s house filled with Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin. All of those songs had touched her life in some way and with each story Colton couldn’t help but feel thankful and grateful to see inside the heart that brought him such peace and happiness without even realising.

All too soon though, the season had started once more and once again Colton found himself on the road. This time it felt different though. Instead of the usual indifference he would feel about being away from the comforts of home, he felt an ache that had started in his chest and settled all through his bones. It wasn’t homesickness, at least not in the traditional sense of the word, because it wasn’t his house that Colton missed, it was the person that made him feel like he was home. It was the person who had taken the time to make him a Spotify playlist to listen to while he was travelling, that playlist that he couldn’t help but have on repeat because during those moments that the music filled his ears and filled his soul like sand in an hourglass, he was back in St Louis on her patio with her, drinking wine and laughing together with that same music filtering through the sliding doors. It was easy, in those moments where he would be on the plane with his headphones and that playlist on, to close his eyes and imagine the way her rich laughter crawls all the way through his skin and warms his heart like a shot of whisky on a winter’s day.

Cassie hadn’t really noticed just how much a part of her life Colton was until his schedule was pulling him out of the city and she found herself alone again during the evenings. She also found herself, in those moments, picking up the television remote and tuning in to Blues games, even going so far as reaching out to her cousins back in New York to pick their brains about the finer details of hockey, citing her sudden interest in the sport as a new hobby on account of her not wanting to throw Colton into the lion’s den. She’d made sure to test her newfound knowledge on Colton during their phone calls while he was away (which impressed him to no end) and had made a promise to come and watch him play his next game at Enterprise Center. It was that promise that had Colton wrapping up a blue jersey, with his name and number on, in pretty floral paper, going so far as adding a length of ribbon tied in a little bow on top, even if it did look a little droopy by virtue of his large hands and less than nimble fingers.

Colton was tired. A tough stretch of road-games had his body aching in ways that would ordinarily have him crawling into bed and not resurfacing until practice obligations demanded it, but it’d been almost a week since he’d seen Cassie and the promise of her company, a home-cooked meal and all the wine he could manage was something he wouldn’t dream of resisting. He had taken a quick shower once getting home before changing into a pair of jeans and a soft-knit sweater, making sure to grab the wrapped jersey and the small bouquet of flowers he’d picked up on his way back from the airport. He was a little early but he’d learned from experience that Cassie wouldn’t mind. He would simply make sure that she had a full wine glass and offer to help in the kitchen.

He let himself in as normal, the beautiful smell of rich tomatoes and herbs hitting him immediately and sparking a wide smile on his face. He didn’t speak immediately, the volume of the music she had on loud enough for him to know she wouldn’t hear him, but instead slipped off his sneakers and moved further into the house.

“Hai usato capperi?”

The voice that came from the kitchen belonged to an older woman and Colton found himself wondering if he’d missed something during his earlier conversation with Cass. He was sure she hadn’t mentioned having extra company but he had been picking up flowers for her at the time and it was entirely possible that he could have missed that small detail in the process.

“Non è una vera puttanesca se non usi i capperi. Me lo hai insegnato tu.”

Colton paused in the archway, his eyes falling to Cassie in the kitchen while his heart swelled to ten times its normal size at the sight in front of him. There was no one else there with her, only her iPad on a stand resting on top of the counter. It took a moment for Colton to realise that the voice was in fact coming from the device when he heard the older woman begin to speak again.

“Dimmi di più su questo ragazzo che ti piace”

Cassie laughed at whatever the older woman had said before replying, “Ti ho già parlato di lui, nonna.”

‘Ah,’ Colton thought. ‘This is the word famous Nonna.”

“Bene, dimmelo di nuovo!’ her grandmother chuckled. ‘Sono una vecchia signora e la mia memoria è terribile”.

If you asked him about this particular night at a later date, Colton wasn’t entirely sure how long he had stood there listening to Cassandra talk with her grandmother while her hands worked the pasta dough she had been making, but he would tell you that it was long enough for him realise what had been in his heart for a while. Because somewhere in between Cassie talking and laughing with her grandmother and their spirited rendition of the number he recognised as being Dean Martin that was playing loud enough through Cassie’s record player for her Nonna to hear, Colton understood what that recent feeling of homesickness had been. It wasn’t homesickness at all, it was love.

He wasn’t sure why the sight of Cass kneading pasta dough while Facetiming her grandma had made the penny suddenly drop for him. Perhaps it was the fact he could feel every bit of the love that this girl had for her Nonna, much like the love she had for every member of her family. Perhaps it was the fact that she had taken time out of her day to spend time listening to old jazz records with her grandmother just like she had when she was a child. Perhaps it was the fact that the woman in front of him was beautiful and intelligent and so unbelievably kind. But the truth and reality of it was that it was all of those things and above everything else, it was the peace and sense of belonging he felt whenever he was with her. It was having someone to be proud of and be proud of him in return and it was having someone to miss, having someone in his life who makes saying goodbye so hard. Cassie was all of those things and deep down Colton knew that he was those things for her too.

His feet must have heard the call from his heart that his head had not because before he could catch himself he was right behind her with his hand on her lower back, gentle and soft. She jumped slightly at the contact, not expecting him to be in her house for another twenty minutes.

“Sorry,” he laughed quietly before pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. “I figured I’d come over early and help but this all looks a little out of my ability range.”

“Guests don’t help the cook. Guests sit at the island, drink alcohol and mock those who are doing the cooking. Those are the rules” she grinned in reply.

“Mamma mia, Cassandra, cioè un bel giovanotto!”

Colton wasn’t entirely sure what Cassandra’s grandmother had said but whatever it was had Cassie groaning slightly and, unbeknownst to him, her face burning white hot.

“OK, ora riattacco il telefono,” Cassie groaned causing her Nonna to cackle wildly.

“Dagli un bacio per me!”

“Sei una cattiva signora,” Cassandra grinned before the pair said their goodbyes and she was closing the case on her iPad.

Cassie’s attention then turned to Colton who was leaning casually against the counter with an easy grin playing on his lips.

“So that was Nonna?” he asked.

“Yeah, that was Nonna,” Cassied laughed softly. “She was just checking in to make sure I wasn’t desecrating her spaghetti alla puttanesca recipe.”

“And were you?”

“Are you nuts? Do you know how angry Italians get when you don’t make their recipes properly? You might as well set fire to the flag.”

Colton barked a laugh at that, an impish little smirk on his face as he asked, “So cream in a carbonara would be a ‘no’?”

Cassie’s hands, which were rolling the dough ready for the pasta machine, stopped dead in their tracks, a look of abject horror on her face as she looked at Colton.

“Don’t even joke.”

“That’s one for the book then,” Colton grinned, referring to the little notebook sitting on his kitchen countertop that held all of his little tips and reminders he’d learned when it came to cooking, which Cassie found to be both hilarious and endearing in equal measure. “So your Nonna is okay?”

“Yeah,” Cass replied as she fed the pasta dough through the machine. “She said you were very handsome which is high praise indeed because unless it’s Dean Martin, Nonna doesn’t wanna know.”

Colton chuckled as he pushed away from the counter to fix them both a glass of wine.

“Your Nonna has good taste,” he smirked as he set Cassie’s full glass down beside her. “And what about you? Do you think I’m handsome?”

Cassie’s only reply was to suck air in through her teeth before giggling mischievously at the mock hurt on Colton’s face while his hand clutched at his chest.

“You’re wicked, you know that?”

“I get that from my Nonna too,” she laughed.

With Colton’s help, dinner was promptly served and Cassie asked Colton all about his recent trip while they ate. The first bottle of Barbera was soon empty and the pair were well on their way with the second one by the time their plates were clean of their food. Colton insisted on clearing the dishes away and loading them into the dishwasher, despite Cassie’s protests and soon enough they were both curled up on her couch with the glass pyrex dish Cass had used to make her tiramisu in and two spoons. The rest of the evening was spent in easy conversation, Cassie pressed into Colton’s side while his arm wrapped around her shoulders and held her against him. He couldn’t help the way his nose found the soft chocolate strands of her hair where her head rested heavily on his shoulder. They had been sitting in companionable silence for a while, with nothing but the smooth voice of Norah Jones filling the space between them but neither felt the need to speak, not because they didn’t have anything to say, but because there were no words that needed to be spoken, both content to just be there in that moment together.

That’s how it had been all along though, Cassandra thought as she listened to the steady beat of Colton’s heart beneath his strong chest. They had always been comfortable with just basking in the presence of each other, where nothing was forced or artificial. Every part of their relationship, from the moment Colton came to her rescue on the morning of her first day at work, to being in this moment with him now, felt natural and organic. It was easy to let him in and easier to open her heart and her life up to him and it was a trust that Colton gave back to her in spades. Cassie wasn’t sure if she really knew what love was, not having much of a positive experience of it herself and only having her parents’ and grandparents’ relationships to go off, but she believed that it had to be something just like this.

She wasn’t sure at what point she’d fallen asleep and she certainly wasn’t sure at what point she’d laid down with her head in his lap, but it was Colton’s gentle voice and the feeling of his fingers lightly carding through her hair that pulled her from the dream she was having, the memory of it slipping quickly away from her as she passed into the waking world.

“Cass? It’s almost midnight, πουλάκι μου… I gotta head home.”

He smiled softly as Cassie groaned while her eyes fluttered open slowly.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” she mumbled, the last little remnants of sleep still clinging to her voice.

“It’s okay, babe. I wish I didn’t have to go but I have some stuff that I need to do in the morning before practice.”

“Yeah,” Cass croaked as she sat up and moved so that Colton could stand. “Yeah, of course.”

She followed him out of the living area and down the hall to the front door, her eyes drifting immediately to the small bouquet of flowers and gift-wrapped package that sat on her console table.

“Colt?”

Colton followed her gaze to the gifts he’d brought with him.

“Ah shit, I completely forgot I’d even brought these. I heard voices when I let myself in and I guess I just got distracted.”

“You bought me flowers?” she asked as she picked the blooms up, smiling softly at the spray of freesias, peonies and baby’s breath before picking up the wrapped gift. “And what’s this?”

“Just a little something for when you come to the game,” Colton grinned as he slipped on his shoes before turning to face Cassie.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know,” Colton said softly, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. “But I wanted to.”

There was a brief pause before Colton leaned in and placed a chaste kiss to Cassie’s cheek, his smile warm and gentle as he pulled back and with a tone to match while he spoke.

“If you’re home tomorrow afternoon I’ll come over with coffee and pastries after practice.”

With Cassie’s agreement plans were made for the following day and Colton said his goodnight before heading back home, already missing her despite only being next door. As Colton got himself ready for bed he let himself think about Cass and the way he felt whenever he was with her. She gave him the safe space to just be and that was something Colton wasn’t sure he would ever have the words to thank her for. He’d dated enough since going professional to know that not all women were genuine and that in itself made it hard for him to find a meaningful connection, but things were different with Cassie. She had her own life, was successful in her own right and didn’t care about who he was or what he did for a living. Instead, she was supportive and listened to what he was telling her, really telling her, and she always seemed to know what to say and, most importantly, when to say it because for all Colton was always open to hear someone else’s perspective, there were times where he just needed to he heard.

Cassie not only gave him that but so many other things too. She was bright and witty, thoughtful and patient, kind and generous but above all of her wonderful qualities, she’d been an incredible friend to Colton. That friendship was one that he cherished and he knew it was something she cherished too, but rather than be rattled by the idea of that friendship potentially becoming something else, Colton embraced it because it was only what he knew to already be true between them. Their friendship had laid the foundations for them to build something truly wonderful and Colton knew that he was ready to take that leap, but more importantly, he knew that he’d be taking that leap with an amazing woman by his side, and so, as he climbed into bed and settled his head against the pillow, he resolved to tell her his truth when he saw her the following afternoon.

It was a little after 2pm when Cassie opened the door to Colton, the promised coffee and pastries clutched in his hands which she gratefully took from him as she invited him inside. She arranged the baked goods on a plate while Colton poured their coffees into mugs and shortly after they were settled on Cassie’s couch with her sat cross legged facing him and her back against the arm.

“How was practice this morning?” she asked after swallowing her first sip of coffee, a gentle look on her face as she surveyed Colton.

“Yeah, it was good. Coach worked us hard but it wasn’t too bad.”

“Good,” Cassie hummed from behind her mug, eyes narrowing slightly at the way Colton was cradling his mug with his brow slightly furrowed. “Is everything okay with you? You seem a little distracted.”

“I um, I actually wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Colton replied as he set his mug down on the coffee table and turned his body to face her better. “About last night.”

Cassie set her own mug down, giving Colton her complete and undivided attention. She didn’t say anything else, instead giving him the time and space to get his thoughts in order and say what he needed to say.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever really told you just how thankful I am to have you in my life.”

“You might have mentioned it once or twice, yeah,” Cassie grinned, causing Colton to laugh softly and some of that tension he was carrying in his shoulders to melt away.

“Well I am,” he replied, tone filled with sincerity. “But I’ve been feeling like something has changed between us and I think it started not long after I’d gone home to Canada.”

Cassie exhaled and chewed on her lower lip slowly, not entirely sure where he was going with this but unable to stop the little pit of dread from opening up in her stomach. She didn’t speak though and so Colton continued.

“I missed you, more than words can say really and while I loved going home and seeing my family, there was a big part of me that couldn’t wait to get back to St Louis and for no other reason than because you were in St Louis and I realised then, that home is wherever it is that you are. Then last night, coming in here and seeing you talking and laughing with your Nonna, God, you’ve never been more perfect to me because all I could see was that love and passion that you have for your family and fuck, Cass, I wanna be a part of that. I want to be a part of your world. We’ve not been just friends for a while and I know that it’s because I’ve loved you for a while, last night just kind of confirmed to me what I already knew deep down.”

“Are you done?” Cassie asked with a straight face and Colton looked at her a little stunned before nodding apprehensively.

It took precisely 1.7 seconds for Cassie to close the distance between her and Colton and crash her lips against his, and another .5 of a second for Colton to catch up and move his hand to cup the back of her head while he kissed her back. They stayed that way for a few moments, their lips moving slowly together in perfect harmony as Cassie manoeuvred herself into Colton’s lap while her fingers busied themselves in his hair, long-overdue for a haircut but Cass found to be a look that suited him along with the short beard he’d grown.

She pulled away only once her lungs had begun their gentle protest for breath before pressing another, quicker kiss to his lips, Colton’s brow quirking as she devolved into giggles.

“What’s tickled you?”

“Nothing,” she grinned. “Just that second one was from Nonna. She told me to give you one from her.”

Colton couldn’t help but laugh at that and found himself wearing a grin to match Cassie’s, still smiling even as their lips met once more.

“God, I can’t wait to meet her, all of your family, actually.”

“You, Colton Parayko, are either incredibly brave or certifiably insane,” Cassie teased as she carded her fingers through his hair, the smile still bright on her face. “It’s a lot, you think you can handle it?”

“I know I can,” he replied, all cocky and confident with a sparkle in his eyes that reminded Cassie of the way the sun kisses the Mediterranean on a summer’s day.

“Good,” she grinned with that bright and beautiful smile that Colton loved so much. “Because one of the perks of loving me is that you inherit a weird, obnoxious family who will drive you completely crazy but who are the most generous and wonderful people you will ever meet.”

“I do love you,” Colton said, his tone soft and a million miles away from what it was not a moment ago. “And I want this, I want you and everything that comes with that because this? Us? It’s perfect and it’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Cassie kissed him, slow and sure and soft while her hands moved from their home in his hair to cup his face while her thumbs swept along the scruff at his jaw. It was a featherlight, her touch, but Colton felt it spread all through his skin until it had filled every single corner of his body and had him feeling both grounded and weightless all at once. He pulled back a shade to look into her eyes, those brown eyes of hers that held all the warmth of an everlasting hearth, as if they were the wood that could burn with golden flames and yet be forever perfectly entire. In those earthly hues was his soul, those eyes that were filled to the brim with the kind of beauty that expands a moment into a personal eternity, a heaven he wished to always be a part of. So lost in that astral plain as he was, he almost missed her words, but they were the kind of words that go beyond hearing. They were words that he felt, in the way that she looked at him, in the way that she touched him and in the way that she spoke his name and hearing them said out loud only confirmed what they both felt in their hearts and in their souls.

“I love you too, Colt.”

Colton couldn’t help the smile on his face as he connected his lips with hers once more, sighing into their kiss. That feeling was there again, that feeling that had been there all along, that peaceful, easy feeling of being at home and while neither of them knew for certain what the future would bring, they knew that they would be okay while they always had each other. Neither Cassie nor Colton had ever really experienced what it was like to be in complete and irrevocable love, but somewhere deep inside of them, despite not really knowing what it was that they should have been looking for, they knew that it was something just like this.

[pascalscenarios]

THE PRISONER (Tovar x Reader)

The Prisoner 

Scenario Series

Tovar x Royal ! Reader

Words: 1003

Warning: None

Author's Note: I recently watched The Great Wall...I’m in my Tovar feels LOL he’s such a grump and just wants to leave. I love the scene where he’s sitting and yawning while William does a trick for the nameless order lmfao. Enjoy - K

Part 1

Recently you have heard the stories of a man named Tovar. This man was the only thing anyone talked about for weeks after word of him possibly returning to the kingdom. Tovar was like a phantom. He lurked at night and in the shadows. The kingdom had a hard time catching him because he would seem to be in one place, then gone the next. He is a dangerous man, and your kingdom was after him for treason. Miraculously somehow this man who had been on the run for years had finally been caught.

News of him being captured had traveled fast in the kingdom. It was a hot topic amongst the handmaids as you overheard their conversations throughout the day. There were many rumors as to how he was caught or the crime that he committed years ago. One thing that was consistent in their stories was how menacing he looked when they paraded him through the palace, escorting him to the dungeon.

It was nightfall. You were in your room, sitting in a chair as you stared out of your window that overlooked the kingdom.

You heard a knock on your door.

“Come in!” You look over your shoulder to see Alba entering the room.

“Good evening, your grace” She smiles brightly at you as she closes the door behind her. Alba was an older woman. She has worked for your family for years. She was like a grandmother to you. She used to watch your father as a child, and you until you were of age to take care of yourself.

“Your father had requested I bring your dinner to your room”

“How come?” You ask for the tray of food from her fragile hands.

“Urgent matters my dear” you set your food down on a table.

“Is it because of that man they caught today?”

Alba didn’t say anything. She walked over to the room divider, bending down behind the three panels collecting your dirty clothes that were in a basket

“Tovar?”

“Nothing you need worry about” she comes out holding the basket against her hip.

“Is he really as cruel and menacing as they say he is?” you pick up a grape from your plate and pop it into your mouth.

She shakes your head “Those who do not know him will say that, but Tovar was a kind boy”

“You knew him?” you were shocked how she could know such a man.

“Child, I have been around since your grandfather was ruler of these lands...Yes, I did know him. He’s not that much older than you. He is from the kingdom. He was once a loyal soldier to the army”

“What happened?”

“What is with all these questions?” She furrowed her eyebrows at you.

“I’m just curious that’s all”

“Curiosity can lead to danger and misfortune...I wouldn't stick my nose where it doesn't need to be” she warns you and she makes her way back over to your door.

“Thank you for bringing me my dinner”

“Of course, goodnight my dear” Alba lets herself out of your room.

…

Something about Tovar intrigued you. You wanted to see this menacing man for yourself. It was late at night, way past midnight. You were in nothing but your nightgown. You sneaked out of your room, made your way down the stairs of the grand foyer, on the lookout for guards.

You had made your way to the entrance down to the dungeon. You tried to open the heavy wooden door quietly to the best of your ability. You cracked it just enough for you to slip through. You closed the door shut, then made your way down the stone stairs.

At the bottom of the stairs was a sleeping guard in a chair. You quickly made your way past them and continued down the hall. It was dim down in the dungeon, a few torches lit the long, wet and cold hallway.

You approached the cell gate. You could see a dark figure sitting in the corner of the cell, amongst the hay. Their heads hung low, but slowly rose hearing your footsteps. They quickly stood up.

You watched as the dark figure lurked out of the shadow. He slowly made his way over to you, coming into the light of a torch that was positioned outside near the gate. You were met with a tall man wearing dark clothing with chain mail armor. The man was dirty. Mud, blood and grime smeared their hands, face and bushy beard. His hair was long but matted and tangled.

“Hello” you greeted softly as you moved closer to the cell gate.

He nodded acknowledging your presence. His face was hard, eyebrows furrowed. His deep brown eyes glared at you. You were captivated by his eyes. They say you can tell someone true nature by their eyes, the window to the soul. As you stared at him, behind his tough and rugged look you noticed his sorrowful eyes. You could tell he has endured a lot

“Who are you?”

You introduce yourself to him. “…and you are Tovar? I’m assuming”

He continues to stare at you. “What is your purpose? Someone like you shouldn’t be wandering down in his hell hole”

“I was just curious. There has been talk about you recently...I’ve heard many stories…rumors even about you and-”

“So you’ve come to observe me like a caged animal?” It was not your intention to offend him.

“N-no! That’s not- I just- I was- I mean you no harm!” you stuttered. You began to regret coming down into the dungeon.

Tovar lunged forward, grabbing a hold of you. You let out a yelp, as your front side is pressed up against the cold bars.

His face was inches apart from yours.

“Haven’t you learned that curiosity kills? I suggest you head back where you came from before you get yourself into serious trouble” he sneers at you. He shoves you back slightly, letting you go.

With that you quickly raced out of the dungeon with tears forming in your eyes.

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