#and often watched her nine-year-old as he napped or played on his phone.

[the-jam-to-the-unicorn]

For anyone who can't read it:

“Our son wants to be a soldier”: an interview with Ukraine’s first lady

Olena Zelenska on the war, homeschooling and Russia’s hit squads

Jun 19th 2022

By Oliver Carroll

The barbed wire, sandbags and sniper positions of Ukraine’s presidential compound make a dramatic backdrop for a photoshoot. But Olena Zelenska looks drained when she appears, wearing a flowing, electric-blue suit and clutching a pair of high heels to don for the photos. Ukraine’s first lady admits to being a reluctant interviewee.

The contrast with her media-hungry, jollier half is obvious. But her mood picks up when a familiar, husky voice roars from behind an open door: “I heard you were in the building.” The president smiles as he appears, then hardens at the sight of journalists, whom he seemingly wasn’t expecting. For five minutes, the photoshoot becomes the Volodymyr Zelensky show. “I wanted to see my wife, and now you’re making me work,” he quips to me, before turning for the camera. “You want our faces too, not only our backs?”

It was always going to be an adventure with Volodymyr, says Zelenska, from the moment he and two friends simultaneously proposed to Zelenska and two of her friends, when they were all travelling together in a white minibus as twenty-somethings. “Girls listen, we’ve had a chat, and this is what’s going to happen,” is how Zelenska, now 44, remembers his pitch. The high-school sweethearts had already been dating for eight years, but it wasn’t love at first sight, Zelenska says. She isn’t sure that she even liked him at the start: “He was just a boy I knew, someone I saw change from seventh grade to eleventh grade.” The two were united by their sense of humour (hers was better than his, she says) and a common group of friends who later formed Kvartal 95, the entertainment company that made Volodymyr famous. There was no question of Zelenska agreeing or not to the minibus proposal, let alone anyone getting on their knees: “It was fate, and all of that.” The three couples ended up getting married a week apart in the summer of 2003.

She was impressed by his daily videos – but thought they should have been half the length

They had grown up alongside each other in Kryvyi Rih, an industrial city in southern Ukraine, now near the front line of the war. She remembers romantic summers spent with Volodymyr and their friends, listening to music and hanging out by the river. Their choice of a career in comedy – she wrote the scripts, Volodymyr performed – later propelled them to the bright lights of Kyiv, which has since become their home. It was there that her husband, having played the part of a teacher-turned-president in a popular TV series, “Servant of the People”, launched his audacious bid to become the real president in 2019. They could never have expected what was going to happen to Ukraine. “We were naive,” she says. “We thought that we could win through honest work and graft. It turned out to be a lot more complicated than that.”

It was still dark when Zelenska woke up on February 24th 2022, thinking that she’d heard fireworks. Her husband was already in the room next door, fully clothed. “It’s started,” he said, and immediately left. It was Zelenska’s task to tell her nine-year-old son Kyrylo, and 17-year-old daughter Oleksandra, what was happening. She told herself she mustn’t cry as she walked down the corridor, quaking. But when she got to the kids’ rooms she realised they were already awake and “knew everything”.

She told them to get ready for a trip to the countryside: “I had to show that everything was just great, cool, that it was an adventure.” By that evening the three of them were in a secret location far from the capital; her cheeks hurt after a day of fake smiles.

The first lady says she survived the early days on a mix of adrenaline and Valerian before the latter ran out. She tried not to think about her husband being named as target number one for Russian hit squads – or about herself and her children being target number two. The “professionals” would do what was necessary to keep them all safe: “I understood that I understood nothing, but was responsible for the kids and needed to react to the situation.” Like Ukrainians across the country, the presidential family suddenly divided along gender lines. He donned military green and showed his battle face to the world. She kept her private vigil, tending to the home front.

Every time the sirens wailed Zelenska and her children would rush down to the bomb shelter; up and down, up and down again. She couldn’t sleep, and often watched her nine-year-old as he napped or played on his phone. One time she dozed off only to be woken by her son. “Mum,” he said, “time to go to the shelter.” Many of her friends – actors and writers – signed up for Ukraine’s army and territorial defence. When her husband introduced martial law, banning any man aged 18-60 from leaving the country, many women fled with their children; others, like her, found a wartime role away from the front.

“Civilisation is a thin film, torn very quickly. It’s frightening to realise that it’s not shared by people living alongside us, not shared by the monsters of Bucha”

Civilisation is a “thin film torn very quickly,” says Zelenska. Her immediate fear about what the Russians might do – to her family, to her country – turned into a dawning realisation of all that mankind is capable of. “We thought that everyone was the same, that the decades of humanity in Europe were the values we all lived by. That turned out not to be the case.” News of atrocities in Bucha, Chernihiv, Kharkiv and Mariupol have unfolded like a bad film, she says. “It’s frightening to realise this thin enamel of civilisation is not shared by people living alongside us, not shared by the monsters of Bucha.” She goes on: “Mariupol can happen anywhere at any time in any country. Now I really think that anything is possible.”

As the world woke up to the horrors of war in Ukraine, Volodymyr Zelensky became a figurehead of the free world. Many have remarked on his extraordinary evolution from showman to international statesman, but Zelenska says she has not been surprised by it. “Volodymyr was always someone I could rely on. That simply became more obvious to more people.” Before the war, she used to take it personally when Volodymyr was criticised. But he was always brave enough to be himself, she says. “It’s an illusion that an actor remains an actor. He’s as open as a human being can be. I can read his face like a book, and I’m sure you can too.”

The couple didn’t see each other for over two months. Like other Ukrainians, Zelenska watched her husband’s daily speeches to the nation on social media – she was impressed by them even if, she suggests, the finished product should have been half the length. “Volodymyr always says I criticise him too much, that I never praise him enough,” she allows herself a rare bellow of laughter. She also observed her husband’s blooming facial hair (trimmed back since she returned to Kyiv recently). His beard reminded her of happier times: summer holidays when filming was over and he could let himself go. In wartime, it meant something else.

The pair spoke regularly during their time apart, and he’d chat with the kids “about all sorts of things, even just nonsense”. But it was the first lady who sat with her son as he did his homework, and coaxed her daughter through her final year of school. She made the meals, not that that was a big change: her husband was always a weekend cook, a meat-on-sticks kind of man.

“Volodymyr always says I criticise him too much, that I never praise him enough”

When Volodymyr became president in 2019, Zelenska took on initiatives appropriate to a first lady: improving school meals, promoting Ukrainian culture, tackling gender inequality. To hold such a role during wartime has added a unique set of pressures. She talks of others experiencing trauma, but she too feels it. She wouldn’t wish the situation on anybody. “No one wants to be at the epicentre of these terrible events,” she says. She stopped writing scripts – this was no time for comedy – and diverted her energies into evacuating vulnerable children and rolling out psychological support. Last year she convened a network of first ladies – now she mobilised this group to help arrange treatment abroad for hundreds of ill and injured children. Jill Biden made a surprise visit to Ukraine in May; Brigitte Macron greeted a flight of evacuees arriving in Paris: “The plane was full of terrified mums and kids, and to see her climb on board was a wonderful gesture.”

Zelenska worries that, with the flight of so many Ukrainians abroad, much of the country’s potential has disappeared. But the future is almost too frightening to think about, she says. For now, every Ukrainian has to protect what they have, “to survive and live at any cost”. Like Zelenska herself, many have already returned from havens elsewhere and are now daring to live something of a normal life. Yet “the idea that it’s an ordinary summer is an illusion”. War rages in the east. Atrocities unfold. And everyone knows that life is on hold – including her own. She still does not see her husband more than once or twice a week.

Like other parents, Zelenska fears for the next generation. The most unfortunate ones are receiving their young in body bags. Zelenska knows she is lucky to have her children close by. Her daughter is about to turn 18, and will soon go to university in Kyiv. Her son has longer to go before reaching that milestone: “I really hope that when he’s 18, we will have had many years of living in a free and peaceful country,” says Zelenska. At present, life – and Ukraine – seem a long way from that. “The most frightening thing of all is that he tells everyone he wants to be a soldier.” ■

Oliver Carroll is a correspondent for The Economist in Ukraine. You can read the rest of our coverage of the war here

PHOTOGRAPHS: FRANCO PAGETTI / VII AGENCY

Here we have a new interview with Olena! It's kinda ironic, their son wants to be a soldier. I hope he will change his mind in the future. 😉

[mandelene]

If you're still taking requests, can I have ℧ with Arthur please 👀

You sure can! 💕

The Tea Party and the Promise-Breaker

Word Count: 1690

“But you said you were gonna play tea party with us!”

“I know, darling, but I’m quite tired and—”

“You promised!” Amelia screeches.

Arthur swears he feels something in his skull rattle. He did promise, but that was before he worked three 16-hour shifts at the hospital and started to feel unwell. He woke up yesterday morning to a sore throat, but he refused to call out sick over something so trivial. Now, the sore throat is worse, his head hurts, his sinuses burn, and he can feel his nose beginning to run.

This is his first day off all week, and although he’d love to play with Amelia and Madeline, he simply doesn’t have the energy to entertain them. He wishes he could have a two-hour nap, but that won’t be possible since Francis is working until the early evening, which means Arthur is in charge of supervising their two six-year-olds for the day.

“You never want to play with us,” Amelia accuses him, sounding genuinely broken-hearted.

He knows it isn’t easy for the girls when he’s not home very often, and the last thing he wants is for them to think he doesn’t love or care about them—nothing could be farther from the truth.

“Okay, I’ll join the tea party,” he surrenders, overwhelmed by guilt. “Would you girls like me to set the kettle?”

“We’re gonna have imaginary tea, Dad,” Amelia explains, a little exasperated by how out of the loop he is. “But you can bring your own tea if you want…And bring cookies, too!”

“All right. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

“Yaaaaay!” Amelia cheers, jumping up and down several times before grabbing Madeline’s hand and dragging her toward her room. “Let’s get all of the toys, Maddie!”

When the girls are out of sight, Arthur releases a cough he’s been suppressing and buries it into the crook of his arm. A tea party won’t be too labor-intensive at least. He’d rather sit down and drink tea with the girls than have to run around with them in the yard.

He makes himself a large mug of tea with honey and lemon. Then, he grabs whatever leftover pastries are in the fridge—Francis is always baking something for the girls, it seems like. Thankfully, he finds some chocolate chip cookies as well as financiers. He sets them on a plate, gathers extra silverware and napkins for the girls, and makes his way back up the stairs, clearing his aching throat along the way.

When he arrives at Amelia’s room, the little children’s activity table that she normally keeps against the wall has been moved to the center of the room, along with two children’s chairs and two beanbag chairs.

Arthur doesn’t particularly like the seating arrangement, but he knows better than to complain. He places the treats, napkins, and his tea on the table and makes himself as comfortable as he can in one of the beanbag chairs, letting his weight sink into it with a sigh.

Amelia and Madeline have lined up their teddy bears and dolls around the room, and Madeline seems to have drawn a sign on a poster board that proudly says, “MADDIE AND AMELIA’S TEA PARTY.” The text is surrounded by doodles of flowers, teacups, and stars.

“What a beautiful sign, Madeline,” Arthur compliments her.

She sheepishly smiles and hugs her favorite teddy bear, Kumajirou, against her chest. “Thank you…Daddy, you didn’t wear your tie. You were suppose’ta dress up for the tea party.”

He looks down at his attire and frowns. Yes, perhaps flannel pajama bottoms, a black t-shirt, slippers, and his gray bathrobe weren’t a great stylistic choice. Both of the girls are wearing dresses and tights. “My apologies, ladies. I can change, if you’d like?”

“It’s okay. You just havta act like a gentleman,” Madeline instructs, and Arthur can’t help but smile at how endearing all of this is.

He should enjoy it while it lasts—the girls won’t be interested in having tea parties with him when they’re older. Although he’d rather be in bed, he’s glad he agreed to this.

“I’ll try to be on my best behavior,” he assures them before taking a sip of his tea.

“You havta stick your pinkie finger out,” Amelia reminds before pretending to pour tea for herself and Madeline from their children’s tea kettle and into plastic teacups.

Arthur puts his pinkie out and nods. “Ahh, how could I forget? So, tell me, has anything interesting been happening at school?”

Amelia immediately begins to talk about how some other girl in their class recently got a new bike, and how she feels awful that she’s six and a half years old and can’t ride a bike yet. “Will you teach me, Dad?”

“Of course, love. When summer comes we can think about it.”

“Promise?”

He’s learned his lesson about making promises. “We’ll see,” he says instead, ignoring the expression of disappointment on Amelia’s face. He takes a napkin from the table, excuses himself, and blows his nose softly, wincing at the ache in his sinuses…He’s feeling a bit feverish as well.

“Are you okay?” Madeline asks him, concerned.

“I’m just a bit under the weather,” he admits. “So, no hugging or kissing—I don’t watch you girls to catch this.”

Madeline doesn’t seem to be willing to let the subject go just yet. “Did you take medicine?”

“I will in a little while. Thank you, poppet.”

Amelia stands up and comes over to him to yank on his arm. “You havta go to bed, you’re sick. You always say we can’t play when we’re sick and havta rest, remember?”

Arthur feels his patience thinning, but having an excuse to lie down for a moment could be worth it.

“I can’t go to bed. I have to take care of you girls. It’ll be lunchtime soon, and I have to—”

“No, mister.”

“But I—”

“No buts!” Amelia scolds him, and for a second, he forgets who the adult in the room is.

He picks up his mug of tea and begrudgingly follows Amelia back to the master bedroom, where he obediently lies down on his and Francis’s bed, groaning when his sore muscles meet the memory foam mattress.

“We’ll take good care of you!” Amelia exclaims, exuberant.

Arthur’s not too sure he’s looking forward to this, but as the girls go and conspire out in the hallway, he allows himself to close his eyes for just a moment…Only a moment…He has to stay up to watch the girls…

The next time he opens his eyes, Amelia is poking a thermometer against his mouth, waking him from a very brief snooze.

“You’ve gotta take your temperature, Dad.”

Now that his body has had a taste of sleep, he feels absolutely exhausted. He takes the thermometer from her and puts it under his tongue, curious to see what the reading will be. When it beeps, he grimaces at the number taunting him. A hundred and two point seven. That’s thirty-nine degrees Celsius—enough to signal to him that this is probably more than a mere cold.

“Do you have a fever?” Madeline asks from the end of the bed, eyes shimmering.

“No,” he lies. “I’m fine, girls. It’s nothing to worry about…You should both return to the tea party. I’m going to rest here for a moment and—”

Amelia touches his forehead with her cold hand, and he shivers. “You need medicine.”

“I’m all right for now, girls. Really. Go back and play.”

To his surprise, the girls do leave, and he lets out a sigh of relief…That is, until he hears Amelia talking to someone over the house phone in the distance.

He jolts out of bed and dashes over to her, but it’s too late…

“Papa wants to talk to you,” she says, matter-of-fact.

Damn.

He takes the phone from her, feeling a growing pit of dread in his stomach. “Hello?”

“Arthur, why didn’t you tell me before I left the house this morning that you were feeling ill?”

“I’m fine, Francis.”

“I’ll be home in an hour.”

“You don’t—”

“See you then.”

And just like that, Francis hangs up.

Arthur puts the phone down and prepares his most intimidating scowl, ready to direct it at Amelia, but then she pulls on his arm again and says, “We can play tea party next time. Don’t worry. You’ll be all better soon.”

The scowl disappears and is replaced by a wistful smile. “Thank you, love. I’m sorry our plans have to be put on hold. I’ll make it up to you both, all right?”

The girls nod, and Arthur sends them off to finish the pastries that are still waiting for them in Amelia’s room. In the meantime, he finishes his tea and blows his nose again. He sucks on a cough drop and grits his teeth against the immense pressure in his sinuses. After seeing the color of his mucus, he’s willing to bet he has a sinus infection.

He leans against the headboard of the bed and falls asleep against his will.

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

“Come, mon amour—you’re going to have a sore neck and back if you stay like this. Lie down properly,” Francis coaxes him, bracing his head for him.

Arthur’s not sure how long he’s been asleep, but he lowers his head so that it’s on his pillow and lies flat on his back. “…You didn’t have to come home early.”

“I’m glad I did—you have a fever, and a high one at that,” Francis says, setting a damp hand towel on his feverish brow. “Did you really think you’d be able to tend to the girls when you’re like this? It’s dangerous. You should have told me.”

“…'m sorry,” Arthur mumbles, still incredibly tired. The towel on his head feels nice.

“You just wanted a reason to leave the tea party, didn’t you?” Francis jokes, brushing his hand against his warm cheek. “The girls told me about it.”

“Oh, of course. The next time I’m asked to play dress-up or ‘hair salon’ with them, I just may have to give myself bronchitis.”

Francis laughs and kisses the side of his head. “Conniving man.”

[jaskierswolf]

You Set My Heart Ablaze Pt.10/25

Previous

The flat was filled with the melodic sounds of sitar strings, or more accurately, the screeching sounds of sitar strings.

Jaskier still hadn’t gotten the hang of his new baby.

It was a truly beautiful instrument but completely different to his usual stringed instruments. The long neck of the sitar had way more pegs than he used to and he just couldn’t get it to sing like he wanted. He was struggling to play with the microtones that the sitar music was famous for. He would probably have to see if he could find a teacher to help him. That wasn’t going to be easy.

He gently put the instrument back in its case and sat down at his piano instead. His flat wasn’t really big enough to house his baby grand piano but he just hadn’t been able to leave the beautiful instrument behind in the shop. It had called out to him like a siren and he’d been helpless to resist its call.

Of course, he’d probably be able to afford a bigger flat if he managed to stop buying instruments.

He laughed. “But where’s the fun in that?”

His fingers idly pressed the keys without him putting much effort in. He closed his eyes and let the music free from his heart.

School was starting back the next day and he’d been up almost all weekend trying to finish up his lesson plans. He hadn’t meant to leave it to the last minute but time had just gotten away from him and suddenly it was Saturday and he’d not done any work. Luckily coffee and cat naps were his bestest friends in the whole wide world and he’d finally managed to get it all done. Just in time to enjoy his last evening before the kids took over his life once more. His kids were amazing but full of energy and it took a lot out of him to be so switched on all day long. He’d already drafted his email to the parents to send out on Friday evening based on his lesson plans for the week, but he still had Geralt’s left to write.

Not that Geralt received any special treatment or anything.

It was just that he needed to be mindful of Ciri’s special circumstances.

Or at least that was the lie he’d told himself all term.

But at least he still personalised each of the emails a little before sending them out!

And so what he he wrote Geralt handwritten letters more frequently than the other parents.

It wasn’t a crime.

The only crime was Geralt’s ass.

It was to die for.

He groaned and shook his head to try and clear out the thoughts of his love, his fingers slipping on the keys of the piano, but there was really nothing he could do to stop the barrage of Geralt thoughts. Since parents’ evening he’d developed a blooming friendship with Geralt and it was making him feel all sorts of things that he really shouldn’t be feeling if he wanted to keep his job.

They had managed to meet up a few of times over the last half of the school term to discuss Ciri’s progress at school, although Jaskier could count on one hand how many times Ciri’s classwork had actually come up in conversation. Jaskier could never resist flirting with the firefighter which Geralt took in his stride. Although Jaskier wasn’t entirely certain that Geralt even realised he was flirting.

Jaskier was ninety-five percent sure that Geralt was interested in men, and in him specifically. He’d never explicitly said it and there was nothing about their meetings that really screamed anything more than friendship, but every so often Geralt would seemingly flirt back and it floored Jaskier every single time. How was he supposed to handle that? This tall muscular amber-eyed God was actually paying him attention. The small smiles that Geralt gave him made his heart sing, and to the gods when Geralt laughed, he felt his insides turn to mush. Geralt was usually happy to let Jaskier hold most of the conversation, talking about his new instrumental conquests, books he was reading, the beautiful birds he’d seen on the walk to work, but the white-hair man was beginning to open up.

Jaskier had learnt more about Roach, who he’d mistaken for a large dog in Ciri’s drawing. He had, of course teased Geralt over his choice of name but that hadn’t lasted long when Geralt had turned the table on him and asked what Jaskier would call a horse and the only name he could think of was Greg. Geralt offered up a little information about his teammates but notably avoided talking about his childhood. Jaskier couldn’t blame him for that. He had avoided that topic himself.

He knew that Geralt struggled to find time to cook but always made an effort to cook something from scratch with Ciri’s help at least once a week. Their favourite thing to make was pizza, it was also their favourite take-away. He’d learnt that Geralt tended not to watch much tv unless it was with Ciri and the man could tell you far too much about Ciri’s favourite cartoons, which explained his Apple Jack lunchbox. Geralt preferred to read in his free time instead, normally fantasy books, anything with a dragon in. Geralt’s favourite colour was blue which Jaskier adored. He could pretend that the reason was because his eyes were blue. He had filed that information away to fuel several romantic daydreams which ended in a summer wedding.

His fingers began to dance over the keys in a previously unheard melody.

It was beautiful.

“Ah fuck!” He cursed and scrambled to find manuscript paper as he pushed his glasses up his nose.

It was buried in between his lute and his computer. There was barely a spare page in the notebook but he managed to find one in the middle. Once he’d got the melody captured he would copy it over into a fresher, more organised book that held his complete compositions.

He closed his eyes again as he tried to remember precisely what he’d played before but it was missing something. The chords weren’t quite right and it left the piece sounding almost empty and dead.

“Bollocks!”

The moment had passed and his muse had left him.

He pulled out his phone and scrolled through his recents calls until he found the number he wanted. The phone rang twice before the sweet dulcet tones of his younger cousin sounded in his ears.

“What do you want?” Essi asked wearily.

“Lovely to speak to you too.” Jaskier shot back.

Essi sighed. “I’m working, Dandelion.”

“This late?” He double checked the clock. It was almost nine in the evening but then again she was a professional singer. If she had a gig then it was likely to be later on in the day, and now that he paid more attention he could hear the sounds of a bar in the background of the call.

“Not all of us work nine til five, Dandy.” The old nickname slipped out.

“Essi!” He groaned. “I stopped calling myself Dandelion years ago”

“Says the man that realised an album last spring under the alias of Dandelion.”

“It’s a stage name.” He pouted before he remembered she couldn’t see him.

He heard someone calling her name in the background and she yelled back. He winced as the shout hurt his ears. “I gotta go, did you need something?”

He sighed as he ran his fingers over the keys of his piano without making a sound. He could still hear the notes in his head as he desperately tried to recall the tune he had played before. “I just lost another composition to the cruel winds of time.”

“Who were you thinking about?” She asked and he could picture her easily. One hand on her hip, guitar case slung around her shoulder, long blonde hair falling in front of one of her cornflour blue eyes, eyes they had both inherited from their shared grandfather.

He frowned as he considered her question. “Who said I was thinking about anyone?”

She laughed before shouting again at whoever was trying to get her attention. Jaskier held the phone away from his ear this time. Essi really did have a set of lungs on her. “Dearest cousin. Your first album was all about your failed relationship with Pris. The second album was your failed relationship with Stella, and Valdo’s betrayal by stealing away your true love.”

“Wow. Geez. Thanks Essi. You really know how to build a man up.”

“So what failed relationship is it this time?”

“There is no relationship.” He spat back through gritted teeth, wondering why he even bothered with his cousin sometimes. In many ways she was like his little sister and she never hesitated in telling him exactly what she thought of him.

“Sure, sure. That’s why it’s failed. Look I really have to go. They need me on stage. Don’t be a stranger Dandelion!”

The phone line cut off and Jaskier stared at the phone in his hands.

“Oh cock!” He cursed as he realised she was completely right.

He’d been thinking about Geralt.

He closed the lid of the piano with more force than necessary and moved to sit back down on the sofa. He hadn’t meant to think about Geralt. He’d just been thinking about the work he needed to do for school and his thoughts had drifted to his infatuation on their own accord.

As if reading his thoughts, his phone buzzed signalling he had an email.

From Geralt.

“Oh no. No no no. Can’t do this right now.” He moaned and put his head in his hands, knocking his glasses half off his face. “Can’t I have a moment in peace?!” He asked the ceiling.

It was Sunday. He didn’t have to worry about what to say to Geralt until Friday. That was the rules… unless they had a catch up about Ciri but they hadn’t organised another meeting yet. Yes he missed Geralt desperately but he was aware that that was borderline clingy and he didn’t want to scare the man off, and yet here he was emailing Jaskier out of the blue.

It was probably about the present he’d bought Geralt. It wasn’t much, just a voucher for one of the outdoor activity shops in town and a poem he’d written about Roach.

It was terrible.

He hated it.

“Oh fuck off.” Jaskier groaned at his own thoughts and clicked on the email.

 Jaskier,

 Sorry for bothering you. I know you’re busy.

 I wanted to say thank you for my present. I read Roach the poem. She was very impressed.

Jaskier grabbed a pillow from his sofa and hugged it tightly as he continued to read, feeling very proud of himself.

 I am sorry I didn’t think to get you anything from me but hopefully you liked Ciri’s gift.

He had. Ciri had bought him a brand new travel mug. It was covered in music notes just like his mug from the staffroom at school. There had also been a little photo of Roach tucked into the card because Jaskier hadn’t stopped asking Geralt about her.

 I need to ask you something. It would probably be better in person or over the phone. I’m not good at emails.

 - Geralt.

Jaskier re read the last paragraph twice before hitting the reply button.

He sent Geralt his number before he could change his mind and then threw his phone onto the sofa. The phone barely managed to bounce on the cushions before it started ringing and Jaskier lunged to pick it up.

He clicked to accept the call and all at once he felt lighter than he had in weeks.

“Geralt!” He cried happily. “Hi!”

“Jaskier.” Geralt’s gruff voice answered. Jaskier felt like he’d turned to goo. The way Geralt said his name never failed to make him feel weak at the knees.

Pull yourself together Jaskier! He chided at himself.

“So, my dear, what was it that you wanted to ask me?” He kept his voice light like his fingers on his lute strings, not betraying the way his heart thundered in his chest.

Geralt grunted on the other end of the line and Jaskier rolled his eyes and smiled. How was it that he even missed Geralt’s ineloquent grunts?

“It’s not a stupid question, Geralt.” He replied. “If you don’t know something then you should ask.”

“I’m not one of your kids, Jaskier.” Geralt huffed.

He laughed at that and put the phone on speaker. His fingers were itching to move and he was getting restless not being able to play whilst holding the phone.

“Yes yes. I know that.” He hummed as he let his fingers trail across the many different instrument cases that were stacked up against the wall. They landed on his lute, an instrument long forgotten to many but one that remained so dear to him. He’d originally started to play the lute because it was different and he liked to stand out. Every musician in the folk scene played guitar or violin or piano.

He didn’t want to be like every other musician.

He wanted to be the best.

So he’d pick up the lute and never looked back. It was an expensive and delicate instrument so he tended not to bring it into school that often but he often found himself playing it at home.

It was also a reminder as to why he’d begun teaching full time. At first he’d only taught guitar and piano whilst he was at university in Oxenfurt to help finance his music career and pay for his rent after he had had a disagreement with his parents. The lute was the first instrument he’d bought for himself after the argument, to celebrate having enough students to finally make it through the month without begging his friends for cash and managing to save for the first time.

Soon after he realised how much he really enjoyed teaching and after graduating with a degree in music, he went on to study teaching. He’d worked as a teaching assistant in Oxenfurt before moving to Upper Posada where he finally had his own class, the Buttercups.

“Have you put me on speaker?” Geralt asked.

“Don’t you have sharp ears?” Jaskier teased his friend, he was sure they were friends. “It’s just me here, I just needed my hands.”

“You needed your hands.” Geralt replied and Jaskier could practically hear the smirk in his tone.

“Not like that!” He cried. “Honestly, Geralt, is that really what you think of me?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to. I just wanted to grab my lute.”

Geralt laughed. “Is that what they call it these days?”

“Geralt Rivia!” Jaskier exclaimed.

Geralt just laughed in response. It was infectious and soon enough Jaskier was laughing along. Once they’d calmed down he began to strum the strings of his beloved instrument gently, fiddling with the pegs to make sure it was in tune.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you changing the subject, Geralt.” Jaskier spoke softly as Geralt’s laughter faded away.

“Right.”

“Geralt!” He all but whined. “You said you needed to ask me something. Come on! The suspense is killing me.”

Geralt hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe I’ll finally get some peace.”

“Now hang on!” Jaskier gasped in offence. “You rang me!”

“Regretting it already.”

“I’ll hang up!” Jaskier warned.

“No. You won’t.”

Jaskier sighed. “No. I won’t, but honestly Geralt. Is something wrong? Not that I’m not delighted to be talking to you, but…”

“But you’re Ciri’s teacher.” Geralt finished.

“Yes.”

It was a topic that had come up a few times. They weren’t doing anything wrong exactly. The friendship that had sparked up between them came as natural as breathing. They argued as if they’d known each other their whole lives, an easy banter that was unpracticed and yet almost flawless. Jaskier was fighting his attraction to Geralt the whole time, and he was sure the other man was doing the same with him but there was still this cloud looming over them. The line between professional and appropriate behaviour between parent and teacher.

He knew teachers and parents had hooked up before. It was scandalous and often the topic of vicious rumours in the staffroom. If it was reported to the headmaster and proven those teachers got in a lot of trouble, some of them were often asked to resign. Jaskier knew his professional relationship with Stregobor was rocky at best. He couldn’t afford to make a mistake.

But he was falling in love with Geralt, hard and fast.

It had moved beyond infatuation the moment he’d sat in the fire engine and they’d began to talk. The more he learnt about the man, the more he fell in love. Geralt was a complex man. He struggled to express himself and he constantly worried about being a good father to Ciri, but he was kind and loyal to his family. He had a surprisingly quick tongue that never failed to make Jaskier cackle. He wasn’t a pushover either, he was strong-willed and relentless in sticking to his own morals.

His determination to be a good man made Jaskier feel all fuzzy inside.

This strong and handsome man was just a gentle giant, one that could absolutely kill him given the chance, but there was just something about Geralt that made Jaskier trust him.

It was probably those eyes.

He adored Geralt’s eyes.

They were so unusual, like swirling pools of amber brought to life by bright beams of dazzling sunlight.

And that was why it was so important that their calls and meetings had to remain professional.

Without the guise of Ciri or work then their friendship was ruined. Jaskier would fall head over heels in love with Geralt and then…

and then…

He’d have to break it off.

He couldn’t risk it.

Even if there was a chance that Geralt fancied him back.

So he constantly reminded himself that they were friends and managed to frame every meeting or conversation they had as a work based thing. It was imperative that he didn’t forget that.

Friends only, and even then he really should be careful. Tissaia was right. Stregobor was just looking for an excuse to get rid of him and if he was shown to be favouring Geralt ,and in turn Ciri, too much then he might as well start looking for a new job.

He closed his eyes and mentally chastised himself for being a fool.

“So talk to me Geralt.” Jaskier pleaded. “What did you need? Did Ciri say something?”

Geralt just grunted again.

“I told you it’s not stupid.” Jaskier sighed. “It was obviously important to you.”

“It’s for Ciri.” Geralt stated bluntly. All traces of their easy laughter was now gone from his voice.

“Good. I am her teacher, what does she need? Did she say something?” Jaskier’s mind instantly recalled every interaction he’d had with the young ashen-haired girl over the last few days, looking for moments where he might have upset her or said something wrong. He couldn’t think of anything but he could have easily misread the situation.

“We went to Lambert’s for Solstice.” Geralt added.

Jaskier frowned trying to follow Geralt’s train of thought and failing. He stayed silent, waiting for Geralt to find the right words.

“He likes this band and Ciri just started screaming.”

Jaskier felt his heart skip a beat in his chest.

A band.

It wouldn’t be.

It couldn’t be.

Barely anyone even listened to his band. They barely had a thousand views online for their most popular song.

“She swears to the gods it’s you, Jask.” Geralt finished.

Jask.

It wasn’t the first time Geralt had called him that. He hated it. It made his heart do weird things in his chest that was not appropriate when talking to a friend.

He took a page out of Geralt’s book and hummed noncommittally. “Right.”

“And then Lambert pointed out Ciri’s Ukulele teacher is called Priscilla just like Dandelion’s bandmate. I thought it was all just a coincidence, but then I realised, Jaskier, Buttercups.” Geralt added, sounding weary. “Dandelions. All flowers.”

“Ah.”

“Jaskier?”

His fingers stilled on the lute strings. He pressed down with the palm of his hand to dampen the resonating sound. “It’s, well, it’s sort of a hobby?”

“You’re Dandelion?” Geralt stammered.

“Hello?” He tried to joke. “Nice to meet you.”

“Fuck.” Geralt swore loudly. “We all told Ciri she was wrong.”

“And now you’ll have to tell her she was right. That’s embarrassing for you.”

“Shut up, Jaskier.”

Jaskier scowled. “Hey! None of that grumpy firefighter stuff. It’s not my fault you didn’t trust your daughter!”

Geralt growled and hung up the phone.

Jaskier gaped at the blank screen.

“Oh no you don’t!” He rang Geralt straight back and to his surprise, he actually picked up.

“I’m sorry!” Jaskier said before Geralt could say anything. “I didn’t mean that.”

“Hmm.”

“Well. I did mean that’s it not my fault and I don’t know why you’re cross that I have a band, but I shouldn’t have said that about Ciri.” He rambled on.

Geralt still didn’t answer. Jaskier had to check the screen to make sure he was still on the line, quickly putting it back onto speaker. “So I’m sorry. I can explain to her tomorrow at school, about the band. Although, you really should be able to admit your mistakes. I know it’s not always easy.”

“Hold on.” Geralt said and then was a thud. Jaskier assumed that was Geralt putting the phone down. He could hear footsteps and the sound of a door opening. He held his breath whilst Geralt did whatever Geralt needed to do.

He picked his lute back up again and began to play. The notes flowed easily this time, the same tune as before. He grinned and scribbled the notes down onto the coffee stained page of manuscript. He got so caught up in the music he didn’t hear Geralt enter the room on the other side of the line, and this time he wasn’t alone.

“Mr Jaskier?” Ciri sounded exhausted. Geralt had probably just woken her up given the time.

Jaskier blushed and thanked Freya that the young girl couldn’t see him.

Ciri wasn’t supposed to know they’d been talking more outside of school in case she got confused or the wrong idea. Why was Geralt involving her?

Unless the wrong idea… was the right idea?

He swallowed nervously.

“Hello Buttercup!” He put on his best teacher voice, smiling brightly even though she couldn’t see him.

“Dad said you needed to tell me something. That it couldn’t wait.” Ciri asked in a small voice. “Did I do something wrong, Mr Jaskier?”

“Of course not Ciri!” Jaskier reassured her. “Geralt just wanted to ask me about the band your Uncle Lambert likes.”

“In the middle of the night?” Ciri groaned.

“Well…” Jaskier searched for a good explanation.

“It’s not as late for adults.” Geralt suggested.

Which wasn’t entirely true. Jaskier had to be up early for work and he was exhausted from his late night the day before. Geralt would have to up early too to get Ciri to school on time. They both needed to get to bed soon but there wasn’t a better explanation.

“Hmm.” Ciri hummed starting to pick up on some of Geralt’s mannerisms.

“Your father said you thought that Dandelion sounded like me?” Jaskier asked cautiously.

Ciri gasped and squealed excitably. “It sounded exactly like you Mr Jaskier! But everyone else said it was impossible and then Dad said my guitar teacher was called Priscilla and Uncle Lambert said a naughty word and apparently you are Dandelion, which I already knew because I’d already told them it was you and then Dad said a naughty word!”

Jaskier chuckled. “I am, indeed, Dandelion.”

“Of course you are!” Ciri answered completely certain in her assessment.

“But I need you to keep that quiet. Have you told any of your friends yet?” Jaskier asked.

“You have to speak, Ciri, he can’t see you.” Geralt answered softly.

“Nope.”

Jaskier sighed in relief, his band wasn’t exactly child friendly and he didn’t want it getting out that he’d inadvertently taught his whole class how to swear like a sailor. “Can you keep it to yourself, Ciri?”

“Yes, but why?” Ciri asked.

Jaskier ran his hand through his hair as he tried to think of a good way to explain. “Umm….”

“The band is something Mr Jaskier does outside of school. It’s good to keep work and play separate, Princess.” Geralt answered for him.

“Will you still play for us?” Ciri asked.

Jaskier laughed. “Of course I will, Ciri. It wouldn’t be Buttercups without song time!”

Ciri seemed to consider that. “Good. Dara likes it. Everyone else assumes he can’t listen to music but he can. Dara said he can hear it through the vibe…vibe—”

“Vibrations?” Jaskier suggested.

“Vibrations!” Ciri agreed “and he can still understand the words. He likes that you don’t treat him differently.”

Jaskier almost sobbed. That was probably one of the sweetest things his kids had ever said to him.

“I’m tired now. I’m going back to bed. Goodnight Mr Jaskier, Goodnight Dad!” He heard Ciri’s footsteps patter away.

“Fuck me.” Jaskier sighed and Geralt chuckled. “She’s a good kid.”

“The best.” Geralt agreed. “I should go too.”

“No hanging up this time?” Jaskier teased.

Geralt hummed in response.

“Goodnight, Geralt. Sleep well.”

“Night, Jaskier.”

Jaskier hit the end call button, his hands shaking in his lap.

“Fuck me…” He repeated under his breath and rubbed his eyes, smearing his glasses.

Geralt Rivia was going to be the death of him, and he would die happy.

______

Next

[raleigh-ocean]

i’ll be good (for all the light I shut out) | ally mayfair-richards x danna bishop

words: 4,524

summary: Being the one supportive, the one fixing things, wasn’t something Ally knew how to do. But after three years she thought that maybe, finally, she managed to make a difference. And it all came by the hand of the woman she was trying to comfort.

After three years, sometimes Ally still got uneasy when there was too much silence in the house. 

It didn’t help at all that she got used in almost two years to have a loud house, Ozzy always filling it with his laughter and Danna helping him with her usual bubbly self. So that was part of why the moment she crossed the front door, taking off her coat and shoes, she felt wrong having that calmness hanging around. Even more since Danna had the day off, which meant more often than not that Ally could come home to a little revolution led by her son and their tiny dog against her partner.

Rolling up the sleeves of her sweater, Ally tried to check the first floor and the backyard in case Ozzy and Danna were there somewhere. As far as she knew, mostly through Danna’s texts, they didn’t do much in the day but the usual schedule. It was true that after lunch Danna went silent, but Ally just didn’t put much thought into it since she was busy at the restaurant first and then at the office. Also, once again, it was Danna’s day off and probably she was just relaxing if there wasn’t a revolution going on.

Ally scratched her cheek lightly when she didn’t see any of the other members of her family around the first floor, getting a bit worried. Not even Roberto came to welcome her home, which was as strange as not having Oz and Danna welcoming her. So her best bet was to try some luck upstairs.

Ozzy’s room was empty but Ally frowned a bit when she saw her bedroom’s door closed. Which mischief were they up to today? She thought while carefully opening the door of the bedroom to not startle them and probably caught them red handed.

But all she saw was the most tender picture ever.

Cuddled in bed, those three hurricanes she loved so dearly seemed to enjoy just being in the presence of each other. Oz had his headset on, video game controller tightly held in his hands while pressing the buttons as fast as he could, clad in his superhero onesie and his ginger curls held back by the headset; Danna was also clad in the parrot onesie she bought to match Ozzy’s, her arm around him as if she was hugging him protectively, but she was totally KO’d against the so many pillows they had and she had Bob inside the onesie, his tiny head showing through the collar, resting comfortably in her chest, and revealing he was as fast asleep as his owner.

She couldn’t help but capture the moment with her phone and get caught by her son a second later.

“Shh,” Ozzy was pretty careful doing the shush motion towards her and then motioned her to come forward. 

Ally tiptoed her way to her side of the bed, empty aside of the food tray that was there and carefully moved it to the floor to occupy the space. Ozzy leant a bit to get his daily kiss on the forehead, which Ally gave gladly before fixing her eyes to the screen to watch her son play. If she was being honest, she still wasn’t so sure about having a television in the room but that was probably the old Ally trying to come back, because the new Ally reminded her that it was actually a not so bad addition.

“What did you have for lunch?” Ally whispered to Ozzy, taking off slightly one side of the headset so he could hear her better.

“Danna made cuban sandwiches with...some kind of plantain thing, it was tasty, we ate in bed watching a show,” he said all of that without looking away from the television. “We were extra careful, I promise, we didn’t drop anything, not a crumb.”

Ally didn’t have many rules as of now, but Ozzy still had that tiny thing engraved in him that always made Ally feel a bit uneasy. Overall because in so little time she changed and grew out of many of her old habits. 

“It’s okay, sweetie, not the usual but okay,” she felt the need to reassure him and Ozzy smiled at her for a moment before going back to the game. “Homework?”

“Done,” Ozzy pointed at the little pile of books and notebooks over the nightstand.

“Okay, that’s impressive,” Ally raised her eyebrows at that, because lately he wasn’t a big fan of doing things immediately, and felt tempted to put her own hand over Danna’s, which was placed against Ozzy’s belly. “What got into you?” Ozzy shrugged and looked down a bit. “Oz?”

They’re attention was drawn by a tiny dog yawn, Bob waking up and wagging his tail still half asleep when he saw Ally. She approached her hand to give him some quick cuddle, gaining a lazy lick back before he dropped his head against Danna’s soft chest again, snuggling just like that.

Danna frowned in her sleep, rolling slightly towards Ozzy’s body, and kept sleeping undisturbed. For a second Ally smiled and decided to finally put her hand over Danna’s. Intertwining their fingers automatically, it didn’t wake Danna up but it made her hum in her sleep.

“Mom?” Ally hummed in response, not letting go of Danna’s hand but getting herself more comfortable against the pillows. “I think...she’s sad.”

Hearing Ozzy saying that made Ally look at him a bit perplexed. 

“How so?”

“She didn’t have music on when she picked me up at school,” Ozzy took off the headset and left it over his legs with the controller. “Not even when cooking. She asked me about school, that’s what you do, not her, and it was weird,” Ally wanted to tell him that everything seemed off the second he said that there wasn’t music. “But then she...I don’t know mom, Danna had red eyes and didn’t laugh with my joke.”

“That’s...a lot of things, baby,” it was pretty impressive that Ozzy managed to figure out all of that with a few hours of being together with Danna. “Did she say something weird?”

“She said she was tired,” Ozzy shrugged again and looked at Danna for a second before looking at his hands again. “You say when someone’s tired, it helps when someone else makes things easy for them,” Ally smiled at that, because he was a good kid. “So...I helped with food and told her to have a pajama afternoon,” Ozzy looked at their pajamas. “I asked her to help me with homework and then I showed her how to play my game,” then he looked at Ally and Danna’s joined hands pressed in his belly. “She fell asleep with Bob after one game.”

“I see.”

They fell into a comfortable silence after that, mostly because Ally got into her head and she had much to think about. With Oz back in his game, she actually had the first break in all day and she decided to close her eyes as well.

This morning when she left Danna didn’t seem any different from another day. Well, since Dara’s incident it was true that her mood - all the cousins’ mood as a matter of fact - had changed a bit, but it was normal taking in count how close they all were. They were worried, of course, and Danna was the one being the furthest from them, which Ally thought would make worse the worry but Danna kept being her sunshine-ish self and probably Ally should have pressed her a bit more.

“Mom?”

It was lucky she kept her eyes closed, because she felt herself tear up a bit with the only thought of having Danna feeling bad in silence.

“Yes honey?” Ally stilled her voice with a long sigh.

“I don’t like seeing mama sad.”

Yeah, Ozzy was too good for this world. Since Valentine’s, Oz had slipped a few more times by addressing Danna as that and, to be completely honest, she liked how the word sounded when it went towards the other woman. She didn’t press Ozzy into anything, Danna neither, they only played it cool and, well, maybe someday he would actually be vocal about it.

“I don’t like it either,” Ally caressed Oz’s belly with her thumb absentmindedly. 

“Should we call titi and ask what we could do?” Ozzy liked Danielle and Ally found funny how fast he bonded with Danna’s twin sister since he only saw her a few times. Not even with Ally’s sisters was he that close.

“Let me think about something and if it doesn’t work, we call her, okay?” Ozzy was the one humming in response now and then he let out a pained groan when he lost the game, turning the console off and letting his head rest in his mother’s chest. “Another level you can’t pass?”

“Yeah…Dami should know how to,” he groaned again but didn’t move because being cuddled by his mom was the best thing on Earth. “I’m hungry again.”

“Well, it’s not a surprise, you ate around four and it’s almost nine,” Ally got surprised when she checked her wristwatch. “Okay, you go get showered and I’ll come up with something for dinner,” her eyes went to Danna. “Something we three like.”

“Pizza?” excitement filled Ozzy’s voice and Ally rolled her eyes. “It’s pizza, right?”

“It’s pizza as long as you go shower now.”

And just like that, Ozzy broke their linked hands and ran fast towards the bathroom. That made Bob to finally react, waking up with the highest energy an eight year-old chihuahua could gather and waking Danna up in the process, the tiny dog going after Oz without giving Ally a single bark. 

“And with the demigod gone, the Goddess herself finally showed up,” Danna yawned big and let herself fall onto Ally’s lap, hugging her like that with her eyes still closed. “Will I burn if you show me your real form?”

“How can you go all mighty speech right after waking up? A mystery to me,” Ally giggled and caressed Danna’s cheek with her fingertips. “Was the nap good?”

“Mhm,” Danna nodded lazily, nuzzling her nose against Ally’s belly and then she laid face up, so she could look at her better. “If I wasn’t starving, I would skip dinner and go on with it till tomorrow.”

“You missing pizza is very unlikely,” that made both laugh for a second and then they went silent, enjoying each other’s presence. Ally was sure that if she kept at it with the tiny caresses, she would lull Danna to sleep again. “Ozzy told me you were sad.”

“That’s not true,” Danna frowned, eyes closed again. “Would a sad person be dressed as a fluffy parrot? I think not.”

“Darianna,” Ally whispered Danna’s full name and she got her to open her eyes, no sleep in them. “He said you didn’t laugh at his joke and asked him about school which, in his words, it’s a thing that I do,” Danna got the guilt all over her face and rested both of her hands over her own chest. “And he said you had red eyes, so either a sandstorm got in your eyes or you were crying.”

“Sandstorms in Michigan are a very common thing,” Ally rolled her eyes at that and, like Danna used to do when she felt like annoying her, she pinched her nose until Danna swatted her hand away to get some air. “Okay, okay! Nani called this morning and maybe I cried for half an hour after hanging up, happy now?”

“Not really,” Danna sat up to Ally’s response and then leant back in the pillows, leaving both side by side in bed in silence again. Ally put her hand over the bed, facing up, as an offering to Danna, who was fast to take such a lovely offer. “I’m not really happy when the woman I love is hurting and she doesn’t tell me so I can do something about it.”

Ally watched Danna look at the ceiling for a few seconds and then to their hands, how she pulled off the hoodie with her free hand and then put it over her eyes. Ally could only squeeze her hand a bit upon seeing Danna’s tears leaking through her fingers, silent sobs making her body tremble.

Danna didn’t cry much, but it was heartbreaking every single time she did.

“They don’t know what to do to get her out of bed,” Danna’s voice was tiny and scared. “Lia and Nani say she’s catatonic or I don’t know. Nani called me to ask for one of our granny’s recipes, so maybe that could comfort her or get her better magically,” Ally brought their hands to her lap and used her free hand to cover them. “Billie is working from home to take care of her, Audrey is helping, Damien goes everyday after high school to spend time with her. Even Shelby has stayed with her!” Danna said that last point a bit furiously. “And all I can do is nothing, like always, just give my sister an old recipe in hopes for something that won’t happen any time soon.”

And then Danna started to cry harder, making Ally to get closer and bring her to her chest to let her hide there. 

Because it was what Danna needed and she knew it. To let go of all her inner turmoil and to be held, to be listened, not heard. Ally could listen to her as long as she wanted and needed, she could do that for sure, because the new Ally wanted to be better than the old one so fucking bad that if she had to sit for an hour listening, she will do it without a single doubt in mind.

“This is what I hate the most about my life and me,” Danna kept sobbing on Ally’s chest and she kept hugging her. “I’m not there when things happen, they can’t rely on me because I’m never there,” Ally closed her eyes a bit, because those things were pretty heavy statements. “My aunt died when Lia was eighteen, where was I? Arizona, couldn’t even attend the funeral and when I went to Sacramento after three months, Dahlia already moved to Seattle to attend uni,” Danna rubbed her eyes to stop the tears, but they didn’t stop coming. “When Nani gave birth to Damien, we were in this stupid nine year feud that made me miss all kind of things, and I should have been there...but where was I again? New York, getting yelled at while my twin sister was being cut in half like a turkey because my niece was coming way too early in Québec,” Ally reminded herself not to mention that terrible simile in the future and neither the information that was thrown at her. “And Dari...where do I fucking start? When she ran away to Los Angeles, we met because I was working there at the time and I bought that she was visiting a friend? When she got into a car accident and I was in Germany so I didn’t see her until way after New Year’s Eve?”

“Sweetheart, it’s impossible that you knew all of that was going to happen…” Ally brushed her hair with care, kissing the crown of her head. 

“But I should have known, because I’m the oldest and...they needed me, I wasn’t there, and the story repeats itself.”

Shocking revelation for a wrecked situation. 

Ally didn’t know what to say right away but kept giving Danna cuddles, trying to get her to slow down with the choking with her own tears. Danna talked really fast when she was upset, Ozzy showered really slow, so in between both things Ally felt that they had enough time to settle part of this giganormous conversation. 

“Why can’t I be there but they can?” Danna moved to rest her head on Ally's shoulder, which prompted her to leave a kiss in her forehead. “Lia took a train to Vancouver from Seattle to be with me during Christmas because I got sick that same year and didn’t leave me until she was sure I stopped from throwing up my insides out,” there was now fondness in Danna’s affected voice. “Dari picked me up when they kicked me out of the restaurant I was working in Los Angeles, we went to party together and ended up eating tacos at the beach with a punk band, and even after that she kept checking on me until my mentor called me and I moved to Chicago,” with that, Ally couldn’t help but write down somewhere in her head to ask about that again in the future, because the punk band part sounded fun at least. “And Nani...Damien was barely six months old when my stupid heart made stupid things and Nani strapped that badass baby girl to her chest, flew from Québec to Sacramento and didn’t leave my side for days,” there her voice went tinier and Ally felt her own heart squeezed against her ribcage. “You should have seen my ex-brother-in-law’s face when Nani said I was coming back home with them. Nani was the one that sat us down to talk, put the stupid feud behind, and started all over again.” Danna rubbed her eyes and looked at Ally, who was watching her with understanding eyes and soft smile. “How did they know when to stop their lives for a second to be there…?”

Ally didn’t know either the answer to that, mostly because she didn’t know them much to begin with, but leant in to press a kiss to her lips. Danna kissed her back like always, lingering both in the moment before Ally found the right words to say while trying to wipe away Danna’s tears with her sleeve.

“It’s a matter of context and situations, sweetheart. I’m pretty sure they actually didn’t know,” Ally took Danna’s face between her hands with love, tracing the soft flesh of her cheeks with her thumbs tenderly. “It's something that happens, and that’s it. We can wish to have been there, but what we do afterwards it’s what counts the most if we weren’t.”

Danna sniffed a bit but didn’t seem to have something to say back, only moving enough so she could hug Ally better. For Ally it felt like the tiniest win, one she hoped brought some peace of mind to her girlfriend. They shared the silence, Ally brushing Danna’s cheek with her thumb carefully so she could sense she was still there, actively listening if she had something else to get out of her chest.

“Sorry for being such a disaster.”

Ozzy showing up was the only thing that stopped Ally from going full bananas over that statement. Seeing Danna withdrawing into her shell and trying to chirp her way through the conversation with Ozzy about which pizza they were having was one of the most painful things Ally had witnessed. And she fell quiet for the rest of the night, trying to think about how to approach Danna about that again.

It wasn’t until they were back in the bedroom, Danna out of the onesie and with an actual pajama and Ally fresh out of the shower, that Ally acted on it. Difficult as it was, taking in count Danna was falling asleep once again thanks to the television, she took away the controller without much trouble and turned it off before moving under the blankets so she was straddling Danna effortlessly.

That woke the latina enough to move her hands towards Ally’s belly, her weak spot, right away.

"You should turn on the television if you wanna do that, bunny," Ally rolled her eyes a bit by Danna's nickname for her for the day. "Don't you think?"

"No, I need to be forward with you Darianna."

"Allyson, when you say my full name while on top of me like this, it's very confusing," Danna said, giving Ally a soft boop on her nose. "I'm scaroused."

"Well, maybe you should be," Ally joked as a way of warning her partner, leaning to kiss her slowly and having Danna's hands finding their way to her ass. "But that's not the thing tonight…" Ally sat up again, not being really heavy and placing her hands on top Danna's belly, playing with her shirt a bit. "...I don't like when you call yourself things. You're not a disaster, nor terrible, nor anything."

That made Danna move her hands to rest on Ally's covered thighs, avoiding the eye contact with her so she didn't have to face the truth somehow. That hurted Ally too much and her hand went naturally to Danna’s chin, lifting her face a bit so they could lock eyes.

“Because tell me, were you one when I broke my elbow and you drove me in half the time to the hospital? When you took care of everything around the house and the restaurant to get my part of the load off my back” Ally knew how stressed Danna could get in emergency situations, but she handled that pretty well. “And what about when Ozzy had to do that project for school last minute and you pulled the all-nighter, slept two hours and then went to work?” Ally found Danna’s hand and intertwined their fingers together. “Every time you looked after him? When he was sick with those fevers and he didn’t want to leave your side?” Ally saw how Danna sighed unsteadily, sign that she was about to cry again. “Or when we were down one or two in the restaurant and did everything they had to do yourself? When you cared and tried to find a solution when problems arose? When you try to teach everyone everything so they’re prepared just in case?” Danna’s lip quivered a bit and Ally pressed a kiss to let her know she was there. “I don’t see a disaster and that’s why I don’t like you saying those things, apologizing even. You’re not, you’re just someone that cares too much and has a lot going on in her life, and that’s it,” Another kiss and Ally’s hands went to cup Danna’s face with love. “And everyone loves you for that, I love you for that sunshine.”

“Okay, okay,” it was so sad hearing Danna talk with such a tiny voice, on the verge of tears, but she looked like she finally understood. “But I see why Oz doesn’t like when you scold him.”

“I wasn’t scolding you,” Ally laughed at that and that made Danna smile, a tiny cute smile for such a big woman. “I was just stating facts and trying to make you see what I see everyday.”

“I know…” Danna moved her hands behind Ally, just to rest them in her lower back. “Is just...I can’t help it sometimes, all these thoughts live rent free in my head,” she stretched her neck a bit and got more comfy. “And maybe I’m stressed and...I miss them Ally, I miss hugging them,” she mimicked what she said by pulling Ally down to hug her better, Ally falling without much trouble because she loved being held by her girlfriend. “I miss my family.”

With her chin resting on Danna’s chest, Ally stopped her train of thought for a second and her eyes went to her nightstand.

Was it maybe the right time to…?

It is, Allyson. Just fucking do it, come on, it’s been planned since February and it’s almost November!

Ally sometimes loved and hated her inner voice in equal parts, not gonna lie there. But today she was on the loving side she supposed, taking in count that she was listening to it since she came home hours ago.

Sneaking her arm out a bit, Ally managed to reach the drawer and blindly search for what she left there. Danna looked at her, asking silently what was she doing after pressing a kiss to her temple, but when Ally showed her the paper...well, she couldn’t help but tear up again.

“Let's go to Los Angeles then," Ally smiled at Danna, who was trying very hard to clean her own tears. "Do the reservation at the spa, let's stay with your sister for a few days, go visit your cousin and cook in person the recipe that may help her," Ally couldn't help but kiss Danna's chest, right where the neck of her shirt was letting her see the scary scar. "You need it, we need it, I bet Ozzy will be the happiest for skipping school for a few days."

"We'll have to talk with his teachers if we go more than the weekend…"

"Oh, you said that not me, I want it recorded," that made both laugh and Danna ended up moaning a bit because she was still crying. "Six days, we go pick up Oz on friday to school and by dinner time we would be there."

"What about the restaurant…? Your office…?"

"Office work I'll give an extra push to cover it up and I'll bring my laptop just in case," Ally was trying not to spiral on her own with all the stuff they'll have to arrange, and she was successful on it. "Restaurant, well, I trust in Beverly to replace me...and you have Ferdinand and Aathmika to handle the kitchen. We'll get everything in order so they don't have to worry about it."

"Ally...are you really sure we can do this right now…?"

Having Danna being the one thinking that hard in everything was a good change, a really good one, but Ally needed the spontaneous Danna right now.

"We can totally do it," she looked in her eyes while saying that. "As long as we are together, working like a team, I trust in us to get through it," it was difficult saying this, but she never felt that way with Ivy. "So...are you in Bishop?"

In that moment Ally didn't know that they'll work their asses off to get everything in place, that they'll arrive to a mess of a situation that - strangely enough - only Danna being physically there managed to fix, even getting Dara to eat and talk a bit more. She truly didn't know that, after fixing the mess, she would get to relax and to know better her sisters-in-law. Nor even that after she kept trying to organize her mind, right there on top of Danna, they'd have the softest sex they had in a while.

But she did know that this was the right thing to do, what they needed in order to keep going. Having Danna to agree was just the cherry on top and God that kissing away all her tears and almost all her worries lifted a heavy cape from Ally's shoulders.

She was indulging and growing out of her old ways, she was doing perfectly what her therapist and her were working towards. 

And helping the love of her life along the way was just plainly brutal.

[myhauntedsalem]

Children’s Encounters with the Unknown

Are Children more attuned to the supernatural?

Many researchers suspect that children, from the youngest ages and into early teens, are more likely to experience paranormal phenomena because they have not yet developed the prejudices that many adults have against such far-out, “unscientific” ideas. Perhaps they have not yet created their own filters for feelings and experiences that most of society consider irrational or abnormal. Or it could be that young brains or minds are, for whatever reason, physically more receptive to such phenomena as ghosts, near-death experiences, past-life recall and premonitions.

Whatever the reason, here are several true stories from readers that seem to confirm that children can be extraordinarily tuned in to the strange and the unexplained:

THE MYSTERY MAN

Years ago while in my teens, my mom took me with her to pick up one of her elderly friends to give her a ride to our church. We weren’t going that night, but my mom was always helpful to the senior citizens at our church. When we got to my mom’s friend’s house, mom asked me to go to the door to tell her that we were outside waiting on her.

I rang the doorbell and the elderly lady opened the door, said “hello” and left me standing in the doorway for a few minutes while she finished getting ready. The couch in the elderly lady’s living room was partially shielded by the door, but I could see a man sitting on her couch in front of her TV, which was turned on.

He never moved or spoke to me as I stood there. I was very shy and didn’t attempt to speak to him either. I distinctly remember he had on a white shirt, black pinstriped pants, black nylon socks and shiny black shoes. His hands rested on his knees. I remember that his hand was wrinkled and appeared to be that of an elderly, very dark, African-American man, but I was positioned in a way that I could not see his face.

After a few minutes, the elderly lady grabbed her coat and walked out the door locking it behind her. She left the man sitting on her couch watching television, but she hadn’t said anything to him when she left. I thought that it was rather strange, but said nothing about it to her.

After we dropped the elderly lady off at church, I said, “Mom, Mrs. McClain left a man in her house, but she didn’t say bye to him when we left.” I also told her that he was sitting on her couch in front of the TV. She asked me what he looked like because Mrs. McClain’s landlord came to visit her from time to time. I described what I saw to my mom, but told her that I didn’t see his face. My mom said that the description that I gave did not match that of her landlord, because he was a very pale-skinned man.

My mom was very concerned, so she called Mrs. McClain at church and, in order not to alarm her, asked, “Did you have some company? My daughter said that you left your TV on.” Mrs. McClain told mom she didn’t have any company that day and that she leaves her TV on whenever she goes out because she wants people to think that someone is home, so that no one will break in.

Hearing this really frightened my mom, and I guess the elderly lady could hear the fright in my mom’s voice and she started screaming out, asking my Mom, “What did your daughter see?

Please tell me, what did your daughter see? You are scaring me. I can’t go back there. What did she see?” I remember my mom having to talk to her for quite awhile to calm her down. My mom finally convinced her that we were just wondering why she had left the television on.

When my mom finally got off of the phone, we were both very shaken. I was crying and extremely afraid that I would see this man again because at this point we knew it had to be a ghost. I kept repeating, “I am so glad that I didn’t try to see his face.” My mom comforted me by saying that it was probably Mrs. McClain’s husband, who had passed away, watching out for her because she was all alone. I never saw the man again and we never told Mrs. McClain what I had really seen that evening in her house. — H. Holmes

WHAT DID BABY BROTHER SEE?

When my little brother was a baby, maybe nine months old, we lived with my grandma. My grandpa had just died. My mom was sitting in the living room around midnight trying to get my brother to sleep, but he wouldn’t stop crying. Suddenly, out of nowhere he stopped crying, sat straight up and said, “Hi, grandpa.” There was no one else in the room at all. The weird thing is, he said those words so clearly, and he had never spoken before, not even to say “mom”! — Beth B.

ANDY PANDY COMES TO PLAY

Many of your UK readers between the ages of 45 and 55 will probably remember a TV show called Watch with Mother. The show was on the BBC in the 1950s and featured a string puppet named “Andy Pandy”, and he had a sidekick named “Loopy Lou or Looby Lou”.

One day my brother and sister where playing upstairs in our front bedroom. This room was about 12 ft. x 12 ft. and had a cupboard in the corner, which was directly over the stairs. My sister and brother, both now in their late 40s, swear to this day that Andy Pandy came out of that cupboard in the corner and spent the next hour playing with them both. This Andy Pandy, however, was about four feet high and had no strings attached. I have questioned both of them over the years and still their story remains the same. – Mike C.

SHADOW PEOPLE ENCOUNTERS

When I was seven years old, one weekend I planned to stay up late downstairs playing video games and then sleep on the pull-out bed. I was preparing to go to bed when, for some reason, I got the impression that something was watching me. I got scared enough to run back upstairs, and while I was running, I could see very short (no larger than two feet tall) and squat figures darting after me. They were very indistinct in features, and appeared as nothing more than inky-black silhouettes.

Also, when my aunt was young, she was sleeping over at a friend’s house at the end of the street when she said that a “shadow man” appeared at the foot of the bed and began to call out her friend’s name. She screamed and said that it disappeared into the floor.

ACCIDENT PREMONITION

My mother’s family (parents and siblings) lived in Binghamton, New York. My dad was in the Navy and my parents, my sister and I lived in Patuxent River, Maryland. I was six years old at the time. Even though we lived in Maryland, I knew most of my mother’s family because we would visit them quite often in Binghamton, and during the summer they all came to visit us. At the time, my cousin, Marylou, who lived in Binghamton, was 11 years old.

I got home from school one day and asked my mother why Marylou was crying. She didn’t understand what I was talking about.

I told her that I heard her crying. She was quite puzzled by my statement and had no explanation. Within a few hours, the phone rang. It was my grandmother calling to say that my cousin had been hit by a car walking home from school — about the same time I told my mother I could hear her crying. I have had a few other premonitions, but this is the one I remember most. — Nancy T.

CHANTING MEN IN WHITE

I was 13 and it was quite some time after my little brother had passed away. I had wanted to be with him because I thought it would be better with him than at home. One night I was sleeping in my bed and I had felt this warm sensation. I saw this large hand come on my legs. It was so warm I had to wake up. To my surprise, there were some men standing around my bed, which was up against the wall. They were dressed in white and chanting in some language I never heard. One looked at me and then they all did and stopped chanting. Then, all in a single file, they walked out of the room.

I crawled to the end of my bed and peeked out the door to the living room. There we had a dim light on. They were gone. I was a little scared and crawled under the covers and started to pray. Then my other brother asked me if I was awake. I said yes. He asked me to come to his room. I said, “No way. You come.” But I did manage to get to his room, just to find out that my brother had gone through the exact same thing as I did. We were both scared. — Ruby

THE IMAGINARY FRIEND

When my cousin was little, she would always say that she was visited by “a friend.” My family thought this was an imaginary friend.

One day while looking through a photo album, my cousin saw a picture of her grandfather who had died only a few years before she was born. She had never seen this picture before. She said that the man in the picture (her grandfather) was the friend who visited her regularly. This is interesting because my grandfather adored his grandchildren, and I could envision him wanting to meet the one who was born after he died. — Dennis and Heather S.

SHIRLEY SAVES HER BROTHER

My mom told me this story, and she still cries when she tells it. It has never been explained. My sister, Shirley (the firstborn), died of Down Syndrome at the age of two in 1961. She had holes in her heart. Almost two years later, my mother had a baby boy, my brother, Steven.

One day in 1962, my mom was up in the attic doing some work, and my dad was in the basement in his workshop.

Steven (age one) was supposedly napping in a playpen in the den. My mom heard, clear as day, Shirley’s voice saying, “Dadda! Dadda!” … and it was as though she were right there next to her in the attic. Clear as day. My dad heard the SAME THING down in his workshop. “Dadda! Dadda!” They both say it was distinctly Shirley’s voice — loud and clear.

Dad ran up to tell mom; mom ran to tell dad. They both ran into the den, and there was baby Steven with plastic dry cleaner’s sheeting that he had reached for on the couch — and he was suffocating! Mom and dad both told us later on that it could not have been Steven calling them; he called my dad, “daddy” not “dadda,” and it was not his voice. They are convinced to this day that it was Shirley warning them that her brother was suffocating. — Donna B.

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - “John Wick” Part 3

Y/N left The Organization 3 years ago for the one reason strong enough to make her settle down: love. But after tragedy crushed her to pieces, she decided to leave The Joker and seek refuge with an old friend and mentor - John Wick. Needless to say The King of Gotham can’t accept his wife running away without a word, especially since he didn’t have a chance to tell her things she might want to hear.

Part 1     Part 2

The Joker listens at the bedroom’s door, impatient to have a conversation with you. It seems you are engaged into a fervent phone call with Winston and figured he shouldn’t interrupt.

“Please, anything you can discover would be a great help! U-hum… U-hum… Thank you,” and you hang up, which queues your husband to walk into the room.

You completely ignore him, scrolling through the numerous text messages you sent to your connections; several are already answering back and hopefully you can get some news soon. The more people are involved into the project, the more chances to find Kase and untangle the mystery of what happened to him after he was removed from the car.

“You left me there,” The Joker sneaks in and closes the door behind him. “Luckily we had Wick with us so he gave me a ride.”

No reaction. He takes a deep breath, trying to get your awareness.

“I didn’t sleep with Evelyn; sex wasn’t the reason why I kept visiting her. I know how that asshole made it sound and he was totally out of line!”

You quickly glance at him, busy replying to Ares since you feel you’re going to explode soon.

“The only skill I was interested in is the fact that she is an excellent painter and a popular art smuggler, OK?” J raises his voice, sort of annoyed you neglect to participate into his monologue. “I did not cheat, alright?” he approaches his wife. “First of all: I’m VERY picky! Second of all: why would I want a woman everyone else had?! I don’t like used toys. Third: nobody’s been polishing my gun as you tastefully addressed the issue! I have one Queen and I married her!!”

A little bit of doubt in your eyes and he utilizes the opportunity.

“You said you saw me going to her house? I did! The Bowery King asked if it was for the last 6 months? Yeah, I did! You know why?!”

At least now The Joker got your attention: you play it cool but he guesses you’re torn apart by his confession.

Many unfortunate events crammed in lately and hating the man you love made life infinitely more unbearable.

“Why…?” you barely muster the strength to inquire and he sees it as a possibility to mend a few broken pieces; although you can hide your emotions well, J can still read between the lines.

Maybe that’s why he answers with another question:

“Do you realize there are just three Monet paintings in circulation on the black market in the entire world? You admire his work and it took a lot of effort and a substantial fortune to acquire The Water Lily Pond painting. Evelyn Black helped with the transaction, then I had her make some modifications to the original masterpiece.”

You keep staring at The King of Gotham, uncertain about the stuff being tossed your way: is he lying or telling the truth?... In your line of work translating feelings is a huge part of the job; ultimately you had the best mentor to teach you the ropes when you started with the organization: none other than the legendary Baba Yaga. Despite his reputation and to your own amazement, John was one of the few hitmen with integrity and perfectly mastered the aptitude of not being a jerk. Such a rare gem… And blissfully unaware of it himself.

On the opposite end, The Joker is a jerk and flawlessly acquainted with his own “captivating” personality that made you fall in love with him anyway.

Also, doesn’t appear to be deceitful for the moment.

And you despise yourself even more for wanting to believe him.

“What… modifications?...” you throw him a bone and J is definitely not going to pass on the alternative of explaining his actions.

“I wanted to surprise you so I took advantage of Miss Black’s capabilities in the art field; I had her add small images to the authentic canvas: an evolution of you being pregnant, the nine frames culminating with a tenth: the new mother holding our son. Similar to a timeline,” he emphasize and you look intrigued, which might be a positive sign. “Needless to say it was tedious, difficult work, especially because she had to apply special pigments you can’t find at every corner of the street. Apparently you can’t mix old paint with contemporary shades, thus I had to order aged, special colors from Italy, Spain and France. That’s why I went to her place so often: I had to supervise the long process and make sure it turns out astonishing. Then…” and The Joker pauses,”…Kase was gone and I didn’t know what to do with my gift: bring it home or not? Would you have loved it? Would it make you sadder? I continued to drive to Evelyn’s and glare at the stupid painting for hours, undecided on what to do…”

J watches you bite on your cheek, then straightens his shoulders as you utter the words:

“… … … You ruined a genuine Monet?”

Your spouse might be a smooth talker when needed, yet he’s not wasting his versatility on this statement:

“I didn’t ruin it; I made it better!”

Silence from both parties. A good or bad omen? Hard to decipher the riddle with two individuals tangled into a relationship that somehow worked despite countless peculiarities meant to keep them apart.

“I have to talk to Jonathan,” you finally mutter and The Joker steps in front of you.

“Talk to me!”

“Unless you know the exact location of the suitcase full of gold coins he’s been safekeeping for me, I really have to speak to him. Or do you want to hammer the whole basement searching for it?”

Y/N walks out of the bedroom and J lingers inside, evesdropping on the conversation happening downstairs. He can’t understand the chat, but you are probably notifying John about the details your husband left out.

Might as well join the party, therefore The Clown pops up in the living room with a plea impossible to refuse:

“Hey Wick, can I stay here? I don’t care if you say no, I’m not going to leave.”

Your friend crosses his arms on his chest, focusing on the random topic:

“How could I deny such a polite request? Of course you can stay Mister Joker; my house is your house.”

You’re watching the free show unamused; usually it would make you smile…now you lack the depth for such connotations.

“Don’t get smart with me, Wick!” J growls and Jonathan pushes for a tiny, unnecessary quarrel.

“I’m not; although generally speaking, I fancy considering myself a smart guy.”

The Joker opens his mouth and you’re not in the mood for whatever the heck they’re initiating:

“I’m going to pump, then after you dig out the suitcase I’ll take half to the Bowery King,” you announce your plans to them.

“You can do that and rest; I’ll deliver the coins,” John immediately offers. “I can stop by Aurelio’s car shop and ask for his collaboration: he has a lot of associates, doesn’t hurt to get him involved. You have plenty of gold.”

“I have two more suitcases in the Continental’s safe and two more at The Penthouse. It doesn’t matter if it’s all gone as long as I can find my son.”

“I know gold coins are preferred; don’t forget we have a lot of money too,” J reckons with spite.

Is he reminding you or Jonathan?...

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

Your husband spent the last hour in the garden, talking and texting with a lot of people; needless to mention he’s capitalizing on his network also. Winston disclosed Stonneberg’s contract is still opened, meaning the son of a bitch is out there; you have to scoop him before anybody else does.

“Y/N…” The Joker tiptoes in your quarters. “I thought you were taking a nap,” he huffs when he sees you at the edge of the bed.

You glare at the vial on the nightstand, sharing your idea for a future you wish will come true:

“I didn’t have my medicine in two days; I won’t take it anymore because if we get Kase back… I will nurse him. It all goes in the milk and I want to be able to feed my baby… Do you think his little heart is still beating?...” you sniffle and J is currently debating on a clever response since his mind is blank; one could deduce messing up is encoded in his DNA, but on such a huge scale… well, it gives new interpretations to the term even for him.

The grieving woman seeking reassurance for their loss is trying to make sense of the pointless occurrences that lead to Kase being an innocent victim and The Joker can’t render clarification: he has no clue why he asked her to marry him and why she said yes, it’s not that he’s husband material or a family man. Perhaps Y/N thought he could be… just enough to get by, that’s why she accepted his proposal.

Most women would have cringed at the concept. Most women. Not Y/N.

Most women would have flinched at the notion of having his baby. Most women. Not his wife.

Above all, she trusted J with their son and he treated the three weeks old like a trinket: didn’t drive him home because he had an important meeting, didn’t bother to assign escorting cars nor extra security. The King of Gotham took his child’s safety lightly and it definitely had severe consequences. Too late now to fix past mistakes... but he can attempt.

“You’ll be able to nurse him, OK?” he sits by you and hands over his cell. “Can you enter your phone number in here? Or am I not allowed to have the present digits?”

You’re hesitant and he slides the screen while you hold the gadget.

“Lemme help you,” The Joker sarcastically mumbles. “It should be the first on my list, right where the old number you canceled was.”

You exhale and fulfill his demand out of pure frustration when he squeezes in a second innocent petition.

“Chose my avatar.”

You grunt at his rubbish, scrolling through his folders for a picture anyway; J hopes the largest file will get your attention and that’s the point. How could Y/N miss it?!

Entitled “Baby”, the humongous cluster of pics contains 5,723 items. You open it quite absorbed by its size; what’s more puzzling is the collection depicting Kase’s ultrasounds, hundreds of frames with you being pregnant taken without you knowing: there’s a few when your ankles were so swollen you had to sleep with your feet up on 4 pillows, others with you munching on strange food you craved, more with you in the shower focused on your bump, a decent amount of couple selfies when you were sleeping and J had to immortalize the moment without waking you up and approximately 1,500 images of the newborn.

“You didn’t gross me out when you were pregnant,” The Joker reminds a teary Y/N. “Not sure why you would believe such aberration...” he pulls you on his knees and yanks the phone away, tossing it on the nightstand. “I would also like to underline I didn’t have an affair with Miss Black, alright?”

J lifts your chin up, forcing to look at him.

“Let’s put it this way: why would I fuck around with another woman when I have a wife at home that wants to kill me on a regular basis, hm? Where would the fun be? I mean, she didn’t pull the trigger yet but it’s exciting to hope she might. You know me: I’m a sucker for thrills!”

“Do I?”

“Huh?” J steals a kiss and you frown at his sleekness.

“Know you?”

“Yeah,” the green haired Clown acts composed while in fact his feathers are ruffled. Before you catch onto it he has to ultimately admit: “I’m sorry I didn’t drive the car… I should have…”

The Joker holds in his breath when your arms go around his neck very tight.

“I’m suffocating…” he grumbles. “I can’t tell if you’re trying to hug me or choke me to death,” J keeps on caressing your hair, prepared to block your attack in case you’re actually in killing mode.

This is the excitement he was speaking about: with you, one could never know until it’s a done deal.

“I bumped into Magnus at the Continental,” you give him a bit of space to inhale much needed air and The Joker is surprised at your revelation. “I had no idea about his scheme, otherwise I would have skinned him alive right on the hotel grounds! I wouldn’t have cared about the consequences!”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” J cuts you off and he can tell you’re getting mad; maybe you think he doesn’t give a damn but the reason is simple. “You would’ve been declared excommunicado for murder on neutral ground and I don’t want my wife to be the target of such punishment from the company she so proudly retired from. I need my partner!”

The King of Gotham touches your forehead with his as you whisper:

“I hate you!”

“Mmm, regarding this true love affirmation, I’m gonna need you to take a break from detesting me until we have Kase, then you can despise me full throttle again. Deal?” he extends the palm of his hand and you reluctantly shake it, not realizing you’re reacting to his nonsense. “Is that a smile?” J returns the favor with one of his creepy silver grins.

“No.”

“Liar,” he pecks your lips and can’t explain the weird feeling in his heart when you kiss him back.

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

Jonathan enters the house and becomes suspicious after a few minutes: too much silence.

Omg! Did you and The Joker engaged into a brawling that ended up badly? Did you end each other?!

John frantically runs to the garage, nervous to see your car and J’s are still parked inside. Shit!

“Y/N?” he shouts, concerned about your fate; The Joker’s… irrelevant. Nobody in the garden, patio is empty also. Downstairs is deserted thus he rushes upstairs to your room. The door is not completely shut and he slowly pushes it, knocking.

“Y/N? Can I come in?”

The first thing he notices are clothes scattered on the floor, then he halts his movement at the sight of Y/N and her husband dozing off on the bed sideways: the naked bodies are covered with a blanket, but he can tell you’re snuggled in J’s arms.

Jonathan steps backwards, guilty of invading his guests’ privacy; he certainly didn’t expect to intrude in such a manner and softly closes the door, grateful it’s not what he feared.  

You and The Joker are so worn out the sound of your phones vibrating on the nightstand doesn’t wake you from the deep sleep. Your numerous contacts keep replying back to the text messages, the most important one showing up on his cell: one of the people J reached to is Evelyn Black and the two sentence conversation lights up the screen.

“Let me know if you see Stonnenberg.”

“He’s here.”

 Also read: MASTERLIST

You can follow me on Ao3 and Wattpad under the same blog name: DiYunho.

[mediocrity-at-best]

Life As A Sanders

LAAS Masterlist

Read On AO3!

Part Two: I Love You

((Previous Part))/((Next Part))

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Warnings: None

Pairings: Familial DLAMP

Words: 1,591

Summary: Virgil and Logan say their first words.

Age: 1 1/2

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Patton had recently renamed his bakery Sweet Stuff due to popular demand, and now it was encouraged (but not required) that the staff greet customers with ‘sugar’ or ‘sweetheart’ or any other sweets-related pet name.

It had been an early day for Patton, Virgil, and Logan. They’d had to get to Sweet Stuff at a horrifying four thirty in the morning. Luckily, neither of the boys had seemed particularly bothered by such a change from their usual routine, and they were both more than happy to sleep the whole car ride and there and for a few more hours while at the actual bakery.

But, at a lofty five in the morning, the boys decided they’d had more than enough sleep. The two eighteen month olds were now ready to stumble around the bakery and generally make a mess of everything there. Patton stayed in the back with them as often as he could, but they’d recently gotten an influx of new employees and he liked to train them himself so that they knew for sure what the policies were and that Patton wouldn’t blow up at them for getting something wrong. So, for most of the day various workers who were off and had nothing to do came in and sat with Patton’s boys so that he could run the bakery.

Patton came into the back room at about one o’clock, and one of his most trusted employees and managers, Missy, was teaching Virgil and Logan how to bake. She was carefully showing them the measuring cups and how to pour in sugar and knead dough. Patton barely held in a squeal and took pictures of them.

After putting what Patton observed to be a batch of cupcakes in the oven, Missy turned around and saw Patton. “Hey, boss! The boys were getting kind of bored, so I thought I’d show them a thing or two about baking. I thought we could make the icing together while the oven was doing it’s thing.” She smiled mischievously. “You want to join? The boys would love it if their dad was helping ‘em.”

Patton laughed. “Yeah, of course! Sounds like a sweet thyme!” Patton bounded up to the table where his kiddos were sitting on stools, scooping Virgil up into his arms for kisses, and then doing the same to Logan. They both squealed delightedly.

Missy began sorting ingredients into different piles on the tabletop, explaining what she was doing the whole time. Virgil and Logan were entirely engrossed in everything she said, watching closely as she moved things around. When she finally passed them some of the ingredients and showed them what to do, they copied her moves exactly. Patton helped correct what they were doing, and soon they were having a fun time, and Patton had totally forgotten the exhaustion plaguing him from waking so early.

Missy excused herself to go to the bathroom, and Patton kept helping the boys with their icing. He had only turned been turned around for a moment when the laughter stopped and silence encased the kitchen like a curse. Patton spun, worried something had happened, and nearly died.

Virgil was staring at Logan like a challenge, who looked entirely dumbfounded. There was a smear of bright pink icing on one lens of Logan’s baby glasses and it was coating Virgil’s hand. Then, Logan slowly picked up some of the green icing in his bowl and put it on Virgil’s cheek. That was all, it seemed, that was needed to declare war. The boys started rubbing icing all over each other, and Patton was giggling wildly in the background, struggling to keep his eyes open to make sure neither boy got hurt.

This went on for a few minutes, Patton fighting to get his breath back so that he could put a stop to this mess-making. Finally, Patton reached over and picked up Virgil who had started this whole thing.

“Veevee, that’s not good. You made a mess everywhere.” He looked at little Lo, trying to keep a straight face. “You too, Lolo. Now we have to clean it up.” Patton was so absorbed in controlling himself he never even saw it coming.

Virgil wiped his icing hands all over Patton’s face, and Logan toddled over, hands up like he wanted to be picked up. He began rubbing his hands all over Patton too, and then Patton was giggling hysterically again, not even bothered by the mess.

“Wub ‘oo!” Patton froze, eyes zeroing in on Logan.

“What?” he mumbled.

“Wub ‘oo, Dad! Wub ‘oo!”

“Lub Dad,” Virgil murmured, rubbing his icing face into Patton’s shoulder. The biggest smile that Patton had ever worn spread across his face, and tears welled out of his eyes. Patton had always been an easy crier.

“I love you, Lolo. I love you Veevee. I love you both so, so much.” Patton pulled both of his icing babies up in his arms, and he just held them, laughing and crying.

This is what parenthood is about, Patton thought. Crying from happiness because your kiddos love you, and you couldn’t be prouder or love them more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They left the bakery at eight that night, as Patton insisted he was the last to leave. The boys were exhausted, and had taken multiple naps throughout the day and then also slept all the way home. Patton had gotten all the icing he could off them, but the shirts might be stained. He couldn’t manage to be bothered about it. It’d been a good day, and Patton was still riding a high.

His boys had said their first words! They’d told him they loved him! Their Dad! He was their Dad and they loved him and that was the first thing they had ever said to him! Patton could not have been more ecstatic if he’d tried.

Patton had to juggle a little to get the boys out of the car together, but he wouldn’t leave one of them sitting in the car alone, just in case he woke up and got scared. As he stepped away from the car, Patton debated the likelihood of coming back for the baby bag, then slammed the door shut. He’d regret it in the morning, but he was too exhausted to bring it in now or make another trip.

Patton shuffled into his house, and set Virgil down on his little bed. Then, he took Logan, and pulled out the spaceship pajamas Logan had wanted so badly.

Patton’s boys rarely had tantrums, but those pajamas had been cause for one.

Patton dressed Logan deftly and put him in the bed. He grabbed up Virgil and changed him into his purple starry pajamas and then put him back into the bed with Logan. They still used a babies crib, but they had started sleeping a lot better when Patton had caved and put them into a crib together. They went to sleep every night with each other and woke up every morning with each other. Patton usually found them all cuddled up together in the mornings. He often took naps with them because they were just so adorable, and Patton’s work hours were so brutal.

Patton went into the kitchen and made himself a cup of sleepytime tea. He wouldn’t have trouble sleeping tonight, but the tea was an easily accessible ritual that calmed Patton after a bad day. It also gave him a few minutes to check on his drying herbs in the kitchen window and water his other plants. Patton liked to pretend he was a witch some days, with a whole selection of natural remedies, and that he could make magical ones if they were ever needed.

Patton sipped his tea and flipped through a cookbook he’d bought recently. He was a decent baker, but he was absolutely a terrible cook, and he had come to realize that he would have to make Virgil and Logan breakfast, lunch, and dinner eventually. They were still mostly on baby food for now, but that wouldn’t last forever. So Patton was trying to at least make his cooking edible before the boys had to eat it.

At ten thirty, Patton got in his bed and set his alarm. Luckily, he only had to get up at eight the next day. He’d probably sleep until noon if he was given the opportunity but that was unlikely to happen anytime soon because his boys always woke up by nine o’clock all on their own.

As Patton lay there, his phone buzzed from the nightstand. He reached over and grabbed it, checking the message. A text from Missy.

Worried about an emergency, Patton opened it immediately. It was a video. He pressed play, and then lay in his bed, crying. It was the icing battle from earlier that day, and she had even recorded the boys’ first words and Patton’s happy-crying.

Patton fell asleep, phone clutched to his chest, thinking about how grateful he was that he had his boys. Patton was so, so happy that he had found them; that Virgil had called out to him at that hospital. That night, Patton dreamed all about the future they would have, and how happy he was that he was getting to ferry these two precious kiddos into adulthood and watch them grow far beyond that.

Patton woke up the next morning and he didn’t remember what he dreamed about. He could already hear gurgling from the other room, though, and he felt refreshed and more hopeful than he had in years.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @trashcanego @supersoftsupersleep

[purplesurveys]

324

What are you excited for? I have a two-week break before I start midyear classes and I’m just ecstatic at the thought of finally not having any deadlines for the time being and sleeping in when I want. I enrolled for midyear though because my depression hits me the hardest during the summer, so I wanted to do something that would keep me occupied all throughout. What is your name? How nice of you to ask. I’m Robyn. Who was the last person to talk to you? Well Audrey tweeted me and that was the most recent time someone talked to me. I dunno if that counts. Are you part Irish? I am 0% Irish.  What was your last facebook status? I never post statuses on Facebook. If I do post anything it’s always a profile photo change to promote my org.

Do you find musicians or athletes more attractive? I don’t have a preference. What is your favourite colour? Pastel pink or black. Do you email often? Very often for school matters, yes. Rarely for anything else. How was your night last night? It was pretty cool! I hung out at Gab’s dorm from afternoon to evening so I could help her with 90 packages that she had to assemble, and watched BuzzFeed’s Worth It while doing that. Then we caught the Friends finale on her TV so I made her watch it and she loved it ahhhhh after that we just kind of went from channel to channel because there was nothing to watch. At around 9 PM she watched this show she’s currently following while I took a nap. All in all, solid glimpse as to how our home life would be. If you could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be? I’d love to meet my maternal great-grandfather. He was a very respected and intelligent man. The only trace of him I see today is at our old house, where his library of law books and encyclopedias still exists. Do you own any action figures? I own wrestling figures.  Do you like reading? I used to go with one book every two weeks when I was younger. Since then school just kind of took all my time and I never got back to the hobby anymore. What's your favourite thing about your hometown? It’s in between the city and the mountains. It’s easier to get to either when you’re in between. What did you do over Christmas? I don’t remember...I also get hugely depressed over the Christmas season so I don’t make memories from it. When I was younger I wanted to be a: Firefighter. Do you have a lucky number? No, I don’t pick lucky anythings. How many vowels has your whole name got in it? Nine all in all. The last thing you downloaded onto your computer? A PowerPoint presentation that I needed to study for my broadcasting finals. Do you like cats? I like all animals but I have very little patience and enjoyment with cats. Do you have an iPod? Yeah from like a decade ago. I still have it, just as an artifact now haha. Are you wearing jeans? No I HATE jeans. I had an unplanned sleepover at a friend’s last Thursday and I had been wearing jeans, which meant I had to wear them for two days straight. In hot. Humid. Weather. It was torture and I’m never doing that again. Do you prefer nighttime or daytime? Nighttime. Have you got any piercings? Yes, my mom got my ears pierced as an infant. I’ve since damaged one of my piercings though. Is the window in your room open? A couple of them are always open in the summer. Do you own a gun? No. Do you chew on ice cubes? Not really, no. Do you hold grudges easily? Yes. I find it satisfying. Do you play any instruments? The recorder, I guess. Super lame. Have you ever thrown a surprise birthday party? I’ve participated in numerous surprise parties, but very seldom have I directly planned one myself. If you celebrate Christmas, do you get a real tree or an artificial tree? Everyone here in the Philippines gets artificial ones, so it was incredibly weird to me when I found out other cultures get real, actual trees. What's the last thing you watched? Brooklyn Nine-Nine. What websites do you go on more than others? Twitter. What is the hardest decision that you have ever had to make? Accepting that my first relationship with Gab was no more. I had been hanging on to it in the hopes that we get to mend it, but we were on different pages at the time and it was a hard pill to swallow, especially knowing that I exerted a lot of effort into trying to make it work.

Another one that I have in mind wasn’t exactly a hard decision to make per se, but answering university application forms and filling which courses I plan to take was a bold step for me and really solidified that I was going to be on my own from that time on. Private Catholic schools babysit you for 14 years, so filing out each form was a big achievement for me every time. How long ago did you take your last survey? Like 9-10 hours ago, I dunno. This morning. Have you ever been told you were a good writer? I get that a lot, mainly because that is my forte. What do you want to be when you're older? Financially stable. What colour car do your parents drive? We have two white cars and another that is blue. The latter drives me nuts, as I’ve always thought an all-white lineup looks so much nicer. Are you shy? Yep. Do you change depending on who you're with? No not really; the only difference shows when I talk to people I personally dislike. Have you ever liked someone and they were taken? I haven’t. Do you own a camera? If so, do you use it often? I’ve since given away my DSLR to my sister so no, I don’t use it anymore. My only camera is on my phone and I use that a lot instead. What's your biggest wish right now? I wish I could be guaranteed a happy and secure life in a couple of years. Do you believe in fate? Not really. Does it take a lot to make you cry? Nope. Do you have a Twitter? I do. Do you often find yourself eating just because you're bored? Ahahaha you got me. I make trips to the fridge every time there’s nothing to do. What are your worst habits? I have trichotillomania, so hair-pulling is a big aspect of my life and one that drives me nearly crazy. Would you rather be alone or in the company of other people? Depends on my mood. I love my own company, but my friends are my family. When was the last time you flew on a plane? Last month. Do you watch music videos? Not really. Do you ever wish you were someone else? I always wish I was richer, but I’ve never thought about being a particular person. Do you know much about your family tree? A fair amount. What is your favorite home-cooked meal? My maternal grandmother’s kare-kare and paternal grandmother’s crabs. Do you own an account on club penguin? LOL Do you like lemonade? No. Is there someone who means a lot to you but they don't know that? A lot of my friends probably think that because I’m shy most of the time and don’t really express my feelings. But like I said, friends are my established family and I’d take a bullet for anyone I take into my circle. Who are you currently talking to? Just this survey. Is money important to you? Extremely. What are you afraid of? This is always a super broad question. Uh flying cockroaches? First person to come to your mind: The first being I thought of was my dog honestly. But since Cindy tweeted me like 30 seconds ago and the notification popped up, I remembered her first. Who was the last person to call you? My girlfriend. Is there someone you trust more than others? Yes, see above.

[diagnosingdan]

Feeling Sentimental — Jan, 2015 

Over the past couple of days I’ve been back in contact with two of my oldest friends Bunny and Paul. I’ve known Bunny since I was born, or at least that’s how the story goes. We were virtually inseparable throughout primary school, junior school, high school and college. Bunny was the academic one so as you might expect I copied his work in maths, english, science, RE, IT, history and geography. In return I did his Art homework. In hindsight, it wasn’t really a fair trade-off.

I met Paul in high school. The three of us were put in the same class, 7B25 (year 7, blue tie, room 25). Paul could turn his hand to most things: he’s an exceptional musician, he was pretty handy with a brush and the school’s substandard poster paint and like Bunny he was academic. He was also, if it’s not too rude to say, pretty swift for a big guy!

Chatting with them both got ol’ soppy bollocks over here started feeling rather sentimental. It got me thinking about high school, which in my case wasn’t the horror story we’re so used to hearing. In fact I had a great time! I played Rugby inside and outside of school. I ran, a lot. I played golf. I swam. My drawing skills were probably better then than they are now and overall I was pretty popular — although I’m sure a few people would have a little something to say about that!

I got lucky, I wasn’t riddled with blemished skin — I had a few spots but nothing too drastic. I can’t even remember my voice breaking. And I had the pleasure of sharing my adolescence with some wonderful people, some of whom I keep in contact with, some I don’t (but wish I did) and of course there’s a handful that, frankly, are better left in the past.

After college Bunny moved to York and Paul to Leicester. We kept in contact, we still do, but we don’t speak or see one another half as much as we could/should. Now I’m in my mid twenties I’m determined to keep our friendships from petering out. That’s not just because Bunny and Paul are both wonderful people that I enjoy spending time with. It’s because we have history.

Here’s a little Diagnosing Dan fact: Bunny has witnessed more of my black-outs than anyone else. More than my closest friends at University, even more than my Mum, Dad, Brother and Sister. By now Becks and Bunny are probably level pegging but that’s quite an achievement when you consider that I’ve been in a relationship with Becks for nigh on eight years.

Throughout the first twelve to eighteen months of my illness, shortly before Becks and I became a couple, I was blacking out three to four times a week. And poor Bunny found himself in the wrong place at the wrong time, time and time again. Thankfully my blackouts have continued to reduce substantially since.

For the first year of my illness Bunny was my unofficial and slightly unconventional carer. I don’t recall Bunny making that decision consciously, I think it was just thrust upon him. That being so, I’m very grateful. He approached every situation with a level headedness well beyond our years, which is invaluable when you’re caught in a swarm of eighteen year olds. Over half a decade on and despite seeing Bunny no more than a handful of times each year, I will always appreciate everything he’s done for me.

Paul’s story takes us back to 2006-2007. I was in and out of hospital on a bi-weekly basis and like many of my friends Paul was off at University. He was living in Leicester, not too far from Luton and wasn’t back very often. We mainly interacted via text and MySpace (phones weren’t quite the walking, talking, internet surfing pocket computers that we have today). I was still on pay as you go, 10p a text, so communication with the outside world was limited.

It was a day much like any other in CCU. I was unceremoniously woken for breakfast by Cathy, one of the day nurses — and one of the most over-qualified, under-utilised nurses you’ll ever meet — who took great pleasure in tilting the top half of my electric hospital bed to its upright position (just short of a right angle) before moving the handset out of reach forcing me to get up. It became a battle of wills. I’d try powering through, ignoring my cricked neck and the pains shooting down my spine but she would invariably win in the end.

After breakfast and doctors rounds I’d spend hours getting ready. I quickly mastered the three hour, three S’s: shit, shower, shave. That’d leave me just enough time to get dressed and have a drink before lunch. Nap time was around two o’clock. I’d entertain myself by visiting the lovely, elderly female patients at the other end of the ward.  In my experience, there’s a lot of truth in the theory that women handle illness better than men. But that’s a topic for another day.

Between three and four o’clock my eyes would be glued to the clock hanging precariously over the toilet door. Four o’clock was the start of visiting hours. I was always excited even if I wasn’t expecting anyone, it was just nice to hear some different voices. However, this particular day played out slightly differently.

Around half past three my phone rang, it was Paul. “Are you in CCU?” he asked. Which of course I was. He continued, “Can you come and let me in?” Confused and excited in equal measure, I clambered out of my seat, stepped over a pyramid of cardboard urine bottles stacked next to my bed and walked out into the dimly lit corridor. Turning to face the entrance/exit (a pair of locked double doors) I instantly recognised that mass of dark, fluffy afro hair bobbing up and down through one of the door’s small, circular, reinforced windows.

The nurses were pretty strict on visiting hours so I began to panic. Would they let him in before four o’clock? I pushed the big green button against the wall and Paul slowly pushed his way through the door dragging an battered, black suitcase behind him. Before saying hello he announced, “Don’t worry I’ve spoken to one of the nurses, they said we can use the relatives room.” I turned round to see Mel, the sister on duty walking towards us with a smile from ear to ear. She guided us into the relatives room, flicked on the light, turned to Paul and said “You can stay as long as you like. Have fun!” And with that, she walked out and closed the door behind her.

Still confused I watched Paul unzip the suitcase, flick it open and pull out two foot long subways and a two litre bottle of coke. He gave one of the subways a sniff, “That’s yours.” he said. He continued to rummage through the suitcase and like a tech-savvy clown began pulling out a never-ending bundle of wires. Then the big guns started to appear: a TV, a remote, two controllers, a stack of games and a PS2.

Needless to say that was, without question, the best day I ever spent in hospital. Hell, it’s up there as one of my best days ever! Around nine/ten o'clock, long after visiting hours were over, Mel popped her head round the door and gave the knowing nod we’d both been expecting.

Paul stood up and before we had chance to say a thing Mel jumped in and announced that I was allowed to keep the PS2 in the ward on a few conditions:

I had to pack it up each evening.

I had to keep the room clean and tidy.

Visiting families had priority and I would have to leave the room as soon as I was asked.

I can’t remember exactly how long I kept the PS2 in CCU. I was waiting for a transfer so I can’t imagine much longer than a few days. But what a glorious few days they were!

A few posts back I asked everyone to raise a glass to my Mum, today I’m going to ask you to do the same but to good friends. Tonight I’ll be raising mine to Bunny and Paul.

[fluffyllamas-23]

*Drops new OCs and runs*

I would apologize for this, but at this point I just have to accept it XD 

Shoutout to @taylor-tut and @emeraldthread for helping me with my characters

“Jenna, you’d better be dying,” Cassie says into the phone, eyes never leaving her notes.  

She’s been cramming for this stupid test for weeks now, and she’s panicked over it. She’s given her sister and friends strict instructions not to call her unless someone is bleeding or dying, and she’s slightly irritated she’s getting a phone call at all.

“I need a favor,” Jenna rasps, her voice sounding like she’s been screaming all night.

Cassie looks up in surprise, her pen falling onto the page, “shit, you sound awful, I didn’t actually mean that. Are you alright?”

“Children are germ factories.  Emma had this last week and I thought I had escaped it, but...ugh, it’s miserable,” she coughs.

Cassie winces, “so what’s this favor you need?”

“Em has soccer practice in like...an hour? Could you take her?”

“Jenna,” Cassie groans, “I have to study-”

“I know, I know, I just... James is still out of town, and I’m exhausted...and I could honestly use a nap.”

Cassie chews on her bottom lip, “how long is her practice?”

“Hour and a half.”

“Okay,” Cassie mutters begrudgingly. “I’ll be there in a few.”

“Thank you,” Jenna breathes, “wait, you don’t have to be here for like forty five minutes.”

“But you’re sick...do you still need to get all of her stuff together?”

“...Shit...yeah.  I knew I was forgetting something.”

“Dude, you never forget things.  Ever.  I hated you for it when we were kids.  Are you okay?”

“Uh...I might be running a fever...I don’t know...I just feel really out of it.”

“Damnnit,” she hisses, slamming her textbooks and notebooks shut, “yeah, I’m coming over.”

“Okay,” Jenna mumbles, “see you soon.”

When Cassie gets to her sister’s house, she walks through the door and then stops in her tracks when she sees what a mess it is.  The last time her house was this messy was three and a half years ago, when Emma was born. “Uh...Jen?”

“AUNTIE TASSIE!” Emma shrieks in excitement, running into the room.  She flings herself at Cassie, who catches her with ease and then wraps her up in a tight hug.

“Bug!” Cassie cries happily, burying her face in the three year old’s neck, “oh, how I’ve missed you.”

“Are you here to play with me?”

“Yeah! I’m going to take you to soccer, and then we’re going to go have dinner, and then I’m going to bring you back and we can play all night, how does that sound?”

“Good!”

“We’re going to have so much fun. Maybe we can make cookies, too.”

“YEAH!”

“Now, where’s your mommy?”

“Momma feels yutty,” Emma says, making a face, “she’s in her bed.”

“How about you play for a little bit so I can go see her?”

Cassie kisses her cheek and then sets her down before she goes in search of her sister.

“Jenna?” Cassie says, walking into her bedroom.  

“Oh, hey,” she croaks, blinking at her tiredly.

“Not feeling so great, huh?” She asks, climbing onto the bed next to her.

“No...I’ll be fine, though,” Jenna sighs, snuggling up to Cassie and resting her head on her shoulder.

Cassie presses a hand to her forehead, “mmm...you’re burning up.”

“I figured.”

“How long have you been sick? Because your house is a disaster.”

“A few days...I miss James.”

“I know you do...but hey, I’m here,” she says, brushing Jenna’s blonde hair out of her face.

“You have to study.”

“I know, but I can study tonight when you’re asleep.”

Jenna sniffles, “you’re sure?”

“Oh absolutely. I’ll help you with Emma, I’ll take her to dinner afterwards...I’ll give her a bath and put her to bed.  The whole nine yards.”

“That would be nice...do you know how hard it is running around after a three year old when you feel like death? Pretty damn hard. I really think this is how it ends, I think I’m actually dying.”

“Alright, drama queen.  Are you done whining, or should I pull up a chair?” Cassie smirks.

Jenna looks at up her, unamused, “well I’m glad that my misery is so amusing to you.  Love you, too.”

“What do you need? Have you had any medicine lately?”

“Uh...no.”

“You’re a nurse, and you haven’t taken any medicine?”

“Just because I understand the importance of it, doesn’t mean I’m gonna do it.”

“You’re hopeless. Medicine still in the same spot?”

“Mmhmm,” she mumbles, eyelids drooping.  

She manages to get Jenna drugged up and her temperature taken (101.2, not terrible, but not great, either).  

“Alright, I’m going to go get her stuff together-”

“Her bag is in the garage...she just needs some water...her water bottle is in the cabinet. Make sure you put it in the Cinderella one or she’ll lose it.”

“Cinderella water bottle.  Got it, I’ll do that, and then I’ll take her.”

“Oh, one more thing.”

“Yeah?”

“Her coach is hot, you should definitely bang him.”

“What the fuck, Jenna,” Cassie laughs, rolling her eyes.  “You’re married.”

“Yeah, I know, but I meant for you.”

“I’ve already resigned myself to being a crazy cat lady.”

“But-“

“-I’ve been single my entire life. I just honestly don’t think that it’s in the cards to get a boyfriend,” she says, sadness seeping into her tone, “but it’s fine. Just have more babies, I’ll be the cool aunt.”

Jenna goes into a coughing fit, and then lets out a croaky groan, “yeah, okay...James and I want another, by the way, so you might get your wish soon.”

Cassie grins, “hopefully the next one is a boy.”

“Mmm...James wants a boy, too...I don’t really care.”

Cassie grins, “alright, well I’m going to go. We’ll be back in a couple of hours. Get some rest, text me if you need anything.”

*

“Toach Tay Jay! Toach TAY JAY!” Emma squeals, running ahead of Cassie.  

She looks up to see Emma jump into the arms of a man who was so attractive, she had to take a literal, physical step back.

Who the hell actually looks like that?

When Cassie finally makes her way to her niece (and her super hot coach), she’s slightly out of breath, and she can feel butterflies in the pit of her stomach.

“Hiya, Emma!” He chirps happily, hugging her tightly before setting her down.  He looks up at Cassie, and inhales sharply once before standing up straighter, “hey...I’m uh...Keegan-KJ...you can call me either.  You must be her aunt...Jenna texted me she was sick and you’d be bringing her. Is she alright?”

She nods, the movement jerky as she tries to get herself under control, “yeah, she’ll be okay, she’s just not feeling well.  Um...I’m Cassie.”

“Uncle, Keegan,” a little girl about Emma’s age says, tugging on his shirt.

He crouches down to her level, “what’s up, Lex?”

“I’m hungry.”

He chuckles, “you’re hungry? You just ate on the way over here.”

“I know, but I’m hungry.”

“Your mom packed you a granola bar, it’s in your bag. Why don’t you and Emma go over there, and I’ll be with you guys in a second.”

Once the girls run off, Keegan turns his attention back to her, and her heart skips a beat.  

“Sorry.  Nice to meet you...you can just go sit on the bleacher with the parents...uh, not sure what your sister said but it’s about an hour and a half, and uh...yeah,” he says anxiously, shooting her a nervous smile while he rubs the back of his neck.

As Cassie watches the practice, she grows more and more (irrationally) agitated.  Who gave him the right to be so cute (and good with kids)? What was the fucking catch? Because there has to be something.  

He probably has a super hot girlfriend, because guys who look like that - jawline that could cut diamonds, high cheekbones and smile lines that are enough to make her melt...brown eyes the color of melted chocolate - aren’t single.

He’s fairly tall, (compared to her, at least), and is built eerily similar to Captain America - broad shoulders, muscled arms and back, slim waist - and Cassie realizes that Jenna wasn’t kidding.

He is hot.

He’s just...exactly her type, and her type always has a significant other.

She wants to think he’s an asshole if he’s not taken, because honestly, there’s no other explanation.

She tries to focus on her studying, but she finds herself staring at Keegan.  He meets her eyes often, and everytime he does, she looks away as her cheeks flush.

Get it together, Cassie, she thinks to herself, staring down at her notes in frustration. So what if he’s the hottest guy you’ve ever seen in your life...so WHAT? He’s just a person, and nothing is ever going to happen, so stop it.

Practice comes to an end, as do her stupid, self-loathing thoughts, and she looks up with a smile as the tiny blonde with uneven pigtails comes running at her.

“Hey, bug! Are ya hungry?”

“Yeah, can Lexie and toach Tay Jay come, too?”

“Uh...yeah, I...yeah, I guess I can ask.”

When Cassie makes no indication that she’s going to move, Emma pulls on her hand with both of her’s, “let’s GO, auntie.”  

She groans.  Now she has to talk to him?

“Hey, um...K-keegan?” She says, walking up to him.  He turns around, and when he sees her, a huge grin spreads across his face.  

“Cassie, right?”

“Yeah, uh...I’m taking Emma out to get some food, and she was wondering if you and Lexi would want to come?”

“Yeah, we’d love to.”

“I’m hungry!” Lexi squeaks from beside him.

“And Lexi is down, too, I guess,” he chuckles, putting a hand on top of the brunette’s head.  He looks down at her with a grin, “babe, you’re always hungry.”

Once they figure out where they’re going, and Cassie gets Emma all loaded up in the car, she dials Jenna’s number.  

“Hey,” she croaks weakly into the phone.

“Hey...how’re you doing?”

“Uh...I’ve beend better...really dond’t feel well...s’finde, though.”

“You sound worse.”

“Condgestiond is worse, but I feel about the sambe.”

“Did you get any sleep?”

“A little...I’mb mbostly just layi’gg ind bed watchi’gg mbovies.”

“Do you need anything?”

“Ndah...how was her practice?”

“It was fine.  I’m taking her to get some dinner, you want me to bring you home anything?”

“Ndo, I’mb ndot that hungry.”

“So, soup?”

Jenna sighs in exasperation, which turns into a nasty sounding coughing fit, “I guess.”

Cassie winces, “you sound really bad, Jen.”

“I’ll be finde.  I think I’mb goi’gg to go back to sleep.”

“Good plan.  We’ll be home in a little bit.”

“I’m pissed off at you,” Cassie snaps at Jenna later that night, pacing the floor at the foot of the bed with her hand on her hips. Emma has been asleep for half an hour, and Cassie has been obsessing over this ever since they left the restaurant.

“What? What did I do?” Jenna croaks, confusion lacing her voice.  

“You did this to me...you made me...have a crush on a stupid guy.”

Jenna grins, propping herself up on her elbows,  “I told you.”

“Why can’t he be an asshole,” Cassie whines.

“I’mb sorry...you wandt himb to be onde?”

“Yes, because it would make it easier when we don’t work out,” She groans, flopping down face first onto the bed. “His girlfriend is probably beautiful and nice and just...ugh.”

“Aww, dond’t be like that.  He’s single, I asked.”

“He’s what?!” She cries, looking up.  

“He’s...single? I dond’t understand what your problem is? Amb I mbissi’gg sombethi’gg?”

She groans, “he’s cute, and nice, and funny, and good with kids, and he’s studying to be a doctor...and now you’re telling me that he’s single? He’s too cute to be single.”

“Alright, but you’re single, and you’re the mbost gorgeous persond I’ve ever mbet.”

“Shut up,” she grumbles, going red.

“How was dinnder? Did you guys hit it off?”

“I don’t know...he’s really easy to talk to.”

Jenna grins tiredly, “Emmba loves himb.”

“I know, which makes it worse.”

“And you said I was drambatic.  Dond’t you have to go study?”

“...yes.”

“Good.  Go do that.  We’ll talk about this mbore whend I wake up, because as mbuch as I would love to condtindue this condversationd, I’mb exhausted.”

She groans, “yeah, okay.  Do you need anything before I leave?”

“Ndo,” she mumbles.

“I’ll be right downstairs if you need something.  Just text me or something.”

“I kndow that law school is stressful, but thank you so much for helpi’gg mbe with Emmba.”

“Don’t go getting all emotional on me,” Cassie teases gently when Jenna’s eyes start watering. “Of course I’m going to help you, I love you guys.  And how many times have you dropped everything to help me out? Just feel better, okay?”

Jenna nods, drifting to sleep.  

As much as Cassie wants to stop thinking about Keegan (things never work out with guys she likes), because she has to focus on studying for her test in the morning, she can’t help it. Her thoughts drift back to him every few minutes, making it impossible for her to focus.

And she knows she’s doomed.  

[litsy-kalyptica]

Loves of My Life

Of polyamory and single fatherhood. (1/?)

AHamilton: My son takes first priority in my life —always from the day of his birth to the day of my death. But if I wasn’t otherwise occupied by my Pip, I would pass the bar in only six months.

And his class partners had not liked him much after that introduction.

But they were in this for the long-run now, bunched together either by fate or the whims of a professor not one of them had seen in person. Five in total, but Alex couldn’t remember their names beyond a slew of arbitrary usernames.

He wondered if he maybe could’ve helped himself by giving his name in that first response. He’d staked his claim on mastery of the program to faceless classmates without even giving his name! That would be it.

Alexander had posted to the discussion board three days ago, and still no response. No one had posted anything yet. Alex wasn’t sure whether he was more worried that his group was avoiding him, or that he’d been bunched with a group of slackers!

Probably the latter.

His phone rang. MARTHA. He flipped it open, pushing down the rush of anxiety. Calm down, Alexander. There’s no telling that she’s calling with bad news.

“Alexander?”

“Hey, how’s my boy?”

“Oh, he’s doing just fine. He’s lying on the sofa, almost falling asleep on his picture book. Poor thing can barely keep his eyes open. Tired and hungry.”

“Okay, tell him I’ll be back soon.” He was already closing his laptop. “Don’t give him any snacks unless they’re on the approved list. He can have some orange juice.” He slipped his hefty laptop into his satchel and chucked the cold coffee into the trash on his way out of the shop. “I’m three blocks away. Ask him to start counting, unless he’s too tired to count to twenty.”

“Will do, honey. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

Alex tucked his phone back into his jeans and ran a hand over his burning eyes. He had lost track of time again. He’d gotten out of work at five, and wanted to get a bit of coursework done at the cafe before he got home, but suddenly five became seven, and seven became nine. And he was going to miss Pip’s bedtime.

“He’s asleep.”

Alex nodded and stepped quietly inside. In the warm glow of a side table lamp washed over his small son curled into an impossible position on the sofa. How could he have been comfortable like that? Alex tried to pick him up in a such a way that wouldn’t awaken the boy.

He held Pip close against his chest. He’d always adored this boy, but he’d been feeling especially sentimental lately. It was Friday. On Tuesday, Philip would be starting school. Alexander wasn’t sure he was ready for that.

Ideally, father and son wouldn’t spend more than six hours apart at a time. Alex was lucky enough to work within six blocks of the apartment building, and George always brought Pip for lunch. It was always the highlight of his day, and Alex told himself that it was all for Pip’s sake more than his own.

“Thanks again, Martha.” He shifted his hold on his son a bit, trying to keep his computer and the small child from dropping to the floor. His poor laptop would have to go first. “And next time, feel free to call me earlier.”

“I know you’re busy.”

“I’m never too busy to miss Pip’s bedtime.”

She smiled and headed into the kitchen. Alex heard the water running at the sink. “Good night, Alexander.”

“Good night.”

Alexander lived down the hall from the Washingtons, so home was just a short walk away. But even on this very brief journey, Pip started to shift a bit in his arms, face rubbing back and forth against Alex’s shoulder as he started to wake up. “Daddy?”

“Look where we are, Pip. We’re home.” He was just coming up on the door, and kissed his son’s head through a bed of dark curls.

“Time?”

“Bedtime.”

Pip sighed and tucked his head back against Alex’s neck, only to giggle through his exhaustion. “Your neck is itchy, Daddy.”

“Oh no. Pip, I think you need to help me shave.” He dug his key out of his pocket.

“I don’t know how.” He seemed to genuinely lament his inability to help with this.

Alex laughed. “You’re a fast learner.”

Alex got Philip through his evening routine, and the four-year-old climbed into bed a half hour later than usual, but Alex easily relented to reading him a bedtime story. “But only ten minutes tonight.” He set the timer to vibrate against his lap. Pip settled under his green wool blanket, and Alex read aloud from a secondhand copy of James and the Giant Peach.

He always did the voices. It sometimes hurt his throat, but it always made Philip smile.

Pip was asleep by the time the timer went off, but he still gently tucked the boy in and kissed his head, turned the nightlight on, and left the door cracked just a little bit open.

Alex thought that Pip would be just as nervous about school starting as he was, so he dedicated the weekend to doing all sorts of fun things. Most of it was at home: they drew and colored, put together puzzles, read together. They went out to the library and Alex took out eight books at Philip’s request, and carried to heavy stack back to the apartment.

Sunday was usually a day for rest at home, and the only day of the week Philip was allowed to watch TV on his own, while Alexander got some work done in advance of the long week ahead. But they would both be home for Monday, so Alexander pushed that time off a little, and they went to the park after breakfast.

George and Martha would often take Philip to the small asphalt park in the neighborhood, but Alex splurged on a trip to Central Park, followed by a lunch out and a movie in the theater.

Pip was already on the jungle gym by the time Alex sat on a nearby bench. Pip had no trouble making friends. He ran around on the playground with a group of two other boys, both white, and one little black girl. Pip seemed especially friendly toward the girl.

Alex caught the man sitting next to him watching the same group of children as himself, and he smiled. “What I wouldn’t do to have that… again,” he added as an afterthought.

The stranger smiled. “Which one’s yours?”

Alex pointed at the mop-headed ray of sunshine as he ran past the slide, nearly slipping on the woodchips. “Philip, be careful!” But he had a bright grin on his face. “Light of my life.”

“I know the feeling.” Shortly after Philip climbed up the steps to the slide, the same girl with whom he’d been playing came racing up after him, and in a similar childlike fashion she nearly slipped right off.

“Theo!” The man that had previously been sitting next to Alex suddenly rushed over. But the girl, Theo, was all smiles and quickly resumed the game of tag. The man took a slow step backwards, watching after her, before returning to the bench with some uncertainty.

Alex decided to help him lighten up. “They look like they’re having fun. Your daughter?”

“Yeah.” He laughed but without any humor behind it. “I wish sometimes she’d take a moment to slow down. I don’t want her to get hurt.”

Alex couldn’t blame him there, but couldn’t help but think it might be better for both of father and daughter if he could relax a little. He almost voiced as much, but his brain short-circuited when he realized he’d lost track of his son.

“Philip?” he called out, starting to sit up. This seemed to get the other father’s attention, as well, and he stood to join him as Alex set off closer to the playground. “Philip? Pip? Where’d you go?”

“I’m here, Daddy!” Pip popped out from behind one of the walls of the playground set. “Hide-and-seek!”

Alex laughed off his peaked anxiety and ruffled his son’s hair. “Okay, but you can’t be hiding from Daddy, right?”

“Right!”

“How’re you feeling?”

“I’m good!”

“You’ll sleep well tonight.” He laughed, more genuinely this time. Pip giggled and scurried off into the slide as Theo rounded the corner.

Theo’s father was still standing next to him, and Alex caught back up with where they were a minute ago. Only a minute, he thought. “She’ll be fine.”

The man didn’t say anything.

“I’m Alex.”

“Aaron.”

“Nice to meet you.” Alex watched their children playing together some more. The other kids had wandered off to other games. It was just the two of them left in their game.

“We’ll have to arrange a playdate.”

Alex smiled. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“1… 2… 3… 4… 5… 6… 7… 8… 9…”

Pip let a breath out on ten; slowly, as the doctor had taught him. “You’re getting better at this,” Alex noted with a smile, tucking the inhaler back into his bag.

“School starts this week, Daddy. I’ll carry it myself.”

Alex hummed quietly. Two more days. He just wanted to enjoy it, wanted both of them to enjoy it while they could.

It was around noon, and Alex and Pip sat under a tree so the boy could nap in the shade. Pip used his father’s shin as a pillow —“The boy could sleep anywhere, in any way,” Alex noted— so Alex could pull his laptop out and do some work while his son slept. The less he had to get done during the week, the more time he could spend with Pip in the evenings.

There were two new posts to the group forum: both from the same person, both on the topic he had posed to the group. Alexander was suddenly ecstatic and eager to reply. He looked over the thread. The first post responded directly to his first question (and, Alex would admit, rather intelligently), but the follow-up had less to do with the content Alex had presented.

ABurr: Alexander —you present an interesting argument here, but I get the sense you’re trying to outdo the rest of us at something. Call it a hunch, call it truth, but the way you’ve already been speaking to us on here you seem to think you’re better than the rest of us. Let’s agree to all stay on equal footing in this. I understand, and admire, your resolve to get ahead, but I ask that you make sure it doesn’t amount to showing off.

[oursyncracyqwo34]

What You Can Learn From Bill Gates About Potty Training

Potty Training Adventures

Sleeping. A toddler is not born ready to nap independently. There is an extensive collection of child development, from normal sleeping to more intricate toddler development like hand movements and bowel control. Toddlers start to develop motor skills, like making sounds or walking. Potty training is another important toddler development milestone that most parents will go through when their infant becomes a toddler.

Most toddlers will start walking sometime between four to twelve months old. During this stage, they'll have the ability to hold on to the toddler walker with minimal support. Most children will eventually have the ability to carry their own weight and do easy toddler walks. Other landmarks include potty training, eating fresh foods on their own, playing with other children, and crawling around the house.

By the age of four years old, most toddlers are no longer interested in learning the bathroom or using the potty. They are capable of brushing and flossing by themselves. This is an excellent sign. However, if your little one shows disturbing or aggressive behaviour, you may need to work on issues beyond toddler stage behaviour.

If your toddler begins toilet training but does not advance past the potty training stage on schedule, you need to consider the possibility he or she is not ready. It's never a great idea to leave a young child unattended in the bathroom. Parents should work together with their child, not just during potty training, but also every time your toddler is exploring and playing.

Toddler's Adaptability. There are a lot of things you, as a parent, can do to help your toddler adjust to his or her environment and enhance their intellectual development. You should give your toddler lots of chances to do so.

Young Children Need Milk According to recent reports, 2% milk offers important nutrients that are essential for the evolution of the growing immune system. A healthy immune system in toddlers helps to ward off illnesses and delays the whole milk allergy.

There are numerous other critical landmarks which are attained in this time period that parents usually do not highlight as much as talking and walking. Gaining the ability to point at whatever it is the little one would like you to find shows huge psychological benefits in a toddler. This generally happens before a child's first birthday. By the time your baby is 12 weeks old, they ought to have stopped using bottles with teats altogether. Your baby should be drinking from an open or a free-flow cup, so this helps them learn to sip rather than suck drinks. Pretend play provides many opportunities to wait, take turns, and reconnect as children determine how the story will unfold. Another notion is playing"sharing music" where all you chooses a tool to play and place an egg-timer for 1 minute.

By the end of their second year, many toddlers show more interest in the company of other children. They might not be quite prepared to talk about their toys when they perform, but it's a big step in their budding social life.

Some children will have a hard time stopping a tantrum. In such circumstances, try saying,"I'll allow you to settle down " But no matter what you do, do not reward your toddler by giving in. This will only prove that pops are an effective way to get what he or she would like. Rather, kindly praise your child for regaining self-control. Rememberthat want to teach your kid the best approach to get exactly what he or she wants is through good behavior. If you understand your toddler is exhausted, it's not the best time to go grocery shopping or attempt to squeeze in one more errand. It's important not to spank, hit, or slap your child.

At this age, children will probably not be able to make a connection between the behaviour and physical punishment. The message you send when you spank is that it is OK to hit someone if you are angry. Experts state that spanking isn't any more effective than other forms of discipline, like timeouts. And remember that children learn by watching adults, especially their parents. So make sure that your own behaviour is role-model material. When requesting your child to pick up toys, then you'll make a much stronger belief if you've put away your own belongings instead of leaving all your stuff over the room. Toys or dolls may also help you explain the procedure for your toddler.

Between 18 and 24 months, a toddler's brain is ready to begin playing make-believe. You may catch them"feeding" a teddy bear or speaking into a toy phone.

But around months, you can expect to hear some real words. Between 18 and 24 weeks, most kids start using words that are simple, like"no longer" or"go there." By age 2, you may even hear a short sentence or two. Every day having a toddler is an experience -- and there is so much to look forward for as your child grows. Wondering when your child will start to walk, talk, and do http://generablediqt80.jigsy.com/entries/general/potty-training-it-s-easy-if-you-do-it-smart all those adorable toddler things? As infants move in their second year of lifethey become more mobile and much more independent, exploring everything they can get.

This stage can start as early as nine months depending upon the child and surroundings.

Toddlers tend to have temper tantrums because they have such powerful emotions but do not know how to express themselves the way that older kids and adults do.

This era is occasionally known as"the terrible twos", due to the temper tantrums for which they're famous.

This period between the ages of two and five when they're reaching for independence repeats itself during adolescence.

Immediate causes can include physical factors such as hunger, discomfort and fatigue or a youngster's desire to gain greater freedom and control of the environment around them.

One of the most reckless things for toddlers is using a sippy cup in their hands while they have a meal. While babies will latch on to bottles with their palms, you should not leave your baby alone with a bottle - ever. Infants swallow their bottle as a very tiny part of the hungry body, and this may result in suffocation. While the baby may seem like he or she is nursing, the simple fact is that the baby is simply taking joy from the bottle itself.

Fifteen months is the best age for you to start making changes in your toddler's diet. You need to make sure that the toddler you have is getting enough nourishment, so begin introducing new foods to their diet. Begin by giving your toddler three meals a day, at the exact times each day, and make sure that each toddler has three little cups of his or her own food. When you begin changing up the toddler foods, you'll also see that your toddler will be more receptive to change and eating in a brand new manner.

You will need to track the toddler constantly, and be sure the toddler has everything he or she needs. Toddlers will develop many negative behaviours if they are not tracked, so always supervising them is needed. This means providing constant supervision when they're doing their homework, potty training, riding the bike, playing outside, eating meals, and going to bed. With constant oversight, you can grab toddler behaviors until they become dangerous and life-threatening.

Toddlers and Kids: It's All About Nutrition Parents who feed their child with ready-to-eat foods or nutritionally fortified meals often realize that the child develops many bad eating habits because they are given what they want when they are hungry. One of the best ways to keep your toddler healthy is through healthy eating choices. When you choose healthy foods for your toddler, you'll discover he or she gets plenty of vitamins and minerals, and avoid developing bad eating habits.

Toys and Toddlers It's All About Safety Adults often forget that the toys that they pick for their little one can contribute to accidental injuries or even death. Always check the toy for small parts that could be choking hazards. Choose toys that come with a locking mechanism so that the toddler cannot reach and play with the parts. Keep in mind that children should not be put at risk for choking while playing with any sort of toy.

[myhauntedsalem]

Children’s Encounters with the Unknown

Are Children more attuned to the supernatural?

Many researchers suspect that children, from the youngest ages and into early teens, are more likely to experience paranormal phenomena because they have not yet developed the prejudices that many adults have against such far-out, “unscientific” ideas. Perhaps they have not yet created their own filters for feelings and experiences that most of society consider irrational or abnormal.

Or it could be that young brains or minds are, for whatever reason, physically more receptive to such phenomena as ghosts, near-death experiences, past-life recall and premonitions.

Whatever the reason, here are several true stories from readers that seem to confirm that children can be extraordinarily tuned in to the strange and the unexplained:

THE MYSTERY MAN

Years ago while in my teens, my mom took me with her to pick up one of her elderly friends to give her a ride to our church. We weren’t going that night, but my mom was always helpful to the senior citizens at our church. When we got to my mom’s friend’s house, mom asked me to go to the door to tell her that we were outside waiting on her.

I rang the doorbell and the elderly lady opened the door, said “hello” and left me standing in the doorway for a few minutes while she finished getting ready. The couch in the elderly lady’s living room was partially shielded by the door, but I could see a man sitting on her couch in front of her TV, which was turned on.

He never moved or spoke to me as I stood there. I was very shy and didn’t attempt to speak to him either. I distinctly remember he had on a white shirt, black pinstriped pants, black nylon socks and shiny black shoes. His hands rested on his knees. I remember that his hand was wrinkled and appeared to be that of an elderly, very dark, African-American man, but I was positioned in a way that I could not see his face.

After a few minutes, the elderly lady grabbed her coat and walked out the door locking it behind her. She left the man sitting on her couch watching television, but she hadn’t said anything to him when she left. I thought that it was rather strange, but said nothing about it to her.

After we dropped the elderly lady off at church, I said, “Mom, Mrs. McClain left a man in her house, but she didn’t say bye to him when we left.” I also told her that he was sitting on her couch in front of the TV. She asked me what he looked like because Mrs. McClain’s landlord came to visit her from time to time. I described what I saw to my mom, but told her that I didn’t see his face. My mom said that the description that I gave did not match that of her landlord, because he was a very pale-skinned man.

My mom was very concerned, so she called Mrs. McClain at church and, in order not to alarm her, asked, “Did you have some company? My daughter said that you left your TV on.” Mrs. McClain told mom she didn’t have any company that day and that she leaves her TV on whenever she goes out because she wants people to think that someone is home, so that no one will break in.

Hearing this really frightened my mom, and I guess the elderly lady could hear the fright in my mom’s voice and she started screaming out, asking my Mom, “What did your daughter see?

Please tell me, what did your daughter see? You are scaring me. I can’t go back there. What did she see?” I remember my mom having to talk to her for quite awhile to calm her down. My mom finally convinced her that we were just wondering why she had left the television on.

When my mom finally got off of the phone, we were both very shaken. I was crying and extremely afraid that I would see this man again because at this point we knew it had to be a ghost. I kept repeating, “I am so glad that I didn’t try to see his face.” My mom comforted me by saying that it was probably Mrs. McClain’s husband, who had passed away, watching out for her because she was all alone. I never saw the man again and we never told Mrs. McClain what I had really seen that evening in her house. — H. Holmes

WHAT DID BABY BROTHER SEE?

When my little brother was a baby, maybe nine months old, we lived with my grandma. My grandpa had just died. My mom was sitting in the living room around midnight trying to get my brother to sleep, but he wouldn’t stop crying. Suddenly, out of nowhere he stopped crying, sat straight up and said, “Hi, grandpa.” There was no one else in the room at all. The weird thing is, he said those words so clearly, and he had never spoken before, not even to say “mom”! — Beth B.

ANDY PANDY COMES TO PLAY

Many of your UK readers between the ages of 45 and 55 will probably remember a TV show called Watch with Mother. The show was on the BBC in the 1950s and featured a string puppet named “Andy Pandy”, and he had a sidekick named “Loopy Lou or Looby Lou”.

One day my brother and sister where playing upstairs in our front bedroom. This room was about 12 ft. x 12 ft. and had a cupboard in the corner, which was directly over the stairs. My sister and brother, both now in their late 40s, swear to this day that Andy Pandy came out of that cupboard in the corner and spent the next hour playing with them both. This Andy Pandy, however, was about four feet high and had no strings attached. I have questioned both of them over the years and still their story remains the same. – Mike C.

SHADOW PEOPLE ENCOUNTERS

When I was seven years old, one weekend I planned to stay up late downstairs playing video games and then sleep on the pull-out bed. I was preparing to go to bed when, for some reason, I got the impression that something was watching me. I got scared enough to run back upstairs, and while I was running, I could see very short (no larger than two feet tall) and squat figures darting after me.

They were very indistinct in features, and appeared as nothing more than inky-black silhouettes.

Also, when my aunt was young, she was sleeping over at a friend’s house at the end of the street when she said that a “shadow man” appeared at the foot of the bed and began to call out her friend’s name. She screamed and said that it disappeared into the floor.

ACCIDENT PREMONITION

My mother’s family (parents and siblings) lived in Binghamton, New York. My dad was in the Navy and my parents, my sister and I lived in Patuxent River, Maryland. I was six years old at the time. Even though we lived in Maryland, I knew most of my mother’s family because we would visit them quite often in Binghamton, and during the summer they all came to visit us. At the time, my cousin, Marylou, who lived in Binghamton, was 11 years old.

I got home from school one day and asked my mother why Marylou was crying. She didn’t understand what I was talking about.

I told her that I heard her crying. She was quite puzzled by my statement and had no explanation. Within a few hours, the phone rang. It was my grandmother calling to say that my cousin had been hit by a car walking home from school — about the same time I told my mother I could hear her crying. I have had a few other premonitions, but this is the one I remember most.

— Nancy T.

CHANTING MEN IN WHITE

I was 13 and it was quite some time after my little brother had passed away. I had wanted to be with him because I thought it would be better with him than at home. One night I was sleeping in my bed and I had felt this warm sensation. I saw this large hand come on my legs. It was so warm I had to wake up. To my surprise, there were some men standing around my bed, which was up against the wall. They were dressed in white and chanting in some language I never heard. One looked at me and then they all did and stopped chanting. Then, all in a single file, they walked out of the room.

I crawled to the end of my bed and peeked out the door to the living room. There we had a dim light on. They were gone. I was a little scared and crawled under the covers and started to pray. Then my other brother asked me if I was awake. I said yes. He asked me to come to his room. I said, “No way. You come.” But I did manage to get to his room, just to find out that my brother had gone through the exact same thing as I did. We were both scared. — Ruby

THE IMAGINARY FRIEND

When my cousin was little, she would always say that she was visited by “a friend.” My family thought this was an imaginary friend.

One day while looking through a photo album, my cousin saw a picture of her grandfather who had died only a few years before she was born. She had never seen this picture before. She said that the man in the picture (her grandfather) was the friend who visited her regularly. This is interesting because my grandfather adored his grandchildren, and I could envision him wanting to meet the one who was born after he died. — Dennis and Heather S.

SHIRLEY SAVES HER BROTHER

My mom told me this story, and she still cries when she tells it. It has never been explained. My sister, Shirley (the firstborn), died of Down Syndrome at the age of two in 1961. She had holes in her heart. Almost two years later, my mother had a baby boy, my brother, Steven.

One day in 1962, my mom was up in the attic doing some work, and my dad was in the basement in his workshop.

Steven (age one) was supposedly napping in a playpen in the den. My mom heard, clear as day, Shirley’s voice saying, “Dadda! Dadda!” … and it was as though she were right there next to her in the attic. Clear as day. My dad heard the SAME THING down in his workshop. “Dadda! Dadda!” They both say it was distinctly Shirley’s voice — loud and clear.

Dad ran up to tell mom; mom ran to tell dad. They both ran into the den, and there was baby Steven with plastic dry cleaner’s sheeting that he had reached for on the couch — and he was suffocating! Mom and dad both told us later on that it could not have been Steven calling them; he called my dad, “daddy” not “dadda,” and it was not his voice. They are convinced to this day that it was Shirley warning them that her brother was suffocating. — Donna B.

[obsessionislife]

One Hundred Percent ~2300 AO3 Yoonkook week day 3 (it’s like two days late bc I was traveling to and from the bts concert.)

Summary:  Jungkook needs Yoongi to be one hundred percent sure that he wants a kid. ----

“I want to have a kid.”

Jungkook looked up in shock at his husband. They both were sat on the couch, Jungkook’s legs in Yoongi’s lap as they watched the cheesy drama on the television. Yoongi’s eyes were on the tv, as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb.

Jungkook struggled for a moment to find words. He assumed that he resembled a fish with the way his mouth opened and closed. “What…I…What did you say?”

Yoongi looked over at him, a soft look on his face. “I think it’s time we had a kid.”

Jungkook sat up straighter, moving his legs off of Yoongi’s lap. He picked up the remote and muted the television. “Are you sure? Because unless both of us are one hundred percent sure then it’s a no go. This isn’t something we can back out of.”

Yoongi let out a small chuckle, turning towards Jungkook. It was insane how calm he seemed at the moment, as if having a kid wouldn’t turn their lives upside down. Jungkook, in contrast, felt as if someone just injected caffeine into his veins.

“I’m one hundred percent positive, that I, Min Yoongi, want a kid with you, Jeon Jungkook. It has actually been weighing on my mind since we talked about it a few months ago,” Yoongi admitted, pausing to rake his eyes over Jungkook’s face. “You-You want a child so much, Kookie.”

Jungkook started shaking his head back and forth almost immediately after the words were out of his mouth. “No. This isn’t something you can do for me. We both have to be committed. This can’t be a decision we just jump into.”

Yoongi reached his hands forwards to grab Jungkook’s. “I’m not doing this for you. I just…Lately, it’s just felt as if something has been missing from our lives and watching Taehyung with Hyejin made me realize that the house is too quiet. I, uh, talked it out with my brother, who calmed my fears, and I think I’m ready.”

“Really?” Jungkook asked, one last time. A shaky hand removed itself from Yoongi’s grip in order to come up to cover his mouth.

Yoongi nodded his response, moving one of his hands from Jungkook’s in order to smooth down Jungkook’s hair. His smile was soft and comforting.

“We’re going to have a kid,” Jungkook whispered behind his fingers.

“We are,” Yoongi whispered back, his hand resting on Jungkook’s cheek.

Jungkook gulped down a tickle that was starting to rise in his throat. “I don’t know where to start, hyung.”

Yoongi nodded his head slightly, leaning back in his seat. “That’s what Namjoon is for. Jimin and him had to do this. They’ll know what we need to do.”

----

Jungkook sat at the kitchen table, listening to Yoongi talk on his cell phone. He tapped on the table nervously, waiting for an update.

“Okay, let us know as soon as something happens. Bye,” Yoongi said, hanging up the phone.

“Still no baby?” Jungkook asked, already knowing the answer.

“No, which means they’re going to induce her tomorrow afternoon. Yuna’s just ready to get the baby out of her,” Yoongi informed him, getting up from the table to grab a water.

“I would be too if I had to drag someone else’s baby around for nine months,” Jungkook admitted, laying his head in his hands. “I just want to have them already Yoongi. This waiting is the worst.”

Yoongi didn’t answer, just leaned against the counter. Jungkook looked over at him to see an unreadable expression on his face. He immediately felt worried that Yoongi was having second thoughts.

“Hey, you’re still one hundred percent, right?” Jungkook asked, biting his lips.

Yoongi looked over at him with wide eyes. “Of course!” he exclaimed. “Why would you think I’m not?”

Jungkook released his lip, opting instead to running his fingers nervously. “I don’t know. I can’t tell what you’re thinking right now and it’s freaking me out. I’m freaking out. This whole thing is freaking me out.”

Yoongi crossed the room to kneel in front of Jungkook’s chair. He took Jungkook’s hands, remind him of the time he told Jungkook he wanted a child. He just took a moment to take his husband in, wondering if he’d ever get used to Jungkook wide eyed gaze. After six years, it still managed to turn him to mush.

“Jungkookie, I have never been surer of what I wanted since I married you. I’m completely and utterly ready to start a family with you. We have everything prepared. The nursery is ready, you’ve read about every parenting book you could find, and we’ve even managed to score time off work. We got this.”

Jungkook leaned forward to set his forehead against his husbands, closing his eyes. “I’m just worried that we’re going to regret this after all.”

Yoongi leaned back away again in order to read Jungkook’s face. “Kookie, are you one hundred percent sure this is what you want?”

Jungkook looked him in the eyes, his gaze unwavering. “One hundred and ten percent.”

Yoongi smiled, “Then we have nothing to worry about.”

----

Jungkook stood next the crib, watching the sleeping baby. Yoongi would probably be a little creeped out, if he knew just how often he came in here to do this, but he just couldn’t help himself. She was just so beautiful and delicate. It makes him wonder why he was so freaked out before she came, because once she did, it just felt like their little family was complete.

Sure he was ran ragged, but he honestly didn’t care much. He’d gone to college. He could run on no sleep if the need arose.

“I’m an awful father, aren’t I?”

Jungkook spun around to see Yoongi standing behind him, a frown on his face as he stared the bars of the crib.

“What? No! Why would you think that?” Jungkook questioned in shock.

Yoongi seemed to deflate as he came into the room. He stood next to the bed, watching his daughter’s chest rise and fall with each breath. Jungkook’s hand came to rest on the small of his back.

“I can’t do this like you do. You look at her like she’s your sun, but I just don’t feel as connected to her as you do. It’s like she could be anyone’s child. I’m scared that I’m letting you down,” Yoongi admitted softly.

“That’s actually kind of normal.”

“What?” Yoongi asked, he head snapping towards Jungkook.

“Yeah, according to all those parenting books you teased me about reading, sometimes it takes a while for any parent to warm up to their own children,” Jungkook assured him. He moved in order to stand behind Yoongi, wrapping his arms around his waist. He rested his chin on his shoulder.

“Jungkook-ah, I hate getting up to her cries and it’s literally killing me inside that I do because I want to love her as much as you,” Yoongi admitted, glad that Jungkook was behind him so he couldn’t see how wet his eyes were.

Jungkook turned his head slightly to kiss next to Yoongi’s ear. “And you’ll get there. Trust me. I have one hundred percent faith in you.”

“How? How will I get there?”

Jungkook was silent as he thought for a minute. “You’re on changing and feeding duty for the next week. Let’s see if exposure and bonding works. If that doesn’t, we’ll see a professional. It’ll be okay.”

After a moment, Yoongi nodded in agreement letting out a small, “Okay.”

“You should have told me earlier how you were feeling,” Jungkook lightly chastised. He needed to practice using his parenting voice, but he thinks he’s getting there.

Yoongi’s stomach rumbled under Jungkook hands, but they both ignored it. Breakfast could wait. “I know. I just didn’t want you to think I regretted it, that I wasn’t one hundred percent sure I wanted this.”

“And are you? One hundred percent sure?”

Yoongi grinned, turning around in his arms to give Jungkook a light kiss on the lips. “Two hundred percent sure.”

Jungkook smiled back, leaning down to kiss Yoongi again. “Good. Now let’s feed you before you lose another even more weight and people start to think that I can’t take care of my husband.”

----

“She’s your daughter, not mine. I disown her,” Jungkook announced walking into their bedroom.

Yoongi shut his laptop now that Jungkook was in the room. Their alone time was limited and he didn’t want to be working when he could be spending time with his husband. “What did she do this time?”

“Oh, why don’t you go look at the walls and see the masterpiece that she created?”

Yoongi shrugged nonchalantly, “That’s what you get for leaving a two year old alone with crayons.”

Jungkook’s answer was throwing his hoodie into Yoongi’s face. Yoongi just laughed, peeling it off of him and tossing it onto the ever growing pile of laundry littering their floor.

“Why did we ever have a kid again? All they do is make a mess.”

“I don’t know. Something about being one hundred percent sure,” Yoongi teased, a gummy smile on his face as he watched Jungkook continue to underdress.

Jungkook wrinkled his nose, sitting on the bed to pull off his shoes. “Well for your information, I’m now three hundred percent sure that we made the right choice. However, I’m annoyed at both you and her.”

“What? Why me?” Yoongi asked surprised. He moved his closed laptop off his lap and onto the table next to his bed. He’d move it to his desk later.

“Because our daughter is finally asleep, which means we have a good hour before she’s up from her nap, and you’re still wearing pants.”

Yoongi just laughed again as Jungkook began to forcefully pull the clothes off of his body before eventually moving to help him.

----

“Yoongi!” Jungkook yelled, storming into Yoongi’s home office.

When Yoongi pulled his headphones off and turned away from the computer screen, Jungkook held up the toy in his hand. Yoongi took one look at it before a sheepish expression took over his face.

“Do you want to explain to me why our daughter was playing with this when I specifically told her she wasn’t allowed to have it at the store yesterday?”

“I mean, I could but it seems like you already know what happened,” Yoongi muttered quietly.

Jungkook huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. He raised an eyebrow silently inviting Yoongi to say more.

After a few second of Jungkook’s stare, Yoongi finally managed to crack. “Ugh, fine. Just stop staring at me with your Disappointed Mother look. I went back to the store and bought it for her.”

“Why?” Jungkook asked, exasperated. He threw his hands in the air, the toy almost flying out of his hand from the gesture.

“You didn’t see how she pouted. Jungkook-ah, it was unbearable. She just looked so sad,” Yoongi admitted, hanging his head in shame.

Jungkook just shook his head stomping out of the room. “I am like a thousand percent annoyed with you right now.”

“Well, I’m like a thousand sure that I love you,” Yoongi yelled at his back, turning back to his work.

A few minutes after he left, a small head poked its way into the doorway, catching Yoongi’s attention.

“You!” he whisper-shouted, pointing at his daughter.

She just giggled at him, a hand coming up to cover her mouth.

“What part of don’t show Daddy did you not understand?”

----

“I can’t believe she’s already starting school.”

“I know. We’re so old.”

Jungkook groaned at Yoongi words. He turned away from the front doors of the preschool and wrapped his arms around Yoongi’s waist. Ignoring the looks from the other judgmental parents, they proceeded to head back to the car.

“Want to make a bet on when the first phone call from her teacher will be?” Jungkook asked, leaning his heads against Yoongi. He slowed his steps when he remembered how short his husband’s legs were and how much more effort he had to put into moving.

Yoongi scoffed. “Of course.”

“Three days.”

“A week. I think she’ll manage to convince her teacher she’s an angel until then.” Yoongi countered, getting into the passenger side of the car.

Yoongi watched out of the window as the world rushed by. Jungkook sat beside him singing alone to the radio. He sighed in contentment as he relaxed into the seat. Yoongi had a hard time thinking of a time that he was as happy as he was now-a-days.

“It’s hard to believe sometimes that we’re parents,” Jungkook mumbled beside him, flipping on his turn signal. He growled slightly as another car cut him off, muttering expletives under his breath.

“I think we’re pretty good at it if I do say so myself,” Yoongi bragged, causing Jungkook to roll his eyes.

“Honestly, I was just so happy when you told me you were one hundred percent,” Jungkook admitted. “I called my dad up and talked to him about it for hours while you were at Namjoon’s. I was freaking out about it finally happening and he managed to calm me down.”

Yoongi lazily turned his head to look at Jungkook. “I didn’t know that.”

Jungkook nodded his head, glancing over at Yoongi before looking back at the road. “I didn’t want you to know. I didn’t want you to think that I wasn’t one hundred percent, because I was.”

Yoongi smiled, reaching over to grab his husband’s free hand. He brought his knuckles to his mouth in a kiss. "We’ll if it means anything to you, I’m about a million percent sure that this was the right decision.”

“And I’m a million percent sure that you’re right.”

[myhauntedsalem]

Children’s Encounters with the Unknown

Are Children more attuned to the supernatural?

Many researchers suspect that children, from the youngest ages and into early teens, are more likely to experience paranormal phenomena because they have not yet developed the prejudices that many adults have against such far-out, “unscientific” ideas. Perhaps they have not yet created their own filters for feelings and experiences that most of society consider irrational or abnormal.

Or it could be that young brains or minds are, for whatever reason, physically more receptive to such phenomena as ghosts, near-death experiences, past-life recall and premonitions.

Whatever the reason, here are several true stories from readers that seem to confirm that children can be extraordinarily tuned in to the strange and the unexplained:

THE MYSTERY MAN

Years ago while in my teens, my mom took me with her to pick up one of her elderly friends to give her a ride to our church. We weren’t going that night, but my mom was always helpful to the senior citizens at our church. When we got to my mom’s friend’s house, mom asked me to go to the door to tell her that we were outside waiting on her.

I rang the doorbell and the elderly lady opened the door, said “hello” and left me standing in the doorway for a few minutes while she finished getting ready. The couch in the elderly lady’s living room was partially shielded by the door, but I could see a man sitting on her couch in front of her TV, which was turned on.

He never moved or spoke to me as I stood there. I was very shy and didn’t attempt to speak to him either. I distinctly remember he had on a white shirt, black pinstriped pants, black nylon socks and shiny black shoes. His hands rested on his knees. I remember that his hand was wrinkled and appeared to be that of an elderly, very dark, African-American man, but I was positioned in a way that I could not see his face.

After a few minutes, the elderly lady grabbed her coat and walked out the door locking it behind her. She left the man sitting on her couch watching television, but she hadn’t said anything to him when she left. I thought that it was rather strange, but said nothing about it to her.

After we dropped the elderly lady off at church, I said, “Mom, Mrs. McClain left a man in her house, but she didn’t say bye to him when we left.” I also told her that he was sitting on her couch in front of the TV. She asked me what he looked like because Mrs. McClain’s landlord came to visit her from time to time. I described what I saw to my mom, but told her that I didn’t see his face. My mom said that the description that I gave did not match that of her landlord, because he was a very pale-skinned man.

My mom was very concerned, so she called Mrs. McClain at church and, in order not to alarm her, asked, “Did you have some company? My daughter said that you left your TV on.” Mrs. McClain told mom she didn’t have any company that day and that she leaves her TV on whenever she goes out because she wants people to think that someone is home, so that no one will break in.

Hearing this really frightened my mom, and I guess the elderly lady could hear the fright in my mom’s voice and she started screaming out, asking my Mom, “What did your daughter see?

Please tell me, what did your daughter see? You are scaring me. I can’t go back there. What did she see?” I remember my mom having to talk to her for quite awhile to calm her down. My mom finally convinced her that we were just wondering why she had left the television on.

When my mom finally got off of the phone, we were both very shaken. I was crying and extremely afraid that I would see this man again because at this point we knew it had to be a ghost. I kept repeating, “I am so glad that I didn’t try to see his face.” My mom comforted me by saying that it was probably Mrs. McClain’s husband, who had passed away, watching out for her because she was all alone. I never saw the man again and we never told Mrs. McClain what I had really seen that evening in her house. — H. Holmes

WHAT DID BABY BROTHER SEE?

When my little brother was a baby, maybe nine months old, we lived with my grandma. My grandpa had just died. My mom was sitting in the living room around midnight trying to get my brother to sleep, but he wouldn’t stop crying. Suddenly, out of nowhere he stopped crying, sat straight up and said, “Hi, grandpa.” There was no one else in the room at all. The weird thing is, he said those words so clearly, and he had never spoken before, not even to say “mom”! — Beth B.

ANDY PANDY COMES TO PLAY

Many of your UK readers between the ages of 45 and 55 will probably remember a TV show called Watch with Mother. The show was on the BBC in the 1950s and featured a string puppet named “Andy Pandy”, and he had a sidekick named “Loopy Lou or Looby Lou”.

One day my brother and sister where playing upstairs in our front bedroom. This room was about 12 ft. x 12 ft. and had a cupboard in the corner, which was directly over the stairs. My sister and brother, both now in their late 40s, swear to this day that Andy Pandy came out of that cupboard in the corner and spent the next hour playing with them both. This Andy Pandy, however, was about four feet high and had no strings attached. I have questioned both of them over the years and still their story remains the same. – Mike C.

SHADOW PEOPLE ENCOUNTERS

When I was seven years old, one weekend I planned to stay up late downstairs playing video games and then sleep on the pull-out bed. I was preparing to go to bed when, for some reason, I got the impression that something was watching me. I got scared enough to run back upstairs, and while I was running, I could see very short (no larger than two feet tall) and squat figures darting after me.

They were very indistinct in features, and appeared as nothing more than inky-black silhouettes.

Also, when my aunt was young, she was sleeping over at a friend’s house at the end of the street when she said that a “shadow man” appeared at the foot of the bed and began to call out her friend’s name. She screamed and said that it disappeared into the floor.

ACCIDENT PREMONITION

My mother’s family (parents and siblings) lived in Binghamton, New York. My dad was in the Navy and my parents, my sister and I lived in Patuxent River, Maryland. I was six years old at the time. Even though we lived in Maryland, I knew most of my mother’s family because we would visit them quite often in Binghamton, and during the summer they all came to visit us. At the time, my cousin, Marylou, who lived in Binghamton, was 11 years old.

I got home from school one day and asked my mother why Marylou was crying. She didn’t understand what I was talking about.

I told her that I heard her crying. She was quite puzzled by my statement and had no explanation. Within a few hours, the phone rang. It was my grandmother calling to say that my cousin had been hit by a car walking home from school — about the same time I told my mother I could hear her crying. I have had a few other premonitions, but this is the one I remember most.

— Nancy T.

CHANTING MEN IN WHITE

I was 13 and it was quite some time after my little brother had passed away. I had wanted to be with him because I thought it would be better with him than at home. One night I was sleeping in my bed and I had felt this warm sensation. I saw this large hand come on my legs. It was so warm I had to wake up. To my surprise, there were some men standing around my bed, which was up against the wall. They were dressed in white and chanting in some language I never heard. One looked at me and then they all did and stopped chanting. Then, all in a single file, they walked out of the room.

I crawled to the end of my bed and peeked out the door to the living room. There we had a dim light on. They were gone. I was a little scared and crawled under the covers and started to pray. Then my other brother asked me if I was awake. I said yes. He asked me to come to his room. I said, “No way. You come.” But I did manage to get to his room, just to find out that my brother had gone through the exact same thing as I did. We were both scared. — Ruby

THE IMAGINARY FRIEND

When my cousin was little, she would always say that she was visited by “a friend.” My family thought this was an imaginary friend.

One day while looking through a photo album, my cousin saw a picture of her grandfather who had died only a few years before she was born. She had never seen this picture before. She said that the man in the picture (her grandfather) was the friend who visited her regularly. This is interesting because my grandfather adored his grandchildren, and I could envision him wanting to meet the one who was born after he died. — Dennis and Heather S.

SHIRLEY SAVES HER BROTHER

My mom told me this story, and she still cries when she tells it. It has never been explained. My sister, Shirley (the firstborn), died of Down Syndrome at the age of two in 1961. She had holes in her heart. Almost two years later, my mother had a baby boy, my brother, Steven.

One day in 1962, my mom was up in the attic doing some work, and my dad was in the basement in his workshop.

Steven (age one) was supposedly napping in a playpen in the den. My mom heard, clear as day, Shirley’s voice saying, “Dadda! Dadda!” … and it was as though she were right there next to her in the attic. Clear as day. My dad heard the SAME THING down in his workshop. “Dadda! Dadda!” They both say it was distinctly Shirley’s voice — loud and clear.

Dad ran up to tell mom; mom ran to tell dad. They both ran into the den, and there was baby Steven with plastic dry cleaner’s sheeting that he had reached for on the couch — and he was suffocating! Mom and dad both told us later on that it could not have been Steven calling them; he called my dad, “daddy” not “dadda,” and it was not his voice. They are convinced to this day that it was Shirley warning them that her brother was suffocating. — Donna B.

[myhauntedsalem]

Children’s Encounters with the Unknown

Are Children more attuned to the supernatural?

Many researchers suspect that children, from the youngest ages and into early teens, are more likely to experience paranormal phenomena because they have not yet developed the prejudices that many adults have against such far-out, “unscientific” ideas. Perhaps they have not yet created their own filters for feelings and experiences that most of society consider irrational or abnormal.

Or it could be that young brains or minds are, for whatever reason, physically more receptive to such phenomena as ghosts, near-death experiences, past-life recall and premonitions.

Whatever the reason, here are several true stories from readers that seem to confirm that children can be extraordinarily tuned in to the strange and the unexplained:

THE MYSTERY MAN

Years ago while in my teens, my mom took me with her to pick up one of her elderly friends to give her a ride to our church. We weren’t going that night, but my mom was always helpful to the senior citizens at our church. When we got to my mom’s friend’s house, mom asked me to go to the door to tell her that we were outside waiting on her.

I rang the doorbell and the elderly lady opened the door, said “hello” and left me standing in the doorway for a few minutes while she finished getting ready. The couch in the elderly lady’s living room was partially shielded by the door, but I could see a man sitting on her couch in front of her TV, which was turned on.

He never moved or spoke to me as I stood there. I was very shy and didn’t attempt to speak to him either. I distinctly remember he had on a white shirt, black pinstriped pants, black nylon socks and shiny black shoes. His hands rested on his knees. I remember that his hand was wrinkled and appeared to be that of an elderly, very dark, African-American man, but I was positioned in a way that I could not see his face.

After a few minutes, the elderly lady grabbed her coat and walked out the door locking it behind her. She left the man sitting on her couch watching television, but she hadn’t said anything to him when she left. I thought that it was rather strange, but said nothing about it to her.

After we dropped the elderly lady off at church, I said, “Mom, Mrs. McClain left a man in her house, but she didn’t say bye to him when we left.” I also told her that he was sitting on her couch in front of the TV. She asked me what he looked like because Mrs. McClain’s landlord came to visit her from time to time. I described what I saw to my mom, but told her that I didn’t see his face. My mom said that the description that I gave did not match that of her landlord, because he was a very pale-skinned man.

My mom was very concerned, so she called Mrs. McClain at church and, in order not to alarm her, asked, “Did you have some company? My daughter said that you left your TV on.” Mrs. McClain told mom she didn’t have any company that day and that she leaves her TV on whenever she goes out because she wants people to think that someone is home, so that no one will break in.

Hearing this really frightened my mom, and I guess the elderly lady could hear the fright in my mom’s voice and she started screaming out, asking my Mom, “What did your daughter see?

Please tell me, what did your daughter see? You are scaring me. I can’t go back there. What did she see?” I remember my mom having to talk to her for quite awhile to calm her down. My mom finally convinced her that we were just wondering why she had left the television on.

When my mom finally got off of the phone, we were both very shaken. I was crying and extremely afraid that I would see this man again because at this point we knew it had to be a ghost. I kept repeating, “I am so glad that I didn’t try to see his face.” My mom comforted me by saying that it was probably Mrs. McClain’s husband, who had passed away, watching out for her because she was all alone. I never saw the man again and we never told Mrs. McClain what I had really seen that evening in her house. — H. Holmes

WHAT DID BABY BROTHER SEE?

When my little brother was a baby, maybe nine months old, we lived with my grandma. My grandpa had just died. My mom was sitting in the living room around midnight trying to get my brother to sleep, but he wouldn’t stop crying. Suddenly, out of nowhere he stopped crying, sat straight up and said, “Hi, grandpa.” There was no one else in the room at all. The weird thing is, he said those words so clearly, and he had never spoken before, not even to say “mom”! — Beth B.

ANDY PANDY COMES TO PLAY

Many of your UK readers between the ages of 45 and 55 will probably remember a TV show called Watch with Mother. The show was on the BBC in the 1950s and featured a string puppet named “Andy Pandy”, and he had a sidekick named “Loopy Lou or Looby Lou”.

One day my brother and sister where playing upstairs in our front bedroom. This room was about 12 ft. x 12 ft. and had a cupboard in the corner, which was directly over the stairs. My sister and brother, both now in their late 40s, swear to this day that Andy Pandy came out of that cupboard in the corner and spent the next hour playing with them both. This Andy Pandy, however, was about four feet high and had no strings attached. I have questioned both of them over the years and still their story remains the same. – Mike C.

SHADOW PEOPLE ENCOUNTERS

When I was seven years old, one weekend I planned to stay up late downstairs playing video games and then sleep on the pull-out bed. I was preparing to go to bed when, for some reason, I got the impression that something was watching me. I got scared enough to run back upstairs, and while I was running, I could see very short (no larger than two feet tall) and squat figures darting after me.

They were very indistinct in features, and appeared as nothing more than inky-black silhouettes.

Also, when my aunt was young, she was sleeping over at a friend’s house at the end of the street when she said that a “shadow man” appeared at the foot of the bed and began to call out her friend’s name. She screamed and said that it disappeared into the floor.

ACCIDENT PREMONITION

My mother’s family (parents and siblings) lived in Binghamton, New York. My dad was in the Navy and my parents, my sister and I lived in Patuxent River, Maryland. I was six years old at the time. Even though we lived in Maryland, I knew most of my mother’s family because we would visit them quite often in Binghamton, and during the summer they all came to visit us. At the time, my cousin, Marylou, who lived in Binghamton, was 11 years old.

I got home from school one day and asked my mother why Marylou was crying. She didn’t understand what I was talking about.

I told her that I heard her crying. She was quite puzzled by my statement and had no explanation. Within a few hours, the phone rang. It was my grandmother calling to say that my cousin had been hit by a car walking home from school — about the same time I told my mother I could hear her crying. I have had a few other premonitions, but this is the one I remember most.

— Nancy T.

CHANTING MEN IN WHITE

I was 13 and it was quite some time after my little brother had passed away. I had wanted to be with him because I thought it would be better with him than at home. One night I was sleeping in my bed and I had felt this warm sensation. I saw this large hand come on my legs. It was so warm I had to wake up. To my surprise, there were some men standing around my bed, which was up against the wall. They were dressed in white and chanting in some language I never heard. One looked at me and then they all did and stopped chanting. Then, all in a single file, they walked out of the room.

I crawled to the end of my bed and peeked out the door to the living room. There we had a dim light on. They were gone. I was a little scared and crawled under the covers and started to pray. Then my other brother asked me if I was awake. I said yes. He asked me to come to his room. I said, “No way. You come.” But I did manage to get to his room, just to find out that my brother had gone through the exact same thing as I did. We were both scared. — Ruby

THE IMAGINARY FRIEND

When my cousin was little, she would always say that she was visited by “a friend.” My family thought this was an imaginary friend.

One day while looking through a photo album, my cousin saw a picture of her grandfather who had died only a few years before she was born. She had never seen this picture before. She said that the man in the picture (her grandfather) was the friend who visited her regularly. This is interesting because my grandfather adored his grandchildren, and I could envision him wanting to meet the one who was born after he died. — Dennis and Heather S.

SHIRLEY SAVES HER BROTHER

My mom told me this story, and she still cries when she tells it. It has never been explained. My sister, Shirley (the firstborn), died of Down Syndrome at the age of two in 1961. She had holes in her heart. Almost two years later, my mother had a baby boy, my brother, Steven.

One day in 1962, my mom was up in the attic doing some work, and my dad was in the basement in his workshop.

Steven (age one) was supposedly napping in a playpen in the den. My mom heard, clear as day, Shirley’s voice saying, “Dadda! Dadda!” … and it was as though she were right there next to her in the attic. Clear as day. My dad heard the SAME THING down in his workshop. “Dadda! Dadda!” They both say it was distinctly Shirley’s voice — loud and clear.

Dad ran up to tell mom; mom ran to tell dad. They both ran into the den, and there was baby Steven with plastic dry cleaner’s sheeting that he had reached for on the couch — and he was suffocating! Mom and dad both told us later on that it could not have been Steven calling them; he called my dad, “daddy” not “dadda,” and it was not his voice. They are convinced to this day that it was Shirley warning them that her brother was suffocating. — Donna B.