#but apparently yesterday when i took her to visit her family she was fed by her mum so. at least she had something

[senseiwu]

One of my favourite freaking things is when you're scratching a cats head and they move their head into your hand so you get the Best spot

[cafeinthemoon]

The Leaves of Her Garden - Chapter VIII

Title: The Leaves of Her Garden

Genre: Fanfiction

Pairing: Madara Uchiha x reader

Rating: Mature

Word count: 2650

Chapter (s): 8/?

Warning(s): none just Madara being scary an such

Read the previous chapters here: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Interlude, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7

Symbols: 🌙 | ➕ | ▶▶

A Treaty With an Unreliable Clan

You opened your eyes in a startle, yet you found nothing around you but the darkness. You moved on the mattress, to try and spot something among the shadows as well as to make sure you were not late. Madara told you to be prepared, for you would leave before the sunrise. You woke up at least two times before that one, but it was not the time to stand up yet; now you weren’t sure.

You fought against the burning sensation in your eyes caused by the remaining sleep and sat on the futon. You looked around for the second time and sensed some grayish light rising outside the porch’s door, being filtered by its translucent material and filling the room with what seemed to be a mist curtain . Should you leave the bed now? Well, you found it better to do so. You moved the sheets away and, after some stretching, you stood up; you grabbed the clothes you kept separated the night before and went to the bathroom to take care of yourself.

When you came back, the room was as quiet and as dark as when you left. Your feet crossed the distance between the bathroom’s door and the bed without a noise; you were going to fold the sheets and wait for Madara there.

However, you didn’t go too far.

One more step toward the futon and you sensed something like a presence behind you. You turned to look and your heart almost jumped out from your mouth when you found a shadow with glimmering eyes staring at you. Stepping behind, you were going to scream and stumble in the mattress, but none of this happened: with one hand the shadow grabbed you before the fall, while the other hand covered your mouth, only giving you room to breathe.

When it was clear that you were not going to make a fuzz, he relaxed the grip around you and uncovered your mouth. You sighed.

- You scared me… Madara-sama.

He couldn’t contain a smile and moved his hands away from you.

- As always – he then walked toward the porch’s door, glancing over his shoulder – I hope you are ready by now. Shall we?

You hesitated. He turned to you.

- What is it?

- I myself am ready – you explained, turning to the futon – But I’d like to make my bed before leaving. It is a habit I’d like to maintain.

Madara looked at your bed and back to you before nodding as a sign of approval.

- Good. Make your bed, then.

You nodded and started to fold the sheets. You softened your pillow and put the sheets under it, just like your mother taught you when you were little, then passed your hands through the mattress to clean it before covering with its cape. As you worked, you felt his eyes at your back, catching all the details despite the penumbra in which the room was drowned in; each movement of yours were observed and examined to the point that a task as ordinary as making your bed became some sort of resistence test. You started to think that you should have already be used to it, for you have been watched since your arrival, but there was a possibility that you would never managed to see it as something normal. You never liked being watched.

When everything was finished, you stood up and turned to him. He opened the porch’s door and you grabbed the sandals you left at the porch’s entry, following him to the gray morning outside.

***

That time you had to walk to reach the place where you were going to train. Not that it was bad, though: the spring air was delightful under the first light of the day, and a breeze was blowing through the trees and over the grass; the birds just started their singing, and nothing beyond their voices was heard. Looking at your surroundings in such circumstances, you almost felt in peace.

The place of training was the same as yesterday, quiet and wide; however, you felt a cold you didn’t noticed the first time you’ve been there. It would not make any difference, though: it was going to be hot later and you were going to sweat, maybe more than the other day.

You didn’t immediately start the training. Madara led you under the low branches of a tree and showed you a towel covering a part of the ground. Upon it there was something wrapped with a kitchen cloth, which you understood to be a bowl and a cup of bamboo. A recently prepared breakfast. Was it made by him or by one of the servants? You didn’t have the courage to ask.

He knelt on the edge of the towel and told you to take a place on the opposite side. When you did it, he indicated the pack .

- Eat. You will not go too far without being properly fed.

You unwrapped the cloth and put it aside. You then held the bowl with one hand and took the pair of hashi with the other. Before putting them to stir the content, you looked at him.

- Thank you, Madara-sama.

He nodded, and you started to eat. At first, it was not that easy: the content of the bowl and the cup smelled good, but you weren’t hungry. It didn’t go unnoticed by him.

- I see that you are not used to eat by this time of the day. But think of the benefits and make some effort. You need to preserve your good aspect for the ceremony.

You obeyed. It took more time than usual, but you finally emptied the bowl. You suspected that Madara would not let you stand up before finishing your breakfast, but fortunately for you nor the bowl nor the cup were that full.

After breakfast, you two didn’t stand up immediately. It seemed that Madara was in no hurry. Soon, you saw that this was not the case: it happened that your training was not only physical, and there were some things he needed to explain to you.

- As you can imagine, y/n, I had a reason for choosing this hour of the day to bring you here – he started as soon as he had your full attention – There are some things you need to know, not only about the ceremony, but about the treaty between the Uchiha and the other clan, the Todoroki.

Todoroki? You tried to think if you’ve heard about them before. Apparently, no; if it was because they were a minor clan or their name was too common, you weren’t sure.

Madara started to tell you how Izuna left the house still by the night when he brought you to his brother. He was sent on a mission all alone to investigate some facts about the clan that remained obscure even after the two families have determined each one’s part in the treaty; he was expected to return by the end of that day, so that he could be at the wedding. Being the groom’s brother, his absence during the ceremony would look suspicious.

- I do not have enough time to tell you the whole story, so I will just say that we the Uchiha have some story with this clan – he was saying – We and the Todoroki were never exactly friends of each other until some time ago. As I explained to you before, they were never known for producing the best warriors, choosing to focus on erudition, politics and diplomacy instead. This has brought problems as much as advantages for them all over the years. Now, because of the frailty caused by the lack of a proper shinobi army, they were facing difficulties regarding security and were forced to seek for support alongside a stronger clan. Turned out that they came to us. At first I was not willing to make them our allies, for I do not appreciate weakness and for my knowledge about their antipathy for my clan , but even they have their strong traits, so I decided to accept their offer. However, we could not be so ingenuous to think that we did not have to be careful.

A strange glimmering appeared in his eyes after those words, but within a second it was gone. He just continued to speak as if nothing happened.

- This particular clan might not be famous by the power of their shinobi, but their connections and influence over different noble families have been used for any kind of purposes during their story. In other words, they were not to be trusted without question, and held too power in their hands for one to take them lightly. And knowing that they were not allies of the Uchiha since the start, I would not say yes to anything that came from them without gathering some information. I delegated this work to Izuna and other men of my trust. They were in the middle of a complex mission of this nature when the girl who was sent by them to be my wife suddenly disappeared.

F or a moment, Madara didn’t say a word, and the silence around his spot was heavy. You felt like the birds stopped singing at that revelation, and even the breeze was no longer blowing.

- This girl that you are to replace was the Todoroki leader’s daughter – he continued – I believe Izuna never mentioned it to you, but her name was Sachiko. I have met her for the first time during a visit at the family’s property in (…). Judging by what I know from both of you, I can say you have some resemblances in your manners and tone besides the physical appearance, but nothing more than that. She had a talent to handle social situations by herself and was clearly raised by her family to follow the traditional norms. She was ready to perform her role even after marriage , when we would spend time by ourselves and thus have nothing to hide from each other. On the other hand, you, y/n, are more… how can I put it in words?… Well, I hope you do not mind if I use the term wild . You are more wild in a sense that you have nothing but what truly belongs to you. Not the nobleness, nor the rules or the interests o others to be carried on your shoulders. You are gentle, have good manners and has chose honesty as your motivation. This sort of purity is hard to find these days. Allow me to say that I appreciate that. It is something we can use in our favor during the ceremony, but I see that keeping in a role for a long time would wear you out, and then our plans would end up being useless.

You were still getting used to the way Madara stated his thoughts and views, and you could even say you appreciated his peculiar use of words, but somehow you sensed that there would always be something between a sentence and other that would caught you off guard, just like that time: wild would be the last word you’d use to describe yourself, but he managed to find a meaning for it that would fit you and that could only be found in something said by himself.

Another thing that still surprised you was the easiness with which he could change the subjective tone of his conversation to something simple and practical, as he did right after those comments:

- According to what I’ve found out, Sachiko’s disappearance happened during her travel from her own house in order to arrive here. She was meant to spend a few days in my house in preparation for our wedding, while I was going to send some of my shinobi to improve her safety on the road as a part of our families’ treaty. Her family was going to travel right after her. However, she disappeared before my men could reach her group. Of course my first suspicion fell on her clan: there was a possibility that they were planning some betrayal and that the girl’s case was just a distraction from their true intentions. But I had no proof at the time, so I’ve sent some of my men to work beside them in the search. At the same time, Izuna, who just came back from his previous mission, was chosen to investigate the events in secret. And what he found out confirmed some of my suspicions.

So Madara knew more about the girl’s case than you imagined. Of course, he would take some action by himself, being the precautious man he was, but now you found yourself wanting to hear everything he had to tell.

- According to my brother’s research , the girl disappeared in the middle of the night, and things were arranged in a way that it would look like she left by her own choice and didn’t want to be followed. I myself do not understand how something like this could be possible, since she was not a shinobi and thus she could be easily tracked by some of our people. Also, the people who were traveling with her – her servants and some ninjas responsible for her safety – just vanished. If dead or abducted, we could not find out. Izuna and I talked for hours at closed doors, and our conclusion was that if her clan was planning to betray us, they might have tried to forge an excuse to dishonor the treaty .

After saying that, he fell silent for a second, then a strange, low sound came up his throat and caught you off guard. You took a moment to identify it as a laugh, but once you did, you felt some discomfort with the hilarity and the despise in it. You waited for him to explain what was so funny.

- I still find it hard to believe that the Todoroki would be so plain in their action s, that there was not a single person among them who suggested that making the girl disappear in a sudden and unexplained manner would only expose them as the unreliable scum they are? – after staring at you for a second, he raised his eyebrow – I see. Hearing me speak in such terms about my betrothed’s clan is unsettling for you. I understand. But I believe you have heard enough to agree with my statement, or at least with part of it . Their actions just served to ruin their own reputation before the Uchiha and to alert us. And now that we have you, y/n, we have little to worry about.

You didn’t understand why, but something in the way Madara smiled at you made you froze.

- Once they lay their eyes on you, we the Uchiha will know exactly if they were treacherous and how much. Whatever the case, they will have to keep their mouths shut and to cooperate.

Soon he abandoned his relaxed position at the grass ground and stood on his feet. He looked down at you and you saw that the smile was still there. You understood it as a sign for you to stand up too. You started to do it, but apparently you weren’t fast enough, for you sensed a shadow stopping beside you, getting you on your feet; when you looked up, you found Madara close to you, his arm around your waist. You took a deep breath and told yourself that it was better if you get used to not be able to follow his moves with your eyes.

- So… our only preoccupation for now is to finish our training – he approached his lips to your ear – And to make sure you will be ready.

[anotheronechicagobog]

Enemies to Lovers Noah Sexton x dawson!reader

requested by: @bitweird1​

written by: @anotheronechicagobog​

Warnings: swearing, mature themes, child neglect, slightly Dawson bashing but they really just didn’t know, canon compliant threats

You had spent your entire life struggling and working your ass off. No social life, extracurriculars for the sole purpose of applying to universities, and spending the majority of your life studying because according to your dad at least one Dawson had to become a doctor and your older siblings had decided that it wouldn’t be them, leaving you to do nothing but prepare for the future that had been hand-picked by the man you felt abandoned you. And then Noah fucking Sexton just waltzes in having put in half the effort and riding the coattails of his much more intelligent sister who gave up a career as a doctor because of sexism. He spent far too much of his time flirting with everything that had boobs and a pulse. You didn’t like him because he took nothing seriously and didn’t have a responsible bone in his body, and he hated you because you were incredibly uptight and didn’t have a sense of humour.

“Maybe you’d have more friends here if you didn’t have a stick shoved up your ass.”

“I’m not here to make friends, I’m here to become a doctor.”

Everyone was getting really sick of your fighting, so they banded together and made things worse. They had badgered you until Doris had enough and dragged you to Molly’s. You refused to drink or eat anything, resulting in more snide remarks between you and Noah. Just when everyone was developing a migraine before they were anywhere even close to drunk your parents burst through the door and marched over to you. And suddenly, everyone in the bar, including your siblings, were subjected to and twenty-minute rant from your parents about how you should be grateful they pushed you towards medical school and all the activities that got you scholarships, that they didn’t abandon you, and that they clothed and fed you because a third child cost so much money, how you never took anything seriously and were always joking around, and how you were a disgrace to the family. Once they finished, your dad dragged you out by your arm, your mom followed muttering about why couldn’t you be more like Gabby and Antonio.

You walked into the ED the next day as robotic as ever. The pitiful and awkward stares were ignored with ease, it was something you were quite used to if you were honest. Your parents were always scrutinized by your teachers and DCFS. At the end of the day, though, they weren’t abusive enough for any charges or housing changes to be set. They weren’t like that with Gabby and Antonio, who had mostly moved out by the time you were in kindergarden, you were their last chance to help them prove to their family that they didn’t fail as parents. And they made sure you knew it.

“Dr. Dawson, you’ve got a patient in treatment one. Also, uh, are you okay? I feel pretty bad about last night.”

“Oh, don’t worry about anything. I’m fine, and my parents were right I should’ve been studying. It was a poor decision on my part not to. I’m gonna get to this patient, but you really don’t need to feel bad, okay?”

She nodded absently as you turned your back to her. ”Hi, I'm Dr. Dawson, can you tell me what brought you in today?”

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

Your patient had just gone up to the OR to have a blood clot removed and you made your way to the doctor’s lounge, followed by Noah Sexton. ”Hey, Y/N, are you-”

”Yes, Noah, I am okay. Yes, I'm sure. I am fine, I am always fine.”

”From my experience when people say they're fine they're usually not.”

”Noah, I am okay.”

“I don’t believe you.”

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The next few weeks were a maze of pitiful stares, hushed concerned words, and a silent Noah. All of it was completely unnerving. It all came to a head when Dr. Charles approached in the ED you about starting therapy with him, talking continuously about all the points ‘brought to his attention’, not even giving you the time to tell him the majority were false. “Excuse me?” 

Your stomach coiled in anger at his words. Not only were you more than capable of doing your job, but you already had a therapist. With basket case parents like yours, it was blatantly obvious that therapy was required. But the audacity of your co-workers to gossip so much that it came to the point over half the points Charles brought up were complete BS was astounding. Not only that, but he’d apparently spent the last few days internet stalking you to try and find some of your demons. “Dr. Charles, do you consider me a danger or liability to any of the patients or doctors at this hospital because of my relationship with my parents?”

“No, you actually seem to be well balanced mentally.”

“Then what, on earth, made you think it was appropriate to go around behind my back asking everyone at the hospital their opinion about me and what happened at Molly’s, or stalk me online to try and get a read on me, and then ask me blatantly at work, in the middle of the shift, in front of all my co-workers and superiors? What made you think it was okay to loudly bombard me with rumours and hearsay while I’m working?”

“Well, I thought that since it’s my job to check on all the ED docs, I’d check on you.”

“... You’re joking, right? I am the only person in this department who goes to therapy. Don’t kid yourself, you don’t check on anyone here. You judge them and make sure they know it. And quite honestly, you don’t have the best reputation for looking out for the mental and emotional state of your colleagues. This confrontation was not only completely inappropriate, but rude, obnoxious, presumptuous, riddled with unchecked errors, and unprofessional.”

“That’s not how I would word it.”

“It’s how I see it, and how I’ll word it with HR.”

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No one was pitying you anymore, not since the tongue lashing you gave Dr. Charles, who was on very thin ice with the hospital. While bringing up Robin and Sarah may have been a bit of a low blow, it exposed some issues with Dr. Charles that needed to be addressed. The only person who acted as if you were made of glass was Noah Sexton. While he had been a bit of a pain in the ass, this was worse. He was being sickeningly nice to you and it was getting on your last nerve. Yes, your parents were abusive. Yes, you had a messed up and traumatic childhood. But did that limit your abilities? No. Did that make you mentally unstable requiring therapy and fragility from your coworkers? Absolutely not.

He came in with coffee exactly the way you liked it, again. With a muffin, again. “You have to stop.”

“Stop what, Y/N?”

“Stop acting weird. You don’t like me, you hate me, actually. The only reason you’re being nice to me is because my parents resent my existence. I do not need or want your pity. So stop treating me like a china doll, and start treating me like your coworker.”

“Okay, okay, I uh... I’m sorry. I just, I feel guilty, okay? I gave you such a hard time for being so frigid and then when your parents showed up at Molly’s and started screaming at you for existing and having a life of your own, it just all made sense. And I gave you shit and trouble for coping with your crazy-ass parents. And then Dr. Charles came by to talk to you and I just felt even worse because even though I didn’t tell him anything, it was our fighting that put the spotlight on you in the first place. You shouldn’t have had your dirty laundry aired to the entire hospital, that’s happened to me a few times and it’s horrible, and I feel bad because I know that I was a contributing factor to all the shit you’ve had to deal with at work.”

“I get where you’re coming from, but let’s be real, everything would’ve turned out exactly the same way if you weren’t involved. The gossip mill runs strong at Gaffney.”

“Yeah, it does. I still feel bad.”

“Well, you’re forgiven then. So you can stop treading delicately, buying me coffee, and being creepily nice to me.”

“I am not being ‘creepily nice’! And how can being nice be creepy anyway?”

“Yesterday you followed me around offering to help me take my gloves on and off constantly, to the point where a patient who came in for falling out of the ceiling above the women’s changeroom said ‘that’s just weird’.”

“... Okay. I’ll stop. But I gotta be honest, I don’t think I can go back to arguing with you all the time.”

“That’s fine, just stop acting so weird that a couple I caught having kinky sex after an STD swab said ‘that made us really uncomfortable’.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice. Seriously, you didn’t have to tell me twice.”

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SIX MONTHS LATER

You and Noah had actually managed to become good friends and roommates. Shortly after he started acting like a normal person around you, not an instigator or a psycho, you found yourself enjoying his company. And yesterday, when you’d come home to find your room completely torn apart by your mother because your father had tried to frame you for using weed, you were done. Most of what you owned had been destroyed in your mother’s search, which sucked, but it made packing up all your stuff into your car much easier.

So far you’d ignored 43 texts, 12 calls, two visits from Gabby when she brought in a patient, and one visit from Antonio who didn’t even bother trying to lie to you. He also threatened to impound your car, you threatened to tell Voight about the time he and Lindsay got drunk and hooked up. It didn’t even matter that she was in New York now, Voight wouldn’t even blink before bludgeoning him down. He swore at you, “how could you break mami’s heart like this?”, and “can’t you just behave and do what you’re told for once?”

You looked him dead in the eyes, heart beating erratically at you older brother supporting your parents belittling and abusing you, “You sound like dad Antonio.”, watched his face fall, and left. Noah stopped him when he went to follow you. “You good?”

“Uh, not really. I don’t have a place to go tonight.”

“Did your mom kick you out?”

“No, I left. I can’t do it anymore. I break out in hives whenever I even think about my mother now. I just can’t go back.”

“Well, you don’t have to. I have been looking for a roommate, we can move you into my place after shift.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“Now come on, it’s prank week. Stohl pissed off Manning last week and she’s been planning revenge ever since, you do not want to miss this.”

And you didn’t. You entered the ED to find one of the most hated doctors in med spitting out Gatorade. “WHaT thE heLL?! That was sooo-ughghghg-” he couldn’t even finish his sentence before running to the doctor’s lounge to throw up in the bathroom. To Natalie’s credit, she didn’t crack a smile or react at all as she gracefully stepped over the spilled orange Gatorade. She briefly reminded you of a fae, graceful, beautiful, and cunning as all hell. You made a mental note never to cross her. Later at lunch, Natalie opened her sushi container, slightly deconstructed each piece, loaded all the pieces up with wasabi, reconstructed them, and popped one in her mouth. Everyone sitting near her had their eyes flash in recognition. Stohl had a habit of stealing other people’s food, and no matter how many times anyone told him to stop, they were just bullied into compliance. As a result, everyone had to dictate their food choices around his palette. Which meant no spicy food. Something that sucked for nearly everyone because hot food was a favourite for most people in the ED. But Manning wasn’t taking his shit. Not today. Something that worried everyone sitting around her because she would get in trouble for eating her own food how she liked it. It wasn’t until one of the HR workers, Holly, sat down beside Natalie and engaged in conversation that everyone realized the full scope of her plans. Stohl plopped down beside you and stole half of your sandwich right out of your hand. Ranting and raving, insulting everyone, stealing food, he made his way all around the circular cafeteria table until he got to Nat. He scooped up to pieces and threw them in his mouth just after he finished the words ‘insolent underlings’. Everyone held their breath as they watched his pale face redden exponentially. His eyes widened. And then he screamed. 

He yelled, he swore. “I’m going to report you to HR! You tried to poison me!”

“You stole food from everyone, something inappropriate, unethical, and unprofessional. You stole her food. That she made spicy to her tastes. She didn’t try to poison you.”

“And just who the fuck do you think you are?!”

“Holly Scott, from HR.”

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You and Noah were doing great, as roommates and as friends. “Hey, do you have any plans for dinner tonight? My parents invited me over for dinner and they asked me to extend an invite to you. It’s nothing major, they wanted to meet my previous roommates, too. Make sure you’re not a hooligan.”

“Okay, sounds fun. What should I bring?”

“Yourself...?”

“It’s rude to show up at someone else’s home without a gift.”

“You don’t need to bring my parents a gift.”

“Oh, I’m bringing a gift. I’m just asking you for some input.”

“Okay, well they really like wheelie shoes-”

“Ha, oh my god, I meant for what your parents would like, not you. And want wheelie shoes? Those have been out for a while, Noah.”

“Hey, do not laugh at me! They are just a very effective and fun way to get around.”

“Would you like them to light up too?”

“... Is that an option?”

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You knocked on the door while Noah rolled his eyes at you. “I grew up here!”

“Well you don’t live here anymore and it’s rude to just barge into someone’s home and act like you own the place.”

“Oh, you must be Y/N! I wasn’t expecting anyone to knock, usually, Noah just barges in and acts like he owns the place. Come in, come in. It’s freezing outside.” You gave Noah a side-eyed smirk as you took off your coat, while he looked bashfully embarrassed. “Uh, here Ms. Sexton, I brought some homemade empanadas, they can be put in the fridge or kept in the freezer, and it’s best to reheat them in the oven. 350 F, ten minutes from the fridge and about 20 if they were put in the freezer.”

“Oh, you really didn’t have to do that.”

“I was raised that when you go over to someone’s house for dinner or an event, you bring a gift. And it was either this or a house plant.”

“Ha, good idea going with the food, it’s a Sexton family trait that will kill all the plants we touch. Thank you very much.”

“Hello, you must be Y/N. It;s wonderful to meet you- and what smells so good?”

“Y/N brought empanadas, and they are going away so that you and I can enjoy them later. Now everyone, to the dining room, dinner is just about done.”

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Things started to change a bit a few months later when Choi had to physically restrain Noah from attacking a drunk bar fight patient who called you a slut in the middle of the ED. You’d been confused but Maggie just kept saying that it was a matter of time.

When you’d been hanging around at Molly’s with Noah, Sarah, and Darren, Noah had his arm casually wrapped around your shoulders, something your sister gave you the eyebrow for from her place at the bar.

After you’d been mugged and beaten, you’d run to the 21st, where your brother promptly unleashed the most fearsome demon hell has ever cowered from, AKA Hank Voight, he also called Noah. And when your brother finally made an arrest and got Voight to calm down a little, he’d entered the breakroom to find you fast asleep, curled up against Noah. Who sat in an incredibly uncomfortable position, holding you and stroking your back. You missed the dark look that crossed his face, or the one of fear that had crossed Noah’s but something of an understanding had fallen to Noah. The two of you needed to talk.

So you did, and it went well, so well that you planned a date. Then another one. And another one, until you two had been dating for six months and figured it was time to tell your families. You were shaking in your boots, the Sexton’s were all incredibly close and incredibly doting on Noah, so even though they liked you, you had absolutely no clue as to what the reaction would be. To your relief, it was happiness, they loved you as much as Noah apparently, and they relished in the changed you’d caused in Noah.

Your family, on the other hand, did not react well. Which was why you’d made sure that you told them in a very public place, and had only ordered waters before you told them. There was yelling, screaming, your father waving his arms around so much Antonio had to use his cop voice on him. In the end, you and Noah had been there for around five minutes before throwing some cash at the waitress as a tip for leaving her with your family, and hauling ass out of there. The two of you had ended up just eating pizza on the boardwalk in your fancy clothes and heading back to the apartment late.You both had work the next day, but while you were an intern, Noah was not. And while you were off giving a patient a sponge bath, your siblings cornered Noah at the nurses desk. “Sexton, is there a place the three of us can talk?”

“Uh, sure, this conference room is free...”

“Perfect.”

“So, I take it this is about-”

“Nuh-uh. You do not talk. We do.”

“You are dating our baby sister.”

“We may not be as close to her as you are with your sister, but she still means a lot to us.”

“We love her. We are two people with some pretty dangerous skills. It is for these two reasons that you will not hurt her. Ever.”

“And if you do, don’t forget who I work with.”

“No one will ever find your body.”

“Are we clear?”

“Uh, hmmh... Clear. Crystal clear.”

“Good. Now do you know where Y/N is? We’d like to take the both of you out to lunch or something, just the four of us, to make up for the dinner of many disasters.”

[the-melting-world]

Firecat

Khleo x Balam

I’m not sure what I or @atypicalacademic have gotten ourselves into, but here we go 😭😭😭 Simply treat yourself to another 0 to 100 whirlwind oc x oc ship. Thank you Kannan for letting me borrow Balam! She’s absolutely delightful!

cw: some biting

~ 1.6k words

***

The tavern saw a new handful of regulars during the week. The only reason Khleo remembered their faces was because of one in particular. There was something vibrant about her, and it wasn’t just because of her bold, shifting shawls and chirping adornments. 

Her friends called her Balam. 

On days she wore magenta bracelets, her companions referred to her as she. On days the bracelets were silver, Balam was he. 

Today, the bracelets were magenta. Yesterday they were magenta. And the day before that.

Khleo spent most of the week hanging back to wait tables and clean booths rather than working the bar. In order to watch. Try and figure out where this patron’s magnetism came from. Maybe they were partial to the features they shared with Balam – tight, bouncy curls, youthful expressions, strong cuts of the jaws that helped to undermine that innocence.

Or maybe Balam was just very good at communicating from afar. With each visit, the patron would glance more often in Khleo’s direction. One time while Khleo was mopping a corner, they tested their theory with a very subtle flex of their arms as they slid the mop forward. Khleo looked over at Balam just before curling their biceps towards them. They flicked the mop and did it again, training their gaze to be coincidental, bland.

Balam had already been looking. But then she looked away. Not completely. Only briefly, to collect herself. She came back with a more confident gaze, working those dark lashes and her decorative brown skin to practically beam a lump into Khleo’s throat. 

This Balam, whoever she was, knew exactly what she was doing despite how subtle she went about it. And it made Khleo itching to pounce.

But it was late and the tavern was full of dinner patrons that night. So Khleo filed all that pouncy, gimme nonsense away for some other time. Then they put their assessment of Balam to rest, and got back to work.

Luckily, it wasn’t long before Khleo’s coworkers required their pouncing services. A fight had broken out and neither side was backing down. Khleo didn’t bother to see who was involved, they just jumped in. They didn’t waste their breath shouting at people to calm down like the other barhands. Their method of de-escalation was to remove the biggest threat. 

Tonight that happened to be the fiery, vibrant Balam. Khleo ignored the small hiccup between their thighs as they made an attempt to unhinge a glass that Balam was about to chuck at a nearby patron.

But Balam was slippery and still charged even though the rest were starting to calm down. She snatched her arm back from Khleo before they could get a good grip and danced backwards like a reanimated puppet. 

“Don’t make me chase you,” Khleo warned, their voice bored and unhurried despite the persistent thorniness they were dealing with elsewhere.

Balam ran. Khleo cursed under their breath and pursued. 

It was a wonder Balam was so fast with all those shawls and patchwork prints that clung to her lithe form. Khleo snarled when they saw where Balam was trying to run off to – the basement.

< Do you need some help? >

~ No, Hefe. I got this. ~

Khleo booked it faster than ever now, leaping over chairs, scrambling across countertops, ruining family dinners. Their boss was going to kill them.

They hoped it was all worth it when they finally caught up to Balam, slamming into her and pinning her down easily. The angry patron roared and thrashed like her whole body was on fire. But Khleo was ready to shut it down.

“You think you’re real cute, don’t you?”

Balam’s eyes were still unfocused and brimming wet rage. “Let go of me, you...”

Khleo jostled her. “Go ahead. Tell me what you think of me.”

By the time their gazes connected, Balam was blushing.

“Thought so. You can’t even say it.”

Balam exploded. “Overgrown housecat!” 

Khleo laughed. “Excuse me? If I’m a housecat, then what the hell are you?”

Balam’s eyes were dead serious. “A tiger.”

Khleo was enjoying themself, tracking the way Balam’s extremes entered and left her body so quickly. They felt the shift in the tension of Balam’s limbs too. It didn’t help to dampen their fire, but felt good all the same.

“A tiger cub maybe,” Khleo mused. “So tell me, cub. Why’d you have to go start shit in my bar? Day’s been hard enough as it is.”

Balam apparently had it in her to throw another tantrum.

“They started it! You’re telling me you’d back down if–” 

“It’s always someone else’s fault, isn’t it?” Khleo said quietly. “How about you demonstrate a little self control next time?”

 Balam hopelessly thrashed under Khleo’s weight. “I do have self control!”

“Oh yeah? Then show me now.”

Khleo made sure Balam’s wrists were secured above her head before dropping very close.

“Let’s see how long you last.”

Khleo coasted over Balam’s features, her nose ring, wide black eyes, her mouth – everything was magnified. Khleo took it all in, climbing that familiar high that moments like these always catapulted her to. That edge of giving in and holding still. That silence before a true strike. They could tell by the way Balam followed them that the cub knew nothing of that place. Never tasted that warm, hidden middle ground. Insanity’s hidden trapdoor. Tight and snug. Nowhere near cozy, but safe. Antidotal. 

“My name is Balam.”

Khleo ignored the distraction. 

“I know.”

Balam tried to snatch a kiss, but the barhand ducked their head over and down, latching onto the exposed shoulder peeking out from the shawls. Balam’s harsh cry echoed through the cavernous space.

“Quiet,” Khleo licked their lips and raised their head. “I didn’t even bite you that hard.”

They sat up straighter, deepening their seat, still holding Balam’s wrists.

“You want to be so bad... but you don’t come close. I’ve been exactly where you are.”

Balam’s eyes burned like black fire. “And look how much you’ve improved and moved up in the world. Congratulations, bartender of the year.”

Khleo kept their tone flat, but their grin wicked.

“A major improvement from where I came from, believe me. Look Tiger, you’re not going to find any low-hanging fruit,” Khleo made sure to gently grind against Balam’s leg for emphasis. They were satisfied to see her eyes threaten to roll back. “So I suggest that you quit trying to go for low blows while you’re ahead.”

The fire had finally gone out. Now it was replaced by water. Khleo let go of Balam’s wrists. 

“You need to cry, then cry.”

They started to get up, but Balam’s hands captured her thighs. “Wait.”

Khleo arched an eyebrow. 

“Can you… just stay right there for a bit?”

Khleo didn’t laugh or mock the patron in any way. The barhand anchored their weight against Balam’s abdomen and allowed her to process her emotions with dignity. When she was done, Khleo helped her to her feet and said, “Go out through the back door. Don’t come back here for a few days. It’ll give my boss some time to forget tonight. That way he’ll be less likely to ban you from the tavern.”

Balam hadn’t stopped staring at Khleo since she got to her feet. “What should I call you when I return?”

Khleo folded her arms over her chest. “Call me Khlee, Khleo, whatever you want.”

The patron sniffed one last time, and glanced toward the door. She moved as if she might go to it.

Khleo wasn’t gentle this time. They used their strength to their advantage as they snatched Balam back until she crashed right where Khleo wanted her. Then they engaged both their arms, locking her in and kissing her the way they wanted to when they had her pinned down earlier. As if Khleo desired nothing else than to see how much they could take, and take, and take some more.

What Khleo didn’t expect, however, was how eager Balam was to give. She fed Khleo her lips, her tongue, her moans like they were such an untimely burden that she was, by the gods, absolutely compelled to share– 

“Enough.” Khleo growled softly. The command was more meant for themself than Balam, but they were careful not to give anything away. When they opened their eyes and looked into Balam’s, they found that her expression was a rare breed of tame. It was the sort of docility that tugged at a different set of strings in Khleo, unlocking a new singularity of primal intention within them.

The way Balam quietly looked at the barhand, in reverence and easy obedience…. Khleo felt the need to flex a set of claws that they didn’t have. Dig them into Balam where it was too shallow for their own blunted teeth to pierce. To keep her somehow? From what, Khleo wasn’t sure.

“Mm.” Khleo’s throat rumbled, “You’ve got a lot of fire in you. I had to see what that tasted like…” they looked pointedly at the spot where they bit Balam. “Again.” Then they let the patron go. “Now get out of here.”

Khleo gave Balam a gentle push. Once again, she surprised the barhand by skipping away on light feet towards the exit. It seemed Balam couldn’t leave without the last word. Halfway out the door, she captured Khleo’s gaze one last time. “You taste of fire too.”

Khleo shrugged. “So?”

Balam smiled as she nodded sagely. “And of flowers. Wild ones. Daisies.”

Khleo was thankful for the dim light. Her face burned from Balam’s unexpected saccharine tongue. 

“You better get going, Tiger.”

Balam wasn’t finished. She leaned her head against the doorframe and batted those damn eyelashes again. “I’ll bring some for you, Firecat. Next time.” Her anklets chirped as she finally slipped out of the cave of brick and mortar and onto the street. 

Khleo stared at the door long after she had gone. She thought about Balam’s journey from the wrathful to the rational and back again.

Hefe emerged from out of the hearth. Illuminating the underground lair with her sheer size and pale, creamy coat, she became a lighthouse to call back Khleo’s drifting thoughts. 

< Firecat. That’s a new one. >

[elrielllll]

“Perfect” part 3

A/N: As promised :) Also updates after this should be every Sunday x

Today didn’t start well. 

She was late. Not to mention the pounding headache that came from marking into the early hours of the morning, and possibly a little too much wine.

She huffed as she turned into the car park, pushing her glasses up her face, annoyed that she had to wear them but with that headache she just couldn’t manage contacts.

As she pulled in she saw her parking space, or what it used to be, covered by a pile of bricks. 

Not today. 

Today of all days, not today. She didn’t need some thing else to contend with, she thought as she drove off to find another space.

She was still cursing those builders and the school’s long corridors as she ran, or as she preferred to call it, delicately speed walked to her room.

She only just got there in time before her students spilled into her room and she sat down, ready for a long day of teaching.

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

Out of all of the 5 years at this school this had been the worst morning by far. The noise and novelty of the build and the very shirtless sweaty builders, she couldn’t get her kids to concentrate for more than 5 seconds. And all of the previously intellectual questions she was used to receiving had now turned into, 

“miss how do you say “you’re hot” in French?”

“how do you ask someone out in French?”

“don’t you think French is a sexy language miss? I reckon if I asked in french first I’d get their number.”

And whilst she tried to ignore her students and act like the professional adult she was, she couldn’t help but think the same things.

But how did they expect her to concentrate? Let alone teach 30 teenagers. 

She came back to Lucien waving a hand in front of her face “Ellie? Earth to Ellie? Where did you go?” 

“Over there,”she grumbled, gesturing in the general direction of the building site, and the people that came with it. 

Lucien groaned, head in his hands, “not you too, I’ve had to deal with the kids all morning.” 

Elain laughed while also internally crying, “why do they all have to be shirtless?” she asked.

Lucien raised his eyebrows,  “Elain, only one of them is shirtless”

Elain froze mid bite of her sandwich, “No I swear there’s more”, but sure enough when she turned to look out of the window Lucien was right. 

And just her luck, It was Azriel.

She threw her head down and groaned. Typical that the first man she would find attractive since Grayson was her sisters boyfriends brother. 

It sounded like soap opera that she had absolutely no intention of being in. 

Lucien laughed and gave her a quick one armed hug ,“hope you’re less distracted the rest of the day” he said with a wink as headed off. 

But she wasn’t. By the end of the day Elain wanted the builders gone. After only one day dealing with them and being embarrassed by her class, she was fed up. 

So much so that she found herself walking towards the site and the one builder left.

“Hey!” she shouted as she neared, “ are you trying to make my job impossible? Have you ever had to deal with 30 teenagers at once? Well let me tell you it’s not easy, It’s like being in a pit of snakes!”

She stopped the man turned around and familiar hazel eyes met hers.

She stopped, unsure. Should she really be shouting at her sister’s friend?Azriel opened his mouth to speak but she carried on,

“And now with the noise, killing my head and making it a nightmare to teach, especially a different language! And if you wouldn't mind-” 

She stopped her rant as she looked at him. Still shirtless, taking in the tattoos and the muscles and the sheer size of him towering over her. She took a shaky breath and looked at the point on the wall over his shoulder, deciding that it was the only safe place to look.

She finished her rant significantly quieter, “-putting a shirt on”

She let her eyes flick back to him as she saw him reach down for a shirt and pull it on. 

She wasn’t looking at his tattoos swirling up and down the planes of his chest. 

She wasn’t.

“I’m sorry,” he said, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck, his deep voice going right through her, “I’ll talk to my guys and we’ll see what we can do about the noise.”

Elain nodded, now daring to make eye contact, “thank you ,” she said, feeling ashamed of shouting, It wasn’t his fault and she knew that, but he happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

She stuck out her hand, “I’m Elain by the way,”

“Feyre’s sister,” he nodded as he took her small hand in his big one, “I’ve heard lots about you, I’m Azriel.”

She nodded looking down, noticing how her hand was completely enveloped in his, and for the first time noticing the scars that decorated his hands. She hadn’t seen them during his little speech yesterday, but then again she was a bit preoccupied. 

“Beautiful” she breathed. 

Shit. She shouldn’t have said that. Of all the stupid things she could have said, it was probably top of the list. 

She peered up at him, to gauge his reaction, feeling guilty when he blushed faintly and nodded just once. 

Way to make a good impression. 

Elain looked down, realising that her hand was still in his. 

“Well I have to go” she blurted out, withdrawing her hand and clenching it by her side, noting how his stayed in the air between them for just a few seconds longer. 

He nodded .

Elain stood blinking for a moment before he gestured to his work, “um I should” 

“Oh yeah, yes of course sorry,” Elain said plastering a smile on her face and waiting for him to turn around before practically running back to her room and leaning against the door. 

Nice one Elain.

Why did she have to be  so awkward. She just went out there and shouted at him for doing his job and hadn’t even apologised. What was wrong with her?

That was often the case with her temper, she always regretted getting angry afterwards, but never while she was ripping into people. 

She looked down to see her phone ping with a message from Feyre,

 F: Hey! Come round to mine tonight, we’re getting a Chinese x

Elain didn’t have too much work to do tonight and she could use a good catch up with her sister, and Rhys always had good wine. 

E: I’ll be there! On a side note will you apologise to Azriel for me? I may have shouted at him xx

F: Ooh he must have done something wrong if YOU shouted at him. But he’ll be there so you can tell him yourself! ;)

That probably wasn’t the best idea, she’d probably make a fool of herself again. Yeah that sounds about right. But she did owe him an apology and she was going to have to do it sometime. And preferably not in front of a group of teenagers. 

Not that Feyre’s family were much better. 

She grabbed her keys and headed out to her car dropping Lucien a text that she was off. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Azriel had had one hell of a first day. When he took the job he thought he would be working over the holidays, with no kids. Or people in general. He though Rhys had known that and assumed he wouldn’t have brought the job up otherwise. 

Azriel had apparently underestimated how much his family wanted him home. 

It had started off with that speech yesterday, public speaking was not his forte, but he could manage talking to adults. 

Teenage girls however, were not manageable.

Every time he saw a group giggling in the corner while stealing glanced when they thought that he wasn’t looking he wanted to jump into the hole they were digging and stay in there, perhaps be buried alive. 

He wouldn’t have objected to it right then. 

And just when he thought he might finally have some peace Feyre’s sister came storming out, guns blazing. .

He’d seen her a couple times throughout the day in her classroom,  when he’d stopped for a moment  and she seemed invested, using wild hand gestures to get her point across. 

Though she didn’t use them when she was annoyed apparently. 

Thinking back he turned away from her too fast. It was rude and he was politer than that, but in his defence it had been a while since he had made an effort with someone, or even made a friend. He kept himself to himself while he was in London.

He  put it out of his mind as he pulled up to Rhys and Feyre’s apartment and headed up the stairs. He was pretty sure he could already hear Cassian’s voice echoing down the hall followed by Mor’s indignant cry. 

It was like he’d never left. 

He smiled as he pushed the door open and was bombarded with a hug from Mor. 

“I missed you” he said around a mouthful of hair.

“I missed you too,” Mor shouted in his ear, “I can’t believe that you didn’t come and visit once!”

Azriel winced, “ I was busy”

Mor waggled her eyebrows, “ I bet you were in high demand”

Chuckling, Azriel made his way next to the couch and sank down next to Cassian who passed him a beer with a grin. 

“Speaking of high demand, how was your first day at the new job?” Rhysand asked from where he was sat on the opposite couch with Feyre, eyes dancing. 

“Hell.” Azriel, cracking open his drink and taking a long swig. 

“Oh do tell,” said Rhys through a half smirk.

Azriel pointed at him, “you know very well how it went,”

Rhys only laughed as Cassian pushed, “Come on Az, it reminds us of being in school, tell us.”

“That is not something I want to re live thank you,” Azriel grumbled. 

“Oi we tried to make you popular but you were too damn scary” Cassian protested.

Cassian and Rhys were on the rugby team all through school, and everyone knows that the rugby team was a free pass to an easy ride through school. Azriel was more focused on important stuff like athletics, and Mor, who coincidentally came with it, being the star of long jump. 

Thank god that crush had passed, he was happy to see Mor with her girlfriend, they all were. 

“Where’s Emma?” Azriel asked, subtly trying to change the subject.

“Working late,” Mor replied, “but that’s not what we want to talk about” she sang.

“I had a gaggle of teenage girls staring at me at all times. And some of the boys.” Azriel admitted. 

They all burst out laughing as Cassian clapped Azriel on the shoulder and said, “Well you can’t really blame them” 

“I second that,” Mor piped up.

“I just want to work”, Azriel said, exasperated.

“Are you kidding?  Soak up all the attention, that’s what I do. Whenever I need an ego boost, I just head into Feyre’s class and flex a bit” Rhys said, demonstrating. 

“I thought you were coming in to see me,” Feyre said as she smacked him over the head with a pillow. 

Cassian’s laugh boomed around the room as Rhys yelped.

“I’m not trying to be a pig but where’s the food?” Mor said frowning at Rhys who was still rubbing his head looking betrayed.

“Pig,” Cassian quipped and got a pillow to the head as well from Feyre. 

“We’re waiting for everyone to get here.” Feyre said as she sat back down, glaring at the boys. 

They all looked around the room confused. Azriel could see Cassian counting on his fingers and looking at Feyre like she was crazy. They were all here, who where they waiting for? Amren was in Australia with Varian, and Nesta  had gone to school down south so it wasn’t her-

And just then the door cracked open and Elain slipped through with a shy smile. 

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

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[atths--twice]

Okay, we are onto chapter 13! Maggie has been helping Mulder and being there for Scully when she has needed her. It is time for her to take a break and spend time with a friend, catching up and relaxing. 

Chapter Thirteen 

Staying the Course

June 2015

Water lapped at the dock to Maggie’s right and the sound of it caused her to sigh in contentment. It was quiet and incredibly peaceful where she was presently and she could not have been happier.

Louise McGillan, a retired Navy nurse, was one of her oldest friends. She invited her to her lake house for a week, just the two of them. Maggie told her about Dana and Fox, and how she was helping Fox out. Louise said they both needed a girls’ week and insisted they leave as soon as possible.

Louise’s husband passed away a couple of months previously, after a very long illness. Since his death, she was dealing with a lot-bank accounts to close, her house to go through and get ready to sell, her husband’s will and items to be set aside for the recipients. It was a very stressful time for her and her two children. Maggie helped her whenever she could, offering advice, dropping off a meal, or simply lending a listening ear.

Tonight was the second night they were there and Louise went inside to get some wine. Maggie closed her eyes and listened to the sounds of the water and the crickets beginning to chirp. She took a deep breath and let it out, feeling the peace brought by this place.

“I hope red is good, apparently it’s all we had here,” Louise said, causing Maggie to open her eyes and look at her. She smiled as she handed her a glass and sat in the adirondack chair next to her. “Phew, it sure is beautiful here. The quiet is nice, but only for a while. Give me the bustle of the city any day.” They both laughed and sat looking at the lake.

They drank their wine in silence, as only good friends can, knowing that words are not always needed. It soon began to get chilly and they moved inside, pouring another glass of wine as they turned on the fireplace. Covering up with the cozy blankets in the room, they started getting caught up with each other.

Louise’s daughter was coming to visit next week, to help pack up the house and consolidate items before the big move. Louise found a townhouse close to her son and he and his wife recently had a new baby. Louise moving closer would be beneficial to both parties. She would be there to help care for her grandson, and her son would be close if she herself needed assistance.

“It will be nice to help with the baby, play with him, get the snuggles, then hand him back at the end of the day and get a good night’s sleep,” Louise said with a laugh. Maggie smiled, but then she thought of how she used to care for William and the way he smelled as she held him close, and she sighed.

She knew in her head that Dana’s decision to put William up for adoption had been the right one, but her heart broke for Dana. For all of them, really. The pain she saw in everyone close to Dana made her physically ill, and mentally as well. She had gone on medication for a while after William was gone, anxiety and sleeping pills, her heart broken.

Then Dana was gone. Her boys both had their own wives and lives, and Maggie was struggling through depression with no family to care for her. A knock at her door one day led to Louise coming in and cooking her a meal as Maggie sat at the kitchen table and cried. Cried for the sons she missed, the baby she would never see again, and for the safety of her daughter and the man she loved and followed, becoming a fugitive along with him.

Louise made sure she was fed, brought her to doctor’s appointments, and sat while she cried and worried. She never told Maggie to cheer up, move on, or to stop crying. No, she held her hand and wiped her eyes, keeping her sane and among the living.

“Maggie? You still with me?” Maggie heard Louise ask softly. Unbeknownst to her, Maggie had been crying. She shook her head and apologized to Louise.

“I had no idea I was crying. I’m so sorry,” she said, wiping at her eyes. “Louise, I’m truly sorry.”

“Maggie, we don’t apologize for our tears, remember?” Louise asked her, reaching for her hand and holding it tight. Maggie laughed breathily and nodded, squeezing Louise’s hand.

“Was it the mention of the baby?” Louise asked kindly and Maggie nodded. Louise nodded too and then was silent.

“He would be fourteen now,” Maggie said, exhaling and shaking her head. “The boys at his age ... they had been awful at times. I can’t imagine with technology and access to so much information, how William would be.” Louise nodded again and squeezed Maggie’s hand.

“Louise ... I’m sorry. This is not why we’re here ...”

“Maggie, this is precisely why we’re here. To mourn and take time for us. We have both been helping others ... god, most of our lives, and we need some time for ourselves,” Louise said vehemently. “I don’t expect this week to be sunshine and rainbows, not by a long shot. I’m mourning and so are you because time matters not when it comes to mourning and loss. Although it was the decision that was needed, you had a massive hole ripped into your soul. It’s been fourteen years, true, but it still hurts like it was yesterday at times. I know it does and I don’t expect you to hold back while you’re here. Not to be too cliche, but what happens at this lake house, goddamn stays at this lake house.”

Maggie laughed and leaned her head against Louise’s shoulder, her head then resting on Maggie’s. They both laughed until they could not breathe and then wiped their eyes. Silence fell in the room and then Louise spoke softly.

“I’m scared, Maggie,” she said, and Maggie could hear it in her voice. “I’m scared of what comes next. I’ve been busy and doing for so long, I’m afraid of what happens when I stop.”

“I know what you mean, Louise,” Maggie said, putting her other hand on top of Louise’s. “It’s tough at first, I’m not going to tell you it’s not, but it will get easier. Time, it’s the only thing that helps. Well, that and good friends.” They both laughed and again sat quietly.

“Selling the house, Maggie ...” she sighed. “I don’t really want to, but what will I do with it on my own? It’s too big and all I think of is John when I’m in there. How happy we were and then him passing as we stood around him, watching him leave this earth. Most of the memories right now are sad and I avoid certain rooms if I can. The new place is nice, but it doesn’t have the same feel as home.” She said with another sigh.

“That can be said of any place that’s different and new to us. I know that leaving the old house will be hard, but for your circumstances, it will be beneficial to all of you,” Maggie said.

“I know,” Louise said quietly.

They sat in silence until Louise sat up and shook her head, before standing to her feet and reaching for Maggie’s hands. She pulled her up from the couch and into a tight hug before pulling back and smiling at her. Maggie smiled back and held onto Louise’s hand for an extra second.

“Let’s go to bed, get up and have a glass of wine by the water as we watch the sun rise,” Louise said, picking up their wine glasses. Maggie laughed and said that sounded fabulous.

A few minutes later she was in the guest room bed trying to stop her racing mind. She was worried about what came next,too. What came next for all of them. She did not worry about Bill Junior as much, he was happy with the life and career he chose.

She worried for Dana and when she would go back to that little unremarkable house. Like Louise, she was in a new place but wanted to be back in her old one, Maggie was sure. Her apartment was so sterile and not like other places she had lived, which were always cozy and inviting. There was the alien cat pillow that Dana had laughingly shown her, but Maggie had seen her eyes fall on it many times when she visited. Dana had taken the time to purchase it, it was definitely something she had wanted. Maybe she hoped Fox would see it someday, or it would one day be back on the couch where Fox had spent so many nights.

She worried for Fox, although he seemed to be doing well with his therapist. He had nothing but good things to say about her, although he admitted she kicked his ass emotionally every week. He turned his cell phone back on and to Maggie, that was huge. She could get a hold of him anytime, and it helped her breathe easier. He was still sleeping upstairs and not falling back into old patterns. She could see he was progressing, it was simply slow going.

And Charlie. Maggie felt her heart ache at the pain left there by him. A fight, a misunderstanding, and the stubborn nature to not listen or hear what truly happened, led to years of not speaking. Maggie tried but to no avail. Charlie wanted nothing to do with any of them. Nothing could be repaired if one side of the party refused to listen to reason.

Maggie rolled over and thought of them when the kids were little. The loud dinners, laughter, and Bill’s booming voice when they got too silly. So many redheads sat around that little table and it made her smile. Her mother had red hair and Maggie loved Anne Shirley and her Green Gable adventures so much, she wanted red hair too. To have four children with the hair color she loved, she felt very blessed.

Closing her eyes, she took a few deep breaths and prayed. She prayed for peace, happiness, and understanding. She prayed for Louise and her family and the new life they were beginning. She prayed for herself, to be the help that was needed, in the way it was desired, and soon she had fallen asleep.

The next few days at the lake seemed to fly by. She and Louise slept in, stayed up late, cooked wonderful meals, drank a lot of wine, laughed, cried, and sat by the lake, finding peace in the quiet around them. The last day there, as the sun was setting, Maggie walked around alone and looked once again at the view and the beauty of the area.

She found a log that was not far from the house and just sat quietly, closing her eyes. Hearing the wind blowing through the trees, the water quietly hitting the rocks at the shore, she made a decision. When she died, she wanted her ashes scattered here, in this exact spot. She found peace here, spent time with a cherished friend, and let go of the negativity that was weighing her down.

Opening her eyes, she looked around again and nodded. Yes, this was the spot. She stood up and looked down at the rocks at her feet. She saw a few flat ones and attempted to skip them on the lake. A couple of them were good, but mostly they were duds. She laughed and then shrugged, throwing the last rock as far as she could.

She bent down as she saw rocks that struck her fancy, putting them in her pockets to take home. She would give a few to Dana for a type of decoration or paperweight. Maybe Fox would like a couple.

Weighted down, this time by choice, she put her hands in her pockets feeling the smoothness of the rocks inside, and walked back to the house, ready to head back home. Recharged and happy, she was ready for what was coming next for her, or rather continuing really.

Her path was clear and she would stay the course. She would help to reunite the two soulmates who had lost their way. Their path may lead them on separate trails, but she would be their marker in the woods, directing them where they needed to go, where their paths have always been destined to meet- in the middle.

[bad-at-names-and-faces]

Exploring Arendelle

Chapter 7

Chapter Index

[painting by Henryk Pillati, circa 1860]

Lars had taken an early morning walk into town. The fishermen were too busy to be bothered, so he wasn’t able to ask them anything, and most of the shops weren’t open yet, so he simply got a better sense for the layout of the town.  He remembered that Frederick, as the oldest prince had insisted he call him, had offered to show him around the countryside if he wanted to go riding.  He had also told him to stop by the castle kitchen any time he wanted something to eat, but he didn’t feel comfortable with imposing like that.

As he was walking back toward the castle, he noticed a bakery opening up, and he realized he was getting hungry.  It looked like a local bakery, and he really wished that his mother had been the sort to do her own baking, because he had absolutely no idea what he should order.

A bell rang as he walked in the door. The woman behind the counter turned around and smiled. “Good morning,” he began, “what would you recommend?”

“You can’t go wrong with a kringle,” she said, “I assume you’re not from around here?”

“No, in fact, I just arrived yesterday,” he said, then realizing the chance, “but my parents were from here.”

“Really?” she asked, moderately interested, “so, kringle?”

“Yes, thank you.” 

“Here you go,” she said, handing over the kringle and accepting his money, “and, who were your parents, if I may ask?”

“Jan and Margit Nilsen.  Jan Nilsen died before I was born, so I never knew him.”

“Nilsen is a common name around here,” she said, “but I might ask my great aunt when she stops by this afternoon.  Are you staying a while?” 

“Yes, I’ll probably be here for a year,” he said, finishing a bite of his kringle.

“Ah, well, I hope you enjoy your time here.  How is the kringle?”

“Very tasty,” he said after a few more bites, “I’ll be sure to come back often, thank you.”

“And now, I’ll be heading back,” he said as he finished the pastry.

“Have a nice day,” she said as he left.

He heard boys’ voices as he entered the castle gates.  Fred was just running toward the stables from the other side of the courtyard.

“Good morning, Frederick!” Lars called out.  “Are you planning to go riding today?” 

“I hadn’t really thought about what I was going to do,” Fred admitted, “but if you’d like me to show you around like I promised, that would be great.”

The two walked to the stables. Two boys popped out of the stable.  One looked like a smaller version of Frederick, the other, a little bit taller, had reddish blond hair. 

“Oh!  Hey, Fred,” the blond one called out, “Who’s this?”

“Lars,” Fred replied, “He’s from Corona.”

“I’m Peder,” he replied, “and this is Anton,” he said, pointing to the other boy.

“Pleased to meet both of you,” Lars said, bowing slightly to each boy.

“If Father comes back, tell him I’m taking Lars here out for a ride,” Fred told them. 

“You really don’t mind?” Lars asked him.

"Of course not!" Fred said, excitedly slapping Lars on the back enough to make him stumble a bit. Fred was already as tall as him, which wasn't surprising by itself, since his sister was just as tall, but the boy didn't seem to know his own strength. 

He knew the full names and dates of birth of everyone in their family, but he hadn't even been able to recognize their father out of the formal dress of the official portrait that was sent to every kingdom. He wondered what else there was that he was unaware of not knowing.

He followed Frederick into the stables, and as his eyes adjusted to the change in light, he looked around a bit more.  He heard less excitement from the horses than the previous morning, but the horses and the reindeer combined were still making enough noise that he couldn't hear what Frederick was saying. He heard another voice behind him. 

"Hi there!" 

Lars was not prone to startling, but upon turning around, he screamed. 

"Oh, sorry, I get that sometimes. Let's try again. Hi there, I'm Olaf!"

Lars stood completely still and just stared. A snowman was apparently talking to him and wanting to shake hands.  

"Sorry, Lars," Fred interrupted, "I should have warned you about Olaf. This is Olaf. Olaf, this is Lars Nilsen, from Corona."

Lars was still just standing and staring. The snowman said something about nice to meet him and going to visit Samantha as he walked away.

"You know," said Fred, "I think I'll just take you around town and maybe up the fjord a bit for a nice view… you probably aren't ready for what I was going to show you…"

"Umm… that's fine," Lars finally stuttered. He now started to remember some of his mother's stories about Arendelle that he had dismissed as fairy tales. He would need to write to her. 

They walked their horses out of the stables and mounted them. Lars followed behind him out the gate. The horses walked very slowly through the town toward the hillside. More shops were open, and people were going about their business. It all looked so completely ordinary. He wanted to ask Frederick where he had originally planned on taking him, but he decided if the boy thought he wasn't ready to see those things, then he would wait. He would be here for a while.

"So, Frederick," Lars said before they left the main part of town, "do you know people in the town who might know a lot about someone who left Arendelle twenty years ago?"

"The tavern, they might know," Frederick replied.

"I really don't think my mother would have frequented a place like that," Lars said somewhat defensively, "and the way she talks about my father, I really can't imagine him, either."

"What do you mean? What kind of taverns do you have in Corona?"

"It's a respectable place, then?"

"I hope so. We go there sometimes.  I think that makes it respectable."

"I apologize if I implied otherwise."

"Don't worry about it. We can stop there on our way back and you can ask."

They had left the main part of town, and the horses began to trot up the hill.  The view of the fjord was spectacular. They slowed down as they approached the top of the cliff. Frederick hopped off his horse, and Lars did likewise. The prince pointed out all the major landmarks they could see, and mentioned the directions of various locations that Lars wasn't familiar with. As they went to get back on their horses, two men on horseback were riding back toward the town, one in royal livery, the other appearing to be some nobleman who was definitely not at the state dinner the night before. They stopped when they saw Lars and Frederick.

"Your Royal Highness!" The men bowed slightly. 

"We're just out for a ride," Frederick replied, "what are you two doing?"

"Queen's business," the nobleman said, "it seems I've been called back to the castle. Do you know anything about this?"

"No. Why would I?"

"Oh. Nevermind, then. We'll be on our way. Enjoy your ride, Your Highness."

As the men rode back into town, Lars looked around where they were on the cliff. There were paths going into the woods away from the town, but it seemed that Frederick was taking them along the fjord.

"What's in the woods over there?"

"Trolls."

After this morning, Lars had no idea whether to take him seriously or not. Was the boy teasing him now? He was prepared to believe anything at this point.  

"If you're getting hungry, we could just go back into town and I'll introduce you to Halima at the tavern," Fred suggested.

"I'm fine, really," Lars protested.

"Well, actually, I'm hungry," the boy admitted, "and I do wonder what those men were rushing back to the castle about…"

"Is that normal?"

"Not really," he said, "that is, I don't remember mother having a meeting like this when she's this close to having a baby… maybe Inga remembers better. On the other hand, I never go to meetings, anyway. Inga sometimes does. They tried having me sit in on a meeting once or twice this spring, and I ended up kicking the table and one time even knocking my own chair over, and I couldn't tell you what they were talking about…"

"Oh, sorry…"

"It's fine," he said, but sounded a little angry all the same.

"You wanted lunch, then?"

"Yes, let's do that," Frederick said, cheering up a bit.

They turned around and headed back at as close to a full gallop as they could, only slowing down when there were more people using the road. 

"We should probably take the horses back to the castle first," Fred suggested as they went through the middle of the town, "it's not very far, and we should give them a rest."

Lars nodded, and followed Fred back. The stables were quiet and nearly empty when they got there. The other horses were eating.

"They've probably gone to the garden," the boy suggested.

After getting their horses settled and fed, the two walked back out into the town. It was almost noon, and Lars had to admit to himself that he was beginning to feel nearly as hungry as young Frederick.  The tavern was somewhat crowded, with men and women from the town taking a break for lunch.  A freckled girl with brown braids, perhaps ten years old, ran up to Frederick.

"Hello!" 

"Oh, hi, Meibel," said Frederick, "is Halima here?"

"She just left, but she'll be back in an hour. Why?"

"My friend here just arrived from Corona, and he's hoping to find out about some people who lived here twenty years ago."

"Are you going to introduce him?"

"Sorry… Lars Nilsen, Meibel Stensland."

"Is he someone I'm supposed to bow to?" Meibel asked, looking at Frederick. 

"Lars, I leave that up to you," Frederick said.

"Um, I don't think I'm in that kind of position, certainly not yet," he said, extending his hand to the girl. 

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Nilsen," she said, shaking his hand vigorously. 

"And now," Frederick said, "I think I need lunch. What about you, Lars?"

"I'll have whatever you're having."

"I'll be right back!" Meibel said, running off.

"She looks very young to be working here," said Lars, watching her go into the kitchen.

"She doesn't, not really," said Fred, "she's their ward, but she likes to help out."

"Whose ward?"

"Halima and General Mattias," Fred explained, "they took her in when she was young."

"The general?"

"Well, he's officially retired now, but yes."

"I suppose that's why she seems so… familiar with you?"

"I'm familiar with a lot of people here," he said, somewhat confused. 

The door opened.

"General Mattias," Fred called out, "I want you to meet someone."

The general blinked as his eyes adjusted, staring at Lars.

"Hello? You are?"

"This is Lars Nilsen, he came with the ambassador from Corona, but his family's originally from here, so we were going to ask Halima if she'd know them."

"I'm sure she will," he said, "there's something familiar about you. Which family?"

"His parents left here twenty years ago," Fred interrupted, "that's why I suggested Halima."

"Well, my mother left here," Lars corrected, "my father was already dead."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Mattias said, "how old was he? It's possible I might have known his family."

"You know, I don't remember. I have a lot of things to ask my mother in my next letter… I should have thought to get a photograph of them before I came. That would have helped a lot. Mother says that Karl, my brother, that is, looks just like my father when he was younger."

"I suppose you take after your mother, then?" Mattias suggested. 

"I've never been told as much," Lars said somewhat sadly, "but I suppose that's one problem with growing up so far from any family, I've never heard about this uncle or that cousin that looks just like me. I'm really not even sure what any of my grandparents looked like."

Meibel brought the food out, and Fred started eating right away. 

“Are either of you eating?” Lars asked the general and his ward.

“I grab a snack every time I’m back in the kitchen,” Meibel admitted.

“Don’t tell Halima,” the general laughed, “and Mr. Nilsen, if you’d rather have a private meal, we can go to another table.”

“I think that’s up to Frederick,” he said, “but I’m not on duty, anyway.” “Oh, please do join us,” Fred told them between bites of food, “I figure if we learn anything, we’ll get some more stories, and I’d like that.”

Lars enjoyed the meal, especially since he hadn’t had a very substantial breakfast.  He was quite full, but Frederick asked for second helpings, which Meibel gladly went to the kitchen to fetch for him.  While she was in back, Halima returned, and Mattias waved her over to their table.

“This is Lars Nilsen,” he explained, “and he tells us that his parents are from Arendelle, and he’s trying to learn more about them.”

“Nilsen is a common enough name,” she said, “when did they live here?”

“My mother left before I was born, so about twenty years ago, I think it was during the winter.  My brother was about a year old, and I was born in April.  Her name is Margit Nilsen.”

“That sounds familiar,” Halima said, “and I think I remember a woman with a baby whose husband died around then…  and I didn’t see her again, but I figured with the little one she’d probably go live with family if she had some anywhere. I didn’t know she was pregnant, but that’s certainly easy enough to hide for a while if you want to, I suppose.”

“Why would you want to hide that, though?” Frederick asked.

“Never you mind that,” Halima told him, “not everyone is in your mother’s position.”

“I don’t think she was hiding anything.  She and my father had wanted more children, but I think she wanted a change after… all that…”  

“Have you had a good life in Corona, then?” Mattias asked him. 

“Oh, very nice,” Lars said, “we’ve been well taken care of.  My brother is in the navy, I was telling Frederick a bit about him last night.”

Meibel had returned with the second helping of lunch, and Frederick was too busy eating to respond.

“You’d think they never feed you,” Halima laughed.

[let-it-raines]

Betting on the Bullseye (29/30)

Emma Swan loses a drunken bet that means she has to ask her celebrity crush - if you can call him that - to be her date to her office’s annual fundraising gala for Boston’s Children Shelter. Killian Jones is that celebrity. She expects all kinds of humiliation and for her dignity to be completely lost all because of the ridiculousness of the situation. What she doesn’t expect is for him to say yes.

What she truly doesn’t expect is to actually like the man.

Rating: Mature

A/N: So here we are! It’s the last official chapter, and while I would absolutely love to get to write this story forever, that’s simply not possible. But don’t fret! There’s still an epilogue and then a bonus chapter based off of a prompt that someone gave me. I can’t believe this little one shot turned into this big story that may very well be my own personal favorite. Thanks for being awesome and reading, you guys💛

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27 | Part 28 | Part 29 | Part 30

Tag List: @ultraluckycatnd @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @wellhellotragic @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @artistic-writer @branlovesouat @dreadpirateemma @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog  @andiirivera  @hollyethecurious  @superchocovian @cs-forlife @qualitycoffeethings  @notoriouscs @mariakov81  @jonirobinson64 @bmbbcs4evr  @thejollyroger-writer @lifeinahole27 @ultimiflos @galaxyzxstark @idristardis

-/-

Killian: My family is all here and currently examining every square foot of the place.

Emma: I know you’re not complaining when this is all you’ve talked about all week.

Killian: I love them, but Anna is seriously asking me about the thread count on our sheets.

Emma: That’s important.

Killian: I’m going to leave you with them if you don’t start sympathizing with me.

Emma: Oh no! You’re going to leave me with two people who I talk to every day and your brother! However will I survive?

Killian: Kris and Aiden are also part of the package.

Emma: I like them too.

“Are you flirting with your boyfriend, Ems?”

“Holy shit,” she yelps, jumping in her chair while her heart takes off like a rocket. She’s got to start closing her office door or put a lock on it or something. Or Ruby needs to learn how to knock. Or stay in her office. This is becoming a perpetual issue. “Rubes, why do you insist on doing this to me?”

She shrugs, the picture of nonchalance, and then steps further inside, grabs some skittles out of the bowl on her desk, and then plops down in her extra chair.

“Because your face is so pretty when you’re scared.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“I’m your idiot, though.” She pops a handful of candy in her mouth, the red and green disappearing while she quickly chews. “Are you coming down to the warehouse to help put the care packages together this afternoon?”

“I’m coming down at four.” She hits send on her email and leans forward to take a few skittles of her own. Keeping candy in her office for the holidays was a terrible idea, but Mary Margaret and Anna both sent her bags of the stuff because they thought it might be nice. “This is always my craziest time of year with all of the donations and press, but, you know, I’ve been working through lunch so that I can leave at a normal time.”

“It’d probably help if you didn’t spend half of your time flirting with your boyfriend and the other half talking to me.”

“Well, you’re the one who comes to my office.”

Ruby waggles her brows. “For the candy. Is the Jones clan in town?”

“And apparently inspecting the thread count in our sheets.”

“What?”

“They’re particular,” she laughs, checking the email that just came in. She really needs the graphics department to send her the designs she’s supposed to put on Instagram. “I think Killian is letting them explore the apartment and setting them up, and then he’s going to show them around a bit.”

“That’s like the blind leading the blind.”

“I mean, it’s not us giving a tour of Boston, but it’ll work. I can’t wait for them to come back in the summer so it’ll be nicer weather.”

“You haven’t even seen them yet, and you’re already ready for them to come back?”

“Ask me again after Christmas. Speaking of that,” she hums, as she types another email when really she needs to go talk to Liz to get things going, “is Dorothy coming over on Christmas Eve?”

“Nah,” Ruby sighs, sticking her feet up on the corner of Emma’s desk, “she’s going home to Kansas for a few days.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine. I can’t wait to meet everyone, even if Killian’s infamous friends won’t be there.”

“Just his shoddy family.”

“I’m going to tell them you said that.”

“They love me. I think it’ll be fine.”

Her phone vibrates on her desk, and she looks down to check it.

Elsa: Does Killian actually know where he’s going? Or are we going to get lost and freeze to death?

Emma: I’d bring a warm coat and some food.

She does eventually have to get back to work, as does Ruby, and even if she spends most of her afternoon bugging the graphic designs department even while she’s putting blankets and toothbrushes in care packages, it’s a good day at work. She seriously needs a nap, but she knows that she’s not going to get one. The rest of her week is jampacked with work and with family stuff. They’ve got five extra people staying at their apartment until next Thursday, and about a million things to do with them and with her friends. It’s odd to her that these two sides of her life that are so important to her have never met, but she’s glad that it’s changing now.

Will and Robin get the short end of the stick though. They’ll have to meet everyone later, but she and Killian weren’t going to ask them to come to Boston when they have their families to spend time with. That would be ridiculous.

(She really wants to see Ruby and Will meet. It’d be fantastic.)

On her way home from work she stops to get a frankly excessive amount burgers and fries for everyone to eat for dinner. It’s definitely not the healthiest thing in the world and she and Killian did stock up on groceries yesterday, but sometimes she really wants a dang cheeseburger.

And onion rings.

She’s going to have to hide the onion rings from Killian.

That’s not going to work.

She’ll just get extra.

She can hear everybody before she unlocks the front door, twisting the key and then the knob, the conversation inside dying a little bit as she steps through the door to see everyone sitting in the living room with a show that must be for Aiden on the TV. She recognizes the little characters, but she can’t quite place whatever animated dog is running around.

“Hi,” she says, placing everything down on the counter that’s already full of baked goods that Anna must have found time to make sometime today. “I, uh, brought burgers for dinner, so I hope that Killian didn’t force feed you guys too much today.”

“He force fed us just the right amount,” Elsa sighs, getting up from the couch and scurrying over to her and wrapping her arms around her shoulders before Emma can even take her purse off of her. “Hi, hon. I’m so happy to see you.”

“Me too,” she echoes, pulling back and smiling. “It’s weird that you guys are here, but I like it.”

“Not as much as I like it,” Anna adds on, practically smothering her in a hug. “It’s amazing, even if it’s cold. I was not prepared for that, and Killian practically froze us to death. I cannot wait to come back in the summer. I bet we could go sailing. Though Killian would have to bring his boat here. Or buy another one. Or we could go to a baseball game, but I’m not wearing a Red Sox hat. Oh but I can visit you so much more now that I’m going to be in New York.”

“That all sounds like a wonderful plan,” she laughs, not even sure if Anna took a breath between all of her words. “Hi, Liam and Kris. Why don’t you guys come get something to eat before it gets cold? I got regular burgers and cheeseburgers and figured you guys could add your own toppings.”

Liam and Kris both nod their heads, moving from the living room to kiss her cheek and give her their own greetings all while paper bags are being rustled and food being spread out, the greasy smell taking over the cinnamon plug in that they have. She needs to change clothes and brush her hair out before she eats, but she should probably say hi to Killian if the expectant eyebrow he’s sporting is any indication.

“I could have cooked dinner,” he says first, opening his arms a bit so that she can gently loswer herself down onto his lap, adjusting herself before kissing his cheek in greeting. “You didn’t have to buy all of the burgers in Boston.”

“I really wanted a burger. I worked through lunch.”

“The graphic design people giving you trouble again?”

“Yep. I’m going to have to learn how to do photoshop myself or something.” She unwraps her arms from his neck and curls a stray section of his chest hair around her finger, wondering how the hell it escaped from the top of his sweater. “So you survived your hosting duties?”

“I did.”

“Do you guys have horse radish?”

“No because that’s disgusting,” she laughs, looking up to see the actual pout on Kris’s face.

“Top shelf,” Killian adds in. “I keep it where Emma can’t reach to throw it away.”

“Hey,” she scoffs, yanking at his hair, “rude.”

“I know you have candy hidden in the drawer with your bras, so you can’t even say anything.”

“Um, guys,” she starts, looking around the room, “where’s Aiden?”

“Sleeping,” Liam answers for her, coming to sit on the couch with his plate of food. If he gets grease on the furniture, Killian will lose his mind. “He was awake for the entire flight, and to him, it’s naptime now.”

“Oh, I didn’t think about the time change for him. Or for you guys. Are you sure you’re hungry?”

“Liam is always hungry,” Elsa tells her placing her plate on the coffee table while she feels Killian adjust his leg underneath her. “It’s really unfair how good men have it with their metabolism sometimes.”

“Darling, I’m nearly forty. I don’t have the metabolism I used to have.”

“That’s true for all of us,” Kris says as he and Anna both come back into the area. “And obviously Emma has determined to fatten us all up for the winter.”

She snickers under her breath. “You guys can all come running with me in the morning. The cheeseburgers are totally worth the pain.”

“Says the twenty-nine year old.”

“I can’t help that you’re all old.”

“Hey,” Anna scoffs, waving a fry in the air. “If Killian wouldn’t kill us, I’d definitely throw these fries at you.”

“That’d be a sad waste of fries.”

“It’d be worth it.”

“Debatable.”

“If you’re going to waste fries it has to be the ones from the end of the potato,” Elsa adds in.

“Those are the best ones,” Liam protests, popping a fry into his mouth.” “They taste too much like a potato.”

“Fries are potatoes,” Liam and Killian both protest at the same time.

“Not all potatoes are made equally,” she points out, pushing off of Killian’s lap. She’s hungry, but she wants out of this bra and out of these pants. “Just like all fries are not made equally.”

“Amen to that.”

“I’m going to go change clothes,” she tells everyone. “I’ll be right back. You guys can keep watching your kids’ show even though Aiden is asleep.” “Sounds like a plan, Stan,” Killian mumbles under his breath, and when she turns back to look at him, he shrugs his right shoulder and winks.

She doesn’t mean to take her time while changing clothes and washing her face, scrubbing the makeup off one side at a time, but it’s kind of soothing to be able to do that. As much as she loves every person in that room, she’s not exactly used to having families over for a long time. That’s never been a situation she’s had to be in before, and it’s going to take a little bit of adjusting. It’s a good thing, but she’s not made to have to talk consistently. She and Killian talk a hell of a lot, but a lot of nights they have are spent stretched out on the couch in near silence watching TV.

Not a show for a twenty-month old but TV.

She takes the time to brush her hair out before twisting it into a loose braid that falls over her shoulder, and then strips out of her clothes so she can pull on her leggings and a sweater. She’s just about to go outside to get her dinner and talk with everyone when she stops and opens Killian’s bedside drawer, pulling the small box out and opening it to look at the ring. It’s the oddest thing, knowing it’s there and not being able to wear it. Of course, she could wear it. They could tell their families and have it all out there, this secrecy thing stopping, but she’s still waiting on the boat ornament. It’s the dumbest thing. She doesn’t have to tell everyone that way, but she wants to because of all of those dumb texts Ruby sends her.

She thinks that it’s fitting for Ruby to be the first to know when Ruby has been here for this since the very beginning.

A bit of laughter passes through her lips at that. It hasn’t been a long time. She and Killian have only known each other for a year, but it’s right. There have been plenty of ups and downs and absolutely insane moments, both because of their personal demons, the distance, and Killian’s job. He doesn’t get stopped a lot here, but it does happen. It’s always so strange to her, even if that’s how she knew him first, but it’s even stranger that one or two times some girls have stopped her. That’s not something she’ll ever get used to, but Killian is worth it.

Her trust in him is absolutely insane, especially because of how she’s been treated in the past, but when you love someone, you know.

The whole white picket fence (or apartment with a view) future used to always freak her out, but it’s what she wants now. She’s got her job, her friends, Killian.

She’s done pretty well for a kid who had nothing.

So she’ll wait on the dumb boat ornament for Ruby and wait on getting to wear the ring, the physical representation of the future she’s so damn happy to get to be a part of.

And it’s not like the next few days don’t go by quickly. They actually go by pretty fast, even if she spends her weekend falling on her ass when everyone insists that they go ice skating. Somehow, despite coming from a notoriously cold country, Anna and Elsa have never gone, and when they pass by a public rink while wandering through downtown, they insist that they have to. Somehow she didn’t think about the fact that Liam and Elsa live somewhere where it doesn’t really snow, and that being here would be like a whole new world. At least Anna and Kris have been living in Seattle…of course, they’ll soon be based in New York and will have the ice rinks there.

Somehow despite the fact that they’ve never been, Anna and Elsa are fantastic at it, quickly able to get rid of the walker and move around the crowded rink while she has to hold onto Killian’s elbow so that she doesn’t keep busting her ass.

Seriously. It’s going to be black and blue.

She definitely would have offered to watch Aiden to get out of it. Liam beat her to the punch.

But it’s fun once she gets over the pain in her ass, and she can feel her cheeks actually hurting from laughing so much. It doesn’t help at all when Elsa and Anna figure out some kind of routine that gets them kicked out of the rink. It really doesn’t help when Killian gets recognized and he starts mumbling under his breath that Robin is going to kill him for making him have work to deal with when he’s supposed to be on holiday. She’s not sure if she feels worse for Killian or Robin.

Definitely Robin.

Killian can deal with a few articles about him getting kicked out of a public ice rink.

She may or may not see if she can have anything about it printed and framed to keep forever.

She’s a good girlfriend.

Fiancée.

Partner.

Lover.

Whatever. It doesn’t matter.

Guiding them around Boston kind of reminds her of when Killian first came to visit back in May. She gets to be a bit of a tourist again, except this time they’re all bundled up in thick jackets and hats as they trudge through a bit of snow instead of sweating from the sun shining down on them. There are some perks to the city in the winter anyways, especially when there’s a light dusting of snow. She doesn’t love January when it’s too cold to even go outside or too difficult to drive, but December is a good time. Yeah, there are thousands of more tourists, but so many trees downtown are wrapped in white lights that give the city this glow the makes it especially pleasant to be here. Her foster homes didn’t always decorate for the holidays, but the city made up for it enough.

Killian’s arm wraps around her shoulder, tugging her into his side, as they walk through Columbus Park Sunday evening, making their way through the crowd to look at the blue lights that have been wrapped in the archway. They’re meeting her friends at the Central Wharf for dinner so that everyone can meet each other, but Liam had insisted that they walk through the park on the way there since walking along the seaside was proving to be a bit too chilly.

“I love you,” Killian murmurs just below her ear, his scruff pricking her exposed skin.

“I love you too,” she echoes as she wraps an arm around his waist and sticks it in the back pocket of his jeans. “I think showing your family around this weekend is going to give me frostbite.”

“Aye, it’ll be so sad when you don’t have your toes anymore.”

“However will I walk?”

“Special shoes, obviously.”

“I don’t think that’s how that works.”

“I could carry you.” “That seems excessive.”

“You’re right. I’ll leave you alone to die in the snow.”

She taps his ass. “That’s all I ask.”

Killian barks out a laugh, his head thrown back, but then he’s leaning forward and quickly brushing his lips over hers.

“Stop making out and show me where this restaurant is,” Liam bellows, and when she opens her eyes, she can see several different strangers staring at all of them.

“Babe, it’s right there,” Elsa laughs, pointing to the glowing sign a few feet ahead of them.

“That was not there a second ago.”

“I promise that it was.”

“Your brother is kind of crazy,” she laughs, speeding her steps up because she can see David standing on the inside of the restaurant.

“I think the cold weather is getting to him.”

“Probably.”

Kris and Anna walk in first, the door held open for everyone but a constant stream of people, and before she can even bother to make introductions, Anna and Mary Margaret are wrapped up in a hug. They’ve seen each other on Instagram, but Emma was not expecting that.

She should have been expecting that.

And she should have been expecting the mess of hugs and shaking hands as everyone greets each other, blocking the entrance to the restaurant a bit with the crowd. She hears Killian chuckle when Liam and David size each other up, but honestly, it’s even funnier when Ruby stares Liam down and then hugs him so tightly while Liam is almost shocked still. She’s not sure what Ruby said, and it’s probably best not to know.

They’re all seated at their table, chairs replaced with booster seats, and soon their conversation mixes in with everyone else, constant chatter floating along with the steady flow of Christmas music playing over the speakers.

“So how do you guys like the city?” David asks after they’ve ordered drinks.

“It’s bloody freezing,” Liam grumbles, his body obviously still chilled. “This coat is not nearly thick enough.”

“I told you to buy a warmer one.”

“Little brother, you didn’t say this.”

“Oh shit,” Ruby laughs, and her eyes glance to the kids before she continues, “you’re right, Ems. Killian’s face does get all red and scrunched up when Liam calls him little brother.”

“Hey, way to call me out like that.”

“My face does not get scrunched up.”

She twists her head to look at Killian and the way his nose is very literally scrunched up, and she can do nothing but smile at that end the embarrassed red tip of his ears.

“It does,” Elsa agrees. “But that’s fine because Liam doesn’t realize how ridiculous it is to call a grown man little brother.”

“It is not ridiculous.”

“As someone who is a younger brother,” David starts, “I totally agree. No one talks that way.”

“That is not true.”

“It’s totally true.”

“You don’t see me calling Anna little sister,” Elsa points out, very lovingly caressing Liam’s shoulder while her free hand keeps Aiden from throwing his crayons on the ground.

She feels Killian’s scruff against her ear before she even sees him move. “They’re going to cause Liam to implode right in the middle of this restaurant.”

She snickers at that and pats Killian’s thigh before resting her hand over his knee. “That would be a very messy clean up.”

“Secrets don’t make friends, lovebirds,” Ruby teases, kicking her foot underneath the table.

“You’re already my friend, so I’m not trying to impress you,” Killian huffs.

“I’m your friend,” Leo says, nearly quieting the entire table when they were all still debating over the weirdness of Liam and Killian’s relationship.

“You are most definitely my friend,” Killian agrees, smiling over at Leo. “I think you, your brother, and Aiden are my very best friends at this table.”

“And Emmy.”

“Oh, most definitely Emmy,” he laughs, reaching down and twining his fingers together with hers, thumb gently moving over her hand in a way that sends a shiver down her spine.

“Emmy’s my friend too, but we can share.”

“That’s so good of you to say, Leo,” Mary Margaret sighs, reaching over and pushing his hair off of his head.

“So we’ll talk about how it’s weird for me to call Killian little brother but we’re not going to talk about how I didn’t make it on his best friends list just now?”

“Sucks to be you,” Anna and Ruby both say at the same time.

Emma looks at Killian then, looks at the lines around his eyes and the smile on his face as he talks back to Liam, and whatever kind of nerves she had about their families not liking each other completely disappear just then. They’re all going to get along just fine.

And they do get along just fine. Probably much better than fine. The conversation never stops, even when they get their food, and despite the fact that they have three small children there with them, they stay late into the night casually talking about whatever they want. It all feels so natural, even with the newness of all of these relationships, and she’s already thinking about just when they can do something like this again this summer.

Soon enough, though, the night ends, and they all go their separate ways promising to see each other on Christmas Eve. When they get back to the apartment, most everyone settles down into the living room for a little while before excusing themselves to go to bed, leaving just she and Killian.

“Come here, love,” Killian mumbles, his accent deep and thick in his tiredness. She likes when it’s like this. It reminds her of the way he sounds when he’s describing every filthy thought he has about her, and it’s most likely the reason why instead of folding into his side like he wants, she gets up and straddles his lap, pressing herself down on top of him while his hands immediately go to her hips, gently holding onto her as his thumbs reach up to touch her skin.

He doesn’t say anything, though. She figured he wanted to talk to her now that they have a bit of privacy with everyone else gone to bed. But he stays silent, his thumbs moving in lazy circles as he buries his nose into her neck, breath coming out warmly against her collarbone while his teeth gently bite down, heat slowly beginning to simmer under every inch of her skin.

“You’re going to leave a mark if you stay there for too long.”

“You’ve discovered my evil plan,” he mumbles, each of the words slurred.

She laughs, throwing her head back the slightest bit while her hands move from his shoulders up into the thick strands of his hair, fingers cardings through the softness while Killian continues to lavish her skin with his tongue. She bemoans it a bit, doesn’t want him to leave some kind of mark of possession or passion, but then right when she can feel heart curl between her thighs, he pulls back, the heavy weight of him no longer in her neck. Instead he stares at her, eyes a deep blue while they trace over face, finally landing at her lips.

And then he’s on her, lips pressing into hers and hands pulling her impossibly closer so that their bodies are flush against each other despite the layers of clothes in between them. She can still taste a bit of the rum he had with dinner, especially when his tongue slowly traces her bottom lip, prodding him for the entrance he must know she’s going to grant him. When their tongues do collide, it’s like sparks are moving across her skin, all of her hair standing on edge while the sparks trickle down all the way to her toes.

It’s that kind of a kiss. The toe curling ones are the best ones.

They get better when her hips shift the slightest bit against Killian and her hands tighten in his hair. He groans, something deep from the back of his throat, and she’s practically a puddle. It’s a weird phrase, but she is. She’s a puddle and a mess of damn good feelings that have her feeling like she’s practically on fire even if she’s only left on her camisole and her jeans, her sweater from dinner resting in the kitchen.

She rolls her hips again, and Killian grunts before he’s shifting his hands so that his arms are completely wrapped around her back. For a moment she wonders why, but then she’s being lifted and unceremoniously plopped down on her back, the couch cushions supporting her while a giggle passes through her lips. Killian shifts above her, his elbows propping him up on either side of her shoulder. His mouth is hovering over hers, less than an inch away, and she thinks that he’s going to kiss her again, but then his mouth is on her jaw, then her neck, her collarbone. Finally he makes his way down her sternum, tongue licking in the valley of her breasts, and she gasps as her hips arch up into him.

Even though she can’t see it, she can feel the wicked smile he’s sporting pressed into her skin.

“I’m rather learning to enjoy winter in Boston,” he breathes, breath hot as it travels over her. His mouth moves a bit to the side, and she watches him nudge her top with his nose so that she can see the top of her breasts. “But I do find that it means I get to see a little less of these.”

“Well, I could die of that frostbite we were talking about earlier if you really wanted to see my boobs that much.”

He glances up at her, one eyebrow raised, and she smirks herself as she reaches down to brush his hair off of his forehead. “I do love them, so I think it may be worth it.”

“You only love me for my body.”

“I’m going to tell you just how wrong you are about that after I get done showing you how much I love every damn inch of this body.”

She laughs, her head pressing back into the cushions, but then Killian has somehow worked his way past her bra and is biting down on her nipple. The laugh quickly turns into a gasp, and even her blood heats at the sound of Killian’s groan.

As good as he is with his words, sometimes when he wants her too damn much, it renders him speechless.

That’s always a bit of a proud moment for her.

He releases her with a pop, and instead of moving to her other breast, he moves back up her body, spending a very particular amount of time on her ear, before he’s back at her lips. It’s a slow kiss, lazy even, but these are the ones she prefers. Quick and fast and dirty are wonderful, and she’ll never complain about those. But she likes the lazy exploration of each other that only really comes when you already know all of the ins and outs.

“Bedroom.” She yanks at his hair, and presses her hips up again, and he nips at her bottom lip.

“In a moment.”

She’s practically jelly at this point, so she agrees, not thinking anything of it until there’s the a quiet creak of wood and the room is suddenly flooded in lights besides the ones of the city.

“Bloody fucking hell,” Killian groans, harshly shifting up on her, and she doesn’t realize why until she twists her head to the side and sees Liam standing at the end of the hallway, feet frozen and mouth wide open.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh.

Her fiancé’s brother, who is still staying with them for another few days, just walked in on them making out of the couch with her breasts decidedly exposed to the world. That would explain Killian’s sudden haste to cover her even more so with his body.

“Don’t just stand there, Liam,” Killian growls, his words lilting up into a bit of a laugh at the tail end of his sentence.

“Sorry, sorry,” Liam apologizes, holding his hands up and shuffling his feet. “I didn’t – you’re not – Elsa needed a glass for some water.”

“It’s fine,” she lies, every inch of her skin cooling down while she rubs her hands up and down Killian’s shoulder blades. She can feel the tenseness in them, the frustration practically vibrating off of him. “Help yourself to whatever is in the fridge. Killian and I were just about to go to bed.”

“Really? Because it kind of looked like you were about to fuck on the couch.”

“Get your fucking water, and get your arse out of here.”

“KJ,” she whispers, twisting her head to look back at him and caressing his face with her palm. He leans into it, his eyes fluttering closed so that his lashes land against his cheek, “it’s okay. He’ll be gone in a second, and then we can go to our room.”

“I’m not sure that I’m really in the mood anymore.”

She chuckles a bit under her breath before brushing her lips over his stubble. “That’s okay too, but I think you might change your mind when you can no longer see your brother.”

“He’s bloody fantastic at killing a mood.”

“That’s probably what Elsa says too.”

Killian has to bury his face in her neck to hide his laugh, but she can feel it though every inch of her body while she continues to move her hands up and down, his flannel moving with each touch. She should be mortified right now, but considering Liam saw her morning after look the first time she slept with Killian and then proceeded to accuse her of being some kind of stalker, this is nothing.

Maybe the embarrassment will hit when she doesn’t still want Killian so badly.

“Goodnight,” Liam hums. “Use protection.”

“Look at that. He spent two hours with Ruby, and they’re already just alike.”

Killian huffs and pushes off of her. “I think it’s time for you to move your arse into the bedroom so we can finish this.”

“See, I told you it’d be fine once Liam wasn’t in the room.”

“He’s never getting invited back here.”

“Don’t be dramatic.”

“What am I if not dramatic, my love?”

She finds that Killian most definitely doesn’t mind that his brother walked in on them when her lips are wrapped around his length in the privacy of their room.

-/-

Over the next two days, Liam never mentions the compromising situation he found them in, but she can tell that he feels more awkward about it than either of them do, especially when he avoids looking her in the eye for a few hours. But it helps that she’s constantly surrounded by other people. They go out to lunch on Monday, stopping to get seafood even though Aiden has an absolute fit in the restaurant, but the rest of their day is spent in the apartment, the curtains mostly closed as they play all of the Home Alone movies, Aiden giggling and babbling even though he can’t possibly understand what’s happening. It’s cute, though, watching him clap his chubby hands together and rock back and forth while he sits between Kris’s legs.

Anna and Elsa decide that they have to make Christmas cookies, and not the ones she can buy at the market that come precut, so for the entire afternoon the apartment smells like a mixture of cinnamon and sugar, the oven constantly being opened and closed as new batches in different shapes are made. Anna is freakishly good at baking. Like, far better than Killian, and she and Elsa are able to make intricate shapes and designs all the while she has this green glob of a Christmas tree. Killian tells her that he’s sure it’ll taste good, but that’s most likely because she didn’t actually bake them.

Christmas has basically exploded in their apartment, but she doesn’t mind at all. She enjoys it and enjoys all of the happiness of it. She’s got three days off of work, and she’s going to savor in it.

“This is delicious, love,” Killian mumbles as he takes a bite of a snowman that she did, the crumbs of it getting stuck in his beard.

“Are you going to make a point to only eat my ugly cookies?”

He winks. “Exactly.”

But, of course, since she wants to savor this time, it flies by quickly, Christmas Eve arriving in the blink of an eye. She’s excited for today, though. They’re having her friends over for lunch and presents, and after today, she doesn’t have to hide the fact that she’s got a very pretty ring hidden away and a man who wants to marry her.

Which is still just insane.

A good kind, though.

“G’morning,” Killian mumbles as he shifts in bed, sleepily grabbing her hand and pressing a kiss to each knuckle, lingering a little longer on her fourth finger before moving down to her wrist. He’s so romantic in all of these small ways, and it honestly kind of makes her heart giddy. It’s weird.

“Morning.”

“It’s cold in here.” “Says the human heater.”

“That sound rather odd when you say it like that, Swan. It’s like I’m burning humans.”

“Ew, stop,” she groans, falling back onto the mattress and putting space between them, pulling the comforter up over her shoulders and burrowing herself in. “You know what I meant. You didn’t have to get all creepy about it.”

“I saw my shot, and I took it.”

She rolls her eyes at him, and she sees his lips shift up into a smile while half of his face is pressed into the pillow, squishing his cheek and causing his eyes to crinkle. His hair is all over the place, the strands going in several directions, and she’s tempted to bury her hands in it to fix it. But she also kind of likes it when he’s disheveled.

“So are you ready for our families to start hounding us on wedding dates and details and wondering what kind of dress I’m going to wear?”

He chuckles, something deep and husky, and she knows that he’s going to lean forward to kiss her nose before he does it. And she knows that his hand is going to find a spot on her waist too, nails tracing nonsense patterns.

“I’m thinking after I film Life After and in a courthouse. We’ll both wear jeans and those ugly Christmas sweaters.” “I’m not wearing a Christmas sweater when I marry you.”

“Why not? It’d be very fitting.”

“This is true, but I do kind of want a nice dress. Not necessarily a gown. I might feel ridiculous in one of those. I don’t know. I kind of like this courthouse idea, though. Or maybe on the beach at your house in LA. Is that too cheesy?”

“All weddings are kind of cheesy.” “True. It’s not like we’re getting married in our swimsuits or anything.” “It’d make for easier access.”

“Shut up,” she laughs, reaching over to hit his shoulder, which only makes his face crinkle up more as he smiles. “I’m going to miss you when you’re living in Toronto this spring.”

It’s the first time she’s said those words. She hasn’t wanted to, not wanting to make him feel guilty about having to leave for filming when he should never have to feel guilty. But it felt right to tell him that now, especially as they make all of these hypothetical plans for their very real future.

“And I you, love,” he promises, and her heart pangs for a moment. “But I’ll fly home when I can. You’ll come to visit. We’ll get back to facetiming like we used to. That’s not something we have to worry about now, though. We’ve got a holiday to celebrate.”

And they do. She and Killian both hurry and get ready, going through their morning routines while they can hear all of the chatter and life going on outside, all of Killian’s family very obviously already awake. She thought the time difference would have them sleeping in, but she guesses that Elsa and Liam have a baby who most likely does not know what sleeping in is. So before she can even bother to have her coffee, she’s bombarded with “good mornings” and conversation from four different people, all of the talking about how excited they are for today and if there’s anything they can do to help before her friends come over. She knows that even if she said no, they’d help anyways.

They’re good people, and she loves them. She’s going to be a bit sad when they go home. But that’s not something that she thinks about as Kris and Killian start cooking the chicken while Liam and Elsa set up the table. Anna helps her wrap a few last minute presents, and by the time the Nolans and Ruby show up at one, absolutely everything is set up for them to celebrate Christmas. It’s most definitely the biggest celebration she’s ever been a part of, even if it’s not quite Christmas yet. Her life is so damn full that she’s getting a little emotional over having Mary Margaret be chatting with Liam about gardening.

It doesn’t get any better when they finish eating, her stomach hurting from laughter, and they all move to the living room, most of the presents under the tree dispersed to everyone.

Most everyone in this room is an adult with the exception of Leo, Aiden, and Brody, so she knows that tearing through gifts isn’t something that’s really going to happen. They’re going to go slowly, take their time, possibly even try to salvage the wrapping paper (Who does that? You would have to be entirely sure that you’re going to be wrapping something the exact same size or something smaller for it to even work, but whatever. Recycling is good.) and keep it for a later day, maybe even tomorrow. She’d fully expect Ruby to be doing some last minute gift wrapping for her grandmother. Or possibly even Dorothy even though she’s in Kansas. Hell, she wouldn’t be surprised if Ruby took the paper her gifts are in and wrapped a present that she’s going to get when she finally gets to her small pile of goods from her friends since they’ll all be off spending time with their other loved ones tomorrow.

She was a kid who used to spend Christmas wondering why Santa didn’t come to visit her and who had holidays pretty tainted for her. Now she has more family than she knows what to do with.

She’s good with that.

She’s great with that.

She’s also great with waiting for Ruby to get to the small box that’s sitting next to her on the floor. Killian had quirked his brow when she told him she knew just the way for them to tell all of their friends that they’re engaged. If anyone’d asked her five years ago if she’d ever be this excited to make a commitment to another person and then want to make a bit of a show about telling other people she was doing that, she’d have laughed in their face. That’s not her. And maybe it’s still not. She likes for things to be private, for her personal life to be personal, especially with learning to deal with Killian’s job and the complications that come with that, but some things she does like to share.

Why would she not?

There’s a lump in her throat that she has to swallow, a happy sob threatening to escape her and ruin all of her plans. She’s decidedly sentimental lately. She’s been sentimental for awhile now. It’s different, but being different, changing isn’t always a bad thing. Some changes are bad, are painful. They pull you back instead of propelling you forward. Others, well, others are good.

Changing in a good way is called growing.

Growing is a damn good thing.

Growing means that she doesn’t always have to have a tough exterior, that she doesn’t always have to be act like she’s okay. Growing means allowing herself to be vulnerable even when it hurts. Especially when it hurts.

Growing means knowing that instead of stopping at an obstacle, that she can climb over it.

Growing means that she can allow another set of hands to help her climb.

So she’s decidedly sentimental, and definitely a little bit cheesy, but she’s happy. And she’s not going to bemoan something that makes her happy.

“You’ve got a bit of a starry-eyed look there, love,” Killian whispers in her ear, nipping at the lobe and making her squirm a bit. Cheeky bastard. “Is there something on your mind?”

“Nah,” she sighs, walking her fingers up from his knee to his thigh, comfortably placing her hand there while she feels Killian tapping against her shoulder, a habit he’s taken up lately. She doesn’t think he even knows that he’s doing it. “I’m just…happy. It still surprises me sometimes.”

“Aye, me too.”

She twists her head and smiles at him, looking up into the blue of his eyes before she presses up and kisses the corner of his lips, waiting for him to meet her halfway.

He does.

He always does.

(Except when it comes to leaving shoes lying around or dishes unwashed, but that’s not the end of the world even when it feels like it.)

“Are you sure this little plan of yours is going to work?”

She nods her head, quickly kissing him again before pulling back and looking over to Ruby who is holding up a pair of earrings that Mary Margaret and David must have bought her.

“Yeah, I’m sure. Just wait. She’s going to figure it out.”

She squeezes his thigh for reassurance before she rests her head on his shoulder. She can feel Elsa’s eyes looking at her, the icy blue stare a familiar one even if it’s not from Elsa herself, but she doesn’t say anything. Elsa likely already knows. Not because of anything she’s done but because she knows that Killian told Liam he was planning to propose. And if she knows anything about Elsa, it’s that they’re kindred spirits in knowing when a Jones brother is holding something back.

Except she kind of failed at for the past few months.

She can’t always be batting a thousand.

Or homeruns.

Grand slams maybe.

What the hell? They all work. She knows her baseball terminology.

And there’s absolutely no way that she’s letting someone else break the news when she thinks that her idea for announcing it is absolutely brilliant.

She’s not an assistant public relations manager for nothing. She knows how to get people talking.

Finally, after what feels like ages, Ruby starts opening the small package they’ve given her. She feels Killian’s breath catch, the air stopping for the slightest moment, and she swears that her heart ticks up a few too many beats than should be humanly possible.

“Ems,” Ruby laughs, twisting to turn to look at her with a vibrant smile on her face, her lips practically reaching her eyes, “why in the world did you give me a photograph of you and Killian in these ugly sweaters? Did anyone else get these?”

“I didn’t.”

“No.”

“Nope.”

“I don’t know. Maybe we haven’t gotten to them yet.”

“Because,” Killian starts for her, his fingers pressing into her bicep with a little bit more force. She can feel the vibration with every word she speaks. Or maybe that’s an earthquake. It’s definitely not an earthquake. That’s how it feels right now though. If she were to look under the sleeves of her sweater, she knows her arms would be covered in gooseflesh. “Those are the awful sweaters Emma and I wore in those videos from last year, and one of your gifts is a way to thank you for helping us meet.”

“Even though I still think that it’s fundamentally unfair for you to have made me adhere to a bet made while drunk. That would have gotten any contract dismissed in court.”

“Are you really complaining right now? And using legalities? I feel like you should be eternally grateful for me. After all, I’m the reason you get to have se – the reason you get to do the horizontal tango so often. Plus, you know, have constant companion who loves you or whatever.”

“Open the damn present, Ruby.”

“Language,” Mary Margaret and Anna yell at the same time.

Ruby waves them all away before she’s digging into the box and pulling out a small ornament in the shape of a boat.

“What in the world is this? Why are you giving me a boat ornament? I don’t own a boat. I’m a freaking therapist. I can’t afford that. And why does it say ‘The Love Boat’ on it? That doesn’t even make any sense and – oh my God.”

She doesn’t even have time to prepare herself before Ruby is up off the ground, squealing so loudly that her eardrums might burst, and then tackling her into the couch, taking Killian down with her. Everyone is staring at them. She can’t see, but she knows, can hear the confusion, can hear Leo wanting to know what Aunt Ruby is doing to Aunt Emma. But right now she’s so goddamn happy that it’s out there, that someone knows, and that her best friend is excited.

“Are you for real?” Ruby asks when she pulls back, looking into her eyes before she glances over to Killian, cupping his cheeks and squishing them together. “Is she for real? You guys are engaged?”

“She’s for real.”

“Engaged?” Mary Margaret shrieks, the pitch rivaling Ruby’s.

Or maybe that was Anna’s shriek mixing in. Elsa’s too. Maybe it was Aiden or Leo joining in.

It definitely wasn’t David, Liam, or Kris, but they all let out some kind of noise too, the room suddenly roaring with conversation so loud that she can barely think. But it’s the good kind of roar and the good kind of deafness.

It might not be the good kind of having some sort of internal organ squished by Ruby, but she thinks whatever it is will be okay.

It takes a long time for everyone to calm down, for the squealing and smothering to stop so that she can explain to everyone that Ruby sent her a text the night after she and Killian met saying she wanted a boat named “The Love Boat” if she and Killian ever got married. Technically they’re not married yet, but it works. Everyone laughs at the story, especially when both Mary Margaret and Anna are reduced to blubbering messes, their emotions becoming a little too much. All of it is absolutely insane, but it only gets worse when she finally gets to put the ring back on her finger, right where it belongs.

She’s okay with this kind of hysteria, though. It’s part of that whole growth thing. And absolutely nothing is going to make this day any less wonderful or special or so goddamn festive that she can’t stomach it.

She’d bet on it.

Her bets seem to have pretty good end results.

[dramaplustautology]

Where Belief Goes to Die - Chapter 2

Summary: A Thorn spy decided to torch the research they did on the Espina Rosa’s newest inmate, setting Theano’s plans back significantly. Under the guise of a researcher backed by Akanthus, he goes to meet the Champion of Ravenloss.

Chapter 2/???

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Chapter Index Link

The great Magesters of Nieboheim; Gods in a Greenhouse City.

In his teenage years, Theano would leer at those sheltered fools as they passed by. Without their robes, masks, or tower, those feeble mages would wilt under the weight of their true incompetence.

The only thing separating him from the so-called mouths of the Shapeless was the poisonous magic that ran through their veins. Why should Theano and his family have to wallow in the First Halo over circumstances left to chance?

“Do not lose your footing aiming so high. There are places Empties shouldn’t reach for,” A Magester had caught him glaring once, noticing some sort of spark in the young man lurking outside of a nondescript home. “You wear your envy so plainly on your sleeve, and with enough time, it will fester into wrath.”

They spoke, merely gazing ahead. Theano was apparently a child throwing a silent tantrum, not warranting enough importance to look down on.

“Such ills can only be cleansed in the belly of the Shapeless.” The Magester warned, hearing the sound of the Empty’s teeth grinding too late to see him lunging for them.

“Theano!” A girl with gold braids clasped his wrist, stopping him just in time. “Did you come all this way to visit me? Even after uhm…” She floundered, trying to come up with small talk. Quickly, she addressed the Magester. “Lovely of you to come by, we bought a brand new set of tools. The flowers you ordered should—”

But the Magester was already on his way. Poor Persephone had such problems finding chances to finish her sentences. She was always disappointed about it, never angry. Theano made up for the both of them.

“New tools? Are they still too heavy for you?” Theano asked dryly, setting aside his indignation for more immediate goals.

He had sounded annoyed, shedding not a hint of concern, but Persephone smiled. She held his hand and her ears glowed pink just from being around him.

“They’re better, not lighter,” Persephone admitted somewhat sheepishly. “I used to be able to carry them to the gardens outside by myself, I swear! I don’t know why I can’t anymore.” Her tone drooped to a sigh and Theano began getting impatient.

“What are you waiting for? Ask me to carry them then.”

The blunt proposal took Persephone aback at first, and Theano thought he had ruined yet another attempt, but the girl started to giggle.

“You’re really kind.” She said, sounding less winded by awkwardness. Why had Theano been worried? Persephone was easy, practically charming herself. “If you aren’t busy today, would you stay with me in the gardens. I like taking care of the flowers but they don’t make for good conversation.”

“If you insist.” Theano pretended to relent.

“Oh, if you’re actually busy or if you don’t want to, I won’t push!”

“I’m going!” He blurted out suddenly, fuming at how Persephone had clamped her hand over her mouth, trying not to grin.

The door to her home opened and the irksome owner of the flower gardens shambled outside.

“Persephone, your mother woke up! She wants to wish you good morning before you go,” He called for his daughter, mood souring at the sight of Theano. “You again! I thought I told you to leave my family alone!”

He shoved himself between Theano and Persephone, posturing like he was ten feet tall.

“Go before I tell the guards you came back to harass us!”

“Father!” Persephone tried to argue, easily being dragged back inside.

Holding back a snarl, Theano retreated to the space between Persephone’s shop and the next building. Leaning next to a window, he listened in on their spat.

“Is this because his family isn’t as well off as ours? Father, that’s shallow!” Persephone accused but her father wouldn’t have any of it.

“That doesn’t have anything to do with this! There’s just something about that boy.”

This wasn’t the first time Theano heard those words though not once have they failed to rile his ire.

“I hear that he scant speaks to anyone with respect let alone treat them kindly. Worse, it’s obvious that he has some sort of ill will towards the Magesters. Just yesterday, I heard from the guards that he’s been seen stalking some of our customers. Wares get stolen when he visits the forum.”

“No one can prove any of that! Theano just isn’t a people person.” Persephone made weak excuses that she fully believed.

“Even if the rumors aren’t true, he gives me a bad feeling. There’s just something off about him. Something lacking…”

Lacking. It was always about what Theano lacked. He couldn’t have anything or be anything because it was meant to be. The Magesters saw Theano this way, and so did the wretches they lumped him in with.

He dug his fingers into his palms, holding back from striking the wall should Persephone’s father notice him.

“That boy isn’t like the rest of us.”

Leaving the shade of Persephone’s home, Theano committed her father’s words to memory. The man had been right.

Theano wasn’t like the others.

He was the only one who knew that Magesters could get busy, like anyone else. They let their guard down and forget to watch their backs. Worse, they thought they were above the vermin scuttling through Nieboheim’s Halos. They forget that they could die like one, from a blow to the head with a tool Persephone realized had gone missing.

Magesters could be butchered like any animal too. After a while, their insides couldn’t be told apart from the butcher’s specials.

They fed Persephone’s flowers well, haphazardly buried in the dirt so the guards could find them before the worms gorged themselves.

What kind of an idiot would leave the bloodied shovel in their own home? Well, Persephone’s father was a laborer that worked with dirt. Definitely no scholar.

“You don’t have to look if it upsets you.” Theano stood by Persephone on the day of the Harvest. She had cried until her eyes had grown so puffy that she could barely keep them open.

Still, she refused to look away from her screaming Father. That murderer’s cries were drowned out by the jeers of the crowd. They threw rocks at him until the Shapeless’ godly form leaned down to swallow his sins whole.

Persephone’s father stopped crying injustice, and cried for his wife and child. His voice was muffled in the throat of his god, until it was finally silenced when his feet slipped past its lips.

Theano’s arms closed around Persephone’s shoulders when she collapsed against him, sobbing pitifully.

“It’s going to be alright,” He promised, whispering to her as he stroked her hair. The people’s cheering made the sky quake but his voice was the only one that mattered. Soon, it would be the only one Persephone would have left. “From now on, I’ll take care of you.”

The dead men’s words were now a fond memory.

Don’t aim so high. There are heights not meant for you.

You are lacking.

But Theano knew he wasn’t meant to wither where he lay, hoping fate would cast him a fond glance. He was meant to be powerful; to get back at the mages that disgraced him.

The reality of it was that others were too weak to reach their goals, and Theano would use their backs as stepping stones to reach his.

That fact hadn’t changed long after he escaped Nieboheim.

At the base of the stairs in the Espina Rosa’s third level, the members of the patrol kept a keen ear out as they stood guard. If they strained their hearing hard, they might hear the new inmate break those annoying researchers.

Their wishes came true and Sennidy’s body smashed head first on to the ground.

Silent abject horror tainted the air until the leader shouted to mobilize and aid Sennidy, despite his twisted limbs.

Sennidy had always been a coward, pressured into joining the Rose by his friends before they urged him to fall in with the Thorn. He may have been smart, but with enough bullying, the sea jelly would agree to the sky being green.

The Commander of the Thorn realized he was glad that Sennidy was dead. His corpse was light and easy to throw off the edge of the stairs.

“Now, I have the perfect excuse.” Theano muttered to himself, fixing his coat. He scanned his surroundings, and glanced down the stairs, locking eyes with a Rose soldier clutching their sword.

“I-I came up to check on you all…” The private stammered, reduced to a shaking mouse by Theano’s disdaining stare. “Don’t move!” He regained composure and seeing Theano disappearing back into the hall of cells, the soldier raced to apprehend him.

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

Outside of the chaos in the cells, Bradley showed the Prison’s researcher guest a heavily fortified crate. It stood apart from the other confiscated items within the vault. The seams were welded shut and its chains and locks held it heavy to the floor. All of these measures made the container itself seem like a sleeping beast. Tariche was waiting for it to start thrashing.

He whistled, finding more interest in Bradley’s nonchalance around hundreds of potentially dangerous artifacts.

“You run a busy doggy kennel,” He noted, watching Sofist’s assistant push a large utility dolly over to the crate. “I’m guessing these eventually pile up with how busy the labs are. What do you do with them? Keep’em on ice until we make room for you?”

Bradley paused, considering the question. Though the stuck-up labcoats had been on a scale of weird to outright rude, he supposed he should reward civility. Prisons were supposed to reinforce good behavior after all.

“Were you Clarence or Rand?”

“Just call me Tariche.” The researcher shrugged, already prying at the lid of a smaller crate.

“Oh.” Figuring it was a middle name, Bradley went and unlocked the box Tariche had become curious of.

Amulets, gems, wooden carvings; a whole array of magical items were tumbling to the floor. Tariche felt a breath of fresh air flowing out from the box, like a breeze through a warm meadow. From the scratches on these previous items, he could tell that some of the inmates had fought to try keeping these small comforts close to heart.

“These aren’t dangerous, per say. Just a lot of junk we have to take off of new inmates before we take them to their cells,” Bradley said, tossing a silver pendant on the pile. “We know what most of them are and it’s not worth bothering the labs. Objects like what the weaver had get snatched and don’t end up taking space for long.”

Checking his magic agenda, scrolling through the busy schedules of the Espina Rosa’s personnel, the private pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing.

“I tend to handle the storage and I don’t want to keep them crowded. It’s just that there aren’t enough people to move this junk.”

“Move them where? An off-site warehouse?” Tariche asked.

Rather than answering him, Bradley lifted the crate and lead the researcher to a row of closed hatches. Leaning his elbow on a rune carved on the wall, Bradley let Tariche watch layers of metal slide away, pulled back by the grinding gears beyond what they could see. Tipping the box, the private poured the magical items into the nondescript hole.

The inside was too dark to see inside and Tariche saw that the openings were pretty small. Sofist’s arm would have gotten stuck.

Once the box was empty, Bradley lifted off the rune and the hatch slammed closed. The final shift of metal against metal sounded like the weighty blade of a guillotine.

“Cleaning is a slow process but better safe than sorry,” The private flicked a different switch and the smoke hit Tariche’s nose before the fire had started. “We never know exactly how magic reacts so they don’t get filtered out until they’re safe ashes. I end up watching some of ours handle the chore in case its more volatile than usual.”

Tariche watched the hatch.

It didn’t make a noise. No crackling. No sparks.

All very boring for a process so sickening.

To the front of the room, the heavy doors swung open and Tariche could hear his Commander’s boots angrily pounding on the floor towards him.

Those doors were heavy and Theano had shoved them out of the way like nothing. Tariche hoped the Commander would keep being this sloppy, they might get caught. Better yet, there was an ugly tear across Theano’s chest but Tariche doubted any of the blood was his.

“We’re leaving,” Theano ordered, reigning in his snarl for later. Narrowing his eyes, he glanced at the largest sealed crate. “It’s come to my attention that conducting proper research on the subject will be impossible with the incompetence so thoroughly infecting this dog pen.”

“Wow, I was just saying.” Tariche scratched the back of his head, barely bothered by Theano’s haggard appearance. The Commander kept such a straight laced bored-slightly-annoyed frown that Tariche was beginning to think someone splashed him with juice instead of there being an actual disaster on day one.

Looking to Bradley, Theano and Tariche figured he hadn’t been this awake in a long time.

“What happened?” The private demanded, holding his shaking agenda up as if to shield himself from Theano. He had good instincts.

“Funny, telling me what to do,” Theano didn’t want to waste energy rolling his eyes. “I hope whoever replaces you and the warden will know their place.”

Bradley, flushed from fright and shock, bit down until his jaw ached.

“I would call the warden to discuss this but I think he’s already on his way.” The private ground out.

Sure enough, Sofist and a gaggle of the members of the patrol that escorted Theano through the third floor arrived at the vault. Tellingly, the minotaur politely entered with his paling entourage following like sheep.

“Fine,” Theano closed his eyes, pretending to get more frustrated, but Tariche could see the corner of his mouth twitching up. “If you’re here, I won’t need to leave the instructions with your underlings. My remaining partner and I will be leaving for Swordhaven the moment a ship sails from port.”

Sofist’s pause was so deafening, the pressure under the vault’s high ceiling became crushing. They could hear his sweat dripping on the floor.

“The patrol told me what happened,” Sofist was far smaller than he was when they first met. “All of what they…admitted. Was that true?”

“Them abandoning Rand and I, allowing for some creature to attack Rand from its cell, spurring him into blindly running off the edge of a sheer fifty foot fall?” Theano listed casually. “I should hope that was the case. Or else I had come down to the patrol to see that they had snapped his neck.”

Mouth falling open, Bradley couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Sofist taking Theano’s barbs with a dipped chin made it worse.

Then, the story continued.

“…Went...missing…” The leader of the patrol mumbled, piercing the air like cannon fire.

“WHAT?” Sofist turned on a dime and just about lifted the offending patrolman by the neck.

“It was Matthew!” The soldier’s chest heaved. “He went to go see why they were taking so long to come--” He quickly cut himself off.

“Go on now. You’ll only make it worse by lying.” Theano sneered.

Unable to take his gaze off the ground, the soldier continued.

“He went to go see why it was taking so long for them to get scared and come running back. Mathew’s been missing since.”

“Wonderful,” Theano interrupted Sofist before he could tear into the leader of the failed patrol. “I’ll be sure to emphasize that in the report to General Akanthus.”

On the sidelines, Tariche began waving sadly to the patrol and Sofist. He didn’t imagine they’ll see the light of day when high command caught word.

“Wait!” Bradley piped up, struggling between coming up with a solution and organizing a search for the missing soldier. “If we just….couldn’t we—” He looked to the warden desperately, and immediately regretted it.

The other Rose soldiers were looking to Sofist too, knowing their future was bleak, and were guilty they had taken the warden down with them.

“What a waste of time,” Theano turned to Tariche, knowing they could all hear him. “First the fire setback, and now this. We won’t have another chance to examine the subject for months at best. Far longer thanks to that idiot Rand putting his corpse in the way.”

Sennidy really was an idiot but this was all a show to lead the bull into his cage.

“All of you,” Sofist addressed his men. “Leave us.”

The soldiers marched out discreetly. Theano expected Bradley to follow but he stubbornly stood his ground. That one was going to be trouble.

“General Akanthus hearing of this—” Sofist’s lip curled. “—Failure on our part will cost both of us greatly. But, if we were to…”

Compromise.

Sofist obviously hated the concept, almost as much as Theano did. Even when it was others compromising for him, the Thorn Commander preferred that they bent completely.

Still, this was worth letting a smile escape. Slowly but surely, Theano would get his way.

[simon-newman]

Full Update

Hello there again all those fascinated by arthropods or animals in general.

It’s been a while since I made a larger update regarding all of my animals and TBH I was feeling kinda down since Athena’s untimely death as she was the first animal I’ve got in two years (that is after my Red-eared slider turtle passed away at an age of about 25 years).

Something I failed to mention before in those posts - I’ve been keeping animals pretty much my entire life as I received the turtle from my parents when I was just a toddler and...

Well.. The last 2 years after it passed away made me realize that animal keeping really puts me at ease and without an animal to look after I am really feeling bad.

So I decided to stop putting everything “for a better time” and got a few arthropods to keep (they require far less effort than a reptile so I can keep more of them at once).

Here’s the (I think) complete list of animal posts so far:

1. Athena

2. Ants I want to keep

3. First molt

4. Lvl 5

5. Princesses Acquired

6. Tarantulas I want to keep at some point

7. Praying Mantis Additions

8. Ants video

9. Expo report

10. Big (late) update

11. Sad update - Athena’s passing

(Now I can limit the number of links in the followup posts)

Now. WIthout further delay I’ll cover all animals in order - Praying Mantises first, Ants second - according to numbers I gave them (most of them don’t have names as I don’t know if they are male or female yet).

I’ll finish with a new addition.

1. M002 - Hierodula Venosa “Golden” (!!??)

Ok. I’ve ordered this Mantis in the online shop so that I could compare it to Athena.

In the end the specimen that arrived was younger than desired and... Well... See for yourselves:

It doesn’t look like Hierodula “Golden” AT ALL.

She molted 3 times so far and is now older than Athena was when I received her so... Yup - it is not the species I ordered.

Perhaps it’s the same species as...

2. M003 - Hierodula Sp.

I didn’t receive any answer from the shop when I asked them to clarify which species it is. So I still have no idea.

This one didn’t want to pose at all - even within the cup that already causes the camera to lose focus.

I did however manage to take a photo of it eating a roach there.

She/He is doing well - just like M002.

They look similar but this specimen has a slightly blue hue of it’s abdomen.

I guess it MIGHT be Hierodula Sp. “Blue” just like the nymphs I got as a bonus from the same shop...

3. The Blue Gang - hierodula Sp. “Blue”

Ok - I’ll cover all 3 of them in one post.

All of them molted 3 times and I am expecting them to molt again soon.

I numbered them as well mostly for safety measures as now I know what to expect from each of them.

M004:

The most hyperactive, bolty Praying Mantis in my collection.

It refused to eat on camera and jumped out of the container after I took this picture - it turned into another chase on my floor...

I only saw him/her eating the roaches I left in her cup a few hours later.

M005:

As you can see this one is far more cooperative - it stood still while I took the picture and then ate without causing any trouble.

M006:

The most docile of the three - was not interested in posing for me and just waited for food.

I didn’t let him down.

And I say “him” because looking at the pictures above I think I can risk saying that it’s a male.

4. M007 - Hierodula Sp. “Golden” (Atum)

The intended mate for Athena - now a lonely older Praying Mantis in my collection.

He’s eating well but I try not to overfeed him.

He was on the same diet as Athena before so if she really got poisoned by something he could also be affected. So far he seems to be doing just fine - blissfully unaware of his future wife/executioner’s untimely passing.

I think I’ll follow the advice of the keepers at the expo and when he matures I’ll post a request on the forums to find a mate for him anyway.

Apparently mature males are quite in demand in the Mantis-keeping community.

We’ll see in the future. As of now it’s been almost a month since his last molt and he’s still accepting food.

I expect the next molt to be the semi-final one...

Which means that bast case scenario Atum has some 4-5 months to live.

Ok. Time to update on my Ant “colonies”.

5. A001 - Manica Rubida

Behold the stunning beauty of Her Royal Highness!

She made a pose like a JoJo character. Isn’t she fabulous?

Well - as you can see SHE is doing fine, but WAIT!

Do you see that thing among the larvae? (just under the queen’s abdomen)

No?

Here’s another photo:

Do you see those weird thingies now? There are at least four of them!

Those are pupae.

Yes - we have our first worker ants preparing to mature.

I guess it’s going to take about 2 weeks and we’ll finally be able to call this “a colony”.

So... How’s the other queen doing?

6. A002 - Manica Rubida

She’s doing fantastic but she’s not willing to pose for me.

As you can see she also has some pupae in there.

In fact the last time I counted she had 7 of them... Not sure where she stuffed the remaining 5 but she’s a crafty one - I guess she could even hide them under the cotton (I wouldn’t want to disturb her too much so turning the test tube to see is out of question).

Anyway - I’d love to provide more pictures of her but the sun started to do some weird shit and messing with my camera’s ability to focus.

I’ll just put this picture here:

Do you see this pupae? She has those cute, tiny eyes!

It’s hard to believe she’ll become one of the most hated ants in my country...

And with this we covered all the animals you knew I had.

But I did tell you that I’ll be visiting an expo last week.

I did.

I mostly intended to try and get some orchid Mantises (Hymenopus Coronatus) but...

Well - with Athena’s death I started doubting my ability to care for a more fragile species.

I am putting those on hold for now.

I went to ask about the possible reason of Athena’s death and three different keepers all had the same theory.

Pesticides.

She was kept the same as other Mantises in my care and fed the same food items.

She was the only specimen I kept on my window for display purposes.

All it took was for someone to spray their garden in the area and she might have gotten poisoned as well...

How... unfortunate.

Still - just to be sure I didn’t  buy any new mantises.

The thing is - I convinced a family member who lives with me to go as well.

I was kinda surprised when she suggested I get something else instead.

Something to put on a display where my empty fish tank stands now (I’ll wait for 2 more years before re-establishing it).

Something... Different from the animals I am keeping now. Different and longer-living but still fairly easy to care for.

I am proud to introduce:

7. T001 - Brachypelma Vagans

Hard to see it down there but there’s a tiny little spider hiding in the burrow.

How tiny? Well - it was the size of my smallest fingernail.

It molted already a few days ago and now is the size of my index finger nail.

“I never saw it leave the burrow and it’s really hard to take a picture of it as it sits down there - this is the best I could do” - was the thing I intended to write here as I started this post yesterday.

Lo and behold.

As if it knew and wanted to become famous - in the evening it left the burrow to hunt down the roach I left in there during the initial photo session.

The last roach roommate stayed alive for two days and disappeared overnight.

I guess this one refused to share expenses and had to go.

Yup I got my first tarantula.

Umm... Well...

8. T002 - Chromatopelma Cyaneopubescens

I got two actually.

This one is far more active as it’s idea of a burrow is a trench around the center of the cup.

It also actively responds to feeding roaches and takes them down instantly.

I guess it doesn’t want a roommate

Or she doesn’t want a roommate...

Most people don’t even attempt to determine if a small sling is male or female (that’s why they are quite cheap) but I am me and I have this Pocket Microscope I bought for $2 which can magnify stuff 60 times...

The problem here is that I am a complete amateur and the microscope can’t take pictures so despite getting quite a clear view I can’t tell for sure myself.

I give it 75% chance it’s a female tho.

We’ll see how good I am at it.

So yeah...

I have tarantulas now.

Two so far.

From what I’‘ve learned there are two types of Tarantula Keepers out there.

First type - the ones who keep 1-5 tarantulas.

Second type - the ones that own more than 100.

There’s no in-between.

For now I’ll stay at 2 - I’ll think about more when I am able to have a proper animal room... Perhaps in a few years...

Anyway - this post grew quite long, didn’t it?

Thank you for your time and I hope you enjoyed the pictures.

I’ll keep updating - preferably every 2 weeks. I might also make more videos.

See you.

[sussex-nature-lover]

Sunday 1st November 2020

All Saints’ Day

♦ outside links are in bold type and are not affiliated to this blog

No, not for the girl band, oh no, never ever. Not for the High St fashion brand either. It’s a day to banish all the ghouls and more importantly...

the 1st November is also known as All Hallows’ and All Souls’ Day. I’m not religious but I like to think I have a spiritual side and a day taken to remember those we loved who are no longer with us, is space to stop and think and give thanks, treasure the memories. Having a month long lockdown again we’re going to have plenty of time on our hands for reminiscing.

Remembering lost family and friends is a very private thing, but as I wrote yesterday about the late Dennis, we celebrate our lost animal and nature loved ones too. I’ve got some photographs that kind of demonstrate that in connection with a National Trust property, but before I post those I had a thought about 

Chastleton  which is a fine Cotswolds’ Jacobean Manor House. It’s situated near Moreton-in-Marsh in Oxfordshire but because of its elevated position it’s said you can see four counties: I think looking north and to the west is Worcestershire, to the east, Warwickshire and to the south you might be able to look into Gloucestershire. Your exact location in the grounds and the weather will have an effect on this and to be honest, you’d be at the mercy of my memory, so it’d be best to check for yourself! Actually, Chastleton is closed until next March so if you do feel inclined to go and see for yourself, you’ll also need to see up to date information at the time.

It’s well worth a visit, I’d like to go again, it has the longest and oldest surviving barrel-vaulted ceiling of its kind in England. This was used to display portraits of ancestors and for exercise in times of cold and wet weather. We’re rather light on ancestral portraits here, but couldn’t we all do with a beautiful long gallery for exercise this Winter, especially on a day like today.

OH has just reminded me, as an aside, that another National Trust property, Polesden Lacey, used inspirations from the beautiful plaster work in its own restorations and decorations. 

*Polesdon Lacey is also closed at the moment

The incredible Long Gallery at Chastleton used for filming historic pieces including Hilary Mantel’s Wolf Hall.

I can’t remember how long I’ve had my Wolf Hall for, I must dig it out and start.

The house was built between 1607-1612 and owned by the same family, who grew more and more impoverished over time, until 1991. In a nutshell they started off incredibly wealthy but were heavily fined for backing the wrong side in the English Civil War. It’s a really fascinating story and well worth looking up. The property passed sideways to cousins a couple of times and finally ended up occupied by Barbara Clutton Brock

Barbara was, it seems, the very epitome of a Mad Cat Lady. Her husband had inherited the house in the mid 1950s but they really didn’t have funds to run and maintain it. She lived there for years as a widow, in very reduced circumstances, with only her cats for company - reports vary about their number, anything from 15 to (as we were told) 38. Apparently when the National Trust took over, all the floor coverings had to be stripped out. The cats truly were free range and left to their own devices. Barbara had got family, but no one was interested in living at the house, or in inheriting it later so it was sold.

In February 2018 Chastleton welcomed three new furry members of the team. Offa, Odo and Ottoline arrived from a cat rescue centre near Stratford-upon-Avon ready for a new life in the Cotswolds.

Offa, Odo and Ottoline's main duties are keeping on top of the rodent population and lying in the sun topping up their tan. They live in the Gardener's Bothy and we are sure you will see them out and about when you visit.

Our three new furry friends are the next generation of felines at Chastleton after the much loved Charles the cat died in August 2017 after a long and happy life.

The cats are named after Offa, King of Mercia, the earliest recorded owner of the lands of Chastleton in AD777, Odo after the Bishop of Bayeux, who owned the lands at the time of the Domesday Book in 1086 and Lady Ottoline Violet Anne Morrell, an English aristocrat who funded many artists in the Bloomsbury group. Barbara and Alan Clutton-Brock, the previous owners of Chastleton, were closely associated with the Bloomsbury group in London.

National Trust  

Nearer home we have another National Trust properties where cats feature large. I think when owners have such a love for their animals it’s often a condition of donation or bequest that their presence continues. I think it does at Chartwell, where Winston Churchill always had a house cat? Infact, I just checked and this is true, Read This, it’s worth it and again, here at Scotney...

The terraces at Scotney with a modern day installation

The terrace fountain with...

A permanent place for puss

The expansive countryside views over the estate

Betty Hussey who remained in residence at Scotney until she died, absolutely loved her cats, really loved them. There are lots of books and ornaments around the house and a resident to this day. You can see her basket and food dishes in the kitchen, where she has a very grand cat flat affair.

There you are, yet more National Trust info and cat news from a Dog Person. A Dog Person and a Bird Person, that ‘s me.

GARDEN WATCH:

According to my OH the boy was here, but when I came downstairs I could only see his girlfriend, right down in a far corner of the garden and looking thoroughly miserable. Silly girl. I never understand why they expose themselves so much to bleak conditions and don’t get hunkered down in the shelter of the shrubbery instead.

Fed up and grumpy - reflecting the mood of the nation

Now, how funny, just as I was typing that the boy appeared through the side window. The sun also put in a brief appearance, just for those few moments, by the time I’d downloaded the pics the sky had turned grey again.

The beautiful colours of the male pheasant in the rough patch

What an elegant chap he is. I’ve just taken a picture through the patio doors and we’re getting the odd splashes of colour, especially considering it’s almost too dark to see inside the house. A few times today there’ve been three Woodies at the same time. Two of them squabble and the other one seems just to get on with its own affairs.

Double Trouble

and finally a note with a reminder that bold type navigates to outside sites:

For November I’m concluding blogs with the Poppy, a symbol of remembrance

[bucketsofgiggles]

Other Side of the Door (MP 100 fanfic)

Summary: It can hurt when you see your friends make the same mistakes you do, but Serizawa knows that reaching a hand out in the darkness can do a lot. Speculation on what might happen after the current manga arc. Spoilers for the current manga arc. Teen and up, gen. Content warnings for depression and implied disordered eating. AO3 link here

Serizawa gave a second glance down at his phone to check his GPS app, confirming that the directions read “Arrived at destination”. He looked back up at the house he stood outside of, before triple checking the GPS.

It wasn’t like he thought this couldn’t be the Kageyama household - it was a perfectly respectable house for a family of four - but he really had to make sure he had the correct house. He’d never been to the Kageyama’s before, and all the houses in this neighborhood looked similar to each other and he’d rather not knock on the wrong door. Coming unannounced was nerve wracking enough; going up to the wrong house unannounced would probably kill all the courage he’d build up to come out here. And he couldn’t let that happen. Kageyama-kun needed him.

He’d gotten Kageyama-kun’s address from Reigen earlier, after they had talked this morning. His boss had come into the office looking frazzled and dismayed, bypassing his desk to go straight to the couch, head in hands. Serizawa had quickly checked to make sure the sign was still flipped to “Closed” before joining Reigen on the couch.

Comfort was still something Serizawa was learning to give, and he was a bit relieved when Reigen leaned into the hand he had put on his shoulder. There was a few moments of silence before Reigen sighed and spoke “I went to see Mob yesterday. Or more like tried to.”

“How is he?” Serizawa asked. It had been a few weeks since Kageyama-kun’s accident and all that had followed, and he’d been out of the hospital for a week. They had both tried to see him while he was recovering, but do to the severity of his injuries and the circumstances surrounding them, visitors had been limited to immediate family. Neither knew much of the details, but apparently Kageyama-kun’s powers had reversed somehow when he awoke from the state he had entered and it fixed most of the damage. With the additions of his young age and that he didn’t go out with the intention of damaging the city, the government had decided to exonerate him from any potential crimes. Once he was released from the hospital, he had been allowed to return home.

And since then, Kageyama-kun hasn’t left his home.

Neither he nor Reigen was surprised when he didn’t come into work right away. He was probably still recovering from the massive power usage and his physical injuries. Plus, both of them understood that he might need a break from using his powers. But when Reigen learned that Kageyama-kun hadn’t returned to school, he made the decision to go visit after work. Especially because he had been contacted by Kageyama-kun’s younger brother Ritsu, in a move that must’ve been very uncharacteristic of him, judging Reigen’s reaction to the phone call.

“I literally had the door slammed in my face,” Reigen said, trying to put some mirth in his voice and attempting a grin. But it slid off as the mirth fell flat and Reigen turned serious. “He isn’t talking to anyone . Not his friends at school, not Hanazawa, not his parents, not even Ritsu. His parents told me that he isn’t leaving his room, not even to eat. They have to bring his plate up to his door and leave it there, and he’ll leave the empty plate outside later.

“Ritsu called me to talk to him because he thought I might be the only one left he’d listen too. But Mob wouldn’t even look me in the eye, didn’t even try to hear what I had to say. I just talked to a shut door,” Reigen sighed, looking up at Serizawa with red rimmed eyes. “I don’t know how Mob’s gonna recover from this. I’m worried he never will.”

Serizawa could not let that happen, he just couldn’t . Not after what Kageyama-kun had done for him, for so many people. And it was that thought that gave him the resolve to open the front gate, walk up to the door, and ring the doorbell.

After a few moments, a woman answered the door, only opening it enough to stick her head out. Exhaustion clearly lined her features. “Hello?”

“H-Hello there, um…” Serizawa took a quick breath. “Is this the Kageyama household?” At her small nod, he continued. “My name is Serizawa Katsuya, and I work with your eldest son, S-Shigeo. I was wondering if I could speak with him?”

Kageyama-kun’s mother stared at him for a minute. “Serizawa, is that correct?” He nodded. “Shigeo has mentioned you a few times. You should know he isn’t taking visitors.”

“I’m...aware. But I have been in a situation similar to the one your son is in now.” She flinched slightly and Serizawa had to swallow a new batch of nerves the movement brought before continuing. “And he helped me out of it. I wish to at least attempt to do the same. May I at least try?”

Kageyama-kun’s mother glanced to the ground for a few moments, biting her lip slightly. Serizawa glanced away, giving her some space to think. After a bit, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and met Serizawa’s eyes. He tried not to shrink under the suddenly intense stare she was giving him. “You may try,” She said, opening the door more and Serizawa stepped in, removing his shoes. He could see Ritsu sitting at the kitchen table, staring at them, forgotten textbooks in front of him.

“Shigeo’s bedroom is up the stairs on the right,” Kageyama-kun’s mother said. As Serizawa began to go upstairs, she grabbed on to his arm suddenly, causing him to stumble lightly. He turned and met her eyes, full of desperation. He found he could not look away as she spoke.

“Please get through to him. Help him . I’m running out of ideas to help my own son.”

Surprisingly, Serizawa did not feel him shrink or wither at her plea. Instead, a sense of resolve filled him as he met her stare. “I’ll do my best.”

As he climbed the stairs, the muttered conversation echoing below his feet, he tried not to think of how he saw his own mother in her eyes.

Kageyama-kun’s bedroom was not difficult to find, right around the corner of the stairs. He stood in front of it, debating knocking, before realizing that would just get him rejected completely. As rude as it was, he would have to just open the door and let himself in.

It still took few minutes of mental preparation before Serizawa could even put his hand on the doorknob. And even then he could not push down. Whatever was waiting for him beyond this door, it would resemble his past, his far back past, the one he never liked to think about. He spent 15 long years locked away from the world. He lost his youth to his fear, his anxieties over his powers. He missed out on so much growth, so many experiences and activities and excitement, because he feared hurting people, because he had been hurt by others rejection. He was starting his life over at 30 because of this.

He would not let any other person, especially not Kageyama-kun, repeat his mistakes.

With that thought in mind, he turned the knob and entered the room.

It was dark, far darker than the rest of the house, but Serizawa noticed it wasn’t as filthy as his room had been. Then again, he had tried to keep his room clean before the apathy took over. It gave him some hope to see that Kageyama-kun hadn’t seemed to reach that stage yet.

Remembering what Reigen had told him earlier, he fully stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. It was that noise that alerted Kageyama-kun to Serizawa’s presence, judging by the movement underneath the futon that had escaped Serizawa’s notice until now. Kageyama-kun slowly made his way out from under the covers, blinking up at Serizawa as he moved to a standing position.

Serizawa felt his heart hurt at the state Kageyama-kun was in, to the point he realized Reigen hadn’t gotten a good look at him. He didn’t think it would be this bad in only a week. Kageyama-kun’s hair was disheveled and slightly tangled, he was wearing his pyjamas and, despite the fact he was apparently getting food, was skinnier than Serizawa remembered him being. His face had the look of someone who was oversleeping and hiseyes . Serizawa was struck cold by how haunted they looked, so old and hardened for a 14-year-old.

He was beginning to realize he had underestimated the challenge this would be.

“Serizawa-san? Why are you here?” Kageyama-kun croaked out, voice obviously underused. When Serizawa didn’t answer right away, he spoke again. “You need to leave, you shouldn’t be here. It’s not safe.”

In a blink of an eye, Serizawa had gone back 3 years, to the day the President came to his house, handed him an umbrella, and fed him false promises about re-entering the world. Only now, he wasn’t sitting on the floor, looking at the President. He was looking at himself , scared and confused, afraid of hurting the person across the room from him.

He was on the other side of the door now. He was the one standing over an esper terrified of himself and the outside world. But he couldn’t give him false promises of quick control and an easy life outside. He had to do this the hard way of telling the truth.

“It’s okay, Kageyama-kun, you can’t hurt me,” Serizawa said, slowly entering the room. But all that did was make Kageyama-kun yelp and dart to the back of the room, curling up on himself and not meeting Serizawa’s eyes. He sighed, and sat down, working to get on his level. He wasn’t going to be the President, standing over him patronizingly.

“Somedays the days I spent in my old bedroom feel like lifetimes ago. Those are good days; days where we help a client with a big problem and they leave with their life so much better. Days where I score well on a test or understand the math concept the first time it’s explained. Days where I wake up and the birds are singing and the sun is warm and I feel good about myself.” He looks at the ceiling as he talks, respecting Kageyama-kun’s wish for no eye contact.

“But there are hard days. Days I don’t want to get out of bed. Days where the world seems to loud, too crowded. Days where I can feel my powers pulse under my skin like it’s trying to break out and I fear that we’ll have a client with a truly spiritual need and I’ll hurt them trying to exorcise it. And some days I wonder if I should go back to that room. It was lonely and dark, but there was no risk of hurting people.”

Serizawa looks down when he feels Kageyama-kun’s eyes on him, but he looks away the moment eye contact is made. Still, Serizawa considers it progress, and he slides forward just a bit.

“Bad days happen, Kageyama-kun, I can’t lie to you about that. But I can tell you that good days happen too, and they’re not worth missing being locked up in your room. There is so much that you can do, that you’re allowed to do.”

“But it’s not safe,” Kageyama-kun breaks in, muffled by their arms as his head is tucked into them. “It’s not safe for other people when I’m outside. What if something happens again? People could get hurt again .”

“You can’t sacrifice your life on that fear.”

“I have to.” There’s so much determination in Kageyama-kun’s soft voice and it makes Serizawa hurt. “No one seems to realize how dangerous I am, even after all that, but I do. I thought I could change, that I could be normal and be around others, but I realized that I was fooling myself. I can’t change, and because of that, the world is safer if I’m in here.”

Serizawa took a deep breath. He knew he needed to chose his next words carefully; they could make or break Kageyama-kun. He slides forward a bit more.

“When you approached me in that office building, you said so much to me. A lot of it was hard to hear at the time, some of it painful, but I needed to hear it. So I’m going to try and repay the favor.”

He slides forward again.

“Change is difficult. It almost never comes easy and you have to work at it every day. Sometimes it makes you do things that are uncomfortable or that you’re afraid of. Some days you don’t make much progress. Some days you even go backwards. But the days you go forward, where you can feel yourself making progress, you can see yourself improving? Those are the best days. Those are the days that help you get out of bed and out the door, help push you through the bad ones. And they’re possible. And you showed me that, Kageyama-kun.” Another slide forward.

“When you ricocheted that energy blast back to me in that stairwell, I felt your emotions. And I could feel your capacity for change. I could feel your progress in making your body stronger, in making friends at school, in controlling your powers. And that part of you isn’t gone, Kageyama-kun. It’s still within you, you’ve just lost sight of it.” Just a little bit more…

“But you know, Kageyama-kun, that wasn’t the most important thing you said to me that day. It also wasn’t that Claw was using me, though that was very helpful.”

Serizawa slides forward and the motion catches Kageyama-kun’s attention, and he almost startles at how close Serizawa’s gotten to him.

“...What was it?” Kageyama asks, still not making eye contact.

“It was ‘Then I’ll be your friend’. For the first time in my life someone wanted to be my friend. You weren’t scared of me, and you didn’t just see me as something to be used. You saw another esper, a kindred spirit, and a potential friend. And because you were my friend, I saw how poorly Claw was treating me and came to the realization that I didn’t deserve to be treated like that. I got to meet Reigen, who gave me a job and works with me on my powers. I got the courage to go to high school and start to truly become a member of society.

“You helped me out of my darkest point. Let me help you out of yours.”

Kageyama-kun is looking up at him now, tears pooling at the corners of his eyes. The motion pushes his bangs in a new position and Serizawa can see a piece of gauze taped to his forehead. It looks old, stained yellow and wrinkled, the corners of the medical tape starting to peal.

“And let me start with your head there,” Serizawa says as he stands up. “And I’m gonna need some light to do it.” He opens the tightly drawn blinds of Kageyama-kun’s window, letting the late afternoon sun into the room. Kageyama-kun blinks at the sudden light while Serizawa spots a first aid kit by the door. He walks over to pick it up, and notices a light layer of dust on the top. Kageyama-kun’s parents must have left it for him, but he hasn’t touched it. He opens the kit and pulls out a non-stick gauze pad, the roll of medical tape, a tube of antibiotic cream, and a pair of gloves.

He slips the gloves on as he walks back over to Kageyama, who has started to push himself away from the corner. Serizawa kneels and gently pulls the old gauze off. It’s a large gash, Serizawa can see the stitches threaded into the skin, but there’s no sign of infection. He pushes a little bit of the cream onto a finger and, as gently as he can, swabs it on the cut. “Does that hurt?” he asks when Kageyama winces a bit.

“No, just...tingly,” He says as Serizawa rips the covering off the gauze pad and pad and places it over the cut, then tapes it into place.

“Better?” Serizawa asks, and Kageyama nods.

They sit in silence for a bit, as Serizawa can tell that Kageyama is trying to think of something to say. He gives him the space to pull the words together.

“But what if something happens again? I know I didn’t mean to do what I did, but I could always get hurt again and… I can’t go through that a second time. Not again.” Serizawa can see the haunted look in his eyes grow as he speaks. He knows that touch may still be too much right now, so he settles for putting his hands in his lap.

“I hear you; that is a valid fear, especially considering your circumstances. But you also can’t let ‘what if’s’ run your life. I let that happen, and lost 15 years because of it. I could’ve done so much in those years, but I didn’t. I want you to experience the things I didn’t allow myself too.

“And, if you think it would help, we can train our powers together. I think it would be good for the both of us to have another esper to help out with things like this. And it’s a safety net; someone is there if things go wrong.”

Kageyama-kun looks up at him, and, for the first time since entering this room, Serizawa sees a flicker of hope. “I’d...I’d like that.”

“Good, I would too.” “But, I still don’t think I’m ready to go back to work or school yet,” Kageyama-kun admits, looking down. “It’s just too much right now.”

“That’s okay, you should take things at a pace you’re comfortable with. If those things are too big, we can start smaller.”

A knock on the door interrupts them. “Serizawa-san, would you like to stay for dinner?” Kageyama-kun’s mother calls through the door. “They should be enough for five.”

“Uh, one moment please,” He says back, checking the time on his phone. Kageyama’s house is on his way to school, and he should have enough time before classes start. And, if he’s a little late, it’s not a big deal. “I’d love to, thank you for offering.”

“You’re welcome. Come downstairs in about five minutes, okay?”

“Okay,” Serizawa replies as footsteps receded down the hall. He turns back to Kageyama-kun.

“You know, one small thing we could start with is going downstairs for dinner and eating with everyone,” Serizawa says. Kageyama-kun’s brows knit together, thinking.

“Can you come back tomorrow morning? Help me make sure I keep working at changing?” Kageyama-kun asks, and the answer is easy.

“Of course, it’s not a problem,” Serizawa smiles. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I should be a polite houseguest and help your mother set up dinner.” He stands up and, to his mild surprise, Kageyama-kun follows him, even going ahead of him to get the door. Serizawa thanks him as he walks out, but stops short when Kageyama-kun calls out down the hall.

“Uh, mom? Don’t bring my plate up here, please, I’m going to come down once I get dressed and brush my hair.”

Serizawa looks back to Kageyama-kun, covered in a golden light as the sun sets behind him. And at that moment, he’s certain the kid could get through anything.

[traumaticexperiences]

anonymous: i think it's abuse, but i'm not quite sure.

so, years ago, middle school-early high school, my mom got more physical.  Used to grab me by the arms or shoulders, if she grabbed by arms + dug her nails in i would too. one time she slammed me against a wall and started hitting/punching? me (cant remember entirely).  didnt leave marks like bruises or anything, just red fr little while. eventually she got less and less physical, and then hasn’t hit me in… idk, awhile.  at least a year probably.  But was this physical abuse?

aside from that, ever since i can remember, she has a horrible temper.  Calls us all names.  When I was younger, elementary school-ish, I remember calling my cousin a bastard.  I didn’t know it was a bad word because my mom called me + my brothers that sometimes.  I figured it wasn’t as bad as “bitch” because she said it less, or something.  She has called me names like that, and worse things like “cunt” countless times.  Same w my brothers.  But a lot of times we get into a screaming match and I say mean things too.  but I think that’s a newer development.  Eventually I got fed up of taking it and started yelling back instead of crying and just letting her make me feel like shit.  I remember a time in elementary school she told me to go drown in the shower.  I remember because I was in some fandom chat room thing and I was sad, and I told them what she’d said and they (mostly older kids, teenagers) were all horrified and comforted me and stuff.  

Also I’m a lesbian, and this was a five-ish year long ordeal that began with her first stealing my phone in 8th grade-ish and reading my text to a friend saying I thought I was bisexual.  It was turned into me “hurting her” because she couldn’t handle it being in “her family”.  She wanted me to just try being with a boy.  I never have and never will.  After getting a girlfriend in senior year of highschool, and after she talked to some close friends of hers, she became more accepting.  But before then, and even after that point sometimes, she’d still call me a dyke when she was mad, usually over my appearance.

Which always has been and apparently always will be a huge thing for her, too.  I don’t like makeup much.  I’m pretty feminine but I don’t really do my hair or makeup ever.  I just brush my hair, that’s about it.  This always upsets my mom.  My grandpa who recently died was in the hospital a year or two ago, and she yelled and screamed at me before we went to visit him the first time because after she asked me, I told her I wasn’t intending to put on makeup.  She was telling me she never wanted to be seen in public with me if I didn’t have makeup on, telling me I “look like a piece of shit without it,” etc.  In high school she’d often have to pick me up because of doctor’s appointments (I have many physical disabilities/ am chronically ill / have mental illnesses) and so often she wouldn’t even say “hi,” or “how are you,” but rather her first thing would be “Wow, all these other girls come out of school looking so wonderful, I want to cry when I see that disheveled mess is my daughter.”  I remember so many times doing my best not to cry in the car, looking out the window at the clouds or the sun thinking it would help me not to cry because that was letting her win or whatever, or at least I thought so.  I would just say “I don’t care” over and over again because arguing with her obviously did no good and just made her yell more.  But even though I really have no desire to do my hair and makeup every day and look super pretty, her comments did get to me.  I’m a freshman in college right now and sometimes I’ll apologize to my best friend / roommate for looking like shit and she’ll have to really convince me that I don’t.  My mom’s disparaging comments really stick with me even now.  I’ll walk out the door and feel super self conscious and have my mom’s words echoing in my head but still not actually do anything about it (do my hair, or makeup, that kind of thing).  

But I’m not perfect.  I forget things a lot.  Like if she tells me to do something I might just forget to do it.  Or if she wants me to clean and I just can’t find the motivation to do it.  Or if I do it but I don’t do it well enough.  It gets into this awful cycle where I don’t do something and she gets mad, and then I get depressed so I just lay on my bed and do nothing, therefore making her more mad, etc etc.  It’s hard because she has chronic pain too from a surgery that went wrong like 16 years ago that messed up her leg.  

And when she’s nice to me, I really do love her.  She’ll help me calm down from panic attacks and she brings me to doctors and gets me the medicines that I need.  I was in the hospital a month or so ago and she drove down to my college (4 hours away) at midnight just to be there with me since I had to stay overnight.  

It’s like, I know she loves me.  And the first few weeks of winter break back in December were good.  But if I stay home long enough she goes back into how things were before I left for college.  Eventually the honeymoon sort of phase wears away, and she’s back to treating me like shit, and I’m back to wanting to go away to college again.  Right before I went back to college I remember she said something about how I do nothing for her no matter how she talks to me, “whether she’s nasty or sweet as pie to me”, and I responded in frustration that she was always nasty to me.  And at that moment I was doing dishes as she told me to do, and she came up next to me and started slamming dishes down and told me to get out of her sight, to not do the dishes and to do them later when she was gone so she didn’t have to see me.  But at that time, she was trying to get off of cymbalta, which apparently has horrible withdrawal symptoms.  So I guess it made her temper even worse.  When she was slamming stuff I flinched, I really thought she was going to hit me (she hadn’t in a while).  But she didn’t.  But I still flinch at sudden movements in daily life–yesterday in the dorm bathroom as I walked out, someone walked in, and I flinched really violently just because I hadn’t seen them coming (pretty embarrassing lol).  

Also not sure how common this is, but when other people around me get into arguments I get really anxious?  My best friend’s family treats me like their own, and her cousin+cousin’s husband took us out for dinner, and on the way home they got into a disagreement and I got unbearably anxious, I actually had to do deep breathing exercises to try and keep myself calm.  I get kinda anxious just thinking about it.  The people involved have never yelled, they’re always super nice to me and each other–it was a perfectly civil disagreement that they were in, just very passive-aggressive tbh.  But it never escalated.  They just kinda bickered and then we got to our destination and they solved the problem, and that was that.  

I don’t know where I’m going with this.  That first thing I mentioned, about her shoving me against the wall, happened like 5 years ago.  I thought I was over it until I tried explaining it to my best friend and ended up a sobbing mess in the process–I couldn’t even talk.  I angrily mentioned it to my mom at some point more recently and she laughed at me, saying she “barely touched me” and making fun of me in front of my brother, who joined in saying how ridiculous I was being and laughing at me.  That experience has made me really question everything, to be honest.  My mom has a lot of shit to deal with, and I’m not the best daughter in the world, far from it.  I get good grades but that’s about all I’m good at, all I can be counted on for.  Or at least that’s how it seems to me.  I can’t tell if how she treats me is normal, and I’m overreacting, or if it’s abusive, or if she’s just angry at me and I deserve it.  Any advice on that front?  I’m sorry this got so long.  

It would be nice if this is anonymous.  But could you tag it as “mint” so I can find it if you make it anonymous?  Thank you.  And thank you for running this blog.

////

yes, what you're describing is abuse! grabbing you, and punching strikes as a really hateful and cruel physical abuse, only a person who really wanted to hurt you would do such a thing. Being called names also comes from a hateful place, and it can hurt so much when it comes from a parent, because they're not supposed to hate you, they're supposed to care, calling you names shows that they didn't care at all, they saw you as something that is there for them to hurt. Presenting your sexual orientation as something hurtful to them is so cruel and vicious, they wanted you to feel horrible about who you are! As if something is wrong with that! I'm really glad you never want to be with a boy. Calling you names for merely being who you are is really hurtful, again, something she does only to harm you. Hatred over your appearance is also something really abusive and crushing, it can affect you really deeply that people can hate you merely because they don't approve of the way you look, and that's terrifying, even more when it comes from a family member. She made you feel like she'd rather have someone else for a daughter, merely because of your looks, that is just too cruel. It doesn't matter if you're perfect or not, you haven't deserved this kind of abuse, someone who cares about you would never do any of those things, because they shouldn't think that you deserve to be hurt. Helping you calm down and bringing you medicine are such basic things, it's really not much, even if it means much to you because you don't really get much affection so even the smallest gesture can feel like love. You deserve more than that. Your mom is abusive and a few basic things she does can't change that. I don't believe a person who hurts you that badly can truly love you and care about your well being. You can't just love a child when you feel like it, and then hate it when you feel like hating it. That's sick. It seems you recognized the cycle of abuse and you know what's going on. I'm glad you're so bright and know a lot of things are wrong. You are scared of her. You're anxious in arguments. She's obviously capable of hurting you a lot, and you know it's not safe for you around her. It's really painful to live around a person like that, and you shouldn't be subjected to that.Probably the most scary thing is how she pretends nothing happens, minimizes the pain she caused to you and tries to excuse her actions and gaslight what you know happened. That kind of psychological abuse can drive a person crazy, and you shouldn't be put thru that, just for the sake of her getting away with it.

[sflisa]

Up ‘til now - it’s long....

I had so wanted to get this done yesterday.  I just ran out of time.  And that, I guess, is kind of an organizing thought for going into everything before today.

Running out of time.  Running.  Running away, running toward.  I ran toward work and dove in head first, spending many weekends holed up in my office at school, working on scores, planning lessons, making copies.  Jack and the kids were I thought happily busy going to dance classes; he had taken up musical theater as a hobby so they went with him to rehearsals while I went to my own and designed classes for my students.  I taught in the teacher training every Friday night through Christmas time for several years, which was fun, and yet one more thing to juggle.

We started fostering kittens. About once a month, we’d get a new litter, or pair, that needed to be fed, cuddled, and weighed.  Once they reached 2 pounds, we would photograph them, take them back to the SPCA, cry, and pick up another litter.  It was wonderful fun - we made a spoof of a promotional video for BACWTT (Bay Area Center for Waldorf Teacher Training) starring the kittens. And, in 2010, a tuxedo litter arrived with their tiger mom, who were named after noodles.  Soba, Udon, etc.  We renamed the whole group after the cast of the old Dick van Dyke show; I fell in love with Buddy and Sally, they joined our family and the fostering ended.

Mom took me to Alaska on a cruise in 2009.  I loved it - everything about it - and surprised myself as well, I never thought I would enjoy a cruise.  It was so great, she invited me and the kids two more times to come along with her.  We went other places too; Mexico, Norway, Mediterranean.  Alyssa and I got to go the Baltics and back to Alaska.  Incredible.

When I look back at this period of time, hindsight is indeed 20-20.  Things were crumbling.  I knew that, but I didn’t know the reason.  All the arguments about the reason that were coming toward me was me that I was the problem, so I left.  I left for what I thought was going to be a short period, to get some focus, and start a healing process.  I got a small apartment (so small that I didn’t even notice that there wasn’t a sink in the cooking area - just a counter, and the only sink was a tiny bathroom sink).  I took only what I needed from the house, a couple of outfits for each of the children, because they were going to be there only infrequently....

The first thing that happened was Trevor decided he wanted to stay with me and not go back home.  Then, it quickly became apparent that Jack couldn’t care for Alyssa well enough without me and Trevor at home, so Alyssa came with me too.  Luckily it was only a three month lease.  One day, I was walking down Broderick and saw a woman coming out of what is now my building with a dog.  There was a for-rent sign and Alyssa and I went up and found our new home.  Trevor approved that night, and we schlepped our IKEA furniture and few boxes down the street, set up our little floor futon beds and 2890 was established.  

Trevor went to China with the Eurythmy troupe.  The night before he left, Jack had a strange constellation of symptoms which sent him to the ER.  They never figured out what was wrong with him, and sent him home.  We checked in on him and he was back at work the next day, so we chalked it up to something he ate, or a short-lived intense virus.

I was at Harry’s bar the Tuesday before Thanksgiving 2011 and Trevor called me with the news that Jack had lost his job.  We had planned a trip to Disneyland and I agreed that we’d go anyway - I was still trying so hard to make things amicable and workable for all of us while maintaining my independence.  The trip was difficult, to say the least, and Jack was once again not feeling well.

I’ll spare all of the details of the next couple of months, but while on a cruise with Mom to Mexico that Christmas, we learned that Jack was having real difficulties during a trip to visit his sister in North Dakota.  At that point, I insisted he get a full medical work-up.  After spending 5 days in the ER, they finally did an MRI and discovered that he had Pick’s disease, a rare form of dementia that affects people in their early 50′s.  At this point we were 53.

Sam and Carol came to help.  They were amazing, strong, clear, compassionate and generous.  I can never thank them enough for all they did for me and the kids, and Jack.  As you likely know, he died from complications of this horrible disease on November 19, 2015.  His diagnosis explained so many of things that were subtle struggles at first that turned into full-blown irreconcilable differences.  You can read or re-read my posts from that time, still on this thread.

Since our transition to a family of three, life has been full and challenging at times, at 2890.  The two Johns adopted us and made sure we were OK.  Both kids finished high school.  Trevor went to college at Lewis and Clark, and majored in theater with a mom-insisted double major in Computer Science.  He is living and working in Portland now, as a designer in theater.  Full time.  He says the CS helps him, but he sure showed me how not to be afraid of ART.  He sings with an a cappella group in Portland, keeping the spirit of PME Jazz and Pop alive in the family.  I think he is beginning to be wholly happy there.

Creations flow from Alyssa’s once tiny fingers and hands; she sews what she sees, she knits like the wind, and has a beautiful singing voice.  We have made a wonderful habit of traveling together.

She’s a freshman at Willamette University in Salem.  She has found her tribe of people and each phone call is punctuated with commentary from at least one of them and lots of laughter.  She is another theater nerd, majoring in costume design and possibly business.  I am so happy for her.

In 2013 I met Scott.  I had made a part time job of going on OK Cupid and trying to date, at the urging of Bronwen at school.  It was going, as I understand it, fairly typically (NOT WELL!) until I met Scott.  I ‘recognized’ him while reading his profile, reached out, he agreed to meet me for a drink, and we adjourned to a nearby restaurant, and closed it on our first date.  I told him my WHOLE story for some reason, I guess I saw no reason not to - there was immediate trust, and we’ve been together ever since.  He’s gone through a lot too, as I guess by the time you’ve been hanging around on the planet this long, is inevitable.  He’s a brave guy - he came with me to Colorado Springs last Thanksgiving and cooked our meal.  Pretty awesome.  He’s done lots of awesome things for and with me.  I think we’re going to keep each other around.  Happy times. 

In 2014, I had been singing with the Bach Choir since I left PME in 2008, our new conductor Magen was listening to everybody before she took the podium in the fall.  She directs a professional choir, the SF Choral Artists, who I hadn’t heard in concert, but I had heard about.  Years before I had gone on to their website to see about auditioning, read the requirements, saw the bios of the singers and turned the other way.  I thought I could never make it in.  She invited me at the Bach Choir audition to come sing for her as a potential member of SFCA.  I quickly brushed up a couple of pieces from college and somehow passed that audition, which is super hard for just about everyone who is a member.  Through rehearsing with this group, I met Simon, the conductor or the St. Dominic’s choir, and was later hired by him as a section leader for what must be one of, if not the best, church choirs in the city.

Recently, Scott introduced me to someone like this:  “This is my girlfriend, Lisa. She is a singer.”  It made me pause, because, that was never how I’d introduce myself.  It was always either as Mom, Teacher, Bob and Jackie’s daughter, Sister, or Wife.  And then, I realized he is right.  I am a singer.  I make my living teaching music, and singing.  And I didn’t double major either.  Not the easiest or most lucrative path, but one I think puts some good into the world.  Not enough.  By far.  I spent October and early November working to get out the vote.  I was very excited by that, and thoroughly committed.  It was fun to be dedicated and feverish about something in addition to music. 

Scott has also challenged me to do something, which is coming up tomorrow night, which is scaring me half to death, and exciting me because it means something really new and potentially wonderful is afoot.  I am singing in the Blue Bear School of Music’s beginning rock band at a bar called the Boom Boom Room in San Francisco.  At 9:30.  At night.  I know the band will sound awesome.  I hope to be able to phonate.  It is throwing me for a loop, but things are starting to happen and I am learning and curious about music again in a whole new way, which will likely have a trickle down to my students after a while.

Writing down these memories has only brought about more, and the realization of how many friends and family members I have not even mentioned.  You are not forgotten, and you will likely show up in epilogue stories which I am being encouraged to write. Many adventures and challenges are left undescribed.  I’m starting a list.

Bob called me this morning and said “Know this:  you are resilient.”  Damn straight.  As of this morning, I am 60.  I can’t make that make sense, even after all this recounting.  I am declaring 60 is the new 40, so that feels a little more manageable.  More adventures await.

One more, later today.  

[witsyo]

Sun and Moon 3

Link to Story on Ao3

Year 17, Month 8, Day 16

“Take a deep breath for me,” Basille murmured, listening to the rattling struggle as the child’s chest rose incrementally. It pained her to hear it, to feel through the hand on this boy’s skin what she had been able to see from across the room.

Caroline had instructed them to visit this family, see to this child and do what they could. Then, she had sighed, sat forward and looked between them. “There won’t be much that you can do.”

There was always hope, Basille knew, but there wasn’t much of it here. Even the child’s mother, when she had greeted them at the door, had seemed to know that. She’d welcomed them inside, eyes only briefly locking on Basille’s blue hair before she led them up to her son’s room. They had passed other children in the halls, all having the light coloring and eyes of their mother, but the height of a father that they had yet to come across.

Laila, her name was, and the boy’s name was James.

He was sweet, only around four or five, and his hands had immediately gone to Basille’s hair as she had kneeled in front of him. “It’s pretty,” he’d coughed. “Mommy, look at her hair! Are you the moon?”

Laila was still standing in the back of the room, but Basille couldn’t quite look at her, didn’t really want to see the tears she knew had to be in her eyes as she performed this examination.

“James,” Halle said, holding out her hand and placing it over Basille’s. She realized that her fingers were shaking, and appreciated Halle’s subtle comfort before she pulled away, leaving the other softly touching the boy. “Are you hurting anywhere?”

“Yeah,” he said. “In my breathing. And when I cough.”

Halle nodded, glancing back at her. They had already found that he had a fever, and the sight of his ribs poking against his skin had nearly brought tears to her eyes. It was obvious what he had, and they both knew there was nothing they could do to stop the inevitable. Basille wasn’t sure they could even prolong it, or that she wanted to.

“What do you like to do, James?” Halle asked, turning back to him as Basille opened her treatment pouch. Laila had mentioned that the boy had trouble sleeping at night, and that, at least, she knew how to help with. She began pulling out pouches of dried herbs, laying them out in front of her along with a set of glass bottles.

“I like stories,” he said, and I like to play horses with Camen. He’s my brother.”

“We met him downstairs,” Halle said with a smile, leaning back briefly to grab one of the pouches Basille had laid out. She examined the inside quickly, then murmured, “Do you have yarrow?”

Basille nodded, pulling it out and handing it to Halle. James continued as she pulled out a few leaves from each pouch, seeming happy enough despite his plight. “He’s a good brother. He’s going to be a horseman one day, and I’m going to feed them for him! They’re really good, you know. I fed papa’s horse an apple yesterday.”

“You did?! That’s quite exciting.” Halle sat forward, and Blue smiled despite herself. She’d never met someone who had a better bedside manner, a trait that was surprising in someone usually so blunt and sarcastic.

Lifting his tongue, James let Halle place the herbs beneath it. He made a face, taking a moment to adjust to the feeling before he said, “Mommy says I’m very good at taking my medicine.”

“That you are. You’re very brave.”

“I know,” James said, nodding self-assuredly as Halle grinned at him. “I used to cry when I would take it, and I bit Grelda from the market when I was a baby.”

“I knew you were a troublemaker!” Halle cried, and he giggled, the laughter dropping into a bout of coughs. Halle helped him turn onto his side, holding a handkerchief below his mouth. Basille had to stop herself from flinching at each wracking breath, concentrating on mixing her herbs as Halle rubbed the boy’s back.

When he calmed, Halle helped him to lay back down, standing slowly as Basille finished her work. “Well, James, we need to head home. I hope to see you again soon.”

“You too!” he said, and grinned happily. “You’re very funny.”

“Why, thank you,” she said with a little bow and grin.

“Moons?”

Basille looked at him, forcing what she hoped was a gentle smile onto her face. Children often called her by part of her title, their wide-eyed understanding of her going no deeper than what they’d been told in their legends. “Yes, James?”

“Do you think that the goddesses may save me, now that you’re here?”

The atmosphere in the room grew dark, and Halle turned away from the boy to hide her fallen face. Basille took a deep breath, cursing Caroline for putting them into this situation. “I don’t know. The goddesses work as they will, sometimes, but I’ll do my best to help you feel okay.”

He nodded, seeming satisfied with that answer, and the door burst open before she could elaborate further, a pair of older children hovering just inside and staring at them with wide eyes.

“Go ahead,” Halle said in a conspiratorial whisper. “You can play.”

With whoops of joy, they stormed into the room, surrounding their brother and talking animatedly about an apparently massive beetle they’d found outside the house. Basille smiled, stoppering the bottles and picking up her bag to follow Halle and Laila outside the room.

This was the part she was much better at than Halle.

“Laila,” she said gently as they left the earshot of the room. “I am so sorry, but--”

“We already know there’s no saving him,” she murmured, eyes clouding over for a moment before she took a deep breath.

Surprised, Basille found herself at somewhat of a loss for words. “We’ll help you treat his symptoms, continue to visit with him if you would like us to. His time in this world can be made more comfortable. And here,” she handed over the glass bottles, now filled with a mixture of dried herbs. “Before bed, brew this into a tea and have him drink it. It will help him sleep.”

Laila nodded, holding the bottles tightly before she quietly said, “Caroline told me that you needed to learn this skill, the both of you. To be able to comfort someone who you cannot save. I hope we can help you. The presence of the gods in our home will do more good than we could hope for on our own, I should think.”

Basille was used to hearing that, smiled softly in response. “I hope that we can bring your family comfort.”

“If you don’t mind, ma’am,” Halle said, “How is it that you secured our presence here? To ask for the queen of moons herself, and me as well, and to receive both of us? I’ve never known even coin to be able to buy that.”

Oh, Basille could just kill her, she was so rude sometimes.

Laila just laughed in surprise, then cleared her throat, glancing at Basille. “My husband was a friend to the queen of moons, many years ago. This is an old debt to him being repaid.”

“And me?” Halle asked, and Basille couldn’t restrain herself from sinking an elbow into the other’s side.

“You are her companion, are you not?” Laila said, then smiled between them. “And Caroline said that you’re a far sight better with children.”

Halle grinned at that, rubbing the place Basille had hit her. “Fair enough. Is there anything else we can do for your family?”

“Return to us,” was all she said, then nodded in thanks. “I’ll see you out. When should I expect you again?”

During the walk home, Basille’s face was hidden deep under a hood. Often, she would just walk through the town for everyone to see, speaking with the people and listening to requests for blessings, for healing. It was good, to let them know her, to let them know they could ask her for these things. Her entire purpose was to prove their kindness to the gods, and to do that, she had to spend time with them.

Today, though, she didn’t want their kindness.

“Do you think--” she started to say, but Halle answered before she could finish the thought.

“No. It’s consumption, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

Halle sighed, and Basille felt her arm loop around her own, pulling her a step closer as they walked. “This really will be a lesson in losing someone as kindly as we can.”

~~~

Year 17, Month 8, Day 18

The halls of the temple were quiet, the priestesses gathered for some ritual or another in the main prayer chamber. Basille would often be a part of these ceremonies, but today they hadn’t asked for her to join them, so she was aimlessly wandering. Halle was gone, out visiting one of her patients in Skies Haven, so Basille had virtually nothing to entertain her.

The outside of the temple was imposing, white marble towering up a mountain, but Basille had always loved the inside. There was still a lot of marble in the entry hall and the townspeople's prayer room, but as you got further into the building, you encountered whole hallways of light tapestries covering the walls, tiny rooms for growing herbs where vines tangled over the windows and turned the light filtering through into a spotted green.

This was home, had been for centuries, even if she couldn’t remember it. The temple had been built somewhere around her 20th life and had been maintained by the goddesses and the priestesses that now served them. Some of the tapestries decorating the halls had apparently been woven by none other than herself. You could usually tell which ones they were, using too much gold thread that stuck out in uneven lumps. Art was apparently not her strong suit.

Basille’s feet guided her up the side stairs, climbing up and up, past her rooms, past the shrines, all the way up until she reached the roof. Taking a deep breath, she pushed through the door.

The roof was pure white, a short wall surrounding the expanse of it. The carvings in the wall were depictions of the goddesses, Cerulean’s curly hair dominating a scene just to Basille’s left. It depicted her cupping the chin of a woman whose face was scored out of the rock, as though it  had been broken away by mistake. Basille walked to it, fingers tracing the dip and wishing, not for the first time, that she was allowed to see proof in the images, her own face looking up to the goddess of the sky so that she could know with surety that it was really her.

Ah, but she knew it was. It was something she could feel in her chest, especially as she turned around to look at the flat slab of raised marble standing in the center of the roof.

It was the only thing with color here, blue and gold twisting around the rim and painted into the delicate carvings of a sun and a moon, the patterns twisting together where they met in the middle. There were columns at each corner, supporting a thin overhang. She knew that in the final year, it would be decorated with ribbons and offerings. There were a few paintings of it, and she had written about it in a few of her journals. How beautiful it was, how it almost distracted her from the dread of being apart from Reinne yet again.

Basille took a deep breath, then crossed the floor. Her bare feet padded against the smooth marble, hands shaking as she reached for the cold table. There was always a sense of fear, with this, staring down at a place she had died so many times before.

Her fingers met the place her head would lay, and she let out a rush of breath. Before she could think better of it, she wrapped herself in her cloak, climbing up and laying in the place she knew she would be sacrificed.

There were barely more than two years left, now. She liked to pretend it didn’t terrify her, that she was okay with dying. Of course she wasn’t. She wanted to stay here, to remember Halle and Caroline and everyone she’d ever helped. But… this was important. There was no doubt of that. And Reinne was supposed to make it all worth it.

Swallowing, she reached up to rub her own neck. There was an axe bound to one of the four columns, a long dagger to another. The dagger was for Reinne, but the axe…

The priestesses hadn’t explained the meaning of her tattoo to her until just a few years ago. She didn’t know how she had missed it until then, but knew she’d never even considered the idea of it being her death mark. It was so beautiful, all twisting lines and symbols of the moon. When Reinne came, she would get two, one on her back and one on her wrist.

That was the only thing that made the thought, bearable, wasn’t it? They hadn’t died a single life without Reinne’s hand cupping her cheek, foreheads pressed together. It was terrifying, but at least she was dying alongside the only person that really mattered. It was worth the fear, to never have to lose her.

At least, that’s what the journals said.

Basille turned onto her back, squinting up at the sky as the sun came out from behind a cloud.

She wondered if it would hurt.

It was unfair, she thought for the thousandth time. It was something she’d read in one of her journals, a horrible realization that had taken her far too long to work out and write down. This was the goddesses’ punishment for her. Reinne had lived sixty-three unique and varied lives, having no idea what was coming for her until the moment they were reunited. She was experiencing the world, seeing the way it was changing and growing, because the only thing she’d ever done wrong was to die, and that hadn’t been her fault. Basille had been the one bold enough to ask a goddess for a miracle.

She was cursed, she thought. Cursed to never escape her own death.

The sound of the door opening made Basille jump, sitting up halfway and mouth opening with an excuse she hadn’t yet formulated. Caroline stood in the doorway, looking at her in shock, and Basille felt her face flame.

“I was just… thinking,” she explained weakly, sitting up and scooting to Reinne’s side of the table so that she could dangle her legs over the side.

Caroline was still staring at her, then laughed shortly, shaking her head and looking at the ground. “I’ve never known you to do this before. Do you come up here often?”

“No,” she said truthfully. She did come up, sometimes, but just to look. She’d certainly never quite been able to convince herself to lay on the table before.

“You usually avoid this place.” Slowly, Caroline approached, fingers lighting softly along the rim of the table. “I didn’t think you’d ever liked worrying about it.”

Nodding, Basille let out a soft exhale. She didn’t, but... “I don’t mind it, I suppose. It’s inevitable, and I think I’m happy to do it if it means fulfilling my destiny. That’s what the journals say, over and over. ‘It’s worth it’. No matter how scared I am, my life is for a purpose, and I’ll be rewarded before it’s over.”

Caroline just watched her for a long moment. “It’s amazing, how different you are from life to life, and yet always so much the same.”

“What do you mean?”

“You were… This is the fourth life I’ve known you. The first, I couldn’t see you, but the second, you were so demure. Willing to let the wind blow you wherever it would go. Last time, you drove me to the end of my wit, hiding away with that man and refusing to speak to any of us when you came back. And now…” she shook her head. “But you’re always brave. Always self-assured and kind. Your voice always sounds the same, and sometimes you’ll say the same little phrases or move the same way you always have. It’s disconcerting.”

“You’re telling me,” Basille laughed, leaning forward to put her chin in her hands. “I wish I could remember.”

“I don’t think you do.” It was said kindly, but Basille frowned, deciding not to press the issue. They were both quiet for a long moment, then Caroline leaned back against one of the columns. “How does it go with the boy in Skies Haven?”

“James?” she asked, and Caroline nodded. Basille sighed, unhappiness worming its way through her heart. “He’s too sick to save. Why must we do this, Caroline? Why do we have to watch him die, what help could we be?”

“It’s necessary, Basille,” she said softly, reaching out to brush a hair out of her face. “The queen of moons is most often a healer, and I’m glad that you enjoy helping the people, but this is a necessary part of being a healer. It’s an important lesson, one you can’t get away from. You’re always going to lose people.”

“But a child?” she protested. “And the child of a mysterious old friend at that.”

Caroline was quiet for a long time, seeming to be searching for words. Basille let her, not wanting to push the issue when she had no idea what kind of answer she could possibly be looking for.

“Let Halle take the lead, my dear,” she finally said. “She’s good at this, and I know it’s harder for you to be the one at the forefront. Watch what she does, and learn from her. That’s all I ask.”

How she had made it through any of her lives without Halle, she had no idea.

“Fine,” Basille said, then straightened and hopped down from the table. She felt her cloak catch against the carvings as she walked to the axe on the column across from Caroline. Hesitantly, she reached up, touching at the metal of the blade and flinching despite herself. She looked back to see Caroline watching her worriedly, forced a smile onto her face. “It seems a bit dull.”

Caroline choked out a laugh, disbelief flashing across her face before she was shaking her head. She held out a hand.

“Come downstairs, Basille. I’ll have someone sharpen it.”

[bixshits]

Lost Odyssey - A Thousand Years of Dreams - Story Twenty-Three Transcript

The Ranking of Lives

A terrible epidemic is ravaging the kingdom.

The onset of the disease is sudden. Due to genetic or perhaps hormonal factors. It strikes only males. The victim experiences a high fever, a violent headache, and often a swift death.

The disease does have two hopeful aspects.

First of all, if an individual survives it, he need not fear catching it again: from then on he has immunity.

Secondly, an extremely effective medicine exists. If used preventatively or in the initial stages of the disease, the drug, a tablet made primarily from a plant that grows in the mountains, almost always results in a cure.

Does this mean people can relax, and that there is no need to worry?

Unfortunately not, for an ironic twist of fate is something that life tends to thrust upon people all too often.

The high-altitude plant used to make the medicine that is so effective in prevention and early cure is extremely rare, verging on extinction.

In other words, there is not enough medicine for all the kingdom's subjects, only for certain people.

"Do you see what I mean?" asks Dok, a quiet man on patrol in the capital's marketplace with his fellow military policeman, Kaim.

Sending his sharp gaze down one alley after another, Kaim responds "You're saying they rank people to decide who gets the medicine?"

"Exactly," says Dok.

"In deciding the rank order, they brand us as either 'Subjects Indispensable to the Nation' or 'Other Subjects'."

Capital military policemen will receive their medicine relatively early, which demonstrates their ranking as "Subjects Indispensable to the Nation."

"I guess it makes sense," Dok goes on, "If all of us were to keel over, order in capital would break down like nothing. We always have to be the picture of health as we patrol the city, right Kaim? 'For the sake of the homeland,' as they say."

"I suppose so . . ."

"First the royal family gets the medicine. Then the royal guards. Third comes politicians, and then the financiers who run the country's economy, the police and fireman, doctors, and finally us-the capital military police. There's not enough to give it to just anybody."

Dok all but spat out those final words, and asks, "What do you think, Kaim? Ordinary subjects are people, too. Is it okay to 'rank' them like that?"

In theory, Kaim should be able to reply without hesitation that of course it is not okay.

But, realistically speaking, he says, "There's no way around it." He averts his gaze from Dok's as he hear himself saying these words.

"No way around it huh?" he mutters with obvious distaste.

"Maybe you're right. Maybe there is no way around it."

He sounds as if he is trying to convince himself, in fact it does seem to be the only means open to them.

"The folks here in the marketplace know about the disease, obviously."

"Obviously." answers Dok.

"If their fears get the better of them, they could riot at any time."

"Absolutely."

"We can just manage to keep the peace by patrolling the streets like this."

"I know what you mean."

"If we were to succumb to the disease, their lives would put them more at risk. If we can't dose every subject in the kingdom, all we can do is think about how best to keep the harm or the impact of the disease to an absolute minimum."

"I couldn't have said it better myself Kaim. You get a perfect score. Good job!"

His words of praise carry obvious barbs.

Sensing their presence, Kaim falls silent. Underlying Dok's sharp comments is not only the pain of biting saracasm but the sorrow of helplessness.

Two children, a boy and a younger girl, run past the men, laughing. Dressed in rags, they have probably come from the slum behind the market to gather scraps of vegetables little better than garbage.

Dok points to their receding forms and says,

"I'd like to ask you a question, Kaim."

"All right . . ."

"Are those kids 'Subjects Indispensable to the Nation?"

Kaim has no answer for him. Because he knows the right answer all too well, he can only lapse into silence.

Responding to Kaim's silence with a bitter smile, Dok goes on,

"According to your logic, Kaim, if those kids fall sick and die. "There's no way around it.' Or at least capital police like us have a greater right to the medicine than those kids do. Am I right, Kaim? Isn't that what you're saying?"

Kaim could hardly declare that he was wrong.

Responding again to Kaim's silence, Dok asks,

"Now don't misunderstand me. I'm not attacking you. It's just that everybody is indispensable to somebody. Even those kids. They may be just a nuisance to the state-poor beggars, but to their parents they are indispensable lives that must be protected at all cost. Am I wrong?"

What a kindhearted fellow, Kaim thinks, maybe too kind - to a degree that could prove fatal for a soldier.

From the direction of the castle comes the sound of the great bell - an emergency assembly signal to the soldiers patrolling the streets.

The medicine seems to have arrived for them.

"Let's head back," Dok pipes up, apparently emerging from his gloom,

"Let's be good boys and take the miraculous medicine that's going to save our lives and protect the kingdom."

The sorrow-filled thorns sprouting form his words pierce Kaim through the heart.

It is the following day when Dok tells Kaim of his plan to desert.

"I'm only telling this to you Kaim," he says when they are patrolling the marketplace again.

"I know the punishment for desertion is harsh. I'm not sure I can make it all the way, and if I'm caught, I know I'll be court-martialed and executed."

He has resigned himself to that possibility, he says, which is why he wants to make sure that Kaim knows the purpose of his desertion.

"I'm not betraying the country or the army. I just have to deliver . . . this."

In his open palm lies the tablet that he was issued the day before.

"You didn't take it?" Kaim asks, shocked.

"No, I fooled them," he chuckles, immediately turning serious again and closing his open hand.

"You're going to deliver this tablet?"

"Uh-huh."

Dok holds out his hand now, pointing toward the mountains south of the capital.

"At the foot of those mountains is the village where I was born. My wife and son are there. He's just five years old and he's been sickly since the day he was born. If he gets the disease. It's all over for him."

"So you're going to give him the medicine?"

"Do you think it's wrong of me to do that?"

Transfixed by Dok's stare, Kaim is at a loss for words.

Suddenly the gentle Dok's eyes betray a murderous gleam.

"I may be a soldier dedicated to protecting the nation, but before that I am the father of a son, and before that I am a human being.

I don't give a damn about the kingdom's ranking of lives according to whether or not they are 'indispensable.'

I want to save the life of one human being who is indispensable to me."

Dok's eyes take on added strength. They are bloodshot now, dear proof of his resolve.

"If I leave now, I can be back in the barracks by roll call tomorrow morning. I'll come home as soon as I give him the medicine, so I'm asking you to do me this one favor: don't cause any commotion until then."

"No, of course not, but . . ."

"I'm not sure I can make it, but I am sure my boy will die if I just stay here. He'll pull through if he has the medicine. If there's even the slightest possibility of that. I have no choice: I have to take a chance."

"They'll kill you if they catch you."

"I don't care. I can die with pride, knowing I did it to save the life of the one person most important to me."

"What if you get sick?"

"All I can do is leave it up to fate."

Dok smiles.

Human beings can't do anything about fate, but I want to do everything I can as a human being."

This is why Dok has revealed his plans to Kaim.

"One more thing, Kaim. If they kill me or if I get sick and die. I hope I can depend on you to visit my village sometime and tell my wife and son what happened.

Make sure they know that I didn't desert because I got fed up with the army. I did it to save my son's life, which is something that is more more important to me than army rules and even more important than my own life."

He will be satisfied as long as that message gets through, he says with a smile. Kaim has no way to reply to this.

Not that Kaim fully accepts everything Dok has said to him. He is convinced not so much by the man's reasoning as he is overwhelmed by something that transcends reasoning: by the power of life, by the strength and depth of Dok's desire to save a life precisely because it is something that will eventually be cut off by death.

"I'm going to make a run for it for it while we're patrolling the marketplace. I'm asking you to look the other way. Tell them I dissappeared when you took your eyes off me for a split second."

Kaim can do nothing but accept Dok's plea in silence.

He sees that deep in the hearts of those who love, finite life is a place that cannot be entered by those who have been burdened irrevocably with life everlasting.

The two men reach the far end of the marketplace.

"All right then, sorry to put you through this . . ." Dok says.

He turns toward the exit and is about to plunge into the crowd when it happens.

A child comes bounding out the alleyway.

It is the same shabbily dressed girl from the slums who ran past the men yesterday, laughing. Today she is alone and crying her head off.

She looks around with wild eyes, and when she spots Kiam and Dok in uniform, she comes running to them, shouting. "Help! Help!"

"What's the matter?" Doks asks.

She takes his hand and leads him into the alleyway as if to prevent the surronding people from hearing what she is about to tell him.

"It's my brother!" she blurts out. "He's sick ! He's got a high fever and he's shaking all over! We've got to do something or he's going to die!"

Kaim and Dok look at each other.

"How about your parents? Don't you have a father or mother to take care of him?" Kaim asks.

"What parents?" the girl retorts tearfully.

"They both died a long time ago. There's just me and my big brother. Oh please help him, please!"

"But I was just . . ." Dok mutters, fidgeting, ready to run. He looks at Kaim with pleading eyes.

Kaim kneels and down and looks the girl straight in the eye. "When did his fever start?" he asks.

"Just a few minutes ago," she says.

"We were leaving to pick up vegetable scraps, and he fell down . . ."

Only a little time has passed since the disease struck. He could be saved by the medicine.

But of course there is no medicine for slum children.

Judging from the girl's wasted frame, her brother must also be eating poorly. The disease will almost surely ravage his malnourished body and snatch his life in a matter of hours.

The girl will not come down with the disease of course, but even if it cannot attack her directly, once she has lost the only other member of her family and has no one to take care of her, the tiny thing is bound to trace the same fatal path as her parents and brother sooner or later.

"Please help my brother . . . please!"

She clings to Kiam and Dok, huge tears streaming down her cheeks.

Kaim gives her a slight, silent nod. He rises slowly and reaches for a small leather pouch dangling from his sword hilt.

Before he can lay hold of it, he hears saying to the little girl.

"Don't worry."

Dok is holding out his hand to her, smiling gently.

In the palm of his hand is a tablet.

"Give this to your brother." Dok says. "There's still time to save to save him."

The girl gives him a puzzled look and hesitates until he urges her.

"Hurry. Do it now!'

She reaches for it uncertainly and takes it in hand with great care.

"Hurry home, now!"

Dok says witha smile for her. the girl dashes off.

"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!"

Her shrill, tearful voice rings out as she dissappears into the alleyway.

"I'm glad it worked out like this, Kaim."

Dok says with a shrug and a pained smile. "So now I won't be branded a deserter, and I won't have to give you anything to worry about. No, this is a good thing."

He sounds as if he is trying to convince himself. He even nods deeply in agreement.

Surely he cannot have done this without regrets, especially if his son at home should take sick and die.

His voice is calm, however, as he says. "I couldn't help it. When I saw that little girl crying like that . . . I know my son would understand." He gives himself another deep nod.

"Still, Dok . . ."

"Never mind. Don't say a thing." Dok cuts him off and squints towards the alleyway the girl ran down.

"There's absolutely no rank order to lives. The only thing that matters is to save a life you see with your own two eyes."

"I know what you mean." says Kiam

"Just because I saved one slum kid's life, there's no guarantee he'll grow up to be a credit to the nation.

Maybe all I succeeded in doing was prolonging the life of yet another drag on the state. Maybe after I get back to the barracks. I'll start thinking of other people I should have save instead of him."

"On the other hand, Kaim." he says, interrupting himself and turning to look at Kaim as he considers yet another posssibility:

"On the other hand, I look at it this way, too. Maybe it is just a matter of innate human instinct to want to save the life before your eyes.

Maybe we learn those other kinds of ranking later: 'for the nation,' or 'for the people, ' or even 'for my son.'

I may have failed as a soldier or as a father. but I think I did the right thing as a human being."

Dok stops himself there and starts walking without waiting for Kaim to reply. He might be trying to hide his embarrassment at his own tortured reasoning.

Seeing this, Kiam produces a laugh and calls out to to Dok as casually as if he were suggesting they go to the tavern for drinks.

"Hey Dok!"

"Uh-huh?"

"You forgot this!"

Now Kaim finishes what he interrupted before, reaching for the leather pouch tied to his sword hilt.

From it he takes a small pill.

"What? You mean . . .?"

"I didn't take it either."

Incapable of losing his life to a disease. Kaim has no use for the medicine to begin with.

Of course he has no intention of telling Dok about that. Even if he were to try telling him he had lived a thousand years, it is not likely that Dok would take him seriously.

"You have a family, Dok. Lives you'd give anything to protect.

That is a great thing."

Now Kaim holds out a hand with a tablet in it the way Dok did earlier to the girl.

"I envy you," he says with a smile.

"Wait, Kaim, wait . . . Hey, I mean you . . ."

"I don't have a family," he says, increasing the depth of his smile.

Responding to Kaim's smile, with it's mixture of sympathy and warmth. Dok silently accepts the tablet.

"Well now, would you look at that beautiful blue sky!" says Kaim.

"I think I'll just stand here a while, looking up at it, not thinking about anything at all. This might be a good time for you to run home to your son."

Kaim does as he says, looking up at the sky.

Before long, he hears the sound of footsteps running across stone pavement.

"Make sure you come back alive Dok," Kiam mutters.

Kaim strolls along, looking up at the blue sky, until he dissappears into the marketplace crowd.