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the-volume-is-astronomical · 4 years ago

Text

The Crown, The Sword, and The Gay

The Tower

A/N: mi gente im just trying something out and seeing if people like it :] ive had this done for like months and months on end and i finally decided to share it so em enjoy

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words: 2380

summary: Roman’s stomach is making it very clear that this talk wasn’t going to end well... as long as he doesn’t end up in that tower.

pairings: eventual prinxiety, eventual intrulogical, eventual moceit

warnings: some potty language (not much), stress, anxiety, disappearance mention, flashback, crying

(let me know if theres any other)

Roman felt himself waking up, maybe because of the stupidly bright sun hitting his eyes, he didn’t know how that was possible since he remembered closing the red velvet curtains shut tight, so he didn't have this exact issue. So, when he heard some ruffling and things being moved around he wasn’t all that surprised.

¨Rise and shine, you little brat¨ Ruth said in a very tired but demanding voice.

¨Oh dear nurse, allow me five more minutes¨ Roman whined putting a pillow over his eyes so he could block out the rude sun.

¨Oh, flattery will get you nowhere, mister.¨ Roman could hear Ruth moving around the room, preparing breakfast no doubt. Roman took the pillow off his face and sat up, hair a wreck, and his eyes squinting because of the light coming from the window.

¨And he finally rises,¨ Ruth said sarcastically.

¨Yeah, yeah, the dashing prince has awoken.¨ Roman said half asleep. Ruth helped him sit down so he didn’t trip over anything and started serving him breakfast, she wasn’t going to wait for him to finish eating as she was already heading for the big oak doors.

¨Wait!¨ Roman sobered up, Ruth flinched a little at the shout but turned around anyway ¨Can I do anything for you?¨ She asked.

¨ Come eat with me, you for sure haven’t eaten anything today.¨ Ruth went to argue but closed her mouth when she noticed she, in fact, had not eaten.

She sat down in the chair in front of the royal, Roman made a few hand gestures as if to show she was open to take anything, she knew the monarch wouldn’t eat until she had settled for something so, she took a piece of bread and started eating, as did he.

After a few moments of silent eating Ruth spoke up ¨I still don't understand, after all these years you haven’t become a spoiled brat that doesn't care for his servant¨ Roman didn't even look up at her he just said ¨I guess you raised me well.¨ Ruth almost choked on her bread and looked at Roman as if he had gone insane. “Oh come on don't be so humble Ruthie!¨

She still looked at him confused and a little annoyed at the nickname but mostly surprised he would say anything of the sort, ¨Ruth, you are my nurse. You have been with me my entire life, You fed me when I was a baby for god sake! I consider you a mother, even if I have another mother in the throne room right now,” Roman shivered at the thought of having to talk to his parents after the events of the past week but continued anyway “and I sure as hell think of you as the person who raised me.¨

Once he had finished he immediately put a mouth full of food and kept eating as if hadn’t given that speech. Ruth still looked shocked but cleared her throat ¨Well, then I made you a sap!¨ Roman started laughing ¨How will your future spouse ever forgive me?¨ Roman burst out laughing and Ruth gave a small chuckle.

Ruth stood up and went to Roman's closet to gather his outfit for the day, while he finished breakfast. She threw the clothes at him “Hey!¨ Roman made his trademark over dramatic gasp. She sighed “I unfortunately also gave you my dramatics…”

“And I don’t resent you for that!” Roman screamed back with a big smile on his face.

Ruth looked like she had something on her mind. Roman didn’t have to wait much before she said what that was, he never did. ¨Would that make you and my Remy brothers?¨ she said, actively ignoring the prince’s comments. Roman stood up going towards his shoji screen to change behind. ¨Ha! We already consider each other brothers so it wouldn’t be much of a change.¨ Ruth started making his bed “Well this is new information to me.¨ Roman giggled a bit

¨Remy´s supposed to be back by noon, he passed a lot of territories to deliver this message so I sure hope he’s alright¨ Roman has always thought she was a worried mother even to him when he went on long trips.

Roman stepped out from behind the screen and reassured her ¨ He’s fine! He may act reckless but he's very calculating… but expect him a few hours later than what the estimated time of return” Roman slipped away looking for his shoes. ¨Oh and why is that?¨ she asked, hands on her hips, Roman gave a nervous chuckle.

Shouldn't have let that slip.

“Roman…” Ruth said in a warning tone. Remy was going to kill him but he didn’t want to die at his nurse’s hands “Remy’s been... seeing... this person a-and when his message trip aligns with where they live… he spends some time with the person so…” Ruth looked at him as if deciding something, “As Remy’s mother, I thank you for telling me the truth..” Roman was relieved “But, as your mother, I have to say…YOU SNITCH! Snitches get stitches for a reason!” Roman laughed genuinely and Ruth joined.

After their giggle fit, they heard someone knock on the door. Ruth went to answer the door, it was a guard “His and her highness request the prince’s presence,” Ruth thanked the guard and turned around and Roman looked mortified, “Roman, you have to talk to them.” Roman had never heard Ruth speak that soft. Roman only felt dread “Ruth I don't want to go” He was genuinely petrified.

“I understand, but they are very understanding and I believe they wouldn't punish you for simply trusting the wrong person” Roman shook his head “ They’re already so protective. They always had me under knight or guard surveillance but now they might do something so I won’t be able to sneak by” Roman was panicking and Ruth noticed, she walked up to him. And took his hand “Roman they just want the best for you…” Roman took his hand away from her own “No! They are just afraid they aren’t going to have an heir after one of them ran away.” Roman's hands were in his hair and his eyes started to glaze over.

Roman was very much not over his brother's apparent “disappearance”

“I understand Remus vanishing has affected your parents over protectiveness, BUT they have always aimed to protect you but after what happened...can you really blame them for it?” Roman sighed, Ruth forced his hands out of his hair, he took a shaky breath to calm down “No, but getting hurt is part of life! So what if I trusted the wrong person? Everyone does!” He gestured to the sky as if it was the only person listening, he felt so defeated.

“Well I can't change anything so, you should tell your parents that!” She didn’t know what to say to make things better. “I’ll try, let’s just hope they at least try to listen” he left it there and headed out of his bedroom’s oak doors, he never liked disagreeing with Ruth.

Roman walked down the long hallway towards the throne room but, of course, he wasn’t alone because that would be too much to ask apparently. Instead he was being escorted to see his parents by the guard that had informed him his parents required him. He already knew what they were going to talk to him about and he was dreading it.

Why did he have to make such a mistake?

Did the universe want him to not trust anyone after what happened?! If it would make the sinking feeling in his stomach leave then he would happily oblige.

The guard stopped at the throne rooms doors and Roman took a deep breath as the guard gave him side eye glance and opened the doors, “You required my presence?” Roman spoke trying to keep his voice steady and his head high, “Yes, Roman, we would actually like to talk to you about last week's event…?” He phrased it as a question a little too late. Roman’s father, King Leonardo, wasn’t an emotionally driven person and never was truly soft with anything he said, but he cared. The way he was soft spoken with Roman was just having the opposite effect that his father wanted.

Roman’s mother, Queen Victoria, was very comforting and always tried to shield her children from harm's way, but coming from a family of royals, she didn't have an example to follow but she wanted to be there for her child. “Roman, my little lion heart, I need you to keep in mind this is for your safety...ok?” Following everything by the book, always looking and being her best, so she would be a good example even if she wasn't nurturing, all she wished was for Roman to know she loved him and Remus with her whole being, Roman just gave her a tense nod as a response.

Roman’s Father spoke up, “Roman, you're going to be under knight supervision at all times,” That wasn't as bad as Roman expected, he basically already was! Anything but to be stuck in that damn tower “...And you have to stay in the south tower-” ...He should have knocked on wood.

“Father, I did nothing wrong! I shouldn't be punished for this-” Romans mother spoke up, she knew both her son and husband could be hot headed. She wanted to stop anything before it got the chance to begin “Roman this isn't to punish you! We want to protect you-” The Queen sounded like she was pleading with her son.

Roman did not hear her plea or just ignored it “...For how long do I have to stay there?” Roman’s mother spoke up, “Don't worry, you'll be there maximum 2-”

“Indefinitely.”

The King spoke in a cold unforgiving tone, Roman knew he had messed up big time. Victoria turned to her husband “Leo, we agreed he wouldn't be there for more than 2 fortnights, we agreed on that.” The Queen seemed upset but was obviously attempting not to show such emotion.

“Those were the rules we agreed to when he was a child and he would grant being punished” Both of Roman’s parents were staring at each other, showing they weren't going to back down.

Roman spoke, “Understood.” His voice was mostly monotone but tight, Victoria turned to him with an apologetic gaze. Roman shook his head. It was his own fault, his mother shouldn't blame herself for his actions.

“I'll tell Ruth, so we can pack.” Roman turned to leave but his father had more to say. “Before you go, Hugo won't be your assigned knight. One of the new recruits is climbing in status and popularity very quickly and he agreed to-” “babysit” Roman cut in. “-protect you. As long as I recommended him to Queen Marie for her armada”

As if things couldn't get any better, he had to meet this new recruit, he hoped they would at least get along. Roman just nodded and opened the door to leave. At that moment, Roman’s father called the guard that had escorted Roman to get the new recruit as soon as possible, he just left as quickly as he could.

His parents knew that not being around people and not being able to talk were some of the worse things that could happen to him. They decided it was going to be the way to punish him. Though, he never stayed for more than a month, now he understood why.

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

As Roman- basically power walked- back to his room, his brain tortured him with memories of his 7 year old self being forced onto the tower for the first time.

No! Please it was an accident-!

I won't do it again!

I won't- Please!

That was all he said as his father signaled the guards to take him, his mother not being able to look, turned her head away, trying to ignore every motherly instinct in her body to stand up and comfort her child.

The guards dragged him out of the castle- the only home he knew- and shoved him in a carriage, where Ruth was waiting for him. Ruth had always been happy around him but her expression was unreadable -looking back she seemed angry, he just hadn't seen her that way before- but, Roman didn't care. He threw himself onto Ruth and sobbed his tiny heart out, Ruth trying her best to calm him down, he eventually fell asleep. Three hours later, he was woken up by Ruth.

“Were here, principito”

Roman was scared. Ruth saw it in his eyes.

“Come on! You offend me, you really think I would let them take you to a scary place?”

The little royal could only muster a small “no”. Ruth took his hand and walked with him toward a tower. Roman thought it was beautiful, that's the day he figured beautiful things can hurt you.

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

Roman never got used to it. He always dreaded the ride there, all the build up to the feeling of nothingness. When he looked up at the tower, he got the same feeling that he did when he was 7, Roman learned to not look up. He’d always prefer being in the tower when he was a kid because, back then they allowed Ruth to stay behind with him. Now she would only go in the carriage with him and leave.

After they stopped allowing Ruth to stay with him, at least he had Hugo to bother, by asking him for stories of his adventures. He didn't have that anymore.

The only adventure story he had now was a vibrant red book, in the book shelf of the tower, the only fictional book in his whole collection. He will admit, it was a very smart move on his parent’s part. They always monitored what he read, filled his whole book shelf in the tower with Philosophy, Math, and Royalty etiquette. When he begged for weeks on end for an adventure book they granted him one but, they made sure it was the only book that was fictional. They wouldn't give him an adventure book based on real events, No! That would be giving Roman too much hope.

Good move.

#roman sanders #roman angst #sanders sides roman #ts roman #prinxiety #ts prinxiety #future prinxiety #sanders sides #ts princey

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olliedollie1204 · 5 years ago

Text

by the book

Virgil didn’t think this day could surprise him further. He was wrong.

Pairings: Platonic Virgil and Logan, Romantic Moceit, Familial Moceit and Logan

Word Count: 3,268

Tags: Librarian Virgil, Kid Logan, building towards eventual Romantic Anamoceit

sequel to my last fic for future reference, bc i’m gay and library meet cutes are ESPECIALLY cute

(Read it on AO3!)

If you had asked Virgil how he’d be spending his afternoon, he wouldn’t have said this.

Usually at this time of day, he’d be finishing up whatever book he’d decided to read during his shift the night before. He’d take his lunch break in the back (which consisted of listening to music as he debated what book to bring in the next day), and by the time he was back on the reference desk he’d be ready to spend the rest of his shift trying to beat his high score on Temple Run.

Today, though, his pattern seemed to be disrupted just a bit. Probably by the fact that a five year old child with a mouth that ran a mile a minute had come up to him unsupervised, asked for his help finding a very specific book, and basically kidnapped him back to the children’s section, where the two of them had spent the last hour doing anything and everything that Logan wanted.

Virgil tried to summon up an ounce of irritation at that fact. He was, overall, unsuccessful.

Right now, Logan was in the bathroom (after giving Virgil an amusingly childish explanation of how he didn’t need his dads to help him go potty anymore) so Virgil was taking the time to straighten up the game table from their activities. Logan had moved on to the library’s Lego collection, so he figured it was alright to put the checkers, dominos, and Connect Four pieces back into their proper boxes.

“Fuck,” he muttered softly as he dropped a handful of game pieces onto the floor. He leaned over to scoop them up, but to his surprise there was already a hand there to grab them.

“Maybe no swearing in the playzone, okay, Virgil?”

Virgil raised his head, giving Dot a guilty look.

“Sorry,” he replied. He always had to fight the urge to call her ma’am, considering she was only a few years older than him.

Dot waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. I know you’re not used to being near the kids, but something tells me you weren’t given much of a choice today, huh?”

She smiled and nodded her head toward Logan’s book basket on the floor. Virgil huffed a laugh.

“Yeah. You know he walked all the way to the ref desk?”

“I watched him go,” Dot replied. As Virgil’s eyes widened, she shrugged. “The library really isn’t that big, sweetie. I can see your desk from here.”

Virgil furrowed his brow. He straightened up in his seat, turned his head almost all the way around, and— oh, huh. There was his desk, half obstructed by the shelves and book displays, but easily within sight of the children’s section.

“Guess I don’t look up that much,” he admitted. Dot snorted as she helped him close the last box, grabbing them all and sliding them back into place on the toy shelf.

“Definitely wouldn’t kill you to look at the world around you once in a while,” she agreed. Virgil felt a small burst of anxiety at the notion that she was reprimanding him for not doing his job well enough, but her kind smile and teasing tone made him relax just a bit.

“The book club’s just about done, by the way,” she continued, standing up and walking back toward the children’s desk. “Keep an eye out for his dads for me, hon? I’ve got shelving to do.”

Virgil hummed in assent, now focused on watching the bathroom door as he waited for Logan to exit. While he waited, he saw a group of people spilling out the community room and dispersing through the library.

Keeping one eye on the bathroom door, Virgil bent over to move the young boy’s book basket from the floor to the table. He collected the two baby name books in his arms; just as Logan said, they were too big and heavy to fit into the already overstuffed basket.

He glanced back at the door, a sudden twinge of worry hitting him when he still didn’t see Logan exit. He spun around, ready to scan the library to make sure he hadn’t wandered off again—

And immediately Virgil tripped over his own feet, falling to his knees on the thin colorful carpet. He fumbled the books for just a moment before they, too, fell from his arms and slammed loudly against the floor.

Virgil hoped that his face wasn’t as red as it felt, but he knew he was probably fooling himself.

“Are you okay?”

Virgil nodded, eyes on the floor as he quickly tried to pick up the books. “I’m fine.”

“Are you lying?”

This voice was different from the first, and that fact combined with the strange phrasing made Virgil’s brow furrow in confusion. “No, of course I’m not—”

He looked up, and now his face was certainly as red as it felt (possibly even redder), because he found himself staring at two of the most handsome men he’s ever seen outside of his romance novels.

“Um,” Virgil said eloquently. “I—”

His words cut off as the first man (tall, heavyset, with a pair of wire rimmed glasses on his face) abruptly grabbed his arm, helping him keep his balance as he slowly stood up again.

“Did you enjoy your vacation?” he asked, and Virgil had half a second to wonder if he somehow got a concussion before the man finished, “Because that was quite a trip you just took!”

Virgil felt his jaw drop a bit at the… frankly atrocious pun, holy shit. The other man seemed disappointed but not surprised, whapping the first man’s arm with no real strength.

“Please excuse my husband,” he said formally, his dark eyes shining out from his lean, angular face. “He somehow thinks punning at random strangers is both appropriate and appreciated.”

“It worked on you, didn’t it?” the first man interjected, wrapping an arm around the second man and giving him a kiss on the temple. The second man huffed, but Virgil was quickly understanding that his irritation was mostly for show.

“My name is Janus,” the second man continued, reaching a hand out to shake Virgil’s hand. “And this is my husband Patton.”

It took Virgil an inordinately long second to respond, but he finally managed to shift the books in his arms and shake Janus’ hand.

“It’s, um, very nice to meet you,” he replied. God dammit, did his voice sound weird? Why did his voice sound weird? Did he get a concussion? “Uh—”

“Oh my gosh, are you expecting, too?”

Virgil cut himself off as the first man, Patton, gasped in delight. Virgil’s brow furrowed before he could help it, but after a moment he realized Patton was pointing toward him, toward the books in his arms. The baby name books in his arms.

Virgil’s eyes widened. “Oh! Um, I—”

Janus gave an overdramatic groan. “Please, Patton, I thought we came here to get away from all of the baby talk.”

“No, I know, but—” Patton replied, waving his hands in excitement. “We did this to meet new people with common interests, and look! A new person with a common interest, right?”

The corner of Janus’ mouth twitched. For some reason, Virgil very much wanted to see his full smile. “You’re right, darling. Maybe if we give our new friend a moment to speak, we can arrange an outing together.”

“Please say yes,” Patton interrupted, and for a moment Virgil considered doing whatever the hell he asked for as long as he kept talking. “Please say yes! I wanna get to know more new parents in the area!”

“We’re hardly ‘new parents’, dear. We’ve done this before.”

“Yeah, but not for years, honey. And not with twins!”

Oh. Oh. The pieces clicked together in Virgil’s head embarrassingly slowly.

“Wait,” he interjected, causing both men to look at him. “Are you—”

A small gasp came from behind them.

“Daddy! Papa!”

Just like that, Logan darted forward, diving in front of Virgil to wrap his arms around Patton and Janus’ knees.

Patton’s face somehow broke into an even larger smile at his son’s sudden appearance. “Hey, kiddo! Are you okay?”

Logan nodded, bouncing on his heels. “I found the books! I found the books!”

“What books, professor?” Janus asked, resting his hand on the top of Logan’s head in a move that was both fond and protective.

Logan reached up, yanking at the hems of his parents’ shirts. “I found the books for the babies’ names! Mr. Virgil helped me!”

Both men paused for just a moment. Their eyes flickered between Logan, to Virgil, and back again; after a beat, their eyes went wide in understanding.

“Did you do that for us, Logan?” Patton asked, picking Logan up and hoisting him onto his hip. His hands were large and calloused, and yet he somehow managed to hold Logan like he was made of glass. “How did that go?”

Logan took a deep breath.

“I told Mr. Virgil I need to name my baby brothers and he went with me to find some baby name books and I learned that there are ten thousand and one names and that names even mean things and people can name their babies after books and then he went with me back to the playzone and I told him about the cephalopods and we played Checkers and I built a robot with Legos and now you’re here!”

Virgil watched the two men as Logan spoke, intrigued and impressed that they seemed to be catching every single word.

“Well, it sounds like you had a lot of fun, kiddo,” Patton said fondly. He smiled back at Virgil, but his words were directed to Logan as he asked, “Is Mr. Virgil holding your books for you?”

Logan nodded and made grabby hands at Virgil, who belatedly realized he was still standing with Logan’s books clasped against his chest like a shy teenager in a coming of age movie.

“Oh, um,” he stammered, fumbling with the books before showing the two men their titles. “He, um, he wanted to get these two. I know they’re a little dense, but—”

“But our little brainiac asked you to help him find the biggest books possible, right?” Janus asked, his hand coming up to tweak Logan’s earlobe. “We’re used to it.”

Virgil felt a smile growing on his face. “Yeah. And, uh, for what it’s worth, I don’t think they’ll be that hard to read. It’s just lists of names, it’s not, like, in-depth etymology or anything.”

“What’s etymology?” Logan asked.

Patton made a slightly panicked noise, pulling Logan closer to him. “Isn’t that the study of bugs?”

“That’s entomology, dear,” Janus replied kindly. “Etymology is the study of words.”

“Oh,” the first man replied, giving Virgil a relieved grin. “Well, I think Logi’s already got quite a few words under his belt, huh?”

Virgil gave a small laugh; it was obvious Logan always spoke like he was training to become an auctioneer. “All that reading’s gotta go somewhere, I guess. Do you guys come here often?”

Too late, he realized how painfully close his words sounded to a cliche pick up line, but thankfully neither man found it weird.

“We just moved to the area, actually,” Patton replied easily. “I guess that means you’re a librarian, then?”

Virgil nodded, gesturing awkwardly behind them as he replied, “Yep, I’m a reference librarian. I work at the, uh, reference desk.”

Janus slowly raised one eyebrow. “How interesting. Logan, I believe we agreed that you didn’t have to come to our book club meeting as long as you would stay in the playzone, am I correct?”

Both men looked at the small boy, who was beginning to look very sheepish. “Well, technically—”

“Technically I came here first,” Virgil interjected, drawing all three of them to look at him in surprise. “I was making my rounds around the library, Logan asked me where to find the baby name books, and I thought that if it was better for me to take him to them than to risk him walking off by himself.”

Logan looked at him with wide eyes, but kept his mouth shut. Smart kid.

“Oh!” Patton said, pleasantly surprised. “Well, that’s alright then, since you stayed with a librarian the whole time.”

“And I got the babies’ name books!” Logan added, seemingly trying to move the conversation away from his and Virgil’s lie.

“And you got the babies’ name books,” Janus agreed. He held his hands out, and Virgil transferred the weighty books into his arms. “Oh, goody, this one has a thousand pages. How fun.”

“It does sound fun!” Patton added cheerfully, swaying Logan back and forth. “We have nine months for the babies to come, and a thousand pages over nine months is…”

“About 111 pages a month,” Virgil said quickly. “Divided by 30 days, that means you just have to go through about 4 pages a day.”

Patton gaped at him, Janus’ lips quirked into the tantalizing near-smile, and Logan— well, Logan looked at him like he’d just spoken another language. Which, to a five year old, he might as well have.

“Are you… are you a robot?” Logan asked seriously, causing all three men to smile at each other in amusement.

“I don’t think I’m a robot,” Virgil replied, but to his surprise Janus hummed in suspicion.

“I don’t know,” he said slowly, leaning into Logan’s ear to whisper conspiratorially, “Doesn’t that sound like something a robot would say?”

Logan gasped, causing Patton to giggle.

“Hey, Logi! How does a robot sit down?”

The small boy paused, looking at his dad with a wary distrust. “Daddy, this better not be a joke.”

Patton merely grinned. He gave Virgil a quick wink before finishing, “On his ro-bottom!”

Both Logan and Janus groaned, Logan flopping over in Patton’s arms. “Daddy! Your jokes are not funny!”

“Oh, they’re not?” Patton asked, reaching up to quickly scribble his fingers against Logan’s stomach. “Then why are you laughing?”

Logan burst into giggles, wiggling and kicking his feet. “I’m not!”

Janus and Virgil shared an amused look at the scene of total adorableness happening in front of them, before Janus cleared his throat.

“Okay, okay,” he interrupted, placing a hand on his husband’s arm and allowing his son to breathe. “Let’s take this outside of the quiet library, alright, dear?”

Patton smiled back at him, reaching around to cover Janus’ hand with his own. The three of them there looked so— so perfect, Virgil realized. They looked like a perfect family.

“Well,” Virgil said abruptly, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I’m glad I could help your son today. If you have any more questions, Ms. Dot at the children’s desk can help you find what you’re looking for.”

Patton blinked once before his eyes went wide. “Oh, gosh, you’re still working right now, aren't you? I’m so sorry we took up so much of your time—”

“No!” Virgil insisted. “No, no, no, it was no trouble at all, really.”

“Well, regardless, we thank you very much,” Janus added, shifting so he could also grab Logan’s book basket from the game table. “I expect my family and I will be coming here again in the near future, and I hope we’ll see you again.”

Virgil felt his face go warm. He knew Janus just meant it as a friendly, regular-library-visitors-getting-to-know-the-staff kind of way, but for a moment, he couldn’t help but imagine what if they actually meant they wanted to see him again.

“Yeah,” was all he said, nodding once. “It was nice meeting you all. Bye, Logan.”

He gave a small wave before walking past them, moving back toward his desk with a distracted feeling in his head. Maybe if he skipped some of the boring heterosexual sex scenes, he could still finish his novel of the day before his shift ended—

“Mr. Virgil!”

He froze at the sound of Logan’s tony voice calling his name. As he turned, he saw as Logan managed to wriggle out of Patton’s hold, trotting over to him.

“Logan!” Patton called, making an apologetic face at Virgil as he and Janus followed their son. “I’m sorry, I think he just wanted to say something else—”

“I really wanna say thank you for the babies’ name books,” Logan interrupted, screeching to a halt just in front of Virgil. “And— and thank you for the, um, the checkers, and the Legos, and— and—”

“Hey,” Virgil interrupted softly, kneeling down and smiling at Logan. “You are very welcome, kid. I’m happy I could help.”

“And I wanted to know if please can I come play with you again when my dads and me come back to the li-berry, please?” Logan finished in a rush of breath, looking at Virgil for just a second before his gaze dropped to the floor.

Virgil hesitated. “...Oh.”

“Logan, darling,” Janus interjected gently, “Mr. Virgil might not be able to play with you anytime—”

“Actually,” Virgil cut him off, eyes darting up to the grownups before he gave Logan an awkward smile. “I, uh, I can’t guarantee I’ll always be able to play in the playzone, but if you wanna come say hi and… and tell me about the cephalopods, I’ll love to hear about it.”

Logan’s eyes widened, and he broke into a delighted grin. “Really?”

“Really?” Patton repeated, sounding gratefully surprised. “I mean, if you have to work, we wouldn’t want to do distract you—”

“I… don’t actually do much work when I’m at the reference desk,” Virgil admitted. “I usually just sit back there reading all day.”

“Except for when you make your rounds around the library, like you did earlier today,” Janus corrected, giving Virgil a look that revealed he 100% knew Virgil had lied earlier.

“Yep,” Virgil replied anyway, eyes locked onto Janus’ as he gave a slightly cheeky grin. “Except for that, of course.”

Janus stared him down, but didn’t call his bluff; instead he smirked, slow and satisfied, and his smile was somehow even better than Virgil had pictured it.

“Well,” he finished, “the sooner we check these books out, the sooner we can read them. Logan?”

He held out the book basket, and Logan took it with all of the determination of a child on a mission.

“I have to check out the books because I remember-ized the number,” he informed Virgil seriously.

“Well, it’s a good thing your dads have you, then, isn’t it?” Virgil replied. The big grin Logan gave him was only rivaled by the giant one Patton was giving him over Logan’s shoulder.

“Alright, kiddo,” Patton said, placing a hand on Logan’s back and ushering him toward the check out desk. “‘Read’ the way! Get it? Like ‘lead the way’?”

Logan groaned. “Daddy!”

Virgil laughed to himself, watching as the three of them walked away. Just before they turned the corner to the checkout desk, Logan turned around, waving like Virgil was miles away rather than a few yards. Patton and Janus waved too, and something about the way the two of them were looking at Virgil— friendly, fond, and grateful, all mixed into one— made his stomach doing a rather interesting acrobatic move.

It wasn’t until later, when he was safe behind his desk again, that he realized what that feeling was. That blush-causing, stammer-inducing, stomach-flipping feeling. It was a feeling he was well familiar with— not because he’d felt it before, but because he’d read about it.

In his romance novels.

Virgil froze, staring blankly ahead of him.

Ah. Well. Okay then.

He was fucked.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #virgil sanders #logan sanders #janus sanders #patton sanders #moceit #anamoceit #my writing #my posts #by the book #for future reference

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apockeredyye50 · 4 years ago

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Lies And Damn Lies About Potty Training

Don't Just Sit There! Start Infants

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

Most preschoolers will begin walking sometime between three to six months old. During this stage, they will have the ability to continue to the walker with minimal support. Most kids will eventually have the ability to carry their own bodies and do simple toddler walks. Other milestones include toilet training, eating fresh foods on their own, playing with other children, and crawling.

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

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

Toddler's Adaptability. Toddlers' brains continue to grow as they enter the toddler years. There are a lot of things you, as a parent, can do to help your toddler adjust to their environment and increase their intellectual development. Toddlers absolutely love to learn. You should give your toddler lots of chances to do so.

According to recent studies, 1% milk provides important nutrients that are indispensable for the development of the growing immune system. A healthy immune system in babies helps to ward off illnesses and delays the entire milk allergy.

There are several other critical milestones that are attained within this time interval that parents tend not to emphasize as much as talking and walking. Gaining the ability to point at anything it's the little one would like you to find shows huge psychological gains from a toddler. This generally happens before a child's first birthday. From the time your baby is 12 months old, they should have stopped using bottles with teats completely. Your baby should be drinking out of an open or even a free-flow cup, so this helps them learn how to sip instead of suck drinks. Pretend play offers many opportunities to wait, take turns, and negotiate as kids decide how the story will unfold. Another idea is playing"sharing music" where each of you chooses a tool to play and place an egg-timer for 1 minute.

From the end of their second year, most toddlers show more attention in the business of other children. They might not be quite ready to talk about their toys when they perform, but it is a big step in their budding life.

Some kids will have difficulty quitting a tantrum. In these circumstances, consider saying,"I'll allow you to settle down " But whatever you do, do not reward your toddler by providing in. This is only going to prove that tantrums are an effective way to get what he or she wants. Rather, kindly praise your child for regaining self-control. Bear in mind , you need to teach your child that the best way to get what he or she needs is through good behavior. If you understand your toddler is exhausted, it is not the ideal time to go grocery shopping or attempt to squeeze in yet another errand. It's important to not spank, hit, or smack your child.

At this age, kids are unlikely to be able to generate a connection between the behaviour and physical punishment. The message you send when you spank is that it is OK to hit someone if you're angry. Experts say that spanking isn't any more effective than other forms of discipline, like timeouts. And don't forget that children learn by watching adults, especially their parents. So make sure that your own behavior is role-model material. When requesting your child to pick up toys, then you'll earn a much stronger impression if you have put your possessions rather than leaving your stuff all over the room. Toys or dolls may also help you show the procedure to your toddler.

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

But about months, you can expect to hear some real words. Between 18 and 24 weeks, most kids start using simple phrases, such as"no longer" or even"go there." By age two, you might even hear a short sentence or two. Daily with a toddler is an experience -- and there is so much to look forward for as your child grows. Wondering if your child will begin to walk, talk, and do all of those cute toddler items? As infants move in their second year of life, they are more mobile and more independent, exploring what they could get.

This stage can begin as early as nine months depending on the child and environment.

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

This era is sometimes referred to as"the terrible twos", potty-training-daze due to the temper tantrums for which they are famous.

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

Never Leave Your Child Alone In The Kitchen. Among the most dangerous items for toddlers is having a bottle in their hands while they have a meal. While infants will latch on to bottles with their fingers, you should not leave your baby alone with a bottle - ever. Infants swallow their jar as a very tiny part of their hungry body, and this may result in suffocation. While the baby may look like he or she is nursing, the fact is that the baby is simply taking food from the jar itself.

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

You will have to monitor the toddler constantly, and make certain the toddler has everything he or she needs. Toddlers will develop many bad behaviors if they aren't tracked, so constantly supervising them is necessary. This implies providing constant supervision when they are doing their homework, potty training, riding the bicycle, playing outdoors, eating meals, and going to bed. With continuous oversight, you can catch toddler behaviors before they become benign and dangerous.

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

Toddlers And Toys: It's All About Safety Parents often forget that the toys they select for their toddler can contribute to unintentional injuries or even death. Always check the toy for small parts that could be choking hazards. Never leave a toddler unsupervised near or on the toys. Choose toys that come with a locking mechanism so that the toddler cannot reach and play with the parts. Bear in mind that kids should not be put at risk for choking while playing with any sort of toy.

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apockeredqxj57-blog · 4 years ago

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Fall In Love With Kids

Improve(Increase) Your Infants In 3 Days

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

Most preschoolers will begin walking at sometime between four to twelve months old. During this time, they will be able to hold on to the walker with minimal support. Most kids will eventually be able to carry their own bodies and do simple toddler walks. Other milestones include toilet training, eating fresh foods on their own, playing with other children, and crawling around the house.

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

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

Toddler's Adaptability. Toddlers' brains continue to grow as they enter the toddler years. There are many things you, as a parent, can do to help your toddler adjust to their environment and increase their intellectual development. You should give your toddler lots of chances to do so.

According to recent studies, 1% milk offers important antibodies that are indispensable for the evolution of the young immune system. A healthy immune system in infants helps to ward off diseases and delays the whole milk allergy.

When should a child know their ABCS?

By age 2: Kids start recognizing some letters and can sing or say aloud the “ABC” song. By age 3: Kids may recognize about half the letters in the alphabet and start to connect letters to their sounds. (Like s makes the /s/ sound.) By age 4: Kids often know every one of the letters of the alphabet and their correct order.

There are several other critical landmarks which are attained within this time period that parents tend not to emphasize as much as talking and walking. Gaining the ability to point at whatever it's the little one would like you to see shows huge psychological benefits from a toddler. This generally happens before a child's first birthday. From the time your baby is 12 months old, they should have stopped using bottles with teats altogether. Your baby should be drinking from an open or even a free-flow cup, this helps them learn how to sip instead of suck drinks. Pretend play offers many chances to wait, take turns, and reconnect as children determine how the story will unfold. Another notion is playing with"sharing audio" where each of you chooses an instrument to play and place an egg-timer for 1 minute.

By the end of their second year, many toddlers show more interest in the company of other children. They may not be quite prepared to share their toys when they perform, but it is a big step in their budding life.

Some kids will have difficulty quitting a tantrum. In such circumstances, consider saying,"I'll allow you to settle down " But no matter what you do, don't benefit your toddler by providing in. This will only prove that tantrums are an effective way to get what he or she wants. Instead, verbally praise your child for regaining self-control. Remember, you want to teach your child the best way to get exactly what he or she wants is through good behaviour. If you understand your toddler is https://www.pottytrainingdaze.com/ tired, it is not the best time to go grocery shopping or try to squeeze in one more errand. It is important to not spank, hit, or smack your child.

At this age, children will probably not be able to generate a connection between the behavior and physical punishment. The message you send when you spank is that it is OK to hit someone when you are angry. Experts say that spanking isn't any more powerful than other forms of discipline, like timeouts. And don't forget that children learn by watching adults, particularly their parents. So ensure that your own behaviour is role-model material. When asking your child to pick up toys, you are going to make a much stronger belief if you've put your possessions instead of leaving your stuff all over the room. Toys or dolls may also help you explain the process to your toddler.

Between 18 and 24 months, a toddler's mind is prepared to start playing make-believe. You may grab them"feeding" a teddy bear or talking into a toy telephone.

But about months, you can expect to hear some actual words. Between 18 and 24 months, many kids start using words that are simple, such as"no more" or even"go there." By age two, you may even notice a brief sentence or two. Every day having a toddler is an adventure -- and there is so much to look forward to as your child grows. Wondering when your child will begin to walk, speak, and do all those adorable toddler things? As infants move in their next year of life, they become more portable and more independent, exploring what they could get.

This phase can begin as early as nine months depending upon the child and surroundings.

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

This era is sometimes referred to as"the terrible twos", because of the temper tantrums for which they are famous.

Immediate causes may include physical factors such as hunger, discomfort and fatigue or a child's desire to acquire greater freedom and control of the environment .

One of the most irresponsible items for toddlers is using a bottle in their hands while they have a meal. While babies will latch on to bottles using their palms, you should never leave your baby alone with a bottle - ever. Babies swallow their bottle as a very tiny portion of their hungry body, and this may lead to suffocation. While the baby may seem like he or she is nursing, the simple fact is that the infant is only taking nourishment from the bottle itself.

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

Provide Constant Supervision. You will have to track the toddler constantly, and make certain the toddler has everything he or she needs. Toddlers will develop many negative behaviours if they aren't monitored, so always supervising them is needed. This means providing constant supervision when they're doing their homework, potty training, riding the bicycle, playing outside, eating meals, and going to bed. With constant supervision, you can grab toddler behaviors until they become dangerous and life-threatening.

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

Toys and Toddlers It's All About Safety Adults often forget that the toys that they pick for their toddler can result in accidental injuries or even death. Always check the toy for small parts that may be choking hazards. Never leave a toddler unsupervised near or on the toys. Choose toys that come with a locking mechanism so that the toddler can't reach and play the parts. Keep in mind that children should not be put at risk for choking while playing with any kind of toy.

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tempist-flower · 5 years ago

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Second Chances ch 4- Growing Up

If you guys couldn’t tell by now, this is one of those reborn into your favorite game type of scenarios. I don’t have many chapters out yet so I’m posting what I do have out now.

This couldn't be the Zack I thought it was could it? There's no way it was the Zack I thought it was. It was just a common name, it was back in my old world. I mean, just because he had unruly black hair and blue eyes didn't mean he was the Zack I was thinking of. It could only be some type of coincidence. Yeah, I already figured that I somehow ended up in the world of Final Fantasy

Besides, I was never the type who thought babies looked like anything besides tiny humans. On the slim chance this was the Zack I was thinking of, I probably wouldn't even recognize him until he was older anyway.

~9 months old~

Zack Fair. It really was Zack Fair. After a couple of weeks I finally came to this realization after Mr. Fair came home. When my new father came home he called him by name I admit he was pretty cute as a baby. It's only been two months since his mom started babysitting me. She stayed at home to take care of Baby Zack while her husband worked. She also offered to watch me while my parents went to work. It took the whole first month just to get over the initial shock. Partially because holy crap was he cute. Baby Zack was clingy and had his signature puppy like personality at a early age.

Whenever my parents dropped me off on their way to work they actually stayed longer just to watch Zack's reaction to seeing me. He was always smiling and happy to see me, even though I hadn't really warmed up to him yet. He reminded me of those always happy and giggling babies that would be in TV commercials. I don't know if they even have commercials like that, but if they did he would be perfect for the role.

~1 year old~

I finally turned one year old. I could walk, a bit shakily and start making sounds on my own. Eventually these small sounds became small words. My parents and the occasional friend of theirs I met often commented on how what I should be doing at my age and how far ahead I seemed. Having gone through all this already, I was ready to get it all over with as soon as possible. My eagerness to get this whole growing up thing over with would turn out to be a bad thing later.

My parents threw a small party for me on my birthday. The only ones invited where Baby Zack and his parents. Plus two of Xander's friends so he wouldn't be bored. Zack was the only other child I was even slightly comfortable being around, and my parents learned that pretty quickly. Speaking of learning, Zack was only two months older then I was.

~2 years old~

I could form actual words at this point. Walking and feeding myself almost came naturally to me, most likely because I had done this before. I started learning my alphabet and how to count. Not to mention nursery rhymes, which I was surprised to find they had in this world. They weren't too different from the ones I grew up with. My parents were surprised that I got the hang of everything so quickly. I knew it wasn't normal for my age, and tried to tone it down a bit before they started thinking of me as a little genius or something. At this age my parents almost expected me to be a little monster, but to their surprise I wasn't.

My life wasn't very interesting, being only two there was literally nothing I could do be sleep, eat, and play. I was a pretty quite little kid that kept to themselves. I didn't care much for the toys they showed me. It was around this time they realized I could read, they just didn't know by how much. They would try to read me bedtime stories at night, but one evening my new dad caught me with a book in my lap. It was a basic children's book about a lost baby chocobo, that had left me so distracted I didn't even know he was watching me. It was after this the kid gloves started to come off.

In the morning my parents would take me to Zack's to be watched while they worked. Zack's mother turned out to be a teacher who occasionally taught out of her home. Turns out homeschooling was a very common thing around here. The small town of Gongaga had only one school that taught for all ages. Zack and I wouldn't be attending until we turned 5. Until then his mother took care of us with teaching the basic things we should be learning at our current age level. There were three other kids that she also took care of, but I paid little attention to them. Zack was the only exception. That kid was just too darn cute.

I was sure my parents told her about how quick I was able to pick up on things. While she watched the other kids I was usually left to myself. Since I could walk fine on my own and sort of feed myself she didn't spend a whole lot of time hovering over me. The first time she caught me reading a book on my own, she started giving me a small pile to read on my own. When she realized just how aware I was of my surroundings she dropped the baby talk entirely. I don't know if she thought my independence at such a young as was good or not, but she didn't question it. I was grateful for that.

~3 years old~

At this point trying to avoid being labeled as a genius or miracle baby was impossible. My new parents liked to brag at how fast I caught onto things. Since they noticed how fast I began to pick things up, they cut down on the baby talk. I still wasn't old enough to really do anything, but they had me do little things. Something like bringing them something small they needed. Even when it came to the terrible expectations of potty training, I got that figured out fairly quickly. Compared to Zack and other children, I was much farther ahead. My parents had taken me to the village's head doctor for a checkup and he figured I was more on par with a six or seven year old. The only things restricting me in life were my size and stamina. Being an adult in a kids body had far too many drawbacks. Not being able to reach tall things or make my own food was a big thing. Potty training was surprisingly and thankfully, not as bad as I though it would be. I really couldn't express how happy I was to be out of diapers.

However being so far ahead mentally meant that I didn't act my age at all. I never really played or interacted with other kids, with Zack being the only exception. Once he started walking and talking himself, there was no stopping him. He really was like a puppy even as a baby. Endless amounts of energy, never showed any sign of slowing down. Keeping watch over him alone was a full time job compared to watching all of us. Mrs. Fair had her hands full with him.

Zack was a very eager and talkative toddler, well as talkative as he could be. When he wasn't playing with the other kids he would constantly be pointing at things and saying, "wha that?" at a mile a minute.

Like a puppy though, I began to think he had a sixth sense or something. Whenever the other kids played with each other he would always stop to come and check on me from time to time. Each time he would try and get me to come and play, and if I wouldn't come then he would just come and sit next to me. Usually he would look over my shoulder at the pictures in the books I read, pointing at the occasional picture and asking what it was from time to time. Sometimes I wondered if he could have secretly been a child stuck in a adult body.

Some days my new parents would take over watching the both of us at our house. On more then one occasion I caught all the adults watching us together, whispering to each other. I hope they weren't trying to plan out future together. Little Zack was cute I'll admit, but I knew there was no way I could stay away from adult Zack. And I had no intention of messing with the timeline.

~5 years old~

It was at this point I came to stop thinking of my new parents as 'new' and just considered them as my parents. I didn't think I ever would come to like them, or my new brother. My family in my past life were far different from my current family now. It was like day and night. Sure my brother and I still didn't interact much but hey, mini genius or not I was only five years old. Not always that fun to be around. Most days blurred by for me. I still spent most of my days at the Fair house with a little Zack. The two of us officially started going to school with the other kids. Everything we learned was pretty standard for five year olds. After attending for a couple of months I quickly learned the basic layout of Gongaga's whole school system. Or rather I would constantly hear my parents and brother talking about such things, along with many of the teachers at the school. At our age we wouldn't be expected to do much. It wasn't until we turned ten years old that we would begin to learn the main jobs that were available in Gongaga.

First there the architects who built everything. Houses, shops, inns, bridges, wells... they were a very popular choice for boys. Next were the crafters. They were the ones who made a lot of the things people used to decorate their homes. From rugs and vases, to paintings and even some fabrics. Another very popular choice, even for my brother. From what I could tell he seemed to enjoy woodworking. Then of course there were important jobs like nursing, doctors, and scientists. There weren't oo many pursuing these jobs, only those who had a knack for it went for these jobs. When it comes to various shops and inns, they were all family owned businesses. It really was the type of village where there was only one or two of each type of shop, so not many options there. The smaller ones included the teachers at the school along with collecting, trading, and guarding. Each of those jobs were self explanatory.

Collecting and trading were the easy ones. Gongaga had a wide array of plants, animals and monsters surrounding the village. Collectors gathered them for the traders, who would either trade them for something they needed if they could not pay them with gil. Guarding consisted of protecting those who collected things in the forest from monsters. There was surprisingly very few who took on this job. For every ten to fifteen people that went collecting, only one person was guarding them. Monster attacks didn't happen too often, but they did still happen. These jobs were much more common for most of the people in the village.

However there was one main job that seemed to be just a tad more special. There was a surprisingly large array of medical plants and herbs growing around the village. They were commonly used for food or small herbal at home remedies. Even as a child is was considered the norm to begin learning which herbs were good for what, should they ever find themselves in a pinch. However when used the right way and combined with a bit of science, they could be used to actually make potions and elixirs. I never thought such things actually existed in this world, but it's just full of surprises.

Of course being only five I had yet to see them in action, but just knowing about them made it interesting. My own parents had a hand in making them. Before I thought they were simple nurses, but I later found out that my mother ran a special greenhouse to grow the plants inside the village. In case of emergencies it would save time to go to the greenhouse for fresh ones instead of going into the forest, or using old ones kept in the hospital. My father was a scientist, much more to my surprise. He actually partook in the creation of potions and elixirs. He also took the time to teach at the school from time to time. I found this out when he came to pick me up one day after school.

It seemed odd to me that we were essentially told to choose a career path at this point. Who honestly expects a ten year old to have their future career already figured out? I guess when you live in a small village where there really aren't many options, to them at least, it really was the norm. Few people left the village to find start over somewhere else. Being only five at the time and new to this world, I had no idea how anyone could just start over somewhere else. Especially in some place like Midgar. Attempting to pursue a career outside the village was considered rare here. It made me all the more curious as to how Zack had managed to leave.

#second chances #zack fair #cloud strife #reno sinclair #self insert #ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7

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askalfendilayton · 6 years ago

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Out of Sight - Ch. 10

First chapter Previous chapter

A/N: This story is like my poor, neglected child. The good news is that now that this chapter is uploaded, there are only two chapters left to go, and my direction for the story is much stronger. I’m on holidays right now and one of my goals is to get back into writing. It’s been hard, because I haven’t written anything in over a year (yikes!), but I’m absolutely determined, because you guys deserve an ending as much as Lucy and Alfendi deserve happiness.

Also - I mentioned this a while back, but like some other fans of LBMR, I’m no longer using the names Potty and Placid. Firstly, the nicknames just sound terrible, and secondly, they’re quite demeaning. Instead, I’ll be using Al for Potty, and Fendi for Placid. These nicknames are delightful and suit each personality nicely.

Enjoy!

Being an inspector of Scotland Yard carried a few perks.

Certainly not the pay – both Alfendi and his bank account could attest to that with confidence. Not the long working hours either, though neither side of him had ever minded that part of the job.

The freedom one gained after the tedious climb up the ranks was incomparable. Alfendi was in the fortunate position where he wielded enough influence for people to actually listen to him, yet was shielded enough from the public that most of his wrongdoings would go unnoticed by the media. The fire raging in the town might be a different matter, but it was the least of his worries for the moment.

However, as he was wheeled through the hospital on a stretcher, he knew that the real benefit to being with the Yard was queue-jumping the medical process like injured royalty. Neither Lucy nor himself would spend any time in waiting rooms.

But everything was happening too quickly for his drugged body to fully process. Craning his head, he saw only strangers.

“Wh-Where’s Lucy?” His fingers gripped the sleeve of one of the nurses, but the material slipped away from him. He stared at the digits, numb and disconnected from his body and mind.

Fear clutched at him and in his panic, he tried to sit up. Gentle hands pushed him back into the stretcher.

“You’re being treated for different things, dear,” a calm voice replied. “She needs to see different doctors. You’ll see her soon.”

He didn’t like that, but his words died the second he tried to summon them from his throat.

They arrived in a large room, where one doctor tended to the gunshot wound on his ear, whilst another focused on his right arm. The glass had been removed by medics on the way to the hospital, and after checking that there was none left and that the scratches had been disinfected, the second doctor applied a clean bandage that wound from his elbow down to his palm. Checking him for signs of concussion – had he hit his head? – she appeared satisfied that he would be okay.

“You’re going to have a rough few weeks, but I can’t see any signs of lasting damage,” she explained. She handed him a glass of water and two painkillers. “Keep your excitement to a minimum, and you’ll heal just fine.”

Through his blurred vision, Alfendi tried to make out her name badge.

She noticed and smiled. “Doctor Wells.” She extended her hand.

“Thank you,” he murmured, shaking it weakly.

“Get some rest,” she said. “Doctor’s orders.”

He didn’t have much of a say in the matter as he was wheeled to his room (completely unnecessarily, Al thought, but Fendi had the sense to accept).

The painkillers kicked in as soon as his head touched the pillow, though he felt like he sank right through and was falling down and down.

He awoke from nothing with a gasp, hands gripping the sheets.

“Alfendi!”

The woman seated next to him jumped, her hand rising to her chest.

“Hilda?” he croaked, registering her blonde, wavy hair. “Hilda, what-”

“Hush,” she ordered, and though her tone was sharp, her expression showed her concern. “I know you’ve never liked shutting up but give yourself a minute before you start babbling.” Leaning forward, she rearranged his pillows before pushing him into them. Waiting a further few seconds, she was satisfied that he was listening. “It’s currently half ten at night,” she continued. “You arrived here at five. Doctors assessed your condition and you’ve somehow come out of this without lasting damage.”

He remembered that much. Breathing in, he waited for the rest of his thoughts to unjumble. His ear throbbed – he’d been shot. His arm was heavy – there had been glass shards in it. His head was foggy – he’d fallen and hit it.

After he’d deduced those things, all the events came back to him at once. He tried to sit up but his head throbbed. “Lucy-”

“-is fine,” Hilda interrupted. A smile caught the corner of her lips. “She’s been asking about you too. You’re much worse for wear than she is.”

Hilda’s answer eased his mind as much as it could, without actually seeing Lucy in person. He needed to know more. “What are her injuries like?”

“She was treated for her hand wound. It’s nasty, but with time and rest it will heal. They’ve also checked her for potential poisoning, which-”

“Poisoning?” he spat.

“She was drugged when they captured her, Alfendi,” Hilda replied. “As a precaution the doctors have taken a blood sample to make sure it was nothing bad.”

“And the results?”

“The hospital hasn’t returned them yet. However, it seems you’re both well liked. One of your colleagues from the Yard – the small one, brown hair – ran her own test.”

“Florence Sich?”

“Yes, that’s the one. The results came back clean.”

Nothing could have restrained his sigh of relief. If Florence had run the test, then he knew it would be reliable.

It was fine. It was fine.

As much as he longed to seek out Lucy’s room, he knew that given the hour, she was probably in a much-needed slumber herself. Not to mention that even though he hadn’t seen his reflection yet, she would be horrified by his condition. His hand reached up to touch the dressing on his ear, and he instantly recoiled as sharp pain shot through it.

“The bullet tore through some cartilage,” Hilda said. “The doctor has told me that it shouldn’t impact your hearing, but it won’t look the same as it did before.”

He didn’t know what to say to that. His mind was too foggy to think about what this might mean for him in the future. He was about to thank Hilda, but when he looked at her face, he knew that there was more.

“Both of the thugs have also been admitted to hospital. The one that was shot, and the one with glass in her eyes.”

“Carter and Briggs,” he replied. “I didn’t shoot Carter – neither did Lucy. He eventually turned on his partner and she shot him in retaliation. He was going to try to free us.”

“Do you think Briggs is the head of the operation?”

“97.3% sure,” Fendi replied automatically. “Is Carter okay?”

“He’s come out of surgery, but it looks promising. The testimony from him, you and Lucy will be very valuable.”

“I think he’ll cooperate. His partnership with Briggs has been sour for a while, from what I could tell.” Thinking about her caused spite to run through him. “And what of Briggs?”

“Handcuffed to a bed and heavily guarded. She’s a spiteful thing, isn’t she?”

Something stirred within him, and he swung his legs off the bed. It took all his effort not to wince. “I want to see her.”

She sighed. “Alfendi-”

“It’s my only chance, Hilda. After she’s discharged from hospital, she’ll be in custody, and given I’m now a victim in this case, there’s no chance they’ll let me question her then.” He saw her firm expression and tried again. “Please. She hurt Lucy.”

To everybody else in the world Hilda would have looked the same, but he knew her well enough to see that his bid had worked. Ever so slightly, her lips softened, and her piercing gaze lowering a fraction. “I’m well aware.” She looked him over once before sighing. “You are too convincing for your own good, Alfendi. Follow me.”

Hilda did him the favour of walking more slowly than usual to ensure he could keep pace. Regardless, his body ached, and he had to stop twice to rest.

Arriving at the room, Hilda waved to the guards and they stood aside. Turning to him, she nodded. “Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

Pushing the poor open, his eyes took a moment to adjust to the room, the only light source being the lines that had crept in from the gaps in the blinds.

Briggs was upright on the bed, as though she had been expecting somebody. A thick bandage was wound around her head, covering her eyes. She made no move when he closed the door.

“Greetings,” she said. “To whom am I speaking?”

“Briggs,” he replied, ignoring her second question.

“Oh, it’s the inspector,” she replied, amused. “Last I saw you looked pretty terrible. It’s a shame I can’t confirm that now.”

“I look better than you.”

“That’s a low bar.” Her teeth flashed as she grinned. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Alfendi couldn’t answer right away. He learned against the wall to steady himself. It was a reasonable question for her to ask. He knew he wasn’t here as an inspector of Scotland Yard – it had become much more personal than that.

Eventually, he knew what he wanted to say. “If I hadn’t come,” he began, “what would you have done?”

“Are you trying to prove to yourself that you were a hero?”

He ignored the dig. “I’m sure you want to tell me.”

“You’re right.” She paused. “When your cop awoke, I was going to question her. I was going to establish how much the police knew about our operations, by any means necessary. Regardless, Carter and I would have left the town in the same day, in case the search party stumbled across our base.”

“And what of Lucy?”

“That’s something I’ll keep to myself. I still have a trial, after all.” She smiled back at him, and though he knew she couldn’t see him, he felt as though he was being watched.

That told him all he needed to know, and she hadn’t had to admit to a single thing.

Calm down. She’s fine. She’s okay. Fendi was talking to himself more than Al.

“Speaking of which, you look cheerful for somebody who is blinded and facing trial,” he commented.

“It’s exactly because of that – I still have a trial,” she replied. “When you think of that, things are looking quite lovely for me. After all, I’m a suspect horrifically injured by a police officer. That same man committed arson, which I’m sure is against protocol.” She laughed. “A good lawyer can do a lot with that. With Carter gone, it’s the cops’ word against mine. Oh, the things the public will say about you!”

“There is far more evidence against you,” Al spat. “It won’t be that easy.”

“Won’t it?” she asked, her voice sing-song. “This event will ruin you. You’ll probably lose your job. You and that girl will never be the same after this.”

She wants you to be angry.

He knew that – both sides of him – but his fists balled, and he felt himself shaking. He longed to cause Briggs the same pain she’d caused him, but more importantly, the pain she’d caused-

Lucy.

I love you.

He remembered the moment they’d shared, she locked in the basement, he on the other side of the unbreakable door. His hand pushing against the metal, willing it to melt away as they both spoke assurances that things would be okay, even though their chances of success were slim.

Yet through trust and determination, they’d made it out of that basement and that blasted town. Despite being harmed, they would recover. Their position now was far better than he could have hoped or expected.

He took a step towards Briggs, Al allowing Fendi to come forward. “I’ve heard your version of the future. Now, listen to mine.” Fendi paused, studying her face. He knew he had her attention. “In no more than a few days, Lucy and I will leave hospital. We’ll take a few weeks off work – paid leave, thanks to you – and then we’ll return. We’ll re-enter our back-office, make a coffee and tackle whatever case is waiting for us. We’ll solve it, then another, then another. We will continue our careers, and our lives, together. We’ll meet other criminals, much more interesting than you, and while we won’t forget you, I doubt we’ll think of you often.”

He leaned in close, knowing she would be able to feel his presence.

“But you?” Al said, scoffing. “You’ll be handcuffed to this bed until you’re well enough to be moved to custody. When your trial comes around, you will receive a sentence so long that you’ll have wished your life had ended in that basement. Then you’ll go to prison, likely the worst we have in the country for the crimes you’ve committed, and the world will keep spinning without you.”

Briggs opened her mouth, her lips dry as she exhaled, before closing it.

His work was done, and he retreated. “Oh, and one more thing,” he said, poised by the door. “I wouldn’t be so sure about the lack of witnesses. Carter’s alive, and given Lucy and I saved his life, I’m sure he won’t mind putting in a word against you in the trial.”

He heard the beginning of a shriek as he closed the door behind him.

“Cathartic?” Hilda asked as he shuffled down the hallway, florescent lights flickering above them.

“Yes.”

“I’m impressed. I expected to hear much more yelling – that’s what the old you would have done.”

“I’m not the old me, and not only because of Fendi.”

“Lucy?”

He hesitated a second before nodding.

“You two suit one another,” she added. “She makes you a more tolerable person.”

He smirked. “And you didn’t?”

“No.” Her tone was amused. “I think part of me enjoyed our arguments too much. Lucy will actually scold you for being ridiculous.”

Talking about Lucy had lifted his spirits, but he felt a pang of longing.

They’d reached his room, and when he pushed the door open, his jaw dropped.

Lucy was sitting atop his bed.

His eyes took her in all at once. Her hair was damp and combed, and she wore a thick robe that seemed to engulf her. She was pale and exhausted, her eyes drooping. Her hand had been bandaged, but that was the only sign of injury.

At the sound of his entrance her head snapped up. She stared back at him, and her lips trembled. “A-Alfendi.”

He staggered towards her, still in disbelief as he pulled her into a hug. Ignoring his aching body, he took a moment to appreciate the warmth of her body against his, the smell of her hair, the sound of her breathing.

Hilda had been right. She was okay.

Releasing her slightly, he stared down at her face, and she smiled back up at him.

The door closed behind them as Hilda gave them some privacy.

Wordless, they sat atop his bed. Lucy’s hand cupped his cheek, her thumb brushing against his face. Her fingers ran over his stubble but stopped before she reached his ear. He watched as she studied it a moment, and despite himself, a spike of anxiety hit him, because he cared what she thought about it.

When she leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss upon his bandage, he released a sigh he didn’t know he’d been holding in.

When she drew back, she didn’t meet his eyes, and he knew why.

“It wasn’t your fault, Lucy,” he murmured.

She still didn’t look up. “I made a choice, and it got you hurt.”

“You made a choice, and got a criminal arrested,” he replied. “You fulfilled your duty. I also made a choice to come and find you.”

“You had to.”

“Of course, because I love you.”

“P-Prof…” Her eyes had filled with tears, and she shook her head. “I never wanted you t’get hurt. When you fell down the stairs, I didn’t think you’d make it out, a-and…”

As she choked on her works, he pulled her into his chest, resting his lips atop her head.

The ordeal had been harrowing. It had been excruciating for him to walk down the basement stairs and witness Briggs grabbing Lucy by her hair as she bled from her hand. How awful had it been for Lucy, to see him shot and pulled down the stairs, left fighting for his life?

“We’re both here, Lucy,” he reminded her. “Here and well. Briggs will go to prison, because of the evidence you found. In a few days we’ll both go home. In a few weeks my arm will be healed, and so will your hand, and not long after my ear will be as good as it can be. We’ll have some time off work. Perhaps we’ll go away somewhere – we’re both long overdue for a holiday.”

She sniffed, looking up. “Dropstone sounds nice, Prof. Your dad’s stories have made me want to go.”

“Then we’ll go to Dropstone.”

She grinned up at him. “So it takes a hospital visit to get you to agree to a holiday?”

He smiled. “Perhaps.”

She laughed, and holding his face gently, she kissed him. Her lips were warm and soft, and as he reciprocated, he realised how much he’d longed for her. Pulling her closer, the day’s turmoil faded. As one of her hands rubbed the back of his neck, he was lost in his senses, as though he hadn’t experienced Lucy in years.

“Ahem.”

Startled, he pulled back, Doctor Wells standing in the doorway. Lucy let out a surprised gasp, before a nervous giggle.

“You appear to be feeling better,” she commented, smiling.

Al chose that moment to relinquish all control, leaving an awkward Fendi behind. He scratched the back of his neck. “Ah, I’m-”

“Not to worry. It’s a good sign, really.” She turned her attention to Lucy. “Your test results have come back clean, Lucy. As long as you avoid using your hand for a few weeks and finish your round of antibiotics, you have nothing to worry about.”

“Ta, Doctor,” she replied, beaming.

“We’re happy to discharge you both tomorrow, as long as you’re feeling well enough. For the moment however, I’d recommend you get some more rest.”

He couldn’t help but agree. Now that he’d spoken with Briggs and seen that Lucy was alright, fatigue had begun to creep back into him.

Lucy appeared to be the same, as she stifled a yawn. Still, she fiddled with her hands, nervous. “Ee, Doctor?”

“Yes?” Doctor Wells replied, scribbling something on her chart.

“I… well, given I weren’t been monitored by any machines in my room, d’you think I might be able to stay here for the night?” Her faced reddened. “Just for sleeping, of course!”

“I see no reason why not. You might be able to stop him from wandering around the hospital.”

He liked Doctor Wells.

“Call a nurse if you need anything,” she continued. “I’ll let them know about your room change. I’ll be back tomorrow to check how you’re doing.”

“Thank you,” Alfendi said, nodding.

As she left the room and turned out the light, he and Lucy pulled the covers up. Lying on his side to ensure that his ear would not be affected, Lucy held him from behind, her head resting in the crook of his neck. Her rhythmic breathing relaxed him.

“Alfendi?” she whispered, as he was on the cusp of sleep.

“Mm?”

“Thank you.”

His hand fumbled to find her own, fingers loosely entwining.

“Always, Lucy. Always.”

#Alfendi Layton #Lucy Baker #Layton Brothers #Mystery Room #LBMR #Lucifendi #Out of Sight

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savvyresourcesandmemes4covid19 · 5 years ago

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“In 2017, after receiving a bone marrow transplant, my eight-year-old daughter Grace and I lived in the isolation ward at Children’s Hospital Los Angeles. Her immune system had been intentionally destroyed with chemo and radiation so that her body would accept the transplanted cells. Thank God, the procedure was successful and after four months in strict isolation, we were allowed to come home.

That’s when life became truly terrifying for me. Her doctors projected it would take six to nine months for her new immune system to heal. Until then any contact with germs, viruses, mold, mildew or spores could be deadly to her. Except for medical care, Grace and I lived in social isolation. For six months straight.

I wanted to share what we learned as a family from our experiences while you and your family, and the rest of America, live in partial or complete social isolation during the CoronaVirus-19 crisis.

Worst Case Scenario The hospital's child life specialist’s advice seemed so counterintuitive that we ignored it at first. She told us to keep disciplining our kids as if everything was normal. There should be extra compassion and flexibility, she said, but the basic rules need to stay in place. She was right.

Kids can piece together snippets of news, emotions, and changes in their environment. If you let go of the family rules they will conclude that you’ve given up all hope of them growing up into respectful, responsible adults in the future. They’ll give up hope, believing that you’ve given up hope for them to have a future.

So don’t be tempted to let everything slide. I know you might be just barely holding on, but keep the rules they already know (and don’t be tempted to add new ones). You might need to change how you implement the consequences, but as much as you can, keep the normalcy that rules bring for your kids.

Tell No Lies Here’s another counterintuitive one, especially if you have young children. Grace was four when she was diagnosed with cancer the first time. The child life specialist told us that she was old enough to know the truth, in an age-appropriate way.

So we explained cancer to her. We told her before she got procedures. We explained that her hair would fall out, and that allowed us to help her mentally prepare. When we didn’t know what was age-appropriate, we waited for her to ask. Anything she asked we answered honestly.

We were taught that if we “white-lied” to Grace, like saying a shot wouldn’t hurt, then she would be in constant apprehension, not knowing what to expect. She wouldn’t be able to rely on us to help her navigate her crisis. If you don’t tell the truth kids will feel it but they won’t have enough information to come to logical conclusions. They’ll always assume the worst.

And as Mr. Rogers said, “Anything that's human is mentionable, and anything that is mentionable can be more manageable. When we can talk about our feelings, they become less overwhelming, less upsetting, and less scary.”

Don’t tread water. As a person, and especially as a parent, don’t allow yourself to tread water during a crisis. You need to have enough physical, mental and emotional strength at all times. Especially if the Coronavirus-19 lasts more than a few weeks.

I learned that lesson the hard way, living at the children’s hospital. I thought if I ignored my basic needs it would give me more time to take care of my daughter. First I ignored my body’s gentle reminders like hunger and exhaustion. I ignored my husband and concerned friend’s suggestions. Eventually, my body’s red flags went unnoticed altogether.

My head was just barely above the crashing waves of crisis. Anytime a new problem came, big or little, it forced me underwater and I was left holding my breath, praying I wouldn’t drown. And that’s a dangerous place for any parent to be.

You might need to force yourself to eat and sleep. Be honest if you need help. Exercise and relax if you can. Depriving yourself during a crisis won’t solve any problems, but ignoring yourself is guaranteed to make new ones.

Find your minimum In a parent's support group at the hospital, we were taught that every parent needs to find their minimum during a crisis. It’s the minimum thing we need every day to feel like there was a moment of caring for ourselves. A moment of small victory. Mine is to eat a piece of good chocolate every night. Another parent said they needed to drink their coffee while it was hot. Another parent needed to have a long, hot shower.

You might need morning devotional time, or go for a walk, or make your bed, or listen to your favorite song instead of Baby Shark. Only you know your minimum, and it can’t be ignored. It must happen every day. Your minimum guarantees one victory, and in a crisis, you need at least one to keep you going.

Plant a tree. Later. There is a time and a place to be Martha Stewart. Right now is neither. I’m a recycling, anti-plastic, organic-food kind of mom. But we’re in a crisis. And this is the right time for paper plates. I still cringe when I use them, but skipping dishes when surviving is smart. You can’t afford a fight with your spouse over the dishes. You can’t afford to run out of energy while sanitizing all surfaces, at the same as potty training the puppy, at the same time you’re not sleeping well, at the same time your daughter hits puberty, while doing the dishes. You can’t afford to burn out.

You can afford to plant a tree later, or better yet, use bamboo paper plates now (they’re more sustainable). During a crisis, take all the shortcuts you can.

Leave the spices alone. When we were living in isolation at home I would find myself organizing the entire kitchen, right down to the spices. I generally hate all forms of housework, but it was my way of trying to control the only kingdom I could rule. And yes, I suppose my neatly organized kitchen made me happy for about three minutes. Then my three-year-old son would come “help” me. I’d feel even more out of control than before.

We’ve never been in total control of our lives. We know that, but it feels more threatening with the Coronavirus-19 raging around us. In times of crisis, coming to grips with that truth can be a crisis in itself.

But trying to compensate for the loss of control takes a lot of work to maintain and it never works out well. Aggressive organizing, unrealistic expectations, codependency, or short fuses are some of the gentler outlets of trying to steal back control. Eating addiction, alcohol addiction, or drug addiction, self-harm, and abuse are the more obvious and deadly forms of it.

When I was able to admit that I wasn’t in total control of my life, I was surprised by the weight that was lifted off my chest. I can do my part, but I can only do my part. That focuses my attention and energy to do what I can do, instead of dwell on the things I can’t.”

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thisdiscontentedwinter · 6 years ago

Text

Bad Blood - Chapter 24

You can find it on AO3 or read the Tumblr Chapter Index here.

_____________

John arrives just after midnight, in civilian clothes and a rattling old baby blue Jeep.

“Were you followed?” Peter asks him when he meets him in the backstreet.

“No.” John jams his hands in the pockets of his jeans as they head for the loft building. Peter can taste his anxiety, sharp and acrid, in the air. “How is he?”

“Asleep when I came out to meet you,” Peter says. “Derek’s with him. He seems to be able to keep him calm. He had a small breakdown a few hours ago, but it might be too early to call it a breakthrough.”

“Yeah,” John says as they reach the steps. “I’m not expecting things to go smoothly here.”

They climb the steps slowly.

When they reach the loft, Allison is asleep on the couch with the throw rug tucked around her. Her shoes are neatly lined up on the floor beside the couch. Laura is sitting in the armchair across from her, reading a magazine in the faint moonlight.

The steel door to the secure room is ajar, and Peter can hear two heartbeats from inside. One is Derek’s. It’s as familiar and necessary to Peter as his own heartbeat. The other one, Stiles’s, is slow and steady with sleep.

Peter draws John over into the kitchen, and flicks on the light there. It shouldn’t wake the sleeping humans.

“Coffee?” he asks.

“I’ve had enough coffee today,” John says, and then squints at his watch. “Well, it’s tomorrow already, isn’t it?”

“Tea then,” Peter says, and begins to make it.

John drifts over toward the steel door, and leans there in the darkness. Peter isn’t sure if he can even see inside with his dull human eyesight, but perhaps he just wants to be close to his son.

On the couch, Allison snuffles as she wakes up.

John turns to face her.

Allison sits up quickly. “Who are you?”

“John Stilinski,” he says. “And you must be Allison.”

She blinks at him in the gloom. “You’re Stiles’s dad. My mom’s… cousin?”

“That’s right.” He gestures toward the couch, and awaits her nod before he goes and sits. “I’ve been up at the hospital today. Your father’s out of surgery, and the doctors say he’s looking at a few months recovery time, but he’s going to be fine.”

Allison exhales. “Thank you. And my mom?”

“She knows you’re with Stiles,” John says. “And she knows you’re with the Hales. She’s sure as hell not happy about it, but I guess she’s decided they’re the safest option for you right now.”

Allison nods again. “This is all so crazy. Werewolves!” She looks across to Laura. “Sorry.”

“It’s pretty crazy,” Laura says with a smile, and her eyes flash red.

Allison snorts.

Something in Peter warms at that, at Allison’s reaction. Allison doesn’t know what red eyes mean. She hasn’t been poisoned against werewolves like Stiles has, like every other child in a hunter family has. She takes Laura’s gesture exactly for what it is—showing off. Allison isn’t afraid of Laura’s eyes. She’s not afraid of any of the pack. She’s judging them by who they are, not by what they are. How unexpected, from someone with her surname.

Of course, these past few weeks have been nothing but unexpected. When all this is over, Peter resolves to never be surprised by anything or anyone again in his life.

He carries John’s tea over to him, and perches on the arm of the couch beside him.

“It’s just been insane,” Allison continues. “Not just you guys, but my dad, and Stiles, and Scott…” Her brows creases and her eyes fill with tears. “Stiles said he was there. He said…”

John darts a glance at Peter, and says, “He was lied to. We all were. Some of the old European families are particularly…” He shakes his head as he hunts for the word. “Zealous. The only good werewolf is a dead werewolf to them.”

Laura’s eyes flash again, and it’s not teasing this time.

“It took me half my life to learn it was a lie,” John continues. “It’s not a defence, Allison, it’s an explanation. When I was a hunter, if I’d seen a werewolf lurking around my family’s house, I would have chased him down and killed him too.” He passes a hand over his brow. “Scott McCall was a good kid. I’m sorry that happened to him.”

Allison swallows and nods.

It is what it is, Peter thinks.

If they survive this, perhaps in time they can plaster over the thousands of fractures between them—some tiny and some not so tiny—and learn to how to heal.

If they survive.

***

Allison goes upstairs to sleep in the end, in Derek’s room since he’s not using it. Laura goes with her to find some fresh sheets. John sits on the couch, his feet on the coffee table and his head thrown back, and Peter watches him doze from the window.

It takes an hour or so, but eventually Peter hears Stiles’s heartbeat change, and then the low murmur of voices.

He’s awake.

Peter treads silently over to John and touches him on the arm.

John jolts.

“Stiles is awake,” Peter murmurs.

John tenses, as though he’s going to stand, but Peter shakes his head and keeps touching his arm. Then he sits down beside him.

With wild animals, Peter thinks, you have to wait until they approach you.

It takes a while—the long seconds draw out into even longer minutes—but then the door to the secure room opens a little more. Peter can see the two figures standing there, but he’s not sure if John can make them out.

“Derek,” he says softly, “turn a lamp on, would you?”

Derek detaches himself from Stiles’s side, and moves to switch on the lamp on the end table.

John blinks in the sudden light.

So does his son.

“Hello, Stiles,” John says at last, and Peter can hear the tension in his tone, the barely-disguised urge to leap up and run towards his boy. And then he’s quiet for a moment, as though wrestling with what to say. His voice rasps when he says, at least, “I’ve missed you.”

Derek crosses the floor to stand with Stiles again.

Stiles jerks his head in a nod. “I…”

And then nothing.

“If there’s anything you want to know,” John says, “about all of this, about you, about your mom and me, about my past, you only have to ask. I’ll tell you.”

Stiles swipes his tongue long his bottom lip. “We… our family. You turned your back on all of that.”

John nods, his eyes shining. “For your mother, and for you.”

Stiles blinks.

“Claudia was a Gajos, Stiles.”

And Stiles flinches back, so Peter guesses he knows the names of werewolf packs just as much as does the hunter families. His expression cracks into something caught between horror and disgust. “Mom was a werewolf?”

“She was human,” John says softly. “But she was a human born into a pack. There was a chance, when we expecting you, that… well, we thought you had a chance of being born a werewolf.”

“You didn’t tell me anything about this! I didn’t know anything!” Stiles clenches his fingers into fists.

“I’d always planned to tell you,” John says. “I’m sorry I didn’t do it sooner.”

Stiles opens his mouth to reply, and then closes it again. He shakes his head. “I—I’m sorry, but I don’t have anything to say to you.”

And he turns and walks back into the room.

Derek follows him.

The door closes.

***

“No such thing as a fast resolution,” John says as he makes himself a sandwich in Peter’s kitchen. He’s wearing a brittle smile. “I’ve learned that before in the job.”

“That’s true,” Peter agrees, but he knows John is more hurt than he’s letting on, and a hell of a lot more fragile. “Baby steps.”

“Baby steps,” John says. His hand freezes over the tub of butter. “I should have brought him some photo albums. And I’ve got a video of him somewhere, riding his tricycle up and down the driveway. Claudia took it.”

“You can try that another time.” Peter takes the knife off him and spreads the butter. “You can’t push him too hard. It’s been less than a day.”

“Yeah.” John taps his fingers on the counter and nods. “Yeah, you’re right.”

But there’s a difference, Peter knows, between a thing being right and a thing feeling right. And sometimes it’s as wide as a chasm.

After the fire, after he’d found out exactly what happened, Peter had wanted to grab Derek and shake him by the shoulders. He’d wanted to scream at him to stop wallowing in his guilt, that it wasn’t his fault. He’d wanted Derek to get better, now.

But there’s a process, as the therapists of the world would say.

It’s not a straight road. It’s full of bumps and dips and potholes and detours. It gets there in the end, mostly, but the journey isn’t an easy one. And it’s sure as hell not a quick one.

“What do you want, John?” he asks curiously. “When you imagine this all somehow working out, what do you see yourself doing with Stiles?”

John exhales slowly. “Is this the part where I say I see myself on a boat in a lake, sitting with my son, and dangling a fishing line in the water?”

“If you like.”

“I would like,” John says, and shakes his head and smiles, “but that’s not the son I remember. He hated fishing. He hated anything where he had to sit still for extended periods of time. Jesus, when he was a toddler someone had to sit with him when he went on the potty or otherwise he’d just get up and wander away, and we’d find out later he’d pooped the length of the hallway.”

Peter laughs at that.

“I want a teenager,” John says. “I want a sixteen-year-old kid. I want him to play videogames, and lie about having done his homework, and bug the hell out of me for money for shit he doesn’t need.” He shrugs. “What about you? Where do you see yourself?”

“Maybe I’ll go fishing with you,” Peter says. “I know how to sit still.”

John hip checks him softly.

“I want to rebuild the house,” Peter says, his chest aching. “I want us to live in the Preserve again. I want a backyard. I want to help Matty paint his room and put those glow-in-the-dark stickers on the ceiling. I want to get him a dog and sit on the porch and read a book while he runs around the yard with it.”

“That sounds like a good plan, Peter,” John says.

“Mmm.” Peter puts the lid back on the tub of butter. “I wish it felt like a plan, and not a crazy fucking fantasy that will never happen. Such simple things shouldn’t feel so out of reach, should they?”

And John only smiles sadly and shakes his head.

“No, they shouldn’t,” he says, and offers Peter half his sandwich.

Peter takes it.

#sterek #my fics #steter senior #bad blood #discontentedwinter

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cindydoll · 6 years ago

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could you talk about bart and cindy? how his abuse affected her / her relationship with her family?

oH BOY CAN I!!!! buckle up kiddies it’s gonna be a bumpy ride!!!! (also i kinda stray in some parts but i was on a ROLL) also, fair warning, this is LONG

so, things start off rough right from the get go. as soon as cindy comes home with chris and cathy, bart is already enraged at the idea of cindy coming into their home. keeping in mind cindy is only two years old when she moves in with chris and cathy, one can argue she isn’t affected in the long term by things at this age, but i think logic and personal experience can say otherwise. despite her age, while she may not yet fully understand and comprehend the meaning of what bart says, she certainly understands and is affected by the tone he takes, as well as the facial expressions and other physical things that happen when bart is near cindy. she can tell, even at two years old, that this boy - this boy she grows up loving and admiring, and just wanting to please - wants nothing to do with her.

‘“get her out of here!” he yelled, his face a red mask of anger. “take her away! put her in the grave with her mother! don’t want no sister’! i hate her, hate her!” […] then, while mom stood on looking too shocked even to breathe, dad reached to control bart, who jumped up to hit cindy! then cindy was crying[…]’

this is just on the first day. that scene alone is enough to make cindy aware of bart’s dislike of her, and to make her uncomfortable and weary around him. now, an awful lot of two year olds are at the age where they’re starting to talk and converse and understand what’s being said to them. and they remember an awful lot, for the first handful of years at the very least. cindy might not be able to fully understand and comprehend the words chris says right after sending bart to his room for this outburst, but cindy remembers bits of them until she is old enough to understand - not to mention the fact that bart most likely told cindy this at one point in time, knowing full well chris and cathy fought over adopting cindy. and this stays with cindy, always going the extra mile to make chris love her, to make sure she makes him proud. she’s always petting about him, and giving him some extra attention. logically, she knows chris loves her very much, especially after she’s been with them for a short period of time. but she can’t get it out of her head that he had said those words, that he had objected to wanting her, that she will always be trying harder than she has to with cathy.

‘[dad] gave my mother a chastising look. “now do you see why i objected to adopting cindy? you know as well as i that bart has always had a very jealous streak.”’

and speaking of cathy, cindy is competing against carrie and she doesn’t even know it. cathy is comparing cindy to carrie (as she later does with jory’s twins), and she goes her whole life feeling that something is missing from her. something that she can never quite put her finger on, but that this missing link is the key to having her mother’s complete love and adoration. the missing link is she’s not carrie - she’s nothing close to carrie. she resembles more of a younger carrie personality wise - cindy isn’t afraid to speak her mind and tell people what needs to be said - but she also knows when to be polite and not utter a word that will put her parents in dismay. she may resemble carrie as a toddler, but at the end of the day, cathy will still have to deal with the fact that cindy isn’t carrie, and carrie isn’t coming back. and bart, being the ever observant child that he is, no doubt eventually hears cathy mentioning the similarities of cindy to her beloved carrie, and will often rub it in cindy’s face whenever he gets the chance. and it stings all the more coming from bart.

‘“[…] as it is i have a little girl who seems so much like carrie to me.”’ -cathy

and then, when jory talks to cathy about bart’s nightmares, he let’s it be known that cathy is letting cindy take up too much of her time. cathy, who in the best of circumstances isn’t a very good mother, has been spending less time with her two (biological, mind you) kids, and spending more time (both mentally and physically) with cindy, or thinking about cindy, or trying to convince chris to adopt cindy. her spending less time with jory and bart is because of cindy, and this is something that bart especially holds against cindy. (i feel like jory would eventually let it go and come around, but he might also hold a little grudge against her, letting it affect their relationship for a number of years until he grows and matures more).

‘[…] how could i tell her the truth? – that she was too taken up with cindy to pay attention to anyone else. and never, never should she give anyone more attention than bart. even me.’ -jory

bart, especially during his time where he was under the influence of malcolm, had ingrained it in his mind early on, while cindy was still only two, that she was a wicked, sinful girl. this here, especially from his influence with malcolm that stayed with him until christopher’s death, plays a huge part in how he not only looks and treats cindy, but all women (even cathy, during his darkest of times). during her entire life with chris and cathy, cindy is belittled and berated by part, he insinuates that she’s a slut and that all she wants is attention from any guy, even from other family members. this constant torment eventually leads to cindy sleeping with the vast majority of men she meets, even during her late teen years (which is just… no, i’ll talk about it but never write anything of the sort while she’s underage). she craves bart’s love and approval so badly that she lets these things get into her head, and she starts to believe them. and then she goes out to prove him right, and she also goes out to get that approval and love (just love in another form, cindy does not love bart more than a brother okay? okay) with anyone she meets. she only ever uses this self-destructive behavior with men. her relationships with women are always legit and healthy thank you very much. bart also blames cindy a lot for ruining his things, his life, his relationships. this first stems not only from his dislike of her, but because as a toddler she really would destroy his things - on accident, of course.

‘wicked little girl, that cindy. didn’t care who saw her naked. didn’t care who saw her sit on the potty. didn’t care about being decent or clean. took my toy cars and chewed on them.’ -bart

‘i could have slapped cindy when i heard her say silkily, “bart, darling, i was so sure you’d love this scarlet gown … since you think i’m a cheap, trashy thing, anyway, i’m just living up to your expectations – and playing the role you wrote for me.”’ -cathy

‘"have you forgotten all the nasty, mean things bart did to me? maybe i wasn’t locked up, starved or beaten, but i’ve had my problems, and don’t think i haven’t. bart makes me feel so unsure about my femininity that i have to test all the boys i meet … i just can’t help it.”’ -cindy

cindy later spends the vast majority of her childhood both afraid of bart, and trying to win over his love and affection. she knew something wasn’t right with him. she knew he was pretending to be a snake in the pool when he tried to drown her. now she was afraid of both bart and snakes, and for a while, she was afraid of water, too. she would wail and scream whenever she had to take a bath, and it took a lot of gentle coercing and love to get the deed done with. thankfully, after a while, she comes to realize she is safe with cathy, chris, jory, and emma around water and it comes to an end. but throughout her life, every time she looks into a pool, she sees in the reflection a young bart trying to drown a younger version of herself, and a quick flash of a current bart trying to drown her.

bart’s actions and attitude eventually started to bother not just everyone, but even cindy. while in bart’s presence, she found herself more often than not upset and in a bad temper. this started at a very young age, when she couldn’t help it as easily as she could in her teenage years. it made for hyped-up awkward family times together. this lasted up until after chris’ death, and as she got older, the more intense it got. at first it was just at mealtimes, and other times the family gathered together. then it on to become big events. all of christmas or thanksgiving, all of easter, graduations, etc.

‘it was a terribly awkward meal, with no one comfortable. appetites were small, and even cindy was cross.’

‘”no!” she’d shouted over the telephone, “i don’t care if he did send me an invitation! it’s just his way of showing off. he can put ten degrees behind his name and i still won’t admire or like him – not after all he did to me. explain to jory and melodie why, so their feelings won’t be hurt. but you won’t have to explain to bart. he’ll know.”’

cindy often fussed and worried over her looks. a part of her was just in her nature, and a part of it was because of the time bart decided to shear off golden locks while she was a child. for years, she would spend her time jumping at the sight of anything sharp, scissors, knives, broken pieces of glass or mirrors, etc. especially if they were in the hands of bart. even as an adult, she was extremely uncomfortable being around bart when such objects were near him. the event traumatized her in a way, and it led to her taking extra care of her hair as she entered her teenage years. for years, she would distrust any man with objects sharp enough to cut her golden curls of hair, even jory and chris, who she otherwise loved to make crafts with - a thing which because hard to do for nearly a year after the incident, because cindy would often run away and hide whenever the crafting scissors were in either of their hands.

‘all that pretty blonde hair that used to be cindy’s was blowing on the wind. […] now cindy’s hair looked like mine. stubby. short and ugly.’

cindy, as a very young child, becomes extremely untrusting of almost everyone around her. she trusts cathy and emma, in her own home, that’s all she can fully trust. she especially becomes untrusting of men, whether they’re children her own age or men in their 90′s. and not only is she untrusting. she grows up believing that people, especially men, will hurt her. this abusive behavior from bart might have something to do with cindy’s general dislike and lack of attention in males (aside from her using them in various ways), but really she’s very afraid of them and afraid they’re all going to hurt her like bart had hurt her over her lifetime.

‘"look what [bart] did to cindy, a helpless child who trusts that no one will hurt her.”’ -cathy

‘the pain in [bart’s] hard slap rocked cindy backward so that she sat down very hard on the second stair step. i heart the skirt of her red gown rip down the midback seam. […] tears came to [cindy’s] eyes.’ -cathy

‘playfully [bart] pinched [cindy’s] cheek. so playfully his pinch left a deep red indentation on her face. she squealed and kicked out. her high heel dug into his shin. he yelped and slapped her.’ -cathy

throughout the years, bart tried to ruin cindy’s relationships with the family, and even with emma. he was jealous of the amount of time everyone spent with cindy, was jealous that they would give cindy things, and he genuinely thought everyone loved cindy more than they loved him. (although i’m sure some did, let’s be real here). bart would lie, connive, scheme, and tell stories that shed someone in a negative light all in the hopes of changing their opinions of cindy, and to have cindy’s opinions change about the others. even as a child, after everything bart put her through, cindy knew enough to not trust bart or what he said. she took what he said with a grain of salt, and could only silently hope the others did as well. thankfully, despite his best efforts, cindy’s relationships with everyone stayed the same - flourished, even, because of the things bart said. he would even try and paint corrine in a negative light to little cindy, who had never even met corrine, just so he could have her memory, her love, to himself.

‘[[…]] cindy, who was sitting on jory’s lap and laughing as she played with some toy he’d given her. never gave me anything.’ -bart

‘[[…]] “i hold no love at all for cindy. she’s done nothing but steal from me – and she isn’t even one of us.”’ -bart

bart’s actions had affected cindy so badly, that, despite cathy loving her with all her heart, it did get in the way of their relationship whenever bart was brought up or around. cindy knew full well that it hurt cathy that she wouldn’t have anything to do with bart the older she got, that she wouldn’t forgive him or forget everything that had happened long enough to have a good time when he was around. even with his absence, if his name was uttered, it was enough to set cindy off on a tyrant, and everyone knew it. she was the only one in the household who couldn’t - and wouldn’t - keep her mouth shut when it concerned bart. cindy knew it had to of hurt cathy (and chris), but she didn’t care enough to not say anything. and this reason here is why her relationship with cathy has a crack in it. cindy doesn’t care that cathy loves bart - on the contorary, she expects it from her. but she does care that cathy won’t accept her wishes to live a bart-free life. but it always hurt her when cathy took bart’s side, even when she knew she was in the wrong. and she would hold that against cathy for days at a time.

‘[[…]] it gave me additional pain to know that cindy couldn’t let go of her dislike of bart long enough to help him celebrate.’ -cathy

‘"really, cindy, you can’t blame bart. this time you deserved a spanking.”’ -cathy

cindy uses her strong feelings against bart much to her advantage. she uses the rage that burns within her as strength to help propel herself forward. on top of her own pure ambition to achieve things, she uses the hatred to fuel her further, and she gets more accomplished than many others this way, much to everyone’s surprise. this is a habit she started (unknowingly, mind you) as a child, and during her early teenage years, when she realized what she was doing, she liked it and it’s advantages so well that she purposely kept at it. such is apparent after the dress fiasco at bart’s 25th birthday celebration.

‘"damn him to hell! i’ll show him! i’ll dance ten times better than melodie has ever danced! i’ll make every man at this party want me tonight, despite this deadly mousey gown you chose.”’ -cindy

sometimes, cindy couldn’t help but think bart had gotten to cathy, chris, jory, or emma about certain things. whenever the others criticized her or made any sort of comment on something that bart would often torment her about, a flash of horror and despair would wash over her, as she would convince herself for a few crucial moments that they were now taking bart’s side. no, not just taking bart’s side. that bart had been right all along. and that crushed her more than any of the others would ever know. in such small, simple ways, bart had managed to make such an impact on cindy and her relationships with her family members. did he even know?

‘"cindy, i wish you would wear those beach coverups at the poolside. and that suit is much too skimpy.” she appeared startled, crestfallen and hurt because i criticized her suit.’ -cathy

‘suddenly bart was there, yelling at cindy. “you don’t have to stay. you’re just the bastard my mother had to have.” cindy blushed deeply red. “are you trying to hurt me again, jerk? you can’t hurt me now! i’m through with that!” “don’t you ever call me jerk again, bastard!” “creep, jerk, creep, jerk!” she taunted, backing up and dodging behind chairs and tables, deliberately baiting him to give chase, and in this way, give her dull day a bit of excitement. “cindy!” i stormed, furious now. “how dare you talk to bart that way? now say you’re sorry … say it!” “no, i won’t say it, for i’m not sorry!”’ -cathy

‘"learn to keep your mouth shut.”’ -jory to cindy

when bart enters into his affair with jory’s wife melodie, despite him barely having actual conversations with her, he (and his presence and his general attitude about things) manages to make melodie change her views of cindy. some of this is her depression over jory’s accident, but if bart wasn’t around, or even involved at all with her, cindy never would have been brought up, most can agree on. melodie can see how bart and cindy act around one another, she knows what they say when the other isn’t near. her opinions start to change, and it’s not in a good way.

it’s even apparent that bart’s relationship and time spent with joel has formed a negative opinion on cindy (as well as cathy, chris, and jory). despite cindy not being a blood relative, and it not being her fault about the incestuous relations throughout the family (that she isn’t even aware of, mind you), he still has a hatred of her, and one can only logically assume some of this is because of what all bart has told him of her.

bart has even affected cindy’s relationships with people outside of the family. friends, lovers, you name it. with lovers, he’s particularly fond of violence as her preferred method to ruin relationships.

‘"i was spoiled like you spoil your dear little cindy.”’ -melodie to cathy

‘i can’t say i really care for joel. he seems very fond of bart, but he does nothing but criticize cindy. she can do nothing right in joel’s eyes, or in bart’s.’ -cathy

‘"he’s ruined lance’s face, ruined it.” more than likely she was right. i had to teach bart how to hold back his rage. how terrible for such a good-looking boy to have his beautiful nose broken, to say nothing of his black eyes and many cuts and bruises.’ -cathy

this is good for now, this is by far no means everything, but i’ve tortured you enough if you’ve read all of this.

#Anonymous #II. ( character development ) .

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alexeiadrae · 7 years ago

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I Like Being With My Autistic Child

One of my counselor friends wanted to refer another parent of an autistic child to me. I told her thanks, but my approach to raising an autistic child is so radical those parents often shut me out before they give my ideas a fair shake. Here’s the thing, unlike them, I like my son. I enjoy being with him. I don’t see him as a frustration or something that ruined my life, and I get really angry at parents who think otherwise because I see them make mountains out of molehills and doing things counterproductive to their children’s needs, and then blame their child for not thriving.

Here’s the other thing. Other people really like my son. He started swim lessons a few weeks ago, and when I told them he was autistic and didn’t talk much I could tell they were bracing themselves for problems. Instead, one his first day he jumped happily into the pool and was all smiles as he followed directions and they ended up liking him. They quickly moved him to a more advanced class.

And while I did have to quit my full time job to go into private practice so I could take him to therapy and get him out of his horrible school system A. getting into private practice was a career change I needed to make but spent too long being scared to pursue it to do it and B. I blame a system that does not support families who have children with divergent needs. It’s not my son’s fault he was born in a crummy place. That’s mine for not doing more to get some place more supportive before he was born.

What is our day like? I woke when I heard my kids in the living room. My son is 7 and can’t talk much, but he’s recently become fascinated with toilet humor and was gleefully telling me all about how his sister made a fart. I gave him some clothes to get dressed. He usually dresses on his own, but this week he hasn’t for whatever reason. I got him started and towards then end he took over. I’m confident that next week he’ll be back to dressing himself no problem. He then sat with his sister for a bit and they played on their dad’s computer while he asked for something he could dance to, so I pulled up some Youtube videos of our favorite Broadway performances. I’ve got a son who watches Broadway with me! Then I pulled up a video of all of the Doctor Who openings, and he that made him real happy and break out into a huge grin as he spent the next 20 minutes watching it and exclaiming “Tardis!” and “It’s the Doctor!” when they would appear.

The it was time to take him to the place he gets Greenspan therapy. He’s used to the routine and knows what is coming when I put the dog up. When I dropped him off he signed his name on the sign in sheet. When I picked him up he was playing tag with his speech therapist and having a wonderful time. The speech therapist talked about how funny he is and how he says the funniest things, especially when coupled with his vocal inflections. He doesn’t say much but when he does he is funny (and he is in on the joke). The moment I picked him up I started prepping him to remember that it was a swim day. Swim lessons are still new to the routine, so I made sure I told him multiple times to prepare him. I told him when I picked him up, I told him when he got into the car and buckled in, I told him when I stopped for gas, and before I let him out of the car I told him we were going in to put our swimsuits on. He does love to swim and got changed easily and chilled with his sister for a few minutes, and then we drove to the pool.

No problems at the pool. He followed directions and was all smiles and held his own with the boy his age he was paired with. As we were leaving his sister had to potty, and he decided he wanted to wash his hands. He used a bit too much soap and didn’t want to rinse completely, but you know what? It wasn’t worth making a BFD over. I asked him to grab some towels and he did and threw them away and went home with slightly soapy hands.

Here is where I think so many parents go wrong. Making BFDs of small things. When your sense of the world is out of focus because of sensory issues, I figure those small things help him gain a sense of control over it. It doesn’t hurt anyone if his hands are a bit soapy. For all I know he’s getting something from the sensation.

We got home, had dinner, and then I locked myself in my office for a bit to do some work remotely while my husband took over. When it was bedtime I came out and we read a few stories and he showed me some of the reading skills he is learning. We then sang some songs, and he threw the bedsheets over us so it was like singing under a tent. He then asked me to tickle his feet for a bit before he went to bed and all told, he’s easier to get down for the night than his sister.

Overall I’m struck by how normal our life is. He doesn’t talk, but her interacts with us, he jokes with us, he does a lot of what a typical 7 year old does. This isn’t a tragedy! And it isn’t a burden.

It was not always this easy, but then it’s also not easy when kids are NT. Ages 3-4 were HARD. He had meltdowns, he was aggressive with his sister, he didn’t sleep well. But those things that was difficult then are no longer problems. And no, we did not get to this point by me forcing my will on him and being abusive and controlling. We got to it by me understanding that there is a reason behind his behavior and giving him as much control as possible.

From the ages of 3-4 he had sleep problems. I would get home after working a 10 hour shift and grab “Harry Potter.” I would then read the books out loud until he fell asleep. This went from being a 2 hour process to a 10 minute one, and then it got to the point where one day he pushed me out of his room and went to bed on his own, and has done that ever since. I have no idea what caused the change, but it was a change he instigated. I also don’t know why falling asleep was difficult for him, just that it was. So I just took a book that would be fun to read together and made the most of it.

He would also wake up in the middle of the night and not go back to bed. Eventually I just parked myself in his bedroom and told him he couldn’t leave the room, but if he played nicely it would be fine, and then I slept in his bed while he played in his room (I am an extremely light sleeper and would have known if he tried to leave the room). Making it a power struggle would have just made it worse and I got my needs met (sleep and knowing he was safe) and he felt like he had some control over his environment. I told another mom with an autistic child who wouldn’t sleep about this and she just looked at me like I was crazy. But he sleeps through the night now. And I sleep in my own bed.

Meltdowns were another things we struggled with from the age of 3-4. I spent a lot of time teaching him to learn to manage his emotions. Even NT children have difficulty with this and need to learn how to regulate their emotions. Brain studies have shown that the parts of the brain that regulate the ability to control strong emotions is not developed in toddlers and that by expecting them to have this ability we are setting them up to fail.

What worked for us was teaching B to blow bubbles. Bubble mix and wands are pretty cheap. When people get upset they forget to exhale and expel the carbon dioxide from their system, and this causes them to get even more angry. So once he learned to do this while calm, when he would get upset I would grab the bubbles and prompt him to blow them. What I learned was that he really did want to calm down, and he REALLY latched on to this. For awhile I had tubes of bubbles all over the house, but he also quickly got to a point where if he got upset and I didn’t have bubbles with me I would prompt, “blow bubbles” and he would start exhaling air like he was.

Studies show if we teach children how to regulate these emotions when they are young then they grow out of meltdowns and other aggressive behavior, and I found that to be the case for my son. Now when he gets upset he goes to his room until he calms himself down. When he has gotten upset at therapy, usually when another child hurts him, he tries to get to a quit place to calm down, and his case manager is astonished at how he doesn’t hit back and how well he manages himself when it happens. I’ve also noticed he does not like people to see him when he is upset. Having a meltdown in public would be very embarrassing for him.

For awhile (3-4, again) he was aggressive, especially with his sister. I would ask reflecting questions, “was that nice or not nice? How could you have acted in a nice way?” He couldn’t answer me, however, he did think over his actions. would suggest and model things he could have done (say, “I am angry”, count to 10, etc). And it worked. He’s no longer aggressive with her. A few times things were so bad I had to take my daughter to my bedroom and lock the door for her safety until he calmed down (he is 3.5 years older, and he has always been huge for his age and incredibly strong, he rolled over the day he was born, and he really did not realize his own strength), and since he did not like being away from us he quickly learned to get it together and try the things I was modeling.

There are some things that I can’t explain how they worked, aside from that they did. For the longest time I would have to bring his backpack into the house. I would ask him to get his backpack and he wouldn’t. I was upset about it and felt like a pack mule, but I went with the assumption that he couldn’t understand what I wanted or that there was an executive function problem going on and that for whatever reason he couldn’t pick up his backpack. I kept asking though. Now? He’s 100%. I ask him to pick up his backpack and he does, and then when we get into the house he puts it on the hook. I did not train him on how to do this. One day he just started doing it, though. The only way I can explain this is that I was right about there being a reason interfering with his ability to pick up the backpack, and once he developed the skill he was happy to follow directions. Kids genuinely want to please and we tend to overestimate the abilities of what even an NT child should be able to do. Assuming that my children are trying their best has always been something that paid off in the long run.

It boils down to a few rules.

1. If they are engaging in a behavior, then they have a good reason for it. We may not know what that reason is, just that there is a reason. It may be a behavior that needs to change, however, since there is a reason, we need to find a new behavior that fulfills the needs of the old behavior and is safe.

2. Just because they can’t talk doesn’t mean that questions that help them reflect on their behavior aren’t helpful. Ask your child reflecting questions. DON’T LABEL THEM WITH BEHAVIORS SUCH AS “DEFIANT.” They aren’t helpful and they are damaging. Separate your child from the behavior so they see that it is something they can control and change, and that their behavior does not define who they are.

3. We have to teach children how to cope with strong emotions and impulsivity. This is not just something they are born with. Even NT children need to be taught how to do this. It is very hard when they are 3-4, however, it gets easier when they are 5. Studies show that children who are taught this when they are 3 are no longer aggressive when they are 5. It worked for my autistic son, so I don’t see autism children as being immune to learning how to do this.

4. Give them as much control over their environment as you can and avoid power struggles. If they want to wear their shirt inside out it just isn’t worth battling them for it. Save the battles for things like holding your hand when they cross the street. If they want to go outside on a cold day without a jacket, bring a jacket along and wait for them to ask. (my son would in under 5 minutes). If they want to wear mismatched stuff, oh well. Ask yourself, “who is this hurting?” and if the answer is “no one” let it go.

5.Remember what you like and love about your children. And make sure your child knows it. Having something to work towards is extremely motivating. If you see the good and the potential of your child they will rise to that.

6. Radical acceptance.

My son isn’t a tragedy. A society that is so intolerant of people who are different is the tragedy.

#autism #radical acceptance #parenting an autistic child #self regulation

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squirrel-moose-winchester · 8 years ago

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Cursed

Title: Cursed

Pairing: Dean x Reader x Sam

Word Count: 4101

Summary: Reader get’s cursed by a harmless witch, but it’s the Winchester’s who bear all the problems.

Warning: Fluff (I tried to make this cute and funny. I don’t know, you tell me.)

“Well, she was an interesting witch,” you pepped. “I’m sure she’s harmless. Maybe she just got bored you kn-”

“Shut it, Y/N!” Dean snapped. You body jerked in surprise.

“What? I was just say-”

“I said shut it.”

“But-”

“No.”

“I-”

“Zip it.”

You opened your mouth to say something but was stopped when Dean held his hand to your face. You pouted with a snarl and sat back crossing your arms. You looked at Dean through the rearview mirror sticking your tongue out when he wasn’t looking.

“I saw that.” Your eyes widened before frantically shifting them out the window.

Finally reaching the bunker you skipped in merrily. Sam and Dean stared at you with confusion before looking at each other at the strange sight. Never in their entire time knowing you had they ever seen you skip.

Shrugging off your odd behavior, Sam and Dean entered the bunker. Dean dropped their bags, including yours, on the table in the war room. Sam made his way to the kitchen to get some beer for Dean and himself but was greeted with you sitting at the dining table, swinging your legs back and forth, which was easy for you to do considering your lack in the height department.

“Sammy! I want pancakes!” You hollered raising your arms above your head in glee. Sam flinched giving you a weird look. He was definitely not expecting you to act that way. It was like you were a child.

“Uh, sure thing. I’ll let Dean know.” He pursed his lips into a forced smile before leaving, the two beers forgotten in the fridge.

“Hey, where’s the beer?” Dean asked sitting at the table with his foot propped up.

Sam shrugged. He had completely forgot about the beers. He was distracted by your outburst for pancakes and uncharacteristic behavior. “Does Y/N seem a little off to you? Like… she’s acting kind of like… a kid?” Sam strung out.

“Sammy! Bean!” A little girl came running into the room. She looked no more than three-years old drowning in the flannel you were once using. She clung to Sam, curling her arms and legs around his one large leg. Dean sat up straight, dropping his feet to the floor, with a puzzled look the moment she came in running in.

“Y/N?” Dean breathed.

“Bean, Bean!” She cooed, freeing Sam’s leg to run to him. She reached her arms up hinting that she wanted to be lifted. Dean stared at her in disbelief and hesitation but scooped her up on this lap when she started to whine.

“Hey there, Sweetheart,” Dean smiled awkwardly, casting a baffled look at Sam.

“Bean! I like you!” She giggled.

Dean scowled at the grinning child. “It’s Dean, not Bean.”

“Bean.”

“Dean.”

“Bean.”

“Dean. Duh, duh, with a D.”

You held a concentrated look on your face while Dean held an apprehensive one. When you opened your mouth Dean’s eyes widened and a smile crept upon his face with anticipation.

“I need to go potty,” you pouted. Dean’s face immediately fell, not expecting that to fall from your mouth. “Can we go potty?” Your voice was small. Realization settled in and there was terror in Dean’s face. Looking to Sam for help, Sam raised his hands beside his head taking a step back.

“Take her to the potty… Bean.” Sam teased, an amused grin spreading on his lips.

Dean gave Sam a death stare when he felt a tug on his flannel. He looked down to big, brown, pleading eyes. Dean rolled his eyes feeling a quench in his heart. Those puppy eyes were going to be the death of him. It was the same technique that Sam would use when they were younger.

“Alright, Minnie Mouse, let’s go.” She giggled at the nickname, wrapping her arms around his neck as he lifted her up and headed to the bathroom. “You know how this works?” Dean asked as they walked to the bathroom. You grinned wildly nodding. “Alright kiddo, go ahead and do your business. I’ll be waiting for you outside the door.”

“No.”

“No?”

“Stay with me. I need to poop.” You pouted.

Dean’s face practically hit the floor. “P-poop?” He stared into her puppy eyes and he cursed himself inwardly. “Oh, Chuck help me.” Dean lifted your adult sized flannel, holding it up while you took your time.

Dean was cringing the entire time waiting for the first bomb to release. Soon the smell caught up to him and he tried to suppress his gag. Dean scrunched his nose coughing like he was choking. Still holding her flannel, he tried to cover his nose with his arm. “Oh, c’mon. Hurry it up, Y/N. God, what did you eat?” Dean continued to gag.

“Done.” You look at him pointing to the toilet paper. Your arms were too short to reach. Dean handed you some and you held it in your tiny hands looking up at him.

“Okay, wipe up.” Dean told you but you just pouted, your big eyes watering with embarrassment. At this age, you were able to wipe yourself when you used your small potty, but the big potty was just too big. You needed both hands on the toilet seat to hold you up.

“I’m going to fall inside.” Your voice trembled. Dean panicked a bit with wide eyes. He knew you were going to cry.

“Alright, alright. You’re okay, I’ll help you.” Dean sighed. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Sam stood behind the closed door softly laughing at his brother’s stinky situation. When he heard the flush, he quickly dashes his way back into the war room where Dean and younger you had left him. You came running from the halls and accidentally tripped over the flannel you were wearing and fell hard on your face.

Dean came rushing forward, Sam not far behind, to aide you. Dean lifted you up on his lap in his squatted position looking over you. Sam cupping your face to look for injury as you began to wail bloody murder. Sam noticed the huge bump on your forehead before standing and heading to the kitchen, leaving a frantic Dean with a crying you.

Dean did his best to calm you down, hooking one arm under your butt as you rested your head on his shoulder, while his other hand rubbed your back. Dean bounced you in his arms, trying to shush you and telling you that everything was going to be okay and that you had to stop crying and be strong, which seemed to be working.

Sam return with an ice pack in hand pressing it your forehead. “Here take this and I’ll go look for something she can wear.” Sam spoke.

Dean sat down on the chair with you still pressed to his chest and head on his shoulder. Your breathing had calmed but Dean continued to soothe you. You were on the verge to sleep when Sam came back empty handed.

“Dude, where’s the clothes?”

“There is none. All her stuff is too big, and none of ours will definitely not fit her. We’ll need to go and buy.”

“Fine, I’ll go. This time you watch her.” Dean slowly passed you over to Sam. You didn’t mind the change in person, you were attached to both of them.

Once Dean was gone, Sam walked over to the kitchen still holding the ice to your forehead. “Y/N, you still want pancakes?” You nodded, pulling away to look at him. Sam placed you on the counter as he got all the supplies and ingredients. “Uncle Dean is better at doing this but I hope you’ll like it.” Sam smiled at you.

“Uncle Bean? And you uncle Sammy?” You had a giant grin on your face and Sam couldn’t help but laugh.

“Yeah. Uncle Bean and Uncle Sammy.”

When the pancakes were done, Sam carried you to the table before bringing over two plates and the plate of pancakes over. Sam told you to sit still and wait while he got the syrup. When he returned, you were standing on your chair leaning over the table not bothering to wait for him to set your plate in front of you, you grabbed a pancake with two hands and took a bite. Sam was a little shocked but smiled none the less.

Still standing, you set your partially eaten pancake down on your plate and reached for the syrup. You flipped it upside down and let the sticky goo fall over your pancake in one spot. Sam noticed that you had no intention of stopping so he grabbed your hands flipping the bottle back upwards. “Whoa there, that’s a little too much.” He took the syrup bottle and put it back on the table.

“I love pannycakes.” You wiggled a little dance before picking up the pancake with your hands again and bringing it to your mouth. Before Sam could react, the syrup had dripped everywhere. The thick syrup was on the table, your shirt, your face and hands, the chair and the floor. Sam’s mouth was agape but he knew that he couldn’t be mad, nor could he stay mad. You were young and didn’t know any better. With a defeated sigh, Sam continued to let you eat. He would just clean the mess and you up when you were done stuffing your face.

Sam had finished eating while you were still working on your second pancake. You were sitting on the table now, covered in syrup ripping tiny pieces of pancake before placing them in your mouth. Sam got started on cleaning the mess you made before wiping your face and freeing you of the oversized flannel you wore, leaving you completely butt naked. You were a child so it wasn’t a problem.

“Alright you syrup monster, time for a bath.” You giggled then roared motioning your hands like claws. Sam laughed picking you up and heading to the bathroom.

Taking a shower was another challenge in itself. You were screaming and playing under the spray of water, splashing everywhere. You wouldn’t stop wiggling as he shampooed your hair which resulted in you crying from the soap getting in your eyes. Sam eventually washed it out telling you that if you had kept still that wouldn’t have happened. When he soaped your body, you were more behaved. You were scooping up the soap Sam rubbed on your body in your hands and rubbed it on Sam’s arms as if you were bathing him too. It was inevitable for Sam not to smile at your actions. Maybe having a kid around wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

Turning off the water, Sam grabbed the towel which was big enough to cover you from head to toe. He draped it over your head ruffling the towel around you causing you to burst into childish laughter. When Sam set your free from the towel you sprinted out of the bathroom, in your birthday suit, hearing Sam calling out your name before he deciding to chase after you.

Dean had just made it down the stairs when you came blazing in unashamed of your nakedness. You screamed and ran in his direction, his body instinctively squatting down so you could run into his arms. “Uncle Bean!” Sam ran in, shirt soaked and hair damped. Dean lifted you in his arms giving Sam a dirty look.

“What the hell? And when did I become an uncle?” Dean asked.

“Sorry, I gave her a bath. We had pancakes and things got messy and well…” Sam stopped rambling when he noticed the bitch face Dean was giving him. “She got dirty.” He summarized. “Anyways, did you buy her some clothes?” Sam asked changing the subject.

“Yeah.” He set you on the table as you watched contently as he emptied the contents of the bag. He had pulled out a coloring book and crayons which pulled an excited cheer from you. You took it immediately starting to color despite your lack of modesty. Dean pulled out a few plain shirts, leggings that looked like jeans, a pack of underwear, and then pulled out child sized flannels.

Sam chuckled. “You got her hunter’s clothing?” He gave a smug grin.

“Well, she’s a hunter.”

“Dean, she’s a toddler.”

“Yeah, whatever. Check this out.” Dean smiled bouncing his eyebrows. He put his hand in the bag, pulling out tiny boots. “She’ll look like a tiny hunter!” He chirped with glee. Sam could only smile at his surprisingly overexcited brother. “I even got her some snacks in the bag.”

You were finally clothed sitting on a pile of books on a chair coloring away in your new coloring book with Dean. She was coloring a dragon on one page while Dean colored a different dragon on the other. Sam was sitting across from them on his computer reading some lore on witches, after concluding with Dean that it had to be the witch the three of you encountered earlier in the morning.

Not long after Sam had found three possibilities. One explained that you were cursed and would only get younger until your perished unless you kill the witch, another claimed that it was temporary but it could last for months unless reversed by the witch, and the last one stated that she would remain that age and grow up all over again unless the person who was cursed personally killed the witch.

During your nap the guys weighed out their options and came up with a course of action. They had to go into town and talk to the victims. They had called Cass to see if he could babysit but he was too far away to be back in time, Jody was on a hunt of her own, they would never dare leave you with Crowley, and everyone else they trusted were dead. The only option they had left was to bring you along.

The three of you made it to the first victims house, knocking on the door posing as FBI. The man standing in the doorway looked at you in Sam’s arms before eyeing the two men. “Sorry, it’s bring your daughter to work day. The wife was insistent on me taking her, saying she needed some time off,” Dean lied out of his ass as usual.

The man paused almost hesitant, when he sighed, “uh… women, am I right?” He shook his head before moving out of the way to let them in.

“Anyways, Mr. Chris Williams is it?” He nodded. “We’ve come to ask a few questions about what happened to you recently. Why don’t you tell us what happened?” Sam asked, setting you between him and Dean. As the guys talked you played with a stuffed bunny they had bought you along the way.

“Floppy, floppy, I love you. Uncle Bean and Uncle Sam love you too.” You sang quietly, unknowingly gaining the attention of the three men in the room. “Floppy, floppy, floppy, floppy…” You continued to sing as Dean cleared his throat looking at Chris to see that he was smiling at you.

“She’s a cutie.” He complimented.

“Thanks, she looks just like her mother and smart too.” Dean smiled.

During their conversation you crawled into Sam’s lap, playing with Floppy’s ears. Sam held you in place still listening to Chris speak. They had found out that Chris’s real name is Christina and that he is actually a she, that is before his encounter with the witch. She was at the store waiting in line when a man cut in front of her. She was complaining about how men were stupid and annoying and then a few hours later, she was a man.

The guys proceeded to talk to other victims, all asking similar questiones when they saw you. Dean and Sam would give that same answer taking turns claiming that you were one of their daughter. After meeting with all the witnesses, they found out that the witch stays rather close to town. They decided to stay in the town’s motel instead of driving a few miles’ home.

They changed out of their fed suits and decided to grab a bite at the diner. “Well aren’t y’all the cutest things.” The older waitress cooed. “All matching and whatnot.”

“Uh, thanks.” Sam smiled. “Table for three please.”

“Sure things sweeties, this way.” She escorted you to an empty booth, bringing a high chair and placing it at the edge of the table. “So what are ya havin’?” She asked.

Dean ordered a bacon burger, Sam got a salad, and as he was going to order for you, you shouted. “Chicken nuggets, chicken nuggets!”

“Sorry about that,” Sam apologize, lifting his hand up in apology to everyone else in the diner.

“It’s okay hon, but you’re in luck, we’ve got chicken nuggets. Should I add fries with that?”

“Yeah, she loves fries.” Dean smirked. The waitress grinned before going behind the counter.

When the waitress returned with their food, Dean didn’t hesitate to chow down. You picked up a nugget, taking a big bite before spitting it out dramatically. Dean and Sam were instantly hovering over you asking what’s wrong.

“Hot!” You whimpered.

“Jeez, kid. You need to learn to slow down.” Dean chided. Sam rolled his eyes at his brother.

“Take your own advice, Dean.” He spat, bring your glass of iced water with a straw to your lips so you could cool down your mouth.

You continued to eat, munching on your nuggets and fries. As Dean took another large bite, you looked over at his sandwich and pointed to it. “Can I try?” You asked. Dean looked at you incredulously. He was never one to share his food, maybe a fry here and there but never his burger.

“C’mon Dean, she’s a kid.” Sam scolded.

“Fine.” He reluctantly lowered his burger to your mouth. You attempted to bite it, but it was too big. You had managed to take off a little piece. Dean couldn’t help but grin. “Yummy?” He questioned, voice light. You nodded ferociously, picking up a half eaten nugget and lifting it for Dean to eat. Dean casted an unsure look to Sam who just shrugged. Dean rolled his eyes before smiling towards you and leaning over to open his mouth. You shoved the hold piece in his mouth smiling wider than ever. “Damn, Y/N is a cute kid.” Dean mumbled, chewing on the nugget you fed him.

“Yeah she is,” Sam agreed.

In the midst of desert, a voice pierced through the faint silence. “Looks like everyone is having fun.” A woman’s voice sang, causing Dean and Sam to stare.

“You.” Dean growled.

“Relax, I’m just here to check up on this little cutie patootie.” She smiled and booped your nose lightly with her finger. You gazed up, ice cream smothered all over your face.

“Look, we don’t want to fight.” Sam began.

“Like hell we do!” Dean growled, staring daggers at Sam.

Sam sent him a stern look managing to calm Dean down. “We just want our friend back,” Sam explained to the witch.

“Alright. On one condition,” she motioned Dean to scoot over. Dean rolled his eyes and reluctantly made some space. “I will return everything to normal, the towns people won’t even remember a thing, and Sam, I’ll even allow you to keep those photos you took, if…”

Dean looked over at Sam, “You have pictures?” He hissed.

“I couldn’t help it. She adorable.” Sam admitted. Dean glared at him, pulling out his phone.

“Then I want a picture too,” Dean mumbled.

“Hey, we should take a group photo!” Sam chirped. Dean quickly agreed, both brothers smiling as they set up their iPhone cameras.

“Sorry to interrupt but I’m trying to bargain here.” The witch interrupted. Sam and Dean scoffed in embarrassment and urged her to continue. “Like I said, I’ll return everything to normal if you let me go.”

“And why would we do that?” He snorted.

“Look, I’m not a bad witch. I don’t practice any black magic. I just got bored and couldn’t help myself. But I promise to stop. And if I ever act up again, feel free to hunt me down and I will not ask for mercy. I’ll do you one better, if a time ever arises, I’ll be more than willing to help you out in exchange for my life. Deal?”

Silence ensued when Dean spoked. “Fine. But if you ever get out of line, EVER! We will hunt you down.” Dean snarled.

“So don’t go making us hurt you.” Sam added.

“Don’t worry. Witches honor.” She smiled. “And as a reward to your good nature, I’ll leave her this small till she wakes up next morning, that way you can get her home and cleaned up, and take as many pictures you want with her.”

The witch was about to leave when Dean stopped her. “Hey, mind if you take a group photo of us?” He chuckled shyly.

“My phone too!” Sam barged. The witch agreed warily before agreeing, taking each of the boy’s phone.

Dean lifted you from the high chair, preventing you from eating your ice cream to sit on his lap. “We’re gonna take a few pictures, is that okay?” He asked you.

“YEAH!” You shouted with happiness.

After taking a few photos, the witch left. The boys did a sweep of the town to find all the victims back to normal with no recollection of what happened. You were still a little kid, happily swinging from the hands of your favorite uncles, Dean and Sam. Back at the motel, Dean washed you up this time in the tub. He made you a bubble bath where you and him played for while, making sudsy mustaches and blowing bubbles.

Dean snapped a picture of you with bubbles covering your face. Not long after Sam had joined the both of you to play. It resulted in a soapy mess and a lot more pictures. Once everyone was cleaned up, you all headed back to the bunker. You were sitting in the back of the Impala playing with your bunny, allowing its head to stick out of the car and watch his ears flap in the wind.

“Hey, don’t do that before Floppy flies away.” Dean barked. You jumped snatching Floppy close to your chest.

“No! I don’t want Floppy to fly away.” You pouted holding the stuffed bunny tightly.

The drive back wasn’t long. When Sam opened the door for you, you literally hopped out of the car and all the way to the bunker door. While Dean brought in all the bags, Sam carried you down the stairs. As he set you down, you ran for his laptop that was sitting in the library table.

“Moana, Moana!” You chanted, pointing to the laptop from your position on the ground. As Sam made his way towards you, you pushed the chair out and recklessly climbed up, Sam on standby for support in case you needed it.

“Moana?” Sam was confused. He knew you were pointing to his laptop so he opened it, allowing the screen to illuminate.

“Moana!” She shouted again pointing to the Netflix icon. Sam’s face contorted into a baffled expression, but clicked on the shortcut anyways. He typed ‘Moana’ into the search bar and found the Disney animated movie. He didn’t even know that it was on Netflix. “Moana!” you clapped your hands.

Sam clicked on the movie and pressed play, setting the widescreen option so the movie occupied the entire screen. He clicked the space bar, pausing the movie so that he could move you into your bedroom. Sam hooked up his laptop to the TV screen then un-paused the movie once everything was set.

Dean came in to see you and Sam watching Moana. “Ooh, hey. I like this movie. That Heihei is hilarious!” Dean chuckled, planting himself on the empty side of the bed beside you. Sam just gave him a look.

By time the movie ended, you and Dean were passed out, you snuggled into his chest, Floppy in your arms. Sam smiled and snapped one final picture knowing that when you woke up, you’d be yourself again with no memories of what so ever. Sam slipped out of bed, stretching before he unhooked his laptop and heading to his own room. He knew that it was probably best to wake Dean up, but he thought it would be interesting to see what would happen in the morning.

“You’re welcome Dean.” Sam laughed to himself, shutting the door behind him.

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achoirofcritters · 8 years ago

Photo

I would like to speak here about my Evie. In 2014, my great-grandmother, who had raised me my entire life, had a fall in the home. I transitioned into 24/7 caretaker, despite being in college at the time, and we had home-health nurses visiting every couple of days. Eventually, a case of pneumonia landed her in a prolonged hospital stay, where it eventually took its toll on her and she passed. My great-grandfather had died in a similar fashion a few years beforehand. So both of the people who had raised me were now gone. In that year, I lost the woman who had been like a mother to me, and the childhood home where I'd grown up, the only place I'd ever lived. College funds transitioned into get-a-home funds, and school got put on hold for a full-time job. I bought a house and became a home owner at 23. But grief led to some heavy depression, that I still battle off and on to this day, three years later. In November of 2014, I decided to take a trip to the Lexington Humane Society; I had a dream about puppies, I just wanted to play with dogs. See, I'd had a poorly bred miniature Australian Shepherd named Arcane who had been raised by the influences of my family; he was aggressive, had bitten me and drawn blood a couple times, and he was getting grumpier in his old age. I had wanted a dog that I trained, that had my sole influence, something I could do now that I was on my own. But I told myself... not until after Christmas. Then November, I stepped into that shelter. I saw a ball of skinny brindle bones in the corner of a kennel. Delicate, soft, sad eyes. A quiet little beastie; she never barked, never made a sound. Her kennel mate was growling and barking up a storm at us, a fussy creature named Eve, but the tiny little bully girl in the corner, named Bella at the time, never made a sound. Something about her stuck out at me, and I couldn't get her off of my mind. I had a meet-and-greet with "Bella" where her true personality shone, the timid, nervous waves melting off of her to reveal wagging tails, gentle puppy nibbles, and many kisses. A few days after meeting "Bella", I was adopting her. To me, she became Evelyn, or Evie, after the character from The Mummy. I was told a few things that her owner said when she was surrendered at 9 months old: "a lot of energy, she loves socks". "Pit bull" type dogs have three restrictions upon them at this shelter, no doubt due to the stigma of the breed, but I do agree that they're not for everyone. Evie is no more American Pit Bull Terrier than a dachshund is a corgi. But she's a blocky-headed bull breed of some sort, which is enough to condemn. We don't know her history, so all we can do is guess. In 2014, Evie was the best thing that could have happened to me. A saviour I hadn't realized I needed; the balm on wounds of grief; the best anti-depressant a girl could have. She had her issues; all dogs do. Things that made me think... I'd jumped the gun, I'd made this decision too rashly, I got a dog too soon. I wasn't ready for re-potty training a 10 month old dog, I wasn't ready to worry about resource guarding and crate-training, things I should have been prepared for. Live and learn. She was never anything other than extremely pleasant to any new person she met, however. And the issues grew thinner and thinner as we grew together, learned each other, and formed a life and a bond together. She adjusted to life with cats flawlessly; our giant maine coon mix runs this house and she knows it. This year, with the influx of foster kittens, she was never anything more than motherly and careful. No animal in this house is around small children or baby animals unsupervised. But Evie has never given us a reason to not trust her. She is the most tolerant creature of baby animals that I have ever met in my entire life. We learned quickly how amazingly receptive to training she was. I have a dog that knows countless tricks. I learned how different a dog could be trained with positive reinforcement, and how fulfilling the sessions could be for both of us. Evie was the first dog I ever trained to loose-leash walk successfully, the first dog to ever grasp things like "Bang!" and "Sit Pretty", she has a play-drive and an incredible desire to please. She is not everyone's perfect dog, but she is my perfect dog. I know it wasn't me. Mostly it was her. I'm still learning, Evie was my first dog "on my own", and she made it easy. We have our issues; a few negative experiences with other dogs and she's not partial to meeting new friends on the leash anymore. But we manage that. She's not reactive, and never barks at strangers or new dogs. She simply likes to introduce herself in a manner where she doesn't feel trapped and cornered. She has never shown any signs of animal aggression outside of feeling defensive around some new dogs. Puppies and small dogs are always welcome friends to her! She lives with 6 cats, and they've chased her more than she's ever chased them. Unless you are a car door slamming at 5AM, a school bus, or thunder, you have nothing to fear from Evie. One of my favorite memories of her interacting with strangers was at the UK Arboretum. This was within a year of adopting her, we take her on adventures often for photo sessions and just to get her exercise in, because she'd be a couch potato if we let her. A family was passing by with their toddler-aged daughter. The child immediately latched onto Evie and squealed and was instantly smitten with her. Evie greets every human being in the same manner: she rolls over, exposes her belly for some good belly rubs, and then will crawl closer. She stays low as if to say "I'm not scary!" She got acquainted with this toddler and the family was so enamored by how gentle and well-behaved she was. For a while, this little girl was just standing with both of her hands braced on Evie's bum, holding herself up, while Evie just stood there, thrilled as could be to be the girl's center of attention, and when they finally went their own way, breaking the two up was quite a task! People avoid her sometimes. That's fine. But there's never been anyone she hasn't wanted to meet. But my favorite time spent with her is nights snuggling on the couch. She lays next to me, tucked into a blanket, and dozes while we binge the newest Netflix series. The moments of quiet peace, where the world is still, and I just feel content. She'd run for days if I was running with her, but as long as I'm down for the count? She's happy to rest as well. We brought Astaroth home from an Australian Shepherd breeder last year to be her constant playmate. He adores her and trusts her judgment, enjoys stealing toys from her, and even smacks her with said toys to antagonize her to chase him. Many a times she has fallen asleep to him chewing on her ears until they are drenched with drool, ever since puppyhood. He was the perfect balance of chaos and mischief to our family. The two have never had a scuffle. Ever. This dog who is so perspective to others' anxiety, and has helped my friends through multiple panic attacks by being with them through them, who put smiles on my face and joy in my heart during a time where I had lost so much and felt so lost. She made me love dogs again; I learned to remember how astonishing the partnership could be. She's a powerful dog without knowing it, and no, not everyone should expect to manage such a muscle beast; she's bruised me in play accidentally because she doesn't know her own strength, but if I was too afraid to get a scratch or bruise here and there, I wouldn't keep pets at all. Dogs are domesticated carnivores and we should regard them as such, with respect, so no, I'm not going to tell you she's a pure, gentle angel made of cotton-candy and clouds. She's muscle, rambunctious energy and power, and she's got a mouthful of teeth that sometimes miss the toy and get your fingers. But that would be true of any dog. This dog came into my life at a time where I desperately needed her, and she's started a journey with me that means the world to me and is close to my heart. People can hate her due to her aesthetics if they like, because of her blocky head and short, brindle coat; I don't fucking like shih-tzus and the like. But you make this personal and all bets are off; I don't care how anyone else feels about my dog, whether they think she's ugly or what, but I trust and believe in her a hell of a lot more than I do some insignificant stranger on the internet. Evie's been in my life almost three years now; her third anniversary is approaching and will be shortly followed by her fourth birthday. I haven't changed my mind about her yet, I highly doubt I'm going to. And sometimes I wonder if I'd still be here if it weren't for her. She is the soldier combating my inner demons daily, just by being present, grounding me and giving me something to be responsible for. She gets me out of the house on days I feel like withering away in bed. She lays with me when I'm feeling melancholy. She makes me smile when her and her brother have silly shenanigans in the living room. And she makes my heart swell with the look of those starlit eyes of hers. My dog is better than anonymous hateful, nasty people will ever be. And I owe my life and my passion and my drive to her. Her love is more important to me than your approval.

P.S. - the Aussie would hate you. See, he takes guidance from his big sister of what sort of people he should trust. He's been smitten with her since he was 8 weeks old. Astaroth is a lot less trusting of strangers than pure, kind-hearted Evie. So if you're gonna hate one of my dogs, go ahead and save some time and hate them both.

Something I wrote and published today on my photography FB page about Evie, in light of strangers on the internet harassing me and attacking her and Astaroth.

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oursyncracyqwo34 · 4 years ago

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What You Can Learn From Bill Gates About Potty Training

Potty Training Adventures

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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turnertimeline · 8 years ago

Text

‘Verse Shorts

Collection: Tim and Annie, Turner FAmily

Year: various

Characters: Annie, Tim, the rest of the Turners

Content Warnings: none

Rating: K

Style: chat fic

Summary: Bits of Annie’s thoughts, getting comfortable with the Turners. If it’s got a strike through it, it was changed and is no longer canon to our world.

Shelagh really wants to give them a piece of her mind. Because she cannot imagine ever turning her child away. And oh she is so so so so proud of Tim. She's worried that he'll end up too invested and will get hurt. But Tim's got a good head on his shoulders.

Shelagh cannot imagine turning her back on her children, or on her grandchild. How dare they. Her pride for Tim fills her up and makes her feel like she's going to burst, some days. She worries he's too invested, especially if he bonds with the child, but she knows he has a good, steady head on his shoulders and there are worse things than loving and hurting. And once she meets Annette it becomes obvious even if they never become a couple she's one of the family now.

Shelagh's warmth and love overwhelms Annette. Her parents have never been affectionate. But Shelagh hugs her when they first meet. And Patrick, she's never seen a father so involved. Sharing in household chores, and taking care of Angela and Teddy, it blows her mind a little. Growing up, she could never climb up on her dad's lap right after he got home from work. Or ever really. But the minute Patrick sits down Teddy is in his lap asking for stories.

This is the life she wants for her baby. A family that loves.

Shelagh hugs her in greeting, and helps her with her hair when they're getting ready to go to Nonnatus, and will put her hands on her shoulders from behind when she's sitting at the table. She's so open and easy with her verbal affection and praise, too (and sly and a bit cheeky, which Annette grows to love, especially when she teases Patrick and his face goes all soft and fond). But it's Patrick that's a revelation: he hugs Tim hello when he picks them up, and lets Angela play pretend, using him as her patient during doctor and nurses and puts on the crown she brings him and sits at her tea parties. Teddy demanding UP! as soon as he comes home and more often than not it's Patrick changing him and getting him dressed during potty training and who sits up half the night when he has a cold and is grisly and miserable.

Her father was /never/ the one doing any of the late nights with her or her siblings. Never read stories. That was her mom. And as the oldest, it eventually became her duty to help with bedtime for the younger kids. There's only two of them, three children in the family just like Tim. But unlike Tim, there wasn't a more than 10 year age gap. At 10, she was helping put her 7 and 5 year old sisters to bed. She misses them the most. Her parents won't even let them talk to her when she calls for them. They say she's a bad influence.

Annette doesn't believe Tim when he tells her Patrick used to change Teddy's nappies until she meets them. And oh gosh, yes, she was definitely the (barely) older sister that basically raised her siblings from the age of ten, was always the one who took them to school and did their hair and put them to bed and hugged them when they had a nightmare...

It's the isolation that hurts the most. She can't see them, and they don't get to see their nephew until he's one, when the middle sister gets her own money and they get the bus into town and are able to call her from a phone box.

She's not even surprised when Tim changes Daniel's nappies. Or that Patrick even offers when they're over. And it makes her heart ache. Because she misses her parents, but more, she misses what they should have been.

Tim definitely does it without even batting an eyelid. Cleans the linens too. At first Patrick offers to do stuff and she's like, oh gosh no!! it's okay!!! until Shelagh is like "honestly I think he misses it. Weirdo." all fond and happy while Patrick is effectively slow dancing in the living room with Danny after changing him because Annette was having a bath. And god, yeah, her chest aches for the family she could - should - have had.

Shelagh adores having a new small one around to spoil rotten. She tells Annette that, that little Danny is her grandson even if she never speaks to Tim again. She loves him the moment she sees him (which is super overwhelming to Annette all over again, love so freely and totally given to a basic stranger).

She is just so shocked when she is pulled into the house by Shelagh. And Shelagh is so welcoming. And she just never wants to leave. Because they don't make her feel dirty for being unwed and pregnant. And it's the first time she gets to be excited about her baby with someone other than Tim.

Shelagh goes a little bit into nurse mode, which makes Tim laugh and tease her about going to fetch her uniform hat. But they're both so excited about the baby, and about her, and about her having a baby and about her raising the baby, too.

She's so shocked that they let her spend time with the children, too. She's already internalising her parents stopping her from seeing her sisters for being a bad influence, has seen women pull their children away from her as she's started to show and they clock the lack of ring on her finger, the uneasy way the girls in the food hall avoid her, the fact she almost got kicked out of her rented house until Tim spoke to the landlord. But Angela, once she gets over her shyness at new people, wants to sit in her lap and talking about " having a baby!!! like baby brother!!!"

Angela would be what 5 or 6? So she's got more understanding this time around and begs to feel Annie's baby kick. Teddy really doesn't get it but he likes Annie she's nice and she plays with him like Tim does. The kiddos make her miss her sisters something awful though. She wishes that she could at least write to them. But she knows her parents aren't above reading their mail.

Tim talked to her landlord, and convinced him to let her stay at least until the baby was born and talked with his parents about maybe moving to a two bed room so Annette doesn't have to worry about a landlord not wanting to rent to her.

Yeah she must be about that. She's started school too. She has vague memories that Shelagh had a baby in her tummy and then she got baby Teddy and has seen ladies who are expecting around and about (and is asking awkward questions in school because she is truly a Turner child) and she wants to know ALL ABOUT the baby and the kicking and !!! Teddy is very ??? about the concept of baby, but Angela smells nice and plays with him and sings him lots of songs so she can stay, as far as he's concerned.

Not being able to contact them at all really hurts. She misses them so much it aches, and she's starting to worry a little about how much stricter they'll be with her sisters.

Yes. He went to make sure she could stay, and put his name down as a guarantor/emergency contact if there was anything further Untoward and as a bit of insurance and has been looking for somewhere else for him to stay so she can too, if she wants to, and Shelagh and Patrick are willing to help if it costs a little more, too.

Part of her is blind because of his initial proposal, and she's waiting for him to leave, and just... there are so many things going on. He's her friend. The "other person's baby" thing never really factors into it for Tim; he has no problem loving a child or loving Annette.

Her entire life and future and perception of herself has turned upside down in just a few months. She's angry at herself, and at Kenneth, and a little bit with the girls who've abandoned her, and with administration, but she's turned a lot of it inwards. This is all her fault, and she doesn't blame them for not giving her a room/education/etc - she wouldn't have either, probably, before she got pregnant. Tim's anger is much brighter burning and directed outwards, and he's at least half thinking about the young women in Poplar. But he respects that she doesn't want to fight and keeps it inside (or in letters to Patrick)

She makes a comment about it being her fault to Shelagh on day. Sometimes Shelagh comes for a visit with Teddy while Angela is at school. Annette is essentially living at Tim's now. No place is willing to hire her and she can't afford to keep her place. The move was almost unspoken. She said something to Tim, not really expecting him to offer his place. Even though knowing him for any length of time should have meant she'd know that he'd not let her end up in a shelter or a council flat.

But she mentions to Shelagh that it's her fault, it's all her fault. If she had just listened to what her parents said, her pastor said, and just said no to Kenneth. And Shelagh shuts down that nonsense immediately.

"There is no fault or blame to place. And from what I've heard, that Kenneth wasn't exactly a gentleman to you saying no. Your little one is not a punishment for doing something wrong."

It takes her a while to settle into really living with Tim. She feels at first a little like maybe it's just a halfway house or she's an extended guest or something, it isn't for a while that she really relaxes into the space and lets her things start to migrate into the living spaces and puts up some of the pictures she has, that kind of thing.

God, Shelagh takes her hands in hers and looks her in the eye. "And you shouldn't be punished for what you did. For your little one. You did nothing wrong."

"It feels like I did everything wrong. But I wouldn't go back and change it. He's not even here yet and I can't imagine my life without him. And I don't want him to ever think that I regret having him."

And Shelagh is just like --omg you precious bb-- and hugs her. And Annette breaks down. She's cried while talking to Tim, but she still tries to act brave around him. But Shelagh's a mother figure, and that's something that Annette really needs right now.

When Shelagh hugs her, Annette can properly cry; the sort of unstoppable, ugly crying she hasn't done since she was very small, and even then only alone. The sort of cry where you just cry until you can't anymore and calm down on your own.

Shelagh just holds her and lets her cry. And quietly prays with her. Because it helps Shelagh so maybe it will help Annette. And it does.

Yes. Holds her close, rocks her a little, but is mostly just quiet and lets her cry as much as she wants. And prays. And then when Annette is curled up with her head in her lap, brushes her fingers through her hair and sings, soft.

Annette falls asleep like that. Utterly exhausted from crying so hard. And Shelagh can't find it in her to move. Tim comes home and is so worried, thinking that something is wrong with Annette, or the baby.

Tim would be so worried, all wide eyed and so frightened, reminded of Shelagh in the hospital until Shelagh reassures him, kisses his forehead. Annette wakes up to the sound and smell of Tim cooking, and the warmth in their voices as they talk, and bicker a little, and listening to them break off to sing the chorus of whatever's on the radio, and she opens her eyes to Tim in the doorway to the kitchen in the now-familiar apron

But Shelagh just assures him that she's alright, emotions can just be exhausting sometimes. Tim makes dinner and Annette is awake again by the time it's ready. Despite them insisting, Shelagh takes her leave. But not before telling Annette that she's there to talk, any time she needs to. And for certain things, maybe Trixie?

After Shelagh leaves, Annette walks over to Tim and hugs him, and they stand like that for a while. "Thank you so much for letting me be a part of your family."

Tim smiles at her and squeezes her gently in the hug. "I don't think you had much of a choice. Mum is very stubborn," His voice is warm and joking but he squeezes her again. "You're welcome."

Annette laughs against his chest in agreement, his mother is very stubborn indeed. As is he, but she doesn't remind him of that. That's the first time she kisses him. She didn't plan it, neither of them expected it. It's just a quick kiss and then they part.

And never talk about it. Yes. A quick, soft kiss. And that's it. Never to be spoken of.

Tim wants to talk to her about the kiss. But doesn't want to pressure her or scare her. He would very much like to kiss her again.

He wants that so much, but she never brings it up, isn't even awkward the next morning, so he doesn't mention it. That's her decision

She even lets herself buy some things for the baby. Even though Tim tells her that the residents of Poplar will essentially clothe the baby for his first year. And when Shelagh brings things over, Annette realizes just how right Tim was. She's amazed by it.

Tim buys some stuff too while he's out, which surprises her. They're useful, too. (omg so much sterilizer) Shelagh turns up and has donations from the box at Nonnatus, and some stuff from Chummy and a few things Shelagh has, and from the other mothers at clinic, and it's just - it's a lot. "Patrick can bring you a cot, too, if you need it, but it wouldn't fit in the car..." It's overwhelming.

The outpouring of love from people she's never even met stuns her. It's because she's Tim's friend, and everyone knows Tim. So a friend of Tim's is a good person. And she just can't.

There's are clothes and blankets and little booties and hats and a few toys, and other things too - things for her, rather than for baby. A few cards/notes too. A friend of Tim's is a friend of theirs. He's such a good boy. Always so sweet and helpful. Grew up so good and strong. And a little bit because she's a friend of Shelagh and Patrick, and therefore a friend of theirs. They're good people, they are. It makes her re-think everything her mother ever told her about the sorts of people that live in a place like Poplar.

Oh gawd yes. Her parents have their noses so far up in the air. People from places like Poplar never registered on their radar unless it was to complain about whatever the most recent thing was in vogue. And she fell into that trap a little. At first at least, like she wasn't like them she had a good up bringing in a wealthy area. And Tim wasn't like them either, he grew up there because of his father's work, not out of necessity. But she realizes that if it wasn't for Tim and his family, she'd be in a place far worse off than Poplar.

Like, Tim and Patrick and Shelagh lived in Poplar but they weren't from Poplar, he was a Doctor and Shelagh was a nurse (and a Nun) and Respectable. And that's how she thought of Tim, a little. But Tim obviously loves his home so much, even the dark and dirty and messy bits of it, and his friends are all from there, and he wants to go back and not just to their shiny house in the suburbs, but to Poplar proper. And then all these strangers turn out to help her and welcome it and it's just ... so different and so much.

She starts seeing Poplar through Tim's eyes. One visit, she's nearly due and it's hot and she doesn't really want to be outside, but she goes with him because it's better than doing nothing. He takes her around to his favorite shops, and they stop by Violet's and Violet is just so excited over meeting Annette. And everyone just being so cheerful to Tim and waving at him. And they stop to pick up Angela and walk her home and all her little friends flood around them with questions for Tim. And he is so kind and patient.

All the little shops, the people who wave to him or call out to him and ask him questions about his mother or his father or the nurses, or how are his studies going? Here, have these bananas/jar of jam/cake! And they're so welcoming and warm to Annette too, asking about the baby and how she's coming along and isn't it murder on your bladder, which makes her giggle and blush. Angela is shouting about BABY!!!! and her friends are asking him questions and it's like a little procession of ducklings down the street.

They're peas in a pod, really. It's becoming more and more obvious the more she gets to see Shelagh.

By the time they get back to the Turner house, Annette is glowing and not just from the amount of sweat running down her face. She's never been around so many friendly people. And the feeling of community. It's not something she ever knew. The closest thing was the church community she grew up in. But there was always that air of judgement. And not a single one of the church "family" she thought she had has reached out to her since her parents disowned her. But everyone in Poplar, the kinds of people she was always told she was better than, was kinder to her than her own family. She loves getting to meet the people Tim talks about. She met the nuns and nurses the first time she came to visit. And he captured them so well in the stories he told her.

Annette loves how much like Shelagh she finds Tim to be. It gives her hope that she could find someone who would be as wonderful a step parent to her baby as Shelagh is to Tim. And that maybe being around these wonderful people will stamp out whatever personality the baby would inherit from Kenneth.

She doesn't see them all at once like she does for her first Christmas there, various nurses away on shifts and rounds, but she meets all of them nonetheless. She feels like she knows them, almost, Tim talks to them so much. And Tom invites her to the Sunday service and Barbara walks in with her with their arms linked.

Gosh, yes, she loves how alike they are, how she can see where Shelagh has influenced who he is and how he talks and the things he thinks. He's just like Shelagh when he's tired. And it does give her hope, make her feel warm, that she could have a proper family and someone who loves her baby as much as she does.

_____

Annette cooking with Shelagh

And Teddy and Angela helping

Cookies maybe

Something they could do - stirring/kneading/cutting out the shapes

*Its nice

Warm and friendly

She's all full of hormones and it makes her cry. And Shelagh just hugs her

and then the bbs realise something's wrong and hugs her too

And she doesn't even mind the floury marks

she's just so overwhelmed by little Teddy's arms around her and Angela telling her no cry!!

"Annie don't cry! We're making cookies!"

Angela and Teddy pick up on calling her Annie like Tim does

She laughs a little and wipes her eyes, pulling away and touching their hair. "I know, darling. I know."

"Annie was just happy, love," Shelagh says with a smile and kisses her hair

It's more complicated than that, but

It's hard to explain to kids

She's talked to Shelagh a lot

Angela looks briefly sceptical but goes back to the cookie dough. Adults are funny. She's seen her parents cry with happiness lots

Shelagh is good to talk to

Girls nights start including her

____

In just a few years they've been more loving and accepting of her than her own parents

And sometimes that reminder just hits her really hard

It's not just about the baby

Its an absent comment about painting and the brushes Shelagh finds for her

a little comment about maybe some sort of class, and Shelagh's unwavering support

they don't dismiss her, or belittle her, and their teasing is sometimes rapid and instinctive but it's never sharp

And it's never mean teasing

Annette never feels like they're nice to her just because of bb

It's just so different

Patrick never dismisses her thoughts or questions with "silly girl" like her father did

She used to think her life was perfect.

And then she finds out what truly loving and supportive parents are

Her parents were horrible. But they were distant

They never struck her, or called her terrible things, but...

It never felt like home and she doesn't realize that until X

and finding a best friend in one of the nurses

#ctm #call the midwife #narrative: chat fic #narrative: tim and annie #narrative: turner family #1966 #1965

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