#millie’s twelve days of christmas

[milliesfishes]

౨ৎ꣑ৎIce Dance౨ৎ꣑ৎ

౨ৎ꣑ৎ12 Days of Christmas Masterlist౨ৎ꣑ৎ [fem reader] contains: fluff :)) pairing: fem reader x peacekeeper coriolanus snow summary: caught in a blizzard with coriolanus author’s note: enjoy! <3 Spotify Playlist

The storm was so thick that you could hardly see three feet in front of you. Fat snowflakes whirled before your eyes, getting caught in your lashes and stuck on your clothes. When you'd departed for firewood an hour ago, the snowfall had been quiet, soft like a painting. Now it flurried before you like static, blinding you with only the fuzzy outlines of things to guide you. You weren't even sure if you were going the right way anymore, just walking in the general direction you'd started in. Surely you would make it home eventually.

Shivering, you pulled the ends of your shawl tighter around your shoulders, with your bag still on one shoulder and the bundle of wood tied with a string hanging from your frozen fingers. The big storm that had supposed to have come tomorrow had arrived early, it seemed.

Taking steady steps against the wind, you squinted ahead, trying to make out the street. Was that a house? A shop? You couldn't tell. The snow was piling up around you, and now your boots were leaving footprints. It was doubtful that you'd be able to leave your house tomorrow, if you ever made it home at all.

Weary, you wondered if your legs would just give out halfway there. If someone would find you blue and shivering in the snow, still clinging to the firewood that had to be too wet to even use by now. Honestly, it wouldn't be the worst thing if you passed out now, face first in the snow. It'd be the most rest you'd gotten in weeks.

You looked around when you heard your name shouted over the howl of the wind, dismissing it the first time. It must have been an echo. But the second time it was louder, clearer. Shielding your eyes, hair whipping into your eyes, you looked around, trying to see who else was in this mythical storm.

Out of nowhere, it seemed, Coriolanus appeared, blue eyes visible even amidst the snowflakes. Your shoulders slumped in relief as he came closer, holding you by the waist as soon as he was able. Your head fell to his chest immediately, the thump of his heart louder than the wind. He reached a gloved hand up, covering your ear that had been frozen by the cold.

When winter came, the Peacekeepers swapped out their lightweight summer uniforms for ones lined with thermal technology. You could feel how much thicker his shirt was under your fingers, sliding your hand under his coat, which had a fuzzy lining. Coriolanus bent his head, talking quieter now that you were close. "What're you doing out here?" You wordlessly held up the firewood, and he sighed, shifting his gun to the other hand so he could rub your back. "Okay." He looked around, scanning the perimeter. "Okay, I'm gonna walk you home."

"You'll get in trouble-"

"Escorting a civilian won't get me in trouble," he insisted, pulling you close and beginning to walk. He reached for your firewood and before you could protest, lifted it up so it was hoisted under his arm, gun in his fist. "C'mon, I don't want you in this storm."

Under his arm, you felt a little warmer. Coriolanus guided you against the wind, looking down at you every little bit. The sight of his large footprints beside yours made you smile. Sometimes he felt like a ghost to you, something you'd created out of desperation or loneliness. But even though your prints would be swallowed by the falling snow, it was proof for now. He was here.

Pushing you along with a steady hand on your back, Coriolanus scanned what was visible of the horizon, lifting the hand with your firewood and pointing. "Over there. That direction."

You nodded, not bothering to try and look. He was your compass in this flurried mess. Coriolanus seemed to know the way home better than you did, and you clung to him as he guided you home, eyes fixed in the distance. Since meeting him he had always been like this. Guiding, protecting. Eyes fixed on you like you were his last hope.

When he stopped, you looked up, shivering in the cold. "What is it?"

Coriolanus squeezed your arm. "Look." You followed his gaze, seeing the outline of your little cottage down the block. Until that moment, you didn't know your shoulders were so tense, and they dropped, your body slumping into his. He rubbed your elbow, continuing the trek and leading you along with him.

The snow was getting deeper, and the storm thicker. It was like being trapped in a vanilla pudding. Coriolanus' arm bent over your shoulders so his hand was covering your forehead, tilted to shield your eyes. You squinted into the night, and he rested his chin on your head for a brief moment before leading you down the path, the snow bunching at your ankles. You were shivering worse than ever at this point, and so when Coriolanus finally grasped the door handle, you breathed a sigh of relief.

It was dark in your house, but you still felt instantly warmer, some of the life coming back into you. The door was still open, the wind sneaking in and tickling your sides. Coriolanus had one foot still in the snow, and he poked his head through the door. "Are you okay?"

He was half-leaving. You resisted. "Won't you come in?"

"I need to get to base," Coriolanus said, but you shook your head. Reaching out, you grasped his arm, the cold leaving you vulnerable and pleading.

"Stay. Please?" You tugged lightly at him, your sway managing to get him all the way inside. Toeing the door shut, you got a clear view of his face for the first time that night under the brim of his hat. His eyes were soft, a rare thing in the eyes of a soldier. When he hesitated, you murmured, "It's too dangerous with the storm. You wouldn't get back safely."

Coriolanus sighed quietly, his posture loosening. He nodded once. "Fine." When he noticed your smile, he tried to hold back his own, but you saw it in his eyes as he set down your firewood and his gun by the door, toeing off his boots.

You moved closer to him, touching his shoulders and rubbing up and down his chest. "You must be freezing. I'll start a fire."

The corners of his lips turned up. "You were far less covered than me. I'll start you a fire."

"I'm fine," you tried, but a shiver shook your shoulders, and Coriolanus shook his head, removing his hat and coat.

"Go change, sweetheart," he ushered, going to your dwindling inside stack of firewood. "If I'm going to stay tonight, you're going to be warm."

You obeyed, retreating to your cozy bedroom and donning one of your cozier nightdresses, fetching him something too. A few pairs of men's pants previously belonging to your father lingered in your drawers, and you figured now was the reason. In a split-second decision, you snatched something else from a different drawer, heart warming at the thought of giving it to him. "Coryo?"

He appeared moments later, cheeks a little rosier. "Yes?"

Holding out the pants, you blinked innocently. "Here. You should change too." Before he could say anything else, you thrust out the other thing, watching him take it. "I made it for you."

"You made it?" A little smile appeared on his face like magic as he examined the sweater, ran his fingers over the maroon handiwork, love in every stitch. "Made this for me?"

"Uh huh." You nodded proudly, bouncing on your toes. "Just for you. I was saving it for Christmas, but I want you to have it right now."

Coriolanus’ hand found your crown, and he leaned in, kissing your forehead. You couldn’t suppress your smile and neither could he. When he pulled back, his eyes were warm. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“You’re welcome,” you breathed as his warm palm found the side of your face. Touching his hand, you said, "Change. I'll go make us some tea." He lifted your hand to his lips, leaving you with a tender kiss before you left to put a pot over the fire.

When he emerged in his new sweater, you were bundled in a blanket, knit socks scrunched at the ankles, two mugs before you as you waited for the water to boil. You looked up, eyes lighting like fireflies when he sat beside you, beginning to turn his hands over by the flames eating at some of the last of the dry wood. He reached for you, and you gladly obliged, dragging the blanket along with you.

Resting your cheek on his chest, you found he was warm, despite what little time he'd spent indoors. Thank heavens for Peacekeeper winter apparel. Coriolanus pulled the blanket over your shoulders, chin pressed to the top of your head.

"Do you like it?" you murmured, drawing circles on his arm.

He pulled your hair behind your shoulders, following the line of it with his fingers and kissing your head. "Very much."

"Really?" You lifted your head to find he was already looking down, icy blue eyes melting to something as clear as the lake on a summer day. He nodded, fondly adjusting the shoulder of your nightdress.

The lid of the pot began to rattle, and you turned, briefly departing from his arms to pour the water, humming as the mugs warmed your hands. Passing one to Coriolanus, you savored the feel of your own for a moment, listening to the wind knocking at the windows and searching for crevices in the roof. A perfect storm, and you were at the heart of it with the one you loved.

He was sipping his tea, reaching out for you with one hand. You obliged, carefully shifting over to where he beckoned, between his legs. With a few fingers, you tossed the blanket over both of you, smiling when Coriolanus wrapped his sweater covered arm over your collarbone, holding you to his chest and still drinking his tea. He held the mug around the base, not by the handle, and the little detail made you smile.

"Will you get in trouble?" you asked after a moment, suddenly worried even though you'd begged him to stay. He rubbed your shoulder assuredly before answering.

"Not with a storm this bad." Coriolanus set his empty mug down. "Or at least, that's what I'll tell them." You smiled, snuggling closer, and he kissed your temple. "I was helping you, anyways. You were out there without gloves or even a coat."

"I thought I wouldn't be that long," you giggled, flexing your frozen fingers. "The storm was early. Supposed to come tomorrow."

"Uh huh." He took your mug and set it down beside his own. "It likely won't let up all night now that it's here. We might be trapped inside."

"Good," you decided, turning in his arms so your ear was at his heart. "We can cuddle longer."

"Ah." He said nothing more on it, simply tracing the lines of your back and tucking your head under his chin. You smiled into his chest, kissing the spot. There had been a smile in his voice, and you savored it like a peppermint.

He'd never exactly stayed the night, always back for curfew before you could attempt to convince him. You never pushed it, knowing how important staying on good terms within his position was to him. Already, early in this night, you knew this would be a memory to treasure, play back when you were falling asleep or missing him, which was often. Did he do the same thing, you wondered? Lay awake in the barracks and think of his girl, cozy in her bed with a spot saved for him just in case?

As he slipped his hand underneath yours on his chest for you to hold, you got a distinct feeling that he did.

"You're still cold," he commented, rubbing your back.

You smiled, closing your eyes and nuzzling into his chest. "You'll warm me up in no time."

His kiss to your forehead was delicate as a snowflake, and it melted into your skin, becoming a part of you. "All night long."

[menlove]

any McLennon fic recs ?

CRACKS FINGERS

immediate rec is your lucky break by @forthlin bc millies writing makes me throw up and scream and cry and this is the fic that got us talking so!! also, young paul and dilf john and I eat it UP. also literally any of their fics are so so good. the latest one is our fic together so I won't rec it but... their writing in the john pov they wrote is soooo good so. I'll rec their half!

✨ = all time fave

just pulling from my bookmarks.......

grow old with me

Paul breaks his arm, and John panics

explicit. fix-it.

and when the broken bodies are washed to shore (who am I to ask for more)

“Jesus, took you long enough,” John says, adjusting the duffle over his shoulder. “Thought I might be out here til morning at this rate.”

For a second he wonders if he’s drunker than he thought, but no. As far as he can tell, it is still 1980, and he hasn’t seen or so much as spoken to John in ten years

mature. fix-it.

John My Beloved ✨

They've always loved each other, in their own way...

explicit. major character death. literally fucking killed me I sat there at 7am after staying up all night and teared up. I cry like. once a year.

i was a younger man then (now) (post hoc) ✨

John’s twelve when a bloke appears from a flaming pie and says, “From this day forward you are Beatles with an ‘a.’” The bloke is Paul.

Or: paul and john meet at all ages and eras and john is the time-traveler’s wife the way only john lennon can be

mature. fix-it. time traveler's wife au that lives forever in my mind rent free.

Stop all the clocks (by @javelinbk)

‘1967. After Brian dies, Paul decides not to go ahead with MMT, and takes John up to Scotland for a month instead.’

mature

Like Love, The Archers Are Blind

He wants to push Stuart out of the way, not even with a violent yank of his collar like he sometimes imagines. Just to melt into his place like butter sliding in a pan. Have it be an effortless breath of fresh air when John looks up at him and sees it all reflected back in his eyes. It’s you.

Hamburg, 1960

explicit

Boy, You've Been A Naughty Girl ✨

John makes Paul a bet. Paul takes him up on it. Crossdressing shenanigans and angst ensue, and ~feelings come out in the wash. 1961.

OR: boys in knickers, lots and lots (and lots) of sex, angst, homophobic slurs, schmoop. The Pineapple Club is fictitious. Originally posted on LJ in 2012

explicit. what can I say but whshwjjajjakak

I Still Miss Someone (series)

It's 1976 and Paul keeps showing up on John's doorstep with a guitar. Eventually John turns him away and Paul goes off to sulk in his hotel room the night before his flight from New York. Based on real events

explicit. not a fix-it.... real to me though

christmas lights (keep shinin' on)

"I'd have you," Paul said, eventually, and John felt the air being knocked out of him. "If it was different. If we were different."

mature.

two of us (burning matches)

It won't stop raining. Paul doesn't know what his feelings are doing. John's practising his right swing. Somewhere along the way, they fuse together

explicit. honestly literally everything by obstinatrix is 💖💖💖

one and one and one is three ✨ by @pauls1967moustache

Even with how badly he wants this, John wouldn't want it if he didn't think it would make Paul feel good. That's the point. It can be good, the three of them. It can work, if Paul lets it.

explicit. failed yoko/john/paul. also literally everything this author writes...... shout outs: a great threat (female paul/yoko w delicious mclennon in the bg) baby it's all relative verse (don't talk to me. the one time I've ever Ever in my life read foot kink and it???? it works??? they'd do this. I don't want them to. but this is real. entered my "psyche of john lennon" file. )

PROBABLY MORE....... but these are the ones that I keep thinking about and ruminating on.

[grantgoddard]

Knock me down with a mugger : 1986 : Share A Capital Christmas, Capital Radio, London

Blam!! A sudden force on my back knocked me over in a second. No time to figure out what had just happened. I was sprawled front-down on the floor with a weight on my back. I shouted. People around me screamed. I could sense a struggle taking place overhead. The object on my back lifted and, from my ground level line of sight, I made out the feet of someone running ahead of me into the crowd.

“Are you alright?” asked one of the group of people standing around me, looking concerned.

“We saw that man push through the crowd,” explained another, “then knock you over and jump on top of you. We managed to pull him off but he ran away.”

They helped me to my feet and I realised that I was indeed alright and thanked them profusely for their swift action rescuing a complete stranger. I was wearing a thick winter coat that had broken my fall. I had been lucky not to have hit my head and to have landed on the soft bag I had been carrying in front of me. Nothing appeared broken. As I rejoined the throng of commuters journeying home, one of the Good Samaritans added:

“It looked as if he knew you were there amongst the crowd and targeted you. It was very strange.”

Indeed, it was. I had travelled this same journey every day and nothing untoward had happened. I always left work at the end of the afternoon, walked across Euston Road to Warren Street tube station, caught the southbound train and alighted four stops later at Charing Cross, one of London’s busiest hubs. I had been walking through the narrow, low-ceiling tunnel that led up from the Underground platform to the railway station concourse when I had been jumped. The train and tunnel had been more crowded than usual because it was Christmas Eve. It seemed bizarre to be jumped on not when I was alone in the winter darkness outside, but amongst a tightly packed crowd inside a well-lit underground travel conduit.

There was one significant difference between all the other days I had travelled home without incident and that day. Stuffed down the front of my underpants was a white envelope containing a substantial amount of cash representing payment for my last six weeks’ work. I had requested my employer’s accounts department pay me by bank transfer but, for reasons unknown, it had insisted on paying cash and only at the conclusion of my contract. If this money was the reason I had been attacked, then only the accounts department staff and the handful of people in my work team knew I had been paid that day. But the latter had just been paid that same day in the same way. So had I been merely a random victim of violence … or had something more sinister happened?

A few months previously, I had applied for a full-time job at ‘Capital Radio’. I was interviewed by Steve Billington, a social worker who had left his job in 1984 managing a social work team in Harrow to become the station’s head of community affairs. Although my application was unsuccessful, he contacted me weeks later to ask if I wanted to manage its Christmas charity appeal. I was soon to finish a non-renewable, twelve-month job creation role managing a team at ‘Radio Thamesmead’ so it was an ideal time for me to switch to a ‘proper’ job. I had dreamt of working at London’s only commercial music station since it had opened in 1973 and had even contemplated not going to university in order to take a programme production role there like Annie Challis on Tommy & Joan’s daily ‘Swop Shop’ show. Back then, I was innocent of the fact that to secure such a job in the media it was rarely, if ever, WHAT you knew about radio but WHO you knew.

Now, thirteen years after its launch, I was finally working at Capital Radio. My first two weeks were spent in the office, sat opposite the amiable charities manager Millie Dunne who helped me organise files of paperwork for the huge volume of goods she had persuaded businesses to donate, a task at which she was extremely proficient. During the subsequent four weeks leading up to Christmas, I worked in the station’s foyer, organising the receipt of donated goods and their delivery to London charities who would distribute them as gifts to needy families. I managed a small team that Steve had already appointed, all of whom were incredible and worked hard collecting and delivering goods as needed.

Steve had also appointed a ‘deputy’ to help me with the project’s management. His name was Pol. Never call him ‘Paul’! Unlike me, he was loud and extrovert, networking relentlessly with anyone remotely important who passed through the revolving door entrance to the foyer. He seemed to view the job as a sinecure that would permit him to further his ambition to be … something famous. While the rest of us worked long hours and weekends, Pol was AWOL for chunks of that time, claiming that he had had to attend appointments for this or that. In the pre-mobile-phone era, it was impossible to call someone to demand “where the hell are you?” I was regularly tempted to complain to Steve about this young man’s work ethic deficiency but I had no inkling if he had been recruited by some friend or relative within the company. He appeared to possess no relevant skillset for our work so I just had to grit my teeth and hold my tongue.

Despite this frustration, the job turned out to be one of the most enjoyable and rewarding I have done. Knowing that the radio station was making a practical difference to Londoners’ lives was incredibly heart-warming. The foyer – our ‘office’ – was enormous, more than 1000 square meters, with a ridiculously high ceiling and permanent home to three freestanding stalls: the ‘Capital Radio Shop’ sold station merchandise, ‘Capital Radio Jobspot’ offered job vacancy details and ‘Capital Radio Flatshare’ produced a printed sheet every Thursday afternoon listing rental accommodation available. The building’s ground floor full-length windows on a corner site enabled traffic passing on busy Euston Road and Hampstead Road to view the impressive Christmas decorations within, including a massive, illuminated pine tree. Pedestrians would stop and peer through the glass at us working inside.

Capital Radio’s decision prior to the station’s launch to rent the foyer and first floor was a brilliant marketing strategy, as its logo and name were emblazoned across the building at ground level around one of London’s busiest road junctions. To passers-by, it appeared that the station occupied the entire 36-storey tower, the capital’s tallest office block when completed in 1970. In reality, its upper floors were filled with unconnected businesses including the UK government’s military intelligence department intercepting mail. Capital Radio’s high-profile visibility was in stark contrast to its competitor ‘Radio One’ which had operated from an anonymous outbuilding (Egton House) since launch in 1967. BBC bigwigs had feared its youthful staff (including former pirate radio ship presenters) might scare the ‘serious’ broadcasters in Broadcasting House employed on its existing talk and classical music networks.

Another significant difference with its competitor was Capital’s open-door policy, permitting anyone to enter its impressive foyer through the revolving doors without a security check. Music fans would stand around hoping to get a glimpse of pop stars visiting for interviews. Radio presenters walked in and out and up the grand curved staircase to the first-floor studios. During the charity appeal, many generous listeners ventured in clutching their donations of toys which we added to the piles of presents. For amusement, we unboxed and put batteries in one state-of-the-art toy mouse that ran around on wheels with a movement sensor, enabling it to independently charge at speed across the polished floor towards anyone who entered through the revolving door and then chase them wherever they walked. Only on one occasion did we have to close and evacuate the foyer for several hours due to a bomb scare.

Christmas Eve was a sad day when the team had completed the charity appeal and parted ways for the final time. Following my mysterious attempted mugging, I reached home and found I was lucky to have escaped with mild bruising on my forearms. I packed a bag and headed to Deptford railway station, only to discover that the last train had already left. I had to return to my rented room, phone my mother and ask if she would come and collect me as there was no public transport during the next two days. Though she hated driving through London, she kindly drove fifty miles from Camberley to pick me up on Christmas morning so that I could spend the holidays with her and my sister.

In the New Year, I returned to the Capital Radio office to type up a report that catalogued, with Millie’s help, the volume of goods we had distributed during the Christmas appeal and the number of charities and families we had helped. Though no such post mortem had been requested, I considered it ‘good practice’ and I hoped to impress my boss with my thoroughness as a manager.

Much later that year, Steve Billington requested a further meeting in his office. Perhaps a full-time vacancy at the station had arisen? Sadly, it had not. I was asked if I would work on the next Christmas charity appeal. I was grateful for the opportunity. However, I was flummoxed to be told that I was to be demoted to the role of ‘deputy co-ordinator’ despite me having believed I had achieved a satisfactory job the previous year. Then I was gobsmacked to be told that the co-ordinator that year was to be … Pol. It seemed like some kind of voodoo that the person within our team who had demonstrated the least commitment last year should now be appointed to manage the rest of us.

Once activity started in December 1987, did Pol step up to his promotion and manage everything smoothly? No change of spots was evident. The only thing he seemed interested in managing was his own social calendar. It was Hobson’s choice: either the charity appeal would rapidly descend into chaos or I would have to manage it, just as I had the previous year. I took the reins informally, even though it proved frustrating when the most regularly spoken phrase by everyone involved was “Where’s Pol?” The charity appeal proved as successful as the previous year, though on this occasion Pol would take the credit. Did he write a report afterwards, as I had done? Er …

With the exception of the baffling change of co-ordinator, Steve Billington had been a fantastic boss and, in the New Year, he invited our whole team to reunite for a lunchtime meal at a restaurant in Tottenham Court Road to express his gratitude. I was appreciative of the start he had offered me at Capital Radio and the opportunity it presented to further develop my management experience. I had thoroughly enjoyed my time working there and, like my earlier job at ‘Metro Radio’, it taught me a lot about the problems that can befall a commercial radio station.

And so to ‘The Epilogue’:

• In 1988, Camilla ‘Millie’ Dunne (daughter of Sir Thomas Dunne) married The Honourable Rupert Soames (grandson of Sir Winston Churchill) at a society wedding attended by her friend Lady Diana, Princess of Wales.

• In 1989, I co-ordinated and wrote former pirate station ‘KISS FM’s successful second application for a London commercial radio FM licence, beating 39 competing bids.

• In 1990, Capital Radio closed its community department as a result of the new commercial radio regulator ‘The Radio Authority’s ‘light touch’ strategy no longer requiring commitments from licensees to community activities. Steve Billington left Capital Radio.

• In 1991, I attracted a weekly audience of more than one million listeners a week to black music station ‘KISS FM’ within six months of its successful launch, as its Programme Director, exceeding the Year One target.

• As for Pol …

[acciomalfoy]

the familiar scent of peppermint (theo nott x reader)

A/N: THIS IS A COLLAB WITH @fromashescomephoenixes GO CHECK HER OUT! SHES TOTALLY AWESOME!

“Morning, sister dearest.” Draco smiled at me as I sat next to him, my seat in the Great Hall vacant.

“I don’t want to hear it. Where’s Theo?” I paused. “And Blaise?” I held my breath for a long moment as Draco regarded me, and I held his gaze.

“They’ll be here shortly. Blaise had a wardrobe malfunction.” Draco said, his lips stretching into a small smile. I sniggered, and turned around when I felt a whack on my shoulder.

“That’s not a very nice greeting, is it now Blaise?” I mocked, and I smiled when I saw Theo standing behind him.

“Hey Y/n. Sleep well?” He asked as he slid into the seat across from me, and I almost melted into a puddle. I felt my brothers ever present gaze on me, and I nodded.

“Something like that. Got any plans for Christmas break?” I wondered, and he shrugged.

“Owls are coming.” Theo said, and I looked up to see the flock of owls swooping down.

“There’s Chewy and Joopie.” I saw myself and Draco’s owls before he did, and Chewy sat himself in front of me.

“Hey, pretty boy.” I cooed as I took the letter from his beak, and I offered him a blueberry as a reward. He stared at me, and I reluctantly offered two that he snatched up.

“What’s yours say?” Draco was already trying to peer at my letter before opening his, and I rolled my eyes.

“Let me read it myself, will ya?” I sighed loudly as I undid the seal, and I began reading.

To Y/n Malfoy,

Morning darling! Last week we found out that Milly Bulstrode got engaged, do you remember that? You used to play with her when you were in diapers! Well, it has set your father off. Most people are already betrothed by the time their your age, and with a war coming your father has decided it’s time to find suitors for yourself and your brother. Yours will be a Christmas wedding, I’ve already started planning it. If you have any preferences for men and for the wedding, do let me know so I can discuss it with your father.

Sincerely,

Narcissa Malfoy, neé Black.

I froze, and I felt Draco freeze beside me as we read the letter at the exact same time.

“We’re fucked.” I said, and I hated how wobbly my voice sounded. I was a Malfoy, and it wasn’t appropriate in the slightest.

“What?” Blaise asked, but I saw Theo nudge him. I risked a glance at Draco, and we were deers in a headlight.

“Father’s begun meeting suitors for Y/n, she’s to be married on Christmas Day. My wedding will be sometime after that.” Draco muttered, and I stared helplessly at my plate.

“What can we do?” Theo asked, and my heart ached even more than it ordinarily did.

“Unless one of you want to marry her, nothing.”

Blaise choked on his coffee and began to laugh. I glared at him while mentally searching for a suitable response. Unfortunately I was distracted by the adorable blush that had settled on Theo’s face. He rubbed the back of his neck shyly and laughed slightly- to me it sounded forced but I’m sure it was simply my imagination running wild again.

—

Luckily I had a free period after breakfast, which I spent in my room crafting a response to my mother dearest. It was turning into a harder task than I anticipated to say the least.

Dearest Mother.

I do in fact remember dear Milly! She was the brat that stole my—

No, too bitter. I sighed. How could I pretend to like her when all I had were unpleasant memories of us as five year olds? I began again, focusing on another point of my mother’s letter.

Hello mother,

I certainly was pleased to here from you! About the wedding: could we have Santa Claus there?

This wouldn’t do at all. I knew it was no use to argue, especially since it was only a little over two weeks before the dreaded day. Perhaps if I phrased it correctly I could by myself a little more choice in the matter. I began a fresh piece of parchment  and crafted a final letter.

Dearest Mother,

I must say I was surprised by this unexpected announcement! In fact it is shocking that nothing has been arranged previously... A Christmas wedding will be lovely, especially if we can use lots of Slytherin green in the decor. In the theme of Christmas, I had an idea: what if I had twelve days (starting tomorrow) to find a fiancé? Otherwise, of course, the choice will be left to you and father. Please do let me know!

Love,

Y/n

I rewrote the letter twice to ensure it used an acceptable amount of prim phrasing in order to please her. Unfortunately, I was so wrapped up in my work that I didn’t even hear my brother invite himself into my dorm.

“Always the perfect daughter, aren’t we?” He teased with a hint of bitterness in his tone.

“Please. As if you wouldn’t say anything to gain even the smallest amount of control over this.”

“Oh believe me, I have,” Draco grinned before leaving. I rolled my eyes. Of course he would have an easier time with his dashing good looks and many love interests.

——

I counted through the list again. I had managed to find four suitable suitors that might be bearable for both me and my family. Unfortunately only one of those truly stood out.

Theodore Nott.

——

Lunch was quiet that day. Mother had given me the go-ahead, but no doubt she was already cooking up suitors. Draco and I were obviously a bit quiet, which left a lot of conversation space for Blaise to fill without much help from Theo. I eventually huffed so much Blaise was forced to stop mid-conversation about his mothers eighth husband. Something like that.

“What do you want, baby Malfoy?” He laughed at the face I made, and I shook my head.

“You’re going to have to marry me, Blaise. Mother has given me twelve days to find a husband, and you’ll do.” I said, and Blaise spat his mouthful of pumpkin juice all over me.

“You little bitch!” I cried as I stood up in shock, and Blaise, for his part, seemed shocked.

“I’ll do? I’ll have you know that I intend on being the best husband ever to exist, you maniac. Besides, I’ve been betrothed to Alexandra Abbott since before I was born, thanks to my ever-present father.” I winced. I hadn’t known that, and neither had Theo by the look on his face.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked, and Blaise shook his head.

“I already know that Mum will kill her after the wedding, let’s not beat around the bush. Did you want to meet that same fate?” He fired back, and I shook my head.

“Death seems sort of appetising right about now, but I’ve got to go interrogate my other options.” I explained, and Blaise followed Theo in squinting at me.

“When you planning on interviewing me?” Theo asked quietly, looking at me the way he does. He was so pretty it hurt.

“Best til last, darling. Best til last.” I replied, my heart fucking hammering in my chest. I wanted to curl into a ball and cry, but no one could see me like that aside my brother. Draco stood up suddenly.

“We have a free period. Anyone joining me in the library?” He asked, and we all stood up.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Blaise said, and off we went.

—

“Give me that, you tosser!” I watched as Blaise snatched his potions essay back from Draco, and I rolled my eyes. Blaise knew even less about potions than I did, and that was saying something.

“Need help?” Theo murmured from beside me, and I turned to smile at him.

“Thank you, Theo, but-“ He waved his hand in my face, and settled his finger on my lips, silencing me. Now that they were right in front of me, I noticed the rings he adorned on his fingers. I recognised two of the four as being Nott family heirlooms, but that was about it.

“Malfoy’s don’t need help,” Theo mimicked something I had definitely said in the past, and I laughed.

“You’re annoying. Cute, but annoying.” I picked up my quill quickly, fucking terrified as to why I just said that.

There was a long pause.

“I’ll have you know I’m not annoying at all, just cool.” He said, and I grinned back at him.

“Why have you started writing about asphodel roots? We’re doing pearl dust this week, and following up with amortentia next week.” Theo explained, and I frowned. Potions sucked.

“When did we asphodel roots?” I asked warily, and Theo bit his lip. His pink, soft looking lips.

“First year?” I stared at him blankly.

“Come on, let’s sort out this essay.” He said kindly, and he pulled my chair closer to him. I hid my blushing cheeks behind my hair, and nodded.

“So... Pearl dust-“ I begin, but trail off. I’ve realised I know absolutely nothing on the topic. “Is used in Amortentia,” Theo nodded, amused at how I was struggling.

“Hey! You said you’d help! Stop laughing,”

I faked a pout and turned away from him. Thank Salazar I did because he gently brushed my arm and turned me back around.

“Alright! Alright,” He threw his hands up before pulling his chair even closer to mine. I decided to glare at my parchment rather than acknowledge his strong gaze on the gradually redder side of my face. I bit back a smile, and thankfully he broke the silence.

“Well, for starters,” He briefly touched my hand. Was that on purpose? Quick, focus. “They symbolise loyalty,” He explained. “Therefore they play a strong role in creating the obsession part of the potion,” he continued. I frowned though, as it didn’t quite make sense.

“But people in real love are loyal,” I looked up at him, but he seemed to be staring into space.

“They should be,” he replied darkly. He brushed my hand one last time before rapidly exiting the library. I was torn whether I should follow or leave him be. He always had been a bit more of a loner. But then again, most slytherins are...

I walked back to the dungeons on my own. Since Theo ran off, I had to piece together the two facts I knew into about seven inches of parchment. Thank Salazar that I had big handwriting, although I’m sure the teachers wouldn’t see that as a positive.

“Y/n!” I heard footsteps chasing after me. Then a tall shadow.

“Theo,” I greeted him with a nod. I kept walking, as I knew I would soon fall behind his quick strides.

“Sorry I ran off,” He whispered a bit. I noticed he was rubbing the back of his neck again.

“It’s okay,” I nodded, deciding not to push the topic right now. We walked in silence a little farther until I tried to start a new conversation.

“So, what does your amortentia smell like?” I asked brightly. I knew I’d have to invent something if he asked me, but my curiosity got the better of me.

“Oh, er-“ he mumbled about squid for a moment before quickly excusing himself to go to the great hall. So, I continued towards the common room myself.

“Dearest Sister!” Draco cried dramatically from his favorite green armchair. He always sat there, and most of the first years knew better by now than to test that fact.

“Yes?” I groaned, not feeling up to being nice today.

“Yikes who stepped on your snake tail?” He asked in a cold but slightly teasing tone.

“Sorry Draco, I’ve had a long day.” I sighed.

“Yeah a long day flirting with one of my best mates!”

“One of your best mates? I’ll have you know that Mother introduced me to Theo first!” I retorted, and slowly froze as I met Draco’s smirk.

“So I’m right, then? You fancy the pants off of him!” Draco was always quick to draw conclusions, I’ll give him that.

“It doesn’t matter, anyway, considering I’m marrying the man of mother’s choice.” I said glumly, and Draco waved his hand.

“She gave you like a week and a half did she not?” He asked, and I nodded.

“So? I-I’m not like you, Draco. I don’t have people falling at my feet, and I know I’m going to have to marry whoever she chooses.” I hadn’t admitted my embarrassing insecurities to my brother yet, and I was met with silence.

“Literally shut up. Do you remember in third year when you started getting those letters? The ones that talked about how pretty you are, and the boys that all wanted to ask you out?” I did remember, and I remembered the embarrassment of when they stopped, proving it was all a joke.

“I tracked down every single one of those boys, and I made sure they knew they didn’t deserve you. Don’t fucking doubt who you are or your worth.” He stood up aruptedly, and walked right out of the common room.

I sat in the common room for a long time, the Black Lake’s creatures my only company. It wasn’t until I heard one of my favourite drawls talking to the Bloody Baron.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Blaise asked as he stared at me, and I stared back.

“What?” Blaise scoffed.

“You need to fucking talk to your mother, or at least someone you can marry. We have ten days left of school, and you’re wasting them all moping about.”

“I am not!” I cried. “I have a list,” The second I said that I regretted it. Blaise shook his head.

“A list?” He rubbed his eyebrow for a moment, as if he was the expert of instantly finding a suitor that was also acceptable to your parents. I allowed the silence to stretch out while he took a seat sprawling gracefully upon the green velvet couch.

“Well,” He began impatiently, “let’s see it then!” I blushed, especially since it was so small. I held a silent debate over whether I really wanted Blaise to see it or not. He made the choice for me by summoning it from my dorm.

“Oh Merlin,” I slumped further into my cushy armchair.

“Graham Montague?” Blaise knitted his eyebrows together. “He’s already betrothed,”

“So are you,” I sighed. Blaise laughed a cold laugh.

“Sorry darling,” He threw a wink my way.

“Wow, my mother really was late to the party huh?” I joined in with my own dry laugh for a moment.

“You would go mad if you married Crabbe or Goyle,” He shook his head.

“Didn’t even write them down,”

“That leaves Miles Bletchley or Theo,”

“So do you think I should pick a target out of those two?” Blaise nodded as I said this. Of course I should. And of course it should be Theo. If I had retained my right to pick my own fiancé in my own time it probably would have been him anyway.

“It should be Theo,” I admitted.

“Merlin, It only took an arranged marriage to get you to say that.” Blaise smirked at me.

“What do you mean?!”

“Anyways, you have ten days to get him to agree to marry you.”

“So?”

“So what?”

“So what’s the plan?” Honestly Blaise couldn’t really expect me to know how to charm Theo after the various train wrecks of today...

——

The piles of papers around were parchments I never thought I would have read anytime soon. Instead of trying to revive my potions grade I was attempting to decide what kind of bouquet I would like for my wedding.

“I think the roses suit you.” Pansy said, and I stared at her.

“Everything suits me.” Pansy snorted, and I glared.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night. Anyway, roses also suit Theo, so you don’t have to stress about the bouquet anymore. Cissy said she can arrange to have green flowers, since the theme is going to be white and Slytherin green. Salazar, I wish I were getting married!” Pansy sighed quite dramatically in my opinion, and flopped onto her bed.

“It might not be to Theo, stop getting my hopes up.” I said glumly, and Pansy sighed again.

“Go talk to him, I’m sick of you complaining.” As if to prove a point, she then turned and faced the opposite way. I stood up, rolling my eyes at her back.

“Whatever.” I huffed as I walked out, and I scoffed when I saw the finger Pansy had blindly shoved in my direction.

As I walked down to the common room, I saw a familiar mop of brown curls and couldn’t stop myself from smiling. Theodore Nott really was something.

“Hey.” I slid onto the love seat beside him, and he looked up from the book he was reading.

“Y/n. How are you? Potions treating you better?” The smirk on his face made my failing potions grade absolutely worth it.

“Something like that. Have you decided on your Christmas plans yet?” I asked, and Theo shrugged.

“Attend your wedding, I assume.” I swallowed. Six days left until my timer was up and Mother had free reign.

“We should just ditch it.” I suggested, and he laughed.

“Not much of a wedding without you, is it?” He had a point, but I wasn’t in the mood for it.

“If you had to get married right now who would you choose?” I asked, and Theo stared at me.

“I don’t know. Probably Draco, I heard his hair is insured for millions.” I snorted at the unexpected joke, and Theo grinned at me.

“Almost a billion, I’ll have you know.” I added, and Theo nodded.

“I can tell. Anyway, why do you ask? Are you getting married to a girl?” I was happy to see Theo wasn’t being a dick, and he was just curious.

“No, I’m just wondering who’d you pick. Pansy, right?” I knew damn well Theo didn’t like Pansy, but I enjoyed stirring the pot a little too much.

“Shut up, Y/n. You’ll make me sick right here! Honestly, I would probably just run away and return when I feel I’m ready.”

“You’re a wise guy, Theo.” I said, and when I saw his dimples I almost collapsed on the couch.

—

The weekend had proved to be a waste of time, and I had hardly talked to Theo, too busy drowning in school assignments while trying to plan my wedding. It was a double potions on Monday, and I fucking hated potions.

“What are we learning today?” I whispered to Pansy as I slid into my seat beside her.

“Amortentia.” She replied, and I nodded. That explained why the smell of Theo’s peppermint shampoo drenched the place.

“Ms. Y/l/n,” Snape addressed me. “Would you care to explain how you managed to fail our previous essay so dismally,” I mentally facepalmed before attempting to respond.

“I- I’m sorry professor,” According to Snape’s face this was not a suitable response. I tried again: “I’ve been a bit preoccupied this week,”

“And what might have been distracting you enough that you earned a dreadful? Mind you, it was only a few marks off a troll,” His words would have stung less of they weren’t spoken in such a cold, slow voice.

I decided to mumble a jumbled response, given Snape wasn’t the most sympathetic listener.

“Very well,” Snape nodded slightly. “In hopes that your grade will improve, you best sit with Theo and have him help you,” I felt like jumping up and down, and throwing up in the exact same moment. Slowly, I moved over to Theo’s desk while trying to review the conversation starters I had come up with.

Really, I shouldn’t be worrying because I’ve known him my whole life basically. But this was different. I wanted to fucking marry him, not play a game of cards!

“Sorry,” I grimaced while sliding onto the bench.

“Don’t be,” Theo smiled gently. Holy shit, this love potion wouldn’t make me feel any different to how I already felt about him. “Unless you’re apologising for avoiding me all weekend,” He said seriously.

“Well I am sorry about that,” I bit my lip self consciously. He nodded as he spooned out a few teaspoons of pearl dust into the swirly potion.

“I really didn’t mean to, I’ve just been in a different world this week.” He nodded more understandingly this time, as he meticulously chopped the mint leaves we needed to add next.

“Ms. Y/l/n, are you helping or talking?” Snape stormed past our table, looking surly.

“Helping, professor!” Theo assured him.

“Do you smell anything yet?” He inquired. We both shook our heads.

“Could be because Y/n put so much perfume on this morning,” Theo teased me. I couldn’t smell it myself, but maybe I was just becoming desensitised to it.

“Please, you’re cologne and shampoo are practically a cloud around you!” I elbowed him. He simply smirked at me. Snape was looking as amused as I’ve ever seen him.

“You’ve both earned an outstanding,” He snarled before fluttering away.

“But sir!” Theo called after him. “We turned in it on time!” I giggled at his joke, even though I guessed it would prompt one of the few times Snape took points away from his own house. Thankfully, I was wrong. Our potion must have looked better than it smelled I suppose.

——

“You have to ask him!” Pansy elbowed me. It was the next morning, and last night I had totally failed at seducing Theo.

“What do I fucking say?” I whispered angrily. “Hey you’re cute and I like you. Wanna get married in five days?”

We slid into our usual seats in the great hall, and lucky for me Theo was already there.

“What’s up?” He asked smiling at me.

“Not much,” I murmured as I stuffed my face with a piece of pizza. “What class have you got next?”

“Free period, you?”  I could have leapt for joy, this would be a perfect chance to spend more time with him.

“Same! Maybe we could study together?” I suggested.

“Oh very romantic,” Pansy muttered under her breath. Luckily, Theo seemed not to hear.

“Of course.” He smiled. “You might need some more help with the next potions essay!” He smirked.

“Clearly Snape made that arrangement for your benefit,” I pushed him gently. Theo blushed slightly and turned serious.

“I wanted to apologise, you didn’t have to wash your perfume off. I was only teasing about it being to strong,” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Thanks, but don’t worry. I didn’t even put it on today.” I responded, forgetting the whole ‘amortentia smells like what you love you’

Everyone was staring at us. Fuck.

“Shall we go study?” Theo asked,  taking my hand and pulling me up from the bench. We were both graciously ignoring the fact our amortentia smells like each other.

“On second thought, maybe we could do something else? I’m just so tired of school, I could really use a break.” Theo stared at me before his face spread into a grin.

“I’ve got just the place.”

—

“Do you come here often?” I asked. We were sat at some point in the Forbidden Forest, and the first five minutes we were here I was practically shitted myself, all too aware of the creatures that resided here.

“Yeah, I’d say so. It’s just so peaceful.” Theo smiled wistfully at the trees, and he was absolutely right. It was silent aside occasional squeaks and squawks, and for the first time in the past week and a half I finally felt calm.

We sat in silence for a long time, and eventually I became too scared to break it. I stole a look at the boy beside me, and I saw Theo had closed his eyes at some point. Free to stare at him without repercussions, I finally got the chance to truly admire him. His curly dark hair made his skin look paler, the olive tones appearing washed out. His eyelashes were long and I was silently jealous of them, considering mine were about as long as my fingernails. When he opened his eyes he smiled.

“Hey.” His voice sounded hoarse, and as time became irrelevant I wondered how long we had been here for.

“Hi.” I said, and I felt so incredibly shy, the way he was looking at me made me want to shrink.

“You look pretty.” He sat up from the rock, and I turned away.

“How long have we been here?” I asked, and he shrugged.

“Long enough to be late to potions.” I sat up quickly and threw myself off of the rock, as though I could apparate into the dungeons.

“Don’t worry, we’ll say we had to do Hagrid a favour or something.” Theo laughed, and we set onwards towards the castle.

“Do you ever think about what life will be like after Hogwarts?” I asked, and Theo didn’t meet my gaze.

“I don’t know. Sometimes I do, I guess. It’s hard to though, because life will be changed so drastically after the war, especially if You-Know-Who wins.” Theo said, and I nodded.

“I know.” Nothing more could be said, and when we walked into potions, the familiar scent of peppermint was overwhelming.

“L/n, Nott. Since you arrived late you’ll be telling the class what you smell in the Amortentia,” Snape ordered, and Theo shared a grimace with me. “L/n, you first.”

“Okay,” I walked up to the front and ignored the stares of my classmates. “I smell peppermint mostly, but there’s also hints of roses mixed with sugar.” I stepped back from the potion, almost hitting my head on a low hanging ingredients shelf.

“Nott.” Theo looked at me nervously, and I tried to smile reassuringly, but I had no clue.

“There’s this perfume, but I’ve no clue what the scent is. I can smell vanilla and cinnamon as well.” He stepped back, and it wasn’t until Pansy elbowed me in the side did I realise what exactly those scents were.

“Professor Snape!” I stood up. Merlin this was taking some guts. “Theo and I left our cauldrons in the common room, we should go get them now,” I grabbed Theo’s hand and we raced towards the door.

“Ms, L/n!” I heard low shouts behind me. “10 points from Slytherin!” The rest of the words were drowned out by cheers of various Gryffindors.

——

Theo and I collapsed in laughter back inside the common room. We sat opposite each other in our favourite green armchairs.

“So why did we really need to leave?” Theo asked. For a moment I thought he was serious, and hadn’t realised what the scent of his amortentia actually was. Then I saw the soft twinkle in his hazel eyes.

“Oh, you know...” I trailed off and big my lip. I decided this would be best to say as fast as possible.

“Wesmelledeachotherinrheamortentiaandivebeeninlovewithyousincethridyearwillyoumarryme?” A small smile began to grow upon Theo’s soft lips.

“Sorry, what was that?” He asked. I wasn’t sure if he truly didn’t understand, or if he was enjoying hearing my thundering heart beat. I took a deep breath. I wanted this to be right.

“Hang on,” I suggested. “We need to go back to the forbidden forest.” I may as well make sure this is as good as it can be...

——

We’re back in the forbidden forest. Theo is still smirking slightly, while also looking slightly confused.

“Now,” I began, wringing my hands back and forth. “Theo I’ve known you since we were babies. I’ve got to say, when we were in diapers I never imagined this happening. But I’ve dreamed of it for a while now. I know this a completely rushed and insane situation, but sometimes that’s what you need to realise... Theo, I really like you, and I can’t imagine marrying anyone other than my best friend. Will you marry me this Christmas?” Theo was grinning like an idiot at me. And he was taking tantalisingly small steps towards me.

“Yes,” He whispered while taking my face in his hands, and gently angling it to fit our lips perfectly together.

Time stopped, and the two days before our wedding seemed like forever. I was here, kissing Theo. My fiancé.

——

Christmas Eve was a quiet affair. It was spent with my family and the Nott’s in Malfoy manor.

Mother was ecstatic about my choice. Apparently that’s who she had been planning on already, but Theo had told me his mom was bent on him marrying for love.

We had a large dinner and completed the final tasks before the big day. Before I knew it, morning was here!

My mother helped me get into my a line style wedding dress. The train stretched fifteen feet behind me, and I loved this one because it had an empire waistline. Our the manor’s greenhouse was the location of our wedding. And despite the strange circumstances, it was everything I’d ever dreamed. There was an aisle between the rows of chairs, with a green runner down the centre for me to walk on.

“You look lovely, darling.” Father patted my shoulder, and I beamed at him. His words of approval were all I ever wanted to hear.

“Are you ready?” He asked, and I nodded. Pansy and Daphne had already walked down with Blaise and Draco, and there was only one thing left to do.

“I love you, dad.” He stared at me for a second, and I began to second-guess myself. I hadn’t called him dad since I was in diapers.

“I love you too, Y/n.” Dad whispered softly, and I squeezed his hand tightly.

“Let’s do this.”

—

The ceremony flew by, as per pureblood customs, and before I knew it I was sat beside Theo, binding ourselves to the marriage certificate.

“You’re a dork.” I laughed in delight as I saw Theo carve a dick onto the table, and he grinned back.

“Shut up. I’m your dork, and you’re not getting rid of me anytime soon.” He said, and I narrowed my eyes.

“Don’t be so sure about that. I might get some hints from Yemaya, Blaise’s mother.” He poked me in the side as he stuck in his tongue out, and I leaned on his shoulder, completely in bliss.

Theo really was the best.

[chickensarentcheap]

Never Gonna Be Alone -Chapter 26

Title: Preparations

Warning:  it’s filler.  I figured we needed some cute daddy Tyler. lol

Tagging:  @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @alievans007​, @miss-smutty​, @tragiclyhip​

“When you met mumma, you guys were working together, right?”

Addie poses the question as she sits atop the kitchen island; legs swinging back and forth as they dangle over the edge, the heels of silver and gold glitter infused jelly sandals lightly thumping against the wood. She insisted on bringing one of her favourite pairs of shoes from home; arguing that she didn’t care that they were ‘out of season’ and that she would wear what she wants, when she wants, and no one could tell her otherwise. In the end they’d gone perfectly with the new ‘Christmas’ dress she’d picked out Bloomingdales; a vibrant yellow concoction with capped sleeves embellished with strips of lace, a sash around the waist that ties in an enormous bow at the back, and an elaborate tulle skirt several layers thick that shimmers in the light. Forgoing all the burgundy, emerald green, and red dresses that had lined the regular priced racks in favour of an outfit from the leftover and highly discounted summer section. It was a hill Esme hadn't been willing to die on; preferring that Addie showcase both her independence in choosing her own outfit, and being proud of her personal style and preferences. And it suits her; as bright and adorable as her personality with just enough ‘no fucks given’ sprinkled on for good measure.

While tiny and seemingly fragile, she can be extremely assertive and adverse to any form of compromise; tenacious to a fault and digging her heels in and sticking to her guns when she feels she’s one hundred right about her stance. Even if there’s mountains of proof to show that she is, in fact, completely wrong. Someone so stubborn and feisty lingering inside that cute, wee package; able to hold her own while out playing with her older siblings and not afraid to get a bloody nose or a fat lip or a black eye. And not deterred in the slightest when she DOES get injured; right back to what she was doing only hours after getting stitches or a cast removed. Not shying away from climbing trees or splashing in mud puddles or helping muck out the goats stalls while wearing clunky rubber boots paired with a Disney princess dress. Very much like her older sister had been at that age; enjoying being physical and active and playing sports and rough housing one minute, then showcasing her more ‘girly side’ the next. Loving trips to the salon with mummy for manis and pedis; enjoying picking her own shade of polish and then getting to sip orange juice from a champagne glass while getting a facial and her hair trimmed. Collecting dolls along with various rocks and shells and beach glass. Superhero figures taking up residence on her bedroom shelves right alongside stuffies of her favourite animals -koalas, sloths, and kangaroos currently at the top of the list- and snow globes from different parts of the world. Her closet filled with not only frilly dresses and sparkly leggings and colourful sweaters emblazoned with unicorns and french bulldogs and flamingos, but old hand me downs from her brothers; ripped and faded jeans and tattered t-shirts and board shorts.

“Right,” Tyler confirms, as he tends to running a brush through her waist length hair; damp from misting it down with a spray bottle in order to easier part it into sections.

It’s a far cry from his old life; his beaten and busted up hands with their multitude of scars and calluses once used to being soaked in blood and caked with dirt. Large and weathered with misshapen knuckles, they’d long ago gotten accustomed to hard, manual labour and the brutality that he’d had to inflict on others; fists that pummelled bodies and faces and fingers that pulled triggers and wrapped around throats and choked the life out of combatants. And while they still get caked in mud from working around the house and they’re still entrusted to load magazines and are capable of taking a gun apart in thirteen seconds flat, they’ve morphed into other uses. Beginning with diapering babies and tending to the impossibly tiny snaps on jumpers, buttons on little sweaters, and zippers on sleepers. Moving on to tying kid sized shoe laces and cleaning and patching up skinned knees and elbows. Advancing to far more difficult hair styling techniques than the simple ponytails he’d began affixing on Millie when she was a toddler; various styles of braids adorned with ribbons, and snapping barrettes and clamping clips into place.

Being a girl dad is unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. The six short years -despite the little time he’d actually been home- he’d spent with Austin had prepared him for raising boys. His son, when healthy, had been extremely active and fearless and full of curiosity and energy; getting as messy and as dirty as possible and loving every second of it. Obsessed with superheroes and sports and always clad in clothing that displayed his favourites; football jerseys and baseball caps and sweats emblazoned with Superman or Batman logos. He had been terrified twelve years ago when the news had come in that Millie was in fact going to be a girl; not only envisioning frilly dresses and a closet full of pink and those ridiculous headbands parents insist on putting on their infants, but thinking back to his own treatment of women. The days when he’d used them for nothing more than sex; random strangers picked up in bars or that he’d meet on the street in whatever city a job sent him to. A failed marriage; putting more of a priority on the military than he did on treating his wife properly. And all he could think about was how having a daughter was somehow a punishment for the bad shit he’d done. A little girl that he’d have to protect from guys like him.

It was hard to get used to; big fingers having to master putting in tiny earrings and tending to impossibly small zippers and buttons , getting comfortable with the amount of pink and purple in their rooms and closets. Eventually graduating into attending tea parties and playing with Barbies and helping make crafts; getting used to paint on his palms and between his fingers and glitter stuck under his nails and in his hair and beard. Determined to be a hands-on father even if its activities are way outside of his comfort zone; gymnastic meets and dance recitals as opposed to lacrosse matches and football games. Being a girl dad isn’t for the weak; having to worry about your little girls’ hearts being broken and if the guys they pick will treat them right and if they themselves will make smart and responsible choices as teenagers. And the hormones; the up and down emotions and the drastic switch from bitchy to overly sensitive. Having a wife go through it once a month is enough. never mind the thought of three other girls. The worry of how he’ll handle not only the emergence of puberty, but if all four female ‘clocks’ decide to sync up. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to handle THAT; all the women in his life going through the cramps and the moodiness and the demands to be coddled and babied one minute and left the fuck alone the next.

“Does that mean mummy beat up and killed bad guys too?”

“No. She never did any of that stuff. That was my job, not hers.”

“What did she do?”

“She tracked down the bad guys. And where they were doing mean things to good people. Then she told me...or guys like me...where they were so we could go and take care of things.”

“So you could go and kill them?”

“You don’t always have to kill people. Sometimes it’s enough to just rough them up a bit.”

“And other times they fight back and try to hurt you and you have to hurt them first?”

“Pretty much.”

“Have you killed a lot of people?”

“Not that many," he lies. It's actually a staggering amount; the death toll -from his hand alone- in Dhaka putting the count well over three hundred.

“How many is ‘not that many'?’”

“I don’t know, Peanut. I’ve never kept track.”

“But you’ve helped more people than you’ve hurt. That’s what mummy said when I asked if it was true. If Tyler was lying when he told me you kill people for a living.”

“That’s a while ago. That you asked mummy that.”

“I was three. That’s a whole two years ago. But sometimes I think about it. Especially when you go away. I think about you having to kill people.”

“And what do you think WHEN you think about that? About what I sometimes have to do?”

“I dunno know,” Addie shrugs, and then lifts the spray bottle clutched in both hands and holds it towards her face; giggling when she pulls the trigger and catches some of the mist in her mouth.

“Does it bother you? When you think about it? That I’ve killed people? That sometimes I still have to?”

“Why would it bother me?”

“Kind of a hard thing to hear, don’t you think? That daddy has to do stuff like that?”

“It’s your job. It’s what you do. You have to hurt people to save other people. And sometimes, if they try and hurt you first, you have to kill them. Because if you didn’t, they might kill you and then you never come home and we never get to see you again. It’s not THAT hard to hear. I’d rather you kill someone and come home than never see you again.”

“You know,” he plucks the spray bottle from her hands and dampens a section of hair. “You’re pretty smart for only five.”

“Smart like mummy.”

He leans in to press a kiss to her cheek. “Cute like her too.”

“Are you going to get in trouble? For killing people?”

“Who would I get in trouble with?”

“God. Isn’t that one of the things we’re not supposed to do? Kill people?”

“How do you know about that? We don’t talk about that stuff at home.”

“I hear things. At school. Some of the older kids talking. Are you? Going to get in trouble? For killing people?”

“Probably,” he admits. “I’m sure I’ll face some kind of judgement for it. When my time comes.”

“But wouldn’t it be okay ‘cause you only kill bad people? That were hurting good people? Wouldn’t that be allowed? And if you had to kill someone so you could come home to us, wouldn’t that be okay too?”

“I don’t know,” he snags a yellow cloth ribbon off the island and begins braiding a section of hair around it. “I’ve never thought that far ahead about things.”

“It would suck if you got in trouble for helping people. That wouldn’t be fair at all. If you got sent to hell for doing stuff like that. I mean, you were doing something GOOD. You weren’t doing something bad. You HAD to kill evil people to help good people. And to make sure you come home to mummy and us kids. I can’t see you getting in trouble for something like THAT.”

“Doesn’t make much sense to me either. But not a lot does anymore.”

“I’ll be really mad if you get in trouble and sent somewhere different than me. I don’t want us to be in two separate places. I want us to be together. All of us. You and mummy and all us kids. I don’t want us to all be separated. Well, maybe Millie could be. Because she’s mean to me. All the time.”

“Millie is going through some stuff. She’s going to be a teenager soon. A lot of drama leading up to THAT.”

“She says I’m annoying. That she used to really like me when I was a baby and couldn’t do anything. But now I can do lots of stuff and I can talk and she says that pisses her off. That I’m a bratty little sister.”

“You are NOT bratty.”

“Right? That’s what I said. She’s bratty if anything. Am I annoying, daddy? Don’t lie. You can tell me the truth.”

“You are not annoying. If anyone is annoying, it’s Millie.”

“I said THAT too! But she’s mean. She even threatened to cut my hair off. Shave it. Because I couldn’t find my brush and I borrowed hers and she didn’t like that. So you know what I did? While you were gone?”

“What did you do?”

“I took the tops off two Oreo cookies and I ate the middle and then I put in mayonnaise and I put the tops back on and gave them to Millie. I told her I was being a good little sister and bringing her a snack. And she put a whole one in her mouth! She almost puked!”

He can’t help but chuckle. “You actually did that?”

“Yup. It was awesome. I laughed so hard, I almost peed! But then she started chasing me around the house threatening to kill me. Mummy was screaming at her to lighten up, that it was just a joke. And then she told mummy to shut up and Tyler got mad. REALLY mad. He tackled Millie and grabbed her by the hair and pushed her face into the carpet. Then he put her in a figure four leg lock and made her cry.”

“Millie told your mom to shut up?”

“Oooops…” Addie tilts her head back to look at him, a sheepish smile curving her lips. “....I wasn’t supposed to tell you that part.”

“Who told you not to tell me? Millie?”

The five year old shakes her head.

“TJ?”

Another shake, followed by a tiny “No.”

“Addie…”

“It was mummy! She said not to tell you because you’d get pissed off and you didn’t need to. Because she took care of it right when it happened. Well, Tyler did. He was really, really, REALLY mad. She learned her lesson. I’m sure of it. He made her cry. Lots.”

“Did that happen a lot? Millie getting mouthy with your mom?”

“Not really.”

He stares pointedly down at her.

“A few times,” she reluctantly admits. “She said some things that were really mean. To mummy. And she said the F word once, too. Mixed with the B word.”

“She said that ? To your mom?”

Addie chews nervously on her bottom lip. “Yeah, she called her an f-ing B word.”

“What did mummy do?”

“She didn’t get a chance to do anything. Desi freaked out. And he’s really big and he can be really scary when he wants. Like you. Desi told her that she should never, ever talk to her mum like that. And that you’d be really mad if you found out. And that she’d rather deal with him than you. Which is true. Desi might be bigger than you, but you’re definitely tougher. I mean, he doesn’t kill people for a living. You do.”

“Things were pretty bad, huh? While I was gone.”

“A little. Millie went off the reservation. Big time. She’s lucky she’s even breathing. ‘Cause Tyler was ready to kill her. And I don’t blame him. You’re mad, aren’t you. Are you mad, daddy?”

“A bit.”

“You know how I can tell? That you’re mad? Your neck moves. Right here,” she reaches up to press to fingertips against the side of his throat. “Where the bad guy shot you a long time ago.”

“How did you know about that?”

“Mummy told me. I asked her how you got that scar. She said that a long time ago, her and Ovi were in trouble and you had to get them out of a really bad place. And then you made sure they were safe and sound, but a bad guy shot you. In the neck. And that’s why you have the scar there.”

“Did that scare you? Hearing that?”

“A little, I guess. I mean, you could have died, right?”

“I could have, yeah.”

“And then you and mummy never would have gotten married. And had kids. Millie would be the only one to exist. None of us would. So yeah, that part scared me a bit; that the bad guy could have killed and none of us ever would have been born. Did you kill him?”

“Eventually.”

“Mummy said she stayed with you. After it happened. And that she went back to Australia with you and that’s how she ended up there. It’s where you guys got married. And had Millie and me and Kota and Brookie. That we were the ones born there. So we’re REAL Australians, like you. Everyone else is American.”

“Everyone else WAS American. You’re all Australian now.”

“How does that work?”

“A lot of papers you have to fill out. To become a citizen. But you all are. Mummy and I made sure of it.”

“Is mummy an Australian too?”

“By marriage, yeah.”

“It’s a good thing she married you. You’re a lucky guy, daddy. That someone like mummy fell in love with you.”

“I am,” he confirms. “Very lucky. She’s a pretty good mummy, huh?”

“She’s the best mummy EVER. If we could pick our mummies, I’d pick her. Because she’s nice and she gives good cuddles and kisses and she tells the best silly jokes. And she’s super smart and really cute too. And little! Like me!”

“That’s where you get from. Being so cute and wee. You’re just like your mumma.”

Her eyes sparkle as she smiles broadly up at him; the corners and the bridge of her nose crinkle. “And that’s a good thing, yeah?”

“A very good thing,” Dropping a kiss on her forehead, he brushes the tip of his nose against hers; smiling at the way she throws her head back and giggles.

He’s seen her mother do that exact movement and expression a number of times; excitement while on the rides at Disney World with the kids, when she’s had one too many glasses of wine and even his terrible ‘dad jokes’ are suddenly hilarious, when they’ve been on one of their ‘mommy and daddy’ vacations and she’s gotten up the guts to try something new and exciting; emboldened by his encouragement and forever feeling safe and secure as long as he’s by her side. So much of Esme in the tiny little girl in front of him; tenacious and ferociously intelligent and loving deeply and fearlessly. Knowing the darkness and the horrors that exist in the world but not allowing herself to be tarnished by it; always finding ways to smile and laugh and find the beauty in every day.

“What do you think mummy would have done if she didn’t do the job she did?” Addie inquires, when she finally drops her head back down and he’s able to return to tending her hair.

“I don’t know. Teach? Be a nurse? Maybe a doctor?”

“How would you have met her? If she didn’t do her old job?”

“Maybe I would have met her on the beach. In Australia. Maybe she would have come there on a vacation.”

“Maybe. Or maybe you would have gone to where she used to live. In Chicago.”

“She used to live in Colorado. That’s where she was born and where she grew up. Chicago is a totally different place.”

“She used to live by the mountains. When I was in her tummy, you guys lived on a hobby farm. And you had goats and chickens. Mummy says we still own that house.”

“Yup, we do. We rent it out.”

“Can we go there one day? I’d like to see it. I’d like to see where you guys were living when I was in mummy’s belly. Is that where I was made?”

“We’re pretty sure that’s where it happened. Not many other places it could have been.”

“Maybe we can go and visit. And I can see where I was made. That would be fun. I want to see the mountains.”

“Maybe one day.” He finishes up the first braided pigtail, securing it with an impossibly small elastic before turning his attention to the other section of hair.

“If you met mummy a different way, would you have still liked her? Would you have still fallen in love with her?”

“Yup. Why wouldn’t have I? She still would have been mummy. She still would have been the same person. Still would have been the most beautiful girl ever.”

“Do you think she still would have fallen in love with you?”

“I sure as hell hope so. Would sure suck if she didn’t. Your mumma is pretty special, Peanut. She’s the love of my life. Took me until I was thirty five to meet her.”

“You were married before, though. To Austin's mom. You didn’t love her?”

“I did. But not in the way I love your mum. Your mum? That’s who I want to spend the rest of my life with. Grow really, really, REALLY old with. It’s a whole other kind of love. And you know what? It’s not easy to explain. You just know what you feel.”

“Imagine if things were opposite? If you went to Colorado and met mummy instead of her meeting you in Australia and working with you? And then you would have stayed there; where the snow and the mountains are instead of the beach and the ocean. How come you moved? Why didn’t you guys stay? Where the mountains are?”

“Things changed. We weren’t happy there anymore. We needed to get away. Go back to the place where we were the happiest.”

“In Australia?”

“Yup.”

“That’s where I’m happiest too. I love it there. I love how warm it is; the sun and the sand and the water. I like the sound it makes; listening to it when I’m trying to fall asleep. And I like how the beach feels; between my toes and when I let it run through my fingers. And I love my room and my toys and my school and my friends and all the goats and our pigs and our chickens. And Charlie. I love him the most. I love making him peanut butter sandwiches. I’d miss him the most. If we had to leave. We won’t have to leave will we, daddy?”

“I don’t see why we would have to.”

“I don’t ever want to leave Australia. It’s perfect there. It’s where I was born. And where you were born too. We have that in common. We were BOTH born there.”

“Yeah…” he grins, and presses a kiss to the back of her head. “...we were.”

“I mean, we have other stuff in common too. Because you’re my dad and that means you helped make me so that means half of me is half of you. The other half is from mummy. And we both love surfing. And animals. And Vegemite. I LOVE Vegemite. It’s sooooo good.”

“Speaking of Vegemite, was it you that left the Vegemite and Nutella sandwich for Santa?”

Addie giggles. “Maybe…”

“Why would you ever put the two of those together?”

“Tyler made it for his school lunch once and he let me try a bit and it was really good! So I thought Santa might like to try it. Part American, part Australian.”

“You know, that’s pretty genius. And it worked. I tried a bit and it wasn’t bad.”

“Right?! You wouldn’t think it would work, but it does. Somehow. Kind of like you and mummy.”

“What’s THAT supposed to mean?”

“You and mummy are so different. You’re really tall and big and she’s really short and small. Like, you know how mummy is a morning person? She’s always really cheerful and smiley? And you’re not? You’re moody and miserable. A total grump face! And you don’t like to talk until you’ve had your first coffee. With three shots of espresso in it.”

“You notice all that stuff?”

“I notice everything. Mummy says I’m very observant. And that I have really good instincts. Like you. She says ‘cause my tummy tells me if something is right or wrong. And yours does too. You know how else you and mummy are different?”

“How?”

“Mummy talks to everyone! She’s very talky talky. A chatterbox.”

“Geez,” Tyler grins, and tugs playfully at the completed pigtail. “I wonder who ELSE is a chatterbox?”

“She’s a social butterfly. She makes friends everywhere she goes. People like her. Because she’s so bubbly and cute and she makes peoples hearts feel warm because she’s so nice to them. You’re more serious. You don’t talk a lot. At least not to people you don’t know. People are scared of you sometimes. Because how big you are and because you got all the drawings on you and the scars and stuff. They think you’re mean. ‘Cause of all that.”

“And what do you think?”

“I think you’re just daddy. I KNOW you’re not mean. I KNOW you’re a nice guy. I KNOW you give awesome hugs; your arms are big but they feel nice and they wrap all the way around me! If people really paid attention, they’d see that you’re nice. You have soft eyes. They’re blue and they’re pretty and they’re kind. Especially when you smile and they go all crinkly. If people really gave you a chance, they’d see you’re not scary at all. You’re only like that if you HAVE to be. If bad people are near mummy or us kids.”

“Are you ever scared of me?” It’s a recurring thought; if his children ever pick up on the worry and the tension and the fear that comes with his issues. It’s a feat some days; forcing himself out of bed and putting one foot in front of the other. Wanting nothing more than to stay under the covers and surrender to the exhaustion that comes with doing battle with his own mind every day. But his family is his number one priority, whether it’s a good day or a horrible one. And he’ll ‘fake it until he makes it’ as long as his children and his wife know that they’re loved; provided and cared for and made to feel safe and protected.

“Why would I be? Why would I be scared of my daddy?”

“Well, you know what I do for a living. You know what I’ve had to do to people. Does that scare you?”

“Nope. Because that’s just your job. It’s not who you are. When you come home, you’re just daddy. You take us bike riding and hiking and swimming and surfing. And you help us find rocks and shells and you let me sit on your shoulders when we walk on the beach or go into town. And we take naps. On the hammock. I love our naps on the hammock.”

He smiles. “So do I.”

“Sometimes I get a little worried. When you get upset. Or you and mummy argue. I don’t like when you guys argue. I always worry that you’ll hate each other. That you’ll get a divorce. And then you won’t live with us. It makes me sad when I think about that.”

“You don’t need to be sad, Peanut. That’s never going to happen. I’m never going to go and live somewhere else. I’m going to stay right where I am; with you guys and your mumma. And just because we argue? That doesn’t mean we’re going to hate each other. I could NEVER hate your mum. And I’m pretty sure she’d say the same thing about me. We love each other. Very much. Divorce is NOT something you need to think about. But do I ever scare you? Have I ever?”

“I don’t have a reason to be scared of you. Because you love me. You’d never hurt me. I never worry about that. Not even when you yell and your voice gets REALLY loud. I know you’d never do anything mean to me. Just to bad people. And I’m not a person. I’m a GOOD person.”

“You definitely are. You’re a VERY good person. An amazing little person.”

She smiles. “Like mummy.”

“Just like her. More than even I ever realized.”

******

“Addie…” TJ singsongs as he saunters into the kitchen, both hands tucked behind his back. “...what are you doing?”

“Tyler!” She cheerfully greets, and excitedly waves to him with both hands. Her entire face lighting up at the sight of her second favourite male in the house

She’s become extremely close to her oldest brother during her five years on earth; idolizing him and turning to him for help and comfort when daddy is either caught up with one of the other kids, tending to work related matters, or out of the house -and sometimes even the country- all together. And TJ dotes on her in return. Spoiling her and babying her ever since she was an infant and he was always more than willing to help change her diapers and give her feedings. In awe of how tiny she was and how she’d look up at him with so much adoration. He’s the quintessential older brother; patient and loving and ready to kick anyone’s ass that dares messes with her.

“Look at my dress! It’s the one I picked out when I went shopping for mommy. That I kept a secret. Isn’t it awesome?”

“Awesome just like you. It’s really pretty, Ads. Your favourite colour too!”

“Yup! Mummy bought it for me. She said it’s perfect for me. For my personality. It reminds me of Belle’s dress. From Beauty and the Beast.”

“Looks a little like it, I guess. But you know what? It’s even prettier. And you’re more beautiful than Belle. WAY more beautiful.”

“Really?” she gasps, and a noticeable blush creeps into her cheeks, spreading all the way to the tips of her ears. “You really think so?”

“I REALLY think so. Belle has nothing on you. You’re the prettiest princess EVER. Way prettier than ANY of them.”

“Oh goodness!” She clamps both hands over her mouth in embarrassment, then giggles into them. “Like mumma? Just as pretty as her? Mumma is the prettiest EVER.”

“Just a smaller version of her.” TJ leans in close and presses the tip of his nose against hers. “Guess what I have? What you forgot in my room?”

“Adeline!” she cries, when he reveals the item he’d been keeping behind his back. And she snags the doll from him and showers its head and face with kisses as she clutches it tightly to her chest. “Adeline! I’m sorry I forgot you! I didn’t mean to!”

“I kept her safe for you,” TJ says. “So Declan wouldn’t grab her. You know how he likes to get a hold of dolls and torture them. I didn’t want him getting her. She’s way too pretty and I know how much you love her.”

“He’s mean to my dolls! He’s always taking their heads off and putting their arms where their legs should be and crazy shit like that.”

“Hey,” Tyler frowns, and tugs on the half braided pigtail. “What did I say?”

“No bad language. Especially on Christmas Day. I can’t help it though; sometimes it just slips out. If you didn’t swear so much around us kids…”

“That’s it. Throw me under the bus.”

“You swear A LOT, daddy. Especially in the car. When other people don’t drive fast enough or use their blinkers. If mummy knew exactly how much you DO swear around us, she’d be mad. REALLY mad.”

“Your mum has a worse mouth than I do.”

“As if!” Addie scoffs, and he can’t help but smile; easily hearing Esme’s voice and picturing the expression on her face; the corner up her mouth and her nose scrunched up in disgust, eyes slightly narrowed. “Thank you, Tyler!” She curls an arm around her brother’s neck, squeezing as tight as she can. “You’re the best! Thank you for keeping her safe from the Ginger. You’re the best brother EVER! I only trust you with her. And daddy. That’s it. You guys are big and strong and will keep her safe no matter what.”

“What the hell are you wearing?” He addresses his son as the latter moves to the fridge, pausing in the braiding of Addie’s hair to survey TJ’s wardrobe a pair of ill fitting and impossibly baggy jeans, an enormous untucked dress shirt with its sleeves rolled to his elbows, and a loose pink, purple, and grey striped tie.

“Your pants. And one of your shirts.” TJ reaches into the fridge and grabs a carton of chocolate milk and a jug of white. Closing the door with his hip and carrying them to the counter by the sink; pouring a mix of both into a plastic tumblr retrieved from the dish rack and then snagging two straws from the cupboard. “Mum told me to. She said none of my clothes were good enough for Christmas dinner. All my jeans have holes in them and all t-shirts have to do with surfing. We’ve never had to dress up for Christmas dinner before. Why do we have to start now?”

“Your mum’s trying to make things perfect. To avoid drama. With your grandmother.”

“Too late. Grandma brings drama with her. And drops it on everyone else.” He drags a bar stool across the floor and places it in front of his little sister. “Here Ads,” he holds the cup in front of her. “A yellow straw just for you. So you don’t have to share my germs. Let me hold it; so you don’t spill anything on your dress.”

Giving a delighted squeal and a smile of appreciation, she takes a pull from the straw. “I think you look handsome, Tyler. You’re growing up. You’re going to be as big as daddy soon.”

“It’s going to be a while before I’m THAT big. But I’m going to work on it. As soon as I’m allowed, I’m going to lift heavy too and put on ALL kinds of muscle.”

“Then you can go after bad people too. And beat them up and kill them when you have to.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Tyler suggests. “Something tells me mummy might have an issue with that.”

“Why doesn’t mum just tell grandma to get lost?” TJ inquires. “It’s not like they like each other. They never have. They’ve always fought. I remember how they’d get into it at Christmas. When we were still living in Colorado. Grandma would get drunk and she’d pick fights with mum and mum would fight back and cry and then you’d go off on grandma. Is that going to happen this year? ‘Cause it’s been nice and quiet at Christmas. Do we HAVE to listen to grandma's shit?”

“What did I just tell your sister? About the language?”

“She’s five, but she’s right. It IS hard to stop and it does just come out. But do we, dad? Do we really have to put up with her?”

“It’s one night. I think you can manage. If I can grin and bear it, so can you. Suck it up.”

“If she starts in on mum about ANYTHING, I’m going to lose it. That’s my mum. No one talks to my mum like that. I almost taught Jacobi a lesson. For calling mum cute and wanting to ask her out. I’ll teach grandma a lesson too. I’m not afraid of her.”

“If anyone is going to teach her a lesson, it’s going to be me. You stay out of it. Your mum wouldn’t want you getting into it with her. You’re TEN.”

“Doesn’t matter how old I am. That’s MY mum. And no one is going to treat her bad. We’re supposed to protect her, remember? You and I.”

“You’re supposed to be a kid and stay that way as long as you can. I’M supposed to protect your mom. And I think I’ve been pretty damn good at it for the last twelve and a half years. And if your grandma starts? I’ll stop it. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“Why does she hate you so much anyway? Is it still the same crap? How she’s pissed because you stole mum away from her family and moved her all the way to Australia? ‘Cause you got her pregnant before you married her?”

Addie scowls. “Who cares? Lots of people have babies and they aren’t married. And so what if mummy didn’t go back home and she stayed with daddy? She’s an adult. She can do what she wants. And she wanted to be with daddy. None of grandma’s business. I’mma tell her that too. If she starts saying mean things about daddy or mummy. I’mma tell her what for.”

“You’re not going to do a thing,” Tyler informs her. “You’re going to leave all the telling off to me, got it?”

“I don’t like her,” Addie says. “She’s not a nice person. She has a mean smile. And her eyes are empty. They don’t sparkle or anything like that. Are you sure that’s mummy’s mummy? Because when mummy smiles, her eyes sparkle. She LOOKS happy. Grandma? She just looks mean.”

“No one likes her,” TJ grumbles. “Best thing we ever did was get away from her. But IS that why, dad? Is that really why she doesn’t like you? Because she still thinks you stole mum and took her all the way to Australia?”

“It’s a few things.”

“I bet it’s the job too. I bet she really has a problem with THAT.”

“Again…” Addie huffs dramatically. “...who cares? So what if daddy kills people? They’re BAD. They deserve it. He helps good people and sometimes when he’s helping them, he has to kill the bad guys. I don’t see a problem with that. If they try and hurt him or kill him, he HAS to kill them first. So he can come home. To us. And mummy. It only makes sense.”

“If Ads can get it, ANYONE can,” TJ says. “She’s only five. What’s grandma? A hundred? If a five year old can get it…”

“Daddy makes the world a better place because he gets rid of the bad people,” Addie continues, as she takes another sip of the drink her brother offers her. “If we had less bad people, everything would be great. There’d be less wars and less people getting hurt and everyone would love one another and be happy. Daddy’s doing a good thing. By sticking up for people. Like you do. At school. You beat up the bullies when you have to. Remember the older kid that tripped me and shoved my face in the mud? Remember him? He’s in grade eight AND you kicked the crap out of me. Because he picked on me.”

“You’re my sister. It’s my job to protect you.”

“And remember that other guy? On the playground by mummy’s store? The one that pulled my hair and told me I was adopted because I’m small and I don’t look like any of you guys. You freaked out on him and made him apologize and scared him away. He’ll cross the street now if he sees you coming.”

“You can’t let bad people get away with doing bad things,” TJ reasons. “If you don’t stop them, they’ll just keep doing bad stuff.”

“Exactly! So it’s a good thing that daddy goes after the bad guys. Grandma needs to learn. And she needs to learn TODAY. You should tell her, Tyler. You should tell her off. You’re not scared of anyone.”

“Not being scared of anyone or anything is not always a good thing,” Tyler informs her. “If you’re not scared, you don’t take a situation or people seriously. That’s when you get hurt. And you know what? No matter how big of a bad ass you think you are? There’s always a bigger one out there somewhere. Believe me. I’ve learned THAT lesson the hard way.”

“The guy who shot you just got a lucky one in,” TJ reasons. “You were already hurt. You weren’t one hundred percent. Some guy had already shot you, hadn’t he? A sniper?”

“What’s a sniper?” Addie inquires. “Is it like Swipper on Dora? Something like him?”

“We don’t need to talk about that,” Tyler says. “You don’t need to know that stuff. Not until you’re older. WAY older.”

“A sniper’s a guy that hides somewhere and shoots you,” TJ replies. “Somewhere where no one sees him. It’s why they’re so dangerous. You don’t even know where they are. They just shoot you. And they kill you before you even know what happened.”

“But daddy didn’t get killed. If a sniper shot daddy, shouldn’t he be dead?”

Combing his hand through her bangs, Tyler tips his daughter’s head back. “What did I just say? About you not needing to know about this stuff?”

“I’m curious now. Tyler said they hide and shoot people and kill them. How come you didn’t die? If a sniper shot you?”

“I guess he didn’t manage to get a good shot in.”

“It was the other guy that almost killed him,” TJ says, and takes a sip of the concoction in his hand. “The one that got him in the neck. That’s when he almost died. Mum saved him.”

“How? How did mummy save daddy? Daddy…” she swivels around in her stool to face him. “...how did mummy save you? Did she shoot the bad guy back?”

“Mum stuck her fingers in his neck,” TJ says. “To stop the bleeding. Or he would have bled to death.”

Addie’s eyes widen. “She DID?”

“When you’re older, MAYBE I’ll tell you more more about it. But for now…” Tyler places his hands on her shoulders and gently turns her back around. “...you don’t need to know this stuff. And you…” he stares pointedly at his son. “...don’t talk about this around her. She doesn’t need to know about this. She’s a baby still.”

“I’m not a baby!” Addie objects. “I’m five! I can almost ride my bike without training wheels. Babies can’t do that.”

“Just don’t, alright?” He addresses TJ. “Don’t talk about this stuff around her. Because she’s going to repeat all of this and she’s going to repeat it to your mum and that won’t end well. For you OR me.”

“It happened though. I mean, it’s part of how you guys met and got together and ended up getting married and stuff. It’s your history. I don’t see why…”

“I said ENOUGH. No more. Not around her. Got it?” He’s on edge; the mere mention of Dhaka and the incidents on the bridge playing straight into the anxiety and the panic he’d felt the night before; when he’d woken up from the nightmare and been on the verge of losing control and had turned to the fentanyl for relief. And it scares him; how easy it had been to not only access the powerful med, but actually take it. He’d encountered no resistance or hesitation; remorse and guilt not setting in until the following morning when he’d woken up and it had been the first thing on his mind. It’s alarming how quick things can return; an addict’s mind and behaviour.

Nodding, TJ holds his hands up in surrender.

“You’re both going to be nice tonight,” he says, and finishes Addie’s final braid. “To grandma. Because your mum is already stressed out enough and we don’t need to make it worse for her. So if the best you can do is smile and nod, just do that. I’m not asking you to kiss her ass. I’m just asking you to be civil. Can you handle that?”

TJ nods.

“You?” He tugs on one of Addie’s pigtails. “Can you do that? Be civil?”

“Do I have to be near her? Or sit on her lap? ‘Cause I draw the line there.”

“You don’t have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. Just don’t be a little asshole, alright?”

“Me? I’m Mary Freaking Sunshine, remember? That’s what Grandpa Koen calls me.”

“Well then live up to it and be nice to your grandmother. Smile until your face hurts, got it?”

“What do I get out of it?”

He smirks.

“Mummy says to always negotiate. Never settle for the first offer. Can I sleep in the big bed tonight? For being nice to grandma?”

“No.” Wrapping an arm around her waist, he lifts her off the stool; pressing a kiss to her cheek before setting her on the ground.

She turns to face him. Head cocked to the side and one hand clutching her doll, the other planted firmly on her hip. “Can I have ice cream for my bedtime snack?”

"Maybe."

“Maybe isn’t good enough.”

“You ARE just like your mom, aren’t you.”

“I’ll be nice if I can have ice cream for my bedtime snack and you snuggle with me and draw on my back for half an hour. And that’s after FOUR stories.”

“You're bossy, you know that? Two stories.”

“Three. That’s as low as I’ll go.”

“I will give you two stories, ice cream for your snack, and forty five minutes of snuggling and drawing on your back. Instead of half an hour. We got a deal?”

Her eyes narrow as she considers it; nibbling on her bottom lip and swishing her hips back and forth. “You’re good at this.”

“This isn’t my first rodeo, Peanut. I’ve dealt with tougher than you. What do you say?” He offers a hand. “Deal?”

“Deal!” she agrees, his hand easily swallowing hers as they shake on it.

Grinning, he runs a hand over the top of her head and then drops a kiss on her hair. “You really DO have a lot of your mum in you.”

“Great things come in small packages,” Addie reasons, standing on her tiptoes as he leans down and pecks her lips. “Thank you, daddy!” she chirps. “My hair looks beautiful. You always do it perfect.”

“Pretty hard not to when my subject is so cute. Good thing I married your mum, huh? So I could have a kid as cute as you?”

“You really are a lucky man!” she declares and then cheerfully skips out of the room.

“I hope grandma is on her best behaviour,” TJ says, as he finishes the drink in his hand and then slides off the stool and returns it to its place at the island. “Because if she DOES start on mum, it’s going to be a wild night. I really hope she watches her step.”

“My too, kiddo,” Tyler sighs, and reaches out to tousle his son’s hair. “Me too.”

[tea-and-procrastination]

First lines meme

Tagged by the lovely @ktlsyrtis​ - thanks for this nostalgia trip into my back catalogue!

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less  than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag 10 authors!

I’m not including collections, because that would make figuring out the order I wrote things in far more complicated than I can cope with...

1. ‘How can there be anything wrong with a life if it’s spent with a person you love?’ - until the day comes dawning (AKA my current wip)

2. ‘Yes, Henrik,’ Serena sighs, looking out of the window at the snow swirling from the darkening sky. - snow had fallen (snow on snow)

3. It’s dark by the time Millie gets back, far later than she’d intended. - whispers of a moment, suspended in time

4. ‘Boss wants to see you.’ - where the ocean meets the sky

5. The emotion that fills Millie when Jean says she’s staying, coursing through her veins hot and sparkling, makes her heart shudder and her head spin. - the place where our silence is spoken

6. Serena Campbell is good at her job. - I’m a thousand miles away (but girl tonight you look so pretty)

7. Two months after Serena returns to Holby, the board finally appoints a permanent replacement for Derwood. - Second, do some good

8. Bernie jogs down the last flight of stairs and pauses in front of the heavy wooden doors. - would you offer your throat to the wolf with the red roses?

9. Serena’s most of the way down her second glass when Ric’s curiosity gets the better of him. - Emotionally Hers

10. ‘We missed you last week,’ Helena says, sinking into the chair beside Serena. - Riviera

11. Fleur glances along the bar as she waits for the barman to mix her French Martini. - To Thine Own Self Be True

12. Bernie has been off all week. - The Heart of the Matter

13. ‘There’s a sight for sore eyes,’ Bernie calls across the ward when Serena walks through the doors, sanitising her hands and walking away from the bedside of a Father Christmas looking rather the worse for wear. - Twelve Drummers Drumming

14. ‘Don’t even think about it, Adele.’ - concerto for two (hopeless hearts just passing through)

15. Ever since she was a little girl, Bernie had always known that one day she would divine her soulmate’s face. - A Partridge in a Pear Tree

16. After she wakes up in the cemetery, to Clara’s kind, concerned face, Kate is taken to hospital. - o mio babbino caro

17. Kate strides out of the hospital, hands jammed into her pockets, trench coat billowing behind her, almost shaking with anger. - our wonder hangs above our fear

18. They go to bed wrapped in each other that night. - enough, for now

19. Bernie drops into her flat on her way home from work, gathers another armful of clothes and bundles them into her rucksack. - love is a promise

20. Serena is curled in her armchair reading when a tabby cat jumps onto the windowsill, stares through the glass at her and then slips through the open window. - it is always in your darkness that the stars start to appear

Is there a pattern here? I suppose quite a few start in the middle of action of some sort, if that counts. And my ongoing preference for writing in the present tense is definitely obvious! Let me know if you spot anything else...

As for a favourite, I think the one that would most make me want to read the rest is 15, and I have a soft spot for 5. But I hate picking favourites, so tomorrow I might have gone for something different!

Tagging: @slightlyintimidating, @cassiopeiasara, @lezziemanville, @pers-books, and you right there reading this, if you want to.

[remnantsrp]

Name: Brian Slomowitz Age: 28 years old Pronouns: He/him Hometown: Austin, Nevada Occupation before the Infection: Subsistence criminal, cleaner, one-time janitor Role within the Caravan: Scout FC: Paul Dano

Biography:

tw. parental abandonment, mentions of drug dealing, drugs

Before the infection. 

Let’s be honest - no one grows up and wants to be a deadbeat. Yeah, not even someone like Brian Slomowitz. Growing up in foster care, the kids used to call him “Slim Jim”. This wasn’t just because he was skinny, or that they thought his name was James, but because between the ages of ten and thirteen, Brian was the kingpin of a cigarette empire, running the racket beneath the bleachers of whatever state school he’d washed up in. Once he’d got caught kids stopped calling him Slim Jim and started calling him Slip, because the run around he gave the authorities that one afternoon in Reno was fucking legendary. Brian thinks back on that sun-bleached day every now and then. Yeah, you watch enough movies and think that sliding over a car bonnet after you’ve been running full-pelt is going to be easy. Spoiler alert: it isn’t, and Brian’s got the scars to prove it.

The whole sad affair of his childhood can be summarised thus: Brian was born to two teenage dropouts who gave him up. He was raised in foster care and bounced around like a tennis ball. His surname isn’t even his, not really - the story goes he was named after the nurse who filled out the paperwork. Who cares if it’s true? It sounds sad, and when you’re looking to get laid, guys and girls love a good sob story; it makes them feel better about their own lives. Brian’s life started bad and continued on its way. He only learned three things before his eighteenth birthday. Number one: when in doubt, lie. Number two: running is always an option. And number three: don’t think about the past; the only thing that counts is now.

Once he was eighteen, Brian was, for the first time, out on his own. He’d always had someone hovering over his shoulder, even if it was one of his cronies, so the isolation was a novelty. He bumped around a few minimum wage jobs before he settled in Austin. He settled there because one Christmas he was sitting in a diner reading the newspaper, and there was a job advert for a janitor at a school. And so, with the taste of bad coffee in his mouth and craving a cigarette, he circled it, and come January, he had a job. That didn’t last long – turns out you’re not really allowed to have a record, even when you’re a lowly janitor. Brian didn’t have anything bad against him (petty theft, underage drinking). Like, it wasn’t as if he was dealing drugs or sticking people up. Right? Regardless, it was enough to get him fired before he’d even been hired, and so he bummed around a bit more. When he was twenty four and scraping the bottom of the barrel, he joined a cleaning service. All day, every day, he drove his truck around to stranger’s houses, squirted some Jiff around, and eyed off their shiny valuables. He never took much – he didn’t want to get fired, ironically – just enough to tide him over. Come lunch, he’d eat in a Wendy’s parking lot, smoke a joint, then start the afternoon jobs. More of the same: vacuum, dust, wipe. Contrary to what the internet will have you believe, there aren’t nearly enough MILFs or DILFs to go around. Mostly, it was bored housewives, harassed nannies, or the elderly. The oldies were the best. They always told him interesting stories and, sometimes, insisted he take an ornament, this jewellery box, a radio… Yeah, Brian liked hanging out with them, especially the lonely ones. They didn’t judge him; they didn’t look at him with pity. They were just as lonely as he was.

But, if your name is Brian Slomowitz, it turns out that you can never have much of a good thing for long. All those bad choices have a habit of catching up with you. He’d worked the cleaning job for about a year when he fell in with a bad crowd he met through his weed dealer. They weren’t a gang – that makes it seem like they were organised. Mainly, it was a group of guys who did bad shit. Stealing, mainly, though some of them dealt drugs on the side. Brian picked up a few gigs through them. His reputation growing up preceded him, so he ended up running drugs or guns or whatever they needed. It was kind of fun. There was a peculiar incongruency about spraying Windex in someone’s house when the van outside had a few cool kilos of coke sitting outside.

The Outbreak.

In late 2019, Brian got busted. It was totally bullshit. Someone squeaked. Their big mouth got Brian and everyone else raided and thrown in front of a judge. Brian’s track record worked against him and he was sentenced to twelve months for possession, six with good behaviour. Prison wasn’t too bad. Brian had only ever done stints in community service or in juvie. It always reminded him of the foster homes of his childhood, and in that sense, he fit right in. There were plenty of things he learned in prison, like how to fashion a shiv out of a plastic knife, or how to get on the good side of whoever’s top dog (blowjobs; the answer’s always blowjobs). Come mid-2020, his appeal was successful and he was let out on parole. But turns out that even a cleaning company has standards, so he once more found himself out on his ass, bumming around his old haunts, and sleeping rough (he’d lost his shabby, shitty bungalow while he was inside - what luck). By the time the apocalypse rolled around, Brian was bored out of his mind. If anything, living hand-to-mouth - this time with extra adrenaline - had a certain thrill. Who would have guessed that a lifetime of running from the cops, hiding in dodgy places, and thinking quickly, could come so in handy at the end of the world?

Finding the Caravan.

Brian didn’t so much find the caravan as go running right into them. He’d boosted a car in Austin and gone tearing out of the desert. When he found the caravan, all he had were the clothes on his back, an old backpack, and a switchblade he’d had since he was a kid. In other words: he had jack shit, and it was entirely down to the goodwill of the others that he was let into the fold in the first place. It was a miracle, really, considering he hadn’t showered for about a fortnight and was near rabid for want of nicotine.

These days, Brian doesn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Rather, he’s the one with the big mouth. He talks a lot of smack and takes pleasure in pointing out the stupid elements in someone’s plan… but he’s also among the most easygoing of the caravan, and he doesn’t mind volunteering for the jobs that no one else wants to do. He spends a fair amount of time bumming cigarettes from people and napping (rolled up in his leather jacket, unwashed hair flung over his face, mouth wide open, snoring). He’s become something of a punching bag for people’s frustrations; Brian doesn’t really care. He’s had a far harder life than most of these white tennis-shoed, cozy middle-class idiots. They had dental plans and life insurance; Brian spent the past two months of the world trying to get into sheltered housing. Yeah, he’ll be fine. If anything, the apocalypse kind of suits him.

positive personality traits: easygoing, charismatic, quick-thinking, assertive

negative personality traits: duplicitous, self-serving, cynical, jaded

played by Millie, She/Her

[a-grayscale-galaxy]

imagine musical theater nerd kit though

-ok so it starts when he listens to Hamilton right 

-and he freaks out because it’s amazing and shows Jem and Tessa (because they’re his Family and he knows they would love it)

-((yes he also asks them if they remember it happening which did not go over well but whatever it was worth it))

-anyway they loved it to because there are only history nerds in the Carstairs household

-they all definitely cried 

-so then he listens to Heathers.....then Be More Chill, and then it’s Dear Evan Hansen and then oh god he’s obsessed

-he listened to In The Heights and 21 Chump Street and decides then and there that he is in love with Lin Manuel-Miranda 

-he has also maybe kind of sung Forget About The Boy while feeling particularly regretful at 2 am

-anyway he’s back in LA and he’s cleaning weapons or something and he’s humming some show tunes when Ty walks in

-and he asks what song Kit was humming

-Kit sputters out that it was Welcome to the Renaissance from Something Rotten, which is actually a really cool musical if you haven’t heard it it’s about Europe in the 15 century wait I’m rambling-

-then Ty admits that he’s never actually listened to a musical, which Kit deems a crime

-It’s also how they end up on the floor of Kit’s room, bouncing to Thoroughly Modern Millie

-he’s confused about the plot for a lot of them, but usually Kit will explain it or show him a summery on Wikipideia

-after that, the love of musicals spreads through the institute like a wild fire 

-Julian swears he’s one more rendition of Right Hand Man away from banning them all

-YES Julian sings Whats Inside while baking alone, YES he’ll deny it to his dying day 

-at some point everyone just starts singing Good Morning, Good Day to each other every day 

-every villain in every musical is the Cohort and you cannot convince the LA institute otherwise 

-every time one of them rings the doorbell instead of just coming in solely for the purpose of doing a Hello bit from The Book Of Mormon, Julian is one step closer to the grave 

-if you asked, Ty would tell you that the day he fell in love was the day that Kit held him in his arms and murmured Sun Is Gonna Shine from Bright Star

-Ty LOVES Quiet from Matilda and listens to it on his headphones a lot

-Kit has absolutely done the Mulligan rap from the middle of Yorktown in the middle of a mission and Ty was not amused because it almost blew their cover 

-they start a karaoke night and oh boy

-Kit started by singing My Petersburg, because he thinks he’s funny

-Dru sings Defying Gravity and KILLS IT 

-Julian thought that Aline and Helen were immune to the musicals but is proven wrong when they sing The Twelve Of Christmas from She Loves Me

-Emma sings I’d Rather Be Me, choreography and all

-they all sing There! Right There from Legally Blonde ans it’s hysterical 

-Cristina, Kieran and Mark all sing Down Once More from Phantom of the Opera and everyone decides that Kieran as the Erik was something they never knew that needed

-also Kit sings Something To Believe in with Ty and everyone loves it

i’m going to leave this here but let it be known that i have a lot of feelings and please add on if you have more 

[littlecrookedheart]

Glitter Blizzard Wonderland Part One

Merry & Bright : The Twelve Days of Choices FicMas

Prompt 2, Snow globe

Pairing : Maxwell x Farrah

Rating : A tiny suggestive bit, the rest is all fluff!

Word Count : 6,470

Author’s Note : A massive thank you to @brightpinkpeppercorn for endless encouragement and being so wonderful, as well as the inspiration behind Millie's name.

Disclaimer : I do not own any characters mentioned that are found in the choices universe. I do own Brighton and its wonders.

"Where are the decorations?"

Farrah shot a confused glance at her husband as she stepped out of the limo and took his hand.

"Are we even in the right place? Is this the correct address?"

"Yes, my Lady," confirmed the driver, who tapped at an illuminated screen, showing them the invitation.

"I'm sure it's better inside," Maxwell smiled, gently resting a hand on her waist as they approached the entrance. "This is definitely unexpected for a holiday event."

"Lord and Lady," a man of security detail nodded, pulling open the grandiose mahogany doors.

Maxwell's beaming face went into a state of perplexity, furrowing his brow and immediately looking to Farrah. They shared a lifted eyebrow scowl, turning as Liam approached them with arms wide.

"Maxwell! Farrah! Come join us," he beckoned, handing them each a glass of champagne.

"Let's go mingle," Farrah said, handing Maxwell her drink. "Not feeling bubbly tonight."

"Suit yourself. I'll never turn down free booze."

Maxwell followed Liam over to a group of dignitaries, turning his head back to send Farrah a wink.

"Farrah, I've been waiting for you to show up. This gala is boring me to hell and let me tell you, I'm not up for a pissing contest with Satan himself."

Olivia Nevrakis stood with her arms crossed, a fiery floor length gown shimmering down her bodice.

"Liv, you look fantastic!"

"Normally I'd pretend I don't care what you think, but thank you. This dress cost a fortune. And you look...nice."

"Thank you." Farrah pretended to bow, conjuring a small laugh from Olivia.

"So," she said, slowly turning around the room, "What's the deal with absolutely no holiday spirit?"

"Good old Godfrey and Adelaide never had much of a taste for Christmas decor."

"Why are they hosting this year, then?"

"You know Farrah, you're right. You'd think they'd have just allowed me to keep it in Lythikos. We wouldn't all be standing around this drab entryway! People would be dancing and there'd at least be some snow. What a mess."

"I'll back up any proposal you put forth to solidify permanent Holiday Gala claim."

"I knew you'd see it that way. God, Farrah, I'm so bored!"

"Can we request a song change at least?"

Olivia craned her neck, inspecting the room.

"I don't see anyone in charge. Join me for hors d'oeuvres? At the very least, we shouldn't be bored on an empty stomach."

--

"Ready, my lady?" Maxwell asked, spinning Farrah effortlessly in a circle. "Truth is, I'm bored as can be. We'll have way more fun in the hotel room."

"You're presumptuous tonight!"

He wiggled his eyebrows and threw her a smile. "Are you saying no?"

She playfully pushed him by the shoulder and started to walk to the entrance, waving a small goodbye to Olivia, who stood occupied by a never ending story from Kiara.

"Lord Beaumont?"

Dressed in palace staff clothes, an old man with a thick moustache bowed to him, holding out a gift wrapped box.

"What's this, Grover? What are you doing here?"

"I came from the palace, Maxwell. This was asked to be delivered to you with utmost urgency. I told them you don't reside at the palace, but they just walked off. I suppose I wanted to see to it that you were handed this yourself."

"It's not a bomb, right?"

"Not to my indications."

"Well, alright then. Thanks, Grover. I'll send you a little something extra in your Christmas card."

"Not necessary, Maxwell. Have a lovely night."

Grover nodded and walked off, leaving Maxwell and Farrah standing in the middle of the staircase.

"Ready?"

"Very." She linked her arm with his, kissing his cheek as they walked into the night.

--

"You're early," the driver said, rolling down the partition. "Where to?"

"We have reservations at Middlebrook Estates. Mind if we get some food on the way? Can limousines go through drive thrus?"

"Oh, I assure you, they can!" Maxwell chuckled, "The palace limos have seen more fries than most humans have." He leaned forward to give the driver a location before turning to face Farrah as the partition went up.

"I'm a child. Let's open this thing."

His eyes lit up as they tore the wrapping paper to unveil a black box. Maxwell reached in, carefully removing an antique snow globe.

"Who sent that?" Farrah asked, "It's massive! It’s...wow."

"There's no card?"

"Oh my god, look. There's a little toy shop! I bet Santa lives in that little house."

"This is wild. Look at the detail!”

"Max, whoever sent you this must really love you. I'm blown away."

"Wait!" He exclaimed, pulling a taped paper from the bottom of the base, "A note."

Maxwell & Farrah

The beauty of Christmas lies within each of you. Be joyous this holiday season.

With love,

M.

"Any idea?"

"No," Maxwell sighed, turning the globe in his hands. "I doubt Madeline sent this."

"Not with that note. Someone with a heart wrote that."

"Merlin! Merlin and Morgana."

Farrah stared at him, an amused smile cracking through. She shook her head as Maxwell shrugged, running his palm across the glass surface.

"Should we turn the knob?"

Maxwell wound the knob backward, anticipating music. Instead, nothing happened.

"It's broken."

"It's still beautiful, Max. We should make it our living room centerpiece."

"Sounds good to me. Besides, I can always sing if you need music."

"Oh yeah? Play me... 'Santa Baby.'"

Maxwell lifted an eyebrow, mischievously moving his fingers just beneath her ribcage.

"Hurry down the chimney tonight..." he sang, tickling her until the both of them could hardly breathe.

--

Maxwell awoke to the chime of a bell, sitting up abruptly. He was still in his suit, the stiffness of the sleeves making him grimace, and flung the jacket off absentmindedly, startled at the clank it made wherever it landed. He rubbed his eyes and suppressed a yawn as not to wake Farrah with more noise, pulling the blanket around her. She was in her cocktail gown from last night too, makeup still on her face and her hair still holding its curl.

What happened last night? He wondered, fumbling to the en suite. His eyes adjusted as the light switched on, revealing cabin-esque decor accented with small nutcracker trinkets.

"What the..."

He cupped his hands under the faucet and splashed his face, backing up against the door to try and recall the events of the night before.

We were at the gala...I ate a lot of shrimp...Grover gave us that gift...and now we're here?

He patted his pocket in search for his phone to find only emptiness. No wallet, phone, or the emergency wireless headphones he always brought just in case he needed a pick me up. Nothing at all.

After using the bathroom, he pumped a handful of foaming soap, the scent of vanilla and peppermint hitting his nose with a sweet kiss. He didn't feel the familiar ridge of his ring, gasping quietly as he saw that it, too, was missing.

What is going on?

Maxwell found his suit jacket in a heap on the floor in the bedroom, next to a fully adorned Christmas tree. Checking each pocket to find none of his belongings, he folded his legs beneath him and sat on the floor, rocking back and forth as he ran a hand through his through his hair.

Truly, he had no recollection of anything after he and Farrah said goodnight, but they didn't say it here, at least not in his memory. Was he delusional? Did he just forget about the room being so perfectly cozy?

Composing himself as best he could, he crawled to the bed, gently brushing Farrah's cheek with the side of his hand.

"Baby?"

"Hmm?" She groaned, face still buried in her pillow.

"How much did I drink last night?"

"What?"

"Was I very drunk?"

Farrah turned her face to the side, her hair scattered across her face. Maxwell was kneeling on the floor next to her, but she hardly thought anything of it.

"You hardly drank, I thought."

“Yeah, right. I had two drinks…but somehow I don’t remember this room at all.”

“It was dark, that’s why.”

“Was everything decked out for Christmas?”

“Nnnn…”

“Farrah, I’m serious. I feel like I’ve lost my head.”

“I’m sure it’s fine, Max. Come back to bed.”

“No, this is weird.”

Maxwell walked over to the far wall, slowly parting three layers of thick, velvety curtains embroidered with a white trim. Outside, the ground was blanketed in heavy snow that glittered in the light, a dusting still sprinkling down.

“Whoa. Babe, please…”

She sat up, throwing aside the duvet in frustration, “Max, I’m really tired, what is-”

He pulled the curtain open completely, using both arms to gesture toward the view.

Farrah jumped out of bed and over to the window, mouth agape and brows furrowed. Realizing her dress was still on, she took a moment to think before looking out the window again.

“Are we in Lythikos?”

“How would we have gotten to Lythikos?” Maxwell asked, a look of panic on his face.

“I’m sure there’s an explanation for this.”

“Look!” Maxwell grabbed an ornament from the tree in the corner, shoving it toward her. “What the hell!”

“That’s an ornament, Max.”

He stifled a laugh, shaking his head. “Uh huh, and there’s an entire Christmas tree of them.”

Farrah wiped the sleep from her eyes and turned around, looking to him. “Max…what’s happening? Where are we?”

“No freaking idea! We must have been really drunk.”

“I didn’t even drink!”

“I had two drinks but thats like…basically sober. You’re the reasonable one, what do we do?”

“Yeah, you’re right,” she said, but when Maxwell stood frozen with a finger on his chin, she continued, “I’ll call Liv. If we’re in Lythikos-”

“No can do, baby bear. Our phones are gone. So is my wallet, and weirdly enough, neither of us are wearing our rings.”

Maxwell went back into the en suite, returning with a warm washcloth. He held it to her face, gently wiping her makeup away.

“Did we get mugged?” Farrah asked, voice frail.

“Judging by the look of us, I’d say no,” he gently wiped at her eyes, lifting the mascara and eyeshadow away. “I feel okay. Do you?”

She nodded slowly, trying not to cry. “Something had to have happened! We’re probably just…”

"It’s alright, my love.” Maxwell pulled her into his chest, holding her as she sobbed. “There’s a way out of this.”

After a moment, Farrah drew in a deep breath and took the cloth from her husband, vigorously clearing off as much of the remaining makeup as she could.

“Okay. Let’s think about this. There’s only one place we know that gets snow like that,” she insisted, walking back to the window. “It’s beautiful, though. Looks like glitter, almost.”

“Do you remember taking a trip? Because I do not. All I know is I woke up, and I went in that bathroom,” he pointed to the door in the corner, “And saw a bunch of little mini nutcracker thingies. Then I freaked out a little and woke you up.”

“No..but Max, we didn’t just teleport here! What happened to our stuff? Our wedding rings?”

“We don’t need those rings, beautiful. You know that.”

“That’s not my point,” she sighed, fighting back another wave of emotion. “I’m scared.”

“We can’t be stuck here. There’s a way, we just have to find it.”

Farrah nearly collapsed onto the sofa, taking a deep breath as she buried her face in her hands. Maxwell was close behind, sitting beside her and gently stroking her back.

“Hey, it’s okay. No matter what’s going on, we’re together. Know what that means?”

She looked up, sniffling back tears.

“We’ve got this.”

“We’ve got this, exactly.” He gathered her in his arms, enveloping her in a warm embrace. “We should take advantage of this funky situation. We could go enjoy the snow. We don’t get it like this in Cordonia.”

“We don’t have coats, we’ll freeze. What is this place anyway?”

“There are some little soaps and shampoos in the bathroom, so I’m guessing some kind of hotel.”

“The logical step is to go to the front desk and ask about this whole ordeal. Someone has to know, right?”

“Of course,” he smiled, lacing his fingers with hers, “Let’s go figure this out.”

As they stepped into the hallway, wafts of fresh baked goods surrounded them, the tune of distant holiday music in the air. Maxwell’s face beamed at the strands of fairy lights draped across the walls, multiple holiday trees and various figures displayed along the hall.

In the lobby stood a tall tree, two older women occupied with trimming it as beautifully as the others they’d seen, struggling to steady a box between them.

Maxwell approached the front desk, looking around for someone who could help. An elderly man and a small boy laughed while having tea in a sitting area by a crackling fire, a grandmotherly woman effortlessly playing ‘Santa Claus is Coming to Town,’ on the grand piano. Maxwell was the embodiment of joy as he picked up an antique bell from the counter and rang it.

“Just a moment!”

A young woman carrying a tall, wavering stack of wrapped gifts turned the corner, nearly running into Farrah. She stuck her arms out to balance the gifts, met with a small shriek from the woman.

“I’m so sorry, miss!” The girl cried, setting down the stack. Her auburn hair in waves down her shoulders, freckles painted perfectly across her cheeks, with emerald eyes that complimented the evergreen trimmings on the wall behind her.

Farrah smiled warmly, resting a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “Oh, don’t worry, it’s okay. Do you need help carrying those?“

"Oh, no, I couldn’t ask that of you. Especially not when adorned in such beautiful formal wear! Where on earth did you find such beautiful garments?”

“Ana De Luca!” Maxwell exclaimed, running his hand along a shiny wooden sculpture of Santa Claus.

“I’m not sure I know who she is, but she sounds lovely! I’m Millie!” She extended her hands, shaking both Farrah and Maxwell’s hands at once. “How have we not met?”

“We just arrived overnight,” Farrah said, trying not to giggle at Millie’s enthusiasm.

“I’m Maxwell, this is Farrah. This place is so festive, I can’t say I’ve seen anything like it.”

“We don’t get visitors here in Brighton! Welcome to the Whitlebrook Inn! Where are you from?”

“Brighton?” Farrah whispered to Maxwell, who hardly seemed to notice as he walked over to help the women decorate.

“Cordonia, we’re from a little Duchy near there.”

“Oh! I’ve never been anywhere outside of Brighton, I’m afraid I’ve never heard of Cordonia. It sounds like a lovely place, with lovely clothing stores! Are you hungry? I’ve just baked a most delicious cinnamon bread, and I am also baking a lovely holiday spice cake.”

“I heard food!” Maxwell nearly shouted from the place he’d wandered across the room, holding the large cardboard box of ornaments. “Can you feed me, Farrah? I’m busy.”

Shaking her head, she smiled to Millie, “Thank you, that sounds perfect.”

“Don’t you want to change first?”

“Oh, you know what, actually…is there a manager we could speak with?”

Millie furrowed her brow, thinking for a moment. “Well, I’m as much a manager as we have around here! What can I help you with?”

"We woke up in a room down the hall, but neither of us remember checking in. Or really even the ride here. Are we in Lythikos? I’m great friends with Olivia Nevrakis -”

“That’s peculiar! We don’t keep a file on visitors, I’m afraid. I can’t recall Brighton ever having had a visitor before. Perhaps once you’ve had some breakfast, we can head to the post office. If anyone can help you, I’m certain it’s Miriam.”

Millie cut two generous helpings of cinnamon bread, plating them with cherries and grapes and a small assortment of marmalade and apple butter. She set a small table with three chairs, helping herself to two chocolate cookies as Farrah sat down.

“Max, come eat,” Farrah called over, tearing into the bread. He nodded in reply, giving each of the women small bows before making his way over.

“This smells like heaven!”

“Tastes like it, too,” Farrah said, eyes wide and mouth full.

“Oh! Would you simply must try my handmade cider! I have apple and cranberry.” Millie dusted off her skirt as she stood, filling a small ceramic pitcher of each and placing two mugs in front of Farrah and Maxwell. “Careful, hotter than the sun itself, those are!”

"Thank you!” Maxwell said, fingers sloppily coated in cranberry preserves as he tossed a cherry into his mouth. “Got any napkins?”

“Max, really? Look down.”

A blush filled his cheeks as he unwrapped his napkin, pulling a fork, knife, and spoon from the bundle. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be silly! It’s quite alright. Do you need an extra?” Millie beamed, standing and handing him another folded napkin from a shelf before he could reply.

“You know, I half expected you to be little Henry. That sticky fingered willoughby always comes in here right after I’ve set out a fresh plate of gingerbread and stuffs his pockets full!”

“Is that him over there?” Maxwell asked, taking a bite of his bread.

“Oh, no, no. You’d know if Henry was in here. If the blazing red hair didn’t do it for you, he’d likely swipe something from your pockets! Of course, it would return at the midnight chime as everything always does, but nevertheless.”

Farrah turned to her, “I hope you don’t mind my asking, is Brighton near England?”

Millie sighed, quickly trying to finish her cookie.

“You have something similar to an English accent, I just wasn’t sure. I didn’t mean any offense.”

“No offense taken at all, Farrah. I only wish I were better at helping you out with figuring out these locations in regards to our town.”

“Well, that’s okay,” Farrah said, mouthing a thank you to Maxwell as he poured her apple cider. “Millie, did you happen to be around last night?”

“Hmm,” she sighed, tapping her fingers on the table. “I was, but I went to bed around eight. Not to sleep, of course, but to watch my pictures! 'It’s a Wonderful Life,’ was on, it’d be such a tragedy to miss. Did something happen?”

“Well, we actually don’t know how we got here. I woke up the morning without a clue, Farrah and I are in last night’s outfits, and our phones and belongings are gone.” Maxwell looked up, forehead creased in concern.

“You know, I thought I noticed a little line where your wedding bands usually linger! I didn’t hear a single thing, but perhaps someone else did. Tell you what, how about we stop at Woolyworth’s and get you something extra warm and fuzzy to wear! Farrah, I do believe I have some extra bottoms! We look about the same size, don’t you think?”

Farrah smiled and nodded, finishing the cider in her mug.

“Splendid!” Millie clapped her hands together, twirling as she stood up. She reached for another cookie and skipped to the lobby archway. “Finish your breakfast and I’ll gather some clothes for you, darling!”

"Thank you. As strange as this morning has been, you’ve been such a delight.”

“Truly, Farrah, I thank you!”

Maxwell stacked their dishes together, wiping the table down before turning to Farrah.

"Ready?”

“Yep! Hey, what do you think of Millie?”

“That beam of sunshine? She’s a total sweetheart. Seems even more harmless than me.”

She elbowed him gently, cracking into a smile. They waited at the front desk, chiming the bell once before Millie called out, “One moment, dears!”

Millie returned from behind a bookcase, laughing as she saw their confusion.

“Don’t worry, I’m not walking through walls, though I’d certainly appreciate an ability like that! My room is just behind that wall, there’s a door behind the shelf.” She handed Farrah a bag of clothing, knit pieces and thick leggings, all in a terracotta color scheme.

“I’ll try these on,” Farrah said, taking Maxwell’s hand.

“Take your time, dear! Couldn’t possibly fathom the need to rush you. I’ll be here when you’re through.”

“She’s so nice,” Farrah whispered, walking with Maxwell to their room. “Hopefully something fits. I’m literally itching to get out of this dress.”

“That dress is like a disco ball. I love it, but you’re going to look so snug and cute once you change.”

“I hate that you’re stuck in that suit.”

Maxwell closed the door behind them and hopped onto the bed, crossing his legs.

“I’m fine, once I get a sweater from Willy’s I’ll change anyway.”

“….Willy’s?”

“Wasn’t that the name of the store?”

“I don’t think so,” she giggled, pulling on a skirt and a long sleeved ivory top. “What do you think?”

“Eh, it’s fine. Try the leggings!”

“You always want me in leggings.”

“When your wife has a booty like that, you want her in leggings.” Maxwell winked to her, a wide smile on his face.

Slipping into a deep, russet brown colored pair of leggings, Farrah put a hand on her hip and wiggled her butt at him.

“Those are the winners!” He yelled, grabbing her by the arm and yanking her to him.

“You trying to detach my arm?”

“Nope! Just trying to love you a little extra.”

Maxwell pressed a kiss to her lips, running his hands through her hair.

“Now you look like a beachy winter princess.”

“You look like a dork,” she laughed, kissing him again. “We should go. The longer we don’t have answers, the longer those trade deals go unsigned, the longer I’ll have to spend working when we return.”

“You’re concerned with work?”

“You’re not?”

“No. Baby, this might be weird, but look around. We don’t know a single person. There are no phones, no emails, no busy assistants. It’s just you and me and this cozy little inn. This…this is a Christmas miracle.”

“You can not be serious, Max. This is awful! How are we supposed to stick to our holiday schedule? We have a week long tour that’s meant to take off today!”

“I didn’t bring us here, Farrah. I’m just making the most of a crappy situation. You should try to do the same!”

She rolled her eyes, gathering the unworn clothes back into the bag Millie had given her. She knew he was right, and hell, she’d normally love to relax if given the opportunity. But this was unplanned, inconvenient, and downright freaky, and the last thing on her mind was having fun.

–

In the lobby, Millie stood next to the grand piano, singing a vibrant rendition of ‘Angels We Have Heard on High,’ as the old woman played along. The man and his grandson hummed along, a half finished puzzle on the table between them.

Farrah set the bag of clothes behind the counter and leaned her head on Maxwell’s shoulder, lacing their fingers together.

“I’m sorry for being so snappy.”

“Thank you for that,” Maxwell smiled, kissing the top of her head, “I understand. I’m sorry for not being intuitive to your feelings. You know I love you, right?”

“I love you more,” she sighed, swaying their hands to the tune.

As the song wrapped up they clapped softly, joined by the man and his grandson as well as the two women who had been decorating the tree and were now sitting in the dining area rolling cookie dough onto pans.

“Oh! Thank you all!” Millie said, meeting Maxwell and Farrah with a hug. “Let me introduce you? Perhaps someone knows of your home town.”

“Sure,” Maxwell shrugged, popping a mint from the desk into his mouth. “Oh my god, these are the soft ones.”

"Nobody ever has these! They’re extinct in Cordonia!” Farrah grabbed three and turned to follow Millie, who was softly chuckling.

“Help yourself. There’s plenty more!”

She beckoned to the woman behind the piano, meeting her half way. She was simply beautiful, with short gray hair and smile lines from years of wisdom and laughs. Her hand gripped a wooden cane that had been carved with the silhouette of reindeer, a long, violet cardigan flowing from her shoulders to the floor.

“Sarah, Brighton has a pair of visitors. This is Farrah and Maxwell.” Millie spoke smoothly and clearly to her, patting her shoulder.

“It’s so nice to see some new faces,” Sarah said, her eyes glittering. “My Maverick will be so happy to have someone new to tell stories to at supper. You’re staying for supper, I hope!”

“Maybe, we’re trying to figure out how we got here and how to get home.”

“Yes,” Maxwell said, “Do you happen to know where exactly ‘here,’ is? Brighton, I mean.”

“Oh, I can’t seem to recall. Brighton has always just been Brighton,” Sarah said, walking over to the seating area where the man and his grandson finished their puzzle. “Barney, help these young travelers. You know about geography!”

“Hi!” Farrah stuck out her hand to him, smiling. “I’m Farrah, this is Max. You really know geography?”

The old man smiled and shook her hand, his false teeth loose in his mouth. He adjusted them discreetly before saying, “I have read every book in Brighton at least ten times, dear.”

“Ten?! I wonder if you’re related to our friend Hana. Hana Lee?” Maxwell asked enthusiastically.

“Never mind him,” Farrah swatted the air, “We’re from Cordonia.”

“Cordonia, I think I remember from the globe back in the office.”

“Grandpa Barney, you genius! I’d completely forgotten that old globe. I’ll go fetch it. Would anyone care for some shortbread? I’ll bring some just in case!” Millie hurried off behind the front desk, the same way she’d come from earlier.

“I’m Teddy,” the small boy said, reaching to shake Maxwell’s hand, “I like the name Max. One day I want a dog named Max!”

“I like the name Teddy!” Maxwell grinned, shooting Farrah a quick wink.

“So,” he turned to Sarah and Grandpa Barney, “Is all of Brighton so welcoming?”

“Oh yes,” Grandpa Barney nodded, pulling an old photo from his pocket. “Here’s the rest of our town.”

“Grandpa Barney, I bet they’ll prefer to see it themselves!” Sarah chimed in, placing a stray puzzle piece in its correct position. “That old photo won’t do much for them. They should see Brighton in its full glory.”

“It’s nearly noon!” Millie reappeared, holding a dusty, small globe.

Grandpa Barney hobbled over and used his sleeve to wipe the dust away, a shaky finger finding Cordonia on the map.

“Where’s Brighton in relation to Cordonia?” Farrah asked.

“Farrah, Maxwell, hurry! We can’t miss it!” Millie clapped, gesturing for them to follow her. They all stepped into the snow outside, following Millie to the center of town which seemed to be only a few steps away. She turned to smile at them and said, “Each day, twice a day, a magical little thing happens here in Brighton. The most beautiful music plays, loudly, from the town speakers, and there’s a most gorgeous snow fall! You’ll be absolutely taken, it never fails to warm my heart even more than my famous cocoa!”

“Every day?” Maxwell asked.

“Mhm! Every day, once at noon and once at midnight. Personally, I prefer midnight’s snowfall a bit more on account of the twinkling lights, but who knows when you’ll leave us. You really can’t miss this!”

Teddy ran out of the inn, scraping a big red shovel behind him.

“Ready?” Millie asked him, laughing as he nodded, cookie crumbs sprinkling out of his mouth.

A chime rang through the town, several people quickly joining them in the town square as classical music began to play. A chill rose around them, the snow on the ground seeming to swirl into the air, mixing with white glitter from above.

Maxwell’s mouth was agape, hand instinctively pulling Farrah close to him. Her eyebrows were raised as high as ever, eyes watering in the wonder surrounding them.

All at once, the snow settled, only a few speckles still traveling downward.

“Well?!” Millie blurted, slipping on a pair of gloves from her pockets. She balled snow in her hands and tossed it to them, Farrah catching it and feeling the frozen texture. As it melted against the heat of her hand, the snow seemed to double in size, a faint gleam coming from the center.

“I’ve never…” Maxwell was at a loss for words, traces of glitter settling on his cheeks.

“That was the most beautiful moment I’ve ever experienced,” Farrah whispered.

“It’s special, isn’t it?”

"I’m not sure that’s even enough to describe it,” Maxwell smiled, throwing handfuls of snow into the air.

Millie clasped her hands together and squealed in delight.

“How about we get you two to Woolyworth’s before you become icicles! But first, I really should stop in the florist to order some new cuts. Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” Maxwell said, lacing fingers with Farrah’s as Millie led the way.

"Hi there, Miss Millie! Here for your daily dose of holly?”

“Mistletoe?” Millie giggled, pointing overhead. “I’ll take one of those for the inn! Can’t ever have enough love, isn’t that right, Dwayne?”

“Aw, now, Millie…You should be asking Bram!”

“Oh don’t worry, Bram and I are doing just fine.”

“Ooh, who is Bram?” Farrah asked, leaning forward to inhale around the fresh poinsettias.

“Those two have been fawning over one another for as long as I remember. Bram is my brother, he runs the little shop down the way.”

Millie lifted her mittens to her face in attempt to hide her blush, making Dwayne chuckle before he continued.

“You’ll meet him at Woolyworth’s! He’s quite a charming fellow, always chock full of kind things to say. He brings me new mittens each morning to go with my outfit!”

“How does he know which ones will match?” Maxwell asked.

“I’m not sure! But truly, he’s never gotten it wrong. Not even once.”

“Now, what’s this about transients? You folks making your way through Brighton?” Dwayne asked, sitting back in his chair.

"We’ve been having a lovely tour compliments of Millie here.” Maxwell smiled, shaking Dwayne’s hand. “Max.”

“I’m Dwayne, nice to meet you. Where about are you all from?”

“Cordonia, have you heard of it?”

“Can’t say I have, but no matter! It’s nice to see some new faces, I’ll say.”

“You’re growing tired of the same batch?” Millie jokes, tossing a fallen flower bud at him.

“Well, it’s hard not to with a population of thirty. Bored? A bit. Tired, not so much. Love my neighbors, that’s for certain. Say, have you made any shortbread today?”

“Do you really have to ask?” Millie handed him a bundle of pastry wrapped in plaid fabric. “He’ll grow bored of the rest of us, but never of my shortbread! Who told you about our visitors?”

“Oh you know Sarah, can’t ever keep her secrets in. She’s a kind old broad, but she can sure talk an ear off.”

“She can play the piano like nobody’s business,” Maxwell smiled, picking through a bin of cinnamon scented pinecones.

“That she can.”

“I’d like a few of these, how much?” Maxwell selected three pinecones and lined them in a row on the counter, reaching for Farrah’s hand.

“Don’t be silly, they’re yours. Pinecones aren’t in short supply here in Brighton! Please, take them.”

“Thank you, these smell incredible.” Farrah gathered them and held them in her arms.

“They’ll never lose their fragrance. Quality guarantee,” Dwayne grinned, revealing a wide gap between his two front teeth.

"Alright, Dwayne, we should be going. These two need some winter wear if they’ll be in Brighton for more than just a hot minute. Say, would you mind bringing me that mistletoe at supper? Won’t do me much justice without a ladder, and Maverick borrowed mine a while back.”

“Sure thing, Miss Millie. But you should know by now, Maverick lost your ladder. He is always losing everything, that old man.”

“But he’s such a kind heart, Dwayne! He would likely fill my ears with nonsense to tease me but I’d hardly have a care, I’d have a fun enough time listening to his shenanigans!”

Dwayne laughed, showing Farrah a closed rose.

“Are you in love?”

“Very much so,” she said, hand around Maxwell’s waist.

“This rose is special. It’ll bloom when you both touch it, but only if your love is one of the stars. It will never die or brown as long as you continue to love each other the way you do right now. Go ahead, try it.”

He handed Farrah the rose, a small smile on his lips.

Maxwell cradled her hand in his as the rose bloomed, a shine seeming to radiate through its petals. For a second, all of the plants in the shop seemed to sparkle among them.

“Thank you, Dwayne.”

“That was truly magical!” Millie said, her hands folded over her heart. “I love love. Speaking of, we should head over to Woolyworth’s!”

“It was nice meeting you all, I hope to see you again before you continue in your travels.”

Dwayne waved goodbye, eyes still sparkling at the thought of Farrah and Maxwell as they watched the rose bloom.

–

In Woolyworth’s, the door opened and triggered a small bell as they piled in. It was warm, the scent of fresh balsam fir accentuating the softly drifting smoke from the hearth. Rows of sweaters, scarves, mittens and gloves were laid atop dark wooden tables, much like the ones from the inn.

"Bram? It’s Millie! You won’t believe it, but I’ve got a couple of visitors!”

“Visitors? Why, we haven’t had a visitor for as long as I can remember.” Bram was a tall man with kind eyes and a baritone voice, towering well over everyone else in the room.

“What can I help you folks with?”

“Some sweaters would be very helpful,” Maxwell said, “But unfortunately my wallet is missing. We’re the Duchess and Duke of-”

“Not a problem!” Bram handed Maxwell a maroon sweater, “I don’t have a cash register anyway. We don’t use money here in Brighton.”

Millie held a green and brown knit sweater up to Farrah, nodding in approval.

“Not too much brown?”

“Nope! It works perfectly. Oooh! You should have this scarf as well, Farrah. Now you’ll look like royalty.” Millie threw the scarf around Farrah’s neck, grinning from ear to ear.

“You don’t take money?” Maxwell asked, brows bent inward. “How do I pay you?”

“Hmm,” Bram paused to think, “I have a mighty hankering for cobbler or pumpkin bread.”

“I don’t have either of those on me,” Maxwell laughed, pretending to check his pockets.

“How about that nice shirt you wore in here?”

“A trade? Sure, it’s yours!” He handed Bram the shirt, using his head to point to Farrah. “I’ll bring you something in exchange for those later on, if that’s okay.”

“Sounds like a deal, friend!”

Bram walked over and planted a gentle kiss to the top of Millie’s hand. Quietly he spoke to her, the bass in his voice making his whispers audible even across the room.

“You’re looking as radiant as I’ve ever seen, my love. How kind of you to show these two our town.”

“Oh, you know me! I’m always happy to help.”

“They’re so cute,” Farrah said, bumping past Maxwell to check out a rack of boots.

Maxwell’s eye caught on an old calendar hanging on the wall. For a moment, he stood in disbelief or confusion, unsure of how to process what he’d seen.

“Farrah, come here.”

“Hmm?” Farrah wrapped her arm around his, glancing sidelong at him.

“Does that calendar say December of 1937?”

“What? Where?”

“There,” he whispered, discreetly pointing to the date.

“Who keeps a calendar for seventy one years?”

Maxwell turned to her, hushing her.

“Millie? Bram? We’re going to have a quick walk outside.”

“Alrighty, have a nice time! Meet me back here when you’re ready. Bram and I never run out of things to chat about!”

–

Maxwell pulled Farrah’s sleeve, leading her behind a nearby tree.

“What if…hear me out. What if that calendar isn’t from seventy one years ago? What if it’s from now?”

“Do you have amnesia? It’s-”

“No, baby. I know what year it is. But think about it? You heard the way Millie speaks, she sounds like she’s from some old movie. And nobody has a cell phone. I haven’t seen a single one!”

“I think there’s got to be a more reasonable explanation than time travel, Max.”

“Please, Farrah, I know this sounds crazy. But it actually makes sense. Have you actually looked at the town?”

“No, we hardly had the time-”

“You have to see this for yourself,” he said, taking her hand and walking the rest of the way to the town square.

The shops all lined against one another, the inn nestled quaintly in the center. A florist at the left end, the post office situated next to that. On the right there were two more small shops, a happy looking toy store and Woolyworth’s, and a cute little apartment building at the other end. Seven buildings total.

“What do you see?”

“This…can’t be real.”

“I thought it looked familiar during the magical snow thing.”

“This isn’t real.”

“Farrah, it has to be.”

“Maxwell Percival Beaumont, you do not seriouslybelieve we are inside our snow globe!”

“You can’t tell me you have a better explanation.”

“This is crazy!”

“If you haven’t noticed, I live for things like that! I dip popcorn in fondue. I talk out loud to Chance and pretend he’s talking back! I like to use kids foaming soap in the shower. I like weird, Farrah. But most of all, I like happy. And by the way your face has been lighting up, I have a feeling if we stay here, I’m going to get to see a lot more of that.”

Farrah paced back and forth, pressing her fingers to her temples.

“I don’t know what’s happening. But please, Farrah. Just..enjoy it. Who knows what will come of all of this! We’re in the cutest little village I’ve ever seen, with nice people…and everything is as festive as we’ve ever dreamed.”

“You’re right. We have to be here for a reason, right? Someone in this town has to know a way home.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know. But if we’re going to find this person, we have to take our time. Get to know everyone. Have some supper and see the magic snow thing again at midnight,” she smiled, cupping his cheek in her palm. “Let’s make some memories while we’re here.”

“You mean it?”

“I mean it.”

[wantisamlindyla]

Your Ghost - Chapter 1

New York, 1999.

He wanted her to live again, even if she could only come back to him through the pages of a book. 

A/N: Hi all. I’ve been sitting on this for a while I finally decided to post the first chapter.  I have a rough outline but I don’t know how many chapters there are going to be, maybe 6? This is AU, Mileven, takes place 15 years after Eleven disappeared. Most of season 2 still happened, but there was no Mike/Eleven Reunion at the end of episode 8. Will eventually post on Ao3, but I dunno when I’m gonna get my invite to set up an account. Enjoy!

28 October 1999

 “Ladies and gentlemen thank you for coming here today. There will be a book signing of this amazing book after this session. Now, the reason for why we are all here today, and why some of you have been lining up outside the venue all night, is currently backstage, waiting patiently for me to stop nerding out and pull myself together to introduce him!

 After publishing his first novel and topping the New York bestseller’s list at only the age of 23, he is here tonight to talk about his newest novel, titled the Ides of Winter, and the third book in the world famous Montauk series. Everybody, please join me in welcoming to the stage, Michael Wheeler!”

***

It was one month and 17 days into the book tour. Mike had one more stop in New York before he could call it a day and go home.

He was so goddamned tired, he still had several book signings, an interview with the New Yorker (with that pretentious prig, Howell), a TV appearance on the Today Show, and, a few radio interviews, before he can escape back to the Lake house in Lovell, Maine which he now called home.

It’s not all bad news though. New York means seeing Will again for the first time since Christmas.

Not that Mike has completely lost all touch with his old friends, quite on the contrary.  

After graduating from a fine arts course at his brother’s alma mater, NYU, Will had decided to stay in the city. He’d eventually landed an unpaid internship at a small start up animation studio. Now Will split his time travelling back and forth from California to New York as the head character designer on a number of superhero animated cartoons that Mike watched religiously on Saturday mornings.

It wasn’t hard to stay in touch with Will, it was just that this last year had been manic. Mike had barely fit in time for sleep what with working frantically to get his novel finished, having to attend stressful and tense meetings with his editor, forcing himself to return his lawyers’ phone calls about a copyright infringement litigation his publishers had commenced on his behalf, and having to deal with ideas about for the short story anthology he had been working on springing up at the most inconvenient times.

He and Will still managed to talk every other day though, either by telephone or AIM.

Ever since Nancy and Jonathan officially became a couple around Christmas of ‘84, Jonathan and Will became regular dinner guests at the Wheeler residence. He and Will had become almost inseparable, more than anybody in the party.

During his parents’ divorce, which took place during Mike’s sophomore year of high school, with Nancy and Jonathan away at college, Mike spent more and more time at the Byers’ residence, trying to escape the tensions at home, right up until he left for college in ‘89.

At college, Mike made new friends, attended dumb keg parties, dated girls, but he never lost touch with Dustin, Will, Lucas, or Max.

You didn’t help save the end of the world with your friends, twice, and then drift away from them over trivial things like distance and attending different colleges.

In fact, Mike had just met up with Dustin only a few months ago. Dustin had been in Maine for some reason connected with his annoyingly mysterious job.

After Dustin had graduated from MIT he had immediately been recruited by a secretive tech company in California. Dustin couldn’t talk about where he worked or what he did at his job. Whenever people asked him where he worked he’d tell them Cyberdyne Systems with a straight face.

He and Dustin had attended the Phantom Menace premiere together with Dustin’s then-girlfriend, Cindy. The boys had left the movie theatre deflated and heartsore while Cindy had tried valiantly to console them by saying all the wrong things.

Dustin called Mike a few weeks later to inform him that he and Cindy were no longer going out.

“I had to dump her Mike, she said she thought Jar Jar Binks was cute. Also she refused to share her food with me when we went out.”

“So?”

 “So? So? It’s weird. We go out for Italian and I end up having to eat an entire Pepperoni pizza on my own, which I don’t really mind, but then her ravioli looks good too, but she won’t let me have any because she likes us to have our own meals. And don’t even get me started on that time I took her to Wang’s Treasure Palace.” 

Besides those occasional and surprising visits during the year there was always Christmas and New Years at Lucas and Max’s place to look forward to.

Of all of them only Lucas and Max had opted to return to Hawkins. Lucas quit his mechanical engineering job and got a position as an assistant professor, teaching at the community college only after a few years in Chicago. Max got a job as a mechanic at a garage. They bought a house, got married, and got busy starting a family.

Mike smiled at the memory of last year’s Christmas.

He’d practically lived at Lucas and Max’s house the whole time he was there since the picture perfect Wheeler family Christmases that his mom had worked so hard to create during his childhood was now only a distant memory.

Nancy preferred to spend her Christmases in New York with Jonathan and Mrs Byers. The Wheeler home had been sold a few years ago when Holly had left to go to college. Holly preferred to spend her holidays in Chicago with her boyfriend’s family.

His mom was away on another cruise, and, his dad was busy with wife number two.

So, Mike spent his Christmas and News Years at the Sinclairs. He’d taught their three-year-old son, Robbie, how to build a snowman. He conducted a twelve-hour D & D Campaign, pelted Dustin with snowballs, watched a pregnant Max eat all the ice-cream and listened to her complain about how gassy pregnancy made her, watched a star wars marathon and gorged on pizza on Christmas day (just because Max was the only girl in the party did not mean that she would be cooking and cleaning for four man-child wastoids who liked to mooch off her and Lucas).  

Mike considered a detour to Hawkins for a visit after New York so he could meet the newest addition to the Sinclair family, baby Grace, who was about to turn 6 months old. He decided to bring it up with Will tonight at dinner.

Mike pulled himself back to the present and to the interviewer who was introducing him to her broadcast audience.  

“You’re listening to Terry Gross on Fresh Air. Joining us today is Michael Wheeler, author of the best selling book series, Montauk. The series is set in the 60s, in the small town of Montauk in upstate New York, the town is haunted by the misdeeds of its occupants.

The main protagonist is Millie, a brave young girl, with a few secrets of her own.

When Millie’s best friend, Noah, goes missing in mysterious and sinister circumstances, she sets out on a journey into the woods near the town to find him. The first two books in the series have already sold over 80 million copies worldwide and a movie adaptation of the first novel is currently in the works. The third book in the series, Ides of Winter, was released recently.

Michael was only 23 when the first novel in the series was published. He was awarded the Hugo Award for best new author in ‘95 and he has been named one of Time’s most influential people of the year. Michael thank you so much for joining us today.”

“Of course, thank you for having me.”

Terry was one of the best interviewers Mike had the pleasure of meeting. Her soft spoken and inquisitive questions put him immediately at ease, so much so that so he almost forgot he was being interviewed on radio.

He didn’t forget to lie though.

When Terry asked him about where he’d drawn inspiration from for his twelve-year-old girl protagonist, he told her Millie was a blend of himself and the two sisters whom he’d grown up with.

When Terry asked him what drew him to the supernatural and horror themes prevalent in his novels, he only talked about the books and authors he’d read growing up.

“Michael, my favourite chapter of your second novel is the Cave of Horrors. I’m sure you get that a lot. I just wanted to ask you about that chapter, because it’s pivotal, its when Millie comes to believe that she may have truly lost her friend forever, and you write so well about grief, and loss, and the trauma associated with that at such a young age. I guess what I wonder is, was this kind of loss something you had experience with?”

Mike pauses for a long moment.

He doesn’t know what it was, perhaps it’s the kindness in Terry’s voice.

Maybe it was the year he’d just had, it’d been especially difficult.  

Maybe it was the tour.

Maybe it was the thought of that big empty lake house waiting for him at the end of the tour.

Maybe he’s just so tired of the lies and the bullshit. He didn’t really even understand why he still did it; it’s as natural as breathing, but its been almost 15 years. All the men who could punish him or his friends for saying the wrong thing are long gone.

He doesn’t know why or what it is, but all of a sudden his chest feels as if it’s been cracked wide open and its like everyone can see the wound inside him, vulnerable and raw as the day it happened. He wants to tell the world about her, he wants to scream it from the top of the Empire State Building.

He’s twelve years old again, he can smell the tang of blood and the smoke of ashes that had never touched fire. He can hear the violent and desperate screams of a dying creature ringing in his ears and in between darkness and the flickering fluorescent lights, he sees her eyes, tired, resigned, and filled with pain.

Goodbye Mike.

He wanted her to live again, even if she could only come back to him through the pages of a book.

So he’d saved her the only way he knew how. She came back to life by people reading his book, by growing to love and adore Millie, the brave and wonderful girl that would face monsters and death in order to save her friends.

“I….I lost a friend when I was a kid Terry. I don’t really speak about it often. But the way that it happened….it was violent and sudden. I don’t think I was able to come to grips with it for many years. It’s hard to admit sometimes, I think I lie to myself about it, but so much of her is in my writing.”

Terry nodded thoughtfully even though though the gesture won’t be captured by the microphone.

“Did writing help you with dealing with that loss?”

Mike answered honestly, “I don’t know. Some days I think it’s made it worse, because she’s with me, everyday. I live and breathe the loss of her in work. But its just become inseparable from me, the pain. I think it’s just like an arm, or a leg. You heal, but you’re not ever the same. And you never really forget what you lost.” 

[milliesfishes]

౨ৎ꣑ৎCookie Cutters౨ৎ꣑ৎ

౨ৎ꣑ৎ12 Days of Christmas Masterlist౨ৎ꣑ৎ [fem reader] contains: trauma, fluff pairing: fem reader x finnick odair (modern) summary: learning gingerbread houses are harder than they look with finnick author’s note: first finnick 12days fic rahhh Spotify Playlist

"You okay?"

It was about the hundredth time Finnick had asked in the last few hours. Without opening your eyes, you could picture the look on his face. Brows knit together, oceanic eyes stormy, mouth pulled into a straight line instead of the easy smile you loved so much. Though his attention was constant, you were grateful for it. It was more than a lot of mentors did for their tributes.

The stint you were forced to do at the Capitol after winning your Games was on hold for the holidays. You were dismissed, put on a train back to District Four, and as Finnick had said, hopefully they would largely forget about you upon the new year.

Opening your eyes, you watched the scenery whiz by, feeling numb to it all. When Finnick squeezed your hand, you turned your head, giving him a tired smile. Sleep had not been your friend in these past months, nightmares plaguing your unconscious mind. The doctor had diagnosed exhaustion, which had seemed ironic. An endless cycle of woe. The only thing that could cure you was the source of your destruction.

Finnick let go of your hand, holding out his arm. You didn't say anything, letting yourself lean into him like you always did. He was the only one who made sure you had any hope of routine. Making sure there was at least some normalcy amidst the turmoil the Capitol put you through. Though you were the victor, nobody worth their salt cared what happened to you. Only that you were at their beck and call for entertainment.

The only person you'd been able to turn to had been your mentor, close in age with eyes that held a pain well beyond his years. He was only fourteen when he was drafted into the Capitol's game of torture, a year older than you, and the years following hadn't been much better. Finnick was very tight-lipped about what exactly the Capitol made him do, insisting that you didn't need to know about it.

You hated that he felt like he had to shield you, but there wasn't much you could do in the way of it. Trust was hard to come by, but with Finnick, it brimmed and overflowed. Now as you snuggled into him under his arm, you could feel it tying around you both, knotting you together forever.

"It'll be you 'n me," he murmured, tucking your head under his chin. "And Mags. In the Victor's Village. It's a nice place, actually. Don't think they've built a house for you yet, but you can stay with me until they do. Or with Mags if that's better?" He looked down at you, and you shook your head, burrowing into him. A little half smile quirked his lips. "Alright, with me it is."

He adjusted your fur-trimmed jacket, rubbing your arm. "Just in time for Christmas. The Capitol gets snow, but it'll be nice to be home."

"Home," you echoed, thinking of the beach, the ocean you'd missed so badly. Who needed snow when you had the water? Looking out the window, you watched for the signs of home. You'd done the same thing when you'd been hauled onto this train by a Peacekeeper months ago, only then you'd been clinging, memorizing. Then, you hadn't thought you'd ever see it again.

Finnick followed your gaze, and the half-smile made an appearance. "It's amazing how you don't realize how bad you missed something until you're back."

You nodded, that feeling of understanding washing over you again. It was something you always felt with him. He always knew what to say.

The sights of your home town charmed you for only a moment before you saw the crowd of people waiting at the train station. Panic seized your heart, and a terrified little noise escaped you. There wasn't supposed to be anyone there. You weren't prepared to greet anybody, or smile and pretend you were happy and grateful the way the Capitol mandated you to be.

Finnick sat up straight. "It's okay. We'll go out a different way." Securing his arm around you, he helped you stand up, guiding you out of your compartment and to the side door. Technically you both had your own areas decked in luxury, but you'd wanted him to stay and he hadn't objected, settling into your space and offering whatever comfort he could.

"I don't wanna see anyone right now," you whispered, looking up at him with wide eyes.

His chin dipped as he adjusted your jacket again, peering out the window at the unwanted crowd. "You don't have to. C'mon, there's a door that exits the other way. Nobody will see us." Ushering you down the hallway, Finnick didn't once let go of your waist, his touch keeping you grounded.

A Peacekeeper escorted you both through the shadowy station, the familiar mosaic of ocean waves on the floor nearly bringing tears to your eyes. Your father used to bring you here so you could see the art, one of the only public buildings that had any. You would sit here for hours studying each painting, each tile in the ground. After he died you would come sit alone on one of the benches, watching the few people who came and went the way he used to.

Hardly anybody left so it was never busy to begin with, but today it had been cleared out for yours and Finnick's arrival back home. Your footsteps echoed in the empty space, shadows dancing across the sunshine beaming in from the large windows high upon the walls. It was the only source of light in the room. If it weren't for Finnick's hand, you would have felt like a ghost.

Upon arriving at the car, Finnick pushed you gently in front of him so you could get in first, holding the edge of the car door and looking around before he slid in beside you. The protective gesture eased the weight in your chest. He was looking out for you. It was something you weren't used to, but it incited a warmth that stretched over you, whispering that everything would be okay.

That wasn't something you'd had for a long time.

"We're good," Finnick remarked, settling in next to you. He was looking over you as if checking for injuries, making sure for himself that you were okay. His lips began to form a question you could hear before he said it, but instead of annoyance over predictability, a serene calm washed over you, as he said it in a way of familiar comfort.

"You okay?"

It didn't take too long for you to settle into Finnick's home.

He set up a spare bedroom for you, helping you unpack your things and assuring you he was here if you needed anything. The window had a lovely view of the sea, of the crashing waves against a grey sky. You'd always adored winter in District Four, enjoyed the cozy nights in while the ocean beat at the sand. But now it seemed different, melancholy.

For the first few days, it seemed all you could do was sleep. You felt guilty for leaving Finnick alone when he'd been so kind to open his doors for you, but the one time you'd tried to apologize, he'd waved you off, tucking another blanket around you and saying you needed your sleep. "Doctor's orders," he'd teased, brushing hair out of your eyes and smoothing his thumb over your forehead, smiling as he watched your eyes close.

On the first Thursday after you arrived, you awoke to noise coming from the kitchen, something like pans rattling around. Rising and throwing on a long-sleeved shirt and a pair of comfortable pants, you trailed in the direction of the sound, happening upon Finnick surrounded by an array of dry ingredients, drinking a mug of what smelled like peppermint cocoa. You tilted your head, leaning against the doorway. "Finnick?"

He turned to you, a smile gracing his face. "You're just in time. We're baking today."

"Baking?" You hadn't baked or cooked anything since the day before the Reaping, That morning you remembered feasting on thick, knotted bread you'd made specially for the occasion, making sure to eat in small portions so it would last the week. You hoped one of your neighbors had taken what was left after you were put on the train.

Finnick grinned, nodding enthusiastically. "Yeah. We're making a gingerbread house."

"Oh!" You could recall seeing the sweet, frosted structures in the bakery windows around the holidays in years past, but you'd never actually made one. He was beginning to measure ingredients, uncapping cans, measuring cups clattering. You couldn't help your smile. Seeing him in the kitchen was strangely endearing. "Do you always do this?"

"Make a mess of the kitchen? No," he cracked, and you giggled a little, the weight on your shoulders lightening. Running a hand over his hair, he stared at the mess in front of him. "My mother used to make a gingerbread house every Christmas and I'd help her decorate it. I thought it'd be fun if we did it too."

Your heart nearly melted. He looked so adorable standing there behind the counter, and you thought you caught a trace of flour on his cheek. For the first time in weeks, you felt as though everything that had happened outside these walls was a mere memory.

Making your way over to him, you reached up, swiping the flour from his face with your thumb and smiling sweetly. "I'd love to."

He smiled, leaning in and kissing your forehead. "Alright. Why don't you make the icing and I'll try and figure out the house and walls part?"

You plucked the icing recipe from the yellow-paged book in front of him, watching his brow furrow as he added the sugar to his bowl. Holding back a giggle, you got to work on your portion, stirring and losing yourself in the task. You'd forgotten how relaxing baking could be. And it was infinitely better when you felt so safe standing next to him. Once you'd finished, you turned around to check on his progress.

Finnick had rolled out the slabs and cut them evenly, picking at the edges on the cookie sheet. Once he'd stuck them in the oven, he turned to you, setting his hands on your hips and lifting you up to sit on the only free space on the counter. Standing between your legs, he rubbed circles into your thighs, seeming content. "Let's hope I don't burn anything."

"I trust you," you murmured, leaning forward and wrapping your arms around his middle. He hooked his chin on your shoulder, rocking back and forth. It was a move he used whenever you woke from nightmares, or when he found you crying. Right now you were safe, but it still felt nice. That he didn't only care for you when you were in distress.

"This is nice," you murmured into him. Finnick nodded, drawing circles in your back.

"It is," he breathed, nosing against your neck. You closed your eyes, breathing him in. He had a distinct smell to him, one that you would bottle if you could; to keep whenever you were without him. A moment of silence passed, and then he whispered, "I like having this with you."

Something warm, like a hearth in a storm started up in your heart, and you snuggled closer to him, your legs finding their way around his waist. This felt closer than you'd been to him before, but neither of you were pulling away.

Shifting in your seat, your fingers found the nape of his neck, playing with his hair there. Your mind wandered to the circumstance of it all. The youngest victor in the history of the Games, the Capitol's darling, handsome, charming, gifted. And he was standing with you in his kitchen, arms wrapped around you as gingerbread baked in the oven.

"Y'know, I wouldn't mind if it took awhile for them to build your house," Finnick said softly, leaning up to press his lips to your temple. "I like having you here."

"I like being here with you." Lifting your head, you found he was already looking at you. Looking into his sea blue eyes, you found peace, your storm's center.

The oven's timer rang, and you turned your head. Finnick let go of you to retrieve the gingerbread, setting it to the side to cool and then returning to you, lifting you off the counter and securing his arm around your waist. "You ready to make a gingerbread house?"

"Yes!" leaning into his side, you looked over the space. "So...how do we do it?"

Finnick chuckled, lifting your hands and squeezing them. "Let me show you. It's harder than it sounds."

The next little bit found you trying to hold the walls steady while Finnick glued them to the base with frosting. He smiled when you dropped a wall, setting the icing down and picking it up, his big hands over yours as you held the walls firm. "There you go...you got it, sweetheart. Now I'll just..." He slathered a large portion of icing onto all four sides of the base and covered your hands again to help you slide two of the walls toward it. "There, you're a natural!"

Giggling, you moved to do the same with the other walls, easily attaching them. Finnick smiled proudly. "Great job!"

"I've got a really good teacher," you countered, reaching for the roof, previously constructed. "Can you put some more on the walls?"

He frosted the edges, and you set the triangular roof on top, smiling triumphantly. It was the happiest you'd felt about something in a while and you clasped your hands to your chest. "We did it Finnick! We made it!"

"'Course we did!" He was adding a few finishing touches to keep the house in place. You stared at the walls, the scent of gingerbread thick in the air. Now you were thinking of your sister, of the way you used to bake together. Your memories were less clear now, only the feelings you'd had remaining.

The bad feelings began to creep back in, grasping at your fingers and sucking at your soul again. You nearly let them pull you down until Finnick said something and you were pulled back to earth. "Hm?"

Looking up at you with his crinkly-eyed smile, he said, "You wanna decorate it? I'll give you the frosting now."

"Are you sure?" You looked warily at it, then the house, then him again.

Smiling reassuringly, he nodded. "I've seen your paintings. You'll make it look pretty."

"Frosting and paint are two very different things." Still, you took the bowl from him, as well as the spatula, twisting the wooden handle between your fingers.

As you began to focus, you found yourself drawn to the light once more. When your sister had passed away, it felt as though every happy memory with her had been painted blue, a tinge of sadness and regret sprinkled over each one. But now, with Finnick silently watching as you carefully slathered icing onto the roof, you felt as though happiness had been layered on top. All the pain that accompanied was still there, but it was framed in a new way.

Now all you could think of was doing this with him year after year, spending dozens of Christmases baking cookies and mixing frosting and cuddling in the kitchen until the oven went off.

You wanted it now. More than anything.

Swiping some leftover frosting onto your finger, you licked it clean, sighing at the taste. "All done."

Finnick wrapped his arms around you from behind, chin on your shoulder as he surveyed your work. "It looks amazing." He kissed your cheek. "See? Told ya you'd do a good job."

Leaning back into him, you let your head lull to his shoulder. "It looks pretty."

"It does," he agreed, lips pressed to your hair. You took in the scene before you, almost in disbelief. The domesticity of it would have been unthinkable to you a month ago. Christmas traditions with the man you-

Your heart fluttered, and you turned around, burying your face in his chest. "Finnick."

His hand found the back of your head, and he stroked your hair. "Sweetheart, are you-?"

"I love you," you breathed, hands on his chest. The instant you said it, your chest tightened, nerves replacing the space those words had been taking up for so long. Looking up at him, you saw his lips part, feel his arms tighten around you. His eyes were warm, and a wave of relief crashed over you as the corners of his lips lifted.

"Baby..." he breathed, cupping your cheek. You could smell the peppermint on his breath, feel his heart beating as he pressed on your waist, so you were right against him. And then in an instant, his mouth was over yours, and your fingers gripped his sweater, everything you'd felt from the last months crashing over you and poured into this kiss. You loved him. You'd loved you from the moment he'd sat you down and told you he was going to keep you safe that first day on the train.

Through everything he'd protected you. Without him, you wouldn't be standing here. You'd be just another unfortunate teenager lost to the games.

As he intertwined you both, holding you close and whispering that he loved you in between kisses, you could feel it blooming in your chest. Nothing after the so called honor of winning had even come close to this.

Here was where you became the true Victors.

[stricklandwitch]

◜Day Twelve: A Christmas Tale◞

➤ It's Christmas morning. Write whatever you want.

~

The magic in Christmas had lost its meaning after her sixth birthday, after she was traded away. It was just another day to her. But this year, things were different. She was a mother, and while she was going through her own stuff, she wasn’t about to neglect her son’s needs. She did her best to get him excited for Christmas. She set up a little tree in their room. Luckily, Emery didn’t mind. She even helped decorate. And Persephone had even managed to get a few presents for TJ, and for her siblings and friends.

The morning had been busy. The blonde got TJ up early and helped TJ open his presents. Then she took him down to the cafeteria for breakfast, sitting back as he charmed the people who came over to say hi: Annie, Nathan and Millie, and Heidi and Alfie. After that, Seph took TJ to see Isobel, Mark and Leah and his cousins, Jeremy, and Jessamine and her family to say “Merry Christmas.” For her child’s sake, she kept a fake smile on her face all day, not completing fooling anyone.

Finally, Persephone brought TJ back to their room. Emery wished them a “Merry Christmas” before bouncing off to see Claude. The female put her son down for a nap, kissing his forehead and turning on his mobile. She came back into the room, and on her bed was a single rose and a small black satin box. Seph cocked her eyebrow, a sneaking suspicion on whom it was from. The blonde took a seat on her bed and picked up the box. On it was a note.

“To my dearest Persy

You came into my life

Like lightning lighting up the sky

Electrifying the darkness in my heart.

Happy birthday, my love.

xx Abel”

Reading the note made her smile, something rare these days. She unwrapped the ribbon from around the box then opened it. The blonde gasped at her present. Inside was a gold necklace with a gold lightning bolt. Another smile graced her face as she moved her pointer finger gently over the bolt. The female finally glanced up, her gaze not settling on anything in particular. The smile stayed on her face as she slipped the necklace from the box and fastened it around her neck.

Maybe Christmas wasn’t magical anymore. And neither was her birthday. But the one thing that remained magical in her life was the amount of love she felt at that moment. From her son and from Abel.

[creepykingdom]

Disney+ Announces New Titles at the D23 Expo

 Disney+ made its D23 Expo debut with its first-ever showcase presentation, announcing six new series in development and revealing key details about the highly anticipated streaming service to an enthusiastic audience at the Anaheim Convention Center in Anaheim. The event showcased the sweeping array of talent with in-person and video appearances from the stars of Disney+’s slate of originals from Disney, Pixar, Marvel, Star Wars, and National Geographic and included sneak peeks, trailer premieres, and exclusive news about the service and its upcoming projects. Actress Yvette Nicole Brown, who stars in the Disney+ original film “Lady and the Tramp,” hosted the lively presentation, welcoming Kevin Mayer, chairman, Direct-to-Consumer & International, to the stage to kick off the show. “With less than three months until launch, Disney+ will soon entertain and inspire audiences of all ages for generations to come, and we’re excited to preview some of the amazing original content being created for the service exclusively from our world-class brands today at the D23 Expo,” said Mayer. “Storytelling is the cornerstone of The Walt Disney Company and we’re thrilled to unveil a new slate of original shows from the Star Wars and Marvel cinematic universes, along with popular television franchises set to return with all-new series streaming only on Disney+.”

New Series Revealed As part of the presentation, some of the creative minds behind Disney+’s content slate including Sean Bailey, president, Walt Disney Studios Motion Picture Production; Kevin Feige, president, Marvel Studios; Kathleen Kennedy, president, Lucasfilm; and Gary Marsh, president and chief creative officer, Disney Channel Worldwide, gave fans a first look at the service’s upcoming originals and announced exciting new titles: ● Ewan McGregor made a surprise appearance to announce his return as Obi-Wan Kenobi in a new untitled series from Lucasfilm. ● Kevin Feige announced that Marvel Studios is developing three new live-action series: “Ms. Marvel,” “Moon Knight” and “She-Hulk,” all derived from Marvel comics. ● Hilary Duff surprised the audience when it was announced she will reprise the role she made famous in an all-new Lizzie McGuire series from Terri Minsky. ● Forty years after leaving the swamp in his big screen debut in “The Muppet Movie,” Kermit the Frog is heading upstream with Miss Piggy, and the gang, bringing a new kind of mayhem and laughter to Disney+ with their first-ever unscripted short-form series, “Muppets Now.” World Premiere Launch Content Previews During the 90-minute presentation, a parade of celebrities, filmmakers, and creatives treated the 6,800-person audience to the first public preview of Disney+’s original movies and shows set to stream when the service launches on November 12: ● For Lucasfilm’s “The Mandalorian,” executive producers Jon Favreau and Dave Filoni joined series stars Pedro Pascal, Gina Carano, Carl Weathers and Giancarlo Esposito, along with Taika Waititi, who brings the droid IG-11 to life, to premiere the teaser trailer for the first Star Wars live-action series. Earlier in the day at the Disney Legends Awards Ceremony, Robert A. Iger, chairman and chief executive officer, The Walt Disney Company, announced that new Disney Legend Ming-Na Wen will join the cast of the series. Set after the fall of the Empire and before the emergence of the First Order, “The Mandalorian” follows the travails of a lone gunfighter in the outer reaches of the galaxy far from the authority of the New Republic. Watch the trailer here. ● The talented up-and-coming cast of “High School Musical: The Musical: The Series” brought down the house with a live performance of the multi-platinum hit song, “We’re All In This Together.” Immediately following the presentation, cast members Joshua Bassett, Olivia Rodrigo, Matt Cornett, Sofia Wylie, Julia Lester, Larry Saperstein, Dara Reneé, Frankie A. Rodriguez, Kate Reinders, Mark St. Cyr, and Showrunner Tim Federle invited 3,600 fans to watch the first episode in the D23 Expo Arena and revealed the series’ teaser trailer. The 10-episode scripted series, set at the real-life East High, where the original movie was filmed, follows a group of students as they countdown to opening night of their school's first-ever production of “High School Musical.” Watch the trailer here. ● Host Yvette Nicole Brown joined fellow “Lady and the Tramp” cast members Rose (“Lady”) and Monty (“Tramp”)—the canine stars of the film—to premiere the first trailer from the film. In the timeless re-telling of the 1955 animated classic, a pampered house dog and a tough but lovable stray embark on an unexpected adventure and, despite their differences, grow closer and come to understand the value of home. Watch the trailer here. ● “Noelle” stars Anna Kendrick and Billy Eichner joined Sean Bailey to announce their film will premiere on Disney+ on November 12 before sharing a new trailer. In the upcoming holiday comedy, Kris Kringle’s daughter is full of Christmas spirit and holiday fun, but wishes she could do something “important” like her beloved brother Nick, who will take over from their father this Christmas. When Nick is about to crumble like a gingerbread cookie from all the pressure, Noelle suggests he take a break and get away…but when he doesn’t return, Noelle must find her brother and bring him back in time to save Christmas. Watch the trailer here. ● Jeff Goldblum, who stars in and hosts “The World According to Jeff Goldblum” from National Geographic, gave fans a peek inside the series including a new trailer for the show. Through Goldblum’s always inquisitive and highly entertaining mind, nothing is as it seems in this new 12-episode series. Watch the trailer here. ● Executive Producer Kristen Bell shared a first look trailer and a taste of what’s to come in the unscripted series, “Encore!” that brings together former castmates of high school musicals, tasking them with re-creating their original performance years after they last performed it, in a high school reunion like no other. Watch the trailer here. ● Tony Hale, who reprises his craft project turned toy role from “Toy Story 4” in the new collection of Pixar animated shorts “Forky Asks A Question,” premiered the first short (“What is Money?”). In the 10 shorts, Forky explores important questions about how the world works, such as: What is love? What is time? Post-launch Originals Disney+ also rolled out the red carpet for its titles set to premiere after the service launches, inviting stars to share new details for their upcoming projects: ● The audience was treated to a scene from the Disney+ original film “Togo,” an untold true story set in the winter of 1925 across the treacherous terrain of the Alaskan tundra. An exhilarating and uplifting adventure, “Togo” stars four-time Oscar® nominee Willem Dafoe and is directed by Ericson Core. The film also stars Julianne Nicholson, Christopher Heyerdahl, Richard Dormer, Michael Greyeyes, Michael McElhatton and Michael Gaston. Kim Zubick is the producer and Tom Flynn wrote the screenplay. “Togo” will launch on Disney+ in December. ● Executive Producer and recurring guest star Gina Rodriguez joined “Diary of a Female President” lead Tess Romero to announce the series will premiere on Disney+ in January. Told using the narration from her diary, this half-hour single camera comedy follows 12-year-old Cuban-American girl Elena’s journey through the trials of middle school, which set her on the path to ultimately become president of the United States. ● Kathleen Kennedy announced that the highly anticipated new season of “Star Wars: The Clone Wars” will stream on Disney+ in February 2020. The Emmy® award-winning animated series will be returning with twelve all-new episodes and will mark the return of classic characters Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi and  fan-favorites Ahsoka Tano and Captain Rex. ● Sean Bailey shared a first look at the original film “Timmy Failure: Mistakes Were Made.” Directed by award-winning filmmaker Tom McCarthy with screenplay by McCarthy & Stephan Pastis and based on the best-selling book series by Pastis, the film follows the hilarious exploits of our quirky, deadpan hero, Timmy Failure, who, along with his 1,500-pound polar bear partner Total, operates Total Failure Inc., a Portland detective agency. “Timmy Failure: Mistakes Were Made” will launch on Disney+ in early 2020. ● The stars of “Stargirl,” Grace VanderWaal and Graham Verchere, were welcomed on stage to help introduce the coming-of-age film based on the critically-acclaimed, New York Times’ best-selling young adult novel. “Stargirl” is directed by Julia Hart from a screenplay by Kristin Hahn and Julia Hart & Jordan Horowitz based on the novel by Jerry Spinelli. The film also stars Karan Brar, Maximiliano Hernandez, Darby Stanchfield and Giancarlo Esposito. “Stargirl” is produced by Ellen Goldsmith-Vein, Lee Stollman and Kristin Hahn. “Stargirl” will launch on Disney+ in early 2020. ● Director Kari Skogland introduced Anthony Mackie and Sebastian Stan, the stars of Marvel Studios’ ”The Falcon and The Winter Soldier,” which finds Falcon and the Winter Soldier teaming up after “Avengers: Endgame.” Emily VanCamp came on stage and Feige revealed that she will reprise her role as Sharon Carter. Then, he introduced the crowd to Wyatt Russell who will play John Walker—a character from the comics coming to the screen for the first time. Head writer Malcom Spellman was also on hand to greet the crowd. “The Falcon and The Winter Soldier” will launch on Disney+ in 2020. ●“Monsters At Work” stars Ben Feldman and Aisha Tyler unveiled the latest design of their characters Tylor and Millie. 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Director Matt Shakman and head writer Jac Schaeffer joined everyone on stage to reveal that the streaming series will blend the style of classic sitcoms with Marvel Cinematic Universe.  “WandaVision” premieres on Disney+ in 2021. ● Kevin Feige welcomed the director, Kate Herron, and head writer, Michael Waldron, of “Loki” to the stage. In Marvel Studios’ new Disney+ series “Loki,” Tom Hiddleston returns as the mercurial Loki, the god of mischief and everyone’s favorite villain in stories that take place after the events of “Avengers: Endgame.” “Loki” debuts on Disney+ in 2021. ● For Marvel Studios’ “What If…?” Hayley Atwell was on hand to greet the audience. Atwell will voice Peggy Carter in Marvel Studios’ first animated series that focuses on different heroes from the Marvel Cinematic Universe and imagines what would happen if the events in the films worked out differently. Kevin Feige also introduced director Bryan Andrews and head writer Ashley Bradley to the crowd.  “What If…?” premieres on Disney+ in 2021. ● Stars Diego Luna and Alan Tudyk joined Kathleen Kennedy to introduce the audience to the second Lucasfilm live-action series for Disney+, which is now in development.  Both actors are reprising their roles from “Rogue One: A Star Wars Story,” and the stories follow Cassian Andor’s adventures as a rebel spy during the formative years of the Rebellion, before the events of “A New Hope.” World-Class Product Experience Additionally, over on the Expo show floor the Disney+ app made its debut, complete with features and functionality confirmed for the global launch dates in November. 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For the latest from Disney+ and its upcoming originals, follow @DisneyPlus on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram, @TheMandalorian on Twitter, and Instagram, @HighSchoolMusical on Facebook and Instagram, @LadyandtheTramp on Facebook and Instagram, @DisneysNoelle on Instagram, or register your email at DisneyPlus.com. About Disney+ Launching on November 12, 2019, Disney+ will be the dedicated streaming home for movies and shows from Disney, Pixar, Marvel, Star Wars, National Geographic, and more, together, for the first time. From The Walt Disney Company’s Direct-to-Consumer and International segment, Disney+ will offer ad-free programming with a variety of original feature-length films, documentaries, live-action and animated series and short-form content.  Alongside unprecedented access to Disney’s incredible library of film and television entertainment, and 30 seasons of “The Simpsons” in the U.S., the service will also be the exclusive streaming home for films released by The Walt Disney Studios in 2019 and beyond, including “Captain Marvel,” “Avengers: Endgame,” “Aladdin,” “Toy Story 4,” “The Lion King,” “Maleficent: Mistress of Evil,” “Frozen 2,”and “Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker.” The service will launch in select geographic territories, including U.S., Canada, and The Netherlands, followed shortly by Australia and New Zealand, with the expectation to be available in all major markets within the first two-years. Visit DisneyPlus.com to learn more.

[chickensarentcheap]

Never Gonna Be Alone- Chapter 14

Warnings: possible body dysmorphia, mentions of past trauma and abuse

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @tragiclyhip​

Author’s Note: I have a serious case of extremely low self esteem (thanks anon hate!) and I can’t promise when the next chapter will be out. I’m hoping within the next few days. Fingers crossed!  So I’d post the one I was holding ‘hostage’. 

“I’m not too sure about this, Des,” Esme grumbles from behind a change room door in Bloomingdales.

It’s the last stop of the afternoon before a well deserved lunch; highly praised Thai food at a restaurant near Rockefeller that Desi had to book weeks in advance. It’s been years since she’d been THAT engrossed in a shopping trip; her feet aching and her cheeks hurting from laughing so much and dozens of bags in her possession. For twelve years she’s been caught up in her role as a mother; putting her own needs and wants on the back burner in favour of always making sure the kids never went without. Even with a ridiculous amount of money in the bank, she’d never concentrated on herself; perfectly content with her quiet and unassuming life in Australia, living rather simply and not needing much more than shorts, t-shirts, a small selection of bathing suits and a handful of jeans. It feels strange to be out in something other than her normal and preferred attire; used to choosing comfort over actual style and doing little more than throwing her hair up into a ponytail or messy bun. It had been nice to experience all of that again and had found herself most missing those younger days. When she’d pass the time with hours of window shopping and mindless browsing; daydreaming about all of the designer clothes and shoes and handbags she’d one day purchase if she ever won the lottery. But back then, it had been just that: daydreaming. And she can’t help but feel slightly guilty for splurging and buying things just for the sake of having them; outfits she may likely never wear and will hang in the closet with their original price tags still attached.

It’s hard to break free of that line of thinking; easily remembering the hard times when there’d been hardly any food in the cupboards and there’d been real worry about whether the utilities would be shut off or not. When Millie was still growing inside of her and she’d been trying to adjust to her new life in a new country; living with a man she barely knew but she already was already falling madly and crazily in love with. Materialistic things have never truly mattered; never heartbroken when she couldn’t afford brand new clothes or when their little apartment was filled with mismatched second hand furniture. Despite the financial concerns, they’d been truly happy. Engrossed in a ‘honeymoon stage’ of unbridled passion and lust; finding themselves thoroughly exploring and enjoying one another’s bodies while getting to know each other. It hadn’t been the most conventional of lifestyles; two broken people finding solace and healing in one another in Dhaka, an unplanned pregnancy, and quick and hasty cohabitation. And there’d been hard times; little quirks and hangs up the other had that annoyed them, heated arguments over stupid things, lingering trauma and plenty of nightmares thanks to their harrowing experience in Bangladesh. But somehow they’d made it work; a temperamental and moody Australian and a feisty and over emotional American. Falling in love despite their often enormous differences and making something so beautiful and lasting out of almost nothing.

“I don't know if this dress is my thing,” she frets, and smooths her hands down the side of the ridiculously expensive dress. It’s far more than she’d ever imagined paying for a single piece of clothing; immediately checking the price tag and having a small coronary when Desi had shoved the garment in her direction. Money is of no concern; in a thousand lifetimes the personal bank account will never run dry, nor will there never be a steady flow of impressive income coming in. But it just isn’t who she is; a woman with her wardrobe filled with designer apparel, far more comfortable in sweats from Target and one of her husband’s ratty t-shirts. “I’m just not too sure about it.”

“What is there NOT to be sure about?” Her friend’s voice filters in from the waiting area. “It’s Herve Leger. One of his best pieces yet. And it’s fabulous and it will look even more fabulous on you.”

“It’s too short,” she laments, and tries in vain to pull the hem down closer to her knees. “I don’t have the legs for this.”

“You don’t need legs for days to slay in that dress. And Big E, I’ve seen you in shorts. I know you’ve got killer stems. You can definitely pull this off. You’re worrying over nothing.”

“But it’s too tight. Way too tight.”

Desi sighs in exasperation. “It’s supposed to be tight. It’s a bandage dress.”

“It shows my rolls.”

“Excuse you? WHAT roles? Like you have rolls. Bitch, please.”

“I’ve had seven kids. Believe me, I have rolls. I’m twenty pounds heavier than when I first met Tyler. Twenty-two, actually.”

“And does he give a shit? No. I bet he likes the curves. I don’t see him complaining. Or looking at other women. He only has eyes for you.”

“Most biased man on earth,” she mutters, and studies her form from all sides. Easily remembering what her body had looked like almost thirteen years ago; thin and toned and extremely fit. A far cry from the ‘softness’ she possesses now; dips and valleys and curves where none had ever existed before.

“Isn’t his opinion the only one that really matters? Doesn’t he find you a straight up hottie?”

“That is not the point. He could be just trying to spare my feelings, you know.”

Desi gives a derisive snort. “Isn’t he still tripping over himself trying to get into her pants every available chance he gets? Quit your bitching. You’ve got a beautiful man that worships at the temple of YOU. Now get out here and let me see you.”

“Rolls, Desi. I have rolls.”

“Bullshit. And even if you did, that dress is like a corset. All the different bands built in? They hold everything. And I doubt you have anything to hold in the first place. Don’t make me break down the door and drag you out here. I am not above creating a scene. You should know this by now.”

“Don’t you dare go full queen diva on me.”

“Oh, I will. I will kick that door in and drag your tiny ass on out here for the world to see. Desmond Brownell does not play games. He’s on a mission. And his mission is to see you in that Herve Leger. Don’t make me pull a mommy move. Don’t make me count to three.”

“I tend to go with five, but…”

“Five then. Don’t make me go that direction. Because it will not end well for you. Or me. There’ll be tears. And not on my part. And most likely security guards tossing us both out on our asses. So we do this either the easy way or the hard way. And believe me, you don’t want the hard way.”

Sighing heavily, she smooths down the back and sides of the dress and once more tries to pull the bottom closer to her knees. To no avail. It is so far out of her comfort zone; a woman that insists on always covering her bathing suit with a t-shirt and refuses to remove it. “I am going to sneak into your house at night and kill you in your sleep,” she declares, as she undoes the hook latch on the door and swings it open. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this. Keep your eyes closed. Until I tell you to open them.”

“I can’t believe YOU don’t realize that you’re a bonafide MILF. Even if it’s not for you, how bad could it be?”

“Ever seen a sausage when you try and stuff too much into the casing?”

“Have you ever talked to a shrink? You do not look the way you think you look. What DO you see when you look in the damn mirror?”

“I see gray hair, wrinkles, and stretch marks. I see frumpy and plain and boring and just…” sighing, she steps into the middle of the waiting area and frowns at her reflection being cast in several different mirrors. “...old. I see old.”

“I think you’ve done lost your damn mind. Shred brains cell with every baby you had. Because you sure as hell don’t look old. Not even close. Can I look yet?”

“Do you want to be traumatized?”

“Do you WANT me to beat your ass? Tell on you? I’ll tell your hubby. Don’t underestimate me. Then both of us will get on your ass and then what?”

“He’s hardly a good judge. He’d tell me I look good in a garbage bag. He is proof that love IS blind.”

“He is proof that there’s good men out there. Good loyal, faithful men. That love every inch of their woman. Inside and out. You know how lucky you are? To have someone like that? Do you see anyone strong enough to drag him off? I’m sure he’s had plenty of opportunities.”

“If the thirsty housewives back home and the new neighbour had their way, he’d be getting all kinds of ass. All kinds of variety.”

“What new neighbour?”

“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you over lunch. But yeah, he’s got a harem of women that would love for him to be tapping it.”

“But he loves tapping YOUR ass. And only your ass. Does he have a brother? Have I ever asked that? A gay brother by chance? Or a gay friend? Bi friend? Help me out here.”

“No brothers. No siblings at all. No gay friends. Not that I know of. But you know who WOULD have a gay friend? My sister in law.”

“I thought he didn’t have siblings?”

“Not Tyler. My sister’s wife. Shaena. She’d for sure have gay friends. And hot ones. You’ve met her.”

“Both her and your sister are fine as hell. I wouldn’t mind getting in the middle of THAT. Hook a brother up. Make it happen. I’ll be at your little Aussie Christmas. Score me a date for then. In the meantime, can I open my eyes now? Don’t leave a brother hanging.”

“As long as you promise you won’t laugh.”

“I am calling you a psychiatrist. You need help.”

“Fine,” she turns her back towards her friends, hands perched upon her hips. “ Look. But no smart ass comments and no laughing. My confidence can’t take it.”

“Your confidence needs a serious makeover. Now let me see.”

She watches through the mirror as his eyes flutter opening; slowly widening as far as they possibly can, followed by a dramatic collapse back into his seat and a hand placed over his heart.

“Fuck…” she grimaces. “...that bad?”

“That bad? That GOOD. Desmond Brownell approves. You look…” he gives two chef’s kisses. “...delicious. I’d bang you. And I have high standards.”

“I’ve seen some of your dates. Your standards are questionable at best.”

“You wound me, Big E. Mortally wound me. That…” he nods in her direction. “...was made for you. Your body is tighter and hotter than you obviously realize. Curves like a back road. And there ain’t nothing wrong with that.”

“You don’t think it’s too much? Or should I say, too little? I am forty-one.”

“Who gives a shit? You look amazing.”

“I’ve had seven kids.”

“Especially amazing for someone that’s popped out that many crotch goblins. Sold. The dress is sold. This isn’t up for debate.”

“I can’t buy something like this. It’s just...not me.”

“It damn well is YOU. I’ll buy it for you. A little extra Christmas gift.”

“A thousand dollar dress is hardly a little Christmas gift. And it’s a little pricey, don’t you think? For fabric?”

“Honey, you really need to get out of Target and up your shopping game. I know how much money you all have, I know you can afford it. I know you could probably afford this whole store. And then some.”

“It isn’t about money. It’s about me. And being out of my comfort zone. I don’t dress like this. I live on the beach. In Australia. We wear shorts and tanks and never wear shoes. Where the hell would I wear this?”

“Date night.”

“Like we have places I could wear this to. I mean, I guess we could go to Cairns. I’ve seen women in some pretty expensive clothes there. I could always talk him into a weekend away. It wouldn’t be hard. And we are going to Santorini in April.”

“That’d be perfect for Santorini. Hell, just wear it in the house. In the bedroom. Just to spice things up a bit. I’m sure he doesn’t see you dressed up very often.”

“Try like never,” Esme laughs. “Okay, maybe that’s a lie. I DO wear makeup when we go out. And cute little sundresses.”

“What about when you got married?”

“I wore something off the clearance rack at a bridal store in Sydney. Cost a hundred bucks. It was nothing fancy.”

“But you wore a little tiara and veil and all that, right?”

“It wasn’t that kind of wedding. I was five months pregnant with Millie. It was a little wedding chapel. We had six guests. It wasn’t fancy.”

“E, you’ve been robbed. You need that bride moment. What about the first time?”

“Las Vegas. Even more casual. Zero out of five stars. Would not recommend.”

“Oh no, honey. No. That’s wrong. So wrong. You deserve so much better. You deserve a big day. You deserve to be a bride. A REAL bride. Poofy white dress, little bling in your hair, fancy little shoes…”

“Seven kids and I’m going to wear white? I think not.”

“I’m having a serious talk with that man of yours. Vow renewals are a thing you know.”

“He’s brought it up. A couple of times. Which is weird, because I never thought he’d ever think of something like that. This is Tyler we’re talking about. This is a man that can kill people with his bare hands. Who has his own brand of romance. Which I love, by the way. But it’s very odd he’d bring up something like that. Getting married again.”

“Maybe he wants to see you all done up. Looking like a bride.”

“Trust me, Des. Tyler doesn’t care about that stuff. That isn’t him.”

“Maybe he’s come to care about that stuff. Maybe he’s getting a softer side to him. Or, his soft side is getting even more soft.”

“Don’t ever tell him that. He’d kill YOU with his bare hands. Do you really think I should get this dress?”

“I think you’d be stupid not to. And you, are NOT a stupid woman. Treat yourself. You deserve it.”

“You know what? I do. I DO deserve it. And I think he’ll really like it. Maybe I’ll even give him a little sneak peek later. You know, to judge his reaction to it.”

“Oh I think I know what his reaction is going to be. Don’t wear any underwear. Just let him yank the dress up and have his way with you.”

“Maybe you know him better than I realize,” Esme laughs. “Fine. I’ll buy it. But if he hates it, I am totally throwing you under the bus.”

“Alright...alright…” Desi holds his hands up in surrender. “...I’ll take one for the team. Now get your little ass in there and get changed. This big man needs to eat.”

*****

“So this neighbour you mentioned,” Desi says, as he nods his appreciation at the hostess who seats them at their table, then gallantly pulls Esme’s chair out and waits for her to sit. “What’s that about?”

She rolls her eyes. “Natalie. She just moved in a few doors down. Her and her little girl.”

“Are you talking about the blond that has the goddamn gall to wear real fur?” Desi slides into the seat across from her. “The one that needs a chisel to take off her makeup at the end of the night?”

“That’s her. The one who looks like Sephora threw up on her face. Too bad you can’t apply makeup on the inside to make something more attractive. Because she is a real peach.”

“Bottle of your best house red,” Desi requests, and then flips open the leather bound menu placed in front of him. “How’d you meet her?”

“Well, it turns out she doesn’t just have the gall to wear real fur. She also has the gall to go after married men. And in this case, MY man.”

“Uh oh. Something tells me this didn’t end well.”

“I’m very protective of what’s mine. Maybe some people would call it possessive.”

“I definitely would call it that. Not that I blame you. I’d be the same way. Hell, I’d probably never let him leave the damn house.”

“I know what a good thing I have. I know how hot my husband is. I’ve seen him naked. Many times. What’s underneath? Even better than what’s on top. And what’s on top? That’s really damn good, know what I mean?”

“I know what you mean. And I’m just saying, I wouldn’t protest if you sent me nudes of him. Our little secret.”

“My husband IS hot. And he’s beautiful and he’s amazing and he’s this walking study in masculinity. But he’s just that. MY husband. I don’t share. With anyone.”

“Tell me about it. I’ve spent three years begging you just to let me cop a feel.”

“So I don’t appreciate some thirsty female from five doors down, honing in my territory. No one is pissing in my front yard. No one. And it’s not just that I’m possessive and there’s no way in hell I’m sharing great dick, but Tyler isn’t like that. He doesn’t do shit like that. He is a lot of things, but a cheater is not one of them. That is one thing I’ve never had to worry about. He is loyal. Fiercely loyal. And he’s had his chances. If he wanted to stray, he would have. Easily.”

“Never struck me as the type who would. He’s way too in love with you. Way too faithful. I see the way he looks at you. Stars and hearts in his eyes. He definitely thinks rainbows and butterflies fly out your ass. So this Natalie…”

“They met at the park. He took Tanner there; after their morning out. And this Natalie was there. Tyler made small talk. And small talk is even exaggerating. Tyler doesn’t do small talk. Any talk, for that matter.”

Desi nods in agreement. “Took me damn near a whole weekend just to get him to say two words. That voice though? Woody. Instant.”

“Well I guess Natalie took his small talk for something else entirely. Which I don’t get, because Tyler is civil, at best. He’s just not a people person. He tries. But you know what he’s like. How he comes across. He’s very rough around the edges and doesn’t take shit and doesn’t care for formalities. He’s a man of very few words. Whatever words he said, she read way too much into. She showed up at the house. Looking for him.”

Desi looks up from his menu, a scowl forming on his face. “She did not.”

“Oh, she very much did. And get this. She made him cookies.”

“What kind of cookies?”

Esme stares at him pointedly.

“I like details. I’m detail oriented. I can’t help it.”

“Oatmeal raisin.”

“The most traitorous cookie out of them all. For shame. I’m disappointed. If you want a man to climb in your bed, you don’t lead with oatmeal raisin. Please tell me your man don’t like that shit.”

“Rest assured, he hates them and your opinion and lust for him can stay intact. But you can believe that? She came calling on my husband. She brought him cookies. And I’m pretty sure if he’d been home, she would have offered him HER cookie.”

“Probably just as nasty as the ones she makes. Probably got cobwebs and dust bunnies and all that shit. Maybe even a barbed wire fence blocking the entrance. So what happened?”

“Well, she got the cold shoulder and snarkiness from Millie first.”

“That’s my girl.”

“And then I talked to her and she was bitchy and off hand and she’s lucky I didn’t throat punch her. She had all kinds of snarky things to say. About my name, about my appearance, about having so many kids. I let her know that I wasn’t having any of her shit. That I was onto her. I told her I didn’t know what kind of married men she was used to, but my husband isn’t one of them. That he wasn’t...and never would be...interested.”

“And?”

“And she left. We fed the cookies to the dogs. Or tried to. Even they didn’t like them. Man’s best friend, indeed.”

A waitress brings the wine; cheerfully introducing herself before taking their orders. Desi waits until she leaves before uncorking the bottle and filling both glasses. Offering a toast to a warm and safe Christmas holiday and the perks and perils of love and friendships. And they’re in the middle of sharing stories of his last trip to Australia -his encounters with the both the ‘friendly neighbourhood Aussies’ and the wildlife that so freely roams and enjoys their stretch of land- when her cell phone loudly vibrates within the confines of her purse. Had Tyler not been out with all of the children and it not been a common thing to often run into some kind of issues with handling so many bodies, she would have just ignored it. And she wishes she had; frowning at the number splashed across the screen and then dropping the phone back into her bag.

“Your mom again?”

Nodding, she takes a swallow of wine. “Third time already today. Only four or five more to go. Maybe she’ll even make it an even dozen before sundown.”

“Can she not read the signs? It’s quite obvious you don’t want to speak to her. What’s her issue?”

“It’s probably easier to ask ‘what isn’t her issue?’. There’s many. So very, very, VERY many.”

“I already know about what she was like you when were growing up. I’m surprised you turned out as normal and sane as you are. It’s more than that?”

“So much more, Des. Where do you want me to start?”

“Start with the biggest one. Or most recent.”

“She hates Tyler. With the passion of a thousand fiery suns. The seventh layer of hell? I don’t think that even burns as hot as her hate for him.”

“Why? He’s a good guy. Treats you right, loves his kids. Will fight like hell to protect what’s us. Die for it, even. What’s to hate?”

“So you know how Tyler and I met. The whole ‘pretend husband and wife’ thing.”

“Yeah, to find Ovi and save him. What about it?”

“Well you also know what happened. During those five days in Dhaka. Between Tyler and I. Believe me when I say that I’m not normally like that. Spend nearly a week banging a guy I barely know. Unprotected, at that. And at the risk of too much information, Tyler was only the third guy I’d ever been with. Sexually speaking. So what happened between us? Totally uncharacteristic for me. It was unconventional. How we met. But, it worked out. We wanted more. We wanted to get to know each other. See if we could make something out of nothing. And we did. We made a life. A beautiful life. And seven little human beings.”

“And she’s got a problem with that because…?”

“After what happened on the bridge, I decided to stay. At the hospital he was flown to in Mumbai. It was touch and go and he didn’t have anyone else and if he wasn’t going to make it, I didn’t want him to be alone. He deserved better than that. And a week later they brought him out of the medically induced coma and he was breathing on his own and he woke up and he was so happy to see me. You should have seen how he smiled at me, Des. He has a beautiful smile. But that? That smile he gave when he realized I was real and I was actually sitting there? By his bed? I had never seen anything like that and I’ve never seen anything like it since. He was happy and relieved and he wanted me there. He even said he was scared to close his eyes at night because he was afraid I wouldn’t be there when he woke up.”

“He was already head over heels for ya. Guess that was his way of telling you.”

“When the hospital said they were shipping him to another back in Australia, he asked if I would go with him. By then I was already invested. I mean, it was three weeks later and I’d already spent time helping him feed himself and getting him on his feet and to the bathroom and taking him to in-patient physio and all of that. I was already in love with him. Of course I was going to Australia. It was never in doubt.”

“And let me guess, it ruffled your mother’s feathers.”

Nodding, Esme takes a long sip of wine. “She wasn’t in control. Of me. And she couldn’t stand it. Neither she or my brothers no longer had in any say in how I was going to live my life. The Esme they knew? She died on that bridge. Or maybe she was left behind. I had a chance. To make a new life for myself. And I took it. I went to Australia and I decided that was where I wanted to be. I wanted to be with HIM. So I took what money we had and I got us an apartment and he put me in charge of handling everything; medical decisions, financial stuff. And then, I found out I was having Millie. Which, to be honest, wasn’t a huge surprise because what do you expect when you spend five days having totally unprotected sex? And I told Tyler and I gave him a choice. If he didn’t want me or the baby, I’d walk away and I’d go home and I’d never contact him again. I told him I didn’t expect anything from him. And I didn’t want him feeling obligated to me or the baby.”

“That must have went over well.”

“Well, needless to say, he wanted the baby. And me. So I stuck around. I was by his side through his whole hospital stay and through all the therapy and his stint in rehab and then we settled down in our new life. And we got married and had Millie. My family? They couldn’t stand it. They couldn’t accept it. They couldn’t accept HIM.”

“All because you decided to make a new life for yourself?”

“That was it. Tyler became public enemy number one. My mom convinced everyone that he stole me away. That he was manipulative and abusive and that I was scared to leave him.”

“Jesus Christ…”

“Right? Tyler is so far from manipulative or abusive. He lived that life. He was on the receiving end of that. And he’s tried his hardest not to walk in his father’s footsteps. And believe me, he’s nothing like his old man. Not in the slightest. But no matter how much or how hard I argue, she doesn’t listen to me. She sees him as this horrible person. That took her baby girl away. And when he had the nerve to stick up for me? Against her and my brothers? That made things worse! You think they would have been happy. I found this amazing man who’s totally in love with me; who sees past all my bullshit and my ugly parts. That should have been enough for them. A guy that’s made me the centre of his universe. Who makes me happy and who I love more than I ever thought I COULD love someone. Who helped me make seven incredible little human beings. Why isn’t any of that enough?”

“I don’t know,” Desi says. “I wish I did. I wish I had the answers. ALL the answers.”

“Yet they practically idolize Mark. It makes no sense. They knew what he was like. They knew he was abusive. And they enabled him. They gaslighted me just as much as he did. And I would have left a thousand times over had they not constantly pressured me into giving him another chance. Had they not convinced me that everything was my fault. My mom stayed friends with him. Right up until he died. What kind of sick person does that? Stays friends with their own kid’s abuser?”

“You hit the nail on the head. A sick one.”

“Constantly kissing his ass and making him out to be some kind of white knight yet having all this shit to say about Tyler. They hate him because he refuses to be like them. Because he stands up to them. Because for once, someone loves me enough to have my back. That’s it. That’s why they hate him. And the things they’ve said? Especially since finding out he’s a mercenary? Constantly wishing death on him? Saying him dying would be the best thing to happen to me and the kids? Who says things like that? I almost lost Addie because of her. I came back from Ireland because I found out I was pregnant and my mom got on her bullshit and I almost lost my baby. Tyler came all the way back just to make sure I was okay. He wouldn’t have done it if he’s even a fraction as evil as they claim he is.”

“You realize it that isn’t really about him, right? That it’s all them. Because they don’t have that control. Over you.”

“I thought it would be all over and done with when we kicked my brother to the curb. I thought once he and Tyler had it out and Tyler kicked the shit out of him, that would be it. That we’d never hear from any of them again. You know how peaceful it’s been? Five years of no phone calls, no text messages, no emails. Five years of pure bliss. And now this…” she nods down at the purse sitting in her lap. “...her on my ass every day, multiple times a day. Isn’t it enough that I acknowledge that the kids received their Christmas gifts? That I showed appreciation and I said they’d send thank you cards? You think that would be enough. Our lives have been so good. Quiet and happy and peaceful. And it’s like she knows that. It’s like she knows how good things are and just has to screw it all up.”

“Normally I say just ignore them. Just wash toxic people out of your life and keep them out of your life. But if she’s as determined as she is, it’s only going to get worse. She won’t stop trying to get a hold of you. And as hard as it’ll be to talk to her, that might be the only way to get her to stop. Let her know. Say ‘thanks, but no thanks’.”

“I can not allow her back into my life. OUR lives. I can’t allow any of them back in. I will NOT have my kids surrounded by that ugliness. I will not have people around them that talk shit about their father. Because you know what? I know he’s not perfect. I know he has his issues. He’s the first one to admit it. But he is an amazing dad and he is totally devoted to those kids and they love him beyond all comprehension. And I won’t allow people to talk about him like that. I won’t allow them to break my kids’ hearts…” her voice cracks with emotion, and she takes a swallow of wine to clear away the lump sitting square in her throat. “....I won’t let anyone talk about Tyler like that. He’s not a perfect man, but he’s a good man. And he loves me and he loves his kids. He saved me, Des. In every way a person can be saved. And I won’t let anyone disrespect him like that.”

“Tell them that. Tell them EXACTLY that.”

“I have. I have said it until I was practically blue in the face. They don’t care. They say I’m ‘defending my abuser’. In what alternate universe is he considered an abuser? He has never...ever...raised a hand to me. He’s always said he’d kill himself before he ever let things get that out of control. That he’d never be able to live with himself if he even thought about hurting me like that. And maybe in a way, I DO understand some of the way they think. He’s lived a hard life. A violent life. First the military, then as a mercenary. Yes, he’s killed people. With his bare hands. But he’s never done it because he wanted to. Or because he enjoyed it. He did it because he HAD to. Because it was either him or them. He is not a monster. Regardless of what they think. Or even he thinks sometimes.”

“You’ve never been scared of him?”

“Never. And you know what? If he WANTED to, he could do some serious damage to me. He could kill me. No question about it. But that thought has never, ever crossed my mind. I’ve never been afraid of him. Not even at his worst. When he went back to drinking all the time and abusing the pain meds and we fought constantly. And yeah, there were times he DID lose it. Where he put a fist through the wall or grabbed me trying to stop me from walking away or trying to calm me down and talk some sense into me. But I’ve never been scared of him. Because even at his worst, I knew he loved me. I knew none of his issues were about me. That was him and his brain and not knowing how to cope. And they just don’t get it. They think he’s somehow frightened me into sticking around. That he’s been forcing me to have children. Because it somehow keeps me around.”

“Sounds more like they have the issues. Not you guys.” Desi reaches for the bottle of wine, refilling both their glasses.

“We’re not perfect. And Lord knows we have had some really shitty times. Where we didn’t think we were going to make it. But you know what? We did. We fixed our shit and we made things work. We both busted our asses to change. And he still busts his ass every day to make up for all the bad. We work at it, Des. Every day we work at it. Because we love each other and we both know what it's like to be from a broken home. And we won’t do that to our kids. We won’t let them grow up like that. So we work at it. And it hasn’t been easy. But there’s been more great times than bad times.”

“You two are strong. What you got is strong. No one can deny that. I’ve seen it. With my own two eyes.”

“I will not let my family ruin us. They tried. And in Colorado, they almost succeeded. But we got away. We moved back home. Our REAL home. And we never looked back. I won’t let them destroy things for us. Not when we’ve worked so hard to get where we are.”

“You’re going to have to deal with her, Esme. She isn’t going to go away. Not from what I’ve seen.”

“And I will. I WILL talk to her. After Christmas. I just want to get through the holiday. I just want things to be happy and peaceful. Especially for the kids. I don’t want anyone ruining Christmas for them. Once it’s over and things calm down, I WILL talk to her. But right now? I can’t do it. I just can’t.”

“It’s all going to be alright,” Desi assures her, and reaches across the table to give her hand a comforting squeeze. “Everything’s going to work out.”

“Tyler isn’t perfect. He’s the first one to admit that. In the same way I’m not. But you know what? We’re perfect for each other. And in the end, that’s all that matters.”

*****

When she arrives home she finds the three littlest fast asleep; tightly snuggled together on the area rug in front of the Christmas tree and covered by the knitted throw usually draped over the back of the sofa. Saju and Mac nap close by; curled up together in front of the front of the fireplace and merely blinking their eyes in a form of acknowledging her presence. She can hear Millie and Alannah upstairs; giggling and chattering, their feet stomping overhead as they play a dance game on the XBox. The three oldest boys are out in the backyard; laughter drifting inside as they hide behind ‘fortress’ walls and lob snowballs at one another. It's rare to see the three of them enjoying time together. Tanner normally not comfortable with the more raucous play and choosing quiet time; up in his room reading a book or writing stories or building intricate lego scenes in front of the fireplace.

She stands in the sunroom and watches them; smiling at how jovial and lighthearted they are. Their faces bright and happy; no cares in the world aside from the balls of snow and ice being tossed in their direction. Despite everything they’d been through, they’re spirits so brilliant and bubbly, continuing to love the world and everyone in it. Tanner and TJ (along with Millie) are able to remember the more difficult times in Colorado and being whisked to Mumbai under false pretenses; told they were going on a family vacation only to be sent back to Australia without either parent and then told their father very well might never come home. They still talk about it from time to time; how scary it had been to be away from both mom AND dad and how worried they’d been when they thought their daddy may never make it back to them. They’re able to vividly recall visiting him in the hospital; the scars and bruises on his face that had been in various stages of healing, the sling keeping his badly wounded and surgically repaired shoulder in place, the ‘cage’ that had encased his right thigh, the tremendous amount of weight and muscle he had lost. It HAD been traumatic; more than two months without their father under the same roof and seeing him so wounded and vulnerable.

They’d needed their own therapy; the trauma manifesting itself through moments of rage and aggression and troubles sleeping at night. A child psychologist recommended to them by Doctor Klein had done them all a world of good; disguising therapy with music and play and helping them express their emotions and their fears. And within six months they were back to their old selves; grades climbing and their social skills improving, the rage and aggression diminishing. It still haunts them from time to time; a fear that returns whenever daddy has to leave home for work. But for the most part they’ve healed exceptionally well; full of energy and light and humour and possessing enormous amounts of compassion and empathy.

She finds Tyler in the main floor office; a central area of the main floor that had been the previous owner’s sewing and craft room. It’s close enough to keep an ear out for the kids; able to hear them both inside and out. And a security system enables him to keep an eye on any area of the house; live images cast back to the flat screen television mounted on the wall above the desk. Five years years ago she would have called him paranoid for insisting on such measures. Overprotective, even. But that was until someone had gotten close enough to Addie to steal a stuffed animal right out of her crib. Had the culprit wanted her, she would have been long gone in the middle of the night. And they most likely never would have seen her again. The terror of that night is still very real; the thought of someone reaching across her tiny body to take something so simple in the course of sending a very clear message.

After that, Esme had vowed to never call him paranoid or overprotective again. Evil had gotten too close. WAY too close. And she now understands his fierce and rabid determination to do whatever it takes to keep his family safe.

She watches him from the doorway; intently working at the computer. Admiring the glasses perched upon his face and the lines of his profile; the strong, stubbled jaw and the curve of his lips and the bump in the bridge of his nose. The scars that had long ago become part of him. Marring the left side of his forehead and by his left eye; old wounds that he’d possessed when they’d first met. A handful of others have been added since then. The edge of a metal shovel cutting wide and deep; the scar travelling from the very corner of his right eye and up his forehead and snaking up into his hairline. And the ones left behind from Nathan. The one above his eyebrow thin and faint, the one below his eye much wider and jagged and stretching all the way to his temple. That one had been the worst; deep enough for the knife blade to hit bone and cause irreparable damage to nerves and muscle. And while most would see them as blemishes and flaws, she sees it as adding to his beauty; souvenirs of not only a hard and dangerous life, but of survival.

“Hey,” she greets as she wanders into the room. “What’cha doing, handsome?”

“Just some shit that came up. I would have ignored it, but…”

She stands at the back of his chair. Fingers and thumbs rubbing at tense shoulder muscles before wrapping both arms around his neck; leaning over him and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth, followed by his temple. “Everything alright?”

“Koen ran into some issues. On the job he took. Not going as smooth as we’d hoped it would. Just had to send him some extra cash. And put him in contact with someone who could get him some extra gear.”

“He’s alright though? He’s not in any trouble?”

“He’s fine. Nothing he can’t handle. I know I said I wouldn’t bother with work stuff until we go back home, but…”

“Sometimes it can’t be helped. It’s the nature of the beast. It isn't the most predictable of careers. I’m glad to see you survived your day out with the spawn. Is your sanity still intact?”

“What was left of it. I don’t know how much I had to begin with.”

“I also noticed all seven AND Alannah made it back. Success.”

“They were good. No trouble. They all behaved themselves. Shockingly.”

“Your feral offspring all behaving at once? Hell must have frozen over.”

He gives a small chuckle, then turns his face into her and presses a chaste kiss to her lips. A frown tugging at the corners of his mouth as he pulls back to look at her.

“What’s that look for?”

“Why do you still have your hat on? It’s fucking boiling in here.”

“It’s part of my surprise. I have something to show you.”

“Yeah?” A slow grin begins to spread across his face. “I’ve already seen you naked. Many times. Not that it’s not awesome each time it happens. I’m not complaining.”

“As much as I’d love to just drop my clothes right here and rock your world, it’s something else. I did something. While I was out.”

“New ink?”

“Nope.”

“You got something pierced, didn’t you. Something naughty. Something very naughty.”

“You wish. Those days are long behind me. But it is a surprise. And I want you to promise you won’t freak out. When you see it.”

“How bad is it? Usually when you tell me not to freak out, it’s pretty fucking bad.”

“It’s not bad. It’s just...surprising. You ready?”

“Is it a good thing I’m already sitting down?”

“It’s probably for the best. Turn your chair towards me and close your eyes.”

“Esme…”

“Tyler…”

“What the hell have you done?”

“Just do it. Humour me. Please.”

“Fine.” Turning his back towards the computer, he closes his eyes. “This isn’t where you tell me you want to try pegging is it? Because I thought I’ve already made it perfectly clear that there is no fucking chance of that happening. EVER.”

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it’s nothing sexual. Get your mind out the gutter, sheesh.”

“I’m sorry, have we met? It permanently lives in the gutter.”

“Never mind viagra. Maybe they can give you something to calm your dick down.”

“You’d miss it. Don’t deny it. It would hurt you just as much as it would hurt me. Are we going to do this surprise sometime today or…?”

Removing the knit beanie from her head, she tosses it out the desk and then runs her fingers through her hair. She feels naked and exposed; the dark tresses that had once reached the middle of her back now shorn and styled into a side parted, sleek bob that skims her earlobes. “Promise you won’t freak out.”

“I promise I won’t lose my shit.”

“Okay...open them...but remember, no freaking out.”

“I don’t know what the big deal is. If it’s nothing dirty or kinky or piercing of some kind…” His eyes flutter open, then slowly widen as the reality of what’s before him sets in.

“You hate it don’t you.”

“I don’t hate it. I just...wow...that’s...NOT what I was expecting.”

“You do, don’t you. Hate it. I knew you would. You always hate when I do something with my hair. Like when I decided to get bangs.”

“In all fairness, I didn’t hate them. I just wasn’t a fan.”

“But you HATE this? This haircut. You hate it being so short, don’t you.”

“Actually…” he slides the chair closer to her and lays his hands on her hips. “...I love it.”

“Yeah?” A smile replaces the nervous frown. “Really?”

“Really. I wouldn’t lie to you, Me. That’s not who I am. Not anymore, anyway.”

“You sure you like it? You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”

“I think you look beautiful. It suits you. You got this cute, tiny little face. Your hair shows it off. I really do love it. You look amazing.”

Placing her hands on the sides of his face, she leans down to kiss him. “It was time for a change. Something different. Something I didn’t have to spend hours on when we go out. You’re sure? One hundred percent? You really do love it?”

“I do. You look beautiful.” Laying a palm on the back of her head, he pulls her down into a kiss. And she laughs into his mouth when his free hand latches onto her hip and she loses her balance and topples into him. “You’re beautiful, Me. Always.”

“I really was worried you wouldn’t like it,” she says, as she settles herself sideways on his thighs. “So you’ve made my day. My year, actually.”

“It suits you. You look amazing, baby. I wouldn’t lie about that.”

“Speaking of making my year, I’m about to make yours.”

“We’re talking about butt stuff, aren’t we.”

“No!” she laughs, and playfully tousles his hair. “I mean, maybe later. When the kids are out.”

“Where are they going? You banishing them to the backyard?”

“Desi offered to take them.”

“All of them?”

“Every last one. Even Alannah. He’s going to take them out for dinner and to Central Park. To see Santa and the reindeer. Maybe do some skating. And then, he’s going to take them to his place. They’re going to have a camp out. In the living room.”

“So we get the house to ourselves? All night?”

“All night,” she confirms. “And well into the morning. You know what that means?”

“Butt stuff.”

She sighs in exasperation. “I means you don’t have to wait until New Years Eve for wild and crazy AND noisy sex with your wife.”

“We might have to tone down the noise. The kids will be right next door. They could still hear us.”

“That’s a fair point. So noisy is out. But wild and crazy are definitely in.”

Tyler grins. “I can do wild and crazy.”

“Oh, I know you can. You’re a master at it. A master at anything sexual, now that I think about it. Man, did I ever luck out. Landing you.”

“I don’t know, I think I’m the lucky one. Girl like you putting up with my shit? You’re one in a million, babe. No doubt about it.”

“I love you,” she says, pressing a kiss to his ear and then nuzzling his temple with the tip of her nose. “More than you could ever know. And thank you. For being you. And for loving me the way you do.”

Smiling, he turns his face into hers and places his lips to her brow; a hand coming up to comb through her hair, palm settling on the nape of her neck. “You’ve made it pretty damn easy.”

[dweemeister]

A list of all films featured in 2017′s 31 Days of Oscar

This is the exhaustive list of all 400 short- and feature-length films featured during this year’s 31 Days of Oscar marathon.The mark of 400 is down from 410 in 2016′s ceremony and up from 323 in 2014 and 170 in 2013. Best Picture or Unique and Artistic Picture winners are in bold. Asterisked (*) films are films I haven’t seen in their entirety as of the publishing of this post.

The Gold Rush (1925)

Chang: A Drama of the Wilderness (1927)*

The Patent Leather Kid (1927)*

Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans (1927)

Two Arabian Knights (1927)*

Wings (1927)

The Crowd (1928)

In Old Arizona (1928)*

Speedy (1928)

White Shadows in the South Seas (1928)*

A Woman of Affairs (1928)

The Bridge of San Luis Rey (1929)*

The Broadway Melody (1929)

The Love Parade (1929)*

All Quiet on the Western Front (1930)

The Big House (1930)

The Dawn Patrol (1930)*

Min and Bill (1930)*

Morocco (1930)*

The Right to Love (1930)*

Arrowsmith (1931)*

Grand Hotel (1932)

What Price Hollywood? (1932)*

Flying Down to Rio (1933)*

42nd Street (1933)

Gold Diggers of 1933 (1933)

The Prizefighter and the Lady (1933)*

Flirtation Walk (1934)*

The Gay Divorcee (1934)

Imitation of Life (1934)*

The Lost Patrol (1934)*

Of Human Bondage (1934)

The Richest Girl in the World (1934)*

Bride of Frankenstein (1935)

Captain Blood (1935)

Folies Bergère de Paris (1935)*

The Informer (1935)*

Top Hat (1935)

Camille (1936)*

Dodsworth (1936)

The Garden of Allah (1936)

General Spanky (1936)*

The Great Ziegfeld (1936)

Mr. Deeds Goes to Town (1936)

San Francisco (1936)*

Swing Time (1936)

The Good Earth (1937)                                  

The Prisoner of Zenda (1937)

Shall We Dance (1937)

Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937)

Wee Willie Winkie (1937)*

The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938)

Alexander’s Ragtime Band (1938)

Mother Goose Goes Hollywood (1938 short)

Drums Along the Mohawk (1939)*

Gone with the Wind (1939)

Goodbye, Mr. Chips (1939)

Gulliver’s Travels (1939)

Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (1939)

Ninotchka (1939)

Stagecoach (1939)

Abe Lincoln in Illinois (1940)

Boom Town (1940)*

The Grapes of Wrath (1940)

The Great McGinty (1940)*

Kitty Foyle (1940)*

Pinocchio (1940)

Rebecca (1940)

The Sea Hawk (1940)

The Thief of Bagdad (1940)

Dumbo (1941)

The Flame of New Orleans (1941)*

Hold Back the Dawn (1941)*

How Green Was My Valley (1941)

The Lady Eve (1941)

Topper Returns (1941)*

Bambi (1942)

Casablanca (1942)

George Washington Slept Here (1942)*

I Married a Witch (1942)*

The Magnificent Ambersons (1942)

Now, Voyager (1942)

To Be or Not to Be (1942)

The War Against Mrs. Hadley (1942)*

Cabin in the Sky (1943)

The Constant Nymph (1943)*

Five Graves to Cairo (1943)*

Madame Curie (1943)

The Song of Bernadette (1943)

Watch on the Rhine (1943)*

Double Indemnity (1944)

Gaslight (1944)

Hail the Conquering Hero (1944)

Home in Indiana (1944)

How to Play Football (1944 short)

Meet Me in St. Louis (1944)

Blithe Spirit (1945)*

Donald’s Crime (1945 short)*

The Lost Weekend (1945)

A Tree Grows in Brooklyn (1945)

The Best Years of Our Lives (1946)

Humoresque (1946)*

The Yearling (1946)

The Bachelor and the Bobby-Soxer (1947)

Black Narcissus (1947)

Body and Soul (1947)

Gentleman’s Agreement (1947)*

The Ghost and Mrs. Muir (1947)

Good News (1947)

Bicycle Thieves (1948, Italy)

Hamlet (1948)

I Remember Mama (1948)

Portrait of Jennie (1948)

Red River (1948)

Wet Blanket Policy (1948 short)*

Adam’s Rib (1949)

The Hasty Heart (1949)*

The Heiress (1949)*

Look for the Silver Lining (1949)*

Mighty Joe Young (1949)*

She Wore a Yellow Ribbon (1949)

Twelve O’Clock High (1949)*

All About Eve (1950)

The Asphalt Jungle (1950)

The Gunfighter (1950)

Harvey (1950)

The African Queen (1951)*

An American in Paris (1951)

Royal Wedding (1951)

Strangers on a Train (1951)

The Bad and the Beautiful (1952)

Forbidden Games (1952, France)*

High Noon (1952)

The Quiet Man (1952)

The Romance of Transportation in Canada (1952 short)

Singin’ in the Rain (1952)

Calamity Jane (1953)

I Vitelloni (1953, Italy)*

Monsieur Hulot’s Holiday (1953, France)*

Ugetsu Monogatari (1953, Japan)

The Caine Mutiny (1954)

Carmen Jones (1954)*

Magnificent Obsession (1954)

Rear Window (1954)

Sabrina (1954)*

Seven Samurai (1954, Japan)

Them! (1954)

Interrupted Melody (1955)*

It’s Always Fair Weather (1955)

Around the World in Eighty Days (1956)

The Brave One (1956)*

The Captain from Köpenick (1956, West Germany)*

Friendly Persuasion (1956)*

The King and I (1956)

Lust for Life (1956)

Qivitoq (1956, Denmark)*

The Bridge on the River Kwai (1957)

Perri (1957)

12 Angry Men (1957)

The Big Country (1958)

The Defiant Ones (1958)

Gigi (1958)

Torpedo Run (1958)*

Vertigo (1958)

Ben-Hur (1959)

Black Orpheus (1959, Brazil)

The Great War (1959, Italy)*

Hiroshima Mon Amour (1959, France)*

Imitation of Life (1959)

The Nun’s Story (1959)

Porgy and Bess (1959)*

Some Like It Hot (1959)

Exodus (1960)*

Inherit the Wind (1960)

Spartacus (1960)

La Dolce Vita (1960, Italy)*

The Magnificent Seven (1960)

Breakfast at Tiffany’s (1961)

Divorce Italian Style (1961, Italy)*

The Parent Trap (1961)

Through a Glass Darkly (1961, Sweden)*

West Side Story (1961)

Days of Wine and Roses (1962)

Lawrence of Arabia (1962)

The Miracle Worker (1962)

The Music Man (1962)

Tlayucan (1962, Mexico)*

To Kill a Mockingbird (1962)

The Birds (1963)

The Great Escape (1963)

This Sporting Life (1963)*

The Gospel According to St. Matthew (1964, Italy)*

A Hard Day’s Night (1964)

Kwaidan (1964, Japan)

My Fair Lady (1964)

The Pink Panther (1964)

Seven Days in May (1964)

The Umbrellas of Cherbourg (1964)

The Unsinkable Molly Brown (1964)

Doctor Zhivago (1965)

The Shop on Main Street (1965, Czechoslovakia)*

The Sound of Music (1965)

A Thousand Clowns (1965)

The Battle of Algiers (1966, Algeria)

Seconds (1966)*

Casino Royale (1967)*

Cool Hand Luke (1967)

Divorce American Style (1967)*

Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner (1967)

The Happiest Millionaire (1967)*

In the Heat of the Night (1967)

Thoroughly Modern Millie (1967)*

Two for the Road (1967)*

The Young Girls of Rochefort (1967, France)

Chitty Chitty Bang Bang (1968)

The Heart is a Lonely Hunter (1968)*

Oliver! (1968)

The Subject Was Roses (1968)*

A Boy Named Charlie Brown (1969)

Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969)

Goodbye, Mr. Chips (1969)

Midnight Cowboy (1969)*

Z (1969, Algeria)

The Great White Hope (1970)*

Patton (1970)

Tristana (1970, Spain)*

Fiddler on the Roof (1971)

The French Connection (1971)

Shaft (1971)

Cabaret (1972)

Cries and Whispers (1972, Sweden)*

Live and Let Die (1973)

The Paper Chase (1973)

Robin Hood (1973)

Blazing Saddles (1974)

Claudine (1974)*

Phantom of the Paradise (1974)*

Young Frankenstein (1974)

Barry Lyndon (1975)

Dersu Uzala (1975, Soviet Union)

Farewell, My Lovely (1975)*

Jaws (1975)

Nashville (1975)*

Bound for Glory (1976)*

Carrie (1976)

Logan’s Run (1976)

Network (1976)

The Slipper and the Rose (1976)

Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977)

Saturday Night Fever (1977)

Star Wars (1977)

That Obscure Object of Desire (1977, Spain)*

Days of Heaven (1978)*

La Cage aux Folles (1978, France)*

Midnight Express (1978)*

Alien (1979)

Apocalypse Now (1979)

Best Boy (1979)

Kramer vs. Kramer (1979)

The Maids of Wilko (1979, Poland)*

Moonraker (1979)

The Muppet Movie (1979)

The Elephant Man (1980)

Mon oncle d'Amérique (1980, France)*

Ordinary People (1980)

Man of Iron (1981, Poland)*

On Golden Pond (1981)*

Poltergeist (1982)

Never Cry Wolf (1983)

Trading Places (1983)*

Amadeus (1984)

Purple Rain (1984)

Brazil (1985)

Ran (1985, Japan)

Otello (1986, Italy)*

Au Revoir Les Enfants (1987, France)

The Last Emperor (1987)

Mannequin (1987)*

Maurice (1987)*

The Princess Bride (1987)

Coming to America (1988)*

Rain Man (1988)

Stand and Deliver (1988)

Born on the Fourth of July (1989)

Glory (1989)

The Little Mermaid (1989)

Goodfellas (1990)

Hamlet (1990)*

Total Recall (1990)

Backdraft (1991)*

Boyz n the Hood (1991)*

The Fisher King (1991)*

The Silence of the Lambs (1991)

Aladdin (1992)

Unforgiven (1992)

The Fugitive (1993)*

Geronimo: An American Legend (1993)*

Jurassic Park (1993)

The Nightmare Before Christmas (1993)

Clear and Present Danger (1994)

Il Postino (1994, Italy)

Legends of the Fall (1994)

Quiz Show (1994)*

Babe (1995)

Mr. Holland’s Opus (1995)

DragonHeart (1996)

Hamlet (1996)

The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1996)

Star Trek: First Contact (1996)

Children of Heaven (1997, Iran)

Contact (1997)

The Horse Whisperer (1998)*

The Prince of Egypt (1998)

Shakespeare in Love (1998)

The Green Mile (1999)*

Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (2000, Taiwan)

Ghost World (2001)*

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone (2001)

Training Day (2001)

Dirty Pretty Things (2002)*

Star Wars: Episode II – Attack of the Clones (2002)

The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King (2003)

The Aviator (2004)

Hotel Rwanda (2004)

Howl’s Moving Castle (2004, Japan)

Million Dollar Baby (2004)*

Vera Drake (2004)*

Capote (2005)

Water (2005, India)*

The Devil Wears Prada (2006)*

Dreamgirls (2006)

Pan’s Labyrinth (2006, Mexico)

In the Valley of Elah (2007)*

The Kite Runner (2007)

Persepolis (2007, France)

The Visitor (2007)*

Departures (2008, Japan)*

Doubt (2008)

Coraline (2009)

The Princess and the Frog (2009)

The Secret of Kells (2009)

Chico & Rita (2010, Spain)

The Illusionist (2010, France)

The King’s Speech (2010)

Tangled (2010)

Adam and Dog (2011 short)

The Artist (2011, France)

The Fantastic Flying Books of Mr. Morris Lessmore (2011 short)

The Help (2011)

Beasts of the Southern Wild (2012)

Ernest & Celestine (2012, France/Belgium)

Head over Heels (2012 short)

Boy and the World (2013, Brazil)

The Tale of the Princess Kaguya (2013, Japan)

Bear Story (2014 short, Chile)

The Dam Keeper (2014 short)

Captain America: The Winter Soldier (2014)

Glen Campbell: I’ll Be Me (2014)*

Guardians of the Galaxy (2014)

Song of the Sea (2014)

X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014)

Carol (2015)*

Creed (2015)

Embrace of the Serpent (2015, Colombia)*

Mad Max: Fury Road (2015)

Room (2015)

Spotlight (2015)

The 9 Academy Award nominees for Best Picture including the winner, Moonlight (2016)

The 15 Academy Award nominees in Best Animated, Documentary, and Live Action Short Film (2016)

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (2016)

Kubo and the Two Strings (2016)

Loving (2016)

Moana (2016)

My Life as a Zucchini (2016, Switzerland)

The Red Turtle (2016, France/Belgium/Japan)

Rogue One (2016)

Star Trek Beyond (2016)

[goswagcollectorfire]

CARL’S BLOG; DARK COULDS OVER ALABAMA; carl’sblog.online; http://sbpra.com/CarlJBarger; Arkansas-Hillbilly.com

12-17-19:  Audrey’s visit with Obadiah about Penelope’s gifts.

 Thursday finally arrived, and all the Bradford’s crowded around Mr. Bechard’s law firm’s conference room for the reading of Father’s will. Everyone was able to be seated around the table, except some of the younger ones who chose to stand. Mr. Bechard greeted everyone and passed out copies of Father’s will.

He started by saying, “I appreciate everyone’s attendance. Sometimes with a family of this size, it’s hard to get everyone together. James Bradford was one of my best friends. I miss him and know you do as well. His wishes were very specific. He wanted his will read within five days of his burial. I promised him that I would follow his wishes. As I read through the will, if you have questions, please don’t hesitate to stop me and ask questions. I’d rather get the questions answered as we move through the will instead of waiting till the end. Is everyone ready?”

Everyone answered in the affirmative. It didn’t take Mr. Bechard long. Father’s will consisted of five pages long and very precise in what he wanted everyone to have. Over the years, Father had been very observant of each of his grandchildren. He knew exactly what interested them. Each Christmas, he would present them with a gift that represented their interest. He wanted them to know he was watching them. In his will, he left several personal items to his grandchildren. The personal items were historical in nature and value. He wanted his grandchildren to keep these items to preserve Bradford history. In fact, with each item, father had a narrative that explained why the item had historical significance.

As Mother had already shared with me, Father left Dent the Black Oaks Plantation. Dent also inherited all the slaves on the plantation. He left Twin Oaks Plantation, house, and three hundred acres of the western half of the plantation to me. He also left me half of the slaves.

My brother John received the eastern part of the plantation, which also contained three hundred acres. He also received half of the slaves at Twin Oaks. To my sisters, Tanya, Mary, and Sarah, Father gave five thousand dollars each in cash, as well as bonds that would later mature.

To my nephew, Zachariah George Bradford, son of my deceased brother, Zachariah Bradford, he gave five thousand dollars. To my mother, Catherine Bradford, he gave ten thousand dollars and some bonds. Mother also inherited both Bill and Betsy as her own slaves. The will went on to say that Mother would be able to live at Twin Oaks if she lived, or until she chose to move somewhere else. She would also receive five percent of the plantation’s proceeds if she lived or as long as a Bradford held ownership.  

 Father further rewarded his grandchildren with an educational endowment that would pay for a college education should they choose to pursue a college degree. These funds were not to be used for any purpose other than to pursue a college degree. This was Father’s way of encouraging each of his grandchildren to make something out of themselves.

As I expected, everyone seemed to be supportive and pleased in regard to Father’s generosity. Mr. Bechard asked, “Are there any questions from any member of the family?”

“Jonathan, I would like to ask one question, if I may?” Mother said.

“Of course, Catherine,” Mr. Bechard replied.

“How much time will it take to probate James’s will?”

“Catherine, that’s a good question. It normally takes from two to six months to probate estates as large as James Bradford’s. If there are no challenges, then I would say it shouldn’t take over two months. I don’t see any major problems for anyone to worry about.”

“That’s good news. Now, before everyone gets away from here, there is one thing I want everyone to know. When I die, I want to be buried by James Bradford in the Oak Hills Cemetery, and I want Betsy and Bill to become free slaves. If they want to stay on the plantation, then I want them to be paid regular wages. I will put these things in my will,” Mother said.

Everyone looked at each other as if to say, “Okay, Mother, we heard you; why are you telling us this now?” Mother was in good health and very active physically. I certainly didn’t know where she was coming from. There had to be a reason, but what?

In the month of October, two events occurred that infuriated Southerners throughout the Deep South. First, on October 4, Kansas voters adopted the anti-slavery Wyandotte Constitution by a 2-to-1 margin. Because of the Wyandotte Constitution, Kansas was admitted as a free state. Secondly, twelve days later John Brown, a radical abolitionist who had been involved in anti-slavery violence in Kansas, led a group of seventeen, including five black members to raid the arsenal located in Harper’s Ferry, Virginia. Mr. Brown’s goal was to start a slave uprising using the captured weapons at Harper’s Ferry. However, Brown and his men were surrounded and captured by Colonel Robert E. Lee. Several of his men were killed. Brown was imprisoned waiting to be tried for treason. This event was one of the growing abolitionist movements that helped fuel tension between the North and the South.

It was the middle of October before Audrey, little Charles, and I finally got moved to Twin Oaks. Audrey was one happy lady! She loved Twin Oaks and loved the freedom to ride Millie and do things in the outdoors. She and mother hit it off right away. They both enjoyed gardening, and Mother let Audrey help her in the garden. After moving into Twin Oaks, I saw Penelope every morning for breakfast and every evening for dinner. She was always dressed well and always carried a smile on her face. She and Audrey were getting along very nicely. Penelope shared with Audrey several things about Boston. One night as we were going to bed, Audrey brought up some interesting observations regarding Penelope.

“You know, Obadiah, Penelope is very intelligent.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Because she is! Have you read any of her stories?”

“No, I’ve not had a reason to read them.”

“You should ask her if you could read some of them. They are quite good.”

“I’ve always known she loved to write but haven’t had an opportunity to read any of her writings. I’ll ask her if I can read some.”

“Obadiah, I feel really sorry for Penelope.”

“Why is that?”

“Where do you want me to start?”

“Just say what’s on your mind.”

“Well, the way I see it, Penelope is wasting her life away. She’s probably the most educated slave in Alabama, but she is not allowed to utilize the many talents she has.”

“Audrey, that’s not totally true. One of her talents is teaching, and she’s a wonderful teacher to our slaves.”

“You’re exactly right about teaching. She’s good and enjoys it, but you don’t know the half of it. Penelope can play the piano, she can sing, she can dance, she can sew, she can cook, and she can run this household better than most plantation women, including me. Obadiah, she’s amazing!”

“You just told me something I didn’t know. Penelope sings and plays the piano?”

“She does! She plays for Mrs. Catherine, Mattie, Betsy, and me almost every day.”

“Is she good at singing and playing the piano?”

“She’s very good!” Audrey said, nodding her head in the affirmative.

“Well, I’ll be darned. She’s never mentioned playing the piano to me.”

“I heard her one day as she was cleaning the piano. She didn’t know anyone was around. I walked into the parlor quietly and just stood there listening to the beautiful music she was playing. After she finished, I startled her by applauding her performance. She jumped up and said, ‘Oh, Misses Bradford, please don’t tell Master Obadiah.’”

“I assured her I wouldn’t. She was so afraid you might punish her for her piano talent. Now, Obadiah, do you see what I mean when I say she’s got all this talent, but it’s not doing her any good.”

“So, what do you suggest?”

“She’s a beautiful woman, one who could latch on to any good-looking man if given the right opportunity. Men would swarm around her. It doesn’t seem right for a woman like Penelope to be a slave. If she was free, she could return to Boston where she could find a nice man, get married, and have a family of her own.”

“Audrey, Penelope is enjoying what she’s doing right here at Twin Oaks. She’s told me that herself. Have you seen how many slaves she’s teaching to read and write? I’m telling you; she loves it.”

“Yes, I’ve noticed that, but something tells me that Penelope wants more than just being a teacher the rest of her life. I believe she would love to have children. She’s so good with Little Jim and Charles. They love her!”

“I’ve promised Penelope that someday I would free her and her Mother. Because of the way free slaves are treated in the South, they would have to move North or be subjected to ridicule and abuse. Although they would be free, in a true sense, they would still be in bondage. At this point in time, I believe we give them a good quality of life, one where they have a good roof over their heads and plenty of food to eat.”

“Oh, Obadiah, I know you’re right. But why do some people hate them? They are human beings just like us.”

“I believe that, and you believe that, but most of the South does not. I know that we are where we are today because of our slaves. Without them, there would be no cotton crops, no wheat, and no corn. Without them, we would be nothing and could do nothing.”

“I’ve been thinking about teaching Penelope how to ride a horse. What do you think about that?” Audrey said with excitement.

“I think that’s a good idea.”

“Now that Patience is broken to ride, I’ll let her ride Patience.”

“Hang on! Let’s think about that. I’m not sure Patience would be the horse for a beginner. He’s very spirited! I think you need to let George pick out a gentle horse for Penelope to ride at first. I’d be scared for Penelope to ride Patience.”

“I’m sure your right. I’ll let George pick her a horse. After she gets used to riding, maybe I could let her ride Millie and I could ride Patience.”

“I’d feel comfortable with that idea. You are a skilled rider, and if anyone can handle your spirited Patience, you can.”