#my son has left the house in search of the love i cannot provide

[zero-is-nebulous]

HHHELP MEEE OMFG?!?!

Me and my friend got that widgitable pet child thing to take care of, and we're both super forgetful ig because he always ends up a right state and I woke up one morning (after sleeping for 24hrs straight*) and

HE RAN AWAY???!!

I DIDNT EVEN KNOW THEY COULD FO THAT SILLY IM SORRY COMR HOME

*this could possibly be a very core reason as to the fact our child ran away, considering I neglected him for a full 24 hours while I was snoozing, and the other parent is so busy with BG3 to check their phone regularly enough I guess

[queenshelby]

INTO SILENCE – Final Part

A QUIET PLACE 2 FANFIC

Featuring: Emmett x Reader

Words: 1,347

Warnings: Pregnancy, Fluff

Two Years Later…

It has been two years since you almost passed away that night, giving birth to your son after having lost a significant amount of blood.

It took several blood transfusions to get you back onto your feet and, for about three nights, no one knew whether you would be going to make it or not. But you did, and now you had become stronger than ever.

Two months after your son was born, you began to work at the infirmary on the island while Emmett often travelled to the mainland with a group of men and women, including your eldest brother, to gather supplies.

Just during their last run six weeks ago, they returned with new survivors, a man by the name of Ivan who was a priest and his sister Elenore.

The community was growing bigger slowly but steadily and you were grateful for what you had as the creatures continued to loom across on the mainland.

Nonetheless, every time Emmett left, you worried. You never knew if he would return and you had no way of communicating with him while he was gone.

For the past three days, you were waiting impatiently as he had gone for much longer than you had expected until, finally, you saw the island’s boat approach on the shore.

‘Look John, daddy is home’ you said eagerly as you saw Emmett at the front of the boat with, what seemed to be, even more new arrivals.

‘It’s alright, go on, you can talk here’ Emmett said to a young girl who must have been about seven or eight years old. But she didn’t speak and looked confused.

‘Daddy’ John shouted out as you walked over towards Emmett and the young girl and Emmett was quick to give you a kiss and take John into his arms, giving him a big a hug.

‘Oh, I missed you my little boy’ Emmett said as he gave John a kiss on the cheek. ‘And I missed my little girl too’ Emmett then said as he placed his palm over your rather large belly and was rewarded with a kick from his daughter which was due to arrive on this world in less than eight weeks.

‘What is your name?’ you asked the young girl as she stood beside you, but she didn’t answer and quickly held onto Emmett.

‘Alright, uhm, are you hungry?’ you then asked and the girl nodded, while pulling on Emmett’s jacket who, in turn, gave her a quick nod and told her that it was alight to talk to you.

‘Good, do you like spaghetti?’ you asked and she nodded again, which encouraged you to tell her to follow you. But again, there was no reaction from her until Emmett took her hand and told her to come along.

‘What about her parents Emmett?’ you whispered quietly and Emmett shook his head and told you that her father didn’t make it when they found them.

You nodded somewhat saddened and, without questioning, offered her a room at your new house in which you were living with Marie who had recently turned 14, Emmett and your two-year-old son John.

It was obvious to you that she had built a connection with Emmett and was rather afraid of all the strangers around her.

Marie was quick to offer her a shower while you prepared the food and finally found some time to ask Emmett about what happened.

Emmett told you that he had found her in an old factory building up north. Her father must have passed away a few days earlier and she was on her own. They had found his body and when Emmett asked her about her mother, she shook her head.

You wondered whether she learned how to speak or whether she wasn’t able to. No doubt, time would tell and you were both determined to give her some time.

***

And time it took. For weeks, the little girl said nothing and you didn’t even know her name. You made her as comfortable as you could, providing her with a home and taking her out to explore the island.

‘So, I was thinking that, perhaps, tomorrow night, you could look after John and our new little friend here?’ Emmett said to Marie who was chopping up vegetables for preserving.

‘You are finally going to do it, aren’t you?’ Marie asked after she ensured that you weren’t around.

‘Yes and I even got a ring’ Emmett said with a smile as he pulled out a small jewellery box.

‘You broke into a jewellery store. Nice work’ Marie laughed, causing Emmett to shrug his shoulders.

‘I don’t think the owner would have minded’ Emmett explained.

‘Of course, I will watch the kids’ Marie then said which was when the young girl shook her head. She didn’t want to stay with Marie.

‘Maybe I will take them both’ Emmett then said, pouting as he did.

***

And so he did. He got John ready along with a basket full of food before telling you that you would be going down to the lake for a picnic.

‘You will make me waddle all the way to the lake?’ you chuckled and Emmett nodded eagerly.

‘It will be worth it, trust me’ he then said and you responded with a quick ‘ok’ before putting on your shoes and following him and your little nameless friend.

When you arrived at the lake, Emmett spread the blanket out across the green grass and took John in to the water for a quick dip. It was a warm day and John just loved playing in the water.

‘Did you want to go in? I did bring you swimmers?’ you asked the little girl, but she shook her head and reached for another apple as she watched John and Emmett play in the water with a smile.

After about ten minutes, John had enough and Emmett brought him back out before drying himself off.

‘You know, I often remember that night at the river. Our first night together’ Emmett whispered so that no one could hear while you got John dressed in some warm clothes.

‘Me too. And look at us now’ you said with a smile, which is when Emmett began searching through the basket for the small jewellery box.

‘Well, I think it is about time that I ask you a very important question’ Emmett then said as he pulled you up from where you were sitting while John was sitting on the picnic blanket and eagerly watched the situation unfold.

‘Uhm…damn’ Emmett then said, lost for words before dropping onto one of his knees in front of you.

‘Damn?’ you laughed, waiting for him to say what he wanted to say.

‘I didn’t think I would do this again’ he said nervously and, just as he did, you could both see the little girl giggle, standing there and watching Emmett all so nervously mutter out some words.

‘He wants to know whether you want to marry him’ the young girl then blurted out, laughing and giggling.

‘Uhm yes, do you?’ Emmett then asked slightly amused but still nervous.

‘Yes, of course I do. Of course want to marry you’ you said with a wide and bright smile just before he put the ring he got from the mainland during his last run onto your finger.

After Emmett and you finally shared a passionate kiss, sealing your engagement, you turned around to the young girl, looking at her confused and full of questions.

‘My name is Emily and I guess you will be my new parents now that my real parents are dead’ she said before giving you both a hug.  

‘I am so sorry’ you just managed to say before returning the hug and suggesting that you head back to the house soon as the rain was coming in.

‘That sounds good’ Emily responded before picking up John and carrying him piggy bag.

‘Looks like we are going to be one big family, eh?’ Emmett said as he took your hand and you both followed Emily and John back to the house.

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[shades-of-stony]

ABO Stony AUs!

Celestial Navigation by  sabrecmc

Summary:  18 year old Omega!Tony finds himself Bonded to Captain Steve Rogers. He isn't happy about it until he is.

Note: Does it need any explanation? This fic is an all time classic and favorite in the Stony fandom!

Object: Matrimony by BladeoftheNebula

Summary: Omega Tony Stark craves adventure and an escape from the life his parents have planned for him in New York. He places a listing in a marriage catalogue to seek a match with an alpha out West, and Sheriff Steve Rogers answers his advertisement. But finding a nice alpha doesn't mean it's all smooth sailing from there..

- A Mail Order Bride AU -

Note: A 10/10! This has all the splendid elements of ABO with an added twist of a West setting and time! 

 The Team Omega by AngeNoir for PhenomenalAsterisk

Summary:  Steve Rogers is thawed, stressed, and not quite sure what Director Fury wants with him. Giving him a unit of all alphas, even if most of them Steve had fought alongside when the alien menace had nearly wiped out the entire city of New York... The thing is, more than four alphas wouldn't work in a unit with one another, not for long. Everyone knew that. Steve knew that, intimately, with the Howling Commandos.

Which was why Director Fury had, apparently, assigned them an omega.

Frustrated at the inability to even choose his team, let alone choose the omega that was supposed to keep the peace between everyone, Steve storms back to his unit's assigned quarters. There, he meets Tony Stark, grandchild of Howard Stark, clearly unhappy with his position and just as clearly unwilling to break contract with the U.S. military complex. So why was someone like Anthony Stark here, in Steve's charge?

And how could Steve even act upon his genuine attraction, with the power imbalance clearly in place?

Note: I admit, this has one of the best takes on ABO I read in a while! It’s a good read!

 If You Love Me I'll Love You Too by Carsonian

Summary: Starrk hands Steven a knife, leatherbound and strong, to fulfill the rite. The Alpha must go first. Steven takes Anthony’s hand, slices a clean line across the palm.

“And in the sharing of blood, I am become yours.” Steven recites.

Anthony takes the knife and returns the favour.

“And in the sharing of blood,” He looks up, eyes dark and unfathomable, “I am become yours.”

Note: A well-written ABO Stony fanfic with a dash of arranged marriage and Middle Ages (though the time period wasn’t exactly specified). It takes on how Steve and Tony navigates through their forced marriage and how they learn to care for each other!

Tribute Given, Treasure Gained by sphagnum

Summary: “Steve,” the Captain said, hand over his chest.

Tony licked his lips. Was he supposed to give his name, or remain silent until he was asked a direct question? The Captain--Steve, apparently--already knew his name, he had to, it had been included on the settlement he and Stane had signed. Was this a test? Time was passing and Steve was still waiting with his hand on his chest but Tony had to figure out the right answer fast or when Steve moved he might--“

Tony,” he blurted.

“Tony,” Steve repeated. He hadn’t come any closer. He said something short that might have been pleased to meet you or you look good on your knees. Tony had no way of knowing and he wasn’t going to risk echoing it. He kept quiet. See, Howard? I do know how to shut up when my life depends on it.

Note: A nice ABO with Warlord!Steve! This is a great read, with the steamy smut on the end being a nice cherry on top!

While We Pretend to Sleep by Typo66

Summary:  Tony pretends to be an alpha. Then he forgets he had been pretending. One thing he remembers is Steve. Steve tries to help out in his old fashioned, ethically strict way. Tony likes making big gestures. He has never been subtle.

Note: Another Stony classic! This is a great take on ‘Tony denying his nature’! A deifinite 10/10 read!

Rockabye by BladeoftheNebula

Summary: Cute alphas didn’t appear out of nowhere to help ruined omegas. That was a widely accepted fact.Tony Stark had always known his life wouldn’t be easy as a genius omega in an alpha’s world. But not even he predicted getting knocked up and forced to move to a small town in the middle of nowhere.

Note: A fun read where Firefighter!Steve lend a hand to pregnant Tony! It also takes place in a Small Town kind of setting, which is an added bonus!

In the middle of the night by defenceless_stark

Summary:  In the past, alphas used to only mate with other alphas and maybe the occasional beta or delta. Omegas were seen as useless and scum to alphas. Omegas would only stay in a pack if they could keep up and they were only protected if they were the head alpha’s offspring. Over time, alphas soon discovered that omegas were useful for producing offspring, due to their high fertility rates and weaker genes, so, in most cases, only the alpha’s genes will pass on. Alphas soon evolved to an omega’s scent, making them possessive and dominant over omegas which led to an increase in abuse and mistreatment. Steven Rogers was expected to be an omega, but much to everyone’s to surprise, he was an alpha.

Anthony Stark was expected to be an alpha, but much to his father’s disappointment, he was an omega.

Like any omega, Tony had his fair share of omega abuse and harassment. But unlike any other omega, he wasn’t one to sit around and take it.

Note: If you are avid ABO fan, this is a Stony fanfic that you wouldn’t want to miss! 

In A Rut by rougewinter

“You don’t have to do this, Tony.” Pepper said as she tightened her white knuckled grip on the clipboard in her arms. “I’m sure we can find someone else.”

“Yes. I do.” Tony said, surprised that his voice came out steadier than he expected.

Or the one where Steve goes into an Alpha Rut and Tony is the only one who can help.

Note: A short but sweet-well, not sweet since it has that dose of great smut! make sure to check it’s sequel where Tony is in heat! (Heat Up by rougewinter for avengemehamlet)

Please don’t (give me what I want) by masterlokisev159

Summary: After the events in Siberia, a new law is declared and Steve and Tony's newly reformed relationship is torn to pieces.

Then Tony goes into heat. And Steve is adamant to save it.

A post-civil war story where Tony is put in a position where he cannot consent to anything at all. Steve, the strongest alpha of all time, is furious.

Note: For those Stony shippers that wants a bit of angst! 

Perfect Man for the Job by Ilearnedtoreadforthis

Summary: After his ordeal in Afghanistan, omega Tony creates the Stark Housing Initiative: Executive Level Development (or S.H.I.E.L.D., for short) to provide housing to returning veterans. When alpha Steve Rogers applies to manage S.H.I.E.L.D., it turns Tony's life upside down.

Note: This is a cute employee/boss story with a dash of ABO! 

World Acclimation by Del_Rion

Summary:  When an unexplained phenomenon washes over the entire planet, the Avengers are left to struggle along with the rest of the population. Chains of command, relationships and friendships alike are put to the test as new biological imperatives take hold, and only one thing is certain: the world will never be the same.

Note: This is one of my favorites! It has a unique take on ABO that I don’t see often. And well, Am still hoping for the next installment. Though, read the tags carefully!

You Are Not Broken, Just Bent. by NazakiSama166

Summary: He won't break!

No matter how much he was tortured, no matter how much he was beaten, starved, threatened... He won't, he won't, he won't!

Until he did...

--- When Shield uncovers a hidden sub-basement in the house of Obadiah Stane, they find a tortured omega and his pup. Everything went down the drain when that Omega turned out to be Tony Stark, Howard Stark's son that went missing six years ago.

Note: Anyone in the mood for angst?

WIP: 

Finding Pack by Naferty

Summary: In a world where pack means everything from status to fame to survival and to family, newly pack-less Tony Stark is trying to survive after those he once trusted betrayed him, and starting over by searching for a new pack to take him in, but with his age and status weighing heavily on his shoulders finding someone to take a chance on him might be easier said than done.

What pack wanted an old infertile omega in their ranks? Certainly not the famous Avengers pack led by the equally famous Captain.

Note: This is a bit of a slow burn Stony fanfic that ticks all ABO boxes! It’s an all-time-favorite and classic! 

Secrets Don't Make Friends by sayah1112

Summary: Tony Stark has a secret. Several, in fact. Outed to the world as an Omega, he finds himself stuck between a rock and a hard place. His only hope at salvation rests upon the strong shoulders of a certain Captain Steven Rogers. The problem? Rogers hates his guts.

Note: Another favorite of mine! This is a great hurt/comfort fanfic centered on stony!

This is just part 1 guys! I’m kind of a big fan of ABO so I have a few more to recommend!

[fandomlovingfreak]

Glacial Passion (1/?)

Regulus Black/Reader

Rating: Mature / Explicit (Lemon) 18+ Readers ONLY

Word Count: 3931

MasterList Link I AO3 Link I Wattpad Link 

Summary: Glacial, cold, icy... all words that described Regulus Black's grey eyes. Was there truly no emotion behind those eyes, or did a caring man exist beneath? Could she defrost those glacial eyes?

Disclaimer: Regulus Black (Walburga Black, Orion Black, and Sirius Black) is a character from Harry Potter by J.K. Rowling. Reader or y/n is not owned by Rowling. This work has not been created for profit or financial compensation, and is a transformative fair use work in accordance with Section 107 of the United States Copyright Act.

Notes: Should be maybe 2-3 chapters. It’s a mini series! I’ve never even thought to write Regulus content so I hope this is good! I enjoyed writing it. I want him to go from cold pureblood quiet boy to a more “loving” person. I hope that translates in the next few chapters.

Enjoy

"(Y/n) Raynott will be your bride," Walburga says matter-a-factly. Having been used to his parents making decisions for him his entire life, Regulus doesn't argue with the announcement. The indifference he wears well masks the annoyance he feels.

"We will arrange for the ceremony to take place soon."

His eyes dart up to his mother, "I have not met miss Raynott."

Walburga waves her hand dismissively, "dear, that is not  necessary  for a wedding."

It sort of is , he thinks to himself. He doesn't dare vocalize his displeasure. Orion looks between the two, too disinterested in the whole affair to give his opinion. Hell, he probably had something to do with the match.

"You'll have plenty of time to acquaint yourself with your wife when you are married."

Regulus looks towards the parlor window. The sky is grey, with storms passing over since the morning. A perfect reflection of his mood.

***

Mother fusses over my dress. "You need to look presentable. The Black family is respectable; they want a proper young woman,  who has been raised as you have , to be the perfect wife for their son."

The sudden betrothal has me in a state of shock. I hadn't thought my parents would do this without my permission... without telling me! 

"We will solidify the engagement tonight and choose the date." Mother continues to prattle on. "Probably in the next months. How exciting, isn't it (y/n)?"

"Yes, ma'am."  Lies.

***

Regulus straightens his shirt collar in his bedroom mirror. Grey eyes stare back at him, devoid of emotion. 

It'll be fine.

"Regulus!" His mother's shrill voice echoes through the house, "come down this instant! The Raynott's will be here soon."

Regulus takes another look at himself in the mirror before making his way down to stand by his parents. His mother nitpicks his person for a minute before she restrains herself. Not pleased with him completely but satisfied enough to let it go for now.

A knock sounds on the door, causing Kreacher to make a mad dash to the door to greet the guests. The house-elf leads the family of three towards them.

The first glimpse of the woman he'll be tethered to… He could admit she was pretty. She probably was very pretty. All he could focus on is the anxious tightness of her lips.

***

Dinner is a quiet affair. I don't talk, not to Regulus, or my parents, or the couple who will soon be my in-laws. I don't know if I could talk if I tried.

Walburga and Orion look pleased. Probably enthralled to have picked out such a meek and obedient wife for their son.

Their son , who has stolen glances at me the entire dinner but hasn't let a word fall from his lips.  His rather shapely lips.

He was handsome; I could acknowledge that. Not that it helped in the situation I've found myself in. No, his good looks  did not  make me happy to be stuck with him.

"Have we thought about potential dates?" Orion asks, taking a sip of his wine.

Father looks at mother, "Possibly in the next few months--" Mother is interrupted by Mistress Black, who makes a disapproving noise in the back of her throat.

"Nonsense. Next Tuesday will do just fine."

I nearly choke on my wine.  Next Tuesday?

"That could work as well," Father looks at me, "how does that sound, Sweetheart." I want to roll my eyes. How dare he call me some loving pet name as he was marrying me off.

"That-- It is fine." I look up at Regulus. Unreadable as ever.

"What do you think, Regulus?" Mistress Black turns her attention to her son.

Regulus glances my way, blinking slowly, "the sooner, the better."

**

Days fly by, finally arriving at the day he was to be married.

Married.

It didn't sound quite like it should be a word that describes him. Regulus never assumed his parents would find him a match at his age. Nearly twenty now, his parents had suddenly decided he had his fair share of bachelorhood. 

Orion had taken him to his first brothel at the age of seventeen, intentions being his son would learn the art of procreation early on and get any foolish actions out of the way. Some of his best and worst moments had been in his father's favorite whorehouse. 

Orion clearly believed his education in whoring should be satisfactory by now. The bloodline was to be his mission next.

'Mission' was harsh. He didn't want his wife to feel like the women he had slept with were in preparation for this match. He wasn't the perfect man, he could admit that, but the last thing he wanted to do was make this girl believe she was being used for his pleasure and creating the next heir.

There was truth in her being the vessel for his line, but he hoped she could see he did not intend on treating her like such. Regulus did not know (y/n), doubted he could ever love her,  even with time , but she was to be his wife. The next Mistress Black. She should be happy. If they could not share mutual happiness like a couple ought to, he would try to make her happy in  different  ways.

Merlin knew his presence alone would not make her happy. Regulus was a cold man; he didn't share sweet moments or loving smiles. He would never promise to kiss her goodnight or hold her hand in public. It just wasn't who he was. But he could try not to make her completely miserable. And he hoped that would be enough for (y/n). 

It would have to be enough.

***

I feel numb as I stand in front of the long mirror in the white dress I didn't want. It wasn't ugly; I just wasn't the one to choose it. Which fits perfectly with the day's mood. Wearing the dress I didn't pick to marry the man I didn't pick.

Poetry.

I sigh loudly as mother walks into the room. She squawks about how beautiful I look in the dress  she picked.

"Thank you," my voice is so quiet I can barely hear myself.

"Where is that veil..." mother searches around my packed things for the long organza veil. Finally, she locates it. 

"Come sit so I can place it in your hair. Hurry now. We're nearly late." I obey, sitting down on my bed so she can fuss with the damn veil.

"Perfect. Let's scurry now. It would be very embarrassing for me if we were late for your wedding."

Would it be mother? 

***

"Who is giving this woman to be married to this man?" The older wizard officiating looks to my father.

"Her mother and I do." Regulus doesn't show a pinch of emotion; his face as inscrutable as ever. 

When I had dreamed about this moment, I had imagined the man who was to be my husband would have shed a tear or at least smiled at me as I walked down the aisle... Regulus regards me like I'm a chore as he takes my hand from my father.

"The ceremony of pureblood marriage in which you come to be united in values is one of the first and oldest ceremonies of our kind. Marriage is a gift in that we give ourselves totally to one another. Marriage is a gift given to comfort the sorrows of life and to magnify life's joys." The wizard continues spewing lies of a happy marriage to come. 

"Pureblood marriage is that of traditions, where two families come together to strengthen our convictions. The ultimate union, a blending of blood." I grimace, happy the veil hid my face well. It gave me no joy to think of a  blending of blood  between Regulus and me.

"Regulus Arcturus Black," the wizard turns towards him, "Do you take this witch as your wife? Do you promise to provide for, protect her, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?"

"I do." He says the words with such ease. The wizard turns to me, reciting the words once again.

I pause. Maybe longer than what is appropriate, surely an embarrassing pause compared to Regulus's swift one. His grey eyes stare into mine. He doesn't look angry or alarmed that I've taken nearly half a century to reply. 

"I do." The words slip from my lips. I stare back through the wall of organza between us. 

"Master Black, you may kiss your bride." 

Surprisingly, Regulus hesitates for a moment before he lifts the veil from my face. The kiss is nothing more than a quick brush of lips. His hand wraps around my wrist as he pulls away. Without appearing to drag me, he pulls us through the dining room doors away from the crowd.

Letting go of my wrist, Regulus sits down on one of the velvet couches of the parlor. From a decorative box, he plucks a cigarette, lighting it without a word to me. The drag of the cigarette is long, the smoke billowing from his lips, expanding throughout the room. 

I have half a mind to tell him to extinguish the cigarette at once. Instead, I walk to the other side of the room and sit on a different couch.

The feeling of his eyes on my person can't be ignored, but I cannot make myself meet his eye. I want to wallow away in my misery, if only for a moment. Long stretches of misery are what I expect most of all from this union.

"Come," he stands from the couch, beckoning me like a lap dog towards his awaiting arm. I frown but obey, seeing no other option at the moment. He'll be surprised when he tries this again when I'm not expected to be with him. 

Regulus pulls out something from his dress robes pocket. Taking my left hand in his, Regulus slides a purple jewel on my finger.

"What--?"

"A wedding present. From me."

I look down at the large jewel. It looks expensive.  Hell , it probably is expensive. It's a massive ring, for Merlin's sake.

I remember myself quickly, "thank you."

Regulus nods. "They'll be waiting."

***

Regulus sits on the bed, watching as I pace around, searching for my clothing and personal items. Where the hell did all of my stuff go?

I huff, hating that I must ask Regulus, "Where are my things?" 

"They have been appropriately placed in our room."

"Yes, but  appropriately placed where in the room ?"

Regulus looks at me for a moment. His eyes are cold as he stands, walking towards a door. I follow close behind, finding my clothing has all been hung within the large closet. He glances at me before walking away.

I exhale, beginning to rifle around my side of the expansive closet. I pick a nightdress from the large collection, intending to remove this ridiculous dress...

Damn it!

The only buttons I can successfully reach on the back of the bodice are the top two. There's at least a dozen down the back, and the last thing I want to do is ask for Regulus's help… but if I don't, I'll be trapped in this damned dress for the rest of eternity.

With nightgown in hand, I shyly walk back out into the bedroom. Regulus now stands near the lit fireplace, staring into the flames. He's still dressed in his wedding robes.

"Regulus," I say quietly. He turns towards my voice. The light from the flames flutters against his dark curls.

"Yes?"

My face scrunches up. I hate to do this. "Can you help me? With the buttons, that is?" I turn my back towards him, waiting.

His feet make the lightest of noise against the wooden floor as he approaches me. "You'll need to move your hair." Slender fingers lightly touch my neck as he gathers my hair. I oblige, moving my hair out of the way as his nimble fingers loosen me from this trap of a dress.

When his task is complete, he doesn't move away. Instead, Regulus stays put, his breath fanning gently over my naked shoulders.

He stinks of cigarettes, and I wonder if he had somehow snuck another when I was occupied in the closet.

"Did you smoke?"

He's quiet for a moment before chuckling softly. "I did." 

I would have maybe pestered him about the habit, but I'm so caught off guard by his laughter. 

"Do you not like that?" He whispers in my ear. 

Turning around does nothing for my flustered state as I end up nearly nose to nose with Regulus. He doesn't move, his eyes never leaving mine.

Finally, I find my words, "no."

"No?"

"No, I do not like that you smoke."

He studies me, eyes flickering across my face. I find myself wanting to know what he's thinking. His face betrays nothing.

I don't know what to do with this, his body so close, eyes glued to my face. It unnerves me the way he hasn't said a thing back.

"Regulus..." his name comes out as barely a whisper.

Suddenly, Regulus is leaning in closer. There's no time to react before he's kissing me tenderly. It's not much more than the kiss we shared in obligation earlier, but now his fingers caress my neck and jaw. I get lost in the kiss, my body unconsciously pressing in closer to his. 

"Regulus--" I sigh as he presses kisses down my throat, his fingers beginning to move my sleeves off of my shoulders.

His nose brushes against mine before he mutters a low, "come." 

The nightdress in my hand drops to the floor, forgotten as my body seems to move by its own volition. Willingly letting him situate me on the bed has me in perfect shock. Only a few soft touches and gentle kisses have me so pliant under his touch.

"Do you want this?" he asks curiously, moving ever so slightly away from me.

I pause, unsure. I'm certainly attracted to him. I would be a fool to deny that. And... well, there's the pressure from this sort of relationship to complete the bond of marriage. In pureblood marriages, an extra spell was placed upon the couple specifically to encourage coupling. It was meant to bring a couple together, an artificial sort of attraction. The bond only strengthened with intimacy. Most couples liked to complete the initial bond on their wedding night because it gave a stable foundation for something  like love  to blossom from arranged marriages.

I stare up into his cold eyes, "yes."

"You're sure?" 

I nod. Deep down, a girlish fantasy still burns within me. That this artificial attraction that was placed upon us will grow into something other than comfortable civility.  I wanted Regulus to love me . I want to love him back in turn. I didn't wish to live in civility with children and an overbearing mother-in-law. I wanted romantic, passionate love. I wanted his glacial eyes to thaw. Wanted those eyes to be filled with warmth  specifically for me.

Regulus kisses my neck again, his fingers moving down the front of my dress.

"Can I?" His eyes flit up to mine. Fingers move across the neckline of my dress. 

I feel dizzy as I nod. Regulus gently pulls me up to a sitting position, moving the dress up and off my body. I want to cover myself up as he inspects my naked body.

"Don't cover yourself," his tone is alarmingly smooth. He seems to notice the way my eyes widen at his words. He rephrases himself, "please do not cover yourself."

"Are you going to get undressed?" I ask, trying to figure out where to put my arms.

A small smile jumps on his lips. He almost looks amused. I squirm as he begins to loosen the silk scarf from his neck. 

Slowly, he strips out of the rest of his clothing. Before I can get a good look at his physique, he's moved back onto the bed.

"Have you done this before?" He leans down, whispering into my ear.

My mouth opens and closes slowly before I shake my head. No, I had not. But, what was he expecting? Of course, I hadn't. No one like us--  like me  would even dream of this before this specific moment. Like Mother had said,  I was raised for this life. 

He stares down at me for an unnervingly long beat. Much too long for my liking before leaning in to kiss me. The kiss is deeper this time and full of something  more  than the last two we had shared. Courage comes over me, and I tangle my fingers in his curly hair. A low moan escapes his lips as he moves to press open-mouthed kisses to my neck.

His hand moves down my body, stopping to cup my breast. My fingers grip his shoulders as I press up against his palm.

Pupils blown wide, Regulus pulls away to situate between my legs. His long delicate fingers run across my skin, spreading my legs further.

Trying to breathe normally and push the sudden embarrassment that comes over, I focus on his face, ignoring the light brush of his fingers as they move up my inner thigh.

"It's going to hurt a little bit." His thumb moves slowly against my clit, as he watches my face with interest.

"What are you doing?" 

"Getting you ready for me." He gives me a small smile.

I frown, turning my face away from him again.

"Don't be that way," he gently moves my face back towards him, "there's no need to be embarrassed with me."

"I have no idea what I'm doing." Admitting this shouldn't make me so... self-conscious.

He looks amused, "I'll keep that in mind."

Regulus presses my knees closer to my chest. Maintaining eye contact, he presses kisses down my abdomen to my thighs. 

"Relax, (y/n)."

"Regulus--" I squirm as Regulus's thumb moves from my clit, dipping into my sex. 

"Relax." Regulus replaces his thumb with his finger, slowly easing it in to his knuckle. 

He watches my face as he moves his finger gently, "how does that feel?"

"Odd."

I catch his smile before it disappears from his face.

"Not exactly what I wanted you to say" He presses a kiss to my clit before lightly sucking. 

"Oh!" My fingers find his hair again. I hadn't expected this to feel good...  for me , at least.

A second finger joins the first as Regulus continues to please me with his mouth. 

It feels like electricity flowing through my veins. Small jolts pulse through my nerves with each swipe of his tongue or movement of his thumb. I want to close my legs, the feeling becoming too much too quickly. 

"No," he moves my thigh back towards the comforter.

"But--"

"No." Regulus continues the dance of his tongue against my sensitive clit, his grey eyes locking with mine as I writhed under the hypnotic movement of his mouth on me.

The pleasure crashes over me in waves. My fingers dig into his hair, pushing his mouth closer. My fingers relax as the aftershocks take over. I feel like I'm melting into the bed, satisfied and pulsing with dull electricity.

Regulus sits up, leaning over my body. His right-hand plants down by my head, his left moving my leg up towards his waist.

"Are you ready?" 

Suddenly, I'm shy again. I nod.

"I need you to tell me you are ready, (y/n)." His hand smoothes over my upper thigh as he waits for me to give consent.

"Yes, I am ready."

Regulus nods, hand pumping his cock slowly, "I'll be gentle, as gentle as possible." 

I stare up at Regulus, watching him focus as he brushes the head of his cock against my slit before pressing in slowly.

"Relax. The pain will subside in a moment. Relax." His voice is surprisingly gentle as his thumb brushes the sun under my eye, moving down my cheek. 

As he continues to press into me, I try to do as he asks. 

Regulus bottoms out, his eyes staying glued to mine. For a moment, I think I see a flicker of something in those grey eyes. 

I open my lips to say something, but the words don't come. His eyes flicker to my lips. Slowly, he leans down, kissing me tenderly. 

"You can touch me if you want," he whispers. His nose brushes against mine as his hips begin to move.

"I--" I inhale shakily as he presses forwards, "Where?"

"Anywhere you want to. I don't mind." He continues to watch my face as I reach for his hair.

"Do you actually like this?" I laugh, raking my fingers through his curls. 

He huffs out his own version of a chuckle before replying, "I do."

"Oh--" I was expecting him to tell me I was giving him a headache with all the hairpulling. 

He continues the slow pace of his hips rocking against mine, watching my face.

"What are you looking at?" I ask quietly.

"You." 

I squirm uncomfortably. "Well... don't?"

Regulus stops, "don't look at you when we're doing this?"

"You're making me self-conscious!" 

He rolls his eyes, " I'm inside of you.  There's no room to be self-conscious."

"That..." I frown, "does not make me feel any less self-conscious."

I wiggle, sitting up slightly on my forearms. I look down where he's buried deep inside of me.

Regulus sighs, "There's no reason to feel self-conscious with me."

"But--"

"No." Regulus stops me from rambling on, "no more talking unless you want me to stop or you want something specific from me. Do you understand?"

I nod.

"Good," Regulus looks like he's collecting his thoughts before he restarts his pace. "Touch yourself."

"What?" 

"Touch yourself," he presses his lips against mine, "touch your clit."

Hesitantly, I move my hand between our bodies.

"Just like that. Trust me."

My fingers press against my sensitive clit. I shudder beneath him, feeling overwhelmed by the push and pull of his cock as I press deeper against the nerves.

I look up at him, "Will you kiss me again?"

Regulus doesn't give me an answer, leaning in to kiss me hungrily as he chases his release.

Without warning, he moves my hand out of the way, replacing it with his own, more skilled digits. 

"Cum for me," the snap of his hips quickens as his fingers move rapidly. My world shatters as I cum for the second time tonight.

"Fuck." He buries his face in my neck as he releases.

I feel lightheaded as he rolls away from me. Slowly, I turn my head to look at him. His hair's splayed across the pillow, jaw relaxed as he catches his breath. I study his side profile with interest.

The question sits at the tip of my tongue. What happens next? He hasn't tried to... cast anything, a charm to end the chances of a pregnancy. Unless this was his plan?

"What... what about the possibility of a baby?"

"Don't worry about it."

"But there's a possibility, or maybe you wanted--"

"No," with a flick of his wrist, Regulus stops any chance of that.

I turn my body towards him, "are you tired?"

Regulus glances over, "Yes. I am."

***

He holds her as she falls asleep. It's nice, he supposes.

But dangerous.

It couldn't hurt to hold her when she's sleeping. He just can't let her catch him holding her when she wakes up.

She can't get the wrong idea about their relationship.

[esther-dot]

Thank you for answering my asks. Here’s a hug for you 🤗

I have been thinking for a while about how Bran and Sansa are going to end up the story in power and Jon and Arya will be “exiled” but in Arya’s case is supposed to be voluntary? She is going on an adventure? 🚢

Idk, I just think Jon’s exile should be a choice, as in he is doing it for the good of the realm, but then Bran, or Sansa or both just pardon him eventually. In any case his ending should feel like a new beginning, like Arya’s. But I can’t imagine what could be a new beginning for the old institution of the Watch. Maybe some kind of reform? I prefer to think he would have some sort of purpose and that neither Sansa or Brandon will waste a good northern man who is so smart and that has proven his loyalty to the Starks.

Others bloggers have suggested he could have a role in repopulating the Gift. What do you think?

I just love Jon so much if you cannot tell 💖

I love the Gift theory. It gives me a lot of hope! @istumpysk has these two posts about it/Jon’s ending (1, 2) and @agentrouka-blog has two as well (1, 2 I'm sure there are more, but you know how tumblr is when it comes to searching!), and I definitely think there’s reason to believe it because of this:

Whether anti-Targaryen feelings were made worse by Queen Rhaenys Targaryen's efforts to knit together the new, single realm with marriages between the great houses is left to the reader to consider. That Torrhen Stark's daughter was wed to the young and ill-fated Lord of the Vale is wellknown; it was one of the many peace- binding marriages forged by Rhaenys. But there are letters preserved at the Citadel suggesting that Stark accepted these arrangements only after much protest, and that the bride's brothers refused to attend the wedding entirely.

Later still, it was said that the Starks were bitter at the Old King and Queen Alysanne for having forced them to carve away the New Gift and give it the Night's Watch; this may be one reason for why Lord Ellard Stark sided with Corlys Velaryon and Princess Rhaenys at the Great Council of 101 AC.

We have earlier discussed House Stark's role in the Dance of the Dragons. Let it be added that Lord Cregan Stark reaped many rewards for his loyal support of King Aegon III...even if it was not a royal princess marrying into his family, as had been agreed in the Pact of Ice and Firemade when the doomed prince Jacaerys Velaryon had flown to Winterfell upon his dragon.

Though in these days it is said that Lord Ellard Stark was glad to aid the Night's Watch with the Gift, and took little convincing, the truth is otherwise. Letters from Lord Stark's brother to the Citadel, asking the maesters to provide precedents against the forced donation of property, made it plain that the Starks were not eager to do as King Jaehaerys bid. It may be that the Starks feared that, under the control of the Castle Black, the New Gift would inevitably decline—for the Night's Watch would always look northward and never give much thought to their new tenants to the south. And as it happens, that soon came to pass, and the New Gift is now said to be largely unpopulated thanks to the decline of the Watch and the rising toll taken by raiders from beyond the Wall.

After the Dance of the Dragons, the Starks were more overtly loyal to the Targaryens than previously. Indeed, Lord Cregan Stark's son and heir fought beneath the Targaryen banner when the Young Dragon sought to conquer Dorne. Rickon Stark fought bravely, his deeds sometimes reported by King Daeron in his Conquest of Dorne, and Rickon's death outside of Sunspear in one of the final battles was lamented in the North for years to come because of the troubles that dogged the reigns of his half brothers. (The World of Ice and Fire - The North: The Lords of Winterfell)

Whether it’s chapter order pointing at future events, wordplay about R+L=J, Martin really likes his hints and sometimes, it’s very clear what exactly is on his mind because certain things are presented together, so when I saw this, that he’s talking about The Gift in close proximity to not only the Targ/Stark hostility but also the Pact of Ice and Fire, well, that feels like something. I know there’s meta on the Pact which I’m failing to find rn, but while the initial Targ/Stark union didn't happen, Rhaegar and Lyanna (however it transpired) kinda fulfilled it with Jon being the result. Basically, the author is thinking of Jon here. We know that in his mind, this stuff is connected. As far as I’m aware, this is the only place the pact is mentioned (I don’t have the supplemental books so that may not be the case), so to me, this gives a lot of credence to the idea that we’re being given insight into Jon’s origin, Jon’s participation in the Dance of Dragons 2.0, and Jon’s endgame. Jon is born of a Targaryen and Stark, Jon will help defeat the Targaryen invader, install a Stark as king, and Jon’s experiences thus far in the books show us why he would be the one to use the Gift in a way that benefits all. It fits pretty well.

The history of the Gift is in the series proper in a Bran chapter which makes me 👀

"Who holds this land?" Jojen asked Bran.

"The Night's Watch," he answered. "This is the Gift. The New Gift, and north of that Brandon's Gift." Maester Luwin had taught him the history. "Brandon the Builder gave all the land south of the Wall to the black brothers, to a distance of twenty-five leagues. For their . . . for their sustenance and support." He was proud that he still remembered that part. "Some maesters say it was some other Brandon, not the Builder, but it's still Brandon's Gift. Thousands of years later, Good Queen Alysanne visited the Wall on her dragon Silverwing, and she thought the Night's Watch was so brave that she had the Old King double the size of their lands, to fifty leagues. So that was the New Gift." He waved a hand. "Here. All this."

No one had lived in the village for long years, Bran could see. All the houses were falling down. Even the inn. It had never been much of an inn, to look at it, but now all that remained was a stone chimney and two cracked walls, set amongst a dozen apple trees. One was growing up through the common room, where a layer of wet brown leaves and rotting apples carpeted the floor. The air was thick with the smell of them, a cloying cidery scent that was almost overwhelming. Meera stabbed a few apples with her frog spear, trying to find some still good enough to eat, but they were all too brown and wormy.

It was a peaceful spot, still and tranquil and lovely to behold, but Bran thought there was something sad about an empty inn, and Hodor seemed to feel it too. "Hodor?" he said in a confused sort of way. "Hodor? Hodor?"

"This is good land." Jojen picked up a handful of dirt, rubbing it between his fingers. "A village, an inn, a stout holdfast in the lake, all these apple trees . . . but where are the people, Bran? Why would they leave such a place?"

"They were afraid of the wildlings," said Bran. "Wildlings come over the Wall or through the mountains, to raid and steal and carry off women. If they catch you, they make your skull into a cup to drink blood, Old Nan used to say. The Night's Watch isn't so strong as it was in Brandon's day or Queen Alysanne's, so more get through. The places nearest the Wall got raided so much the smallfolk moved south, into the mountains or onto the Umber lands east of the kingsroad. The Greatjon's people get raided too, but not so much as the people who used to live in the Gift."

Jojen Reed turned his head slowly, listening to music only he could hear. "We need to shelter here. There's a storm coming. A bad one." (ASOS, Bran III)

Seeing as Bran will be endgame king, this whole discussion of Brandon’s gift and the uncertainty of which Brandon it was….it all seems promising. And then we get some really juicy info in a Jon chapter:

"They died or went away." Brandon's Gift had been farmed for thousands of years, but as the Watch dwindled there were fewer hands to plow the fields, tend the bees, and plant the orchards, so the wild had reclaimed many a field and hall. In the New Gift there had been villages and holdfasts whose taxes, rendered in goods and labor, helped feed and clothe the black brothers. But those were largely gone as well.

"They were fools to leave such a castle," said Ygritte.

"It's only a towerhouse. Some little lordling lived there once, with his family and a few sworn men. When raiders came he would light a beacon from the roof. Winterfell has towers three times the size of that."

She looked as if she thought he was making that up. "How could men build so high, with no giants to lift the stones?"

In legend, Brandon the Builder had used giants to help raise Winterfell, but Jon did not want to confuse the issue. "Men can build a lot higher than this. In Oldtown there's a tower taller than the Wall." He could tell she did not believe him. If I could show her Winterfell . . . give her a flower from the glass gardens, feast her in the Great Hall, and show her the stone kings on their thrones. We could bathe in the hot pools, and love beneath the heart tree while the old gods watched over us.

The dream was sweet . . .but Winterfell would never be his to show. It belonged to his brother, the King in the North. He was a Snow, not a Stark. Bastard, oathbreaker, and turncloak . . .

"Might be after we could come back here, and live in that tower," she said. "Would you want that, Jon Snow? After?"

After. The word was a spear thrust. After the war. After the conquest. After the wildlings break the Wall . . .

His lord father had once talked about raising new lords and settling them in the abandoned holdfasts as a shield against wildlings. The plan would have required the Watch to yield back a large part of the Gift, but his uncle Benjen believed the Lord Commander could be won around, so long as the new lordlings paid taxes to Castle Black rather than Winterfell. "It is a dream for spring, though," Lord Eddard had said. "Even the promise of land will not lure men north with a winter coming on."

If winter had come and gone more quickly and spring had followed in its turn, I might have been chosen to hold one of these towers in my father's name. Lord Eddard was dead, however, his brother Benjen lost; the shield they dreamt together would never be forged. "This land belongs to the Watch," Jon said. (ASOS, Jon V)

It’s Stannis’s idea to bring the FF South of the Wall, but Jon agrees to it, does it, and causes some problems for himself that way. So, we have the fact that Ned recognized a problem, had a solution, and that Jon’s actions are a different solution to this problem. He’s neutralizing the threat because there is an even greater one and what allows him to do this is that he had the opportunity to befriend FF. He has a different perspective on them than the rest of the Westerosi. Also, he’s taking steps to make this a permanent situation because we already had Alys marry a man of the FF. So, instead of getting enough Northmen to settle the Gift so that they can defend against the FF better (fighting), Jon is solving this issue like a king would: marriages between the FF and Northerners. Considering how marriage alliances are used in the series to make the strongest alliances and secure peace, that those arrangements are called the business of kings… I don’t think that’s an accident.

I’ve mainly thought of Jon in terms of the shield that guards the Starks against the Targaryen threat, but the above quote calls the Gift a “shield” and it occurs to me that Jon is already shielding the realms of men via his decisions with the FF. Jon, in his choices, is the shield. And, looking forward, Jon is the one uniquely positioned to be able to maintain peace in a volatile arrangement. It’s the same goal achieved in a better way. While it may be Stannis who instigates it, we know Jon, with his insight into their ways and affection for the FF would be the person, the only person, who might make this situation work post war. And of course, it is there, in the gift, in that chapter, that Jon remembers Ned’s teachings and cannot kill an innocent man, “This was the Gift, protected by the Night’s Watch and the power of Winterfell. A man should have been free to build a fire here, without dying for it.” (ASOS, Jon V) which is very interesting because that means Ned’s instructions from the beginning of AGOT are carried out in Jon’s actions here, just after we learn about Ned’s hopes for the Gift. I think it’s reasonable to believe that Martin intends to use Jon to fulfill Ned’s wishes in other ways.

That’s plenty to chew on, but let’s add one more thing and actually look at Stannis’s plan:

"Whilst your brothers have been struggling to decide who shall lead them, I have been speaking with this Mance Rayder." He ground his teeth. "A stubborn man, that one, and prideful. He will leave me no choice but to give him to the flames. But we took other captives as well, other leaders. The one who calls himself the Lord of Bones, some of their clan chiefs, the new Magnar of Thenn. Your brothers will not like it, no more than your father's lords, but I mean to allow the wildlings through the Wall . . . those who will swear me their fealty, pledge to keep the king's peace and the king's laws, and take the Lord of Light as their god. Even the giants, if those great knees of theirs can bend. I will settle them on the Gift, once I have wrested it away from your new Lord Commander. When the cold winds rise, we shall live or die together. It is time we made alliance against our common foe." He looked at Jon. "Would you agree?"

"My father dreamed of resettling the Gift," Jon admitted. "He and my uncle Benjen used to talk of it." He never thought of settling it with wildlings, though . . . but he never rode with wildlings, either. He did not fool himself; the free folk would make for unruly subjects and dangerous neighbors. Yet when he weighed Ygritte's red hair against the cold blue eyes of the wights, the choice was easy. "I agree."

"Good," King Stannis said, "for the surest way to seal a new alliance is with a marriage. I mean to wed my Lord of Winterfell to this wildling princess." (ASOS, Jon XI)

Obviously, Jon is a little stubborn too, and rejects the offer of Winterfell and the opportunity to marry Val, but it’s interesting to me Jon rejects Winterfell because it belongs to Sansa who will be in possession of it sooner or later. And by the end of ADWD Jon is the one with close ties to the FF, they swore loyalty to him, they were ready to fight with him, so really, there’s set up to use the same method Stannis suggests above to achieve peace, only, with a twist. Jon isn’t the means to take Winterfell, he’s the link to the FF. In one of the post I linked from agentrouka, she suggested a Jonsa marriage would unify the North and being that Sansa is present in the above (without being mentioned, she comes up later), and considering how Jon tells himself Ned would want him to restore Winterfell which reads an awful lot like another wish from Ned to be fulfilled by Jon...there’s a lot of stuff this theory ties into.

To make all that extra cute is that it also works as another revisit to the Pact of Ice and Fire because we could get a real Stark/Targ union, one that actually brings peace instead of contributing to war. Also, the little detail of Ned’s plans being dubbed “a dream for spring” almost feels intentional on the author’s part considering that he’s planning to name the last book, “A Dream of Spring.” 👀

I’ve said many times that I accept the show’s endgame as Martin’s, and I’ve enjoyed smarter people than me finding the foreshadowing for Arya’s and Jaime/Cersei’s (same idea, different place), but I’ve also said that Jon’s ending feels wrong and that if D&D fabricated one, it was his. I haven’t convinced myself that that's what happened, but if we think about how little D&D cared about Jon or the Starks, the political situation, or anything positive really, it’s possible that what they gave us was their own confused interpretation of some variation of the Gift theory.

I love Jon too, so here’s hoping!

And hugs to you too!!!

[novelconcepts]

I am not sure if you have talked about this before but how do you think after moving back to America, Dani got in touch with Judy again. And if she did, what was their first meeting like with Dani introducing Jamie?

“You’re sure about this?” Jamie leans back, hands in her pockets, gazing at the serene white house, third on its block. “Could still go around the corner and wait, if you like. Saw a little shop...”

She trails off. Dani suspects her body language speaks for itself, all locked jaw and slight tremble. 

He wouldn’t have noticed, she thinks, and the rush of hot grief is so sudden, she has to close her eyes. Jamie hesitates, leans in until her shoulder presses lightly against Dani’s, lowers her voice.

“Whatever you want, Poppins. Reckon I can play nice as a friend as well as--”

“No.” She finds she can’t look at the house directly. It’s much easier, turning her eyes to Jamie. Much easier to search her face for signs Jamie isn’t okay with this, despite what she’s been saying all afternoon. 

She finds nothing but a slight smile, a furrow of Jamie’s brow. Jamie, holding honesty at the forefront as always. Jamie, who offered her company, and has--for months--shown no sign of flagging in her promise to see this adventure through. Wherever it may take them.

Wherever.

“No,” she repeats, her voice as firm as she can make it. “I’m not here to...I’m not going to...”

Play that role again, she can’t say, but she can tell from the way Jamie nods it’s coming across. I’m not here to be Danielle, she doesn’t say, and Jamie’s hand brushes her hip in silent solidarity. 

“Whoever you need me to be. And we don’t have to stay a minute longer than you want.”

It pains her, that Jamie would put that on the table--whoever you want me to be. Jamie’s told her all about her one and only brush with what she had, once, considered real love. How she’d told that girl the very same. How she’d seen it through, as Jamie does with all undertakings she values, to the very end. She’d been who that girl needed her to be--and she’d been the same for the women who had come after, to a lesser degree. A fumble in the dark. An agreement to never bring it up again. A test. A lantern. A buried memory. 

“You,” she tells Jamie now, “are you. And I’m me. And if that’s not enough for her...”

Jamie nods again. “Lead the way, then.”

She remembers the house being bigger, somehow. Cleaner. Remembers the porch sprawling open to offer more space for rocking chairs and bunched-up bodies clutching glasses of iced tea. She remembers the lawn extending out and out, littered with discarded bicycles and baseball gear. 

She remembers Eddie, knees bent, hands pressed into the concrete behind his reclining form. Remembers the way he’d greet her outside every day of summer, the light reflecting off his crooked glasses. The way he’d smile, turn his head, shout through the screen door: “Mom! Danielle’s here!”

No one shouts for her now. Nothing but the rap of her own fist heralds her arrival. No one is looking for Danielle today, and she’s grateful, because they certainly wouldn’t find her. Not with all the weeds of memory sprung up around the girl she’d been. Not with the jungle of unease growing thick around the woman she is. 

“Oh my--”

Judy’s older. So much older than she ought to be, Dani’s absence contained within little more than a year. There are creases Dani doesn’t recognize around her mouth, silver tucked into the muted red of her hair. A year, she thinks, without a son does this to a person.

A year without a daughter.

The screen door swings open so sharply, it catches Jamie along the hip, nearly tips her off the stoop. Dani’s hand closes around her wrist, an easy reflex months in the making, though Jamie’s already shifted her balance and adjusted her expression. Not irritation, not pain--a welcoming little smile, a quiet expression that says, Not here to make a fuss. Not here to be noticed, even. 

She waits for it to spill out of Judy’s mouth--a shocked exhalation of her full name--but Judy’s arms are already around her, and her voice seems capable of no more than a swallowed sob. No one, Dani thinks, has ever hugged her the way Judy does. Her own mother couldn’t manage it.

She’s folding. She’s folding before either of them can speak a single word, her heart careening behind her sweater, and if she closes her eyes--if she lets herself press into Judy’s arms, inhale the scent of fresh coffee and clean clothes--she can almost forget...almost forget...

“Honey,” Judy breathes, “how have you been?”

How. Not where. Not how could you. One simple word, summing it all up. Dani makes a choked sound, nearly a laugh, and lets one hand swing hopelessly out to the left. 

Jamie catches it without a sound. 

Judy is stepping back as though embarrassed, smoothing down her blouse, eyes wet. “You--your mother said you were traveling.” There is remarkably little accusation in that sentence, Dani thinks. Remarkably little offense. You didn’t tell me, but she did, and it’s all right. It’s all right that you couldn’t. 

“Europe,” she says croakily. “England, mostly. Got a job--”

“You look...” Judy trails off, peering into her face, and it’s small, the recognition. Small, but there in the parting of her lips, the slackening of her jaw. Your eye, she imagines Judy breathing, what’s happened to your eye, sweetheart?

“It’s been a long time,” Dani says, a bit shakily. “Lots to--I mean, if you have the time. I don’t want to intrude.”

Judy takes another heavy step backward, into the house, gesturing emphatically. “Don’t be silly! Don’t--God, Danielle, I’ve wanted to write. Your mother said she didn’t have the address, and I didn’t want to bother you, but...”

Jamie is still holding her hand, she realizes, as Judy’s shocked gaze moves from Dani’s face (Dani’s eye, she knows, the russet brown stark against the pale pink of her cheeks) to Dani’s outstretched arm. Judy takes in this new development for a moment, silently: a solemn young woman in a black knit sweater, the cuffs of her jeans turned neatly up, her sneakers white and her fingers implacably wrapped around Dani’s. Jamie, who smiles that soft, not here to be noticed smile, and inclines her head. 

“Mrs. O’Mara.”

“Hello,” Judy says. Not the way Dani’s mother would say it, not even now--clipped and cold and waiting for explanation. She says it with such an easy air of welcome, her head tipped curiously to the side. “Judy, please.”

“Jamie,” Jamie says, and something in Dani seems to cave inward. Some great, hulking shard of terror seems to dissolve in on itself. She is Judy, and you are Jamie, and I am--I am--

Her? No. Surely not, not with Jamie’s fingers tangled, with Jamie standing just off-center on this strange stage. The whole neighborhood, she realizes, can see her: standing with shoulders hunched, holding a strange woman’s hand, staring at her not-so-mother-in-law with bruised eyes. 

The whole neighborhood can see, and she doesn’t care in the least about any of it except to say--

“Dani. I actually go by Dani these days.” 

These days, like it’s been ten years instead of one. These days, so much grief and fear and love and joy packed into twelve months, she almost can’t comprehend it. Is she really the same woman who packed her bags in secret? Is she really the one who stood as tall as she could at a funeral in a black dress she hadn’t the heart to bring when she ran?

Is she, in fact, her--lonely, beastly, incapable of peace?

Jamie’s hand flexes once, a stroke of her thumb along Dani’s knuckles bringing her home. She draws a shuddering breath. 

“It’s been a long time,” she repeats. “There are...things we could talk about. Stories. If you want. Some of them, I should have...told you a long time ago.”

Judy, looks for a moment, taken aback. Looks, for a moment, like she has been handed a script so far from the one she’s memorized, she might not make it back into the scene at all. 

“Dani,” she says, turning the syllables over in her mouth. “Of course. Dani and--and Jamie.” Her mouth trembles, just once. The name, Dani understands, is so close. Those ie sounds, running parallel. So close, and so different. 

“We don’t have to,” Dani says. “If you’re busy.” If you can’t. I understand can’t. I understand not being able to let something like this in. “I probably should have called--”

“Don’t,” Judy says thickly. Stops. Swallows hard. “Don’t be silly. I’m--I’m just about to start dinner, if you’d like to stay?”

Stay, she doesn’t add, and tell me your stories.

Stay, she doesn’t add, and let me in to this room you always kept so carefully locked.

Stay, she doesn’t add, because we need each other, just a little bit. Maybe just this one last time. 

“Both of you,” Judy adds, when Dani hesitates. There is an understanding in her eyes--and a bewilderment, too--the two warring as she gazes at their profiles standing side by side on this too-small porch. “Jamie. It’s...it’s wonderful to...”

She can’t quite finish. Dani suspects she can’t quite lie. Because maybe it is wonderful to meet Jamie--or maybe it will be--but there is something cruel about asking a mother to gaze into the eyes of a woman who might never have crossed their paths if not for a horrible accident. A sudden tragedy. A grief Judy simply cannot release. 

There is something cruel about asking Judy to look upon Jamie now, but there’s something cruel about asking Dani to carry him forever, too. About asking Dani to shelve her heart in favor of her pain. She won’t do that, not anymore, not for Judy or anyone. There’s no telling how much time she has left, and she will not sacrifice a moment of it being someone she isn’t. 

“It’s okay,” Jamie says quietly. It isn’t entirely clear which of them she’s speaking to, as her fingers tighten around Dani’s, her shoulders angled back, her mouth turned up in that tiny smile that says, This isn’t about me. Jamie, who’d be anyone Dani needs right now. Jamie, who only wants to provide company. Jamie, who knows enough of the story to understand this will not be easy--and genuinely does not mind. 

Dani can see it. She thinks Judy can, too, even as her throat works around a sob. Her eyes are wet, darting from one face to the other. Something seems to solidify in her next breath, drawn deep, let out slowly. 

“Please,” she says, gesturing again for them to follow her in. “Stay.”

“We would love to,” Dani says, and Jamie’s hand does not slide, does not twitch, does not abandon her for even a moment as, together, they step into the house.

[stxleslyds]

MY TOUGHTS ON PART TWO OF RED HOOD BY CHIP ZDARSKY :)

A DC BOOK THAT TASTES LIKE MARVEL.

You know when you are reading a book and you feel like the story you are reading seems familiar but not really within the context you are reading it at the moment? If you can’t shake the wrong sense of familiarity you search for what it probably the biggest give away, the author.

Here it’s something like that; I have read other pieces of Chip Zdarsky’s work, namely Daredevil. While I could tell you the familiarity is there, in the subject of guilt after taking the life of another person, the reality is that this book doesn’t taste like Daredevil, it tastes like Marvel.

That can be either an excellent thing (because Marvel has amazing books) or something terrible (because DC isn’t Marvel and they don’t work the same way).

As of now I can’t really tell if this Red Hood story is going to be one or the other, but I can tell you that it feels out of place in the DC universe, or at least that’s how I see it. I will explore this particular thought later, I just thought this was a nice way to open this post.

If you would like to read the first post I made about this book I will leave the link here!

Now…let’s begin.

Part two picks up exactly where part one left off, we see Jason calling Oracle so she can bring the police to the place where Jason killed Andy a.ka. that gigantic piece of shit.

Jason is having some thoughts, ones that I think are important.

“I have taken lives before, a lot of them. I have killed guys knowing nothing about them except that they had guns and murder in their hearts. Those ones are easy; I don’t have to think of their mothers getting the news or of kids being...”

Jason is troubled. He is now in front of a reality that he never truly thought about but to be honest with you I strongly believe that nobody in the DC universe thinks beyond what happens in front of them, that’s just how fictional comic worlds are designed.

Anyway, there is a little something that bothers me in this inner monologue of his, like since when have “murderers” been Jason’s actual target? Like Joker was his target but he didn’t kill him, the base of Jason’s morals when it comes to killing has always been drugs, most importantly if you sell drugs to kids. So unless he is saying “murderers” because they were selling drugs that caused people (especially kids) to overdose then I don’t really get what is going on.

Another thing that I also talked about in the first post is that Jason hasn’t killed in a very long time, this man has been sticking to the Bats rule for so long that it’s actually unreal. Even when he shot the penguin and Batman proceeded to almost beat Jason to death the penguin hadn’t died. So once again I am thinking that Zdarsky has some info that he is not sharing right now or maybe he just didn’t read Lobdell's run (in which case, can you really blame him?)

Now let me talk about the other part of his monologue “…I don’t have to think of their mothers getting the news or of kids being...” This is something that I haven’t seen in DC, direct consequences after a hero/vigilante does something, and let me tell you it feels out of place. Is it a good or bad thing? I don’t really know but I have some thoughts on the subject.

I think it's unfair to put a comic character in that situation or dilemma. Jason has basically three reactions to the same situation and they are all valid, but can this situation be handled by a fictional person in a fictional world? Because to be fair I could also ask about the criminals that are put in hospitals after they are beat up by heroes, what if they die in the hospital? Is the hero a killer or does it fall on the hospital? If a criminal cannot pay for the attention given to them in hospitals and they immediately go back to criminal activity to pay for those things, are heroes a good thing? If the Joker bombs a hospital for the third time in four months and Batman does the same thing (take joker to Arkham) only for Joker to escape and do it again, is Batman as guilty as the Joker for the deaths of innocent people or not?

As I wrote it and as I read it again I see that it is a crazy thought because you can simply add more depth to the characters decisions and the consequences that would ensue because of them, but Gotham is a fictional city created to establish that crime is off the charts and that they need Batman because no amount of resources will be able to fix this city’s problems. So putting Jason in this position is new to me…but only in DC (more of this particular thought below).

Going back to the comic in question, I feel like Jason had the answers and the ideas all in his head. In this issue alone he basically says that if the mother does not pull through the boy will be alone, but alone means going into the system (a horrible system that Jason does not trust and needs improvement), but also, Jason recognizes that if the mother died and the father was left alive then that man would have done horrendous stuff. I just simply wouldn't believe that a man that gave drugs to both his wife and son so they wouldn't bother him is just going to change after realizing that his wife died because of him. Even less believable is him becoming an amazing father.

In the big scheme of things, Jason has killed people who fitted very certain characteristics, never innocents (bye, Morrison). What happens after the killing is done? We don’t know because past stories have never focused on that (criminals in comics are by default one dimensional, villains are not)

But here is the thing, Zdarsky is a Marvel writer and Marvel has gone in depth within those situations (like what happens after heroes commit mistakes or kill someone) mostly with Civil War by Mark Millar and more recently in Daredevil written by Chip Zdarsky, but DC hasn't and DC has been plain for a long time, DC doesn't really explain how batman hurts people severely and nothing happens beyond that.

What I am trying to say is that Zdarsky is going for a different and unique route for Jason here but I think the story is out of place in the DC universe.

I promise I am done with those thoughts, they were really difficult to put on paper and to make them make sense, so I apologize if I only confused you, sorry!

Anyway! After the monologue is done we have a flashback where little Jason is being told by his mother to go buy bread (the only thing they can afford) but she is also making him leave so he doesn’t have to be present when Robby (a friend if you ask Jason’s mom, a drug dealer if you ask Jason) comes to the apartment to help her.

Sadly as Jason is leaving Robby is walking up the stairs, now not to copy little Jason but fuck Robby. Jason’s issues with drugs, drug dealing and overdosing is once again shown here but what is also shown is the violence that comes with it. Jason being terrified for himself (and his mother) as Robby pulls a knife on him broke my heart and as he is left there in the corridor to his apartment all we can see is a defeated little boy and that shit hurts a lot.

After that we jump back to the future with none other than Batgod…I mean Batman. Batman is following a man called Sydney and apparently he disappointed Batman because B told him to stop being a criminal, like come on man if I ask nicely or if I break both of your arms you will surely stop, right? Yeah, no.

I feel like I mentioned something about this while my brain decided that DC never usually explains what happens with criminals after they get caught or killed and now here we are. Consequences. Batman scares a man off of working for Scarecrow but the man still needs to work (does he have a family to provide for? We don’t know. Does he do it because it’s the only job he can get? We don’t know.)

This Batman intermission ends up with Oracle telling him that Jason might be in trouble.

So we find ourselves back with Jason and Tyler in his safe house, Zdarsky does not hesitate and first thing he does is give us a couple of very angsty panels.

I love the way it hurts.

Jason honey, my sweet chonky boy…what are you doing?

Well at least I am not the only one asking that because Jason is having a moment to reflect about what has happened, what is happening and what could happen in the future. In this monologue he says the following:

“Dammit, Jason, what the hell are you doing? You can’t take care of this kid! But you can’t put him in the system either! Just waiting for some obsessed militaristic billionaire to adopt him? Dammit. His dad was scum, he hurt Tyler, he hurt his mom. But if Tyler’s mom doesn’t pull through…I just made this kid an orphan. He is my responsibility, he is too young to really see what he’s gone through, he can still be saved…unlike…”

Yeah that’s some really angsty thoughts, he is really going through it and I understand it. He lost his cool after what that horrible human being said he did and killed him and now he has to face the consequences of his actions, he recognizes that if the boy is left truly alone he will have to step up…but here is the thing, does Jason really want that? It seems to me like Jason is deeply against the idea of children working as heroes, and here he is as an adult that is a vigilante with an impressionable child that sees the Red Hood as his hero, I don’t know, it looks like the perfect recipe for a disaster.

But we don’t get to see what Jason does right away because its flashback time.

Jason only moved from his spot in the corridor of his apartment door to get the bread but as Robby comes out of said door Jason is there waiting. Robby teases that he and Jason’s mom ended up sharing the “medicine” and that she will be sleeping for a long time, and that seems to be it for Jason because next thing you know Robby is falling down the stairs.

Aw, shit.

Jason from the future continues his monologue while he remembers what happened on those stairs.

“I never had a chance, not for one second. But he does, Tyler has a chance. I can help him, help him be okay. This doesn’t…what I did…what his parents did, it doesn’t have to define him.”

So Jason wants to make things right for Tyler so he doesn’t become like Jason. Now I don’t truly know what Zdarsky is going for but I will go for the unconscious route, little Jason pushed Robby (that fucker) down the stairs and he was left unconscious there.

In Jason’s eyes Tyler is still a good kid that deserves only the best (like you Jason, please don’t think so low about yourself) and that can be saved from a life of vengeance, justice and trauma. But whatever Jason was going to actually say to Tyler we don’t know because Tyler informs Jason that through the Red Hood mask there is someone telling him that Batman is coming.

Batman appears out of nowhere as he does and starts talking shit.

Honestly Batman what is with that “not my town” bullshit? Baby this isn’t the medieval times, you are not a king and as far as I know not only is Lucius Fox richer than you but so is Dick so sit your ass down and shut the fuck up.

Luckily Jason is giving the outstanding amount of zero fucks and tells Batman exactly what he needs to be told, sadly Jason’s big brain time doesn’t last long because he absolutely loses his cool and starts a fight. So you know what that means, monologue time!

“This was a mistake, but I can’t help myself, he gets under my skin. His sanctimony, he acts like he’s God, all knowing, all seeing when really…he’s just another failed parent.”

Amen. Jason knows many languages but he chose to speak facts.

As the monologue ends Batman is standing over Jason like he is about to murder him but no such thing happens because Tyler, who was quietly watching them fight, jumps in to protect Jason. Yep, there goes my heart, goodbye.

And this is it. The issue ends with Tyler putting an end to the fight and telling batman that he has to leave the Red Hood alone because he is a good guy. Jason of course is thankful and promises that everything is fine.

 I don’t know about you guys but so far I can’t say if I like the book or not. Both parts left me with mixed feelings. I obviously want to see how it ends but I honestly think that there is only one way this story can end with a happy ending, which I think it would be Tyler going back to his mom and Jason somehow working to help her with her drug addiction, maybe even have Dick involved so he can help them economically.

Things that I surely do not want to see are Jason backing down again and limiting himself to the Bats rules. I also absolutely don’t want Zdarsky to go all Geoff Johns on us and make Jason think that he should give up the Red Hood mantle.

Jason really needs to gain his confidence back, he was smart, calculated and strategic and now they have taken those things away to accentuate his “daddy issues” and “inferiority complex”. Why the quotation marks you ask? Oh, because those things are bullshit and there is no room for those things in Jason’s characterization other than to add more angst to the plot.

Let me know how you felt about the issue and my review! Are you excited about what the four next issues are going to bring to the story?

Also if you read Marvel, did this issue taste like Marvel to you too or am I going crazy?

[buzzdixonwriter]

Hoo U?

A spirited discussion is raging on Facebook now, the good kind of spirited discussion, an enthusiastic exchange of ideas and ideals, not a snark fest.

The top is a deceptively simple one:  Who are the characters various actors played?

Let me clarify:   It began as a trivia challenge to name actors who have won Oscars for playing the same character.

And there in lays the debate.

How exactly are we defining a character.

This all sounds trivial, and to be frank this part of the discussion is, but it’s gonna get deep by the end.  

Trust me.

So here’s the kickoff:

Marlon Brando won a Best Male Performance Oscar for playing Vito Corleone in The Godfather; Robert DeNiro won a Best Male Supporting Performance Oscar for playing Vito Corleone in The Godfather II

Heath Ledger won a Best Male Supporting Performance Oscar for playing the Joker in The Dark Knight; Joaquin Phoenix won a Best Male Performance Oscar for playing the Joker in Joker.

(Trivia bonus: Kate Winslet and Gloria Stuart received Oscar nominations for playing the same character at different stages of her life in Titanic, and Winslet and Judi Dench were both nominated for playing the same character at different stages in Iris as well; plus Peter O’Toole was nominated twice for playing Henry II in Beckett and The Lion In Winter which technically counts as a sequel…)

The Facebook debate is over whether Ledger and Phoenix were actually playing the same character.

Now in the case of the former, The Godfather II is a continuation of the same story in The Godfather by the same creative team with much of the original cast reprising their roles, the Oscars going to two actors who played the same character at different stages of their life (BTW, where's the love for Oreste Baldini, who played Vito as a young boy?).

The two films were re-edited and combined with The Godfather III to make a nine-hour and 43-minute miniseries The Godfather Trilogy.

It is clear the creators’ intent from the beginning was for audiences to accept Baldini / DeNiro / Brando as the same person at various stages of his life.

The Ledger Joker and the Phoenix Joker cannot possibly be the same character for a wide variety of internal continuity issues separating the two films.  The creators of Joker went out of their way to state their version of the character was not The Dark Knight version.

Unlike The Godfather movies, you can’t link up the various live action Batman / Suicide Squad / Joker stories into a single coherent narrative (especially since you have to drag in the live action Supeman and Wonder Woman movies and TV shows as well).

. . .

Can different actors play their version of the same character in otherwise unlinked productions?

Of course they can.

Stage plays do it all the time.

If you start with the same exact text, then clearly any number of actors can play Hamlet or MacBeth or Willy Loman.

The problems arise when one goes afield of the text.

. . . 

In 1932 Constance Bennett made a movie called What Price Hollywood? that did okay but really didn’t set the world on fire.

In 1937 Janet Gaynor remade that film as A Star Is Born, the story changed to give it a tragic yet uplifting conclusion; her version was a big hit and Gaynor received an Oscar nomination.

In 1954 Judy Garland remade A Star is Born as a musical and that proved a big hit, and Garland received an Oscar nomination.

In 1976 Barbara Streisand took a swing at the material with a country-western version of A Star Is Born and while she got an Oscar nomination, audiences were unreceptive.

In 2018 Lady Gaga remade A Star Is Born and received both an Oscar nomination for her role and an Oscar win for her song.

Question: Are they all playing the same character?  Each played a character that started their film with a different name than the other versions, but the Gaynor / Garland / Streisand / Gaga versions all end with the central character proudly proclaiming they are “Mrs. Norman Maine.”

Same character?

. . .

There’s no argument that William Gillette, Basil Rathbone, and Benedict Cumberbatch all played Sherlock Holmes, even when their productions took certain liberties with the stories.

But Sherlock Holmes is not an idiot, and Michael Caine played Holmes as an idiot in Without A Clue.

Was he playing the same character as Gillette / Rathbone / Cumberbatch?

(Ironically Peter Cook played a very recognizable and wholly credible Holmes in his farcical send up of The Hound Of The Baskervilles with Dudley Moore.)

Did George C. Scott play Holmes in They Might Be Giants?  Almost everybody else in the story thinks he’s a New York banker who’s suffered a nervous breakdown and only thinks he’s Holmes, but Scott believes he is Holmes 100% and throughout the film other people he encounters accept him as Holmes at face values.

He functions as Holmes throughout.

And in the end, the audience is left in a weird place, not really knowing what his fate may be, not absolutely sure if he is a bonkers banker but maybe…somehow…he is Sherlock Holmes…

. . . 

Did John Cassavettes in Tempest and Walter Pidgeon in Forbidden Planet play the same character?  Were either of those roles Shakespeare’s Prospero?

Did Christopher Lee play the same character in Horror Of Dracula and its sequels, in Count Dracula, and in In Search Of Dracula?   (The producers of Count Dracula sure went to great pains to explain their version was a different and more accurate version than the Hammer version of the character, and In Search Of Dracula cast Lee as Vlad Tepes who was the real life historical figure Bram Stoker based his novel on.)

For that matter, is Count Orlok in Nosferatu:  A Symphony Of Terror actually Dracula?  A European court awarding lawsuit damages to Bram Stoker's widow sure thought so.

Along similar lines, was Bela Lugosi playing Dracula in Columbia's Return Of The Vampire? Universal's lawyers sure thought so.

Did Jim Caviezel in Passion Of The Christ, Max von Sydow in The Greatest Story Ever Told, Paul Newman in Cool Hand Luke, and Michael Rennie in The Day The Earth Stood Still all play the same character?

Did Toshiro Mifune, Clint Eastwood, and Bruce Willis all play the Continental Op?

Did Clint Eastwood play the same character in all three Dollar films?

Did Vincent Price, Charlton Heston, and Will Smith all play the same character?

Did Leonardo DiCaprio play the same character Steve McQueen played in The Great Escape (even if just for one brief scene) or did he play a character who played a character Steve McQueen played in The Great Escape?

Ooh, here's a good one!

Lon Chaney Jr starts Ghost Of Frankenstein playing the same monster Boris Karloff played in the original Frankenstein / Bride Of Frankenstein / Son Of Frankenstein trilogy, but by the end gets Ygor's brain (Bela Lugosi) transplanted into his body and speaks / thinks / acts briefly as Ygor in Frankie’s body.

However, Frankenstein Meets The Wolfman while maintaining continuity with all four previous films cast Lugosi as the monster (because Chaney had to play the Wolfman, duh) without dialog.  Glenn Strange then assumed the role again in continuity with all previous films for House Of Frankenstein, House Of Dracula, and Abbott & Costello Meet Frankenstein, occasionally speaking briefly in the role.

Who was Strange playing in his films?  The original Karloff monster or Ygor in Frankie's bod?  Are those two distinct characters?

. . .

All the above is fun trivia to debate, but it links to a much more serious question:  Who are you?

That’s not a trivial matter.  What constitutes out identity?  What makes us who we are?

I lost my father years ago to Alzheimer’s.  As my brother Robert observed, the only member of a family not affected by an Alzheimer’s diagnosis is the person suffering from it themselves.

I would talk to my father on the phone, and he was always pleasant and cheery, but about three years before he died I realized he had no idea who I was, I was just some voice on the other end of the line that mom wanted him to talk to.

My father was by nature and easy going kinda guy, and that certainly made his last few years easier for my mother and brother Rikk to cope with, but one night when I was visiting, trying to get their affairs straightened out so he could enter a nursing home, he got irritated with my mother as she was trying to help him and raised his hand as if to slap hers away.

My father never raised his hand against my mother.  

Ever.

He taught me and my brothers that was something no real man ever did.

He might sound gruff on occasion but he never raised a finger, much less truck our mother.

The fact he did so in the throes of Alzheimer’s indicated that whoever he once was, he wasn’t that person anymore.

We got him into a nursing home and he lasted a little less than a year there, his mind and his memory and his personality deteriorating rapidly.

Who was he at the end?

I didn’t go to his funeral.

What was the point?

The father I knew and loved had departed long before they buried his shell.

My grandmother, on the other hand, remained her cranky, irascible self until a week and a half before she died, finding the wit to crack one last memorable joke before her body began shutting down.

. . .

The question of identity is related to consciousness, and these are referred to as “the hard question” by physicians and physicists and philosophers alike.

What makes us “us”?

How do we know who we are?

What constitutes identity?

There are no easy, pat answers.

We have textbook definitions that dance around the issue of identity and consciousness, providing enough of a foundation for us to recognize what it is we’re discussing, but no one has yet come up with a clear, concise explanation of what either phenomenon is.

It’s like saying “apples are a red fruit.”

Okay, we know what you’re talking about, but we also know that description falls far, far short of what an apple actually is.

That’s why trivial discussion like whether or not Heath Ledger and Joaquin Phoenix are playing the same character is a lot more important than it seems.

(BTW, they aren’t. Phoenix won his Oscar for his version of the Rupert Pupkin character in a violent remake of The King Of Comedy.)

    © Buzz Dixon 

[lisinfleur]

Child

The request:

Author’s Notes | I don't really think a thing like this would be completely ok for both sides, so I decided to write it from Hvitserk's POV. Hope you don't mind but it came out a little more angst that I was planning haha.

Universe | Vikings

Pairing | Ivar x Reader, Hvitserk x OC.

Info | Viking Age AU, requested by anon for 5CW7

Words | 2053

⁑ Warnings: ANGST

One more cup and the jar was empty.

"Bring more mead," my voice sounded and the slave brought a new amphora with mead to my table.

At the Hall, they were celebrating - Ivar's wife was full with child and they were happy, feasting, partying.

"Won't you join them, Hvitserk?"

"No," I answered, cutting the familiar voice before Þyra could finish that sentence.

However, she sat beside me anyway, causing me to swallow the whole cup of mead at once, filling it again.

Or intending to, if her fingers weren't holding my amphora, preventing me from pouring more mead into my cup.

"Is it me, or are you sad for your brother's good news?" she asked.

And I wasn't able to look at her. To lie right on her eyes.

"I'm not sad. You're seeing things," I tried to slide out of her claws.

But she knew me better. Not better than Y/N, but I could say Þyra knew me as much as it was possible for a shieldmaiden who fought beside me so many times. Someone who saved my life so many times.

Þyra was the closest to a perfect woman for me I had ever found. Fierce, strong, delicate, gentle. But somehow, I had kept my interest to myself, treating her like a close friend. Despite not being my best.

"Leave me alone, Þyra. I just want to..."

"Drink yourself out. And whenever you want to do it, it's because you're sad, annoyed, or hurt. Which one this time, if not sad... Then maybe... hurt?"

"Stop," I warned, coming up from my chair and leaving the table with Þyra right behind me, leaving the room and crossing the way to the square outside where people wouldn't hear me speaking.

Where Ivar wouldn't hear me breaking the promises I made that were now tearing my heart in a million pieces.

"What's happening? Why are you fleeing from them? Hvitserk, come on! It's Y/N's dream becoming true! You were always so..."

"Close!" I interrupted Þyra once again, speaking harshly this time. "I know, Þyra! I know this better than anyone else, that is my best friend and my brother celebrating their first child inside. I know and I don't want to fucking be there. Isn't it clear?"

She crossed her arms and I knew she would stand there, petrified by my side, until she knew the reason why I'm being so aggressive.

The first drops of rain started falling from the grey sky and people started entering the hall and their houses, closing tents and leaving the square, almost as if the gods were providing me the perfect scenario to pour my heart out without breaking Y/N's trust in me.

Unlike them, I sat on the square's stair, sliding my hands through my hair, through my face. Sighing when Þyra sat beside me.

"You'll get wet," I warned.

"I'm not made of sugar," she answered.

And silent sat beside us like a third person.

I looked at her, sitting there like a statue. Getting wetter and wetter when the rain started to become too strong, embracing herself, forcing herself to stay despite the cold. She wouldn't leave my side. Not without her answers. I sighed again, covering her with my cloak.

We weren't made of sugar, but she didn't have to freeze there beside me.

"We're gonna catch a cold in this rain," I mumbled.

More to test if she would hear me in that lower tone.

"I don't freaking care, Hvitserk. Stop trying to give me reasons to leave without knowing what is making you..."

"Their child is my son," I spoke it out, silencing her voice in a surprised squeak.

Feeling as if I had thrown up the knot that was preventing me from breathing inside my throat.

"H-how? Hvitserk, you... Y/N... Oh, my gods, Ivar..." she covered her mouth and I shook my head negatively, rolling my eyes.

"I didn't fuck Y/N behind Ivar's back if this is what you're thinking, Þyra. That's not what happened. They came to me. They wanted a child and after a year of failed attempts, they thought we could try to see if it was Ivar's problem or hers. If she wasn't with child after a night with me, then... Then they would buy a slave for Ivar to produce a child. If she was with child, then it would be Ivar's blood without the chance of his disease and so he would raise the child as his own. Like we suspect father did to Björn."

That thing uncle Rollo told me and I told Ivar. I'm sure it was what made Ivar come out with this idea.

"Oh," Þyra's voice gained a comprehensive tone. "Then it comes that its Ivar's problem after all..." she commented.

"Maybe. Maybe they just were impatient to wait for the gods' will towards my brother. The fact is that Y/N is carrying a child of mine in her belly and..."

My heart clenched and I saw Þyra's expression changed when she noticed this was what was hurting me after all.

"And your firstborn won't know who you are. Gods, Hvitserk... Why didn't you tell them no?" she said, patting my shoulder when I held my face in both of my hands before looking at her.

"Don't you think I thought about denying it, Þyra? I did, but fuck... It was my best friend and my brother, at my door, asking me a favor to realize their dream to become parents... Y/N dreamed about having a child through her whole life! I couldn't just... I couldn't just say no."

She sighed when I lowered my face one more time.

It was eating me inside.

"Can't you talk to them about this?" she asked, and I giggled, bitter.

"And ruin their happiness? Come on, Þyra, you know me better than this! We shared a night, the three of us, not far from today, two moons, one moon ago. Y/N acted as if I wasn't there, Þyra. She kissed me, we had sex, but I wasn't really there for her. It was him all the time, they exchanged caresses all the time, she made sex to me, but it was love with him. Y/N loves Ivar with her soul and not even under another, she could pretend it wasn't true. I cannot go there now and tell them I gave up on my promises and I want to tell their child that I'm its father. I can't steal it from her."

"Wait," Þyra said, lifting my face to look at her. "You said you shared a night with them... And they made love to each other. So, Ivar was there, right?"

"Yes, he was," I said, sighing.

Remembering how he wasn't bothered by my hands touching Y/N's body or how I restrained my moans to sighs of pleasure as she clenched around me, moaning his name.

She was his. Undeniably his.

And it was never a problem for me. It wasn't about Y/N.

It was about that child.

"Then there is a chance that this child is not yours, Hvitserk."

Þyra's voice broke something inside of my brain and I looked at her completely taken aback.

She seemed to notice my reaction because she continued, looking at me with property in her voice.

"There is a chance that Ivar made that child with her when she was sharing their bed with you. Or even before this happened. Or after. The thing is that she spent a night with you, Hvitserk. But she has been spending a whole year of nights with your brother. And she kept making love to Ivar after that happened between the three of you. So, there is a higher chance that this child inside her belly is Ivar's. Pretty higher than the chance that, in a single night, you were able to do what your brother didn't in a whole year of marriage."

I looked away from her, to the doors of the hall. The light was flickering inside, the party was still going on, although the doors were now closed because of the rain outside.

Þyra's words came like a lightning bolt inside my head. What if she was right? What if that night was useless after all?

What if I just spent a night with her and she got pregnant from Ivar anyway?

I was there mourning my firstborn and, in the end, it was Ivar's.

It could be his.

It was pretty more possible that it was his.

"You didn't think about this, did you?" Þyra sounded again, with that smart-ass tone of hers. "You should find yourself a wife, Hvitserk. This thing of having children is starting to take your min-".

I didn't let her finish: I just pulled Þyra against my chest and mashed our lips together in the kiss I always wanted to take from her, feeling as she melted in my arms, answering shyly to the surprise of my actions, kissing me back slowly until the contact between our wet and cold bodies was finished.

"You're right. I should find myself a wife," I mumbled as she was looking at me surprised. "And put my firstborn inside her. Before I end up becoming nothing but an uncle..."

"Y-yes," she muttered, and I smiled.

Feeling light for the first time since that started.

The rain had gone for a moment, almost as if the gods had covered my secret with those grey clouds. Washed the weight in my chest with that water.

"There you are," Y/N's voice sounded followed by a giggle.

One of those happy giggles I liked so much to see in her voice.

"We were searching for you, Hvitserk! Oh..." She stood beside me with a heavy cloak around her body. "I didn't know you weren't alone," her smile became bigger and I got up, helping Þyra to get up as well. "Ivar and I were searching for you. I couldn't see you anywhere in the party."

"And I'm sure Ivar will be pissed off when he discovers you're outside trying to freeze his child in your belly, Y/N! You should get in, little oven. This bun won't be ready with the cold here outside. Come," I joked, causing her to smile when I touched her belly.

For the first time feeling light since it all began.

My fingers felt the small bump inside her dress and for a second, my heart clenched again.

What if it was really my child?

But Y/N's hand touched mine and she smiled at me so bright.

She was so happy.

So much more now that she saw me kissing Þyra...

"Bring your girlfriend with you, Hvitserk. It will be something more for us to celebrate tonight, after all, my brother is finally getting somebody to love, I suppose?" she said, getting Þyra fully clumsy.

My hand left her belly to embrace Þyra's waist and I smiled.

It wasn't my child.

It was their happiness.

And it was time to build mine.

"You're right. It's past the time for me to introduce someone into this family so... A brave shieldmaiden who saved my life twice seems good enough to be my wife, right, sister?" I joked as if I had never shown my interest on Þyra before.

And somehow, she got a way to become even redder when Y/N laughed at me, happier.

"Come in, silly one. Let us get you some dry clothes and good food, huh?" Y/N said, pulling Þyra by her hand, going back to the hall with a big smile in her face.

Þyra still looked back at me, confused. Taken by surprise by my sudden decision. But it was true I had looked at her to be my possible wife for a long time. And maybe it was a good time to start building my own life.

My eyes looked up to the sky. The sudden rain was starting to dissipate itself. A few rays of the afternoon sun starting to show itself.

I knew the gods had my secret taken. I knew they had that weight washed from my heart.

I mutely thanked them before starting to walk back home.

I had a party to celebrate.

A proposal to make.

And maybe a child to produce that night...

One that was really going to be mine.

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[apilgrimsjournal]

Have you ever evaded silence?

I have. And I am still evading it now.

Because I have been hurting and sometimes the pain gets too much that it seems audible when I am alone and silent. Silly, right? How can pain be audible enough that it makes one avoid silence? But that is how it feels, at least right now. I choose kpop and loud songs just to block my thoughts because silence is ironically more deafening to me now. Also, words fall short when I try to describe how painful I feel inside. So let me just count the reasons, hoping it could shed light as to the intensity of these feelings:

I am still sad over the fact that my parents chose to separate. My father lives on his own and wants me to provide a house for him (the pressure of this request weighs me down every single day). My mother lives with someone who is not her husband at Qatar. And I am living with my grandparents. I am an only child. How could they both leave me alone to grow on my own? Who will teach and guide me when I make wrong decisions? Who is going to be with me when my relatives decide they don’t want to care for me anymore? They left me saying I am of age and I would understand but no, I still cannot understand even when it happened 10 years ago. I just can’t.

People around me are starting to move ahead with their lives and I am still here trying to make sense of what is happening around me. Criss is going to live in Japan with her husband. Sam has her beautiful daughter with her soon to be husband. Jr is going to be a doctor soon. Star is still the life of the party anywhere she goes. Joyce is happy about her work and her friend she has a crush on. Almost everyone at work is either married, soon to be married, and in a relationship. And there is me, I see myself in the mirror and a pathetic and envious girl stares back at me.

I am alone, technically, and still feel scared to be alone. I am scared that I will have to face the fact someday that I am meant to be single and I would have to live alone for the rest of my life. I want to be married not because I can’t live without a man but because I want to serve and share my life with the man I will love. I know I have to be and I am firm on convictions regarding my future husband but this pandemic clouds my confidence. For instance, how could I meet my future husband in this ongoing quarantine? And if singleness is really for me, how could I ever have the heart to accept that no human but myself is appointed to care for me?

Thankfully, I have this eternal hope amidst these pain. God loves me. He loves a wretched lady like me. He loves me without beginning and end. His love is more steadfast than a rising sun every morning. His faithfulness is unmatched and as endless as the rolling waves in the sea. And He gave His Word, the Scriptures to comfort and teach me. He sent His Son because His love is binding and irrevocable. Christ saved me from God’s wrath because of my innumerable sins and bore my sorrows as His own. Jesus lived a perfect and obedient life which no one understood in His lifetime and I am sure He was a lonely man in that sense too. Jesus knows and He sympathizes with this pain. He knows what it felt like to not be understood. He knows what it felt like to be left alone. He knows what it felt like to be sad and lonely. He wept too, Scriptures say. So I don’t worship some god who do not know what it felt like to be human and in need. He knows all the hidden hurt and pain in my life.

Isaiah 53:3-5

3 He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief; and as one from whom men hide their faces he was despised, and we esteemed him not. 4 Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows; yet we esteemed him stricken, smitten by God, and afflicted. 5 But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his wounds we are healed.

Romans 8:18-30

18 For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us. 19 For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God. 20 For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of him who subjected it, in hope 21 that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to corruption and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God. 22 For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now. 23 And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. 24 For in this hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? 25 But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience. 26 Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words. 27 And he who searches hearts knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God. 28 And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose. 29 For those whom he foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, in order that he might be the firstborn among many brothers. 30 And those whom he predestined he also called, and those whom he called he also justified, and those whom he justified he also glorified.

Nothing is more comforting than these very words from the mouth of my God. God is the every answer to each of my question and to my ever-changing feelings. He will guide and teach me His ways when I go wrong and my parents could not. He will take care of me when no one else would. He makes everything beautiful in His time and provides for me when I need it. As for being alone, God is slowly teaching me that I am complete in Christ and even if singleness is His sovereign plan for me, He will give grace to sustain me no matter how difficult it might be.

Yes, I still feel the pain, feel more loneliness as the nights pass by, and still cry at night, yet I will rest on what I know. And what I know is that God, in His covenant, bounded Himself to love me eternally even now while it hurts, and especially now that it hurts.

[claudia1829things]

"THE CLOCKS" (2009) Review

"THE CLOCKS" (2009) Review While perusing the list of novels written by Agatha Christie between 1957 and 1973, I noticed that only five of them featured Belgian detective Hercule Poirot as the main detective. Five out of sixteen novels during this period. Considering how the author used to churn out Poirot novels and short stories like nobody's business in the previous decades, I could not help but wonder if the author's interest in the Belgian detective was on the wane.

This certainly seemed to be the case for her 1963 novel, "The Clocks". Although Poirot was the investigator who solved the mystery, he barely played a role in this investigation. Major supporting characters like Colin Lamb and Inspector Richard Hardcastle visited the crime scenes and questioned the suspects and other witnesses. They fed the information to Poirot, who exercised his "little grey cells" and solved the case. This is one reason why the 1963 novel was not a particular favorite of mine. Thankfully, the 2009 adaptation of "The Clocks" proved to be a different kettle of fish. Unlike his literary version for this tale, actor David Suchet's Poirot was, without a doubt, the mystery's main character. Although the 2009 television movie, "THE CLOCKS", provided some minor changes to Christie's novel, it also featured two major changes. I have already commented on how Poirot had a bigger role (as he should) in this television adaptation. The setting for "THE CLOCKS" also underwent a major change. Instead of being set during the heyday of the Cold War, the 2010 television movie was set near the end of the 1930s, with Europe (and eventually the rest of the world) on the cusp of World War II. And the narrative's B-plot reflected this. In "THE CLOCKS", the character of Colin Lamb has been changed to Colin Race, conveying the idea that he is the son of of an old friend of Poirot's. And instead of being an MI-5 (Special Branch) agent investigating a pro-Communist spy ring, Colin is a Royal Navy officer working for MI-6 and investigating a possible pro-Nazi spy ring in Dover. Also, the character of Richard "Dick" Hardcastle has become a slightly xenophobic police officer, who resented Poirot's presence in the investigation. Despite these changes, the core of Christie's narrative managed to survive for this adaptation. "THE CLOCKS" began as a spy story in which MI-6 operative Colin Race finds himself investigating the theft of classified documents from a naval base at Dover Castle. Apparently, Colin's girlfriend had spotted the thief/German spy, but was killed by a speeding car before she could apprehend the thief. Colin's girlfriend left a clue, leading Colin to a neighborhood in Dover. Upon reaching one house on a street shaped like a crescent, a young woman named Sheila Webb races out of it, screaming that she had found a murdered man inside, along with a collection of clocks. Colin seeks Poirot's help to solve the murder mystery, in case the murder proves to be connected with the spy ring he had been investigating and his girlfriend's death. As I had earlier stated, I am not a big fan of Christie's 1963 novel. While some might find the idea of Poirot being reduced to a minor character who solves the mystery in an armchair rather amusing, I did not. I could not, especially if this was supposed to be a "Poirot" mystery. And as I had earlier pointed out, screenwriter Stewart Harcourt director Charlie Palmer ensured that Poirot would be the main character in this adaptation. I also enjoyed how the narrative allowed Poirot and Colin's search for the spy ring and missing document overshadow their efforts to find the killer responsible for the mystery man's death, along with the deaths of two other characters - Edna Brent, a typist and colleague of Sheila Webb's; and Merlina Riva, a former stage actress who claimed to be the widow of the dead man discovered by Colin and Sheila. Throughout the story, those viewers unfamiliar with Christie's novel might find themselves wondering if Sheila was responsible for the deaths, if the deaths had anything to do with the German spy ring, or if the three victims had been killed for another reason. Overall, I believe "THE CLOCKS" is a solid adaptation of Christie's novel, but also an improvement. However, there is one aspect of Harcourt and Palmer's adaptation that I do not regard as an improvement. I refer to the character of Colin Race. One, this secondary lead character came off as less than intelligent than his literary counterpart. Colin was able to solve the mystery of the spy ring without Poirot's help. And two, in the television movie, he struck me as a slightly shallow man who was able to transfer his affections from one woman to another within a few days. I found this rather tacky. I believe Harcourt's screenplay made the mistake of having Colin involved with the doomed Fiona Hanbury, whose activities led him to another clue regarding the spy ring, at the beginning of the story. Worse, it did not take Colin very long to develop romantic feelings for Sheila Webb after meeting her. And he met Sheila in less than a week after Fiona's death. Even when he was still mourning Fiona's death, he was falling in love with Sheila. Really? This is just tackiness beyond belief. Colin's romantic relationships in this movie made him look like a shallow idiot who seemed to have this need for romance in his life 24/7. The television movie's production values struck me as very impressive. I thought Jeff Tessler's production designs did a great job in recreating Dover circa 1939. His work was ably supported by Miranda Cull's art direction and Sheena Napier's costume designs. I have mixed feelings about Peter Greenhalgh's cinematography. On one hand, I found movie's photography very colorful and beautiful. In fact, I thought it did justice to the production's locations in London and Kent. But I did not care for the hazy veneer that I felt almost spoiled the photography. I found it an unnecessary device for indicating that this story was set in the past. And it reminded me of numerous period dramas in the 1970s that also used this camera device . . . unnecessarily. I certainly had no problems with the movie's cast. David Suchet, as always, gave a sharp and elegant portrayal of Hercule Poirot. In fact, his performance reinforced my relief that the screenwriter and director had given Poirot a bigger presence in this adaptation than in Christie's novel. Despite my irritation with the Colin Race character, I cannot deny that Tom Burke gave an exceptionally skillful performance. He almost made me believe in the plausibility of Colin falling in love with one woman, while still grieving for another. I was very impressed by Jaime Winstone's portrayal of the ambiguous Sheila Webb. I thought she did an excellent job in conveying both the character's desperate need for everyone to believe in her innocence and her occasional lapses in morality. Phil Daniels was excellent as the slightly aggressive and xenophobic Inspector Richard "Dick" Hardcastle. Lesley Sharp gave a very subtle performance as Sheila's no-nonsense boss Miss Martindale. And I was very impressed with Anna Massey's performance as Miss Pebmarsh, the blind owner of the house that contained the dead man and the actress's final role before her death. Like Winstone, Massey did an excellent job of portraying a very complicated and ambiguous character, who was haunted by the deaths of her sons during World War I. The television movie also featured excellent performances from Geoffrey Palmer (father of the director), Tessa Peake-Jones, Jason Watkins, Beatie Edney, Abigail Thaw, Guy Henry, Stephen Boxer, and Frances Barber. In the end, I believe that "THE CLOCKS" was a solid adaptation of Agatha Christie's 1963 novel, thanks to a first-rate script by Stewart Harcourt and first-rate direction by Charlie Palmer. My only true complaint was their handling of the Colin Race character. The television movie also featured excellent performances by a talented cast that included David Suchet, Anna Massey and Jaime Winstone.

[bootibility]

An open letter to the OFW Mistress in Dubai. – “BOBOT” CAPARAS from Minalin, Pampanga

FEATURED

“It’s okay if you hurt me. But there are innocent souls hurt by your act.” – unknown

To the OFW Mistress in Dubai,

I have been keeping my emotions for a couple of years now, kept quiet and did not say anything nor confronted you when I found out about your affair with Mike who is my husband.

There were a lot of things that shocked me when I learned about your affair with my husband. My whole world collapsed and a part of me was lost, damaged and dreams shattered. My son was about 13 years old and my daughter was around 4 then, as a mother, my focus and goals are raising my children well, to keep them safe, provide quality education, ensure that they will grow-up to be God-fearing people and most of all, enjoy life as they continue to exist.

It’s been more than 7 years have passed and am still learning about how you managed to hide some escapades with my husband. Doing this article shall highlight what my family went through which caused emotional trauma to my children and I.

Yes, you made your choice to play around and had an affair with a married man. It was not a mistake, you chose to participate and enjoyed being with my husband at the expense of hurting and separating us from Mike. I cannot imagine how your two daughters can take it. B, you’re a mother too, how on earth did you allow yourself to be in that affair? What made you think that you will live happily ever after with a married man? How do you sleep at night?

These questions are just a few of the things that I want to ask you personally. I say it may not have a huge impact on you, but at least I tried to know your reasons. I want to understand how you were able to swallow all these and live a “normal” life without a conscience. I keep on asking myself, how can this woman indulge herself into this kind of relationship and had the nerve to show-up in public?

I have kept my distance, packed our things and went on hiding for almost 3 years because I fear that my children are being followed. There was one instance that a stranger or someone has been asking about us in our neighborhood. I panicked. All I want is for my children to be spared with all these stalking and monitoring of our daily activities. You even threatened and fed me information about my husband’s relationship with you. You desperately attacked me emotionally and made me believe that my husband no longer wants me as his wife. You even included my parents’ flaws and highlighted on me being wasted and unwanted by my husband.

This has made a huge impact to my children’s lives. We changed residence, school and my job. We started from scratch, new environment, new life and it was really difficult to be raising two kids by myself. I did it. I was able to make our lives simpler and meaningful as well. We were content and happy even if we had nothing.

What hurts me the most is that my husband kept on looking for us, our whereabouts and still hoping to be with us even if you’re sleeping with him. I knew he still value our marriage, my children and our family. He made an effort in searching for us and asked my relatives if they knew something and even told them that he still love me and my children.

My husband decided to purchase a house for us even if he failed to see us. He was with you during that time when you both went home from Dubai. Do you have any idea about that? We were on the phone talking to him and I felt he was with you during that time. How did you feel about that? Didn’t you realize that you can never replace us? Questions pile-up and still left unanswered, I can be brutally honest about how dirty you are to me to which I can easily compare you as one of those cheap prostitutes that keep on tempting men to cheat and lie to their wives and children.

You see, there are no words to express the agony that I felt and I cannot describe how devastated I was when I saw your pictures together. It was an excruciating pain that is incomparable to anything.

Broken.

I can say it happened to help my husband and I gauge our relationship and become more optimistic with our marriage.

It is true that we were both taking our relationship for granted when you came in the picture since we were too busy working for our children’s future. But I can attest that it will not happen again. We have grown stronger fighting for our marriage.

Truthfully, it was not easy recovering from the pain, yes, there were plenty of days spent in tears or completely overwhelmed by numbness, but we chose to push forward. My husband and I both agreed that there is more to us, more to life, and we will make it. We just need to be strong and let God fill in the rest.

What I can only pray is for you to be a better example to your children and for them not to experience what you and I had.

Sincerely,

The Legal Wife

[chicgeekgirl89]

With a Little Help: Chap. 1

Fandom: 911

Characters: Eddie Diaz, Christopher Diaz, Bobby Nash, Hen Wilson, Evan Buckley

A/N: A follow up for “Eddie Begins.” Because I’m in love with this man and he wasn’t whumped enough. 

                                   XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It’s amazing how many thoughts go through your mind when you’re dying. Because  despite his best efforts, he is definitely dying. There’s nothing but water all around him, some of which has now gone into his lungs, causing them to burn like fire. He’s cold, surrounded by eerie darkness, and he knows he’s drifting.  

The day he met Shannon. Their wedding. His buddies in Afghanistan. Buck. Bobby. His family. Christopher.

The one thing in his life he never knew he needed. 

Christopher.

The one good thing. 

Christopher!

His eyes shoot open and his limbs flail as panic overtakes the dreaminess. His son. If he dies here, if he gives up, Christopher will be an orphan. And he can’t let that happen. Not this time. Not after everything they’ve been through.

His muscles are like lead but he’s no stranger to fatigue so he pushes past it, forward, any direction he can and the next thing he knows, by some impossible miracle, his head breaks the surface.

Gasping, choking he sucks down lungfuls of cold, wet air. He half floats on his back, half splashes and flails toward the shoreline. It’s not graceful or pretty, but he’s not out of the woods until he gets out of this water and everything has gone pretty much numb making it hard to do anything but hurl his body forward with awkward lurches.

He drags himself up on the bank, still gasping like he’s run a marathon and all he wants to do is lie down and sleep for a year, but he can see and hear the commotion where the mouth of the well is and he has to let his squad know he’s all right so he pulls himself up onto his feet and stumbles his way toward the ruckus.

That’s when his legs finally, truly give out and he nearly face plants into the mud, but gentle, familiar hands are there to catch him and keep him upright. Buck’s face swims before him and Eddie tries for a smile, not quite sure he manages it. None of them look happy to see him, in fact they look completely horrified. “You never seen a guy covered in a little dirt before?” he tries to joke, but the words don’t quite make it past his lips. Instead what comes out is a string of jumbled nonsense that’s neither Spanish nor English and definitely doesn’t make any sense.

Oh. Not good.

Bobby and Buck have him on either side and they half carry, half drag him after Chimney and Hen toward the ambulance. He tries to help but his body no longer seems to be following orders.

“Nice and easy,” Bobby says as they lay him flat on a backboard. 

Then Chim and Hen are right in his face. “Let’s get this off of him,” Hen orders even as she’s already cutting through his shirt. “Buck get some blankets. Where’s that warm saline? He’s freezing!”

He really doesn’t want them to cut his clothes off since he’s now full on shivering, but before he knows it he’s been stripped down to his skivvies. Bless his abuela for always telling him to wear clean underwear.

He still doesn’t feel like he can quite get a full breath, which he tries to explain to Hen but she shushes him, listening to his chest as Chim stabs him with an IV. He’s so goddamn tired and he just wants to close his eyes but Hen snaps at him. “Edmundo Diaz don’t you dare go to sleep on me now!” she says forcefully, rubbing none too kindly against his sternum.

The shivering gets worse, even with the warm IV that’s starting to flood his veins. He feels his left calf cramp painfully and lets out half a groan. Feeling is starting to come back and with it a truckload of pain. It’s like he can feel every, single muscle in his body is screaming at him. “Hang in there Eddie, we got you,” Chim says.

Chimney who hardly ever does anything but smile, is looking at him with so much concern that Eddie wonders if he should maybe be more worried about his fate. “Christopher,” he rasps out. He’s got a will but it hasn’t been updated since Shannon…and now he panics. Who’s going to look after his kid if he dies? Why didn’t he think about this sooner? He’s a god damn firefighter, he should have a will that provides for his kid—

“Christopher’s fine Eddie.” Bobby comes back into view his hand sliding comfortingly into Eddie’s and he grabs it like a lifeline. “He’s home safe and now you are too. Just take it easy all right?”

If Bobby says it, it must be true. Things are starting to get a little hazy. He’s not quite sure what happened anymore. If he could just get some sleep—

Thank god for Hen and her ability to know everything because he’s barely started retching when she yells, “Get him on his side!” Hands pull him and he gags on

water, bile, anything that was in his stomach is now on the ground.

Wouldn’t that be a headline? ‘Local Firefighter Dies Choking on His Own Puke After Rescuing Child.’ Not the way he wants to be remembered. It almost makes him laugh but he can barely breathe let alone find the energy for humor right now.

“What’s he saying?” Chim asks.

“I think he’s praying,” Hen answers and it’s only then that Eddie realizes that indeed, prayers are slipping past his lips. Prayers he’d long thought forgotten, dredged up from the depths of his childhood Catholic school education, tumbling out as the realization of his mortality hits him like a truck.

Finally they wrap him in a blanket and lift him from the ground. “We’re taking you to the hospital Eddie,” Hen says, placing a hand on his arm. “You’re going to be just fine.”

The blankets and warm fluids help his mind to come back around and he stays conscious on the way to the hospital. But by the time they get there the coughing has set in. His body is beyond unhappy and doing its level best to not only expel the well water he inhaled, but apparently his lungs as well.

His painful breaths fog up the oxygen mask and he pulls it to the side so he can speak. “The kid okay?” he rasps to Chim who’s adjusting one of his IV’s.

“Good to go,” Chimney says, smile back on his face. Okay that’s a good sign, maybe Eddie’s not going to die.

The hospital takes forever. He’s not hypothermic but it’s borderline. His chest x-rays come back okay but not great. They insist on more tests and the sun is rising before they decide he’s stable enough to go home with lots of warnings about coming back immediately if any complications come up. He makes promises he has no intention of keeping and then escapes out into the morning.

Bobby is waiting for him. “Thought you might need a ride,” he says.

“Yeah, thanks,” Eddie says, gratitude flooding through him. He’s bone weary and all he wants is to do is go home, hug his kid, and pass out for about twelve hours or so.

“You feeling okay?” Bobby asks as he drives.

“I’ve been worse,” Eddie says cryptically, fighting sleep.

“I know you’re exhausted,” Bobby says. “So I won’t push. But if you need to talk, just know my door is always open.”

“Thanks Bobby,” Eddie says gratefully.

How he got so lucky to have this man for a captain he’ll never know. But he is beyond thankful to work with someone who cares so much. Who knows when to push and when to let up.

They pull up to the house and Eddie spots the babysitter’s car in the driveway. He’s supposed to relieve her and take Christopher to school but he can barely keep his eyes open. “Why don’t I take Christopher to school?” Bobby asks shrewdly.

The man has raised kids. He gets it.

“Nah,” Eddie says, taking a breath and trying to muster up the energy to unbuckle and get out of the car. “Shouldn’t take more than an hour.”

“Eddie, let me get this one,” Bobby says. “It’s no trouble.”

“Cap I—“

“Don’t ‘Cap’ me right now,” Bobby says kindly but firmly. “We’re family. You’ve had a rough night. This is the least I can do to help out.”

He gives in, both because Bobby’s right and because he’s truly not sure he’s capable of driving safely right now.

They go inside and greet Christopher who is, as always, ecstatic to see his dad and thrilled to be going to school with Bobby. “But why aren’t you taking me Dad?” he asks as he pulls on his backpack.

“I uh…” Eddie searches for words.

“Because I asked to take you,” Bobby covers smoothly. “It’s been a while since I’ve gotten to hang out with the 118’s only honorary firefighter. We have a lot to catch up on.”

Christopher accepts this answer and immediately starts telling Bobby about a science project they’re doing that involves Skittles as they head for the door.

Eddie doesn’t even make it to his bed. He collapses on the couch and within seconds he’s dead to the world. The next thing he knows Christopher’s afternoon carpool is honking outside.

He rallies for Friday. Truly he thinks he makes a remarkable effort to appear like a normal, happy dad in front of his kids’ classmates and teachers, all while feeling like he’s been hit by a bus. Every muscle aches and his chest still burns. Coughing fits are a special version of hell that cause every breath to be knifelike. Thank god Christopher has a playdate after school that involves dinner because by the time six o’clock rolls around he feels like death.

He makes another remarkable effort for bedtime, tucking his kid into his Batman sheets and kissing him goodnight before falling face first into the couch.

Christopher wakes him up in the morning. Well, wakes is a strong word because full consciousness seems like a real struggle right now. His head aches, his joints throb, and he cannot stop coughing. “Daddy?” Christopher asks in his sweet, singsong voice, patting Eddie gently on the cheek.

“Hey bud,” Eddie croaks.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m just feeling a little…a little sick today,” Eddie says, following it up with a hacking coughing fit.

“Can we go get donuts?”

Right, it’s Saturday. They usually hit up their favorite donut spot. “I think we have to skip today,” Eddie says. “Sorry bud.”

“It’s okay. I’ll get some cereal.”

God he couldn’t love this kid more. He never complains, never pitches a fit, even when things don’t go his way. 

Eddie tries to get up and go help to make sure they don’t end up with cereal all over the floor, but his head pounds even more violently against his skull forcing him to lay back down with a stifled groan. God he feels like shit. 

He’s in and out of sleep, more in than out. When he’s awake he wishes he was asleep because breathing is so hard and his body hurts so much. Christopher might be talking to him and a part of him knows he should get up and take care of his kid, but every time he thinks about it his eyes drift closed.

The next time he wakes up it’s because someone is trying to break his ribcage. “Bobby?” he croaks.

[doomstypewriter]

Helpless Au - A draft fragment

This is my Prinxiety ghost/haunted mansion AU. 

More about the AU

If anyone wants to be tagged on posts regarding the AU, please, just comment, I’ll be thrilled. 

Helpless Au - A draft fragment: In which Logan saves Virgil’s life from a situation worse than social interaction and, thus, they become best friends. 

This is written quickly, because it’s a draft, not to say that it’s poorly written (although that would be for each one to judge), just that some transitions are fast as a means to tell efficiently what’s going on. 

CW: Persecution, swearing, anxiety on Virgil’s part (but that is to be expected). Nothing more I can think of (don’t hesitate to tell me if you find anything else). 

Word count: 2069 (heh, you know what that means). 

Virgil goes down the pathway that takes him out of the grounds of Patton’s house. Even though the sun is still setting, there’s a certain degree of darkness because the clouds have turned black. A pouring is about to start, Virgil rushes so he doesn’t get caught in it on his way back to the mansion. 

He reaches the dirt path that’s beside the road, he ought to be in the mansion in a matter of five minutes, provided that he walks at a decent pace. Patton’s house is relatively near the mansion, but, for starters, Patton’s garden and the mansion’s are equally enormous, and, secondly, the access that connects them by road, the only way to come back without jumping a fence (which wouldn’t have been an ideal first impression for Patton’s grandma, but, now that Virgil knows her, perhaps the strange woman would have found it hilarious), is quite twisted. 

Virgil sees a person walking in the distance. He doesn’t really care for it, he simply internally prays that they won’t speak to him. Social interaction would be worse than anything. ANYTHING. 

Predictably, it begins to rain and Virgil quickly gets his folding umbrella out of his backpack. Quite a thoughtful present from his dad, not to mention the cool design with a giant white skull on a black background. He keeps on walking whilst thinking ‘fuck, my converse are turning into soup. Heh, my converse are at soup. But, for real, this is horrible’. 

After a while he realises that the person from before is keeping the same distance and Virgil proceeds to methodically overthink it: ‘they don’t have an umbrella, how is it that they aren’t walking faster? They’re getting drenched!’. He asks himself too where are they even going, taking into account that the only thing ahead is the mansion. In the end, Virgil chooses to walk faster. So does whoever. This is when Virgil lets go off his umbrella and RUNS. 

Our favourite emo searches for his phone, but lo and behold, it’s not anywhere to be found. The memory hits him like a brick ‘OH SHIT I MUST HAVE FORGOT IT AT PATTON’S. COOL. I’M GOING TO DIE’. The stalker keeps on running and jumps over the umbrella, sprinting towards him.

Suddenly, a bike races by and skids into a stop with a deafening sound of the brakes. Logan is on that bike. 

He looks at Virgil with a deadly serious expression and tells him to hop on. Virgil runs for the bike and gets on holding onto Logan. 

Logan starts pedaling like a bat out of hell. THANK EVERYTHING THAT LOGAN’S LEGS ARE LONG. 

“Sorry for not bringing a spare helmet, I wasn’t prepared for this happening”.

“Honestly, I don’t fucking care. You just saved my life”. 

Would you look at that, there was something worse than social interaction after all. The universe must love him dearly to correct him in such a kind way. 

“I wouldn’t exactly say so, but that man running after you is certainly distressing”. 

“Light way to put it”. 

“You’re right. It was scary. We ought to call the police as soon as possible”. 

“You bet. What the fuck was that?” 

“I don’t know. Oh, on the subject of calling, you left your phone at Patton’s”.

“Yeah, I found out while I was being chased. Honestly, thank god for my forgetful ass”. 

Logan laughs loudly. 

“Indeed”. 

“I won’t tell Patton you laughed”. 

“Thank you”. 

“No, thank YOU, man”. 

They arrive at the mansion completely soaked. He asks Logan for his phone and calls Janus to open the door. 

After a while, the entrance door swings open. 

Janus starts by saying: “Sorry if you rang the doorbell, I was in my room and I didn’t…” that’s when he takes a proper look at his brother and Logan and is worried sick. The only thing he can ask, obviously, is: “WHAT HAPPENED?!”

Virgil explains, not gladly, none of the events could quite get him in the mood, the world shall be left wondering why. 

Janus tells him to take Logan to one of the bathrooms and let him borrow some clothes so he can get the shower he so desperately seems to be needing and also instructs him to do the same while he calls the police and their father. 

The sound of keys then is heard. Janus mentally tells himself ‘one less call, then’. 

The father enters frantically asking for Virgil, two umbrellas in his hand. 

He sees him wet from head to toe in the hall with his friend and runs to hug his son. 

“I saw your umbrella laying on the road on my way here. Thank god you’re fine. What happened?” he asks while looking at his sons and Logan. 

Janus gestures him while on the phone and mouths an ‘I’m on it’. 

“Okay, tell me after getting a shower, both of you. Lend him some clothes, you can take some of mine if they don’t fit. Oh, hello, by the way, I’m Virgil’s dad” he says as he offers his hand.  

Logan gladly takes it. Yes, gladly, because social acceptance and interaction are quite refreshing from his usual interpersonal awkwardness. 

“Greetings as well, I’m Logan, and I’m Virgil’s…” he thinks about how to phrase it properly but Virgil simply cuts him. 

“He’s my friend, dad”. 

“Oh, gosh, you made a new friend! That’s great son! Well, we can talk later, go get that shower”. 

“Okay. Follow  me Logan”. 

They both climb the main stairs and turn to the block of rooms to the left. 

Logan talks about the architecture all the way. They go up the spiral staircase. He mentions that the painting of the house that hanged in front of the stairs looks like an impressionist depiction of a British manor of the sixteenth century. Virgil blinks like on a vine and asks him how does he know that. 

“I have an appreciation for architecture”. 

“Just as you do for poetry”. 

“Indeed”.

They reach the bathroom of the second floor. 

Virgil tells him that he’ll go to his room to fetch some clothing and might leave it on a chair outside or in the bedroom nextdoor. 

“I’ll see you at the living-room”. 

“How can I find it?” 

“Go downstairs back to the hall and then to the left, it’s the room with the big ass stage”.

“That seems a little excessive”.

“Yeah, the dude who made the house was extra af”. 

The police arrives and takes their statement. A middle aged woman and her young male partner question them. The partner looks kind of goofy but pays full attention, the lady, on the other side, looks like she is done with life after having seen too much shit, but she is really nice. 

“Look, guys, I’m going to be honest with ya. It’s hard to tell if we may find whoever did that, because you haven’t seen their face. Without that, there isn’t that much we can do to find them. Pressing charges is hardly possible because they did not assault you nor pulled out a gun. What they did to you was bad, and I’d love to be able to help more, but I cannot tell you how this is going to turn out, it’s a tricky situation”. 

“Excuse me, ma'am, but, hadn’t I arrived when I did, anything could have happened to my friend. It is most distressing to have someone chase you down and I can’t make out what their intentions would be to do such a thing if the individual didn’t plan something nasty”. 

“We know it’s unfair, well make sure to catch them!” the goofy-looking guy answers this time.  In his righteous enthusiasm he coughs a few times. 

“Asthma too?”. 

The guy looks at him awkwardly and nods. 

“Can I speak to you alone, son?” the lady asks Virgil. 

“Sure”. 

They leave the room to the corridor of high ceilings that connects it to the library and the main dining room. The voice of his father and Ethan are coming from the library, discussing their shared worries. The talking ends as soon as they hear them. 

“Why do you think that person was chasing you?” 

“How could I know? Am I in trouble for something?” 

“Uuuugh” she pinches the bridge of her nose “shit, I didn’t mean to make it sound like that. Look, if anything remotely weird has happened, that could link to that person chasing you I need to know, I want you guys to be safe. It’s never a good sign to be chased by someone on a lonely road. Tell me, it’s my understanding that you and your family have been here for a month, has anything out of the ordinary occurred? Something that could alarm you?”

“I’m the kind of person that is alarmed by mostly anything so you’ll have to be more specific”.

“I’m also that kind of person, Virgil, so I hope you understand what I tell you when I say that there’s the ordinary kind of alarming; like the fear forgetting about closing your front door, and finding that door open after you made sure to check it was closed”. 

Virgil breathes in with tension. He feels watched. Not precisely by his family, which is odd. Who else would be watching? Damn, this hypervigilance thing was driving him nuts. Although, this once it made total sense, the situation had been a perfect brew for anxiety. 

“Would you mind following me elsewhere?” 

“Sure”. 

On their way upstairs, to the tower room, Virgil adds: 

“Okay, I know it seems kinda weird to make you climb all of these stairs and unnecessarily mysterious, but my room is the ‘loneliest place in the castle’ and I don’t want my family to get worried if they overhear this”.

“It’s fine, son, that’s perfectly understandable”. 

They enter the room and the lady whistles in awe. 

“Wow, what a room you got here, I’d wish I’ve had this when I was your age”. 

“Well, you must be the only one”. 

“Why is that?”. 

“Everybody keeps on ranting about how this place is freaky”. 

“Is it?”. 

“No. This and the library are the nicest places in the house. I like being able to see so much”. 

Virgil guides her to one of the windows. 

“Well, with the panoramic view, it’s almost like a watch tower”. “There” Virgil points at the part of Patton’s garden that’s visible. “A few nights ago I spotted a guy talking at a phone, I think he saw me watching him, because when he looked at the tower he immediately left”. 

Later, when the police has left, Logan tells him that he is trans. Why? Well, he has to stay the night because the pouring is more like a violent storm. Also, Patton might kill him if he doesn’t take off his binder, which he put back on in spite of being soaked. 

“Don’t worry, I’ve got your back dude. Here, have this, it’s one of my baggiest”. 

On Virgil’s hand is a giant black zip-up hoodie. 

“It’s not much of my style, and not the most elegant solution, but it will suffice. Although, it is very comfortable and the fabric texture is kind on the skin. Thank you very much. I shall take off my binder and put it on”. 

“Toilet’s over there. Place the binder on the radiator so it dries”. 

Virgil tends to his devices. Logan comes back with the hoodie on, comfy as ever. 

“Are we having a sleepover?” 

“I don’t know. Do you want us to have one?”

“I’m unsure as to if it’s appropriate given the circumstances that brought me here, as well as the fact that I have no expertise on the subject”. 

“Neither do I, but it could be cool. We can have a spooky sleepover, throw some candles here and there and read Edgar Allan Poe or watch some horror films”. “I’m not convinced by the horror films, but, perhaps some Hitchcock would be a suitable replacement suggestion and we may add Bukowski to the least of authors to read”. 

“Sounds fine by me. Maybe we could get Patton on Skype”. 

“I’d enjoy that. On a different note, it’s getting late, we should have dinner”. 

“Uh, sorry, right, you probably didn’t have time at Patton’s”. 

“Not to worry, though, I’m glad I didn’t. Otherwise I wouldn’t have caught you in time”. 

“Ain’t that the truth”.

[ladywynneoutlander]

Heart’s Abundance

More sweet times on the Ridge as William finds his place.

Part 2 Hearthside

Part 1, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5 , Part 6

After our harvest meal the afternoon passes in pleasant repletion. The adults scatter to various corners to doze and chat. Jem, Germain, and Fanny disappear outside. I can hear them laughing as I lay a quilt over a sleeping Mandy. She took to John Quincey immediately, and is now curled up beside him on the settle.  

This state of peaceful repose lasts approximately an hour. Then Jamie stands and stretches himself, back popping. He looks at William, “Will ye walk wi’ me? I can reacquaint you with the place.”

William stands as well, nodding, “Yes, of course.” He remains a bit formal, and I wish I knew more about their last meeting.

I watch them from the kitchen door as they go, boots crunching the fallen leaves with each step, so alike in gait and height that no one could fail to see them for what they are, a father and his son.

When I turn around Ian is there with his baby in his arms. He stares thoughtfully at the door for a moment before sitting down at the table. He says nothing and I wait patiently, taking the baby and feeling his warm heavy weight. Finally, Young Ian turns to me, “Ye know Auntie, I don’t know why yon man has come, but I think maybe it’s to do with you as well as Uncle Jamie.”

I shake my head. “I don’t think so Ian. Whatever would William want with me?”

Ian gives a small smile, “Maybe he needs ye.”

I gently rock the baby, not looking up as I say, “No. What use could I possibly be?”

Ian touches my arm to draw my attention. His brown eyes are soft. “Ye can be kind. Ye can be a comfort.”  

His voice becomes more matter-of-fact. “The Mohawk do say women are great healers of body and spirit. They provide strength and consistency to all.” He smiles at me, “Maybe William needs to find his strength just now.”

I nod, but I’m not convinced. “Maybe.”

We sit a moment longer, enjoying the peace. I smooth the baby’s soft downy hair, then give him my finger, watching in fascination as the tiny hand closes around it even in sleep.  

Finally, Ian moves to go. “Just think on it, Auntie, aye?” He takes the little one and leaves to find Rachel.  

I stay by myself for a time, and it comes to me how much William has been through. The loss of two mothers (three if you count me) and Jane. Consistency indeed. Also, the loss of his very identity. He had been loved, that much I knew, but must feel very alone and confused just now. I remember how difficult the same situation was for Brianna. She felt heartbroken and torn, betrayed. Compassion wells in me, and as the sun sinks behind the trees I feel a tear slide warm down my cheek.

                                                            -o0OOO0o-

That evening, lying close and warm next to Jamie, I hear how their meeting went.  

Jamie took the boy to the White Spring, that place of truth. William was quiet on the trail, turned inward. When they arrived, Jamie broke the thin scrim of ice and took a cold mouthful. William did the same, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.  

Jamie settled himself on a boulder and smiled at the boy.  “So, if ye’ll forgive my asking, what brings ye to the Ridge?”

William didn’t answer immediately. He sat as well and drew in a deep breath before speaking. “First, I should like to thank you for your assistance in the matter of Jane, and also for the care you’ve given her sister.”

Jamie waves his hand in dismissal, “’Twas nothing lad. Any decent man would have done the same.”

William gave a mild snort, “I take leave to doubt that. Still, not any man did. You did, and with barely a thought. I knew M--,” he hesitated, then went on, “Mother Claire, both she and my father say you are an honorable man. Apparently, they are right.”

They sat with this for a moment, admiring the slant of golden sunlight through the yellow of chestnut and birch. When William didn’t say more Jamie ventured, “The thought had occurred to me that ye may be in some trouble?” He made the last into a question.

William shrugged irritably. “No. Not trouble exactly. I have someone to find, my cousin Ben, but I cannot continue in that search until spring. That’s not why I’m here.” He stood up suddenly, and paced a bit before taking a deep breath and facing Jamie squarely. “I have come to ask if I might stay for a time. Here,” he adds, as if there were doubt, “on Fraser’s Ridge.”

Jamie was surprised, but quickly brought his face back to neutrality. He still thought William likely needed help in some way, but maybe it isn’t the kind he needed before. He stood and extended a hand, grasping the lad’s shoulder. “Aye, of course, ye’re always welcome.”

Wiliam takes a step backward, away from him, but not in a harsh way. “Thank you. I don’t require anything. I can sleep in the barn or wherever is convenient.”

Jamie smiled at him, “Aye, that’s good, but we can likely find ye a bed.”  

They made their way home in the last light of the day. Jamie felt as though a new path had opened before him, unknown and steep, but one that led to a bonny place.  

                                                             -o0OOO0o-

The next day we bid farewell to John Quincey, off to overwinter with the Cherokee. William stays. He gradually fits into the routine of the Ridge; hunting, doing farm chores, and joining Roger or Bree whenever they venture out. He is beloved instantly by the children, playing with the boys, talking with Fanny, and carrying Mandy perched high on his shoulder. Still, he is mostly quiet, listening and observing.

I can tell Brianna is pleased, eager to embrace this new brother. William seems equally in awe of her, and they seem to find joy in each other. More than once I catch Jamie watching them, a look of quiet happiness on his face.  

One day I come into the study to find Jamie looking out the window. Outside Brianna and William are exercising the horses, walking them in circles and brushing their shaggy winter coats. He doesn’t turn, but he must have sensed me, because he holds his hand out toward me, inviting. I take it and he draws me against him. I circle my arms around his waist, and feel his arms come around me in turn, the warmth of him a comfort and a blessing.

Jamie is still engaged in the scene outside, “I never thought to see such a grand thing, Sassenach.”

I give him a squeeze of acknowledgement and laugh. “Neither did I! I nearly fell off the porch when I saw William.”

Jamie smiles as well, “Aye, and ye weren’t the only one.”

He holds me for a while longer. I look up at Jamie’s face, happy now, but with tiny lines framing his striking blue eyes. I can feel the scars on his back beneath his shirt, and it comes to me how many hardships he faced to bring us to this moment. I am moved with love for him, and lay a hand over his heart. “Jamie, I want you to know. I’m glad he’s here. We all are.”  

Jamie takes my hand and turns to face me fully, “I know ye are. You are a wonder, truly. He isna yours, and it isna right that he should be here to torment you. Thank ye Claire, for welcoming the lad.”

“Posh,” I say gently. “He’s yours, Jamie, for that alone I would love him. But also…” I pause, looking outside while I gather my thoughts. “Also, I love him for himself. He’s a fine boy and he was very kind when I spent time with him in Boston.” I know Jamie doesn’t like to recall my marriage to John Grey, but it matters here. “I think- maybe, I can be there for him, maybe be a sort of mother to him.”

Jamie doesn’t answer and I glance up. I am surprised to see unshed tears glimmer in his eyes. “He couldna have a finer one,” he says huskily. He pulls me close then, bends his head, and kisses me. His mouth is soft and his arms are strong, and all is warmth and hope between us.

                                                            -o0OOO0o-

The evenings are long in winter. It is the time for songs, and fires, hearth and home. When the family gathers late in the evening, the children tucked in bed, we often tell stories. We hear Highland tales of kelpies and fairies, farmers and lairds. We hear personal stories about family and friends, also C.S. Lewis, E.B. White, Louisa May Alcott, the lives of Saints, romantic poetry, and Greek heroes. And in each telling, regardless of the subject, we reveal a bit more of ourselves to one another.

It is nearly a fortnight before William tells a story of his own, venturing forth with a story about Sergeant Cutter that has laughter ringing from the rafters, fit to wake the entire Ridge. He speaks more often after that, sometimes tales of adventure, and rarely, of his boyhood. Once he even mentions a groom named MacKenzie.  

Tonight we are up particularly late, and the room has grown quiet. The air is heavy, and I know we will wake on the morrow under a blanket of white. Into this expectancy William speaks. Quietly, his elbows on his knees as he watches the hearthfire, he begins a story of Isobel.  

“Mother Isobel loved Christmas. She festooned every railing and mantel with greenery. The whole house smelled grand. Even if it were only the two of us, as it often was after we lost grandfather, we sang carols, and had pudding and candies. She made it special every year… magical. To a boy.” He pauses and we wait, listening to the gentle crackle and pop of dried pine wood.  

“One year there was a terrible storm. I remember the wind howling down the chimneys and causing the yule log to flare up and wave about. I was frightened and began to cry and whinge. I was a little devil truly. I was really crying from loneliness though, and from being left behind. Mother Isobel somehow knew the truth of it. She took me onto her lap and stroked my hair. ‘Willie, my darling, sometimes those we love cannot be with us. We may wish it fervently, but circumstances cannot be changed. Absence doesn’t mean they love us less, or we them. Indeed, it is often their care for us that keeps them away. They must do what is necessary. But remember love, they are never gone from our hearts.’”  

William looks at Jamie. “I thought those words ridiculous then. I felt abandoned, and I let my grief turn to anger at those who left me.” He takes a deep breath, “Now though, I think I understand, and I find Mother Isobel was wise indeed.”

“Aye, that she was,” Jamie says kindly.

We sigh collectively. Roger pulls a guitar into his lap, strumming a chord. “Let’s have a tune. A song to love’s sacrifices,” he says in his rough voice. He turns to Brianna and smiles. “They are always worth it.”

As Roger plays my mind wanders. First to William and his story. Yes, maybe healing of a kind is needed, hopefully has begun already. I will do all I can to help, and the peace of the Ridge will be a balm if William lets it. There is no outside world, no war here. Not yet. Not in winter.

The sacrifices of love. I remember Frank and dear Uncle Lamb. Then further, to Geillis, Dougal, Rupert, and Colum. They all loved, whether people or causes or places or things, and made their choices accordingly. And where were they now? I shudder and Jamie pulls me closer against him, a buttress against the past. I lean on him gratefully. We two know better than anyone the heavy sacrifice that true love can require, and times like this are all the more precious for the knowing. So I return to the present, put my head on Jamie’s chest, and simply listen.

Thanks for reading!  I promise family fun next week!

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #295

i’m not listening to music so am blanking on lyrics to put here lol

Who’s your favorite rapper? And your favorite song by this rapper? Eminem. "Cinderella Man" is probably my favorite, or "Space Bound." How about your favorite band? And your favorite song by this band? Ozzy Osbourne, if I had to pick solely one. God, picking a favorite song, though... idk, maybe "Trap Door," but it's almost impossible for me to decide. Have you ever had the cops called on you? For what? No. Would you rather be home alone, or have people with you? Why? I'd rather have people home, but alone in my room. I just feel less lonely. Have you ever dropped a class in school? Which class, and why did it suck? I dropped some class in college that I can't remember the name of... I completely misjudged what it would be like. I had absolutely zero interest. I feel like I've dropped another, too? Have you ever taken someone back, who ended up just hurting you again? No. Do you have a little sister? What’s her name? Nicole. What was the last thing you printed? Is there even ink in your printer? Something for school, I'm sure. Do you remember the first time you ever drove a car? Who were you with? Yeah, my driving instructor in HS. Have you ever been in handcuffs? Why, exactly? Yeah, to be transported from the ER to psych hospitals, as well as handcuffs among other restraints when going to court to explain why I was eligible for an earlier discharge from the hospital. That's one of the scariest experiences of my life, feeling like a bound lunatic. Have you ever had to be put to sleep at a hospital? Why? Yeah, for two surgeries. Do you actually have a calendar on your wall? What are the pictures of? I have two old meerkat ones that are just for decoration. Have you ever been on a cruise? How many? Where did they go? No. Do you have a favorite author? No. Does your significant other boss you around a lot? I don't have one, but I wouldn't tolerate that shit. Do you know anyone who has overdosed? Me, but I obviously lived. I think I've loosely or distantly known people who weren't so lucky. Are you a fan of PDA (public displays of affection)? As long as it's not too intense, I think it's sweet. It's beautiful to see love expressed. When was the last time you went bowling? A few years ago for Girt and my first date. Do you personally know anyone who is transgender? I do. Have you ever written anything longer than 10 pages? Yes, for school essays. I think my longest was about toxic masculinity. I'm actually really proud of it; I think my instructor used it as an example for her next semester's students, given that I was notified of an influx of views on it. Do you have any names picked out for your future children? What are they? Hypothetically speaking, if I had a daughter, Alessandra is her name, period, lol. I would like to name my never-happening son Damien, but I'd be more open to suggestions from my partner. Have you ever been given a lapdance by an actual stripper? Oh yikes, no thank you. Do you have/want any piercings? I have a good number and seriously want more. What side of the bed do you sleep on? More towards the left. Who is the last person you told a secret to? Nicole, about Misty coming down here for a visit. Have you ever been on an island? Yes, just off the NC coast during a 4th grade school vacation. It was amazing and even had wild horses. What's your favorite job you've ever had? I guess GameStop was the best, since I was actually interested in what I worked with. Do you have any vacations planned? No. Do you enjoy getting manicures/pedicures? How often do you get them? I mean it's nice I guess, but it's not something I'd spend money on. Have you yelled at anyone today, and why? No. Do you own anything with your state or providence's name on it? No. Do you like the Paranormal Activity movies? Yeah. Paranormal is my favorite subgenre of horror. What's your favorite way to eat peanut butter? On waffles, haha. Do you like bows? Yeah, they're cute. Have you ever made a 'haul' YouTube video? No. Has a boyfriend ever made you breakfast? Yeah, that was quite ordinary with Jason since his original intention was to be a chef. What do you gather your change in? My wallet. Do you like to play Angry Birds? I never have. The movie was cute, tho. Do you like Cheez-Its? Oh GOD. I looooove Cheez-Its and they need to be kept away from me to avoid bingeing on them. Have you ever been pulled aside for a random bag search at an airport? I don't think so, no. What’s your favorite flavor of Jell-O? Watermelon, I think? Or strawberry? Do you have any games on your computer? Which ones? On my personal laptop, I have World of Warcraft, Alien: Isolation, Resident Evil 6, and both Amnesia games. I think that's it. What's a musical instrument you think sounds really beautiful? Violins. Do you have a favorite type of pasta? (like a shape of noodles, not dish) I'm not particular about this, really. What's the coolest natural event you've ever witnessed? Maybe the blood moon. Are there any waterfalls near where you live? No, just dams. Do you personally know anyone who is an author? I know people who have had smaller works published, but calling them an "author" feels odd since it's not their actual career or anything. Is that rude? Do you own a polaroid camera? No, but that'd be cool. Do you think you’ll ever end up in rehab? No. Who’s your favorite Kardashian sister? I don't have an opinion. Is there someone you absolutely cannot stand but have to tolerate? My sister's husband. "Absolutely cannot stand" might be a bit strong, but... Do you want to go to pregnancy classes? If I was to ever be pregnant, no. My mom would be able to answer all things related to this, haha. Do you ever cringe at the thought of living in a disgusting house? Yes. What color are your bathroom towels? We have a variety. How often do you let cleavage show? I'm not very revealing, but I'm also not self-conscious of allowing some. Does vintage stuff appeal to you? Yes! Where do you want to go? I'd love to visit Sara again, but not so long as Covid hangs around. Have you ever had feelings for two people at the same time? Something like that with Jason and Juan before I chose Jason. I don't even really know if I like-liked Juan versus just being flattered by him. Would you ever throw out or give away something an ex gave you? I mean, what's the item in question? And are we on good terms (not that that would always matter)? What's the biggest annoyance in your life right now? Right now, Covid. I know, surprising I didn't say "not having a job," but so long Covid is an issue, I don't think I would be comfortable having one. I can't bring that shit home to my weak mother. Who do you feel most comfortable talking to about anything? Mom. What do you want right this second? To actually be skinny again. It's hard to believe in my teens I thought I wasn't. Are you one of those people who never drinks soda? I'm actually quite the opposite... It's sad, I know I'd have less trouble losing weight if I could just stop drinking it regularly. Have you ever been afraid to get up and go to the bathroom? ... No...? Have you ever paid for any kind of online membership? I don't believe so, no. Who’d you last see in a tux? Hm. Probably when I shot a wedding. Out of everyone you know, who has the most heart? Uhhhh I dunno. Who’s the bravest person you know? Probably my mom. Who would you want to have your back if things got tough? Again, my mother. Have you ever dated someone who was really sporty? Nah. Are you any good at writing? I think so. What’s your favorite form of writing? I don't know if it counts as a "form" as much as it is a subject, but RP. Writing with characters you yourself have created and actually engaging with other's inventions is very fun. Have you ever done something terrible, but took forever to feel bad? Yes, over things I'd said to Jason following the breakup. It literally took years because I was so convinced it was all justified. What did you dream about last night? I don't remember. Sure feels great though that my nightmares are chilling out. What profession do you admire the most? That's tough, but probably those that put their lives on the line for others, like firefighters. I also have massive respect for people like doctors, given all the time and work they put into their education to become one and help others. Have you ever made a fake profile, for any reason? No. Have you ever questioned your sexuality? Well, seeing as I was an initial homophobe that eventually realized I was bisexualllll... Do you have a garden at your house? No. Do you like making puppet figures with your shadow? When I was a kid, sure. Have you ever played strip poker or would you ever? No, but I won't say absolutely never if I was just with my s/o. It's not something I'm actually interested in doing, though. Would you date someone who didn’t want to have sex until they were married? Yep. Would you date someone who went to church on a regular basis? To be totally honest, I don't know if me and a person that actively religious would work out, but I'd try it, ig. What is your favorite curse word? I say "fuck" way too much lmao. It's an intense word and I'm a passionate person, lol. What movie do you know just about every line from? None. Do you prefer cupcakes or muffins? Cupcakes. What are the three “nevers” of your life? To name just a few that I'm absolutely certain about, I'd never do hard drugs, commit murder (unless in self-defense, but is that even "murder?"), or abuse somebody. Last board game you played? I think it was "Sorry!" when I was babysitting Ryder. Last card game you played? Christ, Uno. My niece went through a phase of like obsessively playing it with me because I would let her win. Last thing you got for free? Christmas gifts. How long have you been tattooed? If you’re not, do you want to get tattooed? I got my first tat the day I turned 18. Last baby shower? My sister's last year. Last wedding? A repeat photography client's. Her family is lovely. Last funeral? I don't think I've been to a funeral (not wake) since I was maybe a preteen and my childhood babysitter died... It's sad that I didn't go to my grandmother's, but I didn't really have that choice. What is your band’s name? Or fantasy band ;)? Haha, my Rock Band one was "Bullets and Butterflies." How many different strip clubs have you been to? None. Do you have any nieces/nephews? Technically a lot, but only three are regular parts of my life. How many cars have you ever owned? Me personally, none. Can you do math in your head well? ABSOLUTELY not. Who is your favorite Star Wars character? I only care about the Ewoks ok. I'm not a fan of the franchise. Have you ever been to a bachelor/bachelorette party? No. Have you ever bailed anyone out of jail? No. Have you ever given someone a fake phone number? No. Do you have any bumper stickers on your car? N/A Have you ever gone golfing? Only mini-golfing as a kid. Well, and on an anniversary date with Jason. Actual golfing doesn't interest me. If you became famous for something, what would it be? To be entirely realistic versus idealistic, probably something I wrote. How many friends do you have that are married? A whole lot. Do you still have your wisdom teeth? Yes. When you were a kid, were you ever afraid of cooties? No, it was just a playful joke. Do you ever go Christmas caroling in December? No. Do you like mango? Mango flavored stuff, oh yes. I don't like actual mangos; they're too mushy. What was the last thing you got falsely accused of? I don't know. Have you ever been kicked out of a store? No. What does caffeine do to you? Nothing, really. I think I'm too accustomed to it being in my system. Would other people describe you as creative? Very. Would you rather paint or carve a pumpkin? Hm, maybe paint. Names of best friends you've had: Brianna, Kimberly, Jenna, Megan, Mini, Sara... I don't remember them all. Were you one of the smartest in your class? Through most of my school experience, yes. Will you let your kids have a YouTube channel, do you think? If I wanted kids, it would depend on their age and what they were making. Have you ever owned a designer purse? No. Do you like the taste of Tums? Taste, yes. Chalky texture, fuck no. I like the chewy ones, though. Are you currently learning a new language? No. What culture are you most interested in learning about? Maybe Indian? Do you own anything skull print? Oh, loads of stuff. Who are the three people you consider yourself closest to? Mom, Sara, and uh... Dad. Do you like crackers with your soup? Soggy crackers are gross. I don't really like soup, anyway. Which ex of yours means the most to you? Sara. What is something that never fails to make you feel accomplished? Cleaning. Do wooded areas freak you out in the evening or night? No, I love 'em. Have you ever ridden on the back of a motorcycle? No, I'm not comfortable with the idea of riding one. Do you iron any of your clothes? No. Do you think long, straight hair is pretty? Yes, if it's healthy. Do you have a fireplace in your home? Yes. Did you have a class pet in grade school? No. Have you ever owned an aquarium? No. Do you prefer mints or gum? I'd say gum. Popsicles or fudgesicles? Ohhh, fudgesicles. What is your favorite flavor of hot pockets? I only even moderately enjoy the ham and cheese ones. Do you like apple juice? Yeah, but there's definitely better juices.