#that can afford her some authority and luxury . whoops

[glamfellens]

accidentally making one of harriets core themes into You Can Never Go Home and like. how many ocs can i get away with doing this to lmao 👍

[what-the--curtains]

There are No Wolves in The Desert

(Oberyn Martell x f!reader)

Part 3 - An (in)Decent Proposal

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Summary: Oberyn makes you an offer you cant refuse.

Authors notes: Whoop here part 3 sorry this is taking SO long but I have no MOTIVATION (sang like jean ralphio)😭 Thank you for reading and sharing and commenting I love y all so much💕💕💕💕

TW: Mentions of incest (walder frey), mentions of alcohol, fighting

Word count: 4.9k

Tagged: @evyiione @xsadderdazeforeverx @agingerindenial @ayamenimthiriel

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The large wooden doors of your room slowly creak open rousing you from your restful slumber. You open one eye allowing yourself to adjust to the sun's bright rays that were coating your room's walls, brightening their pastel hues. You cautiously shift up, gaze locked on the door fingers clutched around your knife. Your fist relaxes as two figures enter the room, the first belonging to Shana who you recognized from last night and the other, to a younger girl. Shana walks towards the long table placing down the assorted fruits, breads and wine while the younger girl sits on your bed, slowly unscrewing a teal coloured jar’s lid. Your eyes follow her as she leans forward.

“Are you a Targareyn?” she asks, hand slowly hovering towards your face, intent on applying a cream to the area that had been forcibly rammed into a wall last night.

“No,” you respond, shifting back and out of her reach.

“You look like one,” she offers scooting closer to you determined to sooth your wound.

“Is that a compliment?” you ask, causing her to duck her head down in embarrassment, noticing her reaction, and feeling somewhat guilty you continue “My father was though, so I suppose in a way you are correct. You have a sharp eye, what is your name?” you query hoping to relieve any embarrassment.

“Kaina” she responds, eyes still on the bed spread.

“How old are you, Kaina?” you question, watching as an easiness washes over her as you allow her to apply the salve to your broken skin.

“Six and ten” she says, meticulously dabbing the mixture onto your face.

“Has the prince..ever.. propositioned you, ” you ask cautiously, curious as to the character of the man whose home you had been invited into.

“No, he has no eyes for children,” she says, redonning the jars lid.

“Which is more than you can say for the men of Westeros,” Shana quips as she appears at your side offering you a bowl of fruit which you take with a thank you. You pluck a raspberry from the bowl and pop it into your mouth, the freshness and sweetness delighting your tastebuds.

“That is very true, I knew of one man who married his own daughters,” you say, causing the two women to look at you horrified.

“When you age are you allowed to stay in the palace?” you query, ignoring their disdain for the practices carried out by the Frey family.

“Yes, we are allowed to stay or leave in order to continue our training if we wish,” Shana states

“Training?” you press.

“We are allowed to study here, I took up healing. Others like Shana learn to cook, others care for animals, or they train to fight, whatever they choose and they are allowed to come and go as they please,” Kaina states.

“You’re treated well here then? ”

“Yes, very much so” they both respond almost in unison.

“And are you paid well?”

“Yes, the princes both believe any service provided demands a payment. May I ask why you ask so many questions my lady?” Kaina ponders, her good nature causing you to smile.

“I am no lady, but I do take great value in the way a man treats his staff, especially those who hold less power than he. If I am to make a deal I wish to know whom I am making it with. I have no need to help abusers, ” you state as she recaps the salve that was now absorbing into your skin.

“A wise woman,” Shana states. “The prince is a good man, as is our king.”

“Neither of them would marry their own children,” the younger girl says standing again, horrified.

“Well that is good to hear,” you say with a soft chuckle,

“Do you need us to dress you my lady?” Shana offers, despite already knowing the answer.

“No I am quite alright thank you,” they curtsey and leave you to dress for the day. You pull on the lightweight leather armour before redonning your cloak, opting to leave the hood down, no point in hiding who you were now, at least while you were within the palace walls.

You stroll leisurely down the palace steps, admiring the limestone architecture and the gold detailing glimmering under the mid-morning sun. You watch the heat ripple as it rises off the metallic features. The day's warmth bears down on your face, even in the winter the dornish heat was nearly unbearable and infinitely warmer than Winterfell. Your head turns towards the sound of children laughing and you watch as two small blurs disappear round a corner, in chase of the butterflies flying throughout the palace. You continue through the garden hand ghosting along the Ivy leaves that snaked through the metallic fencing containing the gardens perimeter. You could easily see yourself getting lost amongst the vines, the winding paths leading off in multiple directions towards unknown destinations. You would return here another time, to truly admire the flora created by the old gods and the new. You stay true to your path for the time being, hoping to locate Oberyn so he could make light of his supposed proposition. You follow the faint metallic clammer echoing in the distance, the sound growing louder as you approach a large wooden arena. The training grounds were large, offering a place to train and exhibit the ornate and hypnotic fighting.

Their style was known across the seven kingdoms for being elegant and deadly, a combination you found paired well with at least one dornish individual you knew.

The arena's overhang offers you some shade, a luxury not afforded to those in the arena, you come to rest your forearms down on the palisade allowing your wrists to drape over the bannister as your shoulders relax. Oberyn's armour glimmers in the sun illuminating the sweat beaded over his tanned skin, a few loose strands of hair plastered to his forehead. You watch as he skillfully knocks his opponent to the ground before turning to you. You watch his charismatic features light up as he strides towards you allowing his opponent to regain his footing.

“Your beauty is greater than the messengers lead me to believe,” he states loudly, causing you to look down and shake your head, unsure what he hoped to achieve by shamelessly flirting with you.

“So you were spying on me,” you respond, ignoring his charms, much to his dismay. Your constant dismissal of his advances leaving him wondering if he had finally found someone immune to his charisma.

“We spy on anyone we think will be an ally or enemy to us, “ he says glancing back, not dropping his guard despite his opponents retreat to the arena's far side.

“Must be a long list,” you offer as he places his spear against the panelling, splashing his face with water before bending down to take a drink from one of the taps found throughout the city.

“Prior to his death, we wanted Robb Stark on our side, and you, or Lady Stark wherever she may be, we were told she was a ferocious warrior, ” he states, raising his eyebrows mischievously.

“Don't believe everything you hear. Though I suppose she owes you her life, perhaps a lesson in calligraphy would suffice, your handwriting is quite distinctive,” you smirk watching his head turn in faux shock before returning to his opponent.

“My time was better spent elsewhere,” he shouts back, blocking yet another shot brought forward by the palace guard. Turning he gracefully sweeps the legs out from beneath the man the entire ordeal lasting no longer than a few minutes.

“Pleasures of the flesh have far greater value to me than a pretty note,” he states clearly, turning to gauge your reaction. Despite you declining his advances the subject of sex appeared to have little to no effect on you. There was no giggle or blush that often came in the women of westeros who are told sex is a sacred act for man and wife.

“Too much time doing as you please and not nearly enough time spent doing what you should,” you state, a line your mother had frequently said when you trapsed throughout the forest instead of doing your housework. He looks at you, confusion and glee dancing on his face at your manner, or lack thereof, around him. Being a prince he wasn't used to such a direct tone. Others typically behaved themselves around him, either out of fear or admiration. Though neither were nearly as tantalizing as those who readily disregarded his status with such cutting wit.

“On your left,” you remark, allowing him to catch the oncoming hit just in time. He nods for the man to leave the arena leaving you alone with Oberyn.

“Shall we?” he calls out, and you cock your head to the side.

“You said you wished to practice, you care to try your luck,” he asks, swinging around grinning as he gestures to the large space.

“Luck won't have anything to do with me beating you,” you quip hopping over the panelling and into the arena.

“You need four weapons to defeat me?” he taunts from afar. You shoot him a look as you stab your knife into the ground before removing the quiver and bow placing them against the wall. You turn on the tap and splash your face with the water, flicking the remainder off your hands as you turn and walk into the sun towards your opponent.

“Just two which by my count is one less than you,” you offer.

“I only have one,” he explains

“The spear is long, has two ends, two weapons. Besides you have a shield. Shield counts as a weapon,” you state.

“And you don’t choose to fight without one,” he says, dropping the shield so you have no excuses for his impending victory.

“Don’t need a shield if the enemy is dead before they can reach you,” you explain.

“Cocky”, he says twirling the spear hitting the blunt end into the ground before pointing it forward and bending at the knees in preparation.

“You say as if you are not yourself,” you retort, arms reaching back and removing the swords twirling them before entering your own stance. He’ll make the first move, of that you're sure. He does as you expect, allowing you to stop the hit with your swords crossing them into an ‘x’ and using their combined force to push his spear up and to the side as you uncross them. His underestimation of your strength leaves him off balance as you spin around aiming for his knees. He manages to regain his footing and jumps easily over your sword showing off the flashy fighting style you’d expected of a dornish prince.

“Perhaps not as poor a fighter as you thought,” you state, ducking as he swings his spear around to hit you. Without breaking motion he spins the weapon above his head bringin it down almost hitting you had you not dropped to the ground. Rolling behind him you twirl your swords around and jab the hilts into the back on his knee. He falls to his knees and before he can formulate his next move you stand and kick his weapon out from his hand. He teeters forward and you grab him by the hair tugging it back exposing his throat. You bring your blade to his neck watching his Adam's apple bod as he swallows, eyes looking up to you with what one could only describe as admiration.

“I believe that's a match,” you say, removing the blade and pushing his head forward. He remains kneeling, half in shock, half aroused.

“One and done?” You chide watching as he remains on his knees. It was a sight you could get used to.

“Now there's something I've never been called before,” he chuckles, composing himself and standing back up “You're better than I thought,” he remarks bending to retrieve his spear.

“Is that what the men and women of Dorne say to you?” you taunt, watching as his eyes light up, a smile etched on his face as he searches for a response. “ I was a soldier before I was an assassin,” you explain, closing the silence for him.

“Women are allowed to fight in the north? Perhaps you all are more evolved than I had thought,” he states.

“I never said I was allowed to be there,” you admit, causing him to chuckle. “A murderer, a mercenary, and a liar. What other charming traits do you possess,” he queries winking at you.

“And here I thought the Red Viper was said to have a way with words,” you quip back much to his delight.

“One to one, drop your other sword,” he says, turning back towards you.

“That’s hardly fair,” you retort, more petulant than you’d have liked.

“I thought you would know by now, life isn’t fair,” He remarks and you grit your teeth but do as he requests jabbing your other sword into the ground.

“I should ask you to chop your spear in half,”

“Stop putting it off” he says, shining the spear’s point on his sleeve. It's different now he seems to have sussed out your style and in mere seconds. He lunges forward and you mirror him but he pulls back quickly, dancing out of reach from your sword which swings aimlessly in the air, throwing you off balance. You find your footing just as he sweeps your feet from beneath you knocking you on your back. He swings down but you block it with your forearm, managing to use your free hand to swipe at his ankle. Noticing your movements he jumps back, releasing the pressure of his weight from your arm allowing you to get back up.

“You’re bleeding,” he states, weapon falling to his side, upset at having marked your skin with his blade when he’d much rather have done so with his mouth.

“Stop trying to distract me,” you hiss, upset at being bested so easily. Rushing forward your weapons meet in the air. Metal on wood sounding out as you hack into the spear hoping to break it. As you split the spear in half he allows your force to carry you forward and he maneuvers behind you. A harsh tap on your wrist causes your hand to retract dropping your sword which clammers unhappily to the ground. The spear's blunt end wraps around your waist pulling you into him, his strength more apparent than ever. He brings the bladed end up bracing his arm against your chest and pointing it towards your heart, your body now pressed tightly into his.

“Match,” he whispers softly into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. He lets you go after a minute when he feels your body relax into his, letting you walk off in defeat. He turns back to pick up the broken end of his weapon, and as he does a dagger flies by his head sticking in the wall mere inches from him.

“Chest isn’t a definite kill. The throat is,” you say, your time spent healing leaving you attune to your enemies anatomy.

“I'll add cheating to your growing list of qualities, ” he tuts, throwing the dagger back sticking it in the wall near you. “I could have you hung for a stunt like that,” he states, sauntering over to you.

“Did you have a proposition for me? Or did you only wish for me to come back here so you could be smug?” you query and he laughs watching as you remove the wrist guard from your bloodied arm assessing the gash you’d procured during your fight. He comes over to you placing his hand under your upturned arm caressing it as he looks down at the cut with disdain.

“Come, you should go to the palace healers,” he says softly, offering you insight into why so many found themselves in his chambers.

“No need,” you say, removing the skin to skin contact you so desperately longed for. Grabbing a handful of leaves from a nearby bush you place them in your mouth, chewing them into a paste and rubbing it into the cut, “my mother was a healer. That tree, its leaves cauterize the wound, less pain than fire, less scarring as well,” you state upon seeing his confusion. “Your proposition, my prince?” you ask his eyes going from your arm to your eyes.

“More of a request I suppose. My niece Arianne has gone missing since our last meeting, she was running away somewhere, towards something but someone else got to her first. We have our suspicions as to who has stolen her, but we need evidence prior to the accusation. I had my birds fly around and ask whom to contact, it seemed that you were the one for the job,” he explains.

“Is that so. How do I know I can trust you?” you ask, he’d found you and he’d been good thus far, but anytime you were shown kindness you were hesitant. In your experience it nearly always came with a price.

“I'm sure you're aware, but they have murdered my sister, and my greatest love I will not allow them to take anyone else I care for,” he says, fire in his eyes. It was the most serious you’d seen him. His usual jovity lost in a stoic expression, reminding you of another man you once knew.

“I believe your intentions to be true, but that is not cause for trust,” you explain, watching as nods his head slowly in agreement.

“You cannot trust, because you are unable. I understand why, so I fear nothing I say will ease you, but I swear, no harm will come to you here.”

“Not until you have what you want, at least” you mumble.

“And after,” he reassures, his tone nearly leading you to believe him.

“And apart from payment what's in it for me? If I am to uncover a truth that could start a war. I've spent too long hiding away to risk being found,”

“You have no risk, they think you’re dead, proclaimed it themselves, even if you showed up, they'd never be able to say otherwise. Apart from that, a chance at family,”

“Family,” you scoff, the concept long forgotten. “My family is dead” you say, a lie you told yourself to keep you away from Winterfell, though it was a lie likely to be true, knowing the Lannisters obsession with tying up loose ends.

“The Starks are rising again, Sansa is back in Winterfell, Arya is assumed alive and Jon is leading at the wall,” Oberyn lists off the rumours that had passed by his ears, but they were only whispers, nothing solid enough for you to cling too.

“Even if what you say is true I am nothing to them,” you say, tone remaining level despite the knot forming in your stomach.

“You are there sister,”

“I am not, not anymore, not after I failed them,” you confess.

“How so?”

“You asked me why I was here, I was here to find and plead my case to Danearys Targaryn. At Robbs behest, to help destroy the Lannisters,” you finally admit, a heavy sigh exhaled as you do.

“And I take it you never did,” he watches as a sense of shame, or perhaps it was guilt, wash over you, a crack in your armour.

“You help me find Arianne, you help me bring her home and I will help you reach the mother of dragons,” he states earnestly.

“You know where she is?” you ask head quickly, turning to him.

“Not yet, but I found you, and you were dead, someone alive,” you watch as he pulls a face “should be no problem.”

“And why would you help me,” you query, still unsure of his true motivation for recruiting you.

“An eye for an eye, or perhaps it's purely selfish. An assassin can only go so far. A dragon, now that can take down a lineage,” he says looking down at you.

“I cannot promise her safety, I will not mince words, for all we know Arianne may be dead,” you explain.

“I understand this. Think it over, your welcome to stay here as long as you please, it has been a while since I have faced new opponents, and ones with different training, sloppy as it may be,” he quips, hoping to bring a smile to your face.

“I could say the same of you,” you retort quickly.

“I've never been described as sloppy,” Oberyn states, only partially offended at the insinuation.

“Perhaps you surround yourself with people aiming to please you for too long,” you say, accidentally bumping your shoulder into him, the sudden contact causing a heat to rise in your stomach.

‘Perhaps,” he laughs, noting your flustered reaction, when a man approaches handing him a note which he reads intently. You take the moment to admire his strong features as they concentrate on the note. His brow was furrowed, pouted lips mouthing along to the scripture of the letter before dropping it down to his sides. “As much as it devastated me to do so, I must take my leave from your company, my Lady,” he bows, excusing himself to consult his brother before you can correct him. You continue to stroll through the garden watching a mass of colours bloom around you. You sit on a stone bench wondering how you’d ended up here, wondering if your family was in fact dead, and if any of the Starks truly remained alive.

“You’re the white wolf aren’t you?” you hear a voice call out behind you causing you to laugh.

“What?” the voice demands

“It seems I have many as many names as there are kings these days,” you state.

“Any of them true?” the voice asks as you turn to see the eldest sand snake, Tyene. She was Oberyn and Ellaria's daughter, their first born. She reminded you of Arya, the hardness on her face caused by the brave facade forced onto her.

“I was sorry to hear of your mothers passing, ” you say, turning to face Tyene ignoring her previous question.

“Were you?” she states accusingly.

“I was, she produced and trained all of you after all. You were the only people in Dorne who actually scared me,” you admit.

“If it's any condolence the Shadow Tracker had reached our ears, and my mother was quite impressed with you as well,” she says, knife twirling between her fingers “How did you find him, my father?”

“Unfortunately your father found me. He needs my help, to find your cousin,” you explain hoping to ease her weariness about your place in the palace.

“Who better to take down a lion than someone who lost everything because of them,” she states, trying to see where your allegiances lie. Tyene was always wary when an unknown woman arrived. Concerned they are seeking to use her father to gain power. “Added bonus you look as you do I suppose,” she continues, knife dancing between her digits.

“I wonder why beauty is always what it comes back to? I would be here no matter my face,” you state.

“While I believe you would have been hired, my father has an eye for pretty things. You would have been paid but you wouldn't have been welcomed back to the palace,” she scoffs.

“Are you sure of that?” you question, unsure if she was being truthful or spiteful.

“Yes,” she replies matter of factly

“Well, I'll take that into consideration. Your cousin, Arianne, where was she going the day she disappeared?” you question.

“I don't know,” she mumbles, knife stalling for a moment.

“I don't believe that.”

“We searched her room, we found nothing, nothing but this,” she says, retrieving a small book and handing it to you.

“You give it to me freely?” she hesitates letting it go but her grip eases allowing you to take it.

“If what they say of you is true, perhaps you are the only one who can find her. She can't be left for long. She can't defend herself. All she knows is stitching and art and reading,” Tyene spits, eyes glistening slightly.

“All of which are valiant professions and skills, ones I wish I possessed. They foster patience, skill and planning. They forge a strategic mind, which comes in handy especially when taken by the enemy, ” you explain, your words easing Tyene, though the worry in her eyes remains.

“So she may still be alive,” she questions hesitantly.

“I do not think they killed her at least not yet,” you sigh, tapping the book against your hand “Thank you for trusting me with this,”

“Thank me by finding her,” Tyene says standing up and continuing on her way, leaving you to read Ariannes journal pages.

That night you can't sleep, you stroll through the garden admiring the flora, the colours are ones you'd never thought possible before.

“Running off,” a familiar voice asks and you turn to face the prince who was sitting on a stone bench a book placed precariously in his hands.

“Would you stop me if I was?” you query, returning on your path.

“No, though your dress indicates something else is the reason for your late night adventure,” he says standing up and walking slowly towards you.

“Insomnia, the plague of the guilty,” you state, taking a tiger lily in your hand admiring its markings “even in the summer the north fails to grow such things.”

“Even the plants know, the cold is no place to live,” Oberyn offers, book grasped tightly behind his back.

“Have you been?” you ask, removing your hand from the lily, eyes trailing up to the moon flowers that were glowing under the starlight.

“No,” he huffs, as if the question is preposterous.

“Then how would you know?” you respond smugly, eyes glancing up at him admiring his features as they relax into defeat before glancing down to you brow still furrowed, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “The trees are unlike anything you have ever seen, taller than buildings, older than the race of men. They’ll be here long after we crumble. Their red leaves against the white bark, the time of the old gods still etched into existence. Have you ever seen the snow my prince?” you query turning to face him.

“No, though i've heard the mountain peaks here can get it this time of year, but i've never been possessed to seek out the cold,” he admits, the colour of your eyes more prominent under the full moon, your poetic retelling almost enticing, or perhaps it was just the lips they fell from drawing him in.

“I miss it sometimes,” you confess, offering him a rare glimpse of softness he’d yet to see, “There's no feeling quite like that of being under furs with the one you love, the warmth of a fire as the cold breeze blows over you,” you continue, shaking your head at your ridiculous notions of tranquility.

“It is still warmth you crave then,” he says and you laugh.

“I suppose you're right,” you admit and he chuckles, enjoying your laugh, more melodic than he would have expected. Without your armour he could see the scars scattered across your body, not prominent but there. Evidence of a harder life than he’d expected from a person married to a would-be king.

“Are you not used to such ghastly sights my prince?” you query, his eyes widening at being caught admiring your form.

“I have seen scars before, and yours are hardly what one would qualify as ghastly ,especially considering the body they find themselves etched into existence on. I am merely curious as to their origin, each body tells a story after all,” he says following closely behind you.

“And what is my story” you ask, spinning around to face him.

“That your careless, ” he begins, watching as your eyes caution him “but only for those you are willing to risk your life for”

“Interesting,” you say, running your tongue along the cusps of your teeth, turning and walking on ahead, his eyes following you, feet doing the same.

“Am I right” he asked, more curious than ever. You shrug your shoulder annoying him slightly, not accustomed to your lack of openness.

“And your scars?” you question stopping to smell a lilac bush, he watches as the fabric dips low enough to reveal your chest.

“I have none, I am not careless,” he says, eyes on your newly exposed flesh, you snap your eyes to him “do not mistake my tone, you are a strong adversary, but you take unnecessary risks.” He states.

“Yet here I am,” you say standing up crossing your arms over your chest.

“Yet here you are,” he says, taking continuous steps to you until the space between you both is closed. He’s staring down at you, both hearts beating fast. You raise your gaze to meet his, momentarily lost in his eyes, forgetting your train of thought for a moment.

“I...I will help find your niece,” you sputter out, quickly turning your back to him.

“I am pleased to hear that,” he says letting out a quick sigh at having missed an opportunity to envelop you in his arms and bring you back to his chambers.

“Goodnight prince Oberyn,” you say, not looking back as you begin the path back to your room, your head filled with his image despite your persistent attempts to expel him from your mind.

“Goodnight Lady Stark, or whoever you wish me to believe you to be,” he calls back, watching as you disappear from view.

[friendofspidermannedleeds]

Fictober - Day 16

Prompt #16: “I never wanted anything else”  Fandom: Spider-Man (MCU) Rating: G Warnings: None Characters: Ben & Peter Parker, May Parker/Ben Parker, OCs Cleo and Mark Hudson.  Words: 2805 Summary: Raising Peter has brought some financial strain into Ben and May’s lives, but they wouldn’t have it any other way.  Author’s Note: This fic is to blame for my inability to catch up on these prompts. It was supposed to be nice and short, but ended up being quite the one-shot in length. Whoops.  Also, Peter going for a sleepover at a science museum was 100% inspired by my favorite field trip from elementary school. We really did get to camp out in the exhibits, and it was as amazing as it sounds. 

---

Incalculable Worth  

Cleo and Mark are coming over for the weekend, and Ben’s not looking forward to it.

“It’ll go by fast,” May insists the Monday before, “It’s not even three full days. Besides, it’ll be good for them to see Peter again—it’s been years, he’s probably unrecognizable to them at this point.”

Ben knows she’s right, and it will be good to see Cleo and Mark again, the couple who served as the Maid of Honor and Best Man at their wedding. They were best friends with the pair before moving to New York, and staying in touch has been difficult ever since. So when Cleo and Mark announced they were planning a visit to the city, May enthusiastically offered to let them stay at the apartment.

But if Ben’s honest, he just doesn’t feel much of a connection with the couple anymore. When the two of them were in his and May’s wedding, they had so much in common. They all loved traveling, trying foods from various cultures, and seeking out new experiences on weekend trips. Then there was the shared life plans that truly brought them together in the first place—neither couple had a desire to be parents one day.

Ben knew it wasn’t fair to Cleo and Mark to resent them for doing what they’d always said they’d do—living a carefree, kid-less life—but the fact that they were living out their plan while May and Ben had Peter made it harder to relate to the couple.

“I just feel bad that we don’t even have a room for them,” Ben says. “That’s my main concern.”

“Yeah, well, it’s only for a few days.” May says. “And they knew they were signing up for a futon when they asked to visit.”

Ben glances at upcoming dates on the kitchen wall calendar.

“The science museum sleepover next Saturday—you get that worked out?”

“Oh, yes! Yes, they were so understanding.” May smiles. “They waived the deposit and said we could just bring it all at once when we go to drop Peter off.”

“Thank goodness.” Ben breathes. “I know how much he’s looking forward to it. He talked my ear off last night about how he and Ned already have a game plan to make sure they get to camp out in the astronomy exhibit.”

It had been a difficult month financially. May’s car had broken down, and the repairs depleted their emergency fund completely. Peter’s overnight field trip was momentarily forgotten as they paid other bills, so Ben was relieved the school had made an exception to their rule that kids couldn’t sign up without paying the $50 deposit two weeks before. Peter didn’t deserve to miss out just because of a broken-down vehicle.

“I better go pick him up from Ned’s.” He leans over to give May a goodbye kiss. “Be back soon.”

---

Cleo and Mark arrive Friday after Peter’s bedtime and have breakfast with Ben and May Saturday morning. Peter’s taken to sleeping late on the weekends, and they decide to let him rest.

“So, how was your summer?” Cleo asks after finishing one of Ben’s famous waffles. “Did you guys go on a trip for your anniversary?”

“Not this year,” May answers, “It wasn’t in the budget. But we had a lovely dinner and Peter made us the sweetest card—it’s there, on the fridge.”

The couples turn to look at the masterpiece, and Ben’s heart still swells at the sight of it. Peter had obviously put so much time and effort into the card, writing “Happy Anniversary” in painstakingly careful cursive and drawing an adorable couple in a white dress and tux that bore a slight resemblance to May and Ben. It isn’t perfect—their kid’s a genius, but not an artistic one—but it isn’t a throwaway project that was patched together in the nick of time, either.

“So cute.” Cleo says, turning back to the table with a smile. “He must be so big now. What grade will he be going into?”

“Fourth,” Ben says proudly, “And he’s at the top of his class.”

“Good for him,” Mark nods. “And good for you guys for doing such a great job with him.”

“Thanks,” May replies brightly, “We do try. But he’s just always been such a wonderful kid, we can’t really take credit for him.”

Mark helps himself to another waffle. “So no anniversary trip this year—when’s the last time you guys traveled? Any good stories to share?”

Ben suppresses a grimace, not prepared to relay that their financial situation afforded no opportunity for such luxuries.

May takes on the question. “We haven’t been much of anywhere in recent years, actually. We’ve been busy here, with—” with Peter, Ben thinks “—with work, and school stuff, and everything. You know.”

“Yeah, of course. Totally understand that.” Mark grabs the maple syrup. “I mean, I guess we don’t really understand—not like you guys do, at least. Cause of the whole, ‘no kids’ thing.”

Cleo jumps in. “Yeah, I’m sure it’s hard to think about taking trips with a kid tagging along.” She’s speaking earnestly, not unkindly, but Ben’s still a little on edge. “Kids can tie you down.”

“It’s not that we can’t travel with Peter,” Ben says quickly, “that’s not it at all. He’d travel fine, it’s just…financial stuff. Can’t quite make it work.”

“I get that.” Mark nods. “My brother and his wife, they talk about it all the time. He wanted a boat, she wanted a trip to Italy, but now they have babies, and well—kids are expensive.” He catches himself as he sees Cleo’s mortified expression—it’s as if they’ve both noticed at once the insensitivity in their words.

“Oh, May, Ben,” Cleo says, “we didn’t mean to say you’re missing anything, or—or that you’re—”

“It’s fine, Cleo, don’t worry.” May smiles. “We totally understand. But the thing is, we’re just so happy. We haven’t been anywhere special in a while, and I miss it, sure, but Peter is worth it.” She looks at Ben, her eyes shining with sincerity. “Right, Ben?”

God, he loves her.

“Absolutely, May.”

“Speaking of Peter,” Cleo starts, clearly relieved to be moving forward from her gaffs, “where is that little guy? We need to see him before we go out into the city today!”

May looks at the time. “Oh wow, it is getting pretty late. I’m surprised he’s not up by now. Ben, do you want to wake him?”

“Yeah, I’ll go see if he’s up.”

Ben’s glad of an excuse to leave the table. The conversation had begun to sound too much like the ones he and May first had when Richard and Mary passed—could they take on Peter when they had so many other plans? Should they take on Peter when they’d never felt cut out to raise kids of their own?

It makes him feel incredibly guilty to look back on those uncertainties now that Peter is firmly a part of their family, and the central focus of their lives.

He knocks gently on the door of Peters’ room.

“Peter? Are you up?”

Hearing no response, he gently pushes his way inside. Peter’s lying face down on his bed, on top of the covers, with his pillow over his head.

Ben sits and pulls the pillow off.

“Hey, sleepyhead, wake up.”

Peter turns over, squinting almost a little too much, like he’s doing it for comedic effect.

“Morning, Uncle Ben.”

“Good morning, buddy. Why the pillow over the head? Could you even breathe under there?”

Peter sits up and rubs his eyes. “Yeah, I could. I just wanted to sleep more and the sirens were loud.”

Ben grins. “Ah, yes. I heard those.” He stands up. “Well we’ve got waffles for breakfast, and Cleo and Mark are here and would love to meet you, so get up and get dressed, okay?”

Peter nods, and Ben heads back out to sit with the company.

The truth is, Cleo and Mark were right. The unexpected nature of raising Peter has made finances tight. And Ben would be lying if he said he’d never thought about how their lives would be different if they hadn’t made the choice to adopt Peter after they lost Richard and Mary. Choosing Peter had meant sacrificing some of their previous life plans and goals, and it wasn’t always easy.

But waking up his kid with the ridiculously ruffled, messy hair and bright brown eyes solidified what he always knew—though they’d never planned to raise a kid, Peter was an absolute gift. Ben wouldn’t have it any other way.

---

A week later, Ben knocks on Peter’s door again.

“Peter? You finished packing for the museum sleepover yet, bud? We’re leaving in an hour.”

“Um, no. I’m not ready.”

“Need some help?”

“No.” Peter’s voice sounds tight. “I’m good.”

Ben frowns. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah.” He says after a pause.

Ben opens the door to find an empty overnight bag on the floor, an unrolled sleeping bag, and no other evidence to suggest Peter’s been packing.

“Peter, what’s up? You really should be ready by now, let’s get a move on.” He kneels down and starts to roll up the sleeping bag. “I’ll do this while you grab the clothes you want to bring, let’s go.”

“I don’t want to go anymore.”

Ben stops what he’s doing and looks up at his nephew. He’s sitting on the edge of his bed, feet barely touching the floor, avoiding eye contact.

“Why not?”

Peter shrugs. “I just changed my mind. I don’t think it’ll be fun.”

Ben knows there’s no way Peter’s suddenly lost interest in science of all things, so he presses further.

“Are you feeling okay?” He lays the back of his hand against Peter’s forehead, and, feeling no heat, switches to his palm so he can brush the boy’s curls back. “Did something happen to make you nervous?”

“No.” Peter says, turning to look in Ben’s eyes for a brief moment. “I just don’t want to go, okay?”

Ben sighs and sits on the bed. “Peter, please. You were so excited about this, I know you wanted to sleep next to Jupiter. Talk to me, I want to help.”

His plea is met with silence, making him uneasy. It’s not like Peter to be so closed-off.

Ben’s about to speak again when Peter beats him to it.

“I’m expensive.” He says quietly, eyes glued to his lap.

Ben’s confused. “What do you mean, buddy?”

“Kids cost a lot of money, and then grownups can’t go on trips or have nice things or…or do what they want. Kids tie them down.”

The phraseology sounds all-too-familiar to Ben, but he asks for more context all the same.

“Who told you that?”

“Nobody,” Peter mumbles, “I just know.”

Ben brushes a hand across his mouth. Guilt sets in as he realizes why Peter’s sleeping stance had been so strange when he “woke him up” last Saturday. He hadn’t been asleep.  

“Did you…did you maybe overhear us talking with our friends last weekend?”

Peter shakes his head, but Ben can tell it’s a bluff. He waits, knowing his nephew’s inherent honesty will kick in any moment.

“Maybe—maybe I did,” Peter admits shortly, “But I already knew I cost money, I just didn’t think about how…how much.” His eyes remain focused downward, and Ben moves closer to put a careful arm around his shoulders.

“Peter, bud—”

The boy jumps up from Ben’s embrace and heads to his desk. Ben lets him go, watching with concern as Peter logs on to an old laptop they’d salvaged and repurposed together. He returns as soon as the screen has loaded, sitting back down, but noticeably further away from Ben.

He flips the screen around, revealing an Excel spreadsheet.

“I calculated the numbers. I know money is tight, and now I know why. It’s me. I cost more than $100,000 total to raise.”

Ben wishes momentarily that his kid wasn’t top of his class. No nine-year-old should know how to calculate their financial expenses on a spreadsheet.

“Peter, how did you come up with that number—”

“The internet.” He’s still not looking at Ben, just staring at the laptop as he points to the screen. “And that’s way more than you and May make in a year, so—”

“Whoa, whoa.” Ben interrupts. He sees a decent estimation of his and May’s salaries listed under an “income” column. Peter’s right, but he doesn’t know how. “Where did you get that information—”

“The internet.” Peter says impatiently. Ben’s stunned, unable to form a coherent reply to all of this, so Peter continues.

“May also lets me look at grocery receipts cause I like the math, so I know how much food costs us. And I looked everything else up and plugged it in here—”

“Peter, Peter stop, we don’t—”

“—and I know that it was really expensive when I went to the doctor so much last year, and I know special school trips are expensive,” Peter’s voice begins to waver, “and I just don’t want to go because you and May should get to go somewhere. You should get to go on a vacation like Ned’s mom and dad but you never have. And I know it’s because—it’s because of me.” He chokes out the last few words as tears come to his eyes. He quickly wipes at them with the back of his sleeve, and Ben’s heart breaks in two.

Slowly, gently, he takes the laptop from Peter’s hands and closes it. Peter doesn’t try to hold onto the device, his shoulders only slumping further. Ben moves off the bed and kneels in front of him.

“Peter, listen to me. I know how smart you are, so I’m not going to lie to you.” He sighs. “You’re right about a few things. Kids do cost money to raise. And maybe your spreadsheet math is right, buddy, I don’t know. You’re probably better at calculating all of that than I am.”

Peter’s still brushing away tears, and Ben wishes his kid would meet his eyes, but he isn’t going to force it.

“But here’s the most important thing, Peter. I need you to listen to me closely, okay?”

He’s still looking down, but nods with a sniffle.

“These numbers do not matter. Your worth, Peter?” He takes his thumb and softly wipes away some of the tears on his nephew’s cheek. “Your worth is incalculable.”

He exhales. “The thing is, buddy, it doesn’t matter how much it costs us to feed you, or to take you to the doctor, or to buy you new clothes, or let you go on a school trip. You’re worth all of it and more. We love you more than anything, and we are so lucky to have you. I’d trade every trip or fancy car or boat—every nice thing in the world—everything I own, all the time I have left, so you could be ours.”

Peter finally looks up at him, lip trembling.

“But I shouldn’t even be here. You and May didn’t want a kid. You didn’t choose me.”

The words catch Ben off-guard, but he’s not entirely surprised. He’s wondered if, or when, Peter would make that connection and bring it to light.

“But we did, Peter. We did.” He smiles, desperate to soften his boy’s broken expression. “You could have gone with Grandma Lorraine, or to another family. But we wanted you. We chose you, and we will keep choosing you, because you are worth it, Peter. We love you.”

“But you’re not sad you can’t go on trips?” Peter asks. “You don’t wish you had more money?”

Ben takes his hands. “I have you, and I have May. I never wanted anything else.”

Peter truly breaks at that moment, launching himself off the bed and into Ben’s waiting arms. He rubs Peter’s back as tears puddle onto his shoulder, and they trade “I love yous” unsparingly.

After they finally break away, Ben looks at the clock and startles a bit. He grabs for the sleeping bag.

“Come on, buddy, we don’t wanna be late! Grab your PJs, some clothes for tomorrow and your toothbrush, let’s move!”

Peter doesn’t hesitate for even a second, scrambling to do as he’s told and pack the overnight bag. Everything’s set in five minutes.

As they’re heading out the door, Peter grabs Ben’s arm.

“Wait—you’re sure we can afford this?” He asks earnestly.

“Yes, we absolutely can. But you don’t have to worry about that, okay? You’re worth it.” Ben kisses his forehead.

Peter relaxes. “Uncle Ben?”

“Yeah bud?”

“You’re worth all my money and all my time, too.”

[thatcookingfat]

Extreme Makeover: Dizzy Edition!

So we left Dizzy and Dotty about to embark on an adventure. Which is a diplomatic way of saying we were to battle bureaucracy, encounter homelessness and discover what a complete ass the law could be!

(Dizzy has asked that I keep real names out of the blog, she’s happy being ‘Dizzy’ or ‘Dotty’s mum’, but doesn’t trust this internet thingy and wants to remain incognito!) 

The first night of our epic journey was spent at Mum’s friend's flat!   I was thrilled, this was going to be just like a Blyton blockbuster!  In reality, I should have realised that the smell I woke up to the following morning would sum up the experience! Anyone who has ‘experienced’ the aromatic. ammonia ridden, ambiance of a baby’s morning nappy can never ‘unsmell’ the eye watering, gut wrenching stench!  

Excited that I wasn’t going to school for the foreseeable future, it was like the summer holidays, but just for me!  All my friends would be in assembly by now, I was just getting up! I was going to be spending the next few days, weeks, could even be forever playing with this baby and school was done!  And to top it all, Mum and I were going into town (which usually meant, Mum’s gonna buy me something) Haha, it was like Blackpool all over again, the reality was a far throw from the dream!

The trip into ‘town’ turned into a day of drudgery sat in ‘The Council House’ and then ‘Social Security’. I had never experienced boredom like it and bored kids make bratty kids! We then had to walk, what felt like a million miles, in gale force winds, driving rain and sheer misery.  And just to top it off, we arrived at a guest house that made flea pits look like a 5 star hotel, even the cockroaches were leaving! We had one single bed and one blanket for the two of us! Mum, back then was ‘wholesome’ shall we say? A size 18 lady and a child ain’t meant to sleep together in a 3 ft bet. So, huddled, sorry superglued together, scared to move in case the blanket moved and the arctic air blasted away any hint of heat, we spent the first night of our ‘adventure’.

Waking up the following morning, I discovered mum was already up.  She didn’t have to get dressed, all we had were the clothes we stood in! And whoop whoop, I didn’t have to clean my teeth, ... we didn’t even own a toothbrush! Well, I say mum was ‘up’, i discovered years later that she hadn’t slept! Once I had drifted off, she had gotten up.  Without her body mass in the bed, she had been able to tuck the blanket in, ensuring I was warm. She then sat in the single chair in the room, leaning over onto the desk and had managed minute naps that were punctuated with gnawing cold. Ain’t nothing like a Mother’s love for her young!

Tantrum number one came when I realised that this guest house ‘didn’t do breakfast’ I was STARVING. Tantrum number two followed when I discovered it was going to be another day at the council house and social security. And I finally pushed mum to breaking point when I realised we were going back to the guest house again that night! As an adult, I don’t blame her for the good hiding I got.  She had no money, no home and didn’t know when we eat or sleep again.  The only way she could ensure that I had a bed for the night and food in my stomach was to sit it out at these offices for hours on end and all I could do was ‘spit my dummy out’. It was the only time I saw the feet paddling frantically below the water of this gracious swan!

This daily routine of waking up cold and hungry, battling arctic weather to ‘prove’ we were homeless continued for weeks; because the family ‘home’ was in his name, the council were powerless to force him to allow us into the flat. Mum couldn’t afford a solicitor, hell she couldn’t even afford food for herself, so she grabbed the first offer of Legal Aid assistance she could get! With hindsight, describing her solicitor as “as much use as a chocolate teapot” would he unfair on chocolate teapots! There was so much frantic paddling going on with this graceful swan it was unbelievable.  In a time when the education system was very ‘open plan’ and laissez faire, mum was being threatened with legal action for keeping me away from school! It didn’t matter that she was given a daily allowance to feed us that was only enough for one meal in a cafe (my meal). Nor did it matter that to get me to school would take a four mile walk, each way, as the daily ‘allowance’ was gone on feeding me, there was nothing left for bus fare! A compromise was reached, my cousin was at the same school, so she would bring home work for me, which was passed to Nan & Grandad for me to collect on a Sunday, when Nan insisted we stay for sunday dinner!  I then had a week to finish the work, for her to return to the teachers! Years later, she apologised to me for, “putting me through it,” but she had no choice. If I wasn’t seen to be in the guest house every night then there would be NO assistance, NO daily allowance, basically NO help for us!

The only good night’s sleep I got was on the eve of my 9th birthday. Nan didn’t give Mum a choice, “That wee waine is gonnae wake up on her birthday, with her family” Oh my goodness, that was the BEST birthday present ever! Clean sheets, so many blankets I couldn’t move under the weight and I could take my arms from under the covers without the fear of frostbite! And the luxury continued, bacon and egg sarnies for breakfast (with gallons of tomato sauce), ‘Stovies’ for lunch and a full roast dinner for tea!  I genuinely don’t remember what presents I got, I just remember the heat, comfort and the experience of my first ‘Food Coma’!

I don't remember falling asleep or being carried up to bed, but I do vaguely remember being woken up with a strange man leaning over me! I also remember feeling like an elephant was on my chest and I was hotter than I’d ever felt! It turns out, the strange man was a doctor and hot elephant on my chest was in fact Bronchitis! The next few days were a blur, I just remember waking up coughing, being given this sweet syrup, spoon fed chicken noodle soup or stovies and drifting off into another drug induced slumber! My first experience of ‘Codeine Linctus’ was like “WOW MAN, this is goooooood shit!” 

Whilst I was being spoilt rotten by Nan, mum was back to the daily drudge of the council house and social security! Armed with a note from the doctor, I was given a temporary reprieve, but there was no respite for mum! At least, whilst I was gone, she was allowed the luxury of the single blanket and 3 ft of bed space! Honestly, ‘the ambassador was spoiling us” (Sarcastic? Moi?). She battled on and eventually, with the assistance of the NSPCC and a Probation & Welfare officer, Chapter One of our nightmare ended. We were going home! I was going back to MY bed, MY books, MY toys and MY beloved puss cat, Smokie Charlie! If you haven’t guessed by now, my dreams were nothing like reality, my middle middle name should be JONAH! 

So the first night at ‘home’ began! Dotty ‘Lucky Jonah’ discovered she no longer had her own room! The past few weeks had taught me to be grateful for what I got, I was still silently pissed off though! For a change, I was going to be sharing a room with Mum! At least this time it was double bed and there was an electric blanket! And I was allowed to rescue my Famous Five collection, I would be able to read myself to sleep again!  Haha, Cue Chapter 2 of the Nightmare!

Sitting there, Smokey Charley making up for weeks of being unloved, the awkward silence was broken. Now what do you think a ‘father’s’ first words to his daughter would be? “Sorry?” “I’ve missed you?” or even, “How are you?” ... Go on, have a guess ... .... .... ....

Did you get it? 10/10, gold star and go to the front of the class if you guessed,

“You’re going into care and that cat is being put down!”  

WOW! Please step forward Father of the Century!!!

Mum ‘lost it!’ All size 14 of her (Yup I said 14, not 18) landed on his lap, fists flailing in all directions and language her Scottish relatives would have been proud of, she finally released some of the pent up anger and frustration she’d endured over the past few weeks! I just ran out of the flat in panic! I must have been making a helluva noise as the next door neighbour came rushing out of their door. Although all she heard were loud wails and sobs, she somehow realised there was something wrong and flew into our flat. Feeling safe with another grown up, I followed her in. I have impeccable timing! I saw his fist hit Mum’s jaw and she slid down the door, unconscious! It was his signature move, Mum’s jaw was dislocated AGAIN! The neighbour just picked me up, (I was stood stiff and silent, as if the ‘pause’ button had been pressed) and bundled me into her flat.I will be honest, I don’t remember what happened next, my next recollection is waking up in Mum’s bed, with all the lights on and an almighty row going on ... for a change! He’d dragged her out of hed and was going for round 2! My high pitched screams must have halted him, the next thing I remember was being cuddled up to Mum, it was dark and the only noise was the involuntary sobs that continued long after my tears had dried.

Not surprisingly, I didn’t return to school the next day, as had been planned! That evening, Round 3 began! Apparently Mum had stolen his wallet!. Unfortunately for him, his luck had run out! As I had failed to return to school as agreed, the authorities had been called! We were unaware at the time, but I had been put on the ‘At Risk Register’! And, as I ran out of the flat in fear again, who should be walking up the stairs but the Probation & Welfare and the NSPCC officers! Demanding the police were called, for the theft of his wallet, he couldn’t understand that his raised fist to Mum was wrong! When they asked him where he last saw his wallet, he nonchalantly replied, “In the freezer, where I left it!” Yes, dear reader, I said the FREEZER!! 

I’m not sure if it was because they HAD to or out of sheer curiosity, but they emptied the freezer! Loe and behold, there was the wallet, wrapped in a plastic bag and hidden in a bag of frozen peas!! Stop rubbing your eyes ... you DID read, the wallet was in the FREEZER, wrapped in a plastic bag, hidden in a bag of frozen peas! You couldn’t make it up, could you!

He was given two options, leave the flat for the evening or spend it in the cells! He tried to negotiate a third option, Mum leave and I go into care! Oh this ‘man’ was a ‘real catch’, wasn’t he? Now the Probation and Welfare Officer was his nemesis, a woman AND she wasn’t even considering option 3! He threw a tantrum that even a two year old would have been proud of! Clearly a mother, she knew the best thing to do was ignore the tantrum! Eventually, he was able to comprehend, that this woman was ‘not for turning’ and he left the flat. Mum was told to call the police if he returned that evening, and I was going to be driven to school the next day!

Good to her word, I WAS driven to school the next day and so was mum! I was greeted like a long lost relative by my friends and I experienced something new! For the first time, I didn’t understand ‘the work’! I was used to sitting at the Top Table, diligently getting on with my work. That day I was STILL on the Top Table, but I was lost!  Our table had always been competitive, to finish first was more important than getting the answers right! I set myself up for ridicule, because I regularly finished first AND got the answer right! And, as any parent knows, kids can smell weakness from a mile away! The hunters were enjoying circling and toying with their prey! Already raw with emotion from the last few weeks, I experienced another ‘first’ ... RAGE! I ‘flipped out’ It was MY turn to release some frustration and anger! I was picked up by my ‘giant’ of a teacher and taken into the reception area and he just held me tight! As much as I tried to move, he had me in a death grip! The angry tears merged into sobs, loud, heartfelt sobs! I couldn’t stop, the floodgates had opened and there was no holding back the tide!

I was unaware that Mum and ‘The Officer’ had been in the Headmistresses’ Office discussing the ‘situation’ and, on hearing my meltdown, had come rushing out! My teacher, apparently, put a finger to his lips to silence mum, as I struggled with my emotions. The sobs silenced and I was back to the involuntary sighs that a body does after a ‘good cry’! Apparently I started snoring, yup I had cried myself to sleep! Needless to say, the Top Table left me alone after that.  I worked so hard to catch up and was soon finishing first, with the right answer again!  OH YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!, Normal working had been resumed! (sorry, it’s a term I’m used to, from my railway days, basically everything was returning to normal, with any disruption improving)

At the end of the last post I explained that I had a choice of going with Mum, or going to my Aunt’s across the road from the school. My Aunt, HIS sister and guess where he went to live ... Yup, you got it, honestly I’m not making it up! It was amazing how often he was, ‘just walking down the road’ at hometime. Soon,I was leaving school via the office again, being escorted home by my cousin (from Mum’s side of the family) to avoid confrontation. Monday’s were always a good day for me.  I only did ‘half a day’! My Probation and Welfare Officer, (I’m going to call her ‘Hannah’ from now on, it’s quicker to type) would pick me up for ‘lunch’.  We would go to a local cafe and have tea and cake! OMG, I was soooooo grown up! It was her way of ‘softening me up’ to open up.  it worked for a couple of meetings, only I soon realised that the quicker we stopped talking, the quicker I was taken home, and there’s nothing like being at home when you’re classmates aren’t!  I was authorised to ‘Wag It’

It must have been such a scary time for Mum.  She’d swapped a bossy dad for a bastard, so she’d never been in control of her own life!  She’d believed for as long as she could remember that she was stupid, useless and a lost cause! And it took her LONG time to discover that she was a very strong and clever lady. OK, so she couldn’t read or write, but she’d had a more valuable education! She had graduated with Honours for the School of Hard Knocks, completed her Masters at the University of Life and she was a Doctor of Resilience! Mum was now a very ‘svelte’  size 12, she’d discovered make up and, when she could scrape the money together, she would treat herself to a trip to the charity shop for new clothes. A very talented, self taught, seamstress, she could turn a potato sack into an evening gown. So whatever she bought, bore little resemblance to the outfit she would wear.

Things seemed to be calming down, I was back to being ‘Top of The Class’ at school, thanks to my Minder Cousin there were no more ‘accidental’ meetings and Mum & I settled into a new routine. Money was tight, pocket money even scarcer, but there was peace, something I had learned to cherish! You’ve probably guessed that it wasn’t going to last, whereas I had been lured into a false sense of security, ever the optimist!!! To begin with I was unaware of a ‘visitor’ at the front door.  But having the living door closed on me and told not to open it, I became inquisitive, I was learning Mum’s favourite childhood word, “WHY?”

Like many flats, there were two exits from the kitchen, on which was next to the front door, the other accessed from the ‘other’ living room door that led to the bedrooms.  So I learned to sneak out the ‘other’ living room door, silently open the second door to the kitchen, and eavesdrop! I couldn’t hear much of what was being said, but I knew the voice, it was the voice that told me I was going into care and that my cat was going to killed!  He was back! Mum’s told me a lot more since I learned to ‘Adult’ and apparently he kept coming back in the hope Mum would forgive him! Like many of us, he could see the ‘Ugly Duckling’ transformation happening before our very eyes! What we couldn’t see was the new invisible ‘lodger’ The one that told her she was still fat, she was ugly, the one that taught her that the only control she had in her life, was the control she had over her eating; her new best friend Anorexia. And her, soon to be, ex-husband found himself in a position he was alien to, he was powerless ... and a powerless abuser is a dangerous abuser!

Next time, more about Dizzy and her transformation. How ‘He’ managed to turn my thinking around and how we all coped with a HUGE change. Enter stage left, ‘MR RIGHT.’ The man, that no matter how much I pushed him away, pulled me closer. The man, who’s life I made hell. The man that after a long hard battle, finally wore me down.  The man I am proud to call my Dad, my boys’ Grandad, the Man that showed me what a REAL Dad was! ... Call the plumber, the eyes have sprung another leak!

Until next time, Dotty x

[classyblondegirls-blog]

Smart Solar Box Review eBook PDF - Does It Actually Work

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You need to use 18-20 hours of effectiveness by means of charging you by way of a specific battery power. Sure, everything you should do may be to bill it. You can easlily resource this capability to any electronic device that runs using electrical power. Perhaps it is a light, a hose light-weight, a toaster, or perhaps an aura conditioning body. This device has no limits. You ought to thoroughly clean the panels and dust cases at common time intervals of at the least 6 months. Above and beyond a PDF, this plan also includes video the place Ryan points out easy methods to easily assemble the solar appliance without a screwdriver! So, don’t be anxious if you happen to a bad repair shop. Ryan Tanners claims that you could construct this whole unit in whooping cost of $200. This gadget can be so calm, you will not even listen to it moving. Important things about Smart Solar Box Blueprint This piece of equipment can be so faultless and is particularly just simply flawless. But the reason why it a hands on champion? Using are the main advantages of the Smart Solar Box Program by Ryan Tanner: Affordable system - Seeing that we are looking at valuable electric power consumption at low price, a royally pricy gadget to save strength use not really seems sensible. Just take time to start thinking about your once-a-year vigour costs. Ryan Tanners promises that device are usually constructed in simply $200. On top of that, this device is so very highly effective, to assist you lower your electric bill by 68Per cent. That amounts to close to $2000 of savings per year! Easy to understand the information - The straightforward details provided by Ryan in his PDF and also video get the overall creating process so artless. Setting up Smart Solar Box Review is not too tricky! You may not have including the typical medical approach for this, everything you need to do, is usually to refer to the instructions from the video or your PDF, and within a few hours, you can increase your own self an energy financial institution. Carry it combined, wherever you go! - This piece of equipment is exceedingly handy. You can use it anywhere you want to, and whenever. This piece of equipment can even easily fit in your trunk area. This can be a light-weight and light-weight appliance. So, it is extremely worthy of backpacking, and occasion outs. Also, it is extremely silent even as it carries out. You simply will not even pick up this device using. You can easlily do business it soundlessly for roughly 20 hours, on lone power charge, as mentioned earlier. Little, or No service - The only real care issue of solar -box-review/">Smart Solar Box pros and cons is the scrubbing associated with the solar panels. But again, you do not have to make it happen whenever earlier than six months time useful. Even a batteries be employed by an incredibly number of years. So, the constant maintenance is very simple. Renewable power - While we speak of electric power situation, we ought to be aware of the delicate and mandatory thought of ecological and green-colored effort. We cannot afford to pollute the community and workout the power solutions rashly, just to scale back our the latest electric power necessitates. This piece of equipment is exceedingly eco-pleasant, and produces renewable energy by harnessing solar and wind flow effort. 60-moment refund confirm - As many people, we all passion confirm, should we not? Warranty merely provides for us the self-assurance in making any pay for with no anxiety. You will be glad to be aware that Ryan Tanner Smart Solar Box Review will give its customer a 60-period ensure. You may be supplied 60 days to form your own personal device and give it a try. Whether it fails to reduce your power expenses by also a $, you will be introducing get your money back! Drawbacks of Solar Electricity Box Well, just about every coin has two aspects, doesn’t it? So is the situation for Smart Solar Box Course by Ryan Tanner. In addition to most of the fantastic rewards of having this gadget along with you, it does have its own potential problems. Allow us to take them into consideration. It deserves time - Despite because you do not require being an expert to put together this piece of equipment exclusively by yourself, it is not fake that you will need to give it much time and dedication. If this type of employment is not going to sense increase your ante, you can easlily employ someone for doing this. Virtual set up product or service - This device is entirely electronically formatted. Which means that you can get all of the info electronically, i.e., by way of a laptop, or maybe a mobile. You can not acquire it personally. So, assuming you have a bad service, you are likely to skin dilemmas in internet streaming videos. Final result With currently being claimed, ReviewsMagz Smart Solar Box Reviews is definitely an smart property investment that can most certainly not create unhappy. This gadget has a minimal work amount, and requires this sort of small routine maintenance. It is really so easily transportable, you should take it basically wherever, and luxuriate in as many as 20 hours of organic green environmentally friendly electricity at similar low price. Besides that, it contributes greatly you spare up plenty of cash in your energy source expenses. That does not love personal savings? You will almost certainly program a journey coming from all these savings, and definitely, transport the Smart Solar Box Scam by Ryan Tanner along. Besides that, right after Ryan’s tips is so very easy and faultless, you are able to build all by yourself these devices almost immediately! Also, it is usually certainly eco-oriented.