#unexpected gifts

[fatchance]

A lovely surprise arrived in the mail – a hand-turned cup of claro walnut made my my nephew, Tyler. The cup is about 60 mm tall and 60 mm in diameter. It is perfect.

I think I'm going to assign it the mundane but useful task of holding colored pencil stubs on my work table.

[cellard0ors]

It happens like this.

Max is dead.

Kaylee is dead.

Abi is dead.

Chris is dead.

Constance is dead

Two other counselors, Dylan and Emma, are discovered dead.

Ryan and a girl Laura is told is named Kaitlyn, go off in search of other potential survivors - the rest of the counselors - friends of theirs, they have had yet to find one way or another.

Caleb brushes Travis off without a word - instead saying something about finding his grandpa.

This leaves Travis and Laura alone in the lodge.

(explicit beneath cut)

The lodge is a big, lonely building. Laura changes out of Constance's old fashioned dress. She washes her face. She tries to cope.

Not even two hours ago she discovered her boyfriend mauled to death on a dock.

She didn't cry.

Not at the sight of him crumpled there, not when her heart dropped into her stomach as she rolled him over, not even when she felt Travis standing behind her, heard him say, 'He's gone.'

She's not crying now either, looking hollow faced into the mirror in front of her.

We're free.

That's what Max said when they left their cells. Two months under lock and key and she can recall with complete clarity the look on his face as he said that.

The sheer audacity of him...to say it so simply.

We're free.

Laura knew better.

She'll never be free. Never again. She committed to a path, a murderous one, one she knew she'd never come back from.

She'd hated him for that.

Even as she set her sights on ignoring her conscience, even as she set her mind on killing Chris Hackett to cure Max, she'd hated him.

Because he didn't seem to understand the gravity of the situation. Because he didn't seem to grasp the sacrifice she was making. Because he didn't seem to recognize that he, and he alone, was free

And now, to add insult to injury, he's dead.

Max is dead.

So, turns out - neither of them is free.

There is no happy ending.

And that's that.

She was directed to a collection of luggage by Ryan before he left. He let her know she could change. It made sense - not to continue to wear blood stained clothing, someone else's clothing.

To be fair, she doesn't know whose clothes she's wearing now either. A light blouse, a skirt, that's all. She leaves the restroom and wanders around, listless as a ghost.

There hasn't been much talk about what to do next. No doubt the police will have to be called. Maybe the FBI. Laura doesn't know how it works. She doesn't know anything.

Not anymore.

She floats around until she discovers a small library. There are stacks upon stacks of books and filled cases and she hears a strange sound, a sort of stifled sob, sniffling.

Laura walks inside and turns a corner and there he is.

Travis Hackett.

The bastard cop.

The man who kept her and Max trapped for two months with little to no explanation. The one who revealed the world of werewolves to her, the one really responsible for the loss of her eye, the one who was hiding them, protecting them.

The one who's now crying.

It's the kind of crying men do - the kind where they feel like they can't cry because they're men and it's so stupid and infuriating and annoying.

Travis is crying. Who knows why. Maybe because his niece is dead or his brother. Maybe because his mother is dead and while she treated him abysmally from Laura's point of view, maybe there was more to it than she knows.

Maybe it's for all three of them, his family, the one he felt it was so important to protect and cover for. Or, maybe, maybe it's even for Max - considering he failed him just as much as Laura did.

Or, more likely, it's for all of it.

For the survivors, for the dead, for the end of the curse. For the first real sunlight worth a damn after six long, hard, lost years.

All of it and more.

It's worth a cry.

But Laura...she can't.

She can't cry. No tears will come.

And she should scream at him. Hit him. Hate him.

...instead she goes to him and touches his shoulder.

Travis goes rigid under Laura's fingertips.

...but he doesn't draw away.

He continues to sit. Stiff and upright - his face lined with tears and he swallows thickly and looks at her. Laura looks right back.

It's hard to say when or how they come together, who moves in first. But it doesn't really matter, because soon enough her mouth is on his and his hands are on her and they're both spiraling out.

Laura clutches at his face and her panting matches his and then his breath is in her ear as she tears at his clothes, as she works them off of him.

She has little success, but when she hears Travis's utility belt drop, when she hears his zipper go down, she's overcome with something she can't explain. It's an effusive mixture of emotions and they hit her hard like a bullet to the face and that's when she starts crying.

Not because it hurts, not because she doesn't want to, but because it's all the exact opposite. It feels good and right and like something destined to happen, like something she didn't even know she'd been waiting for or wanting.

They're kissing again and her mouth is filled with the taste of their mixed salty tears and old blood and his big warm hands are on her bare thighs, the skirt she has on hitched up and exposing her, revealing she has no underwear.

Laura's bare ass ends up on top of some short bookshelf or counter top or something and it doesn't matter, nothing does, because at some point she started whispering words, saying his name, asking him for things without even thinking about it.

Yes, here.

Yes, harder.

Yes, please...fuck me, fuck me. Please, please, please...

And it's as if he's a race horse that's been freed from the starting gate, the way he reacts - as if she's whipping him into a frenzied pace, as if he's been held back or held down for too long and he just needs to run...

Laura's never experienced anything like it before.

The full blooded attentions of a man.

Travis is a man and Laura is a woman and they're coming together like this is more than her body can take, more than his can.

A wild, wailing thing in her mind begs her not to enjoy this, begs her not to cum - how can she do this? How can she be like this? What the fuck is wrong with her?

Max, the boy she (claimed) to love, is dead and now here she is having sex with the cop who put them in this situation to begin with.

She's sick, she's wrong, she's amoral, she's the worst sort of human being to ever-!

Laura cries out when she cums, when the pleasure shatters over her like sharp shards of glass and she feels her body tighten, contract, feels the hot flood of his release flow into the deep, dark recesses of her body as Travis bellows, his own climax not even seconds behind hers.

They fall into one another. Sweaty, twisted beings who claim to be human, although all evidence says otherwise.

Eventually they break apart. Eventually the shame sets in. Eventually they pretend like nothing happened.

But it did happen.

It happens and the consequences are already clicking into motion, a tiny seed planted and starting to grow, starting to unfurl.

It happens like this.

But the way it happens isn't as important as what happens after. What happens after is what really matters.

[oldbutnotyetwise]

Unexpected Gifts

     I have said this before and it bears repeating here, every good thing that happens has some bad attached to it, and every bad thing that happens has some good attached.  

     As I am writing this I have crossed the one year anniversary since my diagnosis of ALS was confirmed at Sunnybrook Hospital.  Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis, a rare neurological disease that affects motor neurons in the brain or spinal cord that affect voluntary muscle movement.  Think of it like when you go to sleep, except in my case parts of my body are going to sleep never to wake again.  I’ve lost the use of my legs, I’m losing the use of my left hand, and my ability to speak is being impaired.  Eventually the muscles that allow me to breath and swallow will stop working.  In some cases ALS also results in frontal lobe dementia, so your two options are having a healthy mind trapped inside a non-working body, or dementia where you still are trapped inside of a non-functioning body while you have no understanding of what is going on, or the burden you are placing on your caretakers.  

     So about now you should be saying, how can there be anything positive about having ALS?  What good can possibly come from this Death Sentence?  Well let’s ponder that question and see what we can come up with.

     When given a terminal diagnosis I had a rather drastic shift on my perception of time.  Prior to the diagnosis, I didn’t give time much thought, foolishly I thought that my time was almost like grains of sand on a large beach, almost endless.  Once I received my diagnosis suddenly time became like the water in a canteen, something not to be wasted or used foolishly.  So you are wondering why is this a good thing, well it is because I have been taught the lesson of Mindfulness.  When you have lots of something it is hard not to take it for granted.  When you have something that is limited and quickly running out then you appreciate it a lot more.  You suddenly realize what an amazing gift time is.  You suddenly have the wisdom not to waste your time on foolish things.  You don’t waste your time on bad books, bad movies or with people you don’t want to spend time with.  If you want to do something and you can, than you do, no longer putting things off for some day in the future because now you know that someday may not come.  I wish that I had learned this lesson about the value of time much earlier in my life, but am grateful that I did learn it eventually and in turn  have worked much harder at enjoying what remaining time that I have left. 

     Living in Canada, or in this case Ontario I have a government run Health Plan.  On top of this I also have a benefit plan from my workplace until I am 65.  I will spare you numerous sad stories of people in other provinces, or in the U.S. who were waiting for approval for the ALS drugs and after two years of waiting they finally get the letter advising they had been approved,,,,the day before they enter a Hospice.  People who live in remote areas of provinces where they are hours and hours away from the nearest ALS Clinic, or even any medical assistance.  We are now living just over an hour from the ALS Clinic at Sunnybrook Hospital in Toronto, generally accepted to probably be the best one in Canada.  I never really understood what a gift the pubic health care system was prior to this, but I do recognize how lucky I am in comparison to so many others.

     I would guess that my ALS medications probably cost somewhere between 200 and 300 thousand dollars a year.  My benefit plan is presently paying for my drugs, can you imagine not having coverage for drugs that could possibly help you?  Where you have to decide between selling or mortgaging your home and draining your bank accounts to buy your medications or choosing to go without.  Where medical decisions are based on dollar amounts instead of what is best for you?  I am grateful for the gift of a benefit plan that allows me to take these expensive drugs in the hope that they are helping me.

     I have met so many amazing people in the medical field since the first day I attended Sunnybrook.  The entire team at Sunnybrook who compassionately care for their hundreds of patients, knowing that everyone they are caring for will eventually lose their fight,  ALS remains undefeated.  As well the nurses, ALS Society, and Community Care Team who all make this horrible disease a little more tolerable.  I am grateful for the gift of all the caring people who work hard to look after me in such a kind, caring and compassionate way.

     A disease such as ALS is expensive.  The amount of medical or assistive equipment can be prohibitive, says the guy waiting for his $32,000 electric wheelchair.  The items we have around the house are a collection of things people have given or loaned us, we have purchased new or used, or that we have been reimbursed for through my benefit plan.  There is something called the ALS Loan Cupboard where people donate used medical equipment, let’s be honest, probably after their loved one dies.  I presently have a walker, electric lift chair and an electric hospital bed all loaned to me from the loan cupboard.  The list of medical equipment I require is constantly growing and already my life would be unbearable without it, so I am grateful for the gift of all this equipment that I have access to that helps me make it through my days.

     I will wholeheartedly acknowledge that I find myself surrounded by the best possible friends.  These are friends that take time out of their very busy lives to visit, or call, or email or set up video calls.  Somehow the whole world is going on at an extremely hectic pace while my life is coasting to a stop.  Most of the world continues on riding the merry go round of life, but a few people realize something important is going on and they are here for me.  Together we exchange old memories, share embraces, shed a few tears and just generally stand by each other.  When you are travelling a dark scary path and suddenly you find a trusted friend at your side you will notice your path becomes a lot less dark and scary.  I am grateful for the gift of dear, treasured friends.

     I have my dear sweet wife Robin here by my side from sun up to sun down working so very hard to look after me.  I don’t think anyone else has someone as amazing as her, and some people are forced to go through this nightmare alone, which I can’t even begin to imagine how impossibly hard that would be. I am grateful for the gift of my loving wife Robin.

   In Canada there is Medical Assistance In Dying, also known as MAID.  If you have a terminal illness, you can fill out a form, meet with a Physician who should agree with your decision and sign off on the form.  Then a minimum of three months later you meet with a second doctor go through the process again at which time you can select a day you want to end your life.  You can change your date or back out at any time, and yes if you are wondering it is a surreal experience going through this process.  I have friends travelling the same path as I am in the United States who would have to travel to another state to end their lives, as if this process isn’t difficult enough they have to travel to a strange place hundreds of miles away from their home and friends to end their suffering.  I am grateful for the gift of living somewhere that I am treated as kindly as a beloved pet who is allowed to leave this world when their struggle to live becomes too much for them.  Leaving this world in a kind compassionate manner, surrounded by loved ones, finally able to rest after fighting the good fight.  

     So I encourage you to always remember, every good thing that happens has bad attached, and very bad thing has good attached.  So next time something bad happens to you I encourage you to look for the good.  Yes you may have to look hard, yes it may be hard to find but I assure you it is there.  Then once you find those good things I encourage you to focus on them rather than the bad things, I think that will help make your journey a bit easier.

[dargeereads]

Unexpected Gifts by Elena Aitken

 3 stars

audiobook

This was a very sweet, heartwarming, holiday story. The characters had past hurts that shaped their approach to their feelings, but everything was worked through as they learned to trust each other.

[daylerogers]

When You're Left With Better

photo courtesy of Daiga Ellaby on Unsplash They’ve left. Without a trace. Except for a box of pancake mix and a bowl of baked beans. The fourteen college students who stayed here for Spring break have left for the northern climes of Indiana, where winter still reigns and snow will welcome them home. The surprise was they left our home in better shape than when they came. I’m a good…

[catboydan]

Dan tripped a lil getting onto the bus lmao

[canisalbus]

Alright.

.

[mariaantonnietta]

hey another funny spoilery thing about ralph

he has been 22 times straight employee of the month, and has the silliest competition with totally not William afton, who's longest streak has been 17 times. But this confused me because phone guy has been working much longer there than 2 years.

Then it hit me, these idiots have been competing every month between the 2 of them and gone one month each, or two months one, one after the other , trying to get the better of the other, maybe once in a blue moon another employee gets it, but is generally one or the other and the streaks means when that they have beaten the other for employee of the month in a row. And they compete over who can do it for the longest.

And Dave's losing.

That's hilarious.

[jaubaius]

"I don't want this toy anymore!"😭

Source

[mrs-snape5984]

“So come to me when I'm asleep. We'll cross the line and dance upon the street…”

“Oh, turn around and I'll be there. Oh, there's a scar through my heart but I'll bare it again…” (“Through the barricades” by Spandeau Ballet)

This beautiful gif of Severus, who’s stepping out of my dreams, was an unexpected and extremely touching gift from my friend @mmad-lover, who wanted to cheer me up in my current situation. Paula, I’m sorry for taking so much time to honour you properly, but things are getting a bit rough here and I’m struggling a lot with my ability to keep focused on writing (thank you, ME/CFS! 🙄).

Your gesture in combination with your kind and compassionate words made my heart swell with joy and gratitude, my dear. You’re a wonderful person and I’m glad, that I was allowed to meet you here. Thank you so much for everything!

Damn, I wished, it could be that easy to step into someone’s life and drown in their embrace…I could really need it right now, in order to cross 6095 kilometres of the ocean. 🥹

🖤Severus & Julia🖤

🖤Sevy & Jules🖤

[cellard0ors]

They're a united front now, but it doesn't mean they always agree.

"How about Harriet?"

"Ew. No."

Travis frowns, even as he continues to rub Laura's sore feet. She's over thirty weeks in and enormous. She's been moody and unhappy, but Travis has been doing his best to keep her spirits up.

He owes it to her.

While his absence is far behind them, he has no problem groveling until the day he dies if he has to. Laura loves him. She forgave him. She's having their baby.

He can do no less.

Still, "What's wrong with Harriet?"

"I don't know - Harriet Hackett just sounds strange. I don't like it."

Travis slows his rubdown of her toes and looks over his shoulder at her, "So...they're going to have my last name?"

Laura looks a little startled, as if she just realized what she said. Travis swallows, "Because, I mean...we-we just started dating..."

"No, yeah. No, I know..." She looks unsure now and he turns to her fully, "I mean...I'm okay with them having my last name. But, it does have a bad history behind it. We can go with Kearney if you want."

Laura's lips twitch, "Well, I am the alpha in this relationship..."

"Ha, ha." He returns dryly and she gives an official chuckle, "Seriously though, I think it's okay for them to have your last name. We can start a new history for your family name. A happy one."

She notes a gleam in his eyes and he clears his throat before going back to her feet. Laura remembers thinking Travis was really cut off emotionally.

Turns out that's not true.

If anything, he's brimming with feelings, his current one a cross between happiness, pride, and tears. Such a secret softie.

"Alright then. How about Alexander? If it's a boy?"

"Again. Pass."

She can practically hear him roll his eyes, "You haven't liked any of the names I've suggested."

"That's not true. I liked Sam or Samantha. I used to have a friend with that name in elementary school. She was great."

'Okay, so...one?"

"Oh," Laura now rolls her eyes, "Like you've liked all of my suggestions."

"I haven't shot any of them down."

"What about Max?" She asks with a smirk. It was tossed out as a sick, dark joke she knows she shouldn't have made, but did anyway. The look he shoots her now just reconfirms that.

Regardless, she feels she's made her point, and just as she goes to settle back down she feels it. It's a full ache in her back, a tug at her belly and she frowns, confused.

But then it comes again, stronger, and she gasps, shooting upright. Travis looks at her in concern and Laura gasps, "I-? I think I'm having contractions."

His eyes go wide, "What? Now?"

"Mm hmm." She hums, a hand on her stomach and then there's another deep yank inside, like a menstrual cramp, but far worse, and she cries out. Travis looks horrified, "It can't be! It's too soon!"

"Well something is-nngah!" Is how it ends, because the next contraction is even worse than the last and she feels a cold sweat break out all over her body. Travis immediately gets to his feet, "Okay. Alright. Let's go."

He helps Laura up and does his level best to stay calm. Years as a police officer, even in a backwater like North Kill, must have helped, because Laura appreciates how he manages to get her from the house to the car to the hospital without freaking out once

However, once inside the hospital, as staff starts swarming around Laura, it's clear Travis is an emotional trainwreck.

He wasn't wrong.

It is early for Laura to give birth and she knows this even as nurses and her doctor talk her down, tell her everything is going to be alright. Yes, she's earlier than planned, but they're going to do their very best to take care of her and her baby.

The pain has ratcheted up to unbelievable levels and Laura is doing her best not to scream and failing miserably. She's calling out for Travis and someone keeps telling her why he wasn't allowed in but she could care less.

Her frantic shouts and panic must turn some sort of tide, because soon enough he is in the room with them and she's gripping one of his arms and crying, screaming, the pain immeasurable.

Laura lost an eye. She turned into a werewolf. This hurts far worse than those two combined. Her throat is raw from her cries and Travis is repeating her name gently and pressing his lips to one side of her head and holding her back just as tight as she is holding him.

The doctor tells her to bear down and push and she does - again and again and it feels like it's never going to end, this horrible misery and she's frantic about how the baby is doing and if they're okay even as she grunts and keeps doing as instructed.

Laura feels blind, deaf, and dumb in the throes of her agony but she thinks she hears something about the baby's head or their shoulders or how they're coming out, but it doesn't matter, because on the next struggling push she feels an unbelievable release.

All the stress and pain that had been beating down on her nonstop suddenly seems to rise as does a thin wail with it. Her baby's wail.

Travis is still holding her, but no longer is his face buried in her hair. Instead he looks at the tiny wriggling mass the doctor is holding and the nurses are all talking in awed hushes as both he and Laura hear, "It's alright. She's here, she's here."

"She-?" Travis repeats and the doctor lets out a windy laugh, as if he'd been holding his breath, "It's a girl "

Travis nearly collapses into Laura, Laura into him as they watch the doctor take special care of their itty bitty child.

There's a lot of talk about how, while she was born prematurely, the baby should be in fine health with the proper care. How while she's a week or two early that's better than some cases, she might just need more check ups than most newborns and so on.

Neither Travis or Laura really care or listen because all that matters is that their baby is alive. She's alive and she's with them and it feels like it takes forever (considering the baby has to spend some time in the neonatal intensive care unit), but eventually mother, father, and daughter are all together and alone in the hospital room.

Their newly born child is swaddled up against Laura's bare skin, their head resting on her breastbone and Laura's looking down at her with pure love.

Travis too, can't seem to take his eyes off his daughter and he has one hand resting on her back, his palm practically dwarfing her whole body.

Laura looks up at him and says, "Luna."

"Luna?"

She nods, "Like the moon."

"Yeah?"

Laura sighs, presses a very gentle kiss to her daughter's head, "It's how we met. Under the moonlight."

"Hmm. Not the best of meetings."

"True,"Laura sighs, "But one of the best things in my life came out of it."

Travis can't help but give an exhausted grin, "Her, I take it?"

"Yeah " Laura admits, "But you too."

Laura weakly reaches out for him with her free hand and he takes it, gives it a squeeze, even as he nods, "Okay. Luna."

He edges closer to the baby and whispers to her, "Luna Hackett."

Laura gives him a sleepy smile and he returns it. Luna, fast asleep but very happy, is unaware of her parents' smiles. She is also blissfully unaware of what an unexpected gift she is.

But she'll learn soon enough in time.

The end

[annabawritersdream]

Trick or treat! 👻

Hi! Thank you for the ask!

So, this is an excerpt from a gift-fic I've been working on featuring some of my OCs as well as some belonging to @lucifers-legions. This is excerpt is basically a short dialogue between my main OC Elenna "Enna" and her daughter "Finduilas" Finnie. They will both be featured in my WIP The Lady of Ithilien. Enna has already been introduced (she's the main character) and Finnie's turn will come too...eventually.

GLOSSARY (VALARIN)

Valide: Mother.

Gel (pronounced with a hard G), güzel kizim: Come, my beautiful girl.

Bağışlayın Valide: Forgive me/I am sorry, Mother.

“Valide?”

Elenna turned. “Finnie. Gel güzel kizim.”

The young lady curtsied and joined her mother on the balcony as the sun set over Dol Amroth. Elenna looked at her proudly. Finduilas, her sixth child and secondborn daughter, had always been special. Despite her young age, she was calm, poised and wise. She was beautiful, her eyes gray as stars and her hair a few shades darker than that of her father. She had become her mother’s confidante, her safe haven. She was so wise, so smart, so intuitive. She was exactly was Elenna had often been made out to be. Perhaps that was why the former lady of Ithilien had developed such a close relationship with her. Finnie was everything she had in vain tried to be. She was a daughter Elenna could be proud of. The child seemed to know her better than she had ever known herself, she seemed to understand her better than any other.

“You become more beautiful every day.”

“I not nearly as beautiful as you, Valide.”

Elenna smiled. “Nonsense. I am old now. I may have been agreeable once, but long years have passed since then.”

“You are not yet forty and you are of Dúnadan descent which means…”

“I am an old woman.”

“I have seen your wedding portrait. You have barely changed.” She paused. “I even daresay you have not changed at all, Mother.”

“You know how I dislike unnecessary flattery.”

“Mother…”

“I am nothing but a mere mortal. A woman whose womb will soon no longer be able to produce children.”

“Mamma.”

Elenna rested her elbows on the balcony. “There was a time when I thought…when I hoped...”

She let out a sigh. “I hoped I would be more than just a wife to your father. It appears I was wrong and blinded by juvenile delusions.”

“What are you talking about, Mother?”

“You are still so very young, my child. I do not expect you to understand just yet.”

“You might as well explain it to me. Try me.”

Elenna smiled and caressed her cheek. “Though I never admitted it, I hoped that I would one day be I regarded as a brave lady. I hoped my future husband would fall in love with my intellect, not just with my potential as a broodmare.”

“What are you saying, Mother?”

“I doubt your Father ever reciprocated my feelings,” Elenna retorted with a scoff. “Whatever faint attraction he might have felt early in our marriage has undoubtedly fizzled out. We are bound before the One, which is why, I suppose, he still fulfills his obligations to me as a lawful husband, yet I am no longer as naïve as I once was. I am grateful for the early years of happiness we were given and I will cherish them until it is time for me to join my deceased loved ones beyond the Circles of the World. I bore your father children and they were entrusted to me. I should have cared for them, I should have looked after them. I should have protected them as it was expected of me.”

“Sometimes I wish you could hear your words from the perspective of those to whom you speak. I think you would then quickly realize how baseless some of your claims are. You are not old and Father loves you. You only feel worthless because you hold onto a warped perception of reality. You are so stubborn you have consciously molded your surroundings according to your personal vision of things, which can be—and often is—painfully inaccurate.”

“How do you know your father loves me? Are you certain of it?”

“Even the blind and the deaf would agree with me.”

“He sees other women from time to time, I am sure he does. He probably has a harem somewhere, he has a place where he keeps his women. He is of course entitled to take as many mistresses as it pleases him and if I was married to someone else, it would not bother me in the slightest. Yet the thought of your father lying with another…”

She gulped. “It is soul-crushing and it should not be so.”

“You love him, Mother. You truly love him.”

Finnie glanced at her. “I do not know what a…harem is, but I highly doubt Father has one.”

“Ask Selim the next time you visit your uncle Elboron. I do not wish to speak of it.”

“Is it a tradition of the Haradrim? A festival perhaps?”

“I will not speak of it.”

“It must be something having to do with women, otherwise you would not be so upset about it.”

“Finduilas.”

“Is it a place? A secret room in the back of a house where girls and women are kept captive?”

“That is enough, child.”

“I am only trying to understand, Mamma.”

“You are being uncouth and inconsiderate, which is very much unlike you.”

“Bağışlayın, Valide,” the young girl quipped with a most elegant low curtsey. “I hope you are aware that I did not mean to be disrespectful. I only wished to…”

Her voice trailed off and she gulped as she swept her hair to the side. She staggered and lost her footing, Elenna promptly holding her. “Finnie?”

“I just felt dizzy for a moment. I’m fine now. There is no need to worry. It has been happening quite a lot recently, but it usually lasts mere seconds.”

“What do you mean? Does anyone know? Have you told the healers? Is your father aware of it?”

The little girl shook her head. “You very well know how apprehensive Father gets over menial things. He’s busy and I do not wish to keep him from his duties as urgent matters require his full attention.”

“If you do not wish to bother him, then please have me call for a physician. I would be much more comfortable knowing what is going on.”

“I do not need a physician, Mother. I am fine. Occasional headaches and fainting spells are hardly something to fret over.”

“You said it has been happening frequently.”

“I may have exaggerated. As you saw, it is not that bad. It is the nightmares I am concerned of.” She sighed. “Unfortunately, those cannot be treated.”

“Nightmares?”

“They are horrible and getting worse. I am scared, Mamma.”

Elenna wrapped a hand around her shoulder and kissed her hair. “Nothing will ever happen to you as long as your father is around.”

“He is not here now. And even when he was with us, bad things happened regardless. Boromir died, Elarion died, Ellie, Aearwen…Tilly…”

Elenna flinched and glared at her daughter. How could she spew out the names of her dead siblings so casually? She had only had a moment of heartfelt hesitation at the mention of her dearest sister. Eglantine. Tilly. The only one among her children Elenna had not birthed and, ironically, the most beloved. Her ray of sunshine, the daughter she had been proud of. She and Finnie had immediately bonded and this bond had brought Elenna to favor the latter above all of her biological children except for Mírion. Mírion would always come first. He was living proof that she had not utterly failed her husband; he was proof that she was indeed capable of producing healthy, strong sons. He embodied her best qualities, which were enhanced by his Maiarin blood. He was his father’s heir, the golden child, an expert soldier, a commander of Maiar. The only individual in all of Arda who had never failed her and never would. Perfection was not contemplated within Ëa, but she was firmly convinced Mírion was the closest thing to it since the Breaking of the World. The horror she had felt seconds earlier had suddenly been replaced by elation and giddiness. Mírion; her beloved, precious boy. She could not be parted from him. She needed him, she needed to be with him. Anárion was in her thoughts as well and she would have moved mountains to protect him, but the fondness she had for her husband’s trueborn son was hardly comparable to that which she felt for him and Anárion knew it. He had graciously accepted a situation which—he was well aware of it—could not be avoided.

A new snippet for you to hopefully enjoy @saurongorthaur9, @emmanuellececchi & @evenstaredits

& thank you again @transgender-daemon-faerie for the ask!

[not-poignant]

For T/F: for some reason I assume that you’ve probably had some experience (either of yourself or maybe people around you) of falling into the “gifted” category, and I feel like there’s probably some strong opinions on that maybe?

True!

~

This one is true in a complicated way.

As a child, no one thought I was gifted until I got into school. I was hyperlexic, reading at a level far beyond my age-range (I read Charles Darwin's On the Origin of Species at the age of 8/9, sitting on the library floor with the dictionary next to me so I could flick to different words and understand what they meant).

I was tested for giftedness/IQ but failed every test pretty spectacularly (we didn't know how many learning developmental disorders I had at the time, but it was a lot, and these tests in the 80s didn't favour any child with dyscalculia or severe dyspraxia, or ADHD / Autism for that matter). So everyone kind of officially knew I was pretty stupid, and the librarian was like 'what the fuck' while I quietly went through as many nonfiction books as I could because I found the fiction section mostly very boring.

Recently (like literally a month ago) when I was diagnosed with L2 Autism, I was also diagnosed with 2E, which is Twice Exceptional - or 'gifted but developmentally disabled.' It's a nice way of saying 'oh you're exceptionally smart (at certain things) and you're exceptionally special needs.' This also explains why I tested the way I did as a child, and kind of recontextualised a lot of things in my life, but I had to wait until I was 43 to learn that about myself, and until then I've always viewed myself as someone who was very stupid, but very good at pretending I wasn't simply because I could memorise things / facts I'd read in nonfiction, and I've been reading it since childhood. It's probably going to take a long time to think of myself as intelligent at anything other than words and reading.

So no, I wasn't raised as a 'gifted' child. I was raised as a semi-stupid child who read too many books. My sister tested as gifted and went into academic programs (and that definitely created some issues for her!) and I didn't, and started spectacularly failing maths in high school, which tracks for my level of dyscalculia.

It wasn't until university that I realised I could be clever at things, but again, I still credited that to 'I read well because I've been doing it a long time, and anyone - except for someone with dyslexia - could do this, this easily, and someone with dyslexia could still do this with the right supports.'

So I do have experience of falling into the 'gifted' category, but only for the last four weeks. It's also come with the diagnosis of L2 Autism, so mostly I'm just reminded at how fucking incompetent I am at generally being alive and functioning in a society.

~

From the true/false meme!

[solchle]

I like your designs 🩷

AAJAJAKAKAJKAJA😍

look LOOK GO FOLLOW TGIS ARTIST RN OR I WILL THROW HANDS💥💥

[thebirdandhersong]

This just in: Songbird going absolutely bonkers because of precious teenagers being sweet :')))