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#it sounds like gruffalo
shy-urban-hobbit · 2 months
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“I mean, you’ve got to feel a little sorry for them really haven’t you?” Jaskier said from where he was mopping up the last of the evidence of the half dead rat Roach had thoughtfully decided to gift them (the first time it happened he’d shrieked in surprise before Geralt put it out of its misery with a matter of fact “Welcome to country living, city boy”). Geralt gave a non committal hum from where he was warming milk up for Ciri on the stove. The little girl sat colouring at the large kitchen table - too large for two, but that would change when Geralt’s brothers and any guests they decided to bring descended on them.
“I mean they’re just minding their own business like, Oh I’m a hungry rat. Please don’t kill me.” Here Jaskier put on a slightly squeaky voice and held up his hands in imitation of paws, still holding onto the mop, “And then wham one of the last things they see is Roach’s teeth coming towards them. So many teeth.” He gave the resident farm cat a critical stare and received a dismissive tail flick in response.
Ciri giggled at his antics which caused him to grin back at her in return. It always felt like a special sort of personal victory when he managed to coax a laugh out of the little girl.
Despite being together for six months, he was still being introduced to her as her father’s ‘friend’ (which was true enough, they wouldn’t be dating if they didn’t get along) and Jaskier was happy to go along with it. Geralt had explained without revealing too much that the little one had been let down by too many adults in her life already, himself included, and ‘boyfriend’ was maybe just a little too official sounding for the time being (and if he said his heart hadn’t broken a little for the five year old smiling at him from Geralt’s phone, he’d by lying), especially after the shit that had gone down with his ex. Geralt hadn’t gone into detail but from what Jaskier had gathered, the woman had had a hidden agenda in wanting to get back with Geralt and Ciri had almost gotten seriously hurt as a result. Geralt had blamed himself for jumping back into the relationship too quickly and so, any potential partners now had to pass what Jaskier had dubbed ‘The Ciri test’.  
He liked to think he’d passed the first portion with flying colours, the tiny blonde seeming perfectly comfortable with him in public places. Now they were dipping their toes into Jaskier staying in their home for longer periods, with Jaskier having graduated from the guest bedroom to sharing with Geralt the previous visit (the brunette wanting the ground to swallow him up when she happily informed her Uncle Eskel of ‘Daddy’s sleepover’ when the man had dropped by unexpectedly the following morning. Geralt had just shrugged and told him to be thankful it hadn’t been Lambert; who could and would, happily take the piss forever).
“Alright Ciri, put your things away and then go get your bedtime book. I’ll be in in a minute.” Geralt said, pouring the warm milk into a plastic My Little Pony cup.
“I want Jask.” Ciri declared form where she was trying to force the crayons back into their box by the (relatively small) handful, Causing both adults to stop what they’d been doing and stare at one another. This was new.
“You sure you don’t want daddy?” Jaskier asked, looking to Geralt for some sign as to what he should do.
“You do better funny voices. Daddy’s all sound the same.”
It took everything Jaskier had not to burst out laughing at that as he took in the minute eye twitch from the other man at that statement, “Geralt?”
Geralt nodded, “Mind if I stay and listen? You know how much I love The Gruffalo.”
Jaskier snorted and felt a surge of fondness. The lies we tell for our children.
It ended up being a joint effort, with Geralt guest starring as The Gruffalo “On account of you being so, well...gruff.” and admitting to a slightly too smug looking Jaskier and a mostly asleep Ciri that “Yes, Jaskier does better voices for everyone else. Especially Mouse.”
"Everything ok? You’ve gone all quiet on me.” Jaskier said from where he had his head in Geralt’s lap as they watched some mindless Netflix show. “I didn’t overstep did I?” He was suddenly frantic, his anxieties bubbling back up to the surface now that he didn’t have a performance and an audience to focus on, “I know you probably just said yes so things wouldn’t be awkward. I probably should have told her no and come up with an excuse but how can anybody say no to that face-“
“Jaskier. It’s fine, honestly.” Geralt said, rubbing his hands up and down Jaskier’s arm in a way he knew calmed him, “I’ve built up something of an immunity to Ciri’s puppy eyes. I would’ve said no if I had a problem with it. I’m just thinking.”
“About?”
“About how I might have a question for Ciri.”
The next morning saw Jaskier seeing both of them off with a hug (also accompanied by fishing a stray cheerio out of Ciri’s hair which he had been too tired to question) before heading back to his city apartment and his job as a music tutor.
“Ciri?” Geralt asked, putting her school backpack by the door as he knelt down to help her button up her coat, “You know how Aiden is Uncle Lambert’s boyfriend?"
It had slowly been killing Jaskier not to check his phone as soon as the text notification came through but he was nothing if not professional and he would not check his phone when he was in the middle of a lesson. Thank the Gods he did wait as he was prettu sure he gave his retreating student a minor heart attack with the squeal he let out at Geralt’s message:
‘Ciri has been proudly announcing to her classmates this morning that Jaskier is her daddy’s boyfriend. Much disappointment from the single mums.’
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juddygirl · 1 year
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Baby just tease me, got not family plan - Bella Growing up part 1
Bella screams in Daniel’s face when he picks her up from school because she doesn’t want to hold his hand on the way back. She goes all limp and refuses to stand straight, she kicks and cries. 
He’ll only say it to Max, because he said it first, but sometimes he wants to scream back, louder than her, or drop her back in school. Gentle parenting is all bullshit when neither of them has had enough sleep. He carries her over her shoulder while she keeps crying and kicking and he breathes through his nose all the way.  He might fight anyone who wants to come up with advice though. 
He grounds her when they make it back into their flat. She cries even harder and his heart breaks, seeing her like this, but she needs to learn it’s dangerous, and that he’s in charge. He checks on her in her corner. She’s sulking, mumbling to herself. She’s stopped crying, but her cheeks are still wet from all the tears she cried. 
“Are you calm now?” He asks in this prudent tone, unsure that she is. She nods her little hand. “What do you say?”
“Sorry, Dada.” She pouts her lips and looks up at him with her big blue eyes. “Kangoo.” She whines. 
“Go get him,” He pats her hair and she runs to her bedroom to get her favourite cuddly toy. 
It’s missing part of his nose, a result of all the time she played with it before falling asleep. A soothing technique she picked up on her own.
She gladly accepts the hug Daniel is offering, holding on tight to his neck before rubbing her nose in his beard, like she does before bed. She’s exhausted, full days at the big girl school are filled with discoveries and fun. She’s got too much to talk about, the stories they’ve read, the drawings she’s made, the friends’ parties she’s been invited to.
It must be overwhelming to remember all this to share with him, to learn about everything and behave. She is mostly good with it all, brave even. Max misses three bedtimes a week. She doesn’t complain about it, not even when there are no goodnight calls because he’s in class. She’s always too tired to wake up when later Max comes into her bedroom and sneaks a kiss and adjusts her covers.
It will seem just a small sacrifice, in the years to come. A necessary step for a better life together, but it feels heavy sometimes, to live this weird family life, where there is more sacrifice than reward. 
Daniel feeds her favourite, butter pasta and a slice of ham earlier than usual. He needs some rest too. He’s giving in tonight, because her tiny body is still clinging onto him, needing soothing and comfort. She wants to be fed. 
She cries again at bath time. 
He’s tired too and tries not to let the frustration take over. 
He’s kneeling in front of the tube, begging her to let him rinse her hair. She’s got a tight grip on the plastic cup and won’t let go. 
“Princess, the quicker you let go, the fastest we get out of the bathtub.” He tries to reason with her. 
He sounds just like Max, desperate for peace, ready for war and seconds away from admitting defeat. They’ve agreed to never be too brutal, Daniel knows how much it affected Max when he was little, he doesn’t want to know what it’s like. 
He bribes her with a small chocolate and finally he gets to rinse the shampoo off her hair. 
There is a lot of compromise and bribing involved on terrible days like this. It’s exhausting. But all the anger goes away when she’s wrapped in her bathrobes and laughs loudly at Daniel’s silly face in the mirror. The way she shouts, again and needs to catch a breath because she’s been laughing too much. 
It gets replaced by this indescribable love, a bond they share that can never be broken. She fluffs a pillow for Daniel and leaves room in her bed for him to come and read her a story. She rubs her little noise in his beard while he tells her about the Gruffalo. He’s lulled by her steady breathing. 
She falls asleep before the end of the song, and he stays here, purposefully forgetting about the dishes, the dinner he needs to prepare for him and Max, the tidying up that needs to be done. He stays with her, watching her special night light dancing on the ceiling and he wonders if she knows how much he loves her, how much she came into his life and changed everything. He holds her a little closer and kisses her forehead. 
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statichorizon · 2 years
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I requested a ship fanart of the Highway rat and the mouse from Gruffalo?
The mouse wearing a handsome green tyrolean outfit
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first request done! I dont know who they are but the mouse looks very polite and i can imagine the higway rat sounding like blaidd from elden ring for some reason. more stuff under the cut :0
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here's a screenshot of the little practice doodles and stuff i did as a little bonus I had some trouble designing the mouse's outfit tbhsdkjdskjs but i hope u enjoy it!
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impactmintsfresh · 2 years
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A bedtime story
Summary : Nat is on a mission but her babygirl wants a bedtime story.
Word count : 3k
Warnings : mdlg/ddlg themes (SFW), fighting, typical violence 
Steve was going to lose his mind. You were supposed to be in bed asleep 26 minutes ago, Nat was going to kill him. You were sat on the floor playing with your dolls, refusing to go to bed unless your Mommy read you a story.
He knew Fury was going to have his balls for this but he didn't know what else to do. "Fri, patch me through to Natasha please."
Nat was currently making her way through the Hydra compound, their cover long blown she was shooting and fighting her way through while Bucky took the other entrance. Hearing the request to put Steve through to her coms stopped her heart for a second, letting the bad guy land one good punch to her gut. It didn't hurt as much as the thought of something being wrong with you.
"Hey Nat, I'm sorry but someone won't go to bed and I, is this a bad time?" He could hear the fighting and shouting down the phone and winced at his own actions. He would never have done this before but you had him wrapped around your little finger and he hated seeing you upset.
"It's fine Steve." He heard someone being thrown. "Put her one please." 
Steve handed you his phone, watching your face light up. "Mommy? MOMMY!" You were so happy, it had been a few days since you had been able to speak to her and it was breaking your heart. The tears were starting to flow already. "Are you ok Mommy?"
"I'm ok little one, I heard someone isn't in bed." Nat heard you rush across the floor and jump into bed.
"No Mommy I'm in bed. Just miss you." She smiled, blocking the gun and grabbing the guys face in her palm to smash his head against the wall.
"Ah, well sounds like you are being a good girl! Those teeth all brushed baby?" You gave Steve a wide grin showing off all your teeth like you do for Mommy when she's here. 
"Uh huh! And had milk and gone potty."
"Oh wow baby, look at you being all big. Won't even need Mommy soon." Nat had to stifle her laugh at your gasp.
"Noooo Mommy always need you! Always!" Nat tried to hide the grunt of pain as a gun was jammed into her rib. "You ok Mommy?" Your voice was a little quieter now, remembering that she was on a mission. 
"Of course Baby, Mommy stubbed her toe." Some part of you knew she was lying but your little head didn't notice. "How about a bedtime story then for bedtime?" You squealed.
"Yess Mommy please been so good! Please!" 
"Alright, why don't you get a book and then get nice and tucked up in bed for me." Nat took the time to mute the call for a moment to shoot half a dozen people and then make her way into the main computer storage area of the base. She could hear someone on the coms line swearing and asking what the fuck she was doing but Nat muted that call.
"Okie Mommy, me and Jake are in bed! We got the Gruffalo. And Steeb still here." Jake was a jellyfish stuffie you had gotten at the aquarium on your last trip out. Nat took a moment to close her eyes and picture you all cuddle up, blanket pulled up to your neck and squishing Jake against your face. God she wanted to be with you.
"Good girl baby, Mommy's gonna have to give you lots of stickers when she gets back aren't I?" You felt a little guilty looking at Steve, knowing you caused him some trouble. Steve used his thumb to smooth out the wrinkles on your forehead and gave you a kiss on the head. His soft smile reassuring you that he wouldn't tell Nat. 
"Alright little one, Steve is gonna hold the book for you and Mommy is gonna read it." Steve, hearing Nat easily, propped the book on his knee so you could see the front page. 
Nat had read this book a million times to you and knew it by heart. She made quick work of the terrible security systems and began looking for the files they needed.
"The Gruffalo by Julia Donaldson." Steve turned to the first page. "A mouse took a stroll through the deep dark wood. A fox saw the mouse, and the mouse looked good." Someone broke into the room. "Point to the mouse baby." As Natasha fought the other agent, you wiggled up the bed to sit up and lent forward to point at the mouse. 
"Are you sure little one? Isn't this a mouse?" Steve pointed to the fox making you giggle. He could hear Natasha and was trying to keep you distracted. 
"No silly dat's the fox!" You were smiling and giggling at him, completely ignoring the gun shots on the phone.
"How can you tell?"
"Cos the fox is red and the mouse is small!"
"Ohhhhhh. So this is the mouse?" You nodded as Steve finally pointed to the little brown mouse in front of the fox.
"Wow baby you teaching Steve his animals?" Natasha was grateful for Steve, she would forgive him for keeping you. She heard you giggling and took a moment just to listen to the sound.
"Ok, let's keep going then." Back at the computer she could see they were trying to fight back and lock her out, Natasha rolled her eyes. She made sure to use her special fox voice, which was quite deep and also the one she used when she pretended to be uncle Steve. "Where are you going to, little brown mouse? Come and have lunch in my underground house." 
"Noooo." Nat smiled loving your little interruptions.
"It's terribly kind of you, Fox, but no - "
"I'm going to have lunch with a Gruffalo!" You shouted. 
"Good girl! You gonna help Mommy read?" You nodded even though she couldn't see you. Nat knew though, this was the same every night.
"A Gruffalo? What's a Gruffalo?" She was finally through their encryption again and found the correct files. She sighed looking at the time it was going to take to download onto the shitty usb she had been given. At least she could finish the story.
"A Gruffalo? Why didn't you know?" You loved the sing-song tone her voice took when Mommy would read to you. "He has terrible tusks, and terrible claws, and terrible teeth in his terrible jaw." Her voice was meant to be a little spooky but you loved it. If you closed your eyes it was like she was in the room.
"Where are you meeting him?" She did the Steve voice and you could almost picture her pulling a grumpy man face. You giggled thinking about all the ways she imitated her teammates. "Where is the mouse meeting the Gruffalo baby?" 
"Oh! By the rocks Mommy. Gonna meet him right there." She couldn't see but knew you were pointing to the picture of the rock in the book. 
"And what's his favourite snack hmm? Do you know?" 
Of course you did this was your favourite book, silly Mommy. "Roasted Fox!" Steve gasped and put his hand over his mouth.
"Roasted fox! I'm off! Fox said. Goodbye little mouse, and away he sped." 
You giggled and used both hands to pull Steve's away from his mouth. "Silly old Fox! Doesn't he know, there's no such thing as a Gruffalo?" Nat and Steve smiled at you reading along. Steve made a big show about being relieved to hear that there is no Gruffalo.
Nat checked on the files before carrying on. "On when the mouse through the deep dark wood. An owl saw the mouse, and the mouse looked good." This time she did her impression of Tony. "Where are you going to, little brown mouse? Come here and have tea in my treetop house." Steve tried to not laugh, realising who's voice she was impersonating, completely unaware he had been the inspiration for the fox.
"It's terribly kind of you, Owl, but no -"
"I'm going to have tea with a Gruffalo!" 
"You are getting really good at reading, baby." You blushed, whenever Mommy praised you for something like counting or reading it made you fall even deeper into little space. She knew of course, that's why she did it. Steve watched your eyes lose focus slightly in awe of the way Nat could push all your buttons from the middle of nowhere.
"A Gruffalo? What's a Gruffalo? A Gruffalo! Why, didn't you know? He has knobbly knees, and turned-out toes and a poisonous wart at the end of his nose. Where are you meeting him?" Steve was looking scared again. "Where are you meeting him baby?"
You didn't quiet hear Nat as you patted Steve on the knee. "Is ok Steeb, is only a story you ok." Steve looked at your face, as you in complete earnest tried to comfort him about the Gruffalo, overwhelmed with how sweet and innocent you were. 
Nat felt her heart ache wishing she was with you, hearing you comfort Steve made her want to wrap you up and take you away somewhere where no one would ever both the two of you again. 
"Thank you little one, I know I'm safe here. I've got you to protect me." You broke out in a wide grin, nodding along at Steve as if it was completely reasonable that in this situation you would protect him. "Can you tell your Mommy where you are gonna meet the Gruffalo?" 
You jumped and rushed to grab the phone. "Stream! By the stream Mommy!" 
"And his favourite sna-?"
"Owl ice cream!" Not even letting Nat finish.
"Well done, baby. Steve give my little girl a kiss on the forehead for being so clever." You giggled as Steve got up and made a big deal about bending down and grabbing the sides of your face to kiss your head.
Once everyone was back in place, Nat carried on. "Owl ice cream! Too whit too whoo! Goodbye, little mouse and away Owl flew." 
"Silly old Owl! Doesn't he know, there's no such thing as - a -  a Gruffalo." Nat smiled at the sound of you yawning as you spoke. Even as excited as you get during story time you never help falling asleep.
"On went the mouse through the deep dark wood. A snake saw the mouse, and the mouse looked good." You wiggled a little in your bed, you loved the snake voice, was supposed to be uncle clint! "Where are you going to, little brown mouse? Come for a feast in my log pile house." Bucky finally made his way into the computer room, before he could say a word nat held up a finger to her lips. 
"It's wonderfully good of you Snake, but no -" Bucky smiled realising that Nat was reading you a bedtime story. He quickly made sure his coms were linked up as well, just in time to hear your part.
"I'm having a feast with a Gruffalo." He could hear how sleepy you were and checked his watch. He frowned at Natasha who just shrugged. She pulled out the flashdrive and threw it to Bucky before they started making their way out the base.
"A Gruffalo? What's a Gruffalo?" Thankfully this time Bucky was able to keep any remaining Hydra agents down for Nat so she could read to you in peace. "A Gruffalo! Why, didn't you know? His eyes are orange, his tongue is black, he had purple prickles all over his back! Where are you meeting him baby?"
You had closed your eyes now, but knew this story as well as Nat did. "Lake Mommy." Your voice was all soft and sleepy making both Nat and Bucky stop for a moment. 
"What about his snack baby?"
"Scamble snake" Bucky had to will himself not to gush at how cute you were when you mumbled. Nat knew you would only wake up more to complain if she didn't let you answer the questions, but she wished you would get some rest.
Steve turned the page for you even though your eyes were tightly shut. 
"Scrambled snake! It's time I hid! Goodbye little mouse and away snake slid. Silly old snake! Doesn't he know -"
Your thumb had made its way into your mouth and you mumbled around it. "There's no such thing as a Gruffal… oh?"
Nat turned to Bucky and smirked. "But who is this creature with terrible claws and terrible teeth in his terrible jaws? He had knobbly knees, and turned-out toes, and a poisonous wart at the end of his nose." Bucky rolled his eyes. "His eyes are orange, his tongue is black, he has purple prickles all over his back…"
"Oh help! Oh no! It's a Gruffalo." Nat smiled as you softly spoke, absolutely no fear in your voice whatsoever. 
"My fav-"
"DADDDDDYYYYYY" Your eyes flew open at the sound of Bucky's voice, sitting straight up and looking at the phone like you could see him.
Bucky's soft laugh came through the phone. "Hi little one, heard you wanted a bedtime story?" 
"I missed you." 
"Aw we miss you too baby, but we will be home soon. Now I need you to be a good girl and lay back down." You did. "And close your eyes." You grumbled a little but did as you were told. "Good baby." You squealed a little, making Bucky's heart burst. He loved how easy it was to make you happy. 
"Now where was I, oh yes!" Natasha shook her head at Bucky, shooting one of the men trying to get up behind him. "My favourite food the Gruffalo said. You'll taste good on a slice of bread!" You fake gasped at your Daddy's words.
"Good! Don't call me good! I'm the scariest creature in this wood. Just walk behind me and soon you'll see, everyone is afraid of me." As you said it you pointed your thumb at your chest, making Steve almost fall off the bed from how cute you were. He was getting a tooth ache from the sweetness.
"All right said the Gruffalo bursting with laughed you go ahead and I'll follow after" Bucky and Nat made it through the base and were walking easily back to the quinjet knowing they would be home to you before you woke up.
"They walked and walked till the Gruffalo said I hear a hiss in the leaves ahead"
"Is Snake! Snake, ewo" You waved a little.
"Snake took one look at the Gruffalo" Bucky's voice was soft and quiet now making you strain to hear him. You knew this was their ploy to make you sleep and it worked everytime.
"Oh crumbs he said. Goodbye little mouse" Nat used her clint voice for you.
"And off he slid to his log pile house."
"You seeeee I told you so!" You were too tired to care about getting all the words perfect, but Steve could see the smugness on your face.
"Amazing said the Gruffalo. They walked some more till the Gruffalo said I hear a hoot in the trees ahead."
"Is Owl! Owl ewo"
"Owl took one look at the Gruffalo"
"Oh dear he said. Goodbye little mouse" 
"ye ony" Steve wasn't even sure he heard you right your voice was muffled by your thumb and Jake but he was pretty sure you were saying goodbye to Tony.
"And off he flew to his treetop house." Bucky texted Steve to tell him to make sure to give you your paci before he left, he didn't want you sucking your thumb all night.
"Oo ee. Old oo so" If Steve couldn't read the book in front of him, he would have no idea what you had said.
"Astounding said the Gruffalo! They walked some more till the Gruffalo said I can hear feet on the path ahead." Nat and Bucky quickly made their way onto the jet. Securing their weapons they started a quick sweep to check everything was ok.
"Ox, ewo ox" 
"Fox took one look at the Gruffalo"
"Oh help he said. Goodbye little mouse" After reading this story to you so many times the two of them were a well oiled machine. Bucky wrapped his arms around Nat giving her a quick kiss on the neck. You smiled hearing it. 
"And off he ran to his underground house."
They waited for you to finish but all they got was a little snore in response. Knowing you would still somehow wake up if they didn't finish, Nat filled in for you. 
"Well Gruffalo said the mouse" Nat imitating your voice had everyone smiling. "You see? Everyone is afraid of me! But now my tummy's beginning to rumble and my favourite food is-"
"ufflo umble" Still fighting back sleep you wanted to join in for your favoruite part.
"Gruffalo Crumble! the Gruffalo said and quick as the wind he turned and fled!" You giggled at Bucky's horror stricken voice.
"is okie Daddy wont eat oo" 
"Aw thank you baby." 
"All was quiet in the deep dark wood. The mouse found a nut and the nut was good." Nat finished the story and moved away from Bucky to sit in the pilot seat. 
Steve quickly shut the book and put it away. He slipped the paci into your mouth. Before he took the phone away from your ear you heard the sound of the quinjet starting to take off. 
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adowbaldwin · 2 years
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Because im sick and feel all icky and sad bcz im a lil bitch
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Baldwin did not know why he agreed, as he came closer to the door the rationale became far less reasonable.
"Baldwin" the door flung open before he could knock, a disgruntled Matthew greeted him "thankyou" he patted him on the back as he made haste from their home in New haven
"Libsaber" Diana muttered, toast dangling out of her mouth. She pulled it free for a moment just to give him a friendly peck on the cheek and utter her grattitude. He faintly heard her say something about tomato soup and medicine as she huddled into the car.
He had babysat before, a handful of times but the children were never ill.
God what have i gotten myself into he murmered to himself walking into their house. It was silent mostly, a faint tick of a clock echoed the silent house. He had been accustomed to the twins bounding down the hallway and bulldosing into him, but today no such things occured. He gently pushed the bedroom door open to see them sound asleep and decidedly he left them.
He settled himself into the living room, fingers furiously typing away as he worked remotely. Just because he was babysitting did not mean he had to stop bankrupting his competitors.
Feet scufflled along the floor, snot heavy as Philippe sniffled "Uncle" the boy was red faced, blanket wrapped around him tightly "i feel icky" his lip wobbled
Baldwin had little capacity for softness and it dwindled around sick warmbloods. He may have sacked an employee for sneezing during a board meeting. This though was entirely different "what are you doing out of bed, hmm?" He used a softer voice towards the boy for once and leant down "you should sleep"
He darted his tongue out like a lizard "water"
He hoisted him up around his hip, adjusting him so the blanket remained firmly snug around his body and carried him to the kitchen "you want anything else?" He asked, handing over the sippy cup.
Philippe shook his head, took little gulps of his tepid water. Before Baldwin had a chance to bring him back to his room, Becca had padded down to the kitchen "Uncy, my tummy hurts" she wined, rubbing her hands in a semi circle over it
He sighed, her usual cheerful face was all dejected and sorrowful. He almost felt something like pity, but it couldnt of been because he did not pity. Not even his adored Niece.
"Come here Cara" with grace and ease he had both of them in his arms, one on each hip whilst he made up Beccas hot water bottle.
He had hoped to continue working, instead he found himself sandwiched between the children on the sofa with the disney film Toy Story 1 on. He cannot confirm or deny if he liked it, but he did much agree Buzz was up his own arse and deserved being taken down a peg or two, much like Matthew.
"Alright, alright bud calm down" Baldwin tried to soothe Philippe, but he was puking and crying and it was awful. He had a carrot on his shoes for christ sake! Baldwin continued to rub his back, small circles as he held the peppa pig shaped bowl. The boy sagged back against him when the ordeal was over, cheeks still red from crying "come here" Baldwin held his nose as he blew into the tissue, all gruesome unkown things spraying out of his nose into the Kleenex.
The twins made a noise of discontent as he stood up "im going to wash this bowl out and i will be right back okay, i wont be a moment" they curled into eachother, patiently waiting his return.
He had taken a second longer then they liked, so they toddled off to find him "will you read us a story in bed?"
He wished he hadnt turned around, those doe eyes, downcast faces melting his hard core "alright, alright" he dried off the now clean bowl, scooped them up and took them back to bed. They had been sharing in the spare room since they were ill, wanting to cuddle up with one another instead of their usual seperate rooms "what would you like to read?"
"The Gruffalo" they echoed at the same time
"A mouse took a stoll through the deep, dark wood" ..... "The Gruffalo, why didn't you know? He has knobbly knees" the children flittered in and out of sleep as he read, and he would never admit to it but he changed his voice depending on the character. Both Becca and Philippe thought he did a better job then Daddy, his Owl was terrible.
He watched them sleep, little eyes fluttering as they were shut, Becca would sometimes scrunch her nose and Philippe had the start of an adorable snore. Of course no one thought it cute when Baldwin snored, but to hell with everyone else.
Some hours later, they both began to rise from their slumber, hunger finally setting into their tummys "well someones hungry" he hadnt moved, fear of waking them too early "your mother said you have tomato soup"
They looked at eachother and pouted "juicy juice"
He tried, Lord knows he tried to get them to have soup but neither of them would take it. They behaved like 1950s students being fed codliver oil; repulsed and sickened. He sighed deeply, reconciling his death for feeding them juicy juice. He had watered the blood down mostly, Beccas less so then Philippes but it was enough of a crime for either 1) his death or 2) his decapitation or 3) being banned from seeing the children. Either way, Diana would not be pleased.
Diana and Matthew both left work slightly early, both assuming Baldwin would have had a breakdown but were pleasently shocked to find them being dried off after a bath "Philippe chucked up on himself, which then made Becca puke up" Baldwin ruffled her hair with the towel, both now sporting respective Disney pyjammas "ill send you the dry cleaning bill for my bomber jacket"
"Right, thats it i quit" they both looked up pouting "no your father can put you to bed, i have a bank to empty"
"Bye Bye Uncle" pouting gave way to sleepy eyes and quickly they fell into Matthews arms and back to bed they went
"Thankyou for watching them today, neither of us could get out of work, Marcus was busy too" Diana had been worried all day, panic at the images rushing her mind
"I am quiet capable of taking care of sick children Diana" he quickened his pace for the door "though next time ask everyone in the family, Stasia, Ransom heck time walk and ask my father" he mused
"you wont let that go, will you?"
"Goodbye sister" he said finally, slight teasing anguish still lingering in his tone "Oh and they didnt want soup so i gave them juicy juice OKAY BYE" he yelled over his shoulder as he ran to his car and drove away fast.
He had also put his phone on airplane mode to avoid the scathing calls, texts and emails.
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intothestacks · 3 years
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Choosing and Reading Books for Preschoolers: Tips from a Kid’s Librarian (Part 1/2)
One of the tricky parts of storytelling to younger children is making it through a whole book without losing their interest. The younger a child is, the shorter their attention span will be. The most effective way to help them stay focused is to find a way to make the story interactive. Keep them busy throughout the story and you’ll have a captive audience.
The examples below are some suggestions of how to keep a toddler entertained and the best kinds of books to accomplish that goal.
Make them think
Books structured around challenges, such as figuring out what is under a flap, are always a big hit with the Pre-K crowd. They’re especially good for getting younger children to practice using their words, as they offer you a smooth organic transition (after a good dramatic gasp) to ask your little one questions like “What did he find?”, “Who was behind the door?”, or “What is that?”. Since the questions are always different, speech practice becomes a thrilling game.
The children at the school I work at like that kind of activity so much, in fact, that the “what’s that?” game has spilled beyond our storybook interactions: It has become a tradition in Pre-K that at the end of storytime I always have to reveal what shirt I’m wearing so they can try to identify what picture is on my clothing (I try to wear fun shirts for Pre-K days). The excitement is always palpable as they eagerly inform me what I’m wearing. Their favourite shirt so far hands down featured a bespectacled friendly dragon reading a pile of books. I’d barely even entered the room before the first excited cry arose of “It’s a DRAGON!!!”
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Fox’s Socks by Julia Donaldson and Axel Scheffer
Fox is trying to get dressed but he can't find his socks anywhere! Great for practicing clothing item names, the book is part of the Tales from Acorn Wood lift-the-flap series. Written by the creators of The Gruffalo!
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Maisy Mouse series by Lucy Cousins
Follow Maisy on adventures where she learns about the world around her! The Maisy books are great for teaching your little one about concepts (e.g. colours) and places (e.g. the library, the doctor’s office, etc).
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Spot the Puppy series by Eric Hill
Follow Spot on adventures as he grows up, from going to school to becoming a big brother, to exploring places in his community! There is even an entire series of Spot books called “Find Spot”.
Make them moo
Books that feature lots of different noises, (such as stories set on a farm or featuring different kinds of transportation) are great for practicing onomatopoeia. Whether the text calls for sounds is irrelevant. Give your mini human the role of making the correct sound for the different noisy things and they will have a blast.  Tell them that you need their help to tell the story (and that they were a great helper once the tale is done) and you’ll have a happy volunteer cheerfully oinking, clucking, and vroom-ing their part with gusto.
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Dear Zoo by Rod Campbell
You have written to the zoo asking for a pet and they keep sending you all sorts of animals that just won’t do. Great for practicing the sounds of wild animals. There is also a noisy book version where your little one can press buttons for each animal noise.
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Seek & Peek Farm by Elizabeth Golding and Tony Neal
Great for practicing both animal noises and counting, as in each page you are asked to find X number of a certain animal.
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artificialqueens · 3 years
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I Don't Know How I Know (But I Know) (Taywhora) - Ortega
fic summary: Tayce and A’whora have been friends for three years and the joke around school is that they’re joined at the hip. They started working there at the same time and they were both given the year two classes, so they planned together, filled out their assessment folders together and prepped for parent’s evenings together.
Tayce and A’whora have been friends for three years and Tayce has been a little bit in love with her for two of them.
(in which Tayce teaches year five, A'whora teaches Reception, Tayce hates Valentine’s day, and A'whora has a plan to change that.)
a/n: with thanks to my co-author, Lawrence Chaney. title from Intuition by LIZ, please listen to it it’s a vibe. happy valentine’s day everyone xo
***
Tayce has heard people say that teaching is a form of acting. She thinks this is true, for the most part. After all, there’s no way in hell she teaches her year fives the same way she would act around her friends.
She pretends she doesn’t know the TikTok dance to Savage Love and fakes ignorance at the memes her kids all communicate in. She’s impatient with her class when they run in the corridor and chew gum (because they’re almost the oldest in the school, and they should know better) but she’s patient when they struggle with area and perimeter and brings her chair over to sit beside whoever’s confused to explain it all again. She’s strict- she gets the girls passing notes to each other into trouble as if she didn’t do the exact same with her friends at the age of ten- and she’s built up a reputation for being one of the teachers that doesn’t take any shit. She expects a lot from the children she teaches, knows they’re a blank canvas and that they’ve got the potential to understand things that some adults struggle with, so she teaches them about racism, homophobia and transphobia, makes it part of her everyday teaching as opposed to one milquetoast lesson about Martin Luther King per year.
Some of the parents fucking hate her for it. She’d be lying if she said that wasn’t one of her favourite parts of the job.
It takes a lot for her not to drop that persona sometimes. When she has to tear through one of her boys for muttering “ah shit, here we go again” as she hands out a worksheet on direct and indirect speech instead of bursting out laughing as if it’s one of the funniest things she’s heard in years, which it is. It’s times like that when she wishes she could be more like A’whora.
A’whora with the blonde hair and the Disney-princess smile who teaches Reception. A’whora who does silly voices for all the characters when she’s reading picture books to her class and who sits and does colouring-in with them when they’re playing. A’whora who’s too nice to them all because she thinks they’re too cute to discipline, but her class love her so their behaviour is good regardless.
(A’whora with the completely inappropriate nickname only disclosed to Tayce five mojitos deep on the staff Christmas night out, which she’d earned herself at uni via her reputation. Tayce hadn’t asked for any further details.)
Tayce has never seen a teacher better suited to the youngest class in the school than A’whora. She’s constantly got specks of glitter on her face from the crafts she completes with them, she hums the silly little songs she uses to teach them their sounds when she’s at the photocopier without even realising. She turns up to work in immaculate outfits and finishes the day with them covered in glue, marker pen, and even (horrifically) a child’s snot once, but she doesn’t even mind, simply zips them up into little bodybags and puts them in for dry cleaning.
Tayce is never done telling her how she could never do what she does, she could never teach the little ones; her patience would snap, she’s too mean for them, she’d get bored having to teach the most basic of basic stuff. A’whora only ever brushes her off and says how she couldn’t teach Tayce’s year group either; they’d eat her alive, they’d walk all over her, she wouldn’t even be able to do the complicated maths she’d have to teach. Besides, she argues, drawing a glare from Tayce every time, she’s definitely goofy enough for the Reception kids.
Tayce and A’whora have been friends for three years and the joke around school is that they’re joined at the hip. They started working there at the same time and they were both given the year two classes, so they planned together, filled out their assessment folders together and prepped for parent’s evenings together. They worked well together, so when their headteacher sent them to opposite ends of the school Tayce almost had a meltdown. Still, they sit next to each other in the staffroom and at every staff meeting. They take turns making each other lunch every day and walk to the roll shop to get toasties every Friday. Tayce walks down from her classroom to come and sit in A’whora’s at the end of every day and they chat and bitch and sometimes cry and get absolutely nothing done for at least forty minutes. A’whora picks her up on the way to work every morning and terrifies Tayce with her bad driving and the way she almost causes road traffic accidents with only a “whoopsie!” of acknowledgement, but she’ll make up for it by taking them through the Starbucks drive-thru if they’ve got a meeting after school that night. She blasts songs by artists Tayce has never heard of but are all in the same energetic, poppy, Y2K-esque genre that A’whora seems to love.
Tayce and A’whora have been friends for three years and Tayce has been a little bit in love with her for two of them.
***
A’whora’s friends tease her and tell her that teaching five year olds must be the easiest job in the world. A’whora loves her friends, but she fucking resents them when they come out with that shite.
A’whora knows that she herself is not the brightest crayon in the box. She had known that she’d never be one of the girls in her year at high school that went off to study medicine or law, and she’d known she’d never graduate uni with a first class degree or write an award-winning dissertation.
(When she’s having a bad day she comforts herself with the fact that at least she’s not joined a multi-level-marketing scheme under the guise of being a “businesswoman”, and this helps her feel a little better.)
But what she lacks in academic ability she makes up for in spadeloads by being a damn good teacher. She’s big-hearted and silly and patient. She always picks up crisps and KitKats when she’s at the shops and keeps them in a drawer under her desk to sneak to the kids who come to school without a snack. She sits in the construction corner with her kids when they’re playing and asks them about the models they make, and pretends to die a gruesome, slow death when they shoot her with their little lego guns instead of trying to get them to make something less violent like she knows she should do. She reads books about unicorns that captivate the little shy girls in her class who come up to her afterwards and whisper in their tiny voices that they think unicorns are real, and A’whora agrees with them and watches their faces light up. She makes every day fun for her little ones; because the beauty of teaching is having the control to plan what happens every hour, so she makes sure that none of the six they have to spend in her care are boring.
The key to being a good Reception teacher is to essentially make a fool of yourself every day for the benefit of twenty-two four and five year olds, which A’whora has no problem doing. She doesn’t care what her pupil support worker thinks of her when she acts out The Gruffalo with soft toy puppets she borrowed from the library. She doesn’t care what the management team think of her when she turns up for World Book Day dressed as The Tiger Who Came To Tea. The only person’s opinion she does maybe care a tiny, ever-so-slight amount about, is Tayce’s.
Tayce is that teacher. Tayce is the cool teacher. Tayce is the teacher that all the children want to be taught by. A’whora hears the year fours whisper to each other in the corridors every June and watch as they cross their fingers and close their eyes before they open the envelope addressed to their parents, then give a screech of excitement and joy when they see the name Miss Szura-Radix on their class allocation letter. She wears heels all day without so much as a grunt of complaint and jumps in A’whora’s car each morning with a full face of makeup on at half past seven (while A’whora paints her face at quarter past eight at her desk in between shovelling a croissant down her throat in an attempt at ‘breakfast’ and sorting handwriting worksheets). The year five and six girls straighten their hair to a flattened crisp in an attempt to emulate Tayce’s endless shiny locks and she’s the only teacher that the rogue group of year six boys addresses with respect. She has the discipline of Miss Trunchbull with the heart of Miss Honey, and A’whora thinks she’s the best teacher she’s ever seen.
A’whora’s been friends with Tayce since she started working at the school but her heart still flutters in its chest whenever she sweeps in to her classroom to chat after work, or sits herself down next to her before a cluster meeting with two cups of tea in polystyrene mugs and two biscuits, or whenever A’whora mysteriously finds a packet of Percy Pigs on her desk hidden under a pile of marking with a post-it note stuck to it that says “u are a pig (but i love u)”.
She wonders if that feeling will ever go away. She kind of doesn’t want it to.
It’s that feeling that made her volunteer to help out at the year five camp last March. Tayce was complaining about having to go to a remote outdoor centre and supervise ten year olds completing various death-defying tasks for a week all in the name of character building, and A’whora had said she’d go with her. The smile it had put on Tayce’s face was worth every minute spent up to her knees in mud. Similarly every second she spent waist deep in freezing water was worth the moment Tayce fell asleep on her shoulder on the coach trip back to school on the last day.
(And she still hasn’t told anyone else about the moment she thought her heart might explode; on the last night of the week when temperatures had unexpectedly plummeted and A’whora had been trying to get to sleep but all she had been able to do was shiver and chatter her teeth and toss and turn, and Tayce had sighed dramatically, rolled her eyes, thrown off her duvet cover and patted the space in the bed beside her, with a “just get in quick, before it gets cold”. A’whora had spent the following hours until morning with Tayce’s body tangled around hers, in the most blissful sleepless night she’d ever experienced.)  
There’s so many things that endear Tayce to A’whora. Her smile, her secretly chaotic funny side, the way she never, ever makes A’whora feel like an idiot. The way she’ll ask the questions A’whora’s too scared to ask in staff meetings. The way she cares so deeply and passionately about the futures of the kids she teaches to the extent where sometimes she’ll develop a little crease at her brow in front of her attainment spreadsheet and A’whora will have to gently pry her away from her monitor to reassure her that she can’t control the way her children’s lives pan out. The way she’ll sometimes call her Rory, which makes A’whora’s heart expand at least three sizes.  
Something else that makes her heart expand three sizes is the way Tayce acts with the Reception kids, despite her insisting she could never teach that year group. It happens one day when A’whora’s marking literacy while letting her kids play and Tayce swings by her classroom without so much as a knock. They’ll do this to each other sometimes when one’s in class and the other has planning time; just drop by and check in to make sure the other isn’t having a meltdown.
“Hey bitchtits,” she murmurs quietly, smirking as she leans onto A’whora’s desk. “How’s your day going?”
“Terrible since you decided to show up,” A’whora cocks an eyebrow back, then jerks her head towards her distracted kids. “This lot are like sponges, y’know. You can’t be dropping that kind of language in this class, even if you think you’re out of earshot.”
Tayce sticks her tongue out at her. “Aw what, you gonna report me to management?”
“Report you to management and say you’re in my class annoying me during teaching time!”
“Piss off! I’m the highlight of your day and you know it.”
“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”
“No. Just some very lucky ladies,” Tayce bites back with a smile, instantly rendering A’whora’s cheeks beetroot red as if she’s been slapped.
“You’re horrendous. You’re an actual deviant. Olly Murs without the Pringles can,” she rolls her eyes, trying to style out how flustered she’s become. She can see Tayce open her mouth to shoot a comeback her way, which is why she’s glad when one of her boys appears beside her desk holding a crumpled piece of paper covered in crayon blobs which are clearly meant to represent objects.
“Hi Archie! You okay?” she smiles brightly, turning all her attention to the little boy and trying not to cringe at Tayce getting full view of her Cbeebies-presenter voice.
“I made a picture for you,” he says, showing her the piece of paper and pointing out all the features of his drawing with a chubby little finger. “It’s a dragon that breathes fire and bombs, and he’s called Squish.”
“Wow! Thank you, Archie, I love it!” A’whora keeps smiling, blinking at the drawing the boy’s still holding. She points at some shaky rectangles with a pink acrylic. “And I can see he must be really tall because those buildings are tiny underneath him!”
Archie’s no longer interested in her or the drawing, though, as he’s looking up at Tayce through his glasses. “You’re my brother’s teacher.”
“Am I?” Tayce says, surprised that the attention is suddenly on her. “Who’s your brother?”
“Joshua. Joshua White.”
Tayce’s face instantly lights up in recognition. “Of course, you’re Josh’s brother! I should’ve known, you look so alike.”
“He’s ten and I’m five,” Archie adds, somewhat unnecessarily.
“See, I think you might be taller than him, though,” Tayce deadpans. A’whora watches affectionately as Archie’s entire body crumples up in a laugh and he splutters out a “nooooo!”. Tayce’s face breaks out into a smile- warm and genuine with her nose wrinkling up. It’s maybe the most adorable thing A’whora has ever seen.
“Josh is good at art as well. He’s not quite as good as you, but he’s good,” Tayce smiles, and as Archie smiles back A’whora feels her heart melting.
Archie turns to Tayce suddenly with the drawing still in his hand, and holds it out for her to take. “This is actually for you.”
A’whora gives a snort of outrage and amusement, which she quickly turns into a cough. She watches as Tayce accepts the drawing gratefully, giving Archie a little squeeze on his shoulder as she says thank you and Archie scuttles away back to his friends all bashful. There’s a second where Tayce smiles after him then looks down at the drawing with fondness, and A’whora’s feelings for her hit her like a tidal wave.
Tayce doesn’t notice (because of course she doesn’t) and as she straightens up she grins triumphantly at A’whora, holding the drawing in her face proudly. “Well. Guess Archie’s got a new favourite teacher then, doesn’t he?”
“He wouldn’t last five minutes in your classroom,” A’whora smirks, lying. The image of big-hearted Tayce with a class full of the littlest kids drying their tears and helping them get all organised for the day ahead is so unbelievably cute it makes A’whora want to squeal like an embarrassing teenager. She doesn’t, though. Instead she holds out a hand expectantly, raises her eyebrows at Tayce as if she’s one of her students. “Am I getting my drawing back or what?”
“Easy come, easy go,” Tayce winks at her, flouncing out of her classroom door just as the bell rings for break.
***
Tayce doesn’t really flirt with A’whora. Well, no, that’s a lie. She flirts and then immediately laughs it off, brushes it off as a joke or banter even though maybe if she’d taken flirting with A’whora a little more seriously she wouldn’t still be in this position two-bloody-years in.
Because she knows A’whora flirts sometimes. She’s positive she isn’t making it up. The way she’ll deadpan a “well, you look like shit” as she hops into her car in the mornings, the way she’ll sit close to her under her fluffy pink blanket if she’s round at Tayce’s for a movie day (because yeah, they hang out outside of work, because that’s what friends do). It’s always a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it raised eyebrow here, a laugh there, a touch of her arm and a squeeze of her hand and a smirk that bites back a thousand words Tayce wishes A’whora would just say.
So Tayce will flirt back because that’s probably just what A’whora does with her friends, and that’s all Tayce is to her. Maybe. Tayce is never sure if A’whora likes her back or not, and the risk of completely wrecking what is her only workplace friendship is too great to actually do something about it, so she’s happy being her friend for now. Every second she gets to spend with A’whora is a treat, so she can’t complain.
It would be easier if she was still labouring under the delusion that A’whora was straight, which was the whole reason it took Tayce so long to start slowly falling for her. A’whora had had a boyfriend for roughly the first six months Tayce had known her, so she hadn’t even thought of her friend in that capacity at all. Then one day on a rainy January she’d thudded her bag down on Tayce’s desk and told her they were going for drinks after work that night because her boyfriend was a cheating piece of shit and she’d broken up with him.
Tayce’s fate had further been sealed when they’d been sitting together for an inservice day on LGBT training and A’whora had turned to her and rolled her eyes.
“We don’t really need to be here, do we? We could just piss off to McDonalds.”
Tayce had laughed softly, fixing A’whora with a slightly confused glance. “Huh?”
“Well, I feel like we probably have enough lived experience of the whole thing to not need training. Still, we could always duck back in in time for the transgender part. But I mean we probably don’t really need to be told how to support kids struggling with their sexuality, do we?”
Tayce still remembers how A’whora had snorted at her, her face obviously looking as if she was searching for the last puzzle piece in the world’s most confusing jigsaw. “What is it?”
“I don’t get…what?” Tayce had said awkwardly, still unsure of what A’whora had meant.
A’whora had pulled a face, giggling a little. “Are you telling me that rainbow flag is on your desk for shits and gigs?”
“No…” Tayce said slowly, the pieces slowly falling together. “So…”
A’whora gave another funny little snort. “Tayce, did you not know I was bi? I’m sure I’ve told you this before.”
Tayce still thinks she deserves an Oscar for still being able to keep the conversation going despite the fact her entire world had been flipped on its head like a globe made of hourglass. “You’ve not! You’ve never. I mean, like, why would you need to? It’s not something that matters. I mean obviously it matters to you, but it doesn’t matter to me. You’re my friend either way. I mean it just never occurred to me because…your ex, and uh…you can drive.”
Mercifully, their headteacher had started speaking before A’whora could respond to her beyond a single raised eyebrow and a smirk on her face.
It’s been ever since then that Tayce has been looking at A’whora in a different light. How gorgeous she is at the start of the day with nothing but her laminated brows and lash extensions to pass for makeup and how gorgeous she still is at the end of the day with her mascara and eyeliner smudged a little at the edges and her lipstick all rubbed off. How she’s generous and patient and how she’ll go out of her way to help Tayce understand the new flavour-of-the-month resource their headteacher makes them use, pulling one of her kid’s chairs over to sit close beside her to see the monitor and bumping her knee against Tayce’s every so often.  
It’s how she acts around her kids, though, that really highlights everything Tayce completely adores about A’whora. Tayce is on her way up to the staffroom with two tubs of chicken shawarma salad in her hands (one for her and one for A’whora, of course) and she makes it up one flight of stairs when she suddenly hears a cry like an air raid siren pierce the air, as well as a gentle, soothing voice muttering quiet consolations.
It’s the sheer hysterical nature of the crying that catches Tayce’s attention at first, and she looks over the bannister to see A’whora on the level below, sitting a little boy who’s bawling his eyes out down on the red squashy chairs outside the office. With a stab to her heart Tayce realises that it’s Archie, the boy who’d given her the picture all those weeks ago. Both his knees and the palms of his hands are torn to ribbons; he’s obviously had a fight with the tarmac and emerged the loser. Tayce knows he’ll be okay if an adult’s seeing to him, especially if that adult’s A’whora, so she knows she can leave. She doesn’t need to stay and watch the situation play out.
But she does. She watches as one of the ladies from the office comes out and reassures A’whora that she can take over, and as A’whora waves her away kindly and says it won’t take her two minutes. She watches as A’whora puts her hands on the boy’s shoulders and directs his breathing, talking to him calmly and softly. She watches A’whora rip into a packet of sterile wipes with grim determination, telling Archie how brave he’s being and that she knows it stings as she wipes quickly and carefully over his little cut hands. She watches A’whora peel the wrapping off four plasters, making it seem effortless even with her long acrylics, and the way she makes a joke about Archie being bandaged up like a mummy which brings a smile to his little tear-stained face and a smile to Tayce’s too. The other staff don’t get to see A’whora’s caring nature very often (given how often she whispers judgemental comments to Tayce during meetings) but Tayce sees it all the time. A’whora has the biggest heart of anyone she’s ever known, and the whole scene makes Tayce feel so endeared towards her that it almost frightens her.
It’s at that point when Archie looks up at Tayce on the bannister and makes eye contact with her. He flicks his eyes back down to his teacher.
“Uh, Miss Boyle? I think Miss Szura-Radix wants to talk to you, because she’s been there a long time.”
Tayce’s heart freezes solid at the same time A’whora turns around, who fixes her with a sort of funny smile, confused but not exactly unhappy to see her.
“Uh. Coming to the staffroom?” Tayce shouts down, under pressure to explain herself but simultaneously not having any explanation.
“Two seconds!” A’whora yells up apologetically.
“I’ll wait,” Tayce yells down, reassuring her.
Tayce is used to waiting for A’whora. She supposes another minute or so won’t make a difference.
***
This is the third Valentine’s day A’whora has spent with Tayce.
The first fell on a Monday and had been an abject disaster (or success, depending on how she looked at it). A’whora was still getting over her ex and Tayce had confided in her that she hated Valentine’s day and all its commercialised, capitalist tat with a burning passion, so they’d gone to the pub after work and got so outrageously drunk that the two of them were so hungover the next day A’whora drove them to McDonalds for lunch.
The second had been last year- a Tuesday, where Tayce had been subdued and a little down until A’whora had forced her into helping her choose new clothes for the roleplay area for her kids and the pair of them had collapsed into endless breathless giggles as they both tried on costumes made for five-year-olds, the memory of Tayce in a hi-vis vest, safety goggles and a tiny hard hat one that still makes A’whora laugh if she thinks about it.
Really she’s lucky that she gets to be one of the few people who’s spent the 14th of February with their crush for three years in a row, but not for the reasons she might want. Still, she can live in the delusional daydream she’s taunted herself with many times; how maybe today Tayce will turn up at her classroom door with helium balloons and a teddy, how she’ll say she’s been secretly in love with her for years and how she’s booked them a table at that fancy seafood restaurant in town that just opened up for an actual proper date (not a mate date and not some gal-entines or pal-entines bullshit).
And then Tayce hops into her car in a foul mood with her hair drenched from waiting for A’whora in the rain with no umbrella and a face like a cow’s backside.
A’whora tries to cheer her up. She blasts the R&B that Tayce loves but Tayce just asks her to turn it off, telling her that Kiana Ledé, Mahalia and Ella Mai are exactly what she doesn’t need to hear on Valentine’s Day, endless songs about being in and out of love. So A’whora blasts Charli XCX instead, which works well until shuffle puts on Forever, and then Tayce is in the huff again.
Teaching the year fives doesn’t exactly help her feel much better, A’whora thinks, as they both sit down to lunch together and Tayce turns to her with an incredulous scowl on her face.
“They’ve all got bloody boyfriends and girlfriends!”
A’whora stops eating the pasta salad Tayce has made for her and narrows her eyes inquisitively. “Who does?”
“All the kids in my class. They’ve been going around all day telling me who they’ve paired up with, who’s snogging who, the detailed dating history of these bloody ten year olds. They keep asking me what we’re doing for Valentine’s Day. ‘Are we making cards?’ No! We’re doing more work on decimals because none of you bloody understood it the first three times I explained it to you. Make a card in your own damn time,” Tayce rolls her eyes while A’whora snorts with laughter. Tayce side-eyes her, unimpressed as A’whora tries to defend herself.
“Oh come on, Tayce, you’ve got to admit it’s a bit funny.”
“Is it? Is it though? Is it funny that a ten year old boy can get himself a girlfriend but I can’t?”
Tayce’s words make A’whora’s heart jump a hurdle. She plays it off with a joke. “Yeah, but he’s got a ten year old girlfriend, Tayce. I’m assuming you don’t want that.”
“No, funnily enough!” Tayce shakes her head. She pouts uncharacteristically, tilting her head to the ceiling. “I just…I don’t know, I just want someone that’s there for me. Who’ll always listen to all my shit, someone that makes me smile when I feel like crap. Someone I can just be myself around and have a laugh with whatever the hell we’re doing.”
A’whora nods and doesn’t say what she wants to. We do that. We do all of that together already.
“But I don’t want all the shit of having to actually get to know people, having to go on dates and do the whole talking stage and get my hopes up only to have them let down. I wish I could just…” Tayce sighs, and A’whora’s on tenterhooks wondering what’s coming next. “…I wish I just already had that person, you know?”
You do have that person. I’m that person.
A’whora nods silently and the bell rings signalling the end of their lunch break.
Since she’s not as enraged by Valentine’s day as Tayce, A’whora has planned to get the sequins and glue out and get the kids to make Valentine’s cards. She loves planning tasks like this, mainly because five year olds don’t need much help when faced with a glue stick and a shaker full of glitter, so it means she can put her feet up and have a chilled afternoon. She explains to her class what they’re going to be doing, feels her heart burst with affection as they all get outrageously excited at the very notion of using glitter. She shows them how to fold their piece of paper carefully to make a card shape, and shows them the array of colours they can choose from (and has to explain to some disappointed boys that no, she doesn’t have any blue card so no, their Valentine’s Day card can’t be the colour of Crystal Palace football club).
She’s giving out the different colours of card to her kids and cutting them to size when one of her girls stops, peers carefully at the selection of colours, then looks at A’whora thoughtfully.
“Miss Boyle, are you going to give a Valentine’s card to Miss Szura-Radix?”
A’whora almost slices through her own hand in shock. She looks with incredulity at the little girl in front of her. “Bella! No, of course not. Why would I do that?”
“Because you’re best friends and you love her,” Bella shrugs, A’whora’s attempts to shame her into silence obviously having no effect. A’whora tries to scowl, tries to do her best ‘cross face’ despite the fact that the thought of giving Tayce a Valentine’s card sets her heart racing so fast it makes her genuinely think about driving to A&E.
“I don’t…” she starts, until Bella speaks again.
“You told us before that girls can fall in love with girls and you said that we can make our Valentine’s cards for our friends too,” she insists innocently. A’whora finally musters up a frown, thrusts a pink piece of card into her hand.
“Why am I even entertaining this conversation- go and get on with your work, madam!” she says firmly, and Bella walks away with her blank card in her hand, nonplussed.
But as her kids all begin to make their cards and they’re all too caught up in glitter and painting their hands with PVA glue to even need her help with anything, A’whora begins absent-mindedly folding a spare piece of pink card in half. She draws one, two, three love hearts on it, then takes one of the little glue sticks and carefully, neatly, fills them in with splodges of clear glue. She asks one of the little boys sitting at the table opposite her if she can borrow the red glitter when he’s finished with it and he nods his head, A’whora’s heart involuntarily swelling with pride at how good her children are at sharing. She tap-tap-taps the glitter shaker over the hearts on the paper, making sure each one is covered completely before standing the card upright and watching the excess fall off like sparkly snow. Opening the card, she takes the gold shiny gel pen from her desk and writes without really thinking it through.
Maybe if Tayce isn’t going to magically read A’whora’s mind and figure out what she’s been yearning for, A’whora just has to give her a little nudge in the right direction.
When she’s done she folds it back over, stands up, crosses the room to her empty yellow message folder and slides it inside. She asks her class if anyone knows where the year five classroom is because she’s got a message to send there. Fifteen tiny hands fly up and A’whora basically has to whittle the volunteers down to the only two kids who actually know where they’re going, and she gives them the folder and tells them to take it up to Tayce’s classroom.
She doesn’t think about the reality or the implication of what she’s just done, because if she does then she’ll start hyperventilating and not stop until perhaps June of next year. Instead she catches the eye of Julia, the little girl who moved from Poland in January. She can’t speak or write a word of English yet, but the way she’s looking at A’whora with a little smile on her face makes her genuinely wonder if she knows. Sometimes kids can pick up on these sorts of things. She shoots her a little wink and puts her finger to her lips in a “shhh” just in case, and the little girl breaks into a grin that shows two missing front teeth.
The thing about teaching is that it’s a great job for providing a distraction. A’whora can’t think about the card she made for Tayce when she’s cleaning up an entire pot of glitter that Jared spilt all over the carpet, nor can she think about what she’s written in it when she’s comforting Angelica because she didn’t get to finish her card in time for hometime. But the moment she’s waved the kids off and dropped them off to their parents she walks up the stairs from the front entrance with an impending sense of dread which only increases with every new step she takes.
“What the fuck have you done,” she mutters under her breath, earning her a weird look from one of the ladies at the office.
When she gets back to her classroom to find Tayce sitting on one of the tiny tables waiting for her, A’whora feels her heart freeze in her chest and the blood rush to her face, blushing just from seeing her there. Tayce looks in a better mood than she was at lunchtime, though, which is a good start. Maybe she never even read the card. Maybe A’whora’s reception kids took it to the entirely wrong class. Christ, that would be even more embarrassing.
“Hey, boo boo,” Tayce smiles gently at her, as A’whora crosses the room and elects to sit on the desk opposite her so they’re face to face and not too far away. “How’d your afternoon go?”
“Oh, uh, y’know,” A’whora stammers out, blundering her words in the world’s worst attempt at appearing nonchalant. “Lots of glitter, lots of PVA. In fact I’m probably sitting in a massive glittery splodge of it, as are you.”
Tayce laughs, checks the table comedically.
“How was yours? You seem a bit more cheerful,” A’whora continues, looking to the floor and not darling to meet her eyes. “Did decimals finally click with your lot, or…?”
“I am a bit more cheerful,” Tayce smiles, A’whora’s heart racing and soaring in anticipation at the same time. “But not really anything to do with decimals. More to do with the fact somebody made me a really very lovely Valentine’s card.”
Tayce reaches behind her back and produces her card- A’whora’s card- from the table behind her, and A’whora feels her pulse race at her wrists and her heart leap into her mouth to the extent that she’s rendered almost too shy to speak. What the fuck was she thinking? Tayce is probably about to rip the piss out of her for it, it was a huge mistake, and she’s probably thrown their whole friendship away for nothing.
However. There’s a little something in Tayce’s eyes, a little sparkle that makes the grey shine silver. So A’whora shrugs, fixing a carefree smile on her face even though she feels anything but.
“Well, I know you hate Valentine’s day, so…I thought maybe if I gave you a card you’d stop being so mardy about it.”
When she looks at Tayce again she can see there’s a little crack in her perfect armour, the sparkle in her eyes dulled slightly. When she speaks her voice is quiet and nervous, so stripped of its usual hyperactivity and energy that A’whora wonders if it’s even Tayce’s voice at all. “Is that, uh. Is that the only reason you made it?”
A’whora can practically feel herself clam up. She has no idea where Tayce is going with this; to clarify that it was a joke or to clarify that it was serious, and A’whora doesn’t know which one Tayce wants it to be.
“What you wrote,” Tayce continues, her gaze fixed on the glitter-covered carpet and making it even more impossible to figure out her intention. “Was that, like…some girly besties chat, or was it…did you mean it…like that?”
“Yeah, I did,” A’whora says instantly. It’s out before she knows it, a terrifying leap into a freezing cold conversational plunge pool with no life raft to help her climb out. There’s only one way out and it’s Tayce’s reaction, whatever the hell that might be. She snapped her head up the moment the words left A’whora’s mouth, and her eyes are wide in what could be shock but could quite easily be horror.
A’whora doesn’t think she’s ever been more hopeful and frightened all at once. The seconds tick by and Tayce is still frozen in position, and A’whora can literally feel herself inching closer to the edge of the desk in terrified anticipation.
“Jesus Christ say something, Tayce, before I cringe myself to death,” she says breathlessly, her blood feeling almost electric as it races in her veins.
Tayce leans forward, not giving much away as she brings a thumb up to A’whora’s cheek.
“You’ve got a bit of glitter on your face,” she murmurs.
When she leans in and closes the gap between them, A’whora feels herself melt against Tayce’s lips with relief. They’re in the middle of her classroom at quarter part three with the door open and she’s very well aware that anyone could walk in at a moments’ notice, but A’whora doesn’t care. A’whora only cares about the fact that Tayce is kissing her and she’s kissing back, and it’s so hard to believe it’s actually real and not some daydream come to life, and it’s happening on Valentine’s day which makes it even more far-fetched. But every time A’whora starts to think that maybe she’s dreaming she feels Tayce’s thumb stroke her cheek, or their knees bump together, or she brings a hand up to rest at Tayce’s jaw just to make sure it’s all real.
When Tayce pulls away and they smile at each other, giggling and blushing like one of Tayce’s year fives, A’whora only allows herself to properly believe it’s all actually happening when Tayce presses their foreheads together, takes both of A’whora’s hands in her own and murmurs quietly to her what A’whora’s wanted to hear for entirely too long.
“I love you too.”
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teacup-crow · 4 years
Text
So Many Stars
Here’s my entry for Zombies, Make! round 3 (thanks again, @puptart)!  Don’t worry, it’s fluffy Archie/Jamie this time, because morning me isn’t an angst monster like midnight me.
Based on prompt 2 - a picture of a woman in the water. Set between S2M15 and M16. Enjoy :)
Edit: just realised that the woman in the picture is on fire oops 🤣🤣
The lake is freezing, even in the middle of summer. It’s more a reservoir than a lake, really – Jamie suspects the angles and shapes of it are a little too straight to be natural. Still, it’s refreshing in a time when a bath is an unfortunately distant memory, and the kids have to learn to swim somehow.
“Frog legs, Carena, that’s it! You’re gettin’ there, girl!”
He’s not quite telling the truth: if he tries to take his hand away from her tummy for a moment, she immediately sinks like a stone. Still, it’s got to be better than his uncle’s method of lobbing him in the deep end of the overcrowded town pool and hoping for the best.
Turning his head slightly, he sees that stupid dog swimming along beside him with its dopey tongue lolling, and Archie still standing on the edge, not intervening as Jasper and Brendan splash each other a little too aggressively, catching one of the girls full in the face with an overzealous scoop of water. Seriously, does he have to do everything?
“You two stop that right now!” he yells over, pointing a finger. “Arch, I asked you to keep an eye?”
“Yes, sorry, Jamie. I was…” she trails off again, staring back out at the open water. It’s not like her to be so pensive, and he’s suddenly a bit worried.
“DAMIE!”
Oops. He turns back and holds the girl steady.
“Okay, I got you. I’ve always got you. Let’s try treadin’ water one more time.”
***
All in all, it wasn’t an unsuccessful outing. Jasper went in further than his knees without crying about it being too cold; Brendan’s freestyle paddle was becoming something that could possibly, one day, be a front crawl; Kitty had nailed backstroke, even if she couldn’t always go in the right direction. Carena’s lack of buoyancy was still an absolute mystery: the child swam like she had concrete tied to her ankles. Almost everyone had at least got their toes in, which is more than he can say for his girlfriend.
“Not like you to be a spoilsport,” he mutters over his mug of soup that evening. They’re sat on the front porch of the fire station, the kids inside supposedly tucked up in bed. He can hear them, though, running wild because they haven’t been read a storybook yet. There’s the distinctive giggling of childhood mischief and what he suspects is a raucous pillow fight.
Archie, who still hasn’t been speaking to him, only shrugs. He’s at a loss to what he might have done, or said wrong, although he has some suspicions. She’s normally so forthright when upset; it’s one of the things he really appreciates. No endless guessing games. She tells him exactly what she wants, and he begrudgingly knows exactly what to give her.
“Look. Abel Township owes me a favour. They’ll send out someone to mind the kids for a while, and then we’ll go.”
“Oooh, Jamie, are you really getting a babysitter? Do you know what that makes this?”
He stares at her blankly.
“That makes this a date night!”
“No, it doesn’t, it definitely-”
“Date night, date night, date night!” Archie sings, bouncing up and down on her toes. “Oh, I should do something with my hair!”
“Seriously, don’t bother, Arch, it…”
“Back in a minute!” She runs inside, and he can hear her saying, “now who wants to give Archie a makeover?” and a chorus of “me, me, me, ME!”
He sighs, and grabs the radio from his pocket. “Abel Township, this is Jamie Skeet, over. Yeah, could do with a hand down here…”
***
“You’ve taken me on a date… back to the lake?”
She’s been skipping and laughing and jostling him for the whole walk, an abundance of ribbons knotted in her mane of blonde hair that’s so rarely out of braids. Her eyeshadow, also, is two different shades. “I maybe would not get five-year olds to make me over again,” she’d laughed when she popped back onto the porch, “but there’s a first time for everything, yes?”
His breath had still caught in his chest when he looked at her, in sandals and an azure summer dress that caught the moonlight a little, her freckles like a smattering of stars on her cheeks. Right now, though, the wind has gone from her sails.
“You can’t swim, can you.”
She tries to laugh it off, but fails, and shakes her head.
“I can teach you how?”
He wishes he knew how to do this. How to make her feel all right about it. He wishes it was as easy as picking up one of the kids from a fall.
“My parents… were very concerned about me getting an education, and not very concerned about anything else. Including what I had to say! Which meant they missed out on a lot of interesting things because I always have something interesting to say!” She tries to laugh again, but fails. “Anyway, sports were not high on their list of priorities. And the water is so cold. Let’s go somewhere else, let’s…”
“Arch. I need to know whoever’s out here with the kids and the dog can help them if there’s any trouble. Come on. I won’t let go of your hand.”
She looks to the water, and back to him, one, two, one, two. “Do you promise?”
“You sound like Carena. Yes, I promise. I’ve always got you.”
Hands clasped tight, they walk in together, Archie indignant when he splashes her. Eventually, they lie back floating, and stare at the sky, and stare at each other.
Jamie’s never seen so many stars.
***
It’s three or four hours later when they get back to the fire station dripping wet, arm in arm, the dog running around them in mad excited circles as soon as he notices their approach. Jody is sat up waiting for them, the few stray pillow feathers in her hair out of place with her grumpy expression.
“Fun evening?” She raises an eyebrow.
“You could say that,” Jamie and Archie chorus, setting each other off laughing.
“I had to read The Gruffalo four times. Next time, make sure Sam doesn’t send me. Ask Simon, or even Five or something. I have no idea why people think I like kids…”
“You and me both,” Jamie replies, waving her off, and turning back to Archie, who kisses him just like she did in the water, under the moonlight, wildly, freely, the only bit of warmth in the numbing darkness.
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hatant · 3 years
Note
Weird asks - every one that ends in 3! 😝
This is payback for asking for every 10 isn't it 😂
3. bubblegum or cotton candy?
Bubblegum, but only because I despise candyfloss 😂 admittedly I haven't had it for decades but I remember it making my teeth itch and being all sticky...and that just isn't an appealing combo 😂
13. lanyard or key ring?
I have my keys on a key ring! Well actually, a lot of rings and random trinkets. My keys look like a lot but it's really just...my keys and a whole lot of jingly bits.
23. strange habits?
Ahahaha hmm...I'm a big clicker (or, cracker?) of joints. It's really satisfying and, when we used to work on site, I'd have to try and not do it so much because the person I sat near to hated the sound 😂
33. most used phrase in your phone?
Ahahaha urm...hmm...I'd say I don't know but I have an inkling of what it could be...there are a couple options but I'm going to go with the one I recently got told I say a lot by way of expressing shock and/or dismay - "Fuck me sideways" 😂
43. hoodie, leather jacket, cardigan, jean jacket or bomber jacket?
Leather jacket and hoodies all the way.
53. what is the current state of your hands?
They are clean, and since there's no blacksmithing going on there's no soot under my nails or blisters/burns/cuts/calluses on them. I miss those, oddly enough. I do however have a plaster on my left hand because I don't know how I cut my finger yesterday but I did and it bled a whole bunch.
63. five songs that would play in your club?
Oooh...Bon Jovi 'Living on a Prayer'; Queen 'Bohemian Rhapsody'; The Pretty Reckless 'Going to Hell' ; Lordi 'Hard Rock Hallelujah' aaand Mulan 'I'll Make a Man Out of You' 😁
73. favourite weird flavour combo?
Hmm...I honestly don't know 😂 I did once have a thing about dipping fries in milkshake which was...sort of quite nice in an odd way.
83. writing or drawing?
Oooh...tough one. I'm far too critical of my own work so...I'll lean to drawing because doodles are fun, and life drawing is fun and I don't quite get as frustrated as I do if I'm writing.
93. nicknames?
Ahahaha this has come up a couple times today! Urm...a lot. I'm one of those people who just seems to have accumulated nicknames over the years 😂 a couple that come to mind are Gruffalo (it's what my niece calls me sometimes because she's a brilliant little shit), Wedges (don't ask), Ant (standard), Pant (less standard), Tree Trunks and a recent addition that hasn't gained much traction (thankfully) Christmas Gadaffi.
Thaaaaanks 😊😊😊😊
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luciayaya · 3 years
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I saw my 2 year old nephew today and we did some colouring together on the pages and oyster I have made. He enjoyed how the pastel made different sounds on different parts of the shell like a xylophone! We chatted about what oysters were and how pearls were made and he decided that the most special things in his life was his parents and the gruffalo 
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wolfpawn · 5 years
Text
I Hate You, I Love You Chapter 2
Previous Chapter
Rating - Mature
Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.
authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long.  
If you wish to be tagged, please let me know.
tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog
Four hours, it had been four hours since his mother left the house to go to Danielle's, but she had yet to return, and her car, and from what he could see into Elle's front garden, hers too, still in the driveways, he assumed neither had gone anywhere.
The time Tom had been in the house had at first been beneficial, allowing him to sort a few things he needed, but after a while, when his mind was allowed to think over his mother's reaction, and that of Elle, he became somewhat annoyed. He received a text from Taylor, stating she was going out shopping with the "squad" for the afternoon, so expect to see loads of pictures, but not to text or ring, it was ‘girl time’. That sort of thing would never have bothered Tom, he did have two sisters after all, but the memory of her getting irked when he did not reply to her text when he finished an exhausting scene in Australia came to the fore of his mind. Taking it all as him being jetlagged, he tried to make some tea. Boiling the kettle, he looked out to his mother’s garden, which was looking great. Diana always loved gardening, but being a single mother with a full-time career never afforded her the opportunity before, now, she claimed half its success was solely based on Danielle’s help, the young woman using her free time to aid his mother, rather than partying or finding herself a boyfriend.
Danielle had moved in next to his mother five years previous from Ireland. It was before the fame of the Avengers, but yet after Thor and War Horse, so he was on the path to fame, she had known the family before the name Hiddleston became internationally known, but being a fan of Marvel, she had known who he was. He had met her for the first time when he rang his mother to collect him from the airport after an audition in the US, and his mother could not make it, so she sent Elle instead, without telling Tom, so she knew who he was, and he did not know who she was. All that met him was a small woman, in a paramedic's uniform, standing beside an emergency vehicle, that he soon learned was supposed to bring an advanced paramedic or doctor to a scene of an accident, something he would have preferred her to tell him at a kitchen table, and not having to calm him after him assuming something had happened his mother at the arrivals door of an airport. The young medic soon made herself a firm part of the Hiddleston household. She aided his mother as best she could, calling to her before every shift to see if she needed anything, and bringing it to her the next morning, since she did the night shifts, she was the one age with Emma, so she and his sister were almost as close as sisters, and if the family wanted to go out for a meal without his niece when Sarah was around, she would call in a shift change and babysit for them, as well as playing chauffeur to him when he would arrive in Suffolk for a few days. Now, it would seem she was not the least bit comfortable around him and had done everything she had as a favour to his mum.
The sound of laughter caught his attention, and leaning onto the balls of his feet, Tom could see the origins of said laughter and it annoyed him. His mother and her neighbour were in the latter’s back garden, picking a few vegetables, clearly comfortable in each others company, even after supposedly spending the last four hours talking, something he had wanted to do with his mother, but she had obviously not wanted to do with him. He opened the window slightly, knowing it was not a gentlemanly thing to eavesdrop, but he felt as though it was justified, seeing as he was not going to get much conversation with anyone otherwise.
“I will make a soup with some tomorrow and drop it over if you’d like.” He heard Elle say.
“Thank you, sweetheart, you are too good.”
“I’ll freeze some as well, and drop a bit to his place when I am in London next week.”
“That’s not necessary darling, besides, I am not sure wasting your time cooking good sturdy home cooked meals is the right thing to do either. I am sure he is on a salad or some sort of craze diet now as well as she is.”
“He looked a little thinner, but that is probably just constant travel playing havoc on him, be nice. It’s the first time he bothered to come home alone since like, when?”
“Christmas.”
“What? Has it been that long? No, yeah, you’re right, in March you went to him in London. Well go in and spend some time with him so, he is only here for a couple of days. Who knows when he’ll have time again?”
“He has time, he just chooses to spend it jetting around the world with her in front of camera’s, honestly, it is like Crufts.”
“Diana!”
“It is, my son is just material for a new excuse for an album and in a year, he will be tarnished to any good women and the laughing stock of every major production company.”
Tom’s eyes widened at what his mother was saying; he had not known her distaste for his life choice could have gone that deep. He could hear the upset in her voice, how it nearly cracked at the end, he would wager she had tears in her eyes.
“It could be worse, she is very pretty, or was, she has a soccer mom haircut now, it looked far prettier when she had it long, or when it was the bleached, greyish blonde, and she is not using him for his money, that’s a good thing.” He heard Elle defend, sort of.
“There are others things worse than taking his money; he can earn more if he gets the work. Tom has a reputation as a serious, yet diverse actor; all he will get by the end of this is one of those stupid shark movies.”
“I actually think they are something of a cult classic, in an ‘it’s so bad, it is brilliant’ kinda way.” Elle half laughed.
“He needs to find himself a well grounded, hard working woman that will keep his head from the clouds and not have him gallivanting around with his nose in the air.”
“He comes from a wealthy background and is privately educated, not exactly grounded.” There was a small silence for a moment. “What? It’s not.”
“You can be too honest sometimes Danielle Hughes.”
“Yeah, well, I prefer to call things as I see them. But yes, going around with what was it, four bodyguards.”
“Five, five useless, attention grabbing fools that shouted ‘look at me, look at me.’ It is Suffolk for goodness sake, what was going to happen here, she gets assaulted by an over eager Cavalier King Charles to throw a ball or get its belly scratched, it was done for attention and attention alone. If you saw what way she acted in the house.”
“I have heard, the girls told me; I also got a play by play from your less than happy granddaughter.”
“What did she say?” There was something akin to fear in Diana’s voice.
“How she has not seen her favourite uncle since Christmas and that he was only allowed play with her in front of camera’s and when the, and I quote ‘princess’ allowed it. That he was not allowed spend time with her, how she only wanted her favourite piggyback-giver to read her the Gruffalo, but it was, and again I quote ‘silly nonsense’.” Elle revealed.
“What?” Diana was enraged, and Tom knew it. He had not realised his niece had felt that way, or that his family were so affected by his decision, but Elle’s revelations were not helping them get passed it, so he decided to put an end to the conversation before it got any worse. He walked to the back door, took a deep breath and opened it.
“Mum?” There was a moment’s silence. “Mum?”
“Yes, Thomas?” ‘Thomas’ her tone was glacial and the use of his full name, something she only did when she was reprimanding him told him he would not get much a reception from her anytime soon.
“Can I come in?” The two gardens were separated by a wooden fence, but since Danielle had been living there, a small gate had been put in. It was still quite high, to give both houses privacy, but easily opened to allow them into each others gardens, something most would thing odd, seeing as the occupier of one house had a Hollywood actor for a son, but it meant Elle was able to check on Diana at any time and Diana could go into Elle’s yard to feed her dog.
He could almost hear the silent looks both women were giving each other on the other side of the divide before he heard the click of the gate that allowed Elle’s side to open, he duplicated the action on his mother’s side and the gate opened, revealing a stern-faced Elle looking at him. “What’s the password?” Her face and tone were not as jovial as usual as she attempted the joke they had always had.
After hearing how the two women had spoken, in truth, he was not in the mood for her. “I need to talk to my mother.”
“That’s over five syllables.” She did not move.
“I am not in a gaming mood.”
“That was Hemsworth’s line, not yours.”
“Please, Elle.” He spoke through gritted teeth.
Pursing her lips, she finally moved out of the way and he walked into her garden, caught for a moment at how it looked. “You changed it.”
“Yeah, well, eight months since your last visit so, it does look different I suppose.” She shrugged.
“Sweetheart, the time,” Diana warned her.
Elle looked at her watch and cursed. “I have work in half an hour.” She stated, rushing into the house.
“What is it?” Tom had been so engrossed in watching Elle leave he had not realised his mother was in front of him. He looked down and felt guilty, now understanding why Danielle had stopped him up at the gate for a few moments. His mother had red around her eyes and nose, and Elle was giving her a moment to compose herself before allowing him to pass her. “What is so important you had to interrupt my talking to my neighbour?”
“I am only home for two days mum, you can talk to Elle anytime, she isn’t going anywhere. I was hoping you would actually speak with me.”
“‘She isn’t going…’ So I am to ignore someone who actually answers my phone calls to facilitate someone who will not, is that it?”
“I am your son.”
“Yes, you are.” There was an emotion in her voice that startled Tom more than her words she thought were in private did, shame. “I better get something packed for Elle for work; otherwise, she will be eating nothing for her shift.”
“That’s her problem, though, isn’t it?” Tom was getting angrier at his mother focusing on Elle and not him.
“She has to spend the next twelve hours hoping she has a boring night at work and not having to pull half dead and dying people from a car, or be called to a house fire, or God forbid even more terrible things, the least the girl could do after an afternoon of caring about me is have a good meal ready for her.” Diana snarled back at him. “What has happened you Thomas, you used to be the first to commend her, the first to acknowledge that as great as it is to give people the gift of entertainment, you and I, we do nothing as commendable or as noble as she does, and the manner you are speaking about her now, you… I cannot do this Thomas.” Diana held her hands up in defeat and walked into Elle’s house, leaving Tom alone in the garden.
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avaoakley · 4 years
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in   her   chapter   two   verse ,   ava   is   almost   thirty   five ,   like   george  .   she’s   lived   in   derry   all   of   her   life   because   a   variety   of   things   came   about   that   held   her   there  ---   primarily   miss   oakley   pissing   away   her   college   fund   on   a   few   vacations   to   europe   over   the   course   of   ava’s   life  .
her   mother   passed   when   she   was   twenty   one ,   shortly   after   she’d   moved   out ,   actually  ---   miss   oakley   fell   asleep   in   a   drunken   state   just   as   she   had   countless   nights   before ,   but   this   time   bile   rose   in   her   throat   as   she   slept   and   she   choked   to   death   on   her   own   vomit  .   ava   indulged   in   a   period   of   heavy   drinking   right   after   and   staggered   through   the   grief   and   guilt   of   it   largely   alone  .   a   lot   of   her   mother’s   boyfriends   swung   around   to   give   their   condolences   and   be  ...   a   little   leery   and   creepy   when   it   came   to   comfort  .   needless   to   say   she   wasn’t   impressed  .   the   funeral   was   small   and   none   of   them   were   invited  .   
she   sold   the   house  .   maybe   it   would   have   been   smarter   to   move   into   it   and   stop   paying   off   her   own ,   as   many   interfering   residents   made   a   point   of   telling   her ,   but   the   place   was   a   shithole   and   invited   too   many   memories   of   growing   up   in   an   abusive   household  .   it   stunk   of   her   childhood   terrors   and   misery   and   it   embraced   her   with   a   cold   feeling   of   being   utterly   alone   in   the   world   every   time   she   crossed   it’s   threshold  .   plus ,   her   mom   fucking   died   there ,   come   on  .   it   wasn’t   happening  .   the   damp   had   to   be   removed   from   the   walls   and   some   mild   redecorating   was   done   to   ease   it’s   aged   appearance ,   but   ava   was   glad   to   see   the   back   of   it  .   
she   kept   a   few   things  .   some   furniture  .   family   photo   albums  .   the   pictures   of   her   with   her   mom   and   dad   as   a   much   smaller   girl ,   cheesing   at   the   camera   with   gaps   in   her   teeth   and   her   hair   scraped   into   tidy   pigtails   wrench   her   heart  .   there’s   one   photo   album   made   by   her ,   georgie   and   caleb   when   they   were   kids  .   ‘  the   cool   kids   club  ’   has   been   formed   with   the   letters   from   a   bunch   of   cut   out   comic   book   scraps   stuck   to   the   front   of   it  .   within   are   old ,   grainy   pictures   from   georgie’s   camera   of   them   all   getting   into  trouble ,   squished   up   so   close   they’re   practically   cheek   to   cheek   to   fit   all   three   of   them   in  .   
there’s   a   photo   of   caleb   hiding   his   face   behind   a   thick   old   book ,   ever   camera   shy  .   georgie   holding   up   a   baby   turtle   looking   like   the   cat   that’s   caught   the   canary  .   ava   with   a   crown   of   wildflowers   flowers   in   her   unkempt   hair   in   the   process   of   weaving   another ,   likely   for   her   friends  .   there’s   a   few   right   at   the   back   of   all   three   seven   year   olds   and   all   seven   of   the   losers  .   no   one’s   looking   at   the   camera   in   one   of   them ,   they’re   all   goofing   around -   the   youths   are   shrieking   in   protest   as   one   of   the   older   kids   ruffles   their   hair ,   or   giggling   at   a   stupid   joke   cracked   by   richie  ...   they’re   all   sweet   in   their   own   way ,   but   one’s   especially   lovely ,   with   everyone   looking ,   everyone   beaming  .   there’s   a   few   pages   of   pictures   of   them   in   the   neibolt  .   with   the   monster  .   their   friend  .
...   she   looks   so   happy  .   they   all   do  .   it’s   stupid   to   miss   them   after   all   these   years ,   even   if   they’re   maybe   the   only   people   she   ever   felt   cared   about   her  .
the   house   she   moved   into   was   two   bedroom   with   a   garden   and   a   fence  .   quite   nice ,   really  .   very   cheap  .   it   may   or   may   not   be   situated   just   by   neibolt   street  .   a   home   anywhere   near   that   crack   den   slash   haunted   house   shithole   is   affordable  .
she   worked   around   forty   hours   a   week   prior   to   having   esme  .   her   sights   weren’t   exactly   set   all   that   high ,   considering   she   didn’t   have   any   formal   education   beyond   high   school   under   her   belt  .   ava   worked   as   a   travel   agent   booking   derry’s   asshole   residents   off   on   faraway   holidays   to   better   places ,   smiling   brightly   throughout   their   whole   talk ,   milking   them   for   every   extra   penny   to   spite   them   and   immediately   lapsing   back   into   the   most   listless   look   in   the   world   once   they   were   out   of   her   face  .   the   promotion   to   customer   service   manager   managed   to   be   a   blessing   and   a   nightmare   all   at   the   same   time  .   it   meant   not   scrimping   for   money   after   each   paycheck   anymore ,   but   also  ---   the   people   in   derry   are   the   fucking   worst  .   hell   hath   no   fury   like   one   of   those   assholes   scorned  .   very   soul   crushing  .
she   dated   a   lot  .   mostly   for   the   free   meals   and   drinks ,   because   she   didn’t   expect   to   find   any   meaningful   love   in   derry  .   now   and   again   she’d   indulge   the   company   of   another   woman   even   knowing   people   would   whisper   hatefully   about   her   if   they   ever   found   out  .   but   for   the   most   part ,   much   more   openly ,   she   dated   men   and   they   ranged   from   vile   to   passable  .   it’s   like   she’s   a   fucking   magnet   when   it   comes   to   drawing   asshole   men   into   her   life  .
she   was   thirty   when   she   fell   pregnant   with   esme ;   it   wasn’t   intended ,   but   she   kept   her   all   the   same  .   ava   thought   that   having   a   child   of   her   own   and   protecting   them ,   loving   them ,   even   just   doing   the   bare   minimum   of   giving   a   shit   would   offer   some   sense   of   healing   from   her   own   shitty   childhood  .   she   wanted   to   give   her   baby   everything   she   was   denied  .   she   had   no   doubt   in   her   mind   she   could   raise   a   kid   alone ,   despite   how   hard   it   might   prove  .   
the   father   reacted   about   as   poorly   as   she   anticipated   and   called   her   a   violent   string   of   awful    names   upon   learning   ava   didn’t   plan   to   terminate   her   pregnancy  .   he   has   nothing   to   do   with   esme   and   fumes   over   having   to   fork   over   monthly   child   support  .   occasionally   he   accuses   ava   of   wanting   to   leech   money   from   him   and   claims   she   only   kept   the   baby   for   that   purpose  .   she   largely   ignores   his   existence   and   vitriol  .   
still ,   part   of   her   feels   guilty   that   even   in   spite   of   her   best   efforts ,   esme   won’t   grow   up   with   a   'whole’   family  ---   that   is   to   say ,   a   loving   mother   and   father   figure  .   she   slashed   her   hours   a   few   after   her   (   thankfully   paid ,   albeit   meagerly   )   maternity   leave   was   over   and   spends   as   much   time   as   possible   with   her   daughter  .   
esme   is   turning   out   very   sweet ,   compassionate   and   loving  ---   ava’s   very   relieved   she’s   not   as   temperamental   a   child   as   she   was  .   the   kid’s   almost   too   level - headed ,   scolding   her   mother   for   swears   like   a   little   old   lady   and   fighting   giggles   in   favour   of   looking   playfully   unimpressed   when   her   mom’s   being   silly  .   
ava   is   full   of   love   for   her   little   girl   and   it’s   easily   returned  !   they’re   very   close   and   affectionate  .   she   keeps   an   extremely   watchful   eye   on   esme ,   is   fiercely   protective ,   and   teaches   her   the   importance   of   things   like   stranger   danger   from   a   young   age  .   she   tucks   her   into   bed   every   night   and   reads   her   stories  .   mostly   of   the   gruffalo   and   where   the   wild   things   are   variety  .   but   occasionally ,   she’ll   spin   a   tale   about   a   monster   living   in   the   neibolt   from   when   she   was   a   little   girl ,   and   esme   seems   to   enjoy   those   a   lot   more  .
esme   answers   the   phone   when   a   certain   george   denbrough   calls   their   landline ,   and   chats   with   him   very   happily  ---   not   really   understanding   why   he   sounds   a   touch   stunned   when    she   tells   him   the   ava   oakley   he’s   asking   for   is   her   mama  .   he   recovers   very   quickly ,   to   his   credit ,   and   entertains   her   chatter   a   bit   longer   before   urgently   insisting   she   put   him   on   with   her   mother   instead  .
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winterromanov · 5 years
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she’s the sunset (in the west) - thasmin fic
Poppy Smith is the youngest and quietest kid in Yasmin Khan’s reception class, so it’s a bit of a shock when she encounters Poppy’s mum - the chaotic, intelligent whirlwind that is Doctor Joanna Smith. With both parent and child struggling to hold their worlds together, Yasmin becomes more involved in the life of Joanna and Poppy than she originally anticipates (other than having the biggest, fattest crush on Joanna, of course. It’s impossible not to.)
single parent/teacher thasmin au
chapter one
Her last meeting of the night is at six fifty and Yaz has never felt so exhausted in her life.
It’s not the kids. She deals with them day in day out and yeah, it’s tiring, but it’s nothing compared to the tirade of questions from irate parents she’s had thrown at her since four pm. Many of them seemed annoyed at their kid’s reading ability—or lack thereof—which would be a problem if they weren’t four or five years old and, naturally, Harry Potter is still going to be a bit ambitious for a boy who can barely hold a pencil. She’s been through piles and piles of identical maths problems with erratic results, handwriting exercises varying from just about legible to dancing scribbles in HB. The art, on the other hand, is a lot more fun talk about. She tried so hard to hide her giggles when showing a bemused mother her daughter’s drawing of a dog poo she’d seen in the playground.
But right now, all Yaz wants is to lock her classroom door, make her way to her car and have the longest and hottest bath of her life. Ideally with a pizza and half a bottle of white. It’s been that sort of day.
But there’s still one more agonising ten minute appointment to go. Fortunately it’s with one of her…less behaviourally challenging pupils, a little girl called Poppy, with an August birthday that pits her at the younger end of the class. Despite her age, there’s no unintelligible scrawls in Poppy’s exercise books—she’s smart, one hell of a reading ability, but very quiet. Yaz has seen her stalking across the grassy edge of the playground at break and sat alone at lunch, usually armed with a dog-eared picture book about space.
It’s not Poppy’s behaviour Yaz is slightly concerned about. It just can’t be good, or healthy, for a little four year old girl to have not made any friendships in the month she’s been at the school. She’d really like to talk about it with Poppy’s parents, but the clock on the wall above the door ticks on and there’s no-one to be seen.
Six fifty-six.
Six fifty-seven.
At six fifty-eight, Yaz sighs and starts to pack up her things, because sometimes parents forget appointments or can’t get away from work or life happens. At six fifty-nine, she’s about to leave, when—
The classroom door flies open and a woman walks in gripping Poppy’s hand, flustered and panting like she’s just run across the playground. She looks up, blowing a strand of blonde hair that’s blown into her eye-line away from her face. Two vivid green eyes blink back at her—Yaz hasn’t seen anything like them, and maybe it’s the sappy part of her left over from her literature degree, but it’s the kind of gaze that horny Renaissance poets write sonnets about.
(It’s pathetic, but it would be a lie to say that she doesn’t end up writing one herself a little bit later down the line. Oh, well. It’s called being ridiculously in love.)
“Sorry,” the woman breathes in a Northern accent almost as strong as hers, “I’m late. Am I late?”
“You are late,” Poppy says decidedly, identical eyes staring sagely, “Can I please go sit in the reading corner, Miss Khan?”
The reading corner is a pile of cushions and beanbags in an abandoned alcove of the classroom, now covered with posters of The Gruffalo and animals that begin with every letter of the alphabet. Poppy has her space book tucked under her left arm, as well as a little stuffed dog.
“Of course you may, Poppy,” Yaz says, smiling, dropping her bag onto the ground by her chair. “Me and your mummy are just going to have a short chat about how you’re doing at school.”
Poppy nods, and the woman presses a kiss on the top of her head as she rushes away, little shoes tapping noisily on the carpeted floor. The woman turns, smiling apologetically.
“I’m so sorry. I do try, really, but sometimes it’s like the world is working against me to purposely make me late.” Yaz notices the small array of earring glinting on her ear, the smart grey coat she wears on top of some cuffed mom jeans and a long sleeved shirt. She leans across the desk, shaking Yaz’s hand. “I work up at the university, you see, and the traffic is an absolute nightmare if you… sorry, I’m rambling, aren’t I? Already taken up enough of your time, I expect. It’s Miss Khan, right?”
She talks at a hundred miles an hour, waving her hands occasionally, and there’s something oddly compelling about it. It really doesn’t take much to warm to her—or to notice the contrast between her and her daughter. “Yasmin. And you would be Mrs Smith?”
“Miss,” the woman hastily corrects, but then smiles awkwardly, scratching her head. There’s an absence of a wedding ring, which isn’t so unusual, but there’s a pain in her grimace that she doesn’t see in so many divorced parents. Rather the widowed ones. “Technically, it’s Doctor, but I really can’t stand titles, sounds a bit pretentious. Joanna is fine.”
Doctor Joanna Smith. Yaz smiles inwardly, and wonders if it’s totally inappropriate to have a little bit of a crush on one of her student’s parents, because there’s just something about this beautiful and chaotic woman in five minutes that is impossible to put her finger on.
“Okay, let’s talk about Poppy, shall we?” Yaz says, fanning out Poppy’s collection of exercise books onto the table. There are no full-sized seats in the room other than her own, so Joanna is perched on a red plastic one, face comically just above being in line with the desk itself. It doesn’t seem to bother her. “She’s a lovely little girl. Very, very smart for her age—her reading is on par with someone at least three years older and her maths is coming along really well. I’m worried she’ll overtake me!”
Joanna laughs a little, but she’s busy scanning rows of handwriting and felt-tip illustrations, fingertips skimming a picture of roughly drawn little dog. It’s the same one she has clutched in her hands in the reading corner, grey with a red collar.
“Here,” Yaz says, turning the book slightly to an assignment labelled My Family, “We asked all the kids to talk about who they live with, what they do, and so on. She clearly looks up to you a lot.”
It’s heart-warming, really, and Yaz almost teared up sat at home marking it. My mummy is very clever and kind and when we hug we go to the moon. Mummy says I am a star but I think she is a star too and one day we will go to space together
There’s no mention of a daddy, or anyone else, and maybe that’s what makes this task so bittersweet sometimes. Reading about the kids who aren’t like the other kids.
Joanna’s eyes glaze over for a second and she looks over to the reading corner, where Poppy is lying on her back with her book held at arms’ length. Her hands clasp together. “What she like with the other kids? She never talks about anyone at home, really, and she always struggled with making friends at nursery. By that I mean she didn’t have any.”
Yaz softens because she can see concern in her eyes and a sort of muted desperation and hope that she’ll say something that contradicts her thoughts. But lying doesn’t help anybody in situations like these. “She is very quiet and that does often mean she’s by herself, yes.”
Joanna bites the inside of her cheek. “You should see her at home. Can barely get her to shut up most of the time, always banging on about penguins or black holes or…well, she talks about you quite a lot.”
“Me?”
“Oh, yeah,” Joanna nods, “Ever since you read Alice in Wonderland she’s made me read it to her every chance she gets, but apparently I don’t do the voices like Miss Khan does.”
Yaz remembers reading a bit of the story just the other week with all twenty-nine kids sat on the carpet eagerly, rolling with laughter every time she changed from high to low pitch when voicing the Hare and the Hatter. Poppy had sat silently at the back, expression unwavering—yet the whole time she was taking it in, making a bigger impact than Yaz anticipated.
“There’s a fine art to the voices in Alice,” Yaz replies, Joanna grinning, “You clearly just haven’t mastered it yet.”
“I have a PhD in astrophysics but satisfactorily reading a children’s book to a four year old’s standard is where I fall short, yeah?”
Yaz leans forward, rests her chin in her hand. Hopes she’s been subtle but doubts she actually is, but that is usually the way. She wants to keep talking about Poppy but she also wants to talk about her, what she sees when she looks up at the sky and what it means. Her job at the university. The silvery light of a full moon and the pull it has on the tides.
“I’m sure you’ll get there. It just takes practice.”
“Yeah. That’s a good motto for parenting, actually.” She pauses, looking down at her hands. Her nails are painted navy blue and chipped at the corners. “I just—like, I worry about her, a lot. We lost her dad a couple of years ago and most of the time, it’s just me and her.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Yaz sympathises—there it is, there it is.
“No, no, it’s fine,” Joanna insists, “Long time ago. I don’t think she remembers him. And I don’t have any family, not anymore, just a few friends who are basically family, but… she needs more than that. I’m not worried about her schoolwork at all. I just want her to be able to talk and play with people her own age rather than me all the time. As much as I’d like to build dens twenty-four seven. Who wouldn’t?”
“You shouldn’t worry. It’s only the first month of term, after all. Kids move at different paces, and it’s just taking Poppy a little longer to settle in.” Yaz smiles comfortingly. “If you like, I’ll keep a closer eye on her. See if I can encourage her to be more involved with some of the children.”
Joanna’s demeanour brightens a little, hands loosening apart. “That would be great, thanks. Sometimes all she needs is a bit of a prod in the right direction.”
At that moment Poppy stalks over to the desk, toy dog straying behind her, book still clutched tight to her chest. She looks at her mother expectantly.
“What is it, baby?” Joanna asks softly, stroking Poppy’s blonde hair gently. “You tired?”
She shakes her head decisively. “Can I show Miss Khan the picture in my book?”
Yaz grins brightly, leaning across the desk. “You know, Poppy, I absolutely love pictures. And I think I’d love to see the one in your book.”
Poppy looks shyly over at Joanna before opening it to the back cover, where a biro illustration of a strange blue box stands majestically amongst the index. Joanna pulls her onto her knee so she can point to it better and Yaz looks intrigued, curious to know what it means.
“This is my time machine. Mummy drew it for me,” Poppy explains carefully, “And we’re going to travel back to the dinosaurs so I can ride on the back of a diplodocus.”
“A diplodocus?” Yaz raises a questioning eyebrow, as it’s a big word for such a little girl, and Joanna masks her giggle by kissing the back of her head. “That does sound like fun.”
“Mummy tells lots of fun stories. I especially like the one about the lizard and her wife and their pet potato.” Joanna does another terrible attempt of hiding her laugh and Yaz finds it ridiculously endearing, especially the way her nose scrunches as she grins. “If you like mummy could put you into one of her stories.”
The thought of being in this woman’s head after she’s left the classroom behind is too good an offer to refuse. They share a look, barely a second—but surely, surely, it’s not just her that feels something?
“I think I’d like that a lot,” Yaz says.
When they shake hands as Joanna and Poppy are about to leave, her hand lingers a little longer than before. Her skin is soft but flecked with black pen, a small silver ring indented with a moon on her index finger. When they break apart, Yaz longs for a reconnect. This cannot be the last time they meet. It cannot be the only time. It cannot.
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monstermonsterman · 5 years
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mark ruffalo sounds like the gruffalos cousin or something
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adowbaldwin · 2 years
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The Krays, but worse - part 6
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Against his better judgement Matthew had left Diana to find Gerberts replacement alone. She had not so nicely implied he was distracting her far too much. It was not his fault she could not ignore his touch, lack of clothing and neck kisses.
"Fernando?" He was shocked to find him in France, without occaision to be there
He did not even look up, simply made a noise that made him sound like the Gruffalo and continued to neck his wine
"Alright, what is wrong with you?" Matthew sank into the chair next to him and patiently waited a reply
"Wrong?" He drawled "whatever gave you that impression?"
"Have you been drinking from warm bloods?"
He hiccuped "so what if i have? If Fabian can move to the states, murder congregation members and my sire why the fuck can i not drink warm bloods?" Matthew opened his mouth to reply, but before he could Fernando was stumbling to his feet and pointing his finger angrily "you know he never apologised? Just stormed in on his big Roman bastard ship and BANG we were under his rule" he scoffed "they didnt expect us to rebel, stuck up toga wearing prissy assholes"
Matthew had, accidently opened up a rather messy can of worms that very much would not fit back in their box
"My father" he pointed to himself "My father" his arms flailed about, wine sloshing out of his glass "almost fought off the Romans till they sent Fabian and his scum. I dont know how he done it but they beat us down and had my father killed what pussies" he became increasingly angrier "traitorous ambassador"
"Fernando you are rambling like a mad man"
"Lusitania" he hissed "God you werent even born were you"
"Lusitania, modern day Portugal. I may not have been around old friend but i do know history thankyou very much"
Fernando squeaked his voice "you are not welcome" he slumped back into the chair and folded his arms "bastard"
"So you hate Fabian, because he quelled the rebellion by having your father killed?" Matthew surmised
"I hate every bone in his body" veins were popping on his neck "that tracksuit wearing, mafia peddling, ginger narcissist can drop dead"
"So when did you start sleeping with him?"
Fernando's mouth went dry and all of a sudden he felt very sober "what?"
"Come on, out with the whole story. I do not believe for a moment the entire reason you hate him is for invaiding your home"
"Well" he cleared his throat "i uncovered his manipulation of the man who betrayed my father and" he stopped, looking anxious
"And?" Matthew pressed
"I went to confront him, make him admit to his crime and make him pay and" he jittered in his seat, thumbs twidling the stem of his glass "one thing led to another and well, up until i met Hugh"
Matthew was unsure what to say, confused at best "oh"
"Oh? Is that it? Oh"
"I did not imagine you having an affair with Baldwins secret twin brother for five hundred years, pardon me for being shocked" Matthew shook his head in disbelief "If you knew Baldwin before you met Hugh, why does it he not acknowledge you?"
"Fabian was not always as dark and disturbed up as he is now" Fernando signed deeply, headache setting in "he changed when i left him and his brother hates me for it i guess"
"Well" Matthew crossed his brows "atleast we know Baldwin is capable of caring about someone. But that did not answer my question wholly, why do you hate him?"
"Alright i will tell you, but you are not allowed to be angry with me when i do" he could feel the guilt eating him up, perhaps getting it off his chest would help "after Hugh, as you know i was in pieces. So i sought out Fabian" Matthew did not like where this was going "we slept together, and when i woke in the morning he had left and a note on his pillow saying 'now you know how it feels to be used and tossed aside' it was his payback" Fernando shrugged
"My brothers grave was not even cold and you hopped into bed with fabian" Matthew could not keep the contempt from his voice though he tried
Fernando drank down the rest of his glass and laughed, though it was void of humour "do not lecture me on the grief of losing a mate when yours is still very much alive. I threw myself into the arms of someone i had known for 5 centuries, sue me"
Matthew folded his arms, stole the empty glass and poured himself the remaining wine "couldnt of just gone on a murder spree like my mother, could you?"
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yahooin-feature · 5 years
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5 things families must do in Australia's Gold Coast
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Whether you're into nature and wildlife, amusement parks, or just relaxing on the beach, Australia's playground is the place to make memories that last a lifetime.
1st day? Straight to the sand and waves, of course!
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The Gold Coast has almost 60km of beautiful white beaches. Top picks for a family trip are Broadbeach, and Burleigh Heads. Both are great for picnicking and barbecuing, and are good spots to swim or take your very first surfing lesson – they’re quieter, and the water is calm.
Immerse yourself in the rainforest the whole of Day 2
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Lamington National Park is part of the Gondwana Rainforests of Australia, the most extensive subtropical rainforest in the world. It's an incredible place to experience nature and trek, with more than 160km of trails. To really get up close to the rainforest, try the O' Reilly's Treetop Walk, a network of suspension bridges 15-metres high that takes you through the cool canopy of flowering and fruiting trees.
A day for the kids with cuddly koalas and more
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Give your kids the quintessential Australian experience on Day 3! The Currumbin  Wildlife Sanctuary, a 10-minute drive from Gold Coast, is  home to all the species of Australian wildlife you might dream of. Residents include koalas, kangaroos, platypuses, wallabies, Tasmanian devils and red pandas. While you’re there, you can meet Kangaroos, cuddle Koala’s and take a tour of the wildlife hospital.  Little booklovers will also love the Gruffalo Trail, a walk inspired by The Gruffalo, British writer Julia Donaldson’s most famous work. With the onset of the whale-watching season in June stretching to November each year, hop on a whale-watching cruise from Surfers Paradise to witness these magnificent creatures in their natural habitat.
Visit a theme park... or four
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Dreamworld is Australia's largest amusement park. With rollercoasters, water rides, a 75km/h swing and the world's tallest free-fall, it's the perfect spot for thrill-seekers. Even the littlest ones can enjoy family thrill rides such as Escape from Madagascar and the Sky Voyager, a new virtual-reality ride that takes you on a journey over iconic spots like the Great Barrier Reef and Sydney Harbour.  There's also plenty to do for those who like to keep their feet firmly on the ground, including animal encounters and a DreamWorks experience where kids can get close to Shrek, Po, and the Madagascar Crew. The Gold Coast has many other theme parks and experiences, including SeaWorld and Warner Bros. Movie World. Warning, you may need more than two days to cover all these theme parks, so you can plan to visit them on Day 4, 5 or more!
Tour the city of Gold Coast in a fire truck
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Hop on the coolest ride in Australia for a tour of Gold Coast. Board your Fire Truck at Surfers Paradise for your adventure that starts with siren sounds as you depart for an exciting ride to the Spit via Surfers Paradise, along the beachfront / Esplanade, via Narrow Neck, and past Sea World. Plenty of smiles, laughs and waving to everybody to be enjoyed as you ride aboard a real Fire Truck! At the Spit you will be able to experience operation of a fully functional fire hose & pose for photographs holding the nozzle & wearing authentic Fire Helmets! Kids love the chance to sit in the drivers seat for a steering photo and an up close view of the Fire Engine! Then it’s time for an introduction to the workings of the truck & pump, followed by another fun Fire Truck ride with the music on for the return journey to Surfers Paradise!
Experience the food throughout the trip
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Forget taking your itinerary day-by-day! Relish every moment, AND food, for every palate and preference is catered for here, plus there's a thriving vegetarian scene. The glorious weather and fresh, clean air mean most restaurants have outdoor dining areas where you can look out on jaw-dropping scenery. A must-visit is Northcliffe Surf Club, which has gorgeous views of the coastline and a family-friendly menu with classic Aussie food. If you are craving Indian food by the end of your visit then head to Kokum by Michelin star chef Mural at Main Beach Embracing traditional Indian techniques and featuring handpicked local Australian ingredients. For the best breakfast or brunch scenes must do is Paddock Bakery in Miami, Bam Bam Bakehouse in Burgeligh or Cardamom Pod in South Port.
You can connect to Gold Coast from India via Singapore, from these cities; Amritsar, Chennai, Hyderabad, Kochi, Lucknow, Tiruchirappalli, Trivandrum, Coimbatore, and Vishakhapatnam. If you are planning to catch one of Scoot’s three-times-weekly flights to the Gold Coast via Singapore, head over here flyscoot.com/in-goldcoast to check out the deals!
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