avolating:

I want a relationship, not necessarily for sex but just someone to tell everything to and have movie nights with takeaway and just someone to trust

Go Fish

‘Got any sixes?’ Teddy asks me.

He leans back in the wrought iron garden chair, long limbs sprawled over it like a creeping vine, and lays the fan of cards he’s holding in one hand against his chest, the other stretches out to retrieve his wine glass.

I stare at my own cards, at the fourth card from the right in particular. The number in the top and bottom corners flicker like the changing of an old railway platform sign unable to settle, little numbered boards clicking back and forth. Finally it rests on a seven and an ink blot appears between the two rows of black clubs and spreads through the paper beneath the laminate surface until a seventh emblem has joined the others.

I’m lucky it’s clubs; I can only change my own suit.

I’m also lucky the kids lost interest in the game a while ago and abandoned Teddy and I in favour of adventures beyond the little courtyard as Addy and Gabe especially love this trick (though more so when Max or Rafe spin tales with the whole deck) and squeal delightedly when they spot it. It may have been a slight giveaway.

‘Go fish.’

And the standoff begins. Teddy’s eyes lock on to mine; in my peripheral vision I see him lower the wine glass back to the table (a wobbly thing that anywhere else would seem shabby but in Rafe’s possession becomes rustic chic) and the tip of his tongue briefly brushes against his bottom lip.

‘Change it back.’

‘What?’

Teddy rolls his eyes. His bare foot kicks out against my leg beneath the table.

‘Change it back.’

I can apparently bluff about as well as my five year old daughter.

‘Fine.’

The numbers on the card tick back down to six and the spare club fades away like people in an old photo left out in the sunlight too long; bleached from the card to leave a field of pristine white between the remaining six clubs again in their neat little rows.

I grab the corner of the card and toss it across the table at my brother in law with a flick of my wrist. He dips his head but it arcs down long before it could make its intended target, instead fluttering against his chest before landing on the table.

‘Got any eights?’

Protective big brother

Protective big brother

Breakfast of champions

Breakfast of champions

underthesunset91:

Can we just talk about this for a minute?  Regina and Emma were connected from the moment Regina adopted Henry, and for the next 11 years that she raised him. Henry connects these two women in a more important way than any experience Emma had with Hook or Neal ever could.  When Emma gave Henry up, he took a piece of her heart with him. I mean just look at her face. And when Regina adopted Henry, she was looking to fill a void in her own heart.  That piece of Emma’s heart literally filled Regina’s own missing piece.

That piece of Emma’s heart literally filled Regina’s own missing piece.

(Source: saviorqueen)

And finally for this evenings catch up in the tumblr-verse… kitties and I now all settled in our new home.

And finally for this evenings catch up in the tumblr-verse… kitties and I now all settled in our new home.

Vancouver Instagrams

Pieces of Vancouver

Greetings From Storybrooke Part 4
(When ‘benching’ gets out of hand)

Greetings From Storybrooke Part 4

(When ‘benching’ gets out of hand)


Greetings From Storybrooke Part 3
(Or from Fort Langley if ya wanna get technical about it)

Greetings From Storybrooke Part 3

(Or from Fort Langley if ya wanna get technical about it)

Greetings From Storybrooke Part 2

Greetings From Storybrooke Part 1

(Yeah so it was last month but real life has been annoyingly insistant of late in keeping me away from my computer)