#and my mum this morning then also was like i have one piece of advice

[kathrynmjaneway]

i came out to my parents last night 😄

[enwoso]

If you’re still doing requests, how about grumpy is desperate for a dog but alessia’s allergic, but in the end she finally caves

PRETTY PLEASE! — alessia russo x child!reader

honestly quite enjoyed writing this, based off my own experience of begging my mum and dad for a dog when i was wee little one xo

grumpy masterlist

ever since beth and viv welcomed their new puppy into their family but also to the team and even more specifically to you. you had constantly been asking sometimes it would be more than once a day, when you could get a puppy of your own.

sometimes it would be a the first thing you'd ask in the morning and most of the time it would be the last thing you asked before falling into a deep sleep.

"mummy can we please get a puppy like beth and viv?" you asked after meeting myle for the first time, "not right now lovie, mummy doesn't have time to look after you and a puppy"

"mummy look at the picture i drew, there's me, you and a little puppy! can we please please get a puppy?" you smiled holding up your drawing proudly. "oh that's lovely, maybe when you get older you can"

"mummy! do you like my list of names i have for my puppy when i'm older!" you held out a piece of paper. "lets hear a couple then!" mummy asked, "um ollie, luna, rocky, oreo..." you trailed off.

"mummy please please please can we get a puppy?" you asked as a yawn escaped your lips as mummy was tucking you into bed, "we'll see okay, sleep tight lovie. mummy loves you lots"

alessia had been toying with the idea for a while, now while she was most definitely a dog person. like she loved being around dogs, and loved nothing more than having a good puppy snuggle.

however there came an obstacle with alessia getting her own little puppy herself. she was allergic. not like deathly allergic but still would end up with itchy eyes and a runny nose if she spent too much time around dogs.

and admittedly alessia had been very against getting you a dog, not just because she was allergic but also because it was already difficult for her to manage her schedule around your needs without having to factor in looking after a dog too.

but it was getting hard to keep saying no, your sad little nod as alessia never gave the answer you wanted to hear along with the fact you were very persistent in your attempts in trying to convince your mummy. even getting one of the girls to go as far as helping you write out a letter on how you would look after the dog and give it snuggles anytime it needed. writing the words please, please, pretty please in big giant letters.

alessia was starting to crack as a few times she found her self doing some research before backing down and coming back to the same open google tab a few days later.

which is what she found herself looking at now, puppy's which needed to be adopted.

"less, what are you doing?" beth asked as she dragged alessia out of her own little bubble in the arsenal canteen. beth having spotted the blonde staring off into space, her phone opened on something on google as alessia sat by herself.

"oh, nothing. just- do you think lovie is too young for me to add a puppy into the mix as well?" alessia asked, beth probably being one who would be able to give her the best advice, maybe not fully on daughter situation but most definitely on the puppy advice.

"i see your starting to crack!" beth teased knowing that for months you'd been asking for nothing more than a little fury friend as alessia sighed a little bit before nodding. alessia was in fact starting to crack and warm up to the idea of getting you your own little puppy.

"i just can’t keep seeing that sad little face of hers each time i tell her no, but i don't know where to start!" alessia huffed placing her phone down on the table, beth giving a knowing nod and hum.

"i get that, well your slightly allergic aren't you?" beth clarified as alessia nodded, "well i would say start looking at breeds which are hypoallergenic first and then go from there!"

since the conversation, beth had been helping alessia find the perfect puppy to fit into your little family.

and to alessia's look she had found the perfect dog, in the form of a labradoodle puppy and he was coming home with alessia today.

you had been at nursery all day, so alessia had time to go and pick up the puppy and then get everything on the list of things that beth said would be needed before dropping off the puppy at her house where beth and viv would be, to stay with the puppy while alessia went to go and get you from nursery.

it had taken weeks of planning, organising and more planning along with more pleads for a puppy from you to make sure one alessia could give a puppy a loving home while still looking after you but also to make sure alessia wasn't biting off more than she could chew at the moment.

"have you had a good day lovie?" alessia asked as you were sat in your car seat in the same line of traffic, that you would always be stuck at just before the last turn to your home.

"yes! we played outside and then we learned to write and i drew!" you grinned as alessia took interest into what you did throughout the day as you began to explain in more detail of what you did in the day.

the traffic finally eased and alessia was pulling into the driveway of your home. alessia got out first before opening your car door and unbuckling you.

"jump out then lovie" alessia held out her hand for you to hold as you jumped the same distance from the car to the gravelled driveway. alessia grabbing your little backpack before leading you inside.

"bethy! viv?" you looked at them confused, wondering how on earth they got here. "what are you doing here!"

"can we not come and see are favourite russo ey?" beth joked as a small scoff came from alessia as she placed your back and shoes away, before her owns.

"yes, but where myle?" you walked over to them both as they were sat on the couch, slotting yourself into the small gap between the both of them as you talked with them.

"she's out with steph and calvin" viv said as you hummed a small pout coming into your face, you loved myle. she was so small and bouncy and loved to play. whenever you were at beth's, myle would always bring her toys to you and you would run around the garden and she would chase you around, it was your own special game.

you always wanted a puppy of your own but mummy said to wait until you were older but that was too long in your mind.

"but we did bring something else that we think you might enjoy" viv nudged you once seeing your frown as your mummy came from the kitchen small little scratches on the wooden floor following behind her.

"who dat?" you asked your mummy moving out the way to reveal a small fluffy brown puppy with a little bit of white on its face.

"he's your puppy" your mummy smiled as she moved to sit on the floor the puppy immediately going to sit in her lap, as you looked on a little confused not sure how to react as beth was nudging you forwards.

"he look like calvin" you grinned, moving off the couch towards your mummy as you sat next to her to stoke the small puppy, he was so soft. the puppy moving to lick your hand as you giggled.

"he does, what are you going to call him?" mummy asked as you hummed, your thinking face appearing on your face.

"um rocky!" you called out as some looks came your way from beth and viv before they both agreed on your name choice.

"you sure?" mummy asked knowing you had a tendency to change your mind quickly but you shook your head firmly as you carried on stroking rocky.

"rocky it is then!" alessia giggled as rocky moved from her lap and towards you, him placing his head on your outstretched legs.

alessia moving to sit on the other couch near beth and viv and the three of them watched on in awe of your little interactions with rocky. knowing you were 100% on cloud nine, your wish had come true.

"oh tiny!" beth blurted out remembering she had something else for you, you head snapping up from watching rocky as you looked towards beth.

"i got rocky a little elephant too, cause i know you have your elephant teddy which you take everywhere" beth smiled as viv passed the small elephant dog toy to you. it having a squeaky noise in its tummy, making rocky’s head tilt every time he heard it.

a smile not leaving your face as the elephant toy was pretty much identical to yours but it was a slightly darker grey meaning there was no chance of getting the two mixed up.

"what do you say lovie?" alessia looked at you with a nod of the head towards beth.

"thank you bethy, thank you vivi" you hugged them both as they both hugged you tightly back, as you gave the toy to rocky. he immediately putting it into his mouth and leaning his paws on it.

"thank you mummy for rocky!" you ran over to hug your mummy, knocking her back slightly into the couch at the speed at which you came flying in at. alessia attacking your cheek with multiple kisses as your giggled, repeating over for her to stop in between your giggles.

mummy let you go and you went straight back to where rocky was lying on the floor, lying on your tummy next to him as you stoked and cuddled him. him having a little nap in your arms.

"thanks for helping me with all of this, this will have made her entire year" alessia smiled appreciatively at the two, as viv waved the blondes thanks off, "anything to see her happy"

it's safe to say you and rocky were now inseparable.

[leviscolwill]

— dad!jude bellingham headcanons !

pairing: dad!jude bellingham x fem!reader

req: could you write dad!judebellingham ml <3

note: i tried writing headcanons because i feel like my writing is very 👎👎🍅🍅🍅 at the moment, i hope you'll like it still !! reblogs are VERY appreciated since the tags are in a silly goofy mood right now #useless 😝🤪

tag list: @ceofmercedes &lt;3

it's well established on judeblr that he is a girl dad, so girl dad it is

i think he would spiral a bit over the fact that you're growing a whole human being in you

he would say random shit like “no but do you feel her legs grow ?”

and you're like 😐😐😐 of course not

but the poor boy is just clueless 😪

he would always remind you of how you're the most beautiful woman on earth, even when you're crying your eyes out because ron fell off his chess piece in the philosopher's stone

now,, i think we're all well aware he would spoil your daughter rotten

getting her new clothes or new toys whenever he passes in front of a store because “she might need it one day”

but !! he would never let her turn into a “daddy i want a squirrel” kinda girl

you would both make sure she's very well mannered because he is very aware his parents' education played a big part in who he is today

i feel like being strict wouldn't be a problem for him either

yk being the eldest in his family, he wouldn't be swayed by your girl's pleading eyes when she acts wrong

he would 100% cry on her first day of pre-school (it's the cancer in him)

and he would try to drop her / pick her up from school as much as he possibly can with training and stuff

if you speak another language, you'd learn it to your daughter and use it to talk shit about jude 🤭

“have you seen what he wore today ?” “yeah daddy's shirt is very ugly”

in my case she would say quoicoubeh to him

i feel like he'd get so frustrated and start sulking amd pouting before your daughter reassures him

okayy bc it's spooky szn rn 😋

family matching costumes !! (call it corny 😡 i do not care)

monsters, disney characters or the adams family... he'd have soooo many ideas

he'd go trick or treating just to eat all the sweets

playfights with your daughter for their girl's attention

“it's my mommy !”

“oh yeah ? but mommy liked me before, so i'm the number one in her heart”

“it's not true ! mommy tell him he's a liar”

you can only roll your eyes because he really has beef with a whole child ???

but he's just a kid himself !!

everytime she gets to see uncle jobe she's overly happy

and jude would smack the back of his head when he says a bad word

(like he's not the one to curse at home yk 🙄)

is it a bad thing i think he would secretly hope your daughter has a bad dream so she'd have a good excuse to sleep in between you both ?

because he would

just to cuddle with her

then he regrets it when she wakes him up early in the morning

when she grows up he would be soooo invested in her school's dramas

like, actually asking for updates during dinner like he's dan from gossip girl

“what do you mean ben is dating his ex's best friend ?? he's such a di... bad person”

he'd be so gassed whenever she would wear his shirt (especially at school)

like you got all these clothes but chose this particular england shirt ? 🥹🥹

(as if half her wardrobe isn't his jerseys from every club he's been at)

(+ jerseys he exchanged with other players and signed jerseys by football legends)

he would sooo show her off to his teammates

“yeah my girl knows how to read now” 😎

and show every picture of her EVER

even the embarrassing ones

100% would introduce his friends as uncles

“say hi to uncle gio” (🫠)

now hear me out bc i think it's my favourite idea

he would totally look up hairstyles tutorials for your babygirl and try them out

once he gets the hang of it, he would never stop finding new ones

and since he doesn't have a sister, he would go to his mum for advice

on hair, but also girl stuff so he can pretend he already knows it all in front of you

you'd also go to his mum to advice tho, because being a parent (especially a mum) is never easy

and she would gladly share all of them with you

when you get into fights with jude your girl would always try to make it better

“dad says he's sorry”, “mum said she's not mad anymore”

of course you both know she's lying but somehow it always works ???

so your relationship is the prime example of what she's looking for when she grows up

and she secretly hopes she gets to love her s/o just like her parents love each other (too corny now ?)

anyways jude would treat you both like his little princesses, and he's so so so grateful he gets to live a lifetime with you two

or maybe more than two who knows 🚶‍♀️

[jamietarttsnorthernattitude]

I didn’t make the connection between Jamie’s breakdown in “Mom City” and playing at Wembley in “International Break” but whoaa of course he would freak out and be triggered by it. I’m super bad at commenting on AO3 but I wanted to let you know I thoroughly enjoyed the fic you posted today!! And I can’t stop thinking about how Jamie has Ted’s voice echoing in his head, telling him to forgive his dad, and then Tartt Sr gaslights Jamie about the Wembley situation so badly that he’s the one expecting an apology from Jamie??? As if the entire Wembley incident was Jamie’s fault and had nothing to do with Tartt Sr’s actions??! I also loved how you captured each character’s voice <33

God, you are so nice to send this. Made my day! (this is the fic referenced if anyone hasn't read it and wants to)

I can only imagine Jamie walking into Wembley and picturing the last time he was there but obviously he’s excited to debut for England. I added the panic attack for extra drama but I could see how in the show he might’ve pushed it away and then that combined with the upcoming City match stress it snowballs into what we see in Mom City.

I’m sure Jamie’s Dad has been gaslighting him his whole life so I have no doubt he would view the Wembley incident as all Jamie’s fault since Jamie was the one that punched him. I’m sure he’d completely ignore any of his verbal abuse or that he pushed Jamie first.

Jamie takes Ted advice to heart even if I think Ted might’ve actually meant to forgive him for himself, not for his Dad. There’s a difference between forgiving and moving on from someone and forgiving them and having a relationship which seems to have gotten lost in translation. It's like they're playing a game of phone tag. Jamie is a very literal person (thinking Secret Santa was a secret) and so Ted basically speaks in riddles as far as he's concerned.

And to be fair to Jamie he's contactly sending him mixed messages. The transfer the morning after the ghost ceremony, saying he can't come back to Richmond and then taking him back, etc.

Combine Jamie probably wanting his father to be an actual non piece of shit father with Jamie thinking he’s doing the right thing by forgiving his father and it’s not a surprise that Jamie ends up seeing his father again.

And I understand where Jamie is coming from but I am so angry about how the show portrays it. If it wasn’t the final season and next season could explore Jamie meeting with his father it would be different. But the show basically said “oh his Dad’s sober now so things are great even though he abused Jamie in so many ways.”

What really gets me is THEY DIDNT NEED TO DO THIS. Jamie had a phenomenal arc over the three seasons. He improved both professionally and as a person. He has a great Mum! He has Simon! Roy Kent is his best friend! The rest of the team loves him. They don’t need to reconcile him with his father to give the character a satisfying ending. Not everyone should be forgiven. And especially when the only thing someone does is get sober.

I could go on forever how dangerous the narrative is.

But anyway, thank you for the ask, I really appreciate knowing you enjoyed the story and your thoughts :)

[unablethethird]

Good afternoon!!

ILY<3!!/p

how was your day?

Good morning :33 ILY2 <33!!! /p

dissasosciated through half of it because flashbacks lol, BUT I GOT TO LEARN HOW TO PLAY CHESS, [my mum never let me learn becus religious reasons], AND ME AND A GIRL ACCIDENTLY SKIPPED A CLASS BECAUSE WE WERE FOCUSING TOO HARD ON THAT AND DIDN'T HEAR THE BELL RING AND WHEN WE ENTERED THE CLASS [because we finally realized break finished] THE TEACHER JUST NODDED WHEN WE EXPLAINED AND WAS LIKE 'don't worry i believe you, you two wouldn't skip' [[not sure if this was passive aggressive but i took it as a compliment]] AND THERE WERE LIKE 5 MINS LEFT SO YIPPEE also i just realized that you might be visualising a normal sized chess board, i wanted to elaborate that it looked like this

[like litterally exactly like this, down to the goofy horse teeth lol]

I now kind of know how to place the pieces and what they do, i actually managed to beat her but im 99% sure she let me win [shes so nice TwT] because as i was playing i would pick up one of the pieces [and despite her explaining it already], i'd be super confused [well maybe it was just the lack of confidence tbh] and ask "So this one can move like this right?", and then ask "Wait so yours cant kill me now right?" and she'd answer truthfully and give me advice😭😭

But honestly, i still felt like i learnt a lot, because by the end half of the game i didn't even need to ask her about how the pieces move or whether or not she could kill me because at that point i started to actually understand the game, and dude i think i experienced character development in real life The whole day felt like some kind of dream or an episode of a show, it felt really strange to have a normal happy day lol, BUT IM NOT COMPLAINING OF COURSE

[islandpcosjourney]

IVF/ICSI Day 1

22nd Sept 2023

Baseline scan & start of STIMS injections

We thought this day may never come. Or at least it felt like that every time we got word of a new delay. Still, once we knew we would be starting in September it was then a case of completing the online consents, waiting until my period arrived, phoning up the nursing station at the ACU in Ninewells that day to arrange my baseline scan for 2 days later, arranging travel with the local health board for the following day, packing up to go to my Mum's for the entire cycle (including the Royal National Mòd week straight after) and attending our first appointment in Dundee. I’m on SHORT PROTOCOL and it follows the natural progression of a monthly cycle, hence why I’m only away for an intensive few weeks vs a few months of back & forth appointments. Essentially this whole week has been a waiting game, knowing it was due to arrive but not being able to plan exactly when we'd be leaving the island.

As it turns out, we could make a "plan" for all eventualities in advance but at the last minute, when the plans were ready to execute, it all fell apart, or rather it all fell into place, in exactly the way God had planned it all along, we just weren't part of that particular planning process. Of course when my period arrived and I booked my baseline scan appointment, only then did we find out that all ferries were booked up for the following day, even via Tarbert and that we couldn't risk the freight because of the weather. So, quick turn-around of thinking involved a short prayer asking the Lord what we should do - the answer: fly down the day before and back again the day after, use Mum's car in-between - sorted! Then once Kevin leaves on Monday for work (5wks at sea) I'll pack up and take the car down to Mum's on Tuesday.

So, today's appointment went well. Having never been through an IVF cycle before, of course it was all new to us and we weren't sure what to expect, apart from the usual checks - formal ID, consent forms, BMI under 30, blood pressure, Blood Borne Viruses blood tests and internal scan to check that the lining of my uterus was thin enough and that I had no large cysts on my ovaries causing problems which would need addressing before being able to start. All were fine, except that the nurse really struggled to get any blood from me. One arm with a good vein attempted first, nope, nothing coming out, even after a wee poke & prod - gave up. Other arm, big vein too, but also nothing coming out, poking & prodding - quick prayer as I closed my eyes "God, please help the blood to flow out" - a wee while later, a small trickle started and she was able to fill 3/4 of the vial - thank goodness!

All that was left to do was to explain the medications and teach me how to self-inject - my biggest fear! I was so fortunate to have 2 friends recently give me good advice - to relax and do it on an out-breath and to do it quickly without hesitation - this gave me some level of confidence before hearing the nurse's advice but I still had some trepidation about actually being able to do it to myself (Kevin’s been looking forward to “stabbing” me 🤪) There seemed like there would be so much info to process but she actually explained it very well, wrote everything down and she made sure I had practiced putting the pen together, loading the cartridge and injecting a dummy piece of flab in the position underneath my belly button, a site where she highly suggested I use.

We were only there for 55mins - they're really very efficient in the unit and clearly know what they're doing and do it often enough that every question is covered before you even need to ask it for yourself. We left confident and not overwhelmed like last time at all - big smiles!

Tonight I had to inject myself for the first time, the beginning of the STIMS stage (ovarian stimulation) - at least 8 days of evening injections (to grow my follicles) and in 4 days time I'll be adding in a morning injection too (to suppress my ovaries so I don't ovulate before they trigger me to). I didn't feel overwhelmed by the process, I had Kevin by my side encouraging me and actually, it was a lot easier than I thought it would be and it really boosted my confidence that it didn't hurt and that I was able to look at the needle entering my skin and it didn't bother me!

None of the peace I feel in this process so far would be possible if it weren't for my faith in Jesus. I feel this veil of support over me, comforting me, calming me in challenging circumstances. We are very grateful to our minister who has put together a Prayer plan for us - bible readings and written prayers for us both to read/say at each major stage of this process - something I am so glad we requested as Kevin will be spending the remainder of this cycle at sea, unable to be with me but he can read the same passages as me and use the same words in Prayer to feel connected in a different way.

We are very grateful to all who have already been praying and will be continuing to pray for us. We feel the support of loved ones around us and that is really comforting. We are not going through this alone and that is so important that we include you all in our journey, for it takes a whole community to bring up a child and in this case, it involves a whole new community to make one too 🥰

Prayer points to consider:

Pray that the injections continue to be successful and that I build on today’s confidence.

Pray that I have limited side-effects from the medications.

Pray for Kevin as he prepares to leave for 5wks, the full duration of this cycle.

Pray also that we feel able to support each other effectively, at a distance.

Pray for the staff in Ninewells who are looking after us.

Pray for our journeys to/from the Island and Edinburgh/Dundee.

Pray for my Mum Christine as she prepares to support me in Kevin's absence.

Pray for the next stage of the process - the action scan on the 29th Sept, where my follicles will be measured. They are looking for 2 or 3 follicles to reach 17/18mm before moving onto the next stage. If they are not, then I continue on STIMS and return for another scan a couple of days later.

Throughout all of this, we are simply taking it one day/step at a time & we are so blessed to have reached this first stage to now progress forward.

Thank you so much for your continued support.

Love to you all xxx

[labseraph]

Caitlin Moran on Jordan Peterson: ‘I fear for any man in a crisis turning to him'

By Caitlin Moran

7 July 2023

As Thomas Aquinas said, ‘Hominem unius libri timeo.’ I fear the man who has read a single book. He meant it about the Bible.

I mean it about Jordan B. Peterson.

If, and when, there is a section invented in bookshops called ‘Men’, Jordan B. Peterson would be far and away its bestseller: his combined back catalogue has sold over 7 million copies; his various YouTube lectures have 520 million views and 6.5 million subscribers; and, in 2019, Time magazine named him ‘the most influential intellectual in the world’.

I first became aware of him as the ‘make your bed in the morning’ man. In 2019, his 12 Rules for Life: An Antidote to Chaos was well on its way to selling its eventual 7 million copies, and the first and main thing everyone was discussing was how his most sensational piece of advice was: ‘Every morning, make your bed.’

“My sense is that if you want to change the world, you start with yourself and work outward because you build your competence that way,” he expanded. “I don’t know how you can go out and protest the structure of the entire economic system if you can’t keep your room organized.”

Of course, we may note that here that Peterson has found a ‘fancy’ professor’s way to say, for £25 in hardback, what everyone’s mums have been saying to them, since they were born, for free. Who knows how much more effective it would have been if our mothers had conflated our dirty duvets with the continuation of neo-liberal capitalism  –  and, indeed, the entire validity of organised protest. Perhaps our mothers were, at the time, too busy simultaneously loading the dishwasher and worming the cat to ‘go there’. But, still – can’t argue with making your bed, right? No one gets hurt by a guy who wants tidier bedrooms? With his dapper waistcoat and Kermit-tinged voice, Peterson presented like a Henson Workshop Bright Uncle. He’s just ultimately a common-sense guy. Also, he’s Canadian. Canadians can’t be bad, right?

Peterson has found a ‘fancy’ professor’s way to say what everyone’s mums have been saying to them, since they were born, for free

Over the next year or so, I lost count of the people –  predominantly young men  –  who said, “Have you read Jordan B.  Peterson? He’s got a lot of interesting ideas. Really got me thinking. I wonder what you think of him?”

I started with one of his most successful podcasts – in which he and Russell Brand discussed the topic of ‘Masculinity’. It was  . . . odd? I’d expected to hear some smart analysis; playful debate; historical context; pertinent anecdotes, gleeful conclusions. I was ready to be both educated and entertained by two very famous, clever public speakers getting stuck into masculinity. I actively wanted to have all my beliefs challenged with some top-notch tussling.

Instead, after three-quarters of an hour, all that had been discussed was how difficult Peterson was finding fame – a conversation during which he cried several times. There was nothing positive about masculinity. There was no celebration of what is wonderful about boys and men –  no enthusing for his own team; no castles-in-the-air daydreaming for how men could be happy in themselves; take pride in themselves; sell to a currently sceptical world how underrated, essential and lovely the inherent traits of men could be.

Read More

Caitlin Moran: "Women are at peak ‘Don't give a fuck’. Men haven’t found that yet”

Twelve years ago, she wrote a bestselling book that started a new conversation about feminism in Britain. Now, Caitlin Moran wants to do the same for “straight white men”

By Sam Parker



Instead: the complaining. The crying. I found this so astonishing that, three days later, I was at a literary event with several very well-known, very successful feminist authors/ campaigners – all of whom have tussled with the difficulties of fame – and mentioned that I’d just listened to it.

“Oh my God! So weird!” one said.

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“I just didn’t . . . understand. I can’t think of a single female author who would come on to debate a subject, and then just talk about themselves, and how hard their success was, and then cry,” another said. “I mean, there was just so much waffle.”

“Obviously it’s not bad to cry, or tell the truth about your life,” the third said. “But  –  he’s at work ? Can you imagine if any of us were invited to talk about our work –  and just spent it crying?”

In the room were an anti-FGM campaigner, a notable feminist, and a woman who has written a great deal about violence against women and girls. All have had rape and death threats: two have panic buttons in their houses. One has never even mentioned that she has children  –  as the police told her there was the very real possibility that, if the knowledge became public, there would be threats made against the children’s schools.

Of course, as discussed before, there is no hierarchy of feelings – if you feel sad, you feel sad – and in so many ways, it’s all good work when a public male figure feels comfortable enough to discuss feeling overwhelmed, or depressed, or fearful. All truths are useful for someone, somewhere.

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But I’m always slightly alarmed when someone who is very confident and vocal about telling people how to be, and what to do, is themselves apparently struggling with just such a thing. When their Rules for Life appear not to be working for them. Additionally, for Peterson to become so emotional when talking to Brand – there was a real sense of the floodgates opening – suggests that this isn’t a thing he’s been able to widely discuss in private, with family and friends. Perhaps Peterson hasn’t yet learned to ‘do’ friendship, either.

Peterson generally presents as a loner preacher-man –  one voice in a wilderness of modern, woke madness. This point feels like the right moment to mention Moran’s Rule Number Three:

By and large, don’t listen to a loner preacher-man.

Who wants to be a loner preacher-man? Why have you had to become a loner preacher-man? And how does that work out, day to day? It doesn’t sound like much fun for you, or the people around you. After all, no one ever said, ‘I feel a bit blue, and down, today. I know – I’ll go and get a hug from the loner preacher-man.’

When your feelings about a subject are so strong you start both denying, and campaigning against, facts –  then you’re not really an academic

I bring up just how happy Peterson’s own life is because, well –  I wouldn’t buy shoes from a cobbler wearing two plastic bags on his feet. Similarly, I wouldn’t accept rules –  not even ‘advice’, or ‘thoughts’, but rules – for life from someone who appears quite sad, and lonely. Because, ultimately, what are you buying when you buy his thoughts and theories? Something that seems not to be working terribly well for him right now. To the point where Peterson appears quite fearful about simply being alive: famously, in 2018, Peterson revealed that he lives by a very strict diet, which consists solely of ‘beef, salt and water’.

I am not being flippant or dismissive when I say this sounds like a very serious eating disorder – and eating disorders tend to stem from very unhappy, anxious people who feel they need to exert more ‘control’ over their lives. The subtitle of 12 Rules for Life is An Antidote to Chaos. I would suggest someone who fears ‘chaos’ so much they’ve removed 90 per cent of all possible nutrition from their diet, losing 60lbs in the process, might not be terribly well.

On top of this, in recent years, Peterson has been incredibly vocal on social media, peddling anti-vax propaganda and climate-change denialism. When you fly in the face of overwhelming scientific evidence and agreement  –  when your feelings and emotions about a subject are so strong you start both denying, and campaigning against, facts –  then you’re not really an academic. You’re not rigorously and intellectually examining possibilities. You’re doing something more… medieval, and primal.

Anyway. Finally, I read 12 Rules for Life. And there is some good stuff in it. Peterson’s step-by-step advice for how to properly ‘argue’ with loved ones, and come to an agreement that is satisfying to both, is undoubtedly good advice: as it was when psychotherapist Carl Rogers originally came up with the method in 1951. Similarly, Peterson is good on how the basis of society is sharing and delayed gratification; how a person is defined by the ideas they have; and how it’s a good idea to both ‘make your bed every morning’, and ‘stop and pet a cat in the street’. The first of those observations is from Freud, the second by Jung and then Popper, and the last two can be found on either Instagram or TikTok any time you want to look  –  and often presented as an amusing lip-sync, rather than a densely typed Bible-quoting rant. What I’m saying is, whenever Peterson hits on a truth, it’s usually someone else’s.

However, the ultimate reason why I fear for any man in a crisis turning to Peterson is that he comes across as a severely depressed man, crushed by a belief in fundamentalist Christian teaching, busily building bridges so that other people might join him in his depression – and thus make himself less alone. If you want to have a night where you blitz your liver to oblivion, play the Jordan B. Peterson 12 Rules for Life ‘Suffering Game’: taking a shot every time Peterson intones, like Puddleglum in C. S. Lewis’s The Silver Chair, that life is about suffering and/or misery, and that human beings are evil."

[go-learn-esperanto]

as someone who's dealt with fucking abysmal summers yearly I come with some advice:

-ice packs. they are everything to me. wrap one up in a piece of lightweight fabric and put it on the back of your neck or on your wrists and ankles. Don't have ice packs? freeze some water in a zip-lock bag or any air-tight, light-weight container that's freezer-safe

-fans. I don't know if you have fans but if you do then you have two options. One of them is to put them by open windows (but not inside them) to draw in air to help circulate air in the room and to keep it from getting hot and stuffy. The other option (I typically do this with box fans) is to get a tray of ice and place it behind the fan so it will blow cool air

-try not to use the stove or oven. idk about your house but with mine, that bitch can heat up my kitchen enough to make me sweat in the summer, so try to avoid using them if you can. Making sandwiches or things that can be microwaved for a minute or two is best. If you don't have a microwave, try to use the stove/oven at night or in the morning before it gets too hot

-HYDRATE. It's hot. It's humid. You're sweating like a pig. Make sure to drink water- and I mean WATER, or drinks with electrolytes in them. I highly recommend not drinking any soda because they might make you feel even more thirsty after drinking it. Also it feels a lot better when the drinks are cold, so try to refrigerate your drinks if you have space for them

-create shade. Have any closed windows? Make sure the blinds or curtains are close to reduce the amount of sunlight coming into the room. No blinds/curtains? bedsheets and blankets can work as a temporary set of curtains if you're able to make them stay up

-clothes. Try to wear as few layers as possible, and try not to wear any clothes made of heavy fabrics. Breathable fabrics like cotton and nylon/polyester are some of the best.

-bathtubs. You got a bathtub? Fill it with cold or cool water and take a dip in it if you start to feel overheated. If you need to conserve water don't drain it unless you need to use the bathtub for a shower. No bathtub? A quick rinse of cold water in your shower may also do the trick.

Heat waves in Europe are fucking bitches (especially for those who live in houses made to retain heat omg). Y'all stay safe, the heat is no joke!

Sincerely, a US southerner that hates summer with a goddamn passion (I am wishing y'all luck, shade, and ways to keep cool)

THANK YOU SO MUCH YOU ARE AN ANGEL

You see, we in Europe have this quirky thing called not having air conditioning, so we tend to suffer a lot 😅

I am not making any hot food if possible.

The ice packs are genuinely a good tip! Thank you!

I also try to not turn on my computer because it really heats up the room. (my laptop and specially my external monitor heats up a lot)

I also don't have fans. It's having the window open at night and having the window blinds always down.

Right now a bidet would be so good actually. So upset my parents removed it to get more space. My mum regrets it and honestly — going to bed after putting my feetsies in cold water would be very good :(

All people dealing with the extreme heat, I hope you're all alright and safe!

[voiceless-terror]

And Many Happy Returns

a sequel (or companion piece) to Inseparable, my childhood friends AU. chapter 1 of 2.

“Next week?” Jon shrieks, slamming a hand down on his desk and startling the nearby students. “That’s not nearly enough time to prepare!”

Martin does that blinky-eye thing that means Jon’s being too loud, but he can’t help it! Martin’s turning eight in six days (less than a week!) and didn’t think to tell him. They’re best friends, he should know these things. He curses himself for not asking about this at the beginning of their relationship, when he was collecting Martin facts. Favorite color and book seemed more important at the time. 

And while Jon doesn’t think birthdays are that important, it’s still a fact he ought to have known. Well, his Nan doesn’t consider birthdays important. These past two birthdays he’s gotten one new (!) book and a dessert after dinner, but that’s about it. Nan doesn’t have money to spend on frivolous things, and Jon’s never needed much, but he wouldn’t mind a bit of fanfare. His mum always made sure he felt very loved- he got plenty of hugs, a fun cake, an outing where they would do his favorite things. But maybe that’s something only mums do. Nan, with her rare, stiff hugs and general stand-offishness was never one to put up much of a fuss.

“It’s not that big a deal,” Martin mutters, his pencil twitching in his hand as he refuses to meet Jon’s eyes. He doesn’t like it when Jon starts fretting about him. “We never do anything for it, anyway.”

Martin’s mum isn’t anything like Jon’s, that’s for sure. It’s not every day you turn eight. It’s a nice number, very even and divisible. Much better than boring old seven. When Jon turns eight, he’s going to get fifteen extra minutes added to his curfew, and he’ll be able to walk to the corner store all by himself. He’s already walked there several times, but it’ll be nice to have permission. That’s the real treat.

“So you’re not going to bring in cupcakes for the class?” he asks, remembering the last birthday they celebrated- it was Lydia’s, a quiet, unassuming girl that Jon doesn’t mind but also doesn’t think much about. As soon as Jon asks it, Martin gets that sad look in his eyes again, the kind that’s always followed by an “I’m sorry” or something equally nonsensical. Jon hates that he’s the cause of it, him and his stupid mouth. Think before you speak, that’s what Nan always says. She says that for most anything he talks about, though, so he takes her advice with a grain of salt.

He reaches out to pat Martin’s arm consolingly, giving him his best sympathetic head tilt. “It’s alright. I’ve never brought any in either. Just thought I’d check in case you needed help bringing them to school.” Jon’s not very good at carrying things, but for Martin he would make an attempt.

“That’s nice of you,” Martin replies, though it’s not really nice, it’s just a normal thing a friend would do. Jon’s read books about it, he ought to know. “But yeah. I don’t think Mum’s planning anything, much less making cupcakes. She’s really busy.” Martin’s always saying how busy his Mum is, but Jon’s pretty sure she doesn’t do half the things around the house that she’s supposed to. Martin already knows how to cook and make tea and do the laundry without hurting himself. It’s very admirable. The last time Jon attempted to do laundry, he flooded the cellar.

“Do you like cupcakes, though?” Jon asks, scooching closer to Martin’s desk. “Lydia’s mum brought some for her birthday, but they were all carrot cake. Blegh.” He makes an exaggerated face to get Martin to laugh. It works.

“Carrot cake’s not so bad,” Martin says, poking lightly at Jon’s hand with the eraser of his pencil. Jon flinches back dramatically, putting on his most wounded look. “You just don’t like it cause it has the word carrot in it.”

“I don’t like it cause it has actual carrots in it,” Jon sniffs, turning away from Martin to show his displeasure. He decides not to talk to him for the rest of the day, or at least until he has something else to say to him. He’s got a lot on his mind now, and he needs to be left alone with his thoughts. Besides, Martin will poke him again once he gets bored enough. 

Jon flips open the school planner that he’s never used for actual school work and starts to write. He’s got a birthday to plan, and he’s going to give Martin a Mrs. Sims birthday special.

______

It’s a Thursday, which means Martin can’t play on account of his many, many chores. Jon hates Thursdays.

But this time it works in his favor, as he’ll actually have time to plan without Martin thinking something’s up. Jon very rarely cancels on Martin; he’s his most important (and only) friend. But he does on occasion get a little mixed up. One time, he thought it was a Wednesday instead of Thursday, and wound up at Martin’s flat when he didn’t show up at the park. Martin was very nice about it, though, and gave him a cup of tea to ‘calm down’ to drink in the hallway, before he went home. Martin thinks a cup of tea is calming. It doesn’t really do much for Jon, but it is tasty, and Martin gives him extra sugar just the way he likes.

But today is most definitely a Thursday so he scurries on home, slamming the door open and screaming a greeting to Nan that goes unanswered.  She must be off at the shops, otherwise she’d be giving Jon an earful for being too loud. He kicks off his shoes and gazes at the picture of him and his mum on the wall. If his mum were here, she would know exactly what to do to make Martin’s birthday extra-special. But she’s not, and Martin’s mum seems like kind of a jerk, so it’s Jon’s responsibility. “I won’t let you down,” he solemnly tells her smiling face, and turns to take the steps two at a time.

After grabbing his planner and throwing his backpack into the corner,  he pulls out the chair to his messy homework desk, which is usually only used for doodling or writing stories or reading when he wants the activity to feel more official. He flips open his planner to next Wednesday, Martin’s birthday (!!!) and taps his pen impatiently against the page. 

What do birthdays need? Food. Presents. Happiness. The first two might be a bit difficult to pull off, considering his lack of money and cooking skills. Martin deserves a lot more than stale discount biscuits from the grocery. He can get those any day.

But a whole cake is going to be hard. If Nan won’t make one for Jon on his birthday, she most certainly won’t do it for ‘his little friend,’ even if she thinks he’s a good influence. Martin is always very quiet and polite when he sees her, and Nan always gives him a smile in return for his good manners. She doesn’t smile at Jon like that. He tamps down his jealousy and gets back to birthday thoughts.

He thinks he had a purple- or was it pink? - cake on his fifth. It saddens him that he can’t remember. He thinks he’d forget his own mother’s face if he didn’t look at it every morning and night. Memory’s fickle like that, as his Nan likes to say.

Maybe, if he’s very nice and good tonight, Nan will take him with her on the weekly shop and he can convince her to get Martin a cupcake, a good one. One that doesn’t have any carrots in it, even if Martin says they’re alright. He must like them so much because they’re orange, like his hair. Unsurprising. 

He stops wiggling in his chair and straightens his back, as if Nan can see him in his room right now. It’s good to practice, he thinks. If he can sit still all through dinner and not make a mess, she’ll come round. 

Next, an essential part of any birthday: a good present.

His mum never really showered him with gifts, but she always gave him something good, something from the heart. The last present he received - Augustus, an orange cat plushie- still sits on his bed. It’s kind of babyish to sleep with a stuffed animal at his age (or so Marcus declared during recess one day) but Jon doesn’t really care. It helps him sleep.

Unfortunately, Jon can’t buy Martin a stuffed cat. He doesn’t have much money except for what he’s found on the ground and in sofa cushions. And he’s supposed to give that to Nan if he finds it (which he does, mostly).

He could be creative. Make him something. Jon’s not very good at crafts, though. And he doesn’t have a lot of supplies. But he has almost a week to figure something out, minus the times he’s playing with Martin. Well, even then he can stare at him and hope it jogs a good idea.

Lastly, he’s got to make it the happiest, most special day he can. Martin should feel special all the time, but Jon knows how hard that is, especially when you go home and you’re lonely and it seems like you’re the least special person there is. But if Jon is very nice to him and makes the day as fun as possible, maybe he’ll be able to keep that happiness all night, even when Jon leaves. 

That’ll be the hardest part, Jon thinks. He’s not the type of person to make someone happy. Sigh in aggravation, maybe. Roll their eyes. But Martin does neither of those things, so Jon might have a chance. He’ll try and ‘tone it down,’ though. His Jon-ness can be too much at times, and he doesn’t want that to get in the way of what should be Martin’s day.

Everything’s going to be perfect. 

________

And then it’s Saturday, and Jon still doesn’t have a present for Martin. 

He somehow managed to get Nan to agree to the cupcake bit- he’d asked very politely, ate all of his dinner and didn’t spill a thing. Though he thinks it has more to do with her liking Martin. She always acts surprised when she sees him over, like she’s shocked Jon kept a friend for longer than a week. He’s not that bad. But Tuesday she promised to take him to the grocery with her, so it’s fine. One part of his plan is done.

But the present. 

Actually buying something is clearly out of the question- he already exhausted his Nan’s good will in that department. And Jon, for all his usual creativity, is plum out of ideas. He could give him one of his books, but he does that already without prompting. He doesn’t have any good toys, and Martin certainly isn’t getting his best pen, the one that glides real smoothly on the page.

“Are you alright?”

He’s been staring at Martin too long. “Of course,” Jon snaps. “I just like your shirt today, that’s all.”

Martin looks down at his worn t-shirt. It’s not Jon’s favorite, but it’s Martin’s, so he likes it. “Thank you!”

“You’re welcome.”

They’re out in the woods behind Mr. Fletchley’s house to investigate what Jon thought was an ancient ruin but just turned out to be a couple of crumbling cinder blocks. It was an incredibly disappointing find, but Martin wasn’t discouraged.

“We don’t know where they came from, or why someone dumped them here,” he reasoned, a hand on Jon’s shoulder. “What if they were stolen? What if they’re part of a...a crime, or something?”

Jon doesn’t know what crime would need a cinder block, but he intends to find out. They’ve been walking down the relatively short path (it’s not so much woods as it is a cluster of trees) and haven’t seen anything suspicious, besides a few empty wrappers and a particularly sharp stick that Jon’s been whacking against the ground. He thinks it could’ve been used as a weapon.

“What are you going to do when you’re eight?” he asks, nudging Martin in the side. He hasn’t mentioned his birthday since the first time, so he’ll be in for a real treat come Wednesday. Jon just hopes he can think of something good in time.

“Mm, I don’t know.” Martin slows down to a mosey, and Jon tries to match his strides no matter how much he wants to jump ahead. Martin’s a real ‘slow down and sniff the flowers’ type of guy. Jon’s more of a ‘run ahead and accidentally trample them’ type. “Probably the same as I’m doing now. It’s not like it’s an important age. I can’t drive or anything like that.”

“It’s a very important age!” Jon insists, though he doesn’t have much to back that up. He’s mostly just excited because it’s Martin’s very first birthday with him. “You should look forward to something.”

“I dunno, I don’t want anything to change,” Martin says, his face going a little red as he stares at the ground. “I’d just like to spend more time with you. Have fun. That kind of stuff.”

Jon blinks. “We do that now, though.”

“Yeah. It’s the best.” Martin gives him a toothy grin, the kind that Jon puts away and thinks about later when he’s at dinner with Nan or getting ready in the morning. People don’t smile at him like that, only Martin. He does it all the time when Jon tells him a good joke, or shares his food, or passes him a particularly funny doodle.

And now Jon’s got the perfect idea for a present.

part 2

[shellbilee]

His Whole World

A Henry Cavill One Shot

Summary: A fluffy one shot based on a request I received from the lovely @thisisntmyrightera :

“Can i request something where the reader and Henry have a baby girl and all the pregnancy Kal was very protective and careful with his human mommy and now it's time to introduce him to his human baby sister, with tons of fluffy and sweetie things”

Apologies for the delay in posting this my dear. I don’t feel like I completely stuck to your request but I hope you still enjoy it all the same!

Pairing: Henry x You/Reader

Words: 6k

Warnings: Giving birth but nothing graphic. Mostly sweet Cavill fluff. Brace yourselves, it will make your teeth rot.

A/N: I don’t have enough words to thank you @alyxkbrl. You are my unofficial editor and my sanity savior when writing these brings me close to breaking point. So much love for you my darling!

Also, I listened to the Script’s ‘Never Seen Anything Quite Like You’ as I wrote this - I’d recommend playing it from the Henry’s POV part (I’ve made it bold!) while you read!

---

“How are you feeling sweetheart?” Henry asks, his voice deep and velvety smooth even over the phone. You smile and lean back into the couch, resting one hand on your swollen belly. “Big” you reply with a sigh, looking down at his gorgeous face on your phone. “Tired. Sore. Hungry. Honestly, I feel like I’m the size of a whale”. Henry offers an affectionate smile and shakes his head. “Then you're the most beautiful whale that I’ve ever seen darling ”. You roll your eyes playfully. “Oh shush. What time is the event tonight?” you ask softly, wanting to change the subject.

“7” Henry answers, glancing over to his left to where you can hear people talking nearby, “My tux is here ready to go so I’m going to start getting ready shortly”. You smile adoringly. “Make sure you send me a photo please, you know I love seeing you in a tux”. Henry smiles, “I will love. Are you going to be okay tonight? You know I don’t love the idea of you being home alone and eight months pregnant. Are you sure I can’t call mum and ask her to come over?”. 

You shake your head and offer your most reassuring smile to your apparently anxious husband. “Henry, relax baby. I’m going to be fine. I’ve got Ali on speed dial if anything happens and besides, I’ve got the best protector of all watching over me”. You turn the camera so that Kal appears in the frame, Henry’s expression softening when he sees Kal laying protectively by your side. 

“Good boy bear. You look after your mummy for me okay?”. Kal lets out a loud sigh and shifts to rest his head on your thigh at the sound of Henry’s voice. You smile down at Kal and pat his head lovingly, turning the phone back to you so Henry is looking at you again. You watch as he smiles and  reaches up to run his fingers through his curls, unable to help your smile at the sight. Even now, even after being with him for over a year, he still manages to make you swoon with the smallest of actions. 

“What are you going to do tonight my love?” Henry asks, looking over the phone towards someone calling his name before looking back to you, “Any plans?”. You laugh and shake your head, still stroking Kal with your free hand. “Ah, not much babe. Probably just sit and watch a movie or two” you reply with a small laugh, patting your stomach, “There’s not a whole lot I can do in---”. Your words trail off when you feel a sharp movement in your belly, a sudden pain in your left side as something is wedged under your ribs. You wince audibly and jolt forward, the breath knocking out of your lungs as Kal springs to attention at the sound of your pained gasp. “Sweetheart are you okay?” Henry asks quickly, his face flashing with alarm, “What happened?”. 

You hold your breath as you poke at your belly, exhaling loudly when you feel what feels like a foot dislodge a few moments later. “Ahh” you exclaim in relief, giving an alarmed Kal a reassuring pat and settling back on the couch, “I’m okay. Little one’s just been really active today” you say to Henry, flashing him what you hope is a comforting smile, “I’m fine baby”. “Do you want me to come home? I can leave right now”. You shake your head insistently, patting your belly gently. “Don’t be silly Henry. Tonight’s important for you. I’ll be more than fine”. 

Henry glances over at the sound of someone calling his name again, holding up a finger to them to signal that he’ll be a moment. He turns back to you and sighs, shaking his head as he smiles. “You’re so stubborn darling”. You chuckle and flash him a mischievous grin, tilting your head as you look at the screen, “That’s why you love me”. Henry laughs this time, deep and throaty, reaching up to run his fingers through his hair again. “Okay my love, I have to go and get ready. I love you okay? I’ll keep my phone on me at all times, I promise”. You nod and smile,  “Okay baby, I love you more. Have fun alright? And don’t forget my photo!”. Henry grins - the utterly handsome, devastatingly sexy smile that made you fall for him all those months ago, blowing a cheeky kiss to his phone and waving at you. “I won’t. I’ll see you later tonight sweetheart. I love you”. You smile and wave and in an instant he’s gone from the screen, Kal letting out a heavy sigh as he shifts beside you on the couch.

You drop your phone and look down at Kal, stroking his head lovingly as he looks up at you with his brown, liquid eyes. “Just you and me tonight hey bear?” you ask gently, watching as he blinks slowly and closes his eyes. You smile affectionately at the massive dog cuddled at your side, thinking about how protective he’d been all throughout your pregnancy. You were three months in when you’d first noticed him acting differently, following you from room to room every time you moved about the house, constantly sitting by you as if he was guarding you from some unknown threat. He’d even started to ignore Henry as if he had eyes only for you, even sleeping by your side of the bed instead of his mat in the corner of the bedroom. 

You’d heard about it - dogs becoming protective during pregnancy, but you hadn’t really believed it until you’d actually seen it. When you’d started to grow Kal’s behaviour had increased again, forever sniffing your belly or resting his head by it whenever you’d sat down. As if having an over protective, pedantic husband wasn’t enough, you now had a hundred and twenty pound bear shadow. You patted Kal’s head gently as you picked up the TV remote, flicking through the channels until you settled on a rerun episode of Sex and the City. You lounged with Kal on the couch for three episodes until the food cravings got too much, eventually hauling yourself off the sofa and making your way towards the kitchen with Kal in tow.

You set about making a bowl of mac and cheese - a food that apparently, you couldn’t get enough of with this pregnancy, pottering about the kitchen as Kal watches you closely from his spot on the floor. “Oh Kal” you breathe as you pop the bowl in the microwave and make your way over to the fridge for a piece of chocolate mud cake -  another food that you couldn’t get enough of, turning to the bear as you take a bite of cake. “When is this going to be over?”. Kal lets out a gentle ‘woo’ in response and you smile, chewing on your mouthful of cake as you look down at your enormous belly.

You weren’t due for another seventeen days but you knew that the baby could technically come at any time between now and then. Still, you felt big, fat and uncomfortable and after eight and a bit months you were more than ready to be rid of your beach ball stomach. Henry on the other hand, couldn’t have been more opposite, your husband apparently loving the changes that the pregnancy had brought to your body. The way your breasts had swelled and rounded, the way your hips had somehow become even curvier than they had been, the way your belly had grown. He’d put his hands on you whenever he got the chance, tenderly caressing every part of you as he’d whisper just how much he loved you and your body. He’d worship every inch of skin every time you’d have sex - which, with your sudden spike in sex drive had been several times per week, holding you close as he’d bring you to orgasm again and again and again.  

He’d been so loving and dutiful throughout your pregnancy that thinking about it almost made you tear up, the way he’d made it to every single ultrasound, every appointment and check up, every birthing class even when his ridiculous schedule made it seem impossible. So many times he’d caught red eye flights just to make it home to be at appointments with you, spending the night with his arms wrapped protectively around you only to be flying back out at dawn the next morning. When he was home he’d been nothing short of amazing, waiting on you hand and foot and catering to your every need whether it was rubbing your swollen feet or ducking out at three AM to get a can of whipped cream that you’d been craving. 

His paternal side had started to show too - something that made your heart flutter and your face soften every time you saw it. The way that he’d buried himself in baby research, finding out the ultimate do’s and don’ts, both for during your pregnancy and for when the baby finally came. The way he’d spoken to his parents and his brothers, taking in every single piece of fatherly advice that he possibly could. The way he’d speak to your belly, to your baby, reading stories and even sometimes his scripts, talking to your bump and sharing just how much he was looking forward to meeting them.

Henry was going to be an incredible dad, that much you were certain of, knowing that he’d do or be anything, for you and your baby. You remembered the way he’d looked when you’d first been shown the heartbeat on the monitor in the doctor’s office, the way his eyes had widened, the way his grip on your hand had tightened. In that sudden moment your whole world had just changed, and from looking at Henry’s face as he’d stared at the screen, you’d known that his had too. Everything else in the world no longer mattered. It was just you, him and the baby.

You smile at the memory and take another bite of cake in your hand, licking your sticky fingers when your phone suddenly begins to ring. You look down to see Ali, your best friend’s name glowing on the screen and you chuckle knowing that she was calling for the millionth time to check in on you. “Hey Ali” you exclaim as you answer the call and put the phone to your ear, “How’s things?”. “I should be asking you that don’t you think?” Ali replies brightly and you can tell just from her voice that there was a smile on her face. “How are you feeling?”. You laugh, “Big. Round. Fat. Oh Al, I’m so ready to be done with this pregnancy” you answer, looking down as Kal suddenly stands and moves over to you. Ali laughs, “I bet you are. But not long now, you’ve only got a few weeks left right?”. You nod, “2 and a half to be exact, though it feels more like 2 and a half months. To be honest I’m hoping it happens earlier”. 

You hear Ali giggle and you know she’s shaking her head. “How are you feeling about it all? About the birth?”. The microwave beeps and you bend to pull your mac and cheese out, frowning when Kal gets in the way and nudges your belly with his nose. “Kal stop” you scold, pushing him with your foot when he doesn’t move. “Um, how am I feeling?” you repeat as you pull the bowl out and set it on the counter. “Okay. Pretty scared actually. I mean, what if something goes wrong? What if I can’t do it?”. Ali scoffs loudly, “Come on Y/N, don’t think like that. You’re going to be fine babe. And besides, you’ll have me, and Henry right by your side the whole time”. You nod and grab a spoon, stirring through your snack, “I know. It’s just you know, it’s giving birth, it’s actually having it. It’s a big scary thing and so many things can go wrong”. “I know, but you can’t think like that. There’s no point in stressing yourself out for no reason. Speaking of, how is Henry about it all?”. 

You open your mouth to answer her when Kal pushes into your legs again, letting out a whine when you look down at him. “Is that Kal?” Ali asks, her voice in your ear as Kal paws at your legs. “Yeah” you answer, looking down at him with a frown, “He’s acting really strange. He keeps whining too. What is it bear?” you ask gently, watching as he begins to pace back and forth in front of you, letting out a low growl. “I can hear him. What’s he doing?” Ali asks as you watch him, your brows furrowed as you watch the furry bear. “He’s pacing now” you reply as you put down your spoon, bending down to kneel at his level to comfort him. 

You feel it as soon as your knee hits the floor, the small pop feeling and the sudden rush of fluid between your thighs. You gasp audibly, frozen in place as Kal whines and bounces from paw to paw, Ali’s voice in your ear asking if you’re okay. You let out a shaky breath, unable to answer, patting your legs and feeling the damp cotton beneath your fingertips. Oh God. It’s happening. “Y/N?” Ali asks again, her voice getting louder when you don’t answer her, “Y/N is everything okay? What happened?”. “Ali” you breathe, your voice shaky as you look from your legs to Kal and back again, your free hand coming around to clutch your belly protectively, “Ali my water just broke, the baby’s coming”.

---

Henry slams the taxi door shut and sprints up the steps towards the hospital, dashing through the doors and coming to a sharp halt at the reception desk. “My wife, she’s in labour. I need to get to her room now. Y/N Cavill” he states quickly, unable to think about anything but you as the nurse at the desk looks back at him, wide eyed and startled. He lets out a loud sigh as he watches the recognition cross her face, not in the mood for a starstruck fan as he taps his foot impatiently. Oh please not now. “Please, I just need the room number” he tries again, running his fingers through his hair exasperated as another nurse steps in to help, “My wife is having our baby. I need to be there”. “Y/N Cavill did you say?” the second nurse asks and Henry nods, practically bouncing on his feet as he watches her type into the computer. “Floor 5, room 36”.

He thanks her as he dashes away from the desk, barely registering the first nurse saying “Do you know who that was?” behind him as he finds the elevator and punches the up button rapidly. Miraculously it opens immediately and jumps in and hits the button for the 5th floor, hurriedly tapping the close doors button as he breathes loudly. Y/N. “I’m almost there baby” he whispers as the doors finally close, running his fingers through his hair again as he looks back at his reflection in the elevator doors.

He’s still in his tux, bow tie and all, his previously styled hair now slightly disheveled from having run his fingers through it so many times. He can’t believe he missed the call - the call that he’d promised to answer if it had happened, angry at himself for letting Mel, his assistant take his phone while he’d posed for photos. “Just a few pictures Henry. It will only take a minute or two” she’d said, taking his phone and instructing him to stand in front of the sea of cameras. That minute, as it turned out, had turned into several, photos quickly becoming questions and questions quickly becoming interviews. He’d turned to Mel after his second interview with a reporter whose publication he couldn’t even remember, her face pale and her eyes wide as she’d put her hand on his arm in guilt. “Henry, it’s Y/N. She’s in labour. She’s having the baby”. Four words, four little words that had sent him spiralling into a panic, disappearing from the awards night like smoke as he’d hailed down a cab and high tailed it to the hospital. 

The elevator dings as the doors opens in front of him, Henry reading the sign in front and dashing down the hallway to room 36. He can hear you yelling before he even reaches the door, his heart panging with guilt for not being there with you when it happened. Oh Y/N, my beautiful girl. He pushes through the door and instantly his eyes fall to you, your eyes wide and panicked as you lay on your back on the hospital bed, Ali beside you and holding your hand as you brace yourself for a coming contraction.

“Henry!” you breathe, your voice sounding almost defeated at the sight of him, his heart hammering at the sound,”Oh you’re here”. “I’m so sorry sweetheart” Henry gasps as he rushes towards you, bending to kiss your forehead and holding your free hand in his, “I’m so so sorry. I knew I shouldn’t have left you at home alone”. You open your mouth to respond but quickly close it as a contraction hits you, Henry feeling his heart break in his chest as he watches your face contort in pain. “It’s---it’s okay, Henry” you manage to say between breaths, letting out a heavy exhale of relief when the contraction settles several seconds later, “How were you supposed to know today would be the day? Luckily, I was on the phone to Ali when it happened and she came a few minutes later to bring me here”.

Henry looks up at Ali for the first time properly since he’d arrived, letting go of your hand to walk around the bed and pull her into an embrace. “Oh Ali, thank you so much. I can’t thank you enough for being there for Y/N”. Ali smiles as he pulls away, patting his arm reassuringly. “It’s no trouble at all Henry, I’m just glad you’re here now”. He turns back to you and feels his face soften at the sight of you, you, his angel, his perfect girl, your face red and flushed as you breathe heavily on the bed. He can’t believe this is it, that it’s finally happening, the thing he’d been waiting for, dreaming about for the longest time. A child, his baby, your baby. A family. A family just like he’d always wanted. 

“You didn’t send me a photo” you say to Henry as he drags a chair over to the side of the bed, smiling gently at you as he sits and takes your hand in his. “I know, I’m sorry” he replies softly, reaching over to tuck one side of your hair behind your ear before leaning back to kiss your hand. He smiles when you pout adorably. “The only reason I’m forgiving you is because you’re here now and I get to see the real thing in person” you reply with a soft smile that makes Henry melt inside, thinking once again just how beautiful you are as he looks at you, “And yes I really do love when you wear a tu---”. Your voice trails off when a fresh contraction hits you like a tidal wave, your face screwed up in pain as you grip Henry’s hand to manage your way through it. A loud whimper escapes your lips and Henry feels his stomach knot, feeling utterly helpless as he watches you brace your way through the pain. He can’t stand seeing you like this - he can’t even stand seeing you cry, and all of a sudden he can’t help but wonder how he’s going to be able to watch you do this without his heart breaking in two. “Breathe Y/N, you’ve got this” Ali encourages, holding your other hand as you squeeze your eyes shut and let out a cry of pain.

“Is this normal? Should we call the doctor?” Henry asks helplessly, looking at you and then over at Ali and back again, “Should we ask for pain relief or something?”. Henry sees you shake your head no as the contraction begins to subside seconds later, your breathing heavy as your grip on his hand loosens. “No” you breathe, the beginnings of sweat starting to form across your brow, “I want to do this naturally”. Henry frowns and looks back at Ali who looks almost as helpless as he does, shrugging her shoulders. “Sweetheart be reasonable”. You shake your head no again, eyes finally fluttering open, looking back at Henry with determined eyes. “No, I can do this. I want to do this” you say quietly, all three of you suddenly turning at the sound of people entering the room.

“Oh good, dad’s here” the tall blonde woman remarks as she walks into the room, pulling on a set of blue rubber gloves, “Mr Cavill I’m Dr Roberts. Pleasure to meet you” she says, smiling warmly at Henry as a nurse moves in to check your vitals. “Please call me Henry” he asks, letting go of your hand and shifting back to give the nurse room. The doctor smiles and turns to look down at you, offering you a reassuring smile. “Now, Y/N. How are we doing? Let’s have a little look shall we? See how things are progressing”.

Henry shrugs off his jacket as he watches the nurse drape a blanket over you, the doctor perching on a stool between your open legs to perform her check. He steps forward when he sees you reaching for his hand again, looking down at you with a reassuring smile as you wrap your fingers in his. “Okay, we’re not quite fully dilated yet but you’re not far off Y/N. You’re doing a great job honey. How’s your pain?”. You don’t have time to respond before another contraction is hitting you, Henry clutching your hand in both of his as he watches in dismay as you bear through the pain. He swallows thickly, fighting the urge to hold back an audible wince. Oh Y/N, my darling girl. “Breathe Y/N, in and out, that’s the way” the doctor encourages, Henry not taking his eyes off of you as you grit your teeth and let out an agonising groan. He wishes he could do something, anything, to help you through it, do something, anything to lessen the pain.

“Still a while apart” Dr Roberts notes to the nurse before turning to face you. “Are you wanting an epidural Y/N? Because if so, you need to say so right now” the doctor asks you when you finally open your eyes again, Henry chewing on the inside of his cheek when you shake your head no. “Are you sure?” the doctor asks again, giving you another chance to say yes, “There’s no shame in getting one honey, it’s still going to be you pushing, it just won’t hurt quite as much”. Henry can’t help but smile down at you when you still shake your head no, you, his stubborn, brave little angel, a warrior if he’d ever seen one. The doctor smiles warmly, nodding to the nurse beside her. “Okay, we’ll be back soon to check in on you again Y/N. You’re doing great love, just keep going”. She smiles at you and turns to Ali and Henry to offer the same, exiting the room and leaving the three of you alone again.

“You’re doing great sweetheart” Henry says, bending to kiss your knuckles and smiling gently, “I’m so proud of you”. You smile weakly at him and let out a sigh, reaching down to touch your belly. “Come on little one” you say in a gentle voice that makes Henry smile, “It’s time for you to come out now”.  Henry rubs his thumb over your knuckles and reaches out to put his hand over yours on your belly, unable to help his smile as he looks up at your tired face. He knows that you’re not even halfway there - that the hardest part is still to come, his heart breaking just that little bit more when he thinks about how tough it’s going to be for you. He opens his mouth to speak but is interrupted by another crashing contraction, this time a cry falling from your lips as you squeeze your eyes shut and grip harder on his hand. 

Several forehead kisses, words of encouragement from both he and Ali, and crippling contractions later, Dr Roberts returns for another check and announces that it’s time. It’s then that Henry feels like the entire world has slowed down around him, eyes only for you, his wife, his love, watching as you get ready for the biggest battle of your life. Your eyes meet his, wide and panicked and he knows you’re terrified, yet he can’t ignore the shine of determination he sees when you tighten your fingers around his and hold on for dear life.

He watches as you squeeze your eyes shut and bear down as you’re told, a yell of pain falling from your lips as your body performs it’s first push. It’s then that the first tears fall from your eyes, a stab of pain hitting Henry’s chest as he watches you push with every ounce of energy you have. He feels his own eyes well up as he watches you in front of him, unaware of anything else around him except you. He has both of his hands clasped around yours at this point, whispering words of encouragement and telling you how much he loves you as you push and push and push. A tear falls down his face when you let out another excruciating scream, your face flushed, sweaty and contorted in pain as you drop your head back into the pillow. You’re sobbing now, chest heavy with huge, body shaking sobs, your hand in Henry’s tighter than ever.

He can hear Ali’s voice telling you to keep going, the nurse and Dr Roberts telling you to push, though it’s all a muffled blur in his mind. All he can hear is your cries, the noise making his bones shake and his blood curl, his hands holding yours as he watches you turn to him. For a moment he feels panic, the defeated, exhausted look on your face telling him that you’re done, your eyes meeting his in a gaze that shares all emotions. He knows you’re exhausted, he knows you’re hurting, but you can do this. You, the love of his life, his warrior, his angel, the strongest woman he’s ever known. You can do this.

Henry stands and bends to press his lips to your sweaty forehead, his hand still in yours as he whispers that he loves you with his whole heart and that you’re his entire world. He knows that you’ve got this, that you can do this, that you’ve come this far and you’re almost there. He looks down to see your wide eyes looking back at him, huge and terrified yet strong and determined, the tears slipping down your face as you look back at each other with nothing but love and adoration. 

He watches as you suck in a breath and lift your head once again, squeezing your eyes shut and gritting your teeth as you get ready to push again. He’s in awe as he watches you, his wife, his goddess, bearing down with every push and using every single ounce of strength and energy you have to push through it all. Cry after cry leaves your lips and the tears continue to slip down your cheeks, your hands never leaving his or Ali’s as you give it everything you have. After what seems like hours Henry hears the doctor’s voice behind him, his eyes never leaving yours when he hears her say that you’re close, that you’re almost there, that you’ve almost done it. He grips your hand and bends so that he’s near your face once again, his heart hammering in his chest as he watches you sob and cry and squeeze your eyes shut for the final time. He holds your hand in his and bends to kiss your forehead, telling you once again just how much he loves you and just how proud he is of you, his wife, his superwoman. The love of his life, his everything, his whole, entire world.

All of a sudden the world is silent. Silent, except for the high pitched cry of a baby being brought into the world for the very first time. Silent, except for the sound of your newborn baby. It’s then that Henry feels the tears slip down his own cheeks, looking down at you beneath him, exhausted, spent and crying as he pushes your wet hair away from your face and kisses you. You’ve never looked more beautiful than you do right now, even with your hair a mess of sweat and tangles, even with your face red and tear stained, and that exact moment Henry knows that it’s a memory he’ll never forget. 

“You did it sweetheart" Henry whispers, pressing his lips to your forehead and brushing away your sweaty hair, “You did it”. He smiles gently when you let out an exhausted sob and muster a small, weak smile, the foreign sound of the newborn’s cries suddenly making you both look up. “Henry, Y/N” Dr Roberts exclaims warmly as she passes a swaddled bundle of baby to a smiling Ali, “Congratulations, you have a new baby girl”. 

And just like that, for the second time in less than a few hours, Henry’s entire world stops. Everything around him is a slow moving blur, his vision tunneled as it focuses only on the bundle in Ali’s arms. “Congratulations guys, she’s absolutely gorgeous” Ali whispers as she passes the baby to him, Henry watching wide eyed and wordless as he holds his child for the very first time. She’s completely perfect, rosy cheeked and adorable, tiny hands making fists as her face screws up at the new world around her. He’s never seen anything quite like her, the sight unlike anything he’s ever set his eyes on, his heart thumping in his chest in a way that he’s never felt before. Henry chokes back a sob as he holds her, her body tiny and fragile in his muscled arms, his eyes welling up with happy tears as he looks down at his precious baby girl. 

He bends and passes her to you, your face instantly collapsing into tears when you see her, your entire face crumpling with happy sobs as you take your daughter in your arms. Henry sits by the bed and looks down at his two girls, unable to speak as he takes in the sight in front of him. His heart thumps in his chest and he feels an overwhelming sense of warmth flood through him, feeling nothing but pure and utter love as he looks down at her in your arms. His baby, his child, his baby girl. He can’t believe he has a daughter, a tiny little princess, an angel just like her mother. 

His two perfect angels, his two beautiful girls, the two things in his life that have suddenly become his everything. He can’t help the tears that slip down his face as he watches you hold her against your chest, reaching out to caress her tiny cheek before wrapping your fingers in his. “Henry she’s perfect” you whisper in the softest of voices, eyes filled with love as you look down at your new baby girl. Henry smiles, “You both are, sweetheart. I’m so proud of you darling”. You flash Henry a loving smile and he squeezes your hand in his, the two of you looking up when you hear the snap of Ali’s phone camera. She smiles down at the three of you, her eyes threatening tears, the smile on her face growing even bigger when you motion for her to come towards you.

“Thank you Ali, for everything” you say softly, kissing Ali’s cheek when she bends to hug you and the baby, “You’re the most perfect best friend that a girl could ask for”. Henry watches as you smile lovingly up at Ali - the kind of smile that Henry knows only best friends can communicate through. “Have you decided on a name for her?” Ali asks as she bends to touch the baby’s hand, Henry smiling when she lets out a tiny squeak and wraps her tiny fingers around Ali’s pinky. 

The question makes you look at Henry and in an instant he knows exactly what you’re thinking, a decision you’d made together but had chosen not to share with anyone else. You nod at Henry, almost as if you’re giving him permission to say it, Henry feeling his heart swell once again as he looks down at his precious princess cuddled against her mother’s chest. He smiles and squeezes your fingers in his, letting out a breath as he lifts his head to look back up at Ali. “We have actually. Ali, meet Harper Rose”.

---

“Are you ready for this?” Henry asks as you hold a sleeping Harper to your chest, the both of you smiling down at her when she lets out a little cooing sound. “Of course I am. Kal has to meet his baby sister. Besides, I haven’t seen him days and I need to see my boy”. Henry chuckles and puts his key in the front door, the sound of paws against floor boards heard seconds later as Kal comes thundering down the hallway. “Easy Kal” Henry commands as he pushes open the door, an excited Kal bursting through and wagging his tail excitedly at the sight of his two humans.

You step through the door and pass Harper to Henry, dropping to your knees as the rambunctious bear jumps at you happily. “Hey bear!” you exclaim loudly as Kal tries to climb into your lap, his tail wagging a million miles an hour and making Henry laugh. “I missed you big boy!”. Eventually he calms and the four of you make it through to the living room, Kal soon noticing the bundle in Henry’s arms and trying his hardest to inspect her.

“Gentle bear” Henry says sternly as he passes Harper to you, moving to stand behind Kal and holding onto his collar firmly. “You ready?” you ask and Henry nods in response, watching closely as you slowly bend and kneel on the floor with Harper in your arms. Kal strains forward to smell her and Henry tightens his grip on Kal’s collar, allowing him just enough slack to sniff Harper’s feet. “Kal bubba, this is your new baby sister, Harper” you say gently, the sound of his daughter’s name in your voice making Henry smile. It was still so new to him, so foreign, the reality of having a child still not quite sunken into his mind.

Henry relaxes his grip on Kal when he only lays down at your knees, sniffing Harper gingerly as if he knew that she was only a baby. “Good boy bear” Henry praises, reaching forward and patting Kal’s head softly, “Good boy Kal”. “He’s doing so well” you whisper, lowering Harper even more so that Kal can sniff her further, “Look how gentle he’s being”. Henry doesn’t say anything, only smiles as he watches the interaction between the three of you, once again feeling the overwhelming sense of warmth and love that he’d felt the first time he’d seen Harper. You, Y/N, his superwoman, the love of his life. Harper, his tiny little princess, his adorable bundle of joy. And Kal, his mighty hound, the furry bear that had always been by his side. The three of you, together, a new little family.

Henry lets out a silent breath as he watches you pat Kal’s head affectionately, a proud smile on your face as you watch the bear meet his new baby sister. You laugh and look up to meet Henry’s eye, flashing him a gorgeous smile that instantly makes his heart swell and his insides stir. In that exact moment Henry knows that he could never love anything as much as he loves the three of you, realising that for the very first time in his life he finally has what he’s always dreamed of having. You, Harper and Kal, his everything, his whole world, his family.

---

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[thatsonemorbidcorvid]

“We don’t talk about maternal rage. I mean the kind that simmers under the surface of countless women; the kind that makes you dig your nails into your fists in an attempt to stop the fury from entering your hands, because if you don’t stop it now, it will turn to something shameful. Mothers dare not speak of it. We are afraid to admit to it, even to ourselves.

Before motherhood, we see images of pristine kitchens, sleeping babies, the perfect work–life balance. The drudgery that is the reality, the long list of unfinished tasks, the never-ending laundry, and the constant silent scream of the mental load, are kept from us. To some extent we play our own part in this, the pull of biology being so strong that we disregard the bits of motherhood we don’t want to see before we ourselves get there. But I’m not sure it is possible to fully understand the highs and lows of motherhood without having experienced them.

Pregnancy and motherhood left me raw, unable to process comment and criticism. I was lucky; I had a group of NCT friends who were all experiencing the same emotional rollercoaster.

However, I would approach the subject of my children tentatively, worried about judgement, not wanting to bore them, worrying the work of motherhood wasn’t exciting. Discussing the reality of motherhood requires vulnerability.

‘Buggies used to be invisible to me, and now I feel invisible,’ a new mum confides as I collect my son on the first day of nursery. This invisibility is the foundation on which my maternal rage stands. I’m a mother of three. I love family; not just the idea of it, but the messy reality.

Yet at the same time, the reality of motherhood has been viscerally brutal to me. I met my husband in my mid-thirties. He was 10 years older, and we both knew time was short. But children didn’t happen for us instantly, and after three years we gave up. And then it happened. And it wouldn’t stop happening. In our case, babies were like buses: they all seemed to come along at once.

Six years on, three little boys tear around our house. They are loud, their energy levels set permanently to high. They drag each other around the room on a blanket, as the baby crawls between them, narrowly avoiding death. “Darling, please don’t do that,” I say, over and over again.

“You wouldn’t tolerate this behaviour from anyone else,” says my husband. He’s right, I wouldn’t. His words echo around my head, mixing with the shouts from the boys and demands for food and toilet trips and toys, until I can’t bear it any longer and all I want to do is scream: ‘Will you just f**king stop trying to f**king kill each other, motherf**kers!’ But I can’t say that because I’m the adult.

I open the fridge and I eat my feelings. I make another cup of tea. I vacuum up more crumbs, push my rage further down as I pick up books with newly missing pages. I keep trudging on through the drudgery but the demands keep coming, and then I step barefoot on a piece of Lego.

I scream like a banshee, because it’s all I can do. Because I’ve tried everything to make them listen. Thinking steps, time out, taking away toys. They turn and look at me. The six-year-old with his worried face, the baby who’s surprised by the strange noise coming from mama, and the three-year-old who looks frightened. And all at once I feel I’ve failed. I am empty and I am awful.

I scoop them up and onto the sofa. We eat ice-cream and watch CBeebies, and I wonder why we couldn’t simply do this before. Why was I trying to hold it together with carrot sticks and educational games? I can see how the path to maternal rage – spewing into abuse – is incremental.

My husband comes home from work just around the time my cup of rage runneth over. He’s a good man. He scoops up our children, asks about their days, and takes them upstairs for bathtime as I stand muttering in a corner or shaking my head at the day I’ve had. I am aware that not everyone has this.

But I am also aware that he bears the brunt of, and exacerbates, my maternal rage. My position is so precarious that when he forgets my hatred of sweetcorn and adds it to our pizza, it tips me over the edge.

Because it’s the numerous times I have to tell my children to put their shoes on in the morning. It’s the swimming/PE/games kit, it’s the youngest demanding milk, and the middle child doing his best to be disruptive.

It’s my husband trying to pacify me when he’s just waltzed in from taking too long in the shower and is now heading out the door. It’s when I ask for help and he responds by requesting specific instructions on how to navigate the kids out of the house.

“You’re tired and lonely”, says another mother. She’s right, I am tired. I am tired of the patriarchy.

Maternal rage is about more than just the difficulty of raising small children. It’s a consequence of all the things that women have to endure throughout our lives. That we are expected to slot ourselves into a work system created for 1950s men; that, despite legislation, women still have to worry about telling employers they are pregnant, still struggle on maternity pay, and then still have to pay extortionate childcare costs in order to go back to work.

That, despite nods towards shared parental leave, the reality is that working mothers’ careers stall or go backwards while their male partners’ prospects might even improve.

And those of us who are stay-at-home mothers have another layer of disrespect heaped on us. Because motherhood is unpaid, and unpaid work is not valued. What is a writer when she’s not being paid to write? There are moments when I feel as though all I’m doing is failing.

“How did you get through raising kids?” I ask my friends. “I drank a lot of wine”, says one. I can’t help but wonder what kind of state we are in if the only way we survive motherhood is self-medication. Surely, if a man needed to drink every night to recover from his workday, the advice would be to find another job. Something is deeply broken here.

I have to find a better way through this, so I join a HITT class. I need to feel stronger. I need an outlet for my maternal rage. ‘Is it with other mums? With buggies?’ I’m asked by a relative, and I feel instantly diminished. The rage resurfaces.

My award-winning career, the publishing deal, the TV option, none of it means anything since I gave birth. Why wasn’t I warned that my worth and brain would fall out of my vagina with my babies? For all the demands on me, I am invisible.”

[bearlytolerant]

Fandom: Dragon Age

Pairing: Bethany x Alistair (Bethistair)

Rating: T

Ch WC: 3115

AO3

Chapter 4

He was dreaming the most wonderful dream. He was old, he could tell by the amount of wrinkles on his hand. Her also. She had the same wrinkles in her skin as his as he held her, staring out over the lake. The sun was just setting and it was warm. Summer, it must have been. It was beautiful, almost as beautiful as her. Elissa smiled at him, her face clear as day and leaned into his shoulder. He kissed her forehead. They remained that way for what seemed an eternity and then—

He had to piss. Nothing was as jarring as that feeling after a nice dream. Alistair went about his business, the dream fading even though he’d clung to it desperately.

He crawled back into his bed. Squeezed his eyes shut. If he could just go back to sleep, he could be with her again. He pulled the blanket tighter. Burrowed himself in its dark and let himself be hollow. The day could start without him right?

He never slept.

Just sort of curled up into himself and let his mind lecture him instead.

Get out of bed Alistair.

No matter how many times his mind told him to get out of bed or tried to entice him with life’s beautiful delights, including the promise of spring, there seemed to be this external invisible force pressing him further into his mattress and he couldn’t get it off. That sudden urge to cry came over him again. Maker, would it ever end?

Clattering by his bed and Alistair groaned. Why hadn’t he written a decree stating that not a single soul could be in his castle excluding his son and the healer?

“I brought you some breakfast. The servants claim you haven’t been eating.”

Great. Somebody had called in the calvary. He clung even tighter to his blanket.

“Alistair. You can’t just lie in bed all day.”

He heard Anora sigh. A bit dramatic in his opinion.

He mentally prepared for her to yell at him or give him a stern talking to. She never came to the castle otherwise.

“Trust me. If I could have just lain in bed all day after Cailan passed, I would have. I understand how you must feel. But you’re not doing anyone any good by not eating. You want to waste away? Leave Bryce without either of his parents?”

The Maker knew his brain was useless for getting him out of bed so he’d thought it’d be comical to send Anora instead. He should count himself lucky.

Light blinded him as the blanket was ripped away. He should’ve clutched it tighter. Blankets these days were as precious as pearls.

“Get up. We’re going to the lake.”

He balked, shrinking away, scrambling for a cozy shadow. “But I don’t want to,” Alistair whined.

“But you’re going to. So sit up. Eat. Get your big boy pants on and meet me at the front gate in an hour. Or so help me I will drag you out of this bed myself and spoon feed you.”

He dared to glance at Anora. She was serious, of course. She shoved a glass of orange juice at him. He eyed it suspiciously as she rolled her eyes and forced it into his hands.

“Now drink,” she commanded.

He hesitated more out of defiance than anything. “I could have you thrown from court for how you’re speaking to me. Could even put your head on a pike.” Emphasis on the last word had to have sounded threatening.

Her eyes nearly rolled out of her head that time. “For Andraste’s sake Alistair, don’t be so morbid.” She shook her head and muttered something about an insufferable little brother. She handed him a piece of buttered toast next.

“Where am I supposed to put that?”

“In your mouth.”

He glared. Drank his juice and traded the empty glass for the toast. He took the world's smallest bite out of it and chewed. And chewed. And chewed. After he swallowed, Anora patted him on the cheek.

“There, wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“Why are you here?” Alistair asked.

She cleaned the dirt from her nails with a brush she seemingly pulled out of nowhere. “Fergus has been concerned so he sent for me. He knows you listen to my council.”

Alistair scoffed. “More like I let you boss me around.”

“Interesting choice of words.”

After all this time, Alistair still wanted to stick his tongue out at some point in every interaction with her. He shoved his toast in his mouth instead. He didn’t miss that coy smirk on her face either.

She rose and strutted towards the door. “I’ll be seeing you in a short while. Oh, and do wear something comfortable.”

She exited like she was leading an army. Alistair glanced down at his nightshirt. A miserable army of one. He managed to finish half his breakfast and throw on some clothes before the time allotted to him. Though, his main motivator at that point was getting to check on Bryce before he went on an excursion with Anora.

He spotted Bethany and he froze. She should be at breakfast like every other morning when he visited Bryce. And he had been avoiding her for nearly a month, successfully, ever since what he referred to as the incident. He had half a mind to turn around and walk right back out that door.

“Oh good morning,” she said. She was even smiling. Then she motioned him over. Did she not remember him losing his shit over roses? “He’s been having longer periods of wakefulness. Though, he still often calls me his mum.”

All thought of embarrassing incidents, anxieties and what have you dispersed when he heard that. “He calls you mum? Does he not realize…” Alistair didn’t want to say it.

She shook her head and adjusted Bryce’s pillow, smoothed out his blanket. “You may or may not have to remind him. I wouldn’t worry about it now. It’s still too soon to tell whether his memory is affected long term. Of the patients I’ve seen sharing his condition, many have suffered from short term memory loss. I have rarely seen otherwise.”

Rarely. The word wasn’t lost on him. Alistair didn’t think he could explain her death to Bryce again. Maker, wasn’t once enough? He shuddered at the thought and Bethany’s hand was over his.

“Really, you shouldn’t worry.” She squeezed his hand then let it go.

Shouldn’t worry.

Good advice but his heart couldn’t take it. Alistair leaned over and kissed his son’s forehead. “I love you,” he murmured. Then pulled back.

“I will return again after dinner. I’d like to read him some things.”

Bethany nodded. “I think that’s an excellent idea.” She smiled gently at him and the thought crossed him that she had a very pretty smile. Not that he should notice such a thing. Maker, what was he thinking? Hadn’t he just dreamed of his wife this morning? Now he was admiring another woman’s smile?

Forgive me.

He rushed away from Bethany before he thought something else he shouldn’t possibly think.

—

He really didn’t want to be at the lake. Too many bad memories. Too much guilt. Too few enjoyments. And it was cold. Not quite Ferelden winter cold but the wind had a bite and nipped at the tips of his ears. He ticked the reasons off one by one, keeping his worries at bay with complaints until Anora interrupted his thoughts, shoving a fishing rod into his hands. He’d rather try aiming for fish with a bow and arrow. Fishing with a rod was a slow, agonizing way to catch fish, one in which he was left to marinate in his morose musings.

“Already has a worm. Do you prefer to fish off shore or…”

Neither. He didn’t like fishing at all. It was by far one of the most boring and wretched past times he’d ever encountered.

“Shore it is,” she decided for him.

“I don’t like fishing,” he said. But plodded after her anyway.

“Oh, I know. But I do. I find it quite relaxing.”

“Then why not go by yourself? Bringing me along with you seems the opposite of relaxing.”

“I should confess then, I did not bring you along for my benefit.” She cast her line.

“I already mentioned I don’t like fishing. Did you have a lapse in hearing?”

“My hearing is excellent. The benefit is you getting out of bed, getting some sun and fresh air while putting your duties for the day off for a few more hours. Perhaps it would be a good time for you to take your mind off things.”

Her motives were good, he could admit but they were absolute bollocks. The sky was overcast and looked like it would burst into tears at any moment. How was he supposed to get any sun? And if the fresh air was going to smell like fish, especially dead fish, he didn’t want it.

Alistair sighed and attempted to cast his own line. He got it tangled up in the reeds along the shore. Then he cursed and threw the rod on the ground. “Blast! I think I’d do better wrangling fish out of the water with my bare hands.”

Anora sniggered. “What a sight that would be.”

“I’m going to take a walk.”

“No, no!” She grabbed his cloak sleeve. “Stay. If it helps you can talk and I’ll try my very best to listen.”

He eyed her suspiciously. “I—no. I’m good. No need for a talk.”

Not that he didn’t want to talk. Talking would probably do him good. But he couldn’t think of anyone to talk to. Fergus maybe. Though Alistair didn’t feel like he could be honest without diminishing his grief. Ferguson had been through far worse and he didn’t seem to struggle to get himself together. It intimidated him.

“Fine. Have it your way.” She picked up his rod then and fixed his line, casting it for him. She placed it back in his hands. “I’m really sorry for your loss Alistair. However, being so sullen doesn’t suit you or your kingdom. I’m not saying you can’t grieve, just maybe try keeping it contained, hm?”

Alistair closed his eyes. “And how do you propose I just contain my sullenness?”

“Try fishing for starters.”

He wanted to mock her in a tiny man child voice but he refrained. Thankfully he had Morrigan as a traveling companion long enough to train him in the art of biting his tongue. As well as shoving his foot straight into his mouth but that was another story for another day.

He fished silently alongside her wishing desperately to be back with Bryce. The fresh air didn’t feel any different than the drafty castle. The sun was nice at least, when it decided to make an appearance. But the sky was looking more sullen by the minute and the wind was picking up.

“Isn’t this a terrible time to fish?” he asked.

“Any time is a good time to fish,” Anora said.

“I don’t think that’s true. I remember there were certain times fish were more likely to bite.”

“We’re not here for dinner,” Anora snapped.

“So we’re just dipping worms in water for what? Fun? Sounds like torture.” He reeled his line in and studied the sad soggy worm on the hook. “Aw see? Now the poor little worm is a goner. I’ll have to make it a little worm grave.” He removed the worm and set his pole in the crook of some driftwood.

“Stop being ridiculous.”

“I won’t stop until you let me go back to my bed.”

“You know, I was quite fond of Lady Cousland. She was much better at fishing than you.”

“She was much better than me at a lot of things.”

“She was at that.” Anora got a bite on her line. She tugged her rod and reeled it in. No trouble at all.

Alistair sat on the driftwood with his chin in his hands. “I don’t mean to be so morose. I just miss her. I miss her terribly.”

Anora unhooked the fish–a cute little perch–and tossed it back into the water. She set her own pole aside and sat next to Alistair.

“I miss her terribly too,” Anora said.

“You do?”

“Yes. Is that really so surprising? I’d miss you too, even though you’re quite the lummox.”

“Aww,” Alistair placed a hand over his heart, “such warm fuzzy feelings, right here.”

“Must you always act like this?”

“Only with you. One day you’ll come to appreciate it. I–I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye and I’m glad you and Elissa became close after–well after everything. You could have found a clever way to toss us from the throne but you didn’t.”

“Not yet anyway. I could still.”

Alistair allowed himself the tiniest of smiles. Then he cupped his hands around his mouth. “Treason!”

Anora clamped her hand over his. “You are such a child!”

A sort of chuckle snort escaped from Alistair as Anora placed her hands back in her lap. He noticed she could smile too. “I’d still like to take a walk. You could come with me, if you wanted. I promise I won’t run away or do anything stupid.”

She nodded. “I’d like to keep fishing. But do be back in time for dinner. I can’t keep you out forever.”

Alistair nodded and stood. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

Anora was taken aback. “An honest thank you? With no snide remark? I–well you’re welcome then I suppose. Now shoo, enjoy the fresh air.”

Alistair went without further ado. Surprisingly, it did him some good. But when he entered the castle later that day to attend to his duties, his heart seemed heavy again.

–

Bethany wasn’t exactly sure if she should be in the room when Alistair came back. He had been dodging her since the garden. But she was tired and the fire was cozy. She also enjoyed seeing this side of the King and had missed him–no missed him interacting with Bryce. He was a kind and tentative father. Much like how her own had been. She pretended to read a book she had no interest in to provide an illusion of privacy.

“…and the young boy bravely reached out to touch the dragon’s snout. His friends gasped, waiting and watching for him to be scorched by fire. But the dragon closed its eyes and huffed, melting under the touch of the boy.” Alistair let out a big yawn. “I think that’s all I can manage tonight. We’ll have to pick up where we left off tomorrow.”

Bethany stole a glance in their direction. Alistair was returning the book to the nightstand. Bryce was fast asleep.

He stretched and she admired his form. Strong arms, wide shoulders, and a slightly rounded belly that she briefly dreamed of laying on. Then her eyes flicked lower and saw he also had quite a lovely bottom, not that she was focusing too much on it. Just appreciative. She told herself to look away and stop thinking such things. He turned and definitely caught her staring. She tore her eyes away and buried her nose in the book. Cheeks flushed.

She pretended not to hear his footsteps coming towards her. The book was really really interesting then. She nearly bore a hole through the book with her immense interest.

He sat across from her.

“I haven’t properly thanked you for all you have been doing to help my son. So, I uh—“ He ran a tired hand through his shoulder length hair, wisps of reddish brown bangs with hints of gray, flopping to each side of his face. “Thank you,” he said.

“You’re welcome. Though I must say, it’s a pretty easy thing to do.”

“I don’t think most people would share your opinion.”

She laughed a little. “It’s a good thing I’m not most people then, isn’t it?”

He gave a half hearted chuckle coupled with a nod.

Then they both stared into the fire. Bethany wanted to say something more. Have an actual conversation but she wasn’t even sure where to start. Her brain kept wanting to think about the way her fingers would feel running through his hair. Through his beard and–

“Can I ask you something?”

Praise the maker. “Yes, of course.”

“Do you ever dream of him?”

She tilted her head, searching her mind for the him he was referring to. She blinked as everything came up blank.

“Your brother, I mean. Of Garret.”

“Oh!” Her eyes lit up and then that sad sort of feeling pooled in her stomach. She sighed. “Of course I do. They are always happy. And he is always safe. When I wake up, I remember that it’s all a lie and it hurts.”

“Does it ever stop hurting?”

“Yes, in a way.”

“Hm.” He tugged at his beard.

“Have you been dreaming of your wife?”

“Yes,” he said. His hands came to rest in his lap and he fiddled with the hem of his nightshirt.

“Would you tell me about her?”

Alistair glanced up then. Eyes wide like she was asking him to jump off a cliff.

“I–I don’t really know where to start.”

“How about your dream? Do you remember it?”

“Yes.”

“Well I’d love to hear about it if you’re willing to tell me.”

And he did. He told her all about how they had grown old together. How it made him feel. How it had affected his entire day. How it tore him up inside.

“I just–when the person you share everything with, including your deepest secrets and darkest hurts–when they die, who do you turn to? Normally, they’d be your person. But she isn’t here and it’s so incredibly unfair. Which is ridiculous to think, I know. Life isn’t fair and all that.”

Bethany reached out without thinking, covering his large hand with her smaller one and squeezed. “It’s really not. It’s understandable you feel that way. I’m so sorry Alistair. You’re right. It is incredibly unfair. It’s unfair that the world took what you loved most and still moved on, leaving you to pick up pieces of yourself in the throes of responsibility. It must be difficult.”

“It–it is.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, retracting his hand. Then he bolted upright out of his chair. “I’ve taken up too much of your evening, Bethany. Have a good night,” he spit the words out in a hurry as he fled.

“You too, I guess,” she muttered, then doused the fire with a cone of frost.

[ijustwant2write]

Grow Up Fast-Fred Weasley x Reader (Part 2)

(GIF credit to @everygif​)

Part 1

Masterlist

Prompt List

‘OMG! I loved Grow Up Fast-Fred Weasley x Reader! I’ll love to see a part two where they go get the baby back! Hopefully if you have time, it was so cute‘

‘Grow Up Fast was so cute and amazing!! Part 2???‘

‘loved you’re recent Fred piece on the baby! just wondering if you could do another one along those lines but the reader is pregnant with twins and the whole family is finding it special obviously because Fred’s a twin, just something along those lines 💖‘

Characters: Fred Weasley x Reader, George Weasley x Reader (brother-in-law), Weasley family x Reader (in-laws)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Adoption, pregnancy symptoms/pregnancy talk (throwing up/check ups/scans/trimesters), lots and lots and lots of fluff

                                       *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Are we really doing this?” I excitedly breathed out, squeezing Fred’s hand.

He slightly nodded, looking apprehensive himself.“We really are.”

We were stood inside the orphanage, and this wasn’t our first time here. Ever since the baby had left our short care, something had felt off in our lives. In the beginning, we blamed it on the shock of it all; it’s not everyday that you find an abandoned baby behind your shop. Even George pointed this out, saying that our minds seemed to be elsewhere. So here we stood, waiting for the care worker to come back down the hall, but this time she wouldn’t be by herself.

I held back an excited giggle when she turned around the corner with the baby in a carrier. He was awake, kicking his legs about under his blanket, gurgling away as if he knew he was going to his forever home. I tried not to start crying, even though my emotions were all over the place, but it seemed that Fred was happy to let the tears fall. Smiling up at him, I quickly made him face me, giggling as I wiped away his tears. We didn’t exchange any words, but he nodded his at me as if I had asked if he was alright.

“Here he is, little Tommy.” the woman beamed, handing him over to us.

Fred held the carrier in both arms, and we cooed at Tommy. We had helped pick out a name for him when they couldn’t find any recent hospital records, they had no idea where he came from or who his mother was. And just like that, we were taking him home with us.

Once home, we found ourselves lying on the bed, with Tommy in the middle (just like we had the first time we brought him home), and just staring. We had fed him before, meaning he was now sleepy, slowly dozing off.

“What do we do know?” Fred whispered.

“I don’t know.” I honestly answered.“It feels so strange to have him home again, even after seeing him in the care home for so many months.”

“I wish we were there to see him properly grow, he’s so much bigger now.”

“Well he’s here now. And it’s almost his first birthday, we should start planning.”

Fred chuckled, eyes widening when Tommy stirred. Tommy opened his eyes, face scrunching up to cry when I pulled him closer, holding onto him. He calmed down, a few whimpers escaping him before he nodded off again. I glanced at Fred, who was already looking at me, sharing a smile. This was our life now.

A few more months passed, filled with getting used to being parents; the late nights, early mornings, dealing with the ear piercing cries and smelly nappies, but also the bursts of giggles, funny noises and cuddles. So many of our friends and family had come forward to help, giving advice and wanting to get to know the new member of the family. Molly had been extremely enthusiastic after finding out we planned to adopt Tommy. She had worried that there had been problems with us, that we weren’t able to have babies of our own, though even after reassurance, she was still excited. And she offered to babysit way too much (though sometimes that was used to our advantage). 

Now it was the day of Tommy’s first birthday. Since there were no hospital records to show his birth date, they had to give it their best guess. Nevertheless, Tommy was going to have a proper birthday. We had decorated the home, our presents were stacked next to the fireplace, the cake was displayed alongside the rest of the food, and I had picked out his outfit for the day, now all that was left to do was wait for the guests. 

“Wow, look at my handsome boys!” I exclaimed when I entered the living room, seeing Fred holding up Tommy to look at himself in the mirror. 

Fred gasped, turning around so that they were looking at me.“Tommy, look at mummy! Good thing she put in an effort too.”

I scoffed a laugh.“Is everything ready?”

“Yep. Guests should be arriving any minute.”

“Today is all about you Tommy.” I tickled his stomach, laughing with him as he squealed.

The party went amazingly. My family and Fred’s turned up at the same time, all loudly entering our home, gifts in hands, talking over one another. It was hard to take it all in, trying to answer all their questions as they passed me their coats and took off their shoes. Although all their excitement got the best of them, instantly going to greet Tommy and Fred, I didn’t mind, relishing the sight of our entire family together; it was the simple things in life that you could miss, and this was one of them. The day was filled with laughs, too much food and bad singing. There were also nudges towards Ron and Hermione, as well as Harry and Ginny about children, and poor George was being told to keep his search going for the right girl. Both grandmother’s wanted time with Tommy, but I knew he was going to become annoyed being passed around too much. Everyone was content watching him sit up by himself, cushions surrounding him in case he fell, playing with his toys.

Sitting back with Hermione, I found it hard to concentrate on her words. I suddenly felt tired, and also didn’t want to even think about the lunch I had served up. Trying to keep up with the conversation, I sipped at my water, feeling ill. Perhaps I was over tired from the late nights with Harry, we hadn’t had a gathering like this in a while, it was a lot to keep up with, especially when you were one of the hosts. I excused myself, quickly walking to the bathroom. Just as I was about to splash some water on my face, a horrible feeling rose in my throat, and I found myself bent over the toilet being sick. No, surely not, I couldn’t be could I?

Luckily I wasn’t throwing up for long, taking a moment to catch my breath, causing me to cough. Slowly standing, not feeling dizzy now, and quickly brushing my teeth as I flushed the toilet. Checking my reflection, I sighed when I saw how pale I had become. People would definitely notice, if not, then Fred certainly would. I had to act normal, be as bright and bubbly as I was ten minutes ago.

Upon my return, there was music playing, Ginny and Hermione swaying with Tommy on the floor whilst our parents conversed, and the lads talked about something unrelated to babies, families or weddings. Passing by them, I smiled, needing a glass of water. I realised Fred had followed me into the kitchen, sighing as I realised I would have to tell him.

“(Y/N), you don’t look well, are you OK?” Fred asked closely, his hands rubbing my arms up and down as he stood behind me. 

I nodded after taking a sip of water.“Yeah. I’m fine now.”

“What does that mean?”

I turned around to face him, leaning back against the counter.“I um...I was just sick in the toilet.”

“Should we take you to a doctor? Do you need healing? What are your symptoms?” he rushed.

“No, I’m fine really. Perhaps I ate something bad....or....”

“Or what?”

“Fred, your mum babysat for us a couple of weeks ago.”

“What does that have to do with any of this?”

“We were alone, all day and all night...can you connect the dots?”

It took him a few more seconds before it clicked, and as his eyes widened, I had to clamp a hand over his mouth to stop him from yelling.

“Yes, Fred, I might be pregnant.” I whispered.

“Uh, am I interrupting something here?” Ron said from the doorway, confused when he saw the position we were in.

“Uh, y-yes! Fred was about to yell about the cake, but...but we didn’t want Harry to hear and get too excited.”

Ron furrowed his eyebrows at us as he slowly stepped back.“OK. I mean, he’s only one, I’m sure he wouldn’t have realised.”

Removing my hand from Fred’s mouth, I let out a sigh of relief.“Look, we don’t know if that’s true yet, so for now, don’t even think about it.”

“But, if you are...” Fred trailed off, smiling to himself.

“Would...would you be alright with that?”

“Would you?”

We hadn’t come back to that conversation, instead trying to focus on the rest of the party. Because Tommy was easily tired out, they didn’t stay for much longer. At any other time, I would insist they stay, even after putting Tommy to bed. However, I wasn’t being a good host as I let them put on their shoes and coats, each waving goodbye to little Tommy. With the door closed, and just the three of us leftover, Fred and I flopped onto the sofa, letting Tommy roam and tire himself out.

“I’ll book an appointment for this week.” I mumbled, trying to not let my eyes droop.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Fred said.

“I...I don’t know. It would be nice but George might get suspicious.”

“Would it be so bad if he found out? You know he would keep it a secret.”

“That’s true. Alright, come with me. Let’s find out together.”

And that’s what happened. Unfortunately it was almost another two weeks before I was able to be checked over; there had been a strange atmosphere as we waited, that’s all we were concentrating on. Tommy still received as much love as he usually did, but there were times where I would stress about the future. Tommy was just one, and if I was pregnant, there wasn’t going to be a big age gap between the children. That would be hard. They would be toddlers together, there would be screaming, crying, toilet training, the money for nappies, clothes, toys....but every time I found myself down that hole, Fred was there to pull me out, consoling me, assuring me we would be alright with one more child.

I had been bouncing Tommy on my lap as we waited for the doctor to see us. Fred had to take him away from me, worried that I would cause him to be sick, but it was a nervous tick. I was extremely grateful to have Fred with me, concentrating on his thumb running over the back of my hand, and the gentle kisses he would place on my forehead. But the appointment went by in a flash, and as we walked outside, I couldn’t help but squeal in excitement and shock, exclaiming loudly to everyone around me;

“WE’RE PREGNANT!”

George obviously had to know first, seeing as we took the day off work. But he was sworn to secrecy. We wanted to keep it under wraps for a while, waiting to see what my first trimester was like. The excitement was almost too much for me, I couldn’t stop picturing what it was going to be like for Tommy to have a sibling. Another person to add to our family, someone else to give our love to. Things were going well, of course there were the horrible symptoms, though I said to myself over and over again that this would be worth. The weeks whizzed by, and soon, I was starting to show, meaning Fred and I couldn’t stop rubbing the tiny bump. I had bawled when Tommy rested his head on it one night, as if he understood his brother or sister was in there.

We knew it would be impossible to keep it hidden anymore, and I seemed very healthy so far. We were also bursting to tell our friends and family, trying to think of ways to announce it. Fred suggested huge fireworks that wrote it out, but I knew that would be too much. Instead, he settled for a cake where the icing would start writing out the message ‘We’re Pregnant!’ when the candles were lit. Once again, the family found themselves squashed together, this time meeting at the Burrow. Tommy stood on Harry’s lap, clumsily using his face to balance himself as Fred and I caught everyone’s attention.

“We thought we would bring you all something special, a thank you for supporting us through the entire adoption process and for helping us get used to being parents.” I explained, pushing the cake into the centre of the table.

The candles had just been lit, and as everyone licked their lips at the sight of it, they realised what was happening. Screams, hollers and cheers erupted throughout the small room, causing me to burst into tears at the happiness. This was good, this was going to be an amazing chapter of my life.

My mother and molly would send me pregnancy books, recipes for meals that were good for the baby, or just natter on and on about advice, side effects, and what childbirth actually entailed. Sometimes it was a bit too much, I would wish they held some details back. The checkups were going well, Tommy’s behaviour was getting better as he grew, also Fred’s enthusiasm seemed to never die down. However, it had come to that certain appointment, the one some couples longed for. It was time to find out the gender of our child. The results we were given weren’t what we were expecting.

Stepping into the shop, I relaxed when I saw it wasn’t too busy. Fred was desperate to tell his brother the news. As he went to get him, I laughed at Tommy’s wide eyes, taking in all the colours and noises. Fred gestured for me to follow him into the stock room, getting their workers to take over the floor. As I stepped in, flashbacks to Tommy as a newborn came to me. How strange, it was almost like a full circle.

“So, what’s it gonna be then?” George grinned.

I giggled at Fred who was almost jumping up and down in excitement.“Go on then, I said you could tell him.”

“Well, Georgie, it’s a boy-”

He threw his arms up in the air.“Yes! I knew it!”

“And a girl.”

“Wait, what?” his arms slowly sank down.

“We’re having twins! There’s going to be another set of Weasley twins!”

George responded with a loud cheer, throwing himself onto his brother in an engulfing hug. They were patting each other on the back, at first jumping about before they calmed down, swaying side to side.

“Freddie, that’s amazing! (Y/N), you’re going to be massive!”

I scoffed a laugh, knowing he meant no harm.“Thank you very much George. You’ve already earned yourself a whole weekend of babysitting.”

“Have you told mum yet?”

“No,” Fred said,“you’re the first.”

“She’s going to go crazy.”

“So is mine.” I stated.

“Who would have thought, eh? Another set of twins?”

“I’m going to finally know what it was like to raise you two. Perhaps I should have a masterclass from your mum.”

“She’ll give you lots of tips, and stories about how much of a terror we were.”

“Great, looking forward to that.”

Leaving the shop, Fred took over carrying Tommy in one arm, his other hand holding mine. We dawdled on our way home, seeming to be in no rush as we took in what news we were given today.

I smiled as I placed a hand on my bump.“Fred?”

“Hm?” Tommy was already falling asleep on his shoulder.

“Are we really doing this?”

He smiled back.“We really are.”

[vangoghmusings]

Hi! Can I request a todoroki x fem! reader x bakugou where the two guys both like reader, but she’s super oblivious! of course bakugou is mad at Todoroki and wants him to back off but todoroki is just calm and gentlemanly towards reader. Lots of competitiveness (and maybe ft. endeavor’s credit card LOL) and class 1-a thinks the love triangle is hilarious! Thank you so much!

a/n: hello!! i love this request oh my god,, and thanks again for being so patient 💓 sorry if it’s a little long, i just missed writing!!

taglist: @jr-j-j @thebatwrangler @johariameil @mixfi @lilacskyura @katsuhoee @moonlightinsanity @anime-waifuuu @leeeah-loooser @bby-chloe1999 @verymuchbabey @cookednoodlez @helloshoutohere @star-mum @izuku-sakura @thegalxe @kiddiegore @xizimagines @iiminibattlehero @strawberry-ice

When Shoto asked you to hang out, it came to you as a surprise. The stoic boy always seemed so focused on school. You complied and said yes, it could be fun to leave the dorms at walk around the city.

“Oi, Y/N-chan!”

You whipped your head around to see your class mate Katsuki, hands crossed over his chest and a slight scowl.

“Yes Kacchan?”

He rolled his eyes at the stolen nickname and slung his book bag over his shoulder, walking to you. You had dismissed from your last class of the day and were packing up.

“Let’s hang out sometime.”

You chuckled and grabbed your bag before facing him. He wasn’t one to give out such offers and be so forward.

“Is this a joke?”

You walked past him and into the hall, a growl emitting from his chest as he followed behind you.

“No dumb ass, I actually want to take you-“

Your phone buzzed and you held your finger up to the blond’s face, telling him to be quiet, he returned the action with a glare.

Your screen displayed that Shoto was calling you so you quickly unlocked it to answer.

“Todoroki-kun! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Hello Y/N-Chan, I just wanted to make sure we’re still on for the movie and dinner tonight.”

“Yes!” You chirped, ignoring how close Katsuki was to you, leaning down to try and eavesdrop on the conversation. “Who else is coming with us?”

There was a pause on Shoto’s end.

“J-Just us.”

“Oh okay! Sounds good, we agreed on 7 o’clock right?”

“Yes.”

“Okie dokie! I’ll meet you in the common area then! Later Sho-kun!”

You hung up and turned to Katsuki, tucking your phone into the waist band of your uniform.

“Sorry about that! Todoroki-kun wanted to make sure we were still on for tonight.”

Katsuki furrowed his brows and looked down at you.

“What do you mean.”

You laughed softly and pushed his side playfully.

“Exactly what you think it means. We’re just hanging out.”

Katsuki’s eye twitched and he let out an annoyed ‘tch’. You sighed and stepped in front of him. “Don’t get all mad at me for hanging out with him just because you don’t like him. I’m allowed to have more than one friend.”

“Friends,” He mumbled and shoved his hands into his pockets. “What are you and icy-hot doing anyway?” He asked with slight disdain in his voice.

“Just dinner and a movie,” You chirped, turning the corner to the dorm halls.

Katsuki stopped in his tracks and stared at you.

“What?” He growled. You rolled your eyes at his dramatics and kept walking.

“Dinner and a movie Kacchan, jeez have you ever hung out with a friend before?”

“That doesn’t sound like hanging out to me,” He grumbles. You raised a brow at him.

“Then what does it sound like?”

Before he could answer, a cheery Tsu hopped your way.

“Tsu-chan!” You beamed at your best friend.

“Y/N-chan!” She replied smiling up at you. “Want to go study for the quiz in Hero Law?”

You sweat dropped and nodded.

“Oh crap I totally forgot! Yes, thanks for reminding me!” You turned to Katsuki and have him a wave before heading off with Tsu to study.

“Bakugo-kun looked upset, is he okay?” She asked, peering up from under her bangs. You shrugged and entered her room after she opened the door, hopping on her incredibly comfy, hibernation perfect bed.

“I don’t know, he seemed a little ticked off to know I’m hanging out with Sho-kun tonight.”

Tsu nodded and sat on the floor in front of you.

“What are you guys doing?”

“Dinner and a movie.”

Tsu blinked and stared at you. She was quite surprised that Shoto had actually made a move after all this time. It wasn’t a secret to the class that Shoto had a thing for you. And it was also painfully obvious that Katsuki did too.

“That’s a date Y/N-chan.”

You snorted and rolled your eyes, “Yeah right, if it was a date then he would’ve said so.”

Tsu shook her head and sighed in response. Your obliviousness was too much to bare at times. It was clear who they felt about you. The two boys were quite competitive with each other to begin with, but this was a whole different ball game.

Shoto would prepare your bento-box lunch in the morning, always having it ready before you could even complain that he made you lunch again. Katsuki would offer to train with you, offering you combat advice, but it usually ended with the two of you laughing and drinking chocolate milk in recovery. Those were the subtle moments, other actions, not so much. You viewed it as simple competition between rivals, but the class new better. Those boys were head over heels for you and desperate for your attention. The day you fell asleep in class, Shoto swiped your notebook and wrote all of your missing notes for you before you could wake up. Because of this, Katsuki offered to help you study. But you had already agreed to study with Tsu and Momo. Shoto has won that round.

The day you forgot your umbrella for the field trip and Katsuki gave you his hoodie was a major win against Shoto.

To you it was just your class mates being kind, but your obliviousness has begun to be a running joke to your other peers. Kirishima always seemed to be teasing Katsuki about something and Deku was always throwing Shoto thumbs ups across the class room. You saw cute friendships, they saw hypemen and wingmen.

Once you finished studying and thanked Tsu for her help, you changed your clothes and slipped on your shoes to meet Shoto in the common area. He said it was a nice restaurant and your stomach growled at the idea of expertly made soba. You looked in the mirror at your dress and adjusted the laces of your sneakers before grabbing your purse and walking out.

“Sho-kun!” You chirped at the duo-toned haired boy as you walked towards him. He wore slacks and a sweater, a turtleneck peeking underneath. He cheeks grew red at the sight of you. It was rare for you dress in more than just leggings and a t-shirt when you out of your uniform.

“Y/N-Chan,” he sighed almost dreamily. You smiled at him brightly.

There were a few other students in the common area at this time. Kirishima, Kaminari, Sero, Deku and Katsuki were seated at the coffee table playing a card game. Yet it seemed to come to a pause when you walked in the room. Deku and Kirishima looked at each other with a worried expression. Sero and Denki beamed in anticipation for the drama that was about to unfold. And Katsuki was already up on his feet and headed towards you.

Shoto blinked out of his daze and looked at the angry blond charging towards him. You turned to see what he was looking at, only to be faced with a fuming Katsuki.

“Oh Kacchan, are you winning the card game?” You smiled kindly.

“No!” Kaminari snickered.

You giggled as Katsuki turned around to shout profanities at the yellow haired boy. He huffed and looked back at you. Shoto standing behind watching the interaction with narrowed eyes.

Katsuki’s eyes were contemplative and anxious, and his words explained why.

“You look really pretty.”

You blinked, heat rising to your face.

“O-oh thank you Kacchan,” you smiled at the unexpected compliment.

“Did you tell her she looks pretty?” Katsuki snarled, glaring at Shoto.

“Well I was going to-“

“Your don’t have to Sho-kun,” you said, uncomfortable from the situation unfolding infront of you. Shoto stepped past you and towards Katsuki.

“Well,it’s obvious why she looks so pretty. She’s going out with me tonight.” A slight smirk crept on Shoto’s lips as Kaminari and Sero let out an “ooooooo”.

“Shut up you half and half piece of-“

“OKAY!” You laughed nervously and stepped in between the two boys. They looked like they were steaming enough to cause the smoke alarms to go off. You pressed your hands against their chests and pushed distance between them.

“Both of you thats enough. I get it, I don’t look like the usual photo I do when I wear my sweats, but there’s no need to get all riled up.”

The boys with the card game sighed, your obliviousness taking hold once again. You pulled your hands away and looked up at Shoto.

“Ready to go? I don’t want to be late for the movie.”

He removed his glare and his face was filled with newfound softness. He nodded and gently took your hand in his. The unexpected gesture caused you to giggle at Shoto’s chivalry but it nearly made Katsuki blow the boy up to ash.

You waved at your friends and walked out with Shoto, swinging your hands and asking if they could order an appetizer at the restaurant. Which he replied to with an of course because Endeavor’s credit card was tucked happily inside of his wallet.

Katsuki glared as he watched the two of you walk out from the window. He growled, his gaze never ending. He was filled with rage and envy as he watched you jump excitedly and laugh.

“I’m going to ask Y/N-chan out for real and then I’m going to kill that icy-hot bastard.”

[fanficparker]

Hey! Can I request for a Haz x shy!reader where they go to his house to meet his family and she is all nervous or probably makes a mistake and is like, “your family must hate me now” and Haz comforts her? asasjajskkssjsk

LOVE SO SOFT // H.O.

Boyfriend!Harrison Osterfield x Fem!Reader

Word count: 1.7k words

Warnings: A little bit of blood, minor injury, anxious reader, loads of FLUFF, hurt/comfort

A/N: I made it a complete one-shot, haha. Hope, you like it :)

Summary: It starts on a crisp winter morning with a rose. It continues on a lazy summer afternoon with a bouquet. It doesn’t end on a pouring monsoon evening even with those three magic words.

Sometimes the thing you are searching the most in your life, never comes to you, no matter how hard you try to find it. But when you finally give up and stop searching for it, it may just right there, find you itself.

That thing was love in the case of Harrison.

IT HAPPENED ON ONE COLD CRISP MORNING. He was brisk walking on the pavement, enjoying the cool wind hitting his face when he was stopped by a little "Excuse me!"

He stopped and plugged the earphones out of his ears, turning to find a woman around his age, holding a piece of paper in her hand.

"Yeah?" He asked, shifting her eyes from the paper to his face.

"Er..." She walked closer. He could sense a brief hesitation in her movement, nevertheless, she stood in front of him, speaking - "Do you have any idea where this (she read out from the paper) Mi-Michi and Mavey's Bookstore is?"

The name seemed familiar to his ears. Before he could think any further, she interrupted him: "It's near some Burger shop... I forgot its name."

The bells rang this time.

"Yeah... It on the opposite side of the post office to the left!"

Oh, of course, she didn't know where that was either. He could tell by her expressions. She must be new here.

"Thank you." She smiled, though. He could again read the hesitation in her voice and movements. She was moving away from him, walking towards the wrong direction, away from the bookstore, from the post office. And that's when he offered to walk her there.

He wasn't looking out for anything that day. He wasn't looking out to talk to her. To notice the slight smile on her lips, or the great complimenting colour outfit she was wearing. Or the way she hid her embarrassment over small things. Or the rose she gave him either.

The rose.

Yes, it was the rose that did it all.

He wasn't expecting anything more than a thank you. And definitely nothing like a flower, a rose specifically.

When they stopped outside the bookstore, she did say thank you, but she also fiddled inside the handbag she was carrying. She plucked out a pink rose and handed it to him. He couldn't deny it because he never had learned to expect it in the first place.

Someone just gave him a rose. Someone he didn't even know the name of.

"Wait... What's your name?"

But she had got inside the bookstore and he had some urgent errands to run.

There was a shop tag attached to that rose. He could read it. He knew where to find her again. He did find her again.

And then again and again...

IT HAPPENED ON ONE HOT LAZY AFTERNOON. He had brought a red rose bouquet for her. How stupid it can be? After all, she worked here in a flower shop.

"You know this a flower shop, right?" She leaned across the counter, biting her lip.

"Yup, but this is not for you." He smirked while her face grew panicky.

"Tis' for my girlfriend..." He whispered, pecking at the base of the bouquet.

Not for her... She tried to push away the feeling of her heart ripping apart inside her rib cage.

It was okay; she told herself. She wasn't expecting him to fall in love for her like the way she did for him.

It was okay. She tried to smile.

"Oh... Th-that's great!" She showed some fake enthusiasm.

It was okay.

"I-I will like to meet her someday."

He noticed the hesitation again. But this time he wanted that. He watched her as she pretended, pretended to not care, to be happy for him.

It was too much.

"You can take that spot though and get these for yourself..." He sucked in a deep breath, "Be my girlfriend."

They kissed that day at the back of the shop in that narrow alleyway, slowly and passionately. Softly and hesitantly. Shyly and confidently.

They kissed again.

And then again and again...

IT HAPPENED ON ONE POURING MONSOON EVENING. He invited her to meet his family. She hesitated again. He had held her hand, not wanting to let go.

"Please... They will love you."

She still hesitated, not wanting to meet just yet. She was ready before they actually stepped on the front porch. She literally spent two hours getting ready. But now...

"Please... For me?"

His eyes, the way they glimmered and pleaded, was again too much. He was always too much for her. She closed her eyes and pressed the door-bell. Her smile was strained when his mom welcomed her. Her heart was pounding when she hugged her. She was anxious upon removing her wet sandals, afraid if the wooden floor got dirty.

Harrison noticed again. He dumped the umbrella in the stand and stood close to her, his palm stroking her bicep, shooting her a smile which did all the magic.

She heard the unspoken message in his actions.

It's going to be okay.

Should she wait at the dinner table or help his family in the kitchen? It became the question that bothered her after a few minutes of positive interaction, draining all the optimism she had gathered. It became awkward when both his mum and sister left for the kitchen. It became weirder when he followed them, leaving her alone near the dining area.

Playing with the hem of her long sleeves was no more a suitable pass time. She didn't want to chip off the nail paint she applied so intricately. When the noise of a metal spoon or spatula falling to the kitchen floor reached her ears, that was it for her. She walked to the kitchen, desperate to get involved in whatever Harrison and his family were doing.

"Sorry, love. We should have arranged everything on time, but it got a bit delayed." His mum addressed her apologetically.

"Harrison, why don't you spend time with her?" She asked him next.

"Uh---"

"No problem. I was just... bored... thought I could be of any help?" She smiled, joining them inside the kitchen, standing beside her lover, finding something to do.

"I can chop the salad?" She offered when her eyes landed on the uncut vegetables lying over the chopping board.

"Sure..."

They were talking and laughing. So far, so good. His sister was stirring the soup on the stove. He and his mum were arranging the plates and crockery while she was cutting the tomatoes and the green vegetables.

"You can use the serrated knife for the tomatoes. It would be easier." His sister suggested.

"It's fine." She placed a tomato on the board after removing its core and started running the blade vertically. She needed to impress them, flex her chopping abilities. She went on faster, slicing the large tomatoes one after another. Until the knife slipped off and ran across her finger instead. No, the tomatoes were too soft and juicy for that kind of cutting.

The knife dropped on the floor with a sharp noise, diverting all their attention to hers.

"You oka-"

"Yeah. I will just use the bathroom," She excused herself, moving at a pace that was something between running and walking.

Opening the tap of the basin, she let the blood wash off her finger. It was a minor cut but deep. Upon hearing Harrison's voice calling her outside, she turned off the tap instantly and searched the cabinet to find some cotton and rubbing alcohol.

She walked outside, pressing the cotton over her wound, hiding it from Harrison's vision.

"Are you hurt?"

What?

"No. Of course, not." She let out a burst of staggering laughter, trying to surface the lie.

He hummed, pausing for a second, looking into her eyes. She refused to meet his icy-blue ones, clenching her fist tighter to ease the stinging pain.

"There was some blood on the board."

And now Harrison found her outright lying, hiding things. She had read on various online articles how for many people this was the end of the trust. All she wanted was to look good in his family's eyes and they must have come to know about her carelessness too. She even rejected his sister's advice.

Instead, she received a hug. Harrison had softly pushed her back into the bathroom and wrapped his arms around her body, keeping his head on her shoulder.

"I told you it was going to be okay..." He whispered below her ear, softly blowing some stray hair off that area.

"It didn't go okay though," She could feel her voice breaking.

"What didn't go okay, love? All I see is my family being absolutely fond of you." He kissed at the spot below her ear, his favourite place to kiss her.

"I just... made a fool of myself. I am such a noob."

He giggled at the choice of her words.

"No, you are not," He stepped in front of her, lifting her chin with his fingers.

"First, cutting yourself while chopping isn't a big deal. And second, even if you were a noob (he made a dorky face at the word, pouting dramatically), I don't see how it will make you a fool. Come on Y/n, we are here to meet my family not to give an exam." He wiped the little wetness on her eye-lashes and leaned in to peck her over her eyelids.

"I love you, you know that, right?"

Her heart again thudded inside her chest. He just said those three magic words for the first time or was she hearing wrong... She nodded instead, unable to say anything back.

"So, no need to feel embarrassed. And now get me your hand. Let me fix it real fast."

He made her sit over the counter and wrapped a band-aid over the cut. Meanwhile, she still thought of the words, dreading to reply.

"We good to go?"

"Huh?" She realised she was blankly staring at his face. "Er... Yeah."

She jumped off the counter as he walked towards the door.

"Hey, Harrison?"

He stopped at her voice and turned to see her walking towards him.

"I love you too." She said, pressing a kiss over his lips.

He was smiling into the kiss.

She bet she could make him smile again and again. And she did.

 ONE-SHOT TAGLIST:  @god-knows-what-am-i-doing // @multifandomlover121// @its-a-leap-of-faith-kid // @emmaloo21 // @swiftmind // @trustfundparker // @hollands-weasley //  @hazmyheart // @lost-aesthetic-of-past // @tommysparker // @redlips-c // @just-a-littlebit-of-everything // @miraclesoflove // @serendipitous-amor // @hazardosterfield // @lizzyosterfield // @thenoddingbunny-blog // @halfblood-princess-505 // @spidergirl007 // @viagracex // @parkerpeter24 // @fanficscuziranout // @httplayer // @veronicas-littleworld // @slytherin-chaser // @perspectiveparker // 

[wouldpollyapprove]

Headcanon: Going Into Labor At Home

Request: heyy labor during family meeting got me so hard, do you mind writing going into labor, female reader x michael gray?

Requested by @inst4daily

Michael Gray x Reader

Warnings: pregnancy

A/N: I love the idea of the Peaky boys with children. They all act so tough but we all know a baby would melt their hearts. All requests are open right now, so don’t hesitate to request something.

Part One (Arthur) / Part Two (Finn) / Part Three (John) / Part Four (Michael) / Part Five (Thomas)

Masterlist

You let out a shaky breath, clutching your stomach. You wanted to believe the pain was nothing, but you knew better. 

Turning over, you saw Michael’s side of the bed was empty, the sheets neatly placed over where your husband was supposed to be. It was the early hours of the morning and you knew the only reason he would be out of bed would be because of his cousin.

With a sigh, you removed the bedding around you and swung your legs over the side of the bed. You let out a small groan once on your feet, feeling pain in your back.

The pregnancy had been a piece of cake, at least until you neared your ninth month. 

You never had morning sickness or were exhausted at all hours of the day. Instead, you had more energy and were practically glowing. 

Everyone was excited when you announced there’d be another member of the family. Polly was especially excited, she was going to be a grandmother. 

But what surprised Michael’s mother the most was the fact that she hadn’t even suspected a thing. 

When Ada was pregnant with Karl, she looked exhausted and her appetite increase. It wasn’t like that for you. You were suddenly able to get more done during the day and you ate about the same about as before. 

That all changed though.

Now as you trudged down stairs to see if your husband had left, you were exhausted. The bed was comfortable, but you hadn’t been able to sleep due to back problems. 

It had only started bothering you a few days earlier but you hated it. 

Michael had tried his best to ease your pain. He’d gone to his mother for advice and did all that she suggested. He’d run baths for you when the two of you had nothing to do. He’d rub your back and make you tea when ever you complained about it. 

But it was never enough to rid the pain.

“Michael,” you called, walking into the kitchen.

You put on a pot of water when he made his appearance. “Why aren’t you in bed?”

Looking over your shoulder, you flashed him a small smile. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Michael walked up to you, chest pressed against your back and wrapped his arms around you. “I had some business to take care of,” he rested his head on your shoulder. “But I’m here now.”

“This business couldn’t wait until the sun was up?” He shook his head in response. You frowned, pouring the hot water in a tea cup. “If Tommy keeps stealing you away from me I might have to have a word with him.

Your husband laughed, releasing his hold and going over to the fridge. “I’m sure he’d be terrified,” he smiled at you. “Would you like something to eat?”

Taking your tea, you took a seat at the kitchen table, trying to get comfortable before answering. “Yes, your wife and child are very hungry,” she said when she couldn’t get comfortable.

“Back still hurt?”

You sigh was a good enough answer. “Don’t worry, love. The baby will be here soon  enough,” he assured you, grabbing a few sliced of bread to toast. 

Silence fell over the two of you. You sipped your tea, content watching your husband make breakfast. Michael wasn’t the domestic type, but you’d tamed him and since you became pregnant, he was like a mother hen. It was entertaining to watch him dote on you and fuss over everything you did.

“Polly called yesterday and said she’d be ove-” you were interrupted by a sharp pain. Placing your cup on the table, you closed your eyes and waited for the pain to fade.

Michael rushed over to you, his face pale with worry, forgetting the eggs that were cooking on the stove. “Hey, are you alright? Talk to me, Y/n” He crouched beside you, taking your hand in his.

Though, you knew little when it came to child birth, you knew that had to have been a contraction. You also knew that they became more pain closer to the baby being born.

“Do I need to call mum?”

You had to think about it for a minute. You didn’t want to believe that you were going into labor but you also didn’t want to risk it. Hesitantly, you nodded.

Michael went to call his mother, leaving you in the kitchen. Finding no comfort sitting down, you stood from your chair and decided to do laps around the kitchen. Walking helped the discomfort but it did nothing to keep the contractions at bay.

When Michael returned, he found you leaning against the counter, eating the toast he had made. “These aren’t half bad,” you motioned to the plate of eggs in your hands.

“How are you feeling? Mum wanted me to keep track of your contractions.”

You nodded, stuffing an egg in your mouth. “Good, considering my water broke while you were on the phone.” You said it so casually that Michael had to ask you what you’d said.

His face turned pale when you told him again. There was no telling how long it would take Polly to get there and he had no clue what he should be doing. If Polly were there already, Michael knew he would be ushered out of the house and head to the Garrison to drink with his cousins. 

But he was alone, left to worry about his pregnant wife.

To kill time and distract yourself, you walked around the house, Michael right beside you the whole time. Every time you had a contraction you would stop, leaning against him until it left. 

The contractions were becoming closer together, being over a hour since your husband had called his mother. You knew, not quiet sure how, that she wouldn’t make it in time. 

You’d made it to the sofa before they got to strong. Michael helped lower you onto the cushions, “It’s going to be okay, I swear. Mum’s gonna be here soon.”

“Then you’re gonna leave.” Tears collected in your eyes. “And I’m gonna be alone.”

“Hey,” he cup your cheek. “I’m not going anywhere, you hear me? I’ll be right beside you the whole time.”

Polly entered the house 30 minutes later, dropping her bag on the table in the entry room. “Michael? Y/n?,” she called, stopping when she saw the two on the sofa, a little baby in Y/n’s hands. “Oh my.” She approached the couple, smiling down at her grandchild. Leaning down, she moved the towel the child was wrapped in so she could get a better view. 

“You wanna hold her?” you asked, handing your baby over.

Polly took the baby, letting him play with her finger. She turned her attention to her son, “You delivered the baby? You could have called Ada or Esme?”

He nodded, “I could have but I couldn’t leave Y/n.”

“Have you decided on a name yet?”

You glanced at Michael, a smile on your face. “We have.”

“And what would that be?”

“Anna,” Michael informed her.

Polly smiled down at her granddaughter. “Little Anna.”

*~~*~~*

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