#and then the grandaddy of them all is my Word doc

[thelastspeecher]

my writing meme word doc has 106 pages now, so I had to start a SECOND writing meme word doc.  didn’t want to deal with the loading and lag, and the first writing meme doc had so many misspellings (read: strange Gravity Falls names) that I actually got a notification saying “spellcheck isn’t gonna underline misspelled words anymore bc there’s so many”

which...I tend to catch typos pretty quickly, but sometimes I type really fast and mix up a couple words and don’t realize, so even tho the red lines are annoying when they pop up each time I write “McGucket”, it’s kinda nice to have them around.

[werelywrites]

How would the boys react upon seeing their s/o in the afterglow of giving birth to their little bouncing baby boy? How do they feel when they first hold the baby, what do they do? Bonus for Splinter's grandaddy moment?? ((He's not usually involved in these situations and it makes me a little sad :,D))

AH yes! Gramps Splinter! 

Edited Notes: ok so I was going through my posts and I realized that this never got posted??? so I apologize, I’m not sure why it didn’t go through probaby cuz i tried posting it on mobile cough cough.

Anywho, here it is anon! Enjoy!Splinter:

He’s in there with you the entire time. Donnie will be doing most of the work but splinter will assist him.

Master splinter almost never cries. But the moment his tiny grandchild was passed into his arms he wept.

There was no stopping it either. Once a tiny hand curled around his finger the tears would start up all over again.

Good luck trying to get the baby back from him. Although his hold is gentle, he has a death grip on the grandchild.

Good job my dear daughter. They’re beyond beautiful. His whiskers tickle your face as he kisses your forehead.

I’m proud of all of you

Will admit that the most at peace he has ever been is having the baby in his arms while sitting back and relaxing while watching his stories and falling asleep together

Mikey:

He got kicked out of the makeshift delivery room (aka Donnie’s lab) because as soon as the pain kicked in and you could do nothing but scream, his nervous energy had him almost literally bouncing everywhere. Effectively getting in the way.

When he returns and sees you, he rushes in, giving you kisses all over your face. You ok sweet cheeks? I’m here now. Wow you’re even hotter than i remembered. Yeah i was only gone for a few hours, you still stun me everytime.

Once the little tyke gets put into his arms, his idea of pulling a simba moment dies. Cuz omg they’re tiny.

For once he has no words for a long while

He never had a feeling of worried about breaking anything. He knows he’s strong but fear of his strength getting the better of him never was his thing, until now.

With holding your hand and holding his boy, his whole work is in his hands. And it feels extra breakable.

But holy shit, he’s a dad. He grins at the thought and whispers Hell. Yeah.

He’s looking forward to this

It isn’t until master splinter takes the baby and you’re awake for him to nearly explode with excitement

Raph:

He would almost get kicked out of the delivery room. He’d not so subtly freak out when you go through labour but after a threat of being kicked out he’d tone it down.

Seeing you holding his baby will forever be burned into his memory. He’s never seen you so beautiful before.

He’ll be too afraid of his strength to hold the baby at first

It’ll take some reassurance (and a demonstration) for him to give in

Once the little guy yawns, raph starts to bawl

He helped make this. He’s a dad now! How’d he get so damn lucky?

During the pregnancy he’d worry about being a good dad but now that the baby is here in his arms, you looking at them with a soft and tired smile, he thinks everything will be ok

Leo:

He didn’t get kicked out but he had to walk out for a little bit because he just couldn’t handle seeing you in that much pain and not being about to do anything about it.

After the short breather he’d be back to your side.

Once the little ninja is in your arms and Donnie and Splinter are out of the room, Leo will full on crawl into the bed with you and wrap his arms around you and the baby (gently of course)

One look at the boy and Mister-keep-your-cool will cry

He’ll be on repeat saying how beautiful you are. how lucky he is. You’re a blessing. The baby is a blessing. He’ll do anything and everything for you and the baby. You’ll be a wonderful mom. He’ll do his best to be a good dad like Master Splinter. Over and over again, all the while with his face buried in your neck, tears streamed down your neck.

All three of you will fall asleep like that

Donnie:

Is in there the entire time cuz he’s Doc Donnie and although he kept a professional exterior, inside he was screaming his head off

He’ll have the baby in his arms first and once he makes sure everything went ok he’ll slowly make his way to you, all the while staring at this tiny tiny tiny precious cargo in his arms, completely at awe.

Once tears of joy fall down your cheeks, his forehead will meet yours. Damn you’re perfect, dove.

His mind is going a mile a millisecond but he’s never felt so at peace as in this moment.

He’ll chuckle when the little supernova gurgles, a little bit of bubbly grool adorn they’re lips.

He will be recording this in its entirety will be watching it later too

Will start telling them all about the current and new projects he’s doing and about the science behind some of them. They gotta start learning now, right?

[allofusandco]

drink where wyatt earp drank

Wynonna and Doc talk about Wyatt, and Wynonn hears some difficult truths about their history.

With @theycomeuninvited (Doc).

Wynonna:

Should be said; Wynonna spent a significant amount of the day moping, alone, while Doc had his secret projects and Wav had her new girlfriend and her weird mid-youth crisis, and Dolls had… being a mountain lizard, and the whole town had mean eyes for her. Moping had never been a particularly good look on Wynonna, though, and it was inevitable that she’d snap out of it sooner or later.

Mostly because for a lone wolf, she sure craved company.

She wrapped up warm in a sheepskin coat and about thirty scarves to wander through the snow to Shortie’s. So strange that it wasn’t Shortie’s anymore. Doc’s. That had a ring to it. Maybe the new proprietor needed to hire himself a sign writer and rename the place. She didn’t think Doc would do that, though.

She pushed the heavy door open, glad it wasn’t locked yet; couldn’t have been more than a couple of minutes since the last few customers had staggered out, driven away by the silence of the jukebox and the menacing glare of the… bio… chem whatever, the science nerd with legs to her armpits who was cooking up the supernatural roofies in the basement.

She seemed to be gone as well, mercifully. Just Doc, counting cash.

Wynonna slipped onto a stool, and rapped her knuckles on the bar.

“Whiskey, barkeep. In a dirty glass. I’ve had a day. Lemme tell you about it. Turns out sometimes I’m a raging bitch to people who don’t deserve it. I’m here to drink my troubles away. You in?”

––

Doc:

“I believe as a barkeep that is just my job.”

Doc settled the counted cash into a fancy blue bag with a lock the bank had given him. Allegedly it kept out thieves or at the very least deterred them but Doc knew well that locks only kept out honest men and the patrons of his establishment were rarely that. Tossing it into the safe under the counter he turned from Wynonna and grabbed two glasses and a bottle of Whiskey from his personal stash.

Rosita still insisted it was too vile to sell to Wynonna had never seemed to take complaint with it so he figured it would do them.

“Should I inquire who you were a ‘raging bitch’ to or just assume it was some poor civilian on your way over here?”

His voice held hints of teasing because they both knew well how Wynonna could be with people. In fact he himself was much the same way though perhaps not so much in an obvious way as the latest Earp heir seemed to be.

Filling both glassed with a measure of whiskey he passed one over and raised the other in a toast to nothing in particular before draining it.

––

Wynonna:

Wynonna gave Doc a small smile. Impossible to know whether he was indulging her, baiting her, or honestly just had no idea the she was talking about him. He was probably a little too charitable with her; grace of being an Earp, and having her great-great grandaddy’s eyes, she supposed.

She didn’t bother to slip her jacket off her shoulders. One she had warmed up a little, maybe. For now she just pushed one sleeve up, far enough to avoid spilling whiskey all over herself.

“Everyone in my path, just to keep things interesting,” she said, raising her glass to clink against Doc’s. She downed it in one swallow, rotgut-rough, just the way she liked it. “I think maybe I’m having a weird sort of a week. Month. … few months.”

She crossed her arm on the bar, and took stock of Doc’s features for a moment. Seemed he’d looked at her a whole different way, first few weeks after they’d met. Probably better that they’d slipped into a more comfortable friendship, if that was what was happening, here.

“I didn’t say thank you,” she said, pushing the glass closer to the bottle. Very subtle. “For what you’re doin’ for Dolls. Thank you. And thank your… little friend, too.”

––

Doc:

His glass knocked against hers then made the path to his lips so he could chase the words down his throat. It was funny how Earp’s always seemed to think their lives weird or abnormal. Wyatt had once told him he’d wanted a normal life and he reckoned Wynonna would want that too. What they both failed to understand was that there was no normal life, just life. He’s told Wyatt that once, back on his death bed before Constance had renegotiated their deal.

             “Thanks, isn’t necessary Wynonna. It is after all what

             friends are for.”

Loyalty had always been an oddly strong pillar of his personality and he saw no reason for the modern world to have changed that about him. Dolls was sick and needed medication, he could provide that to the best of his ability just as he would for any of them.

             “Her name is Rosita.”

Picking up the bottle he refilled their glasses and picked his up once more.

             “She isn’t nearly as bad as you want to think she is either

             Wynonna. And though it is not your business you can

             shake the idea that there is something between us from

             your head, I rarely mix business and pleasure.”

––

Wynonna:

Wynonna raised her hands in a circlet around her head – there, halo. She was thinking nothing of the sort. For realism, she let the halo tip to the side, making great big eyes at Doc, and then dropped the charade altogether.

She crossed her arms on the bar.

“Doesn’t drinking in your own bar sort of define mixing business and pleasure? Like masturbating in the office.” She frowned. “Scratch that. I said nothing.”

Wynonna swirled her drink in her glass, staring intently at it.

“There’s so much I don’t know about him,” she said, trying not to let it sound like she was whining. Except, of course, she was whining. “He’s stitched up and impossible to read and frustrating as hell, and I… What is he, Doc? Give it to me straight. The magic potion you’re brewing up downstairs, what is it? Maybe I’m wacky, but I think it’s time someone gave it to me straight.” She rapped her knuckles on the counter again. “If you don’t feel comfortable blabbing it out, maybe we could try charades. Or I could guess, and you could blink faster when I’m closer and slower when I’m getting away.”

That sounded complicated.

“I miss him. There’s no one riding my ass, so my ass is kinda flapping in the breeze. Metaphorically speaking.”

––

Doc:

Her words had his eyebrows arching in an entertained sort of way, his mind briefly amusing itself with the thought of Wynonna diddling herself while bored at the office but he quickly put the thought away in favor of her questions.

              “There is so much none of us know of him Wynonna,

              myself included. As for what I do know it is not my

              place to tell.”

A man was allowed his secrets, even when said man was perhaps something more. Doc prided himself on his code and his code forbid him from spilling the secrets of others least they spill his and even Wynonna wouldn’t manage to get another word from him on the matter.

              “When he is better, and he will be better Wynonna,

              you can ask him yourself. You can tell him too how

              you missed him, I assure you he’ll be happy to hear

              it.”

Dolls cared for her. Doc could see that even if it had taken him some time to come around to the idea of it.

Lifting his whiskey to his lips he knocked back the rest of his glass and made to refill it topping hers off as well.

––

Wynonna:

Yeah, Dolls cared for her. Which was as good a reason as any to stay the hell away from him. She was the last kind of trouble he needed. And yet. She couldn’t stay away. Maybe if she had, he wouldn’t be in this kind of bullshit mess to start with.

Would Dolls even spill that secret? He was so closed off. Wynonna knew she could be an idiot, no filter, no ability to play her cards close to her chest – witness her trying to drunk-kiss Doc only a few nights ago. She didn’t know what she felt, what she wanted, she was just stupid and impulsive, and it was all so embarrassing.

Uuuuugggggghhhhhhhhhhh.

She drank half the glass, and put it down again.

“I feel like things have been… so crazy, so much of the time, that we haven’t really…” she frowned. “There’s so much I want to ask you that I never have.”

She crossed her arms on the bar, and nodded in the direction of the sign, newly reinstated.

“What was he like? Wyatt? The real Wyatt.”

––

Doc:

               “You know I am an open book Wynonna.”

Though he supposed he only was in theory.

It was clear Wynonna had set herself on a path of questions this evening and he doubted he could shake her from that course regardless of how he tried. Wyatt had been similar, always asking questions of him as if he knew the answers to them and knowing even if he did not he would think of something. It had the traces of a smile coming over his lips, a gesture only fueled by her next set of questions.

                “He was bull-headed, stubborn, insufferable. I’ve never

                met another man who could make you question every

                life decision you’ve made with just a look, then again I’ve

                never met another man who commanded as much respect

                and order as Wyatt.”

A fond smile was followed with a shake of his head.

                “Wynonna he was a good man, the best I’ve ever met. Lawful,

                but loyal even to the likes of me. You wanted to do right by him,

                he inspired it.”

And in the end he’d done just the opposite. He had let Wyatt down in every possibly way with his deal with Constance. It was a wound still fresh inside of him, a wound reopened whenever someone said Wyatt’s name. The smile faltered, replaced with a brief show of sadness he quickly chased away with a swallow of whiskey.

––

Wynonna:

Wynonna imagined him. The photographs she’d seen over the years; there were plenty. His mulish face, proud and haughty, his challenging eyes. People had said so much about him over the years, but those reports were watered down by time and the limitations of human language.

This was different

Wynonna sat up a little straighter, eyes on Doc’s expression, lost in the fond memory. She brought her glass to her lips. She hadn’t really given enough thought to this, to the fact that Doc wasn’t just some historical document, but someone who had daily breathed air with Wyatt Earp. A man. And she had the oddest sense, looking at him lost in reflection now, that she’d caught a glimpse of something the history books might have missed.

“Even to the likes of you?” she said, mock surprise on her face, a hand to her heart. “Wow. That’s quite a fella.”

She reached for the bottle, mostly to give herself something to do with her hands. She needed to know. Seemed to Wynonna the only way to ask was to ask. Just be direct. If Doc didn’t choke on his whiskey, at least they’d be on the same page.

“You joked about being sweet on him, once. Doesn’t seem like a joke anymore.” She topped up the glasses. “Never seen a look like that on the face of a man who wasn’t in love. And what about him, Doc? Did he love you back?” After all, he was an open book, right?

––

Doc:

Of all the things he had said that could come back to bite him on the ass, his teasing over Doc Holliday being sweet on Wyatt was the last one he had expected to do so. At the time he had thought Wynonna was a working lady, her place at the bar had given such indication based on the rules of the world he was used to. In the end she had been an Earp and fate had laughed in his face, as it was often prone to doing with him.

Perhaps, he wondered, he was better at hiding his feelings for Wyatt back during their own time.

Though he already knew that wasn’t true, didn’t he? How many times had he drank too much and made eyes at his friend? It was a wonder that Wyatt put up with him when he allowed himself to think about it now. Wynonna was perceptive enough to pick up on his feelings however and he owed her an answer and less thoughts in his own head.

Clearing his throat he turned away from her, picking up a stack of glasses instead and busying himself with setting them how he liked behind the bar.

              “Wyatt cared for me in the sense of a friend caring for

              another Wynonna.”

In the end he had been as close as family, a brother—nothing more.

Still it was hard to shake Constance’s voice and claims that he had been the most important thing in Wyatt’s life. He didn’t believe it then, he couldn’t let himself go down a path of what could have been. Those dreams, they were just that these days. Wyatt was gone, loving him still made little to no sense at all.

Though he did not deny his own feelings to the Earp Heir, he’d allow her the win of guessing his feelings.

––

Wynonna:

She’d half-expected him to deny it. How strongly he denied was likely to factor into how little she changed her mind. But he didn’t. Wynonna sat for a long moment, and finally shook her head.

“I’m sorry. That… must have been hard.”

She knew little about the daily realities of life in the wild west. But she was willing to guess a relationship like that wouldn’t have been celebrated. Suddenly, all the stories about Doc Holliday and Wyatt Earp sounded different in her head. They weren’t just friends; there was an unrequited love there. Shit.

Shit.

“Wynonna Earp, bringing up painful memories since 1989. Everyone needs a special skill.”

She sipped the whiskey, and watched him fuss behind the bar. He looked like he wanted to end this conversation, but Wynonna was too ornery to just leave him to his quiet grief.

“He’d be glad to know you look after Wav and me so well,” she said, her tone conciliatory. “His best friend, lookin’ out for his wayward great… great granddaughters. He’d be glad to know you didn’t die. Probably wouldn’t be thrilled about the whole well deal, but you can’t have it all.”

––

Doc:

There was no way of knowing what Wyatt would think one way or the other. Half the time Doc comforted himself with ideas that Wyatt, like Wynonna said, would be happy to know he was looking after his latest hairs. The more logical parts of his brain reminded him of all the things Wyatt had said when they’d parted ways for the last time.

His friend had always been like that.

Hot to temper and when angry he fought and lashed out with a righteous kind of fury many had been afraid of. Given time he’d cool off though, think things through and come around. Doc had always allowed himself to imagine that that was how it would be, between them. Wyatt would have been angry for days over the deal he’d made with Constance but he’d come around eventually, see it as the gift Doc had seen it as.

Constance had seen to it that that time had never come to pass, forgiveness for his wrong had never been given and now he would never know.

             “You’re like him, you know. Your temper is the same, as is

             your drive to protect your family.”

Setting down the last stack of glasses he turned and considered Wynonna for a moment.

             “But you are the vision of your great great grandmother.”

––

Wynonna:

“Me? A temper?” Wynonna batted her eyelashes, and curled her hand around her glass again. Well, of all the things to be passed down the line… as many times as it had gotten her into trouble, that same temper had helped her get out of it more than once.

The world is full of idiots who think you won’t fight back. Be a good girl.

“Not sure how good a job I’m doing of protecting my family, though.” If she was really all about that, she’d bundle Waverly in a blanket and drag her back to Corfu. Hell, Waverly spoke Greek… or was it ancient Greek? Either way, it was more than Wynonna, who probably only managed to keep her bartending job because Corfu was full of Americans who… well, only spoke American.

English. Whatever.

But she liked the idea that she looked like her great great grandmother. That the lines of her face were borrowed from elsewhere. She reached up unconsciously to touch her chin.

“Was she a mess too?” Wynonna cocked her head, and glanced at the ceiling a moment. “Probably not, if he married her. She was probably one of those super resourceful, adaptable, kickass frontier women who still had perfect pincurls. I should watch the movies sometime.”

––

Doc:

If Wynonna wanted to think of Josie that way he wasn’t going to burst he bubble, though he thought they were more alike than she would ever know. There were strong, went against what was expected of them, stood up for themselves.

              “Those movies are nothing short of defamation of character, you

              should not go near them.”

Doc huffed and poured himself another drink, downing it in one go.

              “You know that actor fellow, he practically thinks he is Wyatt. Thinks

              he knows something about being a man just because he acted in a

              movie.”

Alright, perhaps he was a bit bitter over it but mostly because the interpretation was a decent one and Doc didn’t like to admit it. He didn’t often admit either that once he’d learned to work a computer and the internet he’d spent some time watching and taking in the material chronicling his and Wyatt’s lives.

––

Wynonna:

Hmm, there was a sore spot. “Kurt Russel? Henry Fonda? Or Kevin Costner? You know what, I hope you don’t mean Kevin Costner. He knows how to play exactly one character – Kevin Costner. All his movies should be renamed. ‘Kevin Costner dresses up like Robin Hood’. ‘Kevin Costner gets wet’.” Wynonna blanched. “That went a different place to where I planned, but I think you get the gist.”

He could have meant anyone. There were so many films. And somehow, Wynonna was touched that Doc had managed to see enough of them to have an opinion. She tried to imagine what it might be like, to have been in love with someone, and find that while you were gone he’d become a cultural icon who everyone thought they owned. It was strange enough to be a part of a deeply dysfunctional family with Wyatt as the great patriarch.

“Maybe you should write one yourself. Give it a happy ending.”

––

Doc:

Honestly Doc didn’t know which one he was talking about. He’d seen exactly one movie about his and Wyatt’s life and decided that it was more than enough to never watch a single thing centering on them ever again so long as he lived. Though that hadn’t stopped him from watching what was labeled “extras” and finding out that this man thought he knew something about their lives.

“Tombstone, whoever was in that one.”

Doc shrugged his shoulders, lip and moustache twitching once more in annoyance.

“That, Wynonna, is not a terrible idea though I suppose altering the ending to my own happiness would be just as much slander as the rest of them.”

He doubted Wyatt would even be amused and he reminded himself that the dead didn’t get a vote, as he had told Levi last year when he’d first come back and been confronted with the demons questions.

“give Waverly half a chance and she’ll write a book about you and the curse.”

Pouring them another round of drinks he smirked wondering how Wynonna would take her life being put out there.

––

Wynonna:

A book about all of this? Wynonna shook her head. “Bizarrely enough, even though it would be completely factual, it would also be too implausible. Although it might still sell. We can add some sexy vampires who only eat animals, or maybe just make all the revenants pretty – I mean, Bobo has his charms, if he’d take a shower once a week.”

She took the glass, and closed her hand around it for a moment.

“This is my last one,” she said out loud, partly to Doc and partly to herself – No more drunk attempts to kiss Doc. It was now official policy. Even if she was in a weird mood, or… lonely, or any one of a thousand stupid excuses she’d given herself. “This is my last one, and I’m going home to sleep. And tomorrow…”

She drained the glass.

“Tomorrow, I’m going to think up solutions to the Dolls problem, tell them to Waverly so she can shoot them down in a rain of logic and sensibleness… if that’s real word.” It didn’t actually sound right. “I’ll call if we make any progress.”

She stepped down off the bar stool, and made fingerguns at Doc – really awkward ones. Not good at all. Definitely time to go.

~complete~