#dreamt that i was pregnant somehow and i told my parents and they were like 👍 and i was thinking like i can't be bothered to have a kid

[eggmeralda]

weird dream

[pixiechymbe]

I woke up with tears rolling down the side of my face as I dreamt about a teenage girl dying from stage 3 cancer. Well, it seems like I am watching movie coz she has a boyfriend that they called "childhood boyfriend". There was even a montage of them in kindergarten age, middle school, up until high school, hanging out by the girl's porch while her bf chatted with her or sings & plays the guitar to her (could be the backyard or front yard porch, it wasn't clear which side...) The guy was in some sports team that is foggy now to me. It could be basketball. The girl was also part of a sports team, could be volleyball. She's quite active and rich. The first half of my dream, she's like the average American teen but by the 2nd half when I was about to wake up, she's quite rich from her family owning some type of laboratory that's doing very well.

The first half was when I teared up coz it was like a YA/coming-of-age film. The girl & her bf were happy but suddenly she was diagnosed with stage 3 cancer somewhere in her kidney/liver, or somewhere near these organs. Her bf was supportive but she knew she was going to die and yet she can feel that her cancer was not a normal occurrence. This was the moment it was shown to me the progress of how thin she became and yet her bf was beside her along with her parents. And I think she has a younger sibling or two. Her bf never ceased to do romantic stuff like he used to. Then the scene changed to them on the beach, she's panicking coz she feels her death is nearing and she doesn't know how she's gonna say goodbye to all of them. She walked to a some sort of platform with a hammock above the water. She was holding a yellow pad I vaguely remember her using before. There were words written on it that I could read but could not remember now. She could see dead fishes floating in the water. And then a woman appeared. The woman was distorted. She was there and yet not there. But I remember her wearing a white lab coat. She's like a doctor, i think. It seems she was some sort of magical entity. The girl was trying to write something I couldn't remember on the old yellowpad of hers. It's "life is...", that's all I can remember her writing and then the woman appeared. The girl promised something to the woman. It was not clear to me now but it has something to do with nature and her attitude towards her surroundings and the people in it. Then her bf came by to ask her if she'll alright and if she wants to go home. Then she miraculously beat cancer. There was a line, "Toll on nature is a toll on humanity"

Then it switch to the 2nd half, it was like the scenes before the beach scene happened It was revealed she told her bf about her cancer by showing to him the lab results and he vomited like 5 times from stress while trying to talk about the steps they should do. He was wearing a white tee and a basketball jersey shorts while she's wearing a volleyball uniform. Then it shifted to her on the hospital bed... Honestly, the scenes succeeding were like her lashing out to a pregnant employee and her firing that employee when she saw her gleefully staring at her on the hospital bed. The employee was somehow a med student at the hospital. There's more to 2nd half but I don't have the interest of typing it down to remember it.

I don't like the scenes in the 2nd half coz I think it's just my brain trying to make a good ending for the 1st half of that dream. Her bf was clearly the actor named Patrick Schwarzenegger and I couldn't place the girl up until when she was crying at the beach that the scene zoomed in on her eyes that I recognized her. She's the actress named Chyler Leigh when she was younger—4th season of Grey's Anatomy.

[manonblaqkbeak]

Friendship Rekindled

Hello, back for Day 10--single parents. This is the second part of a mini series during canon week. this is continuing off from Day 1--desperately in love. there’s going to be two more parts and i cant wait to get them out there!

i think this could be considered a little angsty, given some of the conversation topics that happen.

cw: brief mention of death and blood loss. mention of an abusive parent. (if i miss any, pls dont hesitate to let me know!)

enjoy! :)

2.9k words (my longest fic yet i believe)

It was nice to be finally out of the house, Aelin decided as she walked up to the nursery, her five month old daughter, Olive, strapped to her chest. After being cooped up for what felt like the last five months, Aelin had decided to liven up her apartment with some plants.

Hardy, un-killable plants, that is. Being a single mother didn't leave her much time to look after other things, so she needed some plants that required minimal water, but also had to be pretty to look at.

It was also a plus that there was a cafe attached to the nursery, and she heard that they served the best scones with homemade strawberry jam and cream in Orynth. All her life she had never come here, but she needed somewhere new to visit. And to reacquaint herself with her home town. Not long after Rowan and Lyria's wedding, Aelin had transferred to Rifthold for work, and had used the miles apart to quietly disappear from their lives.

That was four years ago now, and come back home to be closer to her parents. Aelin had never known her grandparents, and Aelin didn't want to deny her parents the privilege of knowing Olive, so she had transferred back just before she went on maternity leave. Aelin was happy to be back, especially since she hadn't seen Rowan or Lyria. The last she heard was from Elide, who got it from Lorcan, that a year after marriage, they were expecting. She was happy for them, she truly was, but that didn't stop the stab of pain she felt when she heard the news. She had dreamt of her being in Lyria's position for a few weeks after she heard the news, but forced herself to stop. To move on.

Aelin had, in a way. She would always love Rowan, but she needed to move on. It was wrong to consider her daughter a distraction, but she did provide the perfect one. Aelin briefly removed her lemon printed bucket-hat (Aelin wore a matching one) to kiss her head, her golden hair sparse, laughing her perfect baby laugh.

Aelin finally entered the nursery, tugging her nappy bag higher on her shoulder as she took in the hundreds of plants. She had no idea where to start, but started her browse. She slowly walked through the fern section, stopping every now and then to let Olive touch one, making the cute hand grabbing motion when she saw one she liked.

Aelin heard the laughter of a young child behind her, and then a deep and familiar one accompany it.

Aelin froze. It couldn't be. Surely the Gods weren't that cruel. Months she had been here, for the first time in ages she had decided to do something for herself, only to be met by that damned laughter.

Slowly she turned, her sandals making the gravel underneath crunch. She saw a flash of silver and a broad body.

Turning around had been a mistake, because when she did, so did the silver-haired man.

And for the first time in four years, turquoise eyes landed on pine-green ones.

Rowan blinked, and then blinked again as he took her in. His eyes widened as he noticed Olive strapped to her body, her face on display as she took in her surroundings. Her baby had the chocolate brown eyes of her father, but it was clear to anyone that knew Aelin that Olive was hers. Her daughter had Aelin's nose and hair colour, and would likely grow to have more of Aelin's features as the years went by.

Behind Rowan, his cousin Enda was holding the hand of a brown-haired boy. It was difficult to tell his exact age, but he looked to be about three. If Rowan was here with his son, then it was a good chance that Lyria would be here, too. The woman was a flower enthusiast, and was practically a walking encyclopedia when it came to flowers. Any questions anyone had, they went to Lyria.

Aelin really did not want to be here. Did not want to have that conversation of why the hell she had left and dropped all communication with them after the wedding.

Aelin hated it, but she adverted her gaze and started to leave. She would have to come here another day—maybe after she called the office to make sure that there was no silver-haired man in attendance.

“Aelin,” Rowan said, his voice raspy from surprise. Gods, she missed his deep voice and the rolling purr of his accent.

Aelin pretended that she didn't hear and made a beeline for the exit. Rowan called her again, and then a third time. Just as she reached the gate, his warm hand landed on her shoulder gently. His hands were still calloused, his hands always doing some type of manual labour work. She wondered briefly if he was still an auto mechanic.

Turning around, Aelin noted the shock in his dark eyes. She gave him a weak smile, not sure what to say.

“What are you—I mean, how are you? Where have you been?”

“I'm good,” Aelin answered after a moment, not really sure how else to respond. “I've been around. What about you?” Somehow, these questions didn't feel like the right ones to ask. Before Rowan could say anything, Olive made herself known, making grunting sounds that meant she wanted attention, so Aelin kissed her hand and said to Rowan, “This is Olive.”

Rowan's eyes dropped down to Olive. “Is she yours?”

Aelin snorted, a sound she hadn't made in so long. It was something she often did around Rowan—or used to, that is. “No, I bought her from the store. Yes, she's mine.”

Rowan's eyes dropped lower, to her ring finger—her empty ring finger. There had never been a ring there. Aelin's traitorous eyes drifted to Rowan's and her heart stopped when she noticed that his ring finger was bare as well—that there was no tan line to suggest that he had only recently removed it.

“I'm doing this on my own,” Aelin found herself saying after a moment.

“As am I,” Rowan said. Aelin cocked her head to the side, annoyed at herself for being curious. “Lyria...Lyria passed away three years ago.”

Aelin's heart shot up to her throat, choking her. Years ago, Aelin had horribly wished that the ring Rowan had purchased was secretly for her and was heartbroken when it wasn't.  In her loneliest moments, she had wished that Rowan and Lyria would break up and somehow find his way to her in Rifthold; but never, never-ever in a million years would she ever have wanted this to happen.

Why the hell hadn't Elide told her? Or anyone else for that matter?

Aelin found her voice after long minutes of just staring at him, processing his words. “Rowan, I am so rutting sorry. I had no idea. Are you...are you okay?”

“I have my good and bad days”. He pointed to the brown-haired boy with Enda, who were both busy inspecting each leaf and flower petal in front of them. “That's Egan, he's a plant lover like his mother.”

Aelin couldn't really see him, but she still said, “He's adorable.”

“He is, and a little terror,” Rowan said, a small smile on his tanned face. After a moment, he turned back to her, and asked, “Are you...doing anything? I'd like to talk, it's been a long time since we have.”

She should say no, but she ended up saying yes.

Taking a deep breath, she followed Rowan back inside the nursery and to the cafe.

X X X X X X

It was turning out to be an ordinary Saturday when Rowan had needed to get out of the house, so he asked Egan if he wanted to go to the nursery and his son had enthusiastically agreed, asking if Uncle Enda could join them. Thankfully, his cousin was free and more than happy to spend time with his nephew.

Never in a million years did he think he would run into Aelin. He had heard the rumours that she transferred back to the publishing house and that was it; there was no mention of her being pregnant. But when Rowan looked up and spotted Aelin, and his eyes immediately dropped to the baby strapped to her chest, his heart had stopped.

He had once wished to have that life with Aelin, exploring the world with their child, one that had Aelin's hair and his eyes; but Rowan never told Aelin how he felt because he knew how badly her last relationship ended, and he didn't want to put any unnecessary stress on her if she didn't feel the same way. Didn't want there to be any chance to ruin their friendship.

And so, he had moved on. Had started dating Lyria and came to love her, but not the same way as he loved Aelin. And when Rowan proposed, he had only done it because his parents were getting older and wanted him to get married, wanted him to have a grandchild.

It was cruel irony that they had both died before Lyria had even given birth.

He was bastard, and he hated himself. Lyria was kind, sweet and gentle—and deserved someone better than him, should have been with a man that truly wanted to marry her for her and not because of family pressures. But he never stopped himself from their relationship moving forward.

But he was doing better, thanks to therapy, because while he may have been a bastard, he didn't want his son to know that. Maybe it made him a bastard to hide this part of himself to his son, but his son was gentle like his mother and Rowan loathed the idea of Egan growing up to hate him.

And as Rowan asked Enda to take Egan home, Rowan could see that Enda thought that this lunch was a bad idea—Rowan had confessed his secrets to his cousin long ago, how he loved Aelin even when he was married to Lyria. How he had wanted that life with her instead.

Rowan knew that he was going to be on the end of a scolding conversation when he got back to his house, but he told Enda that it was going to be okay and that he was fine and could handle this.

Enda sighed heavily through his nose and muttered a 'good luck' under his breath. Rowan planted a kiss of Egan's head and told him that he would be home soon. His son was too excited to spend time with his Uncle to really notice.

When Rowan returned to Aelin's side, they soon found a nice spot in the cafe that was away from others.

It was...painfully awkward for a good while. They only spoke to order their food—scones with jam and cream with a side dish of seasonal fruits for Aelin, and a steak sandwich with fries for Rowan—and then lapsed back into silence.

They ate in silence, too, and Rowan wondered if maybe this was a tremendously bad idea when Aelin said, softly but not weakly, “What happened to Lyria?”

Taking a deep breath, Rowan swirled his fries in the mustard on his plate. He hated this part. “She passed away not long after giving birth. She hemorrhaged and bleed out too quickly for anything to be done. Egan never really got to meet her.”

“I'm sorry,” Aelin said, doing her best to speak over the lump in her throat, “that's horrible. I'm so sorry.”

Years later and Rowan still never really knew what to say to that. Needing to distract himself, he asked, “So, what's your story?”

Before she could say anything, Olive started crying, and without a seconds hesitation, Aelin started feeding her. Some people stared in disapproval and Aelin stared right back, unflinching. He knew that if someone said something, she would spit back. It never made sense to Rowan how people frowned upon breastfeeding. A small smile made its way to Rowan's mouth at the steely look in her stunning eyes. That was the Aelin he knew and loved.

When the strangers turned back around, Aelin looked back at him, the steel in her eyes softening. “I briefly dated my high school boyfriend, Sam, for a while back in Rifthold, and well...the condom broke and Olive made her appearance.” Not the most elegant way to describe the situation, but Aelin figured she had years to think of a better way to explain Olive's appearance if her daughter ever asked.

“And he wants no part of it?” He had no right to ask, but the question left his mouth before he could stop it.

Aelin sighed, and finished feeding Olive and cleaning themselves up before responding. “It's complicated...Sam's father, Arobynn, is a cruel man. He's manipulative and sadistic, but knows how to turn on the charm when it suits him. Sam has been scared of him his entire life, and didn't want Olive to know the fear that he did. So, every month Sam sends money, but he's not on the birth certificate—he doesn't want there to be any paper trails leading to Olive's existence. I had to convince him that it was safer to transfer me the money than to send it through the mail. I send him pictures from time to time, but whether he saves them, I have no idea.” Not to mention the miserable length of the conversation of sending money electronically. Sam was so damned paranoid that Arobynn checked his accounts that Aelin had almost told him not to bother to send anything when he relented. Aelin could provide Olive well enough on her own, but it was helpful to have that extra bit of cash—baby things were expensive as hell.

Aelin bit her lip. She hadn't meant to divulge that much, no one knew that, not even her best friends,  but she didn't regret it. It felt...like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

“That's awful, Aelin, I'm sorry to hear that.”

“I just...” She probably shouldn't ask, but out of everyone she knew, none of them were single parents. “Has Egan ever asked about his mother? What do you say to that?”

“He's asked a few times, and I've told him that she passed away when he was little, but I don't think he fully understands what I'm talking about.” Those conversations were the hardest that he ever had to go through, and he knew it would be worst when Egan grew and fully understood what death meant.

“I have no idea what I'll tell Olive when she's older and asks about her dad,” Aelin admitted. “It's not like he's gone, but he is absent and I just...what if she grows up to think he hates her? I think that would kill me if she ever thought that.”

Without thinking, Rowan reached over and too her hand in his. Her hand was soft in his, and he swiped his thumb against her knuckles. “You have a good few years to worry about that. Who knows,” he added, “maybe Sam will be able to get out from his father's shadows and you three can be a family.”

A small smile made its way to Aelin's face. She was more beautiful then he remembered, and he wasn't sure if he should feel guilty for thinking that.

“I like the sound of that, but I'm not going to get my hopes up. I'd like to think that I can do this on my own.”

“You can, but if you'd like...if you ever need help with something, if you need someone to look after Olive, I could do that for you.”

Silver lined Aelin's eyes as she watched him. “Are you sure? I wouldn't want to intrude.”

“That's what friends are for, aren't they? To help?” And as a single parent himself, he knew how hard it could be raising a child in this hectic world.

Aelin's smile grew. “Okay, I'll keep that in mind. And if we're friends, could you help me find some plants? I'm sick of looking at my boring walls.”

“Okay, I know the perfect ones for you to get—ones that are practically impossible to kill.”

“I'm going to ignore that implication that I can't look after a plant.” Although it was true.

Rowan snorted. “Because you can't. I remember that poor aloe Vera plant that you slaughtered.”

Aelin narrowed her eyes, but he could see just a hint of mirth behind the glare. “I did not slaughter that plant, it just didn't like me!”

Rowan laughed and it was the most freeing sound he made in a long time. After he calmed down, he said, “Come on, let's finish here and I'll help you to liven up your place.”

“Fine, but I better not hear anything about my poor gardening skills or I'll let down your tires.” And she would, he knew, but Rowan just smiled even more.

“It's a deal.”

The conversation moved much more smoothly and Rowan realised how much he missed her. And Aelin realised how much she missed him, too.

Maybe things wouldn't be too bad after-all. It would be nice to have Rowan in her life again, even as a friend, even if she still loved him and knew it could never be, not after everything.

[bokutosworld]

in the stars | m. atsumu

character/pairing: single parent/dad atsumu with son

wc: 1.5k words, angst, longing for loved one. warning/s: slight mention of death.

summary: in which atsumu helps his only son find comfort in the stars where he believes your soul lives on.

--

in the dead of the night, atsumu awoke with tears streaming down his face. confused and startled, he shakily brings a hand to wipe his cheeks. just when he was finally getting peace on his evenings, the nightmares that plagued his days and disturbed his slumbers has returned to haunt him.

he scrambles to get the blanket off of his body, standing up and slipping on his fuzzy slippers. he remains seated on the side of the bed, a hand clutches his chest as he feels his heart being twisted and burning with pain - a sensation which he hasn't felt in a long time.

the clock on his bedside table reads 1:15 am and he tries to catch his breath. when he woke up, he felt as if he has been running a marathon, sprinting to get to the finish line. but in his case, wouldn't it more accurate to say that he has been running away from agony? he reaches for the glass of water that he usually places in his table, only to find it empty.

after what seemed like an eternity sitting in darkness, he gets up and walks toward the door. he turns the knob carefully, as if he would wake someone up if he makes even the slightest of noise. the first step he takes in the hallway is silent. with cautious footsteps, he stalks quietly towards the kitchen to refill his drink.

atsumu places the glass on the counter and picks up a pitcher of water from the refrigerator. he figures a cold drink would be enough to wake his senses up and pull him from his perturbed state. a drink became two until he felt relieved once again. he washes the glass on the sink and places it carefully on the racks to dry.

he retreats back to his room to try to return to sleep. however, he stops his tracks in the carpeted floor of the living room, catching sight of a silhouette at the balcony. the sliding door has been opened, the curtains were being swept away by the winter winds, and the faint moonlight reveals the only family he has left.

'takeru, what are you doing here,' the said boy jumps in surprise at the voice of his father. he shyly looks up at him then brings his gaze back at the skies. atsumu takes note of the way his son shivers at the harsh cold and takes off his sweater to cover him. 'have you been awake for long?'

the boy nods, tugging the sweater closer to his body for warmth. 'i dreamt of mama,' takeru confesses. suddenly, atsumu feels chills go up his body, rendering him frozen in his place as he listens to his five year-old son. 'we were in our vacation house with uncle osamu's family and mama was happy. papa was in my dream too, then,' takeru stops midway his story. he turns to atsumu, stretching his arms to reach his waist.

atsumu goes down on his knees, bringing takeru to a hug and comforting him in the best way he can. 'shh, takeru, it's okay, i'm here. you don't have to tell me your dream if you can't,' he feels the child shaking his head. his tiny fists grips his father's shirt, and atsumu feels his clothing turn wet with tears. 'no, no, buddy, don't cry.'

but his voice betrays him, almost choking on his own tears that are threatening to spill from his eyes. his mind wanders to what his wife would do in these moments. you were always the perceptive one, you knew how to brighten up the mood in the room, you understood emotions better than anyone. it always left atsumu speechless whenever you would work your magic and comfort people's dampened spirits.

it was one of the things he loved about you. atsumu believes that his marriage with you was the best thing to happen in his life. you were the greatest gift given by the gods above, every day spent with you felt like he was in heaven - as if he had his own paradise and you were his angel.

and when you got pregnant with takeru, atsumu was lifted up in cloud nine. the birth of his son was a momentous event, but truth be told, he was scared. he thought he could not perform his duties as a father, given his busy schedules and jet-setter lifestyle due to volleyball. but you assured him that you would never leave his side. it was you who gave him the confidence that he would be the best dad to takeru, and he believed that with all his heart.

he never imagined the day would come when you would no longer be by his side. the first time he heard of the tragic news, he felt the world around him lose its brightness, the colors disappeared and everything he saw was grey. to say he was heartbroken was an understatement, you were his light, and without you, he felt his life held no more meaning and purpose. he closed himself off from his friends and family, even his own son - leaving the boy to osamu's care.

for weeks, he seemed as though his soul has been sucked from him, leaving him to be a lifeless, empty vessel. but one day, he was brought to life by the tender touch and the soft whimpers of takeru. the child has crawled his way to atsumu's lap and in that moment, he broke down.

looking at takeru brought him pain and comfort. the little boy resembled his mama so much that it only hurt atsumu as it reminded him of the person he had lost. but he also came to the realization that takeru was the only person you have left behind. the little boy had no else but him to rely on, and since that day, atsumu swore to pick himself up. remembering your words, he swore to live for his son's sake, and even though he was sure he could not fill the gap your absence have left, he promised that he would become the best parent for takeru.

'i miss her too,' he hears the boy's sniffles subside. 'mama also visited me in my dreams tonight. she was telling me that you have become a big boy now,' atsumu smiles as he says these words, not knowing where they were coming from. the child lifts his head and looks at his papa, 'did you tell her that i miss her?'

atsumu's heart breaks at the thought that takeru was waking up each day, searching for you and yearning for your presence. he brings the boy to his arms, carrying him with ease as they stand to look at the clouds. he presses a kiss to takeru's temple, 'mama knows you miss her, every day. she also wants me to tell you that she is always looking over you from afar.'

the boy is puzzled, his eyebrows furrowing and atsumu remembers the way you would also do the same action whenever you confused. takeru was truly a mama's boy, he thought. 'what do you mean, papa?'

he grins and extends an arm to the skies, 'raise your head, takeru. the stars look lovely tonight, don't they?' the child excitedly nods, and atsumu remembers the moments he would go stargazing with his wife.

'hey, tsum-tsum. did you know that when a star dies, it releases all of its light and sends it out in the darkness,' you circle your arms exaggeratedly to make your point. 'and there it shines for a very long time.' you peek at atsumu who was lying down the grass by your side. he laughs at your antics, pulling you down to his chest. you can hear the erratic beating of his heart.

'you do love your astronomy, don't you?' atsumu says, amazed at your wide knowledge of the universe, the moon, and everything beyond. you chuckle, 'of course! it's always phenomenal to know that there's something greater than us and somehow, it puts me at ease, knowing that we're all under the same vast sky, staring at the same celestial bodies. it makes me feel connected with you even when we're apart.'

it was under those stars and skies that atsumu proposed to you. it was under those stars and skies that your smile shone the brightest and atsumu likened it to the twinkling of the stars on that special night. 'i'm so lucky to have the brightest star by my side,' atsumu declared before sealing your engagement with a kiss under the moonlight.

'look for the star that's shining the brightest tonight,' atsumu guides his son to locate your star. a few minutes and takeru finally spots it, 'over there, papa! it's round and white and sparkling.' he laughs at his son's vivid description.

'that's mama's star, takeru. she's watching over us from above and no matter where you look at, you can find her dazzling in the skies, as if calling out to you and telling you that she will never leave your side,' atsumu comforts his son who visibly relaxes and smiles at the thought. 'so whenever you miss mama, just look up and her star will be there.'

atsumu knows this because, for as long as he can remember, the skies has been the source of his solace and whenever he looks up, he feels your love radiating from the stars.

[feuilly-cakes]

Breaking Dawn - 3* review

Oh boy was this a long one. Okay, I really don't know how to feel about this book, because on one hand I had lots of fun revisiting my old favourite and picking it apart but on the other hand I had a very big issue with a major part of the plot. If I were rating based on each book within this book, I would give book one 4*and book two and three 3*. It starts out strong, then gets progressively harder to keep track of, but then maybe my short attention span is the problem here. I learned many interesting facts and character traits in this book, and I also figured out something important to do with imprinting that's been vaguely introduced in the previous book but is explored in-depth here. Stick around if you want to see what that discovery is. As usual, I'll be putting interesting and relevant facts and things I found particularly offensive under sub-headings, but I'll be saying a lot about each book as if it's separate before then, because Breaking Dawn as a whole is too long to talk about with any coherency. So without further ado: There are only spoilers ahead. Book 1: Bella First let me just say that these books have such amazing prologues/prefaces that immediately grab your attention. If you didn't know she was going to get pregnant, it would probably seem like she's talking about Edward being the one killing her. Anyway, this book was shorter than I expected, but far more enjoyable. This one seems to be more family oriented in the language used than previous in the series; while before any of the Cullens would be described as 'Edward's adopted -' , in this they are simply his mother, his brothers, his sisters. Even Jasper, who always seemed to me to be the outsider of the bunch, uses the term "We Cullens" and it just feels more like a family than a vampire coven pretending to be a family. This is helped along by Bella suddenly knowing so much more about the history of the Cullens and their extended family the Denalis. She's ready to fit right on in there. This book deals with the wedding and the honeymoon. Bella reflects on how she told her parents, freaks out about getting married, has her wedding, abruptly changes her stance on said wedding, then they shoot off to the honeymoon and things occur. Basically, she gets pregnant. It's a huge commotion. Backtracking, both Charlie and Renee were weirdly supportive about the engagement and handled it super well, with Renee and Bella having such a lovely conversation I nearly teared up. She's a great mother even when she's not physically there for Bella. Bella, on the other hand, is doing that thing again where she's selfish and a bit mean without realising she's being that way. Poor Edward is stressed to his eyeballs about the honeymoon and the very real possibility of hurting and even killing Bella, and she just brushes him right off. More on that later, but that's not the responsible way to do things, Bella. Fast forward to the honeymoon, and Edward is now the one being dramatic, refusing to sleep with her again because he bruised her and not listening to her when she says she's perfectly fine. The way it happens is very funny. Then we get to see random things happening that oh so subtly turn out to be pregnancy symptoms, like strange dreams about vampire babies who look human, oversleeping, mood swings, strange eating habits, and last but not least, morning sickness. It wasn't subtle. When they figure it out Edward loses it and says he's going to arrange for her to have an abortion. Bella asks Rosalie for help, and screen fades to black. The big theme here is that Bella changes her mind. She doesn't want to be married until she suddenly does at her wedding, she doesn't want to stay human until she decides she can afford a few extra years, and she doesn't want kids until she's already pregnant. Even with Rosalie, their slowly evolving relationship wasn't going to be proper friendship until Bella asks her for help. She's changing so quickly it's like getting whiplash, but it's not unrealistic. That's how I make most of my big decisions too, like it simmers away unnoticed until it's ready to be addressed. Relatable, really. Book 2: Jacob Book 2 takes us through Bella's pregnancy from Jacob's perspective, as he goes from planning to kill the Cullens to becoming their biggest protector and an Alpha of his own pack. As much as I love multiple POVs in books this is one I couldn't get behind, and here's why. One of the main themes in this book is imprinting. I don't like it. While I adore soulmates as a concept, and even more so platonic soulmates, it's made clear that this isn't what that is, and it's icky. We get 4 pages of Quil interacting with his imprint Claire, who is 3. The whole time Jacob has a running commentary on how Quil is more devoted than a parent would ever be, how he wants to make her so very happy, how it's so very different from that of a parent, and how Quil has to wait like a "monk" for "a good fourteen years" until Claire was his age. This was never platonic, it was a waiting game. It's also grooming. This was also around the time it became apparent just why Quil imprinted on Claire in the first place: it was all a set up for Jacob's eventual imprint. It had to be a part of the story before it happened so people wouldn't question it, and for the most part it worked. Both Quil's story and Jacob's interactions with a pregnant Bella prove this: "the hold she had on me only got harder to break. Almost like it was related to her expanding belly" and "It feels... complete when you're here, Jacob. Like all my family is together." I hated reading that. He should've imprinted on that nice girl Lizzie, from the park. Surely Stephenie Meyer could've come up with something else to keep Nessie alive? Onto similarly disturbing things but less revolting in the long run, Bella's story here seems to be an attempt at pro-life propaganda that backfired. The reason? Bella makes a choice about her body, and though most of them don't like it, they don't force her to do otherwise. People seem to forget that being pro-choice also means the choice to stay pregnant even when it's best not to. Bella makes that decision and she's absolutely sure of it, at the expense of her life and health, but it's hers to make. She is pitted against Edward, who would absolutely force her to have an abortion if he had backup, and who is also losing his damn mind. He insists to Jacob that Carlisle would help him if not for Esme, and that Rosalie doesn't care about Bella's life, only the baby's. Carlisle himself tells Jacob he would never take the choice away from Bella, and context shows that Rosalie is protecting Bella's choices and bodily autonomy, and carrying out her last wishes to ensure the baby is brought into the world healthy. Remember that Rosalie had all her choices taken from her, and all she wanted for Bella was for her to make the right ones. Edward doesn't change his stance until he discovers the baby has thoughts that can be read, and loves Bella. Once again, this seems to have been an attempt at showing that babies have thoughts and feelings in the womb, but it does almost the opposite as Bella is a day away from full term and not once has anything been picked up by either him or Jasper before that point. It's safe to assume there was nothing to pick up on. The pregnancy ends with a truly horrifying birth scene that made my hands go numb and my ears ring from the violence of it all. Bella dies, Jacob imprints on a minutes-old baby and begins his journey as a child groomer, and then Bella comes back and begins her transformation. Book 3: Bella. Or as I like to call it: It all goes downhill from here. Bella has the most unrealistic yet brutal experience ever, and is now a super sexy, super perfect, super powerful, super smart vampire. She has a perfect baby, perfect control of her bloodlust, and somehow the perfect life. But oh no! The Volturi are threatening that peace! Who could have predicted that the last remaining villains would appear in the last book? Now Bella and the rest of the Cullens have to find their friends to stop the Volturi in their track, but peacefully of course, because they are the good guys really! Just a misunderstanding! I'm so glad that was addressed in story, because I would not have been able to deal with a pro-police/pro-dictator story in this political climate. The most unrealistic part of this is when the Volturi don't simply assert their vampire dominance over them by killing them all without taking their own witnesses. I didn't like how Bella suddenly became perfect and good at everything in this book. It's so unrealistic. Less than a month to become the strongest shield ever and be able to scare the ancient Volturi? Perfect control on her first hunt? I think not thank you. There was also a missed opportunity to have Bella be a psychic of some kind since she dreamt of the future accurately many times. Renesmee was very sweet though, and that's all I'll say on that. Now onto my lists! Differences between book and film This was mostly pretty accurate in terms of plot. - Edward's backstory that we see pre-wedding isn't a thing in the book. It actually isn't a thing in any of the main books, but I can't speak for the others. - Bella knows about the immortal children before the book even starts, and she's the one to realise that Irina thought Renesmee was one herself. - The wedding is inside. The film had it outside I'm pretty sure. - The whole part where Jacob freaks out and borrows a very fancy sports car to go and try to find his imprint was never in the films, and I think that's a tragedy. Vampires - The appearance of the nicknames Em and Jazz for Emmett and Jasper. It's not at all important I just thought it was cute. - Half vampire babies use their teeth to escape the womb. Also, Renesmee was trying to be careful to not hurt Bella while she was still inside her. She started reading when she was under 3 months. If I saw a baby read aloud in full sentences I'd never sleep again. - Edward called Jacob "Jake" in book 3. It's weird how their relationship changes throughout the book. - Poor Renesmee knows it's because of her that the Volturi are coming, and says "This is my fault." She's just a few months old at this point, and she's already going through a whole lot. - The volturi look like someone threw baby powder on them because they sat still for so long they started "petrifying". - There are 32 Volturi members, considering they took the whole coven with them to Forks. - Fun Bella fact: she was going to let Charlie assume what was up with her because she thinks he will never decide on vampire. Red Flags Most of these have been discussed in depth so I'll just mention them briefly. - Edward, pre wedding, is described as having a "panic attack" by Bella at the thought of hurting her, and instead of reassuring him she brushes him off and thinks "He wasn't getting out of this deal. Not after insisting I marry him first." This is beyond selfish and even cruel, because he has a point and genuine concerns that should have been discussed properly. - "We're going to get that thing out before it can hurt any part of you." Edward has decided this for himself, without Bella's input. - Jacob contemplates suicide over the thought of having to see Leah. This is absolutely not something that should be talked about like it's nothing. - The imprinting of Quil and Claire. - Every bit of foreshadowing about Jacob imprinting on Renesmee, and the act itself. - Rosalie calls the place in South America where the half vampire myths originated "a disease-infested swamp with a medicine man smearing sloth spit across your face" in relation to giving birth there, and it's more than a little racist. How would she even know what it's like? - "the Egyptians all looked so alike, with their midnight hair and olive-toned pallor, that they could have easily passed for a biological family" The white, blonde Denali sisters were never ever described this way, so why are the non-white people described as such? - Bella had "never met any vampires less civilized" than the Amazons. They have long black braids, so we can assume they aren't white. Why are only the non-white vampires being described these ways? - Bella describes the rough area where she met 1 person, who was working for J Jenks and happened to be Black, but was well dressed in rich clothes, as the "ghetto address". Upon googling, I learnt that this refers to low income areas of a city that are occupied by minorities. She met one person. How could she possibly know if it was the "ghetto"? It was described as the "downtown office" by Max, the man in question, so why wouldn't she just use that term? - Jacob gives Renesmee the Quileute equivalent of a promise ring. I want to throw up, because we all know what a promise ring symbolises. - Lastly but certainly not leastly, when learning Renesmee will be full grown at age 7, Bella feels a "shudder" from Jacob. I hate it, it's gross, it needs to burn. Disgusting. And that's that, sorry it's so long, I had a lot to say. If you have any opinions on this review, feel free to discuss with me!

[blu-joons]

Pregnancy with Hoseok ~ BTS Headcanon

Finding Out You’re Pregnant

Hobi was a mess when you told him you were pregnant; he didn’t quite know what to do with himself

Neither of you knew whether to laugh or cry with excitement, cuddling each other

He was so excited, he’d dreamt of having a little baby for years, yet here it was, finally happening for you both

“I’m so happy that we can finally have a baby together.”

All his family were ecstatic and excited, especially his sister, you knew how close the two of them were

You weren’t let out of his sight, even in the first few days, he’d do anything to protect the mother of his child and child

Together you chose to keep it a secret from the fans for a while, even if Hobi nearly spilled the news in interviews a few times

Of course, the boys were chuffed, although they were a little concerned, you’d have two screaming humans to look after, not one

“How are you going to deal with two squealing humans needing your attention Y/N?”

Hobi was always around, he would make lots of excuses to leave the studio just to come home and cuddle you for awhile

Being Pregnant

You decided to not tell the Army at all, waiting until you had the baby as the ultimate surprise for them all

He created a scrapbook of photos of you throughout the pregnancy, tracking the progress your bump mad

“One day, when we are old, they’ll love to sit down and see all their photos.”

“That’s really cute Hobi, a really nice memory to look back on.”

He was always on hand to cheer you up, he had plenty of jokes to make you smile when you were feeling down

Hobi could never quite decide on if he wanted a boy or girl, he was forever switching between the two

Every appointment Hobi attended, you always remember one time he flew back from Osaka just for a scan

If he was honest, the things he bought for the baby, he loved playing with himself

Anything that made a noise he’d take to work in order to make Jin jump

Whenever you were feeling down about yourself, Hobi cuddles were always on offer

“You look beautiful sunshine, you are carrying a new life, there’s nothing more beautiful than that.”

Morning sickness was a bit of a struggle, it took Hobi awhile to adjust, he wasn’t great with things like that

He tended to be on hand once it was finished with a hot water bottle and some tablets

Decorating the nursery was a huge deal for Hobi, he wanted everything to be perfect

You decided not to find out the gender so created a neutral colour scheme

He filled it with stimulating things, and toys, that weren’t in his dorm at the studio for the boys to mess with

Both of you had sleepless nights, Hobi with excitement, you with just pain and discomfort

Hobi was forever going on about how thrilled he was, he had a countdown up in your leaving room until your due date

The boys were forever on the phone to you to calm him down because he couldn’t focus at work

He would always include the baby in conversation, he loved talking to bump

“I reckon when baby is born, we should go on holiday, what do you think?”

“Sounds amazing Hobi!”

“Oh, no I wasn’t talking to you.”

Slowly you began wearing more and more of his shirts, they were so loose and comfortable

Hobi ended up having to buy himself a whole new wardrobe as everything disappeared

The boys were heavily involved with the pregnancy, inviting you to the studio all the time

Your nursery became filled with blue and pink gifts, just to be on the safe side with either gender

They loved mocking Hobi, screaming and shouting, preparing him for the future

Any time you were at the studio Hobi made sure you laid down and tried to get some sleep, he didn’t want you tired or overworked

Your bump, was only ever referred to as ‘bump,’ it naturally came about

Hobi wasn’t afraid to tell bump off whenever they were causing you a bit of pain

He would poke the side they were kicking, tickling the skin until they calmed down and stopped

“You can do plenty of kicking when you’re born, particularly towards your Uncle Jin, he deserves it after all.”

Most nights he would fall asleep with his head by the bump, curled around your body

But if you were wanting a cuddle or a massage, he would gladly do it to take away your discomfort

The first kick was massive, Hobi couldn’t help but squeal in excitement, applauding his child for being so active

He would be forever feeling the bump on the off chance there was movement

You remembered one night when he showed you a rap he created for his new family, promising to add it to his next mixtape

Hobi would sing sweet lullabies and slow songs to help you sleep at night

“Is it helping? I know this is one of your favourites.”

“How about a bit of quiet time love, I’m the sure the baby can do with the peace.”

He loved having midnight feasts with you when your cravings were particularly bad

It became quite frequent as you stayed up later, struggling with the size of the bump

As the last few weeks of pregnancy came around Hobi was a little bubble of glee

You, on the other hand, were getting a little nervous about the daunting, inevitable thought of labour

He sat you down most nights to talk through your worries, assuring you he would be right by your side

The two of you would lay in bed, talking about your plans for the future and all the adventures you wanted to take your baby on

“I’m going to teach them to dance, my baby will be the best mover in the world.”

He loved to slow dance with you at night, keeping his hands on your belly

Somehow you managed to go the whole pregnancy without anyone you didn’t want to know, finding out

If he was honest, he never wanted pregnancy to end, adoring how close the two of you had become during the journey

Labour

The two of you were up one night for a feast when you began to feel a horrendous pain in your tummy

Standing up, your waters quickly broke, panicking you, and grossing Hobi out

Composing himself, he took you to the car, breaking all speed limits to get you there

“Just stay calm love, you’ll be in the hands of the midwives soon, they’ll look after you.”

As much as you appreciated his support, the last thing you could do was stay calm

Once you were in your delivery suite you began to feel a bit better

Your contractions started slow, yet quickly worsened, taking you by surprise

Hobi tried to tell a few jokes to cheer you up, but you struggled to find them funny through the pain

It was his way of coping with seeing you in so much pain

Whatever pain relief they made available, you took, under Hobi’s instruction

“I feel like I might need some of that soon, I’m hurting for you sunshine.”

When the time came, Hobi was right beside you, holding your hand, wiping the sweat off your forehead, whispering reassuring words

Your eyes were scrunched shut in pain, just wishing the baby out of you

“Keep breathing, keep going, I’m so proud of you.”

He was a nervous wreck as the head came out, desperate for it to be over for you

Hobi never left your side as your baby was born, the cries instantly ringing through the room

Immediately Hobi started crying, cuddling you close

A little boy you were blessed with, the midwives taking him to be weighed

You were knackered, holding tightly to Hobi to stop yourself falling asleep

Hobi was desperate to hold him, rocking him side to side, pulling funny faces at him

You sat back and watched, tears brimming, building up the strength to give him his first cuddle off his mummy

Slowly the pain relief kicked in and Hobi rested your son in his arms

There were a few baby name options, but as soon as you saw your son you knew exactly what you wanted to call him

He couldn’t take his eyes off of his son, not letting go of his hand

Both of you were emotional wrecks, just like you had been when you first discovered you were pregnant

“He’s just so perfect, I can’t get enough of him, he’s got your eyes, but he definitely has my smile, a cheeky lad.”

There were a lot of cuddles, neither of you could put your son down

He couldn’t wait to finally tell the news to the whole world

The First Few Hours

You had to convince Hobi to put your son down for his nap in the end, Hobi didn’t want to let him go

“I’m scared if I put him down, he’ll miss me.”

“He’s barely an hour old, he probably hasn’t even got a clue who you are.”

The two of you sent a picture to the boys first, then your families, all of them absolutely thrilled about the safe arrival

Hobi was forever peering over at your son whilst he slept, encouraging you to sleep too

Your phone erupted with calls from the boys, desperate to FaceTime you and see the new addition to the family

You had to warn them all to be quiet as they cooed over your sleeping son

It was all Jin’s fault though when your baby woke up screaming just like his father

“I’ve already warned him you’re the target hyung when he wants to kick something.”

“Yah! What have I done to deserve that! You’re the worst parents in the world!”

Hobi sat with you the entire time as he slept, helping you as the pain wore off

Anything you wanted Hobi was on hand, of course checking on your little one every time he stood up

Quickly his jokes emerged, happy to see you laughing at them again like you usually do

He couldn’t wait for all the firsts, feeds, nappies, day trips, adding them all to his scrapbook

You were happy to sit back for awhile and let Hobi do some work, seeing as you had done nine months of it

Soon, you were allowed to take your son home, finally able to begin the next chapter as a family of three

The First Few Days

You went home just a day later, pulling up outside the door to see banners in all the windows

His sister ran out, greeting you both, although all her attention was on her new nephew

The house was super tidy and babyproof, a job his parents had done whilst you were in labour

None of them could wait for cuddles, taking photos, and smothering him with kisses

Hobi couldn’t wait to show him off and tell them all about how the first day was

“He’s just an angel, everything about him is so perfect, I feel like I’m dreaming.”

The two of you quickly adjusted to life with a baby, creating your own perfect system

Sleepless nights were unbearable to begin with, but you soon got used to it, taking turns to check on him and make sure he was okay

He took an extensive break from work, leaving the boys on the promotional tour, they encouraged his decision

Everyday your son was introduced to a new toy that Hobi had bought, a big collection gathering

“Half your toys are still at the studio for when you visit little one.”

Meeting The Boys

Your first trip to the studio was exactly one week after the birth, the boys throwing a little one week birthday party

Of course, your son was drawn to all the toys, half of them not even working after they boys had played so much with them

Jungkook recorded the whole day, creating a video of it all as a congratulations present for you both.

Namjoon was in awe, he’d never seen an actual baby before, yet had done plenty of research on what to do to make your son feel comfortable

Taehyung bought lots of baby toys to replace the broken ones, hiding them from the boys, playing with your son

Jimin was mesmerised, his favourite thing was to hold his pinkie against your son’s, finally meeting someone with smaller hands

“I don’t think it counts when you’re in your twenties and our son is only a week old

Jin was on hand for tickle attacks, baby limbs flailing everywhere, practicing those kicks early

Yoongi couldn’t wait for cuddles, he would just lay with your son and help him get to sleep, he’d take any excuse to get a nap in himself

It was a struggle trying to get your son back when it was time to leave, the boys shielding him from you both

They made you promise to come back the day after, and the day after, and the day after that

The Future

Hobi couldn’t get enough of his new family, he just wanted to stay in the moment forever

He found a new lease in life, something else to prioritise other than just the band, finding a new balance

As well as this, he found a new love for you, seeing you with his son melted his heart, he couldn’t get enough of it

Hobi was desperate to have more children in the future, wanting a sibling relationship for your son like he had with his sister

He couldn’t get enough, forever adding to his scrapbook, treasuring his family closely

Masterlist

[waltwest]

The Freelancer

The following is the first thirteen pages of a short story I am writing titled “The Freelancer”. I hope you enjoy. I apologize for the unappealing formatting, this site does not have the most comprehensive text editor.

                                          I.

             Studying the Keurig machine, I wondered how many complacent people it took to ware the word “brew” off the button, leaving behind nothing more than a “b” and an “e”, which looked curiously like an “s”. I imagined this instant coffee machine as the alter in which lost souls came to pay tribute to each morning before assuming their monotonously drudging tasks; lips drawn, eyes downcast. These people were never happy, not even content. It certainly wasn’t a wish of theirs to be here. Men who dreamt of becoming accomplished composers became pencil pushers. Women who yearned to be animators had landed at secretary. The office is where you come to lay your ambition to rest. Maybe it is a lack of assertiveness in demeanor which lands one here, maybe it is the fate of mere circumstance.

           But I, Maxwell Goodman, knew what my job meant; I knew I worked among the dead. Luckily, there was a spark of life that incessantly flickered within me. With my ten ounce mug full before me, I reluctantly took my communion once again.

           Safely back within the confines of my particle board cubicle, the manila folders and stacks of paper demanding this or that seemed to never be satisfied.

           God, who knew lightbulbs could generate so much paperwork, I thought to myself.

           I sat in silence and regarded the congregation of slain trees covering my desk. My collar was sticking to my neck… Trying to strangle me, for God’s sake. My mouth was dry and coated with the thick taste of cheap coffee. My desktop stared into my eyes expectantly, patiently waiting for me to pound away on the keyboard like a good boy… Like I was supposed to. The bulbs may be bright, but they can’t sell themselves!  That’s what my boss Lonny loved to say. Lonny… God, how can someone be balding so terribly at thirty years old? Is it just bad genetics, or too much cortisol?

           I felt a hand clap on my shoulder. “Max-o! Lovely morning, isn’t it? Hey, in case you weren’t aware, Sweet Charade is having a bogo on donuts until the end of the week…”

           Speak of the devil.

           I swiveled my squeaky and unbalanced office chair to face my boss. “Gee, thanks for filling me in, Lonny. You know how much I love that maple-iced.” I responded, attempting to sound enthusiastic. Lonny was a nice guy, he really was. It’s really difficult to be rude to a guy like Lonny, with his premature baldness and all. You kind of had to feel sorry for him in a way, it was impossible to predict whether or not he was just one snide comment away from completely breaking down. He’s kind of unstable, emotionally. Also, his wife died last year. She fell off a cliff. No really, she did. Her and Lonny took a vacation to the Grand Canyon last August. Kept complaining about how bright the sun was and how she “couldn’t see a damn thing.” Next thing you know, she was trying to take a picture of a bird flying above and somehow managed to fall right off the edge of a cliff. Worst part is, she was eight months pregnant with their son, they were going to name him Clint... So yeah, all in all it’s pretty tough being rude to Lonny.

           “I know they’re your favorite, it’s why I told you. Oh, hey-“Lonny pulled his other hand from behind his back, revealing a bloated manila envelope”-think you could handle this for me? Just a little bit of inventory mumbo-jumbo. Nothing too serious!” He was really trying to exude a devastating level of charm, though the effort was ineffective.

           One side of the envelope was sagging down in the air under its own mind-numbing weight. I never thought an envelope could actually look depressed, it almost made me giggle. Grudgingly, I acquiesced and accepted the package with the lift of the eyebrows and a nod. I didn’t want to be mean, but I also didn’t want him to think I was thrilled about all the extra nonsense. Hell, he might’ve even pulled another folder out of his waistband or something if he got the idea I was happy about it. “Here, how about closing this deal for a thousand LED’s to the grocery store down the street as well…” No, I had enough paper, truly.

           Lonny gave me another hearty clap on the shoulder, his bulbous belly jiggling a bit from the force. Again, I had to prevent myself from giggling… I find myself doing that more frequently than I would care to admit. I get the urge to laugh at the worst times, always. “Thanks, Max. I know I can always count on you.” He confided with a smile of endearment. It was difficult to tell whether that was a positive thing or if this was going to come back and bite me in the ass. Probably the latter.

           Ole’ Lonny then gave a sly wink and swaggered off with the air of one who just successfully pawned off his work to an underling, because he could. What a bastard, I thought. He was an alright guy though, I suppose.

           After a formalized second trip to the alter, I submerged myself in the humming of the fluorescents above me and the ocean of paper before me. Seven more hours…

           At precisely 4:59pm, I slapped all of the folders shut and jabbed the power button on my computer with vehemence. My eyes burned like hell, my head was pounding from all of the caffeine, and my hands were all clammy. Very uncomfortable. God, I couldn’t help but to feel that it wasn’t worth it at the end of each day. I was constantly attacked by the bigger picture. What purpose was I serving? What kind of impact was I having on the world? I dwelled upon these questions often, but couldn’t stand beginning to think about the answers.

           After I ended my quick demoralizing contemplation, the sodden procession of rejects began to file out of the glass door. And with the exchanging of “goodbyes” and “see you tomorrows,” my co-workers fell into their hybrid sedans and putted on down the road. Usually I am pulling into my apartment complex before anyone has even started their cars, but I felt like watching today. Sometimes I like to detach myself from situations and just observe.

          Like this one time, I was sitting on one of those couches that are situated in the walkway at the mall. You know, those areas where they have four couches are situated in a square all cozy and whatnot, just in case the going gets too rough. Anyway, I was sitting on one of those couches, just watching. I peered into a shoe store and beheld a child throwing a royal fit, really overdoing it. He was around tromping everywhere, steam spilling out of his ears and all. He was screeching about a pair of shoes he wanted but couldn’t have. They were these real hip joints, green canvas with blue laces. They were disgustingly ugly, if you want to know the truth. Knowing how these retail stores are, I bet they were like a billion bucks. “I want the shoes! I want the shoes!” He was yelling.

          “I can’t get you those… I can’t. I’m sorry, you know I would...”  His father replied weakly, trying his damnedest to not contribute to the mayhem. He looked sad as hell, embarrassed even. I couldn’t tell whether he was embarrassed because he couldn’t afford the shoes, or because his son was being such an ass about it; I suppose it could’ve been a mixture of both.

          “Mommy would get them for me! Call Mommy! I want Mommy!” The kid was belligerent. Stompin’ his snow boots all around the store, trying to leave imprints in the god damn carpet. It was winter by the way, Christmas time.

          “Oh, you know I can’t do that… I’m sorry, I can’t afford the shoes son. Daddy can’t afford them right now.” He was really trying to be quiet and take control of his bratty offspring. Gosh, he looked so ashamed. I cannot stand ungrateful kids. The father ended up buying his son a cheaper pair of sneakers, to the stomping child’s dismay. I say he shouldn’t have bought him any shoes at all, the way he was acting.

          There was something disturbing and insightful about that encounter, though. If I had just been walking by and heard the kid hollering I would have thought he was acting like a bastard, and that would’ve been it. And he was acting like a bastard, don’t get me wrong. But it is intriguing how the layers of the family dynamic unravels, the more you just watch and listen. The divorced parents, the mother always outdoing the father in order to gain their son’s favor… I was able to see a man who didn’t really know what he was doing with his life, or how he’d even gotten there in the first place… He wasn’t in control, maybe he never was. Maybe he never will be. So yeah, I enjoy sitting back and observing sometimes, beats the hell out of boring conversation.

          Anyway, it was time for me to leave work. I grabbed my pointless little leather satchel and walked out the door. Outside, the air felt nice and fresh… I love the revitalizing effects of fresh air. It was especially neat that evening because there was also one of those breezes that whips really good every so often. It made me hungry. So, I decided I would grab some Chinese food on the way to my apartment. It’s on the way, and I have a huge thing for oriental food… especially lo mein noodles.

                                         II.

             Pint of greasy noodles clutched in hand, I stepped into the elevator of my building and pressed the button for the thirteenth floor, the top floor. I have a fear of heights, so initially I was not too keen on the idea of living so high up. But the thing was, I was pretty down on my luck, I suppose you could even say I was vulnerable. I needed a place quickly and this building was convenient for me… As I said, once I realized the only space for rent was on the top floor, I became a little nervous. But, the woman whom I talked to about the whole thing convinced me that rent was actually cheaper on the top floor. So, despite my uneasiness with heights of any kind, I took the place thinking I was scoring some sort of exclusive insider deal. But, after a few months of residing there and conversing with my neighbors, I learned I was paying around $96 more a month than most people in the whole god damn building. Even the other tenants on my floor were paying less than me. Something about my apartment being a “colonial” this that and the other. I don’t know. I swear to God I’m too gullible sometimes. I still had a year left on my lease.

           Up, up, up the elevator went. Nine, ten, eleven, twelve, ding! Thirteen. The doors opened and I made my way down the hall. I will admit, the building itself was not too impressive. The ceilings had a few leaks, the walls were painted an awful yellow. Sometimes the air conditioner shut off randomly. But all in all, it could have been a lot worse. Everything could always be worse, don’t ever forget that.

           Of course, my special “colonial” apartment was way at the end of the hallway, number 327. As I approached my rickety door, my eyes locked onto a lone piece of mail sticking out of the little metal mailbox. A quick pulse of endorphins spread throughout my brain. I love getting mail. I pulled the envelope out. It was from the Print Box publishing company! Panic, fear, and excitement rose within my chest all at once.

           I guess I forgot to tell you. I have longed to be an author for as long as I can remember. It is my dream, I guess you could say. Unfortunately, I haven’t had any luck getting published, or even acknowledged for that matter. I have written many different stories and have sent them to every publishing house imaginable. I’ve even sent short clips to shitty magazines hoping to get a bite, to no avail. The only responses I have gotten have been rejections. Most often they don’t even take the time to respond… Trust me, it’s not like I wanted to sell lightbulbs as a career, you should realize that by now.

           And while I had never received positive criticism or encouragement in the past, it was impossible to not feel hopeful when I got a letter back from a publisher. I believed that one day my luck would shift. It had to… Right?

           I hurried and shoved the key into the door, then shot straight to the couch to read what Print Box had to say. My noodles sat on the coffee table, untouched and getting slightly cold.

           I ended up sitting frozen for a couple of minutes, staring at the front of the envelope… As if the address lines were going to tell me that it was going to be okay, this time was different. Really, I was savoring the moment. I had a certain amount of measured confidence when it came to this letter. In my opinion, the story I sent to Print Box was amazing, one of my best yet. It was a story about an inter-galactic space traveler who ends up meeting God and finding out He’s not how everyone thinks He is. I promise it’s not as crumby as it sounds. It was good. You would just have to read it.

           Life seemed to be still around me; a foreboding, ominous stillness. Blood was rushing to my ears. My hands shaking ever so slightly, I ran my finger underneath the seal, and took out the prophecy within. Please, let this be it. Please.

           It read as follows:

           “Dear Mr. Goodman,

           We received your manuscript for ‘Creator’s Paradox’. After review, we are terribly sorry to inform you that we have decided not to publish your work. It is simply not a fit for us.

Best Wishes,

Print Box Publications”

           A cold knife sank deep into my chest. What? That’s it? The letter trembled in my hands. The excitement and hope fled my body entirely, and had been replaced by sorrow and confusion, even anger. How could this be? I should have known. I shouldn’t have expected anything more. Why would this time be any different? It was then that I thought maybe I should just give up. I am no good at this, I absolutely suck. That must be it… They say to chase your dreams, but what if you are just terrible? I had never felt such dread. Maybe I was meant to sell lightbulbs for a living…

           Unceremoniously I ripped the bad news in half and let it fall onto the table. Sinking back into the frayed cloth couch, I would have been completely okay with just disappearing in that moment, I felt deflated.

           After a shameful amount of sulking, I forced down the then limp noodles, grabbed a beer from the fridge, and slid out onto the balcony.

           The night was warm, but not unreasonably so. It was that time of year when you keep a jacket in the backseat of your car, because you can never be certain which way the thermometer will flow. But even though the night was cozy, I had a rain cloud hovering over my head. I was already beginning to accept my future. The cardboard cutout life I was going to surrender to. 401k’s, strategies to improve my credit score… That sort of thing.

           I sipped my beer and looked out upon the terrain before me, in the most reflective of moods. I had to admit, the view was pleasurable from up here. I lived in the boot heel of Indiana, by the way. An area of the world where it is commonplace for urban and rural landscapes to collide, battling for a prominent grip over the territory. Upon my perch, I could see and feel the city below me: the streetlamps, stoplights, cars honking at nothing in particular, the smell of gas and concrete which invaded the nostrils. But when I looked beyond the ring of cityscape, seemingly endless fields and  small hillocks rolled into the horizon, with a strip of highway interceding here and there. The occasional semi would be finding its way through the night, like a worm over soil. It was comforting in a way, made you feel like you could always just escape if you wanted to or needed to.

           I found and traced one semi making his way across the fields. He was at such a distance, I could only distinguish him by the studded lights that adorned his truck. He looked so lonely, plodding along out there, all by himself. I wondered, was he happy? Did he choose his life for himself? Or did he just throw in the towel, like I was having thoughts of doing… I suppose I would never find out. Not like I could pluck him off the road and ask him. Or her. I shouldn’t just assume they are a man. I wonder how much truck drivers make? I heard they bring in quite a bit of dough, actually… I pictured myself taking the reigns of my own eighteen-wheeler; soaking in the sights, getting into a bit of trouble at the various truck stops. It didn’t feel right, though. For a moment I felt my skin squirm.

           The fight of two alley cats below suddenly tore me out of my trance. I noticed I was rubbing my fingers together really hard, and all of a sudden the stench of garbage filled the air. It was all discomforting. I realized that this was the moment that was going to lay the foundation for the rest of my time on Earth. Will I push onward, and become who I want to be? Or do I choose the easy, less turbulent path, and adjust. We all stumble upon this fork in the road at some point throughout our lives. Although, unfortunately, most are blind to the path tucked behind the brush, the path we were each destined to take. We only see the wider, more trodden path of conformity.

           As I stood at the helm of my splitting path, I knew within my heart which route I was going to take. There was no question… I was going to part the foliage and venture into the canopied forest.

                                         III.

             The time was getting close to ten, but I had struck a vein of determination and inspiration. I was not going to simply shrug it off and go to sleep.

           Back and forth I paced around the cramped living room. Couch. Coffee table. Television, resting upon an empty entertainment center. Plastic lamp situated in the corner. Generic cream carpeting. Bland, unextraordinary.

           I paced and paced, contemplatively gripping my chin.

           I knew I had to write something. But what should I write a story about? Gosh, I began to get nervous. In the early twentieth century, here was this Italian novelist named Cesare Pavese. There is a quote of his wherein he states, “the only joy in the world is to begin.” The only feeling I get when I begin something is anxiety and confusion… I can see where he is coming from though, I suppose. There is bound to be intrigue when diving into something new. And anxiety. Shit, where the hell did those Valium go?

           My pacing shifted its course to the bathroom. On the way I passed the boring ass photos that were framed in the four-foot-wide hallway, standing guard. A vase of flowers sitting on a patio table. A tire swing. It felt like the first time I had ever seen these pictures. So generic… So dumb. God, they made me want to puke. Why didn’t I take them down whenever I moved in? My blood pressure was rising. Fucking stock photos.

           I crashed into the bathroom and swung the mirror open. The ole’ medicine cabinet, baby. Where everyone goes when in need of a little chemical therapy. We’re all guilty…

           Sifting through prescriptions old and new, some in my name, others not, I eventually found what I was searching for. Also, upon studying the array of medications in front of me, I realized I may have a slight drug problem. Oh well, it’s not as bad as it once was.

           I recall one incident in particular from the past. I must have taken twelve Xanax bars, maybe more. I went to the park (I love the park) and was feeding some pigeons; leftover Doritos I had found in my car, they were at least four months past the expiration date. Anyway, after just tossing chips around all over the sidewalk for about half an hour, I took a particularly special interest in one of the pigeons. He was a bit smaller than the rest, and one of his eyes was circled in black. Incredibly unique, at least in comparison the others. He was really taking control of the situation too, despite his size. Really getting in there, hardly sharing any of the precious chips. Greedy bastard… I think that’s why I liked him so well.

           Anyway, I decided that I needed him. You know, with his attitude, maybe he could protect my pad or something. I don’t know, I was pretty high. So, after wrestling with him for a bit (if you can picture that), it became clear I could not just pick the rowdy fucker up. Had a lot of fight in him. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he had pulled out a cigar from beneath his wing and started puffin’ at me, head all cockeyed and whatnot. “C’maaaaaaaaaan, that all ya got?” I had to regroup, construct a more inventive method of capture.

           Bingo. Easy. He may have been all brawn, but he still had an observable weakness… Doritos.

           With an inward smirk, I strategically (and sloppily) began making a trail of chip crumbs that led to the opened passenger-side door of my car. Worked like a charm, perhaps too well. The whole damn flock began tottering and flapping over to my car. At this point I realized my coveted plan may have had a detrimental absence of foresight,  I thought I was surely doomed. But as always, there was a solution. When the horde got within a few feet of my vehicle, I started kickin’ and screamin’ at all of them. They all flew away quick as can be, except for my new friend of course, the bravest of them all. Victory. I finally managed to coerce the prize fighter into my car with one last huge Dorito, and off to the races we went.

           He shit all over my seats, my dashboard, everything. God, it was terrible. Stunk like hell, too.  To make a long story short, we were never meant to be friends. He continued to mercilessly defecate all over the apartment, pecked the hell out of my ankles, he was extremely aggressive… Not house trained in the slightest.

           Needless to say, I was positively sick of this bastard by this point… I decided the best course of action would be turning him into profit. I took him down to the gas station and tried to peddle him off to the cashier for three dollars… He declined. But to be fair, I believe if he wasn’t at work and whatnot, trying to look good for his boss, he would have gone for it. He truly looked like he wanted that pigeon something fierce… Got all wide-eyed, sweat gathering at the brow. Either he wanted that pigeon, or he was deathly afraid of it. It was almost weird, his intensity.

           Yeah, I used to be kind of awful about it. That happened right after high school. I wasn’t too productive back then, sometimes I wish I could go back and change those years.

           Anyway, I quickly swallowed forty-five milligrams of Valium in the bathroom, on account of my soaring blood pressure and all. The stock photos didn’t help. Plus, I really needed to buckle down and figure out what I was going to write and how I was going to blow the socks off of the publishers and leave their feet steaming. This had to be the big one.

                                         IV.

             I set up shop in the kitchen, the only place in my apartment that has a table and chair. I had my tools for creation all laid out. A trio of freshly sharpened pencils, a pad of paper, and one of those noise machines that produces rainforest sounds and whatnot. Yes, I like those, and yes, I still believe in pencil & paper. Staring at a computer screen for extended periods of time isn’t quite healthy for you. It’s terrible on the eyes, you know. Additionally, there is something therapeutic about manually writing out each letter of a word, your hand carefully forming every one of those curves… The act feels intimate, and poking at a keyboard just isn’t the same. But I digress.

           Let’s see… Romance novels are too cheesy, you almost always know how they are going to end. I had already recently tried my hand at space exploration. Though space is endless, making the potential for stories based in space limitless as well. Still, I wasn’t really in the mood at that moment. Ugh, brainstorming is too much work, truly. This is why I like it best when the ideas come to me naturally.

           Just as I was delving deeper into thought, or trying to, my phone rang from the counter behind me. It gave me a shock, partly because it was getting so late and partly because hardly anyone ever called me.

           Casually I looked to see who my caller was. “Silas,” the screen read. Of course. Silas is an old pal from school that I kept in touch with for some reason. He’s a morally decent guy I suppose, has a good heart. He just never quite grew up.

           “Hello?”

           “Maximillian! What’s up?” He was totally stoned. In the background I could hear the bubbling of a bong along with feminine laughter. I heard something else too, faintly… Was that… Street Fighter?

           “Hey, Silas. It’s almost one in the morning, what’s going on?” I tried my darndest not to sound rude, sometimes I have a problem with that.

           “Oh, nothin’ much man…” More laughter, it caused me to wonder what the hell was so funny. “Hey, Max, do you have any molly? Need some molly… Ecstasy.”

           Initially I figured he was stoned, but he was progressively sounding more drunk than anything. Probably both. “Silas, I haven’t done molly in over three years. What the hell are you thinkin’, do I got any molly? No, I do not… Are you fuckin’ drunk?” This guy blew my mind sometimes.

           Awkward silence. More bubbling. And yes, that was certainly Street Fighter. “Damn dude, my bad… For some reason I thought you might.” More silence. Generally, it’s difficult for this man to process more than a couple of sentences at a time… Got a hell of a heart though. “Well, okay. Hey, do you know anybody who does?” He sounded wistful, maybe even a bit desperate. All the sudden I had the feeling I was not the first person he called about this. It made me sad in a way.

           I sat crisscross on the tile. Why there instead of the chair? I don’t know, it’s what I felt like doing then, okay? I liked the fresh perspective. “No, ‘fraid not. Haven’t touched the stuff in a long time.” Pause. “What the hell ya been up to anyway, Silas?” I was genuinely interested. I began picking at the tile with my fingernail.

           “Uhhh, nothing really. I-…” He really had to think about what he had been up to. “Went to a Cannibal Corpse concert last week. Yeah, concert and stuff.” He sounded like he was about to fall asleep, or become a corpse himself. God, look at all that dust beneath the fridge…

           Just then, I got a wonderful idea. “Gee, that sounds like loads of fun. Hey, Silas. If you were going to write a story, what would it be about? You know, if you were just going to write a story or something… About anything.” I was curious. I wanted to squeeze his mushy brain and see what came out. Plus, the Valium had me feeling a bit conversative.

           The line was quiet for awhile. I could’ve sworn he had fallen asleep, phone pinned between his shoulder and cheek, slobber dripping from his chin. “-A story? Story… Probably about a barbarian or something. Barbarian who has a club and nails chicks in his cave. Like Conan, I guess.” Silence… “Hey, Conan nailed chicks in caves, right?” He was asking someone next to him.

           Boom, inspiration flooded the inside of my head, almost making me dizzy. How didn’t I think of this before?

Obviously, his idea was stupid. But the barbarian aspect intrigued me. How fun would that be? A barbarian who finds himself in a world of magic. Brings it back to Earth for the betterment of humanity. I don’t know, something silly like that. Something people will read, something that will keep them entertained.

           Silas focused his attention back to me. I had almost forgotten I was on the phone with him. “Max, buddy. Hey, Max. Do you have any molly, by chance?”

           I didn’t have the time for this anymore. I needed to get to work. “Sorry, gotta go. Goodbye, Silas.” I hung up the phone. Krosmere… That’s what his name will be.

           I bounced up from the floor and positioned myself back at the table.

           I took a deep breath, turned on the trusty rainfall machine, and poised my pencil. It was time to craft the legacy of Krosmere, rogue barbarian. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been so excited to start something. I was now beginning to feel the meaning of Cesare Pavese’s words.

                                        V.

             A ray of early morning sun dove into the kitchen from the window above the sink, casting the table before me in an orange-red glow. There I was, hunched over my papers, clad only in an old white tee-shirt and a pair of pinstripe boxers. Every hallow in my body had filled with salty perspiration.

           Truly, I had not realized how late it was getting. Or, rather, how early… I risked a glance at the clock on the oven. “5:41am” it read in its obnoxious neon green radiance. Somewhere down the hallway I could hear the maddening wail of my alarm clock trying to be a voice of reason or something, I suppose. How did I not hear that until now? BAH, BAH, BAH, BAH, BAH. God, I just wanted to throw the damn thing against the wall. I have done that quite a few times already. Like after Cinco De Mayo last year. Threw that motherfucker so good it flew out of my room and smacked the wall in the hallway. Or after the Colts lost the Super Bowl. Hell, it wasn’t even morning time, and I’m not into sports! I just went into my room and punted the sumbitch right into the ceiling. I can be childish sometimes. There was also that one time when my ex-girlfriend threw the alarm clock at me… Does that even count? I don’t know. My alarm clock is actually quite beaten up, I should probably buy a new one.

           “5:47am”. As I sat there a couple more moments, I felt intruded upon. As if the sun was invading my privacy, putting me on a stage for all the world to laugh at. Don’t you hate that?

           I strutted to my bedroom, sticky boxers and all, and silenced the howling beast. On my way out, after tripping over an extension cord gone awry, I stood face-to-face with the blasphemous stock photos. Those motherfuckers were taunting me, I know they were. The flowers! The fucking tire swing! Are you kidding me? Rage flared within me. I seriously could not begin to tell you why or how I allowed these abominations to remain for so long. They really made me want to puke.

           Instinctively I tore the frames from the wall and stomped back to the kitchen with them tucked under my arm. I could’ve sworn to God they were burning me with their wickedness, their phoniness.

           I found myself in front of the window, the same window the damn sun broke in through. I disengaged the lock and threw it open. A blast of chill air sucked inward, air you could tell was leftover from the night. It had a nice smell. It was then that I realized how muggy it had been in the kitchen. Like two (or more) people were in here having sex all night or something. If only.

           I peered outside into the shifting sky. You know, there isn’t a lot to brag about in Indiana, but the sunrises are absolutely beautiful. Picturesque, you could say. Deep reds that bleed over the entire Earth, splashes of orange, streaks of lavender. They are serene.

           I felt a searing on my side. Pulling the photos out from my arm, I flung them out into the open air without so much as a last glance. I suppose I could have thrown them in the trash, but then they would still be inside the apartment. They had to be eradicated, and immediately. With pleasure I envisioned gravity pulling them down, down, down, all thirteen floors, where they would meet their well-deserved demise on the sidewalk below. Gosh, I hope they don’t hit anything… An afterthought.

           It took only a grain of sand in the hourglass of our universe for the photos to collide with the pavement, marked by a satisfying crash. Later some would testify that a dog’s yelp followed just after the commotion, but I heard no such thing.

           Smug and triumphant with a menace destroyed, I turned on my heel, only to be blasted with more joy as my gaze fell upon my papers on the table. Oh, my work! My lovely work!

           The lack of sleep, the now sweat stained boxers… It had all been worth it. I had spent all night crafting the structure for what I know, without a doubt, will be my best story ever. The big one.

           I had finished the outline, was already on the second chapter of the story. Hell, I even sketched out a picture of ole’ Krosmere. A muscle-bound barbarian. Thick, long brown hair (like mine). I made him only have one nipple, though. You know, to add character and all that. Really, I am a terrible artist. I couldn’t draw my way out of a two-dimensional square if I had to.

           I still had about three hours until I needed to start selling lightbulbs, which was fine with me. You can do a lot in three hours, if you really try. I figured I could make some breakfast, get cleaned up, maybe even go for a walk. Working through the day without a wink of sleep was not something I really looked forward to, but it wasn’t that big of a deal. Adderall. I’m fairly sure I had someone’s script in my cabinet still. You know, for emergencies and the like.

           With a newfound pep in my step, I threw the pan onto the rusted stove and began cracking some eggs, whistling along with the birds perched among the rooftops outside.

[hannah-deactivated20220725]

LLS: Belinda’s Proposal

No, it’s not a wedding proposal story. It’s a different kind of proposal. Enjoy! :D

Words: 972

Characters: Belinda & Alaina

WIP: A Lesbian Love Story

Genre: fluff/romance

Even after Belinda brought up the idea of us beginning a family together, there was something that prevented me from fully getting excited. And I couldn’t really explain it. Since Belinda had only been attracted to females her whole life, she had years to get used to the idea that the only way she’d ever have children of her own was through adoption, and I knew that adoption was a good thing. Please don’t think that I’m saying that adoption is bad or not worthy or less-than.

However, I always, always pictured myself with my own kids. Kids that came out of me. Children that I carried through the full 9 months of pregnancy. That was what was ingrained in me, as it is with lots of people with ovaries. The idea that you would have to adopt is somehow less-than. It somehow makes you less of a mother. It somehow makes the bond less, even though you were willing to love a child that didn’t come out of you the love of a mother, even if they didn’t come out of you.

I didn’t fully understand this concept when Belinda first brought up the idea of us having kids. I still had it in my head that I had to have my own kids, like somehow adoption wasn’t… mine.

And I think Belinda got that. That she understood where I was coming from, even though we felt so entirely different on the subject. She was so patient… always held me while I cried about the fact that I would never have my own children. It wasn’t that I didn’t think the kids that were up for adoption were worthy of being adopted or being loved. But you know how parents are.

You’re marrying a woman?

How do you expect to have a family if you marry a woman?

My family’s blatant homophobia was so deeply ingrained in my brain, in my very being, that it was difficult for me to face it on my own, to be able to turn away from the way I felt, from the loss I felt at the idea of not being able to have my own kids.

I would cry myself to sleep while she held me tightly against her chest. Yes, the words went unspoken. How could I say something so insensitive to the type of women we were? But at the same time, it was more than clear that she understood what was going on. Maybe she’d been with other women like me, I don’t know. But she knew. She knew.

One day, she came up to me with a smile and a slight blush coloring her cheeks. She looked proud and excited.

“I’ve found a resolution for our problems!” She declared happily. I stared at her, not understanding what problem she was referring to. My head cocked slightly to the side as I blinked at her, remaining silently questioning while she threw her arms happily around me and squeezed me tightly against her body. “I love you so much,” she told me, smiling. I still looked confused. I’m sure of it, because she chuckled and led me to the couch to plop us both on top of, crossing her legs immediately.

“Hmm, what’s going on?” I asked, looking confused and slightly worried by the amount of enthusiasm my wife was showing me about something that had brought me so much misery that I had literally wept myself to sleep countless times. She stroked my hair and rested my cheek against her chest. The sound of her breaths and heartbeat immediately calmed my screaming nerves as I sat and waited for her to tell me what she was so excited about. What did she mean she had found a resolution? If she was talking about what I was thinking she was, that whole situation felt… like we only had one option. Well, one option if we were going to steart a family.

She beamed at me, stroking my hair. I glanced up without moving my face from her chest. She always knew how to soothe me.

“Let’s get a donor,” she said suddenly, making my whole body tense. I shot up and stared into her eyes.

“What are you talking about?” I asked warily.

“Let’s get a donor! Find sperm from a person with good genes… find someone whose baby we can raise! You can still have your own children, like you’d always dreamt of doing… we can raise our children together… I’ll pamper you while you’re pregnant… we can-” I’m pretty sure it was the look on my face that caused her to suddenly stop talking, but without any warning, she fell silent as she stared at me, mouth closing as she waited for my reply.

My brows slowly furrowed.

“This can’t happen,” I said resolutely after a moment.

“Why not?” She asked, looking hurt that I wouldn’t even consider her proposal.

“Raise some man’s child? I couldn’t-” I began but she shook her head, giving me that stubborn look she always gave when she wouldn’t listen to me argue without even considering the options.

“Alaina. You’ve been crying about not being able to have your own children. This baby… it’ll be our child. Please. Just consider it.” My lips pursed together silently as I studied her eyes closely. She looked like she wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Typical, stubborn Belinda. God, I love that woman.

A small smile broke out on my face.

“Alright, Lin. I’ll think about it, okay? Now, let’s do something. Date night. Forget about the baby fever.” My words made her grin. The face I’d seen so many times. The face like she knew she was going to win in the end.

I rolled my eyes.

“Come on, Lin. Get dressed. Let’s go out.”

[bwayfan25]

(OR 60 IF YOU PREFER)

Prompt #60 

“You look like you could use a hug.”

(Which I’m answering/posting first because you’re going to need the other one as a pick-me-up)

It was a good thing that Charlie didn’t know how long Susan sat staring at her school project or she definitely would have used it against Suzie in a way that would inevitably lead to bloodshed and possibly a trip to the ER. And, despite their mothers’ careers and therefore affinity for the emergency department, neither was ever happy about it when it came to this.

It was a family tree, carefully organized the way the directions asked for (except for the repeated substitution of the word ‘father’ with ‘other mother’) and featured enough glitter glue to bond it to a wall for several sparkly years. 

In the upper left hand corner was a black-and-white photograph of Susan’s parents on their wedding day. Her mom had been pregnant at the time and Susan wasn’t quite sure if she could tell or if she was imagining it.

Opposite that was another black-and-white photo, this time of Henry and Mildred Weaver. They were standing in front of a newly-opened school somewhere in the plains of Africa, beaming proudly. And in front of them, supporting herself of two tiny little crutches, was a six-year-old Kerry Weaver, also smiling broadly though her two front teeth were missing. 

(She had used two crutches when she was young, Kerry had explained, for better balance as she grew but also because using two meant she could move faster than the other kids when they played. No, not as fast. Faster. After all, this was Kerry Weaver we're talking about.)

Beneath that photo was Kerry now, at age forty-two, sitting behind her desk at work. Carefully drawn lines connected her photograph to the photos of Suzie and Charlie, who was centered on the bottom of the paper. Lines then connected from the girls back up to Susan’s photo, which was parallel with Kerry’s.

Susan had spent a long while staring at it first. It was of her and Mark, both dressed to the nines. Elizabeth had been explaining to her parents during the wedding reception that Susan was technically Mark’s Best Man and the wedding photographer had captured the mirth that had erupted at the sight of their stunned faces. 

But it was the photo beside it that she had been staring at the longest. 

The one that was connected by a line, drawn down from the photo of Henry and Cookie Lewis before splitting into two. The line that did not connect to Susan’s connected to a photograph, nearly ten years old now, of a young woman holding a newborn baby in a moment of quiet elation. 

The door opened beyond the kitchen and there was the sound of Kerry kicking her shoes off. 

“I take it Charlie got her grade back?” Kerry said at the sight of Susan looking at the family tree. “Did her teacher say anything about the glue? I told her she had more than enough, but she didn’t listen.”

But still Susan didn’t look up. 

“What’s wrong?” Kerry asked, approaching the kitchen table where Susan sat. “You look like you need a hug.”

If the statement had not already seemed appropriate, the glint of tears in Susan’s eyes when she looked up would have given it away.

“She would have been forty today.”

Kerry’s face, already concerned, fell more. She sat down opposite Susan and automatically took her hand.

“She was in my dream last night,” Susan said, looking back down at the family tree. “Sort of.”

Kerry didn’t say anything at Susan’s silence, but just rubbed circles on the back of Susan’s hand with her thumb.

“I dreamt I was in my old apartment and Suzie was still a baby,” Susan said in a quieter voice. “And she was crying and-and… And I couldn’t find her. I was looking everywhere. Tearing the entire the entire place apart, but nothing. And everytime I thought ‘I can’t find her,’ she just started crying louder.”

A teardrop rolled off of Susan’s cheek and onto the table, missing the construction paper by less than an inch. 

Susan rubbed them away, her expression changing to a grimace. 

“And I knew,” she continued, inhaling deeply, “somehow I knew, in the dream… I knew that I couldn’t find Suzie because Chloe was taking her away from me.”

Kerry squeezed Susan’s hand. 

“It was a dream. Well.. a nightmare. But you woke up and it wasn’t real. It was just… Just your unconscious brain being mean to you,” she reassured in a soft voice. “And Suzie’s yours. And she’s safe. I could see her sitting at her desk at the window upstairs when I walked in.”

Kerry smiled gently, but when it did nothing to relieve any of the hurt in Susan’s face, she just raised Susan’s hand to her lips and kissed it.

“It was just a nightmare,” she repeated. “A nightmare that you woke up from.”

Kerry squeezed Susan’s hand once more before releasing it. 

Susan continued to stare at the family tree for a few more moments before she let out a heavy sigh and nodded.

“I just can’t help but wonder though,” Susan pondered in a low voice, “how many times did she wish she could have woken up from it too?”

[fa-nfiction]

Thunder #39

“Hungry?”

“No. Don’t talk.”

“Don’t talk?”

“I just want to … I just.”

He chuckled at my strange behavior. We were lying in bed.My head resting on his shoulder, my eyes clenched shut, and my fingers almost clutching at his skin.

“Come on. You must be starving.”

“Nah.”

“Did you just nah me?”

“Nah.”

“You just did it again.” He laughed.

“I just want to stay put. Here. Until I have to go back again.” I inhaled the scent of his skin to make it stay in my brain.

That way I wouldn’t have to miss him as much.

“Well, happy to please. I just worried you’re going to eat me at some point.”

“Oh, I definitely am.”

“Thought as much.” He looked at me with that glinting in his eyes, and I felt the need for him rising. It was almost enough to make me forget that I was actually hungry.

“What’s in the box?”

“The box?”

“The one from Yasmin. The one that I actually travelled all the way here to deliver.”

“Oh, you mean that this was just a job?”

“Absolutely. All of my clients get the same service.”

He laughed loudly at my remark and almost forgot what we were talking about.

“Interesting. Might I add, it’s a very good service. Unparalleled, actually.”

“I know. I’m the leading lady in the business.”

“I’m sure.” He winked at me and moved to exit the bed. I could see the in the way that he moved that the loss of contact was as difficult for him as it was for me. The sight of his naked back and toned legs was making me bite my lip and I utterly regretted that I had to remind him of the box.

I wrapped the covers closely around me and wondered how he didn’t seem cold. We were in the attic of his new pub, where he had a bed, a night stand, and nothing more except candles and cobwebs. The heating up here didn’t work as well as it should, and he had put up a few heaters to make it somewhat bearable. The journey had been long, and the tiredness was beginning to make me feel cold. Of course, we had welcomed each other like we always used to do, including the discarding of clothes and heated, passionate embraces. All of the worries and all of the girls’ warnings seemed to drift away whenever he was close. I both hated and loved the way he was making me vulnerable like that.

“Holy hell.” I was pulled away from my thoughts as I heard him say. He had procured a couple of scissors and had managed to open the box. From what I could see behind his back, it was some sort of scarf.

“What is it?” I crawled out of the bed, still with the covers wrapped around me. I cringed at the feeling of the cool wooden boards beneath my feet.

“It’s …” His voice came out in a strange way. As if he was crying. He quickly managed to conceal it. “It’s … a lot of items back from Nathan’s.”

“Yours?”

I could see him nodding. He was sitting down, crouched over the box, and picking up various frames and other items from inside of it.

“Did you forget to pack them?” I was confused. Why did he seem so moved about items from Nathan’s?

He shook his head and quickly removed something from his eye. I sat down next to him and noticed the glistening of the tears in his eyes.

“I … I threw these things away. When Yasmin overtook the pub, I threw them out. I told her there was no need for me to keep them.”

I laid a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it lightly. He swallowed and continued.  

“What are they?”

“They’re … a lot of memories, actually. A scarf from when I was a boy. Old football posters. I wanted to get rid of them.”

“Why?” I was completely confused.

“Because everything else was fucked up. No matter what, I didn’t deserve to be happy.”

“Why on earth would you even think that?” I had a fleeting idea why he felt that way, but I couldn’t tell him that. The slim chance that he was actually going to tell me something about his past … or his feelings, even … was something I wouldn’t dare miss.

He looked up from the box and looked me directly in the eyes. The raw emotion in them was making me lose my breath.

“I had lost you. I had made sure you ran away, Cas. I ruined everything back then.”

His words hurt. They made it feel like a knife was twisting in my heart. The strangeness of the situation was making a lump of tears appear in my throat, too.

“You’ve never told me why.” I could hear that my voice was thick. It hurt to talk about these things. I didn’t even know if I wanted his answer. Maybe his answer was terrible, and I would have to leave him, and never look back, and find my way back home from London, somehow. My eyes had fixated themselves onto a small spot on the floor, when he took my hands in his own and prompted me to look at him.

“I was scared, Cas.”

“Scared of what?” My voice was heavy with tears, but I couldn’t cry right now.

“That I was going to ruin everything.”

“You got really damn close, I can tell you that.” Thoughts of that infamous night appeared in my brain. Me, running down the stairs while tears were running down my face. Me, hitting the street while I was crying with desperation. Me, scraping my knees and screaming into the night with the pain that I felt. And the aftermath. The trip to London, the wanting to abort my baby, the desperation, my parents … and Richard.

“I came from … I came from shit, you know that.” He wiped a tear away and took my hands again, squeezing them slightly.

“I … I didn’t.” He looked down. It looked like he was bracing himself for a painful trip down memory lane.

“My dad. He was … terrible. He’d beat us whenever we slipped up and didn’t obey the rules. And well … we did that a lot.”

“Who is we?” I pretended I knew nothing about his family.

“My brother and myself. In time, he managed to fit in. I didn’t. I’ve always seen myself as my Dad’s complete opposite.”

I struggled to see the relevance but stayed put. This was the most solemn I had ever seen him.

“And?”

“When he was younger, he … he partied a lot. He had a lot of girlfriends and stuff. He was never the … down-to-earth kind of guy, or so I heard. When my Mom fell pregnant, everything changed. He began to be really religious. Because now there were kids on the way, and he had to do right by God … or something, I don’t know. Over the years, he changed into the dreadful person he was.”

“Why did you never tell me this?” I remember the things that Nathan had told me. But if Michael had been the one to tell them, so many problems would have been avoided.

“I couldn’t. I … I was afraid you’d think I was some kind of loser.”

“You?!? What the fuck, Michael. If anything, it was I that -” He didn’t let me finish.

“Think about it. I ran into you that day, and you were there, with that funny little accent of yours, and your office dresscode and everything. I was just a worker. I couldn’t go “hey Cas. I’m a poor guy with a terrible background.””

“Well. You could have brought it up along the way. There have been a couple of minutes now and then.” I smiled at him but it was a sad smile. We’d spent so much time together but never really talked. Not until now.

“Everything happened so fast. I was going to ask you to … well. Be a bit more steady than we were. But that night, you ran away from me. I’m so, so sorry about that night. Something had … had clicked inside of me, I …”

I could see his eyes welling up with tears.

“Hold on. What night?”

“Way before all the things with Teddy. The night with the snow. We had been to the pub, and -”

“I remember.” I clenched my teeth at the way he’d made me feel that night. “But that’s long gone now.”

We sat in silence, holding hands, thinking about the terrible things we’d been through. After a while, he breathed in, as if steeling himself for what he was about to say.

“I got … I got so afraid, Cas. I got afraid that maybe he wasn’t mine. I was afraid that he’d hate me. I was afraid I was going to ruin him, you, everyone. What if I turned into the monster that my Dad was. I couldn’t … I couldn’t stand the thought of it.”

I could feel a tear in the corner of my eye and tried to blink it away.

“Don’t you think there was a better way?”

“Perhaps. At the time, I felt I had to make sure that you went away. Away from me.”

The tear from before was now running freely, along with several others. Although it hurt to relive that night again, I knew it was for the best.

“And that was how you knew I would do that.”

“It was. And I am so, so fucking sorry. I hate myself for that night. If I could, I would erase it out of time. Believe me.”

He put my face between his hands and wiped the tears away with his thumbs. “Hey. Hey. Look at me.”

I looked up at him, my vision blurred from the tears, and I saw his deep blue eyes - the ones that he’d passed on to our son - looking into mine. He kissed the tip of my nose and pressed his forehead against mine.

“I won’t ever ask you to forgive me. But please. Just know that I am so sorry.”

I sniffled and rejoiced in his touch, pressing my hand against his. We sat there for long enough to make it feel like my tears had gone away for good.

“What happened after?”

He shuffled back from where he was sitting. He pulled up a football scarf from the box I’d brought along to London.

“Everything went bad there.”

“How?”

He sighed. As if the sheer memory of that time was causing him pain.

“I drank. A lot. I … I tried to forget you. So I tried to hook up with … a lot of people.”

I felt a knot forming in my stomach. The thought of women and Michael never failed to make me feel sick with jealousy.

“And it didn’t work. No matter how, no matter who it was, she wasn’t you.”

He looked down, head bowed in shame. “And every night after one of these … meetings, I’d just drink enough to make me feel numb. And I’d take another one home, and that didn’t work either. And she’d leave, and I’d pass out, and I’d dream about you.”

I could see my hands moving by themselves without me even thinking about it, reaching out to caress him. I had no idea he had felt like this.

“I dreamt about you every night, Cas. You were … you looked so happy. That was all that mattered. In my dreams, you were happy without me. I felt some sick comfort in that.” He wiped a tear away from the corner of his eye.

“The reality was a bit different.” I bit my lip at the thought of the pain I felt back then. He finally looked up from the floorboards and looked me in the eyes.

“I am so, so sorry. So fucking sorry.” He whispered.

I got up slightly, but only just enough to get over and straddle him. At the same time, I wrapped my covers around the both of us. His skin had become cool and I wrapped my arms around him and held him close. I felt his hands on my back, pressing me closer to him as he exhaled a sigh.

“I understand that you don’t want to risk anything.” He whispered against the nape of my neck. “I understand that you can’t come and live here right now. But I’m here. I’m here, if you want me.”

I clenched my eyes shut as a few more tears left their safe havens. I knew that I couldn’t leave Kenmare right now. But by God, the pain of not being near him was unbearable.

“Just hold me.” I sniffled against him and he did as I asked.

( … )

He got up from the floor, with me and the covers wrapped closely around him. He moved through the room, until finally, he laid us down on the bed. Our eyes met, and it felt like we had never been this close. I loved him so absolutely, so completely, and it felt like the love was going to make me explode with emotion. His hand went up to my face, caressing my cheek softly as he looked into my eyes.

“Marry me.” He said lowly. It felt like I should have been surprised, but I wasn’t. It felt utterly perfect.

“No.” I replied and kissed him softly.

“Marry me.” He said once more.

“No.”

“Someday.”

“Yeah.”

That was enough for him, it seemed. He embraced me with such emotion that it felt like exactly what it was. A contract of love, sealed by two lovers in the night. He kissed me as though we’d never kissed before. Softly, yet urgent, his lips parted mine as my arms closed around his neck and my legs wrapped around his waist.

( … )

[lazilyandrogynousengineer]

A new path and History

DRAKE’S PARENTS

 This is a chapter of Drake’s parents. How they met, fell in love and Drake’s birth.

Amanda’s POV (Drake’s mom)

I was getting ready to head to nearby pub for a party with my friends, cause I got a job as assistant manager in Stanley Co. I was touching up my makeup, when my roommate made a dramatic entrance. She was cooing all over me and she said, “You will surely kill any man you want tonight babe:-*.”I scoffed and replied, “I don’t want a man in my life, I am an independent lady and I can take care of myself.” She was like,” You never know when true will come to you.” I called the cab she and I headed for the club and friends were already headed for the dance floor. I usually enjoy this kind of stuff but somehow I was tired today. I saw a man staring at me. I glared at him and ignored him because I was not in mood for some random hookup. He just walked up to me and smiled. I was like,” move on dude, you don’t stand a chance with me.” I was drowned in my thoughts he asked me if he could buy me drinks. I observed his features. Sharp, well-built actually some sort of Greek God. His accent sounded just like that of a European. I put on a fake smile and gestured him to sit. All my friends were with their partners and busy dancing me. He ordered two bottles of beer for us. I smiled to myself and said he is rustic. He cleared his throat and introduced himself, “HI, I am Darren Walker and you are…?” I answered, “Amanda Thomas.” We kept talking and we felt connected to each other. There was something enigmatic about him and I was attracted towards this man. I asked him,” I think you aren’t from USA your accent gives it away. Pardon me if I sound rude.” He smiled and calmly replied,” No Miss Amanda I am a Cordonian, a small country in Europe. I have my job here with top notch security consultant and I have studied here in NYU. No you weren’t rude.” Our beer was finished and we just chatted with each other. After sometime he offered to dance with me. I agreed. We danced close to each other feeling each other and in total sync. After we were tired we went back to our booth all my friends were just staring at Darren in awe. I introduced Darren to my friends and I could surely tell they were smitten by him too. He offered to drop me and my friend to home in his car. I bid him goodbye and He suddenly just pulled my waist towards him. I was furious but next he stared in my eyes and I was all smitten again. His voice was husky and asked me if I would like to go on a date with him tomorrow. I just stood there in his arms and I just nodded.

I couldn’t sleep the entire night, just Darren covered my head. I was so smitten by him .The night passed by and not an ounce of sleep was there. My roommate came to my room in the morning and said,” oh look at you all smitten by Mr. Darren. She said I am independent and yet just mooned about a man all night.” I looked at the clock and muttered,” Shit, I am late for my work on first day. Please it’s not a good time. I get ready fast, wait for the bus to take me to my new office. I loved my first day at work. But, I just thought about Darren. I bade goodbye to my new colleagues and saw Darren waiting for me outside my new office. I just ran up to him and hugged him. I really don’t know what gotten into me but I couldn’t be away from this man. First date and yet I felt so drawn to him. I murmured sorry to Darren and he said the feelings are quite mutual nothing awkward. Our first date was so wonderful, he took me to woods made a bonfire, roasted marshmallows, s’mores and sandwiches. Quite unique. So, bucolic God this man just swept me off my feet. His comforting voice. A perfect night to remember.

Six months and we were head over heels in love with each dates amazing kisses, beers, adventures and the most amazing sex ever .He called me one day and told that he wants to meet me and has planned something special. He told me to come to an address. I dressed and put on my best scent and reached the venue half an hour early. I waited for him for an hour he didn’t turn up. Two more hours just went by I waited. Tears welled up my eyes, he just left me. I called at his address no one picked the telephone. I took a cab and went to his home I was angry and furious but no sign of him there. How could he just leave me? I went to my home and cried my heart out. My roommate tried to cheer up. I lost my zest for life. I just drowned myself in my work got multiple promotions. I blew off my dates whenever my friends tried to hook me up. Wondered everyday what was so wrong that he left me without even meeting for a last time. My boss called me and gave me the news that they are transferring me to Corodnia for a temporary project there. I will be paid very well it would be a turning point in my career. I agreed at once to take this project. My flight was scheduled for next week. I just packed my clothes and my office was going to provide a furnished apartment .My roommate was going to move in with her boyfriend, so we celebrated our last night. I boarded my flight. I was granted a visa on arrival in Cordonia .I don’t know whether I will ever move on over Darren. I was busy with all the office inauguration ceremony, King Constantine and Queen Aanya were invited and they had accepted our proposal to join us. The security had to be pretty goofed up. I was told the captain of Royal Guard was to meet me for security supervision.

I was seated in my office when secretary informed me that the captain was there in our office. I told her to send him in. He knocked my door when I was viewing some account statements of the company. I told him to come in. He entered my office and he stopped in his tracks. I saw him and there he was Mr. Darren Walker. I was furious, angry and varied emotions I felt. Before he could say anything I ordered him to take his seat. My voice was icy and lacked any emotion. I told him that he could see all the security details all by himself and secretary would give him a round of the office. I was cut off in between. He was all guilty and said pleadingly,” Amanda you have every right to be mad at me. I wasn’t able to come that night I do have plausible explanation. Now, you do know that I am the captain of royal guard .There was an assassination attempt on king and his family. I just had to leave in hurry. I left a note for you at your doorstep. But I think you didn’t get it or may have tampered with…..”I discontinued him and said,” Mr. Walker please we aren’t here for a personal chit chat. I suppose you have work here. Please do your inspection and leave.” I got up an opened the door for him. He walked towards the door and left silently his head hung low.

The inauguration ceremony was great and Prince Leo was the one who created a lot of problems for the security. Many days just passed. Mr. Walker barged to my office scooped me off my seat and put me in his car and took me to the woods. He stared at me. He took me in his arms and kissed me. So, much passion in a kiss. I wasn’t giving it away. He gazed intensely at me and said ,” Miss Amanda , I am the last person you would want to see, but for me you are my world. There hasn’t been a day when I didn’t think about you. There were times when I saw death in front of me .My last thought was to be with you near you and touch you. I want to share my life with you. The emotions which you felt in past months have been the same for me or even more because I knew I was the reason for causing pain.” He bent down on his knee and said ,” I can’t live without you Amanda. Will you marry me and punish me for my mistake for an entire life?” Tears just poured in and I was feeling sad, happy anxious at same time. I told a ,” Yes, I will punish you each and every day for what you did to me.”

Six months have bygone we are happily married. He is the cutest, sweetest husband I could have asked for. We have had worse days and good days. I am about 4 months pregnant, he makes sure he is around me. Just I life I dreamt with him. All wishes do come true. There wasn’t any problem adjusting in Cordonia. Just out of a fairy tale. Our house is just outside the city. We have our own little field where I grow veggies, fruits and rear cows for milk. Darren always brings me a gift. Small but a sweet gift every day. A rose is mandatory part from his side. Since, he has heard about baby he brings me two roses one for me and other for the baby. It’s October 18, 1988, Queen Aanya has given birth to healthy prince. He is called Prince Liam. His pictures are in all newspapers. What a cute baby he was. My baby girl would be the most beautiful girl in the world. I caress my stomach. I am due in a month. Darren and I weren’t able to come to a conclusion for name of baby girl. We are hoping it’s a girl. We have shortlisted two names Savannah and Alysha. We didn’t find the gender of the baby and wanted to be a surprise. Daren had decorated our baby’s room with shades of pink and soft toys that we could afford. I had left my job when I was 6 months pregnant. So, there were money issues but his love was enough for me and my baby.

November 18, 1988 7:16pm Cordonian time

I was lying unconscious in operation theatre giving birth to our first child. I heard the baby cry but I was drugged. I was unconscious for an hour or two. I asked nurse that I wanted to see my baby. I was given a small private room in hospital. Darren came to my room and nurse brought my child. I took our baby in hand and cried. Darren was also very emotional. He told me we had a baby boy. He was waiting for me to gain conscious so he could fill in our baby’s name. I looked at our baby who was sleeping peacefully in my arms. He was so tiny and most beautiful baby in the world. I looked at Darren and said ,” I do have a name for him and we will call him Drake Darren Walker. Darren filled the details of Drake’s birth certificate. Drake had got up by that time and was crying at his highest level. Nurse said he was hungry and was required to be fed. I fed Drake my milk. I ask God that he grants my Drake all the happiness he deserves. Darren looked at both of us and kissed our child Drake.

SPOILER:A similar story of Liam’s birth would be shared too.I thought why not Drake first?Please reblog this it would encourage me to write more about Drake and Liam as kids.

[starbuckcissou]

The Genuine Son

Ok, this is a short fic I’ve written right after the last episode... because I needed this. It takes place several days after the end of S11.

Rated G. (no sex, sorry!) but hold on to my twisted mind! I came up with some shit!

I’m sorry if it sounds silly sometimes but it’s only my second fic ever ! Also, I’m french and my english can be bad... anyway, I hope some of you will like it!!

Please tell me what you think and reblog if you like it.

The Genuine son:

Jeffrey Spender was sitting at the kitchen table.

Scully gave him coffee and joined him and Mulder at the table. It was weird having him here, in their house, their home. For Scully, Jeffrey was someone from the past, from a former life.

They had been through so much lately. So much had happened.

Since Jeffrey had called Mulder and asked to meet them both because he had “important things to tell them about their son”, she was worried: what did he want now? Why did he need to talk to them? About what exactly? Couldn’t this whole thing be finally over? Couldn’t they just be left alone, together, and able to focus on the baby to come?

She stared at his deformed face while he was taking a sip, thinking that repair surgery had done pretty well with him: except for the long scars, you could barely tell his whole face was burnt.

Jeffrey put the mug back on the table and started to talk, with the dark look of a man who has a lot to say.

I don’t know where to start. I’m so afraid you might not understand…

Mulder was getting nervous and eager on his chair, Scully could feel it. He rushed Jeffrey:

You said on the phone you had something to tell us about our so…n… (he stopped and corrected himself, making Scully want to cry)… about Jackson?

Jeffrey took a long breath before answering:

Jackson is not your son.

Mulder looked at Scully, probably to make sure she was taking it, but he was starting to get pissed.

We already know that!

No… Mulder… what I mean is… Jackson is not William…

Mulder almost jumped on his seat:

WHAT?!

Scully sighted and took her head in her hands and whispered:

God… I’m so tired of this…

Jeffrey moved his chair closer to the table and started his speech, making sure that he wouldn’t be stopped. He was staring at Scully because he wanted her to listen carefully and understand him well.

When you made your decision, 18 years ago, to give your son to adoption, Monica Reyes called me. (he took a pause) She must have understood I was only trying to protect your baby when I gave him that shot… She called me to tell me about your decision… and she said we had to do something about it…

Scully was now looking at him intensely in the eyes, trying to understand each word. She didn’t try to stop him. Mulder was not moving anymore on his chair and remained quiet, but he was ready to speak up to protect his wife if necessary. Since they let him speak, Jeffrey went on:

At the time, I knew all about my father’s sick and twisted agenda. I knew all about his little experiments on pregnant women, embryos and babies in his crazy search of a perfect alien-human hybrid that my mom had to die for.

He was started to get emotional, probably thinking about Cassandra. But he kept talking:

I knew the location of one of the facilities where they kept the children for the Crossroads Project. So after Monica’s call, I went to take a baby there, and I gave him to Monica. Then, Monica managed to exchange the boys during the night, before the adoption agency took William to the Van De Kamps’s house the next day.

Scully was starting to understand what Jeffrey was saying. But she was in disbelief. Mulder realized he had to speak for her and start asking questions:

So… what you’re saying is that… this baby, you took at the facility, was Jackson?

Yes.

So you’re pretending that Jackson was born there? And we don’t know who his real parents are?

Yes. Jackson was the result of an experiment. He was made for a life of medical tests until they decide to “terminate” him, and trainings to become a soldier in my father’s little army of freaks. I took him out of there, and Monica and I placed him in a nice family, offering him a chance to have a normal childhood and a free life. I wish I could have saved more kids like him, but I only chose him because he was the same age than William and looked a little bit like him where they were babies… It was fate… I kept an eye on him, all these years: making sure he was still safe, but also watching the development of his powers…

Mulder dared to ask the question he knew Scully wasn’t able to articulate:

And… soooo… what happened to William…?

Even before Jeffrey started to speak again, there were tears in Scully’s eyes. She could feel she was about to find out everything about her son, and she had this strange feeling that she was finally about to know the whole truth she had been expecting for 18 years. Jeffrey looked at Mulder to answer his question:

I took him with me. And… I kept him…to take care of him... I raised him… like my own son… I hadn’t planned that… but that’s what happened…

He took a pause to give them some time and take the information in. Then he looked at Scully again and addressed to her:

My intention was not to “steal” your son from you, Dana. I only respected your will of taking him away; protecting him and making sure he had a normal and safe childhood. That’s what you wanted for him when you decided to give him up for adoption… Monica and I only made sure that nobody could ever get back at him… ever!

Scully was crying now. So Jeffrey looked at Mulder:

William knows I’m not his father. He knows I’m only his uncle. I told him when he was around 6. He knows a lot about you two: I talk to him about you. And he understands the reasons why you decided to let me raise him.

Mulder was still skeptic about this craziness he was hearing, so he asked, on a strong tone:

So you want us to believe that our son… was with you this whole time? … OUR SON?

Yes Mulder. And he still lives with me today… and… he’s really YOUR SON! I checked! I tested his DNA when he was still a baby: I compared it with mine, and we have too much in common not to be related.

Scully, who had been awfully quiet, seemed to wake up and suddenly joined the conversation:

But… Jackson… !? … I tested his DNA with mine !!!

Jeffrey cut her short:

And did you get the results?...

Scully sat back on her chair, confused:

No… I didn’t…

Mulder looked at her with surprise:

You didn’t??!

No!… You came in the morgue with this file about him… and you told me he was our son, because he had been adopted and his name was William before his adoption… I just believed that! I was so sure! … but I never took the samples to the lab…

Jeffrey concluded:

If you had gotten these results, you would have found out Jackson was not your son… And that is actually what I thought would eventually happen when I came to you at the hospital and gave you the name of the adoptive family… I wanted to put you two on the right track…  I knew they were after Jackson, so I sent you to help him… thinking you would get to discover the whole truth about him… but that’s not what happened… And I’m sorry you ended up believing he really was William, only to be disappointed afterwards…

Scully, frustrated, kept on asking questions:

But I have a link with this kid!!! He sends me visions! We do have a connection! How can I not be his mother?!

Jackson has many powers and abilities… the truth is he’s probably always known you were not his real parents: I’m sure he knows exactly where he’s from and what he is… He must have seen his past in his dreams the same way he sees the future! Jackson can send visions to anybody… He actually shared some of them with Monica at some point. And William too… He must have heard about you or dreamt of you, and for some reasons, he got to like you and trust you, so he decided to send you these visions so you would help him… and stop the project. Or maybe he doesn’t do it on purpose: he just thinks of you and the visions strike you… The truth is, because Monica and I chose him 18 years ago, he DOES have a connection with you, and William…! It’s a fact, we created that connection…

Scully was starting to understand and believe Jeffrey’s words:

Oh my god… I’ve always known…she said to herself.

Mulder didn’t sound so sure, and almost laughed at Scully’s reaction:

Scully…? Come on…!

Scully looked back at him, with a defiant tone:

Mulder… Think about it: the dates aren’t right, they’ve never been! I mean, even if the smoking man managed to reverse whatever they did to me during my abduction, and made me able to conceive again somehow, the IVF I had didn’t take! And I got pregnant months later! They may have planned this for me, tried to make me pregnant with the product of their experiment, but it didn’t work!!! They failed!

Her face darkened as she continued:

 I’ve always know it Mulder! I KNOW that we made this baby together! You and me! I’ve always felt it, in my guts! That William WAS your son! Think about it: they didn’t take him when he was born! Because he WASN’T what they wanted him to be! He’s never been! I gave birth to OUR son, Mulder, to a normal baby!

Mulder nodded quietly at her to show he’d heard her: he was lost, but he didn’t want her to get too upset. He looked back at Jeffrey and asked, in a tone of reproach:

Why tell us that, now?

Jeffrey looked down at the table:

Because Monica is dead. And I owe it to her to tell you the truth. Tell you that she did everything she could to protect your son. She has devoted her life for him these past 18 years. She sold her soul to the devil: getting close to the smoking man, she could make sure he would never find out about William, and she also tried to keep him away from Jackson as long as she could…

Scully looked at Mulder, with shame:

I thought she had betrayed us…

Jeffrey was still talking:

And also, that smoking son of a bitch is dead too. And the child that everyone wanted, was Jackson. Even if the real identity of William is revealed today, I don’t think anybody is interested in him anymore! William is just your son: he’s a normal teenager, with no power! The smoking man believed he had succeeded in making you pregnant of the perfect hybrid… But he was wrong! William has never been what he thought he was. Also, let’s face it, if that bastard wanted to get to William so bad all these years, it’s also because he was your child: he just wanted to hurt you! The same way he hurt your dad when he took Samantha from him… Now that he’s dead, nobody is gonna care about William anymore if they find out he’s normal! It’s over…

Scully suddenly remembered:

But…? William had… abilities…when he was a baby… he could move things with his mind! I saw it!

Yes… these abilities… came from his parents in some way… from you two.

Mulder looked at Jeffrey with incomprehension… so Jeffrey explained:

You both carried the virus at some point. You were both abducted, and infected. Even if you don’t carry it anymore, there’s probably traces of it in your blood. And Dana still has that chip in her neck… It must have had effects on William’s body. He must have carried a small amount of the virus in his blood. My theory is this feature could have remained completely dormant, but your enemies tried to wake them up when they gave you these pills while you were pregnant. They do that with all the surrogate mothers they use for the project: they manage to give them a treatment to enhance the foetuses’ future abilities.

Jeffrey saw that Scully seemed worried now, so he tried to reassure her:

That’s why I had to give him that shot when he was a baby. And the shot was efficient: William has never developed any abilities again, and I’m pretty sure he never will… the amount of virus that may have been in his blood at some point was too small…

Scully was gradually realizing… When she took her hands off the table, they were shaking. And when she started talking again, her voice was trembling:

So… we DO have a son… OUR son… and he is… out there, somewhere?

Yes…

And… he’s… normal…? And… he’s happy?

Yes…Well, I tried my best… I hadn’t planned on raising a kid, and I sure wasn’t prepared for it! I hadn’t thought this through when I took him in my arms the day Monica gave him to me… I really had to learn how to take care of a baby, and he gave me hard times!… But, after days, and months, I came to love him, we came to love each other. I’m just his uncle, but I did raise him like a father. And he became like a son to me, even though I’ve always kept in mind he was yours. He’s a good kid. He’s very smart… you two can be proud…

Scully was crying again, so he tried to comfort her:

I’m sorry Dana, sorry I never told you… But we had decided not to. It was important you didn’t know. We knew you would want to see him and you could bring danger to him. We thought you would never be able to reveal where he was if you didn’t know… There are so many times I felt like taking my phone and tell you the truth! But I convinced myself that you two were making your life together, that it had been hard enough for you to learn to live without your son… And I couldn’t go back on this promise we had made with Monica to keep him safe… I kept telling myself that if William had been really placed in an adoptive family, like you wanted, you would have never been able to meet him either… I was just hoping that one day, things would change and get better, and you could all be reunited…

Jeffrey stopped. When he went on again, he looked sorry:

I have to apologize to you. If I’m completely honest, I have to admit that taking William and keeping him with me was not only because I wanted to protect him … In the beginning, there is also probably a part of me who did it to get back at my father. He always thought William was his own son, his masterpiece, his success… And after what he did to me, his real son… and what he did to you, Fox… I have to admit keeping William away from him, and making sure he’ll never know, was the best revenge I could ever get… a way of getting justice and making things right...

Scully was getting overwhelmed by emotions, she reached for Mulder’s hand on the table, this was too much for a pregnant woman!  Jeffrey grabbed a briefcase he had left on the floor next to him, and he took a heavy file out of it. He put it on the table and kept a hand on it, then looked at Scully again:

This is everything I gathered about William since he was a baby: his medical file, some school papers… I’m giving them to you now so you can check he really is your son… and get a chance to get to know him a little.

He took a pause to make sure Scully could handle what he wanted to say next:

And I brought some pictures…

He slid a file to Scully on the table:

If you’re ready…?

Scully was crying so much she had to dry her tears. She left Mulder’s hand to take the file, but she looked at him before opening it. She realized Mulder was almost crying too, but he nodded to show her he was ok. However, when she opened the file, he looked away, like he didn’t want to see him yet… He heard Scully crying out:

Oh my god… Mulder… I recognize him!

She was looking at the pictures, taking some to analyze them closely, then putting them back in the file, and taking them again, they were now all over the table in front of her.

Look Mulder! It’s him! There are pictures of him as a baby: he looks just like he did when I gave him up!

Mulder started to look at the pictures on the table, then looked at Scully, with love and mercy.

This is my son Mulder! He’s the baby I held in my arms, the baby I gave birth to! I recognize him: he’s our son, Mulder…

Mulder started to take some pictures to look at them.

Mulder… Look! He looks like you, when you were a child! He also kind of look like my brothers somehow…

Scully was now holding a picture of a tall smiling teenager, in the stands of a base-ball game. She turned to Jeffrey to ask:

Where does he live?

We live together in Canada. I crossed the border with him right after I took him, and we’ve been living together there, in a small house, kind of like this one, this whole time.

He looks good… he’s cute…

She turned to Mulder again:

Don’t you think?

Mulder didn’t answer… he was still thinking about this whole thing. He looked at Jeffrey instead, and asked:

You and Monica were the only persons to know about this?

Jeffrey wanted to answer, but Mulder kept on going, with an accusing tone:

And now, she’s dead… so really, there’s only you left now to tell us this story?

Scully knew this tone: she tried to calm him down, nicely:

Mulder…

But Jeffrey answered:

Actually, John Dogget knows too…

Scully looked at Jeffrey with surprise:

What? John knew about this?!

Yes. Monica and him were dating at the time so she told him. And John agreed on the exchange. But he wanted to tell you… We disagreed about this point. After a while, it actually became a fight between him and Monica and eventually the main reason why John left Monica and never came back. He went away, he left the city so he wouldn’t have to lie to you anymore, because he couldn’ take it. The secret was too heavy for him to bear. But he could testify… and confirm I’m telling you the truth.

Scully couldn’t believe it:

Oh… my god… I had no idea… I didn’t know William’s birth would have such an impact on so many lives…

Mulder still had questions:

What about Walter Skinner? Did he know?

No. Walter Skinner never knew. Walter Skinner has always been a pawn for my father… He’s always been kept in the dark about everything and he was told only what they wanted to tell him so he would obey their orders… He didn’t betray you. He’s really been trying to help you find your son during these years and he really thought Jackson was William…

Scully was still talking to herself:

He almost died... and he lost his legs to protect Jackson, because he thought he was our son… He killed Monica…to protect the boy he thought was William! He didn’t know she was fighting the same fight! Oh my god...

Jeffrey tried to calm Scully a little:

Monica knew that having secrets could be very dangerous… she had made that choice. Nobody’s responsible.

Mulder was still thinking:

Do you know where Jackson is now? If he’s alive? Have you heard anything?

No… I don’t. I kept an eye on him during his childhood but now he’s not living at the Van de Kamps anymore, there’s no way I can find out… All I know is the visions people were having seemed to have stopped… But they only found the smoking man’s body in the river… not Jackson’s… Maybe he is dead… maybe he’s just gone…

Scully looked sad again, thinking about it:

Poor kid… He didn’t ask anything… He’s alone, out there… he’s lost his parents…

If he’s alive, I think Jackson will be fine Dana… I’m pretty sure his powers can take him out of any trap and help him hide for the rest of his life. I’m actually hoping he won’t get too dangerous…

Mulder seemed to agree:

Yeah… and if he needs our help, I’m sure he knows we’ll be there for him…

He looked at Scully:

Even if he’s not our son, I think we both agree on that, right?

Yes, of course. We will help him. He’s a good boy, he doesn’t deserve this… And… I got attached to him.

There was a silence. Each of them was thinking about all that has been said these last 30 minutes.

Nothing was moving in the unremarkable house, in that kitchen where they could still smell coffee.

Then, Mulder broke the silence. And Scully noticed emotion in his voice:

When… hum… Do you think we can… meet… William… eventually?

Jeffrey looked at him to answer:

Well, actually, that is another reason why I’m here today. I’m telling you all this because of Monica’s death and the end of my father’s projects, but there’s that too… William is 18. He’s becoming a man, you know, an adult… so he’s at a point of his life when he’s wondering a lot about his origins… he’s trying to figure out who he is. He’s been asking more and more questions, and… I can’t answer all of them… He’s asking a lot about you: he wants to know who his parents are, what they do, what they like… So I think it’s time… yeah…I’ll talk to him and I’ll call you back, okay?

Mulder looked at Scully before answering: he needed to make sure she was ready for this. She smiled at him in return, but he knew damned well she was holding tears. She was touching her stomach and Mulder knew she was probably realizing that, against all odds, there was a chance that maybe one day, their son William, the same one they had lost 18 years ago, the REAL one… might get to meet his little brother or little sister that Scully was bearing… Mulder took Scully’s hand to let her know he knew what she was going through. Then he looked back at Jeffrey:

Okay. We’ll be waiting for your call.

Then he tried to make a joke to break the ice:

We’re unemployed now, so, we’re available anytime!

[mybumpbirthandbeyond]

Turmoil

My Biggest Fear explained the feelings I have had recently and the worries I have about pregnancy this time around. Although the diastasis doesn’t concern me, the impact on my pregnancy certainly does. I have been in turmoil for a number of weeks now. Sharing exercises in prehab is just a distraction. As useful I as I hope it is to others, this is the side that you don’t and won’t see in any of my videos.

It was getting to the point that any feeling of anything, I was convincing myself it was nothing to do with the baby, but what would it even feel like if it was? Feelings like muscle spasms which I would have considered like kicks in later pregnancy last time around, were happening too early I felt and surely it would start with flutters like with most pregnancies? I was driving myself (and probably my husband) absolutely crazy. One night, I decided to call maternity assessment. I had figured there would be no one who could really help, but my midwives are responsible for checking the baby, so I thought they would be my best option.

Maternity assessment were not overly helpful. It was after 7pm and tried to explain using plain language. I had a massive separation after my last pregnancy, and it wasn’t healed when I fell pregnant again. Whilst I appreciated it may be too early to feel movement, it concerned me that something was wrong and I wouldn’t know. First of all, the midwife’s response was, ‘You had a what?’ which wasn’t the most reassuring. She then told me she’d pass a message to my community midwives and ask them to call me. When I asked what would happen, she said they might offer an antenatal appointment to check. Fine I would take it.

The next day it was 4pm and I still hadn’t heard. Not convinced that any message had been passed on, I decided to call the community midwives myself. There was a note on the system but no one had been told. All midwives were out so one of them would be asked to call the next day. Okay 48 hours later - again, not very reassuring.

Typically, I was on a work call when I had a call from my allocated midwife. Every area seems different, but my midwife that I will see at my GP surgery after the 20-week scan until I have the baby is the same as last time, but she is not the midwife I’ll have for labour and birth, as they are based at a different hospital. I will see her after the birth – if I’m lucky. Of the 4 appointments I had over the 10 days after Cailean’s birth, I saw her once.

She didn’t recognise my notes or so it appeared and it took me a minute to realise it was her. I reiterated about my separation and explained my fears. The issue was she seemed a bit caught up in the separation. “Are you seeing a physio? If not, I could refer you?” It took all my willpower not to retort ‘shame no one did that when I needed one first time.’ I told her I’d been seeing physio for over a year and was continuing to see my physios. I said, “the gap isn’t the issue, it’s the impact that has on my ability to feel movement and know if something is wrong.” I.e. let me and my physios worry about the gap – my concern is the baby. Next question, “have you got a tubigrip?” I genuinely do not know how I survived that conversation without blowing a gasket. My midwife is lovely and I have no complaints, but a tubigrip is a sore subject for me. When you’re given one the day after you come out of hospital when you’re told they can feel all the way down to your bowel, and that ‘will sort you out’ and if not, you can go to physio after your 6 week check, you don’t appreciate it being lauded as the solution to all your problems, as if it will somehow miraculously cure your massive diastasis. Oh, if only it was that simple. Funnily enough, Gráinne had already given me one but for functional purposes – support when the bump got bigger, but in particular, support during my prehab exercises. I told the midwife exactly that.

She told me she had spoken to the midwife in charge and they would not scan me. Even if something was wrong, they would do nothing at this stage. A sobering thought. She said they could offer me a check in which they would try to find the baby’s heartbeat, but there was a chance they wouldn’t hear anything at this early stage. This was why they didn’t listen for the heartbeat until after the 20-week scan. It might not mean there was anything wrong with the baby, but that wouldn’t obviously do anything to allay my fears. She was willing to try if I wanted. I knew in my heart of hearts that just wasn’t what I wanted – I would be beside myself if for any reason they couldn’t find it until I had the scan which is still well over two weeks away. I made the decision not to bother.

That night I booked in for a private scan. I hadn’t planned to, but I knew I had to know and nothing would reassure me more. It was booked for the week after my call with my midwife – the earliest appointment I could get. Aptly named the ‘reassurance scan’ – it is designed for 16 – 24 weeks to reassure parents who had concerns or who just wanted to check. It was reasonable in terms of cost, but I’ll be honest, I would pay a small fortune for the opportunity to know my baby is okay – no price is too high.

Out of the blue I had another call from the midwives. Another midwife in the same team spoke to me and said she understood I had concerns and offered me an appointment at the antenatal clinic over the weekend. It didn’t seem like my notes had been updated and she was unaware I had already been spoken to. When I explained, she agreed with my understanding and reasons for not booking an appointment, however, she did say, “what I’m going to say to you Claire may confuse you even more, but it’s likely we would hear a heartbeat and I would be happy to have you in to check.” Well if that didn’t just send my head into a spin. I told her I’d think about it and speak to my husband before making a decision. My husband told me he didn’t think there was harm in trying, and it might just give me the reassurance in the meantime until the scan the following week. From my point of view, it was an opportunity to explain properly, in person, what my concerns were. Not only that, but someone would finally see what I was talking about – my big tummy which looked like all bump and baby, was actually my diastasis as the tissue was soft – they would be able to feel properly and know what I meant. I needed someone to understand where I was coming from and that wouldn’t happen unless I was seen physically, in person.

We made the decision I would go to the appointment. My husband was working, so I asked my mum to come early and watch Cailean while I went to the hospital. They obviously had a clinic to run so I was to go first thing. The night before I wasn’t feeling well at all. I had a sore head, my neck was sore, and my tummy had started to get sore. It was almost like round ligament pain but I’ve given up trying to understand what the hell my tummy is doing now. It’s baffling. I hadn’t been sleeping great but I’m guessing the worry was playing into that. I went to bed anxious but I ended up sleeping reasonably well. I know that because I dreamt about my dad. That only happens now when I’m in a deep sleep. When I first lost my dad, I used to not know he was gone in dreams and would wake up only to be heartbroken all over again. Now, as the years have passed, even in dreams I know that it’s not normal that he’s there. I woke up with a feeling that was his way of letting me know he was there – that either meant everything would be okay, or everything wasn’t going to be but he was there for me.

After everything that has happened to me, I am not religious, I am an atheist. I truly admire people who have faith to rely on, but I was never that religious to begin with and the loss of my dad; my gran two years later; and my best friend two years after that, was enough to tell me I actively couldn’t and didn’t believe in God. When I worry about something, it’s my dad I ask to help make sure everything is okay. That’s exactly what I did that day.

The hospital was more or less deserted and I walked the long corridor to the antenatal clinic. The sound of my footsteps seemed magnified as there wasn’t a soul around. There wasn’t even anyone on the reception and I had to ask at their office door. The midwife I had spoken to on the phone took me to the treatment room and I explained what had happened. She said she would start by trying to find the heartbeat and then we would do other checks on me. My heart was absolutely pounding and I was terrified. She examined me first of all and remarked ‘Oh you do have quite a big separation, don’t you?’ I told her it was probably close to 9cm when I had Cailean, if not possibly wider. She asked what size he was but I said he was only 7lb 10oz. Finally, someone knew what I meant – this tummy was just soft tissue lying down and not uterus and baby as it would appear when in standing. It reminded me of what Antony said in one of our consults – ‘you just standing there Claire, puts more pressure on your abdomen than you doing a chin-up.’  It’s pretty clear to me, that that means there have been significant changes in my diastasis since I last saw Lyndsey and Gráinne. Time and the ultrasound will tell if I can get to Gráinne in a few weeks, but I just have a feeling the way things are going prehab wise, and the look and feel of my tummy, that this process is happening and fast.

The first thing she heard was the chord. It’s amazing how that can sound like a heartbeat but in reality, it’s the blood pulsing. My heart leapt initially until she clarified. She asked if I had moisturiser on my tummy as it seemed to be causing interference, but I didn’t. She tried to find another position and finally confirmed what I had been desperate to hear – my baby’s heartbeat. My eyes filled with tears as I heard it, I was so relieved. She counted 150 beats per minute which she was happy with. My own pulse was fine too, although I’m pretty sure if it was my heartbeat she was measuring, it would have been going far quicker than normal. She asked me if I had been anxious in my first pregnancy and truthfully the answer was no – I had the usual worry to know everything was okay, but nothing like this. This pregnancy is just so different I feel completely out of my depth.

She then took my blood pressure, which although low for me, was normal. She asked me if I had felt anything at all. I told her I had felt what felt like muscle spasms, but I am convinced it shouldn’t be as strong as that to begin with, so was probably my abdominal muscles given everything. Finally, someone agreed with me and said ‘it might be difficult to feel the same way given your separation.’ Weird that I would find that reassuring – it’s not in the slightest, but it has confirmed my suspicion since I started worrying about this. There is a chance I won’t feel movement the same way – it may be harder to feel, it may take longer to feel, and it might not feel the same as my previous pregnancy or any normal pregnancy. She told me not to worry about it just now, and even if I struggle to feel it, I will of course be getting my checks. However, once I did feel it, any change I was to call maternity assessment.

Not for the first time in that hospital I held it together, and then got to the car and dissolved into tears when I called my husband. I was just so relieved but the pent-up anxiety, frustration and worry had come to a head now that I finally knew things were okay. I was still crying driving home (thankfully only a five-minute drive) and started again when I saw Cailean and my mum. That wee innocent face running towards me with a big smile, happy to see his mummy just broke my heart. I am just so incredibly lucky and grateful that I was able to get that reassurance.

The reality of my situation now, is that when (hopefully) I start to recognise and feel the baby’s movement, I will just have to make sure I monitor it way more closely than I did with Cailean. Thankfully, there is an app that has a kick counter so I’ll just have to use that and if I have any concerns, I’ll call maternity assessment. It may be the case that I’m on the phone more often than I ever was with Cailean, but to make sure my baby is okay I couldn’t care less how often I call.

I’ve made a promise to this baby that I will try to be less anxious from now on. I said to the midwife I knew stress wasn’t good for either of us, but I can’t help it. I do feel though, I’m almost putting this baby at a disadvantage and it’s just not fair. From now on I’m going to make a conscious effort to try and relax where possible. If there’s something to worry about, I’ll usually worry, but for my own sake, and most importantly, the baby’s, I have to try everything I can to avoid that.

On the prehab front, it may be regressing quicker than I thought, but in the grand scheme of things, it’s not at the forefront of my mind. I apologised to my physios for not holding up my end of the deal and I truly meant that. If this is going how I think however, it may well be no amount of prehab could slow down the rate of what’s happening. It pales into insignificance in comparison to the health and wellbeing of my baby. I know my physios would absolutely agree.

It took me until now to realise the worst part was not the significance of my diastasis, or the fact that I will end up getting surgery – it’s the way it’s impacting me in my pregnancy. Forget the progress; forget the size; forget the depth; and forget the tension. Forget any expectations I previously had on what this would be like, particularly in pregnancy. This has affected me far more in almost 18 weeks of pregnancy, than it did in the 18 months prior. Yes, I have already shed tears over this; yes, I have struggled mentally and physically; but in pregnancy, I am losing the battle mentally and emotionally with what is happening to my body because of my diastasis. No physio or surgery can cure that. No amount of weightlifting can lift the weight of anxiety that is currently a recurring theme in this pregnancy. I do not have mental health issues – I know people would understand if I did – and this is not a cry for help; this is raw honesty about all aspects of my journey which is what I set out to be when I started this blog. I have people I can talk to, it’s just that it’s hard for anyone to understand. That’s why this is my outlet. I am sharing some of the most private and intimate details of my journey because this is warts and all. As I’ve said before, my hope is that one day this just might help someone in the same position.

My body let me down massively after giving birth, but the main thing was it kept my boy safe until he was ready to meet us. I just have to hope that after all the ways it’s failed me since, it provides the same safe environment for this baby until the time comes.

[trade-baby-blues]

Bye, Bye, Bye

Pairing: Bones x Reader

Warnings: swears, angst

Word Count: 1938

A/N: requested by @auduna-druitt a million years ago. Based on the song “Rockabye” by Clean Bandit. I’m so sorry it took so long. I’ve been crazy busy between work and school! I didn’t follow the prompt exactly, because the mom isn’t in Starfleet :( Hopefully you still like it though! I didn’t proofread it because I wanted to get it posted. I’m gonna go back and fix all the errors when I get a chance. 

Between the hum of the fluorescent lights and the sound of cars passing on the highway, sleep clouded your mind. There were no customers. Of course there weren’t. Who in their right mind would stop at a run down diner in the middle of Nowhere, Iowa during a winter colder than you’d ever felt (not that that was saying much since you moved up from San Francisco a few months ago).

Ran away, a voice echoed in your ears. You pushed it out of your mind as you rested your head on your arms across the countertop. As your eyes fell shut again, the bell chimed and the door opened, letting in a chill.

You snapped up, eyes going straight to the small bundle of coats and blankets curled up in the farthest booth. You watched the blankets rise and fall before sighing deeply.

“Sorry if we woke you up, sugar. Someone decided it would  the perfect time for a road trip back home.”

The deep, grumbling voice warmed you up, despite the cold, and seemed to belong to an equally grumbly man. He glared at his blond friend, who seemed to be enjoying himself a lot more.

“I told you we could take the shuttle. You’re the one who said you prefer driving,” the blond said before taking a seat at the counter.

“I spend enough damn tim in artificial gravity and besides, shuttles crash. You should know, Jim. How many have you crashed at this point? Half a dozen?”

The blond man quieted down and you took the opportunity to offer both men some coffee. It was easy enough to figure out they were starfleet. Even if Jim had been able to stop talking about their mission for more than 5 minutes, ou clocked them as soon as they came in the door.

“Can I get you boys anything else? You smiled sweet as you could, hoping the men would give you your tip and keep on driving.

“Mm, I think I’m gonna need bout ten more slices of this pie, sweetheart,” Jim said.

“No more pie. Doctor’s orders.”

“Aw come on, Bones. You’re no fun.” Jim turned back to you, a sly smile on his lips and  look in his eye that made you groan internally. “How ‘bout your number instead? Bones smacked Jim hard in the arm and he yelped in pain. “What the hell, Bones?”

“I told you not to bother the lady.”

“No, you said don’t other the pretty lady,” Jim said, voice teasing. Bones’ features darkened. He looked ready to strangle Jim, who was clearly holding back laughter.

“Mommy,” a soft voice said from the corner. Aiden stuck his head out from the blankets, barely reaching over the table. His hair stood at all angles, and you couldn’t help but smile at him.

“It’s okay, baby. Go back to sleep.” He nodded and slunk back down into the booth. You turned back to the two men in front of you. Jim was turned toward Aid, but Bones kept his eyes fixed on you.

“He yours?”

“No, I like to collect small children is all. They’re good for cleaning small spaces.” You smiled, clearing away the empty plates. The first hint of a grin reached Bones’ lips and you felt a swell of pride. You could tell by the lack of laughter lines he didn’t smile nearly as much as Jim.

“How old is he?”

“Four. He’ll be 5 in a week.”

“Dad must be proud of him,” Jim cut in.

Your smile faltered. “Wouldn’t know.” You turned away, stacking plates in the sink. You heard another smack and furious whispering. Then, silence as you scrubbed the dishes clean.

Bones was the first to break the silence. “My wife and I got divorced too. Our daughter Jo was about your son’s age at the time. You hazarded a glance at Bones, noticing a softness to him you hadn’t seen earlier.

“I’m sorry,” you said.

“I’m not.” It was barely a whisper and could’ve just been wishful thinking, but you heard Bones’ voice in your head the rest of the night, even as you dropped Aiden off at your parents’ house and got ready for your shift at the grocers.

Time trickled by like molasses off a cold spoon. The monotonous beep of items being scanned as the same top 40 hits playing on repeat made you wonder if you were actually dead and trapped in some sick purgatory. Your mind wandered and you thought about how your life had gotten to this point, from full ride to single mother. You were painfully aware that your parents couldn't understand but you would change it for the world. Aiden meant everything to you, and you wanted to give him everything you missed out on.

“Didn't I just see you at the diner, Y/N.”

The voice caught you off guard and your eyes shot up, drinking in the messy hair and dark circles under Bones’ eyes.

“Oh thank God,” you said. As your brain caught up with your mouth, you flushed a deep red and tried to apologize, only managing a garbled stream of words that embarrassed you even more.

“Don't hurt yourself now, sugar,” Bones laughed. It was a laugh you dreamt about. Well, you probably would’ve dreamt about it if you’d slept between the diner shift and the grocer.

“If I do hurt myself will you ki-”

“Mommy,” Aiden yelled, cutting off what would have been your best attempt at flirting in years. “Mommy, mommy, grammy and I came to see you!” Aiden wrapped himself around our legs before looking up at you with his big ol’ eyes. You couldn’t even be mad at him.

“I see that, pumpkin,” you said, ruffling his hair, “But I thought grammy was taking you to the park.”

“Oh yes, well, Deborah called and invited me over for a round of bridge and brandy so no park today.”

You stared at your mother. “And bridge is more important than your grandson?”

Your mother pursed her lips. “Yes well, I had hoped for more time to play bridge before I had one. I must hurry off or I’ll miss the first hand. Ta-ta.”

“Wait! Mom!” You tried to follow her, slowed down by Aiden holding onto your leg and giggling. “Mom, I can’t watch him. I’m at work. I’ll get fired.”

“Then you should have thought of that before you got pregnant, dear. We told you you weren’t ready.” With that, your mother turned on her perfectly polished heel and walked away. You closed your eyes, pulling Aiden closer to you and attempting to find some footing. Everything felt like it was falling apart. You knew you couldn’t let it. Not here. Not in front of Aiden.

“I know I’ve got no business offering, but I can watch the kid for you.” You turned around, excuses poised on your tongue. You’d never relied on a stranger for help. You weren’t about to ask Bones, but he cut you off. “I’ll stay right outside on the little toy car. You can see us through the windows. ‘Sides, It’s 3 p.m. You gotta be getting off soon, right?”

You read the honesty in Bones’ eyes and sighed again. “In an hour, yeah.” You fished in your pockets for some money. “Will you buy Aiden some lunch? I’m sure mom didn’t feed him yet.”

Bones held a hand up. “My treat. I insist.” You didn’t have enough energy to fight with him, so you stuffed the money back in your pocket and bent down to kiss Aiden goodbye and to remind him to stay in sight.

Somehow, the next hour went by even slower. You kept glancing out the window at Aiden and Bones. They seemed to be enjoying themselves. You could hear them laughing whenever the doors slid open, and you smiled every time. Finally, 4 o’clock rolled around and you clocked out as fast as you could, wanting nothing but a nice long nap. Aiden seemed to have other plans, of course.

“Mommy, Lee said he’d take me to the park. Can we go to the park?” Aiden tugged at the bottom of your uniform apron.

“Lee?”

“Short for Leonard,” Bones said.

“Well, I’m sorry Lee,” you teased, “but we’re gonna have to say no this time. Mommy needs some sleep. Come on, Aiden.”

“But mommy I wanna go to the park! You promised I could go to the park today.”

“I know baby, but grandma was supposed to take you while I was at work.”

“She didn’t! She didn’t take me. She said mean things and told me to stay in my room.”

Your blood immediately began to boil. “What mean things did she say?” Aiden quieted down, kicking the gravel with the toe of his shoe. “Aiden,” you said, dropping to his level, “Baby, you know you can tell me.”

He looked up through his lashes, eyes teary. “She said she didn’t want me. That my daddy didn’t want me and that’s why he left. And she called you names that I didn’t understand.”

“What names.” You were fighting to keep your voice level.

Aiden furrowed his brow, trying to remember. His voice was almost too small to hear when he spoke, but it was still strong enough to break your heart. “She said you were a whore. What does that mean, mama?”

You closed your eyes and stood up, holding tightly to Aiden’s hand. “It’s a grown-up word, sweetie. You’ll know what it means when you get older, like me. Now, let’s get you home.” Thankfully, Aiden accepted the explanation with a serious nod.

Bones placed a hand gently on your free hand, stopping you. There was sorrow in his eyes and a crease on his forehead, like he was thinking hard about what to say. Finally, he let his fingers slip between yours and held your hand, refusing to look you in the eye as if he was a lovestruck schoolboy again. “Maybe we can go to the park tomorrow if you’re free. We could have a picnic.”

“It’s supposed to snow,” you replied.

“I’ll pack extra hot chocolate.” Leonard brushed his thumb over the back of your hand and it felt like fire shooting up your arm. Your heart sped up from that one little touch and the soft smile Bones gave you was hot enough to melt the snow.

“Will there be marshmallows,” Aiden chimed in. “I love marshmallows. And we can build a snowman! Mommy, please can we go. I wanna build a snowman and have a snowball fight. Please please pleeeaase.” Aiden pulled on your apron again, pouting . You would’ve done anything for that face, and he knew it.

Smug little shit, you thought to yourself. “Okay, but mommy has to go sleep for about twelve hours first.”

“Yay! Thank you mommy!” Aiden threw his arms around your legs again before jumping over to Bones and giving his legs a tight hug too. “See you tomorrow Lee! Don’t forget the marshmallows!”

Leonard laughed again, and as the sound filled your ears all your worries slipped away. “I promise I won’t, kiddo. Now you be good and listen to your ma, okay?” Aiden nodded furiously, taking hold of your hand and beaming up at you.

“Aren’t you going to say goodbye to Lee,” you asked Aiden.

“Oh! Yeah!” Aiden waved his arm wildly at Leonard. “Byyyyyyyeee!!”

“Bye.” Leonard smiled, waving to Aiden then to you.

“Bye,” you said. The corners of your mouth were still turned up into a smile that stayed with you even while you slept.

Tag list: 

@outside-the-government @martinawalker @thevalesofanduin @goingknowherewastaken @yourtropegirl @trekken81 @feelmyroarrrr @yukki-art @atari-writes @pabegay1 @bolontiku  @brooke-taylor0323 @daybreak96 @8bit-arc-reactor @jimtkirkisabitch @sjlovestory 

[thing-you-do-with-that-thing]

The Best He Can

Characters: Baby, John Winchester, Mary Winchester, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel, Y/N Y/L/N (Reader), Bobby Singer, Charlie Bradbury, Donna Hanscum, Jody Mills

Pairing: Dean x Reader, John x Mary, Sam x Amelia (briefly mentioned - only as in canon)

Warnings: Implied smut, pregnancies, cheating, nothing other than that really aside from canon deaths and angst.      

Word Count: 5800ish (woops!)

A/N: This is written for Baby’s Big 50 writing challenge hosted by @butiaintgonnaloveem and it is told from Baby’s PoV. She is still a car, but she is the one to tell the story, much like the episode Baby but done with words. I hope this worked out as well as I hoped it would.

My prompt was Allman Brothers Band - Rambling Man - I am sure I could have used it better but these were the lines that really inspired me when I wrote this fic: Lord, I was born a ramblin' man, Tryin' to make a livin' and doin' the best I can.

This is sorta a rewrite of the entire series. Very boiled down and written through Baby’s eyes.. Headlights? Whatever :P Just read it :D

Thanks to the sweet amazing @blacktithe7 for betaing this for me

***My fics are not to be saved nor posted on any other sites without my express written permission.***

I have been lucky in my time on Earth, even if I have been through more than most. Sal, as flawed as he was, was a good man. He tried to do the best he knew how to with the short time he was given. He wanted to save people even if he couldn’t save himself. So he drove me around, giving Bibles away to people he felt needed some guidance, right up until the day he drank himself to death.

Standing on that lot at Rainbow Motors, I missed him. He had treated me right, and I had no way of knowing if the next guy would. I feared the uncertainty then like I never have since. When he walked up, I knew where I belonged. Even if he wasn’t the guy that took me home, I felt a connection to that man I was not going to understand for years, but I knew I belonged with him.

It wasn’t just the way he talked about me. The way he admired me. He spoke as if he knew me. Like I was important. I was sad to see him go, but John Winchester gave me some good years. He took care of me, and he loved me. So did Mary. They were amazing people, but in all my 10 years with them, the nights I felt the most important were nights I only came to understand later on.

One night after being to a drive in movie, Mary and John didn’t quite make it home. They spend the night in my backseat, and I felt their love as they loved each other. They had done this before of course, but there was something special about that night. I could feel it then, and nine months later, when John was forcing me to go as fast as I could to get to the hospital in time, I knew what it had been.

Two days later, when he didn’t let me go past 40 all the way home, with Mary and their newborn in the back making fun of him, that was the day I knew. Dean Winchester had been born, and I felt the same connection as I had 6 years ago at Rainbow Motors. That little boy had been the same man that had spoken about me with love in his voice. That man was the reason I was going to be important, not just to him, but to the world. With him, I was going to make the difference I had always craved too. For him, I was going to give my everything, and I was going to keep him as safe as I knew how to.

When Sam was born, there was a connection too, but it was different. I felt a darkness lurking and a fear in Mary I hadn’t when Dean had been born. I wanted to protect that boy, and I knew he was going to need it. I knew Dean was going to be there for him, because that was just who he was. He loved his brother with everything he had from the moment he was born. Before then even. He spent hours in my backseat, making up stories of the adventures he and Sam were going to go on when Mary was still pregnant and tired, and John was working extra hours to support his family. Dean was on his own, and he dreamt of a time when he wouldn’t be, a time where he always had someone with him, a brother to lean on and be there for. I have never known anyone that had a heart as big as him, and he was only four years old.

That part of Dean never changed. Not even when his mom died and their house burned down. Not even when John took his sons and me on the road, bouncing from motel to motel. Sometimes I wished I’d had an airbag to shoot into that man's face for what he was doing to those boys, but I also knew he was doing the best he could.

What appeared to be a search for revenge wasn’t just that to me. When his sons were asleep, John would come outside and sit in my driver seat. He would speak as if Mary was there with him, tell her what new things the boys had learned. He would tell her how book smart Sam was and how he wished life was different for them. That it wasn’t safe to just abandon this life and put Sam through school like he wanted. He spoke of Dean and how proud he was of his oldest son. He was a fast learner, and he thought quicker on his feet that even John sometimes. He spoke to Mary, telling her how Dean was the heart of the family after she left. He would never use the word died. It seemed as if it was too final for him, so he used other words instead.

There was no doubt to me that John Winchester loved his sons and that he was doing what he was doing to keep them safe. He had a nagging feeling that would came into Sam’s nursery that night would keep coming, and that was why he was so hard on Dean. If, one day, he wasn’t there to keep his youngest safe, Dean would have to pick up that responsibility. He would have to not only keep the boys together, but save Sam from the yellow eyes lurking in the dark. If John died, the boys would be all each other had left.

Things didn’t turn out the way John wanted them too though. Sam was a lot more like him than he cared for, headstrong and wanting to go his own way. He wanted more from life that bouncing from motel to motel. He wanted to go to school, and he wanted a family. It wasn’t the fight between Sam and John that hurt me the most though. It was the fight between the brothers. It was Dean being left in the rain, bleeding from his lip, and Sam walking off with an eye that was already swelling. It was the words they left each other with and the feeling that the other didn’t mattered to them anymore that hurt the most. Back then,  I wished he would have jumped inside me and gone after his brother, but he never did. That was the thing about Dean. No matter how much it hurt him, no matter how much he wished things were different, he would let people go. He would let them find their own way even if it was against everything he believed in, even if he would fight them every step of the way. When they made their decision, Dean would respect it.

I watched him that night, sitting on my hood with a beer in his hand, and I knew he wanted to scream and yell at John. I knew that Dean blamed him for driving Sam away. I knew that deep down, even though he idolised the man, he blamed him for a lot of things he would never say out loud. Family was too important to Dean for that. He was too scared of losing what little bit he had left, so he held it in. Right up until he met her. I knew she was special the moment she jumped out in front of me, and Dean practically stood on my breaks to keep me from hitting her.

She had lost everything. Her parents, her sister, and nearly her life. Dean took her to Bobby’s, and he called Sam that night for the first time in almost 2 years. He was more shaken up after Y/N had taken him back to where she had believed her sister to still be alive than I had ever seen him. They had gotten there too late, and there was nothing either of them could do for her. Dean had just stood there and let Y/N take her anger out on him until, exhausted and still crying, she  fell against his chest. He had held the girl as his heart broke for her.

I watched him hold her until she calmed down, and I felt him try and find the right thing to say as he drove her through the night towards South Dakota and Bobby Singer’s place. It was the only thing he could think of to take her. He couldn’t keep her with him since he was joining John on a hunt in a few hours. Hell, he knew he was already late, and he wasn’t sure how he was going to explain himself to his dad. In that moment, all Dean cared about was Y/N’s safety. Dean didn’t know how important that girl was going to be to him then, but somehow, I did. I felt the same connection between him and her that had been between John and Mary before she died. Same, but different.

Y/N came in and out of Dean’s life for the next few years. When John disappeared and Sam rejoined his brother on the road, they became friends, and Sam started bugging his brother why he hadn’t asked her out yet. Had I been able to hug Sam, I would have. I had wanted to kick Dean’s ass more than once for not having the balls to kiss her when they had been on hunts together. I had wanted to honk my horn when I felt his heart ache for her when she walked back up the driveway to Bobby’s place. I felt her longing when she turned back and waved too.

Dean and Y/N belonged together. Everyone but themselves were able to see that, and it had taken a sacrifice greater than anything they could have imagined for them to finally admit it. When she thought she had lost Dean, she ran off only to return when she heard of his salvation. Everyone could see how happy they were to be together again, but even then they denied it, it had taken losing the one thing they always depended on for them to admit to their feelings.

Dean made Sam a promise before he jumped into the pit. Y/N arrived a moment too late, and she fell around his neck just seconds after Castiel had healed him. I don’t know if it was his pain or my own I felt that day, but it was the most profound pain I had ever felt. Sam Winchester was gone. Dean was alone for the first time in his life, but he also wasn’t. That was the night he had given into her. He had taken comfort in her, and her in him. It was more than just comfort though. They had allowed each other to finally feel the love that had been between them for years. They had allowed themselves to try and find happiness in the midst of all the pain. They had agreed to try and keep the promise Sam had made them both make. They were leaving the life, but they were never going to stop trying to save Sam from Lucifer and the cage. They were going to live normal lives, but Sam was not going to stay in damnation. They vowed they would free their brother, by blood and by choice, no matter what it took.

They had tried. The had failed, but each night I saw them through the window. I saw them sitting on the floor going through everything. In the light of day, they were a normal happy couple, but during the night, their grief and loss consumed them. Y/N hadn’t been able to save her sister, and sitting in my passenger seat one night, Dean’s grief had been too much from her. She had confessed to me that she needed to save Sam. She understood the Winchester brothers in a way I don’t think anyone before her had. She understood they were bound, and the bond was unbreakable. No matter what choices the other would make, no matter how many times they fought or disagreed, they were connected. It wasn’t just Dean who wanted to keep his brother safe, it was Sam wanting to make his brother proud. They had been each other's safety and only normalcy for so long, and the love between them was too strong to ever savor. She felt privileged that they had let her in. She loved Dean more than anything, and she knew the feeling was returned. It wasn’t a competition though. Dean needed Sam, but that didn’t mean he needed her less. Y/N wanted Dean to have it all, and I loved her for it. I knew that she was going to be his true happiness, and she was going to keep him sane through whatever laid ahead. Just like I knew Sam wasn’t Sam when he found his way back to them. Dean knew it too, and when no one seemed to believe Dean completely, she did. She said what I wanted to say to him, and I was happy he got to hear it.

“I love you, Dean. More than that, I trust you, and no one knows Sam better than you do. If you tell me that man is not Sam or is not completely Sam, I trust you, and we will figure it out. We will get Sam back.”

They had gotten Sam back, even if Y/N had nearly killed Dean when she found out how he had gone about it. She, unlike Dean, didn’t feel Sam’s life was worth more than his. She had screamed at him for hours that night and had only stopped when Sam had woken up. She had left the brothers alone to hide with me, but Dean had followed her. He apologized to her, and he had shown her he meant it. They laid together on my backseat that night, and she clung to him as she told him she couldn’t lose him. Losing Sam had hurt, but losing Dean would break her. Dean had promised her he would always find his way back to her no matter what happened. He told her he always had, and he had kissed her, telling her he loved her for the first time. I knew he had felt it for years, but words didn’t come easy to Dean. She knew that too, so she had never pushed him. Still, she had cried when he said it, and she had let him roll her beneath him again as she repeated the words back to him. They had spend the entire night awake, proving to each other just how true those words were.

Of course they had no idea how bad they were going to need to hold on to those words, or how the world was just about to go to Hell. Losing Castiel was hard on Dean and started him on his downward spiral. Him leaving me behind when I knew he was breaking hurt. I understood, but I hated it as much as he did. Y/N kept coming around through. Dean didn’t. I think he felt it was part of a past he would never regain, but Y/N came. She talked to me. She told me about Sam losing it. About Dean drinking more and more. About how her and Dean fought, and how it had gotten worse after they lost Bobby. He had been like a dad to all of them. He was the only family Y/N had known for a long time, and it hurt that Dean wouldn’t let her in. He always had in the past, but now she felt as if he was pushing her away. She walked away with the promise that she wouldn’t let him. She loved him more than anything, and she knew he needed her more than ever. She was going to stand by him whether he liked it or not.

I have never been more proud of them than I was the day they came to collect me. Everything seemed a bit off, but Dean was smiling. Not just smiling, he was happier than I have seen him in a long time. Castiel didn’t seem like himself, but he was alive. He was alive, and he stood in the middle of the field that starry night with Y/N and Dean on either side of him. Sam stood behind Dean, holding the rings as I watched from the road. Cars don’t cry, but if they did, I would have that day. I would have when I saw Dean vow to always find his way back to her and always love her. When Y/N promised him she would never stop fighting for him and with him and that she would love him even when he was a dick. I would have cried when Castiel scolded Y/N for her chose of words, and Sam laughed. I would surely have cried when Y/N pushed the ring on Dean’s finger, and Dean pushed another on Y/N’s. I don’t think in my over 40 years of time on this Earth I have ever seen anything more beautiful than that kiss.

For a brief moment, their happiness outshone the pain and the chaos of the world. For a moment, they felt as if they were enough. But then Dean disappeared along with Castiel. Sam was still broken. You can’t blame him from running away from it all. I didn’t. I was mad at him sure, but I never truly blamed him. Dean was all he was ever certain of, and just like the last time he had lost him, he broke. Only this time there was no Ruby and no demon blood. There was noone to turn to. So Sam did what he had always done when things got too much. He and Y/N rebuilt me after the damage Meg had caused running me through a sign to offer up a distraction. When I was mended, Sam took my keys, and he ran.

Y/N was angry at first, but she forgave him. She came to visit him and Amelia, but she never stayed long, even if Sam pleaded with her not to go back out there. Y/N couldn’t stay though. Without Dean, she didn’t have a home. Without Dean, there was no place she could stay for too long before the pain of him not being there with her became too much.

She always visited with me for a few hours before she upped and left though. She always talked to me, reminisced about little moments she had shared with Dean. Most of them I had been around for, and had car's been able to cry I would have cried with her then too.

Her pain was as profound as Dean’s had been when he had lost Sam, or as profound as her own when she had first appeared before me, just after her family had died. Y/N Winchester loved Dean with all of her heart, and no matter how long she would have to search, she would never give up on her husband. I only wished she would take me with her when she left, but she knew Sam needed me. I was all he had left of his brother. She had the ring Dean had put on her finger, and that was enough to keep her going for now.

Y/N hadn’t found Dean. He had found his way back to her just like he had promised he would. He had found Sam first. I didn’t witness it, but I knew they had fought because Dean stormed out of there like a bat out of Hell. He pushed me to drive faster than I had in a long time, but it was okay. I was going to keep him safe. He was back behind my wheel where he belong, and I knew without a doubt where we were going. He found her too, out in the middle of nowhere, and she had pushed all his tests out of his hands and thrown her arms around his neck.

“I don’t need those. I’d know you anywhere Winchester,” she sobbed, and that was the first time in the two days hed had been back that I had seen Dean smile. When he carried her to my backseat, I felt there love. I had missed them, but I felt something else. I felt a connection I hadn’t felt in 35 years. I knew what they didn’t yet know themselves, and the knowledge saddened and joyed me at the same time. So I pushed it away and listened to Dean’s words as they laid together, taking comfort in the feel of each other’s heartbeat and warmth. I listened to Dean tell Y/N what he hadn’t been able to tell Sam. He told her of a year spent running and fighting. He told her of a vampire called Benny and how he hadn’t been able to save Castiel. I listened to her comfort him and tell him he did the best he could, and I thought about how I had thought the same about John so many years ago.

John had done the best he could for his sons, and I truly hoped Dean’s best would be better. Repeating just one of John’s mistakes with the unborn child neither of them knew Y/N was expecting would break him. Dean deserved to find happiness, even in as dark a life as the one I knew he was destined to continue.

I felt his fears a few months later when she told him, sitting in the front seat holding his hands. She apologized, telling him she had made a mistake. There had been noone for over year, and she had been so obsessed with finding him that she hadn’t thought to take her pills. She had been so happy, and she had needed him.

I felt her fears too. Not only fears for what it would mean to raise a child in this world like Dean, she was scared that he would leave her, that he would think the kid would be better off without him around when she knew nothing could be further from the truth. I was happy when Dean proved her fears wrong. I still shared their fears for the kid’s future. Dean made every fear pale when wrapped Y/N in his arms, telling her they would figure this out and a smile slide across his face asking her if he was really going to be a dad, I allowed myself to stop worrying and be happy with them. Y/N and Dean’s laughter filled the car. I know their fears would return, but in that moment, they were just a young couple in love and expecting their first child. In that moment, they were normal and in love.

The Bunker was a blessing at the right time. Dean had a lot on his mind with Sam and the trails. He knew Sam was still feeling guilty for his choices to leave this life without looking for Dean. The trails were a way for him to rectify that along with every other mistake he had made in his life. I hated that Sam felt he had to do this, and so did Dean. He just didn’t have the words to let his brother know that he was still his brother. There was nothing in this world more important to him tham Sam, Y/N, and his unborn son.

The Bunker took a huge weight off of Dean’s shoulders. It was a place he knew Y/N and his son would be safe from the things he hunted. No matter if they did closed the gates of Hell or not, I knew Dean still worried for every other monster in the world wanting payback. His son was a target from the moment he was conceived. Y/N and Dean would never leave this life. They both knew that. They were both determined to give their son the best life they could with the hand they were dealt, and somehow I grew more and more confident that Dean would be a better father than most, even with the dangers lurking in the dark. He would always be there for his family, and to him, nothing would come before either of them. No hunt, no revenge, no anything would come before the safety of his son, wife, and brother.

Seeing Dean with his son for the first time is a sight I will never forget. He held him like he was afraid the smallest thing was going to crush him. He held him as if he was shielding him from the world, because he probably was.

What happened not to long after was one desperate decision, let by another. I watched Dean talk to that angel, and even if I did have a bad feeling about him, even if I could have warned Dean, I am not sure I would have. I needed Sam to make it as much as he did. I have given those boys a home ever since they were born. Even if my connection to Dean is stronger, I do not love Sam any less. I didn’t wanna see him die. So Dean had let an angel into Sam without his brother’s knowledge. Without Castiel’s knowledge. Without Y/N’s knowledge.

Y/N and Sam both felt betrayed by Dean, and he left with me. I wanted to scream at him to go back to his brother, wife, and son, but I couldn’t. So I did what I always had. I gave him a home when he needed it, even after I felt him starting to change. There was something dark inside him, and it stayed even after Sam and Dean started working together again. Even after Y/N forgave him. Hell, she did more than that. She apologized for not listening and not going after him. She told him she needed him. I know he felt it, but something inside him prevented him from letting her in completely. He told her about the Mark, but he didn’t tell her about how he felt. Dean knew as well as I did, that it was doing something to him. I am not sure why he didn’t speak up. Maybe it was because he knew he had made a wrong decision. Maybe it was because he wanted to keep his family safe,or maybe it was because he still didn’t feel he deserved happiness. Dean has always carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, and I am not always sure he does it out of kindness and love. Well, he does that too, but Dean truly believes that he doesn’t deserve what others do. I know that even when he got married he felt bad for his happiness, because it was his and not Sam’s. Dean has always wanted the best for everyone else around him and never felt as if he deserved the same himself. The Mark on his arm enhanced the feeling of not being worth anything, and I hated it. I knew it was going to take him down a long dark path, but even I didn’t foresee what came next.  

I hated when he got in my driver’s seat. He looked like Dean. Some small part of him still was I guess. He had his every memory but none of the emotions to go with them. He didn’t care about Sam, Y/N, or even his son. All he cared about was the one thing Dean never wanted; to be free. I watched him hurt people. I watched him with other women. I felt how he stopped caring about me. It hurt. All of it hurt. He looked like the man that I had devoted my time on Earth too, but he wasn’t him and I prayed his brother, his best friend, and his wife would see that. I prayed that they would save him, and they did. They did and all of the guilt returned. The guilt of what he had done. The guilt of not being faithful. The guilt of almost killing his brother, but they forgave him. I am not sure Dean ever truly forgave himself though.

I am not sure anyone could have withstood the powers of the Mark for almost a year like Dean did, but he he didn’t do it alone. The love of his family was what kept him going. The love of his brother, his friends, Y/N, and his son was what made him keep fighting. He wanted to be there for them. He wanted to be the man he had promised her he would always be. When he felt that slipping, and when he lost a girl he had considered a sister, when Y/N took their son to Jody to keep him safe from Dean, that is when he almost broke. It was the blind faith on Sam’s face. It was her voice calling out to him from across the room. It was the pictures of his childhood with Sam. It was the first picture of Owen in Y/N’s arms with Dean smiling proudly besides her that saved not only Sam’s life, but Dean’s own. I didn’t see any of this, but Y/N told me everything later, just like she always did. I know she doesn’t understand that I actually hear her, but I am her comfort like she is mine. We are both Dean’s protectors. We will both do anything to keep him safe, and that is why none of us were relieved for long when the Mark left his arm.

Even if it was no longer visible, and it no longer had the same effects on him, the Darkness had left something behind. Strings she used to control him. Dean fought against them, and he hated the pull Amara had on him. He felt as if he was betraying his brother and his wife, even if Sam and Y/N never saw it that way. They stayed by his side. Their love was his guiding light, and he made it through. Never had I felt like crying as much as I did the night he said goodbye to Y/N. The night he reminded her how much he loved her in my backseat.

It wasn’t just their love that touched me. It wasn’t just the feeling of the powers hidden within his chest, powers that I knew would end his life soon. It was the connection I felt. Soon another life would join Y/N and Owen, and Dean would never know. A little boy or girl would grow up without ever knowing its father. Sure he would hear stories, but no story could ever do Dean Winchester justice. He was the kind of strong, brave, kind and loving you would only believe to exist if you met him.

I have never been more proud of him or more relieved than I was in the moment he returned home to me. Y/N’s hand was still in his, and Owen was on his arm as they stood by my side. She clung to him like she never wanted to let him go again. Her love and relief mixed with mine as well as her confusion. Mary Winchester was with them.

Y/N instantly loved her, because Dean did, but I worried. I worried as I went with her and Cas to pick up Sam after Dean had dropped Y/N and Owen off at Donna’s. Dean kissed Y/N goodbye and vowed he would return to them soon. I knew it wasn’t a lie. Dean was more himself now that he had been in years. He knew what was important to him again. Family. But most of all, he felt a part of it again. He now saw that he was as important to them as they were to him, and he was going to save his brother. He was going to reunite his family, and they were going to get through whatever laid ahead the together.

I was worried though. I knew the Mary Dean remembered was not the person she really was. Mary was always as headstrong as Dean. Hunting is as much in her blood as it is in his, but just like Sam, she spent her too short life trying to deny it. Sam learned from his mistakes, but I am not sure Mary ever did. Her being back in my boys’ life was going to mean heartbreak. I knew that. The image Dean had held onto was going to shatter, and I was afraid I was afraid he was going to shatter with it.

The image did shatter. Dean did doubt himself, but he held onto the things he had always been sure of. Sam, Y/N, and the family they now knew was growing. Still, Mary’s as well as Lucifer’s return brought something else with it I was sure was in the past. Something that had haunted Dean and Sam all their lives, until Dean had finally ended its life. Something I never thought I should see again, but I did. The night Dean rushed Y/N into the hospital to give birth to their second son. Sam was trailing behind them with 4 year old Owen on his arm.

I saw them in the dark, and never in my time on Earth have I wanted to warn Dean as much as I did it that moment, but I am only a car. I can’t tell them anything. Instead, here I am remembering everything I have seen and heard, praying that history won’t repeat itself. Praying that all the pain and hurt in Sam and Dean’s lives is not about to be passed onto the next generation of Winchester boys. Praying that Y/N will be as strong and smart as I believe her to be. Praying that she will never start a chain reaction like Mary did. I can’t know, but I got a feeling that no matter what she does her boys, just like their dad and uncle, will never leave this life.

I can’t know, but the pair of yellow eyes staring down the hospital makes me believe Owen’s path is already set in motion. I only hope he will grow up to be the man his dad is and always has been. I only hope the Winchester’s will always have each other, and that the world will always have them to keep it safe.

Dean Tag Team (CLOSED)

@mysupernaturalfics @blacktithe7 @percywinchester27 @quiddy-writes @jpadjackles @supernatural-jackles @supernaturalyobessed @purgatoan @starswirlblitz @revwinchester @aprofoundbondwithdean @skathan-omaha @feelmyroarrrr @torn-and-frayed @kayteonline @sinceriouslyamellpadalecki @ayeeitsemry @curliesallovertheplace @docharleythegeekqueen  @winchesterprincessbride @faith-in-dean @ellen-reincarnated1967 @sleep-silent-angel @winchestdiaries @adriellej @moonstar86 @atc74 @knittingknerdy @tia58 @nikolanna @cyranodebergerac @lycangirl44 @brooke-supernatural16 @yoursmilemakesmeloveyou @melonberri @just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms @alexafromthefandom @stilinski15 @thatonehaspanicchick @roxy-davenport @phoenixia67 @bringmesomepie56 @thebunkerismyhome @salvachester @chaos-and-the-calm67 @jasminwild @anokhi07 @mrswhozeewhatsis @lilyleely @smoothdogsgirl @angelkurenai @chickenmcsade @covarrubiasalex @deanxfuckingadorablexwinchester @charliebradbury1104 @chelseypaigeake @katrena7 @thecynicalnerd @nichelle-my-belle @mouselovesmusic @lucifer-ismy-bae @dreamilyjensen @sleepywinchester @tanithlowisabamf @deansleather   @katnharper @ashleymalfoy @secretlyfurrydragon @winchesterswoonathon @fangirl1802 @staticbirdy @spn-fan-girl-173 @jensen-gal @tas898 @iamnotsaneatall @waywardjoy @arryn-nyxx @like-a-bag-of-potatoes @beachy2014 @naadestiel @jensen-jarpad @jayankles @for-the-love-of-dean @mamapeterson @zeneko1987 @scarlet-soldier-in-an-impala

[theturnips]

Letters Between Two Women, One in the USA, One in Switzerland, Following the US Presidential Election of the Man Who Grabs Pussy & Lost the Popular Vote

By Beth Couture & Renée E. D’Aoust

From: "Renee E. D'Aoust" To: "Beth Couture" Subject: Letter from Renee Date: Saturday, November 12, 2016 12:14 PM Lugano, Switzerland  

Dear Beth:

And so the US Electoral College elects the sexual assaulter in chief—Trump. I’m gutted. Devastated.

How are you feeling, my beloved friend? I think of you on the front lines, serving people, finishing your MSW. How can I support you better?

How does it feel in America?

This morning, Tube of Fur woke at five a.m., as she does, and she grunted. Last night, we walked our chestnut trail; it’s called Sentiero Eden. Waddle up, waddle down. It is small comfort to me that Tootsie does not know how screwed we are. She has stayed close by me all week, as I get out of bed, to teach, to write, to go to physical therapy. Wednesday after the results were clear, my physical therapist (she’s Dutch) said: “this affects everyone!”

This is global climate change. This is the normalization of racism, hate, sexism, climate change denial, the denial of responsibility we have to our brown & black & every color & LGBTQ sisters and brothers, the sham that I'm supposed to get along, the idea that I'm supposed to normalize the sexual assaulter in chief, the idea that I'm supposed to support a system of white supremacy in the country whose passport I carry. This is the normalization of excuses that favor of fascism.

I say, white people, this is on you. Squarely. I'm a white woman. This is on me.

Our black and brown and LGBTQ brothers & sisters have been terrified to live in America. We have killed our First Peoples through genocide and called it assimilation. No more. I'm now terrified, too. I never wanted to leave America to live in Switzerland. Now, I do not want to come back. Why? I don't feel safe. Know: I've been raped, sexually abused, harassed, stalked. A friend told me last summer that I did not understand domestic violence. And I wondered, "Have I done such a great job of normalizing my self? The violence in my past?" You see, 25 years ago when I spoke up, my extended family stopped talking to me. My mother’s two sisters shunned my mother. My aunt told me I was "precocious" and "guilty of everything [HE] would do from now on, to any other girl" if I didn’t report. Another abuser stalked me online for years. Another woman told me “I wanted it.” Have I spoken of how my body is a locus of assault? Have I written about it? In obscure terms. I will now speak up. I am terrified of global climate change. Global climate change affects my body and the earth. But brown and black and LGBTQ bodies have been terrorized for years. So my fear is privileged; I am a white body. I am terrified that the sexual assaulter in chief has normalized ignorance, normalized grabbing pussies, normalized grabbing my pussy.

I have been practicing a potpourri of radical self-care that includes drinking too much coffee, eating too many Italian cookies, breaking up with Facebook so I can freak out on Twitter, and grabbing Tube of Fur to cuddle.

Kindness is my religion, being a doormat is not. My belief in kindness has meant I keep my mouth shut. As a white woman, it has been my privilege to keep my mouth shut. But when my brother killed himself, I swore I would not abide bullshit. I have not kept my pledge. IN IAN'S NAME: I WILL SPEAK UP.

Beth, please be my witness. I am terrified.

I’m so grateful for the readings you sent last time. Please continue to help me see my own blindness, to break down my privilege, to serve.

Give my love to Esteban, too. I send you love during a time of war.

Renée P.S. I'm attaching my new motto.

 From: "Beth Couture" Date: Thu, Nov 17, 2016 at 9:19 PM Subject: Letter to Renee To: "Renee E. D'Aoust"

Philadelphia, PA, USA

 Dear Renée,

The other night I dreamt about dying. In the dream, I was somehow certain that I was going to die, and I was so scared and so angry and sad. I kept saying I wasn't ready, I had so much left to do, I couldn't die. Not yet. It reminded me of when Ed and I talked about death, about the afterlife, and it hit me in such a powerful way that maybe there wasn't anything after this life. Maybe we really do just die and rot, and that's it. I have never been able to accept that idea. I don't believe in heaven or hell, but I've always believed that we don't just stop, that there must be something after this and we will be aware of it. I don't know if I believe this because I actually believe it, or if I'm just too scared to think about the alternative. In that conversation with Ed, and in the dream, I faced it. I allowed myself to think that maybe that's all there is--death and no longer being. And I sobbed like I have never sobbed. I couldn't stop. It felt like someone was tearing out my insides. That's what it feels like now, almost all the time. Like I am looking into the face of something too horrible to comprehend and I can't stop sobbing. Like I am seeing the possibility of death for the first time. And I'm not ready to. I'm not ready to look, but I have no choice. I'm not ready to face the possibility that this is all there is.

Esteban and I decided a few months ago that we wanted to have a baby. This was such a big decision for us. I don't think it was something I had ever allowed myself to imagine, because I am terrified of being a mother, of fucking the kid up, of raising a kid in such a scary world. Getting pregnant always felt like such a selfish thing. There are so many kids in the world who need parents, so few resources to go around, so little certainty that the world would be okay for the kid. But we decided that to have a kid, to make one ourselves, would be an act of hope.

The day after the election, I realized that I could not bring a child into Trump's America, that I no longer believed enough in the good in the world to get pregnant. I think about having a baby now, and it feels so cruel, so absolutely harmful, and I can't do it. I think Esteban could still do it even though he understands my feelings, but I can't. I don't have that much hope. And it breaks my fucking heart every time I think about it. It feels like death, and the grief is so big, so powerful that I don't know what to do with it at all. We are looking into adoption now, and that may be the most ethical decision anyway. Certainly we can love the child the same. But it hurts so much to think that we don't, can't have the same hope we used to, the hope we worked so hard to have.

I guess that's what I'm feeling most of all--hopeless. For the first time. I've always been, in spite of my depression and anger and fear, in spite of the reality I see as a social worker, an optimist. I have always believed that no matter how bad things are, they can and likely will get better. Not without a fight, of course, not without a hell of a lot of work, but they will get better. Things will be okay. I'm not sure I believe that anymore. I know the US is a country built on slavery, on genocide, on greed. It's a country that claims values it so often acts in direct opposition of. Trump really is no surprise. But the loudness of his bigotry, his fear mongering, his stupidity, still surprises me.

My sister got married a little over a year ago and is now afraid that her marriage will be nullified, that the woman she loves will no longer be seen by those in power as her family. My three black nephews now have even more to be afraid of when they walk down the streets, because of the violence Trump endorses and encourages in his supporters. I work with students who are afraid for their lives, the lives of their families, their futures. This isn't how it should be. And I'll fight for how it should be, for how it will one day be. Because there's no other choice. Right now I'm grieving, and I feel there's no other choice but that either. I'm so grateful you're with me in the fighting, in the grieving.

So much love to you, and please give my love to Daniele, to your sweet dad, to the Tube of Fur (who always gives me hope).

Beth

Beth Couture is the author of Women Born with Fur (Jaded Ibis Press). She received her Ph.D. in Creative Writing from the Center for Writers at the University of Southern Mississippi. She currently lives in Philadelphia and is completing a Master’s degree in Social Work at Bryn Mawr College.

Renée E. D’Aoust’s first book Body of a Dancer (Etruscan Press) was a ForeWord Reviews 'Book of the Year' finalist. D'Aoust teaches online at North Idaho College and is the Managing Editor of Assay: A Journal of Nonfiction Studies. She lives in Switzerland. www.reneedaoust.com