#like.... he's either being blamed for stupid shit or infantalized over stupid shit

[babieken]

So from what I’ve heard jooheon was in a friends vlog and he (allegedly) laughed when the friend mentioned blocking the view of mbb at a concert bc he’s so tall. Kmbb is insane so they got all pissed bc he laughed. I haven’t sent he vlog so I can’t confirm but either way who gives a shit??? There’s tall people at every concert plus there’s the fansites pushing ppl out of the way…

oh my god.... i did see ppl arguing that 'well fansite push and get aggressive and rude' but I had no idea what it was abt... this is INSANE! What did they expect him to do? slap his friend and tell him to never come to his concerts again? slidjflsdjf

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

that makes four.

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PART 4

Tristan had slapped his menu shut before you could even sit down. He’d been begging you to try a new place in Encino with him, you figured it was a good excuse to get Zoey out of the house and to let Maeve and CeCe duke it out in Shelli and Irv’s backyard instead of yours.

It was all work talk at first, he offered an update on a meeting you missed to drop off Maeve at a friend’s and Zoey sucked down a glass of wine promising to pump and dump before the night ended.

But now your plates were in front of you and you twirled spaghetti around your fork when she asked: “How’s your pool boy?” You stared up at her, unimpressed.

“He’s not my pool boy, and he’s fine.”

Tristan raised his eyebrows across the table. “Would you let Harry Styles be your pool boy?”

“Can we not talk about him like this, please?”

“Oh come on,” Tristan pulled a face. “If you’re not going to sleep with him at least let us fantasize.”

You must have twitched, a quick glance in Zoey’s direction or a quiver of your lip. Zoey leaned in and her voice was serious. “What was that?”

“What? Nothing.”

“What do you mean what was that?” Tristan asked.

“She made a weird face when you said that.”

“No I didn’t,” you defended. “I just don’t like talking about him in public, especially like this.”

“Bullshit,” Zoey laughed, leaned back in her chair. “What are you not telling us? Did you see him shirtless again?”

You let out a breath, wiped at your mouth and wondered if telling them would be the biggest mistake of your life. You couldn’t even get the words out before Zoey leaned in.

“You had sex with him?!” her eyes nearly bugged out of her head, Tristan’s fork clanked against his plate when his jaw dropped open.

You’d made it a whole week, almost. You pushed the thoughts down and brushed them under the metaphorical work rug. The body wash prototypes were in, you were booking models to do a photoshoot, video shoot, everything was getting lined up for the rollout in another few weeks. You didn’t have time to tell them about something silly and stupid and maybe a part of you didn’t want to fill them in because you were afraid they’d burst your bubble. It’ll never work out, what happens when his house is ready, he has a tour to go on.

“Be quiet,” you looked around and worried if anyone had overheard Tristan’s not-so-subtle name drop. “It’s not a big deal, okay? It’s not like it’s gonna be a regular thing.”

Tristan pulled his head back, offended by your words. “You had sex with him and you’re not going to make that a regular thing? Have you seen him?”

“Yes,” you made a face at Tristan. “I have seen him.”

“You are going to hit and quit Harry Styles?” Zoey leaned in and said his name much more quietly now.

“Well,” you dropped their gaze for a second, reluctant to be honest with them in fear of their reaction. “It’s happened once, and then we kissed once but CeCe came down, but she didn’t see anything. I’m just too old to be hooking up with a twenty-four year old.”

“Wait, okay, slow down. When did this happen?” Zoey asked.

“After my birthday dinner,” you shrugged. “We came home, had wine, the girls were out.”

“And when did you make out with him aside from that night?”

“The next night. And we didn’t make out, it was barely even open-mouthed.”

“Ew,” Tristan grimaced.

Zoey snapped to get your attention. “So twenty-four hours after you had sex, you kissed him?”

You made a face at her, unsure where she was going with it. You hadn’t been clocking or documenting your sexual encounters. “I don’t know, probably.”

“This is straight out of a trashy romance book written for middle aged women,” Tristan leaned back in his seat and took a pull from his glass of rosé. “I mean that in, like, a nice way.”

“Okay,” Zoey leaned forward. “So, nothing has happened since a week ago, then?”

“No,” you shook your head quickly. “Just those times. And I don’t think anything should happen again.”

They both groaned at the same time, Zoey’s shoulders sunk and she rolled her eyes. “You deserve to have sex with a hot guy.”

“I never said I didn’t.”

“Even if he’s younger than you.”

“I don’t want to traumatize my children.”

“Well you don’t have to have sex in front of them,” Tristan made a goofy face and you waved him off.

Zoey snorted out a laugh but you ignored their immaturity.

“I mean that having Harry here is already probably confusing for them, right? Their dad leaves, their grandpa dies, now we have some stranger in our house and he’s playing with them in the backyard and--”

“Being more of a dad to them than Luke ever was?”

Zoey’s words brought a sigh out from between your lips. “Exactly.”

“Having a positive male role model is good for them,” Tristan said.

“Sure,” you nodded. “But what about when Harry moves out? He’ll just be another man that will leave them. They’ll be super fucked up.”

Tristan reached forward and took your hand in his. “Hey--it’s more about the fact that they have you and they have other people who love them. Who cares if their idea of a family isn’t the stereotypic, heterosexual norm?”

“I know,” you relented. “I just don’t want them to be poorly adjusted.”

“Okay, that sounds like something an obnoxious prep school guidance counselor would say to you,” Zoey eyed you with skepticism.

You shrugged your shoulders. “It was Maeve’s teacher.”

“Okay, fuck that teacher!” Tristan nodded. “Your kids are adjusting, and that’s because of how good of a mom you are to them. And mommy deserves a pool boy.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, even if his words were worthy of an eye-roll. Zoey tried not to let wine drip from her nose after a snort escaped between sips.

“Not my pool boy!” You giggled.

“Which is good,” Tristan nodded, his tone completely serious. “That would be so cliché even Nora Roberts wouldn’t write it.”

**

Slumber parties always made you anxious. They were one of those things that made you question how on earth people trusted you to watch a group of children when sometimes, you still felt like one yourself.

Maeve’s 11th birthday party was no exception. Five other girls danced around your living room and CeCe sat at the counter while you iced cupcakes. Her little face was scrunched into a pout so intensely that it almost made you giggle.

“You alright?” You asked her, dish towel over your shoulder when she let out another sigh.

“Just wish I could play with them,” she held her palms towards the sky in exasperation, reaching for a container of sprinkles when you let out a laugh.

“You get to go for ice cream with Uncle Jeff, remember? You’re gonna go to the beach, too, I think.”

You’d been trying to bribe her all week: a new tutu, a new doll, anything she wanted just to make her give up and accept the fact that her older sister didn’t want her at her slumber party.

And you couldn’t blame either of them. Of course Maeve didn’t want her younger (and very loud, dramatic, and demanding) younger sister trailing behind all night. But, on the other hand, of course CeCe felt left out when she saw all of the older girls arrive with their sleeping bags and birthday gifts.

She sighed again, your conversation interrupted by a ringing from your cell phone on the counter beside her.

“Uncle Jeff?”

She was right, you reached for the phone and held it up with your shoulder, hoping the laughter from the living room wouldn’t travel it’s way into the speaker.

“Hi--are you here?”

“Y/N, I am so sorry to do this--”

“Oh god, Jeff, no!”

“I just got called into the office because one of my artists apparently just posted some stupid shit on the internet--isn’t there someone else who can hang out with CeCe? Where’s Tristan?”

“I don’t know where he is, but I doubt he’d be thrilled to play dress up or skip through a park.”

“Zoey?”

You could hear traffic through his line, his karma for backing out at the last minute was having to sit on the 405. “She has a ten-week-old infant, Jeffrey.”

“Well where’s Harry? Can’t he pitch in?”

You let out a groan, CeCe had taken to pouring sprinkles into her hand and lapping them up with her tongue.

Harry was upstairs, hiding away from the girl gang currently singing karaoke and sipping on juice boxes. He had the day off and had dipped out in the afternoon to meet a friend for lunch. You tried to mind your own business--he could come and go as he pleased and just because you had slept with him once didn’t give you the right to suddenly start asking questions about his plans.

But the universe pitied you, apparently, because right when you told Jeff you’d figure it out and hung up on him aggressively, Harry pranced down the stairs and headed for the fridge.

“How’s it going down here?” He reached for a juice box, crisp apple, and fumbled with the straw when he turned to face you.

“Everyone is alive and nothing is broken,” you scanned the counter, another batch of cupcakes still in the oven with 10 minutes to go.

With the straw now between his lips, he raised his eyebrows. “Bar’s that low, huh?”

“Well, your friend Jeffrey just bailed on watching CeCe and going for ice cream.”

She was blissfully unaware of the change of plans, still licking sprinkles out of her palm, but now swiveled around on the stool to watch the girls jump around in the other room.

“I can take her,” he shrugged nonchalantly, ran a hand through his hair when you stared at him for a second.

If traffic was Jeff’s karma, Harry must have been yours.

“Are you serious? You wouldn’t mind?”

“Not at all,” he smiled. “CeCe? What do you say we do ice cream and pizza?”

She turned around at the sound of her name, her eyes lit up. “Pepperoni?” She asked.

“Of course,” Harry replied to her like it was a crazy question.

“Is Uncle Jeff coming?”

“He’s not,” You informed her, arms crossed over your chest. “You’re alright to go with Harry?”

You didn’t mean to make it awkward, but mom mode kicked in and you realized CeCe had never spent time alone with Harry except maybe in the backyard.

“Yeah!” She hopped down from the stool and grinned up at him. “Can I get a milkshake?”

Harry looked over to you and when you nodded, he held out his hand. “As many as you want.”

“That’s not what I said,” you called after him, watching as he led her over to the back door. He plucked his keys off the hook on the wall and smiled at you over his shoulder. “Please don’t be out late, text me when you get where you’re going!”

CeCe shouted a bye mommy!!!! before they disappeared into the driveway. A sudden raise in your pulse had you questioning what type of mother lets their 6-year-old get in the car with a pop star who’s probably hounded by paparazzi and maybe even doing cocaine on the weekends.

You picked up your phone and it rang four times before Zoey answered. “I need you to talk me off the ledge.”

“What ledge?”

The timer beeped and you gloved up to retrieve the rest of the cupcakes. “I’m apparently a psychopath because I just let Harry take CeCe for pizza and ice cream.”

You could tell she held back a laugh. “Why does that make you a psychopath?”

“Because he’s a stranger! What if he never comes back with her? What if he gets chased by paparazzi and CeCe is the next Princess Diana?!” The thought shuttered through your bones, a shiver down your spine when Zoey cleared her throat.

“Okay, so, as a mom, I totally get that. But I also think you’re freaking out too much.”

The cupcake tin rattled onto the granite. “How?!”

“He’s not a stranger, he’s been living with you guys for like, over a month now.”

You thought about it for a second. Two weeks turned into a few more, four weeks slipped by easily. What felt like it was going to be a blip on the radar now felt like a totally normal thing: dinners with him as the fourth seat and texts to him in the middle of the day asking if there was anything he was in the mood for.

“I just can’t believe I trust him enough to do that, I guess.”

“Y/N, he’s a good guy,” she laughed. “He likes your kids and he definitely likes you.”

“We’re not going there,” you said. “I have a house full of ten-year-olds and cupcakes to frost.”

“Okay, well, you’re not a psychopath. And there’s nothing wrong with having feelings for him.”

“Zoey! You are starting to sound like the psychopath!”

“I’m alright with that,” laughter through the phone when you told her you had to go. Love you, see you later, pinch Benny’s cheeks for me.

You were swept up in the excitement of the night. Your own pizza was delivered before 8pm, a movie turned on by 9pm. They decorated cupcakes at the dining room table and proceeded to eat more than they could fit in their tummies.

Maeve was in heaven, opened presents when you snapped pictures on your phone. Harry had texted to let you know they’d stop at Shelli and Irv’s before heading home. If CeCe came home in the middle of presents, she’d probably break down right there.

So when you heard the alarm signal a new entry, you hoped CeCe was too tired to argue with you about sleeping in her own room and not in Maeve’s with the rest of them. Your legs were folded beneath you on the couch, noise in the kitchen when Harry rounded the corner with CeCe asleep on his shoulder.

You stood up, eyebrows high when he smirked in your direction. “She’s out cold,” he laughed. “Fell right asleep on the way home.”

“It’s like a ten minute drive from their house,” you said, opening your arms to take her. “Sorry, here.”

“I can bring her up...just lead the way,” he motioned with his head for you to go first up the stairs. He followed you down the hall and to CeCe’s room, pink walls and a plush carpet underneath her twin-sized bed that still seemed too big for her.

He put her down when you flipped on a nightlight, watched when you tugged the duvet over her and kissed her on the forehead. You sighed when you stood up straight beside him, voice quiet. “I’m not waking her up to brush her teeth cause she’ll freak out and want to be included in the party. Am I a bad mom?”

He crossed his arms over his chest, smirked down at you quickly before looking back to her. “You’re a great mom.”

You elbowed him in the ribs playfully. “You have to say that.”

“I do?”

“I’m your landlord,” you laughed, leading him back into the hallway.

“I thought you were my friend?”

A sigh, the darkness a cover for your confusion and your fluttering heart beat. “Yeah, that too.”

He was quiet for a second, if it weren’t for the bedroom of kids down the hall you’d pull him into you despite better judgment. He stared down at you with a dimpled smile, but you took a step back.

“Thanks for taking her, and hanging out with her. You really didn’t have to.”

“I had fun,” he reassured you. “We got a pizza and ate in a park near Westwood Hills, then got ice cream, visited with Shelli and Irv,” he listed it off like it brought him as much joy as it did her.

“Hey, not to be weird or anything, but--how’s your house coming?”

He sensed the shift in the air too, but he didn’t know that it came from a place of fear. A question you had to ask: this was temporary, this wasn’t real, this was just a convenient set up and you couldn’t lose sight of that.

“Oh, yeah--I’m going over on Sunday to see it. Apparently there are still issues with the plumbing that have to be updated. They said it might be a few more weeks.”

“Okay, I just didn’t know.”

“Yeah, is that okay? I can try to find somewhere to stay if you need me out?”

“No,” you said it quickly. “I don’t need you to leave.”

“Okay,” he said, his eyes still on yours. He reached forward to brush a piece of hair behind your ear. “I like staying here with you guys.”

“...I like it too.”

“Mom?” Maeve’s head poked out of her bedroom. “Hayley spilled soda on the carpet!”

He stepped back from you quickly, like his reflexes were getting better each time. You laughed at his sudden movement, “coming!”

He smiled down at you and let out an exaggerated sigh once Maeve’s door was slammed shut and the music was back on, a magnetic pull between your chests that maybe he felt too. “Hayley, Hayley, Hayley.”

But again, a rush of uncertainty and self-doubt made you grateful for the interruption, your stomach weaving itself in knots when you stared at your ceiling fan and hoped that sleep would come.

Work picked up in the next week, Tristan was in your office most days with spreadsheets and graphs and to-do lists that made you feel like you needed a margarita at 2pm. On Wednesday Harry made dinner and CeCe had a meltdown when you forced her to take a bath.

Friday night entailed dinner at Shelli and Irv’s, the girls and Harry and Jeff too. You stood in the kitchen with a glass of wine in hand, Shelli watched as their chef sautéed something through steam. When Jeff pulled Harry away to show him a new guitar Irv had been gifted, you ignored the smile on Shelli’s face.

“How are things going?”

“Fine,” you said, casually and calm and cool. “How are you?”

“Y/N,” she smiled. “Does Jeffrey know?”

“Know what?”

“About you and Harry?”

“No,” you told her quickly. “There’s nothing to know, alright? We were drunk, it was not a big deal.”

“Alright,” she held up a hand, effectively resigning when she sipped her Pinot Grigio, a disappointed sigh before she asked: “How are the girls holding up?”

You sighed, unsure if she’d really drop it. You told her about Maeve’s birthday party and caught her up on the body wash debut. Deadlines were quickly approaching, the launch party was being scheduled and production was full steam ahead.

You almost thought you’d make it through the rest of the night without any drama--no more mention of Harry or the happenings between you. But eventually he and Jeff found their way back to the kitchen and you hoped that no one noticed how close Harry stood to you.

Jeff was in the middle of filling you and Shelli in on Harry’s album plans: they were wrapping up production and soon they’d announce the release date, his excitement cut off by a shout from the backyard.

“Mommy!” CeCe’s voice was shrill and desperate as it rang through the house. She let out a loud sob and when you looked up, you saw her clutching her elbow with a new grass stain on her shirt. She was fine, it was one of those moments where she thought the world was ending but everyone else knew getting knocked over by her sister wouldn’t kill her.

“She’s fine,” Maeve rolled her eyes, a quick look down to CeCe who’s eyes were already filled with tears.

“No I’m not!” she screamed back at her sister.

You looked to Shelli with an exasperated look, set your glass of wine down on the counter. Before you could make any movement, though, Harry’s hand hovered on the small of your back. “I’ll go, enjoy the wine. She’s fine.”

He was right, there was no question that CeCe would survive her scraped elbow and bruised ego. He moved towards the backyard and you were frozen in place when Jeff’s forehead wrinkled.

“What was that?” he asked, eyebrows strung together like tea lights once Harry was out of earshot.

“I don’t know--what do you mean?”

You looked over at Harry, now on the ground in front of CeCe who’s wails were much quieter. She wiped at her wet eyes, a little laugh escaped her lips when Harry brushed the grass off of her elbow and cracked a joke.

“Well, he seems pretty good with them,” Jeff leaned against the counter, the sliding door providing a perfect view as CeCe stood up and raced back towards Maeve.

“Yeah, I mean, he is.”

“He also touched your back in a funny way.”

Shelli raised her eyebrows and sipped at her wine again.

“And now my mom is making a weird face,” Jeff’s eyes narrowed when he looked at you. “Are you--is there, like, something going--”

“No,” you said quickly, a finger pointed at Shelli and another pointed at Jeff. “Do not say anything in front of the girls.”

Shelli stifled a laugh but managed to look incredibly innocent at the same time.

“Oh my god!” Jeff said this with a noise of shock, eyes wide when he looked between you and Shelli, then back out to the yard where Harry laughed with Irv. “Oh my god, and you knew?”

Shelli shrugged her shoulders, a don’t blame me look crossed her face when you took a swig of wine to calm the pounding of your heart.

Jeff had always been protective and caring and like a brother. Not in a weird way, not in the you can’t date my friends way. Just in the sense that he wanted to know who you were hooking up with and he’d been encouraging you relentlessly to stop picking assholes ever since you filed for divorce.

But this was different, this was a friend of his and a client of his. It was someone that his entire family knew and this was probably the worst choice of rebound.

“Please relax,” you said this with a look of warning in his direction. “I will explain to you what your lunatic mother is smirking about but you have about fifteen seconds to wipe the look of shock off your face before he comes back in here.”

“She’s fine,” Harry waved a hand once he was back in the kitchen. “And what look of shock are we wiping off of our faces?” The dimple was there again, the corner of his mouth pulled up and he scanned all three of you for any sort of information.

“Just that you are so good with the girls,” Jeff covered for you, a confident nod when he hoped Harry would believe him.

“That’s surprising to you?” Harry pulled his head back, an obvious look of mock offense. “I’m great with children. They love me.”

Maeve came in from the fading light, out of breath from running around with whatever ball they’d gotten their hands on. “Who loves you?”

“Kids,” Jeff replied for him.

“Oh,” Maeve said. “Yeah.”

“Yeah?” You looked down at her, unsure if she was agreeing or just voicing that she understood.

She shrugged, plucked a chicken skewer from a dish in front of Shelli. “I mean, I like having him around.”

Harry was practically tickled pink. “Thank you, Maeve.” He turned to rub this in Jeff’s face. “See?”

“He cooks well, plays outside with us, definitely funnier than mom,” Maeve kept listing things off, pulling laughter from the rest of the crew.

“Maeve!” You whined. “I’m funny!”

“You’re like, sometimes funny.”

“Sometimes funny is better than never funny,” Harry nodded in your direction, an attempt to soften the blow.

CeCe had wandered in behind her sister, she picked at the scrape on her elbow until you called her attention. “CeCe--do you think mommy’s funny?”

“Mmmm,” the thought on it for a second, put her finger to her chin and scrunched up her nose. “Sort of.”

Jeff let out a big laugh at that, Harry tried to stifle one and you dismissed the jabs. “Okay, well, it’s not like anyone here is a comedian.”

“Harry’s funny,” CeCe said with a smile. “He reads books in silly voices.”

Jeff’s eyebrows shot up at that again, amused and surprised by the fact that Harry was in on the bedtime routine. But it was infrequent, sometimes CeCe would beg for more time outside or another thirty minutes of TV.

If the tears got aggressive or the tantrum became too much, she perked up pretty quickly if Harry offered to read with her. It was way more exciting than reading with you, Maeve had explained.

After showering Harry with compliments, the girls were excited to sit on Shelli and Irv’s patio. Pink lemonade and a delicious dinner, though neither of them would even so much as take a bit of your salad.

They ran around some more while you sipped wine, Jeff and Harry had been talked into a two versus two soccer match and Irv laughed his head off when Maeve actually scored on Jeff. Darkness came and CeCe crawled into your lap, eyelids getting heavy until you buckled her into the backseat.

You’d taken one car, CeCe’s booster seat was too clunky to move over to Harry’s so you drove and felt slightly embarrassed about the crayons and coloring books scattered on the floor of the backseat.

“Mom, can I have another sleepover this weekend?”

“With who?”

“All of the girls from last weekend.”

“Honey, no, that was a big party for your birthday.”

“I’m aware,” she shot back quickly. “But we all had so much fun and we wouldn’t be as loud as we were last time.”

“I said no, Maeve. You can do something with your friends if you want but we’re not doing another sleepover right now.”

You’d been hesitant about it in the first place. A group of ten and eleven-year-olds? With Harry in the house? It felt like a recipe for disaster and aside from a few excited stares when they were first dropped off, you all escaped relatively unscathed.

You worried at first about the whispers from other moms--she’s letting a twenty-four year-old live with her children?--but you soon realized that they were almost more excited about sneaking a glimpse of Harry than their daughters were.

“You’re so annoying,” she quipped from the back. “You never let me do anything fun.”

Harry’s lips twitched up in a tiny smirk, a sideways glance in your direction. You’d already told him how awkward it felt to discipline them with him right there, a glass of wine in the kitchen one night and he teased you about your frustrated mom voice.

“Maeve--don’t be rude. You just had a birthday party and now you want another, basically.”

“No, I want to have the same girls over. It’s not my birthday so it’s not a birthday party.”

A left turn into the driveway. “But you want me to order pizza and make cupcakes and you want to drink a bunch of soda again?”

“Yes.”

You pulled into the garage and cut the engine, turning to look at her. “Maeve, sweetie, I love you. But no.”

She let out a huff and shoved the door open, she typed in the entry code and slammed the door to the house before the rest of you could even climb out.

“The drama,” CeCe shook her head, tired steps towards the house.

“The drama is right,” you told her with a laugh. “Go wash up and I’ll come up in a few, okay?”

She scampered up the steps, you dropped your keys on the counter inside and then turned to look at him. “Do you have a second?”

He nodded, leaned on the counter. “What’s up?”

You didn't know if it was a good idea, but you'd spent enough morning drives to school lecturing about how honest is the best policy, so you figured you'd give it a shot.

“Uh, well--Jeff may or may not be suspicious about you and...me.”

Using the phrase made you nervous, like he’d laugh and think it was stupid. You and me.

“Oh,” he said, eyebrows arched. “Did you--why did that come up?”

“Well you went to handle my crying child, which is--you know--”

He laughed a little, “too boyfriendy of me?”

Your heartbeat picked up in pace, your face felt hot and it suddenly felt like he was watching you too closely.

“No--I don’t know--you touched my back and he just asked what was happening.”

He deflated at that, hung his head low for a second and then looked up. “Oh, I--uh--I’m really sorry, I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

“No!” You felt bad, that wasn’t the message you were trying to convey. If anything, you wanted to give him the out and the okay that he didn’t have to do this. He didn’t have to step into your family like some hero for you or your daughters. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable, I just--I don’t know where you are at, I guess.”

“And now Jeff is asking questions,” he laughed, a nod like he knew where you were going with it.

There was no label necessary. It wasn’t that type of thing, you knew that. “That’s what you walked in on after CeCe got hurt.”

Another nod, like the puzzle pieces were fitting into place. “Right. Got it. Was he--how did he seem? Did you tell him that we--”

“He put it together,” you cut him off, again careful of the words used around the girls even though they were upstairs and--by the sound of it--bickering in the bathroom. “But he was fine with it. I just think we need to be careful, you know. The girls...and this is temporary, and--”

“Absolutely.”

“So, you know, just--”

“Yeah.”

An awkward silence. “I should go tuck them in.” You turned on your feet and headed for the stairs before he could reply, desperate to get out of the situation out of fear of having to find more words to string together in a messy jumble of emotions.

Another slammed door from Maeve when you reached the top of the stairs. You knocked twice. “Can I come in, please?”

“No!”

“Maeve,” you leaned against the doorframe. Harry came up and offered an awkward smile. “Please let me talk to you.”

“I’m not talking to you!” She shouted.

Harry came over and knocked. “Maeve? It’s Harry--can I come in?”

Silence for a second, her footsteps were audible on the wood floor. The door opened a crack, she peered out with narrowed eyes. “Fine--but not her.”

You looked over at Harry, unsure of his game plan but also fed up with the theatrics and the overreaction. He shrugged his shoulders half-apologetically, a smirk in your direction before he slipped into the room.

Did you stay and listen? Was it weird? What would he even say to her?

You decided against it, headed for your own bedroom and tugged on pajamas after you flicked on CeCe’s night light and kissed her goodnight. At least only one of them was being dramatic today.

Five minutes passed, then ten. You tried not to look at the clock and focused instead on a book Zoey had told you was a must read.

Eventually there was a knock on your door, Harry pushed it open and smiled. “Do you want some intel?”

“Duh,” you said. “Come in.”

He walked forward and sat on your bed, a sigh when he brought his eyes to yours again. “Well, she said you’re annoying again.”

“Of course.”

“She’s just grumpy. Said Hayley wanted to have a sleepover this weekend because it would be better at her house.”

“Ah,” you nodded. “Some 5th grade rivalry.”

“Classic, really.”

You laughed. “Was she okay talking to you?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, eyebrows low on his forehead. “Opened right up.”

“Well, we do know she likes you more.”

He rolled his eyes. “She just likes that I’m not you.”

“Feels like that’s the same thing.”

Quiet for a moment when he angled towards you, scanned your face with his eyes.

“I guess I’ll go say goodnight.”

“Oh, I tucked her in.”

Your mouth tugged into a smirk. “You what?”

“She said she didn’t want you to come in.”

“So you tucked her in?”

He let out a laugh, explained the process like it should have been obvious. “Yeah--pulled up the blanket. Patted her on the head. She said she brushed her teeth.”

You leaned back against the headboard, the same buzzing feeling in your chest took flight when he asked: “why is it so shocking to everyone that I’m good with them?”

It slipped out before you could think of the possible consequences. “Because you’re young.”

“I’m not that young.”

“And Luke was just--not like that. He was pretty disinterested after CeCe was born.” You hoped this was enough of a redirection.

“You’re really caught up on my age, aren’t you?”

“No.”

He raised his eyebrows and offered a look that said: bullshit. When he didn’t speak, you cracked a joke.

“Or...you are not hung up enough on how old I am.”

“Why should I care how old you are?”

“Cause you’ve had sex with me and you’re living in my house.”

“Both of those things I am aware of. And feel really good about both of them.”

You let out a laugh at his nonchalance, folded your arms over your chest when he stood up. “You’re something else.”

“I’m not,” you disagreed.

“I think you are,” he nodded, leaned closer to you and offered a challenging glare. His hair was messy, he’d been running around in the backyard with them at Shelli and Irv’s, a few glasses of wine in him seemed to loosen him right up to the point that he was ready to slide tackle your six-year-old.

He watched you for a second, almost like he was waiting for you to stop him. You didn’t, though, you wanted him to kiss you just as much as it looked like he wanted to close to the distance between your chests.

Instead of telling him you shouldn’t, instead of telling him that the girls were down the hall and this was risky, you pulled him on top of you, tugged him by the t-shirt until he flopped down on your bed with a laugh against your lips.

He lifted himself up after a clumsy moment, looked down at you and smirked.

“What?” You asked playfully.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever been so turned on by someone in my whole life.”

His words circled around you, pulled your body up to melt into his when his hand cupped your face. He laced his fingers through the hair along your neck, the warmth from his body made your pulse rise with each second.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this when they’re home?”

If the dimples on his cheeks weren’t enough, if the way his tattoos littered his skin wasn’t enough, if the look in his eyes right now on top of you was not enough to create a full-on mom fantasy in your head, the way he talked about your daughters was.

“Yeah,” you tugged him back against your mouth, felt the way your hips tilted against his without any thought. His hands moved to your wrists, holding them in place when he trailed his lips down your jaw, down your neck, pressing kisses in a line along your collarbone.

His hands were warm when they grazed your hips, connecting with skin beneath the fabric of your shirt. You grasped for the hem of his and tugged it over his head in a quick motion, eager to reconnect and feel his skin against yours.

He tasted like wine and smelled like summer, yanked your panties down to your ankles and used his fingers to pull quiet gasps from you like no one had ever before. He held onto your headboard and thrusted into you after you begged: please, please fuck me.

S’probably my favorite thing to do, he said.

The lights were long off and when your heart beats settled and you wiped sweat from your forehead, he laced his fingers between yours.

“Does Jeff want to kill me?”

“No,” you giggled, turned on your side to get a better look at him. The moon through the window illuminated his nose, his eyebrows, the specks of light green in his eyes as they devoured you. “But I’m sure you’ll get a talking to.”

“Should I not talk to him about it?”

You knew what he was asking, you knew he really meant what am I supposed to tell him? What does this mean?

You didn’t have an answer. You didn’t know what he should say or how you should address any of this, because at the end of the day you were a mom and a business owner and he was eight years your junior. He had an album to finish and tour and you knew how that worked.

You watched your dad’s busy lifestyle pull his marriage apart at the seams. Late nights, dinner parties, too much coke in the 80s before you were born and all of those signs pointed in one direction: this would never last.

It couldn’t last, nothing about the equation made sense. Harry + you = fling, rebound, a hook up or friends with benefits type situation that would eventually fade into a memory when he went on tour or when he got the call: your house is finished!

You didn’t have to answer him, though, the pattering of feet in the hallway as a little voice shouted mommy! had you shoving Harry out of bed and onto the floor with a thud before CeCe could push the double doors open.

“Mommy! I had a bad dream!”

“Hi, honey, oh, it’s okay,” you were upright in bed and welcoming her into your arms when Harry grimaced in the dark.

He mouthed a few swear words as you held CeCe, squishing her face into your shoulder to keep her eyes from landing on Harry. You gestured at him wildly with your free hand, ordering him to duck down and remain unseen.

“It was just a dream,” you told her, “you’re okay. Do you want me to walk you back to bed?”

“No,” she cried out quickly. “Can I sleep here?”

You hesitated, then nodded and looked at Harry in the dark. “Of course, yes, you can fall asleep here and then I’ll bring you back to your room.”

“Okay,” she said, the steadiness of her voice returning when she crawled out of your lap and to the spot where Harry had just been. She tugged at the comforters, pushed the pillow in different directions before she let her head rest atop it.

She let out a sigh, her eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks and soon enough Harry poked his head up to look at you with wide eyes as you rubbed CeCe’s back.

You held up a finger to your mouth, gave him a threatening glare when he bit back a laugh. You rolled your eyes--it wasn’t funny. She almost walked in on the two of you and while she’d already endured some traumatic things this year, seeing her mom hooking up with the pop star from down the hall would be sure to take the cake.

When Harry caught your gaze again, you smirked, he giggled, clamped a hand over his mouth and watched you for a second.

“Be quiet!”

“You’re the one talking,” he laughed.

“Well she’s asleep now, but we can’t bring her back yet or she’ll wake up.”

“How long do we have to sit like this?”

“A while,” you told him with certainty. “This is called parenting.”

But he did, he sat on the floor on the side of the bed, watched you watch her and eventually, he picked her up from the mattress and followed you down the hall to her room. She softened into him, head on his shoulder and arms around his neck. The sight of it made you want to replay the earlier scene in your head over and over.

She didn’t stir, a few heavy sighs when you pulled the comforter back up to her shoulders, and once the door was shut behind you both, you smirked up at him.

“I think you should go back to your room.”

“Really? After all of that?”

“After almost getting caught by my six-year-old? Yes.”

He laughed and rolled his eyes playfully, crossed his arms over his chest. “Fine, but maybe we can do that again at some point and have it end differently.”

You nodded. “I think that sounds doable.”

He leaned forward, kissed you quickly, and then turned to head for his own room. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Harry.”

**

Harry came home from his house tour with good and bad news. The plumbing was fixed, which sped up their timeline, and yet the painters and interior decorator had gotten behind because of it, pushing the timeline out a few weeks.

You weren’t sure which part was good and which part was bad, because by now you were having trouble imagining what your house would feel like without him in it.

You got the news when he strolled in, athletic shorts and a baseball hat on his head when Jeff clapped him on the back. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Harry eyed him suspiciously, reached into the fridge for a juice box. “I live here…”

“Oh, I know you live here.”

“Hello, hi,” you waved at Jeff. “Please do not be weird.”

“That’s all he knows how to be,” Harry offered you a fake-apologetic look.

“That’s all he knows how to be,” Jeff mocked him. “Actually, I know how to be cool and not weird about the fact that my childhood best friend and my adult best friend-slash-artist are now, you know, involved.”

Your stomach did a somersault at his wording, a quick look in Harry’s direction, sure that he would deny the accusation or play it all down.

You found it hard to believe that Harry would be in support of labeling this as anything. Why on earth would a guy like him want to be tied to you with any sort of label or phrasing or word?

“Moving on,” Harry said with a nod. “Are we down to meet up with Tom and Sam tomorrow?”

“Yeah, and we have to do that phone call on Tuesday to go over tour dates.”

Maeve ran in then, a smile on her face when she looked up at Harry. “I have something to tell you.”

“Yeah?”

“I learned a new chord on the guitar. By myself.”

“You did?” He acted way more excited about it than he likely was.

Jeff smiled and then told Maeve: “If you learn enough chords maybe you can be his guitarist.”

“Really?!” She beamed.

“No,” you shook your head.

“Of course you would say that.”

“Maeve--you’re a kid, you can’t go on tour.”

“She’s right,” Harry said with a sweet smile, “You’re a bit too young for life on the road.”

“I’m eleven now, though!”

“I know! And very mature for eleven,” he complimented. “I’ll tell you what. You can for sure come visit and come back stage and maybe even bring a friend if your mother lets you.”

She looked to you quickly, excitement in her eyes when they all waited for your response. “Yeah--we can go at some point...see a show or something.”

“Hayley is going to die, oh my god!” She squealed with delight and then moved to sit at a stool beside Jeff.

He had half a sandwich on a plate, one he picked up on his way over for a boring Sunday afternoon of lounging by the pool. Maeve reached for a chip from the bag in front of him.

“By the way, mom, she invited me over Wednesday after school to work on a project, so can you bring me?”

“I have to bring CeCe to dance, sweetie.”

“Well I need you to bring me to the store to get supplies for this stupid poster-board thing we have to make! And Hayley’s mom said she had a question about Luna--something about a moisturizer or something.”

“I can take CeCe to dance,” Harry shrugged, almost like an onlooker in the room. “S’not a big a deal.”

“Are you sure?”

Jeff and Maeve crunched on chips between you, watching the exchange.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll just need to put her booster seat in my car.”

“And bring her a snack for after--she’s always cranky and hungry.”

He laughed, “I can manage that.”

“What would we do without you, Harry?” Maeve asked, a smile on her face.

Jeff put his chin in his hands, teasing. “Yeah, what would we do without you?”

“No one would get anywhere, people would seriously be missing out on my chicken tacos, and this house would be a lot less fun to live in.”

Maeve nodded in agreement, another chip stolen from Jeff. “True, true, and true.”

A few nights later it dawned on you that Maeve and Harry were as close as ever, spending evenings in your dad’s old office while Maeve tried to wrap her arms around a guitar long enough to strum a few chords.

CeCe didn’t seem to feel too left out, she was more than happy to be an audience for Maeve when she’d come running into the living room: Harry taught me a G chord!

On Tuesday night after school it was CeCe’s idea to go for pizza, she chirped about it in the backseat the entire way home, and after learning that the body wash production was behind schedule, you weren’t in the mood to cook.

You took Harry’s car--showed him how to strap the booster seat in and make sure it wouldn’t budge. He wore a hat and sunglasses which both girls found hilarious, but to you it was almost disheartening. What did it mean for him to be seen out with your family?

He sat beside CeCe and cut her pizza into tiny bites so it would cool off, Maeve sipped Mountain Dew from a straw and filled you in on the latest with Hayley. This week was going well, though Hayley said something annoying in the cafeteria.

It felt normal, not weird for him to be sitting across from you, his feet against yours beneath the table and a smirk in your direction every once in a while.

Both Tristan and Zoey had been dying to hear more details. It slipped out one day in the office that okay...maybe it wasn’t just a one time thing, and now the group chat you had with them was blowing up every day.

They were excited for you, rooting for your comeback and rebound and eager for you to just admit that there was something there. But you weren’t able to do that, especially not when everything in your heart wanted to.

By the time you’d all finished eating, he dipped out the back to pull the car around front. You pointed at Maeve and told her to watch CeCe while you went up to the counter to pay for the pizza.

The woman behind the register smiled when you approached. Long acrylic nails, wrinkles at the corner of her eyes made it obvious that she could have been your mother.

“We had one large plain and one small with pepperoni,” you told her.

“Oh, you’re all set, sweetie, your boyfriend paid on his way out.”

Your head pulled back in surprise. “Oh--he’s--we’re not,”

She let out a laugh at your hesitance. “He was just as taken back when I told him he had a beautiful family--said they're not his, though."

You forced a laugh, if only to match the humor in her voice when you turned on your heels to head back to your booth. The thoughts started spinning when Maeve and CeCe climbed into the back of Harry’s car.

He smiled at you when you slid in, patted you on the thigh before he turned around to make sure both girls were settled--Maeve clicked CeCe’s buckle into place and then he put the car into gear.

Sleeping with Harry was mostly meaningless, right? He was attractive and living in your house and clearly you both got something out of it. Convenient, easy, fun. Most of your brain had you convinced that there’d never be any more to it. There was no way that Harry would be interested in sticking around: two kids, a business to run. You didn’t exactly come with no strings attached.

And he corrected the woman too--not my kids, not my family, not my wife, not my anything. Had she settled on the next step down when she called him your boyfriend, or had he offered the label to avoid an awkward encounter?

It felt immature, your heart beating with urgency as you thought about it the whole way home, beads of sweat along your hairline and not from the warm weather. He sensed it, eyed you from behind his sunglasses when he parked in the driveway. Maeve and CeCe raced to the backyard, leaving the two of you alone.

“Everything alright?”

“Yeah, all good,” you offered a small smile, the same response you gave to one of the girls if they caught you on a bad day.

He followed you inside, kept his eyes trained on you when you dropped your purse on the counter. “What?”

“You seem off.”

“I’m fine,” you lied again. What were you supposed to say? The woman behind the register at the pizza place is making me question the relationship we have and what it means?

You weren’t 17. You were 32. He was 24. All of these numbers swirled in your head when he took a few steps closer to you, eyes out the window quickly to make sure neither of the girls were watching you through the sliding doors.

He pushed a piece of hair behind your ear, lips turned down when he looked over your face. “You can talk to me, you know.”

“I know,” you caught his wrist and held on for a second, like if you let go he’d disappear and take everything between the two of you with him. You closed your eyes, knew better but still said: “the woman behind the counter called you my boyfriend.”

He let out a laugh, unaware that your words were actually a confession. “She called you my wife, said the girls were cute. I told her I couldn’t take credit.”

“Yeah,” you forced another smile.

“Is that--are you, did that bother you?”

“No,” you shook your head. “I just didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

“I’m not,” he said, eyes still on you like he wasn’t quite sure where your head was at. He pressed a confusing kiss to your forehead but then said something about calling his sister. You checked work emails and night faded into morning like it always did, no matter how uncertain life was, you always had that.

The next afternoon you brought Maeve to Hayley’s, dropped her off with glue sticks and markers and a plethora of project supplies. A yoga class after that, had her home and with dinner on the stove by 6pm.

Eventually, CeCe burst through the door with a smile on her face. Her pink tutu was around her waist, her legs clad in light pink tights and her hair in a messy ponytail on top of her head. “I had the greatest time at ballet!”

You turned around in the kitchen, eager to hear about her day. “You did?”

“I did,” she nodded confidently. Harry came in the front door behind her, sunglasses on his face and CeCe’s unicorn backpack in hand. Maeve was sat at the counter with a pencil, growing angrier with fractions by the minute.

“Why’s that?”

“We danced to a fun song, and we played a fun game, and everyone loved Harry!”

Your eyebrows rose at that, eyes caught his when he lifted the sunglasses. “They did?”

“Moms, not the six-year-olds.”

This caught Maeve’s attention--she sounded almost disgusted. “Moms?”

“I guess ballet pick-up is typically a mom thing?”

You shrugged. “I mean--I don’t see a lot of dads there, so yeah.”

CeCe shimmied out of her tutu and then climbed up to a stool beside Maeve. Harry walked to hang her backpack on a hook by the backdoor, you questioned if it was even worth asking.

“Were they, like, hitting on you?”

“I mean, not really.”

“Not really?”

He walked over to the island and leaned on it, the dimple in his left cheek let you know he liked the hint of jealousy in your voice. “Maybe a little.”

Dinner simmered on the stove, evening sun brought a glow to the kitchen that made his eyes even more green than usual. When you didn’t reply he broke your gaze, let out a sigh and said: “I’m going to shower before dinner, yeah?”

“Sounds good,” you nodded quickly, embarrassed by the silliness of your question. Of course the moms were hitting on him, of course they were intrigued by his presence and of course they couldn’t help but say hi or even ask for a photo. It shouldn’t have surprised you in the slightest.

He was up the stairs and out of sight quickly, CeCe picked up an extra pencil of Maeve’s and started doodling on her agenda book. You pushed sautéed veggies around in a frying pan and pretended that all of this was normal.

“Hey mom?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you like Harry?”

You turned around quickly, Maeve’s eyes were inquisitive but not judgmental.

“Do I like Harry? Of course--he’s nice.”

“No, I mean do you like like Harry?”

CeCe didn’t seem too interested in your answer, she hummed to herself and kicked her feet back and forth. Maeve, though, waited patiently while you tried to piece together words that wouldn’t make the roof blow off of your house.

“Harry and I are friends, sweetie.”

“You’re not answering my question.”

You let out a forced laugh. “What is making you ask this?”

“You seemed jealous about the other moms.”

“I wasn’t jealous,” you defended. Were you really about to get into it with your eleven-year-old? Would you really defend yourself and make this the hill on which you'd die?

She watched you for a second, looked back down at the worksheet in front of her. “You seemed jealous.”

You were thankful for the fact that she wasn’t making any eye contact now. You let out a sigh and decided that not responding was your best option. Adrenaline coursed through your veins, had it been that obvious? Was she old enough to pick up on the undertones of your relationship?

You turned back to the stove, watched the vegetables sizzle in the pan as your mind started to cave in on itself. All of this was getting out of control, right? First the woman yesterday and the dizziness that overtook you when she said the word boyfriend. Now Maeve sitting at the counter with a curiosity in her that you couldn’t really blame her for.

The doorbell rang, CeCe’s head popped up in excitement. “Who is that?!”

“I don’t know,” you said. She hopped off her stool and took off the door as you followed behind her. You hadn’t planned on a visit from Jeff, maybe Tristan needed last minute approval on a product.

But when CeCe yanked the door open with both hands and an excited smile on her face, you didn’t expect to see Luke, hands in his pockets and eyebrows raised high.

“Daddy!”

“Hi sweetie,” he knelt down on one knee, wrapped his arms around her when Maeve made a noise of excitement before rushing over. She crashed into him, pushing her way into their hug.

“What are you doing here?” she asked excitedly.

“I wanted to visit, I was in the neighborhood,” he said with a shrug, eyes glancing up to you.

It was bullshit, he’d always been good at talking his way out of things or coming up with an explanation, smile sweet and words even sweeter. He backed away from them when they let go, stood back up and smiled at you, a quick nod in greeting.

“How’ve you been?”

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[remuscore]

Decisions, Decisions

I am hurting everyone around me with subtext and knowledge of what happens in the future for these two. But still enjoy cute baby Roman :)

Warnings: Talk of pregnancy, implied child abuse, mention of infant death. It's pretty tame for the most part but send an ask if you need anything else added.

_____________

Remus focuses on breathing, keeping his chest from rising up and down too fast as to not disturb the tiny little thing in his arms. He leaned against his car, bouncing and struggling to get his mind to understand the events that had come to pass by him so fast.

Audri told him she was pregnant and was not going to be keeping the kid. Remus— the overwhelming stupid Remus― said he wanted it. She had agreed to carry the baby, but she refused to be a part of the kid’s life. No matter how much Remus begged that she at least keep in contact, she said she wanted nothing to do with them. Either of them. Which was unbelievably harsh, but Remus couldn't blame her. Because of him, she had had any unplanned pregnancy and had to take time off school because of it. She was a smart girl so this ruined her education for awhile.

And while Remus was getting everything from when he was a baby and getting everything all set up in his room, his parents had found out and were... less than happy. A big fight ended with a chunk of Remus’ hair ripped out of his head and his car filled with baby things. He didn’t even get a chance to grab his own stuff. Not even his backpack. He had to go to the last month of school in the same clothes and with nothing to do his work. Luckily enough, the locker room had rental clothes and a shower and his teachers let him use some extra materials they had. He didn't tell anyone what happened.

On the last few days of school, Remus had stared at the doors to the school early in the morning, wondering if he should still try taking the kid in. If he called up Audri and said he couldn’t, then she could find the kid a real family. Real parents that were stable enough to actually raise them right. Then, Remus would be allowed back home. He wouldn’t be close to dropping out next year. He would still have a chance to have a real life and be a real young adult and get to have kids at an acceptable age later when he had money and a place to live.

Something in him said no. He didn’t want to put any more worry on Audri. He decided he was going to pretend to still want to keep the kid, but then give them over to a person that could actually give them a good home. This was his fault anyways, might as well take the responsibility of making sure the baby is safe.

But standing here now, close to midnight with a very small and new born baby boy in his arms, staring at the hospital just a parking lot in front of him, Remus couldn’t make his legs move.

He was just so small.

“Nine pounds and six ounces,” Remus whispered. He didn’t know why he kept repeating what Audri had told him. He's been saying it like a mantra ever since she handed him over. “Nine pounds, six ounces, perfectly healthy and happy. Nine pounds, six ounces.”

Every breath felt so heavy and painful and he prayed that his― that the baby didn’t mind the fast beating of his heart. Why was this so terrifying? Remus has never been this scared before and it was all over a baby.

Whatever choice he made right now sealed the fate of his entire future. He was responsible for not only his life, but someone who couldn’t even lift their head yet. He has never been responsible for anything larger than a rat before in his life and that rat ended up dying because it went missing from it's cage and the feral cat that lived in their garage killed it. He shouldn’t be in charge of a baby.

“Fuck, what should I do?” Remus gasped. He pulled the baby closer to him, holding the back of his head and feeling the small patch of hair on his head. He was starting to panic and that was never good. Can babies read your vibes? Can the baby feel him panicking? “Fuck― fuck. What should I do?”

“Eli would know what to do,” Remus adjusted the baby so that they were chest to chest and his tiny head was on his shoulder. He squirmed and let out a few little whines as Remus slid down onto the wet asphalt under his tires. The bundle in his arms stopped squirming when Remus bounced him again. “Eli’s wife just got pregnant. He's been reading all these baby books and it's barely even a bump yet. I beat him to it.”

He laughed and leaned the baby away to look at him. He was practically falling asleep right here and now. His little pink lips covered in drool and his skin was starting to flake and dry up. His head was so big and fat that his little cheeks were acting like little pillows on his shoulders. He was just so incredibly tiny.

“You don’t even know who Eli is, you lucky shit,” Remus’ cheeks hurt from the smile that has yet to fall off his face. He just wanted to crush the baby’s tiny little head, he’s so fucking cute! “He’s my brother. Technically, anyways. Or maybe not anymore because my parents kicked me out. I might be disowned now. I could’ve had two brothers, you know. I think about that a lot actually. He was supposed to be my twin, but he had a lot of breathing problems and died about two months after being born. I wish he had stuck around. I could definitely use someone right now.”

The baby didn’t respond of course because he was just a baby. He didn’t understand a single thing going on. He didn’t know who Remus was or what he was saying or what was in store for him if Remus could just make a fucking decision. He was small and ignorant to everything for the next few years.

Remus didn’t expect how fast he would fall in love with this stupid little thing.

With that thought in mind, Remus held the baby in one arm and pushed himself to his feet. He didn’t glance back at the hospital as he opened the door to the passenger side and put him in his car seat. The little thing didn’t stir and continued sleeping calmly. Remus rushed to the driver’s side and buckled himself in. He turned on the engine and dialed the first number he could think of on his phone.

“Hey, Spencer, I know we haven’t talked in awhile, but long story short I need a place to stay because I was kicked out of my house for getting a girl pregnant—” Remus laughed at his friends response, wedging the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he started driving to his apartment. “Yeah, I know, but I gotta son now so— his name?”

Remus grabbed the phone with his hand again and glanced over at the baby. Audri never gave him a name. She didn’t want anything to do with them, so of course she didn’t care about his name, but Remus didn’t really plan to take the kid back. The hospital or adopter people were going to handle that.

“Uh… Roman,” Remus smiled and nodded in agreement. “Yeah, his name is Roman. Yeah, he was born just a few hours ago. June 4th.”

[bellatrixobsessed1]

What do you consider demonizing Azula vs objectively describing her less flattering traits and harmful actions?

Honestly, it all comes down to word choice and language at the end of the day imo. If someone’s character analysis is presented with a certain tone I’m more inclined to say that they are demonizing her. For example saying that “ as a child Azula demonstrated red flags for mental illness and should have been helped” is a lot less antagonizing than “Azula was born evil, she liked to tease and bully Zuko from the start.” One of these statements addresses the complexities of her situation (a broken home and several poor adult influences/examples) while the other basically places full blame on a child. Things like that. I really, really do believe that it’s all about the tone an Azula analysis is presented in. 

Personally I would agree that some of her childhood behaviors, like setting Zuko’s pants on fire and burning some of the bushes in the place garden were huge red flags. They are harmful actions. BUT a lot of those could be 1. attention getting antics because her mother usually paid more attention to her when she misbehaved. 2. Her emulating Ozai and his attitude. And stuff like, “dad’s going to kill you.” Is very much Azula mimicking what her father demonstrated as well as her father actively rewarding her for behaviors like that. These are definitely harmful actions that started getting worse as she got older. An analysis like that is fair and not demonizing imo, because it recognizes that Azula is still a kid and it doesn’t write off the possibility for her to unlearn some of these behaviors later in life with the right help. 

While something like, “even child Azula is a insane, look what she did to Zuko! What kind of sociopath sings-songs about someone’s dad killing them!?” Here is an example of using buzzwords and implying that mental illness as something that automatically makes someone evil. It puts all blame on Azula while factoring out the adults in her life that either sat passive or actively taught her these behaviors. This, imo, is demonizing. 

One of my biggest peeves at the moment is when they say that fucking Ozai and Zhao are more redeemable. Zhao was literally seen in the Avatar universe version of Hell. It is canon that he did not get redemption. So by extension it is canon that he is NOT more redeemable than Azula whose fate is still ambiguous. And there is not one argument that can convince me that the grown ass man who burned his own son’s face off while tearing apart his self-worth is more redeemable than a fourteen year old girl. There is not one argument that can convince me that a man who made a weapon out of his daughter and (heavily implied) abused his wife (at least emotionally) is more redeemable than a fourteen year old girl. Usually I try to keep an open mind and be nice about my opinions in these discourses but I just can’t with this one; I think that this particular statement is stupid as hell. Ozai and (especially in canon and in Hell) Zhao are NOT more redeemable than Azula. Bye, miss me with that dumb shit. 

Some more specific examples that come to mind are;

 When people make Azula out to be a murderer and/or a sadist

The turtle duck thing

Baby Azula.  

The murder thing drives me nuts because, first of all, she’s a solider. She’s at war. Her one kill was a combat kill, he came back to life, and he was entering the Avatar state. Now correct me if I’m wrong but Aang killed Zhao in the Avatar state. You can’t tell me that no one died or was seriously injured in the episode ‘The Avatar State’. So of course she’s gonna shoot him down; he could have killed her just as well. He had no control over the Avatar state at the time. 

Furthermore she has the least amount of collateral damage. And one of the smallest body counts. Aang has killed so many background characters via the Avatar state. Sokka killed Combustion man. Sokka, Suki, and Toph killed several soldiers by crashing those war blimps in the finale. I think that you get the point. But none of them get called murders like Azula does. Everyone seems to be well aware that all of those were combat kills. The reason they get called soldiers instead of murders is because they are protagonists. 

Azula is not a murder. She is a solider. Combat kills are different than murder. They are horrible and unfortunate all the same but it isn’t murder. 

And then there’s the sadist claim. At best I think that that’s a misinterpretation of character. At least from my personal POV. I've seen it argued that she’s not a sadist but only because it’s more coinvent not to be; that she would be one if  she had time for it. But I think that a true sadist wouldn’t give a shit if it’s not convenient. If she were a sadist I feel like she would go out of her way to hurt people like Chit Sang even if it’s not necessary. Azula does only what’s necessary and that’s it. I do think that Azula is merciful. Perhaps not conventionally so but she isn’t cruel. She takes prisoners and as far as we’ve seen on screen those prisoners aren’t treated particularly bad (by Azula anyhow). She doesn’t torture her prisoners and she doesn’t kill them. 

Now, I will give more of an open mind to people who say that she is an EMOTIONAL sadist of sorts. I do think that she gets a kick out of scaring people and bullying people. I’m on the fence with this argument though because how much of her getting a kick out of Zuko’s suffering is her also being relieved that it is not her. And how much of it is more run of the mill teenage bullying? This is one thing where I’m more than willing to hear from the other side. 

I think that the murderer and sadism thing is very much an attempt to demonize her. I think that it can be an exaggeration of her unflattering behaviors. I’m not saying that the things she did aren’t harmful but I do think that some people over exaggerate them or make up stuff that isn’t there; I’ve seen people state that she ‘probably killed so many soldiers off screen’. There is no canon evidence to support this? Likewise these are generally the same people who tell Azula fans that they can’t say Azula was abused off screen. 

The other big one is the turtleduck one. Zuko demonstrates how Azula feeds turtleducks. He throws a piece of bread. I don’t know where the rock thing came from. Furthermore I very much think that Azula chucking a loaf of bread at a turtleduck is just a small child being a little shit. When I was like five or six I yeeted a good half a loaf at a duck because, “the more food they get the happier they are, right????” To me that just seems more like a small child who has not learned impulse control than a child who likes hurting animals. This whole argument, at least imo, is actively demonizing a child for actions that aren’t exactly uncommon for children. The problem is when the child doesn’t learn that yeeting whole loafs at turtleducks is a bad thing. THIS is where I see a fair argument forming because (as of late) Azula didn’t seem to have unlearned this behavior. This is an example of one of those red flags I mentioned in the first paragraph. Which is where some nuance and critical thinking needs to come in. The complexities that I mentioned above about how the child isn’t 100% to blame here. The adults in her life should have tried to teach her better and/or Ozai need to fuck on off and stop teaching her to do wrong. 

And finally baby Azula. I’ll just drop a link here because I already talked about this. But the tone of The Search literally tried to demonize a whole baby. The way the narrative decided frame her was really unnecessary. I really don’t see how this scene contributed to the story other than to remind readers that ‘Azula was always evil, see!’ Nevermind that she’s sleeping in a whole crib. Because that’s a literal infant. 

Anyhow I might come back to this later to add more or clarify but I’m about to make lunch so I’ll end this here for now. Feel free to discuss further. I definitely don’t mind hearing from the other side so long as arguments are respectful and open minded.

[thecorteztwins]

(I ended up writing more “Mindmeld on Krakoa” fic! This time with Skein, the Serpent Society, and a shopping trip! Tagging @sammysdewysensitiveeyes and @esteicy-blog for ya girl!) Since her resurrection on Krakoa, Mindmeld had begun hanging out with two other mutants, Sybil Dvorak aka Skein, and Cleopatra “Cleo” Nefertiti (seriously) aka the Asp. They had started working together at Carousel, the Krakoan nightclub. They didn’t need jobs on Krakoa, but it was fun. Cleo had started teaching her to dance on the pole. Mindmeld had always managed to avoid sex work in her life before, something she had never wanted to have to do, because she’d seen how awful it was for so many other girls like her who were driven into it due to no other options, because she hadn’t wanted her body touched, exposed, she didn’t want to put herself at risk for assault or worse. But it was different on Krakoa, she could do it for fun here. Cleo said she’d always done it for fun, that dancing was empowering. Mindmeld had snorted at that initially. Yeah, she liked the sound of the money you could make from the stupid pigs willing to fork it over for a flash of skin but she wouldn’t call that empowering, whatever the fuck that word was even supposed to really mean. It seemed to her one of those pointless buzzwords used by people who didn’t have any real problems. But now, she didn’t have any real problems anymore, did she? She didn’t even need money on this island. And she’d thought she’d only ever get on stage if she really needed to, but now that she’d never need to...she found it really fun. Weird. Funny how that worked. “We should go off-island,” Asp suggested one night when the club was closed and they were all just hanging around the bar after-hours, “I have some old friends I want to see.”

“Oh yeah I know those girls!” said Skein, “Mindmeld, you’ll like them---or you’ll have a huge fight. Either way it’ll be exciting!” Hedonist that she was, Skein loved the never-ending party that was Krakoa, but it was also getting...predictable. She wanted to see something new. And the Krakoan portals could provide exactly that, letting them step anywhere in the world and all it had to offer. Mindmeld felt she’d had enough what the world had to offer to last her a few more lifetimes...but she did need to start rebuilding her wardrobe. “Alright,” she agreed, “But we’re going to Sak’s Fifth Avenue. I have my stupid ex’s credit card, and I’m finally going to live my dream of re-enacting that scene from Pretty Woman.” Shinobi had thought he could make it up to her with buying stuff. Which he couldn’t, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. *** “GET OFF ME, YOU TEN TON TRIPLE-BAGGER!” Mindmeld’s yell echoed through the Fifth Avenue alley. “Ladies, please!” Cleo demanded for some decorum. “Fight, fight, fight!” Skein cheered. “Well, my money’s on Ana so far,” said Black Mamba aka Tanya Sealy, hand on her hip, looking amused. That was when there was a flash of fluorescent green light from Mindmeld and Anaconda, aka Blanche Sitznski, collapsed on top of Mindmeld, who shoved her huge unconscious body off her, “Ugh, somebody get me a towel, her boob sweat could drown an infant!” “What did you do?” Tanya asked, more curious than concerned. “My mutant power,” Mindmeld explained, as a rat ran out from around the corner and launched itself at her boots, chomping and squealing. She didn’t look surprised at all, and continued, “I can move minds around. I put hers in this cheese-chewer. Figured she should get a feel for what it’s like to be the little guy for a change.” The rat’s shrieking increased at this, as Anaconda understood now who was to blame for her situation. “You can turn her back, of course,” said Tanya, with just a hint of a warning. Blanche might be a bully and a big boorish pain a lot of the time, but she was a part of the team---and a really useful part too. “She can, and she will,” said Cleo, crossing her arms, “Though given Blanche was the aggressor, I think it serves her right to serve some time.” The rat now started biting the toe of HER boots, squeaking angrily at her for this betrayal. “I’m inclined to agree,” admitted Tanya, “But we have a big night planned and it’d be really inconvenient to have to find some place to store her body AND keep track of a rat all night. Mindmeld, change her back.” “I don’t take orders unless I’m also taking cash,” Mindmeld said loftily, flipping her blonde hair a bit. “Ugh, fine,” Tanya rolled her eyes, though she was a mercenary too herself, “Mindmeld, will you please change her back?” “We-e-e-ll, since you’re a friend of a friend...though personally, I think she’s cuter this way. Smells WAY better too.” The rat gave one more EEK of indignation at this remark before there was another flash of green from the mind-swapper, and Blanche Sitznski was on her feet again, fists clenched and ready to resume swinging. “Alright, Barbie, you’re gonna pay for--” ““Enough!” Asp stepped between them, one of her hands---the one pointed to Blanche---glinting with yellow energy in warning that she was willing to fire one of her venom-bolts if she had to. “You started this, Anaconda, but I shall finish it if you make me! Now, we are going to settle down, go to Saks, and have a good time!” *** They all made it there in one piece, and at one of the exclusive boutiques, Mindmeld decided to finally do something about the fact that the flannel-clad Anaconda had been hanging back at every shop while the other girls bustled about gushing over this and that. She did this by striding over to Anaconda and shoving a fabulous black shift dress at her. “Here, Jumbo, try this on.” “Wha--” Anaconda looked down at the offered garment, then glared back at Mindmeld, “You makin’ fun of me?” “No, you do that on your own just fine” “Why I oughta--” “You oughta take that to the dressing room. It’s gonna look great on you. I mean, you’ll still look like shit, but you’ll look like great shit.” Anaconda couldn’t tell if she was being complimented or insulted, so she merely glared at the other blonde, but then snatched the garment and went to the dressing room. When she stepped out, she felt a little uncomfortable. She expected the other girls to make fun of her. But instead--- ”Wow Ana, I never knew you had LEGS!” Black Mamba said approvingly. Cleo concurred, and Skein made a whoo-whoo sound. While the others moved on, Anaconda cornered Mindmeld, “Ok, what was that about?” “What?” “Were you trying to set me up? Cuz boy did it backfire on you! Ha!” Mindmeld rolled her eyes, ”Ok, clearly you have about as much brains as my former boss, so I’ll break this down for you, big girl--we’re the same height, we both got shoulders as broad as a barn door, and biceps the size of grapefruits. We’re not the cute little skinny-minnies they make most of the clothes here for,” She gestured to other girls with her thumb, “So I wasn’t sure if you weren’t trying anything just because you LIKE being butch, or if you’re just used to nothing looking good on you because they don’t make anything that will.”Anaconda looked touched, then pissed again, “I don’t need your pity!” “If I was gonna pity you, Girlzilla, it’d be because you’re dumber than a fried popsicle! What, you’re saying I’d PITY someone for looking like ME? You insulting ME? Huh?” “Wha--hey no, I wasn’t---” “And I wasn’t doing YOU any favors, scaleface! I didn’t offer to PAY for the dress! I just pointed it out! It’s on YOUR dime if you want it!” With that, Mindmeld brushed past Anaconda, leaving her baffled. But she did buy the dress though. She’d wear it on a date with Gordon. He ended up thinking she looked fantastic. And you know what? She did too.

[littlemeowmeowschimmy]

Life’s Little Joys [Yoongi x Reader] 7

credit: littlemeowmeowschimmy

Requests opened // prev - m.list - next

Genre: Cute // Fluff // Smut // Angst

Summary: Your life takes an unexpected turn when your period comes five days late…

WC: 1.9k

A/N: I just realized, I hadn’t updated this in over two months. Oops

You stayed out for almost an hour and a half. It was beautiful living close to the city because you could just walk out of your apartment and venture around. The thought of being a mother terrified you, especially since your business was beginning to pick up traction. Furthermore, you couldn’t imagine the struggle to be a mother while your soon to be husband was traveling around the world. 

Every little thing terrified you. Your parents were old fashion, in the sense that they wanted you to have children only after you were married. Maybe Yoongi's parent's wouldn't mind, but your parents would. Even thinking about it brought you to shiver at their reactions.

Finally, how the hell were you now supposed to fit into your wedding dress? It was only two weeks away, but you were already four weeks in. The thought of giving the child up, or even having an abortion was starting to creep in.

At four weeks, the baby had a heartbeat. You certainly didn't know if your body was starting to change, but you knew that the baby was a living being. In the end, it was your decision, and the thought was terrifying. You blamed yourself and your recklessness. You had said that you weren’t going to do anything stupid and now, now you were pregnant and only a couple weeks before your wedding.

During your almost mental break down, this journey brought you into a small store a few blocks away. You started to venture through the aisles. You were looking for little things for the apartment. Maybe more cleaning supplies, possibly even a few new pens. It's not like you needed any more, but it couldn't help to have some lying around. However, it landed you right where you least expected. 

The baby aisle was filled with such small things. Anywhere from diapers to clothes, shoes, and much more. This wasn’t good for your health, as you were still stressing out over what you were going to do. Perhaps distracting yourself might help.

Your legs began to move faster than your mind could process. You ventured in, eyes glossy and wide as your fingers rubbed some of the clothes. Even touched the toys and other small trinkets. Your mouth dropped, and you were started to feel your eyes water. How much time you spent in this aisle you didn't know, but somehow it brought you some peace.

In doing so, you remembered you had to go and grab vitamins and other things. Mostly because you remembered picking these things up for your sister. As you thought more about it, the thought of scheduling an appointment with your doctor came. Once again, you were left to thinking about the future as your anxiety heightened again.

You needed to focus on yourself and getting the baby as healthy as possible. Everything else was going to fall into place....right? 

»»————-　★　————-««

Everything was not falling into place. Those few weeks before and during your wedding was hectic. Trying to work around Yoongi’s schedule, keeping tabs on the small infant growing inside, as well as other little annoying events. You still hadn’t told your parents, and you were now six weeks pregnant. Thankfully, you hadn’t started to show, so it was easy to continue living life as is.

Your wedding dress had to be tweaked little since it was tight around your curves. Other than that, everything went to shit. The number of times you had to reschedule things and move different objects around was trying. Your close friend Yuri decided that she was going to take over all of the small logistical things. She was the only person outside of the six rambunctious brothers Yoongi hung out around, who knew you were pregnant. It took a lot of convincing, but Yuri finally won. Yoongi and the others pitched in as much as they could, even with their hectic schedule. 

You had two different weddings on two separate days. One was for your side of the family, as the other was for Yoongi's. Your parents had originally come from the west, so they wanted more of a westernized wedding, while Yoongi's wanted a more traditional Korean. You weren't going to argue with either side as you tried to respect both wishes equally. So, after much discussion, you two decided it was best to split it into two different days.

The nights of your weddings passed as they were filled with drunken laughter and a bunch of kisses and hugs. Both families were extremely excited to welcome each party into their own. Yoongi's side kept giving you advice and dragging your poor husband, to which you laughed and played along. While your side did almost the exact same thing as Yoongi's. The way they got together made your little heart full and happy, enough to even make you cry.

Now fast forwards to you, snuggling up against your husband as he wrapped his arm around your waist. Pulling you close in as you two lay down in the penthouse. Your feet felt like they were going to be swollen, but your body was overcome with emotions. To say the least you were overstimulated. The baby talk hadn't come up since you left the house two weeks ago. Everything got in the way of you sitting down and talking to your husband. Even now, you didn't want to bring up such a heavy topic. All you wanted was to snuggle up to Yoongi comfortably and not think about anything.

“You doing alright?” Yoongi questions while shifting himself upwards. You glanced forwards at the television and shrugged your shoulders. Giving him a silent answer while you clung onto his waist. Yoongi noticed you were silent but didn’t press any further on the matter. Instead, he simply rubbed your back. Even raking his nails down to scratch certain parts of your body. 

“I’m just thinking,” you eventually spoke, arching your back like a cat when he found the best spot. You groaned in his embrace, this giving him a small heads up as you wanted him to continue. Yoongi chuckled under his breath, his eyes half-lidded as he watched you react to his actions. 

“About?” 

“Everything.” You answered, puffing your cheeks out and then flattening them as your lips came to a thin line. You propped yourself up on your elbows, eyes glued on his shirtless abdomen. Your brought one finger up to move around the faint line of muscle that was beginning to show. Before Yoongi could even elaborate on such a topic, you simply mumbled,” I hope your damn stylist doesn’t tell you to stop working out.” 

This caught Yoongi off guard as his gummy smile emerged. He laughed at your small statement, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Your head moved back only for your eyebrows to furrow as you looked at him. “What?” 

“Nothing,” he mumbles in between fits of laughter. His right hand comes up to grab your wrist, then his fingers slowly move up to wrap around yours. Bringing your hand up, Yoongi places a kiss on your knuckles and then sets it down by his waist. 

It went silent again as you and Yoongi embraced each other. You were solely focused on how his body was slowly changing due to their workouts. You didn’t mind at all because he was starting to take care of himself. Especially after the scare, he gave when he lost all that weight because he wasn’t eating. Now you got to pinch his chubby cheeks and call him a sweet boiled dumpling. Which he didn’t particularly enjoy, but he wasn’t going to stop you. Instead, he welcomed it more than anything. 

Yoongi was focused on figuring out what was going on inside your head. He had been with you long enough to know that you weren't going to talk about something until you were ready about it. However, that didn't excuse him from asking questions and figuring out something. Yoongi was just as worried about the baby as you were concerned about it. Everything happened so quickly that he didn't know how to process it himself.

“Baby?” Yoongi questions shifting himself once again, this time letting go of your hand and replacing it by touching your back again. 

“Hm?” 

“When are we going to tell our parents?” you froze at the thought. Yes, it had occurred to you to tell them, but you were just as afraid as Yoongi was. Maybe his parents would be only a little more understanding, but yours, perhaps not. The thought of telling them brought you to roll over out of his hold. You sat up on the edge of the bend, running your fingers through your hair as you crossed your legs. 

“I’m not entirely sure Yoongs,” you mentioned biting your lower lip in thought. At first, you hadn’t noticed when his weight shifted on the bed. Yoongi moved closer in, pressing your back against his chest. He gently places his hands on your stomach, his chin resting on your left shoulder. Making his breath hitting your skin, that caused goosebumps to form. 

“After the small honeymoon?” he muses, placing gentle kisses along the collum of your neck. Oh, so now someone wanted to change the subject. You giggled at his attempt to get you into the mood. It was undoubtedly working because you were interested now. 

“I can handle that.” you mused, allowing your husband to roam your neck further. This honeymoon was something you two needed. Considering that the group had a comeback lurking in the future. You wanted to spend as much time as you possibly could before your lives got crazy once again. 

The days turned into weeks and the weeks turned into a month and a half. You two didn’t venture out of Korea; however, you ventured out of Seoul. It was a collective decision to stay in Korea, just in case the company needed him. You two took your time traveling among places you hadn’t explored in Korea yet. Going to traditional towns and eating many different delicious foods. Since an infant was growing, your appetite had gone up exponentially. 

Yoongi was amused by how much you were eating, and now he decided to call you a boiled dumpling. After all the weeks he spent getting pinched, it was his turn for revenge. Maybe in hopes that you would stop, but you never did. Yoongi’s puffy cheeks were absolutely adorable, and there was nothing that was going to stop you. 

In doing so, you were twelve and a half months pregnant, and a small bump was showing. You had to check in with your doctor over the phone or webcast, but she eventually decided that it was time to come in for a gender reveal. You hadn’t sad anything to your parents, so you decided to wait a few more weeks. Just to give you enough time to sit down and talk to them. 

On the ride home, Yoongi held your hand tightly.  “We can pass through 

Daegu if you want..” You mentioned chewing on your lower lip. Your parents lived in Busan, so it wasn’t that far of a drive to Daegu. Yoongi puffed his cheeks, which made you want to touch. In doing so, Yoongi saw your hand creep close and gently smacked it away. He gave you a gummy smile, then stuck his tongue out.

“If we’re going to do that,” he ventures. “Then we’re going to say hello to Holly.” turning to give you one more gummy smile before stepping on the gas and heading straight for home. 

[medea10]

My Review of Kaguya-sama: Love is War

How did I get into this anime? It was about time to do it as this was one of the best animes to come from the winter 2019 anime line-up (after Dororo and The Promised Neverland). Now let’s hit…

Hold it Medea! Weren’t you supposed to review Darker Than Black for your Aniplex pick?

Ah, yes…THAT anime. I watched it. I finished it. It was a mind-fuck. I bailed on the review. And while I’m at it, I’m also not reviewing Psycho Pass 3, Violet Evergarden, or A Certain Scientific Accelerator. Onto Kaguya-sama!

Shuchiin Academy, once a school for students that are well-off financially. Nowadays, it’s still that, but even commoners can attend. And one such student is a boy by the name of Miyuki Shirogane, who in just his first year managed to obtain the top spot at the school with the position of Student Council President.  By his side is his vice president, Kaguya Shinomiya. This girl comes from extreme wealth and excels in many fields including art and music. The students here revere these two as being the best of the best. And also…they make a great couple!

Pump the brakes here, pal. These two are NOT a couple. As a matter of fact, both characters end up playing 3D chess in their brains to try and take the other person down with mind games if even the slightest topic involving love is brought up. Both Kaguya and Miyuki already have feelings for the other, they just won’t admit it. The first person to admit love will be considered the loser in this war. And both of these characters are stubborn to the point of…oh my god!

THESE TWO ARE TSUNDERES! I’ve seen animes where only one person is the tsundere in the couple. But what happens when they’re BOTH tsunderes? Well…it took over 20 episodes for Taiga on Toradora. It took over 4 seasons for Louise on Familiar of Zero. But those two animes had only ONE tsundere. This anime has TWO. We might be here for a while!

Well, let’s watch who wins and who loses in the game (or war) of love!

BETWEEN THE SUB AND THE DUB: Aniplex of America has a good grip on this anime as they have managed to license the second season before it has aired. Much to my dismay, this anime has not received an English dub. Aniplex of America has released the blu-ray last month ($100+ shipping and handling), but only with Japanese audio/English subtitles. Okay.

Now IF they decide to come back in a few years and dub this series, I have a few thoughts. And don’t say it’ll never happen. FUNimation and Sentai are guilty as fuck of releasing a series with no dub and two years later dropping a dub release just so they can grab extra dough.

I HAVEN’T FORGOTTEN NICHIJOU YOU GRIFTING CRAP-WEASELS!

Anyways, if they decide to do this, I want R. Bruce Elliott to voice the narrator. I don’t give a shit about the rest of the cast, I just want that for the narrator! That’s just my take on that matter. I know this would NEVER happen unless Elliott ends up in L.A. for a few sessions (as he’s mostly stationed in Texas). It’s just that he’s the best person to play a narrator in just about anything. Don’t believe me? Watch Space Dandy and Sgt. Frog and get back to me!

Oh! And just my luck, FUNimation plans on giving this series an English dub. Though it’ll be a while before we see anything due to COVID-19 mess! No rush, take your time. Rest up. Consider R. Bruce Elliot as the narrator. And we’ll see you after we get off quarantine!

The sub version consists of a lot of newer, yet familiar voices. As for Kaguya’s seiyuu (Aoi Koga), this is my first time hearing her voice and so far I’m impressed. I’m also impressed with an anime to have several tsunderes and no sign of Rie Kugimiya, the QUEEN of tsundere anime characters. That shows great dedication, but if she ends up in season two, I’m gonna scream. Here’s what you might recognize these folks from.

*Kaguya is played by Aoi Koga

*Miyuki is played by Makoto Furukawa (known for Saitama on One Punch Man, Hatsuharu on Fruits Basket 2019, and Banri on Golden Time)

*Chika is played by Konomi Kohara (known for Miu on Domestic Girlfriend, Fizel on SAO: Alicization, and Kai on Hitoribocchi)

*Yuu is played by Ryouta Suzuki (known for Ryouhei on Tsurune)

FAVORITE CHARACTER: Chika. Chika. Chika. Chika. Chika. And did I mention Chika?

Best girl!

SPEAKING OF CHIKA: I found an infectious little song in the form of an ending theme! For one episode, we got an ending theme song featuring Chika.

Chikatto Chika Chikaa♡! I just love it! This should win an award or something!

*several months later*

Thank you Crunchyroll Awards!

Seriously, this ED as well as the OP theme are just so infectious that I constantly go back to replay these two songs whenever I take a break from replaying Black Clover themes (no joke, I love Black Clover themes). The first ending is fine. It’s just that Chika’s special ED was so addicting that I had to mention it once, twice, or more!

SHIPPING: It’s pretty obvious to see that Kaguya and Miyuki are mad for each other. But there are several obstacles in their way. For one thing this is sort of their first love, so approaching this subject is very new. Secondly, both of them are dead-set on the fact that love is a war full of wins and losses. Both Kaguya and Miyuki play these mind-games when something mundane happens like a personality quiz or a weekend activity. They try to trap the other person into saying something embarrassing or admitting to something. Even though it’s so crystal clear that they both are romantically interested in each other!

However, I’m pretty sure Kaguya has lost more battles than Miyuki due to the infamous sick day episode. Sick Kaguya is pretty ballsy getting Miyuki to lay in bed with her.

FUNNIEST MOMENT: You can blame this on the fact that I’m absolutely immature and have the mind of an 8 year old. But there was a moment in mid-season where Chika learns of a specific quirk about Kaguya. Because Kaguya was suppressed when it came to matters of phrases and naughty words, she still finds the word “wiener” utterly hilarious. And so during this whole segment, you’ve got Chika continuously saying the word “wiener”. Then, she goes the extra mile to have other members of the student council like Miyuki and Yuu to say the word. And Kaguya is trying to prevent them from saying it until we just get a barrage of “wieners” and hysterical laughter. I gotta admit that it was one of the funniest moments in this series.

ENDING: A few episodes before the finale, a monumentous moment occurred. Kaguya got sick.

Just go with it!

Whenever Kaguya gets sick, her mind goes into a complete stupor. Her mind is almost that of an infant or small child and once she’s better, she will not remember a single thing that happened. And Miyuki was the poor sap to check on her during that sick day! I’ll cut to the chase and say what went down.

She opens her bed covers and drags Miyuki into bed with her. Now before your mind jumps in the trash, they remained fully clothed…although they both did fall asleep. So, they slept together. Just no intercourse! This kinda lead to a major fight involving a cake, an apology, and a cute moment where Kaguya touches his lip!

Hey, a girl who’s been sexually suppressed her whole life, this is like first base here.

I feel that was a bit of a breaking point to bring up on a count of a lot of the mind games stopped temporarily. Probably because the last two episodes of the season involved summer break! By the looks of it, Chika was having a blast eating so much and Yuu is doing his usual gaming stuff. All the while, Kaguya and Miyuki didn’t really do much during their break. But they promised to all meet up one day to see the fireworks. Unfortunately, that serves to be a daunting task for Kaguya as she’s been heavily sheltered her entire life. Her family (especially her father) never let her do things normal kids take for granted including going out with friends or even walking to school.

In fact, Kaguya’s plans of meeting up with Chika and others to go shopping were cancelled due to Kaguya’s father calling her to the main house…for literally nothing. Add to that, the family saw it in THEIR best interest to not allow Kaguya to leave the house to see the fireworks with her friends. But Kaguya decided to defy those orders! She gets her servant Hayasaka to disguise as her if any other servants come in and escaped her house. Yuu, Chika, and Miyuki were all in an agreement to save Kaguya…just not on the same wavelength. Kaguya on her own ended up missing the firework show. But once Miyuki found her, he took her and they went on a small adventure to another prefecture to see another firework show. But it could be cutting it close due to traffic and the show was reaching its end. Thankfully, they made it! Kaguya was finally able to see the fireworks with her friends.

It’s just that Kaguya didn’t pay attention to the firework show…she stared at Miyuki the whole time!

In the final segment of episode 12, Kaguya and Miyuki kinda realized how dorky they were the night of the firework show. Kaguya let her guard down so many times that night and spent the entire firework show staring at Miyuki. Meanwhile, Miyuki thought he sounded stupid when he took Kaguya to the show. We get one final mind-game between these two until it ended with Miyuki almost saying something and Kaguya chases him down while the end credits play on in the background.

Will either one of them say how they truly feel about the other? Who will win? Who will lose?

…Guess we’ll find out in a few days when season two airs!

This was an entertaining anime! It’s like if Death Note were a rom-com instead of a thriller. Both Kaguya and Miyuki have a similar mind-set to Light Yagami when it comes to the game of love. They both have the hots for each other and both refuse to admit it first. But thanks to key moments including Kaguya’s sickness and the firework saga, there’s been definite progress with these two letting their guards down. But they’ve got a long way to go! I mean, these two are major tsunderes meaning they’re going to suppress their wants and desires with the opposite sex with these ridiculous mind-games. So…we might be here for a while before any one of them admits their feelings. But I say give it a watch! It’s not that long of a series and it’s still fairly new so it’s still open for more sequels and side-projects before losing its luster.

Currently, this anime is available for streaming on Hulu, Crunchyroll, and FUNimation.

And stay tuned for the second season exclusively available on FUNima…You guys are really pissing me off with your exclusivity!

Okay, I managed to finish this baby up quite quick. What’s the next Aniplex title I’m going to watch?

Picture it, Medea. Osmosis Jones but…

Cells at Work?

That’s great. I’m also not reviewing this one. I have my own reasons for not reviewing this. So let’s hit the randomizer button again because as of this date, I finished Cells at Work.

Lord El-Melloi…I’M NOT READING ALL THAT SHIT! Sum it up quickly!

It’s Fate, but with Waver Velvet.

Jesus “Tap Dancing” Christ, it’s another Fate series! I’m not reviewing anything Fate! It’s a cluster-fuck of a series! Don’t get me wrong, I love Fate/Zero and Unlimited Blade Works as much as the next dip-shit, but the franchise is a pile of cluster bombs and I can’t make heads or tails of any of this. Regardless, I finished that hot mess as well.

Okay you picky-ass bitch, how about the best animated anime of the 2010’s?

Demon Slayer!

Now that’s more like it! But I will still fight to the death that best animated goes to Violet Evergarden!

[welcometoyournewhell]

Suck it Up, Sammy

A/N: I don't believe the content is too touchy, but for some it may be. Talks about olden beliefs of twins (and other births that involve more than one child) and albinism.

This was done on the phone and I apologize in advance.

Sam and Dean are stuck with a toddler after a failed hunt. After the youngest fights his brother on every option of removing the child from their grasp Sam finds himself a father.... and is anything but happy about it.

___

Dean grunted as he trudged down the steps of the closest thing to a childhood home he had; Well.... with the exception of Baby. He and Sam were laying low at their adopted father's house until they figured out what to do with the results of their last hunt.

A town went insane over a line woman having albino twins, and a line cult made it their mission to execute these "demonic entities". It was like something out of older times. If a woman bore more than one child, she was that of an animal!

God forbid her children didn't look an "acceptable" way, they were the children of Satan! A single mother and her toddlers had just moved to a small town in Texas before they became a target for a small group of religious cultists.

The only survivor of the night was a three year old girl who was practically mute. While Dean was trying to figure out if she had any relatives or where to send her, Sam was having a pity party for himself, blaming himself for the family's death.

He'd had the visions, he'd had the nightmares.... but he didn't know the needed details to save these people. When he freed the small girl from her bonds.... something came over him and he just.... wouldn't let her go.

She'd panic if he'd try to anyway. They ended up bringing her with them to a few hunts on their way back to Bobby's as Sam shot down every option. Finding her family, almost impossible. Adoption home, chance of abuse or the group finding her. Foster care, a bunch of possibilities and the same group. The church, that one Sam actually smacked his brother's arm.

"Who do you think was just hunting her, Dean?!" He didn't mean that town but Sam had a point. There were too many stories about abuse came with Nun hood. There was no way Bobby would raise her go through the same shit he'd gone through with John and the boys.

So it was either him or Sam being a dad and risking a child's life and putting then through the same hell they went through.... or a previous option.

Well Dean made it clear he wasn't looking to be a father, and Sam wasn't budging. Last night was the final straw. Bobby interrupted there fight and pretty much told Sam.... he was a dad now.

"Not gonna put her somewhere safe, she's your job now. I ain't raising her Sam, and your brother sure as shit ain't. She likes you, she's you responsibility." In which, Sam tried to fight back but the old man made it clear, it was a home or Sam, end of discussion.

Dean was already enjoying being an uncle. Oh the cute outfits and bibs. Sure, she was able to eat with out a bib but.... it was Batman! He spent all his cash on toys, clothes, pull ups, and anything else he thought was cute.

Honestly, it was the only reason he wasn't giving into Sammy's puppy eyes. The younger brother had been wallowing on self pity, trying to talk Dean into another plan for the kid. Dean would ignore him or simply state, "It's a stepping stone Sam. You can be the dad you always wanted dad to be. ", or " It'll get your mind of Jess, dad, and everything else." Normally it was the first one that shut the other up.

They'd spent about a month with her now, and she was slowly starting to get used to them. She was still clinging to Sam like a life line though.... but she was letting Dean and Bobby hold her now too. "Alright kiddo, pancakes, " the eldest hunter asked. Bright blue eyes blinked before looking up to the man holding her.

"I think she'll like them. Gonna have to get used to them." Bobby frowned a bit before shaking his head. "You seem excited about this, why don't you be daddy?" Sam was in bed still, trying to ignore the title. "Because, I'm uncle material. Besides, she'd um... kind of be a bit of a, that. Not like Sammy's getting any anyway."

He bounced her up a bit more before kissing the platinum curls. "Besides, she likes Sam better. Probably should get her into a child psychologist though. She's got some damage." He tapped her little head with a smile. She didn't smile back. She'd looked either sad, come fused, or scared the whole time they'd had her.

"Aint we all? How about a name first? Need something to put on those papers." They should have raided the house for her birth certificate and social security number. "Yeah... the number is still going to be an issue. But not like she's driving any time soon, are ya? "

She was holding on of Sam's forty night shirts to her face as Dean kissed her head. Bobby finished some pancakes before passing his eldest a knife and fork. "What's the knife for, " he asked. "Well look at her mouth." Oh, not for him. "But I'm serious about the name. Even if she has one... she can't write or talk."

Green eyes looked up to blue. "Maybe those magnet shapes? She could spell her name." They didn't know how old she was though. "Dean she's either two or three. She may know her name but.... probably can't spell it." Crap. "Well how about Xena, huh? Like the warrior princess?"

"We're not naming her Xena." Ah, his highness was awake. "'Bout time you joined us sleeping beauty," Bobby grumbled. "I'm twentysix Bobby, I'm too young to be a dad." The older man sighed. "Boy, you lived else where you'd have been one at thirteen. God forbid the olden days."

Blue eyes lit up before the shirt was dropped and small hands reached for the younger Winchester. "Besides, think she's claimed you, " Dean commented. Sam looked at her with sorrow before picking her up and setting her on his lap. Well... trying too. Small arms hugged around his neck, giving him a morning hug.

He sighed as he hugged back. She'd already grown on him, but he couldn't do this! "I don't know what I'm doing though." Bobby laughed as he set a plate down for him. "Well no kidding, no parent does Sam!" Dean was still cutting up pancakes before drowning them in syrup.

He moved closer to his brother before getting the girl's attention. "Just be what dad wasn't, and Bobby was." It was that simple. "You'll figure it out, " Bobby sighed as he rolled his eyes at Dean's response. "We're gonna have to go back down and get her papers, " Sam grumbled as he took a bit of his food.

The girl didn't want the pancake offered, she wanted the big one her new daddy was eating. She opened her mouth and just looked at him like.... "give". The brunette pointed back to Dean. " That's yours." But, she wanted daddy's. Once more the mouth opened.

The younger Winchester sighed before taking the fork from Dean, who happily took care of Sam's plate. "I say we just get her a new number, change her name, and keel her the he'll away from the screw hole." Bobby sighed. "Brother's right. Besides, she's still adjusting to you. Leaving her here or taking her with you isn't an option. "

She looked at Sam, but didn't open her mouth this time. Ignoring Bobby, he huffed. "You just wanted mine!" Dean laughed a bit. "You ain't eating it now. Take a bite, then see if she wants it." The younger looked at him in disgust. "You drown it in syrup Dean." Bobby was getting annoyed with this. "Enough. Sam, eat the damn pancake before is scare her more and force feed it to you."

Enough said. Sam took a bite, baby took a bite. Soon enough the plate had been filled again and emptied again before small fry yawned. She fussed when Bobby came after her face with a damp cloth though.

Sam brought her up to the shared room to change her and put her down for a nap. As he did, Dean was put on dish duty. "I gotta get more food. Another mouth too feed, and Zeus is running low on kibble." The older quirked a brow. "Could have told me last week when I was going baby crazy." The old man sighed. "Just, make sure your brother doesn't do anything stupid."

It was maybe twenty minutes before Same came back down with a small bundle pressed to his chest. She already had favorite toys, and a giraffe blanket Dean found on clearance was one of them. Setting her down in the play pen, the new dad laid back on the couch with a sigh.

"Could be worse, she could be like.... an infant." Not helping. Sam shot him a glare before covering his face with his arm again. "We're putting a kid's life in danger Dean. How can you be happy about this?" The other patted his leg as to make him move. Sitting down, he found himself a foot rest.

"Well.... it's sticking with us and we protect and teach her.... or not knowing what happens to her."" His brother uncovered his face again while sitting up slightly. "So, put her though the same hell? Schooling, social life?" Dean rolled his eyes at the last one. "We're in a new day and age. She can do school online, you have a laptop."

"Money, " Sam fought. "Sammy, we've been getting by for yesrs. For someone who didn't want to her going anywhere else, you really are trying to get rid of her. " Was he? Guilt washed over him as he sighed. "Guess I'm just stressed, and scared, and anxious." He squeaked when there was a poke to his foot.

"Maybe Sammy just needs some time with his favorite brother? " Oh no, the smirk. Sam tried to yank his feet back, but to no avail. His laughter filled the room as he yelled and squealed for his brother to stop. "Dhehhean! Whehehr're too old fhahaor this! "

The older smiled. "Too old to cheer you up?" Sam was louder than the documentary on the television. He bounced around in his seat, trying to get away. "Nahhaha! D-DhehehaHEAN!" Starting princess hair spread across a throw pillow as the older brother moved to the younger's toes.

"Aw come on Sammy, I'm just helping you relax. Maybe de stress a little?" Dean had a shit eating smirk on as he destroyed his brother. It got a bit better and worse as he moved up the moose-like legs. Gasps and shrieks were heard from the younger as fingers dug into the back of his knees.

For Dean, it was like trying to stay on a Bucking Bronko bull ride, or something similar. Sam was physically meaker, but he had some powerful strength in his body. "Shit, ghehehet ahahahway!" Taught and skilled fingers dug into smaller thighs before hands tries to pull at them.

"Sammy, language. Your going to give her a potty mouth!" They really needed a name for her. "Yhahhaour ghahahaoning thahahao whahake HER! DEAN!" Sam shrieked when his brother started to tickle his navel. He shoved, swatted at, and tries to knock off the other. "I'm not going to wake her, but you are. Lower your voice Sammy."

"Sthahahaop chahahalling mhehehehe thahahat! No, get away get awahahahhahay!" Hiccupy shrieks and giggles poured like music from the younger as his armpits were messed with. Tears started to come down Sam's red face as he shook his head and tried desperately to get Dean off him.

The torment stopped as a moose toy hit the older in the head. They both looked over to see a small being just looking at them with tear filled, cranky eyes. They disturbed nap time! "Hey, that wasn't nice," Dean fake pouted. "Neither was waking her and tickling me to death, " Sam growled before shoving Dean back towards the other end of the couch.

The dad stood up before taking his cranky little moose and trying to lull her back to sleep. As he did.... curiosity came over Dean. He stood up before putting the moose toy back in the pen and walking over to the two. Sam stepped back warily. "Don't even. I will drop her," he hissed.

Green eyes rolled before the other tries to find a little foot. "No, I'm curious about something." From when he saw her before the murders, sue was a pretty giggly kid. She talked a lot too. She was scared into silence, so to speak. Sam said it was a form of turama, but maybe he could still get a little giggle out of her. Hell, he just wanted a smile!

But daddy stepped back again. "What are you doing? Leave her alone. Dean, she's trying to nap." The other rolled his eyes. "Here's an idea, let me try this and stop nothing about being a dad and come up with a name for her." Blue eyes rolled before a little head shot around to see what was touching her.

She honestly looked like a sleepy, little puppy. "You ticklish," the uncle asked. She simply pulled at her foot and turned back to sleep on her daddy. "Dude, I told you, leave her be." The older sighed. "Name, Sammy. I just want her to smile. Didn't your extra college classes tell you laughter is the best medicine or something?"

The taller huffed. "That's not how turama works Dean." Okay, so both baby and daddy were cranky. "Well.... who's pull up am I changing first? Her's or your's?" Both were un amussed. "Aw, look Sammy; She's already acting like her daddy!" The other scoffed a bit before turning to walk back up to the bed room.

"Aw, come on Sam! You have no humor." Before the other was fully upstairs he yelled up again. "You don't name her soon, I'm calling her Xena or Ivy!" That caused the other to stop. "Really, not Barbra or Selena, " Sam scoffed. "She can be your little Batgirl." Dean smirked. "Ain't passing the buck that easily."

He thought for a moment. "So Sammy needa tickle therapy for a name, crankiness, and new dad syndrome? Coming right up! " Foot steps pounded through the house along with yelling and shrieks of surprise and laughter.

By the time Bobby got home, he was met with the sight of a cranky toddler who opened her arms to be taken away from the sleeping bafoons. "These idjits keep ya' awake, huh? " She clung to him before sighing in relief; It was nap time.

The older hunter looked over his boys before rolling his eyes, this would be there hardest job yet.

[kuriquinn]

Anyone ever noticed how people who leave “constructive, friendly reviews” (that actually are just them pointing out something they personally don’t like) tend to avoid leaving any means of communicating with them to either a) find out ways to fix a mistake or b) respond and clarify why something was written the way it was?

I mean, don’t get me wrong, that’s what I love about posting unfinished stories. I get a beat on what I’m doing right and what I’m doing wrong and some kind of guideline that in the next chapter or the next edit I can fix.

But if someone just leaves a random piece of crit and no username or handle or PM or whatever, I have no way of following it up. And then I have to post it here and hope maybe they’ll see it because I’m not taking up space in the beginning of my next chapter to respond.

So, just to put it out there (and if this person follows me on tumblr or wherever they can PM if they want):

A Mary-Sue is pretty much defined as a character who is flawless and and no one calls on their shit and is usually a self-insert. (The definition covers a lot so if you’re curious check out the Mary-Sue litmus test. It’s very comprehensive)

NTMTO Sakura very clearly has flaws (dependency, making rash and bad judgements, being rather childish and naive at times), she does and will continue to get called on her shit (started with Ino in chapter two and this one, and there will be others later but has to wait since the characters who actually know her and her background to call her on it are all still living in Japan at the mo) and is in no way some idealized version of me, because honestly, I come at things that bug me directly (even more so since my burnout because I do not have the patience for pussyfooting around). Also, being an overachiever is a pain in the ass and stressful as fuck. I would never want to be someone like that because it’s just asking for a mental breakdown and making stupid quick decisions (all of which will be touched on with Sakura later in this fic)

At most the Sakura of NTMTO (a fic that is only in its infant stages right now) could be termed OOC. And even then, she was deliberately written this way to show the contrast between Sasuke’s idealized version of her in his head and the actual person she is. In the same way that she views Sasuke as distant and uncaring toward her when she clearly is ignorant (and a bit dense) about his feelings for her.

These are aspects of the characters that will grow and change and develop over the course of the fic because they are barely eighteen years old and people are not fully formed and mature at eighteen years old. Teenagers decision making abilities and thought processes are wildly different from adults. I’ve watched some pretty assholish behavior on the part of my students while they were firmly in the mindset that they were some kind of martyr. And it happens with even the nicest kids. Girls can be particularly dense about some things when they get into one of their high drama episodes (boys do to but usually in a different way)

If I made it seem like everyone has been blaming Sasuke for the falling out, it’s not my intention. Maybe I didn’t write it properly (keep in mind this is an unedited version of things) but Mikoto and Itachi are not happy with Sakura at the moment. And if she were in front of them they’d make that plain. But they are also not the type of people to make an excuse and go “oh, this is too bad, but don’t worry honey, there’s nothing you can do about it Sasuke because it’s all her fault”. They give him advice about what to do on his end since that’s the only part of it that he can control. You’ll notice that both of them even suggest he might be better off letting Sakura go, which would be the healthier option for Sasuke. As for Mebuki, she just always blames Sasuke. In any fic I write, even the head canon ones. Because she’s ridiculously overprotective of her daughter. That’s not a reflection of everyone shitting on Sasuke, it’s an aspect of her character (to me anyway)

So basically, if you feel like quitting my fic because I’m apparently not doing Sakura’s character justice or putting Sasuke down to make her look better, then that’s your business. Go with the Goddess and all that. But I take pride in my characterizations and plot decisions, and to me, being told I’ve turned a character I worked with for the better part of two years into a Mary-Sue (based on barely 4 chapters) isn’t constructive criticism, it’s short-sightedness and a bit insulting.

It’s the kind of thinking that causes people in the Naruto fandom to hate on Sakura for the way she was as a Genin and refuse to acknowledge all of the character development she went through by the end of the series.

So go ahead. Tell me you dislike how I’ve characterized her in this fic, and that you don’t like the direction I’m taking the story in. Those are valid opinions and I can’t argue with a person’s personal likes and dislikes.

But for goodness sake, don’t throw around the term Mary-Sue so casually, especially when you’re just salty about some OOC moments and plot decisions you don’t like.

(If you want to see a character I consider close to Mary-Sue, honestly I would say my Gal Friday Sakura is pretty much the definition. Four chapters in and she’s practically perfect in every way...though again, it’s only four chapters in. No one knows what I have planned for her in terms of character development. For all you know I could turn that fic into the next My Immortal)

TL;DR: I take offense to having characters called Mary-Sue, especially if it’s unjustified. Use the proper terminology and don’t assume you know the reason an author chooses to write a story the way it’s written until the story is done.

[serenagaywaterford]

#5 - Oh man, reading your latest chapter, lots of tension, I caught myself mouthing, ‘don’t do it! Don’t do it! Don’t do it!’. ...Aaaaand, she’s done it. Fuck! No idea where it’s going at all, good stuff! Anyway, this also made me think, how much blame do the refugees place on Serena individually? Everyone is at least okay sitting in the same room with her, begrudgingly, of course, but still. They don’t know how cruel she was to June, and if they don’t think she’s directly responsible for

the rise of Gilead, I guess they can tolerate to a degree. I am still not clear on how involved she was, either. She was the face of SOJ in the beginning, then got pushed aside eventually. We know she was pushing for “fulfilling one’s biological destiny”, to be honest, in the face of extinction, it’s not really an outrageous stance(I’d let the human race die out, but surely I am in the minority). And she did help write the law to take away women’s right to read and write. So that’s reallyfucked up, but what exactly is “help”, that could go a lot of different ways, I think. Anything else? Which happened first, the theater scene where they found out the bombing of 3 branches? Or when she was about to give her speech, and was told by Fred they said no thanks. That’ll determine whether she was part of the planning, maybe? Anyway, I am planning a rewatch before season 3 premiere, hopefully I learn something new...

------------

>:DDDDD 

Heh. I’m glad it came out like that cos that’s what I felt writing it!!! I was hoping it came across the way I wanted. Like, you just really don’t want this dumbass to pull her usual shit... but alas...

You know, I’ve wondered that myself--just in general, even in canon. Cos the only thing we really see is 2x09 and none of the Osborne crew seem to particularly notice Serena whatsoever. They’re focused on Fred and his demonself. Luke and Moira are specifically targeting him and sort of just... ignore Serena. So, I would assume there’s sort of “Well, she’s just his wife.” But then when you think about Moira, she was way more informed than Luke and you’d think she’d know Serena was the face of the movement at the beginning at least. Hanging out with activists and feminists like Holly, you’d think Moira would be well aware of Serena’s famous “domestic feminist” book and her role in the whole movement that eventually led to Gilead down the line. Even in my most basic feminist philosophy courses, we read pieces and books by anti-feminist writers. 

So Moira staying completely schtum over Serena was interesting. Either she doesn’t know, or doesn’t think Serena contributions were that influential, or she doesn’t care cos Fred is the worse of the two. She is strictly focused on Fred. I think Moira could reasonably assume that June’s suffered because of Serena, as any Handmaid will undoubtedly suffer as a Wife just stands idly by--at best, and aggressively participates in her abuse at worst. Moira has no way of knowing which Serena was without speaking to June about it. I think she could assume Serena’s not just a meek wallflower but regardless, in canon, Moira seems to not really care about Serena one way or the other. She’s a nonentity.

I’m also unsure exactly what the Canadians (esp. the govt) know. They seem to know about what happens in Gilead but how much of Serena’s specific contributions? Like there are 3 people who hint at things towards Serena: Tuello, the Foreign Affairs minister, and the lady with the kid at the elevator. The latter two could easily be talking merely about Serena being an active perpetrator of terrible things against women, someone who maintains the status quo.

Tuello’s the only one who mentions that she’s betrayed her country, and he’s “read a lot about her”. But what any of that really means and more importantly, whether he was being honest about her reward for flipping on Gilead is debateable. He seemed genuine in giving her the offer of freedom, writing a book, Hawaii, and a baby. They clearly don’t think she’s a terrible war criminal if they’re gonna let her off the hook that easily. The propaganda and intel she could give them is apparently worth way more than holding a criminal accountable. So to me, iff he’s not lying just to get her onto American soil where they can put her on trial and execute her, that would imply that either the US government doesn’t know how involved she was in the bombing of DC, or they don’t care cos she’s worth more as a tool rather than an example, or she wasn’t actually that involved and they know it. 

Cos, really, all we know is she and Fred talked about bombing DC--somehow--but again, by that point it seemed Serena was out of the important discussions anyway cos Fred was bitching about how the SOJ don’t have any balls and he was waiting on them for approval. And that was also before she wrote a second book (that she would never end up needing to write). So, really how much did Serena participate in the overthrow? Did she at all other than chatting about it with Fred? Was it her idea that he ran up the flagpole to the committee bigwigs? (I suspect this option was the case. She seems much more certain about it than he does, and he says “we proposed”. This would also explain why no one really knows her full involvement cos it was all done via Fred, like everything). We already know she wasn’t involved in anything related to Handmaids, or the Colonies, or basically any of the actual working reality of Gilead. She just maintains it and profits from it.

Anyway, in my fic/headcanon, I have Moira knowing more details about Serena’s behaviour than she seems to in canon but possibly not the worst bits because June would have to share those, and while I think she would open up about a lot of her experience, I feel like she wouldn’t rehash everything. So Moira would know that Serena basically represents everything she’s against, and, someone who has directly hurt June. But I think she’d still see Fred as the ultimate evil. And honestly, June is the most important person to Moira so she’d put up with shit she doesn’t agree with for her best friend’s sake. She doesn’t strike me as someone who gives ultimatums to her friends. Personally, that rarely works out well for the person giving them and at this stage, with all their experiences, I don’t think either of them would want to put the other in a position that would strain their friendship at all. It’s too precious.

We know she was pushing for “fulfilling one’s biological destiny”, to be honest, in the face of extinction, it’s not really an outrageous stance(I’d let the human race die out, but surely I am in the minority).

(Shhh... I’m with you. I’d rather we all just die out if it came down to that.) And also, I have to agree that Serena’s stance is actually not all that outrageous if healthy birthrates/infant survival rates fell by 60% in a single year and humanity was facing extinction. Would I advocate for forced pregnancies? No, of course not. But insisting women take seriously their “biological destinies” is actually not radical at all. I have this rant in my drafts about this whole issue and how what Serena is saying is not that different from what I argue the majority of people on this planet already believe. It’s a huge discussion but as someone who refuses to have children even though I’m perfectly capable of it, I’m constantly bombarded with the exact same sentiment, just put in more “polite”/less aggressive terms. But it’s the same damn idea. Ugh. It’s presented to me more like, “Isn’t it time you started thinking about having kids?”, “Don’t you want kids?”, “I want grandchildren.”, “Children are what’s important. Don’t you think?” etc. etc. Just guilt trip after judgement after criticism after guilt trip again.

So, to me, I don’t think a lot of people would actually have much of a problem with Serena’s stance when faced with a birth crisis like that... scarily. The whole concept of no babies makes people freak the fuck out and go completely NUTS. (I think a lot about Children of Men when these sorts of discussions come up, and compare that with what countries do or have done to counteract falling populations.) I don’t think it’s much of a stretch. The whole Gileadean Handmaid system is a totally different monster (and completely ridiculous and ineffective and stupid, besides being horrific. It’s just... dumb.) but Serena’s assertions that women needed to have more babies seems fairly reasonable for someone to say and believe in the face of extinction. How they get people to do that is the thing I don’t think she really thought through??? 

That’s partly why I don’t really understand why she was so hated. From what I know about life even when there is no birth crisis, most people do think women should have children, especially after a certain age--whether they themselves want them or not. We owe it to other people (whether its a spouse, family, or humanity in general) in our lives to have children, apparently. My father actually mentioned something along those lines once. I apparently was a bad daughter because babies give people hope when they’re sad, and society needs hope therefore I should have all the babies I can??????? 

From Yvonne’s perspective she assumes Serena wanted women to save humanity. Which sounds rather noble really, and yes, it’s very much maternal feminism. “The world needs the work and help of the women, and the women must work, if the race will survive.”

[An interesting sidenote about first-wave domestic/maternal feminism is that it did not diminish the role of the woman. It actually held women had important, distinctive roles in society, the household, and politics. (Many of the original maternal feminists were also suffragettes...) Being a mother and housewife was a “natural occupation” for women. In contrast, pure domestic feminism at it’s core basically didn’t want women’s participation in politics, but wanted them to have more autonomy in their households. There is a distinction between them, but maternal incorporates domestic feminism and combines it with social feminism of the late-19th and early 20th century. Sometimes what Serena seems to promote is more maternal feminism than core domestic feminism. I mean, maternal feminism’s main maxim was that motherhood was the be all and end all of womanhood which sounds mighty familiar... and that women were biologically superior to men, lol.

Also, as a Canadian, most of our most venerated women in early-modern history (Famous 5) were, as it turns out, maternal feminists--amongst other problematic typically white feminist things lol. I always find the title of Serena’s book to be a reference to Nellie McClung, a maternal feminist who said, “A woman's place is in the home; and out of it whenever she is called to guard those she loves and to improve conditions for them.” That second bit is often left out, but I suspect Serena would have been aware of it as well.]

I also don’t think people generally take domestic/maternal feminists very seriously either. So for people to be so outraged by Serena’s book to attempt assassination? Either she did/said a BUNCH of terrible shit we haven’t seen nor heard about, or it was just a clunky plot device to make us believe Serena is Very Evil and Bad. Like, lbr, domestic feminism doesn’t cause that much of a fuss even on university campuses and as far as we’re told, the book is only about that. Nothing else. It’s about how women should stay at home, raise children, take care of their husbands, etc. Outdated, idiotic thinking? Yes. Worthy of a violent riot? Um. No. (And this is backed up by Yvonne’s take that Serena was NOT thinking about women being stripped of all rights, or Handmaids, etc. So, what exactly was she saying that made the kids so angry as to call her a Nazi cunt?) It’s all very nonsensical imo. I assume there was a bunch of anti-abortion stuff, cos that follows from her line of thinking. And I suppose that could enrage people... But what else? There are loads of pro-life activists everywhere all the time and none of them are getting shot at.

[I suppose a lot of maternal feminists have historically been proponents of eugenics (in the sense of forced sterilisation of the “mentally deficient”, not race based) so... yeah. That would make people get really angry, and justifiably so. They also have been nativists. I don’t put it past Serena to subscribe to that ideology tbh. But if she’s a true domestic feminist, that wouldn’t really be part of her core beliefs. If she’s a maternal feminist, it probably has more change of being in there. However, we don’t really see any evidence of what Serena actually believes other than women should have more babies and their place is in the home raising their children, not in politics. Assuming that’s what the Mexican ambassador is referring to when she calls “A Woman’s Place” domestic feminism. I think we can assume she probably had some pro-eugenics ideas, an strict anti-abortion ones too. And considering the real woman Atwood based Serena on, it makes sense she’d hold these views too. Although we don’t see her actively talking about them.]

“but what exactly is “help””

I also wondered about this. A lot. Like what does “help” mean in the context? Comparing 1x06 and 1x10 is just... ??? (But I yapped about that crap in my other rant haha. I still don’t get it.) 

Which happened first, the theater scene where they found out the bombing of 3 branches? Or when she was about to give her speech, and was told by Fred they said no thanks.

The way I see it, based on Serena’s wardrobe going more and more plain and conservative, I’d line it up with 

1st: Serena’s book speech at the university, 

2nd: Serena getting locked out of the meeting, 

3rd: the movie theatre bit. 

My reasoning other than Serena’s changing wardrobe (going from pants & styled hair & makeup, to plain ugly “modest” dress and plain LDS type hair style) is that by the movie theatre bit Serena’s at home doing flower arranging, and by the way she’s talking, it’s been a while since she wrote her first book. She’s just considering writing a second one about fertility as a natural resource. Also, the college speech/gunshot gave no indication that they were part of any organised terrorist group yet. It seemed to be just her and Fred--although clearly by the time Fred murders the gunman and his girlfriend, there’s some sort of militia group he’s in cahoots with. The only reason I place the meeting lockout in between is cos Serena still seems to believe she has some involvement with the committee but by the movie theatre time, she seems resigned that it’s only Fred who participates. Also, again, her wardrobe is halfway between the college scene and the cinema one, and it seems to be the final time Serena attempts to be directly involved and Warren makes that pretty clear.

Also, by the pre-cinema scene, they’re being followed by the FBI. I feel like the events of the college riot wouldn’t have happened (esp. Fred being able to point blank murder two students in broad daylight if the FBI was tailing him. Or had any suspicions about his violent coup plans at all.)

Serena just seems so much more resigned to playing the housewife role in the theatre scene than she does in the meeting scene. That’s just how it comes off to me. Whether or not I’m right, who knows lol. I also think the committee seems much more robust in the theatre scene than the meeting one. Like if you’re getting a green light for a terrorist attack on DC, I’d assume the committee has defined itself much better than it had in the non-meeting scene when Fred didn’t even seem to know the rules. It seemed like Warren puts the final nail in that coffin for women.

The only flashback scene I can’t figure out is the sex scene. All I can tell is that it’s before the theatre scene. It could be prior to the college riot, prior to the meeting, after either of those?? Who knows. It doesn’t really matter I suppose. The only point to it is that Serena calls the shots, and they’ve been praying and trying for a baby for a while. Meh.

I can sort of see how it could be argued the opposite way though... That the theatre scene happened before the lockout one, but I’m not sure. I dunno, I guess I could even see how you could argue that the college scene is after those. I’m not sure if I totally buy it though.

Honestly, if you figure it out, please do let me know! :D x

[haveyouseenmymind]

Boop!

The origin of this fic is to be set in a conversation I had with @medicatemedrmccoy a few months ago, so I’m blaming her for this and I’d also like to dedicate it to her. Sorry sweetheart that it took me so long. ;) 

This may be tagged as Kirk x Reader, but the interactions are mostly between the Reader and Bones, so you mainly have to deal with friendly bickering and them being annoyed.

Fandom: Star Trek AOS

Pairing: Jim Kirk x Reader

Rating: Gen

Warning: the usual cursing

Words: 2335

Jim kinda gets drugged up on some alien food and now Bones and the Reader have to deal with him, which ends in trying to find him on the Enterprise.

“Unbelievable. Of course that stupid infant would get himself drugged up on some alien food, though I told him to scan everything before stuffing his mouth. And now I have to deal with this inebriated pain in the ass. Dammit, I’m a doctor not a babysitter.”

With your arms crossed in front of your chest, you were impatiently tapping your foot and throwing annoyed glances at the ranting doctor who held the whirring tricorder over your madly giggling boyfriend. Said nuisance apparently didn’t want to hold still as he was occupied with trying to grab Leonard’s nose, but so far he was failing gloriously.

The away mission had gone a bit differently than intended. Though the aliens Jim was negotiating with were really nice and this was one of the rather rare peaceful missions, it didn’t go as smoothly as everyone was hoping for.

Proof for that was the Captain, currently not in his right mind, draped all over the biobed while his best friend was checking his vitals and more than once slapping those hands away that were trying to get close to his face.

Like the doctor had said, Jim hadn’t dealt well with one of the alien dishes served, so that after the big banquet they had hosted in honor of their new growing friendship with the Federation, he had to be dragged away by you and Cupcake, who really tried to hold his laughter back, before the Captain had the chance to offend their hosts with his kinda drunk rambling.

Thankfully the aliens were really understandable when Spock excused his Captain and explained them that he did not feel well and had to retreat.

After that you and Cupcake took the loopy man straight to Medbay to the CMO.

Where said doctor wouldn’t stop complaining and acting like the worst drama queen ever. As if Jim being a wasted little shit was his problem alone.

Which was the reason you were really pissed at both men and still tapping your foot.

“Well if you could just shut up for one second? That would be really nice. If I may remember you, this is my boyfriend you’re talking about, so stop acting like you’re the only one suffering, when you know that I’m the one who has to deal with him like that all night and tomorrow in the morning.”

Leonard threw an evil glance back at you and kept on grouching.

“Yeah but so far I can’t see him sticking his dirty fingers into your face.”

“Boop!”

Jim had reached his goal and tapped his friend rather ungently on the nose.

“God dammit Jim, would you just stop that bullshit!”

The doctor, even more annoyed now, tried his best to wrangle the drunk Captain back down on the bed.

But of course Jim, still giggling like the loveable idiot he was, had other ideas than his friend.

Once again he reached for his face, but this time he groped the doctor’s nose instead of just booping it. He looked mighty satisfied when he got it between his thumb and pointer.

“Oooh, Bonsey look! Got your nose!”

Suddenly, the room was completely silent, and Leonard had gone still. Shit, that was no good sign.

While Jim was holding onto the brunet’s nose for his dear life, refusing to let go, the doctor turned his head towards you, trying to stare you down with his most threatening glare.

“Get that out of my Medbay, now!”

You tried your best not to laugh, as that would surely make the situation even worse, but it was really hard not to lose your shit, with the brunet trying to give you orders with a really nasal voice. It was just too hilarious.

“Aww, come on Leonard. Wouldn’t it be best if he slept this off here, where he’s just one second away from a hypospray?”

Finally, he got Jim’s hands away from his face, as he grabbed both wrists and held them down on the bed.

Jim tried his best to free himself out of the firm grip, but no squirming and whining made the agitated doctor let go of his hands.

“No way I’m going to let that menace stay here. I made sure that he’s not going to die and now he’s your problem.”

You sighed, cause this was clearly not how you had expected this to turn out.

“Traitor.”

Meanwhile, Jim had stopped moving. His breath had evened out and his eyes were closed, so Leonard felt safe enough to let go of him, though you thought it was odd for your boyfriend to fall asleep that fast, but who knew, maybe he was just that out of it.

Leonard led you away from the biobed where Jim was resting upon, to turn the conversation away from him and make sure you wouldn’t wake him up.

“I don’t think a hypo will help any further. He’s just drunk, so let him sleep it out in his own bed.”

You stared disbelievingly at him, not quite sure if you had heard right.

“Holy shit, I’ll be damned. I never thought I’d witness the day where Leonard McCoy would voluntarily refrain from hypoing Jim Kirk’s ass. I think I have to mark that day in my calendar. Are you sure that you’re not the one who’s drunk and out of his mind?”

Leonard just scowled at you, apparently he was done dealing with you or his best friend for the rest of this day.

“Dammit, just leave and take that pain in the ass with you. I have enough other shit to take care of. “

Well, it would be better to leave of right here and now. So you turned back to the bed.

Which was empty.

Jim was gone and his comm being left back was the only sign that he had been there at all.

Great, exactly what you needed. The Captain getting lost on his own ship.

The doctor wasn’t happy with Jim vanishing either.

“What the hell? Where the fuck did that menace make off now?! God dammit, can’t I just have one calm day with peace and silence?”

Instead of answering him you just groaned. How the fuck were you supposed to find him? He could have gotten to who knows where, and since he wasn’t in his right mind at the moment, he was unpredictable, too.

The brunet turned around, heading for his office, but not before giving you one last smug glance.

“Well, that’s not my problem any longer. Have fun finding that idiot.”

But before he could take one more step, you grabbed his arm, so that he nearly stumbled.

“Oh no, forget it, Leonard! This is all your fault! If you just had him strapped down onto that biobed, we all would have to worry about one less thing! So you’re coming with me!”

“How is this my fault now? If you just had watched out for what your idiotic boyfriend was up to, none of this would have happened at all!”

Damn, this bickering had to stop, or you couldn’t be held responsible for anything else that would happen. So you took one deep breath, trying to calm down.

“Ok, let’s agree that we disagree and don’t waste our energy with arguing. I’d prefer if we’d concentrate on finding that moron.”

The brunet just snorted, which didn’t help at all.

“This is the first valid thing you’ve said this day so far.”

“Oh shut up, Len.”

+++

In hopes of finding your missing boyfriend faster, you and Leonard had split up. While you headed for yours and Jim’s quarters, Leonard grumbingly went for his own, swearing to maim his friend if he’d find him there and his hidden stash of the good bourbon suddenly gone.

But your quarters were empty, and there was no sign that any of its inhabitants had been there recently.

Searching the mess hall and the observation decks had also been for naught, except that now you knew that Jim was a master at playing hide and seek.

You nearly wanted to give up and call it a day, when you’re comm suddenly beeped:

Did you find him? L.H.M

No luck so far. You? Y.N.

No. What places did we miss? L.H.M.

Uhm… The bridge? Y.N.

Fucking hell… Ok, let's meet there. L.H.M.

+++

About ten minutes later you stepped out of the turbo lift and onto the bridge, where Sulu, currently sitting in the Captain’s chair, looked up from his PADD, frowning as he spotted you.

“Lieutenant Y/L/N? Doctor McCoy? Is everything alright? Did something happen to the Captain?”

The rest of the crew manning the bridge stared at you expectantly, Chekov’s eyes wide and so worried that you needed to play it cool and reassure them, before all hell would break loose.

“Oh no, everything’s fine. Just peachy. I just have a rhetorical question. If you had to search for the Captain, where would you look for him, apart from his quarters, the observation decks and the mess hall?”

“And medbay, the training rooms and the labs.”, Leonard added.

“Yeah. Those, too. But you know, just rhetorically.”

Sulu looked at you sceptically.

“Are you saying that you lost the Captain? Aboard the ship?”

“No! We’re just having a slight disagreement about his current whereabouts!”

The pilot’s expression changed, and this time he was clearly mocking you.

“Which means you have no idea where he is. Have you tried asking the computer to locate him?”

You saw Leonard’s left eye twitch, and had the suspicion that he was preparing himself to launch into one of his angry rants, for which you absolutely had no time now, so you clasped your hand, right as he opened his mouth, over it and answered instead.

“That’s not an option, otherwise we would have tried.”

Thankfully, Chekov interrupted the stagnating discussion, at least he was the only decent human being left and trying to help you by making useful suggestions.   

“Have you been down at engineering? Sometimes he’s helping Scotty fix things when he needs a distraction.”

Engineering, of course. You nearly slapped yourself, when you realized what idiots you had been.

“Thank you Pavel, we’re gonna look there for him next. Come on, grumpy pants!”

You grabbed Leonard on the collar of his shirt before he had a chance to complain, dragging him behind you as you were making your way to Scotty’s office.

+++ 

Down in engineering everything seemed to be pretty calm, which was a small miracle. Normally there was always one or more of the engineers meddling with who knows what parts of the ship, most times added with a cheerily rambling Scot.

“Scotty?”

Several minutes passed before you heard an answer, and just as you wanted to call for him again, he whooshed out of his office.

“Shhh! You’re going to wake up the Captain!”

“So Jim is here? Thank god!”

You followed him back into his office, Leonard who hadn’t said anything yet, close on your heels. But when you finally saw Jim, you did a double take.

“What the hell?”

Jim was sitting at the desk, his head resting on his arms crossed right under it and next to him a box that apparently was filled with metal junk, and you realized that he still was holding onto some of it with his right hand.

Leonard looked at the mischievously grinning engineer, clearly surprised but also amused about the scene in front of him.

“How the hell did you do that? Seriously, you need to tell me your secret.”

And Scotty? He just laughed, grabbed his PADD to show the brunet something.

“I just gave him the box and he tired himself out over fiddling with some of my spare parts. Lets see, I got it all on my PADD, no way I could let you guys miss this out.”

Curious, you stepped right to his other side, looking at the PADD in his hands just in time to see Jim’s joyful expression, as Scotty presented him the scrap metal.

“Hey Jimmy, here is a box of shiny trinkets, knock yourself out.”

Jim, looking like he just got an early Christmas present, started squealing excitedly.

“Oooh, so shinyy!”

You watched as he was fiddling around with the metal, his eyelids slowly dropping when he got too tired after a while. Finally his head dropped down on his arms, and a few seconds later, he was out like a light.

It even got better when he started drooling on his shirt sleeves.

This was honest too good so adorable, you just couldn’t stay mad at Jim any longer, when he looked so young and innocent while snoring slightly in his sleep.

“Ok, come on guys we need to get him into a bed. Len, how about some help here?”

But the doctor was still captivated by the PADD, and as Scotty started the video anew, he was grinning madly.

“Scotty, if you get me that video, I’ll give you one free pass the next time something stupid happens down here. This is too good to be not used for blackmailing.”

“Deal!”

Were those idiots even for real? You send one last evil glare into their direction, before you decided to wake up Jim and get him back to your quarters.

“Hey Jim, wakey wakey.”

The blond groaned, but opened his eyes obediently.

“Noo, five more minutes…”

You couldn’t hold back a giggle, which made Jim realize who was waking him up.

“Y/N? I’m cold… Wanna cuddle... ”

“Come on Jimmy, lets get you to bed, there’s enough space for lots of cuddles.”

While Leonard and Scotty were still leaning over the the Scotsman's PADD you were annoyed, since instead of helping you out, they decided to ignore you completely.

Well, they would regret that later.

And with that you draped your boyfriend’s arm over your neck and tried supporting his still wobbly legs while dragging him off to your quarters.

tags:  @thevalesofanduin @medicatemedrmccoy @toosouthernforspace @reading-in-moonlight @feelmyroarrrr @0dannyphantom0 @eyeofdionysus @bsotstory @neon-green-bra @loststarlight

If anybody else wants to be added to or removed from my tag list, or has special wishes for being tagged, just let me know. :)

[pjbehindthesun]

chapter 19: it's not a joke

Wednesday, October 31st, 1990

“Cora? Hey, uhm, can we talk?”

Shit, I wish I hadn’t whirled around so fast, I’m fucking dizzy now. But even through the neon lights of the bar and the shafts of light from the disco ball and the crazy colors of everyone’s costumes flying across my field of vision, it’s hard to miss the sight I wanted to see most. One pair of Stone eyes, two pairs of Stone eyes, four pairs of Stone eyes, eight pairs of Stone eyes, kaleidoscoping around disobediently, STOP that... okay okay, now four pairs of Stone eyes, two, and finally just the one pair, sparkling with amusement. His hand stays on my elbow, steady and firm, the only electrical signal reaching my brain that allows me to figure out where to look in order to ground myself.

“Uh huh.” God. Smooth, Cora.

I feel his fingers slip down my forearm and interlock with mine before he turns around and gives my hand a gentle tug. His grip stays tight as he pulls me through the crowd, and I allow myself be towed in his wake, letting the image of him walking in front of me steady my senses, wondering how in the hell I’ve known this man for almost six months and never noticed what a great ass he has… and just what am I supposed to do with that information, god damn it, stop staring at him like an object, he’s a human being, he’s your friend, he’s --

“Ow, Jesus! Personal space!”

He looks over his shoulder with a grin after stopping short at the door, because I’ve just collided hard with his back.

“Sorry, just sudden. A little warning would have been nice,” I grumble.

“That's what she said.”

“Aww, my sympathies to all your ex-girlfriends.”

He offers no retort because he's still too busy cackling at his own cleverness, so I abandon him and find a spot on the curb a little ways down from the door where I don't think we'll be tripped over too much. It takes a little bit of a fight to get the pleats of this stupid little skirt arranged so that I don't flash all of Seattle, though, and in my current state of inebriation it's not a graceful battle… how did I let Lucy talk me into wearing something so short, this is all her fault…

“I like that skirt, is it new?”

In my preoccupation, I hadn't noticed him sitting down next to me. Fantastic, so he's been watching my struggle this whole time with that stupid smug look on his face.

“Ohhhkay, fine, out with it.”

“Out with what?”

“Don't play dumb, Stone.”

“I'm not…” his brow creases.

“I know, I know, this skirt’s ridiculous, I can't wait to burn the damn thing tomorrow, I’ve been fighting with it all night, so of course you’ve got some devastating sarcastic crack to unleash about it, come on… out with it.”

“Oh, of course, it would be inconceivable that I might actually pay you a compliment free of irony.”

“First time for everything.”

“You're such a sweetheart,” he sneers.

“You have no room to talk. Speaking of talking…?” I raise my eyebrows expectantly.

“Huh? Oh. Uh, it was just getting kinda stuffy in there. I don't know, it's nicer out here.”

“Suit yourself, but I was winning an argument.”

“What the hell were you guys talking about, anyway?”

“Whether free will exists. What do you think?”

He blinks and crumples up his features, shaking his head in exasperation. “This is what you think about when you’re drunk?”

“Excuse me,” I adjust my skirt again and straighten up, “I am not drunk, I’m just ethanol-enhanced.”

“Yeah well, you’re pretty enhanced right now, if you get what I’m saying...”

“You underestimate me, Stoner, I can hold my whiskey. So, what do you think?”

He frowns. “About free will?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Shit, I don’t know… help me out, where did you guys leave off?”

“You’re not getting off that easy, what do you think?”

He sighs and narrows his eyes at me, pursing his lips in a resigned smile. “Well, I’m willing to bet you don’t believe in anything that can’t be explained scientifically --”

“-- that’s because everything can be explained scientifically --”

“-- oh, stop being so modest… and Kim probably thought that was hilarious and wanted to play devil’s advocate with some kind of metaphysical bullshit.”

“You’re about up to speed, yeah.”

He sighs. “Okay, uhm… I guess I just don’t see why it matters.”

“How so?”

“I mean, I think the whole idea of free will really just exists to punish people for not doing what they’re supposed to. Like, if we look at it your way, then everything we do, whether it’s the tiniest reflex or a big life decision, has an explainable cause, so we’re not really in control of anything, tough shit. My dog has as much freedom to decide to run after the stick I throw as to decide whether or not to have a seizure, which is to say none at all.”

“Aw, you really do have a geriatric dog, huh?”

“Yeah, she’s a senior citizen,” he says sadly. “But like, if we want to talk about freedom, then isn’t it really just to create some ownership of certain kinds of actions but not others? I guess I care less about whether free will exists than why people want it to exist.”

“Right. At what point does an infant stop being this blameless, innocent little potato and start being a kid that their parents can blame for misbehaving?”

“Yeah, or like, addiction. We talk about it like it’s a big moral failing, like there’s some kind of choice involved, and maybe at some level there is, but like, I don’t know if you know any addicts…” he sighs, looking terrifyingly fragile all of a sudden, “but I think the whole reason society wants to hold people responsible for shit like that is to be able to, like, impose consequences for ‘fucking up,’” he frames his words with air quotes.

“Like there aren’t enough of those already,” I add quietly, hating myself for clumsily letting the conversation steer into such a painful topic.

“Right. I mean,” he shifts his posture, and some of his normal composure returns, “I guess there’s something kind of romantic about feeling like you’re the master of your own destiny, but I think we mostly use it as a stick to beat people with.”

“What the fuck does ‘romantic’ even mean, anyway?” I snort.

“Uh uh, nope, you’re cut off -- we need several more drinks before we solve any more of life’s mysteries.”

“Now you’re talking,” I hook my arm in his and start to stand up, pulling on him to join me, but he resists, so I let go of him and sit back down. “What’s up?”

“Well, uh, I actually did want to talk to you about something.”

Of course. He’s suddenly engrossed in watching his own fidgeting fingers, which is all I can stare at now as well. Damn it, Stone, you're making me nervous...

“Okay, shoot.”

“I was talking to Jeff just now, he thinks, uh… he was thinking… there’s something going on.”

My mind goes blank. I'm not ready for this. Too drunk. Not drunk enough. “Going on… between us?”

He scoffs. “No, actually, he wants to cover the song on the record. You know, Frida? I knowww there's something going onnn…”

“You're such an asshole,” I elbow him, but he's occupied rocking out to the beat in his head and playing air guitar.

“But like, super heavy, crunchy, distorted guitars… it’d be pretty sweet, right?”

“I think that's a little out of Eddie's register!”

We both collect our laughter gradually, not rushing back to the topic, because we both know damn well that we’re not sitting out on this curb because Jeff Ament harbors a burning desire to cover Frida.

“Yeah, between us,” he concedes when he's finally straight-faced again. “He thinks something's up here.”

He’s right, isn't he? I want to ask, but the words are lodged somewhere in my throat in a thicket of panic. Of course Jeff’s right, I’m not an idiot, I know that Stone and I are not just friends. I know that. I’ve known that for a while now. I just don't know what that makes us, or what the hell I’m supposed to do about it. I’ve been hiding from this thing for way too long, and now it’s out of control. The options blur around and around my mind, as if on a carousel. Deny it? The thought is physically painful… Laugh it off? No, that’s even worse… Come clean? But I can hardly admit it to myself, let alone him. The thought of owning up to all of this, disentangling it, is just too much to handle tonight, there’s not enough whiskey in the world… I decide to let simplicity win, or maybe it's just cowardice.

“What did you tell him?”

“I told them they should mind their own business,” he says bluntly.

“Them?”

“Yeah, well, I kinda got the sense Lucy had the same idea.”

“Ah.” My heart starts to ache. I should have talked to her. God, I’m the worst friend, I should have talked to her about this days ago, I know she of all people would have listened and tried to understand, and maybe she could even have helped me figure out what I’m supposed to do about it.

“Well, and… Mike's brought it up once or twice. Chris said something a while back.”

“Are you kidding me? Did I miss a newsletter or something? God, they’re so full of shit.”

His shoulders shake with a single silent laugh, but his eyes are focused on the asphalt. “Nothing new there.”

“Fucking ridiculous,” I add, figuring that if we’re going for denial then I might as well commit, although it’s just as painful as I thought it would be.

“Right, I mean, just because we’ve been spending a lot of time together doesn’t mean… shit…” his hands begin to fidget again, and we’re both watching them like they’re a sideshow.

“Right,” I echo, feeling like my chest might cave in at any moment.

“Right? You’ve got a boyfriend. Like, nothing could ever happen, I would never…” he trails off, shaking his head.

“No, I know, me either!”

“But like… we have been, you know, getting a lot closer, especially over the last week, and I’m not gonna… I won’t pretend like that doesn’t mean anything to me.”

I can feel him watching me, waiting for me to affirm that this evolution between us has been mutual. And of course it has. But what am I supposed to say? That yes, this has been the best week of my life, and it’s all because I’ve been pretending that this suspended animation we’re in is actually real life, but I know that in one way or another it’s all about to come crashing down? Admitting that doesn’t make anything easier or simpler. I love you for climbing out on this limb, Stone, I just can’t join you.

When I finally find words, I hear myself saying the only thing I can think of that’s both true and safe.

“You’re one of my best friends.”

“You too.”

But the look in his eyes and the hush in his voice is anything but safe. Feeling increasingly frantic to scramble back to familiar territory, I cast around for a way to turn our situation into something we can laugh at.

“Well, I think we’re looking at this thing all wrong.”

“Really?” he arches an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I mean, here’s a gift-wrapped opportunity to fuck with our friends, if we wanna take it. You know, really follow through on the whole scandal.”

A smile curves one half of his mouth as he says hesitantly, “what’d you have in mind?”

“Oh, I don't even know,” I think for a moment, letting the whiskey do the talking for a change, “just like, conspicuously disappear together into a supply closet for a pretend quickie and come out five minutes later looking all disheveled, just to see what they do?”

He gapes at me. “Five minutes?? You think that's all we’d need? Jesus, Cora… I’m insulted.”

“My mistake. Stone Gossard, the Sixty Minute Man, I presume?”

“Try me,” he smirks.

“Pass,” I laugh.

“Hey! I mean it! I can provide references!”

“Come on, haven't those poor girls been through enough?”

“Oh, you're in so much trouble,” he grins, looking away.

“We’d make a terrible couple, you know. We’re too similar. We’d fight all the damn time.”

“Yeah, but I bet the makeup sex would be off the charts,” he dodges the swipe I just aimed at the side of his head.

“Why do I hang out with such perverted filth, ugh.”

He lets his eyes zone out as he intones, “one of us, one of us...”

“Lucky me. Hey, it’s freezing out here, you wanna get back inside?”

We stand up and brush off the dirt from the curb before he turns to me, rubbing my arms vigorously with his hands and wearing a broad grin.

“I think it’s really adorable how easily you get cold.”

“I think it’s really adorable how easily you get patronizing.”

I stick my tongue out at him, he readjusts the cat ears in my hair, and it almost feels like we're back to our normal bullshit before he looks intently at me and pulls a deep breath.

“I actually think we’d do alright, for the record. At the whole couple thing.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean, come on, we’ve probably both dealt with worse.”

“If this is your application to be considered boyfriend material, you might want to aim a little higher than ‘you’ve seen worse.’”

“I’m totally boyfriend material. I did your dishes,” he says slyly, holding the door open.

“Yeah, and to spare your feelings, I conveniently left out the part where I had to wash them all again the next morning.”

He forces a little pout, but that half-smile I love so much washes it away without too much effort. “I never said I did them well…”

***

The first person I make eye contact with when we’re back inside is Jeff, which comes as no surprise because I’m positive he and Lucy have been watching the door like hawks ever since Cora and I left. Cora’s got the right idea, though: without another word or glance in my direction, she makes a beeline for Lucy, wraps her up in a back-breaking hug, and the two of them are rapidly absorbed in a conversation I can’t hear from this side of the room.

I should follow her lead. Partly because I need to get my nosy fucking bassist to stop staring at me, and partly because I need to drink that conversation out of my head as quickly as possible. I chickened out, I hate to admit. I know we need to figure this shit out sooner rather than later, but it’s just so much easier to keep joking with her about it. But I meant what I told her about what she means to me, it’s not a joke…

Eddie saves me from myself with a beer, followed by another one bought by Chris, and I lose sight of Cora in the crowd for most of the night. Well, that's not entirely true. I spent an agonizing several minutes talking to Jeff while trying my level best not to openly stare over his shoulder at Cora while she and Lucy were dancing over by the bar to Iggy Pop. Jesus, that purple skirt is definitely my new favorite...

But I'm more or less successful at seeming disinterested until until we’re all congregating by the cars and figuring out how everyone plans to get home.

“Where’s Mike?” Lucy, the only sober one in the group, cranes her neck to peer back inside.

“You didn’t see him stumble out of here with Selene a while back?” I answer.

“No way!” Jeff shouts.

“Oh yeah. The two of them were quite a sight. The KISS makeup definitely wasn’t kissproof, let’s just put it that way.”

“Okay, so that’s one lost lamb accounted for,” Lucy muses. “Stone, your car’s back at our place? You wanna take the couch?”

I thank her and take her up on the offer, and Jeff and I are busy making plans for another mountain biking trip this weekend when Cora materializes from somewhere behind me. I try to keep my voice as casual as possible because I know Jeff's watching closely.

“What about it, Red? Duthie Hill, Saturday? They have some good trails.”

But she bites her lips in, which with all of her facepaint makes the cat look like it’s grinding its teeth, and Jeff speaks up. “She can’t, man, she doesn’t have a bike, remember?”

“What??” I realize I’m shouting when Eddie's head whips around sharply to frown at me, so I try to tone it down.”Yes you do, the green one, that was a really nice bike! What happened to it?”

She cringes. “I sorta… gave it away…”

“When did that happen?” I ask her in a much lower voice, trying to be conscious of my volume.

“I gave it to Patch,” she says simply.

“She’s being modest, she’s the best big sister in the world and she didn’t want her kid brother to move to a new city without some way of getting around.” Lucy wraps Cora up in another one of their tight hugs, and despite the makeup, I can see my amazing, giving, kindhearted girl blushing as she gives me a “kill me now” look. I’m sure my own expression is entertaining too, but I couldn’t care less. The feeling in my chest as I stare back at her is the kind of thing that crowds out any self-consciousness. I didn’t think it was possible to love her more, but here we are.

“Cor? You around tomorrow? Lunch date? Cyclops?” Lucy asks, and from within the headlock, Cora nods enthusiastically in response to each question.

“Okay, enough standing around, it's freezing,” she says in a muffled voice around Lucy’s forearm before she breaks loose and bolts towards the Corolla.

Jeff obviously takes shotgun, since no one would dare try to argue him out of sitting next to Lucy, and anyway I’ve got no interest in sitting up front. Eddie sits behind Jeff and immediately leans forward, striking up an animated conversation about basketball, which is perfect because it leaves Cora and me completely undisturbed.

All I want to do is restart our conversation somehow, try for a do-over, tell her that it’s not really a joke, that I want to know how she feels, that I want to give this a try, that I really do care what an impossible position that puts her in and I want to talk about it and try to figure it out together, that yes, she is one of my best friends, but what if that’s not the end of what we are but the start of what we could be…

Of course, we’re both too drunk for that conversation to happen tonight, and there are way too many witnesses. And anyway, she’s determined not to look at me because she’s too busy pretending to care about Jeff and Eddie’s speculations for the start of the NBA season. I’ve almost resigned myself to joining her when I feel her thigh drift over towards mine and apply a steady pressure. And now I know that none of it matters. None of the equivocation, none of the bullshit jokes, none of the obstacles. Only this person matters. We’ll figure the rest out as we go.

I reach over to her lap and brush the back of her hand with mine, hoping to tell her just a fraction of what I should have told her outside, but I’m not prepared for how quickly she turns her hand over and laces her fingers into mine. Feeling like I’ve just had the wind knocked out of me in the best way, I look sideways at her and am rewarded with that warm, open smile of hers, beautiful even through all the facepaint. It's not a joke. This is enough. Just holding her hand in the darkness, smiling at her and seeing her smile back at me as the streetlights flash past us, this is all I need right now.

***

Thursday, November 1, 1990

“So on a scale of one to ten, how hungover were you this morning?”

Cora screws up her face. “I mean, it wasn’t an apocalyptic experience, and it was definitely nothing like the Bushmills night  --” she chuckles as I fake a gag “-- but it wasn’t pretty. Maybe a six?”

“Oh yeah, hissing at daylight and shunning all human contact? Good thing you’re not working this shift, I’m betting you wouldn’t set a new personal best for tips earned.”

“Not unless they’re pity tips. I didn’t even realize until I’d already walked over here that I’d missed a spot of the paint when I washed my face. How did the guys do?”

“Jeff and Ed were still out cold when I left for work. I think they’re probably in a world of hurt by now, though.”

“And Stone?”

Her voice is neutral, and her attention seems to be focused on her quesadilla, but she doesn’t fool me. I know exactly what’s going on inside her head. She’s in that place where you think about someone so often that you start to become embarrassed about how often their name pops out of your mouth, so you start to wait for strategic moments to bring them up, like when we’re already twenty minutes into our lunch.

“He left before I got up, so either he was the most bright-eyed and bushy-tailed of the bunch, or he felt the overwhelming urge to crawl off somewhere isolated to die alone.”

She nods but doesn’t reply, so I decide to wait a little longer before I push her to tell me what’s going on there. We kill time talking about work while we polish off the rest of our meals, and then decide that the hangover gods require an additional sacrifice, so we order a plate of fries to split, and I switch to her side of the booth so we can slump pathetically on each other while we demolish it. After a long pause, Cora leans her head on my shoulder and I lean my head onto hers.

“Lucy?” she says quietly, twirling a fry in the ketchup.

“Mmph?” I respond around an undignified mouthful of fries.

“Have you ever… liked someone you’re not supposed to like?”

Fighting the urge to gasp, because I know that if I do I’ll only choke, I swallow my food and ask her in my calmest, most innocent voice, “who do you like that you’re not supposed to like?”

“I don’t know,” she sighs, “it’s just a hypothetical.”

“Cora?”

“Can you just answer first?”

“Okay… well, I think first of all, it depends on what you mean by ‘like.’”

“Don’t be a 6th grader about this, Lucy, you know what I mean. Like-like.”

Like-like? And I’m the 6th grader?? I’m thankful she’s still resting her head on my shoulder and can’t see the incredulous look I’m struggling to wipe off my face.

“Okay. Then I think it also depends on what you mean when you say you’re not supposed to like them.”

“Someone… off limits.”

“Not the person you’re with,” I elaborate very carefully.

“Exactly. And it’s not just hormones, either,” she continues, “I mean… really connecting with someone. Someone else.”

“So, there’s this person --”

“-- hypothetically speaking --” she cuts me off.

“Fine, there’s this hypothetical person you like. Are they a good person?”

“Really good.”

“Makes you laugh, listens to you, cares about your feelings, always calls you back, all that good stuff?”

“All of it.”

“And you’re attracted to them?”

“Hypothetically… yes. Very.”

“Think they’re attracted to you?”

“Pretty sure.”

“Okay, I see. That sounds pretty great. And what about the person you’re with, hypothetically? Do they make you feel the same way?”

After a long pause, all she has to say, in a frighteningly small voice, is “no.” I’m done playing games now.

“Cora?”

She sits up and regards me with a completely miserable expression but doesn’t respond, so I brush her hair out of her eyes and say simply, “just tell me what’s going on.”

“Okay okay I don’t know how the hell any of this happened but I think I’m falling for Stone,” she says in one giant breath before biting her lips back in, as if she regrets letting the words past them.

“I think maybe you already fell.”

“It’s an ongoing process,” she mutters, flushing.

“I know what you mean.” Wow, she’s got it bad. “Well, if it’s any consolation, I’m pretty sure Stone took the same fall you did.”

“You knew, didn’t you?” she huffs.

“Oh, sweetie… yeah, it’s been obvious for a while.”

“Sounds like it was obvious to everyone but me,” she grumbles.

“Have you guys talked it through yet?”

“No… I think he wanted to talk about it last night, but I just couldn’t do it. I wish I’d told him, though, there’s just… it’s complicated, but I know we need to air it out. I get that.”

My heart swells with gratitude for Jeff for doing his part. Now it’s time for me to do mine.

“You guys really clicked, didn’t you?”

“It’s insane, Lucy. I’ve never felt this way about someone before.”

“Yeah, but you and Alex fell in love pretty quickly, didn’t you?”

“That was totally different,” she shakes her head. “Alex and me, we kinda just… happened. Like, I met him, we hooked up that same night, we just sort of stuck together after that, and I was so excited to have a boyfriend that I don’t think I really thought about it all that much. I don’t know what to call that, looking back, but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t love. Not right away.”

I take a deep breath and ask her the most obvious yet most painful question of all. “And do you love Alex now?”

She slumps in the booth, leaning her head back with a thud. “I don’t think what we have now is love either. It used to be, but… I don’t know, not anymore.”

“For how long?”

“How am I supposed to know? I just know he’s been checked out for a long time now, and I’m starting to realize that I have been, too. Like, what are we even doing? We hardly spend any time together, he hates all my friends… except you,” she adds quickly, “and he hasn’t even called me once since he’s been on this trip, not even to return a call.”

“Really?” I have to fight not to shake my head in disgust. That’s shitty, even for Alex. What’s so goddamn important about a conference that you can’t find time to call your girlfriend? Not once, the entire week? My urge to beat him bloody with my shoe returns with a vengeance.

“Really. I’ve called him every day, and I get nothing back. At first I was kinda worried, but like… this is just what he does. I don’t think he even cares. I left him a message the other night to see if he wanted a ride home from the airport, but it’s just radio silence.”

“You don’t deserve that,” I affirm. “Whatever else is going on, that’s just cruel. He should care enough to call you back, at the very least.”

Her face contorts. “Yeah, but I’m not much better… my boyfriend goes away for a week and I fall head over heels for that idiot??”

“That idiot has a name, and you’re obviously pretty important to him. That’s not some new development in the last week.”

“Still, Luce, I just feel like such an asshole. How did I let this get so out of hand?”

“Sometimes this stuff happens, Cora. Sometimes a relationship runs its course, and you don’t always get closure wrapped up in a pretty little bow before somebody’s ready to move on. I just think you’ve got to talk to Alex.”

“Yeah. I know. I know I do.” Her eyes are starting to look a little red as she leans her head back on my shoulder. “It’s over, it’s been over for a while, I just… I can’t be the one to…”

I only speak up when I’m sure she can’t finish her own thought. “You feel like you can’t be the one to leave.”

“Right.”

I wrap an arm around her and pull her into a hug. We don’t talk about her dad a lot, but I know that’s where this bullshit about not leaving people comes from. From the inner eight year old who was left behind once and can’t stand to leave anyone else the same way.

“Cora, it’s not the same. People grow apart. You’re not married to Alex, you don’t have kids, we’re young… you don’t have to do this to yourself forever if you’re not happy with him. Are you happy?”

She sniffs and shakes her head.

“You deserve someone who makes you happy.”

“I’ve got to talk to Alex.”

“Yeah. You do. He gets home tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow night.”

“You can do this, Cor. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

I give her shoulder another big squeeze, and we finish our fries in silence.

***

After my afternoon classes are done, I drop my books by the front door of the apartment and notice that the answering machine has something to tell me. When I press play, the unexpected sound of Alex’s voice makes me jump.

“Hey babe, I got your message last night,” oh, and what about the ones I left every other day? my brain asks him bitterly, “don’t worry, I don’t need a ride from the airport, you’re the only one who cares about that shit, haha. No but seriously, I can get myself home. Anyway, yeah, I’ll seeya when I seeya, hope you had a good week, bye for now.”

I sink down onto the couch, wincing at the dismissiveness of the message. After a week of not hearing your voice, this is all I get? I’ll seeya when I seeya? What am I, your drinking buddy? Some random acquaintance? I used to think I was going to spend my life with you, you asshole, and even if we’re drifting apart, even if we’re breaking up, don’t we deserve a better ending than this? Lucy’s right, this can’t wait any longer, I’ve got to talk to him as soon as he gets home…

You’re the only one who cares about that shit… his laughter keeps ringing in my ears. Laughter. After what happened a few weeks ago? When I asked you to pick me up at the airport, hoping you’d at least pretend that you gave a damn, and you fucking forgot? Really, that’s a joke to you now? It’s not a joke! It’s not a joke to me! God, how can it be a joke to you?

And you know who actually picked me up? You know who was there when I needed him? Stone. A shard of guilt pierces my chest when I think about Stone trying to have a sincere talk with me last night. Yeah, okay, he had terrible timing, it wasn’t something we needed to discuss while drunk. But he tried to tell me and I brushed it off. That wasn’t a joke either. Suddenly all I can think about is how much I need to tell him, and it can’t wait. I dial so quickly that I’m almost confident I hit a wrong number, but the voice on the other end of the line is exactly the one I wanted to hear. I don’t waste any time.

“Hey... can I come over?”

[toxicityrp]

   MORPHINE ● OWNER OF THE ST. VINCENT ● CLOSED

      ❝ If I knew a word that could embody who Morphine is,             I’d be fuckin’ using it right now.        I can’t even have a straight conversation with     the guy without him shitting on me. He’s got style             but I really fuckin’ dislike him. ❞

THE SINNER.

“I don’t know what goes on in a child’s early life that ends up producing people like Felix and Fiona Duval. One would hope that it would be some dreadful horror story, death, abuse, or rampant mental illness at the very least. But in reality, such things are rare, and some are just born bad. I know it is an unpleasant thing to say, but Felix and his sister are bad apples, rotten to the core, and no amount of education, positive influence or opportunities will change that. I hated using the word ‘evil’ especially when talking about children, but if there was a single redeeming quality in either of those two I was never able to see it. They were the sort of infants who would pull the wings off butterflies simply to watch them die.  Irredeemable. Often with children like this, you blame the parents. But with the Duval siblings it runs deeper then that. They were born nasty, life just got in the way.

                                                                            - John G. Norris - School Teacher

It was hard to believe it was real, but there was a time when Felix actually remembered when his mother would hum, not around the house or in the kitchen like a sugar-coated fairy tale, but while playing cards. She’d shuffle the cards in her hand, shifting them to her pleasure, perhaps throwing in a lyric under her breath; an old standard from the time of her parents. At one point she would glance over to Felix, knowing he was watching her, giving him a quick wink and a sly smile. Felix was five. The game of choice was gin. No child’s games for Felix, never go fish or old maid. Not for Gertrude’s boy. Gertrude talked to Felix and treated Felix like the adult he already was, for the two of them had practically grown up together. Married at twenty, pregnant by twenty one, life wasn’t at all what Gertrude had thought it would be. But, being a smart girl, Gertrude learned fast, she adapted fast. She’d gone from a naive school girl to learning the lessons of life in a blink of an eye. Life wasn’t to be seen through rose-colored glasses, secrets had to be kept for the protection of others; and love wasn’t a living, breathing thing, but an idea. The world isn’t put together in picture perfect boxes with nice bows. The only people who love you back are your children. Life is hell and the world can’t be saved with pleases and thank yous.

On the day Gertrude Duval turns twenty, she opens her eyes and decides her life is over. She behaved like a dizzy idiot and married for love, without even knowing the man she fell in love with very well, and got pregnant before realising she didn’t have the first idea of how to be a mother. Now her husband has left her for a younger woman, which makes her seem like a widow though she isn’t, with everyone looking at her either pityingly or telling her she must be so very proud. She tries not to remember loving him at all, because that will make it easier once she gets the inevitable announcement. There is the child, living proof that she went through it all, the handholding, the gazing into each other’s eyes, the memorising of stupid song lyrics because the song played at some point in their ridiculously brief romance, the unprotected sex because she wanted him so much. All of this happened. If it hadn’t, Gertrude would have finished college. She has a first class mind, and she would have defied gender expectations and gone to Washington, first as someone’s aide, but then rising to the top in her own right, she’s sure of it. And then, only then, when she was ready, she would have married, and he would have been quietly supportive. None of this will ever happen, she thinks, and stares at the baby the nanny places in her arms. The baby’s eyes have a trace of blue or green, depending on the light, like his father’s. The hair is auburn, like Gertrude’s own. It feels very soft under her finger tips.

“Knock, Knock…” The nanny not only knocked on the door but spoke the words at the same time. She was trying to be cheery, she was just irritating as hell, Gertrude thought. From her bed, Gertrude glanced over at the nanny in her doorway. But only for a moment, before rolling herself back toward the window, looking out with a glazed over look in her eyes. She felt like a hard rock, heavy and filled with nothing of note or purpose. Gertrude felt like everything she had known to be true didn’t exist – nothing felt right. It was like she didn’t know her left from her right. She had nothing to believe in anymore. The nanny had Felix in one of those little hospital cribs with clear plastic sides to it. “I brought the baby …” The nanny wheeled Felix toward the other side of the bed, but Gertrude wouldn’t look at him. “Lucky” The nanny said with her saccharin smile. “What?” Gertrude asked in her groggy voice. “Felix – it means Lucky. I assumed you knew. Why you named him…?”

“Does it…” Gertrude’s voice trailed off. “Maybe that’s why…” She didn’t seem interested, or maybe it just reminded her of her dreams and how they weren’t anything at all, they were just dreams. Then Felix cried and it hit something in Gertrude’s soul. She cocked her head toward the baby and the emotion hit her. Here was her child. Here was her son. The nanny saw it. “Do you want to hold him?” She smiles, and holds the baby for her to take. “Yes…” Gertrude pulled herself up in bed, she was still sore and it was hard for her to move. “I.. I don’t know what to do,” she confessed. The nanny instructed Gertrude on how to hold him before she placed young Felix in her arms. “You shouldn’t have happened,“ Gertrude says. The nanny is shocked. “Now, now, Mrs. D, you mustn’t say things like that.” she tuts, with the mixture of disapproval, pity and condescension a woman of forty has for one of twenty, especially if the younger woman can be seen as a spoiled brat. “It was a statement of fact,” Gertrude says coldly. “You’re fired. This is also a statement of fact.” The nanny babbles on, but Gertrude ceases to listen. Instead, she looks at the baby. Her son. Arthur’s son. Her future, all the future she’s going to have now. The injustice of it makes her rage. And yet, and yet. He doesn’t feel like a burden at all. The nanny probably hasn’t fed him enough; yet another mark against that woman. “You shouldn’t have happened,” Gertrude repeats, “but now that you have, you’re going to be worth it.”

“Felix and Fiona were lovely when they were little. I know, that sounds a little unbelievable now, but they were really beautiful. Blonde hair and bright little eyes. And they hardly ever cried. They just looked around them and stared up as if they were trying to absorb everything around them. Intelligent, too. They walked very early, and were always trying out new things. They used to repeat whatever they heard their parents say, though some of it wasn’t very nice, they were only small and didn’t realize it. Certainly, they had their flaws.  Felix didn’t seem to like his sister at first. I think he was jealous of all the attention she got. He grew out of it. In fact, afterwards he used to do whatever his sister told him to, no matter how trivial. If she asked him to fetch her something, he would do it without question. It was rather sweet really. I always thought he would grow up to be a gentleman. The two of them were constantly whispering together, about what I really don’t know. Making plans I suppose. But they grew up far too quickly, and the things Felix used to say…It is just too awful to repeat. I have to admit, as much as I loved those children in their infancy, I was glad when it was my time to leave. They didn’t need a nanny any longer, and I hated watching what was happening to those kids. I’m not sure if their parents were oblivious to this behavior, or even, god forbid, encouraged it but it would lead to nothing but pain. It was just a matter of seeing whether it would be their pain, or somebody else’s.”

                                  - Elizabeth Warner - Nanny

His father doesn’t see him the day he is born. After so many failed attempts at conceiving, and fights over miscarriages, affairs and pointing fingers, Arthur Duval leaves his very pregnant wife and his unborn son to their own mercy. It’s not because he is afraid of the responsibility of becoming a new dad, since he has long been preparing for it. But his relationship with Gertrude is starting to make him feel inadequate as a husband. And he knows deep down, that even though he will make a good father, he was not sure if the baby that was about to be born will make a good son. If he will rise to his expectations or just be a disappointment. His absence lasts two years, and when he meets Felix for the first time, he wishes to feel something. Anything that would let him know that this was his own flesh and blood. Sadly, he feels no connection to the boy standing a few feet above the ground, and who was now looking up at him with wonder in his eyes. “I’m your father”. He said the words in order to reassure himself that in fact he was his father, but the words were empty … meaningless. It takes him a few years to find affection for Felix, because everything that he does is not good enough. Arthur believes that his son is a weak link, and he tries to push him harder. He needs to be faster, smarter, and most of all, he needs to be stronger. The first time Felix cries, his father slaps him and tells him that his tears are not welcome, and that nothing will ever be gained by weeping.

Felix’s earliest memory is of his father, which in itself is strange because he can count the number of private interviews with his father on one hand, and he certainly couldn’t remember anyone pushing for intimacy between the two of them. Not that he’s complaining, Felix never wanted anything to do with him either. But this memory is of a man on man interview in his library. He remembers the sunlight filtering through a gap in the heavy velvet curtain, the spines of leather bound books lit up like holy tomes on the high wooden shelves. He was five, maybe six years old, and his ability to read was limited at best, so all of the business jargon felt like words of another world, and Felix could do nothing more then simply admire the lettering as his father asked him questions. Was he looking after his sister? Yes. If by ‘looking after’ he meant putting worms from the garden in her bed and/or pulling her hair till she cried like a girl. Did he listen to his nanny, do what he was told? Yes. Or at least, he did after she’d asked him the fifth or sixth time and boxed his ears to get his attention. He’s getting tall, he’ll be a grown man soon. Yes. Not soon enough though. When he gets older, he’ll be going off to school, is he looking forward to that? Yes. Why not, it can’t be any different then here. Felix was looking forward to that. His father asked him if his hands were clean. Obligingly Felix held them out for inspection, and his father eyed the dirty nails for a moment before proclaiming them ‘good enough’ and handing one of the books down from the top shelf. It was so heavy that he could barely open the front cover. Never mind that, turn the page. Words on paper. Family secrets. And though his young mind couldn’t quite find the words to voice it, he felt a thrill of anticipation for the future. His future. This was broader then politics, he had seen that deep place in the human psyche which told what people were really capable of. No morals, no feelings. Just power and control. He looked down at his pale, pudgy hand, and suddenly clenched it into a tight fist, nails digging into his palm and knuckles turning white.

“I went to high school at the same time as the Felix Duval. I can’t say I wanted much to do with him, even then. He looked nasty…I mean, nastier then usual. He had this dark heavy look about him, and when he smiled it was more like a smirk. He was always leaning over, chatting to his sister, and then she’d let out this mean, hard sounding laugh and point at someone different. It was obvious he didn’t care about anyone apart from their own sick little sense of fun. Felix showed his true colours pretty early. He bumped into this kid once and made him drop his bags, and Felix slapped it straight across the face as hard as he could. I couldn’t see his parents there, but even if they were, from the way he acted the probably wouldn’t be told off for it. He carried himself like he could do whatever he wanted. And all he wanted to do was be as miserable as possible.”

                                               - Jack Miller - Former classmate

When Felix was 20, he got a girl in pregnant, a girl who was unsuitable in every possible way. It didn’t soothe his mother in the least. For one thing, Felix did not know, and so he did even have that much of an excuse. For another, Gertrude could tell that Felix would never be more than mediocre if he married his trashy blonde. Even if he didn’t marry her but had an openly acknowledged illegitimate daughter. While her husband verbalises his anger and indignation, and resorts to silent icy stares instead, Gertrude sat patiently. There he is, her son, going on about accidents and fate and maybe and what if, and she could imagine him, taking the girl dancing, holding hands, forgetting every bit of caution life as a Duval ever taught him. You’re not supposed to be like this. Not you. So she gave the girl enough money to disappear. “Take care of it”, she asked of her. “And trust me child, I will know if you haven’t”

“Felix’s student record is hardly glorious. Average grades in his classes, with moments of below average. He was not a stupid child, he had an aptitude for academics which raised some people’s hopes. But he was stubborn when it came to learning - easily bored and impossible to keep on track. He lived in his own world, where knowledge was something you could pick and choose from. But he was bright. Crafty. Always searching for people’s weak spots, and taking advantage of them whenever they were shown. He was suspended from school twice. The first time was second year, he snuck some alcohol and fed it to the school’s parrot and killed it. Felix was sent him home for a week. You could tell by his bearing that he certainly didn’t get any punishment there. The second time was in sixth year, when a student was seriously injured. At first no one came forward, and then finally some fingers were pointed at the him, amongst other kids and Felix stepped forward. He pleaded an accident, but he could barely constrain that leering smile of his. Even at sixteen he had slipped away from us, and there was nothing definite to pin on him. Even the girl he hurt wouldn’t say for certain who it had been. The poor thing was frightened half to death. So he went home for two weeks, then returned to school, the dread of some of his classmates and the hero of others. It makes me feel ill to think of what he might be up to now.”

                    - Patricia Crowley, High School Principal

Felix smiled on the inside as his father died. He smiled through the funeral. He smiled through the parade of commiserating mourners; those who cared, and those who didn’t care, and those who thought they should but couldn’t. He smiled, because he’d finally learned what his father had tried so long to teach him. Victory. The true goal, the only goal. Not just to best your enemy, but to see him removed from the game forever. To be victorious. He’d struggled for so long, because he hadn’t understood. He’d wanted acknowledgement; he’d wanted his enemy to bow his head and surrender. But there was no room in victory for surrender. Only obliteration. The purpose of winning was not to see your enemy humbled. The purpose of winning was not to prove that you could do it. The purpose of winning was to win. In that moment of clarity, that moment of decision, he’d seen it all. His father had called for his help, and at last, he’d been in the position of strength. He’d been in the position to chose between mercy and victory. There was no room in business for mercy. There was no room in business for altruism. There was no room in business for emotion. Only for cold, logical decision-making.

And in that instant, he’d finally mastered the biggest secret of them all, discovered the key to that Duval detachment. The ability to assess the situation coolly, impassively, scientifically. To see the opportunity for what it was, removed from all the trappings of emotion and sentiment that could cloud his judgement. The key to victory was to destroy your enemy. Nothing less would do. And should the perfect opportunity present itself… Well, business was business. Nothing personal. It had taken him a long time to learn that secret, to find the truth in those two words, to separate himself out from his decisions and see them without emotion. Freed from that weakness, free to see them the logical way. The Duval way. His father’s way. It had taken him a long time… but now he understood. And he smiled. He smiled as he entered his father’s office, smiled as he sat at his father’s desk, smiled as he reached for the hidden compartment that he knew without a doubt had to be there. Smiled as he absorbed the secrets of a man who no longer seemed such an enigma. Yes, at last he understood Arthur Duval - and in understanding him, had finally defeated him. He’d watched his father die, with no expression on his face. And on the inside, at long last, there had been nothing. Nothing, but a secret smile. And still he smiled as he emptied out the remnants of his father’s secrets; absorbed him, consumed him, broke him down and took him over. He read reports of operations with names that had never been spoken aloud. Flicked through diaries of clandestine meetings. Skimmed contracts for underhand dealings. Lifted the last of the papers aside, and saw the photograph.

Hidden away at the bottom of the door, but cracked with age and folding; battered around the corners from twenty years of being handled. Just a photograph. His mother, looking on, her eyes alight with the softness of affection, and his father, looking down. Looking down at the baby in his hands as if it was the most precious thing the world had created.

That was when he stopped smiling.

“I’ll never forget that day. Gertrude had taken what was supposed to be a quiet dinner and turned it into another of her social gatherings, with several of my colleagues and their wives, each possessing ample conversation to fill in what my children lacked. business moguls, the lot of them. I can’t say I regretted nor noted his silence till I thought back upon the evening, he had always been quiet in my experience, and I thought it showed a proper respect for authority. But as dinner drew to a close something sparked Felix’s indignation, and he said something very shocking, which made his mother grow pale in embarrassment and would likely harm my standing amongst my colleagues. I took him aside, and if he had been younger I would of distributed justice in the usual way. But he was an adult now, and I was a little more wary of sparking his temper now then I used to be. I told him in clear terms his behavior was unacceptable, but he was still angry, and we argued. It was one of the first times I had ever heard him directly contradict me. As it grew more heated, I was worried about the guests hearing. Before I could do anything else his hand was on him and he pushed me back with such force it knocked several bookcases over and slammed me against the wall. I was winded and in pain, unable to fully realize what was happening. He walked over,  and for a moment I was actually afraid (a rare feeling for me). I thought he would do something worse. But instead he came to me, like some great act of defiance. Don’t ever contradict me again, he said. Then he walked to the doorway where his sister waited, and it was impossible to ignore the slow smile which spread upon both their faces.”

                                 - Dimitri Duval, Uncle

THE FACTS.

A child prodigy of exceptional talents, Felix was dubbed the “climax” of the Duval line, an already prestigious family of skilled business moguls that go back to the 1920′s. Unless you’ve been living under a rock for years then you’ve heard of the name. His father was a tyrant who saw him, not as a son, but as a pupil. Someone he could mold to his own image. He taught him to approach everything with a cold and detached demeanour because that would allow him to become a more rational individual. This is the reason why Felix can seem to be emotionless and almost robotic. He began working on his own at a young age, while still in school, proving that he could have made a successful career by himself even though he was born to wealth and power. He has the drive and the hunger to learn everything in his reach. So of course to him, most individuals are less than extraordinary in the brain department.

Felix can be witty and charming. A stellar actor, able to change his tone at the drop of a hat, to assume the role of a charismatic persona at will. A child prodigy of exceptional talents.  Felix is a profoundly intelligent and highly successful man, and he has an arrogance that comes along with it. Not because of his social status, but because he considers himself as being more capable. His moral stature is based on his commitment to his own mind regarding all issues of his life. He recognizes that human beings must rely on their minds for survival so to him, the worst type of individual, is one without a purpose. his characteristic mockery, his use of irony and biting derision, is always is always directed at the irrational. He laughs openly at people’s conformity and despises individuals who piggyback on the rewards of another man’s efforts. but even though he might come off as a self-absorbed asshole, his trademark mockery always supports his values.

He does not respond well to mediocrity and he can’t stand those who lack ambition and that appetite for success. Felix is not a man people like. Mostly because of his bluntness and the way his intensive use of contempt towards others, even when he is extremely polite about it. He is a very difficult man to impress and keep interested, and he has no problem letting you know about it. Still, he is not someone who hates because that emotion is too time-consuming. He can also be very selfish, because he is of the mentality that if he doesn’t put himself first, then no one else will. So he has to look after his own interests in order to be ahead of the pack.

When it comes to friendship, he likes to be impressed. he likes people not of power, but of substance. They have to have something interesting as a part of their personality, and intelligence is a big part of the package. He admires beauty, but a beautiful face does not go a long way as far as he is concerned. If you are unable to hold a conversation with him, then he is not someone who will be wasting his time trying to get to know you. His mother is eager to see him married, but Felix downright refuses, and won’t consider anything more then brief flings that bring more frustration then happiness to both parties. He is not celibate, he finds that far too difficult, but his relationships are all seedy, squalid affairs that barely deserve the title. It is a meeting of sadists, who do not expect it to result in anything, but like to put themselves in the ill-fitting roles anyway. Infatuation is the most he is ever likely to feel, for anyone who entrances him, no matter how dangerous or pointless it may be. Feelings are something he generally finds foreign, and not knowing them, he prefers to toy with them instead. Like a kitten with a ball of yarn, he feigns affection for a while, but quickly changes his mind. Given a choice between hurting someone and screwing them, Felix would probably choose pain, because at least that’s something he knows well.

 THE MUN.

☾ Annie | GMT+2 | She/Her

[lucky-clover-gazette]

season 4 first watch impressions

under the cut are my thoughts and my new overall series episode ranking (spoilers)

ep1 - uss callister

- by far my favorite of the season

- a perfect blend of comedy and tragedy 

- i would have loved this as a full movie

- honestly nanette is amazing, like she owns her smarts and sexuality and never gives up i love her

- male coder: “it won’t work, i’ve already tried”

nanette: “well i haven’t” HELL YEAH

- i honestly loved all the ‘crew’ characters, even the gym rat boss

- i especially enjoyed the speech from the boss to robert, where he’s like ‘i acknowledge that i was an ass, but dude, YOU PUSHED MY SON OUT AN AIRLOCK’

- also the fuckin casual dialogue between the monster and bad guy and the crew

- OHHH BOY AND THE FACT THAT ROBERT’S GONNA ROT TO DEATH IN HIS APARTMENT BECAUSE HE PUT ‘DO NOT DISTURB’ ON HIS APARTMENT DOOR, HELL YEAH

- ‘oh my fuck’ 

- 10/10, watch it now

ep2 - arkangel

- preface: the kid playing young owen teague and his family were actually really close with my family when he and my little sister were kids. it was goddamn surreal to see that lil guy talking about porn when i remember him being, like, eight. but nice going nick, keep kicking ass lil dude

- okay so this episode was... conflicting 

- the opener made sense, but in some ways i thought it was TOO obvious and indicative of the episode’s message and tone. i can’t help but wonder if it would have been better just starting like five minutes in

- her father looked like counselor healy from orange is the new black, so that was distracting

- okay jesus christ lady, i get that losing your kid is scary, but implanting her with ‘optional’ optic spying and censoring software is such a massive violation of her privacy. like, it’s one thing when she’s tiny, but how the hell are you going to feel okay with yourself as a parent when she’s an adolescent? 

- the blocking especially pissed me off. that’s so fucking dangerous. either this woman is just very stupid, or very desperate

- at least the narrative established that it kind of was the latter. when her father gets sick, the mother has to care both for both her father and her child. that’s a lot. but still not an excuse for such mental violation of a quickly-growing human being

- young edgelord and sara are fucking adorable

- sara’s self-harm and rage issues are not, however,, and i’m glad that her mother took her head out of her ass and ditched the tablet

- is it just me or is fifteen-year-old sara kind of an idiot? like i get it she’s grunge and artsy, and i loved her giving a treat to the dog, but she seems to be almost hanging out with owen teague because he deals, and not despite it. like i get that i’m supposed to buy that their romance has kind of a subtext of him ‘teaching’ her about things, but like the underage sex and coke are kinda yikes. i feel like he definitely should have had more restraint, and although what the mother does is royally fucked, he and sara are also both to blame

- all right, so the smoothie motif. what a great narrative tool. the miscarriage pill was the most clever part of the episode. sara’s reaction was very well-acted, and the standoff between her and her mother was intense as hell

- i liked that sara’s rage issues remained into adolescence. i was glad that the tablet got wreckt, but i can’t help but wonder if it would have been more effective to have her rage-smash it prior to her mother coming come, leaving the pieces for her to find. the actual beating up of the mother with the tablet seemed to literal, too much sinking in the message. there were moments in crocodile and hang the dj that were the same way. 

- the ending, with sara hitchhiking in some stranger’s truck, was very smart. the ambiguity of a young girl, on her own, hopping in some stranger’s vehicle, is powerful without much explanation. any parent would be horrified by this; that’s what i don’t think we actually needed to see the mother screaming sara’s name and bleeding to understand the horror of losing a child to the unknown

- this one definitely gives me the most complicated feelings of the season; on one hand, it had a lot of great devices going for it. on the other hand, it was over-written and at times trying too hard to be ‘black mirror.’ the grey morality and ambiguous ending reminded me of a literary short story, which i love in my TV.

- 7/10, watch it if you liked most black mirror episodes that weren’t san junipero

ep3 - crocodile

- ah yes, the ‘i watch black mirror to be fuckin ashamed of humanity’ episode

- idk man, i liked it. it was bleak, and fucked up, but i’m all about that downward spiral. i liked that the story kind of began in three different places and then tied together. just as i had with ‘hated in the nation,’ i love police procedural stuff

- also damn, it was freaky as hell to see the straight-laced white blonde soccer-mom type being a despicable murdering sociopath!!! like, gotta go kill an entire family of POC, including a goddamn INFANT, and then see my kid’s show, that’s great. i was so happy when she got what she deserved. 

- all right, so i had one MAJOR PROBLEM with this episode: why the fuck did they make the son blind? the guinea pig twist was so GOOD, and mia fuckin killed a BABY, they didn’t need to further modify that!!! this is another example of black mirror doing just a tad more than it needs to make the audience feel horrible. 

- okay black mirror, we get it, that song is your thing, but can you maybe slide it in as a less glaring easter egg? 

- 8/10, but only if you’re into dark shit and bad endings

ep4 - hang the dj

- not nearly gay enough

- seriously, the entire episode i was unable to focus on the main characters because i kept looking around this Tinder-esque 20′s dating paradise and saw ZERO GAY OR LESBIAN COUPLES. i’m so surprised by this, especially after ‘san junipero.’ at first i was like, maybe this is like society’s way of encouraging procreation because of population decline, but that wasn’t the twist at all. no reason for nearly everyone to be hetero

- THAT BEING SAID, i see you. bi amy. even before the girl partner, i was aware that she used ‘they/them’ pronouns when referring to hypothetical partners. i just wish we could have seen more gay couples in the background (for example, at the choosing ceremony thing, it coulda been two dudes of something)

- uh okay, so everyone loved this episode, and it was okay. some of the banter and jokes were funny and relatable, but honestly, this wasn’t *that* good. the plot wasn’t super original (reminded me a lot of ep1 of hulu’s ‘dimension 404′) and the execution was kind of suuuuuuper basic. like, black suited Enforcers with tasers? a massive matrix wall? the whole thing seemed so predictable and just... basic as hell. 

- but shit man, amy was cool. loved that character in a vacuum. 

- honestly if someone could explain the reasons for loving this episode, i’d like to hear them. because i just don’t get it, man. maybe it’s because i’m gay, or young, or single, or unexperienced... but i just wasn’t very impressed

- 6/10, not even fuckin close to ‘san junipero’ lmao 

ep5 - metalhead

- black and white seemed sort of pretentious, not gonna lie. i think i would have preferred the dirty palette of ‘white bear’ post-apocalypse

- i am all for these female protagonists this season. hell yeah

- soo those corpses in the bed were heavy, but i actually kind of wish we got to see more of that? like, the remains of humanity after the dogs attacked? also, more small explanations for the dogs’ attack would have been interesting

- loved the chase and fight scenes. i can see how they’d be boring, but the moments of conflict between man v. machine were fucking awesome

- K N I F E  D O G

- anyone else get serious farenheit 451 vibes?

- the teddy bear thing was dumb. i don’t think we needed to see what was inside the warehouse. yet another time black mirror threw in just a little more than we needed

- okay so belle keeps alluding to the fact that she has safe family members out there somewhere, so am i to believe that there is some place where humans are safe from dogs? if so, why the actual fuck did she leave? i can’t believe it was just because of fuckin teddy bears

- alllllll the david lynch vibes

- 7/10, but you gotta actually pay attention to the visual details to get the best parts

ep6 - black museum

- BOOOOYYYYYYY! this entire episode i waited for the fuckin shoe to drop and then SHE! DID! THAT!

- the amount of callbacks to previous episodes was,, nice,, but also it was kind of annoying??? and unnecessary? 

- the museum owner was reaaaaaalllly annoying, which is think was intentional. what a fuckin sleaze. in comparison, i thought that jon hamm in ‘white christmas’ was still a somewhat charismatic narrator, but this dude was just yikes

- so, the first story was... kind of a lazy reach? idk, it just felt kinda like a parody of black mirror itself. i get the entire ‘mad science’ vibe they were trying to evoke, but as opposed to the next story, this one had very little to say about human nature. black mirror works its best when it tells stories that use technology as a way to analyze humanity; this one really didn’t (we all already know we’ve got weird kinks)

- the second story was better, but, like, SUPER heartbreaking. poor carrie. i don’t think her husband should have done The Thing at all, honestly, I don’t believe that he couldn’t have seen what happened next coming. it’s like the arkangel mom again; either these characters are just SUPER present-oriented, or just fuckin dumb

- the most tragic moment in this season was ‘monkey needs a hug.’ i felt nauseous 

- okay, now for THE TWIST! the accent drop was a great touch, and i loved that she was poisoning him the entire time. also fuck white men and supremacists, and fuck the museum dude for enabling them. 

- the ending was great. i liked that her mom was chillin with her. the building blowing up was very tarantino. loved her a lot

- 8.5/10, boring in the beginning but the end is worth it 

and now.. 

BLACK MIRROR EPISODES RANKED (AS OF SEASON 4)

1. U.S.S. Callister

2. Nosedive

3. Hated in the Nation

4. San Junipero

5. Fifteen Million Merits

6. Be Right Back

7. White Bear

8. White Christmas

9. Black Museum

10. Crocodile

11. Arkangel

12. Metalhead

13. Hang the DJ

14. Playtest

15. The Entire History of You

16. Men Against Fire

17. Shut Up and Dance

18. The National Anthem

19. The Waldo Moment

[yakumtsaki]

There’s no easy way to say this so I’m just gonna come right out with it: welcome to the most morbid post in Union history. Half the family is getting wiped out in a single update and I don’t mean to point fingers, but it’s 100% Wyatt’s fault. I really need someone to blame so don’t dare try to take this away from me.

Back to the present and not the corpse-filled near future, we actually have some money to spend on our spawn for the first time ever, so Shajar gets a non-completely-depressing room. No more eating from the cat bowl for our kids!

..spoke too soon.

-Is it still there, is it still there??

-YES omg it just looked right at me! Vic! I’m scared!

-Don’t make eye contact with it you fool! Don’t you have any idea about how children work??

After not getting promoted for an eon, Jojo is suddenly killing it, two promotions in a row!

-I know, I was starting to fear I’d be one of those geniuses who are only recognized after death- UGH, what is that obnoxious sound?

That’s your infant child screaming because it was abandoned on the cold hard floor the entire night.

-Oh ok, so standard parenting. For a minute I thought something was wrong.

-There, there, you’re alright. Ok.. OK seriously, stop. God, have some dignity for once in your 12-hour life. Crying in public is so embarrassing.

-NEEEEEEO NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Yup. I’ve been so focused on feeding Victor and Alegra’s ancient asses from the bowl of life that I forgot Neo was an elder too, so he’s the first to go even though he’s way younger than them, great job @ me. Goodbye Neo 💔 You were such a good boy, our cat heir, and an integral part in achieving Komei’s life-ruining LTW. You will be sorely missed.

..Apparently by your archenemy Victor most of all. Vicky casually walked off the lot the minute Neo died with no notifications about running away, only to return on his own shortly after. Wtf is going on in this house.

-I had to contemplate the futility of hate.. All this time wasted trying to kill each other and for what.. It's a sunrise and a sunset from a cradle to a casket.

Yea or this lot is already glitched as fuck and it’s only generation 2. Good times.

I was very bummed out by Neo’s premature demise and not in the mood for another kid, but one peek at Jojo and Wyatt’s life bars convinced me to drop the mourning period and circle-of-life this bitch. They are extremely not getting any younger and who tf do I think I am? Someone who knows better than Mufasa?However since a) Jojo is nowhere near his 100k LTW and can’t be taking days off and b) and more importantly, I hate Wyatt, guess who’s carrying this time around!

OH COME ON

GODFUCKINGDAMMIT WYATT

-Huhu!

How the hell did this happen I DEMAND TO KNOW

-Check how your mods work in le futur, idiόt!

..well you got me there.

Jo you are ON FIRE, 3/3! Maybe we can actually complete this 100k bullshit before you’re on death’s doorstep. It’s gonna be close tho, but you know, you just HAD to get knocked up again, so that’s on you.

-No, it’s on YOU.

No, it’s ON WYATT. Let’s just not point fingers and move on, ok? Everyone is equally to blame.

-NO THEY’RE NOT

I’VE MOVED ON I CAN’T HEAR YOU

And now a section I like to call: What the entire fuck is happening. VICTORIA WHAT ARE YOU DOING

-What?? I love babies :)

I legit went back and checked, can you guess how many times Victoria autonomously interacted with any of her kids when they were babies/toddlers? If you had EXACTLY ONE TIME you win..nothing. There are no winners here.

Oh. my. god. 

-Stop hogging her already, I wanna feed her too!

-WELL WAIT YOUR TURN DICK. No, not you, baby bobo booboo.. 

We’ve had our fair share of plot twists around here but this is truly some fucked up shit. In case you don’t get what the big deal is, enjoy this little trip down memory lane aka the Victoria-Komei-parenting-hall-of-fame. Either the ‘age mellows people out’ thing applies to sims too or they got personality transplants when I wasn’t looking. Disturbing.

Of course SOME THINGS never change, no matter how life-ruining for all involved.

-Is this about my LTW, STILL? It’s been like 20 years, GET OVER IT

NEVER

Whachu doing Vic?

-Updating my will to include Komei now that I suddenly love him. Of course someone has to get cut to make that happen..

Well goodbye Daniel I guess!

-..Who the fuck is Daniel?

-I too am making preparations for when I leave this cruel world.

I’m gonna go out on a limb here and assume they’re cat-related.

-NO, not everything is about cats! I have plenty of other interests and concerns. 

Name one.

-My beloved son! I’m making sure he takes care of my cats.

Finally, this family’s excellence is starting to be recognized. It’s about time.

-Yea no, this is a recognition that you trainwrecks need all the help you can get.

UGH typical jealous hater bullshit, I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.

Ok, I’ve some idea what you’re talking about. Honestly what else has to happen for me to just. stop fucking throwing kid’s birthday parties? I’m pretty sure we’ve had..one that wasn’t a straight up disaster? God knows those glory days aren’t returning any time soon.

-I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m having a blast :D

Of course you are Gunther, you haven’t been sober since the third year of college.

AND SOME PEOPLE ARE TAKING ADVANTAGE OF THAT. ABSOLUTELY NOT. HALF ALIEN PROF ISTFG

-I’m legit fine with this :)

I legit don’t care, it’s not happening in our sacred home. Also BRIT IS RIGHT THERE JFC you’ve gotten stupid as shit.

You guys seriously, what sins am I paying for, why can’t we have ONE NORMAL NON-INCESTUOUS PARTY. JUST ONE. Daniel heartfarting over his ex, ok, not that weird. Komei heartfarting over his daughter-in-law..getting weird. Gunther heartfarting over Half Alien Prof..reaching for the chlorine to bleach my eyes and then immediately drink.

Nice, get in on that action Wyatt! We almost forgot about your long standing boner for your brother-in-law.

Happy birthday, Shajar! You’re welcome for this amazing party, pay me back by not being ugly.

..yea ok. You did your best with the tools you were given. And I mean the literal giant tools that are your parents. Hopefully Wyatt came through with his somewhat balanced personality???

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. OH MAN. 10 playful, 9 active and 1 nice? Literally sporting Jigsaw’s personality. I mean darling Jojo has 3 nice points and is..how he is, can’t even imagine what Shajar is gonna grow up to be like, but it’s good to know we’re moving in the exact opposite direction than intended.

-Enjoyed your kid’s birthday party, you cheating bastard? WELL PARTY’S OVER

-I may be a cheating bâtard-

-SHUT THE FUCK UP WITH YOUR SELECTIVE FRENCH ACCENT

AW Neo’s ghost making its first appearance and trying to kill Wyatt, what a sweetheart. Welcome to the party!

It was one for the history books! 

-How on earth did this party suck, I had an exceptional time.

Yea that’s because you weren’t there, it’s easy to have an exceptional time away from this family. Of course I have never personally experienced it but the mind does race.

-AH at last, my article is published! Oh, editor’s pick too, ha, of course. No, wait, editor’s warning.. As requested by the legal department? Drama queens. “Horrifying views expressed.. Widely discredited.. Not endorsed in any way by this publication.. DERIVATIVE??!!” Well, I know what I’m doing this weekend.

Is it.. rewriting your article?

-Oh, I’ll rewrite it alright. IN BLOOD

Great. Speaking of blood-

-Victor’s thirst for it is back with a vengeance. We went an entire 4 days without a cat fight and I was all like ‘woo new record’ but one thing has become clear since then:

Victor didn’t go away to contemplate shit. He was waiting..plotting..training..and now the time has come for Victor 2: Reign of Blood.

-WHERE’S YOUR GOD NOW??

Seems about right. Honestly Sophie is the wisest one among us because she got tfo just in time to miss THIS:

Yea, unsurprisingly fucking Damien here is one vicious screamer. WHAT DO YOU WANT

-YOUR SOULS

Good luck finding any in this house.

-Who’s my cute little spawn of satan? Who is? Come to grandma baby.

-ONE SMALL STEP FOR ME, ONE GIANT LEAP TOWARDS THE ANNIHILATION OF MANKIND

Wyatt continues to do nothing of use all day and is not even getting promoted anymore due to his tragic lack of skill points. Somehow that led me to deciding he should be the one to get the genie wishes, I honestly dk wtf my problem is.

-Greetings, mortal etc etc. I’m gonna skip over the intro, you know the deal with the dealio, 3 wishes, let’s hit it.

-I was expectànt more of an Aladdin flair but c’est bien I guess..

-DON’T DARE MENTION THAT MOVIE TO ME YOU FRENCH ASSHOLE

-Um, oui, your désir c’est my command..Huhu! 

-Is one of your wishes the return of your brain, because you should throw that in there.

-Non, non. C’est but one wish in mon coeur, Genié. To nevér, evér have to interact with my bébés but still have beaucoup of them.. In case you can’t tell, I am sim de famille!

-Ugh yea, that much is obvious.

-Well, your wish is granted, mortal! Let me just flick your nose as hard as I can and we’re done here..

-Pourquoi?

-Oh no reason, just for my own pleasure. Buh-bye!

-And with that, he turned into la fumée, mon cheri! Incrediblé!

-I hate my life.

That makes two of us. As in I hate your life too, my life is pretty good.

KOMEI DO YOU MIND WITH YOUR DANGEROUS CURVES, Jojo has a grueling skilling schedule to keep up with.

-So this is it. Rock bottom. 

I mean, you wanted to be heir boo, you got it. It’s a dirty job.

Finally one of the Mortal Kombat cats lives up to its name! GET FUCKED VICTOR

-K.O

Well, we all saw that coming. Victor seriously, you’re like 50yo, don’t do this.

-I’m outta here for the fourth time bitches, and this time I’m not coming back! No man is an island but this cat is.

Ok, see you soon.

Wyatt’s wish is definitely coming true, he has not touched Shajar a single time yet, autonomously or otherwise! What a guy.

-I HAVE NO USE FOR EARTHLY FATHERS, THE ONE I NEED AWAITS US ALL IN HELL

It’s gonna be a long fucking generation.

-WYATT. WYATT YOU DAMN MORON WAKE UP

-Ugh Jojό, I told you, my magique protects me from all bébé interactiόn.

-DOES IT PROTECT YOUR TORSO FROM MULTIPLE STAB WOUNDS

It’s a girl! I’m like why stray from a proven formula, so I name her Cyneswith after another Crusader Kings character, who did not exist irl like Shajar but was still a fire emoji empress of Britannia. Welcome to the shitshow Cyneswith! No offense, it was great to meet you, but we have some important shit to do so..have fun on the floor?

FUCKING FINALLY. It’s promotions only from now on boo! 

..Which is more than I can say for some people. Wyatt seriously, can you move your useless ass up the ladder already so we can avoid having this freak in our house EVERY SINGLE DAY.

-The boy’s just following his heart ;)

Half Alien Prof you are by far the biggest pervert I’ve ever had in this game and Jojo spent his entire teenagehood trying to start a bdsm relationship with Stephen Tinker.

Well, Victor predictably died off lot, which is so on brand for him I’m not even mad. An insufferable dick to the very end, he lived to eat and to start fights with every animal he ever came in contact with. He only ever really loved Victoria. I’m gonna miss him so much.

Victor may have died, but that’s not going to stop the police department from trying to return him to us. Just remember that that place is under Wyatt’s supervision and it all makes sense.

Can hardly wait, Professional Make-Up Cop.

-I want to play a game, Alegra.

Man is someone gunning to be put up for adoption!

-Papa’s birthday présent to you, Shajar, is us finally meeting! Breathe it in, mon favori, I’ll be seeing you again on your next anniversaire!

-Wyatt I swear to fucking god, I will stab you.

Can we get this going please, I’m in NO MOOD.

Not bad at all! A pretty even mix of Wyatt/Jojo and I see you def did not get the Komei jaw, which is pretty much angels singing.

-Angels singing makes my eyes roll in the back of my skull. 

You make my eyes roll in the back of my skull.

-What?

What. I didn’t say anything. Love you Shaj!

-One more for the road babe? After 50 years?

Yea. Just pretend everything that follows has a broken heart emoji before and after each word.

I dress Vic up and have her wait for Death in the living room like a lady, none of those ‘dying in the bathroom in my underwear’ deaths, befitting people like Wyatt. However ideal the circumstances as far as death goes, my heart still broke in more pieces than cats Komei has petted.

-VICTORIA UNION

-Marisa? Is that you?

-NO, IT’S-wow cool armchair, where did you get-no, sorry, you’re dying and all, let me start over..

-VICTORIA UNION, YOUR TIME HAS COME. I’M HERE TO COLLECT YOUR WRETCHED SOUL

-What? My soul is not wretched jerkoff, the fuck you talking about?

-THAT’S JUST A THING WE SAY BECAUSE IT SOUNDS COOL, PLEASE DON’T RUIN IT

-HERE’S YOUR COMPLIMENTARY VIRGIN MARGARITA

-Virgin??? Oh god, I’m going to hell aren’t I?

-YOU WERE, BUT YOUR GRANDDAUGHTER MADE SOME CALLS ON YOUR BEHALF. WELCOME TO HEAVEN

-Yes, I can taste the alcohol in this! GOING GONE, BITCHES. LATES

The stacks of simoleons DID NOT EASE MY PAIN. I do love that Daniel got the most final version of ‘and none for Gretchen Weiners, bye’ possible.

Jojo is fucking devastated and immediately rolls the want to resurrect Vic. It’s bummy af, I’m not even gonna go for the obvious oedipal jokes, he was just crying for days and days and days..

Komei, on the other hand, WAS NOT.

-Eh, I’ll be seeing her soon enough, why waste the tears.

Now that I think about it Komei has never cried about any of the cats either, I think he’s just the type of person who deals with grief by suppressing it. Whatever works.

Jojo and Wyatt are always having these fashion talks whenever they’re eating which are hilarious because I can see Wyatt being into it, I mean he’s french, but in what world is fucking nerd Jojo interested in clothing. Not even that can cheer him up now 💔

Fucking Florence, bringer of doom, returns Sophie to us and the moment she does:

Tell me how am supposed to live without you, now that I've been loving you so long, how am I supposed to live without you, how am I supposed to carry on, when all that I've been living for.. is gone 💔

FUCK YOU FLORENCE

Jfc the blows just won’t stop coming. LEAVE US ALONE WE’RE IN MOURNING

Time for Cyneswith’s depressing ass birthday which I can’t give less of a fuck about, and apparently neither can Wyatt but then again he wouldn’t even if we weren’t ~back to black.

Loving the hairstyle but it does look ridic on a toddler. Good for you for committing to your british aristocracy character tho, very Downton Abbey.

Well the Komei jaw always knocks twice and apparently we let it in this time. Are you beautiful on the inside Cyneswith?

OH. MY. FUCK. BYE. CYNESWITH YOU FUCKING FREAK

-Huhu! 

NO SHE GOT THE HUHU. GOD HELP US

Cyneswith dramatically enters the toddler stage by immediately going into aspiration failure.. You can all guess where this is going.

-KOMEI UNION YOUR TIME HAS COME. I’M HERE TO COLLECT YOUR-

-Yea yea whatever, are my cats waiting for me? If you say no I will literally kill myself.

-I DON’T THINK YOU’RE GRASPING THE CORE CONCEPT OF DEATH, BUT YES THEY ARE WAITING.

-I’M OUT. TELL THE WOLF I LOVED HIM

KOMEI 💔 I’m sorry but we will not be delivering that message.

Apparently Jojo and Komei legit bonded at some point?? I was expecting like a half-hearted sigh but instead we got sobbing-

-and this sum that does not imply ‘least favorite kid’ AT ALL.

Well you know how the old saying goes: nothing will ever replace your parents but a helicopter will come close. 

Also in mourning: this breakdancer npc that randomly appeared on our lot and stayed stuck there for 2 days before I finally batboxed her into oblivion. This lot is fuuuucked y’all.

And generation 1 is officially over. Rest in peace Komei and Victoria, legacy founders, horrible spouses and somehow even worse parents. You stuck it out and were fun to play till the very end. I’ll really miss you guys 💔

[distant-rose-archive-blog]

The Fourth Musketeer

Note: I owe someone out there a Beth/Gideon fic and I was working on it rather diligently until my laptop decided to die and I lost a big chunk of it. It was 5,000 words and I only saved like 3,700 of them so I decided to take a break because I was so angry. During that break, I was talking to @welllpthisishappening​ (as par the course with me) and during a conversation, we somehow created a fourth Jones sibling for the Little Pirates ‘verse, which through a monkey wrench because I had all of their lives mapped out and now I have to redo a huge chunk to make up for this cutie that we came up with. (I’m really not mad, if anything more amused because I get to play around with this universe more.) Anyway, @welllpthisishappening​ is entirely to to blame for this monster right here, which I both love and hate her for. Anyway, if you’re unfamiliar with the Little Pirates ‘verse and wish to read more, here’s a link to my pseudo-master post: [LINK]. Please note: Anything under Ever After verse is a bit null and void at the moment because it doesn’t take into account Ned’s existence.  Summary: After her horrendous pregnancy with her daughter, Emma Swan was pretty set on not having anymore kids…or so she thought. Rated: T+ Word Count: 7,200+

It all started at Granny’s when they had to meet her parents and siblings for dinner. The joint Charming-Jones clan was big enough to warrant a second table being tacked onto their booth and the kids were banished to the secondary table while Emma sat between Killian and Henry. The kids, for once, were getting along and minding their own business. They all seemed to be focused on Emma’s younger sister Ruthie, watching as she began to draw on her placemat with more artistic skill at six years old than Emma had in her entire life. None of them seemed to notice anxious energy surrounding Snow and David, but Emma had picked it up almost as soon as she walked into the dinner. Her parents were looking at them with nervous smiles, their hands interlaced tightly on the table.

“So…we have news…” Snow started somewhat nervously.

“Very exciting but unexpected news,” David clarified giving Snow’s hand a squeeze in support.

“Okay…I will have to be the judge of that, but I can’t necessarily tell you if it’s exciting and unexpected if I don’t know what it is,” Emma replied, giving them both an impatient look that blatantly expressed her desire for them to just come out with it. She had never been very good at guessing games.

“Well, umm…we’re pregnant again,” Snow announced with a somewhat self-conscious smile. “It’s a bit of a surprise, but we’re happy about it.”

“That’s awesome, Grandma!” Henry laughed, leaning over to brush his hand against theirs because he couldn’t necessarily hug them while being trapped in the booth by his mother and stepfather.

“Congratulations both of you,” Killian replied before Emma could even comprehend fully what her mother had said. “How far along are you?”

“Twelve weeks,” Snow replied.

Her small smile grew before Emma’s eyes until it was beaming. David’s expression matched hers; his own smile dazzling and so big that the corners of his eyes crinkled a bit. Emma couldn’t remember the last time that she saw them smile like that. Fuck, her mother was actually glowing. She was the only pregnant woman that Emma knew who actually glowed when pregnant. Emma had always felt like fricking Emily Rose from that weird exorcism movie that she watched on On-Demand one time because it was free, especially with Beth. Her last pregnancy was horrible.

“You’re pregnant?” Emma croaked out before she could stop herself. She was still coming to grips with her mother’s announcement. She hadn’t been expecting it, especially since they were now either entering or currently in their forties, at least in a physical sense. They were getting a bit old to be handling babies.

“Bit slow on the uptake today, huh Swan?” Killian murmured in amusement as he wrapped his arm around Emma’s shoulders and placed a kiss on her temple.

And that’s when Emma saw it. 

There was a particular gleam in Killian’s blue eyes. Over the course of their marriage, Emma had learned that Killian was quite expressive with his emotions and had specific looks that expressed them. Her favorite was when he was feeling particularly naughty and the kids had made themselves scarce and he would look at her with smoldering eyes and a wicked smirk that promised absolute sin. However, he had other ones like when he was observing their children playing in the backyard where his entire face went soft and his eyes were tranquil or when he was irritated while reading in another language and he couldn’t remember the translation, and his eyes were narrow into hard points as they examined the text. The most common look these days however was an exasperated eye roll whenever one of the kids (mainly Wes if they were being honest) did something particularly careless and stupid like trying to hot-wire David’s truck.

This particular look, however, Emma had seen emerge just before their wedding when he had been playing with little Alexandra Herman and it was something she had become increasingly familiar with over the course of their nearly decade old marriage. It was a look very similar to the softness he had for their little trio of pirates but it held more yearning and more wistfulness and it always ended up being entirely focused on Emma. It was a look that so clearly said “I want a baby.”

Dreaded pirate captain was a title he once treasured, but Emma knew that Killian Jones did not covet any position more than he coveted being Daddy. He loved being a father and everything it entailed from checking for monsters under the bed to torturing their little ones with tickling fingers while snuggling on the couch. Killian had their pediatrician on speed dial and was dangerously close to being a bubble wrap dad. He knew exactly how to make mac and cheese the same way that Granny did because that’s all Harrison would eat once upon a time when he was smaller. He knew all the names of Beth’s pirate stuffed animal army from Captain Bear to Gertie. He also knew exactly how many blankets Wes needed to fall asleep and how to arrange them so their little blonde boy was snuggled up like a burrito. Killian lived and breathed to be Daddy.

And now, without even saying a word and just by looking at him, Emma knew that he wanted another little one to add to their little crew. He wanted to add a fourth musketeer.

It terrified her.

It wasn’t that Emma was entirely against the idea of more kids. Quite the opposite. There was nothing more attractive than Killian Jones holding a baby, especially if said baby had his pointed ears and smile as all three of their little pirates did. Making that image a reality had its appeal, but pregnancy sucked. Each and every one of her pregnancies had been taxing and, for lack of a better term, an event. For Henry, she had given birth in prison. Harrison had been so large that he had nearly ripped her open. Wes had been a breach baby. Beth had been nearly a month early and was almost born on the Jolly Roger. As much as she loved her kids, she hated pregnancy with a capital H. Killian would never pressure her and he had been gracious when Emma said that Beth would be their last, but she hated disappointing him.

The look in his eye didn’t leave for a second that night, but Killian made no mention or hint towards the subject of babies to Emma. He did, however, pepper Snow with questions on their plans for the new baby, what the doctor’s recommendations for her health and how the kids coped with the announcement of their latest addition.

When they returned home and put the kids to bed, Emma waited for him to broach the topic but Killian merely kissed her forehead and picked up his book, some old tome in Latin, to read while she turned on the television to watch the latest trash television show on ABC.

The “baby look” (as Emma took to calling it) and the lack of discussing children continued on into the next week. Emma watched as he stared more wistfully at infants in carriages and made silly faces at toddlers in Granny’s Diner to keep them entertained. She nearly lost her shit when he offered to hold a young haggard-looking mother’s baby in the grocery store as she loaded her purchases onto the conveyor belt, cooing and bouncing the child as he did so.

Watching the scene made Emma’s biological clock scream at her, reminding her that she was nearing the end of the fourth quarter fertility-wise. She was well aware that she was about to hit the two-minute warning; her forty-first birthday was about to approach in the upcoming months. They really needed to talk before Emma’s ovaries overrode her brain and she did something drastic.

“Okay, Killian. Out with it,” Emma snapped abruptly that night as they prepared for bed.

Her husband blinked at her in surprise, obviously not expecting the outburst. He gave her a puzzled look as he closed his book and gave her his undivided attention.

“Out with what, Swan?” he asked with a small frown.

“You’ve been acting…different since Mom’s...announcement and you’ve got that look going. That look when you want something…something that we’ve discussed several times.”

“If you already know what I want, then why do you need me to say it, Emma?” he asked her, running his hands through his hair. 

She quietly sucked on her teeth when he used her actual name instead of his patented “Swan.” It meant they had crossed over into the realm of a serious conversation and Emma wasn’t entire sure she was prepared for it.

“Because I need to hear you say it, Killian…” she said it so quietly that for a moment she wasn’t sure that he heard her.

“You want hear me say it? You want to have this conversation?” Killian clarified with a furrow of his brow. “Because I was pretty certain that this conversation was done nearly five years ago and you weren’t interested in opening up again and I sure as hell am not interested in starting a fight.”

“Just say it!” she commanded, squeezing her eyes shut.

“I want another kid, Emma,” he stated softly. “I want another kid so badly it hurts, but I know you don’t so I didn’t think it was up for debate.”

“It’s not that I don’t want another kid,” Emma started and before she could properly think about it, she began blurting out nearly every thought she had on the issue. “Want is not an issue. If the whole process of pregnancy, childbirth and childrearing was easy, I would give you as many kids as possible because you’re the best goddamn father in the world, but that’s not the issue here. We have three children. Three wonderful, demanding, wild, crazy children. I love them with everything I got, but bringing them into this world wasn’t easy. Pregnant in my thirties was tough enough, I cannot imagine how tough it would be now. Especially with all the risks. Birth defects, still births and miscarriages are much more of a risk now than they’ve ever been…I’m not sure I could survive that…not to mention, we’re old. I hate to say it, sailor, but we’re going a bit gray,” Emma finished. 

Her fingers dug into the flesh of her palms as she recited all the information that she looked up on the internet while she had been sitting in the Bug on stakeout this afternoon. She was pretty sure her palms were bleeding, but she ignored it. 

“I know the risks, love. You’re not the only one who knows how to use Google anymore. Yeah, there are risks, but with age, we are older, wiser and we’ve now been around the block a few times. Hell, we now know how to handle a kid who knows how to start cars without keys. Look, Swan, I’m happy. I love our kids and they’re more than enough, but I’m never going to stop wanting more children with you because what we make is perfection, though sometimes that perfection is...a bit rough on the edges...but any child with you as a mother couldn’t be anything less than perfection…”

“You always know exactly what to say, don’t you?” Emma said softly, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. She hadn’t expected to get this emotional during this conversation, but he always knew what buttons to press to get a response from her. She both loved and hated him for it. “It’s almost not fair…”

“It’s not fair,” he agreed. “But I want nothing more than a little girl with blonde hair and green eyes. I want a little Swan.”

“You have Beth,” Emma chuckled wetly. “And she would take that statement as an ultimate betrayal.”

“Or she would be excited at the prospect of being an older sister and having someone to boss around,” he countered.

“Beth? Our Beth? We talking about the same girl? Because she would hate the idea of being an older sister, especially to another girl. She would have a fit because that means she won’t be Daddy’s special little girl anymore and she would have to share you.”

“She already shares me with Henry, Harrison and Wes,” Killian scoffed.

“Your relationship with our daughter is very different than the ones you have with our sons and that’s fine. This isn’t a criticism because I honest to God love that you two are so close, but yeah, you have very different with her than you are with the boys. She knows it and she loves it. She wouldn’t want to share it,” Emma replied with a shake of her head.

“Sharing is a part of life though,” Killian responded with a heavy sigh, refusing to acknowledge Emma’s commentary on the nature of his relationship with their daughter, not that she expected him to. Killian, who prided himself on being a good father to all of their children, did not want to acknowledge the idea of possible (most definite) favoritism. She could understand that. It wasn’t particularly the nicest thing to come to terms with.

“It is,” Emma agreed with a sigh. “But before we discuss this further, I need you to ask yourself this…Are you sure you really want to go all the new baby nonsense again? Sleepless nights? Spit up? Changing diapers? Messiness? A good few months without sex? Going through potty training again? Yes, potty training, you remember that nightmare, right? Not to mention, I would be out of commission for a few months with a new baby. Money really isn’t an issue for us, and yes, we can convert the office back into a nursery, but do you think you can handle being interim sheriff? And deal with the dwarves on your own without killing them? Be professional without me and without my Dad because I doubt he wants to leave the farm this time around? And if the answer to any of those questions is no, this conservation has to end now.”

Killian’s eyebrows rose at her words and Emma watched as his mouth opened to speak but nothing came out. If the conversation they were having wasn’t so serious, Emma would have laughed at the fact she had rendered her normally verbose husband speechless.

“Swan…are you saying that this is actually on the table? That you’re actually considering this? This isn’t just all hypotheticals?”

“I’m asking you if you’ve really thought about this beyond the baby fever nostalgia and remembered how shitty taking care of a baby is both figuratively and literally, and if that’s something you’re willing to do still while we’re getting old…fuck, we would be the oldest parents at high school graduation.”

“No, Snow and Dave will be there right beside us with their little one. Our child would automatically have a playmate there. As for the challenges, yes, I have thought about it, but any challenge, any struggle and yes, all the sleepless and sexless nights are worth it. Even if we get another hellion with a penchant for chaos, it would still be worth it because there’s nothing in the world that’s better than having children with you and I mean that with every fiber of my being.”

“Okay…” Emma replied, letting out a heavy breath. She couldn’t think of a legitimate response. She was feeling a bit tongue tied at the moment.

“Okay?” Killian repeated with a hint of inquiry, leaning forward a bit. “You never said whether you were seriously considering this…but what do you say, Swan, we give it one last good try…?” His voice trembled a bit on the last few words and he was looking at her with something akin to desperation.

And that was the question there, wasn’t it? Did she want to give it “one last good try” and all that it entailed? It meant commitment. It meant genetic disorder screening, prenatal vitamins, fertility shots, specialists, possible treatments and a horde of doctors telling her that late in life pregnancy was far from ideal with high statistics on everything going wrong. No, she didn’t want any of that hassle. It was too much. However, the image of Killian playing with the baby in the grocery store was burned into her mind. Though she couldn’t get herself to say it out aloud, Emma privately admitted to herself that she loved and even wanted to see him hold another child while softly singing sea shanties and whispering stories about his days on the Jolly Roger while he thought Emma wasn’t listening.

“No, I don’t want to try,” she said softly and she watched his face crumble for a moment before he was capable of masking his disappointment. It was that final look that affirmed her decision.

Emma moved forward and opened the top drawer of her nightstand. She bent down on her knees and began riffling a bit through the junk before finding her birth control pills. She could almost physically feel the weight of Killian’s eyes as on her as she picked up the foil package and lifted them up so he could see them.

“Emma…what are you doing?” he asked quietly.

She ignored him as she stood back up and walked towards their bathroom with a sense of purpose. She pushed the door open and made a deliberate choice not to close it. She stood next to the toilet and looked back at her husband who had scrambled to the edge of the bed, obviously wondering to himself what the hell she was doing. The lines of his forehead had never looked so pronounced.

“Emma…?” This time his voice was louder and the silent question more present.

Emma closed her eyes for a moment, steeling her nerves. When she opened them, she looked Killian straight in the eye as she deliberately dropped her birth control pills in the toilet and flushed. Once more, her husband opened his mouth to say something but was speechless. Emma had never seen him more confused in her life.

“I don’t want to try.” Emma repeated with a sigh, “but I don’t want to not try…or at least I don’t want to try to prevent it. Trying means doctors, treatments and I know you…you will look up ever old wives’ tale about fertility and probably eat a huge fucking lemon whole just to make yourself more fertile or some nonsense like that…I don’t want the hassle…but if it happens…and that’s a big “if” because like I said, we’re old…then it happens and I would be okay with that, but if it doesn’t happen, don’t beat yourself up about it because, you’re right, we make some amazing kids and we already have three good ones down the hall. Okay?”

“Okay,” he replied softly and now, he had tears in his eyes and a smile so hopeful that it made Emma’s heart ache.

He opened his arms, gesturing for her to come to him and she nearly sprinted into them. They both started to laugh and cry at the same time as they embraced, holding each other so tightly that Emma was sure they were going to give each other bruises. Killian wiped at her tears and began to kiss every inch her face, still chuckling between each one.

“Tell me this isn’t a dream…” Killian murmured against her hair and Emma got the impression that he was trying to hide the fact he was legitimately crying now by burying his face in her hair.

“It’s not a dream,” she murmured, running her hands down his back in a soothing gesture. “But it’s also not a guarantee. We agreed to not try but not prevent, remember?”

“I know, I know, Swan,” he murmured, rubbing the pad of his thumb against the apple of her cheek.

He captured her lips with his in a brief but intense kiss that was full of promise. He pulled her close until he had firmly slotted himself between her thighs, his hips rolling against hers. Emma couldn’t stop the soft sigh that escaped her lips and she moved to run her fingers through his hair, dragging her nails lightly against his scalp in the way she knew he liked. He replied to the gesture with a deep groan that rumbled in his chest and his eyes were dark as he pulled away.

“If you don’t mind, I would like to start this “not trying” business right now…” Killian murmured against her lips.

“No one is stopping you, especially not me,” she replied softly.

Before she had even finished her sentence, she found herself on her back with a very amorous Killian Jones hovering above her. He captured her lips in another fierce kiss that held more emotion that Emma knew what to deal with. Giving her bottom lip once last nip, he changed courses; his nose brushing a sure line along her jaw as he worked teeth and tongue torturously against her skin. He nuzzled his head against her throat before worrying his lips against the pulse point in her neck.

“I love you…” Killian whispered it so quietly that she almost didn’t hear it.

“I love you too,” she whispered back and she hooked a leg around his waist, knocking her hips against his. “Don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” he replied, biting gently. “Never, ever.”

Killian had always been a thorough and attentive lover; it was one of Emma’s favorite things about him. However, he was extra zealous in his efforts that night and there was a renewed sense of purpose that seemed to power each caress, kiss and thrust. It was as if he was physically trying to will a child into existence with every fiber of his being despite Emma’s insistence of “what will be will be.” When they finished in a sweaty boneless heap of limbs, Emma caught him absently worrying his thumb against her abdomen as his eyes fluttered shut and he rested his head against her shoulder.

As Emma predicted, it wasn’t that easy. Even after months of vigorous and almost embarrassingly near-constant lovemaking, there was nothing. Emma watched as her mother’s stomach swelled and hers remained stubbornly flat. She tried not to feel bitter when Snow gave birth to another boy while her own womb was empty. Though she knew that it wasn’t going to be an automatic success in the same way her other children seemed to be, she privately became fearful that their no longer subtle efforts would be fruitless and wondered if their kids could sense the unspoken disappointment and desperation growing between them.

Worse, Emma was starting to wonder if she was menopausal. Over the course of the months, her periods had gotten lighter and less regular. She hadn’t bled in early two months, but she also hadn’t felt any of other pregnancy symptoms that she had with her other kids. With the boys, she had incredibly sharpened senses and near constant queasiness. With Beth, the symptoms had been amplified to the point where she had barricaded herself in the bathroom due to the near constant vomiting and diarrhea. 

Now, she was just tired and dizzy, which unfortunately led to her being short with everyone including her kids. She had yelled at Wes the other day so heatedly that she thought her normally cool-as-a-cucumber son would be reduced to tears. Emma knew she had gone too far when Harrison embraced his younger brother afterwards. As long as they had been alive, Harrison and Wes had never had the best relationship, but that day she saw Harrison captured his little brother in a hug and look at her like she was an alien. Emma Swan had never felt like a bigger asshole than she did in that moment. She was a terrible mother and maybe it was best that she didn’t expose another innocent child to her shitty parenting skills.

She couldn’t bring herself to tell Killian her suspicions; she didn’t have it in her heart to crush the dream. She did, however, book an appointment with their family doctor to confirm the fact that at forty-one years old she had entered early menopause just as she was just getting around to the idea that she actually really wanted another kid as badly as her husband did. The irony was not lost on her.

“You’re not menopausal,” her doctor stated bluntly as she looked at the results of her blood test. “Your estradiol levels are normal. If you were going into early menopause, they would have greatly decreased. Your estriol levels are pretty high though. Dollars to doughnuts, you’re pregnant, Emma.”

“What?” Emma blinked.

“You’re pregnant. This shouldn’t be such a surprise. You haven’t been using any form of prophylactics, you’re sexually active and you’re in relatively good shape. I have less concerns for you than I did for your mother with Robbie, however I do have to remind you that being pregnant in your forties is risky business and you’re more likely to run into complications such as Down’s syndrome and pre-eclampsia.”

“I can’t be pregnant. I’ve had no other symptoms. No vomit. No smells or cravings. Not even sore boobs. None of the usual mess,” she replied in disbelief.

“Not every pregnancy is the same, Emma. You know this. Sometimes not all symptoms present themselves. It happens. Regardless of symptoms or no symptoms, blood doesn’t lie. Your estrogen levels are through the roof. I would like to take an AFP, HCG and a hormone inhibin A test, if that’s okay with you? Maybe even an ultrasound?”

“Yeah…” Emma croaked, still in shock. She had prepared herself for the worst and now her doctor was telling her she was pregnant. It felt like she was in a fever dream.

Emma ended up leaving the doctor’s office in a daze, barely holding onto the tiny ultrasound photo in her hands. When she had come to her doctor this morning, she had done so with the expectation that her doctor was about to tell her that she was entering menopause and her baby making days were behind her. Now, she was leaving with the knowledge that she was eleven weeks pregnant with a baby the size of a fig and said fig had come up healthy on the test screenings so far. Praise the Gods for small blessings on that front.

Shit, what was she going to tell her kids? Killian was a non-issue; he would be through the roof with excitement over the news. Her kids who had no knowledge of the fact their parents were trying without really trying to get pregnant over the last six months were another issue entirely. Henry would be okay with it. He was grown, out of the house and very much focused on his own life. Harrison would be okay, he would probably give them a bit of lip but he would get over it fairly quickly. Wes and Beth? Their reactions would be anyone’s guess, but Emma was preparing herself for the Apocalypse. A meltdown of epic proportions was in her future and she could feel it.

Her husband and kids were on all couch, yelling and playing some racing video game on the big screen when Emma arrived home. She stuffed the ultrasound photo into her pocket and observed them for a moment, gathering her bearings. Killian, who was still getting used to using the one-handed game controller that Henry had gotten him for Christmas, was in last place with Beth in third. Wes and Harrison are neck-and-neck with Killian indiscriminatingly sending them complications from his last place position in hopes of letting Beth gain the lead.

“I win!” Harrison shouted.

Harrison thrusted his fist into the air in victory as his character crossed the finish line ahead of Wes’s character which had spun out to the side and allowed Beth to gain second place. Killian, in an act of fatherly selflessness, paused his character to allow Wes to finish in front of him.

“That’s because Dad kept blue shelling me,” Wes grumbled, tossing his controller and crossing his arms in front of his chest. Her youngest son was incredibly sore loser as they had long since learned.

“Nothing against you, lad, but I was trying to give your sister a fighting chance for once,” Killian replied, dropping the controller in order to ruffle Wes’s blonde hair. 

Ever the tough guy, Wes tried his best to wriggle away from his father, but Killian caught him and decided to up the ante by giving the boy big, loud, smoochy kisses. Wes protested loudly and Emma couldn’t help but smile at the scene, her hand subconsciously resting upon her stomach. He was such a good father. This new kid was going to be so well loved.

Beth caught sight of her first. Her eyes lit upon seeing Emma standing by the door. She immediately scurried off the couch, running towards Emma until she had wrapped her arms around Emma’s knees. Beth looked up at Emma with a delighted grin and little gurgling giggles emitted from her throat.

“Hi Mommy!” Beth greeted sweetly.

“Hey kid,” Emma replied with a small laugh, running her hands through her daughter’s long dark hair. The girl’s wild mane was forever tangled and Emma did her best to work through the knots.

“Swan,” Killian greeted with a small smile, still holding a squirming Wes against him.

“Mom! Help me!” Wes cried out dramatically, making Emma laugh harder. Their current youngest son had a flare for the dramatics and Emma wasn’t sure if it was genetic or something he learned from watching Killian.

“Resistance is futile. She won’t help you,” Harrison grinned wickedly, leaning forward to tickle Wes’s ribs as Killian held him in place. “No one will save you now, Westley.”

“Actually, I do need to borrow your father for a moment,” Emma said with a small smile before looking down into her daughter’s bright eyes. “Is that okay?”

“Is Daddy in trouble?” Beth asked curiously.

“No, Daddy is not in trouble, but Mommy and Daddy need to talk,” Emma replied, tapping the end of Beth’s nose with her finger gently. Her daughter scrunched her face in response to the tap and Emma never realized how many freckles her daughter had until that moment.

“She said ‘need to talk’!” Wes exclaimed in stage-whisper to Harrison. “Dad is so in trouble!”

“Dog house,” Harrison said in agreement.

“Daddy’s in trouble! Daddy’s in trouble! Daddy’s in trouble!” Beth began to chant in a sing-a-long voice, the boys joining in as she got louder.

Emma sighed and brought a hand up to bury her face in. Maybe having another kid wasn’t the best idea they had ever had. They could barely control the three they had as it was.

“Alright, alright,” Killian sighed as he released his hold on Wes who immediately moved to tackle his much larger brother. “That’s enough from the peanut gallery. Mom and I are going to go talk, please do not burn down the house or commit any ritual animal sacrifices while we’re gone, aye?”

“We will do our best,” Harrison responded with a shrug as he successfully pulled Wes off of him. 

It was almost comical how little effort Harrison put into fending himself off from his younger brother. They were the closest in age out of their brood with only fourteen months between them, but they couldn’t have been more different from each other like day and night. Emma privately wondered what the unborn child inside her would be like when it finally made its appearance. Intelligent and kind like Henry? Strong and gentle like Harrison? Wily and witty like Wes? Fearless and commanding like Beth? Or would it be something else entirely?

“But we make no promises,” Wes tacked on, rubbing at the bruise that was beginning to form on his left cheek from being tossed by his brother like a ragdoll.

“Naturally,” Killian replied dryly. “I wouldn’t have expected any less.”

Emma reached down to give their daughter a brief kiss before meeting her husband’s eyes and tilting her head towards the stairs in hopes he would get the hint. He nodded in response and gave her a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. She reached for his hand as they climbed the stairs, intertwining their fingers and giving his hand a squeeze in solidarity, trying to tell him without words that everything was going to be alright.

Killian sighed and ran a hand through his hair as she closed the door to their bedroom behind them. The smile on his face was positively nervous and it was clear that he, like their children, thought he was in some sort of trouble despite her reassurances otherwise.

“Alright, Swan, what is it? Whenever someone says the words “need to talk”, nine times out of ten I’m not going have a good conversation,” Killian replied, sitting on the bed and looking up at her expectantly.

“Like I said before, you’re not in trouble. So I guess this is the one instance out of your ten scenario,” Emma replied, playing with her hair as her nerves started to get the best of her. “I thought this was going to be easy, but honestly, I feel so unprepared and finding out about it kinda put me in a daze so I apologize for not coming up for a cute way of telling you but…”

She pulled the sonogram out from her back pocket and nearly shoved it into Killian’s chest. Surprised, Killian took the photograph into his hands automatically and Emma watched as he took in exactly what he was holding, his eyes nearly popping out of their sockets.

“Swan, is this what I think it is?” Killian asked, breathlessly.

“Yeah…” she replied, unable to stop the smile that spread across her face so wide that her cheeks hurt. “Congratulations, Dad. The fourth horseman of the Apocalypse is on his way.”

“Her way,” he corrected absentmindedly as he studied the sonogram. “It could be a girl. Why didn’t you tell me that you thought you were pregnant, Swan?”

“Because I didn’t know,” she replied with a small laugh. “When I made the appointment, it was because I thought I was menopausal. My period stopped but I didn’t have any pregnancy symptoms and I didn’t want to tell you because I wasn’t sure and I didn’t want to disappoint you because I knew how much you wanted this baby…And well, I’m definitely not menopausal because you’re holding actual photographic evidence that there is a eleven-week old fig inside of me right now…a healthy eleven-week old fig…”

Killian dropped the sonogram on the bed and pulled her to him, arms wrapped around her in a vice grip. Emma pushed her fingers into his hair, caressing the soft strands as Killian rested his head between her breasts for a moment before dropping to his knees so that he was eye-level with her stomach. With misty eyes, he placed a kiss against her lower abdomen. Emma felt her heart triple in size as she watched him.

“Hello there…” he whispered to her belly as he pulled away. “I know you’ve been around for awhile and we haven’t spoken yet, which is awfully rude of me but in our defense, we didn’t know about you, however, allow me to make amends by introducing myself. I am Daddy and the delightful creature who are you’re inside right now is Mommy. We love you very much and we’re very excited to meet you.”

Emma had promised herself that she wouldn’t cry, but that promise was broken as she listened to her husband talk to the unborn little pirate inside of her. It had made all six months of trying but not trying completely worth it. She didn’t think it was possible to love Killian anymore than she did in that moment.

“How are we going to tell the kids?” Emma murmured as she continued to play with his hair.

“I don’t think that will be a problem, Swan,” Killian replied with a chuckled, looking up at her with some mirth in his eyes. “Because I’m pretty sure we have three of the world’s worst eavesdroppers standing outside our door listening to each and every word. Isn’t that right, Jones crew?”

There was a loud creak and hushed whispering from outside their door. Emma groaned, taking her hands out of Killian’s hair and rubbing her eyes. For the second time that night, she wondered if bringing a fourth child into the fold was a good idea.

Killian got off his knees and kissed the top of Emma’s head as he rose to his full height. He immediately went over to the door and opened it, exposing their three sheepish-looking children.

“How did you know we were there?” Wes asked, looking very impressed with his father.

“Because I’ve been living in this house longer than you’ve been alive,” Killian remarked before tapping his foot on the floorboard beneath Beth’s foot. “And I know that board creaks when stepped on. Valiant effort I must say, but a very rookie mistake. It’s not polite to listen in on other people’s conversations. Mom and I were having a very adult conversation that wasn’t for your ears.”

“Is Mom really having a baby?” Wes asked bluntly, ignoring his father’s lecture.

“Yes. Mom’s pregnant,” Killian affirmed with a sigh.

“Jeez, another one? You think you guys would have learned after having these two,” Harrison remarked, jutting his thumb in the direction of his younger siblings.

Wes let out an offended squawk and hit Harrison between the ribs while Beth, who had been looking at her parents with the most betrayed look, burst into angry tears. Both Killian and Emma sucked in a breath. In the haze of emotions, they hadn’t prepared themselves for a round of Hurricane Elizabeth.

“I don’t want a baby, Daddy!” she cried, stamping her foot.

“Why not, minnow?” Killian asked gently, getting on his knees so he was eye-level with their five-year old. “Don’t you want to be a big sister?”

“No!” she shrieked, giving another stamp with her foot. “I don’t want a baby! You have us! There’s three of us! You don’t need it! You don’t need another baby! You have me! You have me! I’m your baby!”

Emma sighed as she leaned against the doorway looking down at her daughter having an absolute meltdown. Well, this reaction was predictable. Killian looked up at her with a helpless expression, not sure how to respond to Beth’s tantrum. Harrison and Wes watched in fascinated interest as their sister’s face turned purple.

“Hey, hey…” Killian murmured, soothing Beth’s shoulders in hopes of quelling her tantrum. “This is exciting. You get someone new to play with. Maybe she will even play pirates with you and help you terrorize your brothers and you won’t be so out-numbered. That would be fun, right?”

“No because then I wouldn’t be the Pirate Queen!” Beth cried harder, tears dribbling down her cheeks in earnest.

Killian’s brow furrowed, obviously not following his five-year old’s logic.

“And why is that?”

“Because there can only be one and you’ll want us to share and there can’t be two Pirate Queens, Daddy. There just can’t!” she explained as if it were obvious.

“Says who?” Killian asked, squeezing her shoulders.

“Everyone,” Beth replied seriously. “There can be only one, Daddy. Everyone says so.”

“Good to know someone’s been watching Highlander,” Emma remarked with a chuckle before joining Killian on her knees to get to Beth’s level. 

He was doing a shit job at damage control. For someone so close was to their daughter, he didn’t seem to understand the root of the problem. Beth didn’t want another child to ruin the dynamic and hierarchy that already been established, especially when it came to her father’s affections where she was number one as the only girl and the youngest.

“I know this is scary and new, but it’s also exciting, Little Beth,” Emma said, tugging a strand of hair behind Beth’s ear. “The new baby isn’t going to replace you, I promise. We are still going to love you and your new baby brother is going to love you so much. I guarantee he is going to follow you around and want to be just like you because you’re such an awesome sister.”

Both boys snorted at the statement and Emma gave them both a withering look that made them both step back a bit.

“Baby sister,” Killian corrected.

“Oh no, this one is definitely a boy. A dark haired, blue eyed boy. I can feel it,” Emma replied with a smirk.

“Care to wager on that feeling, Swan? Because fatherly intuition says it’s a blonde haired, green eyed girl,” Killian responded, raising his eyebrows at her.

“What do you say, Little Beth, should we wager a full month’s worth of diaper changing and ice cream on a boy? Since fatherly intuition doesn’t exist and Daddy is full of crap?” Emma remarked, pulling Beth to her side.

“If there’s ice cream involved, I want in on this,” Wes remarked, joining Emma’s side. “And I’m Team Brother because one Beth is enough.”

At his words, Beth looked positively offended and with the maturity of any five-year-old, she stuck out her tongue at Wes. Emma sighed and mentally counted to ten.

“Traitors,” Killian admonished his youngest children without much heat. “The two of you are traitors.”

“Sorry, Daddy, but there can be only one Pirate Queen,” Beth replied, not sounding the least bit remorseful.

Harrison who had been quietly observing for the majority of the squabble took that moment to join his father’s side, looking at Emma with apologetic eyes as he placed a hand on Killian’s shoulder.

“I’m Team Sister because the world cannot handle another Wes Jones.”

“You’re right,” Wes said with a smirk. “The world cannot handle any more of this kind of awesome.”

“Well, that’s definitely a word for it,” Harrison muttered under his breath.

“Alright, enough with the witty banter. It really gets tiring after a while,” Emma huffed. “The stakes of the wager are as follows, an entire month of diaper duty carried out by the losing party. Kid or kiddos on the winning party get ice cream. We have ourselves a wager?”

“Aye, love, it’s a deal,” Killian replied, leaning forward and sealing their wager with a brief kiss that made all of their three children gag.

“Good because I’m going to make you eat your words because fatherly intuition does not exist,” Emma declared.

And in the end, she was right because six months later she gave birth to a son; a dark haired, blue eyed son whom they named Edward David Jones but affectionately called Ned. Emma practically cackled when they placed him in her arms, looking at her husband like the cat who ate the canary.

“You know what Neddy is telling me right now, Killian?” Emma asked, as she held her newborn son to her breast.

“What Swan?”

“That you and Harrison are going to have a lot of fun changing his shitty diapers.”