#then a week or two for processing and getting a new birth certificate so i can get a new id

[transtalesofdoom]

As soon as it reaches my city of birth, it becomes official

Three more months with my lame ass birth name

[souliebird]

[[and then I met you || ch. 5]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to protect his new family from not only Hell's Kitchen but from the world.

pt: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

words: 4.4k

It has been one week since you saw Matt Murdock on the evening news, and it feels like it has been a complete whirlwind. First, you reintroduced yourself to him and let him know he was a father, then you had a nice little outing, and to tie it all up, a trip to the doctors to confirm what you already knew. 

Matthew Murdock is the father of your daughter.

It is nice to have an official statement from a doctor and now you can start the process of changing Minnie's paperwork to include his name. You have to go to the courthouse to file for an updated birth certificate. Matt has very kindly offered to take that task on for you - he goes to the courthouse often for his job and he knows the ins-and-outs of navigating legal paperwork. You just have to go and drop off the right documentation. 

You had a brief call last night, after Minnie had been put down, and decided that you would visit his office today to do just that. You are going to kill two birds with one stone - hand over what needs to be filed and give Matt more time with his daughter. 

To your great surprise, your timid little Mouse absolutely adores him. She was not happy to have to be at the doctor's office yesterday and was on the verge of tears before he showed up. Her whole mood shifted, and she had spent the brief time you were in the waiting room and exam room telling Matt about different things around them. 

You have a feeling, when you sit down and tell her the truth, she is going to be thrilled. 

You told her that you are going to visit Matt at work today, and all morning she has been hunched over her sketchbook making pictures for him while you try to get in some hours at work. Try being the key word, as you've been thoroughly distracted by today's news cycle. 

You were half listening to a puff piece about something or other when breaking news flashed across the screen. A neighborhood in Connecticut has been leveled by some sort of explosion, killing hundreds. They don't know if it was an accident or some sort of attack - the epicenter of the blast was a school, so it could potentially be either. You pray it was a freak accident, some faulty pipeline or a weird meteor, because the world doesn't need any more horribleness in it. 

The idea that it might have been an attack makes you nervous. You've been through two horrible attacks on New York, and you didn't realize another big event so close to home would shake you so hard. 

It scares you that you have to raise Minnie in such a harsh world, where monsters of all kinds are very very real and you don't know who you can rely on. The police and government have been shown to be all kinds of corrupt and people who can shoot laser beams fight each other in the skies. 

You end up clocking out and going to sit with Minnie to get yourself to stop your doom-listening. She's got a few drawings scattered around the table and you pick up the one closest to you, smiling at her handy work. 

You recognize the shapes as her interpretation of people - oblongs with stick arms and noodle legs. Unknowingly, she's made her first new family portrait. There are three blob-people all holding hands: you suspect you're the big orange one with a smile, Minnie is the little pink one in the middle with what you guess are pigtails, and Matt is the black one with red eyes, who is also holding a stick. To confirm, you ask her.

"Is this one Mister Matt?"

Her head shoots up and a big grin spreads across her face, "Yeah!  And that's you and that's me and we're gonna go to the zoo!" There is a little flurry of motion and suddenly you are getting a picture show. She holds up the paper she was working on - there's another family drawing, but this time there's green scribbles all around you and a blue square with zig zags all over it. You guess that is some sort of animal. 

"You want to go to the zoo with Mister Matt?" You ask, examining her masterpiece.

"Yeah!" She says, pulling over another picture that you know are her versions of flowers, even if they are all different colors. "And the park!"

"And the park? Wow, that's a lot of things to do. Do you want to ask him if he wants to go to the zoo with us when we see him today?" Minnie eagerly nods at the question and that makes you smile. "Okay, we can invite him to the zoo. When are we going to the zoo?"

The question makes her bounce in excitement, "My birthday!" 

You laugh at her enthusiasm and give her a little back rub, "Exactly. We're going to go for your birthday. And get a big cake with whatever you want on it." That makes her a giggly mess and you temporarily forget all the bad things in the world. 

You hand her back her drawing before kissing the top of her hair, "How about you finish this one up and we get ready to go see Mister Matt? We can only visit for a little bit, because he's working, but I bet he'll love everything you made him."

Greedy little hands take back the paper and instantly Mouse is hunched back over her zoo scene, purple crayon in hand. You get up and go to make sure that you have everything you need to bring to Matt in order. You are extremely lucky that the doctor has the ability to print out things in Braille, so you don't need to make an extra stop to get things translated. 

You debate bringing Matt lunch, but ultimately decide against it. You don't want to push too much too fast, and you think it might be a little weird for his coworkers, to see a random person bring him homemade lunch. You know he hasn't told anyone yet about yourself and Minnie - he had shyly admitted it didn't feel real until the test results were given and you completely get it. 

You tidy up until you spy Mouse dropping her crayons into her bucket and cleaning up her drawing area. You let her do her thing, then approach, "Let's put your drawings with the other things we need to give Mister Matt. That way they won't get lost or wrinkled."

She nods like you've just said something very wise and gathers up her stack of papers before handing them over. There's five in total; the three she showed you and two more full of colorful lines. You decide you'll listen in on her explanation to Matt on those two, as you're curious as to what goes on in her little mind. 

Once everything is safe and ready to go, it's just a matter of getting shoes on. You go with your sensible sneakers while Minnie opts for her frog themed Wellingtons. The plan is for both of you to walk to the office, and after one final wallet-keys-phone check in your purse, you head out hand-in-hand.

It's mid-morning, so foot traffic is decent, but not heavy - nothing that makes Minnie too uncomfortable. Dark clouds are gathering on the horizon, and it makes you wonder if the rain that has been promised in the forecast will be coming sooner than expected and you are glad this outing is the only one you have planned. Taking Minnie around in the rain is never fun. It always seems like everything becomes more bustling in the rain and trying to navigate that with a crying toddler just makes you want to cry as well. 

But the promise of her new favorite person and mild weather has her walking like the born and bred New Yorker she is - a determined little pout with no nonsense steps. No one will be trying to sell her things on the sidewalks once she gets bigger. If she had a different personality, you'd want to teach her to say "Hey, I'm walking here" just to hear a toddler say it. 

As you spy the building Matt's office is in, you realize you should have sent him a text to say you were on your way. You did let him know vaguely what time you planned to stop by and he had assured you that they had no appointments - it was catch up on paperwork day - but that didn't mean walk-in clients hadn't come by. You're so close to already being there that you think the gesture is pointless, so you just keep walking until you get to the building.

"This is where we are going," you tell Minnie as you approach. You scoop her up to show her the business directory on the outside of the building. There aren't very many plaques to begin with, so it's easy to find the Nelson, Murdock, and Page one. "That is where Mister Matt works with his friends."

She leans out and feels over the embossed sign, running her fingers over the different letters. "'M'! For Minnie!" She says, pointing out the letter with a big smile. 

"Exactly. Mister Matt's last name starts with M, too. That word is his last name - Murdock."

That gets her to turn back to the sign, fingers dancing over the letters, brows knitting with curiosity, "How is it spelled?"

You spell out Murdock for her and Minnie repeats each letter after you. You do this a few times until she's able to say it out loud on her own. You don't know how long she'll retain the information, as spelling isn't really on the board yet, but you're happy she's interested. You set her back down and she makes a beeline up the steps, grabbing and pulling at the door with all her three-year-old strength. 

The lobby to the building is sparse, with basically only an elevator and staircase, with a door to what you suspect is a supply closet. "We're going up two staircases," you tell your daughter. 

"Two!" She confirms before taking off towards the stairs. You have a brief moment of panic that she's going to zip up both sets faster than you can catch her, but to your great amusement, she grabs a hold of the banister with both hands and pretends to use it like a mountaineering rope to climb the stairs. She even adds little fake huffs and puffs. You follow behind her, ready to catch her if she slips. She doesn't, and when you get to the floor Matt's office is on, she turns to beam at you, clearly proud of herself, "We did it!"

"We did it," you parrot, offering out your hand again. She takes it and you lead her to the correct door. The same plaque that was on the exterior of the building also hangs beside their door and Minnie astutely points to it.

"Murdock!" 

"That's right, it says Nelson, Murdock, and Page."

"Can I knock?" Mouse asks, raising her fist to do just that.

You hum, then gently explain, "This is business, which means work. For work, we don't have to knock. We can go in if it is open."

As soon as you say that she's opening the door and marching inside and you quickly follow her. 

Matt's law partners, Foggy and Karen, are in the reception area with a man you assume is a client of theirs, talking in hushed annoyed sounding whispers. He radiates intimidation, with a huge black eye and what looks to be a makeshift cast made of duct tape around his right wrist. The three of them turn to look at you and you get the sense Minnie had the right idea in asking if she should knock first. 

Your little one quickly latches onto your leg, turning timid in the space of a second and you can't really blame her. Part of you wants to turn and run. 

Karen recovers first, breaking away from the two exasperated men to step towards you and going into receptionist mode, "Hi. You were here last week to meet with Matt, right?" 

"Uh, yes, that's right. Is he, uh, available?" You ask, feeling like you no longer know how to speak English. The energy in the room is not a pleasant one and you very much feel like you've interrupted something important.

"He's on a call currently but I'll let him know you are here," Karen replies in a voice far kinder than what she uses to address the men behind her a beat later. She turns to them and points to the office you know is not Matt's. "In there. Now."

Foggy throws up his hands, like he's frustrated with whatever is going on and disappears into the other room. The man you don't know doesn't follow, eyes on you and your daughter as Karen crosses the room to knock on Matt's door before opening it and slipping into the office. You quickly decide you are not going to make eye contact with him, instead ducking your head and putting a comforting hand on Minnie's head. She's practically hidden herself behind your legs, clinging to your pants so tightly you fear they might rip.

"I like your boots," the man says into the quietness. You expect him to sound like gravel, but his gruff voice is rather soft, and you get the feeling he understands how to talk to children "My daughter used to have boots like those."

 Part of you wants to tell the man to not talk to your daughter, but that would be rude and just because he looks like he's been through the ringer doesn't mean he's a bad man. You decide to let her determine how she wants to proceed.

You feel Minnie poke her head out from where she's hidden herself. At first, you don't think she's going to reply, as you know how she is, but she surprises you yet again by mumbling out, "They're froggies." 

"Yeah? You like frogs?"

Mouse somehow tightens her grip, "I like animals." She presses her face against your leg, then admits, a little louder, "we're gonna to the zoo for my birthday."

That makes the man smile, and that changes his whole demeanor. Suddenly he looks friendly and kind and not like he's likely to stab you, "That's a good place to go for your birthday. How old are you gonna be?"

Before she can respond, the door to Matt's office swings open and Karen stalks out, followed by Matt, who seems much less agitated than everyone else. The blonde points to the unknown man, a little scowl on her face, "What did I say?"

The man holds up his hands defensively, stepping away from Karen and towards the office he was previously told to go in, "Alright, alright, I'm going. I'm going." That doesn't seem to help soothe her at all, as she grabs the man by the bicep and frog-marches him to join Foggy, closing the door behind them. 

"They didn't make you wait long, did they?" Matt asks, bringing your attention back to him. There is a cut on his lip that wasn't there the last time you saw him, and your instinct is to ask if he is okay, but you don't know if you are at that level with him yet.

So instead, you address his question, "No, no, we just got here."

He motions back to his office, a smile spreading across his face, and you almost forget about the cut, "Come on back and we can review everything." 

Minnie lets go of your pants only to take your hand again and you lead her into the other room. As you pass Matt, she looks up at him and gives a tiny wave.

"Hi, Mister Matt."

Matt's shoulders visibly relax at her greeting, and you can't help but start to smile, "Hi, sweetheart. How are you doing today?"

"Good! I maded you pictures," she says proudly. That causes him to pause as he starts to follow you into his office. You can tell he is surprised by the news - his voice gets a little choked up when he responds.

"You made me some pictures?"

"They are very good pictures," you advise, squeezing Minnie's hand slightly before letting go, "Do you want to tell Mister Matt what you drew for him?" She nods eagerly, so you point to one of the chairs in front of his desk. "Go sit like a big girl and you can tell him."

She makes a dash for the chair, and you take the time to address Matt, "I'm sorry, I should have called ahead."

He shakes his head, and as he walks past you to go behind the desk, he reaches out and brushes his hand along your arm. A little shiver runs up your spine at the touch and you tell yourself the action was so he could orient himself. "Not a problem, I knew you were coming. How is everything?"

"Everything is good," you reply, a little shyer than you intend to. "I, uh, have everything for you. Is there anything else I need to fill out?"

Matt shakes his head, "Just a signature and date. You've done all the work for me already. I don't think I've ever had to file where I don't need to actually do anything but sign the document. It's a refreshing change."

"Do you know how long it will take to process?" You ask as you move to join Minnie in sitting. "The website gave multiple timelines and I just want to be realistic."

Matt takes his seat with a cocky grin, "Not long at all, I know a few judges I can ask to push it through."

You flush at the idea of him asking a favor to a judge on your account, "That's not necessary, Matt, I don't mind waiting."

He shakes his head, getting that soft look again, "I don't want to wait. I want it to be official in the eyes of the government."  

His words make you feel even warmer, and you distract yourself by pulling the file with all the paperwork out of your purse and pass it over to him. "Minnie's additions are at the bottom of the stack. The last five pages"

His fingers twitch slightly, and you wonder if he wants to flip right to those. You get your answer quickly.

"Minnie, is it okay if I go over the paperwork with your mom before you tell me about your pictures?"

"It's okay!" She replies, her voice much more cheerful now that you are alone with Matt. "Do you needs help?"

Her sweetness makes Matt smile more and he shakes his head, "Not right now, sweetheart. I need to read, and I can do that with my fingers, but after that you can help with some other things."

"Okay," she says happily, kicking her feet a little bit.

You catch her attention and motion to your purse, "Do you want a toy while you wait?" 

She shakes her head and beams up at you, "No thank you, I'm a big girl!"

Both you and Matt chuckle at her declaration and he moves to open the file. 

"There's multiple copies of everything," you tell him as you move onto business, "One printed text and one in Braille for the courts and the same for you. I have the same at home, as well. They are bundled in packets. The court papers are on top, Braille first."

He thanks you then begins to read the forms. Mouse sits up straighter in her chair to try and see what he is doing. She can just peek over the edge, and she watches in fascination as his fingers move over the pages. You wait quietly, not wanting to distract in any way. 

"Everything appears to be in order. We will just need a signature," Matt says after a minute. 

"Should I do that now?" You ask. The response is him offering you a pen, so you lean in to sign the various forms. As you set each document aside, Matt adds his own signature. It is silly how giddy you feel just having the forms finally completed. You don't know how long you've had just blank copies, waiting to be filed. 

"And done," Matt says with a final flick of his pen on the last page. "I'm going to the courthouse on Tuesday, so I'll get it processed then. I'll push to get an updated certificate as quickly as possible."

You have to bite your lip to keep from smiling like a crazy person. This isn't some dream or far off fantasy. Matt isn't just saying he wants to be Minnie's father. He is following through, with urgency. This is something he wants and it's almost surreal for you - you are so used to promises being broken and no one being on the same page as you in your desires. Even if this is all for Minnie and not for you, it is still on the edge of overwhelming for you. 

You never thought you'd be so happy over paperwork. 

"Thank you, Matt," you whisper, leaning back into your seat to sit properly.

Immediately, Minnie parrots you, thanking Matt even though she has no idea what is going on.

"No, thank you. Thank you both," he says, and you wonder if he is also holding back from smiling. He gathers the papers and sets them aside before running his fingers over the folder you gave him and addressing his daughter. "Okay, sweetheart. Do you want to come tell me what you drew?" 

You expect Minnie to stand on the chair and even prepare yourself to balance her, but that does not happen. She hops down and scurries around the desk to be at Matt's side and a moment later, he is pushing his chair back and she is climbing up into his lap. Embarrassment rushes through you - she's only ever behaved like this with you. She actually used to fuss and cry if anyone else tried to hold her. You haven't seen her sit in anyone else's lap since she had a say in who gets to hold her.

"Minnie!" You scold but Matt quickly shakes his head as he helps her up.

"It's okay, I don't mind," he tells you even though he looks completely shocked. If he wasn't her father, you wouldn't allow this, especially with someone so new to her, but he is her father, even if she doesn't know, so you don't tell her to get down.

Instead, you give a stern frown, "Minnie, you still need to ask before climbing on anyone, okay? Can you apologize?" 

Your little girl nods, then looks up at him, "I'm sorry, Mister Matt."

"It's okay, sweetheart. Like I said, I don't mind, but your Mommy is right, and you should ask so I know you are there. Next time, you'll know. Now, your Mommy said there were five pictures. Which do you want to start with?" He asks, scooting his chair back to the desk while wrapping one arm around Minnie's waist to keep her secure. 

Once she's able to, she leans in and picks up the first drawing in the stack. It is the family portrait, and you quickly get your phone out so you can record this interaction as Minnie lays out the picture. She then takes Matt's free hand and guides it to the paper before letting go to point at the circle that represents him.

"This is you," she tells him. He quickly finds where she is pointing and begins to trace the figure. 

"That's me?" And there is definitely more than a little bit of emotion in his voice. 

"Uh-huh, and that is me and Mommy and we're gonna go to see the duckies. Mommy said we can go again. But we're gonna get ice cream too. And a balloon," she says, moving her little finger all over the page. 

You watch Matt's finger follow hers - first over the doodle of himself, then Minnie's, and finally yours. Then, he traces back to the center figure. "We're holding hands?" He asks tentatively.

"Yup!" She answers, popping the p. "Mommy says we gotta hold hands if we go outside." 

Matt licks his lips a little and you see his muscles flex under his jacket as he holds Minnie a little more firmly to his chest, like he doesn't want to let go of her. "That's a good rule." 

"Mommy makes good rules," your little one replies wisely. That makes your ego sing a little. Mouse has always been good at doing what she's told, and you are proud that she understands your rules keep her safe.

Before she moves onto the next picture, you gently prompt her. "Sweetie, was there something you wanted to ask Mister Matt?"

Matt's head jerks up at that, looking right to you with brows slightly knit. Minnie bounces in his lap just a little, squirming so she can turn to look up at him, "I'm gonna go to the zoo! For my birthday! Do you wanna go?"

His lips part in surprise at the question and before you know it, he has both his arms wrapped around Mouse, hugging her to him. She instantly responds, looping her little arms around his neck and squeezing back. He rests his cheek against her head, and you see him slightly rock her from side to side. "I would love to go with you to the zoo, sweetheart."

Minnie giggles into his neck and you one hundred percent know that the transition to suddenly having two parents is not going to be hard for her at all. It might be confusing because Matt won't be living with you, but you have never seen her so comfortable with someone who isn't you. You know it's not just because he gave her a toy. They just click together so well.

You switch from video to your camera so you can sneak as many pictures as you can of Matt and Minnie hugging. They've completely forgotten about you and that is a-okay. 

In this moment, nothing else matters to you - not the strange man in the other office or the devastation a few states over or all the other trivial things that nag you and make your stomach turn. 

Your world is right in front of you and for the first time in a very, very long time, you really, truly believe everything is going to be just fine. 

@midnightreids @cloudroomblog @yeonalie @thychuvaluswife 

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[mariacallous]

For decades, new parents across the United States have been able to check a box on hospital forms in order to request Social Security numbers for their newborns.

That’s no longer the case in Maine, where parents will have to visit a Social Security field office thanks to a shocking move by President Donald Trump’s administration.

A spokesperson for the Maine Department of Health and Human Services told HuffPost on Thursday that the Social Security Administration said it had canceled two contracts with Maine’s vital statistics program that support Social Security’s electronic “enumeration at birth” program.

“As a result of SSA’s contract termination, effective immediately, Maine hospitals are no longer able to enroll newborns into Social Security at the time of birth so parents will now need to visit their local Social Security office to apply in-person for their child’s Social Security Number,” the Maine DHHS spokesperson said in an email.

No justification has been given for the change, which was first reported by the Portland Press Herald. The Social Security Administration and the White House did not immediately respond to requests for comment from HuffPost.

It’s likely the contracts were canceled at the direction of Elon Musk’s “Department of Government Efficiency” service, which has ripped through the federal government in search of savings. Leeland Dudek, the acting commissioner of the Social Security Administration, recently told senior agency staff this week they had to let DOGE run amok.

“DOGE people are learning and they will make mistakes, but we have to let them see what is going on at SSA,” Dudek told the group, according to notes of the meeting obtained by The Washington Post. “I am relying on longtime career people to inform my work, but I am receiving decisions that are made without my input. I have to effectuate those decisions.”

Dudek previously announced the SSA would undergo a “massive” reorganization with significant job cuts. Martin O’Malley, who led the agency under former President Joe Biden, told HuffPost this week the cuts to the agency could cause it to miss benefit payments to millions of people at some point; more than 50 million seniors rely on Social Security’s retirement insurance program.

The Social Security Administration rolled out enumeration at birth in the late 1980s, allowing parents only to check a box on state birth forms at the hospital to get their newborn a Social Security number. The program has been available in all 50 states since 1997, and 99% of people now get their Social Security numbers that way, according to the Social Security Administration.

Parents typically need Social Security numbers for their children in order to obtain medical coverage, open a bank account or obtain government services. A pamphlet on the Social Security Administration’s website explains the simple process.

“When you complete the application for your baby’s birth certificate, you will be asked whether you want to apply for an SSN for your baby,” the pamphlet says. “If you say ‘yes,’ you will be asked to provide both parents’ SSNs. If you don’t know both parents’ SSNs, you still can apply for your child’s SSN.”

Since taking office in January, Trump has empowered Musk, the world’s richest man, to try to slash federal bureaucracies and fire workers. Musk’s team has targeted government contracts that Musk has described as wasteful.

It’s not clear if Musk’s young DOGE deputies thought the SSA contracts with Maine’s government were wasteful, or if they were canceled by accident. Musk has admitted making mistakes; the DOGE website has repeatedly posted incorrect information about money saved from canceled contracts.

The DOGE “wall of receipts” says it canceled six “enumeration at birth contracts” between the Social Security administration and five states, plus the Northern Mariana Islands, a U.S. territory in the Pacific Ocean. Maine does not appear to be on the list, however.

The DOGE website suggests Musk’s team has been trying to cancel the contracts partially ― only to the extent they result in the collection of race and ethnicity information, which DOGE considers an example of “DEI,” or diversity, equity and inclusion. The form reflecting the termination of an enumeration contract in Arizona, for instance, says, “Partial termination of the Race and Ethnicity (RE) records requirement.” The DOGE site says, “Only the DEI values are included” in the dollar amount saved.

Trump has also feuded with Maine’s governor for refusing to play along with Trump’s directive to disallow transgender athletes in girls’ sports.

Maine Gov. Janet Mills, a Democrat, told Trump she would “see you in court” over the girls’ sports directive during a recent meeting between governors and the president in Washington, D.C. Trump then threatened to withhold all federal funding from Maine.

[sirfrogsworth]

Froggie's (Almost) Very Productive Day

I try to fit as many out-and-about chores as possible into a single day so I only have one set of post-exertional malaise consequences instead of consequences after each day of doing a thing. So any time I decide to drive, I try to find several tasks to accomplish all at once.

My first stop was the Family Services Division in the hopes of getting some help with grocery bills. I am making ends meet, but it seems to be getting harder each month. And maybe I could have skipped my trip to Florida and saved that money, but if I don't do something drastic for my mental health, I fear this first holiday season without a parent could send me into the darkness.

I needed to do an interview to finish applying for SNAP. I wanted to do a phone interview, but the next appointment was in January. So I went to social services where they allow walk-in appointments. I waited in a tiny plastic chair for several hours until they called my name. She yelled out "Benjamin" because when most people see "Grelle" they aren't really sure how to say it. (Rhymes with belly.)

She started my interview and it was going swimmingly at first. But then she started asking questions about the house and my inheritance and my trust. I had no idea what to tell her. It feels like a mistake now, but I have had pretty much no involvement in that process. I have no idea how it works. And I started to panic because she was acting like I was committing fraud or something by not mentioning the trust. But the entire point of the trust was to protect my benefits. Nothing is mine. I own nothing. I have no access. But I had no idea how to explain that.

Maybe my lawyer can help me apply, but I did not want them investigating everything and screwing things up before we even have the estate through probate. We specifically hired a lawyer and went through this convoluted process to make sure everything was on the up and up. But she really made me feel like I was doing something wrong. And that made me panic, which probably made me look even more guilty of something. So I just canceled everything and left.

After a few hours in a crowded government office, I decided to head to a different crowded government office.

I know I didn't need it until 2025, but I decided to go ahead and get my Real ID thingie before my first flight. I was kind of hoping they'd retake my picture because my current driver's license is... well...

And I'm so glad they took my big terrible picture and made it into a smaller, more terrible picture.

People complain about the DMV, but the one near me runs like a machine. It was filled with people and I still only had a 10 minute wait time.

I'm starting to wonder if all of those 80s comedians who were all, "What's the deal with the DMV?" were exaggerating.

Good stuff, Jerry.

I head up to the counter and ask for a Real ID. She asks for two pieces of mail and my birth certificate.

And this disappointed me a little bit.

I did my research. I went to the Real ID website and used their interactive guide to figure out exactly which documents I would need. They gave me this entire checklist and I printed it out and went through all my records and mail trying to find everything.

I had to wait a week for my internet bill to come because it's the only thing I forgot to change to paperless. This took a lot of effort and I was ready to be validated for being so prepared.

And she asks for two pieces of mail.

Any mail.

So I was off to get new tires.

Driving around on 8 year old bald tires was giving me anxiety. I didn't have the money for new tires, but I remember the guy saying they had financing. Recently several of my past debts went past the statute of limitations, and so my credit score lifted itself out of the pits of "poor" and into the realm of "fair." So I decided to take a chance and apply for a Discount Tire credit card. It's a 6 month payment plan with no interest, so that didn't feel as predatory as all the credit card offers I get in the mail with 8000% interest.

We started going through the approval process and I was answering all of the questions and then I saw the name of the bank offering the credit. It was the same bank that tried to sue me and also the bank that can longer collect due to the statute. I was worried they put me on some sort of list and would deny me. But, to my surprise, they approved me instantly. And wouldn't you know it, they gave me almost exactly the amount needed for a new set of tires.

I'm hoping we'll be doing another auction of the house stuff soon, so I plan to pay off the card and then cancel it, but this was the only solution I could come up with to drive safely until then.

I was having a weird day where photos of crusty rich wide dudes followed me everywhere I went. Here is my good ol' boy governor at the entrance to social services.

And at the tire place, I noticed this fella...

Why does every rich CEO think they are a font of wisdom capable of creating compelling quotes?

Does he think no one has ever said "work hard" and "have fun"? And after he said this was he like...

"That's gold, put that in *every* store."

"Oh, and use that picture of me where it looks like a handsome gal just grabbed my undercarriage."

He probably thinks, "Well, no one has put these specific generic platitudes together into a single mega-platitude. I am a genius."

"Be honest, work hard, have fun, be grateful, pay it forward" sounds like he had a bunch of motivational posters on his wall and started reading them all at once.

Like, every line could have a picture of an eagle above it.

In any case, the guy at the tire store, Dakota, was really nice. He made the experience very low anxiety. And he really liked my Thor's Hammer keychain with built in fidget spinner.

He went around showing it to all his coworkers. "Look, it even spins!" And they were like, "Dude, where did you get that??" And I was like, "Amazon." Now I'm just imagining 10 dudes at a tire store all fidgeting their hammers.

As nice as he was, Dakota was still a salesman and had a job to do. He gave me two tire options and tried to upsell me. The cheapest tires had a "1" rating for winter. He said they get "super hard" in the cold... I tried not to giggle. But I explained I drive about twice a month and mostly to the grocery store. If it is a bad winter day, I'll just wait or get delivery. He understood and set me up with the cheaper tires.

He then checked out my car and noticed my tire pressure sensors were dying. I keep getting a warning light on my dash. Apparently they all have tiny batteries in them that die after 7 years. And you can't just replace the batteries so you have to install brand new sensors.

And this is where my social anxiety got me into trouble.

I don't actually need these sensors. They are usually inaccurate. I prefer to test my tires with an actual gauge. But I got so caught up in his sales pitch that I agreed to replace them... at $60 each. For that I could have gotten the fancier tires. I really don't care if an orange light shows up on my dash. And I looked up the price online and a pack of 4 is $30. Though that is without installation.

But still... I wasn't thinking and he was so nice that I was just like, "I want to please Dakota. Saying no might make Dakota sad." Dakota's job is selling me but that doesn't mean I have to buy anything. He would live if I had said "no thanks."

To make my blunder more blunderous, when they finished the tires he asked for my key fob. And it decided that was the time for the battery to die. And in order to reset the system for the new tire pressure sensors, you have to press two buttons on the fob for 7 seconds. Thankfully I had a spare fob at home, but if I want my fancy new $240 sensors to work, I have to return to Dakota and have him initialize them.

I really hope these are the Cadillac of sensors.

Or, like, the ones they use on Cadillacs?

They better be accurate, is what I'm saying.

I do feel safer with new tires. So I am glad I did that. And I gave them a good obligatory kick and felt the tread. They seem nice enough even if they get boners in the winter. It's crazy how bald my other tires were in comparison. Like, I can fit half my finger down into the tread on the new ones—which did not get them super hard.

The way I drive, I probably won't wear them down. They'll probably start to rot before I do.

Before I do, meaning before I wear them down.

Not before I rot.

I am not in a rotting competition with my tires.

I was then off to Sam's. I decided all of my hard work accomplishing 2 out of 3 goals deserved some sushi. So I grabbed some California Rolls and headed home. On my way out, a Hummer and a Porsche nearly collided in the parking lot. And they sort of got stuck facing each other. One of them needed to back up and they both signaled at each other like "You back up, I'm not backing up." And it was just this weird standoff between the two douchiest looking cars you could imagine.

I mean, you have to be a douche to drive a Hummer.

I still remember the mystery Hummer dialysis patient from when my dad was going 3 time per week. We could never figure out who owned the Hummer, but we knew it was not the underpaid nurses and techs. So it had to be one of the patients. And none of them seemed the type. We never solved that mystery.

That hummer started off a delightful safety yellow. (Elon would cry.)

They decided this wasn't extra enough... so they did this...

Katrina and I could never decide... are these cow spots or the world's least effective camoflauge?

There was another patient who drove this old beater...

And I loved seeing this car because we had the same one when I was a little kid. I'm afraid the aesthetics of the 1980s Caprice Classic did not stand the test of time, but it had great sentimental appeal for me.

But this maroon beast that squeaked and sputtered its way from here to there belonged to a very sweet older gentleman. Sometimes he and my dad would be dialysis buddies—sitting next to each other in the recliners. And the worst thing about dialysis was the boredom. All you have to do is watch broadcast TV with 4 channels.

All of the TVs require headphones. They give you your own set of super cheap headphones in the dialysis welcome bag. They were very uncomfortable so I ordered my dad better ones with cushioned ear cups.

His dialysis buddy noticed them and thought they looked nice. And then he revealed that his free headphones broke and he didn't know how to get new ones. He had been watching TV with no sound for weeks. So, I bought another pair with the soft ear cups and my dad gave them to his friend. And it just made me happy imagining the two of them watching The Price is Right in matching headphones.

I do have to make fun of this sweet old man a little bit. When I walked passed his car I noticed he implemented the world's most effective anti-theft device ever created.

That's right... The Club™.

If someone decides they have to have a 40 year old car with an engine that sounds like a dying hyena and a hubcap missing... they are out of luck.

But hey, you gotta protect what is important to you. And if I needed a getaway car and my choices were between his beater and the Cow Hummer, I'd take his ride for sure.

Well, I'd try... and then get arrested because The Club™ is undefeatable.

Do NOT look that up on YouTube. It's 100% true. (And the Lock Picking Lawyer doesn't count due to him being able to break into Fort Knox with a paperclip and then doing it again to make sure it isn't a fluke.)

The dialysis center is in the same complex as my local Tolerable Schnucks and I still see that maroon boat of a car every once in a while. I always smile whenever it is there because it lets me know he is hanging in there and hopefully still has sound for his TV.

Wow, I went off on a mega-tangent.

I didn't even finish talking about my day. Where was I? Oh, the douche standoff finally ended. The Porsche Douche capitulated and backed up. Probably due to the fact the Hummer Douche has 0 visibility behind him.

When I got home I started devouring my sushi. I finally heard back from my lawyer. He submitted the last of the evidence for my appeal. And I was finally able to confirm he got the records of my ECT treatments from 20 years ago. I worked so hard to get those. At first, they forgot to send all records before 2011. I had to call back and figure that out. They shipped them and they didn't arrive until a week before we had to file. Everything was so last minute and my anxiety has been... palpable. It felt like when I did my science fair project on Sunday night.

He's hoping to get a decision at the beginning of next year. He warned me that these appeals are usually rejected. And that the most effective method of approval was a hearing in front of an administrative law judge. But that could be delayed by up to a year. So I might need to figure out how to survive until 2025. As long as my brother does what he is legally required to do, I should be okay. But counting on that also gives me palpable anxiety.

And that was my day.

Every time I go out is always an adventure.

But remember...

BE NICE. EAT YOUR VEGGIES. PET CUTE DOGS. DREAM BIG. KEEP YOUR TIRES WARM... FOR REASONS. 5 LIFE LESSONS -Froggie, Mildly Famous Internet Person

[alicelufenia]

Today marks the fifth anniversary of my being on hormone replacement therapy (and almost the same time as coming out trans)

June 24, 2020, was the day I took my first dose of estrogen. I made sure to heavily document when I started hrt, cause I knew the anniversary was going to be important to me. Back then, I wondered where I'd be in five years and well, now's the time to evaluate that I suppose.

So, in the past five years since, I have:

Come out to everyone at work. Still at the same employer, and with the same people! I've been fortunate to have such welcoming co-workers. I came out to friends and family a few months earlier.

Had many difficult conversations with my parents, especially my mother, setting boundaries that I never had to before. I've been thankful for having a therapist guide me through that process, and we're all the better for that now, as she's avoided the worst of the transphobic pipeline since then. We are not estranged, and our relation has been normalized to where we were before my transition, which I will count as a win.

Spent long, agonizing hours updating every one of my legal documents to show my new name and gender. I owe my therapist and one of the nurse technicians at my hrt provider my life for providing the official letters that have smoothed the way toward getting a court ordered name change, and from there updating my driver's license, SSI account, passport, even my birth certificate (thanks to being born and living in a blue state).

Got to know my niece, and later my youngest nephew. I'm glad that they can grow up knowing me only as "Aunt Kaylin." I must be quite good with kids cause whether they're related to me or not, they always seem to want to hang out with me than anyone else if given the chance ^_^

Joined a raiding static in FFXIV, delving into high end content in my chosen game for the first time. Since then we've cleared every raid tier in Endwalker, and the first one in Dawntrail (we're still working on the second. Sheep haunt my dreams)

Said static has also turned into good friends that I've now known, online and offline, for years. I've hung out with them more by raiding 3 nights a week since December 2021 than I did anyone I knew in high school, with maybe two exceptions (one being my wife). It also is awesome that like half of us are queer, and 3 out of 8 are some variety of transgender/nonbinary.

Speaking of my wife, we celebrated our 17th anniversary this month (very apt that we wound up choosing Pride Month, even if that's not the original intent for the wedding date) My transition has been hard on her as well, and given that I'm aware how often marriages can fall apart after one partner transitions, I'm glad we've been able to stay together, to be there for each other, and now though our situation has changed we're closer than ever I think.

Read the Greek mythology-inspired fantasy novel and modern queer classic Wrath Goddess Sing, just a month or two after it came out in June 2022. More than any other single work, this book may have had the most positive impact on my life. It features trans Achilles, miraculous body transformations, a simultaneous celebration and lament to the feminine in the world of late Bronze Age Mediterranean cultures, and possibly the single greatest analogy to modern self-hating transphobic women in its radical interpretation of Helen (no one does it as an obsessive forever hater like she does!)

It's also the story that opened me up to exploring my buried desires for bottom surgery. The passages describing Achilles' joy following her transformation stayed with me long after the book ended. A year later and I started making serious plans for surgery. I'm now six months out of recovery from my December surgery last year, and I've never been happier, more confident, more clear headed than I am right now. For the first time since the start of my transition it feels like my best years are ahead of me rather than behind. At nearly 42 that's a tremendous feeling. To this day I do my annual re-read of Wrath Goddess Sing around this time of year (I should really share more from that book, it's seriously so good even past it being an amazing work of trans fiction)

Wow, that really is a lot now that I look back on it! I feel like I've finally reached a point where my transition feels like it could be at an end. Or, even if it's a subtly ongoing thing, at the very least I no longer feel like I'm stuck in a liminal space where my living as my chosen gender has this unreality edge to it. It seems bottom surgery really was the final piece of the puzzle, now my life just feels like it's clicked. Not to say that I can now start living for real, obviously I've been doing that for as long as I can remember, but it feels like my future isn't an abstract anymore, or a hypothetical that will never come to pass.

I put out these details of my story, not just for my own sake (though that's a huge factor of course) but to share with those also on their journey, or haven't quite started, to show that I'm living proof that there's life after the closet, life after transition. Everyone's journey is going to be different, but I need you to know that you can take that journey!

Happy Pride Month 2025

[girldragongizzard]

Chapter 7: Ptarmigan’s folly

Saturday isn’t the best day to start work on your own name change, but it’s the seventh of September and I have a fresh SSI deposit in my bank and no rent I need to pay. So, after the morning song, which I manage to initiate by starting just a smidge early, I settle down in the coffee shop with my tablet to learn about how to do it, and maybe pay the fees to get it started.

It looks like the procedure is pretty easy in Washington state, but there are two little snags.

It’s expensive. I can afford it, because I’m not paying rent. Kind of. That money is ideally going to go toward food now, though. But I can supplement my diet with seagulls if I have to.

And, I need more identification than just my enhanced state ID. Like, my birth certificate. And that’s in the stuff that’s supposedly been boxed up and sent to Nathan’s place to put in his garage. When Joel crashed through my apartment wall and trashed the place, I got evicted and trespassed. So, we’d arranged for that, and Nathan says it all seems to have arrived safely, but I haven’t had a chance to go through it all because he lives in another dragon’s territory.

I double check my Discord server for whose it is.

Ah, the individual I’d nicknamed Godzilla, who on my server is going by gronk_lizard.

I shoot him a DM asking if I may have permission to visit Nathan’s garage and look through my stuff that’s stored there. And then fret about the response, which doesn’t come immediately, or for a while.

OK, there’s a third and fourth snag in the name change process, but I’ve already talked about those, and plan to just deal with them when they come up. If I have to, I can send a human emissary to get permission from Waits to enter their territory to go to court. And there’s got to be some kind of concession for altered appearances with a photo ID, especially since other trans folk exist and go through this in their own way. Maybe that’s what the birth certificate is for.

I’m really hoping that asking permission with other dragons is going to work for visiting their areas of the city. This is so new, and I don’t think we’ve really tested this before. But, I think I’d be pretty reasonably chill myself if another dragon asked me, especially after my encounter with Astraia.

Gotta try it someday, why not today?

And I did. And I’m fretting, because gronk_lizard isn’t returning my message yet. He’s not even online, though.

As I take a moment drink my coffee, I realize that I’m hyperfocusing on this because maybe I feel the need to get back into, or establish, a mundane daily routine. I’m trying to ground myself in my identity, which is fair. But now that I’ve done what I can for the day and hit a hurry-up-and-wait snag, it kind of hurts.

The events of the last week, finishing off with that conversation yesterday, have been a bit much.

Especially that conversation. Especially the idea that I might be an Artist.

The idea feels absurd to me.

I don’t have an Art. Not that I know of. I don’t draw or write. Though I’m definitely thinking about writing! But I have no practice in it. I don’t do music. I don’t program. All I’ve ever really done is watch movies, read books, and daydream about being a dragon.

A lot of daydreaming about that. Especially as my chronic fatigue set in and I couldn’t do much else. Which.

I don’t have chronic fatigue anymore and it turns out I’m actually a dragon. So, what do I do?

I fucking go flying, eat seagulls, fight other dragons, and get in a turf war with the biggest, richest wizard in town, apparently!

Or, am I?

Is David Säure an Artist?

Or, did I misunderstand what Ptarmigan was saying?

I think about the main points of yesterday’s conversation, and realize that so much of what was said by both Ptarmigan and Chapman could be interpreted several different ways. And Chapman’s been talking like that since I met hir.

When Kimberly asked Ptarmigan her age, and Ptarmigan responded with “forty-nine”, she didn’t specific of what. Forty-nine years? Seconds? Eons? Heck, she didn’t even say, “I am”, so it might not even have been an answer. Just, “Forty-nine, I think.” Like, “I’m thinking of the number forty-nine.”

And, the reason this sticks with me is because I caught when Kimberly asked more directly if Ptarmigan was forty-nine years old, and Ptarmigan said, “No.”

I take a glance around the coffee shop and the street outside through the windows, and don’t see anyone I know well besides Nathan and Cerce behind the counter.

For some reason, my thoughts feel more private knowing I’m basically alone, and I continue puzzling this.

Maybe Ptarmigan was just saying that Daniel Säure’s involvement in local dragon politics is due to the work of an Artist, not that he was one.

I don’t want to give a billionaire any benefit of the doubt, but I’ve gotta concede I don’t know anything about him. Not even why he’s gone personally reclusive lately. And he could just be this hapless human being with way too much money and way too much interest in local politics.

The part where Ptarmigan was painfully honest and transparent, though, was when she admitted that she didn’t know if I was an Artist, only that it was a guess, and that she’d used divination to find the center of the global metamorphosis and it was apparently me.

Either she was outright lying there, or I was the center of it for some reason.

So, like, we’ve got this pair of immortal beings, supposedly. Or people pretending to be immortal beings, but they can definitely do magic of some sort. And they both have this habit of telling partial truths, or phrases that might as well be partial truths, to mislead or hide the actual truth. It creates this precedent of communication where I guess I expect them to keep up that habit.

So, when one of them then goes, “I don’t actually know. That was a guess. But what I found is that you’re at the center of this dragon event,” well, it stands out. It’s not the same pattern of communication.

What does that mean?

This is going to give me main character syndrome if I think about it too much.

If I take Ptarmigan’s report at face value, does that mean that my dream that night, in which I tore off my human disguise, was indicative of something bigger?

If I’m an Artist and don’t know about it, would that have been me subconsciously practicing my Art? Does dreaming count as an Art?

Or, maybe it’s transformation that’s the Art, but dreaming was my expression of it at the time.

If I had paper and could write this down, I feel like it would make sense on it. But, emotionally, it’s not clicking with me. I just feel numb and disconnected with it when I think about the idea that my own transformation, my own personal desires made manifest, actually affected the entire rest of the planet.

It’s just too much.

But I lift my chin and tilt my head like that one meme, and think that transformation would be a pretty fucking fantastic Art to have. Phenomenally powerful.

If I could somehow do that, transform myself or other people or things, I could use that Art to smooth out so many problems the, uh, global dracomorphosis is causing. At least locally, I think.

And trying it would either confirm or debunk Ptarmigan’s claims.

I could maybe get into that.

I’m honestly at a loss for what else to do, besides to continue networking with my new friends and trying to build a local coalition of dragons while some billionaire tries to ship us one by one out of the county.

There’s been no helicopter for the past two nights, though, that I know of, so it seems like we’ve got a bit of a reprieve. And I should probably take advantage of that.

Networking should only take a couple hours each day, at most, ideally. So the rest of the day I can use for planning, scheming, processing the idea of being somehow immortal or something myself, and experimenting.

Doing that might even keep me out of trouble with my neighboring dragons. You know, by mostly keeping to myself.

Except, I do want to move forward on this name change thing, and that is going to take some leg work. Or wing work.

Well.

I drink some more coffee, and focus on the process of doing that. Like eating, it's also pleasant, if nothing like what I used to do with a human mouth.

The best part of it for me, now, is tasting the air above the coffee before drinking it. There’s just so much detail to the aroma of the steam, so many volatiles lifting away in it. Each one is a different note of flavor. It's almost like I can taste each individual molecule as it alights on my tongue.

But, then, bathing my tongue in the liquid is a totally different beautiful experience, too. There's even more flavor there, but it all blends and swirls around my taste buds as I immerse my chin deep enough into the bowl to function as kind of a ladle, and lick.

Three licks and swallows with snout in bowl gives me a sense of drinking sips kind of like before. And then I lift my head up and back to swallow the gulp of fluid in the bottom of my mouth.

A huff and my tongue is swathed in the warmth of coffee breath and a whole other set of flavors, and I feel like I’ve permeated myself with the myriad of fascinating chemicals that make up the hot extract of coffee beans. Head high, eyes closing, I allow myself to float on the sensations and the memories they bring of doing this almost every morning since I awoke to my true self.

I hear the front door bell chime and jingle and have to stop myself from imitating the noise in response. I close my eyes tighter to distance myself from it.

After a couple of seconds, I hear Ptarmigan speaking to me her desert thunder of a voice.

“We should go for a walk,” she says. “Or, if you know some place private, that would be better. I want to work with you on something, if you’re up for it.”

I open my eyes and look at her in the collarbone. She’s dressed in exactly the same clothes as yesterday.

I’m not done with my coffee yet, so then I look at it, and then look back up at her.

“I’m sorry. You can take your time. I mean, I would like to meet with you some time today, if possible,” she says. “Can you? Will you? Do you have a good place for that?”

“Yes. Okay. Stay,” I say, without pulling out my tablet. Then I go for another mouthful of coffee and make a demonstration of it.

I don’t exactly dislike Ptarmigan. I’m intrigued by her. But I feel like she has disrupted my life just as thoroughly as Joel did when he crashed through my wall. And I do not trust her.

That lack of trust seems more important than anything.

And what she’s revealed to me has damaged my trust in Chapman, too, and I am not grateful for that.

I find that I don’t really want to do anything with Ptarmigan without Rhoda by my side. But she does have her own life, and she’s not here right now.

After sitting with the fumes of my last gulp of coffee for long enough that I feel I’ve made my point, I pull out my tablet and ask a simple question with it.

“What?” I inquire.

“I want to help you explore what I talked about yesterday,” Ptarmigan says. “Privacy would be good so that you don’t feel so self conscious about it. I like going for walks, but I understand your territory is smaller these days. Maybe your roof would work?”

Unfortunately, that’s exactly what I’m in the mood for doing right now. I’m so anxious today, I think I’m done with my coffee, despite how I’ve been trying to wallow in it.

I may not trust Ptarmigan, and I’m not exactly confident in my own decision making skills lately. But I’ve been really great at learning new stuff from my mistakes, and I’m desperate to be doing something productive and new.

I put my tablet away again and stand up, saying, “Okay. Go.” And then I walk out the door and lead the way to the fire escape.

It’s got one of those sets of stairs that only lower when weight is put on them, but I can reach that easily and pull it down, which I do. I climb partway up that and then wait for Ptarmigan to follow. And then we both climb to the top floor.

Leaping up to grab the roof from there is much easier than the last time I did it, and I’m sure I’ve grown a bit in length now.

Once up and in my new home, the rooftop, I turn around and watch Ptarmigan to see if she has any manner of getting up here herself.

She just watches me back, passively.

OK.

My haunches and tail are heavier than my front, so I figure I can help her up while using my hips as a fulcrum. I keep my wings folded and held as far back as possible while I walk to place my hind claws near the edge of the roof. Then I crouch and lean down and offer Ptarmigan my foreclaws, my tail rising in the air and arching behind me.

Then, when she grabs my foreclaws, I flap my wings furiously and lift with my legs to pull us both back up.

She walks up the side of the building with her feet and it all works pretty well.

I allow myself to be pleased with my feat of balance and strength.

Then we make our way to the center of the roof. And as I flap my wings a few times to stretch them again after working them for our ascent, her duster billows.

I find that I wish she was wearing a pair of dark black rimmed wrap around sunglasses, but she’s not.

“OK,” she says. “We can go about this a couple of different ways. We should try both. What are your hobbies? Do you do anything creative?”

“No,” I say. I hesitate for a moment to let that sink in, but then I pull out my tablet, and she watches me as I turn it on and make sure my app is open. “I used to read,” I take the time to say. “I used to daydream.”

“What do you do now?” she asks.

“Know Artists. Fight. Be dragon. Eat seagull. And fly,” I say, completely deadpan as usual. 

I’m being subtly funny, but it’s also basically the truth. Ever since my metamorphosis, I’ve been so content in a way I’ve never been before, despite all the stressors, that my usual coping mechanisms haven’t had any draw to me.

“Huh. OK,” my oblique reference to a meme seems to go right over her head. “What were you doing the night of the metamorphosis?”

“Dreaming,” I reply. “Woke up dragon.”

“Right. What was your dream about?”

“Removing human disguise.”

She points at me.

I figured as much.

“That’s it.” Then she sits down on the black tar roof, and says, “Now, describe that dream in detail, please. I’ll wait.”

I huff and look at the sky.

Then I oblige. This dream has stuck with me strongly since that night. I remember it as if I lived it while awake. And I’ve described it before, but it’s worth reviewing it.

I dreamt that I was back in school, college specifically, and it was one of those naked dreams. I spent about half the day interacting with professors and classmates before I really noticed, and I was in just my tighty whities, which is better than being completely naked, but not by much. What I hated more, in the dream as in real life, was my hairy chest and arms, the stubble of my beard, and the obvious bulge in my underwear. These were things that had been plaguing me since puberty, but I never felt like I could do anything about them. If I’d been willing to upend my whole life by admitting that I was a trans woman, which I absolutely never wanted to be (thank you internalized transmisogyny), I wouldn’t have been able to afford transition anyway.

Of course, with the Affordable Care Act, Washington State made it so that Medicaid and Medicare would cover transitional healthcare, including surgery if I’d wanted it. But, for some reason, I just couldn’t bring myself to come out. Not even after I’d lost the last attempt at a job I’d ever had, and settled into the Magnolia apartments friendless and hopeless and exhausted beyond belief. I didn’t have anything to lose anymore, but I couldn’t see how embarrassing myself by publicly transitioning would make my life any better. I was doing everything I needed by living as a woman online, I thought.

That history followed me into my dream, of course. And it colored everything and made me feel even worse and more desperate. I couldn’t believe I was back in school when I had such severe chronic fatigue, and I couldn’t even answer emails or voice messages anymore due to my C-PTSD.

And then, in the dream, one of my classmates, someone I’d made the mistake of considering a friend at the time, asked me why I’d decided not to wear any clothes.

And I turned to him and said, “Because dragons don’t need clothes.”

And then I ripped off my human disguise and woke up.

I simplify this considerably for Ptarmigan, condensing my personal history down to, “I’m trans. Was male in dream. Am female.”

She nods, and scratches at the stubble on her chin.

“Yeah, that shit sucks,” she says. “I’ve dealt with my own dysphoria in some terrible ways. I wish I could have done what you did.”

“You are Artist. You incarnate. Don’t you choose?” I ask.

“I’m not the Poet,” she says. “Sometimes I use words badly. But also, my existence is contradictory. I suspect yours is, too, if you look close or deep enough.”

“Explain.” I’ve decided I’m not putting up with any more vague bullshit from Artists. “Make me understand.”

“Yeah,” she says. Then she walks over to the southern edge of the building and looks out over the sound. “Being trans is part of my nature when I live as a human. I can’t stop from being it. All Artists are queer or neurodivergent or deviant in some way. This is one of my ways. It comes with the Art. In my case, I’ll choose one sex or another, and end up being a different gender from it. Kids these days would say that my sex is defined by my gender, and I like that. But I can’t explain what happens to me with those words because I’m not exactly born. So I’m not assigned the wrong sex at birth.” She looks back at me. “I choose, but then my choice is taken from me, by my own nature. But it’s even more absurd to me, because the whole gender thing as it is today is a construct of white supremacy. It should be irrelevant.”

That last comment seems like a confirmation to me that she’s Indigenous. But I don’t really know. The right thing to do is wait for her to share that information directly. And, she’s an Artist, not a human. Ethnicity may be irrelevant to her, too. There are more important things to consider at the moment.

“What’s your Art?” I ask.

She grins for the first time I’ve seen yet. It’s an awkward thing, full of ruefulness and stilted self consciousness, but her eyes twinkle.

“Nightmares,” she says.

I think about that for a moment, and she lets me, so I ask, “Did you cause mine?”

“No, I don’t cause nightmares,” she says. “Well. Not all nightmares. I navigate them. I find them. I dig into them. I pull them apart. And I learn from them. Or try. The world is full of so many of them, I’ll never read them all. Ever. But, similar to how Chapman’s Art works, it also turns out to be a pretty good way for making divinations. Which is how I found you.”

“What’s Chapman’s Art?”

“Physics,” she replies. “Sie is the Physicist. I’m the Nightmarist. And I’m trying to figure out what you are.”

“What if not Artist?” I ask.

“Then I’m thinking you’re something even more interesting, and I think you’ll want to know that as much as I do,” she says. “Your dream is definitely a big huge clue, too.”

“What is Säure?”

“A billionaire and an asshole who hides behind his carbon offset credits and social clout,” Ptarmigan says. “But I haven’t really taken a good look at him yet. I don’t know more than that. We’re going to have to find out. Chances are pretty good he’s just human, though. Most people are.”

“Yes,” I agree.

“Humans aren’t to be underestimated, though. They make tempting playthings for us Artists. And probably look tasty to you dragons sometimes. But they collectively control everything right now. And their short lives make some of them really bloody minded and rash.”

I don’t say anything to that. I’m not sure what to make of it. I agree with a lot of the words, but the sentiments are weird to me. A little off.

When it comes to my humans, at least, I just can’t bring myself to be that cynical.

“OK,” she says. “I think I want you to try daydreaming first. That will probably be the easiest test. I expect nothing from it, except maybe to be able to do a divination off of it if you daydream the right thing. But it’s the least amount of effort right off the bat. Are you up for it?”

“What about?” I ask.

“If my hypothesis that you’re the Artist of Transformations, or something like that, is correct, then that’s what you should daydream about. Try to recreate something like that dream you had, but while you’re awake.” She nods. “The next step is to put you to sleep and have you dream a nightmare like that for real, but that’s more invasive and more work. I’d rather not do it. Maybe if I learn the right things from this, we can try something else.”

“Okay,” I say, and then start pacing around the roof, looking at things, and thinking about what I should daydream about. What kind of transformation I should envision. And maybe what kind of nightmare scenario that transformation would solve.

Well, I’ve got a ready made scenario, at least. Säure’s next attack.

And my immediate emotional response is that I want to be bigger and tougher and able to withstand bullets. And to breathe fire indefinitely.

So, sure. I sit on my haunches near where Ptarmigan is standing and daydream about what that battle would be like. And about what it would be like to change my body into that greater draconic form.

While I do this, Ptarmigan pulls out a tiny sketchbook and a pen and starts scribbling in it while occasionally looking up at me. She sits down cross legged beside me after a few moments, and really gets lost in her work, flipping pages to work on new ones when the old one becomes too full of ink. And as she’s doing this, I feel a constant soft hum in the fabric of reality that has a harmonic in one of my nerves, like a slowed down and quieter version of the shift I get from Chapman when sie uses hir art.

In my mind, I’m taking to the sky and flying so high that it’s almost like I’m in orbit. And I’m so big and so impervious to everything that I can’t help but imagine that as being a form of intangible existence, like a spirit or a celestial being of some sort. A dragon made of starlight and lightning.

Bullets of any caliber are useless and helicopters go down in flames.

“Yeah. No. That would have been too easy,” the Artist of Nightmares says.

I break my revery and look over at my tablet before walking to it and tapping the screen for a bit, “Not work?”

“Oh, I read you just fine. You’re just not the Artist of Transformation,” she reports. “From what I can see, you’re just a dragon. It’s bewildering, frankly.”

“Told you,” I say.

“Sure,” she says. “Good solid nightmare visions, though. Thank you.”

I don’t have anything else to say to her at the moment. I’m once again at a loss myself. But, as I watch her, her eyes narrow.

“What?” I ask.

“Yeah, I’m definitely not done with you,” she says.

Whatever, I think to myself. At least I’ve made some personal psychological progress today. I now have something I can reliably daydream about when I want to relax.

“Done today,” I say. “Please go.”

“Sure,” she says again. “I need to think about this, anyway. Thank you for working with me.”

“Okay,” I say.

“Take care,” she says, then wanders over to where the fire escape is and lowers herself onto it carefully and disappears down the stairs.

I huff and look out over the water again. I have some more thinking to do of my own.

[takeariskao3]

Day 7: Lover written for #SeveralSunlitDaylights & @corneliaavenue-ao3

a version of this has existed since may of 2020 and it feels so good to finally put it into the universe after sitting on it for three (THREE!) years... i have a feeling i will continue this at some point and hopefully turn it into a full blow fic, but until then, enjoy some non-traditional, pandemic themed, sex pollen, a/b/o dynamics <33

They said it started in China. At the annual festival in Shanghai. 

Some experts claimed the mutation originated because of an uncharacteristically dry winter. Some blamed climate change. Others said it was all part of the cyclical nature of the earth. A purification process. Nature taking its course. 

The more hysterically minded said it was the end of the fucking world. 

Either way, Ginny watched in horror with the rest of Edinburgh as more and more reports flooded the news.

All across the northern hemisphere, the cherry trees were blossoming, and people were going mad.

~~~

The thing about fear was that it spread like wildfire. 

Grocery stores emptied of necessities overnight. The Prime Minister issued stay at home orders, some of the more populated areas even attempted a voluntary curfew. Borders were closed, air traffic came to a grinding halt, restaurants were instructed to only offer takeout, and any non-essential businesses were told to close their doors entirely. 

For a while, it all felt over-cautious. 

At least until the first case hit Cardiff. 

They said the little omega lasted three days in a severe heat until the pain and the dehydration finally rendered her unconscious. Her family rushed her to the emergency room and it was another two days before the hospital identified what was happening to her. They said before she was quarantined, she infected almost thirty people, nine of them hospital staff. 

It spread from twenty-nine confirmed cases to over three-hundred within a week, three-hundred became eight-thousand within the month.

And that was just Wales.

~~~

Birmingham was the third city to reach critical levels of contamination, after Liverpool and Manchester. 

They projected a global spread, the more densely populated areas being hit first. Each day the estimates increased, predicting numbers so catastrophic, there hadn’t been anything like it in over five-hundred years.

The real test, however, was London. 

There were reports that all the major cabinet members had been moved to separate and secure locations. That way if any of them contracted the sickness, at the very least, they wouldn’t infect the rest of the country's leaders. 

The worst part was nobody seemed to know anything. Records of the last pandemic were inconclusive or didn’t exist. No one knew how long the sickness lasted or how debilitating it really was. Less reliable news sources even reported deaths when the first wave hit eastern China, rumours spreading of alphas ripping each other apart over the chance to mate an omega.

But that’s all they were. 

Rumours. 

~~~

Designation had never mattered much to Ginny. It was just something stamped on her birth certificate next to seven pounds two ounces, eighteen inches long. Her ruts weren’t dramatic events, they were hardly even a disruption. Four times a year, she’d get the urge, use her fingers on herself three nights in a row and wait out the subsequent five days of bleeding.

Designation also hasn’t mattered to the world in decades. Suppressants went out of fashion after the turn of the century, the human race’s more animalistic instincts fading with each generation until the ruts and heats became nothing more than quarterly nuisances. Only a very small percentage of the population still needed herbs and homoeopathic blockers to get by, the rest went about their lives business as usual.

Humanity had evolved past such trivial things as Alpha, Beta, and Omega. 

But now, it was all anyone could talk about.

~~~

Dawdling around the townhouse, Ginny took her frustrations out in the form of kneading a lumpy, soon to be loaf of bread while half listening to the news. Her television emitted a scratchy noise every few seconds, but for a dumpster dive, it worked fine enough. Especially since for the six weeks she’d been stuck at home, she’d hardly turned the damn thing off. 

It wasn’t so much that she was dedicated to being informed, she just couldn’t bear the silence.

No honking cars, no nosy tourists, no shouting street vendors.

It was quiet in an uncomfortable way, in an unnatural way. In a way that left Ginny too much alone with her own thoughts. 

As she punched the dough down as hard as she could, her telly warbled out an odd static followed by the evening news anchor chatting animatedly with a couple who supposedly recovered from the sickness.

“And you think having each other,” the journalist asked in disbelief, “helped speed up your recovery?” 

“We realise it sounds a bit crazy, we aren’t even sure if there is science to support it–” a male voice responded. He sounded rational enough even though what he was saying went against every directive of social distancing. “But I’m an alpha, and my wife is an omega. When we both came down with it, we decided to stay home and wait it out together. Within a week or so we felt completely back to normal...”

Ginny snorted. The hospitals reported the illness lasting between twelve to fifteen days, not seven. And what were their credentials besides claiming to have been infected? The news station could interview anyone off the street. They’d probably interview her if she claimed she danced naked, covered in chicken’s blood beneath the full moon and it spared her. If anything, the segment was irresponsible. Now people were going to go out looking for a sex partner for the week.

Sighing at the downturn in journalistic integrity, she tuned out the rest of the interview, content to bask in the early May breeze wafting through the open windows.

Until she heard the squeak of brakes slow to a stop out front. 

And muffled voices. 

Followed by a car door slamming shut. 

She’d just begun to wonder which bluenose neighbour had arrived to hole up in a holiday house when footsteps scuffed up the stone walk, her stone walk, and a key slid into the lock of her front door.

The knob turned, the door clicked open, and Ginny stood rooted to the spot, covered in flour as her landlord (slash older brother’s best mate) appeared framed on the stoop. 

At first, Harry didn’t notice her. He stepped inside, careful to scrub his shoes on the mat before closing the door behind him and dropping his duffle unceremoniously in the foyer. He looked the same as he had nearly a year ago. He scratched a hand through the disaster hair piled atop his head then patted it all down again. His glasses were the same, and he still had the same little divot permanently etching his brow into a scowl. Beneath his anorak she could tell his lean frame still gave way to lanky limbs that shifted into slender fingers. 

Then the telly switched programs, the News giving way to some crime documentary, or something. Ginny wasn’t actually paying attention. At the change in music, Harry froze with his back halfway to her and his shoulders went tight. 

Then he turned on the spot, and he finally registered Ginny’s presence tucked away in the kitchen at the back of the house.

Their gazes held for several beats too long, both of them wide-eyed and startled by the existence of the other in such close proximity. 

Ginny’s heart thundered inside her chest, in a way that was achingly familiar and entirely unwelcome. 

“What are you– I didn’t think–” Harry stammered quickly. “Ron said he was meeting you back home?”

“He was,” Ginny answered, just as flustered. “I’d planned on it but– I couldn’t– I mean, I…changed my mind.”

Harry dug his fingers into his eyes behind his glasses and swore softly. He looked a bit peaky.  

“Christ, I’m an idiot,” He croaked. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve called.”

“No, it’s fine,” she reassured, not quite sure why she was pardoning his intrusion. “It’s still your house.”

They stared at each other in the silence for several beats too long, both of them seemingly at a loss for what to do next. 

“Er–” Harry finally stammered, a grin taking over his face. “Hi, by the way.”

Ginny laughed. “Yeah... long time, no see.”

They went in for a hug at the same time, but it was too light and too quick to feel natural. As he pulled away, Harry averted his gaze and let his eyes wander around the hall and the front two rooms. 

“Is Luna…” he trailed off, as if those two words were question enough. 

Ginny realised she was still covered in baking powder and half finished dough. She grabbed a tea towel from the hook and wiped her hands just for something to look at besides him. “She and her Dad were visiting family in Hamburg when the stay at home orders hit. She’s been stuck there for over a month. They can’t get a flight home.”

Harry nodded and let out a deep exhale of sympathy. “Fuck, yeah, that’d be awful.” He paused, shooting her a furtive glance. “And you? How–how are you?”

“Yeah, fine,” One half of her mouth tipped into a smile. “You?”

Shaking his head as if in thought, his hands fidgeted slightly in front of him. “Well, London is a disaster. They aren’t letting anyone leave their homes, or letting anyone into town. They’re letting people leave, but it took me ten days just to get approval to hop a train. I figured it couldn’t be so bad up here, you know? That’s why I…”

He trailed off again and Ginny wondered if he’d become incapable of finishing a coherent sentence in the time since she’d seen him last. 

“Makes sense,” she nodded generously. 

Harry remained exactly where he was, awkwardly perched on the welcome mat. 

“You can come in,” Ginny asserted and he flinched a bit like he hadn’t expected to actually be allowed to stay. 

“Right,” he cleared his throat and stepped forward like a man walking the plank. 

Busying herself with the kettle, she tried not to be too aware of his progress through the sitting room. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him wave to the bookshelves on either side of the fireplace. “I like what you’ve done with the place.”

Ginny grinned. The house held tell-tale signs of being solely occupied by her for the last month and a half. Stray jumpers, and rumpled throw pillows, and forgotten cups of tea sat scattered all around. The dishes in the sink were piled several days too high and the bananas on her countertop were just a shade too brown. 

“It’s a disaster,” she corrected, pulling her last two bags of tea out of the cupboard. 

Harry flashed her a smile, but it was gone just as quickly as it came. “I mean the furniture and things. The colours.”

“The colours?” she repeated incredulously. 

“Yeah,” he hummed, finally inching his way fully into the kitchen. He swallowed as his eyes settled on her once more. “It looks nice. Cosy.”

Snorting, she pulled her nearly empty carton of milk out of the refrigerator. “A sight better than when you and Ron lived here, you mean?”

That fleeting smirk again, there and then gone. “Do you know our sofa broke in two when we tried to move it out?”

“That does not surprise me in the slightest.”

Ginny poured and they both chuckled. She passed him one of the mugs and the milk, remembering how he took it. She reckoned it was one of those things she’d never forget. Like the opening to her favourite Spice Girls’ song, or her childhood phone number, or the rhymes to bonfire night. Two plus two equals four and Harry took his tea with milk, no sugar.

He tipped a splash into his cup, seemed to hesitate for a second, and then burst, “I can get a room. There’s got to be a hotel open in Old Town–”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ginny cut across him, spooning a heap of sugar into her own tea. Again, she wasn’t quite sure why she was contradicting him, but she refused to chase the thought down, because then she’d have to acknowledge that somewhere deep down she wanted him to stay. 

“Ginny,” he croaked. “I can’t intrude like this. I’ll figure something out. I’ll go stay at Sirius’ place in the country, or–”

“Harry,” she interrupted him again. “It’s your house.”

He seemed determined to put himself out. “But I can’t just show up out of the blue and–”

“Luna took your old room–” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken.

“I mean, you pay rent!” Now he was just talking to himself. “I had no right–”

“And she’s obviously not using it–” Ginny reasoned, though the ramifications of what she was suggesting crept up on her in a gradual recognition of awareness. 

“I bet the Chisholm Hunter has rooms–”

“Harry!” she cut across him in humoured agitation. “It’s fine. Stay tonight, or the next few days, or a week, until you figure it out. It’s fine.”

He blinked, the furrow between his brows deepening in thought. “You’re sure it’s okay?”

“Yes,” she lied, like a liar. “It’s not a big deal.”

It was kind of a big deal, but she could handle it. 

“You said they aren’t letting people into London, right?” Ginny continued. “What are you going to do? Rent a room until they let you go back home? That could be months!”

He opened his mouth as if to argue, then shut it again and exhaled sharply through his nose. 

“Yeah, alright,” He conceded. “But only until I can get ahold of Sirius. Then, I swear, I’ll get out of your hair.”

The statement stung, just a little. As if getting out of her sight was vastly preferable than remaining in it. 

“Where is he?” Ginny asked instead, lifting her mug to her mouth as if completely unaffected. 

Harry pulled out his mobile and punched in his passcode. “Australia. Apparently their cherry trees don’t bloom until September.”

A scoff bubbled up in the back of her throat. “Lucky Australia.”

He muttered something that sounded like agreement and pressed the phone to his ear. As he meandered back into the sitting room, Ginny turned her cupboards in search of biscuits. Surely, she still had a package left somewhere. 

Harry returned within moments. “Didn’t answer.”

“Well,” she shrugged, “Isn’t it like three in the morning?”

Harry gave her a flat look. “It’s Sirius.”

She laughed. “Yeah, okay, that’s fair.”

Something in his expression sparked at her reaction and it made the breath in her lungs go shallow. 

Just like his smiles, the flare of something was there and then gone in an instant. She tried not to feel the familiarity of it, really she did, but something hollowed out spread through her middle at the reminder of her nearly debilitating infatuation, and then its eventual collapse. 

Ginny cleared her throat, coming back to her senses. “So, you said it took you forever to get a train ticket. Have they decreased the routes?”

“Oh, erm–” Harry took a sip of tea that was clearly too hot for his mouth and he winced. “Yeah, and they’re checking into everyone who books.”

Understanding washed over her. “Right, so they make sure people aren’t…”

Great, now she was incapable of finishing her sentences. 

He looked to her uncomfortably. “I hadn’t actually ever seen my birth certificate, I just always figured I was a Beta. Had to have a Doctor check me over once to make sure I wasn’t — you know — that I hadn’t gone unidentified.” 

“Right, good. Nice.”

Why exactly was it nice? She should really stop talking. 

“Is that why you…” He gestured vaguely south with one hand. “Couldn’t…go home?”

“Oh, er-” Ginny resisted the urge to cringe. “No.”

In reality, she’d had plenty of time to book a train to Devon before they started restricting the passengers who were designated one way or the other, but she hadn’t had the funds.

Harry’s gaze sharpened in curiosity. 

“Do you want to put your stuff upstairs?” she asked brightly. “You must be knackered after travelling all day.”

~~~

Ginny retreated to the bathroom, closing the door softly behind her and leaning back against the sink. Shortly after Harry had settled into Luna’s room, his old room, she’d heard his mobile ring. His muffled voice through the mostly closed door had been maddening, and nearly too tempting to eavesdrop on, so she’d escaped. 

She was half-torn. One part of her wished Sirius was offering up his country house to his godson immediately, and the other part hoped there was some flood, or fire, or other natural disaster that made it inhabitable. 

Because the prospect of spending time with someone, but especially him; to not be alone hour after hour and day after day, was almost too exquisite to contemplate. 

Christ, she was hopeless. 

With nothing better to do than simmer in her own thoughts, Ginny turned the taps to the bath and adjusted the temperature until the shower spray was borderline scorching. She spent an excessive amount of time washing her hair and scrubbing her skin. She didn’t bother trying to figure out if she was doing it consciously or subconsciously, but she did know she was avoiding the end of her shower. Because as soon as she left the bath, she’d find out if he was staying or going. 

Both scenarios felt too formidable to contemplate. 

Eventually, though, the water ran cold, and Ginny couldn’t hide any longer. 

After brushing her teeth, applying night cream, and wrapping herself up in her dressing gown, Ginny yanked open the bathroom door to find Harry standing directly in the doorway, with his fist raised as if to knock. 

“Oh, sorry–” He muttered, his gaze flitting down her body and back up again. His face flushed just enough to notice. “That was Sirius,” he continued. “I can stay at his place, so I’ll be out of here as soon as I can book a train.” 

Ginny pulled in a breath and did her best to keep it even. “Right. Good.”

She felt anything but good. 

Squeezing past him and into the hallway, she kept her expression bright and open until she was safe inside her bedroom. 

In her haste, she missed the way his eyes fluttered shut as she passed. 

~~~

That night was unseasonably hot. The forecast had called for it to be a mild week, balmy and temperate, so Ginny wasn’t sure why the air wafting in through her open window felt so stifling. As she tossed and turned, a light sheen of sweat clung to her skin, and she contemplated the merits of another shower. This time a cold one. 

She settled for a glass of water instead. 

Padding down the hall toward the stairs, Ginny skirted past Luna’s room as quickly and quietly as she could. However, in the end, stealth didn’t matter.  

Harry was already in the kitchen, propped up against the sink and looking pale. 

“You okay?” Ginny muttered, taking a tentative step forward. 

Clenching his eyes shut, Harry kept his head down and nodded. “I don’t know what’s happened to my stomach. Food poisoning or something–”

“I may have some Pepti upstairs?”

Harry nodded again. 

She took a step closer, reaching for a glass from the shelf when the scent hit her. It smelled like fresh spring mornings, and the citrus of Earl Grey tea, and the warmth of never being alone. It smelled like home. 

Every instinct she had screamed at her to take in more of it, to surround herself in it. Harry’s eyes met hers through the dim light and she saw him pull in a deep inhale through flared nostrils. 

In an instant, her mind was restless and her body uncomfortably warm. Parts of her she didn’t know could ache, gnawed and cramped in time with her too loud pulse.

She dropped the glass she’d been holding at the same time Harry lept backwards. 

In some corner of her mind, she knew what was happening. All of the doctors listed the same symptoms over and over; heightened senses, irregular body temperature, lower-abdominal cramps, increased libido. However, she was firmly ignoring the signs… especially the last one. It was much easier to dismiss her body’s immediate urges as coincidence. Otherwise, she would also have to admit what triggered it. 

For fuck’s sake, Harry triggered it. 

But that would mean he–

Fucking fuck, fuck, fuck.

[anderswasrightt]

took a mental health day from work and decided, instead of relaxing at home, to run some errands that were causing me some stress. namely initiating the process to change the gender marker on my birth certificate and driver's license.

driver's license went just fine; i showed them the letters from my surgeons and endo and they changed it and i'll have the new license in two weeks or so.

but the BC. fucks sake. i went to a local seminar last year that detailed everything i'd apparently need for this, and i took it all to the courthouse, and NOW they're telling me they need two more things that i DON'T HAVE, and need to get from another county and pay for. and i can't do that until next week, so that's more delay on this.

i guess i shouldn't stress TOO much because i wasn't going to even start this process until next week originally so really i got a head start on getting these extra documents, right?

ugh, whatever, i'm still just as stressed out as i was yesterday. i should have just stayed home and attempted the iron throne in BG3; it would have been less stressful than today. 🤣🤣🤣

[coochiequeens]

Who's taking care if the baby while they are dealing with legal issues? Did the surrogacy agency find a nanny? Is the surrogate now performing childcare for them? Will they reimburse her for the extra time? How will this impact bonding when they finally get the kid they paid for?

Sam and Laura Kaitz are distraught parents trying to bring their baby home. The New Jersey couple told The Washington Post about their experience using a surrogacy broker and surrogacy agency to welcome their baby boy, Simon George Kaitz. The couple explored surrogacy outside of the United States because of costs and were connected with an agency in Mexico. Laura, a mom to two sons from a previous relationship, wanted another child with Sam, but pregnancy wasn't medically possible for her. The two nearly signed an agreement with a Ukrainian surrogate, another popular option for US couples looking for cost-effective surrogates, days before the Russian invasion of the country.

The ultimate appeal of the Mexican agency was the promise that both Laura and Sam, whose sperm was used with a donor egg, could be listed on the baby's birth certificate. "That was something she was very excited about being able to say, ‘I am his mother and nobody else,’” Sam said of Laura, 52, to The Washington Post.

Born on Tuesday, April 18, Simon was met by his dad in Mexico City, where he rented a place to stay, planning on bringing the infant home two days after their June 7 passport appointment at the US Embassy. However, getting the infant's documentation proved difficult. The couple had to go through Mexico's court system to get Laura's name on the birth certificate.

As they've tried to fight through bureaucratic paperwork, Laura, a property manager, has gone back and forth between New Jersey and Mexico so that she could also care for one of her sons, who is legally disabled, while Simon spent three weeks in the NICU in Mexico.

"It has been extremely stressful," Sam told the outlet, noting that Laura's other son, who has autism, “has said to her on more than one occasion that he doesn’t think that I care about him anymore because I’m down here and not with him and he feels abandoned, which breaks my heart because that is not true.” Most recently, Sam has been asked by the embassy to provide DNA for a DNA test to prove his relationship with Simon, noting to The Washington Post that the process has left them feeling "betrayed." Sam focuses on staying numb in the situation, noting, "If I don't, I will either break down or start screaming at someone.""And I cannot afford to feel right now. Not when Simon is depending solely on me."

[quickscanapp]

Document scanning app for professionals

A scanning app with optical character recognition (OCR) is indispensable for getting organized and going paperless. The best scanning apps help you scan every type of thing – everything from tax documents in paper to birth certificates, whiteboard notes and business cards, to proof of vaccination forms and deeds and titles. They also come in handy for digitizing receipt app.

Here is a small story on how valuable it might be scanning your documents. Some years ago, I had to pick up a new passport and on that same day drop in for a visa. Right after I picked up the passport I thought "No malice in it but probably should have had a copy of this before I handed over such documents." So I took out my phone and scanned it. Sure enough, government or no government, the visa took more than two weeks and meanwhile I needed details of my passport for a bunch of other paperwork. Good thing one legible copy was saved digitally!

How Do Scanning Apps Work?

Using a mobile scanning app is not any different from snapping with your phone.

For instance, in an ideal setting, the document is laid out flat on a contrasting background, then the lens of your phone's camera should point at it. It's easy to use, too, with the built-in scanner app guiding users through the process of lining up the document and then telling them to hold still. 

A good mobile scanning app doesn’t adjust for slight movements of your hands and lets you edit the final product anyhow. Scanning itself takes a second or two. When the scan is accomplished, you see a preview of уour document. Finally, the app usually finishes with asking if you want more pages creating a new scan then all. And finally there are adjustments in color and cropping evident as well as other details.

What to Look for in a Scanning App

But the best scanning apps will get your documents clearly captured, make the text searchable, and help you save the finished files in the right places. Here's what to look for:

Automatic edge detection

A good scanning app should be able to automatically detect the edges of your document. When you point the camera at the paper, the crop marks that you see on the screen should zero in on the edges of the document on their own and adjust to different dimensions.

Save and export

Good scanning apps let you save or export your newly scanned texts, e.g. to Google Drive, Dropbox, or any other storage service of your choice.

OCR for editing and search

I had mentioned OCR right at the top of this article. When you have OCR the actual words of any text that you scan become textual. That means that you can copy and paste or edit the text. In other words, you will be able to scan a paper document, make it a digital document, fix typos or otherwise correct mistakes. Often, OCR is a paid feature.

Support for multiple pages 

This is where the scanning apps let you scan multiple pages in one go and will compile them into one final product. The highest-end of scanning apps will also correct for page distortion, such as when you are trying to slide pages out of a book to scan but can't quite get it to lay flat.

Does your business need a receipt scanning app?

What forms the most obvious way to look at is how complex and often the reimbursement process at your organization, when arises the question how necessary would be a receipt scanner app for business. Look at previous data regarding business expenses, and employees' involvement in it. Inquire if it will be perceived as useful by your staff.  

Check with the finance team most importantly for regular reimbursements of expenses and expense associated issues.

It can indeed do wonders for the entire workforce with respect to easy, efficient, paperless, online reimbursement and expense reporting without maintaining manual records. Another consideration is that an app for business receipt is usually not all the app can do. Most of the apps come with many more features in which this software might be useful in management of your budget and expenses.

Benefits of using receipt scanning app

Traditional way of settling reimbursement takes ample time for both employees as well as your finance team. The process is also susceptible to many errors. For example, if an employee ends up losing his receipt, then it will be very tough for him to claim a reimbursement for his expense.

This is where migration to a receipt scanning app might be helpful. It enables your employees to upload their receipt instantly through digital means. The optical character recognition software integrated into the app should also minimize some clerical errors that could be made during the manual data entry process of the receipts.

A receipt app for business typically helps your finance team too; with eReceipts they are not going to run around asking employees to file their claims.

How does receipt scanning make expense management easier?

Management of expenses in an organization had for the longest time been seen as a normal procedure only because no better alternative has come up.

He buys some item on behalf of the company, he collects the receipt, hangs onto it till month-end, files his claim with the receipt and waits for the reimbursements. That was how things were being done.

Expenses have been managed within an organization in the same old fashion as long as one may remember, and this has been regarded as normal procedure just because the better choice was not there.

And some items got purchased, on behalf of the business, by an employee, the receipt was collected for that purchase, and it was held until the end of a month, an expense report was filed with the receipt and they were slated for reimbursement. That's how it was.

Turns out, printing text fields on a computer is relatively easy. But turning physical images or documents with text into a readable text and thus converting it into the computer can be more contently extendable.

Thanks to technology enhancing OCR tools throughout time, we now have business receipt scanner apps that do exactly that. Throughout the years, optical character recognition software progressed to the point where it could recognize patterns pixel by pixel and identify text even in different fonts. 

FAQ

What are the advantages of a scanner in business?

Benefits of Document Scanning for Business

1) Maximized office space.

2) Better compliance.

3) Increased efficiency.

4) More security. 

5) Better customer service.

6) Eco-friendly environment.

What is the advantage of scanning information?

When you scan paper documents, it gives you a choice of backing then anytime, anywhere, several times, in your computer, your gadgets, and even on the cloud. It makes sure that after a few decades crawl down your life under the bridge, there are those essential bytes waiting still.

How does scanning help business?

Scanning- It is defined as the process of examination of the environment to identify the factors that may have an influence on the business. Environmental Scanning forewarns the enterprise to make appropriate strategic choices before it escalates into a malignant situation.

Why use a scanner app?

To go paperless and organize with an OCR-enabled scanning app. The best scanning apps enable you to capture all sorts of information from paper tax documents, birth certificates, whiteboard notes, business cards, proof of vaccination forms through to deeds and titles.

[foster-the-world]

Court Day

Another ten minute court date. The "hard ass - who goes hard against ACS" lawyer for the Mom apparently does not go hard to actually speak with her. Last court date he was very nice to her and said he would reach out. In fact, he asked for multiple forms of contact information. Today he had not spoken to her, did not know what prison she was in, or how long she would be there. So sucky. I don't think talking to a lawyer would help her at this point but it doesn't mean she should not have that right.

Case worker said she was getting out in November.

TPR hearing for December 15th. Pushed out two weeks from original suggestion because no one could find a date.

Judge yelled at everyone he should have a birth certificate. Agency lawyer claimed it was too late to get one based off where we are at in the TPR process. New day, new excuse. Judge said it's not an if but a must. Will see.

Talked with agency lawyer afterwards. He claims we can get a social security number even with Birth Certificate saying "No Given Name." Probably nothing will happen. He'll keep the same social security number after he is adopted so I'm going to keep pushing.

From my understanding, if nothing changes, rights should be terminated Dec 15th. Mom will have thirty days to appeal. I assume she will be MIA so an appeal won't happen. I don't know if her lawyer could appeal without her pushing for it? Again from my limited understanding, there is no way she could win an appeal case but she can delay the adoption process for another couple of months. By Jan 15th we could be setting an adoption date. With Bee it took about three months from appeal date to get an adoption date. So hopefully by April 2023 he will be adopted. All of the fingers and toes are crossed.

Celebrated Rosh Hashanah last night. Threw some bread in the river with my husband's family. Here's to a Happy Healthy New year

Rebel's home sick today. Low grade fever. So far testing negative for Covid. They had off school anyway. I had signed them up for gymnastics camp. Gymnastics said no refunds. When I balked they said they would see if they could give a credit. I'm going to be annoyed if not. I get they can't fill the class this morning. I only signed them up on Friday - so its not like they had lots of people begging for the spots. My Mom said I should have said "okay I'll bring her in then."

I was supposed to be studying for an exam all day. Not sure when that is going to happen. Ole well.

I'm happy to spend the day with them but bummed we can't enjoy the great weather at the playground.

[theepisceswriter]

AOT characters with a black S/O (Zeke, Jean, Connie, Eren, Reiner)

Synopsis: I think the title is pretty self explanatory 🙈

TW: none really besides mentions of food, African-American culture only for right now sorry my foreign babes 😕, not proofread

ZEKE

Someone throw this man a black girlfriend with a dark or regular academia aesthetic P L S because he would love you to the point where he’s obsessed and treat you so good.

Loves finding neutral shades of beige, white, or brown that compliment your skin color nicely while the two of you are out shopping. Will literally come running from across the other side of the store with a brown jacket in his hand like “Look babe, this would compliment the brown of your skin so nicely 🥺 we gotta get Instagram pictures of you in this.”

He also enjoys finding academia type hairstyles and trying to make them work with your natural hair or braids. At least once a week he sends you a hairstyle he found on Tumblr and helps you later that night to try and achieve a black version of it.

The two of you most definitely have viral pictures floating around on Twitter, Pinterest, and Instagram.

He’s so soft and patient when it comes yo your hair because he has a beard, so he knows what it feels like having to keep up with something that requires a lot of work. He’ll often come into the bathroom to do his beard and offer you an extra pair of hands when it’s your wash day. His favorite part is to help you twist your hair because he likes seeing the finished product when you take them out.

He also uses your hair conditioners and oils in his beard because they make him smell otherworldly and he likes smelling like you. And yes, he has requested for you to braid his beard once but never again because you both thought he looked too weird like that.

Grisha is the awkward white dad who tries too hard to accept you and says stuff like “Hey, like the new hairdo 😃👍🏾.” Whenever you come around. Bless his poor heart, at least he’s trying and you know he means well.

JEAN

Worships you and the ground you walk on like 24/7. He’s so in love with you and makes sure to let you know that on the daily multiple times. And he’s such an amazing lover and avoids doing cringey shit like calling you chocolate or Nubian queen goddess.

Hangs with your uncles and all the other black men in your family because he thinks he’s cool like that, but they don’t mind at all cause they love him.

His mom is the sweetest mother in law ever. She gets along so well with all the women in your family and they’re always swapping recipes with one another. One day time you and Jean pulled up for Christmas and she had a dish filled with collard greens on the table and they were good too.

He has two chains around his neck dedicated to you: one is your name and the other one is the date you two became official. You also wear his name around your neck and you have a ring with his initials on it.

Getting jewelry is something the two of you do together very often. Matter of fact, swap meets are his favorite place to go to in general and his mind was blown when you first took him to one.

Asks you to put his hair in French braids at least once a month because the process is so therapeutic for him. He loves laying his head on his lap and watching as you make his braids so neat and cute. But be careful though because he does like to “Can you braid my hair? 🥺” his way into some coochie.

Don’t brother teaching him how to braid because even if he does get the hang of it after a couple of sessions with you he’ll always request that you do his hair.

You two have random rap battles with each other alllll the time. It’s pretty split between who wins, but often you’ll call him out for trying to use lyrics from other artists.

CONNIE

Did y’all know me and Connie are blood cousins? Both his momma and daddy black and his full name on his birth certificate is Cornelius Demetrius Jones Springer, so take that as you will…

BUT REALLY, Connie fits right in with you and your culture that it’s nearly identical to dating someone the same race as you.

He has a fitted cap with your name sowed into it on the side with a cute heart right by it. It’s his go to hat and he points is out to everyone who doesn’t know about it.

Has most definitely dragged you along with him to go take one of those 2000’s-esque photoshoots with the airbrushed backgrounds. He even made the two of you dress alike and color coordinate because he’s extra like that and the photos are hanging all over your guy’s house. He carries around a mini version of his favorite picture in his wallet at all times.

You better not ever come around this man with messed up edges, visibly old braids, a too visible lace, etc because he will get on you bad and crack jokes about it the whole day because he’s a menace to society like that. No one besides him is allowed to do it though or he’ll get mad at them.

Do not ask this man to help you take down your braids unless you’re cutting them first because he will cut them crazy as hell and might even accidentally cut some of your real hair off too. He’s a master at dipping braids though, it’s something he takes pride in.

EREN

Literally a POWER COUPLE !

Eren will never have you out here looking wrong. The part on your lace is a little off? He’s telling your hairdresser to fix it! Thinks the hair you got looks too synthetic and shiny? He’s dropping big bucks to make sure you have some silky soft hair extensions.

Made you do him some baby hairs one day when he was wearing his signature ponytail as a joke, but now you’re obligated to slick up his edges for him at least once a week. He even has a silk scarf that he uses to tie them down with at night.

Is a master at finding filters on Instagram and Snapchat that don’t make your skin look Orange or pale so the two of you can have the cutest Instagram pictures together.

Walks around the house 24/7 singing 2000’s R&B songs at the top of his lungs because he’s a menace to society like that.

Supports all your financial needs when it comes to hair clothing or anything in general really. Need a new lace front? He’s wiring $700 to your account. Want a Teflar bag? He’s getting you one in every color. Some new shoes came out and you think they’re cute? He’s getting them for you !

REINER

Your aunties would L O V E a hardworking and burly man like Reiner.

He’s get so spoiled by them all the time whenever he comes around. Sometimes they pay attention to him more than they do you and best believe they slide him all the extra plates and desserts at barbecues. I just know he smacks down on a plate of soul food in like 5 minutes.

Speaking of soul food, you really lit up something in his Caucasian taste buds when you gave him a plate of soul food for the first time because now he’s OBSESSED. Every night he’s begging you to cook for him or asking you for the recipe so he can make it himself. His favorites are macaroni and cheese, fried chicken, and yams ☺️

Will bust a move on the dance floor if your family pressures him to get on it at events. He did a two-step with your aunt once at somebody’s wedding and nobody in your family has shut up about it since because they were surprised at how good he can dance. You were equally as surprised as them.

The best person to ask to help you with your hair because he’s so patient and will make sure that your parts are straight and perfect or use his hands to slick your ponytails up to the gods. He’ll do it exactly how you want it to look too and he makes sure it’s to your standard by checking in with you every now and then.

Encourages you to buy clips or little jewels whenever you take him to the beauty supply with you because he thinks you look so adorable when you wear them in your hair.

[pigeonflavouredcake]

I'm an adult now take my advice

(or don't i'm not your dad)

Idk how old my followers are overall but i want to make this post in case any of you are actually teens... I am Officially 20 now. I am no longer a teenager so here are some things I learned as a poor teenager that helped me as a poor adult. Some are witchy, some are just about life, most are food related. Buckle up this will get pretty long.

Write as much down as you can bc puberty can really fuck with your memory.

Staying up late because you simply can't sleep is not something to be worried about unless you want to change that. It's pretty much all your natural body clock.

Get a big folder. Like a massive accordion folder and put all your personal documents in, birth/adoption certificates, bank statements, prescription receipts, diplomas, etc. So if you're ever in a dangerous situation at home you can make your escape a lot easier.

Now is a good time to learn new things that aren't school related. Practice cooking your favourite meals, learn how to properly clean a bathroom, if cleaning is overwhelming there are methods online that can help with that. Like playing a spot the difference game.

NO, tarot is not a closed practice, tarot is a tool for everyone and NO, tarot decks do not have to be gifted to you, you can buy one for yourself. I don't even know where that came from but it's complete bs.

Save the little gift baggies you get when you buy jewellery and use them as spell bags.

Stay away from any woman who calls her vag a yoni. it's weird.

You may want to be seen as smart and mature because it's better than being treated like a kid but you are still a kid. Your safety matters more than how mature and responsible you are. An older person should NOT be talking to you in a romantic/flirtatious setting and if they say it's because you're mature for your age or they can't wait until you're legal fucking bully the living shit out of them then block them and warn your friends. that attitude is creepy as hell bc they want someone they have power over. Same with any friends that brag about their partner being 15/16/17 when they're 18. BULLY THEM THEY'RE GROSS AND THEY DESERVE IT.

If you're in a country with the NHS USE IT NOW WHILE IT'S FREE. The first 6-8 weeks of therapy is free from the NHS. Eye tests and dentist check ups and medication are free untill you're 19 GET THEM NOW.

You can make your own oat milk by blending up oats and water. You don't need to cook with oil, there's enough of it in processed food and fresh veg have enough water in them to cook straight in a pan. You don't need the seasoning packet in ramen you can make your own. Tamari sauce has less sodium than soy sauce. Food always tastes better when it's in season. Try to find space for two food wastes, one for processed/cooked food one for raw. The raw food can be composted and given back to the earth

Best healthiest dinner option I can think of is steamed veggies. Here's my recipe: Heat up a pan on high, pour a bit of water in and then your veggies, stir frequently until all the water is gone. Turn heat down to low. Coat with something like balsamic vinegar and add any seasoning you like. Cover and steam for 10 minutes ish and you're good. You can serve that with a grain or some noodles.

Locally sourced meat and fish is WAY better for the environment than supermarket because there's less preservatives and they're more resourceful with their products.

A standard pie dough is one of the easiest things you can make and the trick is in the amount. Half the flour equals the fat, half the fat equals the sugar. so if you have 200g of flour you need 100g of fat and 50g of sugar. Just throw them in a bowl and mix together and add some cold water to bind together into a dough. It should be solid and little sticky, if it's crumbling add more water, if it's not holding it's shape add more flour. then just fridge it for a few hours to set and you're good.

You made your own soup/stew/pot thingy and you got left overs for the next day? Put it back on the cooker and bring to the boil on high, once it's bubbling take the heat down to low and simmer for 10 minutes (keep stirring if it keeps bubbling). This will help kill any bacteria that developed overnight that might make you sick.

Foraging is good but wear gloves, don't take all from one place and don't eat anything you pick until it's been thoroughly washed. Don't be afraid to go hog wild on things like blackberries, dandelions, or nettles. those things are an invasive species.

Deer are bigger than you think they are.

Air drying takes longer but it will help your clothes last. You can also hand wash with a bowl of hot water and about a teaspoon of washing up powder. Air drying also goes for your hair too.

Stock up on your favourite scented candles any size is ok and use them for spells and rituals.

You got a ghost in your house? Leave them be they're usually just passing through.

If you can't focus on work without music but it needs to be specifically wordless and needs to be easy to fill your brain so you don't focus on every noise other people make listen to animal crossing music that shit got me through two years worth of academic reading.

Bus is late or can't find your keys? Stop looking and start complaining. They'll turn up as soon as you give up.

Piercings are a medical procedure and are safer when they're done with a needle because they're hollow, so they're carving out the skin and cartilage instead of just pushing jewellery through like a gun does. Go to a tattoo parlour that also does piercings bc they're likely to be a lot stricter with rules and customer care.

Life is gonna kick us all in the but so we gotta be there to help eachother out however we can. It definitely feels like it's everyone for themselves but it doesn't have to be.

[myhockeyworld87]

What Happens In Vegas...Doesn’t Always Stay There - Jacob Markstrom - Part 3

Word Count: 4,050

POV: Reader

Warning: Language

Notes: Well I’m finally at home for a night and I definitely owe you guys a story. So since I had the next part of this one ready, I dediced to post it. When last we saw these two, they had decided to divorce, and our reader had signed the papers and sent them back to Jacob. Who had forgotten to sign them. Let’s see what happens now, though I think some of you have an idea. As always feedback is welcome. Happy Reading!

What Happens In Vegas…Doesn’t Always Stay There Masterlist

It had been almost seven weeks since Jacob met you. For six of those, he’d talked to you every day, sometimes two and three times. It was just these last few days that you wouldn’t answer his calls or texts. Jacob was confused, to put it mildly. He wracked his brain trying to recall the last couple of conversations that you’d had, wondering if he’d said or did something to anger you, but nothing came to mind. In Jacob’s mind, he thought the two of you were actually starting something. Sure, it had been one of the most peculiar beginnings to a relationship ever, but the last several weeks' things had been nice, better than nice actually. He thought the two of you might have a chance at a real relationship. Of course, the distance between you played a part, but he thought the two of you could work that out; apparently, he was wrong.

 Jacob knew the moment he stepped poolside, that you were something special. The longer he talked to you the more he knew he’d been right. If he was being honest, it was probably one of the reasons he suggested marrying you, even though that marriage would be over soon. Just like lightning striking in the middle of a storm, it hit Jacob then why you were pissed. He’d forgotten to sign the divorce papers. He’d had them for well over two weeks now. Rushing into the office, he started rifling through all the crap on his desk looking for the manila envelope that you’d mailed it to him in. He was just in the process of opening it when the front doorbell rang, so back on the desk it went, as he headed to the door to answer it.

 Jacob was shocked to see you standing there. “(Y/N), what are you doing here?” He didn’t mean for that to come out the way it did. It took him a moment to recover before taking you in. There were dark circles under your eyes that made it look like you hadn’t slept in days, not to mention how puffy they looked as if you’d been crying. Jacob wanted nothing more than to take you in his arms and make whatever seemed to be causing you this much pain go away.

 “Hey,” you mumbled out weakly. “Can I come in?”

 “Of course.” He stepped aside, letting you into his home. It was your typical bachelor pad. Walls stark and devoid of any real character that you knew Jacob possessed. He led you over to the couch in the living room, an enormous piece of furniture designed for his large frame. It almost seemed to swallow you whole. “(Y/N) is everything ok?” There was concern in his eyes and you knew he was probably questioning your presence there after you’d been radio silent the last few days.

 “No.” The one-word answer was hard to push out without tears falling down your eyes. You could see how Jacob’s fingers itched to touch you and honestly that’s all you wanted right now, for him to just take you in his arms and somehow have all the answers, but he had to know the problem first. You took a deep breath trying to steel yourself for what you needed to tell him. “Jacob, I don’t know how to tell you this.” At that moment Jacob grabbed your hands and engulfed them in his giving you his support in just that simple touch. It gave you enough courage to blurt out the last part. “I’m pregnant.”

 You felt his hands slip a bit on yours at the shock of the news; his mouth working trying to form a sentence yet nothing coming out. It took a minute but he finally found his words. “Wow, um…ok…I hate to ask this…”

 This was the part you knew was coming, expected it really and you didn’t blame him at all. So, to spare him, you found yourself answering the unspoken question. “It’s yours.” He nodded but you felt the need to explain more. “I haven’t been with anyone since Vegas, and even before that, well, work was really busy, and…well let’s just say it had been over a month or longer.”

 “You don’t have to say anymore, (Y/N). I believe you.” His hands tightened on yours, the shock of everything starting to wear off. “Plus, we didn’t use protection.” It was something you didn’t give much thought to when you were with Jacob, which was odd because you’d always been extra cautious with hookups, but then everything with Jacob was different than anyone else. “Do you…do you know what you want to do?”

 This time you couldn’t stop the tears from flowing. “I tried, Jacob. I really did.” He looked confused, unsure of what you meant by that. “I went to get an abortion yesterday.” He blinked hard but other than that showed no expression. “I was sitting there on the damn table in a gown just waiting for the doctor to come in and then I looked around. There was this damn chart that showed what the size of your baby is every week compared to fruit of all things. It’s a blueberry by the way. A damn cute little blueberry, like the kind they put in muffins and stuff.” Why it had to be an adorable little fruit like that you didn’t know. Why couldn’t it be honeydew? You hated that fruit. Well maybe not hate, but it wasn’t your favorite that’s for sure. “Anyhow, I was just staring at that poster and looking at each week and I don’t know. I couldn’t breathe.” Kind of like now, even telling him brought back all those feelings. “I started thinking about the doctor telling me that I could hear the heartbeat next week when she did the ultrasound, and I’m not sure what happened, but I couldn’t go through with it; so, I left. I’m so sorry.”

 You weren’t quite sure if you were apologizing to him or yourself. This was something you didn’t want, at least not right now, or at least that’s what you always thought. Now, you didn’t know what you wanted anymore. You took a deep breath, composing yourself. “I booked a flight once I got home. I couldn’t tell you this over the phone or text. You deserved to hear it in person.”

 “Thank you for that.”

 You slipped your hands out of his, distancing yourself from him for this next part, but also pulling out the envelope you brought. “I’m going to keep the baby.” As if that part wasn’t obvious, but you somehow felt it needed to be said. “I had Aaron draw up some papers. They absolve you from any obligations to the child both financially and emotionally. All you have to do is sign them. You won’t even have to be listed on the birth certificate.” He took the envelope from your hands, glancing briefly at the contents inside. “I’m sure you’ll want to have your lawyer look it over.”

 Jacob didn’t know what to think. Ten minutes ago, he was wondering if you were ever going to speak to him again and now you were telling him you were having his child. A child you apparently didn’t want him to be a part of. But did he even want a baby? He certainly hadn’t wanted a wife, yet here he was still married to you. He should come clean right now and tell you that he hadn’t signed the papers yet. That some indescribable feeling had taken over him, and he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to sign them anymore. And now, well, now he felt like he shouldn’t sign them. Maybe this was all some force in the universe steering his life in a different direction; a route he hadn’t planned on taking until later, yet here he was on it. “And what if I don’t want to sign them?”

 Well, that certainly wasn’t what you thought he’d say. You didn’t think this was something either of you wanted, but you couldn’t be certain. It wasn’t like the two of you had had this long talk about where you saw your life in five years. Hell, this wasn’t where you saw your life in five months, but here you were, on the verge of being divorced with a baby on the way. “Well, I guess we’ll need to figure things out then.”

 Jacob got up and started to wander around the living room. You weren’t sure if he was trying to decide whether or not he wanted to sign the papers or how he was going to be part of his child’s life. “Do you want a drink or something? I need a drink. Oh shit, you can’t drink, can you?”

 “It’s not advised, but please don’t let that stop you. Though if you have a water that would be great.” He headed towards the kitchen, which gave you a chance to just breathe. The hardest part was telling him, all the rest you’d figure out. He was back quicker than you expected, a bottle of water in each hand. He handed one over to you and sat back down beside you. “You know, you can think about this if you want. You don’t have to sign or not sign them right now.”

 He nodded and pursued his lips before answering, though not how you expected. “How long are you here for?”

 “A few days. There’s a movie being filmed not far from here. I offered to drop off some of the specs for the campaign, as long as I was here, but it also gives you some time to make a decision.”

 “I already have. I want to be in our baby’s life.” You don’t know why but it felt like a thousand pounds had been lifted off your chest. It was nice to know that you weren’t in this alone. “But there’s a lot to figure out.”

 “Yes, there is.”

 “(Y/N), this is going to sound crazy, but I want you to move here.”

 Pregnancy did weird things to the body and maybe your hearing things was one of them because you were pretty sure Jacob had just said he wanted you to move to Vancouver. “I’m sorry, you want me to move here, as in Vancouver?”

 “Well, yeah but I want you to move in here, like in my house.”

 He seemed dead serious and you weren’t sure how to take his suggestion or him at the moment. “But my life and my home are in LA. That’s where my job is.” Couldn’t he see that?

 “I know, but moving here just makes sense. I’ll be able to help you then, not just after the baby is born but before as well. I have plenty of room in this house. There are three spare bedrooms; we can turn one into a nursery for the baby.”

 How could go from finding out you were pregnant to a full out plan of attack in less than a half-hour? God, it took you a day to wrap your head around it when you found out and then another to make the decision about the abortion, and even then you still didn’t figure out you wanted to keep the baby until you were sitting in the doctor’s office. Jacob seemed to be processing everything much better than you were.

 “I don’t know Jacob, just because we’re having this baby together doesn’t mean we have to live together.” Everything with Jacob was still in this weird transition phase like you went from being wildly attracted to each other, to being married, to getting a divorce, to now having a baby, and now he wanted you to live together under the same roof. You didn’t even know if the two of you would get along that great. Sure, the sex was amazing, well really better than amazing if that was even a thing, and you seemed to get along if your conversations over the last several weeks were any indication, but to live together; that could just be a whole other problem altogether.

 “Look I know it’s a lot to ask and believe me if I could, I’d be willing to move to LA. It’s not like I can just ask to be traded there though. But I don’t want you to have to do this on your own.” It was awfully sweet of him to want to be there for you, and not just the baby. You’d just assumed that he’d want to see the baby on some weekends and maybe an extended time during the summer when he was off. “You don’t realize this yet, but there’s going to be a whole hockey family here for you. That’s just the way it is in this sport.” He grasped your hands then, the gesture one pleading in and of itself for you to see his side of things. “We can do this (Y/N), together.”

 Together, it sounded so nice. You knew that if he had decided to sign the papers that being a single mom was going to be tough, but now knowing that he wanted to be there every step of the way eased some of the burden you felt. It was just hard to think about giving up the life you’d built for yourself in LA. You were already giving up so much as it was. “I get what you’re asking, I really do. I just…it’s a lot.” His thumb started to run back and forth across your knuckles, softly urging you to his side without him even knowing it. “Can I think about it?”

 “Of course.”

 “I mean we don’t have to decide everything tonight.”

 “No, we don’t.” He smiled at you. The same one he gave you when you’d been in Vegas. It gave you butterflies in your stomach back then as it did now. “How are you feeling?”

 “Pretty good, I get a little queasy now and then; mostly when I’m hungry. I’ve learned to carry crackers with me everywhere.”

 “Well, I could make you something or we could order.” The fact that he even offered scored points in your book and was definitely a check on his side of the box for moving to Vancouver, and you were kind of hungry.

 “I mean, I haven’t really eaten.” He gave you a disapproving stare and you felt the need to justify why you hadn’t. “I was too nervous before.”

 “Well, then let’s get you something to eat.” Jacob led you out to the kitchen, where he took out some chicken along with some vegetables to stick in the oven. The two of you worked side by side getting dinner ready. You were midway chopping up some zucchini when Jacob brought the baby back up again. “You mentioned something about the heartbeat. Were you able to hear it?”

 “I have to schedule an ultrasound when I get back but they said that I should be able to.”

 “Mmm.” You weren’t exactly sure what that little hum meant. Was that a good hum, or a bad one? You stayed silent waiting for him to say more. “Do you think you could record it for me?”

 Why did your heart just flutter when he asked that? Was it because he wanted to hear the baby or was it because you were realizing how much he would be missing when you went back to LA? “I will,” you finally told him, but then had an even better idea. “Though you know, I’m here for four more days. Maybe we could find a doctor that would be able to do it while I’m here.”

 His face lit up, like a little boy on Christmas morning. “You would do that?”

 “Yeah. If we can find a doctor to squeeze us in.”

 “I’ll take care of it.” He pulled out his phone, you weren’t sure if he was searching for gynecologists or texting someone, either way, it was adorable how he just jumped in at the first mention of being a part of this whole pregnancy. Again, he was showing you just how nice it would be to share this with him. Ten minutes later he had an appointment all set for you in two days.

 During dinner you talked about how you had found out you were pregnant, telling him the story of how Kennedy was the one to point out your nausea wasn’t normal and that you should take a pregnancy test. She was the only one that knew you were pregnant. You swore her to secrecy, hoping that she wouldn’t spill the beans this time like she had about a certain movie star. Surprisingly, he wanted to know everything, though there wasn’t too much to tell. By the time you got the mess cleaned up from dinner, you were starting to feel the weariness of the day.

 “I think I’m going to head over to the hotel. I still need to check in. Hopefully, I’ll be able to sleep better tonight, now that you finally know.”

 “Stay.” The word fell out of Jacob’s mouth in almost an authoritative manner, which belied the puppy dog look on his face. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I mean you could stay here if you wanted. Sort of like a tryout or something.”

 “You mean trial run?” Leave it to his athletic side to call it a tryout. It made you laugh.

 “Yeah. We could just take the next few days and see how we do together.” It wasn’t a bad idea. “You call and cancel the hotel and I’ll go grab your bag from the car.” He was halfway to the door before you actually agreed.

 As Jacob went outside, he contemplated with himself as to where he should put your things. Did he just bring your luggage to his room or should he give you one of the spare rooms? Despite the fact you were carrying his child, his body still wanted you as much, if not more, than when you were in Vegas. He just wasn’t sure where you saw things going.

 You were just hanging up the phone when he walked back into the house and unbeknownst to him, you were wondering the same thing. However, your head kept telling you that if the two of you were going to make this work, you needed to keep things out of the bedroom, at least for now. Jacob must have had the same thought as you, for when he came in, he said, “Here, I’ll show you where the spare bedroom is.” The room was spacious but again, it wasn’t that homey, and occurred to you that if you decided to live here, you’d definitely need to make some changes. “Did you maybe wanna watch a movie or something, or are you tired?”

 You could see he was struggling in this unchartered territory as much as you were, and while you were exhausted; you still wanted to spend time with him, to see if moving to Vancouver was even an option. “I’d love to watch a movie. Do you mind if I change first?”

 “No, not at all.” He fidgeted with the back of his neck a bit, before turning to leave. “I’ll meet you back downstairs.”

 You really wanted to take a hot shower and crawl into bed, but instead, you opted for just washing up quickly and slipping on a pair of pajamas you’d brought. It was still warm in LA, though the nights were a bit cooler. All you brought to sleep in were a couple pairs of shorts and some comfy t-shirts, thinking that you’d be in a hotel room by yourself. Now, you were wishing that you’d thought about it a little more and packed something a little warmer, if not more modest. Why you cared, you weren’t sure, considering this man had seen you completely naked several times.

 Jacob had changed into some sweats by the time you got downstairs. He had bottles of water for you both along with a pack of crackers laying on the coffee table, and you had to admit your heart melted a little bit when you saw that. “So, what kind of movies do you like? I remember you saying no horror.”

 “We don’t have to watch a movie. I know the Bruins are playing tonight and that you play them tomorrow. Why don’t you just turn the game on?” He looked surprised that you knew his schedule, but you did a deep dive finding out as much information as you could once you found out you were pregnant. He was going to be the baby's father, even if he would've decided not to be in your child's life, though now that he decided he wanted to be, the information was even more useful.

 “Are you sure?” You nodded giving him the go-ahead to watch his opponents’ play. “Speaking of that, would you be interested in going to the game? I mean I know someone who could get you a ticket on short notice?” He looked so adorable when he asked you couldn’t tell him no.

 “I’d love to.” You’d watched very few hockey games live, though ever since Las Vegas, you’d been following the Canucks, well, more like Jacob. It would be fun to see him in action.

 “Great, I can leave you a ticket or have Erik’s fiancé come and take you. You’ll love her.”

 Jacob really wanted you to jump in with both feet, didn’t he? You weren’t quite sure if you were ready to meet all his friends and teammates, but you supposed that if you moved here this would be a part of your life. “If she wouldn’t mind that would be great.”

 “I’ll text him now.”

 “Jacob,” you stopped him, just by saying his name. “Can we keep the baby our secret for now? I know Kennedy knows and I don’t expect you to keep it to yourself, but I don’t want to broadcast it either. At least until we know what we’re doing.”

 He took your hand in his, the gesture reassuring. “Yeah (Y/N), we can do that.”

 It wasn’t long before your attire got the best of you and you found yourself tucking your feet underneath you on the couch trying to keep them warm. You thought that Jacob was fully absorbed in the game, but he caught the subtle movement. “Are you cold?”

 “A little.”

 He scooted your closer to him, his large frame wrapping around yours. You weren’t sure if it was his body heat or him just holding you, but it was definitely warmer in seconds, though Jacob still covered you with a throw blanket that was on the couch. “Better?”

 “Much.” It wasn’t long before you found yourself dozing off. The stress of the day and travel wearing on you. Your head fell softly against his shoulder and you sighed in contentment.

 Jacob felt your body relax against him and he savored the feel of it. He’d honestly missed this closeness to another person in a completely non-sexual way and having you in his arms just felt right. He should’ve been paying attention to the game, scouting out his opponents but instead all he could do was watch you, even before you fell asleep. His fingers were idly stroking your bare arm under the blanket, slowly inching their way down to your wrist. He didn’t realize they’d made their way to your midsection until they were there; just lightly caressing you, scared he would wake you, but he had to touch you there. He’d been dying to all night but been afraid to ask as if it was almost an invasion of your privacy even though you were carrying his child. His child. The thought both terrified him and thrilled him. Jacob always wanted kids; knew that someday he would have them. He just didn’t think it would be this soon. He always assumed that he’d start his family after hockey was over, but here he was with a wife and child on the way. It was something he hadn’t bargained for and never saw coming. Apparently, what happened in Vegas was a lot more than he gambled on.

 taglist: @iculyrea​  @fiveholegoal​  @raysofcrosby @leafs-lover​ @sexysidney87​ @lovethepreds​  @miranda0102​  @stbluesbrat21  @perrieeloise  @mandypants95​  @hockeyunits​  @liz96893  @golfergirl1982​  @princessphilly​  @ajstylesworld​  @zinka8  @dontworrybeekappy​  @hiimana  @meishaabae​ @heatherawoowoo @beauvibaby @hockeybabe87 @leafs-forever

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[current-interest-writings]

How Richard Grayson Became ‘Ducky’

If you have read my Batsis mail fic, then you kinda see where this came from....

Warning ⚠️: cuteness

Dick was the first adopted child of Bruce Wayne. Then came Jason, Tim, Damien, and then duke.

But then their was you, the youngest from the original two kids. And dick still fondly remembers you’re younger years...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~dick is 11, you’re 3~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dick was shocked the first time he met you, you were biologically Bruce’s kid. And your mom had just dumped you on the Wayne door step, and he was upset for you.

You had only been dropped off with a stuffed duck, clothes, and your birth certificate.

You took that duck everywhere you went.

The headlines always were:

‘Wayne takes in new child!!’

‘Child too attached to toy?’

And it annoyed him, Bruce, and Alfred. You were a child it was normal to have a favorite stuffed toy or item.

But it began to get dirty and you refused to let Alfred wash it. And they tried everything, money, switching for another duck, and even down right begging.

But one night when you where asleep Alfred went in and managed to get the duck. But it was ruined in the washing process. Alfred had told both of them when they had returned from patrol.

Bruce and Dick both went pale, you took that thing EVERYWHERE. And it was RUINED. They decided in the morning they would explain what happened to you.

Your room was right next to Dicks, so when he passed it and heard whimpers he had to come check on you.

“Hey Y/N, are you okay?”

“Have you seen Mr.Ducky?! He’s missing and I can’t find him!”

“Unfortunately Ducky has had and accident. And he is no longer the same?”

“Is he ruined? 🥺”

“ I’m sorry Y/N”

“But who will keep my nightmares away? That was Mr.Ducky’s job.”

“We can buy a new one”

“ it’s not the same!”

*sigh*

“I can help the nightmares away, I’ll act like a bigger human version of ducky?”

“You would do that?! For me?”

Dick smiled at you and came to sit next to you

“You’re my sibling now and forever, I will be your ducky for as long as you want okay?”

“Pinky promise?”

“I pinky promise”.

And that night dick did let you hold his arm, the same way you held ducky, and for weeks, months, and almost five years. He kept his word, anytime you needed him to be ducky he was.

And that’s how you carried on calling him ducky.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What are you thinking about Ducky?”

“Nothing Y/N, just thinking about how you came to call me ducky. “

“Ahh, I still remember that too. Thanks big brother”

“Anytime”

“Wait he’s called ducky?!”

“Hey walking dead! I almost didn’t see you there.”

“Don’t call me that squirt”

“Love you too Jason”

[avengerscompound]

Until the End of the World - 11

Until the End of the World: A Captain America Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Word Count:  2579

Rating:  E

Warnings: pregnancy, smut (MMF, vaginal fingering, double vaginal penetration)

Synopsis: Four years after Steve and Bucky got to the bottom of the HYDRA conspiracy that had led to you and your son being hunted for the first three years of his life, you, Bucky, and Steve have carved out a nice life together.  Things are calm and you feel like a family unit.  When Geo starts calling Bucky and Steve ‘dad’, a decision is made to try and add to your family.

Things aren’t as calm as they seem.  When your pregnancy hits the papers, HYDRA rears its head once again, and Steve and Bucky need to track you down to protect the family they had created.

Chapter 11

Steve had been contemplating quite a few things lately.  That was understandable really.  There was a baby on the way.  That always came with the usual concerns, about doctors appointments to attend and getting the place ready for an infant, and making sure there were the things needed to raise a baby in the house.  On top of that was the existential dread of being a bad parent, the world being the state it was in, and getting them to adulthood so they were both happy and healthy.  There were also those worries specific to him about passing on the super-soldier serum and what that would mean for a baby, as well as how having parents in a polyamorous relationship might affect them growing up, and what it might be like to have Captain America as your dad.

There was a lot to consider - from small things like what color to paint the baby’s room, to huge things like winding back on work so he could be home more to be with them.

The thing that had been on his mind the most lately though, was Geo.

He had been thinking about the little boy and how he could make sure he felt loved and wanted and not just the accidental spare that Steve and Bucky had gotten stuck with simply because they’d fallen in love with his mother.  That as far from the truth as it could be in Steve’s mind.  He’d always worried about so many things when it came to being a parent, that he’d written the whole thing off a long time ago.  It wasn’t until he’d been thrust into the role with Geo that he realized how much he loved it, and how much he loved him.  In Steve’s mind, Geo was his son.  As much as the new baby would be his daughter.  He wanted to make sure that Geo knew that and felt safe knowing that no matter what Steve would be there for him.

The problem was, legally that wasn’t true.  If something were to happen to you, Geo was not Steve’s son.  Nor was he Bucky’s.  There was no knowing for sure they’d get custody.  Steve wasn’t sure about your family at all.  You spoke about your ex-husband a lot, but not about your parents or any siblings you may or may not have.  He had no idea if Geo would get to stay with him.

He wondered if Geo was old enough to worry about such things.  He was obviously aware that neither Steve nor Bucky were related to him.  Did he know that they had no legal bonds either?

The thought of adoption kept repeating on Steve like an itch he couldn’t reach.  The question was never one of ‘did he want to’.  He wanted to adopt Geo as much as he had ever wanted anything.  There were so many variables though.  For starters, there was the Bucky factor.  For the same reason he hadn’t married either you or Bucky, he worried about the fairness of it.  Steve had looked up the laws and in New York, they didn’t allow three legal parents to a child.  It was one thing to raise the baby together.  They couldn’t put all the names on the birth certificate, but they knew they could make sure if either Bucky or Steve died, the other could take the place as legal guardian.  They could even potentially have the non-biological father on the birth certificate as the father.  If one of them adopted Geo, they were making a legal call on whose he’d be legally, and was it fair that only one of them could be that person.

Hand-in-hand with that was Geo’s biological father.  John hadn’t been a bad man who abused Geo.  He wasn’t this dark entity that loomed over them.  He had been a loving man, who had selflessly risked his life to protect his wife and son and ended up dying in the process of keeping them safe.  Steve worried that by adopting Geo, it would somehow dishonor that.  It would take away that last piece that connected the man that had died keeping Geo safe from the boy.

So he let the idea fester in him for a while.  Tossing it over and over in his mind.  Trying to work out a way that it might be fair and wouldn’t mean Geo was losing anything.

In the end, he couldn’t let it go, and all he could think to do was bring the idea to you and Bucky and see what you both thought.

“I’ve been thinking,” Steve said, as the three of you lay in bed together.  It was that time of night, a little after Geo had gone down when he’d unwind with you both.  Maybe you’d watch a movie or catch up on some show together.  Sometimes you would all just read side-by-side, or mess around on your phones - together but separate - comfortably.  The way that only people who truly love each other can manage.  Sometimes you’d just lie together sharing your day or talking about big picture things or things that needed to be done.  Sometimes it was all about sex and no one could keep their hands off each other.

“Mmm…” you hummed, trailing your fingers over his chest.  “You’ll do that.”

“I want to… or I want Bucky to… or … hmm…” he babbled, in an unusual state of not being able to find the right words.

You and Bucky seemed to take specific note of his struggle and you both sat up more and looked at him.  Bucky’s brow was furrowed in concern.

“Sorry,” Steve said quickly.  “I’ve just been thinking about this a lot lately and I don’t want to phrase it as a demand.  More of an idea to be floated for discussion.”

“What is it, Steve?”  You asked. 

“I’d like to adopt Geo.  Or Bucky,” he said.  You tensed up and he knew right away what was bothering you.  You were thinking about John.  His ghost haunted you in the way only someone good and kind can.  The ghost of a person you don’t want to let down.  It affected so many of your decisions.  A lot of the time in very good ways.  His ghost had been what kept you strong when you were on the run, protecting Geo alone.  Now that you were settled and had fallen in love again, it had made you hesitant to be happy.  If you were happy then how was that fair on John?

Survivor’s guilt, his therapist called it.  Steve had a pretty bad case of that himself.  When you live and so many die, you begin to wonder why and what you can do to make up for it.  Steve knew right now that you were thinking about all those things he’d worried about himself.  You worried that if you let Steve adopt Geo, it would be letting John down and taking his son from him.

“I know,” Steve said quickly.  “I have been thinking about all the things you both are now.  I don’t want to dishonor John.  He was Geo’s dad.  He sacrificed himself.  I don’t want to take Geo from him.  I just want to make sure Geo is safe here with us no matter what.  I want to make sure that if something happens to you, he stays with us.  But I also want Geo to know that we are his dads.  Not just for now - but forever.”

You didn’t say anything and Steve just let you go over the prospect in your mind.  He has been mulling it over for weeks now and he knew that you weren’t going to agree to it there and then.

“I do worry about what would happen to him if something were to happen to me,” you said.  “That’s always been something that plagued me.  The thought of him ending up with anyone but the two of you terrifies me.  It’s just…”

“John,” Bucky finished.

You frowned and nodded.  “We were so excited when I got pregnant.  Like the three of us are now.  He didn’t deserve this.”

Steve put his arm around your shoulder.  “No, he didn’t.”

You sat quietly and a single tear ran down your cheek.  After a little while, you wiped it away and looked up at them.  “How would you decide which one of you does it?”

“I don’t know,” Steve said.  “Toss a coin?”  He shook his head and ran his hand through his hair.  “I thought maybe whichever one of us didn’t go on the birth certificate for the baby might be the one that adopts Geo.  But that’s just an idea.”  He rubbed your shoulder gently and kissed the top of your head.  “I’m not suggesting he change his name.  Just that we make sure he’s safe here with us and officially our son.”

You nodded and twisted your hands together in your lap. “We need to speak to Geo first.  See what he wants.”

“Of course,” Steve said.  “I wouldn’t want to do anything he didn’t want to do.”

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath before letting it out slowly.  “Okay.”

Steve pulled you close and rubbed your back.  “Everything is going to be okay.  I promise.”

“I know,” you said.

“You need some distracting, babe?”  Bucky asked.

You nodded.  “Yes, please.”

Bucky leaned over and kissed you.  You closed your eyes and melted into it, wrapping your arms around his neck.  Steve rubbed your side and kissed your neck.  You hummed and pulled back slowly putting your hands on Steve and Bucky’s thighs.  “I love you both so much, you know?”

“We know,” Bucky said.

“And we love you too,” Steve said.

You nodded and turned, kissing Steve.  Steve hummed softly and his hand ran down your side to your ass, gripping it and pulling you closer to him.  You slid your hand up Bucky’s thigh and began to palm his cock as Bucky kissed your neck and nosed at Steve’s.

Steve lay back, pulling you down with him so that you were lying face-to-face, and Bucky was spooning you from behind.  Bucky’s arm circled your waist and he slipped his hand into your pants.  You moaned, pushing back against Bucky and circling your tongue around Steve’s.

Bucky hummed and when you broke your kiss with Steve, Bucky leaned over and captured Steve’s lips.

Things moved slowly and intimately.  It was the kind of love-making that Steve liked best.  The kind where it was more about connection than release.  You rolled a little, so you were on your back a little more and reached down and began to stroke both men as Steve and Bucky focused all their attention on you, wanting you to feel how much they loved you.

They opened your pajama shirt and Steve trailed his mouth down to your breasts as Bucky resumed kissing you.  His fingers rolled over your clit while Steve sucked on one breast and massaged the other.  Your moans got louder and you began to arch your back and roll your hips.  Steve traveled further down.  When he reached your cunt, Bucky pulled his hand away as Steve pulled down your pajama pants.  He ducked his head down between your legs and without focus or intent, began to suck greedily on your folds.  He moved his lips like he was French kissing your pussy, sucking your sweet fluids from you.  He couldn’t see your reaction due to the swell of your belly but he didn’t need to.  Your moans and the way your cunt flooded told him that you were enjoying yourself.

He began to focus on your clit more, sucking it into his mouth and running his tongue quickly back and forth on it.  You mewled and bucked your hips, the only thing stopping your legs from closing around his head was the fact he caught them and held them open.   Your sounds got louder and more desperate.  It was as if you had no control of them - they just bubbled out of you as your pleasure grew.  Steve pushed two of his fingers inside you and began to fuck you with them, never letting up on your clit.

Your cunt clenched and you jerked up hard under him as you came, your back curving off the mattress as you moaned loudly.  “Oh god please, just fuck me,” you begged. 

Steve chuckled and crawled back up your form.  Bucky intercepted him, capturing his lips and sucking your fluids from them as he hummed.  When he pulled back they both turned their attention back to you.  Bucky lay down behind you and Steve returned to facing you, grabbing the lube from the bedside table before settling into position.  He pushed his pants down enough to free his cock and slicked it in the cool gel.  Bucky took the tube and Steve teased his cock up and down your folds.  You brought your knee up and hooked your leg around the middle of Steve’s back.  Steve slowly rolled his hips, so the head of his cock moved up and down your folds.  It caught at your entrance and he pushed forward slowly sinking into you.

As Steve slowly fucked you, Bucky lubed up his own cock and began to run it up and down your crevice from behind.  Steve leaned over you and kissed him as the head of Bucky’s cock rubbed against the base of Steve’s.  Bucky pushed it up against your entrance and slowly sunk into you.

You mewled, your head falling back against Bucky’s shoulder as both men stretched you.  Bucky’s cock squeezed in tightly beside his inside you and Steve groaned at the sensation of heat and cool in the vicelike clamp of your internal muscles.

They both began to thrust.  The three of you kissed from one to the other.  It moved between you like fluid trying to find a place to settle.  Steve’s skin prickled as his cock throbbed inside you.  There was always something so intimate about both he and Bucky penetrating you at the same time.  Each of you was connected and bringing pleasure to the others.

You cunt pulsed and clenched around both of them and both Steve and Bucky groaned at once as it felt as though you were milking them.  Bucky’s hand wrapped around you and he began to finger your clit in tight circles.  You gasped, breaking the kiss with Steve, and cried out, jerking between them.

That was all it took for Bucky.  His hips snapped forward and he released, his come coating Steve’s cock as he spilled inside you.  Steve groaned, his cock moving more easily with the extra lubrication against Bucky’s softening cock.  He groaned and pressed his face into your shoulder, his hips beginning to stutter.  With a grunt he released, his come mixing with Bucky’s.

You hummed and Steve could feel you relaxing in his arms as both he and Bucky slipped from you.  ��Mmm that helped,” you said lightly, making Bucky laugh.

“Good,” Steve said, caressing your cheek.  “Because what I want most of all is for you, Bucky, and Geo to be happy and safe.”

“Oh Steve,” you whispered and leaned in and kissed him.  He held you close and drew Bucky in behind you so he could hold you both at once, and relax into the thought that at least - in this moment, he was getting everything he wanted.

// NEXT