part one ― telling young dad!hamzah you're pregnant
notes ; established relationship, reader is 20 & hamzah is 22, unplanned pregnancy, angst, tw // anxiety attack (pls be careful reading baes)
disclaimer ; i want to say real quick that being a young parent is in no way a bad thing. literally half of my family are/were young parents (#🇲🇽), so i've seen the beauty with it but also how quickly your life changes. it's terrifying and not always easy to accept at first, so i feel like it's important to reflect that in my writing. everyone's experience is different and everyone views motherhood differently ! pls remember this is an au and entirely fictional !!!
you stare at the positive pregnancy test until your eyes started to burn. finally blinking back hot tears, you set it down atop the bathroom counter.
how could this happen?
you and hamzah were always extremely careful. it was almost a joke how on him you were about wearing a condom and how punctual you were about taking birth control. when you two went grocery shopping and there'd be a baby screaming and crying in your aisle, you always said a silent prayer that you didn't have to deal with that any time soon―or even maybe at all. you didn't dislike the idea of motherhood, however it always a topic you were quick to change. you never felt especially maternal, but it was deeper than that. it was your own self-doubt about being able to care for someone else. when your cousin let you hold her newborn baby, you froze up, worried you'd drop him or he'd start to wail. everyone around you thought you were overreacting, but you can't help it. how are you meant to care for something so small, something so fragile, when you can barely take care of yourself?
you're fully spiraling now, whole body trembling and buzzing as you slide down against the wall. you can't see straight, things keep zooming in and out. desperately trying to find stability, you white knuckle the bathtub, heaving shallow breaths. it feels like someone is trying to choke you out, but won't put you out of your misery. the mascara mixed with your salty tears stings your eyes and stains your flushed cheeks. you close your eyes, trying focus on slowing your breathing, but it's no use. it's like your heart is beating in your ears the way it pounds like a jackhammer, hot and clamorous―yet, you start to break out in a cold sweat.
"y/n? babe?" hamzah calls out from the bedroom, setting his car keys down on the dresser and walking over to the bathroom where the door is cracked open. he slowly enters trying to find you, eyes immediately flicking to where you sit by the tub. "oh my god, y/n!" he rushes down to you, picking up your trembling body and setting you on top of the toilet. he keeps both hands firmly on your shoulders, trying to anchor you.
"i-h-hamzah-i'm-i-" you stammer out, trying to reach for the test to show him, but he coos softly, wanting to keep you still so you don't topple over.
"what? what happened, baby? what's wrong?" he asks, trying to read your face as he notices your eyes are locked on what sits on the counter. he frowns, confused, looking over and seeing the test. his stomach drops, quickly reaching over and picking it up. he reads it over a couple times just to make sure his mind isn't playing tricks on him. he manages to rip his eyes away from it, looking at you. his heart breaks a little at the sight. you poor thing, you're absolutely petrified. he sees your bottom lip quiver, your beautiful eyes going red and spilling heavy tears. there's a beat of silence before he takes a deep breath and sets down the test.
"i'm so fucking sorry, hamzah." you whisper out shamefully, swallowing back a sob.
"hey, no....don't say that." he shakes his head, crouching down in front of you and caressing your thigh, "what do you have to be sorry for, huh? i'm the one who did this to you."
without even trying, you let out a weak giggle. even in times like this, he knew how to ease the tension just enough. he was just happy to see your smile for a moment.
"we're always so careful-how?-i-i don't even know-" trying to make sense of this, you ramble.
"i know...it's okay, it's okay...shh," he rubs your thigh some more, trying to keep you from getting worked up again, "baby, you're still shaking. you gotta breathe, okay? like this, watch me."
you nod, following his breathing in....and out....in....and out. it takes a couple tries, but steadily your heart rate starts to calm down. you're still fucking terrified, but more ready to speak coherently. "what do we do?" you ask him, wiping your cheek.
he takes another deep breath, thumb stroking your skin as he speaks, "well, that's up to you. it's your choice."
"yeah, but....we can't actually have baby right now." you tell him matter-of-factly, waiting for him to agree but to your surprise he stays quiet. "right?" you try him again, but second pass and he avoids your eyes. a small smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. "hamzah...."
he looks up at you with a little shrug to defend himself, "i think we could make it work."
"that's not funny, c'mon." you swear he's joking, but his earnest gaze doesn't falter. he's being dead serious. "no-oh my god?? hamzah, no....are you being serious?" you laugh at him and his ridiculous notion.
"i mean, a lot would change, yeah. but....i think we could do it." he speaks with confidence and you're honestly baffled, still on the fence.
"how?" you challenge him.
he sighs, thinking it over for a second, "i don't know, we'd figure it out."
you scoff, "this isn't something you just 'figure out'. this is being responsible for another human. you think you're ready for that? because i'm fucking not. i almost just suffocated merely finding out that i'm pregnant―the baby's not even here yet, hamzah. and i don't know the first thing about being a good mom. i don't know anything. what happens when they're not sleeping through the night? or when they're sick with a fever at 2 in the morning? or when they fall and get hurt? or when they're upset about something at school, but they won't tell me?.....how? how am i supposed to know what to do?" you're crying again, voice shaking as you raise your volume for him to understand, "how, hamzah?"
he stands silently, pulling you with up with him, enveloping your body in a hug as he rubs your back. you're hesitant to give in, but his skin on yours provides a comfort you can only get from him. you nestle into his broad chest, allowing yourself a moment's peace. you can hear his heart beating, the thrum elated and swift.
he speaks into your hair, "look, i know you're scared―i'm scared too, believe me. i don't want you to think i don't understand the weight of this because i do." taking your face into his palms, "and you're right, we're not gonna have all the answers all the time.....but, i know you....and i know us....if anyone can do this, it's us."
you tear up again, but this time it's not out of fear or hostility. he's right. the love you have for each other is there. he has faith in you and you never doubt his devotion. it's all there. as scary as it is, you're not alone. how could you ever think that you were? he's always been there. on your great days and your shittiest. through whatever life brings, he's there and will continue to be there. only now, he's there for you and the life you bring into this world. he says he knows you, but you know him too. and you know he means every word.
"okay....okay, let's do this, let's figure it out." you say readily, muffled against his sweatshirt.
he pulls back from the hug, gauging your expression to make sure you're 100% certain. you smile, nodding reassuringly. his face lights up, pulling you into the hug once more and whispering to himself against your head in disbelief, "our own little family."
໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა taglist ; @nativegirltapes @etherealval @thatmartinkitten + lmk if u wanna be added !!!!
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I'm going through a profound period of writer's block, except I've always maintained that writer's block is really like seven different things.
Right now it's just ... aversion. I sit down to write and immediately want to be doing something else. I write a hundred words and it's fine, I'm having ideas and things, I know what comes next, but I finish those hundred words and it's like my brain is so ready to be doing something else. The writing is, in my opinion, not suffering from this, except that the output has been pitiful. The flow state is particularly elusive.
My all-time best day for writing was 16K words. That's like ... three chapters in a single day, maybe four if they're on the shorter side for my chapters. I was going unsustainably fast, fingers flying, neglecting my family, neglecting my body, really in the zone. That's not something I can replicate, but I remember the feeling, and it's so close. It doesn't feel like that me was a world away.
I think I would like to figure out the cause of the aversion. It's coming after a period of deep depression, maybe the worst I've had in twenty years, and maybe that came from anxiety of some kind, but not being able to write at the level of output I want is definitely not helping with the anxiety I've been feeling, so I don't know.
My plans for my next web serial, the one after Thresholder, are premised on being able to reliably write and edit 10K words a week, all killer no filler, as little wasted words as possible, new and interesting things around every corner, stellar fight scenes, meaty character interactions, but I'm feeling like a floppy baby, unable to hold up my own head, and if I can't maintain that pace ... I don't know. I can only scale back, and obviously if you want to make money writing for people on the internet, scaling back runs contrary to that goal.
I would feel better if I had what felt like a good path forward in terms of the writing muscle, if there were some life hack that would work for me. I think I'm at the point of wanting to try sprints again, which have historically been good for me but also a great way to burn out. I don't know how you get over an aversion to something you actually enjoy doing, but I'm not really a stranger to aversions. Usually I just buckle down and get it done, which I don't think is going to work if that feeling of aversion is with me for one of the primary things that I do.
This is mostly a gripe rather than me seeking solutions. I think this is probably a personal thing for which the solutions you might want to offer in the spirit of helpfulness would not actually work. Mostly, if you read my stuff, I want you to know where I'm at right now.
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Fic writer curse got me fam, and the doctor didn't give me a note so I have to go to work. To cheer me up here's more Airplane vs The System because I wanna feel I'm making progress
And it's Cumplane Bros being smart because I love them and yeah
Hope you like it!
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“There's…” he hesitated, glancing at Shen Yuan nervously before sweeping things around, going through names of missions. “There's stuff missing. And I can see the names, but now it's all gray? I can't select my old logs.”
Shen Yuan opened his own system, checking the same options Airplane had gone through, finding everything normal.
“That's weird, even for the System,” Shen Yuan took a step back, picking up his fan, tapping it against his palm as he walked back and forth. “And you don't remember getting any messages?”
“No, I would have told you if anything had popped up!” Which, yea, Airplane wouldn't be able to hide something like that. And they had been enjoying a nice life for the past couple of years, finally living their happy ending. Yes, some wife plots here and there but…
“I thought it was done with us now that the story was finished.” Airplane's voice cracked at the end, and this time Shen Yuan couldn't help but feel his heart squeeze for his fellow transmigrator, murderously rampant or not.
“Okay, we have to think.” Shen Yuan went back to walking, pressing his fingers against his forehead, his crown starting to feel too tight on his head. “We know Linguang-Jun was working with an Owl demon. Did he say anything else?”
Airplane blanched, trembling hand going over his mouth, rubbing his fingers over closed pressed lips. It took him some moments to compose himself, shrugging as he made the screen vanish.
“He said it wasn't a Demon, but a Heavenly being, which makes no sense, I didn't write the Heavens-”
“Oh so you do remember what you wrote, amazing!”
“-But he also said that they wanted Mobei-Jun alive. He said that they were powerful and they knew all about Linguang-Jun's schemes, down to the people he had bribed, that's why he had to help them.”
“Did he at least describe them? It was an Owl type of creature but what else?” He stopped next to the table, moving papers around with the tip of his fan. He couldn't help but think that something else was going on. “If we have the physical description we can focus on one area of the map.”
Shen Yuan huffed when Airplane ignored his comment completely only with a twitch of an eye. Airplane couldn't physically hurt him, Shen Qingqiu's cultivation skills being better than Shang Qinghua could ever develop, but Airplane looked just enough on the edge that he might try his luck with a punch.
Shen Yuan didn't want to test his limits, so he ignored that he had been ignored, letting it slide.
“He said that they arrived as a white Owl, then they changed to their humanoid form.”
Shen Yuan froze, eyes going wide. The color helped to focus their search on the Northern Desert, but where? The area was huge, most of it completely uninhabitable except-
“The Polar Owl,” he mumbled, not bothering to answer Airplane's “what?”, shoving away the pile of useless notes to grab the huge map of the demon realm hidden under it all. “You only wrote one fucking normal animal in this entire weird ass story, and it was the Polar Owl,” Shen Yuan grabbed a brush to circle the places the Owl hypothetically lived, not cursing out loud Airplane's lack of following through with backgrounds. This time. “They live in the furthest north anyone ever been, no one else can survive the low temperatures except-”
“The Mobei line.” Airplane's whisper wasn't loud enough to interrupt Shen Yuan but the awed expression on Shang Qinghua's face was.
“Exactly.” Shen Yuan snapped his fan open, a smirk tilting his lips up as he straightened up his shoulders, putting on his best peak lord smug face. “And they are considered sacred to the Northern tribes because of their resistance to low temperatures. Thus it is completely possible that Linguang-Jun thought that the person he spoke with had come from the Heavens.”
Ding!
Mission in progress: Author's favorite.
UV002 objective: aid UV001
[COMPLETED]
---
Off to work I go, wish me luck ✌️
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thank you so much for 700 followers!! this is so insane to me and i'm so happy people are enjoying my posts.
i know most of you are here for my ""relatable writing posts"" but i also know some of you are interested in who i am, and specifically my writing, so to celebrate hitting 700 followers i thought i'd give you a taste of my writing !! i know i was supposed to tag some ppl but i forgot to write your names down and i can't remember who wanted to be tagged and who didn't 😭😭😭
these are all drafts and i def don't consider myself a great writer, but i think i'm okay at storytelling. regardless, enjoy it for what it is!
this excerpt is from my first completed draft of "the midnight chase." for context, marley is aroace.
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They sat in silence for a while before Marley shifted towards Lucas. She bit her lip, uncertain of how honest to be. “Lucas?”
He looked at her. “Yeah?”
“You know the party last month? Remember how Elvis kissed me?”
Lucas nodded. Marley averted her gaze, focusing on a path beyond the pond that led to a cliff overlooking the ocean.
“Do you think it’s possible to want that sort of closeness, without wanting it all?” Marley could feel Lucas gaze on her.
“I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”
Marley sighed and let her gaze drop to her feet. Her shoelaces had come undone.
“I mean, I don’t like Elvis like that, but when he kissed me, I felt… warm inside. Like, it’s not something I crave, but it felt nice regardless.”
Lucas remained silent for a moment. Marley looked up to see his gaze thoughtful as he processed her words. The gentle rustling of leaves and the occasional chirp of a bird were the only sounds filling the silence between them. Marley could feel her heartbeat quicken, wondering if she had said too much, or if Lucas might misunderstand her.
Finally, Lucas sighed softly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I get what you’re saying, Marley. I think… it’s natural to want closeness, to feel connected to someone, even if it’s not necessarily about romance. It’s human, you know? We all crave that warmth, that feeling of being wanted or cared for, even if it’s just for a moment.”
Marley nodded, relieved that he understood, but still, there was something else she needed to express. She glanced between Lucas and her shoelaces, her senses searching for any sign of judgement or discomfort, but all she saw was patience and a gentle curiosity.
“I guess it just made me question something that’s been nagging me for a long time,” Marley continued, her voice softer now, almost hesitant. “Like, what if I don’t ever want that kind of connection with someone, but I still want to feel close to people? Is that okay?”
Lucas’s expression softened even more, and he reached out, gently placing a hand on Marley’s shoulder. “Marley, there’s no right or wrong way to feel about these things. You’re allowed to want whatever it is you want—or don’t want. It doesn’t make you any less valid or any less… you.”
Marley let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. “Thanks, Lucas. I guess I just needed to hear that.”
and here's another excerpt that shows a bit more of the story...... kinda.
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As Lucas excused himself to go to the bathroom, Marley looked for Chio. Instead, she ran into Silas.
“Hey,” he said, holding his arm out. “Let’s dance.”
Initially, Marley wanted to say no, but something in Silas’ expression made her do the opposite. She took his arm and he led her to a more secluded part of the dance floor. Marley noticed people staring at them as they walked, not unsurprisingly, considering her and Silas' history.
Silas put a cautious hand on Marley’s back as the song transitioned to a sentimental and slow piano arrangement.
“You know the map I gave you?” Silas asked. Marley smiled. Yes, the one she and her friends had managed to figure out completely. “Did you solve it?”
Something in Silas’ expression told Marley he already knew the answer. Did he want help? Had he solved it?
“Yes,” Marley said. Silas nodded, and a smile crept up on his face.
“Me too. Which means… the winner will be determined by who gets to the middle first.”
Marley nodded. “You’re doing it alone?”
“Yes. I work best alone. I know you’re doing it with your friends.” Something in Marley churned at his answer. It was a typical Silas answer, a simple phrase etched with an edge of passive aggressiveness. Marley had solved it with the help of her friends. He had solved it alone, using only his brains.
“Teamwork is an underappreciated tool,” Marley said, finding herself distancing herself slightly from Silas’ hold on her as they danced.
“Of course. It’s important to be able to work with others. At the end of the day, though, you'll be alone.”
Marley looked into Silas’s eyes, trying to decipher his expression. There was something behind his words, a hint of loneliness perhaps, or maybe a sense of inevitability. She decided to keep the conversation light, not wanting to spoil the mood of the evening.
“Maybe so, but having friends by your side can make a huge difference,” Marley replied, her tone gentle but firm.
Silas nodded, his gaze thoughtful. “I suppose you’re right. It’s just... sometimes it feels like relying on others is a weakness.”
Marley shook her head. “It’s not a weakness, Silas. It’s a strength. Knowing when to ask for help, and knowing you can trust those around you, that’s powerful.”
They continued to dance in silence for a few moments, the slow melody wrapping around them. Marley felt a strange mix of empathy and rivalry towards Silas. She understood his drive and his determination, but she also saw the value in the support system she had with her friends.
As the song came to an end, Silas offered her a small smile. “Thank you for the dance, Marley. And for the perspective.”
Marley returned the smile. “Anytime, Silas. Good luck with the challenge.”
“Good luck to you too,” Silas replied, giving her a polite nod before walking away.
Marley watched him go, feeling a mixture of emotions. She was grateful for her friends and the support they provided, but she also understood the weight Silas carried. She hoped that one day he would realize the value of camaraderie.
Lucas returned from the bathroom, a curious look on his face. “Did I miss something?”
Marley laughed, shaking off the remnants of her conversation with Silas. “Just a dance with Silas. Nothing major.”
Lucas raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. “Shall we continue dancing?”
“Absolutely,” Marley said, feeling lighter and more determined than ever.
They returned to the dance floor, joining their friends in the celebration. The rest of the evening passed in a blur of laughter, dancing, and shared moments that Marley knew she would treasure for a long time.
As the night wound down, Marley found herself sitting with Chio and Maya on a bench outside the hall, the cool air in the stone-cladden corridor a refreshing contrast to the warmth of the dance floor.
Maya pulled out her phone from under her dress. Marley watched her. “Where did you keep that?”
“Oh, I have all my dressed sewn to include hidden pockets. I hate not being able to carry stuff.”
Chio rolled her eyes dramatically. “Ah, yes, custom sewn gowns with pockets, what a normal and humble thing!”
“It’s not my fault that default dresses don’t come with pockets already,” Maya countered.
“Calling normal dresses ‘default dresses’ is crazy,” Marley snorted. She looked at Chio’s dress. It was a beautifully simple dress with long, wide arms and a simple fabric belt around the waist, in a bright orange colour, contrasting Chio’s blue hair in a seamlessly effortless way.
“To be fair, my dress is also customised,” Chio sighed, smoothing out her skirt, before smirking. “I took it in two centimetres at the waist.”
The three girls burst out into laughter. Maya looked at her phone.
“What time is it?” Chio asked.
“10:45.”
“We should get ready.” Marley said. The Midnight Chase started at midnight, just as the name suggested. And she was not running down the maze in a long dress. Well, she could, she knew multiple people participating who were going directly from the dance to the maze. But they weren’t in it to win it. Marley and her friends were.
Hopefully, Silas would find that working alone is actually the greatest weakness.
Marley had a gnawing feeling that her stance would be proven right.
HELP i'm so scared y'all are gonna think my writing is trash because LET'S BE FR THIS IS JUST FROM MY FIRST DRAFT!!!! i haven't yet edited these scenes so they're kinda cringe but i wanted to show my main project. i do have different writing styles depending on genre though, and i'm tempted to show some of my comedy writing. it's pretty hilarious, if i may say so myself.
anyway, thank you again for 700 followers. thank you so much. each like, reblog, reply, message, or ask brings me so much happiness. you have no clue how much your interest warms my heart (or maybe you do because you know how social media manipulates our brains and their reward system)
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i feel like i didn't get to talk about this much online in great enough detail, but for the young or OLDER transmascs and trans men out there, it is perfectly natural to look for a masculine or male role model to look up to for masculinity inspiration and guidance, whether you personally know them or not. Whether they have passed or not, it's okay to search for somebody to look up to and grow ideas from on what it means to be a man in your eyes. It's natural for cisgender boys and men to do it, so why not you as well?
as you grow, you will come to discover there are all types of role models that'll you be able to relate to. or you may only find one. and when you find that person that brings out your inner sense of worth, and what it means to truly be a man to you, and not just from what the media presumes, you'll know. you'll feel comfort in not just your skin, but also your mind. you'll feel a sense of strength, security, protection, balance and loyalty. you'll speak with actions over words. you'll be able to proudly follow the path of a man, something you hadn't been able to envision before. thanks to having a masculine role model, you will now have something to strive to surpass.
there is no perfect male or masculine role model. there isn't anyone in this world who is perfect. in fact, due to your past womanhood and cautious upbringing, you may believe you don't deserve to receive guidance in this new world as a man. you may still believe and remember the words you spat and the evil you were taught about the everyday man, especially if you grew up in a dangerous area being groomed, abused or having had experienced traumatic history. this doesn't mean men can't hurt others, but you have been taught every man WILL and CAN hurt you, if given the chance, by the men AND women in your life. so now you worry and wonder, "Will people think I've become a man so I can become the attacker, instead of the prey waiting for the pounce?" you'll begin to think, you betrayed yourself as a fellow transmasc, and trans man. you'll see that frightened, confused "girl" who was still in the "attic"- because at this point you shoved those thoughts about your gender so deep inside the closet of your brain that it rose above your head until it finally collapsed on top of you. you'll wonder, "If I was cisgender, would I have hurt me too?"
the answer is you don't AND will never truly know. and it always will be like that. but what you do know is that if given the chance, you'd save yourself all over again in this life right now. you'd rescue and hold that little girl that was scared and misunderstood. because at the end of the day, your soul and values are your own. and your character still shows, regardless of your gender. and even if you aren't that socially aware, you'd comfort that little girl because you would KNOW what pain she was talking about. the pain of feeling misplaced. the anguish of following everyone else's advice, desperate to feel SOMETHING BETTER, only to end up feeling empty- just another puppet on someone else's strings. "But at least I made everyone else happy?, you'd think. but in the end, you didn't make yourself happy- not even a little.
you will know what it feels like to want CHANGE in your life, even if you are still unsure how you'd like to accomplish it. because you've been there. you've done that. and now you can say, you ARE your younger self's hero.
as you search inside yourself, and around you, for a role model on what masculinity means to you, you'll start to realize it all starts with acknowledging who you truly are, who you want to be, and how you want to stand. you begin to realize that the media and radfems have made you think a "perfect man" exists if they just follow a list of rules and guidelines they've made up when you KNOW it's not true. for you were born and went through a lot of the "womanhood" they experienced as well. and even if a masculine person meets ALL THESE GUIDELINES AND RULES, THERE'S STILL ROOM FOR A GRAY AREA. BECAUSE PEOPLE ARE HUMAN BEINGS. WHETHER FEMME OR MASC, ANYONE CAN BE A BAD OR GOOD PERSON.
being a masculine person or man doesn't make you a horrible person, it just means you're human. and if we aren't taught to self hate, hurt ourselves or dismiss our own feelings as men, we can achieve so much. especially when we aren't hating ourselves on our journey through our manhood. i am lucky to know the few cis men i do in my personal life that i do; and that i get to look up to them. for they are leaders, strong both mentally, and emotionally. they are loyal and love, loudly and silently. they behave differently based on their relationships with others, but are never indirectly inconsistent, for they are honest. and i admire them for that. for they are themselves and they demand respect. and to me, a nonbinary transmasc human being, that is and has been the hardest thing for me to do: demanding respect from others.
when you find your masculinity role model, you'll begin to understand what younger cis boys most likely felt when they looked up to some of their heroes; whether family, family friends, older classmates, entertainment stars, sports players or historical figures. you'll get to experience the newfound feeling of walking down a different path then originally planned as a transmasc man. some cis people will tell YOU you HAVE to act this way to discover your role model AND to live like said person. you do NOT. for your personality, AND your manhood are a part of you that show your inner character. your clothes, morality and male role model(s) show what you like, honor and value. but your soul shows your identity. your words explain your story and heart. your wisdom shows your willingness and strength to learn how to be an honest, hard-working man.
and just like the male role model you are searching for, you'll soon start to find out you may be someone else's reason and inspirational story. thanks to you they may have a reason to continue exploring their own masculinity. they can now define their own path on what it means to become a better man. thanks to you.
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