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violetwolfraven · 4 years

Note

Look, I don't have any specific prompt but can you write anything about the superpowers au?

Epic. I’ve got an idea I’ve been sitting on for a while that I was gonna write anyway but anyway I hope you ship jomike. Also that you’re okay with one in the rebellion version of the au cause that’s what the idea is.

Get ready for A N G S T.

Tw: injuries, non-graphic physical abuse, and kind of a bit of internalized homophobia.

...

Logically, Jojo knew that there was no one coming for him. Albert couldn’t afford to risk anyone else, and besides, they didn’t even know where this prison was to send someone. And if by some chance what was left of the gang could find this place, there was the fact that Jojo wasn’t even that powerful. He was just a flora, and not a leader. He’d known the risk when he went on that mission.

So, logically, Jojo knew no one was coming. No one could.

But as things got worse and worse from the second he got there, as the guards gave out beatings for nothing, for no reason, and left kids barely breathing left and right, Jojo kept hoping they would, anyway.

He thought he saw Jack once, across the cafeteria, but there was no way to know for sure.

Another time, he thought he heard Crutchie’s voice from that little jail cell they put him in before they brought him here, but when he called out, no one responded.

He though he’d passed a cell once that contained a boy with a shock of golden hair like Race’s, but he didn’t know if it was just his imagination.

Jojo didn’t know what was his imagination anymore. This place, a haze of pain and fear, had a way of messing with you. A part of him was still hoping it was all just a bad dream, but another part of him said that if he could wake up from this, he would have a long time ago.

But this place was messing with his head. He already didn’t know how long he’d been there, so he wasn’t sure. It wasn’t like Jojo had never felt pain before to recall it in dreams or memories.

“Hey, Jo, are you feelin’ up to tryin?’”

That was only one part of this nightmare that he really hoped was real.

Jojo hadn’t known Mike well before everything started going wrong. He’d known him enough to say hello, known that Mike was a twin, that he was the same age as Jojo, and what his powers were, but they hadn’t been friends. Barely even acquaintances, really.

Then Manhattan split up, and Jojo went with Albert, Mike went with Finch, and honestly, he’d barely even thought about the fact that he would probably never see him again, unless Albert or Finch actually succeeded in finding Jack, Crutchie, and Race.

Then Albert had taken Jojo, among others, on a hit, trying to take out the Delanceys.

Jojo was supposed to grow stinging nettles over the back door to prevent those assholes from escaping. He’d been halfway done with it, but Wiesel had gotten a cloth full of chloroform over his mouth and nose before he could react, and then Jojo was in a tiny jail cell with nothing for him to grow anything out of.

From there, they’d knocked him out again to transport him to the prison codenamed: the Refuge, and the next thing Jojo knew, he was being tossed into a cell with one of the Guzman twins.

“Well, well, well. Jojo de la Guerra. Great to see ya! Welcome to hell.”

Jojo had hidden how freaked out that made him enough to clarify that this was Mike, and oddly, he didn’t seem all that different from how Jojo remembered him. He seemed... fine. Sarcastic and funny. Which was weird because by all accounts, these prisons were basically hell.

He’d found out later that night that the Refuge really was hell, when the guards decided to welcome him by dragging him out of the cell to a room down the hall, yanking his shirt off, and taking an old belt to his back.

Jojo had tried not to scream, but he’d only been able to manage it for so long. And when the guards finally had enough, got his shirt back on him, and dumped him back in the cell, he was bleeding heavily and only half-conscious.

He’d flinched when someone gently touched his arm, and tried to get away, but instead, the hands pulled him closer, gentle as possible while still overpowering Jojo’s incoherent struggling.

Jojo had stopped struggling when he realized that the arms wrapped around him were staying gentle, that there was no more pain coming, but he’d still been dazed and confused.

“Mike?”

Mike hadn’t responded, and Jojo had felt the vibrations against his chest before he heard it; Mike singing quietly, his hands stinging less and less against Jojo’s back.

“I can’t heal ya,” he’d said when he was done, “I haven’t figured out a combination for that yet. But this’ll take away the pain. For a little while, at least.”

“How are you doin’ that?” Jojo had asked, “You said you’ve been here a month.”

The powered people in the Refuge were given only the bare minimum of food, because though power-dampeners couldn’t completely take away anyone’s abilities, powers took energy and you couldn’t summon enough energy to use them with the dampener already interfering if you were half-starved.

At least, that was the theory, which evidently wasn’t completely true with how Mike was using his powers like normal, like nothing was wrong.

“I have. And I can’t do everythin’ in here, but... I guess some of us just know how to run on empty.”

He’d used water and soap from their sink and a ripped-up sheet they didn’t need to clean and bandage Jojo’s back, and the pain had stayed away until the next morning.

They’d fallen into a routine, patching each other up when they got hurt, talking about whatever came to mind during long days with nothing to do, sitting together at meals, and...

And little by little, Jojo started to realize that he was feeling things for Mike he’d never felt before, in a fluttering warmth when he smiled, a dull, throbbing hurt when he started to be able to tell how many of those smiles were faked, a fear deep in his bones when guards dragged the other boy out of the cell.

Or... maybe he had felt this before. Or something like it. He’d felt these things in a different way for every one of his close friends, and...

And he’d felt it to an extent for Race, once upon a time, when they were maybe 13. Then again, for Elmer for only about a month, when they were 15.

It had been a lot less intense, when he felt it for them, but it was definitely this, or something like it.

But Jojo had buried those feelings, never let himself think about them, forced himself to focus on developing his powers, instead. He’d decided he wasn’t going to feel that way, waited the feelings out and never made a move, because if there was one thing people hated more than a person with powers, it was a gay person with powers.

Jojo didn’t have anything else to focus on here, unless he wanted to focus on his own pain (he didn’t) so he was forced to feel every slight shift in his emotions as he fell in love with Mike.

He was falling. Slowly, but surely, he was falling.

And it wasn’t scary, like he was expecting.

Well, it was. But it was a million other things, too, most of them good.

But of course, falling in love in the Refuge was full of complications, and as they switched to sharing a bed on cold nights, (Jojo guessed at least a couple months must have passed if it was getting this cold. That, or the Refuge was farther north than they’d thought.) a few nights, it got so cold that Mike had to sing them some warmth.

They’d gotten lucky that nobody had noticed all the times when Mike took away Jojo’s pain, or his own, if he could manage a song after a beating, and that they hadn’t seen the first few nights he sang them some warmth.

They couldn’t stay lucky forever.

The next time Mike sang to keep them warm, the guards came in and dragged him away not five minutes later.

He was still breathing when they brought him back, but only barely, and Jojo had never felt this kind of fear before.

Mike had more bruises than Jojo could count, belt scars on his back, at least four broken ribs, and blood running down his face from a nose that was probably broken.

He was crying. No matter how bad things got, he never cried.

“Shh,” Jojo had said, “It’s okay. It’s over now. It’s gonna be okay. I’m here.”

Jojo had managed to get him up on the bed, but that was about all he could do.

Mike always smiled at him after this happened, to let him know that he wasn’t okay, but he would recover. And no matter how much Jojo hated how he felt the need to smile when he wasn’t feeling it, it was worse now that he wasn’t smiling, because that meant he was hurt so badly that he couldn’t care.

“Mike, you need to sing. Please, Mike. You need to sing the pain away.”

They’d beaten him so badly that he couldn’t sing. That was the problem. He was in so much pain that all he could do was sob.

And Jojo was helpless to do anything to take away that pain.

Jojo really hated being helpless.

He’d used their makeshift bandages to clean and treat the other boy’s wounds as best he could, but Mike was still in so much pain the next morning that he couldn’t even sit up.

For days afterwards, he wouldn’t or couldn’t talk, and he definitely didn’t sing, so Jojo had to fill the silence.

He’d talked about random things, when he could think of something to talk about, or sang, if he could remember lyrics to a song. And it was by no means like it had been when Mike would talk back, but at least after the first couple days, Jojo could tell he was listening.

It didn’t start to get better until a long time later.

Jojo had been singing to fill the silence, just some song he remembered that happened to be a duet in the real version.

“I remember what you wore on the first day, you came into my life and I thought, hey, you know, this could be something. Cause everything you do and words you say, you know that it all takes my breath away and now I'm left with nothing.

And maybe it’s true—“

He’d been shocked enough that he had to force himself to keep singing when Mike joined in from across the cell, singing the harmony part.

“—that I can't live without you, and maybe two is better than one. But there's so much time, to figure out the rest of my life, and you've already got me coming undone. And I'm thinking two is better than one.”

They’d sang that song together, and Mike wasn’t using his powers; just his regular singing voice, but it was more than he’d spoken in weeks, so Jojo let him go silent again afterwards.

It was trial and error after that. Sometimes, Mike would join in on duets and sometimes he wouldn’t. He still never used his powers and barely spoke, but his voice came back little by little.

It was warm enough that they didn’t have to share a bed anymore, though did, sometimes, anyway, by the time Mike asked the crutial question.

“How would you feel about getting out of here?”

They’d concocted a plan, Jojo giving Mike some of his food leading up to enacting it, so he could finally manage a big use of his powers.

Using his powers for the first time since the guards tried to beat them out of him, Mike sang a blow of power strong enough to put a crack in the back wall of their cell.

From there, they switched to getting Jojo’s strength up, and he started on growing the strong roots of an oak tree through the crack, lengthening it and punching through to the other side.

Tonight, if Jojo could make his tree grow suddenly and quickly, it would rip the wall apart.

“I can try,” he said, offering Mike a smile.

The other boy stood back as Jojo focused, feeling the fibers of the tree and all his messed-up emotions that, in theory, made him stronger.

The crack widened suddenly with a loud crumbling noise, and alarms started blaring.

“Not to put pressure on ya, Jo, but now would be a good time!”

“I’m tryin’!” Jojo exclaimed, “Come on!”

He wasn’t strong enough. He was half-starved and the dampener was weakening him and no matter how many messed-up emotions the Refuge made him feel, it wasn’t enough.

“Jojo,” Mike said, halfway panicked, “I’m really sorry if I’s been readin’ your signals wrong, but...”

Jojo was already calling on love and protectiveness as well as fear and pain.

The wall exploded.

Because Mike had grabbed Jojo’s face, pulled him close, and kissed him.

It was desperate and scared, but good and deep, too and it made Jojo feel like he was flying, like even hell could have a little heaven in it if he tried hard enough.

Then Mike pulled away, his face still scared as he looked over his shoulder and saw that Jojo had grown a full-grown oak tree in the space where the wall used to be, the trunk thick enough to support the ceiling and the leaves visibly green even against the red lights flashing with the alarm.

The alarm.

They needed to get out.

The Refuge was clearly in the middle of nowhere, with a couple hundred feet between them and a thick treeline. If they could get there, Jojo would be in his element. He wouldn’t need to create new plants, just use existing ones to his advantage. He was feeling strong enough to do that.

“Come on!” Jojo exclaimed, grabbing Mike’s hand and rushing for the opening between the tree and the wall on one side.

He’d never grown one that big before.

The difference as they left the actual cell was noticeable. Jojo could feel when the dampener was no longer messing with him.

Mike held him back for a second in the space between their cell and the outside world, singing a combination Jojo didn’t recognize.

“It’s a shield,” he explained urgently, “I ain’t at full strength, so I don’t know how long it’ll hold, but—“

“You used your powers.”

It was the first time in... Jojo didn’t even know how long. Days? Weeks? He’d thrown up out of panic after using them to crack the wall in the first place and hadn’t used his powers again since.

Mike nodded, “We’d never make it if I didn’t. We still need to run like hell.”

He wasn’t at full strength. The shield might fail under gunfire. It might only last a few seconds. Even if it didn’t, they’d have to be quick to put enough distance between them and the Refuge to stay free.

Jojo squeezed Mike’s hand as he heard guards shouting in the hallways, “Ready?”

“Set.”

“Go!” They shouted together, then took off running, not dropping hands as they hauled ass towards the tree line.

The shield held up most of the way, and Jojo felt a bullet nick his arm, but he didn’t let himself care as he kept running. He just ran faster.

They barely made it, and they had to slow down due to the complete darkness of night but still keep moving so the guards wouldn’t catch them, but Jojo could finally breathe.

He was surrounded by plants, holding hands with the boy he loved and knowing that he was finally waking himself up from a long nightmare.

No one was coming to rescue them, but that was alright.

They could survive long enough to get back to the waking world of New York.

Growing stinging nettles behind them to make pursuit a little more interesting wasn’t even that hard.

...

((Btw I didn’t state it super clearly, but Mike’s power is that he can make basically anything happen with his voice. It’s just a matter of finding the right combination of notes.))

#newsies #newsie powers/rebellion au #jomike #jojo de la guerra #mike newsies #jojo x mike #angst #violet’s writing

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ourimpavidheroine · 5 years

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Yeah, so I read the comic. Spoilers below, consider yourself warned.

I think the artwork is great, and thank fuck they got a decent colorist. The first series was hideously colored with some sort of an overall mustard tone, I still can’t get over it. In this one the drawings are crisp and animated, and the color is rich and has more than three tones to it. Michelle Wong has a knack for nailing facial expressions which works so well in this kind of story. Huge thumbs up from me.

(Although I still hate that Mako went back to his teenage hair. I do not at all get this. AT ALL. Why the hell would he want to do that? This says a LOT to me about how Bryke sees the obviously temporary maturity they gave him in Book 4 since I sincerely doubt the return to his teenage hair was a choice made by either of the comic artists.)

The writing, though? A huge thumbs down from me.

The first Korra comic had Asami In Danger ™ as a means of moving the plot forward and now the second one has it as well. Sure, we’ve got Mako and Bolin thrown into the mix to up the stakes a little. But at its heart? That’s just lazy writing. And it’s very, very male writing as well. I loathe the damsel in distress trope precisely because 99.9% of the time isn’t written well. (This is definitely not one of the .01% of the times it is right.) Ho-hum, Asami has been brainwashed to hate Korra. I mean...there’s no real drama there. It’s not really her! The drama the two of them were having over even having Kuvira along was more interesting than that. There are no stakes with the brainwashing. We know that it’s going to get fixed; the Krew (and Wu) won’t stay brainwashed forever.

Listen, Korra is the fucking Avatar. She is the most powerful person in that Universe, and her job is to bring stability and balance. Not to chase around her girlfriend who keeps getting kidnapped. TWICE.

At least we didn’t have to deal with straight white cis dudes writing about systemic homophobia in this one. (Or at least not so far. They aren’t done yet.)

Wu singing along to peeing actually made me laugh. That is very teenage Wu. (Also? His Jungle Outfit was EVERYTHING.) I did like the swamp vision of Hou-Ting and it actually showed that despite the accusation she was making that he was giving up the crown because he didn’t care/was a coward that it wasn’t the case. Which obviously is more in line with how I see the character. Although Toph calling him Spindleshanks pisses me off because now I can never have Lin do it in my fanfic. DAMMIT. Also? Pabu on his shoulder was frankly adorable.

Toph was great, as she usually is. Although you know what I loved the most about her in this volume? The way she’s cradling an injured Opal at the end. That’s the first gentle thing I think we’ve EVER seen Toph do, on the show or otherwise. I thought it was beautiful.

I do like that Korra is still trying to work forward in how to be the Avatar, even when the things she does as an Avatar aren’t always approved of my her nearest and dearest. That’s one thing I always did think Bryke got right for her; it’s been a struggle for her to find the balance between having her own life and being the Avatar and I personally think it’s one she will always have, even if age and experience ease it for her as she gets older. I think all Avatars do.

I did like that even when brainwashed Mako took charge. That’s just what he does; even being brainwashed doesn’t change it.

Oh lord, and I guess I have to address Kuvira. So look. Here’s the thing. Bryke clearly wants to redeem her. Which...I know there are a lot of Kuvirastans out there that are happy about it. That’s not a slam on my part; I am not interested in it, but that’s why I write my fanfic the way I do. Fans like what they like, and redeeming her is a big one for a lot of people. I’ve got no problem with redemption stories, if they are done well. (Zuko’s redemption arc remains one of the best I have ever seen.)

But in order to redeem Kuvira they have to retcon her. They have quite literally no other choice in order to redeem her. And I loathe that regardless of what story it is. I mean, just walking her back by saying that Guan was doing experiments without her approval? Come on.

The thing is this: canonically speaking, Kuvira commissioned a weapon of mass destruction that she had every intention of using, and which she did use. She killed we don’t know how many people (I mean, the idea that a city as big as that one had a 100% clearance rate is just silly, there were plenty of people who didn’t evacuate for various reasons, never mind the sailors on that ship she took out), left who knows how many homeless in Republic City, caused who knows how much yuan worth of damage. She took out half a fucking foreign city, which she attacked without any provocation. You cannot erase that by saying that she didn’t approve human experimentation and had a rough childhood. You just can’t.

That’s not even getting into her attacking Zaofu as well as conscripting soldiers from all over the Earth Kingdom and coercing provincial governors into allowing her to take control. I mean, she was a security guard who became a fascist dictator in the space of three years. You cannot forget that, no matter how hard you retcon her. If you do forget it it’s because you wanted her to have never done those things in the first place, you know? But she did do them. It’s canon.

Bryke’s whole stated approach - and it is stated, Mike DiMartino has done interviews - of Kuvira just wants to do good but can’t understand why Asami won’t forgive her for killing her father and never mind all of those other people is just painful to me.

Now look. The idea that Korra recognizes that as the Avatar she has to put aside her personal feelings and deal with Kuvira as a means to an end for a political situation she cannot handle on her own is not one I have a problem with. AT ALL. And having her and Asami clash over that? GOOD STUFF. In fact, I hope like hell some of the better fanfic writers out there are jumping on that, because that’s something that I firmly believe they’d have to deal with as long as they have a relationship with each other. Asami isn’t dating the Avatar, after all; she’s dating Korra. But Korra IS the Avatar, and that’s something the two of them will have to come to terms with, which they clearly have not. So I am onboard with this, absolutely. Yes!

But Korra does not have to retcon Kuvira. She does not have to understand nor forgive her. She does not need to be her BFF. As the Avatar, what she should be doing is using Kuvira to help bring about the balance that is her entire job and then putting her back where she found her, because the Avatar’s job is not to dispense justice or override what has been decided in a court of law. If Kuvira is going to be pardoned from her jail sentence forever then that’s for Zhu Li to decide as the new president of Republic City, not Korra.

(I have a sinking suspicion Bryke is going to have Zhu Li - who was the only person actually working directly under Kuvira to have the courage to not only defy her but to call her out on being the monster she was and get sentenced to death for it - pardon her. UGH. LAZY WRITING.)

I am sorry that Kuvira’s parents were shitheads. My own mother punched me in the face and broke both my nose and glasses when I was cast as Mercutio in my high school rendition of Romeo and Juliet because...well, I guess because she didn’t like that I would be playing a guy and not Juliet? (I dunno, it was 35 years ago and I’m still not sure but I’ve got a crooked nose to remember it by.) She was not exactly winning any prizes in the mothering department, believe me. Nevertheless I am still responsible for the decisions I have made as an adult. Having a shitty childhood was not my fault, but it certainly is my problem if I hurt others because of it. Kuvira is no different. I have a nagging suspicion that we are being set up to give Kuvira a get out of jail free card for the whole FASCIST MURDERING DICTATOR thing because her parents sucked. And frankly, I think that’s a terrible message for Bryke to be giving to people reading this comic and to be frank I am just bewildered as well as angered by it. I mean...they aren’t, right? They are setting up the whole bad childhood thing in order to prove that no matter how rotten things were for you you are never justified in cruelty (or you know, dictatorships) towards others? Right? Please?

Not to mention I am all for forgiveness but Kuvira didn’t pull a few pranks as a teen. She attacked foreign countries without provocation, commissioned and used a weapon of mass destruction, conscripted armies, set up camps for dissenters, and so on. If you want to redeem her, then have her recognize that she did wrong and willingly GO TO PRISON BECAUSE OF IT. The homeless, grieving and devastated people she left behind deserve that, they really do.

I did like that Su came when Kuvira asked. Her feelings about Kuvira are clearly complicated ones - to say the very least - but she was able to put them aside when her help was needed. That’s the Su Beifong I believe in and write about. She brought her three warrior children along as well. (Although what Opal was doing in Zaofu instead of RC I don’t know, but hey, what’s a plot?)

But if she goes on to forgive Kuvira for straight up attempting to murder her son then I call bullshit all the fuck over that. I’m a mother. NOPE. There are limits. I am telling you, anybody who tries to retcon that doesn’t have children themselves. The end.

My baby Baatar is coming back. Ya’ll know how I feel about him. I have no faith that Bryke will do him right, especially as Bryan once said that he was the character he hated the most. I cringe to think of what they are going to do to him. Blame him for all of Kuvira’s mistakes in order to continue her retcon? Retcon him into being the one actually responsible for her leaving and doing the things she did, making him the puppet master behind the scenes? Would not surprise me at all if it happened. Not at all.

#Not tagging this to avoid wank #long post

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scaredbisexual · 6 years

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Meet me at night: One

Part Two

Summary: AU where Eddie and Richie are not allowed to meet up anymore, so they come up with another way to see each other.

A/N: This is my first fic to write in English that is going to have more than one part WOOOO. I hope you guys enjoy it, the next parts are going to be longer, I think.

Word Count: 785

They are 18 in this

This year’s summer vacation started off differently. It was a rainy day and the Losers Club had planned a meeting in Eddie’s house. His mom was out to run some errands out of the city and called her son sobbing after few hours saying that her car broke down and she couldn’t come back home for the night. She made him promise to lock all the doors and don’t go out, especially in such awful weather.

Eddie really had planned to keep his promise, but then, while talking with Beverly on the phone, he mentioned being home alone for the night and well, it ended up with all of his friends cozying in his living room and watching E.T. for the millionth time.

Bill was sat down between Mike and Stan, with his head rested on the latter’s shoulder, kind of dozing off but trying not to, with his head jerking up every now and then. Mike was playing with loose string hanging from his sweater, trying to tuck it back inside. Stan couldn’t really focus on the movie because of his boyfriend and the amount of cuteness he way emitting. His too long hair was getting into his eyes and he helplessly tried to get it out with his hands covered with long sleeves of sweatshirt he was wearing- Stan’s sweatshirt to be exact. Be looked like an angel, or maybe a cat when you think about it- with his nose scrunching up and eyes squeezing in a weak attempt of keeping them open. Yeah, it was really hard to focus on a movie in such circumstances.

On the single armchair standing next to the couch was Ben with Beverly on his knees. He was watching the movie with a concentrated expression, sometimes mouthing his favorite lines while mindlessly rubbing Bev’s knee. She was concentrated on wall in front of them where hang a lot of pictures of Eddie and his family. Her fingers wandered in Ben’s hair, toying with it and rubbing his head softly.

Richie was seated on the floor, fidgeting with his fingers and quietly tapping his foot on the floor to calm himself. He didn’t like not moving for too long and this movie seemed to last forever. Maybe if it was something else he would be interested, but E.T. was their movie and they had watched it SO MANY times before that he could easily declaim all of the lines. Eddie sat few feets away, his head propped on Mike’s legs and hands nibbling the carpet, not really there- lost in his thoughts.

It was peaceful like never before, the rain thudding against windows and television the only sounds heard in the room. It didn’t take long for almost all of the Losers to fall asleep. Only Richie seemed to be fully awake, with his fingers playing some complicated rhythm on his thighs and lips moving slowly, mouthing the words of some song he had probably heard on the radio. Eddie was on the border between sleep and awareness, his eyelids heavy and breath slow. The bigger boy seemed to notice it and scooted over to his friends, offering himself as a pillow. It wasn’t something new to them- the closeness. They were always near each other, hands brushing, eyes laughing and full of something reserved solely for the other one.

Eddie smiled softly on bit his lip. Blinking slowly, he moved to rest on Richie’s shoulder and delicately touched his shoulder, clinging onto him. Richie was solid and warm, grounding him but in the same time lulling to sleep. Later, when Ben would ask him about what happened, Eddie would blush and stutter, shrugging it off, but then. Oh god. A shivered ran down his spine, deliciously tingling all of his nerves and putting them on fire. The other boy had to read it wrong, because he moved away for a moment, took off his sweatshirt and handed it to Eddie, staying only in a t-shirt. His cheeks were rosy and palms really sweaty, heart feeling like it was going to explode, overloaded with feelings. Richie’s head was spinning when the smaller boy quickly put the sweatshirt on while smiling sheepishly. They resumed their previous position and sat there smiling like idiots while the credits rolled on the screen.

It was maybe few hours later when Mike woke up to the sound of the front doors opening. He blinked few times in confusion when it downed on him. He shot up and tried to wake up all of his friends, but in the same moment the lights turned on. In the living room’s doorway stood a really red and really angry Mrs. Kaspbrak.

Oh, they were so screwed.

#reddie fic #richie tozier #it fic #it 2017 fic #it 2017 #eddie kaspbrak #reddie #reddie fanfic #fanfic #fic #bill denbrough #ben hanscom #mike hanlon #beverly marsh #stan uris #losers club #losers club fic

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ekmekandwater-blog · 4 years

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Thirty Eight Years and Still Going

38 years ago today I made a decision that would forever impact my life. Here’s the story:

I thought I'd take this time to re-post my own story of how I decided to follow Jesus. In other words, How did a guy like me end up writing a blog like this?

I was raised in a non-religious Jewish home. I emphasize the term “non-religious” because I don’t want you to get the wrong impression. No side curls, no Hebrew classes, just an occasional Yiddish phrase and matzo ball soup. I had no idea about any of the reasons for some of the holidays we celebrated. I thought Passover was a food holiday – “Pass over the matzos please. Pass over the bitter herbs!” Seriously, I had no idea. I just knew we didn’t believe in Jesus because I asked my mom several times after watching Davy and Goliath or something like that.

The God issue wasn’t something that we discussed much, but I had thought about it some. I remember early on thinking it was kinda silly to believe in God. I understood later, that people believed in God, as I saw it, to help them cope with life and mortality or hardships or whatever. I didn’t really have a problem with people doing this if it helped them cope. When I got older though, I met people who didn’t just casually believe in a divine coping mechanism (the invisible friend for grownups) but who were making life choices as a result of this belief. These people were choosing to not do some of the things that I was doing – they were choosing not to have the kind of fun that (it seemed to me) high school kids ought to have because of this concept of God. That seemed ludicrous to me. It seemed to me that Christians were being stupid about this and so I saw it as my duty to let them know.

I was that guy in high school – the outspoken skeptic. I wouldn’t have called myself an atheist because I thought to speak authoritatively that there is no God seemed equally foolish. My argument was that it was impossible to know.

During my senior year in high school, my buddy Chet and I applied to work at The Happiest Place on Earth, Disneyland. We got accepted and shortly after my 18th birthday, we began to work in “Outdoor Vending.” My job title was a “culinary host” which meant that I sold ice-cream, popcorn and balloons.

On day 2 of my employment, I was assigned a trainer for the day to learn the art and science of ice-cream sales. It’s a complicated science that requires 8 hours together with a trainer. You take the order, take the money, open the lid, pull out the desired frozen treat and smile. It’s very complex. So the trainer assigned to me for the day was a young woman named Cynthia. Cynthia had a personality as big as life. She laughed loud, smiled big and just seemed to get a lot out of life. It turns out, and I found out quickly, that she was also one of those enthusiastic, life changed, born again Christians – but like I said, she had a pretty engaging personality and we became friends in spite of her deep convictions.

So during that summer if she was working at a nearby popcorn or ice cream wagon, and I was on a break, I would stop by to visit. And every single time, I kid you not, she would start to tell me something about the God she believed in. She would have Bible verses on 3X5 cards that she was using to actually memorize portions of the Bible! And she would show me what was on her card and say something like, “Mike, look at this. Look at how much God loves you. Isn’t that amazing?” And I would respond with something like, “That’s great for you, but it’s not my thing.” Undaunted, we would have a similar conversation the next time we met.

I think it was her consistency of her life and message (and for those of you wondering, no, I wasn’t really interested in dating her or anything) and she seemed so earnestly convinced of this God stuff that I started to re-visit the whole God question in my head. Is there a God? If there is a God, is he somebody I need to worry about? Does it ultimately make a difference? Who could I ask about this? Who’s been talking to me non-stop about God since the day I met her?

So I was working on Main St. at popcorn wagon #2 and I decided to send a note to Cynthia to come and chat with me when she got a chance. As a sidelight and a bit of Disney trivia, when popcorn venders want to communicate with each other in those days, we of course couldn’t leave our wagons. We were stuck in one place and so we would use the sweepers. They were mobile and they were the pony express of the Disney world. So Cynthia got my note and came out at the end of her shift and I told her what I had been thinking about.

Literally, just at that moment, a sweeper came by. “Hey Joe,” Cynthia called, and Joe came sweeping over, “You still have that Gospel of John on you?” Joe said, “Sure,” pulled a gospel of John out of his breast pocket and handed it to me. Cynthia said, “Mike, if you want to know about God, the best person to ask is God. Say, ‘Lord I want to know you and I want to know more about you.’ And then sit down and read this Gospel of John.”

I said, “okay” and I took that book home and I probably prayed that prayer 100 times (by the way, had I known I was praying, I probably wouldn’t have done it). And the more I prayed, the more I thought, “Yeah, God, if you are real, I want to know you.” So finally, I sat down on our couch in the living room and read the book from cover to cover.

Now I’d heard about Jesus before this time, mainly as something you yell when you’re really frustrated, but I’d never really known any of the story. This was my first encounter with him and I have to tell you, he impressed me. There was something to this guy - something, dare I say…spiritual? Something was happening to me as I read it – for the first time in my life, I began to believe in God. I still wasn’t sure what to do with Jesus and how he fit into it all. There was a verse in John 14:6 where Jesus claimed to be the only way to God and I remember thinking that was a pretty narrow statement and it excluded my people – even though I wasn’t an observant Jew, that seemed like a big hurdle.

But I went off to Whittier College as a freshman and I started to enter into the God discussion as a participant rather than an antagonist. This was a new experience. I remember being surprised at how many people believed in God as I met Catholics, Protestants, Muslims, Mormons and every Joe blow with their own homespun theology. And as I compared notes, I realized all of their theologies had complexity to them. All of their gods had personality and ideas and history and values and the God I believed in was empty and void – he needed help and so I enhanced him. I began to construct God out of the conversations I’d been having. A little of this, a dab of that and voila I had my god. By the end of the school year, he had become more complex and I was proud of him.

On June 15 of that year, I stepped into The Raven bookshop in La Canada and ran into one of my Christian friends from high school who I used to pick on. I said, “Hey Denise, how’re you doing?” “Praise the Lord,” she replied, “I’m just serving Jesus…” and blahbity blahbity blah about Jesus and I replied, “I have my beliefs.” “Really,” she exclaimed, “I’d love to hear them.” And so in the next 30 seconds, I unpacked all of my complex theology (I remember thinking, “Is that all?” I guess I hadn’t developed my theology as much as I had thought) and Denise shook her head and cleared her throat and said, “we need to talk.”

So there we were right in the middle of the bookstore, talking about God, “In our culture, Mike,” she continued, “Wouldn’t you agree that if we’re talking about God, then more often than not, we’re probably talking about the God of the Bible.” I thought about it – if there wasn’t a Bible we probably wouldn’t know much about God and so I replied, “sure.” She said then, “It seems to me that if we’re claiming to believe in the God of the Bible, we should believe what the Bible says about the God of the Bible.” I agreed.

There is a verse in the New Testament book of Romans – Romans 10:9,10 which says, “If you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that He is risen from the dead, you will be saved.” Denise explained to me a lot about the God of the Bible. She answered a lot of my objections and I knew that I needed to quit avoiding the inevitable and I needed to start following the God that Denise followed whatever that meant. And I really had no idea what that meant. But I also knew that I didn’t want to be a freak and so I was going to keep that decision to myself. I wasn’t going to confess that with my mouth before anyone.

As it turns out, God knew what I was thinking. And so just a few hours later, that same evening, I was working at Disneyland. I wasn’t actually working in the park itself but rather was blowing up balloons for the evening in the balloon room. I was only able to interact with guests in the park for 15 minutes when I was giving a balloon vender a break. So there I was, standing with a bunch of Mickey Mouse balloons under the people mover when this guy walked up to me. I had never seen him before and I have never seen him since. But he walked up to me and said, “Excuse me. I’d like to know if you’ve accepted Jesus Christ as your personal savior.”

I thought for a moment and replied, “Yes, as a matter of fact I have.” He said, “okay,” and took off into the crowd (and who knows? Back to heaven?). That was that. I went back to the balloon room where a # of my Christian friends were working and I told them what happened, that this weird guy came up to me and…They got very excited and word got out among the believers in outdoor vending and we started a Bible study with the sweepers and the vendors. And I got a good strong start to my Christian life.

That God was in such obvious pursuit of me is something that still moves me. And the events of June 15 following my freshman year in college 30+ years ago still wow me. But that was just the beginning. More stories to come soon. I’d love to hear yours!

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megaphonemonday · 7 years

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hashtag blessed

approximately forever ago (I’m real slow filling these prompts in case none of you have noticed) @alwayskels sent me this: Ginny is pregnant with Bawson's first baby and her appetite is insatiable! It turns into a thing where like fans take pics with her at restaurants #EatWithBabyBawson. It's all one big joke in good fun. Mike and the team have a field day with it.

And I have wanted to do a multimedia fic for a long long time. I sensed my opportunity and took it. This was a labor of love and I’m actually really happy with the way it turned out. Hope you like it, too!!

read on ao3 | version with image descriptions

The fact that everyone, from bloggers to commentators to fans to people who’d never actually watched a game of baseball in their life, immediately read into Ginny’s placement on the 60-Day DL shouldn’t have been such a surprise. It seemed like every time Ginny so much as changed her coffee order, the public at large was eager to dissect and discuss the incident ad nauseam.

This was no different.

Another elbow strain. Tommy John for sure. She’s out for the season.

No, it’s just a jammed finger I think. They probably wanna make room on the roster, try out some of the newer prospects in AAA.

But did you see her favor her left hip last week? Her landing was off the entire game against the Rockies. It’s gotta be that.

And, of course: Well, what if she’s pregnant?

By far, that was the most popular explanation.

If it weren’t also 100% correct, Ginny probably wouldn’t be so annoyed about it all.

Then again, the sheer number of times a possible Ginny Baker pregnancy had been rumored and reported on—She walked out of a restaurant with her hand on her stomach? Pregnant. Had a less than stellar outing on the mound? Super pregnant. Sent Mike out to CVS to get tampons because she couldn’t be bothered to pull herself together enough to leave the house? Obviously trying to cover up the fact that she was, you guessed it: pregnant—someone had to hit on the truth eventually.

It was cold comfort.

It’d be a little funny if it wasn’t her uterus constantly under such scrutiny. And if she hadn’t had all these hormones flooding her system for the past three months.

As it was, Mike was much better situated to find the humor in the situation. He was currently sitting by her side on the couch, one arm draped casually over her shoulders, reading out the responses he liked the most and counting the number of people who’d finally gotten it right. He could afford to find it all funny, though. He’d only been involved in the parts that were fun for them both.

Which wasn’t precisely fair, Ginny knew.

In the three or so weeks since Ginny’d told him the news, her husband had been on cloud nine. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t been trying for this in the general sense—they both wanted kids, but Ginny was still going strong and Mike was willing to wait—but they hadn’t put a lot of effort into it. (Aside from getting as much practice in the baby-making department as they could.)

So, Ginny’d gone off to Spring Training, not once suspecting what might be forming somewhere behind her belly button.

Not until she couldn’t stop throwing up.

It was so bad, she’d had to skip a start. She’d told Al it was just the stomach flu, and even believed it. Only his skeptical smile and insistence on a doctor’s appointment made her wonder if it was something else.

Needless to say, the skipper’s suspicions paid off. She was pregnant. Nearly nine weeks along.

Ginny will never, as long as she lives, forget the look of awe and tender devotion that took over Mike’s face as she told him, shell-shocked and jittery and still happy as hell, that he was going to be a dad.

His hand came up to cup her cheek, and Ginny could feel the way his fingers trembled. Just like his lips as he swallowed, eyes shining. “I’m gonna be a dad?” he repeated, like he needed to hear it again, just to be sure.

She nodded, covering his hand with hers, and finally letting the brilliant, excited grin spread across her face. “Yeah,” she breathed, just before he crashed into her, his lips stretched just as wide as hers.

And how could she help but laugh when he wrenched himself away, his hands fluttering uncertainly near her stomach. “Shit! Are you all right?”

“I’m pregnant, not fragile,” Ginny promised, though Mike still looked doubtful. To prove her point, she pulled him back in and set about showing him how tough she was.

Since then, Mike had been pretty reluctant to leave her side. Which made the one road trip she’d been on something of an experience. He hadn’t been able to come up with a plausible reason to follow the team to New York and Philadelphia, but Ginny had no doubt that he’d really tried. He’d had to settle for hourly text updates, and when she was too busy to reply, pumping his former teammates as subtly as possible for information on her condition. Since more than one of those teammates asked when Mike had gotten such separation anxiety, Ginny figured he was semi-successful.

Which was why she knew that Mike was secretly relieved the team had elected to put her on the DL rather than risk complications.

If she was being honest, Ginny was relieved, too. Unexpected or not, she’d already grown attached to the little bundle of cells growing inside her. Much as she loved her job, she wasn’t as disappointed to give up a season as she’d once thought she’d be. Then again, after four seasons in the show, Ginny no longer had to battle and grind and push to keep her spot in the rotation. No, she’d probably never move much beyond her spot as the number five starter, but her ERA and win-loss record spoke for itself. She wasn’t going anywhere.

Even after a baby.

So, the public could speculate and take to Facebook and Twitter to talk about her all they liked. They couldn’t change the fact that Ginny Baker was living the dream: a starting pitcher in MLB, married to the love of her life, and expecting her first child.

That was real. That was tangible, unlike all the talk currently flooding the internet.

And real life, the life where Mike’s fingers were toying with her hair and she could smell their dinner simmering away on the stove, that was what mattered.

People said pregnancy was magical.

Ginny had more than a few doubts on that front.

Going into this, she had no illusions that her North Carolina public school sex education had been anything close to adequate. Which was why she’d set out to fill in the gaps in her understanding.

(Not the process of making the baby—she had plenty of experience with that, thank you—but what came after.)

And the more she read about pregnancy, with all its potential dangers and complications—the more horrified she became.

“Did you read this?” she demanded throwing What To Expect When You’re Expecting on Mike’s cluttered desk.

He peered at the book for a second before glancing up to her, his reading glasses slipping down his nose. Which just wasn’t playing fair. He knew how Ginny felt about his glasses.

(In fact, it was potentially those exact feelings that would wind up taking all of Ginny’s research out of the realm of theoretical and landing it squarely in reality.)

“Which part?” he hedged, closing his laptop and giving her his full attention.

That was one of the things about Mike. It didn’t matter how irrational Ginny knew she was being, he always treated her concerns and fears with nothing but complete gravity. And he never tried to talk her down without knowing what those concerns were.

She swallowed. “All of it?”

“Not yet,” he answered honestly. “I kind of figured we had time on that front.” His eyes narrowed and darted down to her flat stomach before landing back on her face. “We do have time, right?”

“Yeah,” she laughed, which was apparently all she’d needed to let this pile of worries melt away for the time being. Ginny wouldn’t forget the things that’d scared her, but Mike was right. She didn’t need to worry about them now. “We’ve got time.”

But that was before she found out she was pregnant.

In the after, Ginny had become remarkably zen about it all. Sure, she’d probably see pimples in places there hadn’t been since she was an acne-prone teenager and later she’d need to pee every fifteen minutes and the mood swings didn’t sound like a walk in the park, which was to say nothing about the changes she’d have to make to her diet, but—

(And it was a pretty big “but.”)

But at the end of it all, she’d have someone who was the perfect blend of her and Mike. Someone who was proof positive of how much they loved each other. Someone to add to their family.

And that was a fair payoff for what Ginny would have to go through to get to that point, she thought.

Just. She didn’t always have to be reasonable about it, did she?

In retrospect, Ginny would acknowledge that she could’ve been less dramatic. But her whole life, she hadn’t been able to eat cilantro without thinking about the time her pop washed her mouth out with soap for repeating the curse Evan Larson had taught her in pre-K Sunday School. Now, she nearly ate half of Livan’s sopes before he remembered to tell her he’d asked for extra of the disgusting herb.

What the hell had pregnancy done to her taste buds?

She’d honestly thought Mike would find the story funny, maybe even figure out how to get it down to 140 characters so he could tweet about it.

(He’d really gotten into social media post-retirement. Eliot had been more than delighted to give him a tutorial that first winter, and soon, Mike could give the best of them a run for their money. Privately, Ginny thought he mostly used it to avoid finishing the memoir he’d insisted on writing himself, but whatever made him happy.)

She certainly hadn’t expected him to send out a panicked group text to nearly every one of their friends and acquaintances asking if they knew of her whereabouts. Since she’d been in the clubhouse, trying to keep up appearances that this assignment to the DL was injury-related, approximately half her teammates came rushing into the dining area to check on her and make sure Livan wasn’t in the process of murdering her or something.

Since the Cuban was too busy laughing his ass off at Ginny’s distress, which, while rude as hell, wasn’t going to kill her, most of them wandered off to finish their pre-game prep. Still, not a single Padre had any desire for their former captain to burst into the clubhouse in a haze of Ginny-induced panic. As team captain, Blip took it upon himself to inform his predecessor that his wife and future offspring were fine and headed home.

It wasn’t that Ginny didn’t feel bad for worrying him, but she also felt he could afford to take a step away from the edge of constant panic. Some time after that haze of blissful anticipation wore off, Mike dove headfirst into preparation mode. He called it nesting; Ginny'd call it something else. Currently, he was in the midst of trying to baby-proof the entire house and refusing to believe that they didn’t need a toilet lock for at least six more months.

(Ginny did her best to distract him when he really got going, and while there was a certain novelty in being the calm and steady one now, there were only so many times she could lure him back to bed—or the couch or the shower—without raising his suspicions.)

So, she listened to her captain and went home to talk Mike down. After all, the team wasn’t wrong in assuming it was only a matter of time before Mike burst into his former domain, wild-eyed and terrified.

When she walked in the door, it was to that exact sight.

Mike had clearly been pacing a hole in the floor, his car keys clutched in one hand, like he didn’t quite trust Blip’s report and was fully prepared to rush out if Ginny didn’t make it home quick enough. Any exasperation she might have felt faded away at the palpable fear etched across her husband’s face.

The keys dropped to the floor when he caught sight of her. In no time at all, he had Ginny wrapped up in his arms, his face pressed into her hair as shuddering breaths wracked his frame.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, smoothing her hands up and down his back. The muscles there didn’t quite relax, so she rucked up his shirt, laying her palms against his warm skin. By degrees, his breathing evened out, all while Ginny promised, low and sure, “I’m fine. We’re fine.”

He nodded but didn’t loosen his grip on her.

“Are you okay?”

Mike nodded again, and Ginny felt the precise effort it took for him to make the high-wire tension of his muscles loosen, approaching something close to normal. She pressed a kiss to his collar bone and another to the base of his throat, waiting until he sighed.

Finally, she tipped her head back to look him in the eye. There were still more than a few jitters clanging around somewhere in that head of his, but he looked far more settled than he had been.

“The sky’s not falling, Mike. I’m not gonna tell you not to worry, but this is a good thing, what we’ve done. Let’s enjoy it.”

“Okay, Gin,” he said, nodding his agreement. He’d follow her calls for this. There was still a hint of uncertainty in his eyes, but his smile was steady.

That was a start, and, with them, a start was all they needed.

After Ginny asked Amelia to issue a statement about the impending addition to the Baker-Lawson family, she sort of expected to be done publicly talking about the state of her uterus.

She was pregnant. She and Mike were very happy about it. She and the developing fetus renting out her womb for the next however many weeks were healthy.

What else did anyone need to know?

How she’d ever deluded herself, Ginny would never know because within minutes of the statement going live, the news had exploded across the internet. It probably didn’t help that it wasn’t just ESPN and Fox Sports reporting on it. No, gossip sites and blogs had picked it up, too, and run with it.

Which was to say nothing about Twitter.

All it took for people Ginny had never heard of, people she’d never meet or even pass on the street, to weigh in on her pregnancy was a valid email address and an internet connection.

And they were all led by none other than her husband and his crusade to make #BabyBawson a thing.

If Mike was disappointed that she’d nixed all of his social media-based pregnancy announcements, he’d gotten over it quickly. He didn’t respond to every congratulatory tweet, but only because it was an impossible task. As soon as he’d get done with the last of them, a hundred more would’ve been posted.

When Ginny’d asked him to enjoy the ride, she was pretty sure this wasn’t what she meant.

But, he was happy, and it was hard to argue with that.

In fact, a lot of people were happy about this baby. People were excited for her, which was a gratifying change from the usual reaction when Ginny’s name was in the news.

It was pretty overwhelming, too, if Ginny was being honest. Overwhelming enough that she mostly elected to stay off social media.

If only her friends had gotten the memo.

Not that Ginny even minded Evelyn sharing this. It was different when it was her closest friend sharing her excitement.

Ever since she first found out, Evelyn had been her rock. Evelyn was her only good friend who was also a mom. She was the only person Ginny could talk to about all the changes her body was going through or about what to expect next.

After the requisite congratulatory hugs and celebrations and check ins, Evelyn Sanders got down to business, peppering Ginny with enough information to make her head spin. Everything from the various pros and cons of a midwife versus a doula to the nitty gritty details of breastfeeding to the best yoga positions to keep her back from getting too sore once she'd swelled up like a blimp was laid on the table.

“Oh, and we still have all the parenting and pregnancy books, so don’t worry about buying those, either.”

Ginny laughed, the weight of keeping this secret from her best friend lifting off her shoulders. “Ev, the boys are twelve! Were you just waiting for this moment?”

“Yes,” she responded immediately, setting Ginny off again. “I tried to donate them once, but Blip snuck them out of the box like I wouldn’t notice. I don’t think he’ll mind them going to you two, though.”

Blip hadn’t quite given up the dream of a baby girl Sanders, but he’d gotten much more philosophical about it all. With Ev back in school, and getting her business up and running, he could admit that the past few years wouldn’t have been ideal timing to add on to the Sanders clan. Anyway, he and Evelyn were still young; they had time.

Maybe—just maybe—by the time Mike and Ginny were done with the books, Blip and Ev would need them again.

After all, it'd be kind of nice for their families to have two generations and three sets of best friends.

So, the fact that Evelyn was ecstatic for her, that was nice to know, nice to have everlasting proof of, even if the world got to know about it, too.

And anyway, Evelyn’s online exuberance didn’t have anything on Mike’s.

He was an excited first time dad. How could Ginny blame him?

Honestly, though, it didn’t bother her that people were talking about her. Not really. Sure, it was one thing for her husband and friend to talk about how excited they were and an entirely different one for a stranger to do it. That was more than a little strange, but she’d mostly accepted that that kind of attention was a part of her life now; ever since Ginny first started making waves in the minors, people had been talking about her. If she let it bug her, she’d never get anything done.

Just, she didn’t particularly want to deal with it herself.

So, she did her best to shrug off her clogged notifications on Twitter and Instagram and go about the business of growing another person inside of her.

And, lately, fending off some of the truly ridiculous cravings that had taken over her refrigerator and life.

The cravings, when they came, were no surprise. Remember, Ginny’d done her research. If anything, she’d been looking forward to them. Someone who’d already enjoyed her food, Ginny looked forward to a period of judgment-free eating. After all, was eating banana peppers on everything for a week straight that much stranger than some of the “health” foods her trainer had tried to convince her to eat?

She knew what Mike would say, but the little disagreements were what made a marriage interesting.

But while Ginny—and Mike, who had cheerfully taken on the sudden increase in grocery store runs—took these cravings in stride, the same couldn’t be said for the public at large.

Ginny’d always liked food and had never bothered to pretend she didn’t. But, since she was a woman in the public eye, this was often treated as some sort of alien anomaly. People always wanted to know what she was eating: her game day meals, what she had on cheat days, secret diet tips.

Of course her cravings were no different.

Between Ev and Mike, people had definitely clued in and picked up on the fact that Ginny had really settled into the inexplicable cravings stage of pregnancy. There was tons of advice pouring in from all over the world. How to deal with it and what to do when they were impossible to sate. It was all incredibly sweet, even if Ginny couldn’t sympathize with the impulse to send a total stranger pregnancy advice..

Less sweet—more puzzling—was how invested people continued to be in these cravings of hers.

In retrospect, it shouldn’t have been so surprising that run of the mill pregnancy cravings had become such a fixation for people. The public at large was hungry for details—#BabyBawson had trended at least three times—that Mike and Ginny just weren’t providing. Since they’d chosen not to find out the sex of the baby, debates about possible names or future careers were too theoretical to keep anyone’s attention, and even though her and Mike’s relationship had caused something of a stir when they first went public, they’d now settled hard into boring domesticity. Well, Ginny wouldn’t call it boring, but she could see how cozy dinners at home and trips to the farmers market didn’t exactly make for riveting news.

Aside from Mike’s unbridled excitement, the only information anyone really had about Ginny’s pregnancy were the cravings. Where else would all that curiosity fixate?

It wasn’t until she came across Mike taking a picture of their grocery list, though, that Ginny realized just how fixated it was.

He frowned down at the pad of paper sitting on their kitchen table, next to the neglected bags of groceries and his keys. As Ginny started putting things away, approvingly noting that he’d anticipated her sudden desire for Nutella and bananas on toast, Mike squinted up at the overhead light and shifted, his shadow moving away from the table.

“What are you doing?” she asked, already unscrewing the jar. Why wait for toast, anyway? A spoon was good enough.

“Taking a picture,” he replied absently.

Ginny rolled her eyes, not that Mike noticed. She drifted over to his side and propped her chin on his shoulder, peering down at the phone in his hand.

“Are you seriously posting our grocery list to instagram?”

“Our third grocery list this week,” he corrected, bumping her hip with his, but failing to dislodge her.

Ginny just laughed, leaning harder into his side. She didn’t pay much attention as he picked his filter and fiddled with the settings; she was too busy planning on getting him back in bed for an afternoon nap. When he made a satisfied noise, though, she turned her attention back to the screen and couldn’t help but laugh again.

“What?” Mike asked, grinning down at her.

“Our unborn baby does not need two hashtags. It doesn’t even need one!”

He laughed, too, and kissed her forehead. “That’s not what the internet thinks, Gin,” he said, and sent the picture out into the world.

Whether he meant to or not, with just one post, Mike set off a verifiable social media movement. Seriously, when Eliot looked into it, he couldn’t help but be impressed by how quickly the hashtag took off.

The one time she brought herself to look at the search results, it was mostly full of people talking about how cute it all was, how excited Mike was about her pregnancy.

Ginny couldn’t disagree.

He was cute. Ginny’d lost track of the number of pictures of onesies and maternity shirts he’d texted her, mostly without comment but the intent clear. Still, she had every single one saved in a folder on her phone. Going to Target with him had become next to impossible since he always ended up in the baby aisle, staring in awe at all the tiny shoes and blankets and toys.

If Ginny’d thought about it, a picture of that—bearded, take no shit Mike Lawson undone by the sight of some baby essentials—would’ve blown #EatWithBabyBawson out of the water.

As it was, she liked getting to keep that part of him all to herself.

Even if the internet was blowing up with her eating habits as fast as Mike could supply them. She’d leave the social media stuff to him.

But then her teammates had to go and get involved.

Technically, there was no reason for Ginny to keep going into Petco. She wasn’t actually injured. It wasn’t like she had to check in with the team trainers or make sure she was keeping up with her workouts. Which she was; Ginny might be taking more naps than she was used to, but even pregnancy couldn’t completely erase her practically boundless energy.

Then again, she’d spent her entire adult life in and out of stadiums. It didn’t feel right to be anywhere else during baseball season.

Her teammates were generally pretty good about her and her growing baby bump’s presence in the clubhouse. There were enough dads on the team that no one hassled her.

Well, not in ways she couldn’t take.

Ginny didn’t care what anyone said. That omelette was delicious. She even got Jean-Luc to try it and in spite of his refined Parisian sensibilities, he’d admitted she was on to something.

So had every Padre that she’d convinced to take a bite.

Which was, admittedly, a pretty small group. Not that she could blame them considering how territorial she’d been over her bag of Funyuns the other day. Sonny was just too busy smarting from the way she’d smacked the snack out of his hands to admit to her culinary genius.

And really, they were just lucky she hadn’t shown up with the peanut butter and olive kick she’d been on the week before.

In protest, Ginny resolved to steer clear of the clubhouse for a while. See how much they liked having the clubhouse menu go back to skinless chicken breasts and steamed vegetables every meal. They’d beg to have her back in no time flat.

Habit was a hard thing to break, though, and the following day, Ginny found herself back at Petco Park. Frowning, she stared up at the familiar facade outside the players’ entrance. She couldn’t go inside. Not if she wanted to teach her ungrateful teammates a lesson.

So, rather than winding her way to the clubhouse, deep below the stands and concession booths, Ginny decided to stay well above ground. Cheerfully, she circled around to the front gates, calling Eliot as she walked.

It’d been a long time since she’d actually had the chance to sit and watch a game; she might as well take advantage of the opportunity. And since Mike was knee deep in edits to his memoirs, Ginny figured her beleaguered social media manager was the perfect recipient for her second standing ticket.

After all, she’d put him through quite a bit lately. Even though Ginny still replied to the tweets and Instagram posts from her friends and teammates and whoever else Eliot deemed appropriate on her own, he took care of the rest.

And the rest was substantial.

Technically, this was well above his pay grade. As Vice President of New Media in the Slater Management Group, monitoring one client’s social media presence should’ve been well beneath his notice. But Ginny didn’t quite trust the horde of interns and associates Amelia’d hired to form the base of her sports agency empire.

And anyway, Eliot was a bit of a pushover. Supply him with enough snacks, and he’d do anything.

Ginny wasn’t exaggerating. She really could only go so fast, which was its own adjustment to make. In spite of all the eating she’d been doing, she hadn’t put on a ton of weight. It was the bump that slowed her down. Practically overnight, it’d blown up, delighting Mike who already had a hard time keeping his hands off her.

Where before she’d been able to hide the swell in loose tops and baggy sweatshirts, there was now no denying that Ginny Baker had been knocked up, and Mike couldn’t be any more smug about it.

“You popped,” he grinned, coming up behind her as she frowned at her reflection in the mirror. This shirt had fit just last week. How was it pulled so tight now?

His hands landed on the fullest part of her belly, and Ginny couldn’t even bring herself to roll her eyes. Instead, she turned slightly to the side to better observe the molehill that’d become something of a mountain.

“I guess I did,” she finally laughed, leaning back against Mike. “It’s not so bad, right? I mean, as long as I don’t get bigger.”

Wishful thinking.

That’d been a few weeks ago and it seemed like all Ginny’d done since then was get bigger.

She didn’t feel slow per se, but she was suddenly so much more conscious of how she had to navigate spaces. Not only did she have to escape the grasping hands of strangers—Seriously, what about a pregnant woman’s stomach made people so eager to reach out and touch?—she had to plan her routes differently, allow herself more time to make it from Point A to Point B. Ginny could no longer slip through crowds or skip down the stadium stairs without a second thought. Maybe Mike and his worries had rubbed off on her, but she was conscious of every step she took now, careful in the extreme.

If some of her teammates were more than willing to poke fun at her for this, Ginny didn’t really mind.

After all, she was more than capable of getting them back.

(Like he could’ve said anything else when she knew exactly where he slept. Still, Ginny made sure he knew exactly how happy his response had made her the first chance she got.)

And he didn’t keep his petty vengeances to the internet, either.

He did look to it for his inspiration, though.

During the All-Star Break, for those Padres unlucky enough to neither be selected to the team nor have any real plans to get out of it, Mike hosted what he named: “Top Chef: Not-So All-Stars.”

He thought it was funny, at least.

It was less a cooking competition than an excuse to make his former teammates come congratulate him on his impending fatherhood and bring food along with them.

Ginny did taste test every dish, though. Less because she wanted to rank them and more because she wanted to see what their wives and girlfriends had to put up with on a regular basis.

Either being pregnant was messing with her tastebuds more than she’d thought, or her teammates were less of a disaster in the kitchen than she’d expected. Nearly every single one of them produced something that Ginny wouldn’t mind eating. Most of it even passed Mike’s more exacting standards.

“Did you seriously make Lorena eat this last time she was pregnant?” he asked Salvi, peering suspiciously at the casserole dish.

“Make her? It was all she’d eat for four days straight. I though I was going to have to invest in Ore-Ida to keep enough tater tots in her house to keep her and the boys fed.”

Mike still looked skeptical.

“Just try it, old man,” Ginny teased, already trying to decide which of her teammates’ cooking she was going to try next. Omar’s ropa villeja looked pretty promising. “Or Salvi’s gonna think you’re chicken.”

When the first baseman started clucking under his breath, Mike swept a mutinous glare between him and his wife, who definitely wasn’t holding in a burst of laughter, and scooped a heaping forkful into his mouth. After a long moment of thoughtful chewing, he swallowed and pronounced, “That was disgusting.”

Ginny didn’t bother reining in her laughter after that.

It wasn’t just her teammates and friends that got in on the fun, though. Ever since Mike had created #EatWithBabyBawson, people had been adding to it like crazy. Eliot always made sure to tell her when it trended in San Diego.

Which was essentially every other day.

Mostly, it was people documenting their sightings of Ginny in the wilds of the city, creating a spotty map of her movements and the evolution of her cravings from day to day.

Needless to say, as Ginny’s food swings (as Evelyn had taken to calling them) rolled on and on, there were many points of data to add. Hundreds of little incidents between Ginny and fans, all documented for posterity on social media.

And Mike encouraged them.

If they were approached in a restaurant and Ginny was feeling up to it, he always cheerfully took a picture of his wife and her fan and often even sweet talked his way into getting a copy of the photo for himself. Ginny wasn’t unconvinced he wasn’t saving them in a scrapbook somewhere.

He certainly had more than enough material.

If Ginny wasn’t feeling up to it, though, Mike was the best buffer in the world. Even if he weren’t naturally charming, he’d learned over his close to two decades in the show how to interact with fans, how to joke and cajole and make a stellar first impression without doing all that much. It was one of the things Ginny admired about him. While she could fake her way through any number of uncomfortable interactions, Mike hardly ever got uncomfortable in the first place. He was too easy in his skin for that.

Either way, the sheer number of positive Ginny-and-Mike interactions with the citizens of San Diego certainly had to be laid at Mike’s door. The bigger Ginny’s belly grew, the testier she got.

While she was always grateful for fans and their support, she was more than happy to leave their appeasement to Mike. After all, he wasn’t the one growing a whole new person.

And he was more than happy to take that responsibility. Especially since it meant he got to trawl the internet for more fodder for the scrapbooks he swore he wasn’t making.

He showed the last one to her as they sat in bed at the end of a long day at the beginning of August. There were still two months to go until Ginny’s due date, but she couldn’t imagine getting bigger. Lying flat and looking down her body, she couldn’t see her toes unless she lifted one swollen ankle into the air. Which she did to frown at how fat her feet had gotten.

She paused in this endeavor, though, when Mike waved his tablet at her. Ginny obligingly took it and skimmed over the story. When she was done, she handed it back and informed him, “I don’t even wanna know how you find this stuff.”

“Then I won’t tell you,” he replied, prompt, before raising one eyebrow at her. The grin on his face had her melting even before he teased, “Sounds like someone’s got a crush on you. Should I be worried?”

Laughing, even as a little foot drummed away inside her belly, Ginny teased, “As long as you don’t cut off my animal style fries like you did all my cheese plates.”

“Listeria’s no joke, Baker.”

She waved him off, but plucked one hand from his tablet and laid it low against her stomach. What only a few months ago had been a slight flutter against her insides had become a definite kick. Mike’s face lit up and he abandoned his device and scooted down the bed so he could press his ear to the dome of her belly. Ginny watched fondly, even when the kicks shifted to her kidneys.

“Once this thing’s out of me, I’m eating so much brie, Lawson,” she promised.

“I’ll buy up all the cheese in France if that’s what you want,”

“And the wine, too?”

“So greedy,” he laughed, lifting up so he could press a kiss against her smiling mouth. When he pulled away, he said, “Whatever you want, Gin. It’s yours.”

“Just you. Just you and this one,” she said, laying her hand back against her stomach, right next to his.

“Sounds good to me.”

By the end, Ginny wouldn’t say that she completely understood the dynamics of #EatWithBabyBawson, but she’d also accepted that that was okay. It didn’t matter that she had no clue what most of these people got out of it.

There was something, and it didn’t matter that she was on the outside of it.

What she did know was how lucky she and her unborn baby were to have so many people in the world who cared so deeply about them. These were good people who wanted only the best for her and her family, and were trying to make sure, in whatever small ways they could, that she had an easy pregnancy.

(And if she got some excellent restaurant recommendations out of it, that was just a bonus.

Ginny’d be lying if she said she didn’t go out and try each and every one of these. They did not disappoint, either.)

So while her cravings had settled down and she was back to mostly eating like herself, she still appreciated the fact that people took time out of their day to worry about her.

These were good eggs. Ginny didn’t completely understand them, but she was grateful for them nonetheless.

Which was why, even minutes after her water broke, while Mike dashed around the house collecting her go bag and going through his three separate checklists, Ginny sat down at the kitchen table.

Waiting at her place was the snack she’d just made for herself. Nothing fancy— the opposite of fancy, in reality—but she’d really been looking forward to eating it. Maybe it was the prospect of her own child’s nearing due date, but Ginny’d been thinking about her own childhood lately, and an after school classic sounded delicious.

She was just coming back to the table with a glass of water when she felt something wet spill down her legs.

Frowning at the still full glass, reality didn’t set in until Mike cursed behind her.

“Did your water break?” he asked, faint.

“I think it did,” she replied.

And he was off, leaving Ginny to contemplate her uneaten snack.

Mike rushed back into the kitchen, looking pale and eager and vaguely nauseous, just as Ginny fished her phone from her pocket and gingerly eased into her waiting chair.

“Ginny, what are you doing?” he demanded, sounding like he’d love nothing more than to pick her up bodily and deposit her in the car so they could dash off to the hospital.

“Taking a picture,” she snarked back. Her fingers flew over the keyboard as Mike shifted impatiently at her side. Once everything was just how she wanted, she tapped the screen one last time and sent the picture out into the world.

Only then did she turn to look at Mike and, with a smile, say, “What are you waiting for? Let’s go have a baby.”

#Bawson fic #Bawson #Pitch #Pitch fic #i wrote something #slash it should also be #i made a thing #like why was a fic this photoshop intensive?#because i wanted to do the Most™#that's why #it was fun though #i don't recommend reading this on mobile #thanks to everyone who #made sure i didn't have to come up with #usernames

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cosmosogler · 7 years

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hi guys. today when i did the pokemon lottery i got the last three prizes in a row. kind of incredible considering they are all five-star lottery stalls and so usually pay out in the middle range with some high and low spots. i also got nothing in the haunted house treasure hunt thing. i’m not annoyed about it, just kind of baffled.

anyway i got up at a decent hour today! i had weird dreams about interacting with family again. i was at a “hospital” although really it was more of an amphitheater, and it took on that function a few minutes later anyway. i was with my family celebrating something but i was real sore from my gallbladder surgery so i didn’t really want to move around much. i didn’t take any painkillers last night so maybe the soreness just translated over.

at the end i guess i was tasked with tracking down a rogue a.i. in like a giant mall? i noticed it wasn’t really doing anything wrong besides acting shifty though. it was a complicated feeling. like, i knew things could easily go south real fast (especially with me physically out of commission), but i also wanted to trust the machine to do the right thing, but i knew that might not be very likely considering the way other people treated it. it was like a weird hope for the best and acceptance of the worst at the same time. i guess that’s pretty relevant to my life right now.

i got a haircut. just a trim. it does feel shorter. but i look like a dweeb with the stuff she put in my hair to make it lay straighter. dad and i brought home takeout chinese food for lunch. that made me... pretty sick, but not painfully i guess.

so after that i basically just waited around for mom to get home. mike squeezed eve in for an appointment today in the afternoon so mom was coming home early to take eve over to his office. since dad wouldn’t be able to drive her all the way out there and back and still have time to finish everything before work. i did some chores in the backyard with dad and my brother - basically just helped my brother with the patio furniture and picked up some stray dog toys laying around the yard. i didn’t do any heavy lifting or anything but i was still pretty sore and tired by the time mom got home.

i was happy i’d spent a little time giving eve a good rub-down again before we’d gone outside. she burned her feet a little bit on the driveway. i was glad to see she remembered to run straight to the shade of my brother’s car while we waited for mom to unlock her car doors. it’s been a while since she’s needed to do that. i remember when we had to emergency panic-teach her that one time we were hiking in sedona. taylor and i had to take off our socks and i think we used uma’s hair ties? to tie the socks to eve’s feet to give her a little cover. i’d sprint to the next patch of shade and call her over and she caught on that the shade didn’t burn real fast. then when we got to the creek eve jumped in before we could get the socks off. so taylor and i had muddy-red socks after that.

anyway we drove to mike’s office and i tried to bribe eve with the cookies they keep in the waiting room. she wasn’t having any of it though. we got her into one of the patient rooms and i sat with her while mike and his tech did a quick physical examination.

all things considered we got the best possible news. mike said she was in good health other than cancer leg, and he could fit her in for an amputation in a week. so that would give me a week to take care of her while she recovered before i move to florida. he reminded us that she could, of course, die for unrelated reasons (like a heart attack) at any time, but this would be the natural next step to take either way.

and eve finally ate the cookie when i offered it again. maybe because they didn’t try to take her temperature or update her vaccines or clip her nails. and she wasn’t trembling which is a big accomplishment for her!

when we were trying to get eve out of the car and into the office she got stuck between the backseat and the chair of the front seat. her leg was at a weird angle and she couldn’t move it or bend it enough to get it off the seat. so i shoved the front seat forward as far as i could to get her un-wedged.

when we got back in the car the first thing eve did was get behind the front seat on the floor and curl right up there. so i couldn’t move the seat back. so i spent the whole car ride home with my knees smashed against the glove box. mom and i discussed the pros and cons of not having an exit to our neighborhood southbound on the freeway. you have to pass our house, drive two miles down to the first exit, turn around and get back on the freeway, drive past our house again, then get on the exit and get on the frontage road and drive past our house again, and then get on the neighborhood road and get to the house. well, there’s a few ways to get through the neighborhood, but they’re all kinda slow.

it adds more than five minutes to any trip where we’re coming in from the north considering the lights on the first exit are the two worst in the city.

one is never green, and then as soon as you can cross the bridge to get back on the freeway the green arrow turns red by the time you reach the light. so you get to DOUBLE WAIT.

anyway after that i gave all the dogs a cookie. and then i wasted the rest of my evening on youtube and junk. honestly i was wiped. knowing there’s something we can do for eve... it felt like i’d been holding a big ball of energy for the last full day and when mike gave a definite recommendation it just kind of escaped and i was dead tired.

i made myself dinner but it wasn’t very good and it also made me feel pretty sick and sore. i’m still reallllllllly stiff all down my chest and side. trying to wear a bra while out in public made everything 861 times worse.

ah dang, i forgot to ask mom or dad to take me to the pharmacy. i think i’ve only got one pill left on my current prescription. the pharmacy’s got a refill ready but i still can’t drive. technically i’m not supposed to drive or lift anything “heavy” (more than 15-ish pounds) until i do the follow-up with the surgeon, but i think at a minimum i should wait ten days. usually follow-ups happen within ten days but my surgeon just went on vacation so i don’t see her for another week and a half.

prescription as in my normal pills. not the painkillers. those don’t have a refill. i’m hoping sleeping will be a little easier tonight now that i’ve gotten through a full night without taking any.

i wouldn’t write about it so much here but interacting with mother has kind of shot my confidence so i am confirming to myself that i am using my prescribed medicine responsibly and as directed.

interacting with dad... he said a lot of really hurtful things that play real easy into insecurities i have about interacting with other people. i feel like nothing he’s said after that, even after three weeks, has been as important or worth remembering.

i dunno. hearing “you don’t care about anyone but yourself” periodically over the years kinda makes you feel bad i guess? if you care about things like that. or if you’re insecure and worry about coming across as selfish and you do care about other people but you’re not very physically affectionate so they think you’re lying. hearing that kind of thing yelled in your face kind of bums you out. my other favorite is “you’re so egotistical, you think you’re too good to interact with anyone.” that’s stuck with me for a long time. i guess it’s been like 9 years now since i got that one dumped on me.

bullying doesn’t just come from classmates and your parents. other people’s parents and school administration like to get in on the action too sometimes.

boy do i just love being told what i think. “you’re not really sorry” is another Greatest Hit.

dad said more than one hurtful thing. i only gave one example here. thinking about what he said, thinking about what my parents must think about me to say things like that, makes me feel honestly kinda sick. it puts all the yelling politics sessions and car lectures in a new light. i used to think they would cast me as the “other side” in an argument because they genuinely thought i always disagreed with them forever. i told myself that was silly, they were probably just getting worked up as they thought more about whatever they were yelling at me about.

but now? i think, at least dad, does genuinely think i’m one of those “filthy idiot liberals.”

and i mean... i guess he’s right, sort of. not always. but i never told him anything about what i thought. i worry about what made him assume it was ok to decide i was his antagonist in this “argument” (lecture, yelling session) and what made him assume what my opinion on any topic was when i have never, ever told him what those actual opinions are.

like, i don’t even barely tell my FRIENDS what my political opinions are unless i am completely comfortable. what in god’s name let him know what those opinions were? does my body language give THAT much insight into my thought process? do i just look like a smug asshole all the time or something?

asher said i just look anxious and tired all the time. i don’t know how anxious and tired translates to punchably condescending, but i guess, you can see a lot of whatever you want to see if you believe in it hard enough.

i’m up late... it’s weird how these comments turn into time bombs. like i think about it even when i don’t think i’m thinking about it and then suddenly i have emotions about it? it makes it REALLY hard to figure out what’s bothering me so much i can’t work all the time. is it really just because i feel too sick to eat and that makes me tired? or is there another reason stacking on it that’s making it just too hard to work through? something half-forgotten that i don’t know how to deal with but it’s decided to cause problems anyway? why do subconscious fears make me look (and feel) really lazy all the time? what even is lethargy.

it’s disheartening to run into boundaries... the physical boundaries of your body, i mean. like i used to think i had an endless well of determination and grit that could get me through any rough situation. even though i was literally crying and angry all the time as a kid? i guess i just figured if i needed the mental/emotional energy, the motivation, i would just look into myself and find it there somewhere.

but going to college all these years, feeling suicidal some of the time, experiencing my joints locking up just from fear... that motivation isn’t actually there. it’s not hiding under any of the stones i’ve overturned at least. i can’t just keep going and going forever. i can’t just say “i won’t give up!” and then actually not give up. i don’t got the gila monster death grip.

unless... i do, and i’m just too lazy to find it? why can’t i just try harder?? is this the kind of limit that’s all in my head and my *Attitude* will make everything better? because so far when i do that, when i keep going even though my body and brain say stop, my body breaks.

mom always said i had no pain tolerance. then she found out my pain tolerance is incredible and it was just that no one believed me when i said i had severe chest pains.

then after my heart surgery was over and done with, and i still had trouble exercising, my mom attributed it to “no pain tolerance” because i was “scared that any pain is bad now that something was wrong once.”

so i guess no matter what i have no pain tolerance? i dunno.

um... i guess... the reason i put so much stock in what other people say about me, what they say about what i’m thinking or what i’m like, is because i can’t tell what i look like. i don’t have an outside perspective on myself. i depend on feedback from other people to adjust my behavior or whatever. so when i’m told or i realize that i can’t trust the feedback i’m getting from mom, or dad, or the principal, or craig or whoever, i start feeling like there’s no way i’m ever gonna figure out who i am to other people. and if i don’t know who i am to other people, how am i gonna figure out anything about myself? i need other people to tell me what i am doing so i have a name for it. my perspective is pretty bunk and ain’t very reliable.

that’s probably unhealthy too. but my reality seems to be so dramatically different from other people’s realities that i need to figure out where the overlap is. how i can change myself to act more like the things i want to act like. when i ask “am i kind?” i usually get “not kind ENOUGH.” “am i trying?” “not trying hard ENOUGH.”

i mean how am i supposed to know what i’m REALLY doing? i don’t want to have delusions about myself. i can’t have only my opinion. my opinion sucks and i hate hearing it all the time. without anyone else’s input my head turns into a hellish echo chamber and i can’t figure out how reality works any more.

i wasn’t thinking about that today, not a lot, not more than normal at least. i’m mostly just relieved that there’s something i can do for eve. i’ve never had something i can do to actively make my dog’s life better at the end of their life. bernie had alzheimer’s, or the dog equivalent. she just forgot everything. and when she stopped recognizing me and my sister, and tried to bite us, mom euthanized her basically immediately. we put a lot of time and effort into keeping randi healthy when she had cancer but even after the money we spent and stuff she died on the floor. that was mom’s biggest worry about eve. that the money she spent wouldn’t matter. jake got bloat really suddenly and like two hours later he was dead. there was just... nothing i could do in those situations. but eve might get to live for a few more months. maybe i could see her at christmas. it’s a possibility. i’m afraid to get my hopes up, but knowing the option is there...

so, i guess, i’m sad about my life. but i’m happy about eve’s. and... i’m glad i will be able to help her for that first week. even though it makes me exhausted i’m happy i don’t HAVE to think about death for another short while yet.

#tw suicide #animal death #i just talk about it no bad news actually #were both ok for now

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taran42181 · 4 years

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Losing Sean to addiction and illness...one year ago......

I’m not sure why exactly I’m writing this. Maybe because there’s not a human on this earth, I can talk to the way I can to a blank page. It’s too many layers of things and just confusing to be honest. I’m writing this with limited editing. For an English major it’s not going to be my best work, but the only way for me to get my thoughts out raw and unfiltered is to not care about the silly nuances of grammar. Perhaps that is why I chose to call this blog “Ramblings” because essentially that is what it will be.

I’m sitting here alone, for the first time in weeks. I’m grateful for the chance to quarantine safely in my home with books, tv, food, water, heat, etc. I’m grateful for the extra family time and extra sleep. However, I need my me time. I can only take so much interaction before I need to retreat for a while.

So what is on my mind..what is on my mind..is that I’m missing my brother. Actually, I’m missing my childhood family as I once knew it. Two gone, One sick and one in another state. Such is life. I’m reminiscent. I cringe typing this, because so many people have it so much worse. So many people have so many more struggles and why should anyone give a damn about what I’m missing? We all have stuff do deal with in life. I feel, I post too much as it is, about my life on social media..but I’ll never stop acknowledging Sean or my dad. I’ll just keep the details of my feelings to this blog. I can write, which I love to do, without being a “Debbie Downer,” Sorry.

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Dear Sean, You are on my mind so much. I got to text with Paul and Eric out in Colorado and damnit, I’m thankful for them. I’m thankful for Rich, too. I’m glad you had friends that loved you for you. Friends that chose you as family. It means the world to me.

I’m thinking of you Sean, because this time last year, you were dying. You were laying in a bed at CMC, struggling to breath. I’m scared of the coronavirus and devastated and anxious for the patients laying in ccu beds on vents and their helpless families. I watched what irreversible ARDS can do to someone and its downright terrifying. It’s ironic that I’m hearing what it does, when just a year ago, I was watching it happen to you.

I tried for years to shield people from your less redeeming qualities; the severity of your mental illness and addiction. It’s so easy for people to judge without knowing the person behind it all. Some people are unforgiving and I wanted to protect you from them. I didn’t see things through rose colored filters. I was tough on you a lot. I was embarrassed and sometimes even afraid for you. I prayed you wouldn’t hurt or kill yourself or accidentally hurt someone else when you were using.

You started out in life as the funniest, happiest little guy I ever knew. You were my best, and for several years, only friend. You never minded hitting record on the cassette player and being my audience when I wanted to sing Mariah Carey and Whitney Houston songs. We walked home from school together every day, and we started neighborhood clubs together. You let me boss you around and played every game I ever asked. You always thought of me when you did things and included me. We both had trouble finding our place in the world at times, but had each other.

It broke my heart when you were 16 and I was 18, and I started noticing you had been acting weird. I had never lived with an addict, and I think it took all of us a little longer than some, to notice the signs. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you from a bad choice. You made a choice, and honestly I know it was for the sake of peer acceptance, to try heroin. I’ll never forget the day I confronted you and made you call mom at work and tell her you had been using heroin and couldn’t stop. In hindsight that was a terrible decision on my part towards mom.

It would take days, months even, if I were to write about the years between this day in 1999 and April 1, 2019- the day you died. So, I won’t recount all of it. In short, you suffered all those years. We suffered as a family. We discovered you had many physical health issues, some irreparable. We discovered you had more severe mental health issues than the current mental health system was prepared for, and we saw your addiction spiral to an honestly impressive tolerance. I’ve yet to see anyone else compare. I’m not saying that as a good thing, just the reality. You were hurting, you hurt others and it was a vicious cycle. I won’t sugar coat it. You kept your distance and I tried to protect what I could of your reputation when people asked about you. The truth is your mental illness led you to some dark places and with that, you lost many friends and acquaintances. I know some people never knew you enough to form an opinion, other than a bad one. For their lack of insight into your issues, I don’t hold anything against them. I understand why people would judge harshly and detach from someone who was self destructing. However, I’m so grateful for the people that saw past the bad and remembered that there was a kind, compassionate guy in you somewhere. I’m thankful for the relatives that would ask about you, remember you at holidays and not take your isolation personal. They forgave your mistakes. They loved you and that never waivered. I hope you know that. I know you felt shame, Sean. You felt guilty and hated. I also know you just wanted to be accepted. It saddens me that some family chose to not come out here when you died. They chose to NOT be here for mom when you died. They chose to not honor you as a human being. This doesn’t refer to all of them. Only a couple. Some didn’t acknowledge your death at all! I understand and I know you do too. It’s hard with families and jobs and I hold no ill will. It’s hard, especially coming from out of state. Some of themy expressed their condolences and I was grateful. Some though, judged you and didn’t like what you had become. Maybe you had done or said things to them, and weren’t on good terms with them. Maybe because you didn’t bother to visit them or engage in their lives. Ha! If they only know what your life had become. Alas though, your death wasn’t important to them. Mom’s loss wasn’t significant. They couldn’t be inconvenienced to be here one day for mom, unless it fit their schedule. You didn’t have cancer, you didn’t commit suicide. I’m sure they were surprised it took this long. It makes me sad, but it’s their fears and ignorance that kept them away. I forgive and move on. Guess what though? your true friends and family showed up. I saw Mike and Lem and some other of your childhood friends. Eric, Paul and Rich. My friends from CMC and so many others. I’m forever grateful for each and every person who came to your service or called. Sean, the bottom line is that your life was complicated. My feelings on everything are complicated. ((sigh))).

So, having touched on all the negative stuff, I want to tell you how much you meant to me and still do. I know you knew. I told you all the time I loved you and you told me. We had so much fun together. I wish more of the world saw the Sean that I did. You were kind, funny and loving. You only showed yourself at your best to your nieces and nephews. Somehow despite it all, you managed to be a positive in their lives. It breaks my heart how much the kids miss you, especially your buddy James. When you were doing well, you were amazing. Those times in between, when I know you tried harder than anyone has tried at anything, I cherished. You had so many positive qualities. I’ve still yet to meet someone that compares to your intelligence and quick wit. You are one of a the best writers I know and could play the best pranks.

Watching you die was the hardest things I’ve ever experienced. Even harder than watching dad die. Ryan and I have talked about the comfort we find in knowing you and dad are together. Maybe dad had to die first, to be there to bring you home.

******************************************************************************

For those of you still reading that don’t know what happened when Sean died.. I’ll tell you. A quick side story though... My mother has a neuroendocrine malignancy and parkinsonism. A tiring and frustrating combination of mysterious symptoms. Anyway, much of the last few years she has been in and out of the hospital. Thankfully, we are closer to a more accurate diagnosis and treatments, but her quality of life has diminished. She was a healthy, vibrant healthcare administrator and an active board member for various community organizations in Denver. Approximately 7 years ago, was the beginning of her decline. She still lives life to the fullest though, does not look for help or sympathy, and does her best each day. She amazes me and on her best days you wouldn’t know anything was wrong!

Anyway, about two weeks before Sean died, she had a bad episode in the middle of the night. Paramedics took her to the hospital. It was awful. The next morning, I called Sean to check on him. No answer. A couple of hours later, my mom now stable at the hospital, asked me if I’d talked to him. I told her I’d keep trying. I called and called. I went over to Sean’s apartment and although I had a key, I had to break the chain lock. When I got to his room, he was in bed. He had vomit all over him and was unresponsive. I called 911 and luckily was able to get him to wake up by screaming directly into his hear. When he came to, he was lethargic and disoriented. I wasn’t able to ascertain exactly what he had taken. My only regret that day is that I didn’t go to the hospital with him. Sean’s had many overdoses. I was frustrated and relieved he woke up and thought this would be another one of his hospital admissions. My mom and Ryan have resuscitated him in the past. He overdosed and was intubated several times over the years, before the days of getting Narcan at home. (And yes, he did get lots of “tough” love too. He was in treatment many, many, many times) Sometimes treatment was hard to get because of his co-existing mental and physical issues, but my angel of a mother never gave up on him. She was scammed out of money by a “recovery coach” and hit a lot of roadblocks through the years, but she always tried to keep him alive. She never gave up hope for him. She has been judged for this, but you find out what you would do when your in situations. Anyway, enough sidetracking.

Sean was taken from his room with paramedics and police to the hospital. I fully believed he would be ok. I had to work that evening and called the hospital to check on him. I wasn’t able to find out where he was or what was happening. My mom found out he had gone into respiratory distress and had been intubated. Sean, having been intubated previously on several occasions, had repeatedly told my mom he did not want vented ever again. I’m glad we weren’t there for them to ask us, because his honest feeling was that he didn’t want to be saved but we didn’t have a written dnr and we didn’t want to lose him. In any case, he was intubated and admitted. I went to see him the next day and when I spoke quietly to him, but he woke up and started trying to talk over the vent. I told him I loved him but I was leaving because he needed to rest. I reminded the staff of his high tolerance for sedatives and told them I’d try to stay away as to not agitate him. The nurse was very sweet and understanding.

The next few days I was there in between kids activities, school and work. I tried to visit him and my mom as much as I could. Fast forward, each day Sean got sicker and sicker. I left my phone in my car one day to get coffee at wawa and when I came back I saw the hospital had called. Sean had coded, but they got him back. I went over to the hospital. I took my mom from her hospital room to ICU to see him. They did a TEE but it was negative. They told me he was septic. He had a very bad infection in his lungs. He had what you may be hearing about now on the news, called ARDS. He was so hot that I could have literally cooked breakfast on his skin. He was on a cocktail of antibiotics. Sean had pre-existing lung issues and the night before I found him, Sean had taken drugs. Which ones and what kind, I’m not sure of exactly. He had sedated himself so much, that he went to bed, drank something in his sleep (he had a bottle of orange juice with him) and he aspirated. Had he not taken too much of whatever he did that night, he wouldn’t have been lethargic and under the influence. Had he not brought orange juice to bed, he wouldn’t have aspirated. Laying in bed for a day, after choking, and his breathing diminished, made for him too become too sick to recover.

He continued to deteriorate until they could not longer keep him vented. (side tracking again, if your family member is intubated for any reason I strongly suggest you research what you can and know your rights and options). It came to a point where we had to make a decision. Sean was “out of it’ for most of the time, but he would wake up at times. It was agony because we knew he didn’t want to be vented but he needed it to live. The Palliative care doctor decided we could slowly wean him off things that made his judgement cloudy. Not immediately, but when and if, he was coherent enough, she would talk with him directly. We ask him and he communicated with head nods and pointing. He even tried writing and then he tried and pointed at letters on a keyboard. The day came around and Ryan, mom, me and the Palliative care doctor spoke with Sean. His intensivist told us his lungs would “never recover.” If he were to be take off the vent, the only way he could live was to have a permanent trach. My mom having health issues, and at the time, still a patient herself, wouldn’t be able to care for him full time. He would be likely left to live out years and years, in a nursing home on a trach. If he was healthier and this was reversible for him, it would've been a no brainer. Unfortunately, he had a lot stacked against him. The doctor explained to Sean what happens if we take the tube out. He kept motioning for us to take it out. She explained without the trach he would stop breathing eventually. He indicated in several ways, he clearly understood. For Sean, living each day was a struggle. I think even if he had a better chance at recovery, he still wouldn’t have wanted it. She asked him if that's what he wanted several times and each time, he indicated yes. I had to leave the room to not lose it and break down. So it took a while but they slowly weaned him off of the vent. He asked for Mountain Dew, his favorite. He couldn’t swallow or drink so we put the smallest amount on a one of those little mouth sponges, and gave him a taste. He coughed and coughed, but smiled. He wanted his music, so we played his favorites for him. Frank Turner, Billy Brag, mainly. (much of the music he introduced me too is now stuff I listen to regularly) The three of us spent the next several days with Sean, watching him die. We told him stories, he listened. He tried to laugh. He cried. We cried. He slowly and painfully left the world after three or four days. I can’t even remember how long it took. I told him I would get a tattoo to match one of his. He pointed to one on his arm, that he wanted me to get. The day after his death, I got the tattoo. His breathing became more difficult. His skin burned and burned and even with cooling packs, they couldn’t help him. It devastated me to see him suffering at the end of his life, even though the nurses tried their best to keep him comfortable. Each time he had what I now know is called “Cheyne-stokes” respirations, we would think the time was near, but he kept on. We told him it was ok to go and that dad was waiting. My angel mother prayed over him, with him. She sang to him and I’m damn positive she delivered him to God herself and helped him transition peacefully between the two worlds. I don’t know where she got the strength. She never left his side until the last day. I wasn’t as strong. I couldn’t handle hearing his breath sounds without crying. I’m glad my mom and Ryan could, but I know it wasn’t easy. So, if you’re still reading this long story. wow. and thank you . I feel better for having wrote it out. It’s so much to talk about. I have some really great friends that let me vent to them during it all and have been there for me still. More angels that walk this Earth. <3

I know this is jumbled and all over the place. Half talking to Sean, half talking to whomever is reading. I apologize, but it has been cathartic for me to get it out.

Sean, in the end, I love you. Your life mattered. You had many positive impacts on people. You are missed. We are grateful for having had you for 35 years and I won’t ever forget you!!

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davidcarner · 6 years

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Pros and Cons Ch 6, The Plan

A/N: "Chuck sure is stupid," or some variation thereof has been the biggest line said in the reviews. I understand, and hopefully this chapter lets you all in on why he's acting this way. I did a lot of research before I began to write this story and after the reviews begin to pile in, I realized I'd never put all this info in. It was in my head, but you guys don't know what's in there (nor do you want to know) so hopefully this helps. Guys, get ready, because things…well…they get interesting. I give you Pros and Cons Ch 6, The Plan

Disclaimer: Don't own Chuck, and don't we all need a good cuddling before bed?

Ellie sat there, stunned. She had listened to Bryce's story, and read Jack's letter. She was blown away at what had happened to her brother, and now she understood. Chuck had kept saying he didn't want to get hurt again, but the truth was, he was hung up on the woman now known as Sarah, and she understood why. Chuck was in love, and he wouldn't let himself be in love.

"Bryce, why?" Ellie asked. Bryce knew what she meant.

"It was complicated," Bryce began. He saw Ellie's eyebrow twitch. "And I'll try to make it as uncomplicated as possible. Chuck still hasn't figured it all out."

"He doesn't know she didn't con you because of him?" Ellie asked. Bryce shook his head, smiling.

"When she was arrested I went and saw her without him, and she told me everything, about how she couldn't swindle me because he was great, and she thought maybe she could be better," Bryce explained, a wistful smile on his face remembering that time some two and a half years ago. "I'll just call her Sarah so you're not confused. Sarah came over to meet me and con me, but she met your brother and he was just Chuck." Ellie smiled, knowing exactly what Bryce meant. "He had her laughing in no time and her wanting to know why some woman would stand him up. She was smitten the first night. She found out about Jill cheating, told Chuck, and he ripped her apart, because he thought he was going to be alone. He'd rather have been with Jill, and her cheating on him than alone."

"Our parents, what they've done to his ego and his psyche," Ellie muttered, shaking her head. "I mean, he wasn't a baby, and Dad was around for a while, but…Ugh." She studied Bryce for a minute. "You really don't understand why he was, and is the way he is, do you?"

"It makes absolutely no sense," Bryce said.

"Has Chuck ever talked about therapy with you?" Ellie asked. Bryce shook his head, shocked with what he was hearing. "Chuck has Abandonment Anxiety. Symptoms include, a partner who tends to give too much, or is a people pleaser, trust issues, envy of other people's relationship-"

"Oh my God," Bryce said softly, cutting her off. Ellie just waited. Bryce took a deep breath. "So, after we told Chuck, he ripped into me and into her. One of the things he implied were we would be off together and he'd be all alone." Ellie just nodded. "What else?"

"Feeling of insecurity in a relationship," she said. Bryce buried his head into his hands. "Or not believing he's good enough to have one, and settling for a less-than-satisfactory relationship." Bryce just shut his eyes with that last one. "Jill." Bryce opened his eyes and nodded.

"Jill," Bryce said. "Ellie, God, no wonder." He was quiet.

"Bryce, just tell me."

"After he ripped into us, we were both drunk, hurt, found the other attractive…" he trailed off.

"And you slept together," Ellie said, nodding, and understanding.

"The only damn time, but of course your brother walked in the next morning, apologizing for how he had been, seeing us in my bed, and assuming that we were meant to be forever," Bryce said, a little red from embarrassment. "We both knew it was such a mistake," Bryce said, hoping up and pacing. "El, he's my brother and I knew he was in love with her, but she's so…" He shook his head, a sad smile on his face. "I won't lie, there was a serious attraction there, and we were both hurt, drunk…"

"How awkward?" she asked. Bryce blushed. Ellie had never seen him blush.

"The awkwardest," he replied, making her chuckle. "I feel like today, we're finally back to where we were pre-incident."

"Incident?" Ellis asked, her eyebrows raised. "Mr. Love-Them-And-Leave-Them Bryce Larkin?"

"Does that tell you how bad it is?" Bryce asked.

"And, now he won't 'take your girl,'" Ellie said, shaking her head.

"She's not my girl, like I said, we both agreed it was a mistake," Bryce said. "Besides, even if we were a thing, like he thinks, we're not now. The biggest problem is, he thinks she's out of his league, and she thinks she doesn't deserve him."

"How does Jack know about me?" Ellie asked. Bryce grinned. "You told him about me?" Bryce nodded. She sat there a second and thought. She studied Bryce. "So, how does this work?" Bryce shrugged.

"We meet Al," Bryce said. "He's supposed to tell us everything about how to pull this off." He smiled. "Ellie, I need your help to do this. Do you think everyone deserves a second chance?" His eyes were dancing. Ellie groaned.

"I now understand why Chuck says that to irritate you," she replied, grinning. "I don't know about everyone, but Chuck does," Ellie said. "I need to meet her."

"I thought you'd say that," Bryce replied.

-ooooo-

"Chuck, I'm telling you I saw that movie with you and Bryce," Sarah said, laughing. "That was the night they arrested me." Chuck winced. She gave him a shoulder bump. "Hey, it's fine."

"That was Avengers 2, Sarah, this one is Infinity Way, it's the next one," he said, all excited. She shook her head.

"Great, wonder if they'll arrest me during the movie this time rather than after?" she asked. She looked over and his jaw had dropped. "Too soon?"

"You are awesome, you know that?" he asked. She bounced a shoulder.

"I'm aware," she said. He handed her a key. "What's this."

"A key," he replied, smirking. She glared at him, but it turned into a grin and she lightly slapped his shoulder. "You're staying here, you need to come and go when you please. You aren't a prisoner here," he said with a grin. She smirked at him. "I want you to consider this your home for as long as you want it to be. But this, this is your key."

"Thank you, Chuck," Sarah replied. "You don't know what this means." She started to tear up a bit.

"Hey, it's okay," he said, and pulled her in for a hug. She clung to him. "So, the bed," he began and paused. She pushed back and gave him a look. "Jeez, Sarah! Spend some time in the pen and your mind goes dirty!" She laughed at him. "Do we need to push it up against the wall to protect your back? Do we need to set something up, because I'm fine with you sleeping in the tub, but one night I'm going to forget your in there, and then I'll remember, and I'll make a mess." At this point Sarah was laughing so hard she was crying. She had to hold on to him to stay on her feet she was laughing so hard. She looked at him and their eyes met. He swallowed thickly. "So, uh, the security code."

"Your birthday," she said, punching it in, sobering up from that moment. "Got it." She felt the look. "What can I say, I'll never con you, but know that I do notice things."

"Sarah Walker, what all do you notice?" he asked, trying to sound affronted.

"Chuck Bartowski," she said, and paused. "Don't you wish you knew," she said in a husky voice and headed off to her room.

"Not cool, Walker, not cool," he said.

"You like it," she yelled from her room. Chuck stood there in the living room. If he was honest, he did.

-ooooo-

"So what am I trying to do again, Morgan?" he asked, taking a sip of chardonnay, talking to the microphone in front of him. He had always worked from home like this with speakers and a mike, and it occurred to him as he started that perhaps he needed a headset since he had a roommate. No that was the wrong word, or was it? He shook his head. He really didn't need the thought of Sarah and her long legs in his head right now.

"Our client swears the actual books are behind that firewall," Morgan said. "The intel all looks legit, but we need access before we can determine if it's right or not."

"And how much trouble will we get in if caught?" Chuck asked.

"You really don't want to know," Morgan answered. "Besides, Dude, when have you ever gotten caught?" Chuck typed, and was quiet. "Chuck, there's sixteen girls missing, this could -find them."

"And the authorities are ready to move?" he asked.

"Yep, they can't arrest the jerks, but they can free the girls," Morgan said.

"Well, that's something, isn't it," Chuck said. "Maybe we can stir up enough to get them to do something stupid like getting caught."

"Chuck, there!" he said, watching the mirrored monitor at his site.

"Got it buddy," he said, opening the file. "Do you need more?"

"Nope, they're going in," Morgan said. Chuck kept typing. "What are you doing?"

"Making it look like they double crossed their buyers," Chuck said.

"Dude, that may get them….oh…Chuck," Morgan said.

"Morgan, they kidnapped girls with the intent on selling them," Chuck said.

"Dude, I approve," Morgan said over the speaker.

"Me too," Sarah said behind him, tears in her eyes. She walked up to him and put her hands on his shoulders, giving them a squeeze. He was saving lives. "How old?"

"Uh, Sarah," Morgan said.

"Morgan. How. Old?" she asked.

"Between 13 and 15," he said.

"Guys, found weapon shipments information, and sent it to you," Chuck said.

"Way to go, Bartowski," Casey said. "That just got ATF involved. We got them."

"That should get us a percentage of whatever cash they have on hand," Morgan said.

"I don't care if we make a dime," Chuck said.

"None of us do on this one, Bartowski," Casey said. "But, we gotta fund this somehow."

"I know, Casey," he said. "Am I clear?"

"You're good, you did good, now get some rest and we'll see you and your new PA on Monday," Morgan said. "Welcome to the team, Sarah."

"Thanks," she said. Chuck signed out, and turned in his chair. He looked beat. Sarah didn't hesitate, she sat in his lap and hugged him. "How often do you do that?"

"Every once in a while we get something similar," he admitted. "That was the worst one to date. What really kills me is when I can't find anything and then nothing can be done."

"Nothing?" Sarah asked.

"Well, the one time it happened, Casey took a few days off and when he came back he was grinning a lot," Chuck said, shrugging. "Casey doesn't grin and the girl was returned to her parents." He looked very tired.

"Come on, Chuck, let's get you to bed," she said, standing and pulling on his hands.

"Geez, Walker," he said winking. She put a hand on his chest.

"Chuck Bartowski, play all you want, but if I was trying to get you in bed, there would be NO question I was trying, are we clear?" The smirk on her face left his knees weak. All he could do was nod. "Good, now will you sleep okay?" He shrugged. "You saved lives."

"Sometimes you think, what if we missed one?" he admitted. "What did they go through before we got there? What if we hadn't saved them?" She pulled him in. "You're very hands-on as a personal assistant."

"I'm proud of you, Chuck," she said.

"Thanks," he said. She felt him swallow. "I'm so glad you're out. I've missed just talking."

"Chuck, you have everyone, yet I have a feeling you're all alone," she said. He nodded into her shoulder, she felt it getting wet.

"I'm the only one that can do this part, and if I mess up…." He couldn't say anything more, and she held him as he softly cried.

"Chuck," she said softly. She stood there holding him until he was through. He was barely awake on his feet. She took his hand, led him to bed, and got him into the covers. She crawled in beside him, and held his head against her until he fell asleep, with her lightly running her hand through his hair, wondering how he would react if he knew this meant more to her than one stupid night of sex with Bryce Larkin.

-ooooo-

The door opened, with Carina in the lead, her gun out in front of her, Casey behind her typing in the code.

"Bryce, you and Ellie stay out, do you hear me," Carina said.

"Guys, he's asleep, you know he is," Bryce argued.

"SOP, Larkin," Casey said. "Chuck even set it up. Whenever we pull a mission like that everyone checks in the next morning to make sure no one was retaliated against. You got the master bedroom, Miller?"

"Oh, you know I do," Carina answered grinning.

"Uh, remember, we are dating," Bryce said.

"What's wrong, Bryce, scared I'll see Chuck's naked ass and leave you?" Carina asked.

"Can we leave my brother's naked ass out of this please?" Ellie begged. "Found him yet?"

"Guest room is empty, bed not slept in," Casey said. Everyone froze.

"Okay, Chuckles, here's hoping you got lucky which will answer a lot of questions," Carina said.

"Ok, I know we're worried but what if they're 'occupied' behind this door?" Ellie asked.

"That's probably a best-case scenario," Casey muttered. "I'm outside if you need backup."

"Roger," Carina said, and swung open the door. "I have one boss man clothed and not in the act of coitus."

"Chuck, Bryce, and Morgan got you to watch that show, didn't they?" Ellie muttered. "Any sign of Sarah?"

"None, but she did sleep in his bathtub the night before last, so that's where I'm going to check next," she said. Carina had already observed the bed, and it was obvious Chuck hadn't slept alone. Sarah walked out of the bathroom, and her eyebrows raised at the gun. Carina put her finger to her lips and holstered the gun. "I found Blondie, she was sleeping in the tub again," Carina said, raising her eyebrows twice toward Sarah. Sarah shook her head and put her hands together beside her head and then leaned her head over to indicate sleep. "Turning off the headset," she said. She clicked it off, and pulled out the earpiece looking over at Chuck. "You know he would get pretty worried after we'd do a job like that. He told me he always worried he'd miss one, and it weighed on him." She turned to Sarah. "I'm glad you were here for him."

"Carina, nothing happened last night," Sarah retorted.

"Oh, no, nothing happened at all," Carina replied, staring at her. "Let's get something straight, Blondie, I like you. I know about you and Bryce having sex, that was nothing. You and Chuck…heh…last night in a moment where he needed someone to just be there for him, my guess is, looking at the indentations on the bed, you held him. You, the ex-con who's been in jail for two and a half years held him all night, to keep the bad thoughts and dreams away. You soothed all his worries so for the first time after we did one of these missions he could sleep through the night. Nope, nothing at all happened in here."

"This is between us, right?" Sarah said.

"It is for now, but his sister is at the front door, and sister, I'm not getting in her way," Carina said. Sarah's eyes got wide.

"We'll talk later," she said, and began to flee, when she was caught by a beautiful brunette with a smile she knew. It had to be Ellie. "Hi," Sarah said, terrified.

"Come on, let's get you into some fresh clothes," Ellie said, leading her to her bedroom. Sarah was powerless to resist. Sarah walked in, and Ellie shut the door, leaned against it, and crossed her arms studying her. "You're quite beautiful."

"Thanks?" Sarah said, not knowing where this was going.

"I mean I get it, how you could con someone out of everything," Ellie said. Sarah winced.

"It's more than looks," Sarah said, knowing that telling the truth was probably best in this situation. Ellie nodded. "It's knowing how to read someone, make them feel comfortable, that sort of thing."

"Everything my brother needs in a PA to keep the wolves at bay, and to assist him," Ellie said.

"I would never do that to your brother," Sarah replied.

"Oh, I know," Ellie said. "They're both pretty well off now, and if you wanted something, you'd have it, I'm well aware of my brother's hang ups, but what I didn't understand was how did Stanford break him and now I see."

"What do you mean?" Sarah asked. "Ellie if this is about Jill, he had to know she was cheating on him."

"Yes he did, and you did the right thing, never let him tell you that you didn't," Ellie said. Sarah was getting more confused by the second. Ellie was studying Sarah, a slow smile consuming her face. "He thinks everyone deserves a second chance."

"I disagree," Sarah said softly.

"Oh, I think you're right, but you know Chuck," Ellie said. Sarah nodded.

"Some don't deserve a first," Sarah said softly. Ellie nodded.

"Well, that's where you are," she said, still nodding as if making a diagnosis. She smiled at Sarah. "Now I know what I have to work with. He thinks you and Bryce are supposed to be together and you're out of his league, and you think he's too good for you."

"Ellie, there is nothing going on between us," Sarah insisted. Ellie laughed.

"You don't even believe that story," Ellie said, watching Sarah redden. "You hurt him, you'll answer to me."

"I'm not chasing him," Sarah said, her eyes flashing. "I'm not." Ellie stepped forward, and undid her arms. She reached out and took Sarah's hands, and saw the tears in Sarah's eyes.

"Why the hell not?" she asked softly. "It's going to be very hard to be my sister if you don't do some chasing, he's quite dense about some things." Ellie pulled the shocked woman into a hug. "Now, get dressed, we have a team meeting, and I need to go check on him." Ellie put a hand on her face gently, and Sarah nearly burst into tears. "Welcome to the family, Sarah, you're home." She gave her a soft smile and left Sarah. Sarah looked around the room tears in her eyes.

"I'm not there," Sarah said. "Yet." Ellie hurried down the hall, excited. She passed Bryce, gave him a thumbs up, and entered her brother's bedroom.

"Everyone out, except Casey and Carina, doctor's orders," Ellie said. Chuck gave her a look.

"Sis, I'm fine, really," Chuck said, while Ellie was ignoring him and beginning to give him the once over.

"I didn't make the SOP for this, you did, brother of mine, and what kind of employee would I be not to follow the rules put down by the esteemed CEO?" Ellie asked, her eyes dancing.

"She slept in the tub," Chuck said.

"No she didn't, Chuckles," Carina answered.

"Casey, you've observed him, anything different than normal after one of these ops?" Ellie asked.

"Yes, he seems more rested, less whiny," Casey began.

"I don't whine," Chuck whined. Ellie gave him a pointed look. "Okay, maybe I do."

"And more sure of himself. If I didn't know better I'd think he got laid," Casey said. Chuck's eyes popped out of his head.

"That did not happen," Chuck said. "Sarah may have helped me get into bed, but no clothes were removed."

"That just makes it more interesting," Carina added. Chuck turned 43 shades of red.

"Carina you're embarrassing my brother a little too much this early, I need you to dial it back a hair," Ellie said, satisfied with the shape of her brother. "I give you an all clear and doctor's orders whatever you did last night, you need to every night you have that kind of mission."

"Ellie, I can't order Sarah to do that," Chuck said.

"Can't order me to do what?" Sarah asked. Ellie spun, and smiled.

"Whatever you did last night to him, you need to do after these types of missions, and you need to make sure and call in that he's okay in the morning," Ellie said.

"Why?" Sarah asked.

"Most times after one of these missions he's fidgety, emotional, and depressed, too much emotional trauma," Ellie said. "Whatever you did, you're good for him." Sarah smiled.

"So doctor's orders?" Sarah asked. Ellie nodded. Sarah looked at Chuck. "Sorry, Chuck, doctor's orders. Apparently I'm good for you."

"Yeah, you are," he said, before he could stop himself. The look on her face made him wonder if maybe he was wrong, maybe he did have a chance at something more.

A/N: Some of you are going to be okay with what I did, some of you aren't. I understand either way. This one will not be quick to fix. She's going to have to make him understand. But, it's Sarah Walker, it's Chuck, it's me. It will be okay, pinky swear. Next time, Sarah talks to Chuck about…well…her feelings…Come on back for Ch 7, Feelings. Hope you liked it, reviews and PMs are always welcomed…Take Care

#Chuck #Sarah #Charah #Pros and Cons #fanfic #fanfiction

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scholaarblog · 7 years

Text

Secret Million Dollar Amazon Listing Formula

Dear Amazon Vendor,

First of all, thank you for accepting my private invitation to view this page. I do NOT share this with just anyone, so know that you have been personally selected to read the following message…

Would you like your current (and future) Amazon products to sell even more?

Are your current listings converting at a rate below 60%?

Does the brutal, cutthroat competition make it hard to gain the edge and keep your sales as high as you’d like them to be?

Does seeing your competitors at #1 cause you concern or motivate you to beat them?

If you answered yes to ANY of these questions, then you need to take just a few minutes of your time right now to read this entire page. You’re about to discover an incredible opportunity to increase your sales, attract a stampede of traffic, and boost your conversion rate literally overnight. I KNOW you won’t be disappointed!

My name is Dana Derricks, and I’m a world-class copywriter. I have spent years researching and testing different tweaks to Amazon listings to maximize their effectiveness. Recently, my research has led me to the PERFECT solution for any Amazon vendor who would like to attract more buyers and improve conversions…

What I’ve discovered will completely change the way you sell on Amazon forever, because:

…You CAN beat your competition, explode your sales, and claim the MASSIVE market share that’s waiting for you on Amazon almost instantly… Look, I know that Amazon has a very complicated audience to try to convince…

You see, when a visitor comes to an Amazon listing, they are in a totally different mindset than a typical buyer. Amazon buyers are savvy, and they have certain triggers that get them to buy. Without these triggers, they’ll just find your competitors and buy from them.

heres the truth

Amazon is one of the toughest places to sell in the entire world. What’s the number 1 enemy of a vendor? Options. Your visitors are bombarded with options from competitors: a lower price, better quality, faster shipping, better rated product, and the list goes on and on.

The more options a visitor has, the less likely your chances of them becoming a customer of yours. You already know this.

but heres the good news

Perception is reality. If a visitor perceives YOU as the answer to their problems, even though they could get a similar product for a cheaper price, they’ll buy from you every single time. Your visitor’s perception of you NEEDS to be at its absolute best. There is no room for error on Amazon, it’s too competitive.

I know how frustrating and confusing this can be…I sell on Amazon myself, too. That’s why I’ve taken so much time to understand exactly how Amazon works, how it’s visitors behave, and what gets listings to SELL.

let me tell you a quick story

One of my favorite clients, a guy named Mike from Ohio (well, he was from Ohio…you’ll find out more about this later), is the owner of a medium sized supplement company. For a number of years, he was doing quite well. However, lately he was seeing a slight decline in sales and was finding it tougher and tougher to stay competitive. That was…until he found me.

When him and I met, he was very, VERY skeptical about how changing up the copy of his listing could help.

He hired me to rewrite just one of his Amazon listings for him. I took the time to research his target market, their needs and desires, added a few of my “magic” triggers and secrets that get products SOLD like crazy, and positioned him as the ONLY solution for them.

I sent back the copy upgrade for his 1 product and he made the edits to his listing and went live. What happened next was nothing short of amazing…

Why don’t I just let Mike explain what he thought of the copy upgrade for himself, in his words:

testimonials mike b

Now, we’re not talking about a super-niched product that went from selling 10 a month to selling 30…

Mike’s product was in one of the most competitive sections of all of Amazon…

Weight loss.

After a few weeks, the copy that I gave Mike had his sales absolutely exploding. He went from having a mediocre product on Amazon that was selling just a few hundred bottles per month, to selling HUNDREDS OF THOUSANDS of dollars’ worth EVERY SINGLE MONTH.

The screenshot tells it all:

before after mike

That increase is with absolutely NO outside promotion, NO price difference, and NO other changes besides my copy versus his.

Let’s wrap our heads around this for a second…

That’s an increase of $1,819.01 PER DAY.

Do the math… That’s $56,389.31 MORE money Mike made EVERY SINGLE MONTH because of my copy!

See how important copywriting can be, and how much money is being left on the table?

Now, how would you like to log into your seller dashboard to see that type of increase??

How would that change your business, and your life?

So…

“If you’re selling anything on Amazon… …then you NEED to listen up…!” No matter what product you’re selling…

No matter if you’re selling just 1 product a month or 50,000…

Whether you’ve got 1 product for sale or 5,000…

Whether you hire writers to write your listings or you do it yourself…

But hang on a second, before I say anything else let me ask you a question.

Is the copy for your Amazon listings optimized? I mean, REALLY optimized.

If not, you’re losing money. A LOT of money.

I promise you.

you know what

I’ll just let some of my customers tell you if this is worth your time:

testimonials amazon book

Now YOU can Cash-in on my “Secret Million Dollar” Amazon Listing Formula! That is…

If you’re ready to be able to EASILY write 100% unique, from scratch, and PROVEN copy for your Amazon listings (built SCIENTIFICALLY to position your product as the PERFECT choice for your targeted audience) that WILL produce you incredible results EVERY single time!

Or…if you don’t personally have the time…

The best part of this is how easy it is to learn. You can slap this on your secretary’s desk and in an hour s/he’ll be on their way to writing you perfectly optimized Amazon copy.

Heck, you can give this to your spouse and they can figure it out -that’s how easy it is.

Okay, okay…I’m mildly joking about that, but really it is so super easy that pretty much anybody can follow right along and do it themselves.

You can pay me (or another world class copywriter) $1,000 and up to write EACH listing you have, or you can learn how to do it yourself right now and develop a skill that’ll bring you literally thousands (if not hundreds of thousands) of dollars in sales that you don’t even realize you’re missing.amazon workbook 4

All you need to do is click below to claim YOUR copy of the #1 Workbook to Write Killer, Traffic & Conversion Boosting Amazon Listing Copy for ANY Product!

(You’ll be charged just 1 payment of $397, with NO recurring fees or hidden charges. I’m even throwing in rush shipping for FREE! Just a few days with an increase in sales, traffic, and conversions and this investment is already paid for!)

What’s all included?

A Complete Workbook, NOT Another Junk eBook –This isn’t just an eBook that sounds great and is based on theory -leaving you scratching your head as to how to implement the information you’ve learned… This is a workbook that’s based on real-life, results-based science. You’ll be working on writing your listings as you go through the book, and by the end you won’t be getting started on your listing, you’ll be finished! Oh, and no it’s not some crappy .pdf file that you’ll lose the next time your computer crashes. It’s a physical, real-life book that I’ll ship to you and that you’ll have right at your desk. The Inside Secrets to the Mindset and Behavior of Your Potential Customer –You’ll discover the inside secrets (NOT some crap that’s floating around the internet) to the mindset and behavior of your potential customer… What’s making them tick? What do they really want? Why are they buying that? You’ll quickly become a master of understanding your customer’s needs in-and-out, and you’ll find yourself easily crafting the perfect Amazon listing that sells them EXACTLY what they’re looking for! The Million Dollar Trick to Attracting the Customers that YOU Want –There’s more than one type of buyer on Amazon… There’s the impulsive, demanding, and impossible-to-please crowd that will try to get a free ride off you and after you’ve done everything (and then some) to please them, they still leave you with negative feedback. Then, there’s the smarter, fat-walleted, and easy-to-please crowd that’ll boost your sales, let you sleep peacefully at night, and leave your page filled with positive feedback over and over. Which would YOU rather go after? Create the PERFECT Traffic-Attracting & Enticing Title –You’ll be creating your own perfect, traffic-attracting and enticing titles to attract more Amazon traffic from searches, plus it will entice more browsers to open your product’s page over competitor’s! Craft Flawless, Can’t-Say-No Key Features –These will give those visitors an immediate connection and reason to read ALL the information they can about your product, and will funnel them to the description (which will close the sale) Supercharge Your Indications, Ingredients, Directions, Disclaimer –Important information about using your product, why it’s superior to other options, and how to effectively use it for maximum results (and the beginning of a happy customer) Engineer an ‘I-Need-To-Order-Now’ Product Description –Will convince ANY visitor who may be “On the fence” to give it a try, and will absolutely motivate visitors to become BUYERS (Featuring some of my own “Secret methods”). You REALLY will be blown away by this. Time-and-Money Saving Tips & Tricks To Maximize Your ENTIRE Business (Free of Charge, of Course) –I’m throwing in some of my other secrets that have propelled my own, and countless clients’, business from pretty good to “out of control”… You don’t want to miss this!

Again, this isn’t a purchase. It’s an investment.

This is an investment in your business to take out your competition in a clean, ethical, and powerful way. An investment in your business to sell a LOT more without having to spend a ton of money or make major changes. An investment in yourself to produce the results your company (or boss) is looking for.

Just make sure you take action right now.

You don’t want to look back a few weeks later and wish you would have done something today… wishing how you could have stopped letting your competition rake in the sales on Amazon and get YOUR product where it should be –On top.

So, go ahead. It really is your turn to become my next success story.

YES, Dana! I’m ready to take my Amazon listings to a whole new level, and leave my competitors scratching their heads and slamming their keyboards as they watch me blow past them! YES, Dana! I am aware that today is my ONLY chance to get your Amazon Formula Secrets Revealed Workbook at your introductory price of just 1 payment of $397. I MUST order today to guarantee that price. YES, Dana! I know that this investment is literally a fraction of the price of hiring you (or somebody else with your ability) to write just 1 of my listings! (At $1,500 per listing, that adds up quickly!) YES, Dana! I understand that my request will be processed on a totally secure server (PayPal) and, once it is processed, I will have my own workbook physically shipped to me within a week! YES, Dana! I know that by taking action today, I only pay the total of $397. There are no renewals, no recurring fees, and no other charges. This is a 1-time offer. YES, Dana! I want my listing to take claim of MORE customers and DOMINATE the market that’s waiting for me on Amazon! amazon workbook 4

It’s YOUR Time to Get this Incredible, Profit-Boosting “Secret Amazon Listing Formula” and Transform Your Business in 24 Hours or Less!

You really can’t afford to miss out on this.

Also, please note: I’m not responsible for how mad you get when you realize how much money you’ve been leaving on the table because of the copy on your listings. But, what I can tell you is that every minute you wait you’re losing money.

Now go get it back. It’s not that difficult, and will save you a ton of time and money every time you introduce a new product.

This measly $397 is going to be nothing compared to the increase in sales you’ll see. Seriously.

Give it a try right now and watch your inventory go down and your sales go up!

Secret Million Dollar Amazon Listing Formula Free Download

The post Secret Million Dollar Amazon Listing Formula appeared first on Profit Info Mastery.

Secret Million Dollar Amazon Listing Formula published first on http://ift.tt/2zeC3iy

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profitinfomastery · 7 years

Text

Secret Million Dollar Amazon Listing Formula

Dear Amazon Vendor,

First of all, thank you for accepting my private invitation to view this page. I do NOT share this with just anyone, so know that you have been personally selected to read the following message…

Would you like your current (and future) Amazon products to sell even more?

Are your current listings converting at a rate below 60%?

Does the brutal, cutthroat competition make it hard to gain the edge and keep your sales as high as you’d like them to be?

Does seeing your competitors at #1 cause you concern or motivate you to beat them?

What I’ve discovered will completely change the way you sell on Amazon forever, because:

heres the truth

The more options a visitor has, the less likely your chances of them becoming a customer of yours. You already know this.

but heres the good news

let me tell you a quick story

When him and I met, he was very, VERY skeptical about how changing up the copy of his listing could help.

I sent back the copy upgrade for his 1 product and he made the edits to his listing and went live. What happened next was nothing short of amazing…

Why don’t I just let Mike explain what he thought of the copy upgrade for himself, in his words:

testimonials mike b

Now, we’re not talking about a super-niched product that went from selling 10 a month to selling 30…

Mike’s product was in one of the most competitive sections of all of Amazon…

Weight loss.

The screenshot tells it all:

before after mike

That increase is with absolutely NO outside promotion, NO price difference, and NO other changes besides my copy versus his.

Let’s wrap our heads around this for a second…

That’s an increase of $1,819.01 PER DAY.

Do the math… That’s $56,389.31 MORE money Mike made EVERY SINGLE MONTH because of my copy!

See how important copywriting can be, and how much money is being left on the table?

Now, how would you like to log into your seller dashboard to see that type of increase??

How would that change your business, and your life?

So…

“If you’re selling anything on Amazon… …then you NEED to listen up…!” No matter what product you’re selling…

No matter if you’re selling just 1 product a month or 50,000…

Whether you’ve got 1 product for sale or 5,000…

Whether you hire writers to write your listings or you do it yourself…

But hang on a second, before I say anything else let me ask you a question.

Is the copy for your Amazon listings optimized? I mean, REALLY optimized.

If not, you’re losing money. A LOT of money.

I promise you.

you know what

I’ll just let some of my customers tell you if this is worth your time:

testimonials amazon book

Now YOU can Cash-in on my “Secret Million Dollar” Amazon Listing Formula! That is…

Or…if you don’t personally have the time…

The best part of this is how easy it is to learn. You can slap this on your secretary’s desk and in an hour s/he’ll be on their way to writing you perfectly optimized Amazon copy.

Heck, you can give this to your spouse and they can figure it out -that’s how easy it is.

Okay, okay…I’m mildly joking about that, but really it is so super easy that pretty much anybody can follow right along and do it themselves.

All you need to do is click below to claim YOUR copy of the #1 Workbook to Write Killer, Traffic & Conversion Boosting Amazon Listing Copy for ANY Product!

What’s all included?

Again, this isn’t a purchase. It’s an investment.

Just make sure you take action right now.

So, go ahead. It really is your turn to become my next success story.

It’s YOUR Time to Get this Incredible, Profit-Boosting “Secret Amazon Listing Formula” and Transform Your Business in 24 Hours or Less!

You really can’t afford to miss out on this.

Now go get it back. It’s not that difficult, and will save you a ton of time and money every time you introduce a new product.

This measly $397 is going to be nothing compared to the increase in sales you’ll see. Seriously.

Give it a try right now and watch your inventory go down and your sales go up!

Secret Million Dollar Amazon Listing Formula Free Download

The post Secret Million Dollar Amazon Listing Formula appeared first on Profit Info Mastery.

0 notes