#vernixes

[uryzagzoq]

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[zacklover24]

So here they are the oak siblings. Brought to the world of Twisted Wonderland by chance or faith and are going to Night Raven College. On top we we Sacrlet Rose oak, the brunette is Nightshade belladonna Oak, and last is Sumac vernix Oak.

Art done by the amazing @acsparkplug

[celtic-crossbow]

Blood Ties Chapter 30

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Somewhat graphic depictions of afterbirth; Breastfeeding; Newborn bodily functions; Scars and allusions to past child abuse.

A/N: Fuck me sideways, I have struggled to write since all this shit in my personal life. This chapter is pretty boring but I guess there are some fluffy aspects. And Thumper gets a name.

The tiny creature that had just been shrieking in Hershel’s grasp, was now rooting around angrily while you studied every perfect little inch of her. Her skin was pink beneath the drying, waxy mess of vernix caseosa—or whatever Hershel had called it—and blood. The old man had said if he had to guess, he would put her at about six pounds. Hilarious since she felt like she weighed thirty while you carried her. 

Her round little face scrunched up before she wailed again, disturbed from her meal-seeking venture by Carol leaning around Daryl to drape a blanket over her. When you looked up to smile at him, you found the archer studying his baby like he wasn’t quite certain about something. 

“What is it?” You asked, moving the blanket a little so he could see her better. 

“S’just—” He reached toward the bundle but withdrew. “Feels like—feels like she ain’t real.” You could see the tears brimming on his waterline, crystal droplets shining beneath the pale yellow illuminance of the van’s interior overhead light; how he would squint instead of blink in an attempt to keep them from falling. 

“Daryl, you—ow.” You placed your hand on your lower abdomen, finding it tight within a cramp even if the skin itself was slightly looser. 

“Ow?” Daryl appeared panicked but was desperately trying to keep himself together. He wasn’t doing a very good job. It was so odd to see him constantly grappling for control over his emotions when he had always—for the time you’d known him—been so careful not to allow too much to show. 

The veterinarian checked the cord to find it no longer pulsing. The contractions you were having now were mild cramps compared to before, Hershel advising you that you would need to give up your hold on Thumper to deliver the afterbirth. The archer watched as you handed off Thumper to Maggie. You wondered if he even realized why you hadn’t given him a chance to hold his daughter yet. Regardless, it was immediately apparent he hadn’t been listening in the slightest—

“Just an easy push, Y/N.”

“Wait! What?!” Daryl shouted. Meanwhile, you were clenching your fists and bearing down. It wasn’t the worst pain but considering you had just pushed a tiny human out of the same opening, you were a tad bit sore.

“Good, good. I can see it. One more push.” 

Daryl’s hand wrapped around one of your fists. You uncurled your fingers and let his slip between them. “See what?! The fuck she pushin’ again for?” The archer gave no time for anyone to answer that particular question before he was crawling and leaning above the space between your knees—just in time for the placenta to exit your body while you groaned through the discomfort. “What the flyin’ blue fuck s’that?!”

“It’s alright, son.” 

“It’s okay, Daryl.” Carol repeated. 

The archer had gone white again, swaying slightly and swallowing convulsively while scooting back toward you on his ass. You tugged gently on his hand before anyone else could interfere. “Hey, tough guy. Look at her.” God, you were exhausted but keeping your partner grounded was your priority. He had a baby to meet. Daryl’s eyes shifted to you and then behind you to the infant over which Maggie was currently gushing.

“She’s perfect.” The elder Greene daughter chuckled through her own tears. 

The hunter stared at Thumper, the color slowly returning to his skin. “Rick!” He belted out suddenly. “We clear?”

“All clear for now.” The former deputy called back, even though there was little more than five feet separating them.

“Good. Stop.” 

“Stop?” Rick glanced back over his shoulder, once and then again. “Shouldn’t we—”

“Stop the van.” This time Daryl barked the command, growing irritated. He gently extricated his hand from yours, moved toward the door, and wrapped his fingers around the handle. It was obvious he was waiting for the vehicle to come to a halt.

“Daryl, what the hell are you doing?” You queried while trying to divide your attention between him and Thumper being placed back against your skin. The baby began to squeak, working up to another bout of shrill cries before you shifted her, trying your hand at offering up a breast without any guidance. When her tiny mouth latched onto your nipple immediately, you felt a tugging sensation, but no pain like you had actually expected. 

“You’re a natural!” Carol exclaimed through her own tears and sniffles. 

Before you could offer comfort while the other woman was obviously distraught—likely reminiscing of the times just after the birth of Sophia—the van jolted to a stop and Daryl was opening the door, jumping out with his bag and crossbow, and closing it before you could say a word. 

“What’s happening?” You sat up just a little, your eyes wide. “Where’s he going? Rick?”

“Stay still. Relax.” Maggie cooed, dragging a finger tenderly down Thumper’s cheek. “Let her nurse. I’m sure Daryl’s got his reasons.” You nodded even though you weren’t truly satisfied with the answer. You were just simply too exhausted to think about it any further. Carol started handing Maggie blankets to roll up behind you. “We’re gonna getcha all cleaned up and as comfortable as we can until we can find somewhere safer, okay?”

“Just wrap this up until Daryl gets back.” Hershel spoke softly, placing a bloody blob of something onto a large piece of cloth before handing it to Carol. The sac was connected to Thumper by the slimy cord. 

“Do you think he’ll want to?” The other woman whispered. Sight and sound were starting to fizzle out. Your body was demanding rest, all reserves depleted. Thumper was suckling away, making the sweetest little snorting breaths between gulps. Maggie was wiping the sweat from your face and neck, sweeping the fabric back and forth over every inch of skin she could reach.

Hershel and Carol worked together to clean up the mess between your legs, the area swollen and sore and thank god you were so exhausted or that would have really hurt. When you opened your eyes again, you were covered with a blanket and Thumper was gone from your chest. 

“Thumps?!” You bolted upright, caught halfway by Hershel’s gentle hands on your shoulders. 

“She’s fine. You were quite out of it when she finished. Maggie tried to burp her but breastfed newborns don’t always need it. Now she’s there with Carol, getting cleaned up the best we can without warm water. The vernix caseosa can stay on her skin until she can have a good warm bath. It won’t do any harm. We just thought she could do without the other fluids.”

You nodded tiredly. “How long did I sleep?”

“Only about half an hour.” Carol answered, shuffling on her knees with the baby in her arms. “Rick grabbed the diapers from the truck and checked on everyone. She’s such a tiny thing, the newborn size almost swallows her.” She pulled the blanket away to place the baby against your skin and then covered her again with the small receiving blanket. Once Thumper settled, Carol pulled the thicker blanket over both of you. 

You felt your expression light up—casting shadows over your exhaustion—at the sight of that little face. God, she was tiny. The lack of blood revealed wisps of blonde hair, still molded flat in some places by the waxy covering. You could already see so much of Daryl in her that it—

“Where’s Daryl?”

As if summoned by his name on your lips, the van door opened to reveal the archer, clearly shivering. He tossed his bag and crossbow to the side and climbed in, rubbing his hands up and down his sleeved arms. He was clean, his hair wet while the strands appeared damn near frozen. His dirty clothing—vest and poncho included—was missing, likely in his pack. 

“Daryl Dixon, are you trying to end up with pneumonia again?!” Carol admonished. She shoved his bag out of the way quickly and tossed the last larger blanket around his shoulders. 

“C-c-couldn’a held ‘er like I w-w-was, right?” His teeth legitimately chattered, his gaze leaving Carol to look you over. “D-doin’ alright?”

You narrowed your eyes above the ghost of a smile. “Did you really go find a body of water to take a bath in the middle of winter?” 

“W-wouldn’a left ya but w-was d-d-dirty. Wanted t-to—wanna hold ‘er.” Once again, he was pale as milk but there was some color slowly seeping into his cheeks. Hershel wasn’t freaking out over his current state, so—contrary to the pressure threatening to choke you from the inside—you wouldn’t either. Daryl ran his tongue over colorless lips and ducked his head.  “If that’s alr-right?” 

Your mouth fell open, your brow furrowing while you blinked at him. Did he just— “Daryl, she’s your daughter. Of course you can hold her.” You were already moving an arm from beneath Thumper’s miniscule weight. When your hand found his, you pulled back with a hiss. “Maybe just get a little warmer first though, okay?” The archer nodded, but he still looked so uncertain. 

Hershel cleared his throat. He had remained still and silent throughout the exchange but then slowly crept down to sit on his knees at your hip. “In the meantime.” With a gesture toward Carol, he held out his hands. The cloth-clad placenta was placed onto his palms. It had apparently just been traveling around with Thumper wherever she roamed within the van. “Would you like to cut the cord, son?”

Still shivering but teeth no longer clicking together, Daryl’s expression molded into equal parts disgust and confusion. “The hell would I wanna do that?”

“It’s a tradition.” The old man explained. Carol was busy cleaning her knife with some rubbing alcohol. “It marks the start of life outside of the mother, when the father can begin to be physically involved in caring for the baby.”

The hunter brought his left thumb to his mouth, chewing on the side, granting a physical form to his inner anxiety. “Don’t it hurt ‘er?” You were curious as well, and you looked away from your partner to await the answer. 

“There are no nerves in the cord. She won’t feel a thing.”

Daryl drew back when Carol presented him with the knife. He looked to you. You shrugged a shoulder, careful not to jar Thumper. “It’s your decision.”

“Must be done. It doesn’t matter if it’s you or myself.” Hershel added. 

Lowering his hand from his teeth, Daryl eyed the knife. It was clear that he didn’t believe he wasn’t going to hurt his daughter. His thumb was replaced by his lower lip, jaw inching back and forth to gnaw at it earnestly. Without a word, he reached for the knife. Carol offered him a smile that he unsurprisingly didn’t return. 

“Where do—how does it—”

“I’ll help you.” The veterinarian reassured, balancing the organ on top of one hand while the other lifted the cord. “Right between the tape.” 

“Don’t that leave some’a it?” Daryl’s throat was visibly working as he swallowed. 

“That will dry up and fall off. I’ll show you both how to care for it until that happens.” 

The exhale was audible, undoubtedly something he didn’t intend but also didn’t take notice. Daryl’s hand was shaking, the blade carefully pressed to slice upward and away from the skin of your newborn. You held your breath, afraid any movement or sound would cause her to stir. If Daryl accidentally nicked her, there’d be no consoling him.

The cut was clean and quick, Thumper remaining sound asleep throughout. Your head tipped back against your pillow of blankets, relief flooding through you in a tingling wave that left you once again feeling wrung out. Half an hour was not enough. You wanted to sleep for days. 

Turning your head was a chore, but worth it. Daryl was ignoring everything that was happening below the two of you, his eyes dancing between you and his daughter. “I know.” You whispered. His gaze found yours. “She’s finally here.” He nodded, his lips slightly parted with words he couldn’t seem to articulate. “It’s a lot, Daryl. I know. It’s okay.” 

He was trembling, but you were certain it was no longer from the cold. His entire world had just changed. He was a father, and—judging by the look on his face, the turmoil in his pretty eyes—he was terrified. 

“Do you wanna hold her?” Your question was met with a sharp inhale, his spine straightening. 

“I—” 

You were already shifting the baby, shushing and cooing when she squeaked and stretched in protest. 

“You should bond with her too, Daryl.” Carol was sitting against the interior wall, looking her own personal sort of tired. “If you feel comfortable, um—” She turned her head to look away entirely, staring at the opposite wall. “You should let her lay against your skin.”

Bless him, he looked as though he might hyperventilate. “What if—she might—don’t wanna scare ‘er.” Daryl stared at Thumper, her little head moving back and forth as you offered her to him. You wouldn’t tell him the baby was too little to be scared. That would only leave him wondering if she’d be afraid of him later, when she was older. He was so convinced that his scars would make his daughter fear him. 

That anger you had felt before, the inferno of rage that had boiled beneath your ribs—it was back. Had they been still alive, you would strangle those people that had hurt him, scarred him so deeply. Beyond physical. But they were dead. And you were there. You would do your damnedest to show him a different perspective. That he was good and not a product of his father’s anger or his mother’s absence. That he was loved. 

“She isn’t afraid and she won’t be, not of you.” You vowed, pulling Thumper in against your own chest once more. With a hand then free, you raised the blanket and slid over with a grunt. The pain wasn’t horrible but you were definitely sore. “Get under here with me first.”

Maybe one day, he would be beyond the urge to hide that part of himself. Until then, however, you were more than content to help him find any measure of comfort you could offer. 

Daryl hesitated, giving you a quick once over. “Won’t hurtcha?” 

You smiled, small and tired but genuine. “No. Now get under here. Don’t make me drag you while holding a newborn. You know I can do it.” You challenged playfully. Maybe you could lighten the atmosphere. With a pfft, he took the blanket from your hand and shed the one around his shoulders, his eyes darting over to Hershel and Carol. They had knowingly turned their backs. You almost wished they would leave but having someone knowledgeable there was a comfort you weren’t ready to be without. You had no idea what you were doing. Once he was settled, you did your best to pull up the blanket until he took over. “Unbutton your shirt?”

“Dunno if—”

“She already loves you, Daryl. You were the one to calm her down when she was river dancing on my intestines. Just—try?” He sighed, his fingers slowly working open the buttons before stalling. “If you’re too uncomfortable with it, we’ll fix it, okay? I’ll take her and then you can put her on top of your shirt.”

The deep breath he took trembled but he continued until he could part his shirt enough for his chest to be visible. Even with only your eyes on him, he began to exhibit obvious anxiety. 

“It’s only me.” You whispered while maneuvering Thumper. He could actually hold her later, when there weren’t four of you cramped up in the back of an old van with stow-and-go seats. 

The man looked like he was two seconds from sliding out from beneath the blanket and bolting—until the moment the baby’s skin finally touched his own. His wide eyes drained of any trace of fear to make room for awe. 

“Holy fuck.” 

Watching him closely, those two words were meant to be part of the internal monologue he had going on inside his head. His calloused hands had never looked so gentle, laying across Thumper’s back. He immediately lifted one and placed the other there instead with the previous palm resting on her little diapered bottom.

“She s’posed to be this small?” His voice cracked. You turned onto your side, slowly and stiffly, while he silently let his gaze wander over to watch you move. Wiggling to find a comfortable position, you settled with your head on his shoulder and your fingertips brushing repeatedly over Thumper’s head.

“Hershel said she probably weighs around six pounds.” 

“S’that okay?” His thumb was swiping back and forth through the slightly darker blonde hair on the back of the baby’s head. 

“She’s perfect.” 

“Yeah.” He agreed, quietly. His head was tilted, angled to be able to see the little face of the human he helped create. “I, uh—thank you.” You lifted your head to stare him down, quiet yet questioning. “Y’know—for her.”

Your expression softened. Your hand lifted from Thumper to Daryl’s chin, guiding his head to turn. Stifling the grunt of discomfort that moving caused, you shimmied up just enough to press your lips to his. It was chaste but no less passionate. 

“None of that for at least six weeks. Minimum.” Hershel chided from the back of the van. 

Daryl huffed in annoyance, only slightly turning away to bark out “the hell’s ‘er mouth got to do with anythin’?” You laughed in spite of yourself, the action jarring and uncomfortable. 

Hershel even chuckled. “I mean no further, son. No intercourse. She needs to heal.” 

Damnit. You knew at that very moment, it would take you twelve weeks to coerce Daryl into actual sex. God, if your vagina wasn’t ruined after pushing out a whole human. Oh well, you’d be fine as long as he was still yours. You blinked, eyes glazed and thoughts wandering. He would still want you, right?

“Gotta make things weird, old man? Christ.”

Shaking your head, you pushed those worries aside for later. He was now warm and you had your personal space heater back. You molded yourself to his side and willed your body to relax. Daryl was there. Your little family was safe. Sleep laid its claim on you within moments. 

“Claire?” You suggested. Your hand alternated between rubbing and patting the back of the frustrated infant on your shoulder, coaxing out a burp that vibrated your collarbone. Don’t always need it, indeed. While Daryl sat across from you on the bed, rubbing the length of his left index finger across his lips, you adjusted Thumper to the opposite breast. Her little fists were flailing, her face scrunched up and red. The little squeaks and grunts were aplenty as she worked herself up to a squalling cry. “Ssh, here, Thumps.” The moment your nipple rubbed against her cheek, the baby rooted for it eagerly, latching on and suckling with gusto. 

“When she scrunches ‘er face like that, she looks like Merle.” Daryl snorted. His expression didn’t show it but his eyes held a distinct shimmer of sadness. 

“Wanna name her Merle? Merlene? Marleen?” You almost cackled at the look he pulled. “Okay, okay. I said Claire, grumpy gills.”

“Nah.” He sniffed and briefly glanced toward the window. You could hear the van and truck rolling in, hopefully with more supplies. “Makes me think’a that ear piercin’ place in all the malls.”

You thought about people that you had lost. Maybe you could honor them this way. “Andrea?” Daryl snorted. 

“She gonna shoot me when she gets older?” He took a deep breath and balanced his chin on his right palm, elbow pressed into his thigh. “Don’t really feel like she should be a Andrea.”

“Patricia?” You pressed on, stroking Thumper’s cheek with a fingertip. “We could call her Patty?”

“No.”

Your aunt maybe. “My aunt’s name was—actually, no. Nevermind.” This time, it was you that snorted. Daryl shook his head before he turned it back to the window. Thumper had released your nipple, even as her little mouth continued to try and suckle. “Can you burp her while I get all—” you gestured broadly toward your entire self. 

“Sure.” He slid off the mattress and leaned down to take his daughter, so carefully maneuvering her against the front of his shoulder. You kept your sights on him as he moved toward the window, offering the baby a little sunlight. 

You and Daryl slept in the van until the current safe house had been found. No one even woke the archer to help clear it. Probably because Thumps was still lying on his chest. Carol had been the one to wake the two of you, sending you into the bedroom while she heated as much water as she could for you to properly clean up and then to give the baby a warm bath.  Daryl held your daughter while you wiped her down. There was a fire burning in the living room and though you could feel the house slowly warming, neither of you wanted to take any risks. You removed the little knit hat from her head and took care in wiping away the remaining film over her skin. Patting her dry, you replaced the hat and moved on. Each area was bared, cleaned, and covered. You couldn’t help but smile when the archer looked away while you removed the diaper. You made it all the way to her feet before she woke up properly and started trying to suckle Daryl’s thumb.  “Barkin’ up the wrong tree, lil’ one. Gonna hafta talk to your mama if you’re hungry.”

And now here you were, tucking away your tits into a nursing bra while your partner rubbed the back of your perfect daughter by a sunlit window. Thumper was in a light blue sleeper onesie and wrapped in a pink blanket— littered with little birds—to make sure she stayed warm. 

You didn’t hear her burp but had no doubt that she did if he was taking her from his shoulder to the crook of his right arm. From your vantage point you couldn’t see much but you could tell Daryl was talking to her. 

While daddy and daughter were occupied, you laid back on the bed and stretched tired muscles. Your abdomen was still swollen but soft. It was your lady bits that were hot and sore. Forget taking a piss. You had nearly screeched when Daryl had accompanied you earlier, leaving Thumper with Carol. You were bleeding but thank god, Carol had warned you and handed you a couple of pads before you headed out the door. You hadn’t thought anything of it until you were standing over where you had urinated and it looked like a murder scene. 

“Jesus, it’s Nightmare on Elm St in my underwear.” You said as you rounded the tree. Daryl looked unamused.  “Ya gotta be so—graphic? Good lord.”

“Need to hunt soon.” Daryl spoke suddenly from the window. You sat back up with a wince just as he made his way back to you. 

“We have a lot of canned stuff. You don’t need to—”

“Doc said ya need protein to keep makin’ milk for her.” 

You didn’t want him to go anywhere. Logically, you knew it made sense. He was the only other hunter besides yourself. Canned veggies wouldn’t do much towards milk production and of course Daryl had asked about it already. Hershel had been pleased that Thumper was appearing satisfied with the colostrum you were producing, but she would need more even within just the next few days. 

“When?” You tracked him as he lowered to the edge of the mattress just in front of you. The baby’s little hand was curled around his middle finger and you weren’t sure he cared about anything else enough to divert his attention away from his newborn. “Daryl.” You chuckled. 

“Yeah?” He still wasn’t paying attention. 

“Purple because aliens don’t wear hats.” 

“Mhm.” Had he ever been this distracted? You called his name again amidst a laugh, each syllable bouncing. Finally, he looked up. Straight ahead first, as if forgetting where you were sitting. Then it was over to you. “You say somethin’?” 

“Welcome back.”

He mocked a laugh and then deadpanned. “Funny girl.”

Your smile remained steadfast. “When are you going out to hunt?” 

“Thought I’d leave in the mornin’. Y’know, stick ‘round to help ya tonight an’ make sure ya both’re all good ‘fore I go. Try to bring back all I can so that—” His mouth was still open, but the words stopped altogether. His brow drew inward. “Think this diaper’s toast.”

Oh god. 

The first diaper change.  

“Should I get Carol?” You asked in earnest. You had never changed a diaper before and Daryl had never indicated he had any experience either. Still, he shook his head. 

“Gotta learn sometime, right? Between the two’a us, how hard can it be?”

The answer: really fucking hard. 

“Daryl, you have to look!” 

“Don’t feel right to see ‘er—areas.”

“You’re her father and you’re trying to change her. It’s fine. You’re gonna get it all over your hands if you don’t look.”

“S’it s’posed to be that color?” 

“How the hell should I know? Can you hand me the wipes?” 

“What wipes?”

“You didn’t grab the wipes?”

“No?” 

“Was that a question?” 

“No?”

“Daryl.”

“Y/N.”

“Get the wipes.”

Twenty minutes later, Thumper was snoozing comfortably on the mattress, wrapped snugly in her blanket without a care in the world. You and Daryl, however, were staring at the small creature, appearing every bit as though you were trapped in the flashbacks of war. 

“I don’t think it’s supposed to take that long.” You finally commented. 

“Walker guts don’t even look like that.” Daryl’s voice was just as quiet and monotonous as your own. 

“It didn’t even smell. Shouldn’t it smell bad?”

“You’re complainin’?” 

“Touché.”

When Carol knocked, your heads moved in unison, two sets of wide, troubled eyes landing on the woman in the doorway. Her eyebrows shot upward, lowering slowly as she took in the scene: you and Daryl cross-legged on the mattress. Thumper just a few inches away. Wipes and a rolled up diaper on the floor below the foot of the bed. Her hand flew to her mouth, pressing against it to smother the chuckle that tried so hard to break free. 

“You two okay?” She finally asked, clearing her throat. 

“We look okay?” Daryl rasped. 

She struggled against laughter again. “You look like two first time parents discovering one of the joys of a newborn.” 

“We need help.” You were practically pleading, feeling horrible to ask it of the woman who had lost her only child. Daryl’s expression was just as desperate even if he would never grant it a voice. 

“Okay, let’s go over the basics.” Carol shook her head fondly and closed the door behind her. 

Several feedings and diaper changes later, Thumper was asleep between you and Daryl. Night had stolen the sun and a candle burned on the bedside table behind you. She was so far a quiet baby, only crying when she was hungry and would squeak and grunt when her diaper was soiled. 

“Expressing herself in grunts and other noncommittal sounds. She’s totally your kid.” You teased.  “Shuddup.”

Daryl’s hand was on the baby’s stomach, likely just as much for his benefit as hers. He was dozing, making a valiant effort to stay awake with little success. You were just as tired but you couldn’t seem to coerce your eyes away from your partner and daughter. Daryl had been so attentive and tender with you while you carried Thumper but seeing him physically interact with her was an entirely different experience. 

Once again, it was likely something he would internalize but he was absolutely in love. That little thing lying between the two of you had already stolen his whole heart. If you had any doubt of his desire and ability to be her dad,—which you didn’t—that would be long gone now. 

When you weren’t nursing her, she was with Daryl. He talked to her in hushed whispers like sharing secrets he’d never speak to another living soul. And she slept or stared at him while he stared right back. She had the bluest of eyes but Carol said they might not remain that way. 

You hoped they did. 

When she looked at you, you could feel her curiosity and adoration. You were her mother and she knew. She knew your voice, your touch. She knew Daryl. Carol said Thumper could only see in shapes and shades of gray, but you didn’t believe that. Not for a second. They way she would stare at Daryl, her little fingers squeezing the edge of her pink bird blanket. No, you didn’t believe that. 

“Think I gotta name for ‘er.” Daryl spoke suddenly, words rough off his tongue, laced with exhaustion. You smiled. 

“Oh yeah?” You wondered if he was even awake or aware of what he was saying. His eyelids were heavy, flickering open every few seconds. 

“Yeah. S’okay if ya don’t like it. Don’t really make no sense.”

You laughed within a breath, reaching to brush the hair off his forehead. When he didn’t speak for a moment, you found yourself too curious to let it go. “Are you gonna tell me?” 

He took a deep breath, eyes still closed, with an mhm during the exhale. His index finger was gently rubbing back and forth over Thumper’s little hand while she had it fisted into her blanket. 

You almost moved your hand to his shoulder to shake him awake, but refrained. He was—like you—exhausted, and within that state, he was emotionally vulnerable. You almost felt as if you were taking advantage of that, but there was a realization that you wanted him to name her. So, you would wait. Let him sleep or listen when he was ready to tell you. 

“Birdie.” He finally breathed. Without opening his eyes, he moved his finger to tap one of the birds on the blanket. “Birdie Jade.”

You felt the wet tickle of a tear running across the bridge of your nose and wiped it away before it could sting your other eye. Sniffling, you ran your fingers through the hair above Daryl’s ear. His eyes finally opened, clear and sharp, watching, waiting for your reaction. 

You pulled back your hand and laid it on top of his, over the baby’s blanket. 

“Hi, Birdie.”

[blkdaddie]

In the flickering candlelight's embrace, a symphony of pain and anticipation filled the air. Samuel lay on the birthing bed, his powerful body glistening with sweat. The contractions were like fierce waves crashing against his shore, each one a testament to the transformative journey he was enduring. With a deafening primal roar, he gripped his husband's hand, his nails digging into the man's skin. 'I can't... I can't do this,' he gasped, his voice torn between agony and determination. 'Yes, you can,' his husband whispered fiercely, his eyes awash with love and unwavering support. 'You're strong. You're amazing. You're a father.'

Samuel's mind raced through the tapestry of his pregnancy. The wonder of the first positive test, the reassuring kicks, the shared moments of joy and anticipation. But now, the exhilaration had given way to an all-consuming intensity. He felt the burning fire in his lower abdomen, his muscles straining as he fought against the relentless contractions. Each surge was like a celestial war, his body protesting yet also surrendering to the primal call of life. 'I... I see his head,' he panted, his voice filled with a mix of awe and terror. A fresh round of contractions seized him, more powerful than ever. He gritted his teeth, his eyes squeezed shut as he pushed with every fiber of his being. A primal scream echoed through the room as the baby's tiny head emerged, slick with vernix and crowned with a tuft of dark hair. With a surge of adrenaline, Samuel reached down and lifted his son into his trembling arms. The weight of the newborn was a profound affirmation of his strength and resilience. 'Oh my God,' he whispered, tears streaming down his face. 'He's here. He's really here.' His husband leaned over him, his own eyes filled with emotion. 'You did it, Samuel,' he said, his voice trembling. 'You brought him into the world.' In that hallowed space, surrounded by love and the miracle of new life, Samuel felt an overwhelming sense of purpose and accomplishment. The pain, the fear, the doubts—they all faded away in the face of this extraordinary moment. In the flickering candlelight, their small family radiated an aura of joy and fulfillment. The weight of the world seemed to lift, replaced by a sense of profound peace. 'Thank you,' Samuel whispered to his husband, his voice filled with emotion. 'Thank you for being with me every step of the way.' 'I wouldn't have missed it for the world,' his husband replied, his eyes filled with boundless love. As they lay there together, cradling their newborn son, Samuel realized that his journey as a pregnant and birthing father had not only been about giving life to a child. It had also been about giving birth to a new understanding of himself, his body, and the boundless possibilities that lay ahead.

[tbgblr2]

Jane's Birth - Part 2

Jane’s pushing contractions this time were different - coming less frequently but lasting longer. She needed to get up and move, so Jo and I helped her sit up straight.

Her supposedly half-deflated belly rested on her lap, though our surprise baby was still making it big and round. She grabbed the sides of her belly and felt around “I cannot believe there is another baby in there,”

“I’ve seen it happen before - it’s wild!” Jo said “let’s stand and get some vitals on you.”

She checks Jane’s blood pressure and temperature while Claire finds the baby’s heartbeat with her handheld Doppler. The familiar swish-swish sound of the heartbeat filled the room, and Jane notices that I suddenly relax, not sure what made me tense up so much.

Jane is stood leaning against me, gently rocking her hips side to side in an effort to get this baby down lower in her pelvis so she could push again. The next contraction came without warning and she just leans into my shoulder, moaning and rubbing her belly.

“Do you feel pushy?” Jo asked. Jane shakes her head no. Though she does say she feels a little cold. Jane works her way through this contraction as I get Jo to support her, and head off to find her comfy robe and put it around her shoulders.

“I want my baby,” she says. Claire hands over our groggy son, who is held against her exposed skin, head supported in her hand, the other hand pulling out her nipple so he could nurse. The baby instinctively faces towards where he needs to and latches on, an “ahh” sound coming from Jane when it happens.

Jane looks exhausted. Her hair is all over the place, she has streaks of blood and vernix down her legs from birthing the previous baby, and she says something about questioning if she has the strength to deliver again. I hug her close, sandwiching the baby between us which proceeds to wriggle at the unexpected confines around its body.

Jane has never really stopped moving, her hips are swaying as we cuddle. My hand reaches down to her hip and go with her flow.

She sighs to the room in general “I’m exhausted, but I don’t want this to end… I’ve felt so womanly… powerful” – she suddenly winces as the contraction picks up. Weakly she adds “but I’ll not miss those”

Claire chuckles “yeah I can’t wait… I see this happening nearly every single day of the week… I’ve seen new mums, experienced mums, shouters, screamers, moaners, silent mums, you name it… but it always makes me wonder how me and Chris will handle ourselves when it all kicks off”

Jane smiles “you’ll do fine… I’m sure your mum will keep you right.” She puffs out her cheeks at the passing of the contraction. “The breastfeeding is helping babe… things are picking up again.” She opens her stance a bit more, shuffling your feet apart.

My hand explores her body, running from her hips up to her belly, squeezing her own hand in the route. I rest momentarily on her hip again then run my hand around to her ass where I squeeze “be strong for me Janey… you’ve done so much now we’re nearly at the end”

Suddenly she gasps and lowers herself into a squat as the contraction builds “I can feel it moving down” – I follow her movements and support her. Our surprise twin puts pressure on her hips and cervix. Claire reacts, taking the baby as Jane hands it over, Jane said she needed to stand and move around with this contraction.

Jane takes in some deep breaths and just loses herself in the contraction. She’s moved over to the bed and holding on to the bedpost, bent over in a half squat breathing through the contraction. She’s humming low, rocking her hips gently.

“Mmmmmmmm …mmmmm come on baby,” she mumbles. Jo sneaks in to listen to the baby’s heartbeat. She nods with satisfaction and steps away, to allow Jane to continue with her own pace. Jane’s belly is sitting low, bulging forward. She yells something about pressure and with a loud pop, her water breaks and Baby B is pressing against her cervix.

“I have to puuuuuush,” Jane says moaning and grunting. She falls deeper into a squat instinctually and pushes but the baby doesn’t move. She wails out saying so, and complains that she thought this would be easier the second time around. Jo offers her some encouragement and explains that each birth is different, no matter how you think things should happen, nature has a way to make it unusual. She was best off just going with the flow and surrendering her body to what it wants to do, and it would be over sooner than she realised.

Claire shushes the baby, he's fussing around at all the activity which is going on in the room, but she’s obviously well practiced at doing this and soon the baby is sleeping, placed down to rest on the bed in Jane’s eyeline.

I move in behind Jane and start to rub her back as she moans through a contraction, my hands proving some positive stimulation to the point where her moan becomes much less pronounced. Jo moves to kneel down at the foot of the bed watching between Jane’s legs, seeing no sign of the head.

With Jo focusing on the new baby and Claire fussing after the previous baby, my hand cups Jane’s ass and squeezes hard as I lean in and kiss the back of her sweaty head. “Keep it up, you’re doing so well babe”

Jane’s hand flails backwards looking for something to grab. I offer her my hand and she grabs it, squeezing hard. Her eyes are squeezed tight shut and she’s vocalising loudly. Finally the contraction lets up and she opens her eyes as she looks over at Claire, looking apologetic. “Sorry I know this doesn’t exactly help seeing me struggle when you’re so close to doing this yourself…”

“It’s ok,” Claire said, though I did note a hint of nervousness in her voice.

“Jane, sometimes the cervix will close a little between birthing twins. If you’d like I can check you so you aren’t pushing against an incomplete cervix and swelling it up.” Jo said. Jane nods her agreement, and Jo moves around to get into position. Resting one hand on Jane’s knee she slides her fingers inside of her and up to the cervix.

Jane winces in discomfort as Jo feels around where she had just birthed a 10 pound baby and evidently was about to birth another. “Yeah you’re a stretchy 8-9 I’m afraid dear,” she said looking at Jane sympathetically.

“Are you serious?” Jane cried out.

“The good news is that this doesn’t usually last more than a handful of contractions.” Jo offered, encouragingly.

Claire cast an eye over to the baby, making sure he was still asleep with the noise going on in the room, but it seemed he was out like a light.

I try giving soft, reassuring kisses on Jane’s neck but I’ll admit I can feel her frustration building. “Janie, let’s take a pause and refocus and get this baby out, ok? Then we can all settle in for a long rest,” you murmur into her ear. “Let’s get in the tub.”

Claire and Jo take the hint, grabbing the baby who thankfully doesn’t stir, and leave the room to let us have some alone time. I help Jane up, throwing the robe onto the ground and leading her back into the en suite, her half empty belly hanging low as we step into the tub, the water still thankfully warm from before.

Jane Immediately gets close to me and grabs my face to pull it close, kissing me so deeply and passionately that it takes me by surprise. My response was surprisingly quick, the bulge held within my shorts pressing hard against her inner thigh, my cock pulsing as I moan with surprise pleasure.

“Janey…” I say breathlessly. “Shhhh. I need to cum.” She was straight to the point. Penetration was out of the question as her waters had broken, but the rest is all on the table.

My hands move down to hold and rub her gravid belly. “I can’t believe there’s another one in there,” I say with a hint of amusement in my voice.

“Neither can I. I can’t wait to have so many more of your babies,” she says back, her breath ragged. “I need big contractions and a big orgasm to push this one out,” she adds. Her hands move from my face to her swollen tits, where she begins to rub and pull at her nipples.

My right hand goes from her belly to her clit where I begin to rub and pinch. Jane helps by swaying her hips against my hand. Shes definitely working on getting to an intense orgasm.

“Mmmm keep going baby,” she says. Her belly begins to harden and pull up as she feels a contraction building. “Don’t stop.”

“Are you having a contraction?” I ask.

“Yes. Do not stop rubbing my clit,” she barks out a command. She leans over a little still twisting her nipples and breathes with this contraction. She moans as it builds.

“That’s it breathe baby, breathe through it.” I offer encouragement.

“Haaa haaa haaa haaa” She breathes rhythmically as the contraction grips her belly.

“Atta girl, keep going.”

“Ahhhh ahhhh come on baby ahhhhhh ahhh ahhha,” she pants again.

“Cum for me honey,” I say as I feel my cock getting even harder.

“When this passes I need it in my ass. Cum in my ass” Jane sounds almost like shes begging.

“Anything you wish baby” I say back.

Jane takes the last cleansing breath of the contraction and between us, she gets out of the bath and gets on all fours. Her legs were spread, her belly hanging low, her ass was high as she could manage. I whip off my shorts and rub my precum coated cock all over the area, starting to slowly enter her ass. She is so tight I end up letting out a loud grunt myself as I slowly slip into the waiting tunnel.

“Fuck me. Janey you are so tight.” She was hoping that the counter pressure would help open her cervix – or at least induce an orgasm powerful enough that her body would do what came naturally last time.

“I need your cum,” she begged as she pushed her ass back onto me. We started to slip back and forth, slow and deliberate movements, each fraction of an inch felt by both parties.

“You want my cum? I’m gonna give you my cum but I need you to push out my baby like a good little knocked up girl ok?” I give a command of my own. My right hand spanks Jane’s ass, knowing shes enjoyed that plenty of times in the past.

“That’s it baby, harder. I need you to have a contraction,” I say. “Rub those nipples hard Janey. I need you to push my baby out.”

She rests her weight on one hand and uses the other to pull a nipple hard to bring on another contraction.

“Is that a contraction building? Don’t push yet. I want to cum in you during your contraction,” I groan out, my own climax drawing nearer and nearer.

“Mmm hmmmm” Jane mumbles, lost in the moment.

“Again? What’s that?”

“Yes,” she manages, her eyes closed, her mouth released momentarily from biting her bottom lip.

“Good girl,”

I lean over to hold her belly to feel for a contraction. Its evident when its got her in its throes. “Be ready” is all I can say, my own voice somewhere between a pant and a growl at this stage.

“Ok!” She manages as she holds her breath to try and deal with the contraction.

“I’m gonna cum” I declare, gripping her belly tighter and pushing my cock in deeper “no pushing Jane. No pushing.”

“Come on and CUM,” she wails, unable to process anything other than the strong contraction gripping her midsection.

“I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum. Fuckkkkk” I almost chant at this stage.

“Ugh YES,” Jane exclaims, feeling the thick ropes of cum launched deep into her, my cock twitching as it spurts.

“No pushing babe. No pushing you are doing so good.” I say as my cock finishes spilling out its load.

“I’m gonna have to puuuuush” she wails. “The head won’t wait any more, it needs to come out!”

I spring up from the floor and pull on my shorts calling in the ladies. Jane is a panting mess - Jo and Claire come in and see her in that state.

“Oh love you are ready to deliver” Jo said. “Let’s get you up and to somewhere more comfortable.”

Between us, we get Jane up and dried off. “Ok Janey, we’re gonna have you try a new position so we can get this baby out in a few pushes.” Jo says. All Jane can do is nod as she’s lead back into the bedroom to see a new piece of equipment the ladies have brought in – a chair.

“Claire is going to sit here and you’ll sit facing Claire with your feet on the floor to get you in a deep, supported squat.”

Claire grabs a towel and drapes it over the front of her clothing, moving into position on the seat. for Jane to lean against. She squats down between Claire’s legs, her arms on Claire’s thighs and her head resting on Claire’s own bump.

“We are going to be behind you to catch,” Jo says.

“You ok?” Claire asks.

“I am“ Jane says, still bouncing a little on her haunches. Claire grabs her hands and holds on to them.

“Ok good let’s deliver this baby,” Claire says.

“I just am waiting for a contraction,” I say. Jo reaches in from behind Jane and wraps her hands around her inside of Claire’s knees, grabbing both nipples. The unexpected stimulation has the desired effect as Jane lets out a yell as a contraction rapidly starts. Jo moves away to let me in.

“Ok let’s push Janey.” Jane registers my voice from behind her. She feels my hands cupping her pussy and instantly I feel her crotch begin to move as she does so.

Claire is encouraging and supportive, telling Jane to keep bearing down.

Jo slides a mirror down underneath Jane so she can see the view of my hands and her pussy as she works, staring down at the floor.

“Rub my clit,” Jane says, not caring now if the two other women hear it.

My hand slides across her wet pussy and my expert fingers press hard against her engorged clit.

“Fuuuuccckkkkk,” She moans loudly.

“Keep going, use that contraction Jane” Jo encourages.

Jane gasps, clear that the contraction has run its course. My fingers felt the outline of the babys head from between Jane’s legs as she pushed, but it retreated once she let up.

Jo and Claire both offer encouragement and tell her to push when her body tells her to. “When it comes, deep breath in and give me a good push.”

From behind Jane, I announce “I want you to let go and cum. I need you to cum on my hand and then push, ok?”

Jane nods, squeezing her hands tightly to Claire’s. “Fuck babe I’m so close,”

As the next pain began to grip Jane’s belly, she squats deeper, pressing her body harder into my hands. I feel her lips part again and the slick bulge of the head gathers in my outstretched hands.

“That’s it. Good girl.” I chant encouragement as I feel the head move further out.

“It’s stretching me so wide” Jane’s voice bellows out from between Claire’s legs.

“Let’s deliver this baby now Jane. PUSH!” Jo exclaims.

Jane takes in a deep breath and blows it out as her entire body shakes with the effort.

Jane takes in another breath to push. “Cum Jane,” I growl into her ear.

“Oh fuck!” she screams. Her nipples are now dribbling milk, her clit hardens under my hand and she feels my hot breath against the back of her neck. “Good girl. Good girl. Keep cumming.” I say.

Jane pushed like a woman possessed, shouting “COME!” really loud with each push.

“That’s it Jane you’re crowning,” Claire says, looking down at the mirror.

“Come on babe. Push. Big push.” I offer, doing my best to keep her motivated.

Jane bears down as her pussy is stretched to its limit. Suddenly she screams “COME! COME!” and the head is out, born into my waiting hands.

Two more pants and she pushes down again with the same contraction. “Good girl. Push.” I say “one more push! Push, baby push,” I exclaim excitedly.

Jane lets out a huge grunt and suddenly the surprise twin drops into my waiting hands with its accompanying splash of fluid. I pass the baby under Jane between her legs leaving it on the floor as he heaving breaths process the last few minutes. She looks down as she’s lowered to the floor.

“It’s a girl. You gave me a girl,” she says, almost giddy with joy, leaning back into me and turning her head to kiss me.

[yugiohz]

so afo tooo away shigaraki’s quirk when he was FRESH out of the womb, STILL covered in vernix that’s so crazy

and then he gave him decay, crazy how this scene of tenko being brought home by a stranger was left out of the anime for some reason, the clues in bnha are so fun to trace, idk why they'd leave this one out

[totowlff]

chapter eighteen — pastel blue stains

➝ having a child with toto is challenging for cassie. living with him is something even worse

➝ word count: 3k

➝ warnings: none

➝ author’s note: dedicated to @oatsnsparkle. thinking about you in this hard time.

20 WEEKS You are exactly in the middle of your pregnancy. All of the baby's organs are already formed and continue to mature until birth. Furthermore, the vernix caseosa continues to form on the baby's skin, being pinker at this stage.

The sun streaming in through the window brought Cassie out of her sleep. She sat up, concerned, wondering where her bookshelf went, before realizing that she wasn’t in her own room, or even her own flat, and hadn’t been for almost a week now. Even so, she still hadn’t gotten used to the new surroundings yet. She had made her temporary move to Toto’s house a week ago, and was staying in a guest room, lovingly prepared by Bertha, his housekeeper, but even a week on, she still felt like an interloper. 

She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes as she pulled back the covers. As a mercy, she finally felt like she’d gotten some decent sleep. Between the lower back pain and background anxiety about possibly overstaying her welcome, she’d spent the past few nights tossing and turning. She was also plagued with thoughts about the conversation she and Toto had about the status of their relationship.

Cassie deeply regretted not being honest about her feelings with Toto. She liked him, more than she thought possible, but seeing him so distraught about the prospect of changing the status of their relationship made her decide to set her feelings aside. “It's better this way”, she thought to herself, sitting on the bed with one hand on her stomach, feeling a fluttering in her belly.

— Good morning, my love — she murmured, smiling, as she caressed her belly. 

She stood up from the bed — it was getting more difficult now — and walked over to the closet, where Bertha had put all of her clothes. She opted for a cotton maternity dress. She didn’t have any plans for the day, but slipping on a dress seemed far easier than bending over to put on pants, and she was all for making things easier for herself in this stage of her pregnancy.

As she walked downstairs, Cassie could hear the sound of someone preparing something in the kitchen, the delicious smells of coffee brewing and bacon frying getting stronger as she approached the kitchen. She was surprised when she didn’t see Toto in his usual place at the kitchen table, where he could usually be found reading The Financial Times and drinking his coffee before breakfast.

— Good morning, dear — Bertha said, as Cassie came into the kitchen. She was hovering over the stove, tending to some sizzling meat with a spatula.

— Good morning, Bertha — Cassie said — What are you making today?

— The same thing I’ve made every day since Toto hired me — she said with a small chuckle, looking over her shoulder at Cassie. Cassie laughed as she leaned against the counter.

Bertha had been Toto's housekeeper since he moved to Oxford in 2012 and had been taking care of the place ever since. She kept the entire house tidy, handled Toto’s laundry and cooking, and arranged for things like making sure the garden was tended to and any home repairs were done.

Cassie was surprised to find out that Bertha didn’t live in the house full-time, as she was used to household staff having their own rooms so as to always be available for their employers. However, Bertha had her own house in the city center. She lived alone, as far as Cassie knew. Her husband had died years ago, and her son lived in Germany. Still, she was there most days, and Cassie had enjoyed talking to her in the week that she had been there. She was tender and kind, but Cassie got the sense that she didn’t suffer fools; maybe it was just her strong Scottish accent.

— Really? He never has anything different?

— You know that Toto gripes even when the texture of his toast is off — she said, turning the slice of ham in the frying pan — No matter what I suggest, he likes what he likes, and he likes to have it every single day.

— Yeah, I know — Cassie said with a light laugh, as she watched Bertha go to the toaster to check if the two slices of pumpernickel rye were adequately toasted. She reached into the cupboard behind her, extracting a plate and handing it to the housekeeper.

— Thank you, dear — Bertha said, as the toast popped out of the toaster — Do you want me to make something for you? Some eggs, toast, or even some tea?

— No, no, thank you. I’m not hungry.

— Are you sure? Is your stomach upset? — she asked, glancing at Cassie as she spread butter on the hot surface of the toast — You should eat something if you can, that little lass in your belly needs to grow.

— I'm fine, really. I’m just not hungry right now. I will get something later — Cassie said, watching as Bertha finished off Toto’s breakfast with some sliced tomatoes, sprinkled with salt — Can I take this in to him?

The question took the housekeeper by surprise, but her expression soon softened.

— Yes, thank you, my dear — she replied, as Cassie picked up the plate from the counter. Bertha poured a mug of espresso with a splash of cold milk and handed it to Cassie — Toto is in his office, on the right in the hall, first door. He said he was going to work a little this morning and said he would eat in his office this morning.

With a smile, Cassie thanked her and walked toward Toto’s office. The door was open, and as she stood on the threshold,she couldn't help but notice the way her heart was beating harder, her pulse roaring in her ears and driving the blood to her cheeks.

With his back to her, Toto was reading something on the screen of the iMac he had on his desk. It was positioned facing the window, the front yard of the house extending through the partially closed shutters. On the walls, there were shelves filled with some books and many souvenirs from recent years, such as helmets with signed visors, trophies, medals and photos, all meticulously organized.

After a few seconds of going unnoticed, Cassie cleared her throat. As he turned back, she noticed that Toto was wearing a navy blue dress shirt and the black round-framed glasses he usually wore at home. However, his glasses weren’t able to hide the wrinkles that formed on the top of his nose as he smiled when he realized who was there.

— Good morning, Mr. Wolff — Cassie greeted him, the tone of her voice comically formal. 

— Good morning, Miss Aldersey — Toto laughed, while Cassie placed the plate and mug on the table — To what do I owe the honor of having my breakfast delivered by you?

— Bertha said you were working and that you were going to eat in here, so I decided to bring everything to you.

He smiled again, placing one of his hands next to her hip.

— I appreciate your kindness, Cassie. Well, not just yours, but Ingrid's too — Toto said, his thumb stroking her protruding belly — How is she?

— Well, moving a lot — she replied, placing his hand over where she could feel the fluttering kicks. When he felt his daughter’s movements, he smiled, looking at Cassie and then at her belly.

— Guten Morgen, meine Tochter — Toto murmured, bringing his face closer and kissing her abdomen, in a kind of affectionate greeting.

Cassie had to look away, focusing her eyes on the top of the desk. She couldn’t bear to look directly at him. It was a simple and common gesture between fathers-to-be and their future children, but it was too much for her. She had underestimated the strength of her feelings for him and they were becoming increasingly difficult to manage.

Trying to hide her own discomfort with his proximity to her, Cassie scanned the objects on the desk, her eyes focusing on the neatly lined up pens and the picture frame that had an image of him with a familiar woman.

— What photo is that? — she asked softly, making Toto raise his head with an expression of doubt. Upon realizing what she was talking about, a soft smile appeared on his face.

— It’s us — he replied, taking the picture frame and handing it to her.

The image showed them sitting on a lawn, in camp chairs, side by side. Cassie was laughing widely, looking at Toto, who was smiling with satisfaction. The colors in the photo were soft, the atmosphere almost intimate, although the silhouettes around them indicated that there were more people there. It was genuine, cozy, real and, at the same time, far too dreamlike to be real.

— When was this?

— Austria, during the team barbecue in Valtteri's motorhome — Toto replied, making the memory of that warm night in the Red Bull Ring fill Cassie's mind — Paul has a good eye, despite being annoying.

— I don't find him annoying — she commented, while analyzing the way her hand was resting on his shoulder in the picture, a clear demonstration of the intimacy between them.

— Because you don't have to deal with him every day...

— Toto, we’re in the same department.

— It doesn't matter, he’s still annoying — he murmured with a smile, one of his hands still resting on her belly. Cassie giggled, just like in the photo she was still holding.

It would be a funny coincidence if it weren’t so sad.

Returning the picture frame to Toto, she said she would let him eat and work in peace before leaving the office. He even argued that he didn't mind her presence, but Cassie ignored him, feeling suffocated as she left the room. She strided out of the door leading to the back garden, feeling her heart racing, a familiar anguish knotting up her chest.

As the gentle late summer breeze blew against Cassie's face, she felt her eyes sting with the tears that had been threatening to fall since the moment she had looked at Toto that morning. She felt like a disaster, a mess that was impossible to fix, all because of her damn heart that didn't know how to differentiate between Toto’s kindness and love.

It wasn't love. It hadn't been and never would be, but her stupid head refused to accept the obvious that was staring her in the face.

As she walked away from the house, deeper into the neatly manicured garden, Cassie allowed herself to cry silently, tears streaming down her face and onto her dress. She didn't want to worry Bertha, who was probably still in the kitchen, or Toto. If he saw her crying, she would probably ask why and she knew that would be enough for her to say everything that had been stuck in her throat since the day her eggs had been collected.

It took a while for Cassie to calm down, the baby's occasional movements always triggering a fresh wave of tears. However, motivated by her own stomach's growls, she went back inside, going to the kitchen in search of something to eat.

Cassie avoided Toto for the rest of the day. They didn't have lunch together, but mostly because of an online meeting of his that went on longer than it should have. She took a nap that afternoon to try and ward off the fatigue and the pain in her hips that she’d been experiencing since earlier on in the pregnancy.

She only woke up when a metallic sound echoed through the hallway. After rubbing her eyes, a little confused, Cassie got up, following the noise and murmurs that came directly from the room that would be Ingrid's. When she stopped at the door, she came across an unusual scene.

Crouched on the floor, Toto worked a can of pastel blue paint with a brush, evaluating the liquid curiously. The color hadn't been their first choice, but it was the decorator's recommendation, claiming that the shade would bring tranquility to the room. 

— Do I mix it with water or this? — Toto muttered to himself, taking the bottle of turpentine and reading the label. After a few seconds of watching him, Cassie cleared her throat.

— Need help? — she asked.

Upon seeing that she was there, Toto immediately stood up, running his hand through his hair.

— Well, I'm trying to understand myself with this paint. The guy at the store said it might need to be diluted…

— If it's acrylic and it's very hot — Cassie explained — Didn't you pay attention?

Toto's cheeks started to blush slightly, and he smiled sheepishly.

— I don't think so.

It was her turn to smile.

— You should have paid attention, he gave very good advice.

— Would you mind repeating them to me? — Toto asked, placing his hands on his hips, a suggestive smile on his face.

— No, I don’t.

Cassie helped him arrange the protective plastic over the carpet and covered the baseboards and light switches with blue tape. While Toto arranged the paint in the painting trays, she changed into a pair of denim overalls that she didn't mind getting dirty. Then, they started painting the walls the soft shade of blue, working on different walls in silence.

— Do you know what that color reminds me of? — Toto asked, after some time.

— What? — Cassie murmured, without taking her eyes off the spot she was painting.

— Our car.

She turned, one eyebrow raised.

— Are you serious? — she returned, making him look at Cassie.

— Of course I am, doesn't that color remind you of Petronas blue?

— No, not by a long shot.

— Are you sure? — Toto asked, smiling.

— Absolutely.

Toto shrugged, taking the paint roller to the tray for more paint, while Cassie turned her attention to the details she was painting with a smaller brush. Suddenly, she felt something cold and wet crawl up her back, making her jump as the shiver ran through her skin.

— What the fuck — she grunted, trying to understand what had happened until her eyes found the paint roller in Toto's hand, as well as a malicious smile on his face.

— What?

— Did you paint me?

— Just seeing if it really doesn't look like the blue of our car — he replied, smiling — And I think you're wrong.

Cassie didn't hesitate to take a step forward, taking the brush to the t-shirt Toto was wearing and making a line across his stomach.

— Cassie! — he exclaimed, taking a step back to escape her. The reaction made her laugh.

— Now it’s my turn to test the paint, then!

— Oh, is it going to be like this? — Toto said, bringing the roller to her chest, leaving a blue trail on the front of her overalls.

— Yes — she replied, giving a new stroke, this time, close to his neck.

When Cassie noticed, the two were having a real paint fight, one trying to escape the brushstrokes the other was trying to give. Laughter and teasing filled the room, whose walls were still half finished when they sat on the plastic, with blue traces all over their bodies. However, when she started to put down the brush, Toto took it from her hands.

— Wait a minute — Toto said, while wetting it and drawing something on the overalls, over her belly. Two circles and a curved line, forming a happy face — Now we are all properly painted.

Cassie looked at her stomach for a few seconds and smiled, looking up at Toto. Toto looked at her affectionately, his smile breaking the pastel blue line she had made on his face. It was as if nothing had changed since the fateful conversation they had in that same room.

The memory made her smile melt.

— What’s wrong?

— Nothing, just — Cassie hesitated — I was thinking.

— About what?

— About blue being your color — she lied.

— Does this make you upset? — Toto asked softly.

— Yeah.

He raised an eyebrow.

— Why?

— I wish I looked good in a color like you do — Cassie replied, screwing on another fake smile.

— Well, I think you look good in green — Toto said brushing aside some strands that had escaped from her ponytail.

— Green?

— Yeah, especially darker shades, like the one in the dress you wore to the team dinner last year — he explained, looking at his paint-stained hands.

The memory of the event made Cassie smile. She remembered that she had thought about not wearing that dress, but that the other option was not warm enough for an event held in winter. However, when a colleague made a comment about the color combination, Cassie started to resent it. 

— I don't like it very much, actually.

— No? Why not?

— Adam said I looked like the Irish flag — she murmured.

— I thought you looked beautiful — Toto said with a small smile — Actually, I wanted to say that to you that night, but Nico thought it would be wise to retire the week before and that dinner turned into a mess...

— Yeah, I remember — Cassie said, looking at him — I imagine what it must have been like...

— A relief, if I’m being honest — he replied, making her laugh — You have no idea how hard it was to deal with him and Lewis. I like Nico, but I think putting up with their… Bullshit took years off of my life.

There was more laughter, more knowing looks as they continued to work. However, there was still something melancholy about all of it, at least for Cassie. Maybe it was the way Toto looked at her. Maybe it was the memory that it was in that room that her heart had been crushed by the man she loved. Maybe it was the irony of being there, covered in paint, having to pretend that everything was fine.

— Toto, you — Bertha's voice sounded from somewhere near the door, but soon stopped — My God, what have you both done?

Cassie forced a small smile as Toto stood up.

— We just had a little discussion about the color of the paint.

— And you needed to get it all over everything? Look at the both of you — the woman asked, looking indignant.

— I needed to prove my point, Bertha — Cassie replied, as she was helped to get up from Toto.

— And she didn’t manage to — he added, making her roll her eyes.

Bertha nodded in disbelief.

— You should take a shower and change out of those clothes. Dinner will be done soon.

— As you wish, Mrs. Dumfries — Toto replied, putting on a dramatic voice, laughing at his housekeeper’s dismay.

However, Cassie couldn’t bring herself to laugh, not again. 

[sixhours]

Chapter 26 - The Ghosts of Babylon

Series Chapter Index | Read on AO3 | Complete

Rating: Explicit, 18+, here be smut and violence Series tags: Joel Miller x You, Joel Miller x Reader, Joel & Ellie, mostly follows canon, LGBTQ+ characters, y/n is bi/pan, y/n is ~45, violence, pregnancy, abortion, medical trauma, emotional trauma, panic attacks, sex work, suicide, smut, slow burn, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, romance, no use of y/n, reader has longish hair, Joel can lift you, smallish age gap (~11 years), I've probably forgotten some so please let me know <3

~*~

Jackson, Wyoming November 2026

“That’s great, Maria, you’re doing great. One more big push…”

“C’mon, baby,” you hear Tommy say from the head of the bed, where he’s holding Maria’s hand. “Hear that? You’re doin’ so good.”

“Fuck you, Tommy,” she spits, and you’re glad your mask hides your smile. It’s been a long night.

“I know you don’t mean that sugar,” he says.

Maria makes a feral growl as you press on her perineum, trying to ease the baby’s head out without tearing. Then she lets out a roar and bears down hard.

“Keep going, that’s it,” you murmur. Your hands are slippery around the crown of the baby’s head as it slowly emerges. You stabilize the neck and check for the cord; it’s clear. “Head’s out, one more push.”

The baby’s shoulders ease into your hands, and the rest follows, slick and covered in vernix, tiny arms flailing. A girl. You rub her back firmly, encouraging her to breathe, and she lets out an angry wail in response. Her skin warms under your touch, and you breathe a silent sigh of relief. This was an easy one.

“That’s my girl!” Tommy whoops over Maria’s tired panting as you lift the baby and place her on her mother’s abdomen. You cover the baby with a warmed blanket, encouraging Maria to keep rubbing her tiny back while Tommy cuts the cord.

~*~

You leave the Miller house once Maria and the baby are settled in, with promises to relay the good news. You walk to the end of the cul-de-sac in the faint gray glow of a late fall morning, wincing at the twinge in your ankle. You still walk with a limp. On cold days like this, you’d prefer the stability of your cane, but it’s back at the clinic.

Joel’s living room is littered with toys, board books, and an upturned sippy cup. There are sticky fingerprints on the coffee table and remnants of what looks like oatmeal in the sink.

Joel himself looks just as ragged as the house, lying flat on the couch with Gwen on his chest, both of them sound asleep.

You kneel next to them, planting a kiss on his forehead, gently stroking the toddler’s dark brown curls. “Hey, sleepyheads.”

Joel’s eyes blink open slowly.

“You have a niece,” you whisper into his hair. 

“Mmm,” he growls softly, rubbing Gwen’s back. “She wouldn’t sleep in the damn crib. Told Tommy he’s spoilin’ her.”

You smirk. “As if you wouldn’t do the same. And you have another niece.”

“Huh? Ohhh,” he says, grinning sleepily. “Hear that kid? You’ve got a little sister.”

Gwen doesn’t stir, unbothered by this new development for the time being. Joel’s eyes drift shut as he asks, “How’d it go?”

“Maria’s fine, baby’s fine…Tommy’s ecstatic.”

“Millers make good girls,” he murmurs. 

“Mmm. Ellie asleep?”

“At a friend’s. Thought she was gonna help me with this one,” he looks down at Gwen, “but she bailed on me.”

“Looks like you managed…barely,” you say, eyeing the room. It’s amazing how much damage one toddler can do in the span of a few hours. “You should get up,” you say, standing, nodding at the couch. “Your back is going to feel that.”

He shifts, sitting up with a muted groan. Gwen makes a soft whining sound at the disturbance, and he shushes her as he gets to his feet, gently rocking until she’s settled.

You follow them upstairs to his bedroom where the portable crib is set up in the corner. Joel nuzzles the crown of Gwen’s head before gently laying her on her tummy. She fusses a little, but his large hand rests across her back, rubbing up and down until she’s soothed back to sleep.

“Like defusing a damn bomb,” he mutters when he sees you watching, but his eyes are soft. He stands, stretching, wincing. You’re right; his back is going to feel it.

You take a shower in the bathroom down the hall so you don’t wake the baby, throwing one of Joel’s old tees on as a nightshirt before tiptoeing back to the bedroom. Joel is already under the covers. You slide in behind him, wrapping an arm around his torso, hand coming up to rest on his broad, naked chest.

“Mmm,” he rumbles, reaching behind you, giving your ass a light squeeze. “Missed you.”

“I have to be at the clinic in two hours,” you yawn, already drifting.

“I can do a lot in two hours,” he says, muffled by the pillow.

You smile, nuzzling against his back. “Not with the kid here, Miller. Go back to sleep.”

~*~

Your reentry was as smooth as it could be under the circumstances.

You were separated from Joel and debriefed for three days. It was not the relaxed process that welcomed you to Jackson the first time, but they didn’t kick you out on your ass, at least. You were reaccepted under probationary terms, to be guarded for six months and prohibited from working in the clinic without Eric or a nurse at your side.

You were allowed to keep your house, but it had been swept of all but the essentials–even the previous owner’s junk had been cleaned out of the attic, along with the radio. You were assigned a roommate who slept in the spare bedroom and made regular reports to the council.

The restrictions drudged up your shame, a thick cloak weighing heavy on your shoulders. You reminded yourself it was fair and temporary, and tried to focus on your work, but more than once you found yourself unable to get out of bed. On the worst days, Joel somehow found his way to your side–sometimes with Ellie and a movie, always with food–and gave you a reason to try to keep going.

Jackson had not fallen to FEDRA, but things had changed in the time you’d been gone. Throughout your probation, you learned FEDRA had sent swarms of infected to Wyoming, but the town was ready to defend itself. It turns out there were more former Fireflies in the community than you’d guessed–including Theresa and Tommy. And while they weren’t actively looking for trouble, they had connections that made it easier to stockpile weapons of the explosive variety. So that’s what they’d done, secretly hoarded enough firepower to take out a small city, enough to leave blackened trenches of undead and FEDRA soldiers in wide swaths of the surrounding countryside.

They’d taken the information you gave them and sent patrols to take out as many of FEDRA’s outposts as they could reach and put a couple of workers on round-the-clock radio monitoring. They also stopped accepting newcomers, blaming the change on the increased presence of infected outside the walls, but you secretly wondered if it was to keep out more people like you.

There had been losses, too. Half a dozen citizens had fallen to the infected during the weeks and months you were gone, a heartbreaking record. Jackson’s sense of safety was shaken, and it was obvious in the drawn looks on people’s faces, the haggardness in their eyes.

You still couldn’t help but blame yourself, even though you understood intellectually it was a thing that was bound to happen. They had gone soft in a world that had no use for gentleness; careless, almost reckless in their belief that isolation would protect them forever.

But the walls still stood, and its citizens moved about within them, and you made yourself a home again, even if you didn’t always feel like you deserved it.

~*~

You blink awake in Joel’s bed, fuzzy and dry-mouthed and strangely…rested. The sun is high in the sky and blazing through the bedroom’s big windows, which can only mean one thing.

Shit.

You bolt upright, looking at the clock; you should have been at work hours ago. You groan, grabbing the walkie from the bedside table and pressing the button to talk.

“Eric, you there?”

“Mornin’, sleeping beauty. Or, I guess it’s afternoon…”

A rich Texan accent, definitely not Eric’s. You feel a deep blush creeping up your neck.

“Christ, Miller, the whole town can hear you,” you mutter into the mic. “Get off the comms.”

A warm, honeyed chuckle through the speakers. “We’re at Tommy’s. Come over when you’re decent. Out.”

Dick, you think, but your lips curl in a smile.

Eric’s voice warbles in your ear a few seconds later. “I’ve got a handle on things over here. See you first thing tomorrow. Out.”

You dress, throwing on some of the clothes you’ve started keeping at Joel’s place for days like this. Downstairs, the house has been pieced back together, an overflowing basket of toys and books pushed to one side of the room, dishes drying next to the sink. Joel must have the day off, a special dispensation to welcome the new family member.

You flush a little when you realize you have the day off, too.

Tommy and Maria’s place is just across the street. You let yourself in and hear conversation upstairs, Ellie’s wry little cackle.

“It’s just me,” you call up the stairs.

“C’mon up!”

They’re all crowded in the bedroom, Maria sitting up against the headboard with little Gwen’s arms wrapped tightly around her neck, Tommy perched next to her on the edge of the bed.

“Hey, mom. How are we feeling?”

You can’t help it; you slip into doctor mode, eying her complexion, barely resisting the urge to reach out and feel her forehead for a temperature, alert for signs of postpartum infection.

“We’re good,” she murmurs, rubbing Gwen’s back. “Someone’s feeling a little clingy.”

“Yeah, it’s Joel,” Ellie chirps from the other side of the room. “He’s hogging the baby.”

Maria smiles up at you wryly and shrugs.

“How’s the bleedi–”

“You’re off duty, doc,” she says immediately, shooting you a look that says she won’t be discussing the state of her uterus with her brother-in-law in the room.

The brother-in-law in question is sitting in the rocker-glider holding the new addition. Ellie is perched on the arm of the chair next to him, poking at the baby’s tiny fist with her finger.

“Right, off duty,” you murmur, suddenly feeling out of place. Joel nudges an ottoman toward you with his foot.

“Come meet the new kid,” he says.

“Oh, we’ve met,” you say, taking a seat. “ Someone kept us up all night.”

Joel holds the newborn’s head in his cupped palms, her body cradled along the length of his forearms. She barely reaches his elbows this way, tiny legs and arms scrunched up like a frog’s. One little fist curls itself against her mouth, while the other wraps itself around Ellie’s index finger and holds tight.

“My turn, old man,” Ellie says, holding out her hands for the infant. Joel places the baby in her arms, muttering something about supporting her head, and Ellie sighs. “Yeah, yeah, I know.”

His eyes soften as he watches his daughter.

“I forgot how small they are,” she says after a time, looking over at Gwen, who is babbling animatedly about something to her mom and dad.

“They grow fast,” Joel says. One big thumb reaches out to stroke the tiny shell of an ear, and for a moment, the new baby’s dark gray eyes blink open.

“There she is,” he whispers, and the smile on his face is so tender, it hurts. You wonder if he’s thinking of Sarah, and then you know he is because his eyes are shining.

“Not this again,” Ellie says good-naturedly, leaning in to prop her chin on Joel’s shoulder. “You’re such a fuckin’ sap.”

“Fuh-kinsap?” Gwen’s little voice pipes up.

“Ellie!” three voices sound in unison as the girl’s eyes widen. There’s a stunned silence, then the room bursts into laughter, startling the new baby with the noise. She lets out a breathy wail to complain, little limbs flailing, and Gwen, still attached to her mother like a barnacle, starts whimpering in sympathy.

You stand, quietly relieved to have a good reason to break up the party. “Let’s clear out. Mom and baby need to rest. Doctor’s orders.”

~*~

When the rest of the family has cleared the room, Tommy with Gwen and Joel with Ellie, you’re alone with Maria and the baby at her breast. She sags a bit, drawing into herself as she encourages the newborn to suckle. You busy yourself with taking vitals, fetching a glass of water, and sending a quiet message over the walkie letting the nurse on duty know she doesn’t have to check in this afternoon.

“Is she latching okay?” you ask, unwrapping the blood pressure cuff from Maria’s upper arm, taking notes on a pad of paper next to the bed.

“Yes.”

“Have you been able to urinate?”

“Yes.”

“Any cramping?”

“Yes,” Maria winces, rubbing at her lower abdomen.

“How about the bleeding? It might be heavy, but anything more than a pad every two hours and you need to–”

You stop when you glance up and find Maria looking at you with tired eyes, wan and half asleep.

“Sorry,” you breathe, smiling a little. “Force of habit. I know you’ve done this before.”

“It’s okay,” Maria says softly. “It’s different every time.” 

You take a seat next to the bed. “So…how are you feeling?” 

She meets your eyes, sizing you up before giving a tired sigh. “A little overwhelmed, to tell you the truth. Gwen is still so young…this one was a surprise.”

“Ahh.” There have been several “surprises” in Jackson since you returned, although you’re treating fewer pregnancies now. You take a small measure of pride in that. “Well, we can help prevent future surprises, if you want.”

“I know. I’ll take you up on that.”

“Does she have a name?”

“Not yet,” Maria says, gently tracing the little girl’s nose with one finger. “Tommy wants to…talk to Joel.”

“Oh?” You cock your head. Then as it dawns on you, “ Oh. ”

“For a middle name,” she clarifies. The baby has fallen asleep; Maria lifts her to her shoulder and rubs her back, watching as if searching for a clue in her tiny face. “But we’re thinking…maybe Isabel.”

Isabel Sarah Miller.

“That’s beautiful,” you murmur.

“Hmm,” Maria says, then yawns.

You take the hint. “I’ll let you get some rest. We’ll send a nurse over later tonight, but I have the walkie. Have Tommy call if you need anything.”

~*~

Downstairs, you peek into the living room and find Tommy sprawled on the couch, snoring, with Gwen sleeping on top of him, the spitting image of his older brother only a few hours ago.

You slowly back out of the room and make your way down the hall to the kitchen, following the sounds of running water, soft conversation, and the clink of dishes. Joel and Ellie are standing at the sink; he washes, she dries, and they’re laughing at something.

You watch their comfortable way with each other. You wonder if she’s forgiven him; you wonder if he’s forgiven himself. And you think maybe, maybe , because things seem easier, if not easy, between them.

Her nightmares are less frequent, and you know she and Joel have talked about turning the garage into a separate bedroom to give her more privacy. She’ll be 17 soon, and he’s getting better at letting her go.

Whether you can forgive yourself…that’s still an open question with fangs and claws. You wonder if you will ever feel like you fit here–in Jackson, with Joel and Ellie, with their family.

As if hearing your thoughts, Joel looks over his shoulder and sees you. “Hey, everything alright?”

“All good. Need help?”

“We’re almost done. There’s food in the fridge if you wanna put something in.”

You open the refrigerator to a rainbow of casserole dishes covered in foil; the community obviously rallied. The Millers won’t need to leave the house to eat for a month.

You pick out a square pan with what looks like lasagna and set it aside for dinner, then begin pulling out the rest of the dishes, investigating their contents, and roughly planning a schedule of meals. There’s too much food, but some can be frozen for later.

Too much food. What a concept.

When the lasagna is baking in the oven and Joel is wiping out the sink, Ellie says, “Shit, I gotta go. Told Dina I’d meet her after school and I’m like two hours late.”

“Alright,” Joel says. “Be back by curfew this time.”

“Maybe.”

“Ellie–I mean it. Eleven. Not 11:03, not midnight. Eleven .”

“I know, I know,” she frowns exaggeratedly and throws him a mock salute. “Eleven it is, captain.”

She moves to the door, then hesitates and turns back, catching Joel by the side in a rare and unexpected hug. You meet his eyes over the top of her head as they go wide with surprise, then soft.

“Later, kid.”

“G’bye.”

“She’s right,” he mutters when she’s gone, swiping at his eyes. “I’m a sap.”

“The sappiest sap,” you agree, but you’re talking past a lump in your throat. Today has been too much. You move in to take her place at his side and his grip on you is fierce.

~*~

You put together two dinner plates with the lasagna and some greens you find in the crisper, then cover them and put them in the fridge, deciding to let the new-again parents sleep while they can.

It’s dark when you and Joel creep out of the house. His arm locks around yours on your weak side to steady you, something he’s taken to doing any time you walk together.

“Ellie started cleaning out the garage. Going to move her out there in the spring, when it’s warmer. Should have the summer to get it insulated.”

“You’re going to have an empty nest,” you tease.

“Not if Tommy and Maria keep goin’ like they’re goin’,” he says gruffly. “Could open a damn daycare.”

“You love it.”

He scowls, but a smile peeks out from underneath.

You stop outside his house and follow his gaze upward to a clear black sky and a million stars. He swallows hard and looks at you with such longing, for one unbearable moment you think he’s going to say the words you never say–or do something even more preposterous, like propose.

“So, uh…I was thinkin’...since Ellie’s moving out…this place is too big for just me.”

“Oh, really?”

“Mmhmm. Put so much work into it an’ all…hate to just leave it…”

Relief billows and pools inside you, and you sag against him. “Sounds like you need a roommate.”

“I…thought about that. Might even have someone in mind.”

You cluck your tongue. “They’d have to be a very special kind of person to put up with you.”

He growls in the back of his throat, and gently pulls you around to face him.

“It’s further from the clinic,” you frown, trailing a finger down the front of his shirt.

Joel snorts. “Yeah, ‘cause that whole extra block’s a real bitch.”

“Sarcasm does not become you, Miller.”

“Hey,” his voice softens, and he tips your chin up in the crook of his finger. He’s searching your face, hoping to find it–the silent thing that says he is yours, and you are his, even if you are both too broken to say it.

“I think…we could make it work,” you say softly.

“Really?” he smiles, all relief and wonder and stars in his eyes. “You do?”

He’s looking at you with a tenderness you can hardly bear, but you don’t look away. He ducks his head until your warm breath mingles in soft white clouds between you.

“Nothing serious, right?” you whisper, before his mouth slants over yours and his words are lost to the softness of your lips.

“Nothin’ serious.”

~*~

The end. <3

If you made it this far, thank you for reading. Your comments/likes/kudos are EVERYTHING. :)

[runawaymarbles]

I love how sometimes 911 has babies come out covered in vernix and sometimes they're like "water broke! Ten centimeters! There's a baby and it's perfectly clean, huzzah!"

[mamaskullz]

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┊┋ Pairing: Ubbe x OC

┊┋ Series Summary: "I see you'll create a legacy and

┊┋when you knew your end is coming, that’s when you

┊┋start lacking in the one wish you desired the most

┊┋because of your adventurous ways”, the tone in the

┊┋child’s voice as she spoke to the great Ragnar with the

┊┋winds flowing through her silver black hair that would

┊┋gently swiftly moves in the wind with the hues of her

┊┋white like grey slate eyes knowing her destiny would

┊┋ soon start dealing with the sons of Ragnar.

┊┋ Notes: Tw:

┊┋ Chap I~ The Valkyrie Cries~

┊┋ 2204 words count

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~790 AD~

Ever hear the cries of the Valkyries when they appear to the slain who earned their rightful place in Vahalla where they are greeted at a feast with the mighty Odin himself? What if there were rumors amongst the dead that this year would be the birth of a Valkyrie, a very resurrection of one of his faithful Valkyrie that was one of The Third of his Norns as this child earned the name of a goddess being that embodiment of that very Goddess of fate?

Heard the cries of a woman who accumulated bullets of sweat on her forehead joining the excruciating pain sent to the woman as the other women tended to her in a small wooden cobblestone home as she was on the journey of giving birth, Some were standing by her with just a white cloth dampened from the waters of a wooden bowl replacing the cloths with a new dampened cloth to keep her body cool helping her and praying to the gods that shell have a safe birth. The iron lock on the door clinked as the door burst open causing the reaction of the women to look over in the direction to see a man standing wearing a black tunic with a worried look on his face as the cries continue.

"How is she? What is news about the baby? Will the baby make it?" I heard the unsettling tones coming from his voice as one of the women tried their best to calm him down the pregnant woman's cries were heard in the background causing his concerned looks, "I assure you everything is alright, the baby is healthy and is ready to make its entrance onto the sight of the gods", As the words fell from the woman's perched slightly dry pink lips which put an ease to the Male. "Ást Mín", hearing her quivering voice call out towards the male when her sights set upon him, the male comes running over quickly as soon as he heard her call his nickname.

Falling on his knees beside their shared bed with her hand reaching out to him he successfully grabbed a hold to gradually smile at them two seeing each happily in love, "heart mín", he spoke softly unto her receiving a kiss on her wet forehead and tasting the faint salt taste on his lips, she felt his lips feeling the tension ease up feeling happy and upon the excitement ready to have this baby with the women prepared for the delivery of the baby. As they started the procedure, telling her to push as she did with her love holding her hand feeling the pressure she sent squeezing his hand while using all her strength to push forth while the other woman who was wiping the sweat from her forehead and neck gracefully, motivating her to continue with her pushing.

She almost succeeded in the delivery as the woman told her Just one more push to go the woman took a breather nodding in understanding keeping a tight grip on her love hand while he encouraged her that she was doing great giving him whispers in her ear and kisses on her forehead and cheek. Giving one last push she screamed out using all her strength and might before hearing a screeching cry of a baby, covered in its mother's vernix as the women who helped deliver the baby wrapped in a blue thick linen blanket cleaned the baby up from the white creamy transparent substance it was covered in. Holding the child in her arms she checks and sees a small smile that grows into a bright beautiful smile turning around to the couple as the tired mother and the anticipating father look back at the woman, "The Gods have blessed you with a baby girl!" Walking over to give the new parents their newborn daughter, seeing the beautiful radiant color of her skin that resembles the embers of the fire that still burns until it's only a speck of dust, with eyes like snow seeing the White like grey slate hues color of her eyes as there were silver streaks in her black milky hair earning a smile from her parents as her mother held her, "My Love shes beautiful", The Mother whispered towards to her love seeing the smile on his face as he slowly reached out wanting to hold her daughter to which The Mother lets him gently handing her over to him to his tall scrawny like stature held in his arms of embrace as he looks down to his daughter.

As the father held his newborn daughter starring her in awe flashes of visions started to appear in his mind for he was the seer with his shamanic abilities, seeing through these visions of a dark raven along with Valkyrie standing who was a goddess looking towards him before her eyes reverted to the baby giving him a nod before a flash as he saw an up close face with a man who was missing an eye speaking out to him saying "A Valkyrie rests on the rock in sleep, flickering fire flames about her with the sleep-thorn Ygg her erst did prick, other heroes she felled than he had willed, for her name of That Which Shall Be", Speaking with the deeped groggy tone of his voice speaking unto the man hearing the growls of the draugr in the background before his visions came to a clear where he comes back to his love and his daughter who was now calm after the cries she was speaking, The Father took one look at her, "I have a name that Odin himself have gifted me with, Through her beauty giving as she was blessed by Freyja herself, i have seen of our beautiful daughters future that will be an epic adventure but will be challenging that only her will have to figure out herself, for a name that comes from a Valkyrie, she rides to choose who shall be slain & govern the killings. I blessed the name Skuld Draugr coming from the youngest norn and powerful Valkyrie along with her dark aura of the strength of a Draugr. She will be one of the strongest women who will be the guide of men", the father spoke earning a smile from his love, loving the name Skuld Draugr but earning the sense of trepidation knowing what may come to him and her.

Midnight has fallen upon the couple after the delivery, The Mother and Father were fast asleep in their shared bed covered up in animal hides blankets as Skuld was in her made basinet who was peacefully sleeping until hearing in the distantce of men yells which caused the male to awake from his slumber hearing the rumbling sounds as they get closer seeing out of the window looking upon ball of light getting closer which were torches that were being carried by men, seeing the action caused the man to be afraid as he quickly woke up his dear love, grabbing a few things for her she was confused as to why he looked in the disarrayed state with confusion and grew worried in her, "My Beloved what wr-", As her words cut off short hearing the commotion outside before she came back from her love shoving her things in her face, "There no time to talk, you and Skuld need to leave Kattegat immediately", with his voice sounding scared hearing the shudder in his voice as there was no time to for an explanation as she picks up a now disturbed Skuld crying since her slumber was interrupted by her mother sudden lift into her arms as you could see the tear in her eyes falling from her face as they hugged and kissed each other one last time don't know if this is farewell forever as their eyes that were glassy from the tears looking at each other with their heart sinking one by one.

With her now running in the dark woods, she comes to a halt seeing from a distance their shared home was now being raided by Vikings the torches surrounded their home seeing them bring their beloved out of their own by force before they realized the wife & their daughter was not in there which her feet starts picking back up running once again now knowing she was gonna get hunted down heading down towards a vacant shore which she comes to seeing and empty boat, with no time to waste she gets in the boat placing down of what little belongings she had left while holding her daughter in the other arm, grabbing the oars started to move the boat with the gravity of the water she held her daughter close feeling the tears pouring from her face knowing her love will not be with him, and Skuld will not have her father watching her grow.

After a successful mission putting Skuld back to sleep the process of falling asleep herself, startled as she was when the boat hit something which caused her to wake up seeing land upon her as the sky returned to a bright light shining down her melanin skin she looked around seeing some people walking back with baskets of clothes or some carrying some food materials, she recognizes the place in the instant as she could smell the grassy mildew as she arrived in Götaland.

~793 AD, 3 Decades Later~

In the South of Svealand, in Scandinavia I heard the cheerful giggles of a little girl and bark coming from a dog seeing a now 3-year-old Skuld smiling from top to bottom playing with a fluffy rather big dog who was gray and white earning a smile from a woman who looked like she was in her mid-20s seeing how her golden brown wavy hair went all the way down to her back watching Skuld playing with the dog that seems to belong to the woman, She seems interested in my dog huh Skadi?, she spoke with her lips perched looking back at her shield maiden who was the mother of Skuld, as she looks upon her daughter given like playful at her nature, ever since upon arriving in götaland seeking shelter to which she was blessed to be picked by princess Aslaug to be her shield maiden and servant in return shelter for her and her child as Skadi learned how to use a sword by her father when she was a youngling which it grabbed her advantage as she became one of Aslaugs shield maiden. Coming back to the present, watching her daughter play making her smile remembering when she was just a baby, I do agree with you princess, As the words fell from her lips as for the other shield maidens that came along in protection of their beautiful princess Aslaug. "I wondered what it was like to bore children to see their cute-like stature growing until they grew strong among many men and women", Aslaug spoke with such curiosity while looking at Skuld, Skadi looked at Aslaug wondering what was going on in her mind before feeling her lips part, "your grace, it is like any parents who bore a child or children of their own, as the gods above have blessed them with beautiful kids that fill their heart with love and care, wanting for their kids to have the world see the beauty of kid. Will sacrifice anything to protect their own, I believe like Your grace parents when they had you princess", Skadi spoke like a true mother would, speaking from the heart of her soul as Aslaug looked over to Skadi giving her a lovely smile.

"I know your graces loved her parents by the way she will speak so highly of them while they feast with Odin in Valhalla", Skadi added knowing Aslaug loved being praised by others for her obsequious clever nature, before Aslaug stood up from her seat and getting undressed to bath in the clear river waters before her eyes. "Skuld!" Skadi called beckoning for her daughter to come, Skuld came to a halt from playing with Aslaug's dog to now finding herself running to her mother, hearing the cute giggles as she looked up seeing her mother who squatted down before her at eye level with her daughter, "While our princess bathes would you mind going out into the forest grabbing some black crowberry & red raspberry, knowing how you love when mommy fixes that sweet treat she always makes for you?", Hearing the words she was hearing her eyes lit up nodding in excitement as a brown linen pouch fell into Skulds hand before Skadi sends her off trusting in her daughter that she knows how to get back in safe arms.

Skulds now with instructions in the forest to find the berries she needs grabbing a handful before hearing upon her ears as she hears twigs snapping from a distance before she knew it that's when she turned around seeing upon her a man, whose eyes glittered like the oceans, when her visions started as her journey as a völva became to be...

[transgenderer]

Demodex folliculorum is a microscopic mite that can only survive on the skin of humans.[2][3] Most people have D. folliculorum on their skin. Usually, the mites do not cause any harm, so are considered an example of commensalism rather than parasitism;[4] but they can cause disease, known as demodicosis.[5]

As an adult, D. folliculorum measures 0.3 to 0.4 mm (0.012 to 0.016 in) long.[7]

The entire life cycle of D. folliculorum takes 14–16 days.[9] Adult mites copulate at the top of the hair follicle, near the skin surface.[10] Eggs are deposited in the sebaceous gland inside the hair follicle.[10] The heart-shaped egg is 0.1 mm (0.0039 in) long, and hatches into a six-legged larva.[11] In seven days the larva develops into a mature adult,[5] with two intervening nymph stages.[11] The adult lives for four to six days.[9]

Within the hair follicle, D. folliculorum is found above the sebaceous gland,[2] positioned head downward, with the end of the abdomen often protruding from the hair follicle.[11] Inhabited follicles usually contain 2–6 mites, but numbers can be greater.[11]

D. folliculorum is not found on newborn babies, but is acquired shortly after birth, most likely from maternal contact.[11] Few mites are found on children under 10 years of age, but nearly all elderly people have them.[10] The increasing population over time may be due to a small initial presence gradually growing over time, or may be because levels of the mite's food, sebum, increase with age.[10] Substance produced by sebaceous glands of newborns has also a different composition as it is called vernix caseosa.[13]

High numbers of D. folliculorum are associated with blepharitis and acne rosacea.[14] The mechanism by which the mites cause disease is unknown; they may physically block the hair follicle, carry disease-causing bacteria or, after death, their bodies may cause either a delayed hypersensitivity response, or an innate immune response.[10] Controversy exists over whether high numbers of D. folliculorum cause rosacea, or whether the skin environment caused by rosacea is more hospitable to mites than normal skin, allowing them to flourish.[7] Populations of D. folliculorum are higher in people with immunosuppression.[4]

[gallifreyinstituteforlearning]

Does Time Lord hair style itself? When Ten, Tentoo and Fourteen appear, his hair already seems to have gel in it.

What gives?!?!

'Auto-styling' Hair in Regeneration

Ooo, there's the golden question! We have no factual answer for this, so we're back to the world of theories.

🌟 Leading theory: Regenerative Coating

What if Time Lords regenerate with a protective coating similar to vernix caseosa that newborn humans have? This Gallifreyan vernix could be nutrient-rich and imbued with artron energy, setting the hair in a position during the regenerative process before absorbing and leaving the hair looking like it's styled with hair gel. Is that gross or not? Can't decide.

As well as hairstyle, it could also account for the period of 'moulding' after regeneration, where tiny physical details can change, and answer why getting your hand chopped off by an angry Sycorax doesn't make Gallifreyan bleed or scar through its intense healing properties and tag-teaming with lindos.

🔬 Sub-theory 1: Microscopic Lindos Manipulation

We know that Gallifreyans have lindos, a type of stem cell, for regenerative and healing processes. What if their hair follicles are packed with specialized lindos that can "remember" a default or even a preferred hairstyle? Upon regeneration, they return the hair to its remembered state or adapt to the Time Lord's new persona.

🪮 Sub-theory 2: Mood-Responsive Hair

Given that Gallifreyan hair can "feel" due to the denser keratin and higher nerve density, what if it's also sensitive to the emotional state of the Time Lord? Imagine a scenario where the hair can tighten or loosen its curl, straighten or puff up, all based on what it "senses" its Time Lord is feeling. Bad companion breakup? Hair tightens. Just saved the universe? Effortless wave. This hair has more drama than a soap opera, and I'm here for it. Far less plausible of course, but also very fun.

There you have it - three theories that could explain the auto-style of our favourite Time Lords.

Hope that helped! 😃

→🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (WIP) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine/Monitoring Guides →📝Source list (WIP)

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[withnailrules]

Gate C22 By Ellen Bass

At gate C22 in the Portland airport a man in a broad-band leather hat kissed a woman arriving from Orange County. They kissed and kissed and kissed. Long after the other passengers clicked the handles of their carry-ons and wheeled briskly toward short-term parking, the couple stood there, arms wrapped around each other like he’d just staggered off the boat at Ellis Island, like she’d been released at last from ICU, snapped out of a coma, survived bone cancer, made it down from Annapurna in only the clothes she was wearing.

Neither of them was young. His beard was gray. She carried a few extra pounds you could imagine her saying she had to lose. But they kissed lavish kisses like the ocean in the early morning, the way it gathers and swells, sucking each rock under, swallowing it again and again. We were all watching– passengers waiting for the delayed flight to San Jose, the stewardesses, the pilots, the aproned woman icing Cinnabons, the man selling sunglasses. We couldn’t look away. We could taste the kisses crushed in our mouths.

But the best part was his face. When he drew back and looked at her, his smile soft with wonder, almost as though he were a mother still open from giving birth, as your mother must have looked at you, no matter what happened after–if she beat you or left you or you’re lonely now–you once lay there, the vernix not yet wiped off, and someone gazed at you as if you were the first sunrise seen from the Earth. The whole wing of the airport hushed, all of us trying to slip into that woman’s middle-aged body, her plaid Bermuda shorts, sleeveless blouse, glasses, little gold hoop earrings, tilting our heads up.

[bellamer]

Baby Mine

(Thoughts run through Belzer’s mind as he ponders the birth of another child, while lamenting the loss of his other children)

-

It happened like clockwork. He was getting too old for this. Gnasher and Wincer hadn’t even been gone for a full decade yet.

Every time his body felt like he was suffering from the loneliness of losing his children, it felt as if it was time to birth another one, to fill the void of childhood previously lost.

He stared at the mewling infant in the palm of his hand, tired and exhausted himself. It was a scrawny one this time and if Belzer didn’t know any better, he’d say that this one was a dud and wouldn’t even make it through the night. He had went through duds before, especially when he was younger, and even if it hurt him when a child of his never had the chance to open their eyes or took their first breath, he had grown used to it and it made him even more grateful for the ones that were born safely. But as it squirmed against his palm, he could tell that this one was a fighter.

There was no time to grieve of children of the past now. He had to get in the right headspace and focus on the now. He gently wiped the vernix-adjacent goop off of the newborn with his fingertips and sighed, shrinking himself down into a smaller form.

“Soul Jockeys ! Get me a towel ! On the double !” His voice boomed as he heard the flapping of wings in the distance. He held the infant in his arms, rocking them, hoping that the skin to skin would sooth their whimpers, which it almost always did. He had been through this too many times before to know that.

Once the soul jockeys got him a towel, he was able to to clean the infant up some more and get a good look at them.

“You’re such a skinny one… usually I would wait a while to see if you’d survive before naming you but…. I feel like you’re gonna make it.” He ran his thumb against the infant’s cheek.

It then hit him that he was truly by himself with this one. Usually, when this happened, at least one of his children who hadn’t left yet would run up and meet their new sibling but… they were all gone. It was just him and this new one. He turned his attention back to the infant in order to distract from the pain he felt in his chest. This one would be different. This one wouldn’t run away. Belzer would be better, this child would listen to him. He hoped. He couldn’t take another loss.

He took a deep breath and focused. This infant needed him and he needed them, so that he could keep it together. No more despair. He needed to focus on the new life in his arms.

The infant started to mewl again, probably hungry and cold. Belzer chuckled as he nuzzled up to the infant, letting the baby grab ahold of his finger. He could tell by the grip that this one was going to be strong. They were definitely going to make it.

“There there… you’ll be taken care of…” Belzer said, his deep voice unusually soft. “It’s just you and me now… Wendell… it’s just you and me.”

[meatexe]

love u parasocially 4evr meatz :) scritching u behind ur ears

i am sending my essence to u thru miles of undersea fiber optic cables i am floating n weaving thru ur internet, gossamer thin n i am birthing myself from ur device screen covered in blood n vernix n looking up at u w huge wet eyes. it doesn’t have to be parasocial . kiss me

[artsculturevienna]

Käthe KOLLWITZ (1867-1945) “Frau mit totem Kind” - “Woman with Dead Child” (1903) Strichätzung, Kaltnadel, Schmirgel und Vernis mou Line etching, drypoint, sandpaper and vernix mou Sammlung / Collection ALBERTINA Wien / Vienna Ausstellung / Exhibition Dürer, Munch, Miró. The Great Masters of Printmaking ALBERTINA Wien / Vienna - 2023