#Story TW: Miscarriage

[staticscreenwriting]

maybe the night would take me home II Frankie Morales

Part 1 : "Divorce And The American South"  & "The Thunderbird Inn"

a Frankie Morales Story inspired by the album  "We Don't Have Each Other" by  Aaron West and the Roaring Twenties.

A/N : This imagine series will deal with sensitive topics please see my tags for TW. Please proceed with caution. Also there’s mention of smoking and alcohol. English is not my native language, go easy on me please. Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated

There's a hole in the wall and a square where the wallpaper is a lighter shade of beige than the rest. There probably used to be a painting or a mirror. The ceiling fan is missing one of its blades and there's a huge rip in the ugly brown curtain that's blocking the street lights from flooding the room.

He can just about make out the glow coming from the street light in front of his window. There used to be more color permeating the thin curtains and throwing kaleidoscope patterns into his motel room but people have started to take down their Christmas lights leaving him with just the ugly yellow of the street lamp.

The motel room is dull and gray and hopeless and broken and ugly and Frankie thinks it's fitting because that's exactly how he feels and really, he doesn’t mind it all that much.

The clerk at the front desk, he wants to say his name is Steve, is nice, and always pours him a cup of coffee whenever he finds Frankie sitting in the tiny lobby area of the Motel where the vending machines are. The coffee isn’t good but it’s warm and that’s enough these days.

“Long night?” he asks and every time Frankie nods and says “Sure has been.” Steve then grants him one of those smiles that lets you know the person is looking straight through your lie but they’re way too nice to call you out on your bullshit. 

“Well, tomorrow’s a new day. Hope that one is better,” he replies, every time.

Frankie nods again knowing full well it won’t be.

He’s given Frankie a break on the rent this week. 

“Look don’t you worry about it. Just make sure you pay me back with next week’s rent. I know you’re good for it.” 

“I probably am.” 

Steve was laughing then. He probably won’t laugh when he hears that Frankie’s coming up short again this week.

Back in his tiny motel room, his clammy hands grab the room's phone tightly. It will probably cost him a fortune to use it — again — though after throwing it against a solid brick wall, his cell phone is but a piece of junk left somewhere by the side of the truck stop. 

He doesn't really need it anyway. Too many pictures and memories and shit he doesn't want to think about because he can’t get it back.  

He takes another sip from the bottle. He thinks it's whiskey but he might be wrong. It all tastes the same these days.

Calling her won’t do any good and he knows but he can't help himself. It's like an itch that he just has to scratch. It's like a desperate need that he has to satisfy. It's like an addiction he has to feed.

It's 2 in the morning and she's most likely asleep and Frankie hates himself for waking her up. She's lost enough sleep as it is. But his mind is so loud and he needs to get all of these things off his chest. All the things he didn't say when he should have, when it counted, when it meant something, when she needed him to.

It's not the first time he's called either. He wonders if she'll ever pick up.

There's a perfectly clear picture burned into his mind of the first time he'd called her after he left. He had been stranded at some run-down truck stop that could've been the perfect location for the first kill in a horror movie. There was a bottle of water in his hand and the phone receiver in the other.

He can't recall how long he'd spent inside the phone booth reading her number out loud and trying to work up the courage to call her but he knows it's been quite a while. And when he did he was met with the dial tone. With every beep his heart sunk a little further, felt a little heavier.

" Hello this is Y/N, I can't pick up the phone right now but feel free to leave a message after the tone and I'll ring you back. Ok, bye. "

Her voice sounded so cheery and he remembers the tears threatening to leave his eyes at the sound of it. She hadn't sounded this cheery in a long long time and his heart broke knowing that was partially his fault.

" Hey Y/N, It's me .... Frankie. If you’re listening can you please pick up the phone? I know you're home. "

He could still recall her daily schedule better than anything, after all, they had been living together for years.

" I know where I went wrong. I really do. I uh— I'm at a truck stop. Not sure where I'm going yet but I'll call you. Please talk to me, baby. I love you. "

He remembers his heart breaking and breaking more and shattering and it hasn't been fixed yet. There's that little cynical corner of his brain that tells him it never will be fixed. All good things come to an end sooner or later and this is THE good thing in his life. She is the best thing. She was the chance he never thought he’d get. A shot at redemption.

That other day he found a bar just outside the township line. He goes most every night now whenever he can feel a bad night coming. All nights are bad nights now. The floors are sticky and the bar is dusty but the drinks are cheap and the barkeeper doesn’t bother to get him tangled up in any kind of conversation. All Frankie gets is a look of pity as he pours him another drink. Fuck, he didn’t know that he looks that pathetic. 

The alcohol doesn’t numb his heart the way it used to. Back when he woke up in a cold sweat with visions of a life he tried so hard to leave behind he could always count on the inside of a bottle to make the demons disappear for a while. Then when that stopped working, the drugs managed to do it. 

And then when he hit rock bottom, for some inexplicable reason, life chose to send him her and she made every other coping mechanism pale in comparison. Her love did not make the demons go away, or the fear, or the guilt. Her love made him realize that he could live a good life regardless. That even the worst parts of him are worthy of love. 

He thinks she might’ve been wrong.

There's a half-empty pack of cigarettes laying on the nightstand. He hasn't touched them for a while. Got them at that same truck stop where he smashed his phone but only smoked half a pack before he remembered that promise he made her a long time ago, back when she had first told him, back when they were happy.

And he failed. Because for a while he’d felt like the reason he stopped smoking in the first place had vanished. If there was no one to promise something to, was there even a promise to begin with? 

The cigarettes bring back memories of the second time he'd called her. It was right after he arrived here, at this very same motel. With the very same peeling wallpaper and the chipped door and the ceiling fan that is missing one blade and the carpet with the burn marks. The same motel he is basically succumbing in right now.

He was less nervous the second time he'd called her, less nervous but more fucked up. Half drunk on cheap whiskey and half drunk on the infinite sadness he's felt ever since their life went to shit.

This time he didn't make himself believe she'd pick up. He knew she wouldn't and maybe that was a good thing. Frankie didn't want her to know he was shitfaced, that he tried to numb the pain with past vices he promised to leave behind.

" Hey Y/N "

As the words rolled off his lips there was no doubt in his mind that she'd still know. He sounded drunk. He hated it.

" Just wanted to tell you that uh — I uh I've been trying to quit. I went from a pack and a half a day to this e-cigarette bullshit. "

It had been a stupid idea, thinking this e-cigarette shit would do anything for him but it was worth a try. Everything was worth a try for her.

" It stops the coughing fits. I know that you always hated my smoking habit. I hope you can be a little proud of me. I know I don't deserve it. I love you, bye."

There was a time, Frankie thinks and scoffs, when he thought love was enough. What a fool he'd been. Now he knows that's all proper bullshit.

It isn't like he doesn't love her, he loves her entirely too much for his own good. 

It's that too much love can destroy you. It eats you up from the inside out.

He can't keep himself from loving her though, and from holding onto that little spark of hope that she might still love him back. After all they've been through, all they had to endure, the thought that she might one day forgive him and love him again was the only thing still keeping him afloat. Without her, he'd sink. And maybe, he thinks, maybe love is enough. It's enough to make him go on.

There's a fly buzzing around the room, sitting down on Frankie’s arm from time to time. He doesn't have the energy to swat her away.

A little voice in his mind wonders what would happen if he just kept laying here. Maybe if he only lays here long enough, maybe the bugs will eat him alive. Maybe the night will swallow him and take him home. Maybe she’ll come looking for him.

His mind wanders off to places he tried hard to forget. To the tears and the pain and the way she didn't yell at him. Not once.

She didn't scream or yell or throw stuff at him. She just stared and let it all wash over her as if she was invincible.

He knew she wasn't. Knows she isn’t now. She wasn't invincible but she was too deeply wounded to care anymore and that was the most terrifying part of it all.

He wanted her to yell so he knew she still cared.

He thinks of the dream and how he saw himself, lifeless, alone. How everyone was looking at him as they lowered his casket into the ground. How his friends were there, his brother, his family, and even the neighbors. Not her though. She wasn't there.

His fingers are dialing the familiar numbers before he can even fully register what's happening.

There's the dial tone that he's grown to know so well lately. Three more and he gets to hear her voice.

Two.

One.

" Hello this is Y/N, I can't pick up the phone right now but feel free to leave a message after the tone and I'll ring you back. Ok, bye. "

Lies. She won’t call back. But that's okay, he understands why she doesn’t. Why she can’t.

" Y/N It's me again. Frankie. "

He combs his fingers through his hair nervously.

" Of course, it's me, who else would call you at this time? I'm sorry. "

He's been saying sorry an awful lot lately. Especially considering the fact that he hasn't been very generous with that word when it really mattered.

" I had a dream. About you. Well not exactly about you. Actually, you weren't in it and that's kind of the problem. "

Remembering the dream sends a cold shiver down his back.

" I uh — I was on a plane. I flew back north, no idea where I wanted to go. All I know is that I didn't make it there. Plane went down like it was made of paper. They were all at the funeral. My funeral. Everyone. Not you though. You — You weren't there Y/N. That scares me. I hope you'd come to the funeral. I'd want you there. "

He knows it's time. She's not gonna pick up anytime soon so this might be his only chance of ever getting to admit his faults of ever talking about the actual problem, the root of all the pain and heartbreak. It's not face-to-face but it's the next best thing. It's his only shot.

" Y/N, I know I fucked up. I do know. It's just after it happened. After — "

Saying it out loud will make it real. It will break his heart once again. He's an adult though and has been running from his issues long enough. This stupid urge to flee made this all so much worse.

Take a breath.

And face the reality.

" After it happened. When we lost the baby I just, I shut off. I shut you out and I am so sorry. I just, I needed to be strong for you but I wasn't. All I did was push you away. I never listened. I wasn't there. I should've been there for you to help you get through this but I was too busy keeping myself from bursting at the seams. Fuck, I was so selfish. If I could change the way I treated you, treated the situation, trust me I would. I would. I miss her so much Y/N and I never even got to meet her and I didn't want to put this all-consuming sadness on you so I pulled away. I didn't want to make you hurt even more than you already were but that's exactly what I did and I will never forgive myself for that. I hope you can though. I love you so much. "

There's a hole in his chest the size of a newborn.

It's the size of a little baby girl he never got to meet. A little baby girl he always imagined would have his eyes and her mother's breathtaking smile. A little baby girl he'd raise to be brave and generous and smart and wonderful. 

There is a hole in his chest the size of a little baby girl and he knows it will never fully heal.

He should've been there for her, his wife, the mother of his child. He had tried so hard, so hard to hide his sadness and pain from her instead of embracing it with her by his side. He should've been there with her so they could hold each other above the waters. But he let her drown by herself and he would never fully forgive himself for that.

" I love you Y/N and I'm coming home soon I promise. That's if you still want to see me. I won't let you go through the darkness alone anymore though. I love you. "

He hangs up the phone and without a warning, the tears roll down his cheeks. They're the silent kind, the painful kind. But for once, since it all happened they're not entirely from sadness, a small part of him is feeling a little lighter now that he's faced reality. A small part of him cries tears of relief. A small part of him still believes that maybe things with his wife can work out again if only he can show her how much he cares and loves her. That he can hold her hand even through the darkest of times.

A small part of him knows that it can't get worse than this.

A small part of him, a small part knows she loves him back. Even with that gray cloud hanging over him reminding him of the paperwork that might be waiting for him at home. 

There's a hole in the wall and a square where the wallpaper is a lighter shade of beige than the rest. There probably used to be a painting or a mirror. The ceiling fan is missing one of its blades and there's a huge rip in the ugly brown curtain that's blocking the street lights from flooding the room.

is dull and gray and hopeless and broken and ugly and Frankie thinks that things can only get better from here on out.

It’s 2am when he sneaks out of his room and past the lobby. Steve will forgive him, he’s sure of it. For the two weeks' rent and for not saying goodbye. 

The world is fast asleep as his car takes him down the empty streets towards the bar he found some resemblance of comfort in for the last few weeks.

One last drink, he tells himself. But this one won’t be for the bad days ahead. This one will mark a page turned, a step taken.

“Whiskey?” the barkeeper inquires, already pulling the bottle from the shelf. 

“Gimme a beer instead. Whatever bottles you have in the fridge is fine.” 

No more words are exchanged as the barkeeper hands Frankie the cold bottle.

This one’s for the daughter he’ll never meet, he thinks, and the wife who shouldn’t love him no more but god does he hope and pray she still does. Even when he doesn’t deserve it.

He’s got half a tank of gas left and as soon as the bottle is empty he’ll make his way home.

Not the motel. 

Home. Their apartment.

And he’ll face whatever is waiting there for him. 

That’s the thing about losing everything — things can only get better from here on out.

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

a white stone. l Joel Miller

Summary: it was a hard time for you

Warnings: angst, lots of tears, lots of grief, tw: miscarriage, loss of a child, mourning, unwise decisions, one infected, depressing thoughts, risky behavior, Ellie is there, trying to deal with grief, and finally some hope

A/N: I'll be honest, your reaction to the previous chapter really touched me. my heart was breaking while writing this, but I wanted it to be there. I promise they'll be happy. I'm not a monster after all. but I was moved when I saw your comments and when I could interact with you, it was really nice. thank you for being here and reading.

your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

short stories from life. [masterlist]

"Joel, I'm so sorry for your loss... You didn't deserve this." Ann's soft voice reached his ears. Her eyes were shining with tears, Joel knew that you had grown very close. "I wish I could help you, I would like to talk to her, but I don't think it would be good, considering…my condition."

His gaze followed her hand, which lightly touched her rounded belly clearly visible under her dress.

"Yeah, I guess you're right." he replied, his voice a bit hoarse, but he tried to sound nice. He flinched when Ann touched his arm.

“If you need anything, tell me. Shane and I will do whatever it takes.” She pulled a small package out of her bag and handed it to him. “I made her these cookies. She really liked them last time. Can you give them to her?”

Joel nodded and took the gift from her. Ann didn't hold him back any longer and quickly left, he knew she had shed a few tears. Maria looked similar when she came to him in the morning. She offered to help him with the laundry. Tommy must have told her about the blood stains Joel had found, she had wanted you to avoid stumbling upon them again when you got home.

He didn't have the strength to get involved in the discussion and let her take everything she thought she needed to wash.

Ellie was much quieter too. She made sure you came back from the clinic that evening and promised to tidy up the house, make you tea or something. She wanted to be useful.

It was already dark when you and Joel set off home together, in silence. Just like a few weeks earlier, when you had gone in with your heart in your sleeve to find out you were pregnant, at this point you had both returned broken, not knowing how to cope with the loss. Dr. Morris had told you to rest, so your hiding in the bedroom was understandable. But the days passed and nothing changed.

"She needs time." he explained to Ellie and wanted to add "Like all of us." but he stopped himself.

But then something strange happened. He could clearly hear the creaking of the door, quiet footsteps upstairs. It was Ellie who would sneak into your bedroom, spending hours there sometimes.

"Sometimes we talk, sometimes we're silent." she said when Joel asked her about it one evening. "You know, she blames herself for all of this... She doesn't say it." she added, seeing Joel's worried look. "But I can see it in her eyes."

Your eyes. That was the saddest thing about all of this. Joel had the impression that life had disappeared from them. You have become a body. Still warm, still with a beating heart, but empty inside. He didn't know what to do about it.

"Remember... You once told me that it's not time that heals wounds, it's people. Can't you help her with that? I mean... You love each other, right? I know you're suffering too, but somehow you're coping."

Joel was barely coping with it, really. He did what he could - worked at the stables, helped with renovations, came home to see you were still there. Tommy would sometimes try to talk to him, but he was avoiding it more and more.

"I'm sorry, Joel." Your quiet voice made him look up from the book he was reading in bed and look at you. You came out of the bathroom, your hair still wet, your shirt sticking to your damp body.

"What are you apologizing for, darling?" he asked anxiously.

You folded your arms nervously across your chest, your eyes glazed over. He wanted to get up and take you in his arms, but you looked like a scared animal and he knew he couldn't do that.

"I'm sorry I let you down." you finally choked out, a voice filled with tears "I think this is my punishment, you know. I was so afraid to accept the idea of ​​pregnancy, I was so afraid of all this... What if this child felt it? What if it was because of this?"

"Don't say that." he interrupted you, getting out of bed and taking a few steps towards you "We were both terrified. I know you're in pain, but..."

"You don't know how I feel!" you sobbed "You have no idea!"

He gulped looking at you with pain "I think I know..."

Then it hit you. Joel really knew what you felt, and he had lived with this pain for much longer. Tears flowed down your cheeks and you covered your mouth with your hand to stop the loud sob that escaped your throat.

"And I gave you this pain again..." you choked out, feeling your throat burning.

Warm hands grabbed your face, Joel directed it towards himself. The brown eyes that stared at you were so gentle, so good that you wanted to drown in their depths.

"I wish I could tell you how much you mean to me, but I don't know the words to describe it. You gave me more than I deserved, baby. And I know you're hurting now, I can't promise you it'll be easy, but you're not alone in this. You have me, Ellie, Tommy and Maria, you have Ann and Shane and..."

He didn't finish, because you pulled away and snuggled into his chest, hugging him with all your might. Tears soaked his shirt, but for a moment he hoped he saw the seed of life in your eyes.

Quick footsteps echoed through the stables and Joel glanced over his shoulder to see Shane approaching him. The man nodded in greeting.

"Look, I don't know if this is a good idea, but if she thinks she can handle it..." he began, Joel quickly interrupted.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, putting down the brush.

"You don't know anything?" Shane raised his eyebrows and shook his head. "It's a good thing I came to you first." Your name left his lips. "She came to me with the idea of ​​going back to patrolling. The doctor said there were no health issues, but..."

"You can't be serious." Joel mumbled. "Yeah, the doctor said she was fine, but... Jesus, I didn't know. Has she been to Tommy about this yet?"

Shane shrugged. "Listen, I respect you Joel. I know you're both having a hard time right now, this loss..." Joel looked down and Shane didn't pursue the matter, but he finished his thought. "I don't know if it's wise for her to go on patrol. Maybe in a few weeks. Sure, I can go with her, I'll keep an eye on her, but still..."

Joel cleared his throat, his brow furrowed. "Thank you for telling me. I'll talk to her."

Shane nodded. They were both silent for a moment, until he finally said the words that had been going through Joel's head. "She wouldn't do anything risky, would she?"

Joel wasn't sure about that. You took it one day at a time. The sun rose and set, and you both tried to find your way around your activities. He could feel you tensing under his touch, but he still hoped it was temporary, that you were still trying to cope with all of this. But going back to patrols? That was something new, and he didn't like it very much.

"I don't know what you mean." you replied when he brought it up after returning home. "I've done it before. Morris said I could go back to my duties."

"And I'm sure you told him everything, right?" Joel sneered, resting his hand on the chair. "About how little you sleep. About how little you eat. Because I know you, and I know that you try to hide what's uncomfortable for you, what hurts you and..."

"Thank you for the psychoanalysis!" you hissed. "You do the exact same thing. You're out for hours, doing God knows what."

"Because you don't want to talk to me! I'm trying to get closer to you, but you've put up barricades." he rubbed his hand over his face, trying to gather his thoughts. “Listen, I won’t stop you. But I want you to know that I don’t think it’s a good idea. I love you, I care about you. If there was some way I could…”

“I’m going on patrol with Shane tomorrow.” You interrupted. “Thank you for your concern, but this is what I want.”

He nodded. There was nothing more he could do.

Was it unwise of you? Maybe. But you wanted to believe that going outside the walls of Jackson would make you feel different. You needed it. The space, the forest, the horizon in front of you. The four walls of the house, Jackson - it was driving you crazy. 

Your thoughts kept circling in similar areas. Joel's touch, once so tender, now irritated you. His watchful gaze was glued to you, but you knew perfectly well that he was looking for an opportunity to break free, to leave the house, to be alone.

You didn't blame him. You guessed that he felt hurt too, maybe even disappointed. He had given you such support at first, but after the loss you weren't sure if he still wanted it. Yes, he had talked about it, but you had a feeling that he was forcing himself to do all this.

Shane stopped and looked around carefully. This was your another joint patrol since you came back and you found yourself in a new region. His behavior tore you away from your thoughts for a moment.

"Is something wrong?" you asked, looking where he was.

"I'm not sure." he mumbled. "Maybe it's a rabbit or some other animal." he glanced at you over his shoulder. "You good?"

"Yeah, we can move on." you replied and you slowly moved forward.

Shane didn't bring up any sensitive topics. He respected your silence, and when you asked a question, he answered, happy that he could occupy your thoughts with something else. You found a rocky ledge that seemed perfect for camping and resting.

"Ann packed something for you." Shane smiled, handing you a small bundle. "I swear, she probably wants to fatten you up."

"I don't mind. I love her baked goods." you replied, sniffing a piece of apple pie with cinnamon.

You ate in silence, listening to the sounds of the forest, inhaling the fresh and clean scent. You offered to wash the dishes in the stream below and slowly went down. The water was pleasantly cool, washing over the mossy stones and washing the remains of food from the plates and cups.

You remembered the river where you first saw Ellie. It was much bigger. But then you met Joel too, your paths connected. Now you were by the river again, and you hadn't been this far from each other for a long time.

"Hey! Hey!" Shane's call tore you from your thoughts, "Watch out, on the right!"

Something was moving quickly in the ferns, panting and hissing. You stood up abruptly and put your hand on the butt of the gun at your side. You stared in that direction. Shane was calling something, but you barely heard him. 

An infected one crawled out of the undergrowth. It looked awful, like it had been here for a long time and nature was slowly trying to take it over. It crawled toward you, sensing its prey, and you...

You couldn't move. You felt the gun under your hand, you knew what you should do, but you just stared at him as if hypnotized. Teeth that could easily bite your throat, tear you apart, kill you and free you from everything that...

A loud gunshot made you jump. Shane was next to you and fired a second shot to make sure. He looked at you with fear and anger.

"That's what I was afraid of!" he growled, "I felt you would do something like that... Jesus!"

"I could handle it." You replied, but he shook his head. He took a few steps trying to gather his thoughts, and then looked at you.

"You and Joel are my friends, we've been through a lot together, but... I can't stand to watch what you're doing to each other," he said, his eyes genuinely concerned. "Listen, I know you're hurting. You've had a lot of bad things happen to you in your life, you didn't deserve them. I also know you're strong, tough, good. And Joel's heart is in the right place, you know. He loves you. He'd give his life for you if you asked him to. And you'd do the same..." he took a few steps towards you and noticed the tears welling up in your eyes. "I won't tell him what happened here. But you need to talk to him. You need to find a way back to each other. Don't let this fucking world take the best of you away."

You saw him on the porch with his guitar, quietly strumming the strings. The setting sun was falling on his face, making his skin seem almost golden. Damn, you had always thought he was handsome, but in that moment you realized it again. A heavy stone fell into your stomach as you thought of the hell you had created for yourselves.

He lifted his head at the sound of your quiet footsteps.

"Joel..." you began quietly.

He put the guitar down and stood up. "I want to show you something," he said. You nodded.

You let him grab your hand and lead you to the back of the house, then a little further to the trees growing on the outskirts. The trees cast long shadows and the sounds of Jackson slowly faded away. You didn't see where Joel was leading you, it was only when you stopped that you noticed.

Under the spreading oak tree you saw a white stone, it was smooth and surrounded by smaller stones like the ones you saw in the stream. Your eyes found some grooves on the surface. Letters or numbers. You let go of Joel's hand and walked closer. The numbers formed a date, and just above it you saw a small carved cross.

You understood.

“When Sarah left, it was like I died while I was alive.” Joel’s voice was quiet and calm, reaching you over the rustling of leaves and the chirping of birds. “I don’t remember much of that time. A black hole. I don’t want you to end up there too, baby, and I can see you’re headed straight for its embrace… I thought if you had a place you could come to when the days were really hard, it might help.”

You turned and looked at Joel, the man you loved, who had done more for you than anyone else. Your eyes stung from the tears that were pressing under your eyelids, you were still surprised that you were still able to cry.

"Did you do it yourself?" you asked. He nodded.

"I thought it might be easier for you... I wish I could take this pain away from you, but I know I can't. But you're not alone... We're in this together, remember?"

He didn't think your little nod would give him such relief. He felt like he could go to you, take you in his arms, hug you and try to soothe this pain. And Joel did it. You hid in his arms, in the mix of sobs he heard your pleas for forgiveness, promises that this time it would be different, that you would be together again.

"I love you so much, baby." he whispered, touching your lips with his, pressing his forehead to yours.

"I love you too."

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist, i think: @picketniffler @orcasoul @bbyanarchist @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @somedayheaven @underneath-the-sky-again @callmebyyournick-name

[warwickroyals]

Ruby Lou Dewitt Claypoole was born on April 13 in 1916

Ruby Lou (also spelled "Rubylou") was born in Cincinnati, Ohio, without causing her mother much "undue suffering." She was a quiet baby, and the nurses were baffled when she didn't cry but only stared up at them "as if being born was no great feat". Her mother later wrote, "she is peaceful [ . . .] despite the times of which she was born." It was 1916, just under two years after the start of World War One.

Ruby was the seventh of eight children born to Wall Street stockbroker and lawyer Isadore "Issy" Collins Claypoole and suffergest socialite Gladys Cecile Dewitt, of Ohio cornfield wealth. The name Ruby was from her fortune-hunting paternal grandfather, Ruben Cohen, the son of a Polish immigrant who'd struck gold on the New York stock exchange. Ruben's marriage to multi-millionaire heiress Eliza Stamp Claypoole caused a social stir in the 1870s. The Claypool family were as "new as money could get", and while everyone in New York society knew who they were, few could say what they were. "They were New Yorkers who preferred New Haven over Manhattan. They owned land but didn't shoot. And they were, in part, Jews, but they hid it well." Ruby's siblings were Gordon, Constance, Adela, Joseph, Francis, Isadore Jr., and Hyacinth.

The United States entered the war just weeks before Ruby's first birthday. Under the Selective Service Act of 1917, Gordon, Joseph, and Francis were all conscripted, to the great dismay of their father, who strongly opposed American involvement in a European war. While Gordon and Joseph both returned home, Francis was killed during the Somme. In his grief, Isadore Sr. relied on his two youngest daughters, Ruby and Hyacinth. Ruby especially charmed her father, who described her in his memoirs as "that bright, clever daughter who was the sunshine of my life."

Ruby's relationship with her mother was more strained. Gladys was a dominant woman of staggering girth. A budding suffragette at the time of her marriage, years of hot-blooded political activism had turned Gladys into a dragon, the fire-breathing monster that occupied Ruby's nightmares. "Wicked, wicked, wicked," Ruby would later describe her mother. "And she never knew what she wanted. She hated Catholics until it was time to cook fish on Fridays." Although, Ruby's opinion of her mother in later years, "Without my mother I would have never learned to stand up for myself, or say the things I really ought to."

Gladys Dewitt Claypoole was obsessed with the education of her daughters. She wanted them to be "well-read, well-bred, and well-bed" representatives of the modern, twentieth-century woman. Gladys fixated on Ruby, who wilted under pressure and wouldn't grow past five foot one. Ruby was educated with her sisters at Spence School, a private school that focused on sympathy and human connection more than science and mathematics. Her former headmistress labled Ruby a star. "I am certain she would have landed at Princeton if she were a boy."

By 1935, Ruby Lou was well-bred and well-read, but she had yet to be bedded. Her father since died after a spiral of alcoholism brought on by the Wall Street crash of 1929, but Ruby's mother remained an ever-dominant figure, insistent that Ruby marry well. When Ruby first met the Prince, she was a student at the all-girls Barnard College. At the time, she was a top student eyeing an internship in Washington, D.C.

Before I met John, I wanted to be First Lady. I thought that would shut my mother up. But also, I'd felt I'd earned it. Even at 19. But then I met John and I forgot all about it.

Johnnie (properly George, the Prince of Danforth) was the eldest son of Sunderland's George II and Queen Anne. He was in New York City, avoiding his family and moping, still not over the death of his close friend, Evelyn, who had toppled from a highrise balcony the previous year. The romance started as a petty rebellion and ended as a loving but ultimately doomed marriage. They married in 1938, after Ruby graduated, at Chester Palace's private chapel, a small wedding in light of the economic downturn. Queen Anne bowed her head to the bride, signaling a "changing of the times."

I wanted him from the moment I saw him. I didn't register it at love, not at first. I remember him being this tall, blond, cute-as-heck guy. All the ladies would flock to him, you know, and I wanted him. He was the Prince, and I would be Briar Rose. If only for one night. At the time I wasn't sold on the whole monarchy thing. There were things I still wanted to do and say. Plus, I was horrified that people wouldn't like me. [ . . .] A pack of schoolboys swarmed us while we were on a drive. One of the fellows yelled out, "Are you an American or are you a Jew?" and I leaned out the car window and shouted, "I'm a Sunderlandian." I remember this massive cheer going up. It was wonderful. [ . . .] On the balcony, after [the wedding], my mother, as smart as she was, said, "Oh, Ruby Lou, I hope this wasn't all for me." That was the victory; that was vindication. It was the first time I'd ever told her no. And I remembered telling myself "O.K., steady on, Rue, no more dwelling on childhood or if this was the right thing. Now: the future."

Just as German troops annexed Poland, journalists in Sunderland noticed that Princess Ruby had gained weight. The public braced for news of a confinment, but the announcement never came. Ruby's three pregnancies had all ended in miscarriage, and when her husband was assassinated in 1943, George II's second son, Prince James, became heir apparent. Ruby spoke openly about her husband's death and the "pure chaos" in 1996:

I lost our three children, and around the time we were coming to the terms that we'd never have children. I justified it by telling myself that, no matter what happened, I'd still have Johnnie, so when he was taken from me, too . . . It was angoy. Pure chaos. But when I came out of it, I found that I still had the capacity to be kind. I still had my wits. I still had people who loved me. Life is beautiful like that.

Ruby struck up a friendship with her sister-in-law, Katherine, who had replaced her as Princess of Danforth in 1951. Katherine was ill-tempered and moody whereas Ruby was jolly, tall whereas Ruby was short, rail-thin whereas Ruby was increasingly pudgy (ironically resembling her now deceased mother), but it turned out to be the "perfect little duo." Both women had lost brothers to World Wars, and both had trouble navigating their married lives. The pair became confidantes and "best buddies". Ruby was heavily involved in the upbringing of Princes Louis and Clarence. She fascinated the two children with stories of her travels and escapades. Ruby and Katherine remained close companions until the prior's death in 2006.

"She was the happiest person I ever knew," Katherine said. "She even died happy. I'm proud to have known her for so long." At her death, Ruby was one of the most decorated and well-educated women in the royal family. Countless hospitals, schools, and non-profits were named in her honour. Her loss was greatly felt. Ruby's three "orphaned" pomeranians were taken in by Louis V and Queen Irene. When asked to describe his aunt in one word, the King said, "Unsinkable."

[royaltysimblr]

Ophelia of Lausanne, Queen of Windenburg (1620-1673) - Part 4 - Relationship with James & Family Life

Ophelia and her husband James had a loving relationship with one another. Although they went through many rough patches during their first few years of marriage, the couple remained devoted to one another throughout their lives. Ophelia and James bonded over their shared love of music and art. Although James was frugal, he supported his wife’s artistic patronage. Despite Ophelia largely staying out of politics, James often sought her advice during his reign. James took no mistresses and often slept in Ophelia's bedchamber, which was very uncommon for the time.

In 1636, Ophelia became pregnant and would later give birth to her first child, Prince James Henry, Duke of Witham. The labor was long and difficult, prompting Ophelia to hire midwives to assist with the birth of her following children. Ophelia would have five more children; Prince Charles (1638), Princess Louise (1641), Princess Henrietta (1642), Prince George (1647), and Princess Sophie (1650). She experienced miscarriages in 1643, 1645, and 1654 and gave birth to a stillborn son in 1655. Ophelia’s children were raised in the Peteran faith, with their educations supervised by Elise Shay, Countess of Brookhaven.

Ophelia had a close relationship with her children, visiting them in their nursery two to four times a day. James made sure that their children received a strict Peteran upbringing to ensure they would not grow up to be Jacoban like their mother. Ophelia had no power when it came to her children’s education, which her husband and his advisors entirely managed. Ophelia tried many times to influence her children’s religion, causing backlash from her husband and his family. In 1645 she attempted to take her son, Prince James, to a Jacoban Mass, however, they were stopped by the King.

[anniecrestawhitestrips]

sorry gamers i’m not done talking about severance

gemma’s miscarriage and fertility issues are the reason she was chosen as a test subject. if it wasn’t her, it was gonna be someone else in that waiting room

what’s the most emotionally fraught thing you can experience? maybe death of a loved one, right? and what better way to test that the severance barrier holds than to find someone who’s experienced that very ugly and visceral thing? lumon did all that to gemma, with creating all those innies to use in other people, then as a final test wanted to see if putting her in gemma’s clothes and showing her a physical reminder of her loss would knock loose some feelings.

“but why did it have to be fertility issues? it just seems sexist or pro-life propaganda to have yet another woman sad about not getting pregnant” well, there are probably a lot of otherwise healthy people in and around kier dealing with that sort of thing. sure, they coulda gone a different route, but it also shows how absolutely evil and vile lumon is as an organization, that they have no qualms scouting folks dealing with that for their nasty science experiments

i #cantrelate (in that i’m not interested in having kids) but i also have empathy and have seen the very real earth-shattering pain this situation can put people in, so yes, it does make thematic sense for lumon to be very very interested in whether a severed woman would remember that pain as a final test before pushing this new phase of severance out into the world

have a great day ✌🏻

[occultradio]

tw miscarriage

prev /next

[bradshawsbaby]

You were bigger than the whole sky 🌙⭐️

(No Words // Bob Floyd)

[habibialkaysani]

welp. I read 'when he was wicked' aka the franchael book in the bridgerton series... and I have Thoughts. mostly julia quinn writes men truly horribly. literally the saving grace of anthony bridgerton is the actor who plays him. in all the books I've read of quinn's, the guy protagonist shakes the woman he loves by her shoulders or disrespects her massively and is literally described as 'predatory' in the run up to the sex scene!!!! like. I really liked michael up until a point. I never really liked anthony in 'the viscount who loved me' and colin was only marginally more tolerable in 'romancing mr bridgerton'. but michael seemed genuinely charming and a good guy who had a solid reason why he didn't tell frannie about his feelings for her. so it's a real shame that he turns into a bit of a monster when he seduces frannie and basically tries to entrap her into marriage - idk what it is about julia quinn that she just seems allergic to writing decent male characters???

it does make me glad that they genderbent michael for frannie's season in the show. and I can see how they could work the whole infertility plot in too with michaela and frannie - say if frannie gets pregnant and doesn't know it immediately, finds out soon after john dies, and it turns out michaela is also pregnant but by accident (she's still a rake which I think would be interesting as a concept to explore in a female character). frannie miscarries as per the book and michaela has a lot of fears about being a mother - and at the same time there's all this talk about who the earldom will go to next now john is gone. so they somehow pass michaela's child off as frannie's, the earldom doesn't go to the awful debenham side of the family and this whole ordeal brings frannie and michaela closer and they learn to take care of each other while both still mourning, and they both feel like it would be a betrayal of john and likely frannie is in denial about her queerness... all I'm saying, bridgerton writers room, I'm available...

[queeniecook]

December 19

I dread this date every year. No matter how much time passes…it's a bit easier now that Este is born.

I love my daughter with all of me but she will never replace my first baby.

I will always be grateful to my husband for creating a place for me to go to so I can remember my baby. Not having a grave or somewhere to go...this place has made it just a little bit easier. I don't feel like I did years ago but I know the place in my heart for my first child will never stop aching completely.

But I'm not stuck like I was once felt I was. I'm happy with Caleb and our little family.

"One day...I will tell Este about you." I promised.

She deserves to know but only when she's older and able to understand.

[nyrarachelle-plays]

When They Return…

Roger takes the nearest seat he can. Krystle, still in her socks and sweatshirt, collapses to her knees, shouting forbidden words with tears in her eyes. (These days, I noticed no one ever talks about those times they just exit the game without saving their progress anymore…THIS was my most recent one. I couldn’t belieeeeevvveeee this!!! And I couldn't get myself to let it happen for the plot. I had to just exit the game.)

Previously. ("Something's Not Right...") | Next. (On a Re-Do...)

[kitty-is-writing]

writemas day 15!

as always, massive appreciation for @agirlandherquill coming up with these fantastic prompts!

***content warning for mentions of miscarriage, infertility***

I picked these ones today:

She shattered her hopes and her dreams into pieces, and she took the jagged edges between her fingers and held them close to her heart, they would serve as a scarring reminder of what would never be done, of what she would never become.

"Save yourself. Not me. Not anyone else. You. You are all that matter."

~~~~~

The wards shimmered overhead, a constant reminder that they were finally protected, finally safe from the temple's persecution. It had come at a cost, though, one that had been almost too steep to bear.

Luke stood at her side, a spot he had not left in weeks. Not since the ritual. Not since their shared loss.

“Resa.” He spoke her name as a benediction, a prayer and a plea.

“I don't want to talk about it, Luke. Let's just be here together, okay?”

He was silent a few more moments, before shaking his head. “We can't ignore it forever. They took our magic, everything that defined us.”

“And they gave us new magic. Stronger, more controllable magic. We gained more than we lost, at least where that is concerned.”

“It was worth all the other losses, was it?”

She was quiet for a second too long. “Luke, I…”

“Everyone here had a unique, remarkable ability. We were capable and strong, all we needed was time and practice. Now, we're little more than servants to them. Is that what you wanted? To exchange one master for another?”

“The dragons don't want mastery over us. They want to help us, to teach us to become stronger than we could have been before.”

He looked away from her in disbelief. “Sure. Go on believing that. You know, somewhere in your heart, none of this is as it seems. They have some hidden agenda that will only bring us ruin.” A moment of silence hung between them. “Promise me one thing, Resa. When this partnership with those creatures falls apart, you save yourself. Not me. Not anyone else. You. You are all that matters. I want you to survive more than anything.”

She turned to face him, shocked he would say it so plainly. “Why shouldn't I save you, if I can? We have a future ahead of us! The cottage and the children and… all of it! I won't abandon that!”

“You'll have to. Part of it, at least. You know that damned ritual took more than your original magic.”

Without thinking, her hand dropped to her now flat abdomen. “We can try again, Luke. Not now, but someday, once the grief fades…”

“No. The damage is permanent, our baby was conceived with our kind of magic, and they wouldn't tolerate that. They won't risk you having another that might be outside their control.”

“Why are you saying all this?” Her face was soaked with tears, but she made no effort to wipe them away.

He was still, staring off into the distance. “I was practising my shadowform. I ended up further away from here than I meant to, and heard that white one talking to one of the others. She said they had to ensure all ties were forever cut, that no trace of the human magic should remain in us. One of them mentioned you, said you carried a child. She laughed, and said you wouldn't afterwards. Your magic was strong enough to resist their bindings, and would likely emerge in any child you bore. She said she would work in another spell, to leave you forever barren.”

She froze, unable to comprehend it for several minutes. “You could have warned me. Why the hell didn't you tell me before!”

“I tried! What do you think I was trying to say the day before the ritual? You refused to listen, caught up in your ridiculous revenge plot with Mark! Who cares what the damn temple does now? We could have dealt with them later, when we were older and stronger!” He stopped, breathing heavily. “I can't do this. I need some time to think.”

He turned to leave, and she reached out, catching his sleeve. “Wait, where are you going? Don't leave, please don't leave!”

“I'm not leaving. I just… I need to be alone for a bit.” He gently disentangled his sleeve from her fingers. “I still love you, Resa, I always will. But right now, I don't love what you're becoming. I think we both need to work some things out, and we can't do that while stuck to each other.”

As he walked away, she let herself break. She shattered her hopes and her dreams into pieces, and she took the jagged edges between her fingers and held them close to her heart, they would serve as a scarring reminder of what would never be done, of what she would never become.

A mother.

~~~~~

tagging fellow writers below

@leahnardo-da-veggie @satohqbanana @theeccentricraven @charlesjosephwrites @17panicattacksinatrenchcoat

@eli-t-spoon @rhiannonhgarrard @ryns-ramblings @calliecwrites @bloodmoonloveletter

@revenantlore @burntblanc @oh-no-another-idea @mysticstarlightduck @aquixoticwrites

@aether-wasteland-s @desastreus @kaylinalexanderbooks

[shinyhappysims]

Sunday, 2:14 PM, Saelim household, Tomarang

Aaliyah: Thank you for the milk tea, Jamilah. It’s delicious.

Jamilah: Of course, sis. Oh, and congratulations on losing weight! You were starting to look a little stout. Glad you got that under control.

Aaliyah: I’ve lost weight? Er… thanks… I guess?

Jamilah: You’re welcome! You know, you’re the first in the family to come see the church down here, other than Mom, Dad and Aunt Nnadi.

Aaliyah: Oh really? I’ll be sure to bring Imani with me next time. I’m not sure if Cousin Ebenezer’s style of preaching is Rahim or Malik’s speed.

Jamilah: *scoffs* Not everyone can handle the true word of God.

Aaliyah: Um, yeah! Anyways, Cousin Ebenezer sure did preach a good word today. Trusting in God’s timing. I really needed to hear that. I haven’t really told many people but I’ve been struggling with secondary infertility and had a miscarriage recently. I’d love for God to bless Colby and I with more children but I guess God will let us know when we’re ready.

Jamilah: Wow Aaliyah, that… sucks. Like, really sucks. I guess I’m lucky that I haven’t gone through anything like that.

Aaliyah: It’s been hard, but it’ll be okay. I trust God. Just keep me in your prayers.

Jamilah: You always are, sister. Out of respect for your situation, I won’t tell you that I’m pregnant with number 3 right now.

Aaliyah: You… you just did.

Jamilah: Huh? *gasps* Oops! I totally didn’t realize. But yeah, I’ll be praying for you sister.

[ladygsimss]

⚠️TW: Miscarriage ⚠️

Aniyah recently found out that her and King were expecting another baby but unfortunately, not even a week later, she miscarried while at work. This makes the second child that they’ve lost 💔 She’s starting to blame herself for working so much and becoming stressed.

[sammyshuno]

[greenplumbboblover]

Life is Sunniest in Sunset Valley - Chapter 5 - #9

Or read it here: Simblr.cc

[citylighten]

All dialogue here was co-written with @crimewriter 😘

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