#also I am already at my capacity of Shit to Deal With Today | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

crimeronan · 1 year ago

Note

I feel like I would consider myself polyamory agnostic in a way, like I would maybe like for it to happen but I often fear that I don't have the ability to manage even one partnership, let alone multiple relationships, since I am often. So tired. I often find myself idealizing the "late" stage of a relationship when everyone already has settled into what to expect of each other and knows not to take it personally if someone falls asleep mid movie, for example. All this to say, how do you handle your relationship structure as a disabled/chronically ill person? Do you have any advice/thoughts on how it works for you? (I feel like perhaps you have posted about this before and I am just forgetting...)

oh this is a really good question! i'm not sure how relevant my life experience will be to you, particularly given that i started dating all three of my current partners before becoming disabled/crippled. but i am happy to share!

first off -- i 100% get romanticizing the late stage of relationships, sometimes you just need things to be chill and flexible. but i also don't think that this stage necessarily Needs to be reserved for Late Relationships?

like.... the older i get, the more upfront i've decided to be about my needs, especially with new people. granted, a lot of the people i meet these days are either disabled themselves or Get It -- my social circle is mostly queer spoonies in their 20s and 30s + much much older retirees that i hang out with at the local pool.

some people prefer not to be so open so quickly about their limitations, it is hard and scary to be visibly disabled, harder still to ask for help & admit that you might be inconvenient / a burden / take up extra space. this USED to be me until i said. eh. fuck it. after a certain point, wounded pride is just a mental construct

basically, like. when i'm online these days, you'll see me be clear about my limits with strangers - i'll say that if i stop replying to chats or asks, it's not bc i hate you, it's bc i'm tired or forgetful. that i can't guarantee responses to ppl, even people i'm already friendly with. that if my mood is bad or my pain levels are high, i won't engage in much social interaction at All. that my capabilities fluctuate wildly depending on the day and that i cannot be relied upon for consistent scheduling or posting or creative output

i'm similarly open with people irl. it helps that i'm often using mobility aids when i'm talking to people. the mobility aids sorta strip the possibility of pretending not to be disabled. it's kinda the elephant in the room. but it means that i can be like, "as you can see, i am very crippled. i may need flexibility with any plans that we make. due to being very crippled."

if people get upset by this or simply don't have the capacity to deal with it, that is fine! that's not either of our faults, no one's done anything wrong, we're just not in the right circumstances to mesh. i don't get hurt by that personally. i've honestly found that it saves SO much time and hassle and potential drama/heartache to set expectations right away. the only other option is to exhaust myself and end up failing to meet expectations regardless and losing the friendship after burning up a bunch of energy and social bridges. painful and bad!

so like... i can meet a new person, and if they're cool with My Whole Deal, then there's no waiting period before we're familiar enough for flaky behavior. i can be like, "i'm not sure i'll be able to walk tonight, is there a place to sit down at the event?" or "i'm flaring a little, is it okay for us to be kinda flexible about tomorrow's schedule?" or "hey, i'll get back to you as soon as possible i promise, i'm just fogged TO SHIT today [peace sign]" from day 1. it's great

i'm not saying that you Have to do this; i am aware that it breaches like seventeen laws of general social etiquette. i'm just saying that i have met many people who are totally chill about this! as long as you're chill and respectful of the other person as well, you can do whatever you want forever

that was not even relevant to the initial ask, so. AS FOR MY PARTNERS.

i actually don't find that my illness makes it harder to navigate my relationships at all. like i mentioned, i've been with all three partners for Many Many Years now. we know each other Extremely well, we're all extremely turbo autistic, we all have blunt communication down to a science. so saying "i'm not up for doing [x thing] tonight, can we take a rain check?" is super easy.

in fact, my partners can basically intuit a flare from just my physical movements and tone of voice, even before i say a single word. we are VERY familiar with each other.

.....and, alright. after fighting the urge to longpost i've decided to put the rest under a cut. YOU'RE WELCOME 4 THE RETURN OF YOUR DASHBOARDS. "why didnt you put it under a cut so much earlier" read my posts boy

anyway. click readmore to hear me expand upon just how fucking incredible and awesome and kind and generous and loving my People are

there ARE some ways that the illness has made it more difficult for ME to be the kind of partner that i want to be -- for example, i often lack the energy to provide proper emotional support during stressful situations, i have a shorter threshold for pain/irritation than i used to, i can't give 100% of my energy anymore and there have been times when that has resulted in hurt feelings in my partners.

(there have been far more times, though, when nobody's feelings are hurt and it's literally fine.)

in every case where feelings DID get hurt, we've talked stuff out and fixed it within like an hour. bc we all trust each other and know that we don't WANT to hurt each other's feelings. i never ever Ever say things with the intention of wounding my partners, and they know that. they never say things with the intention of wounding me, either, which is why our very blunt "hey, you need to change something you're doing" convos go so well. there's no need to tiptoe, it doesn't hurt me to know what they're thinking or feeling or needing.

sometimes things are just hard and shitty and we're all doing the best we can. this is just part of adulthood i think. especially adulthood in late stage capitalism, etc. the Biggest key to my polycule is that we are all much happier as a family than we would be without each other. the relationships are about as wholesome and healthy and non-toxic and openly communicative as they can get

the Other key aspect when dealing with my illness is that.... being polyamorous has actually been... SOOOOOO MUCH BETTER than being 1) alone, OR 2) in a monogamous relationship EVER WOULD BE?

it is Extremely Stressful for my family to deal with me being this sick. i am aware of that. but i haven't had to bear the brunt of it. not only do they support me, but they also all communicate with and support each other. so no one person is bearing the entire weight of the stress or pain or fear. and i don't have to comfort people over my own symptoms, which most disabled ppl i think would agree is.... exhausting

when i'm too fucked up to speak aloud, let alone support my partners the way i usually do, they ALWAYS have EACH OTHER as a safety net.

this safety net has been beyond vital for me personally, too. round-the-clock care from a single partner is insane and exhausting and leads to unraveling tempers. but when you live with two partners who can help cover your chores and cook and make sure you don't die of your Symptoms (TM)? that's much more doable.

it's HARD, bc literally everyone in the house is disabled to some degree, but it's doable. (it being hard is part of why my QPR is going to move in with us soon. extra hands!)

a few weeks ago, rafi (partner of 7ish years) went on a short vacation to visit family in california. and justice (QPR of 3ish years, best friend of 8ish years) booked an impromptu next-day plane ticket to come stay with me and vi (partner of 11ish years) while rafi was gone. because i was Very Sick. i was flaring horribly the whole time she was here, and she made meals and cleaned and ran errands and picked up medications and returned phone calls and lay in bed with me watching low-stakes tv shows and made sure i didn't stroke out without anyone there to help.

this meant that i basically got to stay in bed the whole time, which was very very Very needed. and vi -- who has a bad back -- wasn't unduly taxed with Literally All of the household upkeep in rafi's absence.

the same principle has applied when i've needed my partners to help cover my share of bills or my household chores or my errands or whatever. since there are three other people involved, the Immediate Support Net is much wider than in a monogamous relationship. especially bc all three of them have their own familial and friend support networks to reach out to!

having more people around is actually awesome for me. i don't feel like i'm expending a lot more energy than i would in a monogamous relationship, but i AM receiving a TON more support and care and love than would be possible in a monogamous relationship.

i guess the conclusion i'd make is: no man is an island, humans are hardwired to build large social support groups, and in a good relationship, you'll receive At Least as much as you give. right now i'm receiving a SHIT TON MORE than i give, and i do often feel pretty bad about it despite knowing it's not my fault.

but these people have chosen to be my family. and if they ever want to stop choosing me then they absolutely can. and if they need more from me or they need something Different from me, then they'll literally just tell me.

(i know they will literally just tell me because all three of them have literally just told me in the past. they're three people i can implicitly trust to say things like "hey, this thing you said made me sad / was unhelpful" and "hey, i'm really stressed out about [x thing], can we make a plan to deal with it?" and "hey, this situation is pretty serious and i know that you don't want to face it but i really need you to. i will take on whatever i can for you and support you the whole time")

so: yes it has been hard to some extent, managing three relationships while also being sick. but it is also a wonderful setup with a million unthought-of advantages & i am much better cared-for and much better AT caring because of it & i fucking Shudder to think how horrific being sick would be without them.

i love my family so much.

#long post #replies #polyamory #this barely scratches the surface bc it's just a few examples of how our dynamics work but hopefully it is clarifying #polyamory is an advantage that has saved my Entire Ass. my partners are wonderful.#all relationships do take work but my three relationships don't take So Much Work that there's no benefit you know #the work is really easy. it's just. you take care of me when i need it and you can. i take care of you when you need it and i can #that's literally it. it's not a hard symbiosis to maintain #autoimmune tag

25 notes · View notes

vizthedatum · 2 years ago

Text

CW: domestic violence, addiction, trans stuff, body transition things, mental health, all the health, beautiful friends

This photo was taken 11:39 PM EST on the night of Dec 10th, 2022. I got keys to my new place on the 8th, moved in on the 9th, and then proceeded to have one of the better nights of sleep I had had for quite some time. This was such a huge deal because I haven’t had an actual restful night’s sleep in probably months. I also have many periods of insomnia due to my PMDD (if you think my PMDD or related issues are causing these emotional outbursts (it’s not scary to have big feelings by the way), then I will have you know that my ex/spouse weaponized my conditions to me to shut me up. I am actually quite positive that I have a better handle on my healthcare and spirituality than most of the people who are reading this even tho all of that is a life long journey) and my PTSD.

I woke up and did an AMAZING makeup and outfit look. I sent it to so many people. I felt powerful. I found a bra I forgot I had but that I loved. I wore it and kept imagining myself with my breasts completely bound or completely removed while wearing it. I want it all, you know. I want to be able to remove and attach them as I see fit. I think, my current thought is that I would like a complete mastectomy or enough of a reduction so I can bind to be completely flat. I have grand plans for all this after I have a baby on my own, of course.

December 10th was surreal. I went to work, and I was Rose to so many people who had never known me as anyone else. My body finally had some peace and rest from being in a home that was actually mine. And while I was at work, my friends had brilliantly, with incredible kindness, organized a network of people to help donate furniture AND move it all in for me. I was so humbled. I kept trying to internalize that I wasn’t taking advantage even though I felt that I was. K et al., you really did save me. K, you are beautiful, tenacious, stubborn, angry, fiery, incredibly intelligent, lovely, absolutely beautiful, and thank you. I hope I can be a good friend to you.

After work, I visited a friend who needed and needs far more help than I ever did. Someone who my ex ALSO cruelly (and out of self-harm) fucked up by the way. I love her so much. She’s burned so many bridges in the city. It felt right to help her even though my body felt like it was melting from the inside even though I could handle it and keep going on. After all, leaving my situation dramatically reduced my mental load and stress to the point where I started becoming physically stronger again. Can’t you see? I look completely different now.

The mutual aid that we provide to each other even in times of crisis is absolutely powerful. I will always love her - even if I need to have strict boundaries with her.

She and I held each other while we both got misgendered by a man who thought he knew better than us. It was amusing, but it didn’t matter. His perceptions can’t take away who we are and the love/friendship we share.

She needs help. She’s in rehab now, and I don’t know if this will be the last time. I don’t know if she will quit. It doesn’t matter. It’s gone on too long - and I know that we have all been broken and caught up in all of our shit, but so many of us have given up on her because we didn’t know how to help (or even had the capacity to). That’s a shame. Can’t you hear her heart screaming? I always have.

I need to call her today, and please let me know if you want to send her a card or anything. We might be moving her someplace else soon.

I came home after dropping her off, and I sobbed. I incoherently rambled in a voice message to my friends to tell them how I felt. My apartment was and is beautiful. Even though so much of the items weren’t *mine* - they were already a part of me because the people who helped me were a part of me. It felt right and magical. And then sometime afterwards, I took this picture.

And yeah - I look great here, don’t you think?

I look even better now by the way - every single day, I look better.

#domestic violence #childhood abuse #abuse #love #harm #trans #addiction #grateful

6 notes · View notes

purplesurveys · 1 year ago

Text

1768

What is a smell that you absolutely cannot stand? Smell of people’s body odor. 🤢 < This is always a correct answer. Also the combination of having been sweaty + being under the sun for a long period of time. That one's a common encounter where I live because it's very humid here, and it's not a pleasant smell to be around.

When is the last time you felt adrenaline moving through your veins? September. It was a work event and the organizers we tapped were doing fuck all and were nowhere to be found for most of it, and I had no choice but to step up and oversee every single moving part of the event from the second it started and ended. Internally our team was in absolute chaos as we were deciding most things on the fly, but it was a team achievement that we managed to make it not look that way for everyone who attended.

When is the last time you bought new shoes? What kind of shoes are they? I got Dunk Lows in June for my Thailand trip.

Do you know anybody who snorts when they laugh? Who? I know a few people who'll unconsciously let out a snort mid-laugh. It's super endearing and we always end up laughing even more when it happens.

Have you ever been hit on by a stranger? Flattering or creepy? I have. I found it flattering mainly because they were extremely polite when I turned them down.

Do you remember the first Rated R movie you ever saw? What was it? I do – it was The Exorcist. I saw it when I was I think 11 or 12.

What is something good that happened to you last week? Something bad? Something good: I presented a pitch to a potential client. Pitching is one of my least favorite parts about my job because it demands a lot of pre-work/research, then I also have to worry about how I sell our business and our credentials and our team...but I think I handled last week's presentation pretty well, considering that's my first as a director. At this point I'm not worrying too much if we win or lose the account, and am simply satisfied with how I performed.

Something bad: Finding out about Matthew Perry's passing. I first read of it through Reddit and spent a good deal of time denying it until I had to come to terms with the fact that it was true.

Are you afraid of any animals? Well yes; I wouldn't exactly be thrilled if I come face-to-face with one that's very much capable of ripping my arms and legs apart.

Do you put your elbows on the table when you eat? Do you think it’s rude? I do when I'm just at home or with people I'm comfortable with. Internally, I honestly couldn't give less of a shit but for politeness' and manners' sakes I keep them off the table only in work/professional settings.

Have you ever gotten into a fight with somebody over the internet? A few. For the most part I just end up blocking the other person once they start sounding ridiculous; but there was one time I allowed myself to have a little fun going back-and-forth because I wanted the guy to continue expressing (read: exposing) how stupid he was being.

Do you think that you listen to your head or your heart more? Head.

If your mom told you she was pregnant today would you freak out? I would certainly be in shock considering she's had her uterus removed.

You trust all of your friends completely, true or false? True.

How many buttons are on the clothes you’re wearing right now? They don't have any.

If you could re-paint your bedroom, what color would you choose? I'm already content with it being white.

What has been the best night of your life so far? Why? Seeing Yoongi in concert for sure has to be up there. I never ever expected to see BTS in any capacity as soon as I had, so the whole journey of me and my friends desperately getting tickets for all of us all the way down to buying plane tickets and building up our Thailand itinerary from scratch will always be a cherished memory.

I will say that our time immediately post-concert was a bit of a downer because I didn't expect the Bangkok nightlife to be as dead as it had been. It was midnight and my friends and I were walking...and walking...and walking...trying to find some sort of bar – any bar – and ended up with nothing so our adrenaline quickly died out and we merely ended up at a McDonald's, lol. Still a fun night.

Did you learn to read before, during, or after kindergarten? During, I think. I was a big reader as a kid but didn't start having my nose up in books until Kinder 2, a whole year after I first started school.

Has anybody ever thrown you a surprise party? Nope. I wish I could have at least one of those.

Would you ever even think about taking part in a wet t-shirt contest? If a ridiculous amount of money was *guaranteed* I don't see why I wouldn't.

What is the last thing you lost? A hair tie, as I do.

Have you ever pretended to be sick to get out of something? Yep, a few work meetings I didn't want to bother with.

Who is somebody you know who is spoiled rotten? Not really, no.

Would you rather visit Poland or Portugal? Poland.

Have you ever seen somebody give birth? Never.

You have 10 minutes to make dinner for two people, what do you make? Chapaguri with pork.

Have you ever borrowed something and never gave it back? What was it? I never did give my sister's yellow jacket back to her, lol.

What is one thing you wish you understood about the opposite sex? How to have them talk more. Most guys I've talked to have been straight-to-the-point with their answers and usually the responses are also very short, and I've always found that jarring.

Is you hair color the same as it was when you were a baby? Nope, it's purple now.

Have you ever been in trouble for being too loud? I've been seriously called out once, in grade school. Apart from that I stay quiet when the need be.

Honestly, have you ever given somebody a sucky gift? I have. It was in high school when my family wasn't exactly financially comfortable yet and I had to get someone a gift with the little allowance/savings I had. I felt so shy that I had to walk away from the group when we were opening the presents.

1 note · View note

pumpkin-patch41 · 2 years ago

Text

Dear mother of mine,

Yeah, maybe I’m a bitch. But I also literally told you today that I almost had an anxiety attack while on my lunch break today. And that I’ve been depressed for at least a month now. And that I also haven’t been sleeping well at all.

Also, I work 2 jobs, 6 days a week, both extensively dealing with the public, and I’ve been overworked at both of them. And as of late, if I’m not pissed off at the world, then I pretty much exist in a state of apathy right now and my already limited capacity for dealing with emotions and giving a shit are even further limited.

This is all knowledge that you’re very well aware of.

You’re also well aware of the fact that your side of the family drains me faster than the Caps blow a lead and that I really only care about maybe 1 person on it. And this cousin who came up in conversation earlier? Yeah, he ain’t that 1 person. Never has been, never will be. Maybe he was OK 15+ yrs ago, but now? We don’t see him. We don’t hear from him. And he never was that involved to begin with (granted, given who his mom - my aunt by blood - is and how batshit crazy and obnoxious she is, I can’t blame him too much)

So yeah, I probably should care that he got shot while hunting today, but the cold hard truth is: I really don’t. And I can’t fake caring at this point.

Maybe I am a bitch. But at least I’m an honest one.

#family drama #shut up j no one cares #yeah I know #i am a bitch #but I honestly don’t care right now #i honestly can’t care right now #I’ve got enough going on in my own life right now #I don’t have the capacity or capability to care about what’s going on in someone else’s life #when that someone else doesn’t give a shit about me

0 notes

honeyhenry · 4 years ago

Text

Captain Confusion

A/N: Inspired by this video that makes me weep with its cuteness! I just had to write this okay 🥺🥺🥺 This is in the same universe as Homeward Bound, which happens after this story. Feel free to give it a read after this, if you haven’t already! ALSO should note that the lovely @ohmygoodie is my Sy partner in crime and without them this fic would not be made possible :)

Warning: mention of operations/hospitals, and a whole lot of fluff!

It was a simple procedure and so it hadn't worried you too much, other than the usual fears when a loved one is under the knife while in the hands of trained doctors. Sy’s hernia had been authorised for operation only five minutes into the doctor’s appointment you had all but dragged him to, and scheduled for 4 days later. Not really much time to prepare mentally, but you knew it was necessary with your big bear of a man in pain. Despite the painkillers prescribed, he was walking with a limp and groaning in bed for all the wrong reasons.

In the waiting room, you and his Ma kept busy during the 45 minute wait by looking through magazines, talking about how the Captain’s quality of life will improve, and what kind of minor jobs you’ll have him do around the house while he’s recovering as you continue to work.

“I hope the recovery isn’t as long as some people have said. I know for a fact he’ll not want to be cooped up all day. If he’s anything, he’s stubborn” you sigh, knowingly.

Ma smiles, looking at you pointedly, knowing that she is in the presence of the only other soul who knows what is best for her son. “He knows better now that his health is his wealth. He’s got a lot more riding on being well now. After all, it’s not just him he’s gotta be there for anymore.”

“Yeah, I mean I always tell him, he’s not 25 anymore. Or even 30. I’ll need you to back me up, he does anything you say. I’m his equal, you’re his Mom.”

You both laugh a little, hers warm and kind, while yours tinges with the remaining hopeful nerves of an army Captain’s wife. You don’t like not knowing about your Sy, especially since you spent all those years apart, not knowing if he was safe, or even alive. The waiting, in any capacity, is the hardest part.

You’re flipping through a random tabloid magazine, when the surgeon in charge walks through to the waiting room.

“Everything went really well with Captain Syverson. He’s coming to from the anaesthetic and asking for his Ma?”

Ma grins before sucking her teeth between her lips watching as your mouth drops. You both move from the waiting area to follow the surgeon towards where your husband is resting. You speak under your breath, only wanting Sy’s Ma to hear you; “I hope he still remembers how to grovel after this.”

Ma enters the room with you following her, arriving only a couple more corridors along from where you’d last seen him earlier that morning. He may not have asked for you but you were going to see Sy whether he wanted it or not. A grand push of the door allows it to swing open, and suddenly there he is. A little disoriented but has a large dopey smile plastered on his face as soon as he sees his Ma. His heavy head lolls to one side as he rests it on the plush hospital pillow.

“Hey Ma” he groans out as she bends over her large son to give his forehead a kiss, taking his hand in hers. He spends a moment just gazing at her for a while, the love he has for her evident on his face, as she tells him that everything went well, and that he can go home tomorrow.

It’s only after this tender mother and son moment, that he notices you.

“Ma.... why ya bringing a beautiful girl here when I’m like this...oh god I’m not wearing underwear Ma!”

His feeble attempt at trying to cover himself means that you actually end up seeing far more of him than you expected. Nothing you hadn’t seen before, but it definitely hasn't happened in front of his own mother before. The whole situation makes you blush and giggle a little as you try your best to avoid eye contact with Ma. You can only imagine the look on her face, and you don’t want to get any more involved with Sy’s naked form than you need to right now.

Rather than put you and your poor Sy through any further embarrassment, Ma speaks up.

“Oh darlin’, this is y/n. You remember her, right?”

And while he’s listening - or at least pretending to listen to his Ma fussing over him again - he’s just staring at you, gazing in awe as if you were the one to hang the stars in the sky.

“You are.... so pretty” he slurs, making you break out a genuine smile that he mirrors, glad that he was the one to make you look even more pretty.

“Well thanks handsome. How do you feel?” you perch on the edge of the bed and hold his hand. To him, the gesture feels warm and inviting - even if he doesn't know you, he recognises something about you in the comfort that you bring.

“Feel like shit. Oh fuck i said ‘shit’ in front of the lady” he whines again, scrunching his eyes closed as hangs his head in shame. It looks like he might even cry with the realisation that he’s made such a foolish impression of himself. It takes Ma shushing him and making him take a sip of juice from his bedside to calm down, dabbing his face with a cloth when his juice spills from his mouth.

“Oh Logan Daniel Syverson...what did they do to ya?” she lightly scolds as she helps clean up the mess he’s unknowingly created around him. That’s your Sy, a hurricane of mess that somehow fits into order just how he likes it.

You giggle a little more at his shameful expression, before he refocuses, giving you his undivided attention once more.

“How is it that ya know my Ma and we’ve never met? Or have we? ‘Cause I think i’d remember a face like yours”

“Well...” you start, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear to let him see your entire face, hoping it would jog his memory. As you do so, the ring on your fourth finger glints in the hospital light, and for the first time since you've entered the room, he’s noticed.

“Oh...man...knew a girl like you would be snatched up already. Whoever has the honour of being yours is a very lucky man.” He smiles softly, a wistful look in his eye, while makes you realise that you can’t wait for the drugs to leave his system, you have to remind him who you are and who he is, right this very moment.

“Sy honey... we’re married. You’re my husband, and I’m your wife. I think the drugs are making you more than a bit loopy.”

It’s his turn for his jaw to drop, his eyes are unblinking as he takes in what you’ve just said. He turns sharply - more than his doctor would have probably liked - to his Ma, and then back to you, and then his Ma again, waiting for one of you to burst out laughing at the prank you surely must be playing on him.

“Wha-? A wife? I have a wife?” you nod and he exhales a deep breath of air in amazement.

“YOU’RE my wife? Really?” you nod again and Ma smiles at you as she watches the scene of Logan meeting you all over again.

“Am I still in the army? I’m a Captain ya know”

“You left just a few months ago. You still work in the local camps, of course. You like it there, and you’re home every night and most weekends.”

“Does Ma like you?” You don’t even get a chance to finish as he turns to his mother “Do you like her? is she nice? Does she like your new kitchen? I built it y’know.”

You knew when you met, dated, and married him, that Sy was a Momma’s boy. He loves his mother so much, that her opinion will always mean the world to him.

Ma nods “You two are the sweetest couple. She’s the best addition to the family, gives you a run for your money alright. She’s my new favourite.” You get a soft hug from her as she says this, with her wrapping her arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. She’s always felt so grateful that her Logan found you, because my goodness did he love you ferociously, and he needed you in his life. You were the making of him, and the whole Syverson clan will forever be grateful to you for it.

"And where did we get married? If we really are married.” He continues his line of questioning.

“At the ranch, on your family’s land. it was such a special day. We had the reception there too. And we went to Italy for our honeymoon.”

Sy is basking in every word you say, praying it to be true, as if he could will it into existence if it hadn’t already happened, wanting badly to remember sunset kisses and italian food and beach days all spent with you. He perks up at the last thing you say, taken by complete surprise.

“Honeymoon?! Oh my god have we...ya know..?” A blush fades over Sy’s face, and even though you love his Ma, you really wish she wasn’t finding out so many details about your personal life today, like how your son rails you on the regular in many ways, and in many places. He must somehow remember or at least accurately imagine your past endeavours, as he grins like a little shit.

You smack his arm, lightly but with a firm hand.

“Be quiet, or the whole ward will know about our sex life” you threaten. “Yes we’ve had sex. i’d hope so given that we have a kid on the way.”

If Ma had had to deal with her son getting horny over his “new”wife, she was being fully compensated for it as she witnessed him fall head over heels in love with you, all over again.

“A kid?...Tell me ya not messing with me...are we really- I-” he swallows and his tears come even easier than before “We’re havin’ a baby?” With the sudden realisation, he turns to his Ma. “This beautiful woman right here’s havin’ my kid, Ma?” He looks between the two of you again, watching as you both nod and beam from ear to ear.

“You know you cried just as much when i told you for the first time too. i promise when the drugs are out your system it’ll all make sense again.”

Sy smiles, clutching your hand in his warm palm, almost scared to let go as the door is knocked and he feels you might be taken away. Instead, it’s a welcome visitor.

“Hey doc,” Sy greets the man who reenters the room, now freshly out of scrubs to visit his patient - who if anything is now simply love sick, no hernia to be found. “This is my wife, and she’s having a baby.” he looks back to you with a quirk of his eyebrow “My baby?” You roll your eyes and he confirms it; “my baby.”

“Oh, congratulations...again.”

The doctor’s evaluation and explanations don’t take long, and while Sy is being informed, you start rubbing your belly as a form of self-comfort. You will need to remind your child that while their father looks incredibly stern and impossibly large, he is silly and goofy and already loves them with his entire being. Over the course of the afternoon, Sy talks with you while the anaesthetic wears off. It turns out they had given him a pretty high dosage based on his height and muscle mass, so he would be out of action for a couple of hours at least.

“Oh, i have your ring” you pipe up before he starts getting too sleepy again, taking the thick gold band off of the necklace around your neck, placing it on his finger carefully.

“That feels better already” he sighs, as he begins to doze in and out of consciousness. Before he closes his eyes once more to rest peacefully, a small tear slides down his cheek, which you of course, notice. Sy has cried maybe 5 times in the time you’ve known him and three of those times have been in this very room.

“Honey what’s wrong? Are you in pain? i can call the doctor-”

“No i’m fine i’m fine i just-” he sniffs and tries to clear his throat from the sad, heavy pain he feels in his chest. “I’m gonna be real sad when I wake up from this dream. What if I can’t find you when I wake up?”

Oh your sweet, silly man.

“Bear it’s not a dream, I’ll be right here when you get up properly and we can go home and cuddle and I’ll heat up your favourite meal. I’ll be right there with you.”

“And the baby?” he asks, eyes wide. almost nervous to ask.

“Well they have to come too, they're with me. We can look at their pictures again so you can get reacquainted. And Aika will be so happy you’re back. We’ve been gone the whole day.”

“Aika!” your husband perks up, “Oh Aika, man....I love that dog..”

“I know you do bear, you just get some rest for now and then we can go home.”

Before you know it, he’s fallen back to sleep, his mouth wide open as he slumps against his pillow, completely out of it.

It’s dark outside when Sy opens his eyes again, watching as his Ma passes you a small herbal tea in the dimly lit hospital room. Technically visiting hours are over, but no one was going to argue with the Captain’s family. You smile, and he feels like he can finally relax, in your presence

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes” he growls lowly, and you look up at him from your phone, beaming in surprise, glad that your husband had woken up feeling a bit more like himself.

“Oh hello again” you smile and squeeze his hand, his slow blinking already indicating a much clearer mind, and that he knows exactly who you are.

“Again? What’d I miss?”

“The drugs” he stops you mid-sentence for a sweet kiss, acting as though a minute more without your lips would be the source of his downfall. “Mmmh, the drugs made you so loopy, it was the sweetest thing, Sy.” You grin as he pulls you up beside him on the bed.

He raises his eyebrows, clearly with no recollection of any of the past events. Yet still, he smiles.

“Yeah? How’s baby?” he holds you close to his side, wrapping an arm around your waist so he can cover your tummy with his palm.

“They’re great. Glad to have daddy back and sane.”

You swear that as you say that, he starts tearing up again, this time however he doesn’t let them fall. He was openly weeping earlier, but you won’t tell him that. Not yet.

“Damnit. Must be something in these drugs they got me on.”

“Mm-hmm sure bear.”

You stay close that evening, both curled up on a hospital bed that is already quite a tight fit for your husband alone. But as always, he makes it work. You’re half on top of him, both of you fast asleep, when the nurses come to do their rounds. Ma had left just after he had woken up, sneaking off into the night to let the rest of the family know how her most middle son is keeping after the operation. You’d cuddled and doted on each other until you’d fallen asleep, Sy following not long after as he bid goodnight to you and your precious cargo with a soft kiss to your lips, and protective rub of your stomach.

He counts himself more than lucky to have something so good, that it would pain him to forget. He was living the life that he’d been too scared to ever dream of, and he couldn’t be more grateful.

taglist: @ohmygoodie @michelehansel @la-cey @palaiasaurus64 @sassy-pelican @brandycranby

Masterlist

feedback / ask me a question here!!

#captain syverson x reader #captain syverson #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill #henry cavill characters #dad!syverson #dad!sy #cavillary #my writing #syverson x reader

664 notes · View notes

lululawrence · 3 years ago

Note

Can u please be nicer on ao3? Maybe you should try answering people's comments

when i read the first line i was honestly flabbergasted and wracking my brain trying to figure out when in the world i wasn't nice on ao3 ever. because i honestly truly try to be nice to everyone always, even when i'm angry or frustrated or people are going after those i love and want to protect. if there was a time i WASN'T nice on ao3, i wondered if it was maybe because my comment had been misunderstood or someone saw me razzing an author i'm good friends with and they didn't get that we are close and i said what i did with so much love and appreciation, you know? like what??? did i do???

but then i read your second line. and please forgive me if i come off as rude in my response to this, because honestly i'm in a pretty bad spot mentally and emotionally in general right now, but PARTICULARLY today, and this ask triggered an anxiety response in me. so. i'm trying really hard to word this in a way to educate without being condescending or mean, but i might not succeed.

firstly, thank you for your comments i'm assuming you've left. i'm also assuming they were nice comments, in which case extra thanks. i'm sure i'll send you effusive responses on ao3 when the time comes.

secondly, please understand that sending an ask like this, on anonymous no less, is incredibly entitled. writing is not my profession, i receive no compensation for my works that i post for free online, and as a part of that it is not required of me to respond. i do my very best to reply to every comment i receive, but it is not always in a timely manner, because i have other priorities in my life. all of which leads us to my third point, which is:

writers do not owe you a reply to your comments. end of. there are no other qualifications or quantifying modifiers to be added to the statement. is it nice to be acknowledged and know your comment was seen? sure. but do they OWE you one? hell no.

in fact, i'd like to offer you a suggestion. a way of tweaking your thinking about the comments you leave on fics. instead of looking at comments you leave as being something that deserves a reply from the author, think of your comments as your way of paying the author for the gift of their time and talents that they have shared with you by posting their fic. that's how i think of the comments i leave for authors. i'm giving them my thanks for the words they've shared! i want to help THEM feel as amazing as they have made ME feel when i read their fic. in fact, my hope isn't necessarily a response from them, but instead my hope is THE GIFT OF THEM SHARING MORE FIC WITH ME. i'm a selfish bitch in that way and i always want all the fic to read. i never want that well to go dry. one way i can ensure that doesn't happen is by supporting authors and being kind to them and spreading all the love and excitement i can about their writing in the hopes that my words will inspire them to share more.

because whether they reply or not, i GUARANTEE they are seeing your comments. i PROMISE they are. and for all you know, your comment might be the one that keeps them writing even when their words aren't coming easily or when they are tempted to give up.

but, again, please remember that no matter what, these authors (including me) don't actually owe you anything.

the rest of this is going under a cut, because honestly my reply is already far too long and i have a LOT more to say now that you've gotten me started.

now, all of this in mind, i'll explain to you why i'm not great with keeping up with comments made on my fics the last couple of years. i don't owe you this explanation any more than i owe you a response to your comments, and i'm honestly not sure you deserve this explanation either, but i'll still offer it anyway. it'll help me feel better knowing i at least put this out there, whether you care or not, mainly because if i don't do that it will cause me greater anxiety having you possibly think i am not responding to people because i feel all high and mighty or that i think i'm better than the comments or whatever the fuck kind of motivation you're attributing to me to see my lack of a response as something "not nice" towards the commenters.

i'm not sure if you've noticed, but i put out a lot of fic. like a lot. a lot of words and shit. i love writing, it's often my therapy and a way for me to help keep my anxiety and depression and ptsd at bay.

now, more personal shit for you, i've got three kids ages 9 and under. the oldest has adhd which we have yet to find a med for that helps to the extent she needs without side effects that aren't healthy for her to continue with, she also has anxiety, AND she's extremely gifted and starting a new program at a new school, all in the midst of a pandemic. and all of those situations exacerbate her anxiety! huzzah! she's also dealing with the beginning of her tween growing up shit, which is great fun because it means where she used to be pretty damn understanding of her younger brother, she is finding it much more difficult to. because the second oldest? he's autistic with some pretty significant gross motor, speech, and socialization delays that have only been exacerbated because of the previously mentioned pandemic. PLUS he transitioned from his special needs preschool to a fully integrated elementary school for kindergarten last year and then had to deal with all the ups and downs of the switch from e-learning to hybrid to all in schooling when everything in him screams for a normal schedule he can rely on to keep his own anxieties and fears and struggles at their minimum. and that youngest child? he was born in january of last year. he STILL barely leaves the house and has only met other children in close range a couple of times because, once again, pandemic!

add onto all of this my own mental health issues, the fact that my husband ALSO battles major clinical depression, adhd, and anxiety, AND we live with my parents who have their own health issues, both mental and physical. i run the home for our house of seven. i keep this place functioning, fed, clothed, clean, and everywhere we need to be for all of our five million appointments every. fucking. day. there is a REASON i've been borderline burnt out for the last fucking year and a half.

now, for fun, i have fandom shit. i love it here, even if it is a dumpster fire on the best of days, and getting to be a part of the writing community is so very lovely. i adore it. honestly, it's because of those friendships i've built with other writers that i have been able to keep writing and have found just how helpful it can be for my mental health. but i'm REALLY. INCREDIBLY. BUSY. i hardly have time to get on tumblr for just a quick swipe through my dash most days. i put off asks so long i forget i have them. i don't have the mental and emotional capacity to talk to people on here or interact fully a lot of the time. but i do my best to do so and be kind while i'm at it even when i don't want to be.

then, on top of that? i also run fic fests like @wordplayfics and help friends run their own. because not only am i a writer, i'm a reader. i LOVE fic. fic has saved me soooooo many times over the past seven years that i've been here. i want to do what i can to support other writers the best way i can, which is to provide a space for them to create their works that welcomes and helps promote them, but also by doing my monthly fic lists and pocast highlighting what i've been able to read, reblogging their fic posts, and then commenting and kudosing their fics too.

sometimes i get really fucking down on myself because i'm so behind on replying to comments, but my brain is very much a "if you start this, you have to finish it" kind of a brain, and i feel even WORSE sometimes if i reply to comments on some fics and not all of them. but i do my best and reply when i can. i was actually really fucking proud of myself because i had a couple days to myself in june, and i spent hours replying to comments on 20 of my fics. when you have almost 150 fics (i think? i don't even know how many fics i've posted by now), that is only scratching the surface. but i tried and i was so so happy i did that many fics at once. it's exhausting, though, and takes a lot of spoons for me to reply to them in mass like that plus time consuming. so i tried to be happy with those 20 fics and the comments i responded to there and told myself that when i ha a moment to breathe, i'd go and work on replying to some more.

but see, that again causes anxiety and guilt. because i haven't replied to all of them. and that anxiety and guilt can cause me to put it off further OR to put off important things like feeding my children or getting sleep in order to finish it, so i have to make myself put things into perspective and ensure i'm doing the important things, like taking care of myself and my family, first.

and then, i have a moment where i CAN go ahead and reply to comments... but i also have MANY fics that are on deadline and i actually have a schedule. a SCHEDULE. for when i'm going to focus on which fics. i can spell it out for you if you really want. i made it back in APRIL to make sure i didn't sign up for too many fic fests because there are so many going on right now that i want to participate in, but i know i can't do all of them so i had to pick and choose. and when you are SO overscheduled and busy that back in APRIL you had to figure out what fics you would focus on at what time to ensure you got everything written when you wanted to through THE END OF THE YEAR, more choices have to be made.

for example. my writing time and time for myself came down to only one evening a week for ALL fandom things i'm doing and a part of right now once the kids were out of school for the summer. it quickly became apparent that for my own self care i needed more time, so i worked with my husband to find two other days i could carve out at least 30-60 minutes to myself to write every week. and i did. but if i'm already only getting that much time and have committed to those fics and fests and things that you're running etc, you have to choose am i going to use this time to try to squeeze in some comment replies? or am i going to write? and i choose to write. simple as that.

so yeah. see it as selfish if you want. see it as mean. you can honestly see it as whatever the fuck you want, but for me? i know that as soon as i possibly can and i can breathe freely for once and not feel like i am constantly drowning in my day to day life and am doing pretty well when it comes to my fic deadlines and getting started on those christmas cards i'm once again going to be making by hand for everyone on tumblr who chooses to sign up for one this year out of the KINDNESS of my heart and the love i really do feel for so many of you, then i promise i'll be on ao3 catching up and commenting. my friends laugh and make fun of me for it sometimes, because they will sometimes get 10-12 replies to their comments in a single day. they know that's how i work. i WILL reply to every single comment i get, no matter how old it is. but for the love of all that is holy, do NOT add to the anxiety and guilt i already feel over it. the only place that will get you is the ask/comment getting deleted if it's a good day, a fucking long rant like this one if it's not, and a block if it's a REALLY bad day.

if you're asking me to be nice on ao3, then i ask in return that you also be nice by not demanding things of people that they are not in any way obligated to give.

#long post #rant #i almost deleted this #but you sent it on just the right day and instead i let loose #this is unedited and unbetaed lmao but ENJOY #or don't #whatever #writing stuff #i should tag it #writing SHIT #but that's not really a tag i keep cause who wants to keep track of the negatives #not me

193 notes · View notes

makeste · 4 years ago

Text

BnHA Chapter 311: Hand Gun

Previously on BnHA: Horikoshi was all “thinkin’ about dropping in some woke analogies of the very real and very presently relevant issue of racial profiling idk what do you guys think” and then shrugged and did it without waiting for an answer, and ngl it was a bit sudden, but I’m here for it. All Might was all “DEKU YOU NEED TO EAT” and Deku was all “OKAY” and took his hero bento and went to go stand dramatically on a tower in the rain whilst having some highly anticipated Vestige flashbacks. OFA II was all, “sup, I guess I’m not Kacchan... OR AM I,” and ngl I think he is?? Alternate universes anybody?? Hello??? But anyway, so OFA the First a.k.a. Yoichi was all “remember that time you guys rescued me from my evil brother and Two took my hand and we Had A Moment?”, and Two and Three were all “ahh yeah good times”, and it was very nice and very, very gay. The chapter ended with it being very unclear if Two and Three have actually lent their power to Deku yet or not lmao. Y’all need to get your shit together dudes.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “what if I gave a random bad guy a fucking tommy gun that shoots nails” and jesus christ calm down son. The Hawksquad, a.k.a. SQUAWK as per @hotchocolatier, are all “time to drive aimlessly around town acting like Deku has a restraining order on us because that’s literally the best plan to combat the League we could come up with,” and I have no further comment. Hawks is all “idk about you guys but I want to know more about AFO and Tomura’s whole deal” and I can’t remember the last time I identified so strongly with one of these characters. All Might is all, “[EXPLODES???]”, and the chapter ends with that mysterious hot girl from the Tartarus breakout being all “HELLO I CAN TURN INTO A GUN AND I LITERALLY DON’T GIVE A FUCK” and (1) WOW, and (2) IT’S TRUE, SHE CAN, AND SHE REALLY DOESN’T. GODDAMN.

(ETA: so this wholly escaped my notice on the first go, and also has nothing to do with the chapter itself, but I only just realized that this chapter was scanlated by a new group, TCB Scans. they actually did a very good job, and I’m curious if they’ve found a new RAW provider, because the quality this week is actually crazy good in comparison to what we’ve been dealing with for the past few months. I’m gonna have to get caught up on what exactly happened here lol.)

so what will it be this week? more Vestige antics? more of Sad Nomad Deku standing on buildings and pretending like he’s some cool aloof antihero, as if he could fool us when we all know his hero backpack is secretly stuffed full with his nerd diaries and the remnants of all the hero bentos that All Might keeps giving him?? or, just putting it out there, just a crazy thought, but you don’t suppose we might actually cut back to U.A.? mmm. side-eyes emoji

maaaaaan I’m starting to get tired of this trend of beginning chapters by dropping in on random power-tripping civilians and/or Shindou lol. just once can we get a chapter that opens with someone I actually give a fuck about

oh at least Endeavor is here

A WHAT SUPPORT ITEM!??! HOLY SHIT DDLKJSLFKJL

lol somehow that’s more terrifying than bullets for me?? like I’m fully aware that bullets will fuck you up way worse and that in real life nail guns probably don’t work like this AT ALL and only have a range of like... hold up let me just google... up to 100 to 150 m/s and distances of up to 500m wait WHAT

okay wait. hold up. like I was expecting google to tell me nail guns only shoot a few feet at most, and instead the first search result is some CDC blog article that’s “dispelling” the “””myth””” -- please note my repeated sarcastic quotation marks -- that nail guns can fire 1400 feet per second, by explaining that actually they can fire anywhere from 315 ft/sec to 1,295 ft/sec, and that “it is in the pneumatic nail gun user’s best interest to handle these tools as if they were a firearm despite having a lower velocity” dlkjdslkjflkl

SO THAT SCENE IN IRON MAN 3 WHERE TONY RAIDS A HOME DEPOT AND BUYS A BUNCH OF RANDOM TOOLS AND SHIT AND GOES ON TO STAGE A ONE-MAN INVASION OF AN INTERNATIONAL TERRORIST’S FLORIDA MANSION HQ IS ACTUALLY TRUE. YOU’RE TELLING ME THAT THE FILM “HOME ALONE” IS ACTUALLY A DOCUMENTARY. “the Discovery Channel television program “Mythbusters” compared the penetration capacity of an airborne projectile shot from a pneumatic framing nail gun to that of a 9mm hand gun” HELLO YES AND A MERRY “WHAT THE FUCK” TO YOU AS WELL

anyway, so. there’s apparently a reason why the Number One hero, who can burn people with the intensity of a sun going supernova, is hiding here behind this concrete support column making frowny faces. nope. nuh uh. he ain’t about that. I don’t blame you buddy

so now he’s barrel rolling out of his hiding place and setting this dude THE FUCK ON FIRE because HELL NO. BAD ENOUGH I HAD TO WATCH THAT FUCKING MUSHROOM EPISODE LAST WEEK! YOU TAKE THAT SHIT SOMEWHERE ELSE

LOL look at his face

I know the context is actually him being all “I know I’m responsible for basically everything that happened and so that’s why I’m so grim and serious about this mission to set things right piece by piece,” but in my mind this pissed-off face is 100% all because this dude tried to shoot his eye out with a nail gun. look at that. you made him go full flame face again. beard and all. protecting his face so that it can hopefully melt any stray nails that get too close. nope nope nope

good lord. so what’s up next. let me guess the guy fighting Best Jeanist has like an atomic chainsaw or some shit

lol nope we’re just cutting back to Hawks and Jeanist chilling in the Jesla after they’ve wrapped things up

Jeanist has got some serious Groot energy you guys jesus christ he’s like 12 feet tall

oh snap someone threw a pipe at him now

today is just the chapter of Endeavor being assaulted by random DIY tools I guess

I mean, I get why they’re pissed at him obviously; I would be too lol. but tbh I also don’t really understand the “get out of here we don’t want your help” attitude that all of these people suddenly seem to have?? like it if were me, I would be fucking DEMANDING for him and the other heroes to be working round the clock to fix their stupid mess. I mean who else is gonna do it?? it’s their mess, I sure don’t want to be the one to clean it up instead. anyways but whatever lol

oh shit?

so they haven’t dropped the whole “OFA secret potentially gets revealed to the world” thing yet after all. that makes sense I suppose, it did seem like that whole thing wound up playing out a bit too easily

anyway so yeah

the locals are definitely none too happy. well at least Dabi’s got something to be cheerful about I guess

so now we’re cutting to the interior of the Jesla and they’re chitchatting about the current investigation

oh wow this actually makes a bit of sense now. so there was a reason they were keeping their distance from Deku

please note that even in this abstract Endeavor’s-Mental-Image-Of-Him panel, Deku’s eyes still don’t have the light in them anymore :( my poor son

also ftr I still think using Deku as bait in this particular sense is the shittiest idea ever ngl. like sure, let’s let the sixteen-year-old run around battling miscellaneous escaped prison convicts while we stay several kilometers away ON PURPOSE despite the fact that you’re using him as bait to draw out the Big Bad, who just a reminder can destroy anything with a mere touch and who you were all basically helpless against. what exactly are you all planning to do if Tomura or one of the other League VIPs actually shows up to retrieve him?? are you even keeping tabs on him at all in real time?? jesus

(ETA: well that escalated quickly lol.)

Horikoshi is all of a sudden dropping whole pages of exposition here and I can’t be bothered to summarize this lol so just,

a big fat YES to what Jeanist said, though. that’s why imo they would have been better off laying a trap at U.A. rather than just wandering around out in the open. I assume they’re trying to cut their potential losses because U.A. is full of students (and civilians), but those students also happen to be more capable than pretty much anyone else in the manga at this point. and tbh they’re already in life-threatening danger regardless of how things play out from here on, so they might as well at least try to use the few advantages they have right now. U.A. is almost certainly going to come under siege at some point anyway, so they might as well prepare for it

lol I don’t think I’m explaining this very well because I don’t have the patience right now to break it down point by point like it really ought to be, so for now I’ll just say that imo “U.A. siege” stands a good chance of being the eventual endgame even now, and so this whole “Deku runs around being bait” arc is really just killing time until then lol. like and subscribe for more rambling nonsensical takes such as this. maybe next time I’ll even put it all into one single sentence for maximum meandering senior citizen rant value

well it’s nice that they’re finally talking about all of this I guess

we readers have known all of this for months now but this confirms the heroes are finally caught up. ALSO, Hawks is so fucking smart, as always. kinda wonder if things would have played out differently if All Might had let him in on the secret a bit earlier. probably that’s why Horikoshi made damn sure they didn’t find out until after the War arc lol

OH MY GOD YOOOOOO HAWKS OUT HERE ASKING THE REAL QUESTIONS

“anyone else wondering why AFO bothered to raise Tomura as his fake heir for fifteen years when he was secretly planning on taking over his body the whole time” YES, [raises hand] lmao Hawks where the hell were you when I was debating this “AFO is the final villain and Tomura is just his pawn” thing on multiple occasions over the past several years lol

lmao seeing them debate the metaphysics of OFA and all of its mystical bullshit is seriously surreal you guys

JEANIST HAVE YOU CHECKED OUT MY META TAG I HAVE WRITTEN SO MANY ESSAYS. I ACTUALLY WAS PLANNING ON WRITING ANOTHER ESSAY ABOUT THE THING THAT I’M PRETTY SURE HAWKS IS ABOUT TO BRING UP, BUT I NEVER GOT AROUND TO IT WHOOPS, BUT MAYBE I WILL NOW LOL LET’S SEE HOW IT GOES

yes!!

WHICH AFO FUCKING ENSURED HE WOULD BE BY LITERALLY PLANNING OUT EVERY LAST DETAIL OF HIS FAMILY TRAGEDY, FROM SECRETLY GIVING TENKO THE QUIRK TO MAKING SURE NO CIVILIANS OR HEROES WOULD HELP HIM UNTIL AFO FINALLY STEPPED IN. I’M 1000% CONVINCED THIS IS THE CASE YOU GUYS. NOT JUST BECAUSE I’M NOT A FAN OF “THE WORLD IS A FUNDAMENTALLY SHITTY PLACE, ACTUALLY” TAKES BECAUSE MISTER ROGERS TOLD ME TO ALWAYS LOOK FOR THE HELPERS, BUT ALSO BECAUSE IT LITERALLY JUST DOESN’T MAKE A LICK OF SENSE OTHERWISE. THEIR ENTIRE HOUSE CAVED IN FFS, YOU’RE TELLING ME NONE OF THE NEIGHBORS FUCKING OVERHEARD THAT SHIT AND WENT “UMMMMMMMMM” AND WENT TO SEE WHAT WAS GOING ON?? “DIDN’T THERE USED TO BE A HOUSE HERE, AND LIKE A WHOLE FAMILY, AND SHIT?”

LIKE I’M SORRY, BUT IT’S ONE THING TO SAY IT’S REALISTIC THAT NOT A SINGLE PERSON WOULD ATTEMPT TO HELP THE WANDERING TRAUMATIZED CHILD AFTERWARDS (WHICH I DISAGREE WITH AS WELL BUT AT LEAST THAT’S MORE SUBJECTIVE), AND IT’S A WHOLE OTHER THING TO ARGUE THAT IT’S REALISTIC THAT NO ONE WOULD BE FUCKING NOSY. LIKE THAT’S A WHOLE DIFFERENT LEVEL OF “THAT’S NOT HOW ANY OF THIS WORKS” ENTIRELY LOL. anyway tl;dr AFO is a piece of shit and Tomura’s entire worldview is based on a magnificently intricate and savagely cruel lie more at 11

anyway so after all that ranting it looks like that wasn’t even what Hawks was talking about after all lol. I just went off for absolutely no reason lol oh well. instead it seems that Hawks is suggesting that Tomura’s carefully cultivated hatred might not yet have actually reached “can defeat OFA” levels even after all of that trauma. interesting!

don’t mind me, I’m just sitting here while my brain furiously scrambles to put together all the parallels between Hawks and Tomura that it never noticed before until exactly this second. like I’m not even sure that was the intent here at all (I need to check out another translation or two lol), but regardless my mind decided that now would be the perfect time to make the connection between these two twenty-somethings who both had horrific childhoods and spent years being molded by their respective manipulative guardians, and developed eerily similar “laugh at everything because what else can you do” coping mechanisms to deal with it all hmmmmm

anyway so they were talking more about their strategy, but now all of a sudden Jeanist’s phone is beeping??

AND NOW WE’RE CUTTING AWAY TO ALL MIGHT AND HIS MIGHTMOBILE DAMMIT so that means the call to Jeanist was actually something important then!! WAS IT BAKUGOU OMG. DOES YOUR INTERN WANT A WORD FFFKLFSJK please it’s been so long I just need a little crumb or two to tide me over lmao have mercy

anyway so All Might’s following the GPS tracking device he’s apparently got planted on Deku (which in my conspiracy headcanons he’s actually had for a long time now, like since before DvK2 lol because HOW ELSE WOULD HAVE HAVE KNOWN THAT THEY WERE FIGHTING EACH OTHER IN GROUND BETA, PEOPLE) and thinking angsty thoughts about Deku’s sucky life

AND NOW ALL MIGHT’S PHONE IS RINGING TOO?? BAKUGOU HOW MANY PEOPLE ARE YOU CALLING. “WHERE ARE YOU HIDING THE NERD GODDAMMIT”

OMG

lol is he under attack or is he just finally giving All Might the slip like we all know he SECRETLY PLANNED TO ALL ALONG oh my poor dumb angstmuffin

OMG AHHHHHHH WHAT

DID ALL MIGHT JUST FUCKING DIE LMAO NO OF COURSE NOT, BUT WHAT

WHAT IS HAPPENING OMG

THE FUCK IS THAT. AT LEAST IT’S NOT A NAIL

OH IT’S A SPEAKER!! OMG DID THEY TAKE ALL MIGHT HOSTAGE

“THEY’RE HERE” WELP, TIME TO SEE JUST HOW SHITTY THIS SHITTY PLAN REALLY IS LOL

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

SHE!!!!

omg. AND OVERHAUL JUST CHILLING THERE IN THE BACKGROUND ALL “WHAT DO YOU EVEN WANT ME TO DO I’VE GOT NO FUCKING ARMS” YEAH GOOD RIDDANCE LOL

DOES THIS GIRL HAVE ONE GIANT LEG OR WHAT, LIKE WHAT’S THE DEAL HERE

-- HOLD UP WAIT, THE GUN IS HER ARM, HOLY SHIT SHE CAN TURN INTO A GUN -- OKAY HOLD UP BECAUSE I NEED TO SAY THAT IN BIGGER TEXT BECAUSE !!!!

YOU GUYS, THE COOL TARTARUS GIRL IS BACK AND HER QUIRK IS “CAN TURN INTO A FUCKING GUN.” THIS IS NOT A DRILL!! MY BEST GIRL MT. GUN IS FINALLY BACK ON THE SCENE WITH HER QUIRK “CAN DO ANYTHING A GUN CAN DO.” “I HEARD Y’ALL WENT AND NAMED ONE OF YOUR HEROES ‘GUNHEAD’ EVEN THOUGH HIS HEAD ISN’T EVEN A GUN, LIKE WTF IS UP WITH THAT LET ME SHOW YOU HOW IT’S DONE” DANG OKAY

lmao only fifteen pages this week, and STILL NO KACCHAN (THEN WHO WAS PHONE!!!), but man I don’t even care because finally we’ve got a cliffhanger that’s actually deserving of being a cliffhanger! hot dog. okay then

#bnha 311 #endeavor #hawks (bnha)#takami keigo #shigaraki tomura #best jeanist #all might #midoriya izuku #cool tartarus gun transforming girl #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

300 notes · View notes

tedturneriscrazy · 3 years ago

Text

Okay, time for Hunting Palismen and a closer look at this Golden Guard fella! Unlike approximately 99% of the fandom I wasn't really taken with him right away. Will I change my mind with this episode? Only one way to find out!

Ah, the coven leaders are here! So are the Abomitons!

I see you, Rayne. You look...less than thrilled to be there.

Purification under the coven system, eh? Wonder if we'll learn more about how that's supposed to work.

Oh lawd time for the fandom to thirst over Handsome Sq-I mean the Abomination Coven head (who I've decided is totally Gavin's dad)

Utopia? Wow, this really is a cult, huh?

Kiki does not like GG

Nope, that transformation bit wasn't at all unsettling or terrifying. No sir.

Also, the way Belos was pounding on the pillars was quite...visceral.

How many of those masks does he go through on a regular basis?

Uncle? I knew they were related in some capacity!

A wild witch cursed Belos, I'm calling it

Hey, intro update for Eda, King, and Amity!

Echo mouse apparently does not give up all its secrets that easily

At least King isn't trying to eat it?

Loving Luz's face pressed up against the glass

Luz living up to her name at the mention of a magic staff, 'cause she's moving at light speed

Come, now, we all knew Amity wouldn't be in this one.

Yo, uh, Bump's kinda, uh...😳

HAIR

So Frewin was Bump's palisman the whole time, huh?

There's the Bat Queen! Makes sense she would be involved in the palisman adoption process.

"Your loss!" Tell her, Willow!

Clover! Loving this already.

Boscha stans getting some juice today, I see

The way the students are reacting to finding their palismen is really setting up the inevitable gut punch when Luz doesn't match with one.

Reestablish contact with the giraffes? Oh, Gus.

(Makes you wonder what the deal with giraffes is. Then again, maybe it's just a running joke at this point)

Ah, here's the windup

Okay, we're going with full-on existential crisis, then. Poor Luz.

Connecticut? No wonder Luz doesn't fit in back home! She lives in friggin Connecticut, of all places!

Disclaimer: I have never been to Connecticut. I've heard plenty of people weigh in on it, though, and the general consensus seems to be that there isn't much to it.

Eda's up to something...

That cardinal really wants to go somewhere

That outfit being sleepwear makes sense, actually.

You'd think GG could leverage his position to requisition those palismen rather than go in for a heist, but bureaucracy doesn't make for a compelling story, I guess

Whistling the opening theme. Cute.

Okay, the whole fire glyph thing was funny

I did not expect this show to channel Looney Tunes as much as it has, but I'm okay with it.

Nice, Luz! Also, maybe that'll teach GG to keep his ship clean.

I think weird hand dragon might be sufficient to stop you, yes?

An assassination attempt? Oh, Kiki, you rascal.

Kiki really does not like GG

SLAP

I'm convinced they specifically wrote that moment to be memed

Oh, they're giving off some real sibling energy, huh? I'm into it! Especially if it quashes the possibility of a love triangle.

This place seems a bit more rough and tumble than Bonesborough

I see that mlm date in the background! Very nice

GG may be older than Luz, but she is definitely the more mature one.

That said, he does have a point about her not always thinking things through.

Thus begins the Enemy Mine segment.

"Too slow" yup sibling energy intensifies

He seems quite interested in the glyphs

Okay, them nerding out over magic together is a) adorable, and b) a solid argument for his inevitable face turn

Wait, so is GG actually related to Belos, or was he a foundling? Somewhat ambiguous here, at least to me. Hopefully that's explored.

"At least you have your future figured out now." "At least you can figure out your own."

Cardinal's gonna be his palisman, isn't it?

Luz finds it cute despite herself

The whole sleep mist thing is a hell of a strategy to have in your back pocket. Luz being super smart yet again.

God help me if I'm ever at a point in my life where Luz tells me to my face that I'm not her friend. I don't think I could handle it.😢

Hunter? A little on the nose given the circumstances.

Also, goddamnit the episode title was foreshadowing his name the whole time

Oh hi, Kiki, still awake?

Ooh, well-animated fight sequence let's goooo

It's somehow reassuring that Luz is as weirded out by Hand Dragon as I am

Hand Dragon just follows the whistle? So much for loyalty.

Ah, there's Eda!

What did they get into?! Maybe supplemental materials could go into these offscreen adventures? Please, Disney?

Robbing a garden club to acquire some rare wood so your surrogate daughter can make her own staff? If that isn't love I don't know what is!

And loving the way Eda emphasizes that there's no rush on carving the palisman. Amazing family moment.

As a contrast: fuck you, Belos, you piece of shit

"Outbursts" riiiiight

Belos giving out some Shadow Weaver vibes with Hunter, ngl

Uh oh, Kiki suspects

Hope someone picks up that phone, because I called it!

(I know I write these after watching through once already, shh)

Well, considering the things that were revealed and developed, this was a surprisingly low-key episode! To be honest I kind of welcome that, considering how the previous episodes have been. That said, fairly solid overall, and I can see why Hunter is Dana's favorite. A less charitable summation of his character might be "What if Luz but white boy," but I think he has enough unique characteristics to stand out.

I'm also glad for the breather because I think Eda's Requiem is gonna hit pretty hard. Can't wait for that!

#the owl house #luz noceda #golden guard #toh hunter #eda clawthorne #willow park #gus porter #kikimora #bat queen #principal bump #emperor belos #amity blight #king of demons #toh king #toh s2 spoilers #the owl house s2 spoilers #the owl house season 2 spoilers #toh spoilers #the owl house spoilers

60 notes · View notes

elliesguitarstrings · 4 years ago

Text

Silence (Part 3)

Masterlist//Series Masterlist

Peter Parker x Stark!reader

Summary: You and Peter have been best friends ever since he stepped foot into the avengers compound. After a year of being friends you realize you’ve developed a crush on him, but he doesn’t feel the same way... at least, you don’t think he does.

A/N: This took way too long to post but it’s finally here! I wrote this super late at night and I feel like it’s all over the place but I hope you still enjoy it. Also I’m getting to requests next so if you sent in a request don’t worry I’m not ignoring you lol I just wanted to get this out first.

Warnings: language, angst

~~~~~~~~

Slowly, you walk downstairs, dreading the day to come. As you enter the kitchen, you see Peter smiling at you, finishing up the pancake batter.

Cheerily, he says, “Hey Y/N! You’re just in time, I just finished mixing up the batter.”

Maybe you’re wrong to get mad at him. He doesn’t realize how much of an asshole he’s being, and you can’t blame him. To him, the two of you have always just been friends, so inviting his other friends to come hang out with you is no big deal to him. But it’s just not something you can get over. He’s been your crush for a whole year, how are you supposed to get over it that fast?

You smile back weakly, walking around the counter to help him fry the batter. There’s a bit of an awkward (well at least to you it’s awkward) silence between you two, which is extremely rare, given that you two are best friends.

“Oh! You know what, I almost forgot something!” Peter exclaims, breaking the silence, “Your good morning hug!”

“Oh, Peter, you don’t have to-“

“Oh, come on, it’s our thing!” Peter cuts you off, pulling you into a tight embrace.

To be fair, it was your thing, but now it felt, well, weird, with him liking MJ and stuff. Fuck, today is gonna be hard.

You want to hug him back, but instead, you push him away, detangling yourself from his arms.

“What the fuck was that for?”

Thankfully, the pancakes were starting to turn a dark brown, giving you the perfect excuse.

“The pancakes are gonna burn, dumbass!”

Peter turns to look at the now smoking pancakes, “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!”

The two of you rush to get the pancakes off the griddle, salvaging as much of the charred batter as possible, bursting out into laughter.

With the two of you hysterically laughing, for a second it’s like nothing has changed.

But then his phone rings. He pulls his phone out of his back pocket and checks who’s calling.

“It’s MJ, I should probably pick up,” he says apologetically.

You nod your head and force another smile.

“Hey Peter, I just wanted to let you know that I’m leaving to pick up Ned soon and I wanted to ask if we should meet you at the tower so we could all go to Delmar’s together?”

No. No no no no, absolutely not.

“Yeah that’s a great idea!”

Fuck.

“Okay, um, see you there then. Does thirty minutes sound good?”

“Sounds good to me! See you soon MJ!”

“Bye Peter, see you later.”

He hangs up the phone and stuffs it back into his pocket.

“That was Mj, she-“

“Yeah, I heard.”

That may have come out a bit more harshly than you expected it to.

“Oh, is that okay? I’m sorry I should have checked with you first-“

“No, Peter, don’t worry about it. It’s totally fine.”

“Oh okay! Great! Um, well, we should eat the pancakes before they get cold, well the ones we have left at least,” he chuckles.

You smile, grabbing two halfway burnt pancakes and putting them on a plate, drizzling syrup on top. Peter does the same.

You want to avoid more awkward silence while you eat, so you suggest putting on the TV and eating in the living room. Thankfully, Peter agrees, and the two of you settle on the couch.

By the time the show ends and you finish your breakfast, MJ texts Peter, telling him that she and Ned just arrived.

As if on cue, FRIDAY announces, “Two guests have just entered the premises. My systems recognize them as Ned Leeds and Michelle Jones. Should allow them inside?”

“Yeah FRIDAY, go ahead and let them in,” you answer.

“Of course, Miss. Stark. Access granted.”

“Peter, why don’t you go meet them downstairs. I’ll clean up the dishes.”

“Are you sure? I can help if you want-“

“No, no, it’s fine. I need to take care of something before we leave anyways. I’ll be down in just a sec.”

“Oh, um, okay.”

Peter heads downstairs while you take both of your plates to the sink.

Truthfully, you don’t actually need to do anything before you leave. You really just need a few seconds alone to prepare for the rough day you know is coming. You take a deep breath and go downstairs, grabbing your purse and saying goodbye to your parents on the way down.

Peter, Ned, and MJ are waiting at the door, happily conversing about today’s plans. The ones that you already made. The ones that Ned and MJ weren’t supposed to be a part of.

Nevertheless, you force a smile and wave at them, “Hey guys! Ready to go?”

“Yeah!” they all say in unison.

The four of you head out the door, starting your long and painful walk to the nearest subway station. You could have driven, but you were the only one with your official license (Peter was too scared to take the driver’s test even though he was old enough, and MJ and Ned weren’t old enough to get their license) and you really didn’t feel like being the chauffer today.

The walk actually starts out fine. The four of you make good conversation, and you feel a little more at ease about today’s events. Peter and MJ really just seem to be friendly with each other, not really flirting at all.

Until the sidewalk narrows.

It’s only wide enough for two people to walk, so you hang back, expecting Peter to stay with you. But instead he speeds up, walking with MJ, leaving Ned to walk with you.

“Are you kidding me?” you whisper under your breath.

“Huh?” Ned inquires.

“Oh, nothing, sorry.”

“Oh! No problem! So, how have you been…”

You and Ned make extremely awkward conversation for the rest of the walk, mostly with him just rambling on about random stuff. You’re only halfway paying attention to what he’s saying, too busy eyeing Peter and MJ walking in front of you, smiling and laughing with each other.

You really don’t want to have anything against MJ, she actually seems like a great girl. Sure, she’s a bit weird, and extremely dark at times, but she seems like a nice person nonetheless. But you just can’t shake the fact that Peter is picking her over you. Constantly.

Finally, after the excruciating walk, you arrive at the subway station. MJ and Peter are still walking together, a little too close for your liking, but what can you do about it?

You walk onto the subway and sit down in one of two empty seats, just hoping that Peter will sit next to you. And thankfully he does.

Finally, you get to talk to just him, like you were supposed to be doing this whole day.

Then, the lady sitting next to Peter gets up and off the subway, and MJ slips into the seat before someone else can take it. Peter turns to her, and they resume their conversation from earlier.

What. The. Fuck.

It’s like the universe is against you for some reason. All you want to do is spend some time with Peter, without anyone else butting in. But instead you spend the entirety of the subway ride listening to Ned continue to ramble on about some organic chemistry project he’s doing for the science fair, trying your best not to cry or burst out in anger.

The four of you get off the subway and walk into Delmar’s. You already know what you are going to get, so you let Ned and MJ order first.

Ned orders a #1, and MJ orders a #8.

You step up to the counter, “Hi Mr. Delmar, I’ll have the usual please.”

“You got it Miss. Stark, a #5 with pickles, just how you like it,” he motions to Peter, “I’m guessing the same for you Mr. Parker?”

“No, actually. I’m gonna have what MJ’s having. A #8 please today Mr. Delmar.”

Is this a joke?

You and Peter always order the same thing. You always have ever since Peter first brought you to Delmar’s. It’s like he was rubbing it in your face that he likes MJ and not you.

Mr. Delmar hands the four of you your sandwiches, and you sit at one of the few tables in the small store.

Of course, Peter and MJ are still happily chatting, now with Ned joining in. You eat in silence, pretending to be interested in their conversation as you don’t want to come off as rude (even though you really want to be rude to them). At this point, all hope for having a good day is lost. You aren’t being included in the day you planned, and your heart shattering crush on Peter is no help.

The entire way back home is just as agonizing. Despite your many attempts to walk next to Peter, he always finds a way to stick with MJ. At this point it seems like he’s just outright avoiding you, and it hurts.

Were you being that awkward at breakfast this morning? Or does he just like MJ that much?

Either way, you aren’t happy with him.

When you arrive back at the compound, Peter, Ned, and MJ all rush to the movie room, arguing about what movie to watch. You trail behind, telling them that you have to go up to your room really quick and that you’ll be back in a minute. Honestly, you’re not sure if any of them heard you, but you rush upstairs, just needing to be alone.

As soon as you reach your room, the feelings you’ve been bottling up all day immediately rush out. In a matter of seconds, you are a mess of tears and sobs, all of the pent-up sadness and anger flowing out.

“What seems to be the problem Miss. Stark? You seem to be in distress,” you are suddenly startled by FRIDAY.

“Oh, it’s nothing, FRIDAY, I’ve just had a hard day.”

“Would you care to talk about it? Unfortunately I do not have the capacity to comfort you emotionally, as I am merely an artificial intelligence system, but it is scientifically proven that vocalizing your feelings can help with the coping process.”

“Promise you won’t tell anyone?”

“Of course, Miss. Stark. I am programmed to keep secrets very well.”

“Okay, well, I like Peter. Like a lot. But he doesn’t like me back. And he’s been ignoring me all day for MJ and I’m so mad at him because today was supposed to be our day. And he fucking ruined it,” you rant, still sobbing.

“I am deeply sorry about that Miss. Stark. Would you like me to alert someone for you to talk to? Miss. Romanoff or Miss. Maximoff perhaps?”

“No FRIDAY, it’s fine. Thanks though.”

You feel so stupid, talking to some smart computer system about your problems instead of an actual person, but it did feel good finally letting your feelings out in words.

However, as the tears started to subside, the sadness slowly turned into anger. You thought about today’s events, how Peter had purposefully ignored you for MJ on what was supposed to be a day with just the two of you. You had put so much effort into today, planning out each little thing, and you were so excited about it. You wish you could just go back to this morning and tell Peter not to invite Ned and MJ, or honestly, just forget about the plan entirely. It’s not like Peter would have cared.

Suddenly, you hear a knock at your door.

“Hey, it’s uh, it’s Peter.”

Of course.

“I just wanted to check on you. It’s been like half an hour, are you doing okay?”

“Yeah, Peter. I’m fine. I just don’t feel great. Probably the food or something. Just go back to Ned and MJ and watch the movie. I’m just gonna stay up here and rest.”

“Oh, I, um. I already told them to leave. I just noticed that you seemed kind of off today, and I didn’t want them to like, interfere or anything.”

So now he was being nice.

“Do you want me to come in? Maybe we can snuggle and watch a movie together. I know how much you like snuggles when you aren’t feeling well.”

You wanted so badly to say yes, to let him cuddle with you and engulf you in his warm embrace. But your mind (and your heart) trails back to today’s events, how he still likes MJ, and how he’s only checking up on you because “you seem off.”

“No, Peter. I just need some rest. Maybe another time.”

“Oh, um, okay then. Feel better Y/N.”

At this point, you don’t know what else to do but fight fire with fire. If Peter wanted to ignore you all day, then that’s exactly what you would do to him. You don’t care how nice he’s being, Today just pushed you to the edge. The combination of your one-sided crush on Peter, and him being a dick all day leads you only to one thing. Silence.

~~~~~~~~

Taglist: add yourself to my taglist here!

All: @pxkajesus @hollanddolanfangirl @roseke @agentsofparker @lifeasjazzz @damnrancidchicken @loopyolivia @iwannabekilledtwice @rafehogwarts @non-eexistent @rosiexx8 @nearlydanger9 @realityisabitch07 @midgardassassins @jbreenr @cap-marvxl @ellesmythe @deepestcolorgiantopera @that-one-person @clandestine-nerd @nevertrustapanda16 @ohabbyoh @rxmanxff @bubbleskz @quinn-spn58 @baby-pogue @strangebouquetqueen @aayaissaa @thatforgottenangel @pjmjams @tiredstudenttrinity @isabella-bby @i-will-take-care-of--you

Peter Parker: @blizzardbabe

Series: @t-hollanderr @pure-ghost @allycat449-blog

#peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x reader #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker x y/n #tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #tom holland fanfiction #spiderman #spiderman fanfiction #stark!reader #marvel #avenger #marvel fanfic series #avengers fanfiction

171 notes · View notes

petersasteria · 4 years ago

Text

Marriage - Tom Holland

Pairing: Doctor!Tom x Lawyer!Reader Requested? Nah 7,630 words TW; character death, very angsty as usual, an unusual ending

The one is bold is the question from the activity.

* * * *

It was 7 o’clock in the morning and everyone in your house was busy. Tom, your husband, was checking your kids’ backpacks while you made sure your kids ate breakfast. They were invited by Mr. and Mrs. Bergstein on a camping trip with their kids. Of course, you and Tom happily agreed. It’d be nice to take a break from the kids just this once. You and Tom didn’t worry too much about them because your kids are 10 and 8 years old. Both of them are boys and you wanted to try for a little girl this time. Only, there was one problem.

“Okay, Mr. and Mrs. Bergstein are here! It’s time to go!” Tom shouted from the living room after checking from the window. Your sons, Jacob and Mason, immediately got up from their seats and ran out of the house.

“You didn’t drink anything, Jacob!” You shouted from the dining area. Jacob quickly came back and finished his full glass of orange juice. You smiled at him as you wiped his mouth. You kissed the top of his head and said, “Behave, okay? Take care of your little brother, but most of all, have fun! I’ll call you guys every night.”

“Okay, mum. I love you!” Jacob smiled before leaving again. You and Tom followed behind him as you waved at them from the front door.

“Bye, kids!” Tom shouted with a smile on his face as he waved with his other arm wrapped around your shoulder. You and Tom watched as the kids waved from inside the car.

“I can’t believe you didn’t have the decency to pack their things last night. Do you know how tired I am?!” Tom quietly said while smiling at the kids.

“I can’t believe you’re complaining! You don’t even help around the house and the one time I ask you to do something, you’re pissed? How fucking dare you!” You said, the same way as Tom. You didn’t want the kids to see you fighting.

The Bergsteins drove away and as soon as they did, you shrugged off Tom’s arm around your shoulder and went inside without another word. Tom followed and slammed the door when he got in.

“You’re such a bitch, you know that?” Tom said angrily.

“You’re such an asshole, you know that?” You mimicked. “I fucking hate you! The only good things you gave me were Jacob and Mason! Other than those two, all you gave me were headaches and your whining! News flash: when you whine and complain, NOTHING CHANGES AND NOTHING GETS DONE.”

“Well, I’m sorry for making you so fucking upset! I’m sorry that I have a job that’s always stressing me out and I’m sorry that I don’t have time for everything and everyone in this house!” Tom shouted.

“Oh, please! I know how you fucking feel because I’m a lawyer and the cases I handle are so out of this fucking world and it adds to my problems! You and I aren’t so different in terms of having a busy work life, but I make time to do my part as a wife and a mother!” You hissed.

That was the problem. Both of you hated each other’s guts. You don’t know when it started and despite everything, you and Tom agreed that Mason was definitely the result of angry sex. In fact, that was the last intimate moment you had together. After having Mason, yours and Tom’s love life just went downhill. You loved your kids, but you weren’t sure if you loved each other anymore. For the first time in 14 years, you and Tom questioned your relationship.

You and Tom have been together since you were 16. You got married at 23, had Jacob at 24 and had Mason at 26. Now you and Tom are 34 years old and both of you can’t be bothered to make a third child. In Tom’s words, ‘FUCK THAT SHIT.’

“Are you saying that I’m not doing my part as a husband and as a father?!” Tom shouted.

“Yeah!”

“I provide for this family!”

“I provide for this family too and I’m so tired goddammit!” You yelled before retreating to your shared bedroom. Tom watched in anger and shouted, “I hate you!”

“The feeling’s mutual!” You shouted back before grabbing your work clothes and entering your en suite bathroom.

Tom scoffed and asked the maid to clean up in the dining room. It was his day off today and he didn’t want to do anything for the whole day. He just wanted to relax, but that was ruined when you asked him to pack the kids’ bags for a camping trip with the Bergsteins.

Half an hour later, you went down already ready for work. You were putting an earring on when you looked at Tom to find him watching golf on TV.

“I’m off to work now.” You said.

“Good riddance! At least no one’s going to boss me around.” Tom rolled his eyes as he said that without leaving his gaze from the television. What he said made your blood boil, but you didn’t say anything. You had to go to court today and you refused to let your emotions and personal problems get in the way of an important case. So you put your heels on, grabbed your things, and left without another word.

When you left, Tom looked at the door and sighed. Regardless of the constant arguing, Tom hated it when you argued. He hated all the fights, he hated the fact that you slept next to each other but turned on opposite sides, he hated not exchanging I love you’s anymore, he hated being angry all the time, but most of all, he hated not being partners in crime anymore. A few weeks ago, you told him to just leave. He didn’t because he made a vow to stay with you through thick and thin.

You hated fighting too and if you were being honest, you didn’t know what happened. It just started going downhill. There was no doubt that you loved Tom and he loved you, but sometimes things just don’t work out between two people who loved each other since they were 16.

Work was tiring as always and as if work wasn’t tiring enough, Tom texted you and said that your parents were trying to contact you, but for some reason couldn’t get a hold of you so they called Tom instead. Apparently, your parents made reservations at a restaurant for dinner and they realized that they couldn’t make it. They didn’t want to cancel because they would be asked to pay a cancellation fee. Your parents want you and Tom to take the reservation instead.

Upon reading Tom’s message, you called him and he answered immediately. “What did you tell them?” You asked Tom as soon as he answered. You were walking to your car while trying to find your car keys.

“Hello to you too, darling.” He said sarcastically and you could imagine him rolling his eyes. “I told them that we’d go. I’m already dressed and I’m literally on my way out the house.”

You found your keys and sighed before unlocking your car. “Fine. How will you go there? Do you want me to pick you up? Or will you take a cab?”

“I’ll just take a cab. I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you, Y/N. I’m sure having dinner with me is at the bottom of your list, but I love your parents too much to say no.” Tom hissed as he walked out of the house.

“I didn’t mean it that way, alright?! I’m just tired. I’ll see you at the restaurant.” You said as you put your things in the backseat of your car.

“Bye.” Tom said before hanging up. You tossed your phone on the passenger seat before getting in and driving to the restaurant. When you parked the car, you quickly fixed your appearance and practiced a smile before grabbing your phone and bag before getting out of the car and locking it.

Tom got there first and he was already munching on the free bread and sipping wine. He saw you and lazily waved you over. You walked towards him and sat across.

“Have you ordered?” You asked and he shook his head.

“I was waiting for you.” He replied with his mouthful which made you roll your eyes. “Can you stop being a pig for once?” You whispered.

Tom rolled his eyes, took a sip of wine, and swallowed his food. “Can you give me a break? Today’s the day when I don’t handle a patient’s death or sickness or check up or anything else. Let me be human and forget a few manners, alright? It’s not like I’ll die if I talk with my mouth full.”

“Yeah, but you could choke on it.” You explained.

“Oooh, kinky.” Tom said sarcastically.

The waitress came and handed your menus before leaving again. The waitress was your saving grace and you were happy that you could pay attention to the menu and not Tom. You honestly couldn’t deal with him at the moment. After five minutes of scanning the menu, both of you called for the waitress and gave her your orders. The waitress immediately left after taking your orders and you and Tom were silent.

Tom coughed awkwardly, “How was work?”

“Stressful and I have to be in court again tomorrow.” You told him.

“The pro bono case?” Tom asked.

You nodded, “The pro bono case. I genuinely feel bad for my client and I hope I win this one for him.”

“What’s his case?” Tom asked. For the first time in forever, both of you were normal, functioning human beings.

“His daughter got taken away from him simply because everyone said that he has the mental capacity of a 7-year-old and that his daughter is already becoming smarter than him. His daughter’s teacher also said that they think she’s holding back from learning all because of her father. They’re bullshitting, I swear.” You answered before grabbing a piece of bread and scarfing down on it as if you haven’t eaten in days.

“Well, do you?”

“Do I what?” You asked after swallowing the bread.

“Do you think he has the mental capacity of a 7-year-old?” Tom asked. The waitress arrived with your food and you thanked her. Tom poured you a glass of wine for you to drink and you took a sip before answering.

“No.” You shook your head. “He has autism, but I think he’s very capable of being a parent. Hell, he’s been raising the kid alone for seven years, so why do they all doubt him now? It just makes me so angry that they think that way.”

The dinner went surprisingly well and Tom even offered to pay for the bill. You were happy that both of you were functional human beings again and you didn’t fight anymore even when you arrived home. You even got to cuddle up to him when you laid in bed and he kissed the top of your head.

“Oh shit.” You said suddenly.

“What?”

“We forgot to call the kids.”

“Oh shit.” Tom sighed. “Let’s just give them a quick call now. I’m sure they’re tired.”

You grabbed your phone from the nightstand and quickly pressed Jacob’s contact to call him. His phone rang as you put it on speaker and he answered after the third ring.

“Hi, mum!” Jacob said from the other line. “Mason, come say hi to mum.”

“Hi, mum!” Mason greeted.

“Hey kids!” You smiled. “Your dad’s here too. Say hi to your dad.”

“Hi, dad!” The two said at the same time.

“Hey, boys! We miss you already.” Tom said. “What did you guys do today?”

“We went fishing!” Mason said cheerfully. “Yeah, and we had smores. It was delicious!” Jacob added with a small giggle which made your heart swell and forget your problems. You really loved your kids and you would do anything and everything for them.

You spent the rest of the night talking to your kids and it felt like nothing was wrong anymore. But of course, you knew it was temporary. You knew better than to keep your hopes up. You knew that when you wake up in the morning, Tom would already be ready for work and say the coldest ‘goodbye’ to you as if you didn’t cuddle at all the night before.

You were right. Except this time, he added a small ‘good luck in court today’ which made you smile a bit before waving goodbye to him.

You sighed to yourself as soon as he left before getting ready for the day. You wished you could go back in time to where this coldness and the arguments began because you had no clue how to fix it now. You couldn’t blame Tom and you didn’t blame yourself and you most certainly didn’t blame your kids. It’s hard to solve a case when you can’t even solve your own problems at home.

Two days later, Jacob and Mason are finally back from the camping trip and you can’t wait to spend time with them. You missed them dearly. You took a day off to be with them and as much as Tom wanted to go, he had an emergency to tend to at the hospital.

“Hi!” You greeted as soon as you saw your kids get out of the car. They ran up to you and you hugged them tightly as you kissed the top of their heads. Your sons were yours and Tom’s pride and joy. They were your angels.

You pulled away from them and thanked the Bergsteins for the camping trip before waving them goodbye as they drove away. You three went inside and helped them unpack their things as they told you stories of what happened.

Since you didn’t go to work today, you knew you had to make up for it. So after dinner and after readying the kids for bed, you went to your home office and started working. Tom came home an hour later. He took off his coat and took his shoes off as the maid reheated the dinner that was left for him. He went into the dining room and thanked her before loosening his tie and eating.

No one noticed it, but he was tired. He wished he could quit his job, but he knew that if he did that, he’d be very unhappy. Being a doctor has been his dream for so long and he wasn’t going to give that up. It was his passion and he loved it. He loved seeing happy patients getting out of the hospital, he loved seeing his fellow doctors telling patients that they’re cancer free, he loved seeing a patient’s loved ones visiting with balloons and flowers. It’s true what people say, you really see true emotions in either a hospital or airport. Mostly in a hospital.

Tom rubbed the sleep off his eyes before quickly finishing his food. He just remembered Jacob and Mason were already home and he wanted to see them. Tom loved his sons and he would do everything to make them happy and protected. He loved his little family and he wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

He got out of his seat, washed the plate and utensils he used, dried and put them back before going to his sons’ shared room. He gently knocked on the door before entering. He silently hoped that they were awake so he could hear about the things they did in their trip because he knew that he’d have to wake up at 4AM and do the same routine again. He wanted to catch up with his kids because he feels like he’s been missing out a lot and he hated that. He swore to himself that he’d become the best father for them and that included hearing them out no matter what it was they wanted to say.

He opened the door and saw them half-asleep watching something on Netflix. He smiled at the sight and said softly, “Hey, guys.”

Jacob and Mason turned to face the door and smiled brightly when they saw their father. Tom grinned as he walked in and quietly closed the door. The kids ran up to him and gave him a big hug which Tom returned. His sorrows were washed away and it hurts to admit that when his two boys will be teenagers, they wouldn’t want to hug their dad anymore. Right now, he’s cherishing it before they turn into monstrous rebels that sneak out to party. Although, he hoped his boys wouldn’t be like that.

Tom kissed their foreheads before sitting on the large beanbag as the kids sat on his lap. “Tell me all about your camping trip. Was it fun? Did you see bears?”

“I saw an eel and Eli caught a fish!” Mason exclaimed as he excitedly told the story. Eli was the Bergsteins’ youngest son. He’s the same age as Mason.

“Wow! Really? Did you catch a fish?” Tom asked him and Mason shook his head. Mason didn’t seem bothered about it, though. “I saw a butterfly and a caterpillar. They were beautiful like mum.” Mason smiled as Tom nodded and brushed the hair off of Mason’s face.

“Yes, your mum is very beautiful.” Tom smiled. Jacob watched the interaction between his little brother and his father and he was slightly jealous that Mason got his parents’ attention. He knew that the love was equal, but he just didn’t see it that way. Jacob loved his brother and he would do anything to protect him, but sometimes he wished his parents would realize that he’s their son too and he needed attention just as much as Mason.

Mason is the exact definition of a ball of sunshine. He always saw the good in people and he stopped fights in school because he hated it when people fight. It pained him to see you and Tom fighting even though you hid it from him and Jacob, he could still hear it and he could sense when something’s wrong. He was a peacemaker and he loved nature. In fact, you and Tom decided to have a small garden corner for Mason in the backyard. Mason was often teased in school for being effeminate and Jacob would always defend him. It broke Jacob’s heart to see that his precious little brother is being teased for being who he is.

Mason loved flowers. He didn’t have a favorite and if you ask him, his answer changes every time. Despite his different answers, you, Tom, and Jacob thought each thought about different flowers that suit him. To Jacob, the flower that suited Mason best is zinnia because it means goodness and to him, it definitely described Mason. To Tom, Mason suited a chrysanthemum because it means cheerfulness and positivity and it truly defined Mason. To you, he suited a baby’s breath because it means innocence, love, purity, and sincerity.

In truth, all of those flowers suited Mason. That’s why you and Tom fought when trying to decide the kind of flowers to get for Mason’s funeral.

It all happened so fast.

Knowing his love for nature, you and Tom took the kids to a nature park for Mason’s 9th birthday. You knew he would appreciate it and you knew he wanted to spend time with his family on his special day. So, you and Tom organized it, surprisingly, without fighting.

You went to the park and there was a lake there where everyone could swim. It was a little pricey, but you and Tom thought that it was okay to spend a little over the budget for the kids to swim. So, you all swam.

When it was time to get out of the water, you noticed that only Jacob got out. Mason was nowhere to be found. That made you panic.

“Jake,” You called your eldest son. Jake was his nickname. “Where’s your brother?” Upon hearing your question, Tom stopped packing your things and went over to you and Jacob.

“What’s going on?” Tom asked as he dried his hair with a towel.

“Mason’s missing.” You said in panic. You had a bad feeling and you guessed that it was your maternal instincts kicking in. “I don’t like this one bit, T. I feel like something bad just happened.”

Tom turned to Jacob and asked, “Where’s Mason?”

“I don’t know.” Jacob shrugged. “We were playing and I never saw him again. Should I go back in the wa-”

“No!” You said loudly, cutting him off. “Don’t go back in there. It’s dangerous.”

“I’ll go look for a lifeguard or something. Stay here.” Tom said sternly, going into full dad mode before running to immediately find someone who could help. Not even a minute later, he comes back with the nature park’s rescue team as they search for Mason in the lake. Tom went with them as you stayed with Jacob.

“Will Mason be okay?” Jacob asked, his eyes full of worry as they stared back at you. You gave him a small smile and said, “Yes, he’ll be okay. They’ll find him. I know they will.” Jacob nodded and you engulfed him in an embrace as he sat on your lap. In truth, you didn’t know what to do. Your mind was thinking of so many things at once and your heart was racing.

An hour later, Tom and the rescue team come back with Mason’s cold body. His lips were pale and judging by the look on Tom’s face, Mason needs to be in the hospital as soon as possible.

“They called an ambulance already and they should be here by now.” Tom told you. “I’ll go with them and you and Jacob can follow.”

“Okay.” You cried. The three of you quickly changed into dry clothing, grabbed your things and went to the front of the nature park where the ambulance was waiting. Mason was quickly brought inside the ambulance while Tom followed suit.

“Just follow the ambulance!” Tom called out to you before the paramedic got in and closed the door. Your body ran on autopilot. You hurriedly stuffed your things in the backseat of your car before getting in with Jacob. You pulled out the parking lot and quickly drove to catch up with the ambulance.

Tom arrived at the hospital first and Mason was brought to the emergency room. Tom waited outside and after a few minutes, a doctor told Tom that Mason was dead on arrival. It was heartbreaking. As a doctor himself, Tom had his fair share of telling families that their loved one has passed. He just didn’t expect that he’d be the receiving end of it and it shattered him. When you and Jacob arrived, Tom broke the news to you and you let out the most painful cry. Jacob cried too. Jacob blamed himself for Mason’s death, but you and Tom assured him that it was no one’s fault.

Today’s the funeral and you were arguing with Tom. You were in the anger stage of grieving and it broke Jacob’s heart seeing you two fight.

“I want the baby’s breath flowers for him to hold in the coffin!” You shouted.

“Well, I want the chrysanthemum!” Tom yelled. “That’s final!”

“You can’t just decide what’s final and what isn’t! I’m his parent too, in case you forgot!” You angrily shouted as you stood in front of Tom. Tom was about to yell, but Jacob beat him to it.

“Stop fighting!” Jacob cried, causing both of you to face him. “Mason would hate both of you for fighting right now! He seriously would! Can you guys just compromise? I understand that you guys are very sad and I’m sad too. But we have to go now and let’s just agree that Mason can hold all of the flowers we got him. He loves them all, anyway.”

Yours and Tom’s heart broke seeing Jacob cry and you felt so bad that you forgot all about him. You knew Tom forgot about him too. Tom looked at you and nodded, “He’s right.”

You nodded and said, “Okay. Jake, we’re sorry.”

“Let’s just go.” Jacob said as he walked out of the house.

The funeral was short and simple. You three got to see Mason one last time as you all put the flowers in Mason’s hands. They closed the coffin and lowered it down six feet under. You will never get over the pain of burying your son; your youngest. Things will never be the same again.

After the funeral, you and Tom were back to your fighting routines. Jacob didn’t have the energy to stop you guys anymore. In fact, you were so busy fighting and working that you didn’t notice Jacob anymore. You never went to his room because it hurts too much knowing that Mason stayed there too. What you didn’t realize was Jacob’s pain. It hurt him to sleep in the room he once shared with his brother. It hurt him to not hear Mason’s voice not calling his attention when he wanted a midnight snack. It hurt him to lose his number one partner in crime.

A few months later, it’s Tom’s parents’ wedding anniversary party. Things have already been downhill by that time and Jacob wasn’t talking to both of you at all and that worried you and Tom.

You arrived at Tom’s childhood home because that’s where the party was being held and after Tom parked the car, all of you got out of the car. Tom locked it and entered the house first with you and Jacob behind him.

“Tom!” Nikki smiled as she walked towards him and kissed his cheek before giving him a warm embrace. She turned to you and did the same. “How are you?” She asked.

“I’m doing better.” You smiled as you put your hands on Jacob’s shoulders. Nikki smiled and turned to Jacob, “How are you, young man?”

“Fine.” Jacob said.

“How’s football?” Nikki asked him again, hoping to get an elaborate answer. She missed the 10-year-old boy who resembled Tom.

“I quit a few weeks ago.” Jacob said as he shrugged off your hands and went to his uncles. You sighed and Tom shook his head upon seeing that.

“I’m sorry about that, Nikki.” You apologized and she waved you off saying it was nothing. She said that Jacob was probably just upset about something and that he’ll come around soon. “I hope that’s true.” You told her.

“It’ll pass. Don’t worry about it.” Nikki assured you.

The party began and everyone was having fun. You went to the kitchen to get yourself a drink and on the way there, you saw Tom and his ex talking and laughing. You knew it meant nothing and you knew it was ridiculous to be jealous of his ex especially because he chose you in the end, but you couldn’t help it.

Forgetting about your drink, you walked up to them and cleared your throat. “Tom, can you help me with the drinks in the kitchen?” You asked sweetly.

“Okay.” He said, before excusing himself from his ex. They were still friends and their breakup was mutual. Tom didn’t have feelings for her anymore and he loved you despite the hardships and fights.

You went to the kitchen and Tom trailed behind you. You turned to face him and he immediately asked, “Okay, what’s wrong? I know you don’t need help with drinks.”

He knew you too well.

“How’s your ex?” You asked with your arms crossed. Tom groaned. “No, tell me. How is she? What did she tell you that was so funny? If you find her so amusing, why don’t you just date her? Oh, no you can’t because you’re married to me!”

“I fucking knew it!” Tom raised his voice, causing the people in the house to look at both of you. “You know, you’re so jealous! I was literally catching up with her and you’re making an issue! That’s what’s wrong with you!”

“Oh, wow!” You chuckled. “So if I were to talk to my ex and laugh with him, would you be jealous?”

“Yes, I would! But I wouldn’t make a scene and I wouldn’t worry too much about it because I know that at the end of the day, you come home TO ME; your husband. I trust you, but you don’t fucking trust me and it’s insane!” Tom shrieked.

“Oh, so now I’m insane?!”

“Yeah, you are! How can you get it through your thick head? Nothing’s going on between me and her! We’re just friends and there’s nothing to worry about!”

“That’s where it all starts.” You said. “You become friends and then you hang out again and then before you know it, you’re going on secret dates and then you’re cheating.”

Tom laughed bitterly, “See what I’m talking about?! You already made some shit up! I can’t believe your spewing random stories out of your fucking mouth! God, you’re so irritating sometimes!”

“IF YOU FIND ME SO IRRITATING, WHY ARE YOU STILL WITH ME?!”

“IF YOU DON’T FUCKING TRUST ME, WHY ARE WE STILL FUCKING MARRIED?!”

At this point, you and Tom were loudly and shamelessly arguing in the kitchen. You forgot about the guests and you forgot about the party. Dom, Tom’s father, had to tell everyone the party was over, so that they could all leave and not witness your fight.

Jacob shook his head at the sight and said, “They do this all the time. I’m used to it now. I bought myself headphones to keep myself company. Those headphones are my best friends now.”

Taking pity on Jacob, Paddy said, “What music do you listen to? The speaker’s still in the garden and we can plug in your phone there, so we can listen together.”

Sam heard and nodded, “Yeah, I’ll join in too. What’re you into?”

“Count me in. Shit is heated here and I need a break.” Harry sighed before earning a nudge from Sam. “Ouch, what was that for?”

“Watch your mouth.” Sam said.

“That’s fine. I’ve heard so many curse words now. Let’s just go to the garden.” Jacob said as he led the way.

Nikki closed the backdoor after all of them went to the garden and she quickly went back to the kitchen to stop you guys from fighting.

“Hey!” She shouted, causing you and Tom to stop. “Let’s talk in the living room.”

Now, here you were in the living room with Tom, Nikki, and Dom. You never thought that you would ever receive an intervention of some kind.

“Why are you fighting?” Dom asked.

“She was jealous because I was talking to my ex and she was being super unreasonable. It’s so irritating.” Tom answered as he rolled his eyes.

“Have you ever hit each other?” nikki asked and you shook your head. “We would never hit each other.” You cleared up, earning a nod from her.

“Have you ever thought about marriage counseling?” Dom asked and you and Tom shook your heads.

“We don’t need it.” Tom said. “We’re just having a rough patch at the moment.”

Dom laughed, “That’s a funny way of saying it. Son, you’ve been fighting for YEARS. I think it’s time for both of you to get some help and sort out everything.”

“You need to fix this. If not for both of you, then do it for Jacob and Mason. We all know that Mason hates fighting. Imagine how Mason would feel about all this.” Nikki said softly.

“That’s not fair.” Tom shook his head. “You can’t just use my dead son against me.”

“I’m not using him against you. I’m just saying that he would be disappointed in both of you for fighting and for forgetting Jacob.” Nikki snapped.

“Let’s go.” You said quietly.

“What?” Tom turned to you.

“Let’s go to a marriage counselor. Tom, they’re right. We need help. I thought fighting was just in court. I don’t want to experience it at home too. We’re tired from our jobs and I think that’s the reason why we’re snapping at each other. I want us to talk about this before we do or say anything stupid.” You explained as you rubbed your temple with your left hand.

Tom looked down and nodded, “Fine. I don’t want to fight forever.”

You looked at each other and gave him a small smile as you grabbed his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. With that small gesture, Tom hoped that everything would be alright.

Today’s the day for yours and Tom’s first marriage counseling session. Both of you were extremely nervous, but you both knew it had to be done. The drive there was quiet and if you were being honest, you had to admit that being quiet was strange for you and Tom.

When you arrived, you two still hadn't spoken to each other in fear that it might lead to another fight. Both of you were asked to wait in the waiting room until your names were called and when it was, both of you nervously walked in the marriage counselor’s office.

They asked you to take a seat in front of their desk and you did as you were told. They smiled at you and said, “Mr. and Mrs. Holland, am I correct?”

“Yes.” You answered at the same time.

“Alright. Tell me about your relationship. How did it start?” They asked.

You chuckled at the memory and so did Tom. “Well, I was in a relationship when I met her and she had an attitude.” Tom said with a grin.

“That’s true.” You chuckled. “I was a new student in his school and I was just mean because I hated being new and I hated starting over. You see, my family kept moving around but this time, we stayed.”

“So anyway, when my girlfriend and I broke up, I was upset. I was 15 at the time and I thought that she was the one. Of course, I was wrong because I got to know Y/N after that. Something told me that Y/N was someone special. I just didn’t know that she was the one. Of course, I found that out years later. Heck, that’s why I proposed.” Tom admitted.

“Tom was my first boyfriend and I honestly thought we wouldn’t last because we were 16 when we started dating and that’s so young. So, I really didn’t give my all in the relationship because why would I give my all if we weren’t going to last, anyway?” You said, biting your lip.

“I just knew that now.” Tom confessed and then there was silence, but you quickly broke it.

“Of course, I changed my mind.” You said.

“What made you change your mind?” The counselor asked.

“I changed my mind when I met his family. I just felt really special that time and we were already dating for about 5 months. I felt really happy and I felt as if something good is about to happen. I was right.” You smiled as you looked at Tom. “He was the best boyfriend I could ever ask for and I couldn’t imagine being with anyone else.”

The counselor nodded, “Okay and what was your marriage like before?”

“Oh, it was spectacular! We got married when we were 23 years old and we traveled from to time because at that time, we weren’t super busy.” Tom answered. “Then, we had our son, Jacob, the year after that. It was quick and definitely a surprise, but we were excited to be parents. I knew that Y/N would be an excellent mother and she is. I never doubted her, not once and not ever.”

“Everyone said we were crazy for getting married so young, but why should we wait for a long time, y’know? We already know that we’re it for each other. Love is different for everyone and people failed to think about that during those times.” You answered. “A month into our marriage, I still couldn’t get over the fact that I’m his wife. It felt so surreal and I felt like I was on cloud nine. It felt so good.”

“That was before, right?” The counselor asked and both of you nodded. “What do you think changed? What happened?”

“I think it’s because we got busier at work and we had no time for each other. Then, we still had Jacob to take care of and it was just tiring. I guess that’s why we kept snapping at each other. That’s where it all began. The snapping and then it moved to the raising of voices-”

“Then the shouting and yelling, the saying things we don’t mean, and the not talking to each other for days. I honestly thought our marriage was done, but we vowed to each other that we would be there for each other through good times and in bad. Why would I give up on Y/N after a bump on the road? So, I stayed.” Tom continued.

“Does one person feel the need to win whenever you argue?”

“I don’t feel the need to win.” You said.

“I don’t feel the need to win either. I think we argue because we think we’re right and we don’t agree with things.” Tom answered.

“That’s true. We can’t even talk to each other properly without it leading to yet another heated argument. I think this is the longest conversation we have without shouting and yelling and saying things we don’t mean.” You said.

“Why are you here? What made you come here?”

“We came here because we realized that after years of fighting, we need help. After years of fighting, we finally admitted to ourselves that we need help from a professional.” You said.

“What are you hoping to learn from counseling?”

“I want to learn how to deal with our problems without yelling and getting angry about it.” Tom said.

“Okay, and you?”

“I want to learn how to learn the same thing. I can’t go on fighting anymore. We’re supposed to be teammates and we can’t do that if we’re always arguing.” You answered.

“Where would you like to see your marriage by the end of counseling?”

“A strong and healthier marriage, definitely.” You nodded. “I want that for us.”

“By the end of counseling, I want us to still be together. I want us to be better than who we are now especially for Jacob because I feel like our fights are rubbing off on him. He barely talks to us and I hate that.” Tom said and you agreed.

“Okay, thank you for that. That’s all I need for now and I’ll see you in our next session.” The counselor said.

Counseling helped greatly and it made you learn more about yourselves. You learned about your new strengths and weaknesses. Life at home slowly changed too. There were a few fights, but they weren’t as bad as before. Jacob still wouldn’t talk to both of you, though and that scared both of you.

Today was your last day of marriage counseling and the counselor said that there will be a last activity before they can conclude anything.

“I have a set of questions here that I want you both to answer, alright?” The counselor asked and both of you nodded.

Do you trust each other?

Tom: Yes, I trust her with everything in me.

You: I do.

Is there anything you feel you can’t trust each other with?

Both: No.

Have you ever felt the need to check the other person’s phone when they leave it unattended?

Tom: No.

You: Yes, but that was before we were married.

Tom looked at you and you just shrugged, “I’m just being honest.”

Have you ever done anything to lose the trust of the other person?

Tom: No, but I’m sure she had her doubts at some point.

You: No, and he’s right.

What makes you both happy?

Tom: Seeing my family happy.

You: Same answer.

When was the happiest period of time in your marriage, and what about it did you enjoy the most?

Tom: Our wedding day because I finally got to marry the girl of my dreams. I finally had my dream come true.

You: Our one year wedding anniversary because we’ve been together for 8 years in total and married for a year. It blew my mind that we lasted so long and we’re having our first born on the way.

Is there anything the other does that brings you down?

Tom: When she accuses me of not making time for our family. I try to make time, I do. It’s just that I’m always the doctor they call whenever they need something and I can’t help it. I know I promised I’d be there, but I took an oath to be there for patients too. It’s my duty to serve the public and I don’t want to abandon that and aside from being a husband and father, I dreamt about being a doctor too. It would break my heart to not do what I’m supposed to do.

You: When he would blame me for things that aren’t my fault.

Do you feel that you care about each other’s happiness?

Tom: Yes! Last year, she got me golf clubs for my birthday.

You: Yeah and he got me tickets to a concert that I want to go to.

What can you do to share each other’s happiness?

Tom: Go golfing with me.

You: Have a relaxing day together; just me and him.

Do you stress each other out?

Tom: I guess so. We wouldn’t be fighting if we don’t stress each other out.

You: True.

What do you find the most stressful?

Tom: When she doesn’t understand me.

You: When he forgets his role at home.

Do you feel you can come home to each other after a special day and feel better?

Tom: If I was asked this before, I’d say no because I always come home late and she’d be asleep. So, we couldn’t fix our problems. But now, yes.

You: I agree with him.

What do you feel are the biggest stressors in your marriage?

Tom: My job, but I can’t quit.

You: Our schedules because they always clash.

Do you feel like you can talk to each other about everything?

Both:: Yes.

Do you feel like the other listens when you speak?

Both:: Yes.

Do you make love as often as the other would like?

The question made you and Tom giggle causing the counselor to look at both of you. “I’m guessing, you do it more often now than before?”

“No comment.” Tom said, trying to hide a grin on his face.

“Alright, moving on.” The counselor chuckled.

Do you fulfill each other’s needs physically?

Tom: Definitely.

You: Absolutely.

Have you ever thought about seeing someone else?

Tom: No.

You: Never in a million years.

Have you ever seen someone else while you’ve been together?

Both:: No.

Do you still communicate with others you’ve been with intimately?

Tom: No.

You: I’ve never been with anyone else prior to Tom.

Is there anything in the past that the other has done that still bothers you?

Tom: I don’t think so; no.

You: The way he laughed with his ex at his parents’ wedding anniversary party. This is completely on my part now; it’s not his fault.

If you could change one thing about the past, what would it be?

Tom: The thing that got us into this whole mess. I would like to completely remove that.

You: Same here.

Would you say your relationship has been mostly good, mostly bad, or something in between?

Tom: Something in between.

You: Yes. No relationship is perfect.

Are there any conflicts in the past that you feel have not been resolved?

Both:: No.

What are some fond memories you have about the past?

Tom: When we first started dating, blissfully unaware of what our future will hold.

You: When we still had Mason.

Tom looked at you with a sad smile and grabbed your hand.

Do you want to remain married?

Both: Yes.

Where would you like to see each other a year from now?

Tom: Hopefully having a daughter.

You: True. I would like that.

What about five years from now?

Tom: New and improved.

You: Better at handling our stress.

What is one thing you’ve always loved about the other?

Tom: She’s caring and loving.

You: His passion for the things he loves.

If you could take a vacation, just the two of you, where would you go?

Both: To where we had our honeymoon.

What is something the other does that makes you smile?

Tom: When I see her with Jacob

You: When I see him being in his natural element.

What is your most cherished memory of the two of you?

Tom: When we first bought our house.

You: When we officially became parents.

What is something about your marriage that you wouldn’t change for anything?

Tom: Everything despite the fighting and crying.

You: Same here.

“This is now your last day for marriage counseling. On our first meeting, I asked you where you see yourselves at the end of marriage counseling. Did it happen?” The counselor asked as they looked at the two of you seriously.

You thought about it for a while before looking at each other.

"I think so." You answered. "I'm not really sure."

Tom nodded, "Yes, I'm not sure too."

* * * *

lmao cliffhanger bc there'll be two endings

this took me DAYS to write and i hope you guys enjoyed it! feedback would be lovely x

𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐓𝐎𝐌 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @blueleatherbag @cocoamoonmalfoy @thatforgottenangel @parkerpeter24 @turtoix @slutforsr @givebuckyhisplumsnow @buckys-little-hoe @runawayolives @chewymoustachio @hollandsrecs @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @yourstrulyamour @juliediggory @lharrietg @alexx-stancati @rumplebutterbaby @dummiesshort @spideyspeaches @thevelvetseries @buckymylove @quxxnxfhxll @marvelsimps @dreamy-clousds @bora-world @hunnybunimdun @supred12

𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @holland-styles @trustfundparker @calltothewild @felicityparkers @hufflepuffprincess24 @tommysparker @justasmisunderstoodasloki @quaksonhehe @call-me-baby-gir1 @itstaskeen @theonly1outof-a-billion @lost-in-the-stars03 @justafangirlduh @piscesparker @speedymaximoff @miraclesoflove @lexirv @blairscott @getbywithasmile @pqrkerr @lavender-writer @blackbat2020 @hoodpankow

#tom holland #tom holland one shots #tom holland imagines #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland angst #in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh

107 notes · View notes

whiskeyjack · 4 years ago

Note

I absolutely hear you on a lot of what you said about Rio’s development this season, but I don’t think the show is saying that Nick’s comment about Lucy’s murder is what we’re supposed to think about it. That’s just what Nick thinks, and considering the way they’ve portrayed him, I really don’t think we’re meant to agree with him. In fact I thought we were supposed to do the opposite. Why do you think the show itself is reframing what happened through him? I’m curious in your reading of that

(x)

you know? you make an excellent point. this one also got unintentionally REALLY long, so it is too, under the cut haha

-shout out to @jade-marie and @00gangfriend00, without them I don’t know how coherent this entire response would be haha

Alright, well firstly, I think it’s unfortunately clear that even some of the show’s writers don’t actually have a good grasp on the events leading up to Lucy’s death, both during s3 and now. It seems like depending on who is talking, and the timing of the discussion, the answer will shift. It is… really hard to speculate sometimes when the writers don’t even know the reason behind a scene. However, since it’s canon - whatever the reason or goal of the scene - I’m just going to go on my merry way and create/keep my own interpretation.

The more I thought about your ask, the more I realized, yeah, through Nick’s scripted words alone, they aren’t necessarily reframing what happened, since Nick does seem to be unaware of much of the entire sequence of events regarding Lucy: “So… you were just gunna, what, keep it to yourself?”. Assuming the diner scene with the cop was the first time he heard about it, his impression most likely wouldn’t be a fair representation of what actually happened. So, this is me eating my own words from before, so I apologize for using his quotes to reinforce my idea. This is simply my opinion, and it does regularly change quite a bit… I am wrong a lot haha

To some degree, I think reframing or shifting of some sort is kind of unavoidable when a show continues a plotline from a previous season, especially in addition to incorporating new characters into the past events. Nonetheless, I do think that the show is deliberately in fact reframing Lucy’s death and why it happened - through Rio’s backstory & POVs, Nick’s character development, and the show’s choice to show Rio having a lack of scars.

1. The backstory and Rio POVs

According to the backstory we’ve been given so far, Nick is this person who apparently is so deeply entrenched in Rio’s life and decision-making but he doesn’t know 1) that Rio killed someone, 2) the fact that Rio killed Lucy for Beth (as opposed to killing Annie, Ruby or Beth), and 3) why, which makes me wonder how exactly they are using Lucy’s death as a plotline in combination with Nick and Rio’s relationship. As I said in my previous post, I believe that the events leading up to and including Lucy’s death were heavily tied into if not directly a reaction to the shooting in 2.13.

According to this season, it seems Nick is Rio’s backstory, and Rio is Nick’s. So far, we’ve gotten approximately eight Rio POV scenes, separate from the girls, including flashbacks (excluding the Fitz kill):

4.02:

-the police station

4.08:

-baby Rio (rotten eggs with Nick)

-teenage Rio (the boxing scene(s)/contrasted with Nick’s POV on the golf course)

-teenage Rio (locker room theft)

-teenage Rio (grandma/stove and locker room arrest)

-adult Rio (outside the police station)

-teenage Rio (with Nick, kitchen flashback - I think this is more just an omniscient POV, however)

4.09:

-the boxing scene (with Nick)

With the exception of the police station in 4.02, Nick has been present in some capacity in each one of these Rio POV scenes. Since it’s only been through the flashbacks that we’re getting the main context of their relationship, it’s clear that the storyline the show is perpetuating this season is that Nick and Rio’s characters are very tightly weaved together in some capacity. And have been historically.

Rio, as a teenager, was a victim of Nick’s early manipulative actions, but in the end, it made him money, so (we are able to gather) he was able to justify falling into a criminal relationship with him. After Rio’s six-month stint in prison, he spent (probably) the entire time resenting Nick (and also, this is where he most importantly - in my opinion - developed adult Rio’s mannerisms haha jk).

So, moving forward with this knowledge, let’s take a look at their adult relationship.

2. Nick’s character development (in relation to Rio)

First and foremost, with Rio, in s1-3, he was an enigmatic, charismatic, clever, powerful, king who loved money, was in charge of every decision, well-connected, and a man of few words etc etc. Now, while Rio is being given more facets as more and more of his relationship with Nick is revealed and explored: he is being illustrated as someone who is dependant on his likely long-time abuser. This may be the case, absolutely, but, in my opinion, takes away from the last three years of work the show put into the character Rio mentioned above, including Manny’s nuanced acting. The reveal of Nick’s current power dynamic over Rio (at least the abusive part) in this past episode was quite jarring and seemed incredibly OOC of the Rio I personally know and love from past seasons, and, it kind of came out of nowhere, in my opinion. To be clear, I have nothing against the storyline of Rio being a victim (have you read my fic? haha), but I think that the way they are progressing this storyline is too abrupt and lacks the subtleties that I would have preferred to see with something like this. Especially considering this is canon.

Returning to the original point though, by assuming this abuser/abused dynamic is where the show is taking Nick and Rio’s relationship, that means that Nick likely seeks to control Rio’s life and decisions as much as he can (props to @00gangfriend00 for this articulation). Related and important side note: @jade-marie pointed out to me that by setting a preceding occurrence of physical mistreatment, the show is (unintentionally) establishing Rio as someone who is stuck in a cycle of abuse, and who seems to seek out abusive relationships and probably misunderstands abuse as intimacy. Rio’s relationships with both Beth and Nick demonstrate this. How much shit they’re both clearly able to get away with, and still have power over him. Which I think is an incredibly problematic message to be sending. This is a critical point, especially regarding the scars/acknowledgement of the shooting, because it offers the writer’s an excuse to write off the entire shooting, and by doing so, they are validating this cycle of abuse. (I won’t apologize for this particular tangent, because I really hope the writers acknowledge the damage this storyline could do if they don’t properly see it through this season)

Since it was confirmed that Nick didn’t know about Lucy (even though Rio supposedly got the alibi of the boxing tickets from him) Rio was, presumably, hiding the true extent (or the entirety) of his relationship with Beth from him. Which - I think from a writer’s perspective - does benefit the show, if they choose not to circle back to the shooting. This also allows them the freedom to ‘pretend’ that Rio got over it by himself. Obviously, there are a lot of issues and plot holes with that in itself, but to me, because Lucy’s death wasn’t something that Nick already knew about, combined with the lack of clarity of who Beth is to Rio in Nick’s mind - he doesn’t know about either the shooting or the consequences of it.

3. The lack of scars

Alright, so lastly - the show’s decision to not put scars on Rio. I think this was absolutely a conscious decision, there must have been at least one person in the building that thought of the fact that a shirtless Manny without scars couldn’t just be brushed aside. As a result, I, personally, think this demonstrates that the show is done with shooting. Pretending it never happened, erasing the trauma, moving on, yeah. Obviously, as I said, I vehemently don’t agree with this direction but I think it’s clear it’s a storyline the show doesn’t want to circle back to. Otherwise, Nick would know about Beth and Rio’s history. Otherwise, Nick would know about Lucy. Otherwise, there would be scars. This is my own opinion of course, but I’m making it based off of a couple of Nick’s lines: “Did you [kill Lucy] for [Beth]?” and in 4.08 when he talks to Beth, “So what’s the deal with you and [Rio]? […] Anyone who wears a cardigan, shouldn’t be doing what he does.” He generally seems unaware of the true state of Beth and Rio’s history and is probably genuinely curious about it considering the amount of control he has (or wants to have) over Rio.

I think that because all of the Rio POVs we’ve had are linked to Nick, I made the jump that we are supposed to believe Nick’s influence is/was at the heart of many of Rio’s decisions in the past. Obviously, during s2 and s3 writing and production, they didn’t actually know they were going to get a s4 or do a Rio backstory, so the fact is, that the character they wrote called Rio then, was someone entirely different from today’s Rio. However, we’re watching different seasons of Good Girls, not a different show from one year to the next. I think because this is the backstory we’re getting, the show is implying that this was the case all along. That s2 and s3 Rio made all of those decisions with Nick, someone he was scared of, hanging over his head in some capacity. Or somewhere in his vicinity. That’s why I have a problem with the implication that Lucy’s death was phrased the way it was, without the scars present. They coated that dialogue with innuendos about Beth and Rio’s sexual history, which is also quite layered, but at least that connection I get. It reminds us that Rio was betrayed in more ways than one. However, without the scars present, and Nick seemingly unaware of the shooting, how does the show intend to justify Lucy’s death with the audience? None of it makes sense. Jade was so incredibly helpful; she cohesively summarized the events - by erasing 2.13, they are erasing Rio’s motivations for 3.05. I just want it to make sense 😩

#gg analysis #gg s4 #gg spoilers #nbc good girls

30 notes · View notes

anonniemousefics · 4 years ago

Text

The Nine Terrifying Moons | Chapter Three

Fandom: The Folk of the Air | Jude + Cardan

Synopsis: Based on the response to this post. :) Jude’s not sure what she expected motherhood to be like, but it isn’t this.

(SO MUCH FLUFF HERE. Really. Just. The fluffiest. I can’t help myself.)

Chapter Three: The Third

I think maybe I am meant to be a cautionary tale, not a happy ending.

I think that someone who has manipulated and lied and schemed as much as I have is destined only for tragedy.

And now it’s finally come for me.

I think this over and over again, like a spell I’m chanting to grant myself some measure of grim acceptance, while Cardan and I ride a ragwort horse all the way to the mortal realm. It’s the best course of action we can come up with in the moment of panic.

The moment I knew we were facing a potentially devastating complication, I wanted – no, needed – a human doctor.

Pregnancy is rare among the Folk, and I now find I’m not interested in trusting faerie midwives with a decidedly human condition. If there is something wrong with me, or with our baby, I want to know what it is, everything about it. I don’t trust anyone who might want to strike a deal for my child’s wellbeing or concoct some potion that, while saving the pregnancy, also gives our baby a third eye or snaggle-teeth or an appetite for blood. I’m also having flashbacks of a conversation long ago with Oriana, when she divulged details of Oak’s horrific birth. How there’d been complications that had cost Liriope her life. How Oriana herself had carved the baby out of her friend’s stomach.

I shudder hard at the recollection and press my cheek hard against Cardan’s back as we ride, my face between his shoulder blades. Hard pass. On every bit of that. Just – one massive hard pass. We are finding a real doctor.

Cardan didn’t even argue. Though he insisted it was time to tell The Court of Shadows, if only for safety reasons while we made an unannounced, unplanned emergency run to the mortal realm.

Nothing goes like either of us had hoped. There are no tears of joy. There are only tight, grim expressions and tense words while plans are made. How we will prevent our enemies from learning of the child and our absence. How we will remain protected while among mortals.

I have hardly a word of help to offer, and that alone is horrifying. I have always schemed and survived – it’s what I am. But there, instead, I can only sit with a hand at my flat stomach, my sole focus on willing this little rebel in me to hear her mother’s first command.

Don’t go. Please. I love you.

Please stay.

Please.

I’ve resented this for weeks, and now I’m begging for the nausea, the aches, the exhaustion to stay – all of it. Any reassurance that I’m not losing this newfound love before I’ve even really gotten to know it.

But I also wonder if I should just accept fate. I have always felt from the beginning that I did not deserve this. That I am stealing a happiness that I have not earned.

“How are you faring?” Cardan asks me over his shoulder, the whine of the wind in my ears. We’re somewhere over the sea, jostled by the roll of the ragwort horse’s gallop beneath us.

“The same,” I answer. Sick. Dizzy. Terrified of what comes next. Unconsciously, I grip his body to mine harder. He’s tense, every muscle on edge. This is unlike any journey we’ve made yet. There’s nothing to fight, and still everything to lose.

“Nearly there,” says Cardan, but it sounds like he’s saying it more for his own benefit. He hates the journey over the sea, the precariousness of ragwort horse travel. I’m not in any state to offer reassurances, or even tease him to lighten the mood.

Sure enough, the clouds part, and the city lights along the coast of Maine wink up at us. It’s evening, and dark beneath a heavy rain cloud, and as soon as we’re low enough, we’re being pelted with sheets of rain. By the time the ragwort horse alights its oaken-hooves on the pavement, Cardan and I are both soaked to the skin.

We dismount, invisible beneath a glamour, at the far end of a hospital parking lot. The sign at the entrance glows with a red cross and the name, Down East Community Hospital. It was the best I could think of to do at a moment’s notice: instruct the ragwort horse to find us an emergency room.

I wrap my arms around myself as Cardan holds out a hand to gather up the horse. The leaves of its mane and the bark-like coat of its body begin to curl in on itself, like a plant rolling in on itself for the night. A moment later, it’s only a few leafy twigs that Cardan can hide in his pocket.

We both look absurd, and I’m just now realizing it. We look like we’ve just run out of a community theatre dress rehearsal for a low-budget melodrama. Cardan’s tried to dress down, but he’s still Cardan, and he’s wearing tight black trousers and tall boots over his calves. He’s thrown one of the zip-up hoodies I keep in my wardrobe for trips to the mortal realm over a loose white shirt. He also must have been feeling particularly festive this morning after last night’s romp, and he’d gone and added a bit of kohl to his eyes before I’d woken up and shit hit the fan. And he’s still wearing gold rings all over his fingers and in his pointed ears. Combined with his soaked, inky hair, he looks a bit like a member of an 80’s rock cover band who’s recovering from being pushed into a pool.

It’s kind of nice. He rarely looks a mess. It makes me feel like we’re in this together, at least.

For my part, I didn’t let Tatterfell braid my auburn hair today, and now it’s just long and windblown, so I’ve tried to pull it all to one side to keep it managed. I’m wearing a simple pair of brown trousers with little silken flats that were my least flashy pair of shoes. I’ve got a shirt and olive-colored vest on beneath a hoodie similar to Cardan’s that was supposed to keep me warm, but now it’s sopping wet.

We both pulls the hoods on our sweatshirts up over our heads as we make a mad dash for the automatic sliding doors of the ER, racing against the onslaught of rain. Once we’re inside the vestibule between sliding doors, I stop a moment to grab Cardan’s arm and gather myself. He puts a bejeweled hand over mine, his expression tightened in concern.

“I’ve never done this before,” I confess, breathless. Hospitals, emergency rooms, doctors. It’s all foreign to me.

“I’ve done it even less.” Cardan’s looking more pale by the minute. The rising terror in both of us is palpable.

“I should call Vivi,” I spout, and Cardan’s nodding furiously in agreement, for once graciously not pointing out how he’s been saying this very thing for weeks.

But when I look around, there’s not a phone in sight. There’s only a poorly lit waiting room on the other side of the glass vestibule, and bored-looking nurses waiting at intake windows. Shit. Shit. How do mortals do this? How to they get treatments for mortal ailments and weaknesses and not fall to pieces fretting over their inherent, inevitable vulnerability in the process?

Suddenly, the surety of immortality is looking rather cowardly by comparison.

“Maybe one of the nurses will let me commandeer a phone,” I mutter, and I let my fingers slide from Cardan’s arm to his hand. My palm is starting to sweat when he laces our fingers together, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

The glass door to the waiting room slides with a hissing whisper, and inside there are people crowded in the cheap chairs lining the walls. Somewhere, a toddler is wailing out of sheer boredom while the evening news anchors jabber on a TV mounted in the far corner above a potted plant. Cardan’s already drawing stares with his ominous, messy appearance. He found a beanie in the pocket of the sweatshirt to cover the pointed tips of his ears, but there’s still kohl streaking his prominent cheekbones. I’m gonna need to clean him up at some point.

Right now, all I’m focused on is slipping into the first open intake seat and figuring out how in the hell I’m going to see a doctor for the first time in my mortal life. I am going to be brave. I have trained for nothing less.

“Hi, how can we help you today?” says a warm-looking middle-aged nurse behind the desk. She has short grey hair and floral scrubs, and a pair of readers perched on the bridge of her nose. Her badge says her name is Josie.

“Um.” My mouth feels dry, but I push on anyway. “I am—I am pregnant, and, um, I’m having some…” I draw in a shaking breath. Why is this so hard? “Some bleeding. I think I need to see a doctor right away.”

“Of course, honey,” Josie says, and peers over her readers. “Have you spoken with your OB?”

“I don’t have one,” I shake my head, my face starting to flush as Josie’s concern increases. I’ve never felt like I belonged in the mortal realm, and it’s never felt more apparent that I’m an outsider.

“Okaaay,” Josie says, slowly, adjusting her readers as she turns to her computer. “Let’s get you registered. Name?”

I hesitate again. I’ve never given my name in any sort of official capacity here among mortals. Especially not since I’d gotten married. What do I want to be called?

“Jude Duarte-Greenbriar,” I hear myself answer. From the chair beside me, Cardan titters a little amused laugh to himself and then bites it back when I shoot him a look. He likes the sound of it, too.

“Okaaay,” Josie says again, pecking at her keyboard. “I’m gonna need you to spell that for me, honey.”

I appall Josie further as the registration process yields the fact that I have neither a driver’s license nor an insurance card. With each of Josie’s judgmental sighs, I can sense Cardan stiffening with repressed irritation next to me, and it’s only stressing me out more. I should have had a talk with him first about promising not to curse anyone. I’m half-expecting Josie to sprout cat ears at any minute.

“While we can’t legally decline services based on insurance,” Josie says, doing little to suppress her concern, “I will need you to sign this agreement that says you understand that, since you are not presenting insurance today, you will be personally responsible for the entire cost of today’s visit.” And she shifts a clipboard toward me.

“Oh, look, love,” Cardan suddenly chimes in. He slides a wet leaf from his pocket across the registration desk as his voice takes on the heady, dangerous quality of magic. He’s conjuring a glamour. “I think you can see all of the insurance information you require here.”

“Oh, good, you found your card!” Josie exclaims, delighted, as she takes the leaf and begins happily clacking away at her keyboard.

“Do not get carried away,” I hiss at Cardan while Josie’s distracted. “That should be a one time thing.”

But Cardan just slits his kohl-lined eyes at me, looking like the smug bastard he’s always been, and leans an elbow on the registration desk, throwing Josie a coy smile. The glamour in his voice when he speaks again is just as sinfully seductive.

“And Josie, my sweet,” he says, “you’ll let my wife borrow your phone to speak with her sister, won’t you, dearest?”

“Of course, Mr. Greenbriar,” Josie replies, with the charmed-sweet smile of the glamoured. She shifts her desk phone to me, handing me the handset. “Just press nine for outgoing calls, honey,” she tells me.

I’m frowning at Cardan’s wicked smirk as I accept the phone.

“I don’t think that was entirely necessary,” I whisper to him while Josie types away. He grins at me. I don’t really want to admit that he’s just been pretty useful, and he knows it.

Regardless of how ill-gotten this privilege is, I do need Vivi. I dial her cell phone, one of two numbers I know, and wait while it rings.

And rings.

“She might be screening her calls,” I say to Josie, sheepishly. “Her father is…” Oh, how to describe what Madoc is like these days. “…over-bearing and tricky.” And I hang up and try again. Josie gives a tight, uncomfortable smile, peering over her readers.

“You are not concerned about how unusual this is,” Cardan tells her, the glamour dripping off his voice, and I smack his arm to get him to stop. Josie settles again as the phone keeps ringing.

I have to hang up and dial two more times before Vivi finally picks up. She sounds irritated when she answers.

“Vivi, this is Jude,” I say, slumping in relief that she’s finally answered.

“Jude? Seriously? What?” The annoyance in her voice vanishes as she’s scrambling to understand. “You’re calling me? Where are you? Are you ok?”

“I’m at the Down East Community Hospital emergency room,” I say. “Can you come?”

“Oh, my God.” It sounds like Vivi’s suddenly frantically looking for her keys. “Yes, I’m coming. I’ll be there. Why are you there? What’s going on?”

“It’s a lot to explain over the phone,” I say, slowly, white-knuckling the handset. “I’m ok, and Cardan’s here, but I just really need you.” I hate it more than anything, but I can’t keep the frightened younger sister out of my voice now that I’m actually talking to Vivi about this. The first rush of relief hits me when Vivi replies without hesitation:

“Ok. It’s gonna be ok. I’m on my way.”

I let out a long breath as I hand the phone back to Josie.

“The nurse will call you back when they’re ready for you,” says Josie, and gestures to the crowded waiting room. “Have a seat.”

“Or--” Cardan starts, leaning forward, and I know he’s about to throw out another glamour to speed things along. In the blink of an eye, I clap a hand over his mouth before he can say another word.

“Thank you,” I tell Josie, through a gritted smile, and urge Cardan to move along.

“Your moral stance on glamours ought to have a loophole where our child is concerned,” Cardan gripes as we shuffle to the nearest available two chairs.

“You Folk are like addicts with glamours,” I snap back as we take a seat. “You don’t know when to stop.”

“I believe I’ve proven myself capable of great restraint,” Cardan says, looking miffed for a moment until a People magazine on a nearby table catches his eye and his curiosity of mortals gets the better of him.

He has the right idea, I think. Distraction would be the key to getting my mind off the blood and not falling apart right now. I’ve done everything I can at this point, and now we must wait.

I busy myself for a moment by wrapping the cuff of my sleeve over my fingers and wiping off the rain-splattered streaks of kohl off Cardan’s face, so that the father of my child looks less like the troubled D-list celebrities his People magazine is trashing. He’s not drawing any less attention, but there’s not much either of us can do about that. If you’re not accustomed to the allure of the Folk, it’s nigh impossible to not stare and stare and try to decipher what it is about them that’s so otherworldly. But at least now they’re staring for the right reasons and not at his ruined eyeliner.

With nothing more at arm’s length to distract me, I rest my head against the wallpaper behind me and let my vision go unfocused in the general direction of the TV in the corner. I don’t want to think about the whining toddler in the room, who’s mad at his mother for not bringing the right stuffed animal with them to the hospital. What would I do with a half-human child in Faerie who fell ill or wounded? What would we do? Would the land let Cardan heal him? Would we have to make this journey again? What if I forgot the right stuffed animal, too??

Amazing that I’m suddenly assuming this child is going to survive whatever’s happening now, I realize, and this worry spiral is helping no one.

Once upon a time, I’d been the girl determined to become a thing feared. What has happened inside me, that I’m now this terrified woman? I hate it. I hate it, and I don’t know how to stop it.

“You’re not afraid of that everything will change?” I remember asking Cardan, three moons ago. I had thrown out the last of my birth control that day. We’d snuck away from a revel to lie beneath the massive tree that grew out of the top of the palace of Elfhame, staring at the stars above and dreaming of what they could hold.

Cardan looked to me, his hands behind his head in the loam, his crown slightly askew. He smiled, and the moonlight made him almost too beautiful to bear.

“I cherish every change you’ve ever brought me, Jude,” he said, and he stretched out a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers softly lingering at its rounded edges. “I don’t see why this should be any different.”

“You’ve not always felt so gracious about the changes I’ve foisted upon you,” I pointed out. “And you don’t get to exile me now if my parenting pisses you off.”

I’m not sure what I thought he’d think of such a statement, but it was out in the night air anyway. His gold-rimmed eyes darkened as he pulled his hand back, folding it over his chest. I watched him as he stared up at the stars again, waiting for his response, and with each second, regret began to sink in.

“I consider myself fairly thick-skinned,” he said at last, “but that was uncalled for.”

“I was teasing--” I started, but he shot me a dark look.

“There was a measure of truth in your voice,” he countered. “You don’t lie as well as you think you do.”

“I don’t see what you’re so put out about,” I huffed, pulling back to glare at the night sky. “You weren’t the one living in exile.”

“Not this again,” Cardan groaned, scrubbing his hands over his face. “Five years, Jude. It’s been five years,” he sighed into his palms.

“And now we’re discussing children, and it’s a very large and potentially aggravating change,” I said. “Maybe I am a little wary.”

“Of me?” The moment I saw the unguarded devastation on Cardan’s face, it was like I’d slapped him, and not in the fun way. I wanted to be swallowed down by the loam, covered in a grassy grave. Everything about this was awful. I wanted children with this man. Why was I dredging up ancient history?

But Cardan had been right. There’d been a measure of truth to it. It’s been a deliriously wonderful five years, but we are not entirely new people. We have a terrible past. And I feared what demons a significant change like this could summon.

When I didn’t answer right away, Cardan sat up so his back was to me, burying his head in his hands.

“Cardan…” I shifted so that I was propped up on my hands.

“What else can I give you to make this right?” he fretted to the ground in front of him. “I have given you everything. Every part of me, everything you see before you. It was wrong for both of us to take our games as far as we did, but I would have thought by now--”

“It was an off-handed comment made in poor taste.” I wanted to put a stop to everything that was happening. Rewind the whole evening.

Instead, he looked over his shoulder at me, visibly aching.

“I will not be like my father. I refuse it,” he retorted, and when I cocked my head to the side, not understanding, he went on. “Eldred collected consorts and sired children the way some people curate shoes: to suit his vanity. And I have that in spades already; there’s no need to spawn more. What I would want for a child, more than anything, is to not know what it is to grow up as an accessory. To not fear that his mother will be discarded. Jude, if you cannot trust so little of me, then this is poorly timed. Perhaps we need another five years. Or ten. Or however long you require.”

I sat up and scooted next to him, tucking my chin against his shoulder.

“I trust you,” I assured him in a whisper, and, as if he couldn’t help it, his eyes closed as he leaned his head towards mine. He smelled like oakwood and leather, like everything I’ve ever wanted. “I would not still be with you if I did not trust you.”

I wanted to push back the thick curls from his forehead, and so I did. And held my palm against his jaw as I leaned my forehead to his while the stars twinkled overhead.

Five years later, and sometimes we’re still finding little bits of armor that need to come off. For me, becoming a fearsome thing is not an option for handling motherhood, just as Cardan refuses to mirror his father’s vanity. But when I take off this bit of armor, this need to be feared and respected, it feels as if there is nothing underneath yet. Only vulnerability. Only terror.

I think of it now, in the ER waiting room of the Down East Community Hospital, while I snake my arm through his, looking at him while he’s ogling People magazine. He looks a mess, and there is no one I trust more. I’m still not convinced we’re shining examples of excellent would-be parents. But I’m afraid and vulnerable in the worst ways, and there’s no one I’d rather see me through it.

“Eldred would never have done something like this for any of his consorts,” I point out to him in a whisper, and he looks back at me with a pleased smirk.

“You are my wife,” he indicates, and gives my cold knuckles a swift kiss before turning back to whatever filth is engrossing him in People.

“Jude Duarte-Greenbriar?” There’s a nurse at the emergency room door calling my name. I draw in a breath. Here we go.

The nurse in blue scrubs takes my vitals and makes us somewhat comfortable in a makeshift space where we’re surrounded by taupe-colored curtains on three sides while I wait on a hospital bed. There’s a squeaky grey plastic chair for Cardan to sit on, and no more TV or People magazine – just the assurance that a doctor will see me soon. And then we’re left with our dread to stare at the taupe curtains around us, listening to the squeak of hurried shoe soles against linoleum and the occasional beeping of hospital pagers. The air is acrid, like someone’s tried to scrub it clean, and it’s making my stomach lurch. It must show on my face as I swallow hard against the rising bile, because Cardan swiftly hands me a blue plastic barf bag that the nurse has left him in charge of. He’s wary of my empty threats to aim for his shoes.

“Jude, are you decent?” calls a voice from the other side of the curtain. “You have visitors.”

The curtains scrape against their tracks on the ceiling, and I can’t hold back a relief grin at the sight of Vivi and Heather.

“Oh, my God. Oh, my God.” It’s all Vivi can say as she sweeps in to wrap me in a hug.

“Hey,” Heather graciously greets Cardan while the two are awkward to the side. She’s looking effortlessly cool, with her shoulder-length pink hair in soft waves. She has holes in her jeans in all the right places, and she’s wearing a breezy, colorful boho top that shows off her brown shoulders. I try to give her a wave while Vivi is squeezing the life out of me.

“What are you doing here?” Vivi demands when she pulls away, holding me by the shoulders. She’s given her golden hair a short, edgey chop that almost hides the pointed tips of her half-fae ears when it falls the right way. She tends to favor t-shirts and jeans, but today she’s in tight black pants and a grey v-neck under a jacket, and I’m hoping I haven’t interrupted a date.

“Well.” I shift a glance between the two of them, simultaneously gladdened that they’re here and nervous with how I now I have break the news. “This isn’t how I wanted you to find out…” And then Vivi gasps.

“Are you pregnant?!” she squeaks.

“Oh, my God, V,” Heather rolls her eyes. “You can’t ask people if they’re pregnant.”

“She’s right, though,” I interject. “I am.”

“Jude!” Vivi exclaims, fondly, and takes my face in her hands, and, for a brief moment, I realize this is all I’ve been wanting for weeks. I grin, sheepishly. Then Vivi narrows her cat-like eyes at Cardan.

“You knocked up my sister?” she jabs.

“Bold of you to assume it’s mine,” he quips back, and Vivi feigns a disgusted gasp as throw the empty barf bag at him.

“Force of habit,” Cardan tells Heather with a shrug.

“Congratulations, Cardan,” Heather replies, giving him a pat on the shoulder.

“But why are you here?” Vivi turns to me again. “Does Taryn know? Does Madoc?”

“No on both counts,” I shake my head. “It’s early. And we’re here because--” Ugh, I hate this. I hate this. “I started bleeding.”

“Oh, no.” Heather’s face is etched with genuine concern. It’s been a roller coaster of a few minutes.

“But why are you here?” Vivi tries again, and I see what she’s getting at. Why not be seen to by the royal midwives?

“I’m mortal,” I say, quietly. “This is a mortal thing. I felt like I needed a mortal doctor.”

And Vivi takes my face in her hands.

“I completely, one-hundred-percent agree,” she says, whole-heartedly, and there’s relief there, too. She’s always wanted me to spend more time in the mortal realm.

We crowd around the hospital bed for a while to catch up. Heather makes a run to the vending machine to bring back some snacks, and soon the tightness in my chest is releasing and unwinding. This was the distraction I needed. For a few minutes there, I could almost forget what had brought us to this weird, curtained-off corner to begin with.

But then the curtain scrape on the track again. There’s an orderly waiting there in blue scrubs, pushing a wheelchair.

“They’re ready for you in ultrasound now, Jude,” he tells me, and indicates that I’m supposed to ride in the chair. I bristle at the gesture. I’m not sure of the last time I’ve been asked to do something so vulnerable and humiliating. I am not ill. I don’t need this.

Vivi notices and puts a hand at my arm.

“It’s just standard hospital procedure, Jude,” she says, in her tone of voice she uses to convince Oak to eat vegetables.

So I comply. Heather and Vivi tell us they’ll wait for us to get back, and then we’re off. Cardan follows the orderly, and every once and awhile, I hear him having to jog to catch up – he’s easily distracted by what all the mortals are up to in this place.

I’m wheeled into a dark room with an exam table. Next to it is a bunch of strange equipment I’ve never seen before – screens and wands and all sort of buttons. A technician waits for us there, a woman in pink scrubs with a badge that says her name is Brenna. Her dark, curly hair is pulled back tight against her scalp, and she has kind brown eyes that smile when she tells me to make myself comfortable on the exam table.

“And is this Dad?” Brenna wants to know, cheerfully waving Cardan in to have a seat on a grey plastic chair next to me.

“Not my dad,” I say, not understanding the question at first. Then it dawns on me. “I mean, he’s the father, yes. Of the baby.” Oh, my God. This is off to a great start. Cardan’s trying very hard to not laugh outright at me and failing miserably. His laugh comes out like one long snort.

“Happens all the time,” Brenna says, with another cheerful wave, which makes me wonder why she’s still asking it, then.

“First baby?” Brenna now wants to know, making small talk while she’s queuing up her equipment.

“First everything,” I reply, hoping that will explain my nerves. “First baby, first ultrasound, first try.”

“Oh.” Brenna sounds impressed and looks to Cardan as she wheels around in her swivel chair. “Nice shootin’, Tex,” she tells him, with a wink.

“Thank you, Brenna,” Cardan accepts graciously, puffing out his chest a little. I roll my eyes.

“This may be the only time I’m ever complimented on my marksmanship,” he tells me. “Let me have this moment.”

“All right!” Brenna interrupts. “Let’s see what you’re cookin’ in there, mama.”

She rolls up my shirt and tucks in some scratchy paper into my leggings. Then squirts some cold gel across my abdomen. I watch in fascination while she rolls her device over my stomach, and then she turns her screen to us.

“And here’s your little guy,” she says. “Or gal. Can’t tell yet, obviously.”

For a moment, time stops.

Next to me, Cardan draws in a breath.

Something squirmy and alive curls and stretches in the grainy black and white pixels of Brenna’s screen. It doesn’t look quite human. Or fae. It looks kind of alien, if I’m being honest. But I can see its tiny limbs and the outline of its perfectly round head, and it’s moving. Like a manic little seahorse, our little shrimp is bobbing all over the place, alive and well.

“Looking good,” Brenna says, and Cardan barks out a surprised laugh. I’m smiling so hard my face might break.

“Oh, I was sure I’d stabbed it,” Cardan sighs in relief, slumping in his seat, and it’s my turn to laugh.

“That’s not actually possible,” Brenna tells him, and maybe now he’ll believe it. “Let’s see if we can hear the heartbeat.”

She clicks and clacks at some buttons, then turns a knob. Pushes a little harder on my abdomen.

A fluttering, steady whooshing sound fills the speakers in the room. I don’t know when I grabbed Cardan’s hand, but I’m squeezing it hard now. I glance at him. He’s utterly transfixed on the screen, his dark eyes wide, his lips parted. He looks like how I feel when I’m in bearing witness to great and ancient magic.

This isn’t all vomit and exhaustion. This is happening. This is real.

We are making something new. Something entirely unique. Like magic.

“Ok, this might be your issue.” Brenna breaks the enchantment, zooming in on something dark on her screen. My heart, which moments before felt like it might burst, squeezes and contracts in panic now.

“This is a sub-chorionic hematoma,” she says, pointing to the screen and making some notes. “The doctor will explain all this to you.”

“What is it?” Cardan’s voice is tight, panic thinly-veiled. “Is it dangerous?”

“They’re pretty common,” says Brenna, not looking at us while she takes measurements and notes. Like she drops these kinds of bombs regularly. “It’s basically an accumulation of blood between the uterine wall and the fetal membrane. It can cause bleeding, especially as the baby gets bigger and jostles it around. They usually resolve without much issue.”

“Usually?” Cardan’s not assuaged.

“Well, again,” Brenna says, looking at him sidelong, “the doctor will read this and give his advice. But it can increase the risk of miscarriage in some cases. Not always, though. The doctor will tell you how he wants you to treat it, but it usually involves some bed rest or limited activity, nothing too strenuous or crazy. Don’t go horse-back riding!” And she laughs as if only a crazy person would get on a horse while pregnant.

I look to Cardan. He looks to me. It’s hit us at the same time.

The ragwort horse.

How the hell are we getting home?

“Huh.” I barely had time to digest my realization about the ragwort horse before Brenna was back with more. She swivels the device on my stomach around some more. Cocks her head to the side.

“Are either of you a twin?” she asks.

Cardan points at me like I’ve done something wrong he doesn’t want to be blamed for.

“Why?” I ask, slowly, cautiously.

“It does run in families,” Brenna says, and turns the screen to us again. “And I’m seeing two babies here.” She looks back at Cardan. “And on the first try, Tex,” she says, looking impressed again.

Now, nothing feels real. I think I might leave my body. There are two squirmy aliens in the black and white screen, the lazier of the two now floating into view. Brenna adjusts the knobs some more to bring the new heartbeat into focus, just as strong as the first.

“Jude.” I can’t decipher what Cardan’s feeling now. He looks unlike I’ve ever seen him before. Something between elation and sheer dread is warring between his wide eyes and furrowed brow. He grips at the beanie over his hair like he’s trying to keep his own head from flying off.

“Are you and your twin identical?” Brenna asks. I nod, stupidly.

“These, too,” she nods, and points at the screen. “See: they’re sharing a sac.” She draws in a deep breath. “This does elevate the risk more, with the hematoma. The doctor will go over all of this with you. But I’ll bet he’ll want you on some kind of bed rest. Weekly check-ups. That sort of thing.” And then she squints hard at the screen. “What is that?” she wonders aloud. “Is that a tail?”

“You don’t see a tail,” Cardan says, but he’s so flustered and shell-shocked, he’s forgotten to use the glamour.

“I think I might, though.” Brenna squints harder.

“You don’t see a tail,” Cardan says, louder and hurried, this time with the weight of magic heavy in his tone. “Everything you see looks normal to you.”

A glamoured smile flutters over Brenna’s pleasant features as she lifts the device from my belly and clicks off her equipment.

“Everything looks normal,” she hums, happily. “Congratulations, you two.”

“Everything but the hematoma, right?” I cock my head to the side as she rolls away her swivel chair. “The doctor will speak to us about that.”

“What hematoma?” Brenna’s still smiling as she stands with her clipboard. “Everything looks normal. I’m going to call an orderly, but pretty much you’re free to go. Congratulations!”

“Cardan,” I accuse under my breath as she leaves, leveling a glare at him.

“You are carrying twins.” He’s just agape at me, either unaware or unrattled by how the poor wording in his glamour just muddled everything.

“The doctor won’t know about the hematoma now!” I exclaim.

“We’ll scrounge up another one somewhere,” Cardan waves me off. “Jude. Twins.”

It’s not helping me feel any better, him saying it over and over again. I slump into my hands, weighted by disbelief and frustration. What am I going to do? This can’t possibly be real, can it?

“I am going to get so huge,” I moan into my palms in self-pity. I know it’s vain, but at the moment, it’s all I can think. In the land of willowy Folk, I already stick out like a sore thumb. Now I’m going to be a sore and massively swollen thumb.

Cardan’s shifted to stand in front of me on the exam table. And he runs his hands up and down my arms, almost reverent.

“You are magnificent,” he reassures me, softly, and presses a kiss against my head.

“Why are you not freaking out?” I ask, and pull him by the hoodie pockets so I can hug him again if I need it. I think I may need it. “This is two babies. We don’t even know Thing One about taking care of one baby, and now there will be two.”

“We may require a few more house cats,” Cardan jokes, and when I scowl, he asks, “That’s still not amusing? I shall persist. One of these days.”

“You know, I hear that’s a mortal fatherhood trait,” I point out. “Persisting over and over with the same unamusing joke to the embarrassment of everyone around you.” And I wrap my arms around his waist as I look up at him. He’s warm, and everything is a little more bearable when he’s close and smiling.

“I think you are implying that I’m excelling at fatherhood so far,” Cardan grins down at me, and I’m surprised to see it looks as if his gold-rimmed eyes are glistening.

“Are you all right?” I ask, softening at the sight. He blinks, furiously, as he buries his long fingers in the hair at the nape of my neck, holding me close as he looks over my face.

“I just--” His voice is hoarse when he starts, so he clears it and tries again. “This is more than I ever dared to consider,” he says. “I did not dream that this kind of life would ever be an option for me. Family that looked after each other, that loved each other – that always seemed to me to be a strictly mortal gift. As if the Folk had bargained for everlasting life long ago and forsook all hope of familial love in the process. I had accepted that it wasn’t mine to have. But you.”

He shifts his hands so that he holds my face, and I feel swallowed by the adoration in his admission. All I can do is close my eyes as he holds me. I can think of nothing else when his nose brushes my forehead.

“I am overcome by all you have given me,” he whispers, and I think I might cry. My hands twist in the fabric of the sweatshirt he wears.

“I love your words,” I whisper back, “but you give me too much credit.” I pull back to look at his mirthful, glistening eyes and say: “If it were left up to me, I would never have given you twins.”

He laughs outright, unguarded and thrilled.

“Lucky for me, then,” he says, and kisses me.

I have kissed him hundreds, maybe thousands of times. We have shared passionate, unbridled kisses and desperate, devouring kisses. We’ve kissed at quick partings, and we’ve kissed with soft, gentle comfort. I like everything about them all. But this is something entirely new, something that surprises me still. It’s filled with gratitude and promises and dreams of the future, and though it is intimate, I would not have felt ashamed if someone had walked in.

It’s the kiss of complete trust, and in that moment, I feel assured that, in Cardan, I have not made a mistake. There is much to figure out still. But this is right.

So, we will have twins. I will meet this challenge with resolve. For right now, anyway, the quantity of babies is the least of our concerns.

“How in the hell am I supposed to get home?” I ask, the moment we pull apart. Cardan rests his hands on my shoulders, screwing up his beautiful mouth in thought. The ragwort horse. The bed rest. The doctor we must scrounge up somewhere. There are a dozen new bullets swirling on a to-do list, and none of them lead us back to Faerie any time soon.

“I haven’t the foggiest,” he confesses. “Which further complicates matters, because there is absolutely no chance that I am leaving you here.”

“I was afraid you’d say that,” I say, and press back a smile. “And also glad,” I add.

Cardan meets my smile with a little wicked smirk of his own.

“Is it time we scheme together once again?” he asks.

We cannot get home until this is resolved, and we cannot leave Faerie ungoverned. I have no idea where to even start on this problem.

But that’s certainly never stopped us before.

There’s a knock at the door. The orderly has arrived with the wheelchair to take us back to Vivi and Heather. I give Cardan a secret, knowing smile.

“I suppose it is,” I agree.

-----------------------------

Tag list! Let me know if you’d like to be added: @yellowavocadopit, @dagypsygirl, @ireallyshouldsleeprn, @booklover-sleeplover, @mwejh, @courtofjurdan, @faeriequeenofwest, @sugawsites, @loveyourselfsolid, @owl0y0s, @feelinglikecleopatra, @akaloto, @charrise, @persephxnecoven, @raging-bisexual-alert, @rteme, @nahthanks, @emmabookworm08, @elorcanislife, @snusbandxknifewife, @poeticbrownmermaid,

#the folk of the air #tfota #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #jurdan #jurdan fanfic #vivienne duarte #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #post-qon #babies!#baby fic #pregnancy fic #fluff #jurdan fluff

173 notes · View notes

kanene-yaaay-o-retorno · 4 years ago

Text

The Pink Pearl

Kanene’s Notes:

Soooo... I needed to improve my action scenes. And then this fanfic was born! :D)/

It has pirates and ghosts and pirate ghosts! :DD

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* That fanfic was a bit inspired on that fabulous video right here.

* Contains: Angst, Cursing, Hypnosis, Implied death, Clear description of bein hypnotized, clear description of a ship burning to the ground, Hur/Comfort, Mild Comfort, Mystical beings, Magic, Happy ending, Hopeful Ending.

* This characters do not belongs to me. They all belongs to Thomas Sanders.

* Something around 3.500 words. -w-)b.

* You can also find this fic on AO3.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any advice is very very welcome!

* Tô com preguiça de postar a versão em português brasileiro aaaa! Thankys for reading! Eat a snack, rest, watch that favorite movie you have been wanting to see again, take care and drink water! Byeioo!~

[~*~]

“I need help.” He tried to not grimace with how the words dried even further his hurt throat as they left his lips, shivering when a sudden breeze from night’s cold froze the sweat on his skin. Remy - at least that was what he said his name was, but trusting in a pirate word could lead you to not so pleasant storms - snorted, moving his cuffs and pressing their backs closer.

“Yeah, no shit.” His voice was raspy, tired, and not for the first time Emile wondered for how long he had been there, since his presence was already a constant when the amateur sailor’s boat had been plundered and he got captured, thrown on the darkest part of the ship and finding his company.

“That makes two of us.” The last part came out as a bitter whisper.

A peaceful wave hit the hull, making the ship stumble and rock under the moonlight that gazed pieces of their skin through a few cracks in the highest woods.

“No. I mean, yes, but…” Emile sighed deeply, tired awareness washing over him as the sailor realized the full extent of his next words. He rested his head on Remy’s shoulder, a move which led the other to untense his muscles and be more open to conversations.

They didn’t have much more time before the moon hit its highest spot in the sky and Emile wasn’t sure if they would make it to another full moon. Remy could only distract the crew so much. “I need your golden necklace.”

The other stiffed, breath hitching, stiff pose. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do.” Calm voice, free of any accusation, his brown eyes stared at the ‘ceiling’ picturing stars and constellations and the unstable clouds and how it feels when the salty breeze hit his skin freely. “I know it’s probably an important possession for you given how long you’ve been hiding it, and I’m really sorry I am asking for it but we really need a good offering.”

“Are you going to beg Neptune to save us?” Sound of fabric being ripped, the metal’s clicking making itself known. “He has islands and ships of gold being given to him right now, goldenfish. This may be a preciosity, but isn’t that worth it.”

Goldenfish: Breakable; Pirates who didn’t experience the true nightmares of surviving in the ocean; Naive; Fragile;

“If I’m going to go in a shit way, at least let a captain die with the last of his treasures.” His voice choked in the middle of the sentence, but both pretended to not notice it.

Emile felt dread fill his stomach, tightly closing his eyes as tears pricked their corners. Their captors never held their tongue, always discussing all their possibilities to get rid of their prisoners during parties and meetings on the main deck, voices loud enough to be heard by them both. Besides, the sailor was sure the crew wouldn’t stop themselves from making morbid remarks whenever Remy was called to ‘amuse’ them, even though the other refused to say anything to him when he was back, playing it off with some sarcastic sentences and ironic expressions.

(Emile attempted to be interesting one time, trying to pry their attention from Remy at all costs. His light-hearted efforts and humored puns were rewarded with nasty bruises and more chores to deal with. There were no sarcastic phrases that day.)

Still… It was the first time they talked about it out loud. Ignoring their eventful end made things more forgettable, easier to look away. But, now Emile was sure he wasn’t the only one sensing the impatience clouding and suffocating the air around them as the days went by.

Emile wished they had more time. “We’re not going to die and I’m not going to pray to Neptune. Not today.” Remy scoffed, yet listening. “I have a pink pearl with me, it can…” His sentence trailed off, his tired mind trying to find an easy way to explain his family situation. “Some spirits own me a favor.”

Emile had seen Remy’s eyes when he was dragged, barely conscious, to his prison for the first time. They were black and deep like the bottom of the Ocean, full of untold beauties and unseen mysteries. He could almost feel their glare on him.

“Do your spirits happen to be friends with the sea nymphs? The Thunder Damsels? Because that is the only fucking way we’re getting out of this.”

“They can help.” Emile stayed firm, trying to buckle their conversation out the way it was heading.

“Because…?”

“Remy, we don’t have much more time, please, give me the necklace.”

“Oh, of course, I am sorry for trying to know who my last possession is going to. What a bitch, am I right? Wait! Thinking better about it, why don’t we go up there and ask for the crew to help us? They’re full of gold, too!” He hissed. Because he couldn’t even shout out his irritation. Because it has been days since he last slept due his haunting nightmares, but the possibility of this being a dream freezes his blood and tights his throat. Because Emile’s hope was beginning to make its way to his soul and he knew how dangerous that could be.

“Ghosts, ok?! They are ghosts!”

Remy stared the wall in disbelief, seconds passing by. Emile closed his eyes.

“My stars, are you trusting our lives to haunting ghosts?” He barked a laugh, despair and astonishment dripping from his words.

But Emile didn’t laugh, seeming to shrink behind him.

So, Remy stopped, convincing himself that it was because of the coughing fit that hit him, molesting his dry throat, and not the soft heart he so fiercely denied to have.

Someone dropped a cup on the upper floor, curses immediately following suit. The sound made them both jump a few inches in the air, unable to stop the squirming, the shivering. The other’s whisper cut the silence.

“If you can’t trust me now, I don’t know when you will.”

Remy sighs, pressing their backs closer and lightly elbowing his ribs.

“Drop the pout, starfish.” As he got up, his chained hands maneuvered to grab his necklace from the hidden pocket on his boot, dropping it on the cold floor and carefully pushing it in Emile’s direction. “If this doesn’t work, I’m getting you back later.”

“Thank you.” The sailor’s smile only increased as Remy scoffed. Although, he didn’t have too much time to rest in the warm feeling blooming on his chest, quickly getting the pearl from his own hidden place. He gathered the two objects on his hands before sitting in front of a small hole he opened on the lower part of their cell, a glimpse of the ocean shining behind it.

Deep breaths. Ok. He could do this.

The well known chant sea flew from his mouth. It sounded like sunny afternoons and picnics, and nights embraced on the dimming dark, and soft hugs, and loud laughter with the feeling of freedom and dances around a wooden, crowned table. It was melodious, it was memories and his last shout of hope. His energy, his gratitude, his fear, his last chance, his last treasure, everything was offered.

The objects fell from his palms and were engulfed by the deep, incessant waves.

For a moment nothing happened and Remy regretted all his life choices, a not new habit of his, however at least this time he had a different reason, especially as Emile continued the tunes of that old song, apparently unfazed by the clear failure of his attempt.

Then Remy realized.

Besides his voice there was…quiet.

A life dedicated to explore and navigate the seven seas could be a lot of things. I could be dangerous, it could be difficult, lonely, adventurous, memorable, exhausting and even boring. But never quiet. There was always something. Always the melody of the waves carrying your ship, the wind slapping the sails, the mermaids whispering in your ears, a curse daunting your dreams… Silence could be present, but not for long and never as absolute.

But now…?

Now everything was quiet.

And that made a run shiver run across his spine, muscles tenses, instincts shouting. “Emile?”

The sailor didn’t respond, didn’t even stir as the temperature turned unbearably colder.

“Emile,” His dark eyes widened as his breath became visible in the air. “Emile, stop singing!”

“I already did.” He whispered, his stranger soft voice muffled, with something missing.

The ex captain noticed the truth behind his words as he concentrated. His senses could notice the melody coming from nowhere specific, echoing on the walls in a steady, patient pace.

A soft high pitched giggle cut the song. And, no, Remy did not shriek. Shut up.

“They’re here.” Emile’s voice was filled with something he couldn’t quite place, nor did have time as, in the middle of the room, a silhouette started to form, trembling and bending the light around it.

[...]

Aaron didn’t believe a lot of things, which, in itself, doesn’t mean that the amount of things he did believe was in any way whimsy.

Actually, he considered himself a very rational, plain figure. He believed in what he saw, touched and experienced. That is why he was on the nocturn security duty. His mind wasn’t easily fooled and his instincts were something he had plenty of capacity to control.

He prided himself on the moments of dinner and drinking, the hours of dawn when the crew would be a tad too drunk, playing and saying that, if any day Aaron stumbled on the feathered singer - because even on the fog of the rum, they knew best than say the name of the creatures out loud and pull bad luck onto their travel - he would be controlled enough to laugh at them, spit some curses and them navigate away while appreciating their nice melody in the background.

That was the memory which clawed on him as the mist involved the masts, swirling in a calm manner to the wooden floor, a whispering beginning to take over his eardrums. It was a song that made his bones ache and muscles tremble. He closed his hands on fists, nails tearing the epidermis to stay firm.

Even when a not-quite red, not-quite translucid figure appeared four feet away from him. Sitting in front a mesmerizing pitfire, carefully rocking the silver liquid in the golden chalice held firmly by his fingers, his lips parted, the chant pouring from them.

And the fire? The fire danced under his control, at each musical note it contorted and expanded, inch by inch, flame by flame. It got higher, vivid, swirling wound the translucid form who extended his hand and let the element run freely across his palm, petting it as if it was a domesticate, harmless animal.

The calm melody hit its climax, the high, vibrant note was prolonged, taking over the air, stealing all the attention and all the oxygen from the viewer.

He got up and the flames continued to travel from his hands through his body, burning his clothes which dissolved in brilliant ashes and left behind a gleaming trail of a completely new vestment being formed.

Under Aaron’s – mesmerized – attentive gaze long crimson sleeves involved his arms, crawling across his shoulders and leading the way to his chest, a warm white fabric shining under the moonlight, the fervent grooves that cut it in the form of limpid waves flowed through the petticoat from the gorgeous dress from the figure that couldn’t be named as translucid, anymore.

The song stopped.

The flames, much higher, much larger, raised like curtains behind the mysterious being, and his scarlet screaming eyes focused on Aaron, stealing his oxygen, again, and demanding – commanding him to show - every slight drop of his attention. His lips parted, one more time.

The song was back.

And he began to dance.

The fire accompanied the synchronized movements of his arms, also performing its own dance on the ship, spreading across the floor on the rhythm of his footsteps, sliding from the vestment’s veils and taking over all the space, climbing the ratlines, burning the masts, consuming the emergency boars and dancing together with the red figure and his frenetic melody, which overflowed and inundated everything around, attacking and drowning Aaron, who didn’t allowed his glare to deviated from the moves before him for one single second, all the others things being forgotten.

Beautiful. Everything was beautiful.

“And wouldn’t it be even more if you could dance with him?” A velvety voice – that wasn’t his – whispered on his mind in golden shades.

“Yes…” Aaron answered, hoarse. When did his throat get so dried like this? Why didn’t he realize it sooner? Why wasn't the oxygen coming back?

“Then go.” The gold thought was fast in cutting his line of thinking, leading him to focus one more time on the figure in front of him. “He will love to guide you through the steps.”

And Aaron agreed quickly, wondering how the other’s hands would feel under his touch. If they would be cold for his previous translucent state or hot just as the fire that accompanied him. He questioned himself if the flames would follow his pace, dancing with him, as well. He wanted. He wanted to be so beautiful like this. Maybe if he controlled the fire, maybe if he showed himself so skilled like this the being before him, he would be the one mesmerized. He would be the one to bow and to ask him for a dance.

He got closer and closer from the fire, extending his hand, about to pet it.

Perhaps…

A splitting pain spread like an explosion through the length of his arm and Aaron moved away with a scream, tears falling from his eyes with the painfully beat of his burned hand capturing all his senses, the song and dance disappearing from his mind.

And suddenly the frightened screams filled his eardrums. Sounds of pleas for help, of kicks and punches and wood crackling smacking him in an only one hit that destabilize the pirate, leaving him coughing and gasping and loud, so LOUD-

His eyes widened. Hot. Hot. Everything was burning. He was burning.

He wanted to scream. His throat was dry, but he needed to scream, needed to warn everyone, needed to-

“Rest.” The calm, velvety voice came back to his mind, offering peace, a safe space to where he could flee.

(An illusion made especially for him.)

However, he couldn’t. Everything was hot and burning and it shouldn’t be like that. He knew it shouldn’t be like that. This wasn’t normal. Wasn’t good. Screams. He also needed to scream. Because he was hot and the ship was hot and he was-

“-With a fever. You’re burning from sickness. Just a small fever isn’t something worth waking and alerting the others, right? You’re so clever, so strong, you sure can manage to ignore such futile, delirious dream alone. Maybe the rest of the crew wouldn’t be able to, but you’re braver. No one can ever fool you.”

Yes. This was true. He was intelligent, reasonable. That is why they always choose him to be on the night duty, because no one could do a better job than him.

A very known song begins to ask for his attention, one more time.

He can do it. He knows how to take care of the danger, so-

“-so there is no reason to worry, because there isn’t any danger here. It’s just a dream. A beautiful dream.”

His eyes rise and meet again with the dancer. Beautiful. So beautiful.

“Yes. That is true. Then why don’t you just relax and enjoy your wonderful, special dream?” The yellowish, velvet aura involves his body and suddenly the hotness stops to bother him, just like the ship dismantling in flames and the screams of help of the pirates locked on their rooms, terrified by the illusions taking form and life in the middle of the darkness.

The red eyes, for a second, focused on something behind Aaron, smiling, before finally sticking on his, the smile still on his expression as his hand went in his direction and rested on his forehead, a melodious tune following his acts.

“Sleep and dance on your dreams.”

And then everything disappeared in soot and ebano.

[...]

“Oh my stars!! Martin! It’s been so long!” Émile controlled himself to not laugh at Remy’s astonished expression – even if the shorter tried to hide it in a nonchalant behavior, - which proved itself to be simpler when the sky-blue ghost dashed until they were face to face, squeezing his cheeks and alternating between smiling at him and frowning at the number of old and new bruises that covered his skin. “You’re so tall now!! You kiddos grow up so fast!! Do these hurt? No worries! Roman, Remus and Janus are taking care of everything so we will be able to properly take care of you and your friend in a bit, okay? It’s been so much time since they saw you! I bet they also can’t wait to hear all the news!”

Picani stared deep into that shiny gaze, couldn’t help himself but smile back at Patton, a faint, almost erased memory of the blue figure helping him and his grandpa to make cookies in one of the docks they used to visit, they all whistling happily the known melody shining on the back of his mind. The memory was blurred, mostly consisting in laughter, songs and a warm feeling.

“Pat,” he gulped, mindless playing with the chains that locked his wrists on the walls of the cell, a frown in his face. Patton lightly hit the side of his own head, dislodging a bit his glasses’ frame, letting go of his face and heading to the keys poorly hanging on a rusty nail on the other side of the room.

(A constant reminder from the others of the freedom they could achieve if they only would be able to research the keys…)

“That is right, that is right!” He carried a happy aura on his steps, floating to them in a fast pace, unlocking their cell, kindly glancing at him and Remy, who eyed him for a few seconds before having his attention claimed by smoke descending from the cracks on their ceiling. “We should probably be heading out here just now!”

“Pat,” Emile tried again, holding his hand when the ghost freed him, ignoring the goosebumps running across his arms in a protest about the coldness of the other’s skin. His tune was careful. “I am Emile. Emile Picani. My dad gave me the pearl.” Patton’s smile faltered, a glint of understanding and something else taking over the gleam on his eyes. “It’s been twenty three years.”

“Oh,” he muttered, squeezing his hands back, eyes looking for something in his gaze. Something Emile couldn’t quite place. “oh, kiddo… I am sorry.”

Emile gave him a kind, sad smile.

“Me too.”

“You really grew up fast, didn’t you, kiddo?” Remy deviated his eyes from the scene, partly because the feeling of twist on his guts meant that he was probably intruding on a private moment and partly because his attention was again held by the sudden, growing hotness which didn’t cease to expand across the entirety of the ship. Muffled screams coming from all the places and nowhere at the same time. His body started to get absurdly antsy with adrenaline, sweat dripping from his forehead.

A flaming part of the ceiling fell in the middle of their cell, jolting the two from their conversation, the blue ghost blinking a few times at the flames.

“Ah.” He speeded his pace to free them from their cell, smoke and soot starting to paint and took over the air. “Well, guess this is our clue to get going!! Come on, come on! This way!”

“Fucking heck finally.” Remy only didn’t shout his displeasure due how hurt his throat was, however he made it sure his voice wasn’t low enough so the others wouldn’t be able to notice, even though none of them opted to point his reaction, deciding instead to nearly dash through the doors and stairs of the ship until finally arrive at the handrails, ignoring the way flames danced and deviated from them, a red figure smiling brightly at Patton’s direction when he waved, yellow eyes from another golden person staring them as if he could read their souls.

Remy ignored both as another ship arrived, medium size, well conserved and barely noticeable, his eyes feeling the urge to look at everywhere except it every time he tried to concentrate his efforts to capture all the details, but he kept himself firm, noticing how it doesn’t own any visible treasure, the only thing more catching being the navy fog covering all its extent, flowing in abundance from the form in the main deck, his hands moving with precise, fast gestures.

A dark purple ghost popped from absolutely nothing in front of them, inquisitive, wary glare.

Remy narrowed his eyes back, his guts screaming to not trust the wooden board thrown at their current position, making a not very secure path from one ship to another. The purple being smirked at his expression.

“V! We’re back.”

“Good. The princey and the snake right there are almost over and Logan is growing restless. Remus is already on his room, resting.” His face lost its softness when he stared right back at the humans. “Get in. Fast.”

Emile nodded, wanting nothing more than to leave this nightmare and maybe get a good night of sleep, but his arm was held in a warm, firm – yet gentle – grip.

“Is that bitch even safe?”

V’s smirk grew. “Define ‘safe’.”

“Things that I can touch and embark without fucking dying.”

“Death is inevitable,” the purple – V, as it seems, looked smug with his words, - any choice is just a pathway to this end.”

“I’m going to fucking show him the pathway.”

“Remy, please no.” Emile sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Think I can’t punch a motherfucker ghost? Fight me.”

“I know you can’t. Bring it on.”

“Virgil.”

“Remy.”

Patton and Emile said at the same time, with the same hard tone that made both of them deflate in a very similar way, still glaring dangerously at each other, but clearly putting more physical space between them. Emile patted the ex-captain hands, warm eyes.

“Can you go first so I can hold on your cape? My balance is not very good.” Because he realized, somewhat, how he was trembling and that holding him was the one thing assuring Remy that none of this was just another crazy dream.

He gulped, then nodded, his usual snarky remark already falling.

“If I die, no offer will get me out of your back.”

“Noted.” The sailor replied, chuckling lowly.

And then they both walked to their first of many future nights, after so many tears and tears, of being able to watch the stars and feel the sea’s breeze.

Safe.

13 notes · View notes

thebraingremlinsaremad · 3 years ago

Text

Daily Blog #15: August 22, 2021

Dollar Tree is honestly pretty fucking awesome 👌👌👌

I set my alarm for like 6:25 this morning, but it took 6 minutes for the "Horsin' Around" theme song instrumental to wake me up. I was pretty tired lol. I just dismissed it and went back to sleep.

I only went back to sleep because I knew I had another alarm set for 7:00. That got me up.

I should mention that this was still in the RV over an hour away from the house.

After I got up, I went to go get a shower, and did so successfully.

Unfortunately, I had forgotten my brush this time and had to do it afterwards after my hair had a bit of time to dry, which did make it a little more difficult lol.

I got dressed and grabbed my stuff, putting it into my car.

I made it a point to see and say "see you later" to my grandparents before I left for the flea market.

My dad insisted that I stayed to say goodbye to my mom, so I left.

I did NOT have cell service up there, as was mentioned in my previous 2 blogs of which I could only post today, so finding my way was a tiny bit difficult until I got some service to ask Google to take me to "...".

It worked and I got there.

On my drive, I listened to 1 by Simple Kid, a CD I had previously purchased at a Dollar Tree location.

I got a call from the guy at the flea market saying that I had some people there waiting for me. He asked how far away I was, to which I said "about 10 minutes." Ironically, that call made me miss my exit, as Google couldn't talk during the call, and added about 3 minutes to my arrival time lmao.

I did sell the Xbox that he said someone was interested in. I got $40 for it. I spent 27¢ on it. Pretty good return if you ask me.

I couldn't sell it with anything other than a power cord because the controller and AV cables I had been using to play it there were for my personal console. I'm just glad I can actually hook my Xbox up and stop having to drag them to the flea market along with a small library of games.

Not too long after I sold the Xbox, someone came in and asked if I wanted to see some electronics he had in his car. I went out with him. It was a pair of 3ft speakers and a Pioneer audio system with dual cassette decks (although neither of them works) and a 25 Disc CD-changer, as well as the standard AM/FM tuner. Additionally, there was a Fisher amplifier and AM/FM tuner as well as a Fisher Direct Drive turntable. He said he wanted $60 for em, but before that he casually, and probably accidentally, dropped that he was just gonna take em to the thrift store.

Big mistake.

I got em for $35 lmao. THERE GOES MOST OF MY PROFIT.

Oh well.

I tested everything. As I mentioned, the cassette decks don't work, but everything else does apart from the turntable needing a new stylus.

I posted some new photos of the shop to Facebook, and someone soon DMed me about a stereo system.

I priced everything, and it turns out I have about $300 worth of equipment from that deal, the Fisher amp and tuner being worth about $150.

The buyer will hopefully show up next weekend, for he wants to buy the Fisher stuff ($185 with the turntable), the 3ft speakers, an 8-track deck, and a Kenwood deck we've had for a week or two.

The speakers are listed for $50 (and are worth around $100-150), the Kenwood Deck for $50 as well, and the 8-track for $35. That makes it about $320 in equipment. Since he's buying so much, I'll knock it down to $270 and essentially give him the speakers or cassette deck for free lol.

Apart from that stuff, not much happened at the flea market. I sold some records, cassettes, CDs and I think 2 DVDs. One person bought a VHS tape? That money was the other guy's though. Oh well xD.

I can't say that I didn't miss my wonderful partner while on the trip. I actually brought along the stuffed animal they gave me (who's name is Greg) and snuggled with him both nights.

I was very happy to hear from them UwU.

They let me rant and I let them rant.

I honestly give them too much responsibility over me xD. I'm like, "Okay, I'm gonna do this. HOLD ME TO IT."

I know I can't hold myself to anything I personally say (this blog being the only exception apparently), but I listen to them pretty well I think 🤔. If they tell me, "No, you don't need that VCR," so long as it's not some weird specialty thing, like a worldwide VCR 🥵, I'll be like "Yeah, you rite bro."

I love you man xD. You control my craziness pretty well. I'm so thankful for you UwU.

#relationshipgoals

So part way through the flea market day, I went over to Dollar Tree to buy some snack, but ended up looking through the CDs to see if there was anything good. I took photos of about 18 CDs and flipped through them online for the remainder of the flea market day.

I deleted the photos of the ones I didn't want and kept those that I liked. Surprisingly, I ended up buying 13 CDs there, but not before dropping them on the floor like the dumbass I am.

Also, sorry for all the nerd shit I spilled on your lap earlier. No one cares about amps and tuners xD.

I'M LISTENING TO ONE OF THE DOLLAR TREE CDS RIGHT NOW THO.

I already transferred over to my online library on iBroadcast and put the disc into my CD changer, which is now holding 164 CDs.

Its max capacity is 300 discs 🥵

WHY AM I NERD

Oh well

I like being a nerd gurl

Also maybe a technosexual 👀

I get really excited over some electronics. Like. REALLY excited.

Some editing VCRs are like "Holy shit that is SEXY. Look at those goddamn VU meters 🥵. And hhhh there are like 7 inputs on this thing and individual controls for left and right audio gain, not to mention Hi-Fi S-VHS recording. Hhhhhhhhhhh please gimme 😭. Why are you so expensive?"

I uh, mean, uh, *cough* look, pretty lights.

Oh yeah, I was gonna say the album I was listening to xD. MAN I GOT SIDETRACKED.

It's 37 Everywhere by Punchline. Def give it a listen; it's pretty heccin good.

Another notable album I picked up was Page One by Steven Page. I very much like the first track, "A New Shore." It's quite catchy and he has a great voice imo.

Also at dollar tree, I bought a regular bag of Fieras and 2 bags of Fieras Sticks, which were marked down to 75¢/bag because they're expiring soon.

I honestly like the generic Dollar Tree version of Takis more than actual Takis. They're a lot more flavorful when it comes to the lime, but also hotter at the same time.

Don't get the hot nacho ones tho. Hot nacho? More like hot pile of shit.

HAH

Goteem.

They're not that good xD.

THE REGULAR ONES ARE FIRE THO

"How do you do fellow kids?"

I got home and started working on putting the CDs onto my computer, and then onto iBroadcast, but not without first adding The Music Man to my digital library, something I had neglected for a month or two. The CD had just been sitting there lol.

I also switched my digital file for "The Black Parade" to that of the uncensored CD, which I had purchased before I event started working over 2 months ago.

MAN I'M LAZY

I eventually get around to shit tho lol. I guess it's just a matter of priority.

What usually takes priority is digging through everything to find something that I forgot about but then remembered, making a mess in the process that I would then have to clean up, at least partially.

I think the album just ended. I've been writing for a while xD. I'ma start "I Made You Something" by The Island of the Misfit Toys.

I'll tell you where that album came from in a minute.

In the meantime, where was I?

I kinda lost my train of thought despite reading up to see where I was. Oh well. On I go.

I ate dinner and kept working on those CDs, eventually putting my clothes from the week into the washer.

I FORGOT TO PUT MY SHAPING UNDERWEAR IN. FUCKING HELL MAN.

I wanted to wash em for this week 😭

No tight pants for Leonna I guess qwq.

Meanwhile, the box of my CD album cases is overflowing. I need another box.

I keep all of the album artworks in a big CD folder. That's almost full.

I wanna fill my entire CD changer. That's one of my big goals in life. Idk why, but I just wanna legitimately fill the entire thing.

My clothes are in the dryer now. I don't think I have the time (or energy) to fold them tonight. I'll leave that for tomorrow morning before work.

And God. Fucking. Damnit. I start school again on Wednesday. NOT looking forward to that, and neither are my 2 coworkers. We already have low enough staff, but only the two of them working is gonna be a pain in the ass.

I'll still work Saturdays.

I need to contact my guidance counselor to get out of the gym class I signed up for. I scheduled this shit before I found out I was trans, and I don't wanna deal with the fucking locker room situation 🙄 I have far more important matters.

Okay so anyway, the album I'm listening to came from a cassette. I bought this cassette a few months ago at the flea market along with a few others. The reason I bought them? They were all newer cassette releases from the 2010's, and they're all actually pretty good music from very indie bands.

Currently getting mad at iBroadcast's compression algorithm. It's unnaturally fucking anything over -10db up. Oh well, there's not really anything I can do about it.

I have like 13GB of music on my phone btw. That's about 3.5k songs on 268 albums.

I'm kind of an audiophile, but I'm too cheap to pay for a lossless service. Oh well.

They do actually have a lossless service on iBroadcast, but once again, too cheap.

Someone just sent me a friend request who legitimately posted that BLM and the democratic party are hate groups.

BLOCK.

Goodbye ho.

I don't get that. They call the democratic party a hate group when they hate people like me, and I, being more of a democrat although not fully because the 2-party system is fucked, think nothing more of them than they're very wrong about certain things, especially, as shown, that black people, as well as asian, Indian, native, and people of all ethnicities and backgrounds, are not equal to white people.

Yeh.

Totally.

You go buddy.

Anyway, yeah, I can, and do, convert music and video from analog formats to digital files in order for me to archive and listen to whenever and wherever I please. I've actually made a bit of a business out of it, but I don't get too much work from it. At least I'm not overloading myself xD.

I honestly have so much more to say, but I should probably go to sleep soon.

A few final shoutouts to the following people and companies:

-Dollar Tree

-Steven Page

-Broken World Media

-The Island of Misfit Toys

-Simple Kid

-Punchline

-My incredible partner QwQ I love you so much. Thanks for being the best all the time. I hope I can give you the best life ever.

Anyway I suppose this is goodnight. Lmk if you want a full list of the CDs I bought today! I'll link that song by Steven Page here.

And here's a good song from Simple Kid

I really like music lol. Enjoy these pieces.

Anyway, goodnight lol.

Lots of love,

-Leonna.

3 notes · View notes