#and I just really really enjoy listening to stuff my entire childhood I've been listening zo stuff I was always an audio drama kid

[starpros-sunshine]

Need to do something about mindless scrolling habit but I am sooo tired and I want to keep mindlessly scrolling but also I want to throw my phone out of my window and regain my creativity and drive to do stuff when I was young and not constantly reading something or other on my phone.

[jakeyt]

Covet: Chapter 10 (Part 1 of 2)

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Covet Summary:

Life was good. No, life was great. 

Was. 

Until.

Jake Kiszka crashed into the picture.

You welcomed him into your life—your home. 

Yes, he was your best friend’s twin. But, he was also the one who would end up disrupting your whole world with his attitude, his troubles, and the annoyingly natural way he lured you in. 

Jake Kiszka came with so much you really didn’t want.

At least that’s what you tried to convince yourself.

Warnings: MINORS DNI (18+); angst; extreme feelings of stress and anxiety; feelings of sadness; abandonment issues; allusions to a dark, forgotten childhood; therapy; EMDR therapy; arguing/raising of voices; heart issues (POTs); use of heart monitors; hemoglobin kits mentioned; jealousy; body changes as a result of pregnancy; negative self-talk; baby talk galore; pregnancy hormones (. . .but just wait for part 2 lol); reader continues being sad while she checks Jake out... but now we see jake being sad while he checks reader out lol; mild description of oral sex (m! receiving) (as usual, PLEASE lmk if i missed anything that is triggering to you!)

Chapter Word Count: 27.4k+

a/n: hi, loves :) i am sorry for the wait! won't go into detail, but life is a mf beast rn, and i'm rolling w it the best i can. this is a hobby. and while it does take up the majority of my free time, it is also not my main job! so, please be patient as life isn’t easy!

without further ado, here is chapter 10, pt 1... you will get pt 2 tomorrow - it is all set and ready to upload, but i must let the anticipation rise after pt 1. ;)

part 1 includes a hell-ton of stuff that i've been waiting to write - and been waiting for you to read! eek! this chapter is the beginning of a ~new chapter~ in everyone's lives... so, strap in <3 things are about to get real interesting......

as usual, thank you to my lovely sister @joshym for being my encourager and for aiding in expanding on ideas when i feel stuck as hell lol i love you more than words can properly articulate <3

Please enjoy the playlist as you read 🖤 (i listen to it nonstop while i write this story.... all of the songs are pertinent to the plot and assist in telling it - either already or eventually.)

Covet Masterlist

-🌼🌼🌼-

"Conscience and covetousness are never to be reconciled; like fire and water they always destroy each other, according to the predominancy of the element."

-Jeremy Collier

-🌼🌼🌼-

November 17, 2022

After several moments of standing there, you started to feel very naked under Jake’s stare. 

The realization that you were still butt-fucking-naked under your towel had you wanting to escape the entire situation. It added one more reason why you wanted to hide in your room for all of eternity.

You didn’t know how to process what had just happened. . . All you knew was that any idea of a nice talk where you revealed the truth to him. . . Was gone. 

He knew now. And you were freaking the fuck out. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

Jake’s POV

There was no doubting her. Not for a single second. The baby was mine and I’d known it in my heart before I asked. 

I really just wanted to hear her say it. 

During our time together, just like she’d been it for me, I knew in my heart that I’d been it for her. I’d known her, backwards and forwards. And, within that time that I knew her so well, we’d become close. So close that, without meaning to make it—us— more, we’d made it more. 

I gave her a better look, not able to put into words what the fuck I was feeling. Let my eyes trail down her body, covered only by a towel. 

She adjusted her towel, tighter around her body. Was she self conscious? She shouldn’t have been. She was always beautiful. And I was afraid pregnancy was only going to enhance her beauty. . . I noticed as she tightened her towel, the action made her full breasts spill even more from the top of the towel. I averted my eyes, willing my dick to not react. Instead, I trained my eyes below, on her belly. 

And now that I knew, I could see. Even through the fluffiness of the towel, I could see a certain roundness to her belly that had never been there before. A full-blown bump. Still small by some standards, but big enough that I should have fucking noticed. 

Not able to help it, my eyes scanned her heaving chest, the tops of her tits fully exposed above the towel. It made so much sense why I’d noticed them looking bigger. . . Because they were bigger. Growing. Every day. To nourish our baby. 

Our baby.

I looked away from her. . . I couldn’t look at her right now. Not when she— when I. . . God.

How had I been so oblivious?! I lived with her for Christ’s sake. Was it my fault that I hadn’t allowed myself to be more present in her life? Was it because I was seeing Maya now? God. No. It wasn’t on me to watch for things like that anymore. Not since she’d told me that I’d served my purpose. That I was just convenient. . . And all of the other hateful shit she’d spit in my face that day in the kitchen. 

The day my heart fucking broke after pounding in my chest. . . Pleading with her to help me understand all of it. But she hadn't fucking stopped . . . Just kept going. Breaking me. Saying things I never, in a million years, ever wanted to hear from her. 

I’d let her become more in my life. I thought it was meant to last. Thought that she had become my someone. More than relationship. More than friends. She had just . . . Been there. She’d nestled into a place made just for her in my heart. Like she was supposed to have been there all along. 

I’d never wanted her to leave. But she’d wanted to. She’d put her foot down, not leaving any goddamn room for argument. 

And my heart. . . Fucking broken after beating the hardest it ever had in my chest. . . Shattered into an infinite number of tiny shards at my feet. I’d spent days picking up the shreds, my hands getting cut every time I tried to fix in me what she’d torn apart. There was a part of me that knew exactly why she’d done it. I fucking knew. Knew that she didn’t think she deserved happiness or some shit. But there was no use in entertaining what I knew when she refused to acknowledge the truth. 

The night we’d smoked and I’d told her that I— and then she’d told me that she— Jesus. The moment had been so real, so solid. . . The words had fallen from my lips without any hint of question. Even being under the influence, I felt the connection we’d made in that moment. I thought about the words everyday for weeks after I’d left the kitchen on that hellish day. 

Then there was the transcendental sex we’d had when we made it into her room that night. She’d been so wet, waiting for me. . . Fuck it all. Wait— not— no. The night we’d smoked. . . We hadn’t used protection. Was that when—?

The inside of my brain was just going fucking insane and I couldn’t— goddammit!

I ran a hand through my hair a couple of times, the other one still holding my keys. I  needed to do something with both of my hands. Besides balling them into fists and creating divets in one palm with my fingertips and the other with my keys.

I was tired of just standing there, in front of this woman I’d fallen for at a time when I thought I’d never wanted to love again. . . The same woman who’d shattered me. And, now, the very same woman who was carrying my child. . . 

There was no use in trying to organize any thoughts. Pacing seemed to be the only option. So, back and forth, back and forth, I walked in about a foot of space. Just waded in these uncharted fucking waters. All I knew at this moment was she was pregnant. And she’d lied to me about it. 

How long had she—? How far along was—?

And why in the hell had Josh known before me?! Of all fucking people . . . Fuck! 

“Jake,” her voice tore through the catastrophic mess of shit in my head. 

I didn’t look at her. How could I? When she’d left me in the dark. Once again, prioritized Josh over me. Even when it came to my child. Absolutely fucking incredible.

“Jake, please,” she muttered, voice cracking on the word please. My heart couldn’t handle the sound. “I can’t— I’m not in the right state of mind to just stand here and—.” I stopped pacing and peered up at her finally, my hair surely a mess around my hot face when I let my eyes pierce hers. 

But as soon as I made eye contact with her, I softened. I hated to see her cry. Hated it. And the sobs suddenly wracking her were unexpected. It hurt my heart to stand there and watch her like that. 

But— she’d brought this on herself. Right?! Fuck. 

As much as I wanted to walk to her and hug her, I didn’t. I stayed where I was, offering a half-assed look of pity. It wasn’t her turn to hurt over this. I was the one just finding out. Not her.

“Y/n,” I tried, weakly. But god it sucked to say her name right now. “Just— god. There are so many—.”

“Questions, I know,” she finished, walking a couple hesitant steps toward me. But I took two back, away from her. 

The way her body slacked at my action made me want to take it back. There were a lot of things I wanted to do. Some understandable, some not so much. I wanted to cry. Kiss her. Hug her. Feel her. Help her. Scream at her. 

But, she was right. I did have so many fucking questions. 

“How long?” I asked, breath shallow, never letting my eyes leave hers. 

She kept up, not looking away from me. “How long have I known? Or how long have I been—?”

“Both.”

“I—,” she stuttered, closing her eyes tight, her beautiful face contorted in what I could only assume was emotional turmoil. 

I watched as she balled her fists, clenching them a few times. Then, as she released them, she seemed to plant her feet firmly on the floor— her body, rigid and straight. 

When she opened her eyes and found mine again, I could clearly see the tears that had accumulated on her lashes. And her eyes, that would forever take my breath away, were daring to shed more of them.

“Don’t cry,” I couldn’t help but calmly reassure her, my voice soft as I went to stand closer to her again. Not close. Just— closer. “Just. . . keep going. Talk me through it. Talk us through it.” 

She breathed deeply, in and out, once. I strained to not let my eyes fall to her chest— to admire the way her fuller breasts would rise and fall. . . I resisted, focusing on her eyes. Her face, rivaling all gods of beauty. . . 

After taking one more calming breath, she began. “I’m three months along,” she paused momentarily, as if thinking of something. “Three months today, actually.”

Three months.

“And how long have you known?”

“I’ve known for about a month,” she responded, bringing her shoulders higher and sniffling once. She blinked once, tightening her fists once more. “That’s not to say I told anyone right away. I kept it to myself. I was scared. I didn’t know what the fuck to do.”

I let her words sit in the air for a few minutes, thought them through at least five times before I couldn’t keep the next question to myself any longer. 

“When did Josh find out?” 

Her jaw flexed as her fists bunched up; eyebrows, drawn together as she glanced down briefly, her eyes snapping back to mine. “Why the fuck is that important right now?”

Oh, she wanted to get angry? Okay.

“Seriously?” I said, my tone sharp as I pointed a finger at her. “You telling my brother about my baby before me is pretty fucking disheartening. Especially when I — fuck. You know why it’s important.”

“I’m sorry. . . I’m stuck on something you said. . . When you called it your baby,” she leveled, stepping toward me once. I didn’t move, only stood taller and sighed deeply, nostrils flared. “Please, tell me more. About how you’re the one who had to find out all by herself. And if you’re the one who had to find out all by herself, you’re probably also the one who’s going to have to stretch her body out to carry this baby for the next six months,” her voice rose with every word she spoke. She sighed, a smile shaking on her lips, yet lacking any positive emotion. “I must’ve fucking forgotten.”

All I could do was stare at her; because, in spite of all of that truth, I was still angry with her. She’d twisted my words. She knew what I fucking meant. 

She just wanted an opportunity to pin something on me in her moment of insecurity. 

It was definitely something she would do in a state of upset. Hell, it was something I would do. Without a thought. I was known for it. Could I be upset with her for doing the same thing? Dammit. I just felt conflicted as hell — didn’t know how to feel about it all. 

I was happy. Really. Truly. Completely over the moon ecstatic at getting to be a father. I just— I couldn’t wrap my mind around the idea of it. All of the information, the reality of my life. . . It wasn’t sinking in worth shit. Though, at the same time, it felt so incredibly real. 

On the same hand, I also felt completely betrayed to not know a damned thing until this moment. It was fine that she waited to tell me. No question about that. But telling Josh before me still pissed me the fuck off. . . And it would until she understood why it made me so angry. 

She’d confided in him about the baby I helped her make. When she hadn’t even told me. Probably hadn’t even been planning on telling me anytime fucking soon. Because of her determination to keep me out of the loop when it came to our child, I’d had to find out on my own. By accident. 

All because I was a motherfucking identical twin. What were the chances of that shit?

I didn’t get to have a moment of joy at the thought of being a father because I was too busy reading how grateful she was for Josh amidst this pregnancy. All I could think about was how she hadn’t been grateful for me. Hadn’t been grateful enough to keep me in her life. 

She’d pushed me out. But not Josh. Definitely not Josh. She would never say to Josh what she said to me in the kitchen.

I couldn’t take it.

Unable to control my actions, I started acting before thinking. . . Not even looking at her, I focused only on the keys in my hand, still waiting for me to go somewhere. I had to go somewhere. Had to get the fuck out of the apartment that had brought me both my greatest days and my most heartbreaking. 

And this day was officially both.

Pulling the door open without even thinking about it, seeing through blurred tunnel vision, I heard her say my name, once again choking on sobs behind me. Even after I closed the door, she continued to wail my name. 

My heart was longing to stay back with her. Begging me to stay where I knew I needed to. The guilt was heavy. Baby or not, my heart yearned for the woman. Even when I shouldn’t want her, I did. And I really shouldn’t after what she’d said in the kitchen.

I knew it was a dick move to leave. I knew it. But I had to. Couldn’t explain it. So, with blurred vision and hearing her repeat my name and begging me not to leave, I continued down the cemented, outdoor hallway and to the stairs. 

End of Jake’s POV

-🌼🌼🌼-

Gone. Found out about it and then he was just. . . gone. 

You stood there long enough to let him walk back through the door. Until he might’ve come back, ready to make things right.

You waited too long. But when you started getting a chill from standing there in your towel, you were suddenly ready to put some clothes on. Ready to hide. Maybe Jake had the right idea to run away.

In the case he didn’t come back tonight, you didn’t want to be waiting for him all night, getting your hopes up. . . only to have them crushed.

Your heart was already burning in your chest, all the way down to the pit of your stomach, at the worry of him not returning.

-🌼🌼🌼-

You firmly decided on leaving for a bit. Follow his lead. You went about your business to get your ass out of your home before it swallowed you whole in your fears and worries of Jake.

But. . . driving sounded stupid as hell. You wouldn’t have been able to see past the clouds of tears in your eyes to safely arrive at your destination. And, as sad as you were, you weren’t sad enough to want to wreck your car. The baby’s life was the first you considered. But–then. . . you realized you had a burning desire to keep going for you, too. . . despite Jake leaving, you wanted to keep going. The sadness hadn’t completely overtaken you.

So, you’d wisely decided to schedule an Uber. And while you waited, you hastily pulled your cute gray sweatsuit (thank you, TikTok shop) onto your body as quickly as you could, making sure to put on a sports bra underneath to hold your boobs in place. They continued to hurt like hell. You really needed to get a maternity bra.

And then, after you’d fed Stevie, you waited for the Uber and prayed that it would show up before Jake got back home. 

Well. . .if he came back home tonight. It was very bold of you to just assume he would. Why would he want to return? Your own mother left you because you weren’t worth anything. And tonight, Jake had made it perfectly clear he felt the same way your mom had.

The Uber showed up in no time. . .sooner than you’d scheduled for it to arrive. 

As the black Toyota Solara finally came into view, you wiped your tears for the millionth time since Jake had left. The sobs that wracked your chest hadn’t stopped painting your cheeks since he’d walked out the door. Because, well, he had left you. The one person you wanted with you for this had left when you needed him most.

-🌼🌼🌼-

Applebee’s. The sign to the restaurant had you feeling the urge to do happy dance, even amidst your raging emotions. But you concealed it for the sake of your Uber driver.

For the past few days, you’d been craving their alfredo specifically. The fear of ruining it like you’d ruined so many other foods, had kept you from DoorDashing it. 

But tonight? Tonight you’d decided to treat yourself, and instead of being scared that you’d throw it all up, you took the chance. Thus, scheduling the Uber to drive you to fucking Applebee’s. Of all places.

You’d been sitting for probably five minutes at a booth (comfortably, but definitely lonely), when the rain started pouring down outside your booth’s window. 

And at approximately the same time, you noticed the large group of men around your age at the bar, backwards baseball caps and muscles presumably only huge from steroids. They were screaming at the top of their lungs as a football game droned on on the TV in front of them.

The rain, the jocks. . . made you long for your bed immediately. . . Made you wish you would have just stayed home to wallow for the sole opportunity of letting the thunder lull you to a (much needed) restful sleep. Though, based on the night’s events, you weren’t sure how peaceful that slumber would actually be. Or how quickly it would come.

Thankfully, the prospect of going home came as soon as you started longing for it. The young waitress came by to ask for your drink order, but you went ahead and ordered the alfredo you’d been craving – along with the soft pretzels and cheese which automatically stood out to you when you’d opened the menu. 

Now all you were hoping was that you wouldn’t end up vomiting your guts up over your toilet later. Or worse, all over an Uber driver. You were taking a chance. This was the first time you’d eaten out since starting your new journey of eating and nausea meds. 

Speaking of, you promptly popped a PregEase in your mouth, directly from the stash in your belt bag slung across your chest.

You were thankful for the meds, but at the moment, you were actually totally fine with risking it. The one reason being: food was working as a pretty fantastic distraction from your problems for the time being. So. . . you were letting it do its job.

When the waitress brought your water out to you, your phone started buzzing and ringing in your belt bag, succeeding in interrupting you thanking her. The reverberations felt so good against your boobs (don’t fucking judge); at this point, you were convinced your chest was bound to feel like two heavy bags of tiny nails, for the rest of your life. Nothing brought them relief, and the phone felt surprisingly nice.

She kindly smiled, bringing your attention back to her from your boobs, saying she'd be back soon with your appetizer. You responded with a similar smile to hers and went about balancing all of the shit in your belt bag to get your phone out. 

You figured it was probably Elsie. She was the one most likely to be calling you at this time of night. She was known for using the late hour to openly vent to you about her day. Though, since Josh, the calls had become fewer and fewer. 

Finally getting the phone out and peeking at the screen, you were suddenly wishing it was Elsie. Because, the name staring back at you was making your tummy feel like swirling electricity. 

The process of getting your phone out had taken long enough, though, that you’d missed the call completely. You weren’t sure if it was a bullet dodged or a missed opportunity you were instantaneously longing to happen again.

You didn’t have to contemplate it for too long before his name was lighting up your screen again. And it was admittedly weird seeing his name with your current lockscreen wallpaper. . . A couple days ago, you’d impulsively taken a picture of the sonogram picture from your first appointment and made it your wallpaper. 

What if you’d accidentally left your phone where he could find it? Damn. Were you wanting him to find out on his own? Was that going to be your pussy ass way of telling him? Or were you just being impulsive and dumb?

Once again, the call went to voicemail. Except, there wasn’t time for him to leave one with how quickly he was calling you back.

Goddamn, y/n. Answer, your inner encourager forced you impatiently.

Swallowing thickly, you went to slide your finger over to answer. Your body was swimming with an increasing amount of anxiety. But, you answered it.

“Hello?” You spoke faintly, your belly flip flopping. 

He’s probably calling to say he’s packing his shit and moving out.

“Where are you?!” He asked, his voice ragged and worried. Uneven with what could only be fear. “I got home and you weren’t here and I’m freaking the fuck out. Are you okay? Are you safe? Are you with someone?”

Wait. What? Why was he scared?

For some reason, you wanted to be obtuse and not answer his questions. Apparently you were just feeling like an asshole tonight. You didn’t know. You were just tired as hell and didn’t know how to approach him. You wanted to tell him. But, you didn’t.

“I’m fine. I’m just not home.”

“Y/n. Fucking duh. I just told you I’m here,” he replied, impatient but still concerned. “Where are you?”

“What if I don’t want to tell you?” Lie.

He sighed. You could imagine him running a hand across his forehead. His eyes were most likely closed, out of patience. Damn. You’d gotten real used to stressing him out if you could guess the motions.

“Then don’t, I guess,” he relented, voice tense and irritated. “Can you just let me know you’re safe?”

As if on cue, the guys at the bar went ballistic. It made you tense up and roll your eyes at the disruption they were causing to the entire restaurant. But, specifically how they were shouting in the middle of you talking to Jake.  

“Are you at a party?” He gaped, sounding utterly shocked.

Yet again, the men started screaming at the top of their lungs, proceeding to yell a variation of the words Yes! and go-go-go-go!, plus a bunch of other shit you couldn’t understand.

You couldn’t help the growl that came from your mouth, your eyes slowly closing in annoyance. “No, Jacob. Do you really think I’d be at a party?”

“Jesus, sorry,” he apologized. He let out a deep sigh, causing the speaker to rattle a little into your ear. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I’m worried about you.”

Worried about–? What?

Lay off of him, y/n. You were crying buckets before you left home because you wanted him so badly. Come on. You know he is not the cause of the football fuckers going ham. Don’t take it out on him.

You let out a giant sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. Tried to tune out the men to your left. Because Jake. Jake was on the phone. And it didn’t take rocket science to know that you really wanted to see him. Quite frankly, you felt the need to see him. 

But. . .did he want to see you? Or was he just being kind? Only worried about you because he was a decent human being? With no underlying, deeper meaning other than you being pregnant and alone? Did it make you weak if you told him where you were? 

Who cares? Just tell him.

“I’m at Applebee’s,” you sighed, rubbing your forehead before placing the same hand over your round belly to trace shapes against it. 

“Are you with someone?” He asked, tone smooth with a slight edge behind it.

“No, Jake,” you grumbled. Why did he care?

“Do you want me there?” He questioned apprehensively, sounding like it was what he wanted.

But why? He’d left you.

“Do you want to be here?”

“Yes–well,” he paused. “Only if you want me there.”

“Do you think I want you here?”

Why the game of 20 Questions, y/n? His night has already been hard enough.

You knew why. You were avoiding the impending confrontation of seeing him again. Just as much as you did want to see him, you were putting it off because you were nervous. There was no telling what would be said. Would he leave again? Would he say he didn’t want to be in the child’s life? Did it even matter?

“Yes,” he softly responded, waiting for you to confirm or deny.

He was right. And he’d unintentionally answered both of your questions. Yes, it mattered and yes, you wanted him here.

So, after telling him which Applebee’s you were at, he told you he’d be there soon and to stay put before he hung up. The sloppy jocks suddenly started cheering again, clapping each other’s backs. Though, in spite of them, you couldn’t help the quiet smile that swept over your lips.

He was coming for you.

-🌼🌼🌼-

There were about ten minutes between your apartment and Applebee’s, so you waited. 

Just ten minutes. But time crawled.

You were equal parts excited and terrified to see him. The only plausible solution to ease you while you waited, was to watch the door. Your brain was tripping over questions and curiosities all based around him, but just like you’d tried to do all night, you ignored them. Just watched. the. door. 

In reality, you really didn’t have much time to think about a whole lot before Jake was walking through the doors.  Not wearing a rain jacket (or a jacket of any sort) to cover him from the rain. . . which meant he was soaking. wet.

And oh no no no no. . . seeing him like that was not good for your baby hormones. Fuck. Why hadn’t he grabbed one before he left the apartment?!

He was going to catch a cold.

To be totally truthful, you were quite happy he hadn’t put one on. . . Reason being, you could see every single droplet that dripped from his hair. . .that touched his skin. You watched each one fall from the long strands of his wavy locks. Some dripped one-by-one, down the thick column of his neck. And others, directly to the tanned skin of his chest. . . Some even trailing to a hidden place underneath his shirt. . .

He was wearing a light blue button down, the material completely stained from the heavy, unrelenting downpour. You wanted to just peel it off of him–take care of him. You wanted to remove each piece of clothing, carefully dry every part of his body. . .

Not even meaning to, you caught yourself biting your lower lip before soothing it with a lick of your lips. . . 

Okay, y/n. Biting and licking your lips? Seriously?! Stop.

You turned around, pinching your eyes shut. Honestly, ogling over him in this very public space was not ideal. Shouldn’t have been ogling him at all. He wasn’t yours. But dammit your body couldn’t help but heat in his presence. 

Though, the atmosphere of the restaurant did not match your mood at all. In addition to the hoard of men with their beer, the place had become busier – bustling with groups of women and men alike. 

The football guys were still the worst part. You were getting sick of them–on your last nerve.

The continuous hooting and hollering that emitted from the men was obnoxious at best. Stereotypical men. In their natural habitat. They hadn’t stopped acting like heathens during the game and whooped loudly at every Republican ad that played during the commercial breaks. . . Beer bottles repeatedly clanged against each other. You were coming to realize there was zero chance of them quieting down. 

And suddenly it dawned on you that the idea of having to talk to Jake in an Applebee’s, during a (presumably important) football game, sounded dreadful.��Having white college men as background noise was the last thing you wanted.

You looked back over towards the door, anxious to set eyes on a real man. Only to find he was finally making his way to you. His shoulders, broad, but shaking and shivering. He kept his arms tightly at his sides, hands in pockets and arms flexing with the shivers, beneath the thin material of his button down. 

You didn’t look too long, though. . . Turned back around — didn’t want to stare long enough for him to catch you. You shook your thoughts away. And for the first time since you’d sat down, the young, drunken men were slightly welcomed as they helped to keep you nailed down to the present with their ludicrous screams. 

Before you knew it, his body came into your view, walking down the small aisle to your table. God, he was handsome. Even with flushed cheeks and wet hair sticking to his face, he was beautiful. 

When Jake finally slid into the booth, he was still shaking off his chill. He cupped his hands around his mouth and breathed harshly into them before clapping and rubbing them together under the table. You knew you were in a daze watching him and you’d stay that way if you didn’t try to speak soon.

“Are you trying to catch a fucking cold?” You hastily questioned him, raising your eyebrow for emphasis. 

He stilled momentarily, setting a steady glare your way. “I rushed here. I didn’t think about grabbing one before just focusing on getting here.”

“Why the rush? You knew I was safe.”

“I was anxious to see you.”

Your heart leapt into your throat. So anxious to not grab a cover for this rainstorm? Why? 

“But you’re the one who left me,” you responded hesitantly after taking a minute to consider his words.

Suddenly, he stopped shaking. He cast his eyes down, sweeping over the table as he chewed at the inside of his cheek. 

“I didn’t know what else to do,” he muttered before glancing up at you with eyes that read regret. “It was not the right decision. I know that and I’m so sorry. But I was just feeling a shit ton of emotions and I— I didn’t know what else—.”

“To do. I know,” you finished for him, nodding along to remind him he’d already mentioned that. “That’s not a valid excuse.”

He looked about ready to agree, but then his brows wrinkled and he tilted his head. He looked unsure. “I’m not sure if it’s valid or not, but it’s definitely not an excuse. I quite honestly didn’t know how the fuck to react, so that’s how I chose to feel it. Just needed to leave and refresh by—.”

“By fucking Maya?” You bit back.

What–?

Shit. Where the hell did those words come from? You hadn’t even. . . fuckfuckfuck. Nothing like fully exposing feelings you harbored.

“Excuse me?” He clipped back, voice alternating to a deeper tone. Aggravated. 

You stuttered out a reply the best you could. “I–I was– I didn’t mean to–,” you bowed your head, ashamed of yourself. “I don’t know where that came from. I’m sorry.”

Really, you were very sorry. It was uncalled for. 

His response was unexpected. “Don’t be sorry,” he softly said, sighing. Your eyes drew up, waiting to hear what else he had to say. You were not expecting him to reassure you. If you were in his shoes, you’d be appalled. He was rubbing his forehead when he tiredly responded, “Emotions are high right now.”

“Yeah, I guess. Except. . . I don’t really have a reason to be a bitch because I’ve already dealt with this,” you explained, motioning to your belly at the word this. “I’ve accepted it and I need to just. . . calm down.”

He snorted a laugh, brushing the tip of his nose with his pointer finger. The black hair-tie wrapped around his middle finger flashed into view. “Y/n, honey,” he started. But–you were slightly incoherent. Honey? What the fu–? “You’ve always been emotional. In all situations. No matter what,” he blew out a breath, a shiver running up his spine. He was drying off, slowly but surely. “I, of all people, would know.”

That last bit distracted you momentarily from him calling you a pet name. A sweet one at that. But. . . you weren’t focused on that. Rather, you were reeling at the fact that he’d just essentially made mention of the fact that he was the victim of you exposing your raw emotional state.

All you could think about— as you saw a glimpse of hurt flash over his brown eyes, him no doubt thinking of the same thing—was the kitchen. That blessed day in the kitchen where you’d gone full blast on him.

Avert avert avert.

You coughed, trying your best to clear the air. “I know it was probably necessary for you to go—leave. . . To think somewhere else, but . . . it did just suck for you to leave,” you admitted shyly. “It wasn’t an ideal time to be alone. Although. . .,” you sighed, watching his face as he concentrated on you. “I guess I brought it on myself. I should have told you sooner.”

“I am curious. . . Why didn’t you?”

“Because I was afraid of that happening,” you truly stated, waving your hand towards him. “I was afraid of you . . . leaving or something that would hurt like hell. . .”

He nodded, pursing his lips as he considered it. “I understand that,” he caught your eyes, his own, soft. Then, suddenly vulnerable. “But. . . wouldn’t it have been easier to tell me first? And wasn’t it maybe more daunting to tell Josh? I mean you had to tell him about–,” he motioned between you two. You couldn’t help the blush that painted your cheeks. Then, he looked curious, brow quirked. “Wait. . . does he even know that it’s mine?”

“Yes, he does,” you confirmed with a barely-there grin. 

He looked like he wanted to ask you something else, but ended up shaking his head and looking down at his lap, his hands moving to twiddle beneath the table before he did. 

“You’re partially right. It would have made more sense to tell you first,” you agreed partially with his earlier statement, watching him. “But I’m not sure it would have been easier. . . there are factors in the way–between us. . . people that don’t deserve to have their lives changed.”

When he looked up from where he’d been watching his hands move, his eyes met yours. You shared a look, and you knew he understood why it would have been difficult. He knew the people–the person–you were referring to. 

“I see your point. But. . .,” he cleared his throat. “It’s just me. No matter what’s changed between us. . . I’m still me. And this particular situation only concerns you, me, and the baby. No one else,” he clarified. “So, just because she’s in the picture now. . . it doesn’t mean you need to keep things from me.”

She's in the picture now. . . Stupidly, those words broke your heart.

The waitress was suddenly at the table with your food. All of it. Pretzel sticks, cheese, and your main course. She set your order on the table, but you knew you didn’t want to be here much longer. Not when you heard the hollering begin again towards the bar. You were also growing increasingly more tired by the second. 

“Can I get the alfredo to go?” You asked hopefully. 

“Sure! You want me to bring boxes for the rest, too?” Her large gray eyes were wide and bright with her seemingly innocent youth. “Just in case.”

“Yeah,” you grinned, leaning your arms on the table. “Sounds good. Thanks.”

She had nodded and was beginning to walk off when she noticed Jake sitting with you. When she saw him, her eyes bugged out and she stopped in her tracks before continuing any further.

“Wait–,” she started, her brow lifting. “Are you. . . in a band?”

His eyes darted to yours and then back to hers before he answered with a wide grin. “Yeah, actually,” he replied. “I am. It’s called–.”

“I know what it’s called!” She shrieked, her face lighting up instantaneously. “My friends and I love you guys. We’ve been to a few of your shows. We even saw you at the festival and got your demo CD! We went just for you guys,” she gushed, not pausing for more than a second. “I was so excited when I started to see your posters all over,” she rushed out, squealing a little. “We’re so excited for your shows coming up!”

His grin loosened, his cheeks flushing along with hers. “Well, thanks for coming to see us when we play,” he softly responded. “We have some other music being released soon. With a label,” he winked, glancing your way. You blushed, too, for whatever reason. What was happening in front of you? “Be on the lookout.”

The waitress’s smile took up her entire face. “Oh, we will!” She nodded enthusiastically, watching him closely for a few seconds longer than necessary. “I have to tell you. . . you’re so much hotter up close. I mean, from far away, hell yes. But right here? Oh my god.”

You decided you were definitely ready to leave. 

The guys at the bar began exploding at the football game just then, the rain was still pattering against the window, tempting you. . . and then there was the apparent fangirl who did not want to leave. . . your eyes flickered to Jake’s. He’d been watching you, waiting for a sign.

“Do you mind grabbing those boxes?” He asked politely, his smile a bit more forced now. 

And he didn’t even have to ask twice before she was nodding excitedly and racing off to get him what he wanted. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

Thanks to Jake intervening and then quickly getting your food in the boxes for you, you were in his car within fifteen minutes. He’d effectively taken over the bill and paid for you, and had run to grab his car while he made you wait at the door. 

“You don’t need to be getting sick,” he’d explained, right before he covered the front of his face, beeping his car unlocked, and running to pull it up.

Your heart fluttered in your chest at the way he was tending to you. 

But before you could feel too giddy about it, you felt weird about it. You didn’t want him to suddenly like you again just because you were carrying his baby. He didn’t need to go above and beyond—you didn’t want him to feel obligated to do anything. So, as soon as he’d pulled his Jeep up (and helped you up and inside of it, effectively getting himself soaked again), you got in and waited for him to get in.

As you sat, it encouraged you even more because he’d even gone the extra mile and turned on the seat heaters. He was doing too much when he didn’t need to.

He’d started driving as soon you got in, and you tried damn hard not to watch him drive. Because, you’d just learned, that for some asinine reason, your fucking baby hormones went into overdrive when you’d tried watching a soaking wet Jake behind the wheel of his car. The way he leaned back, relaxed, one arm resting on the console between you two. . .

So, in order to distract yourself, you brought up your winding trail of thought. 

“Please don’t start caring about me again just because I’m carrying your baby.”

You heard him scoff under his breath, the sound alone making your heartbeat quicken as you waited for his response. 

“Start caring about you again? What does that even—?” 

Crossing your arms under your (always sore) boobs, you sat up straighter in your seat to keep some sort of dignity as you further explained. “Jake, you’ve been distancing yourself from me for months now—and for good reason, mind you—I just don’t want you to start doing nice things just because of this situation,” you sighed, deciding to instead lace your hands across your stomach. Training your eyes on your thumbs that tapped your sweatshirt, you continued. “I don’t need you overextending yourself on my behalf.”

He didn’t say anything for a while, and next time you looked up, you were already at the second to last light to the complex. Biting your lip, you contemplated what to say to break the heavy air in the car. . . you always hated when you felt like you’d said something wrong. And you knew you were very good at saying the wrong thing. 

So, you decided on an apology. “I’m sorry if something I said was wrong,” you offered, pitifully. It had been a long night. There was no way you wanted to end it with him mad at you. “Really. I just—.”

“You’re overthinking, y/n,” he promptly cut you off, making a turn to the last light. “I never stopped— I didn’t stop caring about you when we stopped—,” he blew out a breath, stopping at the red light. 

“I’m sorry I said tha—.”

“No. Don’t be sorry. You’re right; I have been distant. And, again, you were right when you said it's for good reason. It’s been for damn good fucking reason,” he clipped, letting the words sit in the air for a minute. “But just because I’m not talking to you or falling asleep next to you—.” He coughed. You could imagine he was shaking his head. “It doesn’t mean I don’t still want what’s best for you. Hence why I’m the one who initiated the therapy conversation. I kept my end of the deal and researched for you because I care.”

Your insides had officially turned to mush and you weren’t sure how to process that he still cared so deeply. But, he was right. . . Him bringing up the therapy showed his heart. . . You knew his heart. Knew how deeply he felt things. . . What you would continue to wonder was why you were something he hadn’t stopped caring about. When you’d been such a massive bitch. You weren’t worth it.

Heart beating quickly in your chest, you cleared your throat as he once again passed through a green light. The last one. You were almost home. 

Gotta wrap it up quickly.

“I’m sorry again,” you muttered. “For not telling you sooner.”

“Don’t be. It was your call to tell who you wanted first,” he sighed, turning on his right blinker to turn into the complex. “I just need to get out of my head about it—need to not let it piss me off.”

You looked out the windshield, the rain had let up. It was only sprinkling now. Taking a deep breath, you admitted to him what you knew to be true. “I really should have told you before Josh. I know that.”

Glimpsing for a millisecond from the corner of your eye, you saw his lip quirk before he looked your way at the perfect moment. Your eyes met briefly before you turned back to observe the parking lot through your window.

“Really?” He questioned warily. “Do you mean that or are you just saying it to make me feel better? Because you don’t have to do that just because I’m being a pussy abou–.”

The snort-laugh that came from you was unintentional, but you couldn’t contain it. “Jake. You aren’t being a pussy.” You turned your head to get a better look at his face now that he’d parked. His eyes waited for yours, highlighted by the fluorescent light he’d parked underneath. Right next to your Jetta. Smiling, you surely stated, “And, yes, I mean it. Truly. I know it would’ve been the right thing for me to tell you first.” 

Considering the car was still running and in park. . .it seemed he wasn’t anxious to get inside. He was content like this. . . at least that’s what you gathered from the way he’d swiveled his body to face you better from his seat. So, you continued on with honesty, while you felt brave. “I was just really scared. Scared to tell you and learn how you’d react. . . I didn’t want to disappoint you with something you really do not need to be responsible for . . .”

Then, the unthinkable happened and he was reaching over to hold your hand over the console. It was a feeling unlike any other–the feeling of his skin against yours. The comfort of his hand, the warmth, the callouses that scratched your flesh the slightest bit as he rubbed the top of your hand with his thumb. How long had it been since he’d touched you?

His voice and the squeeze he gave your hand brought you out of your daze. “Y/n. . . look at me.” You did as he said, following his soft, gravelly tone, finding his eyes with your own. “I am the furthest thing from disappointed.”

“But–,” you shook your head, your brow wrinkled as you searched his eyes. “But the way you left. How angry you were because I hadn’t told you yet–or–or before Josh. . .”

“There’s a difference between feeling plain old upsetedness and full on disappointment,” he clarified, his eyes swimming in yours. His strong hand lightly held yours, squeezing once more. “I assure you, I was never once disappointed tonight that you are having my baby.”

. . .having my baby. The words bounced around in your head. . . hearing him say those words just. . . did something to your heart.

“I’m excited about all of it. Honestly.” He smiled, his eyes crinkling in the corners with how his eyes lit up at the sentiment. “I mean, it was a lot to wrap my mind around and I still haven’t totally grasped the reality yet, but. . . I’m happy. Very happy,” he squeezed once more, still not moving his hand from wrapping the top of yours. “And I really hope you let me take responsibility as the father of the baby, because I really want to know this child. . . already matters so much to me.”

Your heart clenched at his words. . . He meant them and you knew it. Jake’s heart was arguably the most genuine, honest, exquisite you’d ever come across. So, it really didn’t take a second thought to utter your next words. “You can absolutely have the responsibilities of a father. . . if that’s what you want,” you raised your eyebrow with the word if. And at that, he’d nodded with an I do spoken quietly against the lull of the A/C. 

Though, there was one thing that he needed to know. The protective mama in you — that part of you needed to say this for your baby’s sake. He or she would not hurt like you had your whole life. 

“However,” your tone got serious, unwavering. “You can’t pull the shit with leaving like you did tonight with the baby. If you want the responsibility, you’ve gotta be sure.”

“I am,” he said, not missing a beat. “I won’t do that again.”

“I mean, you can do it to me. I can handle it. I’ve learned that that happens. . . but the baby. . . I just–.”

“I’m not leaving either of you alone in this,” he assured, leaning closer to you. Your heart skipped a beat. Due to still drying from the rain, he smelled like the Earth– fresh, sweet, real. Solid. True. “I know you won’t be alone because you have Josh and Elsie and so many other people, but. . . I want to be in this with you and the baby.”

“What about Maya?” You lightly asked, slightly confused. 

“She’s not going anywhere anytime soon,” he responded quickly. Too quickly. It made your chest tight and a giant rock hit the pit of your stomach. “But she will understand that I have to be there for you.”

Not trusting yourself to talk with the tears gathering in your throat, you just nodded before bowing your head to look at your little tummy. Reassurance in the sweetest, most innocent form. 

He took a deep breath, the rush of his breath, fresh from a mint he’d sucked on on the way back. “I really shouldn’t have left you tonight,” he firmly stated.

You looked up from your belly, blinking a few times to register that he was speaking so closely to you, close enough for his breath, now brushed your cheek. Not super close, but close enough. Much closer than he’d been for a while. 

He continued, “And you shouldn’t have to feel guilty for telling me on your own time. You are the one who was in charge of all of those decisions. It’s your body. Your body that’s growing the baby. . . So, it’s your right to decide things like that,” he enunciated, his intent to reassure, clear in his tone. “It just sucks a little bit for me that it was Josh, but that’s on me. . . not you. But even with all of that, I really should not have left. That gave you the opposite idea of what I wanted to give you. . . It was just a-fuckin’-lot to process all at once.”

“Yes, and you are completely entitled to believing that it was a lot–that it is a lot,” you reassured him, regretting a few of your words from earlier. “Even if you’re not the one carrying the baby, it’s going to be intense for you as the father. Maybe even more so–.”

He made a little noise of disagreement, but you just gave a quiet grin, holding up a hand.

“. . .in some senses. Especially since you can only experience it from the outside. I’m the one who is experiencing all of the changes, all of the time. I’m reminded every time I look down or touch my belly, but you don’t have that luxury every moment of the day.”

“Yeah, but it’s still more for you,” he argued.

“It’s okay, Jake,” you smiled. “I still agree. Trust me. I just wanted you to know that I understand how it might end up feeling for you. I was just afraid I made you feel like you weren’t validated in feeling overwhelmed. Leaving made sense. It’s just the worst feeling for a girl with abandonment issues,” you chanced a look down at your tummy, feeling awkward approaching so many personal feelings. It felt weird that it still felt so natural. He just brought it out in you. You quickly covered, not wanting to seem overbearing. “W-which, I can handle it–it is not on you to–”

“No, it is on me,” he seriously professed, eyes earnestly holding onto yours. “I knew about your past and I still left you. I am seriously so sorr–.”

“Jake,” you sighed his name, looking up at him again. His jaw was flexing, eyebrows turned in. “Stop apologizing,” your lips lifted in a soft smile, bringing a hand to sit on top of his. “We all do things we regret and it wouldn’t be fair for us to hold those things against each other. . . when we’ve all done thoughtless things in the heat of the moment.” At the last bit, your eyes left his to flash at your tummy.  Your hand left the top of his to delicately hold your small bump. “Example A of a ‘Heat of the Moment’ moment.”

A quiet beat passed, his face thoughtful as his eyes studied your own before he spoke. 

“I don’t regret that one though,” he said, eyes so big and so beautifully deep with emotion. 

Wetness was suddenly gathering in the corners of your eyes when you traced them over him—over his chest, tanned and exhaling so handsomely with every breath he took. You looked away from his perfect pecs, and back up to his eyes. 

“I don’t either.”

There were a few slow, nearly silent moments where all you could hear was the sound of your combined breaths with the A/C blasting against you both. Your hands still held each other, gripped each other. His hair was dry. His face was dry. And in the secret dimness of the night and the bright light of the tall lamp outside, you could see all of the delicate markings and freckles on his face. The light birthmark on the tan skin of his cheek.

Before you could think to do another ‘Heat of the Moment’ thing (weird term, but it definitely applied to you), and do something like rub the skin of his birthmark with your thumb, he was breaking eye contact, skin contact, and shutting the car off. 

“Better go inside,” he said, pausing as he’d just taken the keys out of the ignition. “It’s getting late.”

“It also might start pouring again,” you added, opening your door, trying to make conversation. 

He didn’t open your door that time, like he had at the restaurant. He just sent a quiet smile your way before getting out of his side. He did, however, wait for you to meet him at the rear bumper of the car before heading back to the apartment. You matched one another’s steps in silence. It was a bit awkward now, unlike the calm, still moment in the car. Your breaths, having combined in the shared space. . .

When you’d made it inside, he told you to go get ready for bed and that he’d feed Stevie and take care of the rest of the apartment.

“You just go to bed,” he waved you off, his expression kind. “It’s been a long night and you need rest.”

He obviously wanted to help, so you let him. Albeit, you let him do so while your heart fell a bit in your chest at your evening with him coming to an end. You hoped that there would be more times like this in the future with the baby you now both knew you shared. 

Absently, you tucked a lock of hair behind your ear, then nodded and gave a faint goodnight. Once you were getting into bed in a giant t-shirt to cover the bit of ass exposed at the edges of your comfortable granny panties, you heard a little knock against your cracked door. 

You waited for him to come in since the door was still cracked, but he didn’t.

“Yeah?” You called, brows drawn in.

He opened the white paneled door just enough to show him at the threshold of your room. His hand was on the knob while he leaned with the opposite forearm against the doorframe. You did very well at not blatantly checking him out. That was something to be proud of. 

Though, you couldn’t be too proud, because you knew it was just because your tiredness had hit you like a ton of bricks. It had been impossible to ignore as soon as you’d felt the cool, soft cotton of the gray oversized t-shirt touch your skin. 

Your blinking was becoming slower and slower by the second. But your eyes perked up a little when he cleared his throat, suddenly interested in anything he had to say. Even if it was something as simple as Stevie not being hungry. Just wanted to hear his voice once more before going to bed.

And you got exactly that as his eyes swept over your face briefly, deep in thought. “I really, genuinely do want to help however I can with the baby stuff—however you want me or need me. I want to help you because it means I’m helping the baby. Our baby.”

Okay, the next time he referred to the baby being his, you were sure your heart was going to beat completely out of your chest. It did things to you.

“Alright,” you responded tiredly, a slight blush warmed your cheeks. “That sounds good.”

When you loudly yawned, he nodded with a quiet grin fitting his handsome features. He began to shut the door, but just before he could, he opened it once more.

“I–,” he cleared his throat. Your stomach felt airy and light at the possibility of what he might say. You didn’t know what to expect, but him talking to you was just. . . exactly what you needed. “I took a drive and listened to music, by the way.” 

You blinked, brow furrowed with confusion. “. . .What?” 

“When I left tonight. I just drove around and listened to music,” he said, his amber-brown eyes, so earnest. “Cleared my head with music.”

“Why are you telling–?” You sleepily wondered aloud.

“I. . . didn’t go see anyone,” he elaborated. “Just wanted you to know that. Also, I promise I won’t tell anyone–including Maya– until you’re ready.” 

“Okay,” you squeaked, unsure of what else to say.

After observing each other for just a few moments after he’d spoken, he suddenly dipped out with a quick ‘Goodnight.’

The thunderstorm picked up again right after he’d left you, Stevie racing in, all frazzled, with her tail fluffed out at the sounds of the storm. The sleep that threatened to cloud your vision was a most welcome friend as you let yourself become cozy under your soft, high thread count sheets and fluffy, featherlight duvet. Your head was nestled against the pillow, Stevie snuggled against your ankles, purring. And your brain was just wandering off to slumberland when you understood why he’d said what he did about not being with anyone. . . it finally clicked. 

He’d wanted you to know he hadn’t been with Maya like you’d assumed. Like you’d brashly accused him of at Applebee’s.

. . .But why did he care to tell you? 

-🌼🌼🌼-

The next morning, you sat at the counter with a book about pregnancy, taking notes. It was the end of your new morning routine. 

You didn’t have class or work for the day, so you were enjoying some much needed down time. The idea that you’d be able to take countless naps literally made goosebumps rise on your skin. 

“Hey.”

And now you had even more goosebumps erupting at the sound of his raspy voice. 

“Morning,” you replied, highlighting a line in your book about staying ‘physically active’ during pregnancy. 

“Morning. You feeling okay?”

“Mhm. . .” you replied, halfway present and barely looking up from the page and the sticky you were jotting a note onto.

“Taking notes?”

“So many,” you giggled, your eyes finally looking up to find him dressed and ready for the day at the Keurig, preparing a cup of coffee. “All the time, I’m doing research.”

“I believe it,” he replied, clicking his K-cup in the holder. The hot drink was trickling into his mug when he looked at you in question. “Based on your research, can you have caffeine? Could I make you a coffee or something?”

“Um, not the safest in high amounts,” you pondered, flipping to the page where you’d just read about that a few days ago and quoted the book for him. “‘Drinking caffeine during pregnancy has some major health risks. The caffeine gets digested much slower and goes through the placenta into your baby’s bloodstream,’” you droned, feeling obnoxious with the long response. 

“Interesting. Anything else it says about it?”

You raised a brow and gave him an ‘mhm’ before looking at the page again. “‘This means that the caffeine side effects of a racing heart rate, high blood pressure, and a stimulated nervous system affect you and your baby. The result is a higher chance of miscarriage. Even small amounts have been known to cause a 13% increase in low birth weight for your newborn,’” you glanced up, he was rubbing his chin, listening to every word. So, you finished out the paragraph. “‘Try switching to a naturally decaffeinated herbal tea, but do consult your doctor or midwife as certain herbs can cause premature labor.’”

“Have you tried any herbal tea?”

You made a gagging motion. Herbal tea honestly did not strike your fancy at this stage in your life. “The baby says herbal tea sounds disgusting,” you joked. He huffed a laugh with you as you finished your thought. “I’m looking into smoothies to start the day. I’m actually going to try making a few today since I’m home all day.”

“Cool. Just thought I’d offer,” he finished. 

Or so you thought.

After getting his coffee off the Keurig, he made his way around the counter to sit in the barstool next to you. Heat washed over your face at his closeness.

“Speaking of doctor or midwife. . . which are you going with?”

“Doctor,” you answered. “Her name is Dr. Rose. Sweet, middle aged, Southern lady.”

“Oh, you’ve had your first appointment?” He asked, sounding curious and a little apprehensive. 

“Yeah. . . First one last week.”

“Oh,” he replied, sounding just a little discouraged. But he tried to cover it. “Cool. How did it go? Did you have to go alone?”

“Mhm,” you said, suddenly digging into a page and very seriously taking notes on a sticky note about random ass shit you could care less about. “Josh went. It went well.”

He hummed, not responding right away. And you knew why. 

You really did feel guilty now that you’d taken Josh to your first appointment and not Jake. He was the baby’s father, after all. And thinking about how he’d have reacted to seeing the baby with you, both of you, for the first time. . . You were suddenly very downcast as you thought of the missed opportunity. 

“But you can come to the rest of them with me,” you rushed out, suddenly looking up at him as you said so. His eyes were huge as he watched you be neurotic. God, you were annoying. “If–if you want. I don’t want to pressure you.”

“O–of course. Yes,” he stuttered. “You tell me when and I’ll be there. Every single one.”

You realized he sounded eager and thrilled, not frightened like you feared. 

“Okay,” you acknowledged, slightly breathless. 

Once again, you were in the same situation as you had been last night. He was, once more, so close. Right there. Your shared breathing, the only sound comprehensible to your ears in the calm, quiet of the morning. His breath, smelling of coffee, should have turned you off. . . but it didn’t not at all. And the way he went to lick his lips, just once– his eyes, not leaving yours. . . 

Then, he was jolted back to reality, blinking furiously. 

“I’ve, um, gotta go run some errands and then I have a meeting with the label,” he suddenly said, rising up. He grabbed his cup, rushing around, dumping it in the sink before grabbing a cinnamon bagel from the pantry. He bent to get a Zip-loc bag from a lower cabinet, and your eyes moved on their own to his ass in his light denim jeans. 

What. A. Sight. Now you were darting your tongue out to sweep over your lips.

He zipped up the bagel and left it on the counter to hurry to his room. When he reappeared, he was holding his phone, sending a text based on the sound, before he tucked it into his front pocket. He also held a beat up guitar case. 

“Still carrying around that same old case?” You grinned, a brow perked at the sight of the duct tape holding it together. A few stickers here and there, littering the case. “Not a new one to match your new rockstar life?”

“The case adds character,” he winked, your blushing face, the victim. Then, he was on his way to the door, keys jingling out of the bowl on the counter and into his hand. “Let me know if you need anything today.”

You were responding with an agreeing noise and word as he shut the door behind him. But when your eyes scanned the counter again, you saw the bagel. Even though it was just a bagel with cinnamon swirl, it was still his breakfast. He needed to eat. That’s what had you rushing out the door after him, your page getting a quick sticky pressed into it.

And, as soon as you saw the twinkle in his eye at you remembering to grab the bagel for him, you realized that you just wanted that. If you were being completely honest, you’d just needed that one last smile to start your day. The perfect start to a morning, you’d say. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

You decided to order some chicken fajitas from a local restaurant. DoorDash was your new best friend with the pregnancy cravings. 

Chicken fajitas were a new favorite for the baby. A weekish ago when you’d first tried them as a pregnant woman, you’d learned they tasted more delicious than they ever had before. They didn’t make your tummy roll.

As you waited for the food to arrive, you decided to do some tidying around the apartment. You washed a couple of dishes you’d left in the sink from the morning, and picked up notebooks, textbooks, and toys of Stevie’s from around the living room. Then, after further inspection of the living room, you realized it could handle a sweep or two with a vacuum. And after that, you decided to Swiffer the kitchen. Didn’t feel like full-on mopping, but you had to round out the floor cleaning. 

Before you could head to your bedroom or restroom to clean those spaces, a boundary was drawn for you when you heard a knock at the front door. DoorDash. Food. Fajitas.

Suddenly, unashamedly, your mouth was watering. Food took total priority over cleaning and you left the vacuum and Swiffer precisely where they were. You never left them out after cleaning, but you were hungry, okay? 

But just as you’d made it to the door, you didn’t have to open it. Instead, you heard polite conversation from the other side, thank you’s and have a good night’s. 

Before he opened the door, you went ahead and did it for him. And so, when you did, there was Jake, holding your food. The fajitas didn’t matter much anymore. 

Well. . . That was until he walked in and you got a good whiff of the steaming, seasoned vegetables and grilled chicken. Priorities were back to normal real quick with an embarrassing rumble from your stomach. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

Once you’d eaten all of your food in basically one bite, you sat on your sofa with a damn good book you were quickly becoming entranced by. But about twenty minutes into you sitting there, Jake appeared from where he’d disappeared to shower after he’d sat your food on the counter.

“You know, I keep thinking about something,” Jake started, coming to sit on the opposite end of the couch from you.

He was freshly showered— looking and smelling fucking delicious–hints of citrus came from his drying hair. Then, you smelled the warm and slightly sweet scent of sandalwood as he moved, propping his pajama clad legs on the coffee table in front of you two, unsticking his ripped t-shirt from his probably still-wet chest. You tried very hard not to watch him situate himself, too. The way he adjusted the inner seam of his pants, dangerously close to his. . . 

Yeah, you looked away. Focused hard on the book you were trying your damnedest to read. His body was a massive distraction. 

Trying to not be totally inappropriate, you replied to his earlier statement, still training your eyes on the page in front of you. “What were you thinking about?”

“I brought up the therapy thing the other night,” he started. You gave an absentminded ‘mhm’ in response, finally finding slight interest in the characters in front of you again. “And I’ve been wondering. Did you ever give that a second thought? Starting therapy?”

You blinked your eyes a few times, trying to catch up with the more serious topic of conversation. Looking up from your book, you closed it and put it to the side. When you placed the novel on the coffee table, he followed your hand back to you. His eyes found yours and your eyes fluttered again. You shook your head. “Yeah,” you trained your features, letting a smile float to your lips at his attention to you. “I actually–um–I started going.”

His features showed unkempt elation at your words. His eyes, bright and a wide smile on his lips. He sat up, facing you better than before, a foot balanced on the floor as the other bent with his body leaning towards you. “Seriously?!”

“Yeah,” you blushed. Why did he care so much? Surely it was mostly for the wellbeing of the baby. Right? 

You know he cared before he knew about the baby, a calm voice hushed in the corners of your mind. Just let him in. Don’t be afraid.

Clearing your throat, you kept up with your thoughts and tried to open up in spite of your ever-swirling unsureness. “Thank you for doing the research. Really. I’m super grateful. You gave me the push I needed and I’ll never be able to thank you enough. The baby, too,” you added. “I wanted to get better for the baby. You two made quite the team in helping me want to be better.”

His cheeks reddened, complimenting his skin tone and the few freckles and scars that dotted his cheeks. He shook his head, “Don’t thank me. I just wanted to help–that’s it. You made the brave move to start,” his lips twitched with a quiet, close-lipped grin. “How’s it going? Well–no–you don’t have to answer–that’s not my–.”

You ignored him, suddenly feeling this urge to fill him in. “I love my therapist. Like, she is already one of my favorite people on this fucking earth,” you beamed, thinking of Gia’s wonderful aura and personality. “And we actually start EMDR in a couple of weeks.”

“Oh,” he started, surprised. His eyes widened as he leaned back into the arm of the couch nearest him. “You decided on EMDR, too?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, glancing down briefly before letting your eyes dance with his again. “That seemed to be the only logical route since there’s so much shit to dig through that I don’t even–can’t even remember. It seemed like the most intensive form of therapy and I needed that.”

“Are you afraid of what you might find?”

“Yes,” you replied without question. “But, that’s the only way you can properly heal. Sometimes things that feel right–like EMDR, because it just feels like the right path already– those things, they’re going to probably also feel a little uncomfortable and feared at first. But, it all leads to the ultimate destination of being healed. And that’s what matters most.”

There was a quietness, a cozy silence that settled between the two of you. A few moments where you shared breaths and your gazes intertwined. . . It felt heavenly to share space with him like this when things felt normal and all right between the two of you. There wasn’t another word for it. 

His eyes were sincere with his tone when he broke the silence. “Y/n,” he breathed your name, making your tummy flutter with the most illustrious butterflies. “I am so fucking proud of you.”

Suddenly feeling like you were getting too much praise for something you were doing for the baby rather than yourself, you shook your head and brushed him off with a wave of your hand. “Don’t be,” you encouraged with a little scoff, shaking your head. “It’s not a big deal. Really.”

“I will be proud and it is a big deal,” he concluded. “All I’ve wanted is for you to feel closer to being whole–you deserve it.”

“The baby deserves it most,” you argued–didn’t want to be self-centered on the subject. “It’s for the baby.”

“Well,” he cleared his throat, crossing his arms across the chest of his white t-shirt. “I want you to focus on helping yourself, too, y/n. Please,” he asked, tone softening. Your eyes flickered across his. “I brought it up in the first place because I wanted you to feel better.”

You took it as food for thought, nodding at his words. Truly, you did consider what he’d said. . . his opinion mattered a helluva lot to you–probably too much. But you didn’t want to waver from who you were doing it mostly for. Your hand found your tummy as you reached the coffee table for your book and Stanley. 

Taking a big sip from your trusty tumbler, you eyed him once more before opening your book. You didn’t want him to feel obligated to stay in here with you when you were sure he had better things to do. “I will remember that,” you offered with a small grin, flipping your book open to where you dog-eared it. 

You waited for him to get up from his spot on the couch, but. . . he didn’t. He stayed put, situating his body to face the TV. 

In your peripheral vision, you saw how his legs spread across the cushion and once again tried to ignore ignore ignore. But you couldn’t help the thought that there was just something so fucking enticing about Jake Kiszka manspreading. It was gross when every other man did it. But Jake? All it made you want to do was straddle his sturdy hips.

Fuck. Focus on the book. Come on, y/n.

“Also. . .you realize, if you are craving something,” he began, pulling you from your book yet again. “You don’t have to DoorDash it. I’m always willing to go get you the food you are wanting.”

To put it simply, you were surprised by the turn in conversation. It was sort of random, but also not random all at the same time. 

For no reason whatsoever, you decided to combat the sweet offer. “What if you’re with Maya when I’m craving something?”

Why the fuck were you like this? Honestly, it felt mostly like a form of protection from getting your hopes up too high. . . it was a coping mechanism. But you hated it. It was stupid.

He hummed, thinking. Then, he piped up with an answer in no time. “I’ll just try to make sure we hang out here more than her house. Simple.”

Oh, joy.

“You’d rather be here than her massive mansion of a home?” You questioned, trying to not think about seeing her stupidly stunning face more than you wanted to. 

“Well, yeah,” he confusedly responded. “This is my home and I like being here.”

His home. He liked being here. The words pulled at you–in every direction. Broke you and made you wish things were different.

“How does she afford that, by the way?” You unapologetically nosed, not wanting to sit in any downhearted thoughts. It was rude to pry, you knew. But you didn’t really care at the moment.

He chuckled raspily, reaching to the coffee table for the Roku remote. When your eyes immediately looked over your book to peer at his waist, you didn’t think twice about it. It was whatever. “She’s the financial manager for this big corporation on Fifth Avenue.”

Your stomach fell. Jesus. Besides having trash music taste, apparently she was incredibly intelligent, too? What didn’t she have? You couldn’t even figure out what the fuck you wanted to do with your life and she was financially managing a giant ass company?Depressing as hell. Showed you your worth once again, in comparison to her. She was someone and you were literally nobody. 

“Can I watch something?” He asked you, patiently waiting. You gave a half-ass ‘yeah, of course’ in reply, not fully present. 

And when he eventually turned on some documentary about pirates that sort of piqued your interest, too, you decided to close your book for a final time. And you didn't put any more substance to your gloomy self-consciousness. It was your own fault you were feeling this way now–being nosy when you shouldn’t have been. Prying into someone’s life who’d never done anything wrong to you. 

Yeah, she’d slept with Jake. . . but did she even know that you’d also–? Shit. Did she know that the woman her boyfriend lived with used to fuck him, too? How in the hell would she react to the news if she didn’t already know that–? Your stomach twisted into knots at the thought of her finding out about. . . all of it.

The courage sprouted up as a historian started speaking on an infamous female pirate. “Does–does Maya know that we used to. . .?”

His brows dipped, thoughtful, turning down the television to acknowledge you’d spoken. But, he kept watching the documentary, his eyes honed in on the black-boxed subtitles. “No, actually. No she doesn’t. Didn’t really feel the need to tell her.”

Of course he didn’t feel the need. It kind of really hurt, but it wasn’t on Jake. Not at all. You knew very well that the sex probably wasn't as important to him as he’d once expressed. You’d been so angry and hateful to him, enough to drive away any sort of deep, lingering feelings that might have lied there. 

He knew that it wasn’t special enough that she needed to know. It was something of the past. All that mattered now was her. Only now. . . There was one inevitable reason it would have to come to light. You didn’t give voice to the obvious. The fact that, now, he would have to tell her. And you both knew it. 

As he turned the volume up a couple notches, you couldn’t help but wonder how the fuck would she react. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

November 21, 2022

You couldn’t have made it to your car any faster if you tried. Looking at your parking decision in hindsight, you realized you should have parked closer to the campus advisory office. But you hadn’t. You’d left your car parked where it had been for class. So now you had to walk a much longer distance that you could have avoided. . . If you’d just thought ahead.  

And in depressing moments like these, you wished you would have. The tears that flew down your cheeks in steady tracks made you beyond grateful that you hadn’t worn mascara. You’d had to meet with your advisor today to touch base and talk career plans. . . It was something that Pratt had decided to add to all program studies, for senior students. The idea of the meeting was to help students feel supported. 

But you didn’t feel fucking supported. Not at all. The way your advisor had blatantly judged you for even daring to bring up the idea of being a lyricist. . . She had instantly struck your idea down with a curt shake of her head and furrowed brows. Her eyes had lit up with laughter. But thankfully, she hadn’t been so terrible as to actually laugh in your face. 

Her words hadn’t been much better than that alternative, though. She’d unabashedly, condescendingly criticized your idea of becoming a lyricist. She made you feel stupid for ever even thinking of it as a possibility. 

“I’m not saying it’s impossible, but there’s a very slim chance that a label will take a fresh graduate. That’s a career you have to prove yourself in. Takes a long time to do that, a lot of experience that you don’t have.” 

The snarky tone in her voice pissed you off. Her words stuck with you enough that they dared to crush every dream you had about your future, which is something an advisor should not do. They should encourage, not discourage, to the point of making their advisee’s feel like utter shit after an appointment. 

So, as you finally made it to your car, you tried to contain the sobs that threatened to escape. . . but to no avail. Because, over and over again, you thought of how your advisor–someone who should be helping you to pursue your dreams–basically told you that you weren’t good enough for the one thing you wanted to do. She’d told you as much in her “officially official doctorate-level” advisor lingo. If her goal had been to completely crush you, she’d done just that. 

You were glad your next stop was therapy because you desperately needed to hear Gia’s two cents.

-🌼🌼🌼-

November 21, 2022

You spent roughly 30 minutes filling Gia in on the past week of your life. She heard all about you telling Jake, talking to your campus advisor, and any other thing that came to mind to tell her. 

When you started the session, Gia had let you know that you only had the first thirty minutes because you needed to find your mental and emotional safe place by the end of the session. It was today’s goal to establish that place. Finding your footing in the safe place was a vital precursor before you began EMDR. She’d had great advice for your life update, once you’d effectively word-vomited all over her. 

To your utter relief, the career thing didn’t bother her at all. Her expression barely changed as she’d shrugged. The first thing she’d done was assure you that everything would be fine and it would work out and that you have time to figure it out, despite what societal norms would tell you. So, even though that had been the biggest, most terrifying thing on your mind when you’d shown up to counseling today, you decided to not worry about it since Gia didn’t seem disturbed by the news at all. 

“Anything is possible,” she’d reassured you once your tears had momentarily stopped after telling her everything your advisor had said. “Don’t let a few words–opinions– from one woman make you disbelieving of that fact.”

Her opinions on Jake were positive, too, which made your heart swell in your chest. Though, it simultaneously broke for the fact that you couldn’t kiss him and hug him and be with him to tell him what she thought of him. Would he think it was weird if you told him what she thought of him? Would it freak him out that you’ve talked about him enough to Gia that she has a solid preconceived opinion of him?

“And Jake. . .,” she’d remarked at the end of the thirty minute mark, rolling back in her chair to her desk to get a big swig of her herbal tea. Your baby thought it was gross, your stomach rolling, but good for her and her nasty tea. “He is an outstanding example of a man. I’m impressed with his actions, his words. . . all of it. He seems like a stand up guy, and I hope I get to meet him one of these days,” her grin was sly, but you didn’t know why. 

So, yes, while your heart beat erratically and longingly at her words about him, it simultaneously broke your heart for the fact that you couldn’t kiss him and hug him and be with him to tell him what she thought of him. Would he think it was weird if you told him what she thought of him? Would it freak him out that you’ve talked about him enough to Gia that she has a solid preconceived opinion of him?

It made you think, as you watched her type notes on her laptop . . . Would you have told him if you were still seeing each other? Surely so. . . But maybe not. . . you weren’t really the best at complimenting him. And you sort of (desperately) hated that.

Don’t fucking think about it, y/n, a thoughtful, protective voice said to you. Just think about you right now. 

So, you did the best you could to shove any thought of being a bitch to him from your mind. And instead focused on Gia’s comfortable couch. Soft camel-colored leather. The way the cushion sank under you felt like sitting on a dense cloud. She was making light conversation before getting to the nitty gritty. You focused on her the best you could. 

Today would be your first venture into the realm of EMDR. . . . And you were anxious to begin this long-awaited journey of replenishing your soul with the incredible gift of reprocessing. 

“The safe place we are finding today will be where you go when things become too much during our EMDR sessions.” Gia wheeled closer to you in her light pink office chair, the smell of eucalyptus and mint following her, as she must use it as a sort of body oil or spray. She carried the calming smell with her everywhere. And the office, so wonderfully consoling with the scent of lavender. The little machine that spurted the essential oil every 10 minutes. All of these things combined, keeping the room drenched in calm. 

“There are places your mind is going to take you, some darker than others. These are scenes from your life that you will need to experience again in order for us to process through them so you can heal through them. Considering, you know, EMDR is simply a reprocessing technique,” she explained, adjusting her wire lens frames on her nose. “In order to not feel trapped, claustrophobic, or overwhelmed in these memories, you will need to have a safe place to turn to–a place to run to–a scene to easily unlock. It might be unknown to you until you actually plant your feet in that scene, but this place is already the natural wave your brain takes to feel safe.” She added one more thing to this train of thought. “This will just be the first time your brain is able to fully experience it. . . because you’re actually giving yourself the permission to do so.”

She held her hands out, palms up, and you took the hint and placed your hands in hers. As you would have guessed, her hands were soft as silk, matching the rest of her fairy-like aura. She squeezed once, lightly before continuing, “Now, I will be there the whole time, watching you, to monitor if you are doing alright. Sometimes you can sense it and get out, and other times it’s a little bit trickier. I will watch your eyes and the way your muscles tense, to gauge how I believe you’re feeling. Your body language will speak the words you may not be able to. This is an incredibly intricate form of therapy that we will wade through together. You will never be alone.”

She grinned, and you did the same. The way she explained these things to you was so assuaging. Were you scared? Hell yes. Of course you were scared. You were about to experience events that had become so dark and secreted in your mind, that they’d left you deep, lasting trauma. . . for a second time.

The re-experiencing aspect was daunting. But. . . you weren’t intimidated. You felt strong to withstand what was to come from your mind. There was the sense that you could overcome the darkness that was buried–some forgotten, some not–in your mind. . . especially if Gia was there to help you through it.

She let go of your hands after giving one more reassuring press. Then she was wheeling back to her desk.

“How are you feeling? Are you comfortable?” Gia asked, grabbing a round, average size cloth, zipped bag off of her desk and placing it in her lap. 

“I’m honestly feeling very much at ease right now. And, yes,” you replied honestly. You pressed your hands into the cool leather of the couch you were sitting on, your hands sinking into the ideally aged material. “I love your couch.”

“That’s good,” she smiled, full lips stretching over her white teeth. “Now, I want you to do a few calming exercises with me. We will start with deep breaths, then we will practice a few eye movement exercises. You just let me know when you’re ready.”

Not wanting to wait any longer, you responded readily. “I would love to begin whenever.”

“You’re sure?” 

“Yes,” you replied, brows fixed and eyes serious. “The sooner I can heal from this, myself, the sooner I’ll be healed for my baby. I’m ready.”

She raised a perfectly trimmed, coffee-colored brow. “You’re incredible, y/n.”

You rolled your eyes, but thanked her nonetheless. You weren’t incredible. Your baby was, and he or she was why you were doing this. The baby was your push, without even being born yet–the baby was the powerful one. 

Gia had you complete a variation of calming breathing exercises to center yourself. And after those, you completed eye movement exercises for the first time in your entire life. It was . . . odd, yet equally nice.

“Your body is loosening. You’re letting yourself transcend–easing your mind,” she said, voice airy and light. Your form felt just as light as her tone. “Now, open your eyes. We’ll do a shortened version of those techniques right before we begin. 

Your eyes slowly opened back to reality to see her unzipping the round black case she’d been holding in her lap. When she opened it, the contents of it were brand new to you. You’d never really seen a thing like the devices she was moving to hold in her hands. She pulled out two little black devices that were attached to a chord plugged into a slightly larger black box. This one, though, had knobs and buttons decorating the front of it. Your curiosity was growing by the second.

She wheeled her chair over to you once more, holding the black gadgets in each hand.

“These are tactical paddles,” she said, motioning for you to take them. When you did, she turned a knob on the black box she was still holding, sending a full vibration to the ones in your hands. “They’re buzzers that will help activate both sides of your brain during the session.”

They were buzzing one by one as you held them in the middle of your palms. You couldn’t tell if it was just your imagination, but you swore you felt each side of your brain moving right along with them. She scooted back a bit, giving you space to experience the feeling. She adjusted the knob just slightly once she’d moved away and you felt their vibrations speed up a little. 

“Do they feel okay?” She asked, situating the frames of her glasses higher on the bridge of her nose. “How are you feeling?”

“It’s strange,” you said without thinking. “It’s very comfortable to hold them. . . but that is part of why it’s strange.”

Gia loosely giggled at that and reassured you that that reaction was more than typical and that she always considered that particular combination of feelings a good place to begin.  

After completing the body relaxation practices once more, you were being guided by Gia. “Relax your body. Lean back. Lay back. Whatever feels best for you.” With the last word, she adjusted the paddles down to a more neutral setting. Your hands felt tingly in a weird, yet contented way.

“Bring to mind the intention that you are practicing feeling safe when you actually are safe,” she softly said, soothing. “One of the best ways to evoke this feeling of safety is to imagine being in a place that you might really enjoy being–wherever you may feel naturally safe, peaceful, and/or calm.” She paused briefly, the paddles changed speed as your head started to become light. “It can be a real place or a place that you’ve come to imagine in your mind on instinct. This is the place you travel at the idea of feeling serene.”

You breathed an ‘okay’ in response, but focused more on the way the instruments in your hands were aiding in sending you somewhere. You felt the atmosphere of your mind slowly changing–equally present and not.

The word Gia had earlier used. . .’transcend.’ It was the perfect word because you currently were completely, wholly transcendent.

“I’m right here,” Gia quietly, gently reminded you, as the blackness behind your eyes took hold, becoming the only thing your five senses could grasp, aside from the sound of Gia’s gentle guidance. “You are doing great.”

You felt the instantaneous feeling of a light breeze brush your face. It pushed you back, but you also felt the feeling of your body keeping still. There were two places. Reality: Gia’s office. And somewhere completely unknown. . . You were somewhere new. 

This wasn’t a place you’d ever been before. The barely-there sounds of birds chirping in trees within a forest that guarded you, on all sides, reverberated off the walls of your mind. The sounds, the breeze– they helped you find your footing. And suddenly, your feet were bare against the partially warm, partially cool feeling of damp dirt. Rain had recently come to this place. You could smell the rain. But every crevice of your mind knew it wasn’t raining anymore. No, you knew that the moment you opened your eyes, you’d find a light, clear blue sky, maybe a couple wisps of clouds painting against the beautifully blank canvas of azure. But you weren’t opening your eyes yet. You focused on everything else taking shape around you. 

The paddles continued to transfer varying speeds between your palms, but it was the last thing on your mind. They were the guide that you knew to follow, but didn’t have to concentrate on. 

Your nose tuned in to the smell of flowers around you. . . All kinds, but there was a particular plant infiltrating your mind the most. . . Though, you knew you wouldn’t be able to place it until you opened your eyes. It was strange because you knew the smell, but your lack of sight was keeping the name of the flower hidden. 

Other things were hidden with your eyes still closed, but you kind of enjoyed the blank space. 

This season. . . the most wonderful tiny person was bound to grace the world in this season. Spring. It was springtime. You knew that much. Once your mind realized the season you were placed in, your eyes opened a little more to the scene around you. 

Lavender. An entire field of the wonderfully fragrant plant, surrounding you with its calming notes. And it was beautiful. Never in your whole life had you been in such a beautiful space, yet your mind had no problem creating it for you. 

“Tell me what you see, but keep your eyes closed for me,” you heard Gia’s voice, although it sounded a hundred miles away. It was hushed, distant, like you were hearing her through a tunnel–only an echo in your mind. It was strange. Your physical form was still seated on the comfy couch, but you were standing amongst the most lovely sea of lavender. 

“I’m. . .I’m not really sure where I am,” you whispered, feeling like raising your voice would disturb the serenity of this place you’d stumbled upon. “I’ve never been here before. It’s–it’s incredible.”

Much like Gia’s, your own voice felt muted in your head. But, unlike her, you were standing in the middle of a narrow tunnel, whereas she was at the end. You were traveling somewhere. Obviously.

“That’s okay,” she tells you. You suddenly felt the paddles quicken ever so gently in their pace, but they felt good. Comforting. Real. “Just tell me everything you’re seeing right now.”

“Lavender. . .A field of lavender. A forest surrounding me. Blue sky. . .,” You couldn’t feel much of saying the word lavender. “So much of it. I could just lay in it, let it surround me.” 

“So you’re outside– good. What else do you see? Is there any wildlife?” The echo of her voice became even more distant as you began walking around, searching for whatever else was there with you. 

Deer. A whole family across the field, taking nourishment from the flowers and emerald green grass. They weren’t like normal deer, though. They didn’t run from you as you approached them. They weren’t scared, they just existed peacefully within this place. Then, you heard the birds begin chirping again, as if on queue. 

“Birds are singing. . . There are deer,” you felt yourself telling her, still in amazement with your next words. “They’re really beautiful. And they’re not afraid of me. . .? I can almost touch them.” 

This was entirely unreal, yet all too real all at once. Never in your wildest dreams did you ever believe your mind was capable of this. Yet, there you were, witnessing the most alluring scene that you were sure didn’t physically exist anywhere on earth. Only in your mind. Safely in your mind. No one could destroy it, no one could infiltrate it. It was all yours.

“That sounds wonderful, y/n. Let's focus on a few other senses. Tell me what you smell,” Gia’s sweet voice sounded as if it was coming from the sky, from the wind. It was all around you, yet so far away. 

You felt your present body take a deep breath through your nose, trying to get the best whiff you could of everything surrounding your psyche. 

“I smell the lavender. It’s overwhelming, but in the best way. God it. . .It smells so good. So. . . Fresh. It’s newly bloomed. And I can smell rain. It’s not raining now but it was.”

“Good,” Gia softy said. “What can you touch? Tell me what it feels like.” 

You reached down to run your fingers over a spray of the dark violet flowers, their scent became even more powerful as you lightly ruffled them. 

“I’m touching the lavender,” you told her. “The buds are so soft, so light to touch. They feel delicate, but I know they won’t break. They’re sturdy. But they aren’t stiff.” 

Aside from the way they felt against your hands, they also emitted a feeling of pure peace. Of tranquility. A good, clean energy unlike anything you’d ever felt. 

“I can almost feel them too, y/n.” You heard her giggle quietly across the field. “What are you  doing? Are you standing, sitting?”

You then felt the urge to lie down. So, you did. Your body felt weightless in your mind as you let yourself fall backward, landing softly amidst the blooms. It felt like the most comfortable bed you’d ever laid in. But before you answered her, you felt your hands within your mind reach down to your tummy. You had to know if your sweet baby was there with you. 

And as you laid your palm gently over your tiny bump, you felt it. Your baby was with you, safely tucked away in the most calm place you’d ever known. It only made sense that your physical form of comfort found its way to your mental one, too. Feeling your bump here made you feel. . .complete. Although, there was still something missing. You didn’t know what, but you felt it. But at that moment, your baby was all you needed. 

Or so you thought. 

Because when you let yourself sit up from where you’d laid in the magnificent, flourishing field of flowers, you finally felt complete because the last person you needed had arrived. 

He was standing across from you, on the opposite side of the field. His long, wavy chestnut locks, flowing just the slightest bit in the breeze of the dreamy spring day. He wore a blue suit. A dark blue, three-piece suit with a dark blue shirt underneath it all to match. 

He was so handsome. Beyond stunning. The most immaculately created person. . .

He didn’t stay there for long before he was making his way toward you, striding as he naturally did. His walk, so smooth and sexy–always. 

As he came closer, you were learning that, in this realm, time moved just a tad bit different than normal. He seemed to make it over to you in less than a minute, even from the other end of the expansive field of light purple. 

Then, he was right beside you, lying down next to where you still sat next to him. He’d placed his left arm behind his head, to balance and lift himself a little. And, his left arm, spread out, ready for you to lay beside him. Lay with him. 

He didn’t say anything, but you knew that was what he wanted. You’d laid this way with him a million times before.

So, you moved to lay with him in a way that felt like coming home. You laid back, so comfortably relaxing your tired muscles as you placed a hand on his chest, and one side of your face against it. Curling your body into his, you laid one leg over his, your body facing toward him. Your bump was pressed snugly and safely against the side of his abdomen. Safe. 

Everything was safe here. Truly was the safest place your mind could conjure. You felt his steady breaths against the top of your head as you looked out past him, to the side of the field. Where the birds still chirped in the trees and the deer still meandered. 

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, his voice equal with the breeze–quiet, calm. His breaths hit your head with each word, he was so near. . . but his words also echoed amongst the trees, all around you. 

Then, it was Gia’s voice you heard whisper through the trees. 

“You’ve found it, haven’t you? Your safe place,” she questioned knowingly, her tone lilted with excitement for you. 

Had you? 

Before you could consider it any longer, his hand came up to rest against your head, brushing so delicately through your loose strands of hair. Your body hummed, feeling one with the wind as he held you. Protected you. Stayed with you. Your body was telling you your answer in your curated fantasy, communicating it to your concrete form as you uttered it aloud.

“Yes,” you sighed, your body on the couch and still in Jake’s arms. You were vividly existing in your imagination and in reality all at once. This feeling would take some getting used to. While you were in shock, you were also not shocked at all. “Y-yes, I’ve found it.”

Jake . . . was he–? 

The lavender was glorious and the field you laid in, the soft ground, was better than any bed you’d ever graced. . . The deer were exquisite and lovely. The song of the birds, sounding like mystical, heavenly hymns. . . The sound of the trees brushing together in the warm breeze of the cool spring day, making their own music, and better than any white noise you’d ever experienced.

But Jake. . . None of those things even came close to the way you felt in his arms. The way you felt light as air and at ease the moment he’d graced your presence. You’d felt your peace and the baby’s when he’d graced the scene. Still did, as you melted into him, his breaths, his heartbeat, helping you feel free and firmly planted, one with all living things–all at once. There was no question that it was him. 

Jake was your safe place.

-🌼🌼🌼-

“Now, I want you to make sure you’re finding quiet time to locate your safe place,” Gia advised, getting up from her rolling chair as soon as you’d risen from the couch. “It’s essential to practice before the sessions. You want it to be an easy place to locate during the really hard resurgence of memories,” she coached you, pushing her chair to her desk. 

“Got it,” you agreed, head still swimming a little as you steadily came back to reality. The prospect of traveling to that place in your spare time was a little intimidating. . . But also very exciting. 

Seeing Jake so vividly in such a serene atmosphere on a regular basis sounded like paradise. You could definitely find time to practice that. 

“If you’re not opposed, I would maybe find someone to drive you to your sessions,” Gia suggested, going to clean the paddles with a spray and microfiber towel. You tuned back in, alertness settling in. “These sessions,” she made eye contact with you after bending over to grab her tube of Clorox wipes. “They are bound to be–no, they will be incredibly intense,” she used a towel she’d retrieved from the container to wipe it down. “Just someone you can trust to be there for you afterwards. . . so you’re not alone when you’re coming down from these memories that will present themselves again.”

Still smelling hints of lavender and feeling the warmth of a chest beneath you in some other heavenly reality, you knew who you’d pick. Was it a crazy idea? What did Gia think? Would she tell you her opinion or would you be forced to figure this out on your own? You didn’t want to seem crazy . . . . or weird.

You had just found your voice to respond when she started speaking again.

“Who do you think would be the best–?”

“I actually have an idea of who–.”

The way your chest bubbled with laughter alongside her was wonderful. It felt like the most genuine giggle you’d ever exuded. You truly felt like you were in a sphere of incomparable serenity. The way your body felt. . . you felt complete. You felt self-assured. Still smiling, you raised a brow and motioned one hand to emphasize that she should continue with her train of thought. Your other hand safely held your belly, right where your baby was resting in its safe cocoon. 

“You might not like it,” she grinned. 

Instantly, you knew who she was talking about. 

Gia sighed, settling the paddles securely back in their zipped black bag. Her eyes found yours, testing the waters. Then she offered her opinion in a firm tone, “Jake would be ideal. He would be my option,” she winked, encouraging.

Your chest exhaled in relief. You weren’t crazy. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

Gia had sensed your unsureness as she walked you to the front desk. She was taller than you with a sort of swagger in her trendy set of corduroy overalls. 

Nerves were wracking you, sweat already pricking in your armpits. You’d voiced your concerns to her in her office to which she’d told you to follow her.So, you had.

And when you made it to the front ‘desk’ (a tall counter with a window in front of it), you linked your hands under your belly with a sigh. Gia stopped at the counter and leaned on the heavy, light gray granite–opposite of where you stood on your way to the door. She leveled you with a stare, her fingers tapping against the expensive granite. 

“I’m just going to tell you this,” she sighed, a tiny little grin on her full lips. “Be confident. Have confidence. You can do it. Just try it out. Seriously. All you have to do is give it a try. I see it in you, y/n,” she firmly stated. Then, she got even more serious with a furrow in her dark brown brow. “Let. Him. Care, y/n. Don’t you dare work to control him just because you feel like you don’t deserve it.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

So, when you got home, you somehow found it in you to take Gia’s advice . . . and you immediately went to talk to Jake. The more you contemplated it on the drive home, you realized you weren’t really too nervous to ask him anymore. . .

The nerves had dissipated little by little as you’d rehashed your time in your safe place. How seamless things had been there. . . it felt like before. Like normal. . . and even though it wasn’t your normal anymore, you were clinging to it. It was giving you courage. And the fact that Jake was literally your safe place was giving you courage. 

Yeah, he made you nervous because he was Jake, but he also eased you so effortlessly because he was Jake. He was safe. 

He wasn’t perfect, no. But, he was someone who was permanently, preciously ingrained in your heart. Today had officially proved that. And you were carrying the sweetest little piece of him. . . that helped the nerves for sure. There was a piece of him that was always with you. And now that he knew about said precious baby, things genuinely seemed to be normal between the two of you again. . . as normal as could be at the current time.

It had you knocking on his bedroom door. 

It dawned on you as you delivered the knock that you hadn’t even thought of checking his parking space to see if he was home.  You’d been too anxious to see him and ask him what you had been encouraged to ask. . . .Before you lost the magic courage. Because, yes, let’s be real, he still made you nervous as hell. He was Jake.

It was all confusing and weird. As you stood there, waiting for longer than you’d planned, you realized he might not even be home. You could be standing here waiting for nothing. Or worse, Maya was in there with him or some shit and you were going to open the door to–.

Jake.

The door had opened to show a very sleepy, very effortlessly handsome Jake. His hair was all tousled like he’d been in a deep slumber. And when you looked past him, his bed was a mess from a nap. . .but no curvy, beautiful woman occupied it. 

The only thing you saw laying in the bed was a book, right next to the fluffed pillow where his head had been resting. It was open, laying face down with several sticky notes peeking out of the pages. And all that you could make out was a picture of a pregnant woman on the cover and the word ‘Expecting’ on the cover before your attention was brought back to him talking.

“Y/n?. . . You okay?” He was talking, voice patient and calm, but sounding as though he’d said the words a time or two before you’d come back to. 

You were quick to cover your ass to hide that you had been spying in his room. 

“Sorry,” you shook your head, looking down and clasping your hands under your tummy subconsciously. His eyes followed your hands, a little smile forming on his lips. You continued, “I just wanted to ask you something.”

His eyes opened, as if waiting for what you wanted to ask. He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe. “What’s that?”

You cleared your throat, suddenly a little nervous, but suddenly worked to picture him in the field of lavender. And then you were okay again. He was Jake. He was safe. “I–,” you glanced down, then back up to his kind, tired eyes. Just say it, y/n. “Would you mind going to a few of my therapy appointments with me?”

“Yes,” he replied, without any hesitation whatsoever. “Of course. Special ones or. . .?”

“All of them,” you blurted, needing to clear it up. Honesty. Just be honest. Don’t fear his reaction. He’s Jake. 

Eyebrows wrinkled, his lip quirked. “All of them. . .? Like, all of the special ones or–?”

“All of the appointments. Any of the appointments I have that you can make it to. I just need someone safe to go with me,” you rushed out. 

He blinked a few times, a gentle shake of his head before his eyes got sincere and a smile spread over his pretty lips. “And you chose me?”

“Yes,” you simply answered, not trusting yourself to say anything more. There was a definite part of you still reeling from today’s session and seeing him when you imagined somewhere safe. 

Standing there for a few seconds, you could tell he had a million questions floating through his mind. And, knowing him, you knew he was probably wondering why you hadn’t chosen Josh. And, to be totally truthful, you hadn’t once thought of Josh at the prospect of someone safe being there with you to see you through after the sessions. 

Jake seemed to be the only valid option. The only person you wanted to go with you. Even if Elsie were still living here, totally accessible and available, you knew Jake still would’ve been your first choice. The therapy had been his idea. He had asked you how it was going. He was someone you trusted to talk to, and he was someone invested in this with you. And he was him.

“I’d love that,” he responded softly. “When are the appointments?”

He’d love it? Your heart was thumping in your chest at the words. Absently, you thought of your poor heart monitor, and how it was going to be picking up some crazy data due to this man. 

“Every Monday,” you quietly responded. Then, you thought, before getting your hopes up, you’d better tell him what he was really in for. . . because he might end up eating his words once he found out his job in it all. “You’ll just have to wait for me. You could run an errand or two or whatever while I’m in my hour-long sessions. . . and sometimes they might go over.” He nodded, seeming fine with that. You were shocked. Didn’t know why you were shocked because he was naturally so thoughtful. You knew this. “And then, you’ll have to be there afterwards. And I might be emotional. This form of therapy is intense,” you explained. Then, you thought . . . “Well, you probably already know that because you. . .”

“Found it,” he finished, eyes twinkling. “I’d still love to go. You’re not going to scare me away from it. I know you’re afraid of that.”

Why the fuck did he even care to read you like a damned book? Surely your thought processes didn’t matter that much to him. But, you remembered his voice, reassuring you after Applebee’s. Cleaning up some toxic thoughts you’d let form.

“. . .I didn’t stop caring about you . . .” 

“. . .Just because I’m not talking to you or falling asleep next to you . . . It doesn’t mean I don’t still want what’s best for you. Hence why I’m the one who initiated the therapy conversation. I kept my end of the deal and researched for you because I care.”

Then, it was Gia’s voice. What she’d told you that day. . .just before you’d left.

“Let him care, y/n. Don’t work to control him just because you feel like you don’t deserve it.”

Let him care. 

You decided to just continue on with the only reasonable response, eyes, filling with tears, trained on your fidgeting feet. “Thank you,” the words came out as a whisper. But you shook your head. Confidence. Looking up, you tried again, smiling with your eyes. “Thank you.”

His eyes held yours for a moment. He just let his eyes sink into yours. . .like he’d done so many times before. Just as he had in times past, he was letting himself read you. You could tell. 

Not able to help it, your cheeks filled with heat at his stare. Your heart picked up speed. You had to speak again. Break the quietness. The calmness in his observant, knowing irises was too much.  

“Will Maya be okay with it?” 

Why you chose to break the ice with her, you didn’t know. Probably to get his mind off of you and back on her. Where you knew he wanted it to be. He might have still cared for you, but she was the woman he loved. To him, you were sure that she mattered in this just as much as you did.

He shut his eyes once briefly, and with a shake of his head, he was back. His eyebrows dipped, pursed his lips with a curt nod. “Oh, yeah. I’m sure,” he assured. He tightened his fingers against his biceps. You couldn’t help but watch his strong hand flex. “I’ll–um, I’ll just tell her when the appointments are so she knows I’m not available on those days.”

Shit. You didn’t want to take him away from her. You hadn’t even thought of that. That would definitely be selfish. And not available on those days? Like, not available at all? Was he planning on spending entire Mondays with you?

Hurriedly, you offered a response to make sure to clear the air. “Oh my god. I didn’t even think of you having to–,” you groaned. “I’m sorry. Please, don’t go with me if it’s going to interrupt your plans with her.”

His brows wrinkled. “I never said that.”

“It was implied,” you defended your thought process. 

“No, it wasn’t.”

You were suddenly irritated that he wasn’t understanding why you felt bad. “I just don’t want to be selfish, Jake. That’s all I’m saying. God.”

He rolled his eyes, hands getting stuffed in the pockets of the sweatpants he was wearing. You just realized how low they hung on his hips. You could see the very bottom of his stomach with the way he’d cut his t-shirt, just above the hip bones. You flicked your eyes back to his face when he spoke again. And, again, your face was hot. 

“I was literally saying I want to be there for you and I need to tell her that’s what I’m doing on those days,” he explained, tone sharp and patient all at once. He was putting his foot down.

You conceded. But. . . it made you think of something. Maybe it was the tan stomach of his skin and how badly you wanted to run your fingers across it. Or perhaps it was the fact that the woman in question might not be privy to one important detail. 

So, you asked. “Does she know I’m pregnant with your baby yet?”

His baby. 

You ignored the thought, instead training your mind on the serious matter at hand: would she be okay with it if she knew you were pregnant with his baby?

“No,” he curtly replied. Then, his tone was entirely calm when he stated, “She won’t know until you give me the okay to tell her. I told you that already.”

Flushing, you found his eyes. You tried your best to match the sincerity in his irises with your own. “Thank you for being considerate of that.”

“Of course,” his lips twitched to a small grin, then fell back to a purse. He chewed the inside of his cheek.

Fuck. You needed to wrap this up. You were wasting his time. But–you had to know. . . 

You cleared your throat, replacing your hands from below your tummy to cross under your boobs. The way his eyes flickered down with the action couldn’t be ignored and it gave you the push to ask. “. . .what does she know about us?”

“She knows you’re my friend and that we’re close because we live together,” he offered.

For some reason, the fact that he’d called you his friend made your heart leap into the bottom of your throat. It made you sort of sad, yet happy at the same time. Sad that you couldn’t be more, but glad that he was willing to call you such a wonderful thing. Did he seriously trust you to be his friend?

“We’re friends?” You shyly pondered. 

Aaand hormones were officially in control of your dialogue. It was time to wrap it up. Quick. You eyed the ground, embarrassed at your lack of control over questions.

But, his response was measured, so sweetly assuring you with his next words. His voice was soft and raspy, “I never wanted to not be your friend.” Then, suddenly, he was touching you. His hand was placed on your cheek, lifting your face gently to look into his eyes. There was no saving the response on the heart monitor data. And the swarm of buzzing butterflies in your tummy. You lost yourself in his gaze. “No matter what happens, you are my friend. I always want to be your friend, honey.” 

Honey. 

Your pulse increased tenfold and you couldn’t help the flutter of your lashes, your eyes watery yet again. 

His hand was still on your cheek, and a warm blush had settled in them when you mumbled, ashamed. “I hate you ditching your girlfriend for me. I don’t want to be selfish.”

A finger smoothed gently on your cheek, just beneath your lashes. “You’re not being selfish. And I’m not ditching her,” he removed his hand, and your heart sputtered a few times, trying to balance all of the emotions transpiring within you. He reached behind him, grabbing the handle of the door and shutting it behind him. When he moved forward with the motion, you stepped back. Didn’t want to risk getting too close. His eyes found yours as he consoled you. “Please quit thinking of it like that. I promised to be there–to help you–you a long time ago, and I intend to keep that promise. Let me.”

You were back in the hallway at your grandparents’ home. He was coming to sit next to you, against their beige, textured walls. The house, smelling like the pie that was baking. Familiar and safe. But the home had been the last thing making you feel safe in that moment. It was the man sitting next to you, telling you to let him help you.

“I want to help you. Let me.”

The same night he’d made the promise to find a therapist for you. Then, you were in his bed that night. . .Your cheek, on his damp chest.

 Tears were falling on his chest, your chest was tight as they kept coming, his skin prickling in their wake. “I–I’m sor–sorry.”

“Why, baby?” His voice settled your nerves. Warm. Soft. Him. 

“I hate that you have to see me cry,” you sniffled, wiping at the tears on his chest. But instead of letting you continue, he’d held your hand there, so you could feel the stable beat of his heart. 

“If crying is what it takes to heal, I’m here to listen to you as you wade through it.”

And, then, again. . . those same words filtered through your memory through a warm haze. 

Laying on top of him, in his bed, as you’d stared deeply into the darkness of his eyes, he’d earnestly spoken to you. “I want to help you. Let me.”

“Okay,” you sighed in the present time, your eyes not containing the pools accumulating in them, a singular tear falling down your cheek. 

Thankfully, it happened when he had decided to go back into his room to get something. And as soon as you’d brushed it away, he was back in front of you and had his phone in his hand. It was open, his fingers above the keyboard to show he was about to start typing. 

“What do you want me to tell her you need me for?” He looked up at you, hands steady around the phone as his eyes waited for you. His eyes, open and willing to help. Willing to understand. “I don’t have to tell her that it’s for therapy.”

“You can tell her it’s for therapy,” you responded. His brow raised, as if to ask ‘you sure?’, to which you responded, “I’m sure,” you grinned. Then, you continued on with what would be a valid excuse to give her for why you wanted him to go. “Just tell her you have to drive me to the appointments I have on those days because it’s a long drive that I don’t want to take by myself.”

His lips lifted easily, eyes tired, still, but wholly there with you to help. “Okay.”

As he typed, you stood there–so grateful for him. God, he was amazing. You could not believe there was ever a time you’d thought any different. Jake Kiszka. . . he was the man of fucking dreams. You knew he was. And you’d. . . let him go.

But, as you still believed, it was for good reason that you’d cut things off.

It kept lines drawn and clear and simple. Kept him focused on the dream. It just helped. Right?

Once he’d shoved the phone in his pocket and you’d heard the sending noise and the click of the phone going off, you decided to go ahead and let him be. You began walking to your room, and he started walking in the direction of the front of the apartment. Just as you’d opened your door, suddenly very sleepy and sore from your body growing a human, you spoke again. “Thank you, Jake.”

He turned as soon as you’d spoken, his gaze calm and falling on yours gently. His eyes felt like the breeze on a warm, spring day. The same sort of day you’d imagined in your safe place. 

“Don’t thank me,” he started. His phone chimed in his pocket, but he didn’t even reach for it. Instead, he crossed to you once more, your chest heating at him coming close again. And, once more, his hand reached up to delicately hold your face. The callouses that grazed your cheek brought so much comfort. They were familiar and felt like peace. “This is something I want to do. You don’t have to thank me.” 

Your mouth opened to dispute and as soon as you did, he saw it. 

At this, his lips lifted and he held your cheek fully in his palm, eyes boring into yours as he spoke. “Don’t argue with me. I mean every word. And you know it.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

Life was finally feeling peaceful again with Jake back in it, and in the know about the baby. Having him as a friend in your life was filling your cup – just the mere knowledge of him being there made you rest easier. Every morning was the same. A comfortable, reassuring sort of same. 

You’d wake up, and lay in your bed for a few minutes, rubbing your belly. Checking the Ovia app to read something new about the baby to start the day, you’d also check the size of the baby on that given week for the 100th time on that given week. After clicking your phone off, you would lay there and ponder your day and everything that you had to do. 

And once your feet touched the ground, you were walking to grab underwear, a maternity bra (because, yes, you’d purchased one with the speed your boobs had grown). Then came the outfit you’d set out the night before. (Even though sometimes, there would be a last minute change in wardrobe due to day-to-day changes in your body – the insecurities were slowly becoming very real, the more your body changed. And even the teeniest, tiniest changes were strikingly obvious to you.) 

The bathroom was your next stop. You’d take off the heart monitor before your shower, brush your teeth, and in the shower, you would glance down at your belly, water washing over it, to reflect on the person inside of it and how he or she was growing. And these days, you spent a lot of time wondering if the baby was a he or she. . . Just as you’d lean towards one guess, you’d lean towards the other. On certain days, you would wash your hair and if it hadn’t been very long, you’d skip that step. 

Once finished with the shower, you’d observe yourself to see if any stretch marks had grown, and at this point, a few had shown up, so a special cream was one the way that would be added to your morning and nightly routine to help prevent those from sticking around. Now, all you did was brush your hair and usually put it in a claw clip to avoid sweating profusely by keeping it against your neck. Then, you’d replace the adhesive of your heart monitor and adjust it to track your heart rate. 

You were so ready to be done with the stupid fucking device. It was a pain for many reasons. . . and you just hated the way it looked on your chest. It was a huge blemish on your changing body. A body that you were already feeling insecure enough about, even without the monitor.

When you’d trail back to your bedroom after your shower, you finished out the routine by taking your prenatals, checking your hemoglobin (which was doing consistently well, relieving you every time you saw the numbers stay positive), and you would pop a PregEase into your mouth to chew. The chewable had helped drastically with your nausea, and you weren’t planning on stopping it any time soon.

Finally, you’d go to the kitchen counter after making a smoothie in your BlendJet, and sit there to sip it as you read through The Panic-Free Pregnancy, taking notes in a notebook you’d purchased solely for baby notes.

And, now, since Jake had found out, he’d greet you in the kitchen or on your way to the bathroom to shower and he’d check on the baby. Check on how you were feeling. It always made you blush with the fact that he cared to check in. It was just really fucking sweet of him. Showed his heart. Of course, it wasn’t for you, it was for the baby. But still. . . it made your heart skip a beat. 

The day before Thanksgiving was no different. Except, this morning, Jake stopped you just as you’d grabbed your backpack and opened the door to leave for school. 

“Hey,” he called out to you. Your phone buzzed in your black LuluLemon, slung across your chest. When you turned, he flashed his phone screen towards you briefly. “Josh just texted in the group chat and asked if it was okay for us to have Friendsgiving here like you usually do. Day after Thanksgiving. Want me to tell him it’s fine?”

“Of course,” you grinned, getting your phone out to see the text for yourself. But, as you did, you also saw you were cutting it close to make it to class on time. Grabbing your keys out of your bag, you quickly responded, opening the door wider, one foot out. “Just tell him yes.”

He began typing as you went to walk out, the Jetta gave its signature beep across the parking lot as you unlocked it. But just as you stepped out, you stopped. Fuck. You’d have to clean the place. 

Normally, it would be no big deal, but you were still working long hours and keeping up with several classes while also being pregnant. . . 

So, you stepped back into the apartment, hand still holding the door open. You glanced up at him, accepting your fate. “I'll probably be cleaning the apartment tonight. I don’t want to have to fight any real baby tiredness on top of any food baby tiredness tomorrow night. I already get sleepy at the end of Thanksgiving Day, and I’m sure it’ll just be worse this year with,” you pointed to your belly. 

His eyes twinkled, but he didn’t say anything. . .probably because you were rambling and he was annoyed by it.

You twisted the knob, needing to leave, but wanting to let him know, “You can find something to do tonight so you don’t have to be around me and my obsessive compulsive cleaning habits.” 

He raised a brow, placing his phone on the counter. “Would it be okay if I helped you clean?”

“Um,” you faltered, nervous of him seeing that cringeworthy side of you. “I get really intense when I clean for special events.”

“I’m sure,” he grinned, winking. Your tummy swarmed with butterflies at the gesture. He continued, “But I still want to help you. Will you let me?”

Let him.

“I get kind of scary.”

“I don’t care.”

You measured him with your eyes, contemplating. It wasn’t that you wouldn’t love his help. . . It would be fantastic to have someone help you. You just didn’t want to scare him away. 

You’re having his baby, y/n. Did you scare him away when he found out about that? Or did he want to help you then, too? And what about when he–?

“Sure,” you said, promptly cutting off the voice in your head. “You can help. I’m just warning you. My control issues are bound to go haywire when I deep clean.”

“For good reason,” he defended. “In that circumstance.”

Your lips raising into a soft smile couldn’t be stopped. “Thanks, Jake.”

The soft smile didn’t leave your face as you made the trek to your car. 

Then it all came crashing down when you passed Maya in all of her graceful, voluptuous beauty, right before you got to your car. Your outfit of a giant sweater and loose AE jeans suddenly paled in comparison to her sexy black pencil skirt and tight white button-up shirt. Her perfume, sweet and expensive, wafting off of her in waves as she passed by you with a smile and a quick wave. Then there was you: wearing your Bath and Body Works body spray that you got on sale for $5.95.

Her heels clicked past you as your old white Nikes caught a rock and almost made you trip, eliciting a weird noise from your mouth. Hand on the belly, you caught yourself – not so gracefully. When you looked behind you to see if she’d witnessed it, she was already knocking on the door of the apartment. . .and being greeted with a kiss from Jake. The smile was absolutely wiped off your face at the sight of that.

Of course, your mind traveled to a not-so-fun place as you buckled into your car and went to turn on your soul music playlist. You just sat there, contemplating once more how much it sucked that you couldn’t be with him. It was even more sad with your predicament – it made your heart jump into your throat that you couldn’t complete the natural circle of two parents with a baby.

The song that started off the playlist was perfect for bringing you out of your slump, though. The Commodores singing about being ”High On Sunshine” reminded you of how serene and peaceful you’d felt when you’d woken up. Life was going well. . .Truly, completely well. You didn’t need a relationship with Jake to complete a circle of sorts. . . Really. Especially at this point in your life.

You could be friends – it really wouldn’t be so bad. Just friends. You’d take what you could get. Things would be fine.

-🌼🌼🌼-

“I don’t mind you telling her now,” you mentioned that night, packing up a nice dinner he’d made after you’d cleaned the entire apartment. 

He’d made chicken fajitas. 

Considering the meal was a crowd favorite (the crowd being you and the baby), it had been wonderful when you’d found out tonight how damn good he was at making them. Although, saying that you were packing it up into leftover containers with him. . .was a lie. 

You were leaning against the ledge of the counter top, watching him put it in Tupperware. He’d told you to sit and rest your feet and that he would worry about putting it away. Only agreeing halfway, you sure rested but didn’t rest your feet like he’d asked. After quietly accepting the offer with a quiet okay, you nodded your head. Then, you went to stand against the counter. 

“Please. Sit.” He’d encouraged, his voice slightly impatient, already weary with you. By the look in his eyes, you knew that he knew it was no use and that you weren’t going to agree. “You had to go to school and workwork today. You should rest your feet.”

Even though your feet did hurt like hell, you still weren’t about to let him boss you around. 

“Nah, I think I’m good,” you replied, shrugging. You took turns balancing and bouncing between each foot, totally giving you away. “I sit around too much.”

“Y/n.”

“Jake.”

He’d given you a look. And you had stared right back until he gave up and rolled his eyes before going about his business. 

In the present time, he was once again peering at you. But this time, his eye brow was raised in curiosity. “What?” He asked, unsure.

“You can tell Maya if you want,” you repeated, your eyes encouraging. “Tell her that you’re having a baby,” you laughed under your breath at that. A piece of hair fell from its place behind your ear. “Or, I guess, if we’re being technical. . . That I’m having your baby.”

He didn’t laugh along with the funny wording, just continued looking at you like you’d grown three heads. 

“Why?”

You didn’t know. All you knew was that Maya wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. So, in order to save Jake some extra stress, he’d better tell her sooner rather than later. That was it. 

“Just want it to be out in the open,” you stated plainly, shrugging once more. “Josh is going to tell Sam and Daniel for me soon. . . Explain all of the nitty gritty details of us so I don’t have to again.”

His face sank momentarily. Though, it didn’t last long enough for you to be sure if it wasn’t something you’d imagined.

“On top of that, I’m telling my grandparents tomorrow, so you just go ahead and tell her,” you explained further, trying to convince him it was okay.

He blinked a few times, probably processing it all. And then he responded.

“Okay,” he finally said, lips making a lopsided grin, eyes still containing a sense of curiosity.

“Okay,” you echoed, suddenly feeling the reality of him telling her. . . the reality of Josh telling Sammy and Danny. . .

It was about to be out in the open. Everyone was about to know. Not counting the doctors or Gia, a tiny total of four people in your life knew. Only four. You, Elsie, Josh, and Jake. And now, that number was about to increase. And with your permission, no less. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

November 24, 2022

You were on your way to your grandparents’ house, Elsie being your chauffeur when you filled her in on all of the therapy appointments (though, not the person secured in your safe place), your heart monitor in all of its ridiculous, agonizing glory.

Then, the boys’ careers came up in conversation. The music. The albums. The photoshoots. You even told her about the fan who called Jake hot. And as she was laughing about the fan interaction, and how uncomfy she was sure it made you, you thought to text Jake something that needed to be said. Something you’d believed in with your whole heart since the beginning. His career. 

It was even more important to you now that you were going to have his baby. It had trailed through your mind enough times that you knew you needed to share it with him. 

You, 12:02 p.m.: Please don’t put your career on hold for me or the baby.

It took a few moments, when Elsie was in the middle of telling you that she wasn’t sure how she felt about other girls calling Josh hot. You were absently agreeing on not being sure about it when you got the notification of his response.

Jake, 12:05 p.m.: I won’t. I’ll figure it out. 

And while you were in the middle of having one hard conversation, you decided on another. Something that broke your heart to say, but you believed in it just like you did the other topic. It was going to be awkward to talk about in person, so you were going to be a coward and hide behind the phone to say it.

You, 12:06 p.m.: We also don’t need to be in a relationship.

After sending it, you instantly realized the perspiration that had gathered on your palms. Instead of talking to Elsie, you just stared at your phone. After finding out, he’d turned his read receipts on, so you were able to see the moment he’d seen the message. 

While cleaning the night before, you’d asked him about it and his response was that he had done it so there weren’t any holes in your communication about baby-related things.

Jake, 12:08 p.m.: Never said we did. I don’t need that.

I don’t need that.

Translated, you knew it was a way of saying it would cause unnecessary stress. And you’d be remiss to ignore that the stress would most definitely result from you and your stupid emotional instability. And that thought just reminded you that the baby was the most important person to work on being emotionally stable for–not its father. 

Nonetheless, his response hurt way more than it should have. It cut fucking deep. For no reason whatsoever, because you knew he had a point. You believed the same as he did. Your previous text said as much. You just had to think logically. 

Jake, 12:09 p.m.: 1, I’m already in a relationship

Jake, 12:09 p.m.: and 2, it’ll be easier for us because we won’t have to worry about a relationship. It’s good that we’re just friends.

He was right. He made sense. You knew it. It was good to be just friends.

You, 12:10 p.m.: You are very right. I’m glad we’re on the same page.

Jake, 12:10 p.m.: and as far as touring and the band goes, we can figure out how to handle a baby in all of it. We’ll just work in a few more breaks or something

Jake, 12:11 p.m.: don’t worry about that. We’ll be fine. 

Jake, 12:11 p.m.: and by “we” I mean you, me and the baby

Right as you’d pulled up to your grandparents’ home, you sent him a final text about it. If you were being totally honest, the conversation made you feel sick to your stomach and you just wanted to focus on the fact that it was Thanksgiving. 

There was also the fact that you were more than just a little nervous about rocking your grandparents’ entire world. 

You, 12:22 p.m.: Thank you for talking to me about this. We can talk about it more at some other point. Have a good Thanksgiving!

Instantly, he read it. But it took him a bit to respond. You knew he was busy with family and Maya. And again, your stomach was knotted at another thought. Her. Them. Dream couple.

Jake, 12:25 p.m.: for sure. We’ll find time :) 

Jake, 12:25 p.m.: happy thanksgiving, y/n. I’m thankful for you. I really hope you know that.

With that last text, your heart sped up, your monitor phone beeping repeatedly in your belt bag to notify you of it. As if you couldn’t already feel the way your heart was about to literally beat out of your chest at his words. You grumpily unzipped your bag to get it out, locking your phone on your lap.

“Holy shit, dude,” Elsie exclaimed as she shut off the car. “Are you okay?! What’s happening?!”

You reassured her that it was just your monitor telling you your heart rate had gone up. But you made an excuse for why. Didn’t want her on your ass.

“I’m just really nervous to tell Grandma and Grandpa,” you lied.

You didn’t have to wait long for it to stop beeping. Thank God. It was annoying as hell, calling you out when you did not want to be called out. Finally, it turned off, though.

Elsie’s eyes became sympathetic, her delicate hand coming out to squeeze your sweater-clad arm. “It’ll be okay. I’ll be there the whole time. Deep breaths,” she calmly assured, taking a few with you. “And they’ll honestly just be really excited. Grandma, immediately. . . but Grandpa. . .”

“. . .Might take him a while,” you finished.

Your Grandma wasn’t necessarily your greatest worry, but she had been known to judge a time or two. . . Your Grandpa on the other hand. . . he was in a constant state of disappointment. All in all, you really had no fucking clue what to expect. Within seconds, the two of you were busting up at the thought. He was a pain in the ass. The definition of a crotchety old man. Laughing with Elsie was therapeutic. And this laughter in particular was incredibly necessary.

She waited for you to feel calm enough to go inside, and once you did, you got out to follow Elsie to the door. You never responded to the text. Didn’t even react to it with an exclamation, thumb, or heart. You didn’t want to mess anything up. 

So, you just let it be your last positive push before going inside your grandparents’. Because, while it hadn’t been the reason to make your monitor go batshit crazy, it was still incredibly nerve wracking to tell the people that raised you. The idea of telling them that you were pregnant by a man you weren’t in a relationship with. . . yeah.

You closed your eyes momentarily to locate your Safe Place. You’d gotten quite good at finding it. All you had to do was close your eyes and call it. But as Elsie unlocked the door to let the two of you in, the present time was unkindly welcoming you back in with anxious arms. 

Deep. Fucking. Breaths.

-🌼🌼🌼-

Thanksgiving was one of your favorite holidays. Christmas was your absolute favorite, but Thanksgiving was right up there, just behind it. 

For one, it meant your whole family got to be together for a holiday, and you loved getting to spend time with your family. It felt more special than just about anything else. . . and Thanksgiving was so great because it was just a day where you sat around, eating food, being with each other, talking and laughing. It was a holiday meant to force you to ruminate on why you were thankful for each other– a holiday that was designed to bring out the best in a person.

The hope that your grandparents would only have love in their hearts when they heard your news was the only thing that had pulled you and your nerves through the doorway. The same doorway you’d entered through a million and one times before. Except this time, someone else was entering with you. Your hand touched subconsciously to your rounded belly. There was nothing you could do about your predicament now, so you could only hope for the best responses they could muster.

As you walked in, the smell of your Grandma’s ever-famous smoked turkey flooded your senses, momentarily calming you. It reminded you of the main reason Thanksgiving and Christmas were your favorite holidays. They’d been that way for years–as long as you could remember. Her turkey was an absolute favorite of yours dating all the way back to your childhood. Cooking was her love language, and you first learned that before you ever went to live with your grandparents. You could remember loving it and finding solace in the taste of her full, home cooked meal on the rare occasion that your mom decided to celebrate the holidays with her parents. 

The taste and aroma of your Grandmother’s food represented peace for you–especially her holiday food. Holidays were special because they were the only time you were ever able to escape your mother and the now-hazy situations she’d put you in for the first ten years of your life. And then, when you’d gone to live with them, you’d finally found safety and security. . . The taste of her food had just continued its pattern of bringing you the feeling of comfort.

The times your mom would tote you and Elsie over state lines to see them were always very special. They were bittersweet memories for you. It was the only way you’d been able to see your grandparents then, as she never made them privy to your changing living locations. The three of you were always on the move. Never in one place for too long. But every home was dirtier than the last, a new man who would occupy it, as if anxiously anticipating your arrival.

You shook your head at those times–didn’t want to think about it for too long. Those thoughts led down dangerous, terrifying, dark paths that you didn’t want to experience on a day like today. Those times were the ones you’d explore in EMDR with a licensed professional at the ready to help guide you. 

You’d decided years ago that you weren’t going to venture down those paths alone. Didn’t want to bother Elsie, so instead, you’d instead pushed the memories away to near nonexistence. And. . . today was not the day you planned to change that. You wanted Gia with you for that, thank you very much. 

As you walked closer to the kitchen, you heard the sounds of your grandparents’ laughter, sounding so much like you were used to. . . You could only hope and pray to everything that it would continue on as normal—as normal as it could be—after they found out your big news. 

The warm hugs and expressions of joy that greeted you as the two of you rounded the corner were both a reassurance and an added stressor to your shaky nerves. You really didn’t want to shake their world too much. . . Didn’t want this to change. This was your first true home. They were your first people.

The people who took you and your sister in when you had no one else, the ones who raised you, showed you love when it felt your entire world lacked it. You couldn’t quite rid the apprehension to tell them. You would not be able to until the news officially left your mouth. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

“I’m pregnant.”

The sound of forks clinking against plates and the deafening sound of silence surrounded the entire dining room. You weren’t sure where the fuck it had come from–why you’d chosen to say it when you did. . . but there was no doubt it was out now. No questions were asked. Not yet. All eyes in the room, trained on you. Everyone sat still, totally unmoving and in total shock. 

Thankfully, only a few moments of it had to pass before your sister broke the silence. She was trying to buy some peace for you. Just as much as you, she was not a fan of awkward silence or tension.

“I, for one, am so, so excited,” Elsie beamed, looking back and forth between your grandparents, whose mouths were still clamped shut. “It’s going to be wonderful–the sweetest addition to this family!”

After only a few seconds of Elsie’s attempt to ease the air, your Grandma started blinking and you soon realized that she was blinking back tears. Oh no. . . was she upset? Disappointed? The woman who raised you so well – loved you better than anyone ever had before, who took you in when no one else wanted you. . . She didn’t need to sit there feeling any negative emotions only because of your careless decision. Just like she’d done for you, you needed to comfort her in this moment of unclarity. 

You went to rise from your seat, beginning an explanation you weren’t quite sure of yet once you were standing. “Grandma, I–.”

“Babygirl!” Your Grandmother exclaimed, bursting into tears. And before you could make it from where you stood beside your floral padded chair, she was walking to you – as fast as her frail legs could carry her. Even though you watched her every move, the feeling of her arms wrapping around you came before you expected it to. “We couldn’t be happier. I don’t even have to look at your Grandfather to know he’s as ecstatic as me. I know he loves you just like I do,” she sighed, squeezing you gently. Her shaky, familiar voice spoke softly in your ear, “A baby is the greatest gift – especially if it’s one of my babies’ babies.”

You blinked back all of the emotion that nestled comfortably into your bones. The distinct, wistfully familiar notes of Chanel No. 5 wrapped around you as tight as her arms. And, suddenly, the scent had you back in a mirage of memories where she was holding you just the same. 

The first time a boy had broken your heart at thirteen years old. When you fell off your bike the month after you moved in with them, crying more over your mother than the bike wreck. Anytime you and Elsie got into some asinine bickering match that only your Grandmother could settle. . . So many times she’d held you just like this. Except this time, you felt it differently, gripped closer to her, not ready to let go. . . you’d needed this so badly. Hadn’t even realized just how badly you needed to feel her hold you after finding this out. 

You sniffed, finally letting yourself part from her. She wasn’t going to be the first to let go, so you made the move. “Grandma,” you looked directly into her eyes, getting lost in the aging, watery icy blue irises. “Your approval – and Grandpa’s,” you glanced at him briefly, a small smile on his face as he watched you. Your heart leapt. “It meant more to me than anyone else’s.” 

Elsie huffed and made a noise. Your Grandma giggled at Elsie’s indignance. You rolled your eyes, turning to your sister for a split second to give her a look, then faced the aging woman once more. “Almost anyone else’s. I was just scared to let you down, although I. . .,” you paused momentarily, blinking back tears as her perfume infiltrated your senses once more as she pushed some hair delicately behind your ear. “I should have known better than that.”

“My precious babygirl, there is nothing you could ever do that would make us think less of you,” she insisted, bringing her hand down to your arm, softly soothing circles into your flesh through your sweater. “Not only have we told you that your entire life, but I could only hope we have been able to show it to you. Just how much you mean and how we are always on your side – no matter what.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

The rest of the dinner and dessert went on about the same, with your Grandpa actually receiving the news very well–only grumbling slightly at the idea of the father not being around.

To which Elsie had quickly defended with a correction, pointed straight at your Grandfather, her eyes glued to him. “Don’t be so quick to make assumptions, Grandpa.”

You’d joined in, too, not wanting her to have to approach that on her own. It wasn’t her responsibility to have to make any reassurances for your mindless decision. 

“He is in the picture, Grandpa,” you assured, swallowing your bite of pumpkin pie. Your eyes linked with his, begging him to understand. “I never said he wasn’t. I only said that I didn’t want to tell you who he is yet.”

After that, he’d simmered down on the father subject enough for dessert to finish up. And, as Elsie and your Grandma went to put away leftovers, you led the way to the living room to set up A Christmas Story. It was a Thanksgiving tradition to watch it after stuffing your faces to the point of exhaustion. 

Just as you’d gotten the movie queued up, you heard his telling sigh behind you. His years-old maroon, fabric recliner, moaning with the sudden weight of a person. You gave him the slightest smile, still unsure of how to act around him as he’d been supportive, just quiet about it. 

His reaction could definitely be expected, but you didn’t want it. You just wanted him to not act crotchety, just this once. Problem was, you were kind of stuck on what to say. So, instead of saying anything to initiate conversation, you sat on your phone, checking Instagram stories. 

So many fucking coupley photos with the most generic captions. But, to your complete relief, nothing had yet been posted by Jake or Maya (yes, you followed her now–for no other reason but to torture yourself). Just as you were about to check your Ovia app for the second time that day, you heard your Grandpa clear his throat. 

You just acted oblivious, though, not wanting to look up unless he actually wanted to talk. Didn’t want to push him or anything. . . poke the bear. 

“Sugarplum,” he started, using the nickname he’d penned for you years ago. 

Your heart lightened at the nickname. Anytime he used it, you knew he was about to say something sweet and slightly outside of his comfort zone. And by that, it meant he was going to say something particularly tender and sweet. Two things he was not used to being. . . Save for the heart he’d had when he started using the nickname. It had come at a sensitive time. 

The nickname came from a precious tradition. After you’d come to live with them, he’d started the tradition. The man had been determined to make you and your sister feel better, and he’d always been better with actions than words. So, the year your sister and you had come to live with them, he’d started taking you to the Nutcracker. It was a whole thing. 

Every Christmas season, your family of four would get all dolled up (you and Elsie, having had matching Christmas dresses and ringlet curls–hair-sprayed to the point of crunchy– the first couple of years). Then, you’d go eat at Carmine’s before attending a performance of the Nutcracker ballet – always at David H. Koch Theater. 

You weren’t sure what he was about to say, but the nickname always meant it was going to be rather softhearted.

“Sweetie,” he sighed. You looked at him, seeing every wrinkle and age spot on his worn features. His face held every ounce of compassion you were sure he could muster. Your eyes already teary at the cold, snowy memories you’d just re-lived, and seeing him in such a vulnerable state had you gasp just slightly. “I love this baby. I love you. And I am so happy for you–overjoyed,” he said, singing it in the tone of the Stevie Wonder tune. You gasped on another breath, a tear springing from your eye to cheek. “Very, very much so, honey.”

“Really?” You couldn’t help but mutter.

“With all my heart I mean it,” he confirmed, eyes crinkling at the edges with a smile in them. “I only get short-tempered about the father because I don’t want to witness the child being abandoned or betrayed by men the way you and Elsie–,” he shook his head, draining a thought he was in the middle of. He grunted, eyes glassy when he looked at you again. “I don’t need this baby’s father being absent like yours was, is all. I get infinitely resentful on the subject of the people who did you and your sister wrong. . . and I just can’t have that for my great-grandchild either.”

There was no response you could possibly give save for the intermittent sniffles that accompanied the tears that wetted your cheeks. So, all you did was nod, a shaky smile on your lips. The man deeply loved you. You knew that. But, it made your heart hurt in a strange way when he’d say things that truly proved it. . . since he so rarely did. The baby must have meant a lot to him already, for him to feel so inclined to bare his heart like this. 

“I love that child and I will protect it in my role as long as I can,” he said, his own voice wobbling on the words. “I promise you, Sugarplum. Just like I did for you and your sister.”

After a couple of moments, you found something to say, out of the mess of emotions hugging your heart. 

“This baby’s father will be nothing like ours,” you said, without a doubt. You barely remembered the man who’d helped make the two of you. He hadn’t ever really been around–a sperm donor at best. “He’s an incredible man. The baby is very lucky to have him.”

The words pinched your chest, your stomach twisting tight on what you’d said. . . Jake was so wonderful. Even if he didn’t want you, he wanted the baby. You knew that. You knew it. You had seen it in his eyes the moment you’d said the baby was his. Jake Kiszka was special and you were glad your baby would be part of him–was already part of him. You were glad the baby had him.

You just weren’t ready to tell your grandparents it was him. . . you didn’t want either of them to unrightfully judge Jake if they were to know. Especially your Grandfather. . . they’d had such an honest, genuine connection. It had been magical to witness. Jake, having been the person to bring the old man out of his shell for the first time in your entire life. 

You knew you had to tell them soon, but it just didn’t feel like the right time quite yet. . . There was so much going on already. The two of them finding out the identity of the baby’s father could wait just a little longer. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

You got home around eleven o’clock that night, after taking Elsie to Josh’s. The night had been exactly what your soul needed. Time with your Grandma and Grandpa, as well as a car jam session with Elsie on the way to her boyfriend’s apartment. 

The reason you’d finished so late was because your grandparents hadn’t really wanted the night to end. After sitting through every end credit of A Christmas Story, you’d rented the brand new A Christmas Story Christmas on the Roku TV you’d Christmas-gifted the two elderly people a year ago. 

Although, you hadn’t ended up paying much attention to the movie since your grandparents had been determined to hear all about Elsie’s travels and your current. . . predicament. They had also questioned you about school.

Thankfully, you’d given a few barely-there answers and the conversation had basically concluded on that subject. There hadn’t even been an onslaught of career-based questions. All of the baby-related inquiries had been a good distraction from that. 

They’d even stayed up past their bedtime of nine o’clock, aiming to hear every last detail of your life and Elsie’s. But, there’d come a point that your Grandpa had fallen asleep as he’d tuned out, signaling the end of the evening. 

So, at 11:00, you were finally pulling in to the apartment complex, safe and sound into your designated parking spot. Jake’s car was where he usually parked it, you noticed. But, you already knew he was home. He’d texted about an hour back asking when you’d be home, to which you’d responded with an I don’t know, a little flutter in your tummy as you typed. 

Even though he hadn’t responded, it didn’t crush you. Truly. You were becoming accustomed to your present relationship with him. . . well. . . .at least you were really trying to become accustomed.

On the way up to the apartment, you barely made the last step with how utterly exhausted you were. The act of carrying a child was not easy work and honestly, your grandparents hadn’t been the only ones staying up past their bedtime. You’d kept the heavy-lidded blinking at bay at your childhood home, but as you unlocked the door, you let out a long yawn which felt like it’d been waiting for hours to be released. Because it had been. You hadn’t wanted to be rude while engaging in conversation. Felt so relaxing and the action in and of itself had totally drained you. Your comfy, cozy bed was calling you.

When you entered the apartment, you were assaulted by the wondrous smells of something sweet and sugary–the scent was closely comparable to cake or cupcakes. You almost let your nose drag you to the source, but when you looked into the kitchen on your trek to your bedroom, you hastily decided against that idea. And you suddenly felt like you were going to profusely vomit. 

Jake, with his back facing you as he leaned against the kitchen island, his fingers grasping at nothing, only gripping what he could of the counter his ass was pressing against. His beautiful locks of hair were all stringy and messy–the telling sign of hands having been run through it. His moans were enough to make you grow chills from both distaste and lust. The sound of him reaching his release was unlike any other. . . 

But the infuriating fact that it was coming from the tanned, curvaceous woman on her knees in front of him. Who, unfortunately, you could see from the side of the island. And to make matters worse, she was barely fucking clothed. A tiny sheer dress of black lingerie, the only thing you could see from your vantage point. She had her free hand bunched into the material at the back of his gray t-shirt, holding onto him for dear fucking life as she went to town.

When the bile rose to your throat, you knew you had to get away before you threw up. You did not want to puke up any Thanksgiving food, thank you very much. Couldn’t ruin the sentimental dishes only because of Jake and his frustratingly beautiful girlfriend. 

To your relief, once you made it to your room, quiet as a mouse, you found your Stanley as cold as you’d left it (praises-fucking-be for Stanley insulation). And you didn’t have to force sleep after you’d taken a quick makeup wipe to your face and put on an oversized Pratt t-shirt. 

The moans and groans and whiny-fucking-sighs from the kitchen faded out in no time as sleep almost instantly found you. 

Thank fucking God for the tiredness that came with making a human. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

a/n: see you tomorrow w part 2... Friendsgiving will kick off pt 2... there is so much to come ;)

ty for being the best readers in the world and pleaseee never hesitate to send in your wonderful thoughts! love youuuu <3

& as usual, it wouldn’t let me tag some of y’all. :( so please check to see that you’re down there because if you’ve asked to be on the taglist, i tried to tag you. buuuut tumblr wouldn’t let me do it for everyone 🙃 ugh. and if i somehow forgot to tag someone, please also let me know that! (i'm a NOOB and i have terrible memory)

Taglist: @joshym, @gretavanfleetposts, @alyson814, @fretaganvleet, @lallisonl, @writingcold, @gvfpal, @twinszka, @jessicafg03, @reesetrippingthelight, @sacredjake, @laurenlovesgretavanfleet, @gretavangroove, @222headedcalf, @dreamssingold, @carbondancingthroughtime, @raviolilegs, @way-to-go-lad, @jakekiszkasmommy, @katgvf, @objectsinspvce, @jaketlover, @vanfleeter, @thetroublegetssoloud71, @seditabets, @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface, @jaketlove, @ohgodthefeeling-gvf, @starcatcher-jake, @anythingforjtk, @lucimoo, @indigostreakmorgan, @gretavanbear, @katelynn-gvf, @alwaysonthemend, @aintthatapity, @bowievanfleet, @fwzco, @takenbythemadness, @cherry-icecreamsmile, @laneygvf, @hi-hi-hello11, @sinarainbows, @jakesbarbarian, @mybussyinchrist, @becinabubblegvf, @heckingfrick, @danigvf, @pinkandsleepy1934, @derrangeddumpsterfire, @klarxtr, @josh-iamyour-mama, @abby-gvf, @cassyface, @gretavansabotage, @torniturntomyarrow, @joshsbonnet, @llrosee, @starshine-gvf, @itsafullmoon, @gvfmarge, @creadliz98

(and, due to t*mblr’s shitass guidelines, i will be adding the other tags in a reblog of the story!)

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

Hi, may I get a match-up for the hobbit please? I'm genderfluid they/them) and would like to shipped with a masc character please.

I'm an INFP-A, 9w1. My horoscope is gemini sun, leo moon, and libra rising. All of those are extremely accurate lol. I'm very whimsical and distant, but once you get to know me I'm even MORE whimsical and very emotionally intense lol. I'm a bit of a manic pixie dream girl lol. My intensity usually intimidates people, but otherwise I'm very open and friendly once you get to know me. I'm observant and introspective, which ironically makes it difficult for me to make friends and makes me a bit sensitive. I'm extremely compassionate, empathetic, patient, and understanding. It's one of my worst traits as well, since i struggle with forming boundaries and being angry at people who mightve wronged me. I'm also incredibly indecisive. I'm not a pushover though, and have no problem gently letting ppl know when I disagree with them or something.

The animals that my friends/family say remind them of me are bears and elephants. My favorite color is yellow, and my favorite flowers are honeysuckle and jasmine. My favorite season is a tie between summer and winter, even though I HATE the cold.

With my friends I'm very chaotic and they describe me as "a silly gnome/goblin". When with them i initiate most hangouts and have always been a sort of ring leader.

My giving love language is quality time and words of affirmation. Receiving they are physical touch and quality time.

I come from an abusive household and had to look out for my younger siblings (2 younger sisters and 3 cousins who are basically brothers).I've been through a lot and that's given me a unique perspective on the world and what it means to be alive.

For hobbies I really enjoy reading, crafting, writing poetry and am very good at it, and just spending time outside. I love listening to music and listen to absolutely everything and enjoy it lol. I'm very go-with-the-flow and am down for practically anything and everything at least once. I don't like mean-spirited things/people, the cold, and being man-handled lol.

My style is very hippie/70s with goth influence. I have very long dark straight mahogany hair and blue eyes, and a very small/petite frame (hence not liking being manhandled lol). I'm very pretty in a free-spirited way, and I'm quite graceful.

My ideal type is someone who can get me out of my shell a bit while still appreciating my soft/whimsical side. Someone who can have my back and we can be our inner children together, if that makes sense. I'd do well with someone who could understand me, and help me be the best version of myself. I believe love and empathy are the only things worthwhile in life, in all the various forms they take, despite what I've been through. It terrifies me though, so id need someone to convince me to take that leap with them. Its easy to scare me off as well so someone who could understand how to approach me without overwhelming me would be best. In relationships I'm very much drawn to a twin flame sort of dynamic lol.

((I'm sorry if I did this wrong, I couldn't find any rules through navigation on mobile or anything other than your post about opening match-ups, I'm so sorry if I did this wrong! Thank you so much💗))

you did everything right, no worries!! there actually should be a post on rules and stuff tho so um, i'll have to go check what's wrong with that soon. but you're all good!!

im a bit insecure about just how this turned out, cant really tell if you'll like it but we'll see!

I ship you with...

Fili!

You've known Fili your entire life. You were born at around the same time Kili was and you're pretty sure that's the reason why you're so close to them. It makes sense. Your parents had never been the best and you had a lot of family that you were happy to escape from now and then, plus Dis was lovely and more of a mother to you than yours ever was. So you spent the better part of your childhood with Kili - and with Kili meant with Fili as well, because they came in a package deal. Always.

While Kili grew to be your best friend, much like a brother, Fili... you'd always felt a few butterflies around. You could've written it off as some kind of childhood crush, of an infatuation in your teenage years, but honestly, you'd never quite got over it. You were older now, old enough that you should have long since been normal about the whole thing, old enough to have found work for yourself and left your parents behind. But you were still just as close to Kili and Fili and no, you were not over your crush in the slightest. Over the years, you'd just gotten better at pushing it down and suppressing it.

So you're there with them when Thorin calls on them for the quest of reclaiming Erebor. You're there because you're practically family, because Thorin knows and trusts you, and you're just as quick to agree as his nephews. And why wouldn't you go? You love them all dearly, you'd never been on an adventure before and Erebor was your home too, after all, or would have been at least, under different circumstances. So a few weeks later you start out on a life-changing journey with your two favourite dwarves in the whole world and you're honestly only a bit wistful because you'd had to leave your books and paper behind.

The three of you are a force to be reckoned with. Kili matches your chaotic energy exactly and Fili is - though certainly being the most responsible out of the three of you - still not nearly as responsible as his uncle, so your journey to Bilbo's little home all the way in Bag's End is some of the most fun you've had in your entire life. Daily life with them is obviously great as well, but what with your work and all, you haven't seen them this much in a long, long while.

It quiets down a bit when the rest of the company joins (most of them you know, some of them you can't remember), but you're still enough to get on Thorin's nerves quite a lot. You do make friends with Bilbo, though, who's drawn to just how whimsical and open you are. He may have been a bit put off by your joking about with Kili and Fili at the start, but you have him charmed a few days into your journey. You talk about books and plants and really, anything at all, and by day six you think you may have found a new life-long friend in Bilbo.

But even though you're now spending your time getting to know someone new, you're still as observant as ever, and you notice - of course you do - that the closer you get to Bilbo, the less you see of Fili. Kili is always close by and you certainly spend at least half of your time joking about with him, but whenever you ride or walk next to Bilbo, talking and laughing, Fili seems to disappear somewhere into the background, so much so that you actually have to search for him to spot him. It hurts, a bit, because you can't seem to pinpoint just what's wrong for a while. Wasn't everything just fine when you started out on this journey? Had you said something, done something wrong? You knew this kind of thing from your parents, but never from Fili, especially because he knew about... well, about everything, really, so he knew just how sensitive you could be about things like these. You did your best not to let it bother you too much.

Instead, you focused on Bilbo. He was funny and sweet, intelligent and understanding and for as much as you love the dwarves, for as much as you love your kin, you like that he's not as rough and intense. He's different. And maybe you're a bit different than the rest of the dwarves, too - you'd always been a bit slimmer and smaller and more petite than the rest and maybe that had shaped your personality in some way, too, you weren't sure. Maybe that's why the two of you grew so close in such short time.

You express your feelings for him quite the same way you do for everyone: loud and chaotic, just the way you are. You tell him that he's funny and sweet, intelligent and understanding because that's exactly how you show people that you like them, so, well, you do. But every time when, in the spur of the moment, you give Bilbo a friendly compliment, out of the corner of your eyes you see Fili scoff. You frown and try not to interpret too much into it, but it's hard - after all, you've been doing nothing but interpret and think and imagine because you've kept all of your feelings for Fili bottled up inside of you for your entire life, analysing and wondering if maybe, just maybe, there was a tiny little chance that he liked you that way, too. Not that you've ever really found anything. He was always just Fili.

But not this time. No, not this time. This time he's scoffing and turning away and staring gloomily at you when he thinks you don't notice because you're too deep in conversation with Bilbo. You do, though, definitely, because he's not being as secretive as he thinks he is. You watch him argue with Kili one evening, which you're sure hasn't happened this severely in years. Simply put, he's being weird.

He stomps off and Kili plops down next to you right after - you ask, of course, what's wrong with his brother, but you've asked Kili multiple times already and he simply won't tell you. And as much as Fili's behaviour is upsetting you, you won't go up to him either, because you're not that kind of person that pushes others - you're not even really angry, you rarely are, because whatever the reason is why Fili is behaving this way, there surely is a reason and you know him well enough to be aware that it's a good one too.

It all comes to an end in Rivendell. Most of the dwarves are in a bad mood, Bilbo hasn't been as ecstatic the entire journey and Gandalf seems to be much happier here than travelling, so the company is a bit split when it comes to their opinions on this place. You don't mind it much. You like being clean for once. Bathing had become a luxury. So while the dwarves keep complaining and brooding moodily, you're talking happily with Bilbo and Gandalf.

The elves seem a bit put off by you, but you're used to that, and after a night in Rivendell, when the dwarves have started brooding less and - well, no, they're still complaining just as much - some of the elves are conversing more and more with you. Maybe it's because you're spending most of your time with Bilbo and Gandalf (and Elrond in tow) or maybe it's because you're open and friendly, but either way you're meeting new people left and right. And that's when Fili's behaviour changes yet again.

Instead of staying out of your space and scoffing, suddenly he's by your side everywhere you go, every step you take. You're happy at first, excited that he so surprisingly comes back to you (now you're glad that you weren't all that angry in the first place), but it becomes clear after a few minutes already that he's not there to talk to you very much. It seems that he's made it his mission to stand gloomily beside you, glare at everybody who comes close to you and generally answer everything you say to him with an unmotivated "hmpf". It irritates you.

But when you get woken up by an annoyingly loud knock in the middle of the night, that's it for you. You open the door to see Fili and you're not even angry, you're really just... tired. In every sense. He's standing there in his night clothes and he seems to have had an epiphany of some sort, he looks starstruck and you're so done. You're so done you just pull him in, close the door, get back in bed, pat the empty space next to you and tell him that if he wants to talk, he should do it quickly, before you fall asleep again.

He stands in the middle of your room for so long you've actually almost fallen asleep again when he speaks up. Stuttering, which isn't what you're used to at all when it comes to him, and stumbling over his words, admitting that he's been acting stupid, that he's been acting dumb, admitting that the reason, that reason that you were sure was there, is that he's in love with you. Deeply, desperately, for so long he can't remember a time when he wasn't.

You don't really think you've heard him right but you also don't care. It's too late, you're too tired, he's looking too warm and broad and comfortable and before you can think about much anything, you've reached for him and guided him to your bed and cuddled up to him - he smells familiar, he feels safe, and he's reaching his arms around you and placing a kiss on your hair and telling you good night and somewhere in your hazy mind, you recognise the weird feeling in your stomach as butterflies.

The next morning, you wake up warm and cozy and when you open your eyes, you're facing Fili. You're actually, honestly, truly facing Fili. It takes two seconds to register. Then you feel his breath on your lips and his forehead against yours and your eyes fall closed all by themselves as you listen to him ask if he can kiss you now. You let him. Of course you let him.

You actually do talk it out that morning, though. Between a lot of kisses and a lot of cuddling, there's also a lot of talking. You're a bit nervous (even though that feeling settles after about the third or fourth kiss) but Fili has always been good at convincing you that you were brave and strong enough to do anything, and with the rhythmic stroke of his hand on your arm, the way he beams at you when he makes you giggle, how happily he listens to you talk, all of that convinces you in just a few hours how very right you were to pine for him your entire life.

When you don't show up for breakfast, you guess the others were worried some elf had killed you in your sleep, so Kili comes knocking on your door some time before noon. In full Kili fashion, he doesn't really knock at all, he more like just comes barging into your room, so you have barely enough time to look up before he stands at the foot of your bed with a dumb grin on his face that tells you he was very much aware of what was going on with his brother the past few weeks.

You don't mind. You don't really mind anything anymore. Because you spend your days in Fili's arms now, with his hand in yours and courting braids in your hair, and you're happier than you've ever been before. Now the people you'd always considered family more than your real family did become your real family, a few years after you'd recovered Erebor, on the day that you marry Fili. The happiest day of your life, because Fili made you feel exactly the way you'd always wished he would, because he was exactly what you'd always wanted, because you loved him. And because he loved you.

[autismvampyre]

https://www.tumblr.com/autismvampyre/741462958593441792/hate-how-its-practically-impossible-to-find-anti?source=share

I saw this post and I couldn't agree more and Im asking anonymously cause I don't want to get judgement and stuff and I know this is going to sound a little dumb but I'm having a crisis about like. Whether or not I should support Taylor anymore like. Im going for the eras tour soon and I'm obviously really really excited but I've been seeing more and more anti swiftie media and it all really makes sense. Your blog was like the only anti swiftie one that didn't say all swifties deserve to die lol (at least from what I could find) but I just wanted to know if you have any advice on like letting go of the music in a way. I love her music, and one of the reasons I'm really scared to let go is that my childhood best friend and I share so many precious memories over her music and I don't want to disappoint her in a way by not listening anymore and her music helped me through really really hard times, which feels kind of dumb to say cause I'm 15, but like it's always really helped me and I don't know if I can or if I want to let go but at the same time I'm huge on ethics and a big part of my life has always been helping people and empathizing, and I just don't know if I want to support an artist who can't seem to publicly do that. Idk I was just wondering if you had advice? Thank you so much :)

P.s. feel free to ignore this ik it's loaded and not related to your blog entirely

hey! thanks for the ask. i wanted to respond to this before i forgot so this might be rushed but i hope i can still help.

i get your dilemma, i really do. i like her music a lot and one of the worst things about the anti swiftie community is how much it relies on the "her music sucks" card. its lazy and just personal taste, and i absolutely hate the puritanical idea that if you enjoy a single taylor song you are in some way morally lesser. people like what they like, and i think it's completely fine to enjoy her music because that isn't really an ethical concern

you can separate the art from the artist. its fine to do so. you shouldn't force yourself to stop listening to music you like unless you feel thats right for you. im very critical of taylor but i still occasionally listen to her music because there are a lot of memories attached to it and those memories are precious to me. art can make you feel so much, and you're not dumb for feeling comforted by it.

i dont think you have to let go of her music unless you want to. i believe the most important thing is to let go of the idea of taylor as a brand. people tend to get attached to her due to clever marketing; to a lot of people she's their friend and they feel very protective over her for that. taylor thrives off the parasocial relationship of her fandom which is financially beneficial to her. the most important thing to remember is that she is a billionaire with more money than you could ever imagine and it is impossible to get that rich without fucking over the poor. the image of taylor in the media is not real, she isn't the girl next door, she isn't your friend, she's an ultra rich celebrity who gets richer by pretending to be your buddy. once you've realized that, you're pretty much done

now, i definitely wouldn't recommend financially supporting her. if you're going to the eras tour don't go alone, be safe, wear earplugs(seriously this one is so important you dont want tinnitus believe me). i know there are a lot of different factors and ethics about the shows but as someone who a) hates live music cause im autistic and just end up overstimulated and b) was never in a financial situation where i could or even would buy eras tickets i feel very under qualified to tackle any of that so i'd recommend talking to someone else who knows about that.

to end, i'll just say piracy isn't theft if buying isn't owning snd there are guides out there so you can listen without paying her dime. sorry if this was incoherent, i am tired. have a good rest of your day/night/whatever time it is and please take care

[bronzeagepizzeria]

Get To Know Me

Thank you for the tag, @demdifferentstories-29 !

What is your name? Niyati

For how long have you had this account? since 2018, i think? only started using it during the pandemic though

Favourite food? i have a massive sweet tooth, so anything sweet, really. also pizza

Favourite drink? i don't drink anything interesting xD just water and even then a bitch is severely dehydrated

Do you have any siblings? yes, one older sister

Do you have pets? yessss i've got three cats!!

How old are you? 19

How many languages do you know? i'd say i'm most comfortable in english, but i can speak hindi fluently as well. i understand tamil entirely and sort of understand marathi + a few words of kannada bc i lived in bangalore for 13 years

What's your all-time favourite movie/tv show? fav movie has got to be the godfather part ii. i've watched it a million times. fav show will forever be game of thrones, no matter how badly it crashed and burned. i really imprinted on that shit lol

What are you enjoying to do in your free time? read fic hahaha. or watch movies. recently i haven't managed to watch anything except reels on instagram though, send help

Are you an introvert or an extrovert? mostly an introvert, but i think i'm just bad at small talk. i don't have issues with public speaking or anything, and i can talk about stuff i'm interested in for hours and hours to virtual strangers xD

Your favourite music genres? i don't listen to a lot of english music tbh! i'd say pop? mostly i just listen to film soundtracks and bollywood songs

Your dream place to visit? i used to be fuckin OBSESSED with australia as a child so i hope to still go there? but i'd like to visit all over, really. i haven't travelled much. definitely wanna experience living in the US/UK for a while. i plan to do my post-grad abroad

Something you wish you were better at? not procrastinating. it's a serious problem

How long do you take to respond to texts? immediately lol. sometimes i respond to ao3 comments within minutes, which must freak people out

Do you have any tattoos? If not, would like to? nope. look in theory it's a cool idea but i'm famously indecisive and if i can't even settle on a pfp for more than a month i just know i'm gonna pick a tattoo and end up fucking hating it

What's your sexuality? straight

Do you like reading? If yes what's your favourite book? i don't read much anymore, unfortunately. but i want to get back into it

Have you ever been in love before? ehhh no. i usually just trick myself into liking someone i suspect likes me lol

What's your relationship status? single

Have you ever been heartbroken? nah

Best memory you could think of? this question is super hard for me lol. recently my roommate and i did an hp rewatch and she asked me what memory i would rely on for my patronus and...i literally do not know. like i've had a decently happy life, but nothing stands out, you know? there isn't any one instance i can think of like that

Worst memory you can think of? same thing again. my 2023 has been so fucking bad it's not even sad to me anymore i just find it genuinely funny. but it hasn't been all bad either? i really don't know if i've just repressed my emotions for this year or if i'm over it already lol. maybe it'll come back to bite me in the arse later

Do you have any fears? moths and butterflies (i don't discriminate) i also don't like small birds/plants that are beginning to dry up/balloons losing air. i was a weird kid

Are you a morning or a night person? oh, night definitely. i spent the entirety of last year getting like 2hrs of sleep a night and napping during class

How many pictures do you have on your phone? 5001 + my icloud has not been backed up in 462 days

Who was your favourite childhood crush? first guy i ever liked was shahid kapoor. first guy i actively fantasized about etc has got to be chris evans. the captain america movies were my personality for a long time in middle school lmao

Are you a romantic? hmm i don't think so. i have pretty old-fashioned tastes when it comes to love and romance i guess, but i think i'm more of a cynic

What’s your dream date? showing my s/o movies/shows that i love. honestly that's my love language

What are your hobbies? i draw a little, watch movies, read fic. i used to play professional-level badminton but that hasn't been fun for me in a long time :(

Tagging: if you read all the way and you feel like it, go ahead!

[beautifulduckweed]

Dear Yuletide Author 2023

Shh! Listen—can you hear it? That weird humming sound? That's me, vibrating with joy and anticipation for everything that Yuletide brings, especially what you, dear Yuletide author, have in store for me.

I’m beautifulduckweed on AO3. Below is a list of likes, a short list of DNWs, as well as my requests for Yuletide. I've included prompts, but please know that they are ABSOLUTELY just suggestions and points of inspiration; feel free to deviate from them, or ditch them entirely and write me something else. God knows I can’t write my own dang stories without taking several wild left turns along the way.

Thanks so much for my gift, and I hope you have a blast writing.

💖🥰 Some things I like 🥰💖

Crackfic and mashups. No premise to stupid, no crossover too incongruous. Listen, recently someone in another exchange requested John Wick x Marie Kondo and I have legit lost sleep thinking about that.

Sexytimes. Please note that I absolutely do not require sex! Some of my favorite exchange gifts have featured absolutely zero sex on page. But if the smutty muse strikes—well, far be it for me to stop you. My tolerance is…high. No, higher. No, no, higher than that. Look, I’ve been a denizen of the Internet long enough that I subscribed to porn newsgroups, OK? My constitution is CAST IRON. I especially enjoy service topping, orgasm control (delayed? denied? forced? ruined? YES), femdoms, people coming untouched, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, improbable feats of horny stamina, people losing control while fucking, gangbangs, and threesomes/moresomes/orgies. I also really love first times, and people finally dropping their defenses and allowing themselves to be vulnerable during sex, and the STOP MAKING LOVE TO ME WHEN WE'RE FUCKING trope. I do have a small list of smut no’s in the Do Not Wants section.

Tropes. Some of my fave tropes are idiots to lovers (idiot4idiot4eva), friends to lovers, forced proximity, cramming attractive people into corsets, drag queen AUs, SFF AUs of every stripe (daemon? Pacific Rim? Superhero/supervillain? Vampires? Inception? Yes yes yessss). I absolutely adore the golden retriever/hissy feral cat dynamic. I also like two soft-hearted dinguses doing their best and trying to treat each other right. And ain't nothin' wrong with enemies who are obsessed with each other who OOPS realize their preoccupation may be more than mere antipathy.

I’d also like to note that much as I love a fic that’s like, a trope confetti cannon, I also really love having tropes (and expectations) subverted. Like, take your standard daemon AU. What would happen if the main character and their daemon…didn’t like each other? What if they were, in fact, mortal enemies? It would be so fucked! I would love to read about it!!!

Horror and gore. I love scary stories and horror; I have a really high tolerance for gore. If you want to lean into action sequences, gore, and body horror, I am (with a few exceptions, which I’m gonna list in the DNWs) gonna be totally cool with it. I basically jumped straight from Enid Blyton to Stephen King. My childhood media consumption was very normal why do you ask 😊

And other stuff. If you want to fuck around with the format of the fic, play around with structure, format, voice, POV, all of it, please do. Here for any weird shit you care to toss my way.

I also really love having my sense of what’s real and what’s not messed with. Like, is it ever possible to have a fully reliable narrator? What is the nature of truth and reality anyway? What role does the overall narratorial voice or framing device of the story play in our perception of the story? I regret to inform you that I'm writing this 100% sober; this is just how my brain is all the time.

😭🚫Do Not Wants 🚫😭

Pet death. I am totally fine with, like, random rabbit needs to be killed for dinner while out in the woods, or oh no, we have to defend ourselves from a charging hippo or hostile lizard from outer space.

Animal cruelty. Brief mentions of stuff happening in the past or whatever are fine; seeing an animal tortured on-page is a big no.

Major character death. Random minions, as always, can be sacrificed to the storytelling gods. NOTE: Major character undeath fine.

Kink and smut no’s: I’m not into blood, scat, vomit or piss. Please no noncon/dubcon where a woman is the victim. NOTE: sex pollen scenarios whereby everybody loses their mind simultaneously is totally fine, as is Fuck or Die.

Unhappy/hopeless endings. Bittersweet is fine; endings where it’s clear a cost has been paid and everybody’s changed etc. etc. also fine, but like, please don’t leave the characters absolutely miserable or unrelentingly tormented by their demons (unless the demons are sexy and the torment is also sexy).

Breakups without makeups: If I requested a canon pairing, or if you decide to write a shippy pairing, please leave their relationship intact at the end of the story. It can take a battering! Just don't break them—or my poor little heart—apart. NOTE: If you're writing a missing scene that takes place while or leads up to a period when the characters are canonically on a break, leaving them broken up or the fight unresolved is fine, because I know canon takes care of things.

🍪🧁Treats 🧁🍪

Are very yes. Love me some treats!!!

📝🎅The Requests 🎅📝

Fandom: The Gentle Art of Fortune Hunting - K.J. Charles

Characters: Alice Fenwick, Marianne Loxleigh

Thoughts/Prompts: I am a simple bean, and all I want is Alice and Marianne having adventures. Maybe some lesbian porn. Or platonic lesbian BFF vibes. You can have 'em fall in love, or become platonic life partners, or fuck a lot and never fall in love, or start an elaborate grift or heist together. Like, wouldn’t it be hot if Marnie decided Alice needed some tutoring in the ways of fuckboys, lured one in, and used him to tutor Alice in the ways of satisfying herself while not getting pregnant? I’m seriously down for whatever.

Also, as with all of my fandom requests, please feel free to drag in as many other characters in as necessary. The more, the merrier; I just want Alice and Marnie’s relationship front and center.

Crack Prompts: Hey what about a vampire AU? Marnie as a vampire would be hot—hundreds of years of grifting, and GOD what the hell is up with this entirely-too-nice nerd oh WHOOPS turns out she’s her generation’s foremost vampire hunter. Alice as the vampire would also be amazing—Marnie tries to con Alice and discovers she’s bitten off more than she can chew (ba-dum-tish).

Vampire AU not your cuppa? How about crossovers with literally any other KJC universe? Stick ‘em in Magpies, or have them tangle with the Lilywhite Boys, solve a murder mystery with Pat and Fen, cosh some villains on the head with the Will Darling crew, accidentally fall into an orgy with the Murder, be pulled through time by one of the Green Men. I have read all the KJC books and extras. Go nuts.

Fandom: England Series - K.J. Charles

Characters: Bill Merton, Jimmy Yoxall

Thoughts/Prompts: Look, I love idiots, and these two are SUCH MAGNIFICENT IDIOTS. Jimmy is a giant doofus, and Bill thinks he's smarter, but all evidence points to him being at least as big an idiot when it comes to matters of the heart. I get all feral and heart-eyes over these two nincompoops. I will accept any and everything for these two: fics of the two of them getting to know each other during their university days, falling in love in London, THAT HORRIBLE FIGHT AFTER BEN HUR. Whatever. I ain't picky. I also said one time that they'd be great in Lower Decks and ever since then I may have brainwormed myself a little. They'd be so good in the USS Cerritos! Also down 2 clown with like, incongruous mashups---like John Wick? God, what if Jimmy Yoxall was just really weirdly good at murder, and Bill has to keep his stupid ass alive?

Opt-in for this specific fandom: waiving the breakup without makeup DNW for anything that takes place pre-Proper English events.

Fandom: Fire Island (Movie 2022)

Characters: Noah, Will

Thoughts/Prompts: Goddd, over a year later and it's still my favorite Pride and Prejudice adaptation to date. The found family vibes! Noah explicitly being non-monogamous! The dynamics between ALL the characters, but especially Noah and Howie!!! I am down for whatever for this fandom. Wanna write a big ole sweaty orgy? Have the entire crew go on a giant chaotic family vacation together? (Maybe even…the following year’s trip to Fire Island???). Somebody somehow manages to dare Will into entering a drag contest, and it’s gonna take everyone’s help to make this happen. Noah suddenly finds himself a TikTok sensation and gets into a weird Twitter beef with Taylor Swift.

Crack Prompts: These fools would be incredible in What We Do in the Shadows and Our Flag Means Death.

ALSO, oh my god: since this is a Pride and Prejudice retelling, how about sticking ‘em in a Regency romance novel? I’m inordinately fond of Loretta Chase, and the thought of these four idiots running amuck in the ton is giving me so much glee. Like, think of the Lord of Scoundrels retelling: Will is determined to rescue his idiot friend Charlie from the toils of Noah, a notorious rake, only to find himself reluctantly falling for Noah’s charms. And in the meanwhile, Charlie is falling in love with Howie….

[c0smicfern]

today, i find myself thinking a lot about if it could just be high sensitivity that i'm dealing with. to clarify, i definitely am a highly sensitive person, but i'm wondering whether or not that's a complete answer for everything that i'm dealing with & generally what the actual difference is between having autism or being highly sensitive. here are some things i've been considering:

sensory sensitivities. on one hand, i don't seem to have as severe sensory sensitivities as most autistic people seem to have. on the other, somebody yelling (in general, doesn't even need to be directed at me) or having too many people talking around me can cause a meltdown or a shutdown. but then again, these could just be things triggered by a high sensitivity to emotional stimuli, not necessarily sensory stimuli, which would point to me just being an HSP. i struggle to think of other sensitivities that would even qualify. i have a weak sense of smell & awareness of my own balance & where my body exists in space that is exacerbated by stress, but that's really it?? i also enjoy listening to music & smelling things more than the average person as the former helps me regulate & i enjoy the latter bc i don't normally pick up scents very well. these things could point to autism, but they're not the only factors i have to take into account.

early development. i engaged in imaginative play, made eye contact (i assume bc i forgot to ask my mom when i was asking her about this stuff last week), and woke up when i heard my name called at 9mo. i mean, if that isn't a silver bullet for any chance at me being diagnosed with autism, i don't know what is. i was relatively nonverbal for much of my childhood & especially when i started school, but this could be construed as me just being overly shy. in reality, i generally had no idea how to engage in conversation beyond the things that interested me. can that be explained by HSP? is there room for a relative lack of symptoms in early development where an autism diagnosis would be concerned? i don't know.

communication issues. i don't remember when i started having issues with eye contact or if i always have, but i know that i definitely do now as i generally prefer to avoid looking people directly in the eye too much. i just find it to be kind of stressful & disorienting during conversation. i've always sucked at small talk. i mean, it's boring, and i still struggle to think of what to say if i'm not talking about my interests. i also have somewhat inconsistent difficulties with reading social cues as i trend towards interpreting things negatively if there's any room for ambiguity. gestures can confuse me at times as well. i work in a very diverse area, and we oftentimes have customers come in who speak limited english. sometimes, they'll point to something on the menu, and it'll take a second for it to click what they're trying to communicate. after that, figuring what they're actually pointing at can be a struggle as well. i also don't generally use a lot of body language or gestures because it's not really something i think about. on my end, i experience nonperformative facial expressions normally, even if they can appear flat to other people. social smiling, on the other hand, creeps me out even though i've had to be on the receiving end of it my entire life. i also rarely do it back bc my smile either looks flat or unnatural depending on if i'm trying to smile with my teeth or not. i generally experience these things as a physical inability to replicate what other people are "performing" for lack of a better word, though.

monotropism. my mind does often get stuck on things, and i can spend most of my waking life thinking about them. after i've watched a show/movie & if i really liked one of the characters, i'll continually go on yt just to look up specific scenes or lines of dialogue with that character. is this normal fangirling or autism, though? i genuinely don't know. i feel like i also don't experience what i consider my special interests the same way as most other autistic people do because of my issues with executive functioning. i care about writing & being a writer deeply, and i especially love worldbuilding & sussing out the mechanics/concepts i need to build in order for a setting to function & appear how i want it to. i feel like i only do it a few times a week, though, just because i find it incredibly difficult to start tasks or see things through to completion. not exactly the stereotypical vision of autism.

so what have i learned? what is the most accurate theory of mind for me to hold about myself? i can't say. in some ways, i relate to the autistic experience deeply. in other ways, i don't seem to fully meet the diagnostic criteria. could it be inattentive adhd (formerly add) & being an hsp? could it be generalized anxiety & being an hsp? or is it really autism & i don't know, depression? i may not know or learn until i finish the diagnostic process. or i may never know, and that scares me on a level that i can't express.

[subterranean-heartsick-blues]

The Mist by Stephen King book review

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I'm just goin' to the store, to the store, I'm just goin' to the store / You might not see me anymore, anymore (Store – Carly Rae Jepson).

I’m always so late to things it’s not even fashionable anymore. Would you believe it if I told you that I just started listening to Chappell Roan this week? Seriously, I’m out here stopping people in the street saying shit like, “Hey everybody! Have you heard of this little jam called “Red Wine Supernova?” It’s the best!” Yeah well, this is my way of saying that it seems almost entirely redundant for me to even be writing a book review for a Stephen King novel of all things! Because it’s like… duh, of course it’s good. Everybody's already read this book, and now I'm just playing catch-up. Nonetheless, Hey everybody! Have you heard of this gem of a book called The Mist? It turns out that the very popular book, The Mist, is actually really good! It's just as frightening, existential, and downright delectable as everybody said it would be. Who would have thought? Anyway, I read this coming off the back of watching the movie recently, and other than seasonal obligation, I had an intense urge to check out the source material. The story that started it all, let’s go! The only reason I’m making a point of bringing this tidbit up is because Stephen King has always been one of those authors whose work has felt almost too intimidating for me to really sink my teeth into, and yet a large majority of the stories that he’s created are ones that I’m intimately familiar with. For example, Stand by Me is one of my favorite movies and never fails to get me feeling all the feels, and on the flip-side, Tim Curry’s Pennywise the Clown haunted all my childhood nightmares. So, in many ways, Stephen King is responsible for both my early life’s greatest fears as well as its comforts. Talk about multifaceted! Another reason why I’ve stayed away from his stuff until now is that I’ve heard criticisms that his books tend to veer heavy on the wordy side. We’re talking, “takes three pages to describe a medicine cabinet” kind of wordy, so that image in my head has always put a bit of a damper on any initial enthusiasm I might have had. And while I had a blast reading this book, I do have to concede on the fact that, yep, there sure is quite a bit of descriptive language used for pretty much every character that shows up, no matter how small the role. I mean, I knew what everybody was wearing, the color of everyone’s hair, who still had hair, their jobs, who they were married to, every little thing, I knew. Hell, by the time I finished the book I’m pretty sure I could tell you who was and wasn’t circumcised. Really though, I'm not criticizing at all, because I actually really enjoyed this “procedural” prose, as it works well to juxtapose against the unknowable monsters that exist out there. Besides, this style of writing also allowed us to gain important insight into David’s mindset, as I interpreted his incessant "daily life" descriptions of all the little mundane details as a coping mechanism, a way of grasping at some kind of normalcy as it helped tether himself to reality against the increasingly absurd backdrop of the mist.

Let’s see… what else? Oh yeah, the book is better than the movie. I know the movie has an infamously bleak ending that Stephen King himself said improved greatly upon his original work, but I really couldn’t disagree more. Ugh, it’s really hard to talk about this because I kind of want to spoil the ending. But I’ll try to keep it vague, don’t worry. The thing is, I was spoiled on both version’s endings at various points in my life, but I've got to say that it’s never really deterred me from wanting to read it for myself. When it comes to spoilers, I know I'm in the minority, but I’ve never really minded them all that much. If someone were to tell me right now, beat by beat, what happens in a book or a movie I was about watch or read, not only would I probably forget by the time I get to them, but it wouldn’t affect my opinion on the work whatsoever. I’m generally of the mind that if a story can be so easily ruined by a spoiler, then it’s probably not all that good in the first place. Incoming Hater Rant: Why do you think Marvel Studios are so cagey about their scripts, being so deathly paranoid that their precious cameos will be spoiled to the public that they don’t even give the actors acting in their movies the full context of what they’re doing in any given scene? It’s because there’s nothing tangible enough to engage with without the surprise of Andrew Garfield and Tobey Maguire walking through an ugly CGI portal. There’s no soul, no meaning other than to get its audiences exited for the next thing to consume. Okay, End of Hater Rant, I do still watch Marvel movies, so I'm not a complete hater. Anyway, my point is that knowing the ending to the movie version of The Mist beforehand wasn't why I didn't like it. It wasn't even that it was overly depressing, my problem was the fact that it was just kind of… silly. In fact, I found it to be less scary than the book because it answers too many questions and puts a nice little bow on the whole "mist" thing. Like, in a "well, that settles it" kind of way. Sure, the book ends on a more positive note and doesn’t have anybody screaming to the heavens at the terrible deeds they were forced to commit, but we’re already given enough clues to still be skeptical with David and his group’s chances, so leaving their fates unknown will always be a million times more daunting. It’s open-ended, and I think it’s cool how Stephen King had enough respect in the reader’s intelligence and that he understood that we are able to come to our own conclusions. And my final conclusion is that there’s a good reason why this book is still looked back on as fondly as it is. It’s haunting, disturbing, and most importantly, it’s written in a way that makes us, the reader, wonder what we would do were we in the same shoes as David. Like, I like to see myself as a rational dude, but if I were stuck in a grocery store in the middle of a mist with a billion man-hungry creatures out there… sheesh, who knows? I mean, I was already ready to convert after watching the hot priest from Midnight Mass for eight episodes, I'd fold so quick (oh yeah, I’d fold right over a table for Father Paul), so it’s very possible that I be right there singing the old testament gospel alongside Mrs. Carmody. Preach girl! Seriously though, this was a great book, and I know I’m going to be looking at any looming fogs a lot differently now. Hm, I guess Stephen King’s works will be haunting my adult nightmares too. He can't keep getting away with it!

The horrors of the Inquisition are nothing compared to the fates your mind can imagine for your loved ones.

[parm4carm]

Love you, Jade ❤️ And though I know it's not the most important thing right now, speaking out and often is more important, I do hope you are okay ❤️

hiii oh my god has it forreal been weeks since you sent me this?? i swear i just saved this to my drafts three days ago .. the passage of time truly fries my brain

first, this is so sweet of you to send to me and i'm so grateful that people still check in on me when i'm quiet online <3 i know i am a veryyyyy unreliable presence here but i really do appreciate all the love and i'm sending it right back to you <3

you've kind of given me the perfect jumping off point to just throw a lot of updates and ramblings in one spot bc truthfully i do not feel right posting normal posts and taking up space with things that are trivial in the grand scheme of things. i genuinely don't have the brain capacity for much else these days besides keeping up with palestine/congo/sudan etc related updates + the occasional few hours where i can watch a movie or a show without feeling guilty

(general life update dump below so beware bc i talk a lot)

brief mental state check in but i am not doing well! not just with the weight of the world but with everything else in my life lmao. pretty much everyone who knows me knows that the holidays/the winter are the roughest months for me so i'm usually radio silent :/ this year has been... so rough and i don't know why every year feels worse than the last but it really truly does! i'm particularly lonelier this year and it's honestly my fault. idk how to reach out to people when i'm so isolated tbh i feel like a burden at all times especially now that most of the people i used to talk to daily online and irl are doing way better than me and i'm just. always stuck here in this really shitty space i can't seem to get out of no matter how hard i try

i don't talk about my problems a lot online but like. after losing my childhood pet and then getting accepted to two different programs in one year (grad school and community college) and having to drop out of both AND dealing with a decline in my mother's health AND my grandmother's cancer scare AND my own financial issues AND unemployment i'm just exhausted. because of all of this i truly don't know how to function like a normal person or make friends or keep friends anymore i'm just miserable tbh

okay i know this is a hard pivot, but i thought i could just compile things that have brought me a little bit of happiness that i haven't talked about here! it's all on me to feel like this, but i have intense guilt about posting anything not related to current events, so this is my way around that! so.. enjoy i guess <3

personal stuff (you can send me asks to explain more if you want)

i beat my new years' resolution of watching 365 things this year – i'm up to 500 logs!

a lot of new tv (28 total, entire shows, rewatches, new seasons, miniseries, and documentaries included)

fixated on kpop this year and listened to 30 groups whole discography! i actually counted and it was exactly 30 lmao ask me ab my fav groups and biases if you dare

started drinking tea every day :)

redecorating my apartment and it's so much cozier now

i've become more of a snoopy/peanuts fanatic :)

to build on the new years resolution, i've added quite a few horror franchises under my belt :) my horror tag on letterboxd is roughly 250 now!

i think i'm finally breaking my lifelong nail biting habit??? fingers crossed!

buying more things secondhand and feeling way better about it! mostly clothes and dvds but me and my partner are huge fans of knick knacks

have tried a lot of new food this year :) and am cooking new recipes a lot more too!

went to the beach for vacation for the first time in ten years <3 went to this cool little record store and got a band recommendation from the owner that's now one of my underground favs!

celebrated ten years with my partner this year and although it's been such a rough year for the both of us and we're not nearly where we ever thought we'd be, we're more solid now than we've ever been!!! i really would not have made it through this year without them

honestly this year has been a blur 90% of the time so there's obviously been more little things that make me happy but! it's been a big year for consuming media bc i don't have much energy for creating anymore unfortunately

[servin-up-surveys]

survey #124

Do you like pineapple on pizza? To be entirely fair, I don't think I've tried it, but considering I'm generally not a fan of sweet and savory combos, I'm doubtful I would enjoy it.

Do you like milk? I do, but only legitimate, mammalian milk. No oat, soy, etc. stuff; trust me, I've tried it because the dairy industry is actually fucking horrible and rooted in awful abuse & I want NOTHING to do with it, but I just don't like non-dairy alternatives, like in the way that I have to aggressively fight spewing it out - which I don't always succeed at. I just hate it. I am so, so sensitive to tastes I dislike.

Do you like syrup or powdered sugar on your french toast? Uh I guess a bit of both is ideal, but I could see me going for one or the other depending on my mood.

Do you put jelly or butter on your toast? I honestly don't really eat toast. But if I DO have it for whatever reason, I'm gonna want grape jam on it.

Do you like baking? Never done it. I really should learn, though... I just need to learn cooking in general.

What are you grandparents' names? Right now I only remember my mom's parents' tbh, which were Cecelia and William.

If any, how old are your siblings? Ashley is 29, Nicole JUST turned 25, Misty is 35, Katie is 39, and Bobby is... oh, he doesn't have his birth year on FB, so idk lmao, but younger than Katie. Full disclosure I looked up Misty's and Katie's too bc I'm awful and don't remember my half-siblings' birthdays/ages like a literal asshole <333333

What color is your dad's hair? So he was born blonde IF I remember his childhood pictures correctly, but it became totally black for the majority of his life. It's pretty much entirely gray by now, but you can see the hue kinda peppers in lightness in a sorta way where at least to me, you can tell his hair is supposed to be black, he's just old.

How old was your mom when she had you? FUCK my mom doesn't have her birth year on FB either, but I THINK it was 1961, so if that is the case she would've been 34. It's somewhere around there.

Do you live with any of your family members currently? Just my mom.

What is your favorite cousins name? I don't have a close relationship with any of my cousins, honestly.

Who are you closest to in your family? My mom.

How long have you and your partner been together? It's been around a year and a half now.

Do you live together? Not currently, but I'm aware that when he has his own place again, he wants me to come with him. His mom is in a stable enough place and has been for a long enough time where he's comfortable leaving her with the house, but because of just how fucking CLINICALLY INSANE the housing market is right now, he just hasn't found a decent place that's priced even remotely reasonably. It's just financially intelligent to stay where he is until the market gets better or an incredible deal falls into his lap.

What is the first movie you watched together? As a couple? Technically, I think it'd be Coraline, which I know we watched once at my place the first time we tried dating in '17. Oh wait... or it mighta been the remake of It, which we watched in theaters.

How old are they? He's 29 and convinced he's basically on this deathbed age-wise lmao sir your life has JUST started

What are some things you enjoy doing? Primarily computer-related stuff, like watching videos or listening to music, socials activities, RPing, editing various things, playing WoW, doing surveys... but I also like to take photographs, read, draw, play video games (these days primarily with others), and I would absolutely adore going on nature walks and things of the like if I was in better shape (one day!!), and it wasn't hot. I also love learning about and watching animals.

What is your favorite color? Pastel pink is #1, followed by... many other pink shades, haha, like coral, rose gold, neon, fuchsia, etc. etc. I also like deep, regal reddish-purple colors, like maroon and burgundy, and lighter shades of purple, like lilac, orchid, and such.

What state are you from? North Carolina.

Have you ever adopted an animal? I'm assuming you don't mean truly "purchase" from a breeder or something, in which case, yes.

Have you ever taken in a stray? That's how our outdoor cat infestation from my childhood started, haha. I know my family (myself 100% included) has ZERO regrets over rescuing Chance, but yeah, it was a massive problem. Even after her, when we'd entered a phase of having no cats, we took in two kittens (Aphrodite and her sister whose name I just can't remember anymore) that were LITERALLY thrown out of a car in a plastic bag. Aphrodite started a fresh chain of having way too many cats, but not nearly as many as we had with Chance's family. They were still taken by animal control, though, because of wildly shitty neighbors that never communicated "hey they keep wandering into our yard, stop this or we're calling somebody." Coming home from school to every single one of them gone was one of the worst days of my fucking life (I was literally shrieking curses and sobbing on the porch), and I still grieve Aphrodite especially; I adored that cat. BUT ANYWAY, DO NOT keep your cats outdoors, and even when solely indoor pets, spay/neuter them, PLEASE.

What is an animal you are scared of? Whale sharks. It's funny, I like them, they're such peaceful animals, but their mouths just REALLY freak me out. I'd actually like to swim near one one day, maybe kill the fear.

Have you ever been bitten by a dog? Not a serious bite, no. Just a couple nips from nervous ones, the kinds that never even drew blood. My sister has been bitten by a German shepherd though on the hand; it belonged to her friend, and for some reason I don't remember, the dog just attacked her. She wound up needing stitches, and bless her friend, poor girl was sobbing because she felt so bad. It didn't affect Nicole's love for dogs though, and later in life she basically owned a German shepherd named Zeke. Maybe she sorta still does, idk; he was her ex-boyfriend's, and even after the split I know she's always been allowed to see him and I THINK bring him to her place occasionally? That dog is literally the child of divorced parents lmfao

Is Halloween your favorite holiday? Concept and aesthetic-wise, absolutely yes. I LIVE for the vibe, but as far as celebrating the holiday goes, it's not; I really don't do anything, pretty much ever. Christmas is definitely my fave celebratory-wise, because my family gets together and I just love seeing Ash's kids be so overjoyed about it all. It's just one of those days where you really, really focus on the love you have for the people you choose to spend your life with.

Do you like to watch scary movies during October? Meh, I'm just not a movie person, at least when it comes to watching them alone. I'd totally be done for like, watching them with Girt. Primarily because he hates horror/is a total pansy about it and it's hilarious lmfao

What are a couple of your favorite horror films? The original The Blair Witch Project is #1 (I like the sequel too), and I also totally adore The Crazies; maybe tied with the former mention, actually, idk. I thought The Boy was EXCELLENT, that's actually a movie I'd love to watch again. You can't go wrong with The Shining, either! The acting is just historical, plus I'm really into the concept of hysteria building off of what is technically nothing; I think that's also why I love The Blair Witch Project so much, at least the explanation behind it (collective hysteria, overreacting to certain things). The mind is SUCH a powerful thing.

What is your favorite Halloween treat/candy? Pumpkin-shaped Reese's, haha.

Do you often find yourself eating just because you’re bored? I used to be really bad at this, but not so much anymore. I'm not gonna say it NEVER happens, but I've gotten way better about reinforcing to myself "no, you're not hungry, you're bored."

Are you a sex addict? lmao if you know me at all, you know I'm definitely not.

Have you ever had a boyfriend/girlfriend taken from you? No. She tried, but I know Juan didn't date her after a lie she made up DID make me say "you know what fuck this I'm done with this whole drama bye" and break up with him. The lie she'd told was very believable for him honestly, and even though I DID know it could be a lie, Rachel had caused enough stress for me already and I wasn't confident enough of how into Juan I was to put up with it. To this day, I consider that lie a saving grace. I know Juan's done bad things that I don't know about (it's specifically stuck with me to this day that his answer to me asking about a stab wound scar he had was "I deserved it"), and bad things I do know about. It says something when your teacher pulls you aside when she noticed him visiting me a lot in art class to tell me to stay away from him. I'm pretty sure she did this literally twice, but for certain once.

If so, what would you like to do to the person who took them from you? Even in the hypothetical of Juan getting back with Rachel after that incident, Rachel is actually my friend now and I think she's fantastic (people grow, I will not hold her past against her). I wish her zero harm at all, only good things.

Have you ever been cheated on? If so, have you forgiven them? No. To mention my last survey, I DO sometimes wonder if Jason and the girl he dated after me (Ashley) had something stirring before we even split, but in total honesty, I don't think so, I really don't. I don't think that's the kind of person Jason was. But it WAS definitely alarming just how quickly he was onto someone else after we split following dating super seriously for over three and a half years.

Quick! Tell me the name of your favorite movie. The Lion King and The Meerkats 2008 documentary. I forget to mention the latter a lot, because it's an obscure movie barely anyone you will ever meet probably even knows, but it is simply phenomenal.

Do you wear water bras? ... What the fuck is a water bra?

Have you ever sent an anon hate message, be honest now. Nope.

Would you let someone give you a golden shower for a million dollars? I had to look this up and hell fucking no.

Name a band that you think is beyond overrated: I don't care man, let people enjoy whatever art they want. I really don't even know who's "in" these days anyway.

Who is the last person you said goodbye to? My PT therapist for today. She was new for me and is already tied with one other woman for my favorite, haha.

Who can you not live without? Nobody. PLEASE, don't adopt this mentality. I know it's hard to, but think realistically: you, in all technicality, CAN live without any one person, and I think this is so important to remember for when one day, you do lose them in one way or another, and you have to continue living without them. I totally used to believe this when it came to Jason, and I know it played a massive role in the severity of the breakup aftermath, but look at who the hell is living just fine - even happily - without him now.

What’s your favorite sea creature? Giant whales like blue whales top the list, but I also deeply love sea turtles, sea lions, seahorses, jellyfish, and dolphins. Sharks are also very cool and VERY unfairly villainized!!

What’s your favorite acoustic song? The "If I'm James Dean, You're Audrey Hepburn" one by Sleeping With Sirens, I think. That's been a high wedding song contendor for years now, lmao.

What’s your favorite riddle? Okay so this is really just because of context/plot; it's from God of War: Ragnarök, where Brok asks, "What gets bigger the more you take away from it?," and Mimir realizes the answer near the end: a hole. You'd have to play the game to understand and feel the sheer weight of it, which I HIGHLY recommend, the game is fucking brilliant, I cried SO much through it.

What do you think happens after we pass? I just don't know. I know I don't believe in some perfect paradise and a wicked hell for suiting people, but I DO believe we're still... there somehow, but definitely not with the level of sentience and awareness that we do while alive. I like to think that it's a peacefulness, a feeling of wholeness with the world.

^ Is it different from what you’d like to happen? I don't know, really. It's like, on the surface, the idea of a Heaven sounds fantastic, but... to live in nothing but flawless harmony for all conceivable eternity? That just doesn't sound ideal for me. And I ABSOLUTELY don't believe in/want a Hell-like realm to exist, because like I mentioned earlier, people change, grow, and are ALWAYS (well, I suppose almost always) deserving of the chance to redeem themselves. Eternal punishment so severe that our human minds can't even interpret it is just purely fucking diabolical to me, I want that for nobody.

How do you feel about people self-diagnosing themselves with disorders? Hear me out: it depends. In MOST CASES, I absolutely hate this, especially when the person acts like it is stone-hard fact while holding an unconvincing amount of evidence. However, there are plenty of people who just don't have access to doctors capable of properly diagnosing, and then there's also worth mentioning that you know you more than anybody else does. Just depends on a lot.

[atcordare]

Fjdjfjrjr I'm glad you liked the question aaa ^^ nwn nwn nwn I really liked your answers as well, you raise some very good points.

My day was fine enough! Did some work at class, i was out doing adult stuff (ugh), I've been working on my Yuu and now I'm chilling with my cats. Pretty decent overall!

As for my own favorite characters and their gay little shows (some of them are doubling yours! I do like both points of view ^^):

—I think Kalim watches SpongeB

—I think Kalim watched Madoka Magica and he's a fan! Idk, something about the mixture of sweet youthful themes with maturity and horror and stuff would be up his alley? I do consider him to be a lil bit slightly just slightly just a lil bit fucked up in the head, with how much he mentions all of his. Very severe uh. Childhood stuff. I don't think he'd communicate that he enjoyed it though. He seems to not like to open up about the parts of him that aren't cheery and bubbly.

—He would absolutely also like ridiculous comedy though. Like. Idk "Sakamoto Desu Ga?" or "Tomo-Chan is a Girl" or. indeed as you mentioned Saiki. Also GUMBALL and adventure time.

—I think his favorite movie would be Over the Moon. Watch it it's good I cried 7 times

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—Floyd would vary a loooot. I think he's not the kind to finish series and movies and stuff, he gets bored halfway through. I do think he'd regularly listen to true crime podcasts tho, just. SEVERELY skimming through it. And he'd be very selective with the channels too-if he doesn't like the voice narrating, if they stall too much, whatever.

—I do think he'd like BBC Sherlock though. Yeah I'm cursing him with this one yeah. Well fuck him n stuff.

—His ass also watches gumball

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—I think Jamil enjoys angst. Movies with bad endings, people fucking up over and over again, the kind of horror media that makes sure you know you and the evil portrayed aren't that far away from eachother. Idk, I feel like it's his way of unwinding. He's not allowed to stop and feel his own emotions most of the time, so they weigh down on him and these kind of media make him feel less alone in this sense.

—I think Violet Evergarden hit him particularly hard. Also Perfect Blue and Tokyo Magnitude ☝️

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—Idia is a danganronpa fan I can't be convinced otherwise. He just IS.

—He likes loud stuff that don't allow a lot of room for depressing thoughts, but DO allow him to think about plotholes and the quality of the writing. Danganronpa, pointless Shonen anime that suck SO SEVERELY that he spends the entire time he hate-watches it gritting his teeth and complaining on forums, sports anime, the ghost stories dub, stuff like that!

—Maybe the ocasional sappy anime where nothing ever goes wrong, like traditional magic girl shows, slice of lifey stuff, yeah. He buys tons of figures of those if they scratch the itch right. He's READY to throw down to defend the fictional girl who gives him serotonine.

Drops down here.

Hey you how's it hanging!! Hope you had a good day!!!! What do you think it's your favorite character(s)'s movie or show

HELLLLLLOOOOO IM DOING GREAT and yes i did have a great day cause i finally got hu tao crying screaming im a new happy main now (i hope your day was even better tho mwah mwah!!! 💞)

as for the question hmmmm Jamil's fave show . . . i feel like he could potentially enjoy breaking bad but he strikes me as a horror person (totally not projecting here or anything) so maybe he'd enjoy something like Silent Hill or The Conjuring movies? or maybe even something post apocalyptic like Kingdom? something a bit gory maybe!

Vil strikes me as a Bridgerton person who criticises the outfits but I think he'd like historic dramas (would like them more if they were accurate too Jdjdn). i can maybe see him enjoying Wednesday a bit even tho he didn't get the initial hype, not his fave but definitely something he likes. He probably absolutely loves Little Women tho, I can see that being top #1 for him.

I don't even think Azul has ever watched a movie or series in his life but he'd be a sucker for those business proposal shows like Dragons Den (i think that's what its called lmao 😭) and The Apprentice, he would watch the hell out of that show and take notes I know it. maybe he secretly watches romcoms as well, but i think he'd absolutely hate stuff like Friends or The Big Bang Theory. maybe likes The Office? who knows . . .

Leona is boring he probably just watched chess tournaments or sports events BOOOOOO!!! i can see him watching Queens Gambit and The Witcher and enjoying them tho, but he sleeps so often he probably hasn't seen anything lmao.

AND FINALLY KALIMM. he watches SpongeBob /hj. nah but fr he strikes me as an Encanto (Disney) person, probably watched the hell out of that movie more than once it was THAT good. i think he'd also like slice of life animes like The Disastrous Life of Saiki K or Ouran Highschool Host Club! he'd cry watching Your Lie in April. probably watched Banana Fish too and ended up crying also, but for far far far longer.

now how was YOUR day and tell me about your fave characters' movies or shows i wanna see those amazing hcs 👀

[ollovae3]

Hi there!

I'm looking to create a clone OC, but I'm worried about power dynamics being an issue between him and a far more "galaxy weary" partner who has seen a lot more of the universe's cruelty.

Do you have any advice on how to make sure the relationship and dynamic stays healthy and equal? I've never shipped a clone with anyone before, so this is all brand new territory for me.

Hallo, Anon!!

I actually figured out words for a minute between homework pages, so wanted to reply while they were still with me!!

But: A. Love the idea and also honored you asked! And B. I think so far this actually sounds totally fine? Honestly your pair sounds like my parents!! My Mom's the "Eeyore" of the two, and my Dad's the "Tigger" as they put it, along with other things, so they're similar sounding!

I think I know where you're aiming your worries, so I'll answer to that, but if I guess wrong please feel free to toss another ask at me!! And none of these are like,,, decrees or anything? Just suggestions for you to take and run with as you like!! If they sound definitive, sorry about that, that's not the tone I'm meaning to give. 😅

If you're worried about power in general, this partner being a Jedi would be a more major concern, but civvies also need to be kept an eye on? Clones have very little/no power during TCW, and if they're AWOL they're at risk of being captured and sent to an unknown fate. I'd advise writing this concern in, even if just in your notes, and have them address that imbalance? For Avi and Thorn, for example, along with boundaries for her as a Jedi (and her being technically non-military/not in command of his branch), they also agreed to let him be the lead for how the relationship proceeds, so he lets her known when he's ready to move forward, or needs space, so that he's got more control over how far he's okay with going in various situations.

If your clone is still serving, I'd run with something similar, so that the civvie isn't like, putting him in danger or making him feel as though he's being dragged around with threat of a report over his head. If not serving, I'd aim that way still, though enjoy adjusting to giving them more PDA/date time 🤣

As for the "World-weary vs Hopeful" dynamic, I'd definitely stray away from old tropes of "clone knows nothing and acts like a child constantly" and "partner has to show clone about anything that isn't a weapon". The clones know things, they've trained for this, he's likely been deployed for a bit and gotten to travel and visit different places, experience new things already! Instead of the mentioned tropes, aim for something more adult. Maybe he knows about grocery stores and street food, but he's never had money so never gotten to actually choose and purchase anything, so when partner takes him along to a corner store, he's excited to get to pick out what to get! Maybe he loves candy, but trading with vod isn't a vast wealth of the one he really likes, so partner taking him out to go and buy a bunch of that candy to enjoy and explore. Stuff like that if that makes sense? Emotionally, those old tropes show up too, so watch out for those. While Clones maybe didn't get a TON of romance experience, they clearly know about it. They'd be more likely to just be awkward about how to go about flirting/asking someone out, rather than entirely ignorant to the concept.

And address the question more literally, while this person may have seen more cruelty, it may be interesting to pit that against how the Clones are raised and what they've seen in battle? Maybe your trooper describes home and his childhood, while partner is listening with a dropped jaw. Maybe they don't get why he's so damn optimistic, why he's so "ignorant to the real world", only to get a verbal smackdown explaining that he's very much aware of the real world, but that he's also witnessed a lot of good, and he fights to protect that, not to try and just beat bad guys?

Sorry for this length, I was trying to sort of "shotgun" answer, since I was worried you may have been asking one of a few different ways? But if I still missed or if something I said is odd/confusing, let me know!! I'm in midterms so my brain is mush atm. 😅

When you write or draw those OCs PLEASE let me see, they sound wonderful?? And for ok there questions, definitely check out CloneHub and Queen-Breha-Organa!! They've got great posts about racism in SW, and discussions about clone OCs/ships!

[omegalomania]

hi!! just saw your post abt brendon and all the shit p!atd has covered up and i honestly feel so sick :// i have a question tho bc as much as i hate them now and wanna distance from them, i genuinely love some of their music but also i cant listen to it w/o being sick but i wanna enjoy the music solely yknow? dyou know how i could do that lol bc im gonna be sad if i can never listen to their songs the same way again

i cant say im an expert on any of this and it's hard because im of two minds. on one hand, yes, i love the idea of death of the author and reclaiming a work from a shitty person. on the other hand...i dont like the idea of continuing to validate that shitty persons work and maintain that persons relevance in the public eye, especially if it means that they get to coast off of that relevance and dodge consequences for their shit actions!

what muddies the issues so much with panic is that despite how much the marketing has pushed this idea...panic really isn't and never has been solely the brendon urie show. the band was started between two childhood friends (ryan ross and spencer smith). the band managed to exist because the original bassist, brent wilson, happened to know brendon urie and thought he could sing. the band got a record deal because ryan ross bothered pete wentz on livejournal enough times. panic at the disco got a career because pete wentz decided to take a chance on these kids from vegas and create an entire label to sign them. a fever you can't sweat out exists because of ryan ross and spencer smith as much as it does because of brendon urie. pretty odd exists because of jon walker and ryan ross and spencer smith as much as it does because of brendon urie. vices & virtues exists because of spencer smith and pete wentz and dallon weekes as much as it does because of brendon urie. too weird to live, too rare to die exists because of spencer smith and dallon weekes as much as it does because of brendon urie. death of a bachelor exists because of lolo as much as it does because of brendon urie. pray for the wicked exists because of brendon's 43 writers (yes, really, i counted, it has that many credited lmao) as much as it does because of the guy himself. all these records exist because of the producers and engineers that worked on them just as much as they do because of brendon urie, if not more so.

i don't want to downplay how many other hands have been involved in the machine of panic. brendon is not and never has been its sole engineer, no matter how much he's billed as the central creative mind. and i don't want to erase or dismiss how many other people contributed to that art because the one guy who owns the title now happens to be a garbage person, particularly since brendon didn't start the band to begin with! for however shit he was treated in the band, dallon has stated that he's still proud of a lot of the instrumentation and lyricism he put on too weird, and i want to still recognize a lot of that record as something i can admire.

for my part, i've still got a few panic albums on my ipod. i didn't...actually buy them because i was a broke college student when i got my hands on them lol so i didn't actually ever give the guy my money. and it's hard to listen to them now for the most part. i don't stream panic stuff, i don't give it views. if i listen to the older stuff, i do it on my own time and as isolated from statistics as possible. i don't support brendon voluntarily in any way and the only times i discuss him is to dunk on him mercilessly because he deserves it lol

i wish i had a better answer for you that could give you peace of mind, anon. the sad fact is that it's not a simple issue because the simplest part of the issue - that brendon urie is a sack of shit - is frustrated by the fact that he took ownership of a band that was never really his to begin with, and performs songs that he never actually wrote drawing from situations he never personally lived.

[flufffysocks]

let's talk about andi mack's worldbuilding

sorry this took forever to make! i've been pretty busy with school stuff and i kind of lost my inspiration for a bit, but i ultimately really enjoyed writing it! i wish i could've included more pics (tumblr has a max of 10 per post), and it kinda turned from less of a mini analysis to more of an extremely long rant... but i hope it's still a fun read!

i've been rewatching the show over the past few weeks (thanks again to @disneymack for the link!), and i’ve been noticing a lot that i never did the first time around. this is really the first time i’ve watched the show from start to finish since it aired, and it honestly feels so different this time - probably a combination of the fact that i’m not as focused on plot and can appreciate the show as a whole, and also that the fandom is much, much smaller now, so there’s a lot less noise. so the way i’m consuming this show feels super different than it did the first time, but the show itself doesn’t - it’s just as warm and comforting to me as it was the first time around, if not more so.

i think a lot of that can be attributed to andi mack’s “worldbuilding”. i’m not quite sure that this is the right word in this context, to be honest, because i mostly see it used in reference to fantasy and sci-fi universes, but it just sort of feels right to me for andi mack, because you can really tell how much love and care went into constructing this universe. for clarity, worldbuilding is “the process of creating an imaginary world” in its simplest sense. there’s two main types: hard worldbuilding, which involves inventing entire universes, languages, people, cultures, places, foods, etc. from scratch (think “lord of the rings” or “dune”), and soft worldbuilding, in which the creators don’t explicitly state or explain much about the fictional universe, but rather let it’s nature reveal itself as the story progresses (think studio ghibli films). andi mack to me falls in the soft worldbuilding category. even though it takes place in a realistic fiction universe, there’s a lot of aspects to it that are inexplicably novel in really subtle ways.

so watching the show now, i’ve noticed that the worldbuilding comes primarily from two things - setting and props, and oftentimes the both of them in tandem (because a big part of setting in filmmaking does depend on the props placed in it!).

one of the most obvious examples is the spoon. it really is a sort of quintessential, tropic setting in that it's the main gang's "spot", which automatically gives it a warm and homey feel to it. and its set design only amplifies this:

the choice to make it a very traditional 50s-style diner creates a very nostalgic, retro feel to it, which is something that's really consistent throughout the show, as you'll see. from the round stools at the bar, to the booths, to the staff uniforms, this is very obvious. the thing that i found especially interesting about it though is the choice of color. the typical 50s diner is outfitted with metallic surfaces and red accented furnishings, but the spoon is very distinctly not this.

instead, it's dressed in vibrant teal and orange, giving it a very fresh and modern take on a classic look. so it still maintains that feeling of being funky and retro, but that doesn't retract from the fact that the show is set distinctly in modern times.

of course, this could just be a one-off quirky set piece, but this idea of modernizing and novelizing "retro" things is a really common motif throughout the show. take red rooster records. i mean, it's a record shop - need i say more? it's obviously a very prominent store in shadyside, at least for the main characters, but there's no apparent reason why it is (until season 2 when bowie starts working there, and jonah starts performing there). a lot of the time, though, it functions solely as a record shop. vinyl obviously isn't the most practical or convenient way of listening to music, but it's had its resurgence in pop culture even in the real world, mostly due to its aesthetic value, so it's safe to say that it serves the same purpose in the andi mack universe.

the fringe seems to be nostalgic of a different era, specifically the Y2K/early 2000s period (because it's meant to be bex's territory and symbolic of who she used to be, and its later transformation into cloud 10 is representative of her character arc, but that's beside the point). to be honest, exactly what this store was supposed to be always confused me. it was kind of a combination party store/clothing store/makeup store/beauty parlor? i think that's sort of the point of it though, it's supposed to feel very grunge-y and chaotic (within the confines of a relatively mellow-toned show, of course), and it's supposed to act as a sort of treasure chest of little curios that both make the place interesting and allow the characters to interact with it.

and, of course, there's andi shack. this is really the cherry on top of all of andi mack's sets, just because it's so distinctly andi. it serves such amazing narrative purpose for her (ex. the storyline where cece and ham were going to move - i really loved this because it highlights its place in the andi mack universe so well, and i'm a sucker for the paper cranes shot + i'm still salty that sadie's cranes didn't make it into the finale) and it's the perfect reflection of andi's character development because of how dynamic it is (the crafts and art supplies can get moved around or switched out, and there's always new creations visible).

going back to the nostalgia motif though, the "shack" aspect of it always struck me as very treehouse-like. personally, whenever i think of treehouses, there's this very golden sheen of childhood about it, if that makes sense. i've always seen treehouses in media as a sort of shelter for characters' youthful innocence and idealistic memories. for example, the episode "up a tree" from good luck charlie, the episode "treehouse" from modern family, and "to all the boys 2" all use a treehouse setting as a device to explore the character's desire to hold onto their perfect image of their childhood (side note: this exact theme is actually explored in andi mack in the episode "perfect day 2.0"!). andi shack is no exception to this, but it harnesses this childhood idealism in the same way that it captures the nostalgia of the 50s in the spoon, or the early 2000s in the fringe. it's not some image of a distant past being reflected through that setting; it's very present, and very alive, because it reflects andi as she is in the given moment.

some honorable mentions of more one-off settings include the ferris wheel (from "the snorpion"), the alley art gallery (from "a walker to remember"), SAVA, the color factory (from "it's a dilemna"), and my personal favorite, the cake shop (from "that syncing feeling").

[every time i watch this episode i want to eat those cakes so bad]

these settings have less of a distinctly nostalgic feel (especially the color factory, which is a very late 2010s, instagram era setting), but they all definitely have an aura of perfection about them. andi mack is all about bright, colorful visuals, and these settings really play to that, making the andi mack universe seem really fun and inviting, and frankly very instagrammable (literally so, when it comes to the color factory!).

props, on the other hand, are probably a much less obvious tool of worldbuilding. they definitely take up less space in the frame and are generally not as noticeable (i'm sure i'll have missed a bunch that will be great examples, but i'm kind of coming up with all of this off the top of my head), but they really tie everything together.

for example, bex's box, bex's polaroid, and the old tv at the mack apartment (the tv is usually only visible in the periphery of some shots, so you might not catch it at first glance) all complement that very retro aesthetic established through the settings (especially the polaroid and the tv, because there's really no good reason that the characters would otherwise be using these).

besides this, andi's artistic nature provides the perfect excuse for plenty of colorful, crafty props to amplify the visuals and the tone. obviously, as i discussed before, andi shack is the best example of this because it's filled with interesting props. but you also see bits of andi's (and other people's) crafts popping up throughout the show (ex. the tape on the fridge in the mack apartment, andi's and libby's headbands in "the new girls", walker's shoes, andi's phone case, and of course, the bracelet). not only does doing this really solidify this talent as an essential tenet of andi's character, but it also just makes the entirety of shadyside feel like an extension of andi shack. the whole town is a canvas for her crafts (or art, depending on how you want to look at it. i say it's both), and it immensely adds to shadyside's idealism. because who wouldn't want to live in a world made of andi mack's creations?

and, while it's not exactly a prop, the characters' wardrobe is undoubtedly a major influence on the show's worldbuilding. true to it's nature as a disney channel show, all of the characters are always dressed in exceptionally curated outfits of whatever the current trends are, making the show that much more visually appealing. i won't elaborate too much on this, because i could honestly write a whole other analysis on andi mack's fashion (my favorites are andi's and bex's outfits! and kudos to the costume designer(s) for creating such wonderful and in-character wardrobes!). but, i think it's a really really important aspect of how the show's universe is perceived, so it had to be touched upon.

[^ some of my favorite outfits from the show! i am so obsessed with andi's jacket in the finale, and i aspire to be at bex's level of being a leather jacket bisexual]

and lastly, phones. this is a bit of an interesting case (pun intended), because the way they're used fluctuates a bit throughout the show, but i definitely noticed that at least in the first season terri minsky tried to avoid using them altogether. these efforts at distancing from modern tech really grounds the show in it's idealist, nostalgia-heavy roots, so even when the characters start using their phones more later in the show, they don't alter the viewer's impression of the andi mack universe very much.

so, what does all of this have to do with worldbuilding? in andi mack's case, because it's set in a realistic universe and not a fantasy one, a lot of what sets it apart from the real world comes down to tone. because, as much as this world is based on our own, it really does feel separate from it, like an alternate reality that's just slightly more perfect than ours, which makes all the difference. it's the idealism in color and composition in andi mack's settings that makes it so unmistakably andi mack. even the weather is always sunny and perfect (which is incredibly ironic because the town is called shadyside - yes, i am very proud of that observation).

the andi mack universe resides somewhere in this perfect medium that makes it feel like a small town in the middle of nowhere (almost like hill valley in 1955 from "back to the future"), but at the same time like an enclave within a big city (because of its proximity to so many modern, unique, and honestly very classy looking establishments). it is, essentially, an unattainable dream land that tricks you into believing it is attainable because it's just real enough.

all this to say, andi mack does an amazing job of creating of polished, perfect world for its characters. this is pretty common among disney channel and nickelodeon shows, but because most other shows tend to be filmed in a studio with three-wall sets, andi mack is really set apart from them in that it automatically feels more real and tangible. it has its quintessential recurring locations, but it has far more of them (most disney/nick shows usually only have 3-4 recurring settings), and it has a lot more one-off locations. it's also a lot more considerate when it comes to its props, so rather than the show just looking garish and aggressively trendy, it has a distinctive style that's actually appropriate to the characters and the story. overall this creates the effect of expanding the universe, making shadyside feel like it really is a part of a wider world, rather than an artificial bubble. it's idealism is, first and foremost, grounded in reality, and that provides a basis for its brilliant, creative, and relatable storytelling.

tl;dr: andi mack's sets and props give it a very retro and nostalgic tone which makes its whole universe seem super perfect and i want to live there so bad!!

[retvenkos]

OKAY. so the thing about this crush -- my childhood boy, liked him since i was 5 -- is that he isn't too experienced in the romance department, and so the first thing he said after my whole confession and then ranting about black holes and also apple pie was that he's never had an experience like this and he's scared to talk about it but he's not sure how he feels etc etc. right? and so for me, i was okay just being friends of course i'd be sad and everything but it was okay so basically i reass

ured him that anything he felt was okay and all that and i'd still like to be his friend and stuff, and i said if you are just trying to spare my feelings don't worry about it, and if he was really truly unsure we don't have to talk about it immediately only when he was comfortable of course and then he said back that he was "feeling some sort of way [he's] never felt before" and how he didn't want to say anything because what if it wasn't what he thought, so then i responded basically saying no pressure, and then an hour or so later he said "being honest i feel weird, but i'm 100% certain that its not a bad weird, and my head is absolute mush right now, but when i think about saying that i like you i get really really happy, and i always enjoy talking with and listening to you, and you make me smile and i don't know how i'm supposed to say this or whats going to happen or literally anything right now but what i'm trying to get to is that i like you, and i'm rlly rlly nervous but i like you and i'm happy about it" AND I'M -- i've read it so many times. my brother and i were making apple pies in the kitchen when i got it and he had to watch me prance around the kitchen and swoon and do the whole thing and i haven't been able to stop smiling because IT HAS HAPPENED it has HAPPENED it has jfkdsjafkldsajfkls hapeendeja kflajdskf jkjfkldsjfkla and i'm so HAPPY OH MY GOSH

michelle i am making pies right now, too, and i am aLSO SMILING LIKE AN IDIOT FOR YOU!!!!!!!! IT'S HAPPENING ASDFGHJKJHGFDSASDFGHJKJHGFDSDFGHJHGDXDFGHJKJHGFDSDGHJKJHGFDSGHJKJHGFDSASDFGHJKB.

okay, but i love this boy,,,,,,, the fact that he's being considerate of your feelings is my everything. saying he wants to be sure before he leads you on,,,,,, okay, sir. i see you. i respect you. but ohmygod, you've known him for so long, and this entire scenario reads like a ya romance novel, asfghjkjhgfdsasdghjhgfdsdfg.

i adore this for you, michelle, and now you have to keep me updated because i'm so invested in this story. i'm rooting for this childhood best friend,,,,,,, he better not blow this,,,,,,

[mrslackles]

Ahem.

Heh. It's not that deep, but I thought I'd just made a post updating anyone who wants to be updated because I love my lil community and want to share what's been going on.

Why haven't I been on Tumblr in months?

A lot has happened in my life, mostly personally and professionally. I had a very demanding job and complicated love life, followed by unemployment and depression, which I'm still pretty much in the thick of. There was a period when I no longer found any joy in actively doing something. The thought of doing anything I'd once enjoyed exhausted me, so I wasn't coming on here, I wasn't writing and ultimately it led to a breakdown which got me into therapy and now I'm somewhere slightly better.

Will I still be finishing my fanfiction?

It's the plan! Every day brings a new challenge, but I hope to have the next chapter of You were my life (life is far away from fair) out really soon. EDIT: (Yes, my life is so crazy that halfway through writing this post days ago, I had to abandon it and have only been able to come back to it now.) The new chapter is now live! I'm actually super nervous because I haven't published anything in months so I really hope you guys like it. Probs won't sleep tonight, lol.

What then?

Something that has given me real joy recently is crafting my very own characters in my very own world. They're Brio-inspired but I breathed fresh life into them. I'm still figuring out where I'm going to be publishing that, though (if you have ideas, let me know!).

In the future I'm also hoping to start doing new stuff on my YouTube channel, so please subscribe if you haven't already.

And then lastly but most importantly, I really want to get back to being on here more regularly. I've always seen my blog as somewhere people, particularly minorities, can come to feel seen and heard, so I'd love to continue that for anyone who needs advice or just a listening ear. I know this time is incredibly tough and I know therapy is a huge privilege -- so if you're going through anything akin to what I'm going through (the entire gamut of emotions relating to joblessness and some other fun childhood trauma scattered in, plus sometimes near-crippling anxiety) then I would love to share some things I've learned in therapy that have really helped me. And if something else is bothering you, I'll do my best to just be here and listen. So feel free to come into my Ask box with anything that's on your mind.

And if you don't feel comfortable doing so yet, just know that if you're reading this, you're important to me. You matter. You're worthy ❤️