#can you tell im trying to avoid filters

[springlock-suits]

I need to make a tag for nsfw posts, any ideas?

[sturniolohouse]

Do Not Wait - M.S

a/n: this got heavier than i planned initially but i just leaned into wherever the story took me. it's also very reader focused, which i realized way too late. but, do not fret, matt is still in it :) lmk if you'd like me to continue this as a series... i hope yall like it, im proud of it.

summary: while matt is away, reader learns and struggles with some unexpected news that will change both their lives forever.

warnings: mentions of pregnancy, vomit, blood, death, grief, panic attacks, cursing. (no use of y/n)

word count: 11.7k

song: do not wait - wallows

"And it gets worse before it gets better That's one thing that I have come to know Just so you know"

“I hate to leave you like this,” Matt sighs, pushing my hair out of my face as his dark silhouette sits beside me on the bed.

I lay curled up in a ball after spending majority of the night sick. I feel terrible because I kept Matt up when he had to be up early for his flight to Chicago today.

Despite my attempts to avoid disturbing him, he spent most of the night beside me, rubbing my back while I hunched over the toilet and bringing me water.

I toss and turn, unable to find a comfortable position as my restlessness and nausea worsen by the second.

Matt’s hand touches my forehead, gently pushing my hair back and mindlessly scratching my head. I sit up as another wave of nausea twists my stomach, and I take a deep breath, hoping to suppress it. Matt sits up behind me, his hand now rubbing my back as I lean over the side of the bed with my head between my knees.

Thankfully, a moment later the wave of sickness passes and I sit up straight with a small groan as my body aches.

“I’m going to sleep on the couch. I don’t want to get you sick, and you have to be up in a few hours,” I croak, but he protests, gently pulling me back into bed.

"I don't give a fuck. I'll sleep on the plane, you're staying right here,"

As the morning light begins to filter through the curtains, Matt’s alarm goes off. By then, we had maybe collectively slept an hour and I knew he must have been exhausted. He got ready quietly trying his best not to disturb me, but I was already awake.

I don’t think sleep is in the cards for me tonight.

He places the back of his hand on my forehead, then my cheek, his touch gentle and searching.

“You still don’t have a fever...I don’t know if that’s good or bad,” He sighs, his fingers sifting through my hair with a tenderness that makes my heart ache.

Even with the faint light of dawn as our only source, I can still make out his concerned expression as he scans my face.

“I've never been this sick before. It must be a bug,” My voice is hoarse from repeatedly throwing up.

“Please, stay here with Nick while I’m gone so you have someone to look after you. I’m gonna text him now so he sees it when he wakes up. God, I don’t even want to go anymore,” He wipes his hand down his face in stress and I shake my head.

“No, stop, don’t worry about me. I’m gonna be fine. I’ll stay here with Nick. Please don’t be late for your flight,” I insist, gripping his hand weakly. “I’m going to make some tea and try to get some rest.” I go to get up but he puts his hand on my shoulder.

“I’ll make you tea, while we wait for the Uber. What do you want, mint?” He asks softly, his hand rubbing up and down my hip.

I nod weakly, thanking him.

I doze off a bit while he goes to make my tea, the repercussion of not sleeping catching up to me. When I open my eyes again, he’s setting my steaming mug on the bedside shelf carefully and placing two advils next to it.

“Text me when you wake up? And let me know if you have to go to urgent care, I’ll send you an Uber.” He tells me softly, his voice trembling with an emotion he’s trying to hide.

His reluctance to leave is evident in every line of his face.

I nod tiredly, “Mm, text me when you and Chris land. Have fun in Chicago. I love you.”

“I love you,” He kisses my forehead, before grabbing his suitcase by his bedroom door and leaving.

I was able to sleep a couple of more hours before I woke up again, dry heaving into the toilet because I quite literally had nothing left in my stomach.

I showered, brushed my teeth and went into the kitchen, searching for something bland to settle my stomach. I had decided to grab a rice cake and made more mint tea before I sprawled out on the couch in one of Matt’s hoodies.

It’s not the first time he’s been away, but this time, I miss him more than I anticipated. Even the scent of his hoodie brings a wave of emotion that catches me off guard.

We’ve never been one of those couples that spends every second of every day together anyway. Not even when we first started dating. We’ve always given each other the space we need.

But I must admit I could go for one of his hugs right now.

It’s around 10 AM when Nick comes down stairs and his face tells me everything I need to know about my appearance.

“I know, I look like shit.” I deadpan and he covers his mouth with wide eyes.

“I got Matt’s texts...I thought that motherfucker was being dramatic. Are you feeling any better?” He asks with a hand on his chest.

“Well, I haven’t thrown up in three hours, so that’s a new record. Your poor brother, I kept him up all night,”

“He'll live, do you want to go to urgent care?”

“No, I’ll wait it out. It’s gotta pass and I was able to keep my breakfast down.” I wave a hand.

Nick goes to make his own breakfast, slicing an apple before coming over to sit on the couch with me.

“Apple?” He offers me, munching on his own bite.

I decline shaking my head with a frown.

Nick wanted to watch Love Island, so I let him change the TV, feeling my eyelids grow heavy. As the sounds of the show filled the room, I found myself dozing off, giving in to the rest my body needs.

When I wake up, I have a blanket over me and Nick is editing on his laptop.

He notices me move and takes his headphones off one ear.

“Hey, you feeling better? Matt keeps pestering me for updates,” He shows me his phone with messages from a worried Matt.

I sigh, “Jesus...I’ll call him. But yes, I feel better now that I've gotten some sleep.” I get up and stretch my body, wincing at my achy muscles.

“How long was I out?” I ask grabbing my phone to see my own set of messages from Matt.

Kid worries too much.

“About 3 hours, you were knocked out. I’m gonna order food, are you hungry for anything?” He asks and my stomach rumbles at the thought of one food.

“I could fuck up some tacos right now,” I raise an eyebrow at him at my suggestion.

“I like the way you’re thinking.” He snaps his fingers pointing at me in agreement.

“Birria tacos for me and a Diet Coke. I’ll be right back, I’m gonna go call your brother before he has a heart attack.” I say walking to Matt’s room and calling him.

He picks up on the first ring.

“Hey,” He breaths out, his voice soft.

“What did I tell you about worrying about me?” I tease him and he laughs, sounding relieved.

"Hi!" I heard Chris shout in the background, before I heard a door close and Matt sigh. I'm guessing he went into a separate room.

“If you saw the state you were in before I left this morning, you’d be worried too. I take it you’re feeling better? Heard you napped,” He speaks up again, talking at a normal volume now.

“I was physically feeling the state I was in. But, yeah, a little better after my nap. How was your flight?” I ask, playing with the trinkets on his shelves.

“Besides me worrying the entire flight about you dehydrating and dying? Fine. A little turbulence, but nothing crazy.”

“Okay, drama, relax. I’m staying hydrated, I’ve napped, Nick and I are about to order some tacos. It must have just been a bug. I must admit, you're very cute when you worry about me though.” I smile and he hums shly.

A beat of silence goes by and I look at the photobooth picture of Matt and I on his wall.

“I miss you,” I admit to him, leaning down to inhale the collar of his sweatshirt on me.

“I miss you too. You know I haven't even been gone 12 hours though,” He reminds me, sounding amused at my unexpected sappyness.

I sigh, “I know,”

Suddenly I have a lump of emotion in my throat and he automatically hears the switch of my tone.

“Hey woah, what happened? Why are you upset?” He sounds panicked.

“Oh my god, sorry. I don’t know. I’m not even sad,” I choke back my tears.

“Doesn’t sound like it.." He doesn't sound convinced. "Do I need to come home?" He says next and I'm immediately objecting.

“What! No. Matt, I promise I’m fine.” I tell him quickly, taking off my hoodie as I begin to overheat.

“I love you... I’ll be back before you know it, okay? S'nothing we haven’t done before.” He reminds me softly and my bottom lip wobbles.

“Mhm,” I manage to get out and he sighs again.

“Sweetheart... You’re telling me not to be worried, but I’m beyond worried. Can you please tell me what’s wrong?” He pleads and I shake my head even though he can't see me.

“I honestly couldn’t tell you...I-i think I just needed to cry, and missing you isn’t helping because I wish I could hug you but you’re so f-far,” I hiccup.

“Okay, deep breaths, how about you take a nice hot shower–maybe a bath. Use Nick’s bath and when you’re done, you can eat your tacos and you’ll feel better. Okay? Listen, Chris and I are about to leave for dinner, are you going to be alright?” He checks in, sounding hesitant to hang up.

“Yes, I’m fine. Seriously. I’m sorry. I must be starting my period soon.” I compose myself, trying to ignore the sudden ache in my heart.

“It’s okay,” he says softly, his voice gentle and sweet.

Any other time, he’d be teasing me for being a crybaby—lovingly, of course—but I think he senses that my emotions are genuinely beyond my control right now.

“I love you,” he says again with emphasis, wanting to hear me say it back.

“I love you, so much," I say weakly, "Have fun at dinner and tell Chris I said hi.” I tell him, wiping my eyes.

“Will do. I’ll call you when we get back.” He says goodbye, hanging up.

I take a deep breath and I shake my head, feeling frustrated with my poorly-timed emotions. I feel terrible for worrying him more, I wanted this trip for him to be fun. Chris had really been looking forward to going with Matt—it had become a sort of tradition for the two of them. I need to get my emotions under control.

I wince again as I feel the heaviness and soreness in my breasts. Sighing, I go to my phone and check my period app to see when this torture will be over.

My stomach drops when I open the app and see I'm 13 days late.

My head feels dizzy suddenly and I pinch my eyes closed as the pit in my stomach spurs on more nausea. I lay back and put my arm over my eyes and take deep breaths.

My mind races, but I can’t seem to focus on one thought.

No, I can’t be.

I’m just stressed, that’s all.

I have an IUD, it's not possible.

But everything's adding up; the nausea, heightened emotions, late period...

I sit up slowly, feeling the weight of the realization settle on me. My heart pounds in my chest and I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block out the flood of emotions threatening to drown me. But there’s no escaping this.

With trembling hands, I go to call Matt back, my thumb hovers over the call button but I stop myself. He’s going to dinner right now, on the opposite side of the country.

I can't burden him with this, not when I don’t even know for sure.

Dropping my phone onto the bed beside me, I try to self soothe, taking deep breaths to steady myself, but the anxiety is relentless.

I walk out of the room and Nick is asking me what kind of salsa I want with my tacos before he looks up at me. He immediately furrows his brows in worry.

“Hey–what's going on, are you okay?” He sits up and places his laptop on the coffee table.

“I-I can't breath,” I gasp, reaching out for him, feeling like a little kid.

He instantly stands up, wrapping his arms around my shoulders.

“What’s happened? Deep breaths, big deep breaths. There you go,” He rubs my back and I breath deeply with him.

My cheek smushed into his chest as I listen to the beating of his heart to help ground me. I pull away, still trembling and shake my head, unsure if I should even be telling Nick this.

This should be Matt.

Nick's eyes search mine, sensing my hesitancy. “You don’t have to talk if you’re not ready,” he says softly, his hands rubbing my shoulders.

I bite my lip, feeling a mix of guilt and desperation.

I don’t want to drag Nick into something so personal, but this is too overwhelming to keep bottled up.

“I… I think I might be pregnant,” I finally whisper, the words barely escaping my lips.

Saying it out loud makes it feel all the more real, and the weight of it presses down on me like a ton of bricks.

Nick’s expression shifts from worry to shock, his mouth falling agape and silence ringing between us. Once he hears me whimper, he snaps out of it and brings me back into a bone crushing hug.

"Shh, okay–it's okay, um…” His voice wavers, and I can feel his heart racing against my cheek.

For a moment, it seems like he’s trying to find the right words, but all that comes out is a nervous laugh.

“This is… wow, this is big. I'm sorry– I don't know what else to say right now,” His voice high pitched and shaky.

I can’t help but let out a shaky laugh with him, even through my anxiety.

“Yeah, big,” I agree, my voice barely above a whisper.

Nick pulls back just enough to look at me, his uncertainty showing in the way his eyes dart around, trying to process everything at once.

“I mean, I’m no expert on this—obviously—but we'll figure this out. You're gonna be okay, everything's gonna be okay.”

His reassurance is genuine, but I can see he's trying to convince himself too; a flicker of doubt in his eyes.

This is uncharted territory for both of us.

Nick and I had decided to order the tests along with the food, killing two birds with one stone. He’s doing his best to stay calm for my sake, but the trembling of his hands as he places the order is hard to miss.

"Okay, tacos and tests are on the way. I got, well, all of them because I don't know which one is best. I even got ice cream. Fuck, when did it get so hot in here? I'm overheating–are you overheating?" He says, his words moving a mile a minute as he fans himself with his shirt.

I can't help but to laugh as his nerves show and he shakes his head.

"I'm sorry, I know you're the one potentially knocked up by my idiot brother but I'm just so nervous. I'm sweating like a monster," His voice cracks.

"Do you mind if I use your bath?" I ask and he nods right away.

“Are you kidding? Of course, go ahead. Someone has to use it. I’m gonna…Well, I’ll just wait out here and try to chill.” He gives me a quick, reassuring smile, though it’s clear he’s still on edge.

I head to his bathroom and try to forget about my racing thoughts.

I turn the faucet on and put in some bath salts, checking the temperature before I step over to the vanity mirror. I take a look at my appearance and notice the puffiness in my face right away. My cheeks are flushed and my eyes are bloodshot.

I blow out a raspberry as I undress and get into the hot water.

The heat soothes my aching muscles and clears my mind. I soaked for a while, even draining a bit of the water and refilling the tub with more hot water. Once I feel myself pruning, I decide it's time I get out.

As I dry myself off, I notice light blood on the towel. My heart races, and I quickly check again—I'm bleeding. Very lightly, but there’s blood.

Relief floods through me, and I almost cry again, this time from the emotional whiplash. My legs feel shaky, so I sit down on the edge of the tub to steady myself, my breath coming out in shaky bursts.

Clutching the towel to my chest, I close my eyes and let out a long, relieved sigh.

“Thank God,” I whisper, feeling tears prick at the corners of my eyes.

I try not to dwell on the small part of me that almost wanted to feel disappointed. Maybe even mourning the part of me that might have embraced being pregnant–excited, even.

Instead, I focus on center of my emotions, the part where a massive weight has been lifted off my shoulders. Eventually, I pull myself together, cleaning myself up and getting dressed.

When I step out of the bathroom, Nick is on his bed, clearly trying to keep himself distracted. My eyes go to the food and the tests at the foot of the bed.

As soon as he sees me, he shoots up, his expression immediately shifting to one of concern.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice soft. I nod, a small smile breaking through the lingering anxiety.

“I’m okay,” I say, my voice a little shaky. “I uh…I got my period, I think,”

Nick’s face lights up with relief, his shoulders visibly relaxing. “Oh, thank God,” he shouts, “This is great fucking news—right?” He checks in and I nod.

“Yeah,” I agree, feeling a little dazed by how quickly everything has turned around. “I think we’re in the clear. We won't be needing those tests, I'll pay you back for them,"

Nick ignores me, pulling me into a bear hug, his arms so tight around me, I can barely breath.

“Shut up I don't care,” he says, “You don't have a parasite in you!" He cheers, jumping us up and down.

We both let out laughs, the tension that had been looming over us now replaced with a lightness.

“Let’s eat,” I suggest, letting out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

Nick nods, "Couldn't agree more,"

We sit on his bed and for the first time all day, I feel like I can actually breathe.

As we dig into the tacos, Nick puts Love Island back on and we rot in bed for a few hours.

But even as we talk and laugh, there's still a pit in my stomach. A small portion of me can’t shake the feeling that this isn’t over yet.

Yeah, there's was blood. But it was different than my normal period. It was lighter.

I try not to panic, but I can't help but feel like my intuition is trying to tell me something. For now, I push my thoughts aside, focusing on Nick beside me yelling at the annoying horny people on his TV.

Nick offered for me to sleep in his room but I declined, wanting to sleep in Matt's bed.

Matt never called me, but he texted me apologizing and checking in on me. I listened to a voice memo he sent me of all they did today and I was genuinely glad he was having fun, so I didn't mind him not calling.

Plus, I'm not entirely sure I'm in the right state of mind to have a conversation with him right now. I wouldn't be able to keep today's events to myself.

I know I can’t keep him in the dark—I need to tell him what’s going on.

I glance at the stack of tests on his dresser and sigh. The bleeding from earlier has stopped, leaving me with a pit in my stomach.

I know I’ll have to take those tests, even if only for clarity. But for now, I’m going to force myself to sleep.

I find myself in a place that feels both familiar and strange. It's warm, the sun showering the garden and I immediately know I'm in my grandmother's backyard.

The breeze picks up, carrying the scent of blooming flowers—lilies, hyacinths, peonies, and marigolds—enveloping me in a peacefulness that feels like a comforting blanket.

I walk along the familiar stone path, my fingers grazing the soft petals of the flowers. Each step feeling like a compelling, magnetic pull, guiding me deeper into the garden.

I see her then–my grandmother, seated on a wooden bench beneath the shade of the large oak tree I used to climb as a child.

My breath hitches, she doesn't look sick. Her smile is lively, her cheeks rosy and the green in her eyes vibrant.

But there’s something else different, a kind of ethereal glow about her that sends a chill down my spine.

“Come here, my girl,” she says, her voice soft and inviting.

I walk over to her, feeling a strange mix of emotions: comfort, longing, and an inexplicable sadness.

I sit down beside her and she takes my hand in hers, her touch warm and reassuring.

“I’ve missed you,” I say, my voice thick with emotion, unable to fathom her not sick in a hospital bed.

She smiles, her eyes full of love. “I haven't gone anywhere."

There’s a pause as I try to process her words, but then she looks at me knowingly, another shiver down my spine.

"You're glowing," She hums, tucking my hair behind my ear.

I look at her confused until she places a hand to my stomach. My breath hitches and I can't control the tear that rolls down my cheek.

I shake my head in disbelief, "How...d-do you know?" I whisper, my voice getting lost in the intoxicating breeze.

It's then that I feel a deep flutter in my stomach, one that I can't describe.

I place my hand over my grandmother's that still rests on my stomach. The flutter intensifies, my heart mimicking the pattern as warmth blooms in my chest. The feeling is overwhelming.

An unexpected, joyous sob escapes my lips before I can stop it, tears blurring my vision.

“You're both going to be okay,” My grandmother says softly, gently wiping away my tears.

My lip wobbles and I let out a shaky breath before she speaks up again.

“She’s strong too, just like you.”

“She..?” I squeak. My grandmother’s smile returns, softer this time and she nods.

A wave of shock and confusion washes over me, but before I can ask more, the garden begins to fade. The colors bleeding into each other until everything is a swirl of light.

Her voice echoes as the dream dissolves, “Don't be afraid, Petal.”

I shoot up, my heart racing, my face soaked in tears and my body covered in a cold sweat. I feel disoriented as I take in my surroundings and my mind tries to grasp the remnants of the dream.

My grandmother’s face, her words, the fluttering in my stomach. But now, that fluttering has turned into a twisting feeling in my gut.

Something was wrong.

My phone buzzes, startling me out of my tangled, fuzzy thoughts. My hands tremble slightly as I reach for my phone.

It’s my mom.

“Hello?” I answer, my voice thick with sleep and confusion.

There’s a pause on the other end, and then my mom’s voice comes through, shaky and heavy with emotion.

“Honey...I'm sorry I'm calling you so early, but it’s Grandma....Sh-she passed in her sleep early this morning.”

The words hit me like a punch in the gut, and for a moment, I can’t breathe. She continues to talk but I can't hear her, my ears ring and time slows down.

A flood of emotions overcome me.

Grief, shock, and the strange sense that the dream was more than just a figment of my imagination.

As the reality of her passing sinks in, I’m left with the weight of her final words to me. She was telling me something important, something I can’t ignore anymore.

My stomach twists again and I bolt to the bathroom where I throw up until I'm dry heaving into the toilet.

-

I'm not even shocked when the test immediately shows up positive. I stare blankly at the two pink lines, the only hint of emotion is the tremor in my hand as I grab the test and chuck it into the trash can.

I feel numb.

Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I see the emptiness in my eyes, the darkness encasing them. The person staring back is a stranger.

I'm pregnant.

I should be feeling joy, maybe even excitement—I want to at least, but all I feel is nothing. My experience overshadowed by my grief. By the anomaly of this situation, how this could have happened.

I have an IUD, I was bleeding, but here we are.

I wanted Matt to be the first to know, to share in that moment with him, but now everything feels wrong, out of order.

I feel robbed of the happiness I should be feeling.

I step into the shower and let the scalding hot water claw at my skin. I finally let myself break down, grief rattling through me and slicing me open.

My dream replays in my mind over and over again. My grandmother's eyes, her warmth, her words, her hand on my stomach.

“You’re both going to be okay,”

My hand instinctively goes to my stomach. I press my palm into my abdomen, expecting to feel that flutter, desperate to feel any sort of connection with the life that's there–to cling to the intense joy from my dream...but there's nothing.

It was ripped away from me from the moment I woke up.

“She’s strong too, just like you,”

I whimper, the sound dissolving into the rush of the water.

I don’t feel strong. I feel weak.

My grandmother told me not to be afraid, but I can’t escape this overwhelming anxiety, the suffocating uncertainty that engulfs me.

The tightness in my chest, the heaviness in my heart, the deep-seated guilt that festers within me.

I cry and cry and cry until I can’t anymore, until the tears run dry, leaving only the ache in my chest.

When the water turns cold and the sun fully rises, is when I finally get out. My feet drag beneath me as I walk back into Matt's room and get dressed.

I pull on one of Matt's crewnecks and some sweats before I go into the kitchen to make a tea.

I make myself an Earl Grey, my grandmother's favorite.

I sit down at the dining table and book the first flight back home to Maine, which is tomorrow morning. My mom and I spoke again and she told me the funeral isn't until next week, but I wanted to be there for her. I couldn’t stay here right now.

My stomach growls loudly and I press my palms into my eye sockets. I suppose I should really eat something with substance, especially now.

I grab the berries from the fridge that are in their last leg, washing them before forcing myself to eat. The tartness of the blueberries sparks a memory of helping my grandmother make blueberry pancakes on Sunday mornings. I smile sadly at the fond memory of being her little sous chef.

When 7 AM rolls around, restlessness overtakes me and I step outside, sitting in the front stoop before calling Matt.

"You're up early," His voice thick with sleep as he greets me through the line.

"Hey," I say weakly, letting out a sigh as I gaze up at the clear sky. There's not a single cloud in sight.

"What's wrong?" His tone immediately shifts to concern.

"Matt... my grandma passed this morning," I start, my voice trembling slightly.

I omit the dream and the positive pregnancy test in his bathroom, grateful that he can't see my face.

There's a heavy sigh on the other end. "I'm so sorry. I know she was sick for a while... Are you doing okay? How's your mom?"

"I'm... managing. And my mom, she's actually doing okay. I think we're all relieved in a way, you know? It was only a matter of time. I'm just glad she's not suffering anymore," I navigate my feelings about her passing, my voice surprisingly steady.

"Of course," His voice is so soft, fueling my longing for his touch.

"Do you think…there's any way you can change your flight on Tuesday to go to Maine? The funeral isn’t until next Thursday, but I’m getting there tomorrow afternoon." I ask, playing with a loose string on my sweatpants.

"Of course, I'll look at flights right now," he responds without hesitation.

"Thank you, I just....I need you there," I tell him, feeling a tightness in my chest when I avoid mentioning the conversation we need to have.

"I'll be there. I found a flight that will get me there tomorrow night."

"Matt–" I start to protest.

"I already changed it. No refunds," He cuts me off, his voice firm. "Sweetheart, you need me, I'm not going to make you wait until fucking Tuesday."

"What about the rest of your trip? You'll miss the rest of the festival, and Chris–" I try and reason with him.

"Listen to me carefully...I don't give a fuck about the festival. You need me there, and I'm going to be there. Chris will be fine, he's a big boy. He has Sam here with him and they'll fly back to LA together," His tone leaving no room for argument, his mind was made up.

A small, grateful smile tugs at my lips as tears well up in my eyes.

"I love you," I manage to say, my voice trembles with emotion.

"I love you, so much it hurts. I wish I could hug you right now but I'll see you tomorrow, okay? I’m gonna go talk to Chris, text me or call me if you need me. I mean it, kid."

“I will,” I promise, ending the call and looking up at the sky again, wrapping my arms around myself as the cool morning air brushes against my skin.

I take a deep breath, the air filling my lungs grounding me. As I exhale, I try to focus on the one thing I know for sure—I may not feel strong, but I need to be and not just for myself, but for the life growing inside of me.

My grandmother's words echo in my mind.

"Don't be afraid, Petal."

–

Nick wakes up shortly after, only taking one look at me before I’m breaking down again—the weight of everything crashing down on me like another tidal wave.

I tell him everything, my dream, my grandmother's passing, I show him the positive pregnancy test.

I cry into his chest, feeling overwhelmed.

"I'm just s-so confused," I manage to say between sobs. "In my dream, I was so happy... everything felt right. I felt connected with..." My words trail off, dissolving into incoherent blubbering.

Nick just listens, rubbing my back in slow, soothing circles.

"Listen," he begins softly, "your body is under a lot of stress right now. You just found out about your grandma, and then this very unexpected news on top of it… Every single emotion you’re feeling is normal, and 100 percent valid. But you have so many people by your side who love you and will help you through this, no matter what you decide..."

I sniffle, trying to regulate my breathing as I take in his words.

"I'm angry, too," I admit, my voice cracking with the strain of holding it all in. "This is so unfair. The timing of this couldn't be worse... I can't even talk to Matt and I feel awful keeping this from him. He shouldn't have to find out like this."

"Everything is going to be okay, deep breaths," Nick repeats, his voice calm as he helps me process the flood of emotions.

I blow out a raspberry, pulling back and running my hands down my face in frustration. When I look at him, he's watching me cautiously, trying to read my expression.

"I'm pregnant," I say softly, the words finally leaving my lips for the first time.

A mix of emotions swirls in my chest and stomach—fear, uncertainty, a strange kind of acceptance.

Nick nods slowly, his eyes still scanning my face, and for a moment, I find myself imagining if this was me telling Matt.

More dread fills me.

How will he react? Will he be the support I need?

We’ve talked about having kids before. They were always in the cards for us, but never this soon.

We only just started to discuss getting our own place and now our lives are going to be changing forever.

Nick helped me pack as I tried to arrange a last-minute appointment to confirm my pregnancy, which proved to be quite the ordeal.

The receptionists initially inform me that they didn't have any openings for weeks. However, when I mention the IUD and a positive pregnancy test, the urgency in their voice shifted dramatically.

They told me to come in right away.

The urgency in the receptionists voice on the phone didn’t help my nerves. Neither when they took me straight into an examination room the minute I told them my name.

They take my vitals, draw my blood and give me a cup to pee in.

I left Nick in the waiting room, dressing down into the gown they placed neatly on the exam chair. I look around at the diagrams of the fetuses and the posters of the development. I’ve seen these countless times and never thought twice, but this time I feel unsettled.

I swallow thickly and sit on the loud crinkly paper with the anticipation of the doctor coming in soon.

There’s a soft double knock on the door before a head of wild, curly hair peeks in.

“Hello, hello. I’m Dr. Sullivan,” She says washing her hands and sitting down on the swivel stool next to the examination chair.

The woman has a mane of big, unruly curls that frame her face, with chunky black square-framed glasses perched on her slightly humped nose, drawing attention to her bright hazel eyes. A wide smile, complete with a distinctive gap between her two front teeth, radiates warmth and adds to her quirky charm. She almost seems like a character out of a cartoon—lanky, with an energetic, bouncy stride that matches her bubbly personality. She can't be much older than my mother.

"So, you are in fact pregnant. The lab results confirmed the presence of HCG, which is the hormone produced during pregnancy. "

“Do you have any idea how this happened? I mean, obviously I know how it happened but, I have an IUD.” I say, still trying to wrap my head around the situation.

She nods dramatically, her lips pressing into a line as she listens to my concerns.

“Unfortunately, no birth control is 100 percent effective. In most cases, the IUD might have been displaced, or in some instances, the body rejects the device without you knowing. I actually would like to get clarity on that with an ultrasound, but I think it’s important for you to know the risks of this scenario here.” She says, turning slightly more serious.

“Risks?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” she says softly, “There is a possibility that, due to you having an IUD, this pregnancy may not be viable. Having an IUD increases the risk of what we call an ectopic pregnancy... are you familiar with that term?” Her hazel eyes lock onto mine and I shake my head, my heart starting to pound.

“Well, because you have a contraceptive device in the space where a fetus would normally develop, there's a risk that the pregnancy could occur outside the uterus. Typically the egg will implant itself in the fallopian tubes, which cannot host a safe or viable pregnancy...And if not treated immediately, the tube can rupture and cause internal hemorrhaging," She explains gently, carefully choosing her words to convey the seriousness of the situation.

I feel my heartbeat in my ears now as I process her words.

"So you're saying, this can be life threatening...for me and the..." My throat closes up and I can't finish my sentence.

She must take notice of the panic in my face, her round eyes widening slightly.

"If it goes untreated, yes. But I don't say this to make you panic, you're in good hands and whatever happens, we will take the next steps together." She places a hand on my knee, giving the tissue box so I can dry my uncontrollable tears.

"Based on your last period, you should be about seven weeks along. This ultrasound will confirm that and also ensure the pregnancy is positioned in the uterus. Before we proceed, I'd like to ask you a few questions... do you need a minute?" she asks gently, noticing my unease.

I hiccup and shake my head. "N-no, I'll be okay. Sorry," I mumble, wiping my nose.

"Don't apologize," she says kindly, giving me a moment to collect myself anyway, which I appreciate.

For a moment, I consider calling Nick in, but I decide against it. Even though we're close, this may be a little too personal, even for him and I.

"Have you been experiencing any cramping or discomfort in your back or abdomen?" She asks and typing my answer into the computer as I tell her no.

"Any spotting or bleeding?"

"I had some light bleeding last night, it only lasted maybe an hour... I had thought it was my period, but I knew something was off." I explain to her and she nods.

"That was most likely implantation bleeding, which is normal. It can be light spotting of blood, or some women experience heavy bleeding, similar to a period." She continues to take her notes before looking to me again, "Any tenderness in your breasts?"

"Oh, for sure. My breasts have been very sore the past few days,"

"Any nausea or vomiting?"

"Yes, the last couple of days–especially at night, I've been vomiting. I haven't really been sleeping well because of it."

"Yeah, the term 'morning sickness' is misleading... It can happen any time of day, you seem to be experiencing yours during the evening. Any other symptoms you've noticed that you'd like to note?" She asks and I try to think of some things.

"Uhh, I guess I've been more tired than usual, but I chalked that up to being up all night sick...I've also been getting hot flashes recently and I've definitely been more emotional,"

"These are all good to note, thank you very much," She pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose before typing again.

She swivels herself back towards me, smiling warmly.

"We'll go ahead with the ultrasound now. But to get an accurate picture, we're going to do a transvaginal ultrasound, if that's okay with you."

"Okay, that's fine," I say, shakily.

She pulls the ultrasound cart to toward her before standing to move the stirrups into place so I can place my feet into them. She places a privacy cloth over me and I take a deep breath.

She puts a covering on the sheath of the ultrasound wand and places lubricant on the top of it. She taps a few buttons on the computer, calibrating the machine before turning towards me with a reassuring smile.

"So this will feel cold and you might feel a little pressure but if you feel any discomfort don't be afraid to tell me." She informs before placing the device inside to create the image.

I try not to wince and try to relax as much as possible. I go to look toward the screen but she has it faced towards her, so I opt to reading her facial expressions.

Dr. Sullivan adjusts her glasses by putting them on the tip of her nose and tilting her head back to get a better view.

She's quite animated with her expressions, her mouth opening slightly in concentration as she looks over the screen.

Although I can't see what she's looking at, she seems pleased, which is a relief.

"Okay, so good sign so far, I see your IUD," Dr. Sullivan says, leaning forward and pointing to the screen. "I can clearly see that it's sitting at the top of your cervix. It’s shifted down and away from your uterus. Do you happen to experience heavy cramping during your cycle?" she asks, her fingers tapping some buttons on the monitor.

"Yes, I do," I reply, the worry still gnawing at me.

She nods thoughtfully. "That could explain the displacement. Sometimes, intense cramping can cause the IUD to shift from its original position. It’s not common, but it does happen. It’s good that we’ve caught it now."

"I see the embryonic sac in, from what I can tell, a great spot. You're measuring at about 6 or 7 weeks along. Size of a blueberry." She says and I stop breathing.

I don't even hesitate to say yes as she asks if I would like to see.

My eyes are glued to the screen as I follow where her finger points, focusing on the grainy image. There it is—a tiny black oval with an even tinier dot in the middle. It's so small, I almost think I'm looking at the wrong thing.

“That’s... them?” I whisper, my voice barely audible as I try to comprehend the sight in front of me.

Dr. Sullivan nods, her expression tender. "That's your baby. It's early, but everything looks promising..."

"Really?" I squeak, still in disbelief, my throat tightening with sudden emotion as more tears fall down my face.

Relief— as she nods in confirmation, handing me the tissue box again.

Hope— as she zooms in, showing me the flickering of the heartbeat.

Joy—as I hear the heartbeat, feeling it sync with the thumping of my own.

For the first time since my dream, I feel joy, something beyond the crippling dread that had loomed over me all day. My heart swells and then bursts as I continue to stare at the flickering dot on the screen, blinking away the tears that blur my vision.

I breathe in shakily before a laugh escapes through a sob.

"Nice strong heartbeat, everything looks as it should... this looks like a healthy pregnancy," Dr. Sullivan announces, gently removing the ultrasound wand but keeping a looped video on the screen, allowing me a few more moments to take it all in.

"She's strong too, just like you,"

"So, the next step—for your safety—would be to remove the IUD today," she continues, her tone calm yet serious. "We can also discuss your options moving forward, including your decision on whether or not you would like to continue with the pregnancy. It's important to weigh all the possibilities and make the choice that's right for you."

"I-I'm gonna continue the pregnancy. It was in no way planned, but–"

"You don't need to explain...I had a feeling" She dismisses me gently, giving me a knowing smile, "I guess this calls for a congratulations,"

"Thank you," I say just above my breath, warmth still blooming through my chest.

After Dr. Sullivan removes my IUD, she tells me to dress while she steps out to calculate my due date.

I stare at the printed ultrasound picture, my heart swelling with a fierce protectiveness. I’m not worried about the complications or uncertainties ahead right now. All that matters is this life inside me.

I feel much stronger than I did merely hours ago.

My due date was February 7th, the same as my grandmother’s birthday.

–

I had landed in Maine a few hours ago, my mom and I were organizing all of my grandma's belongings. We spent the afternoon together, grabbing lunch before heading over to my grandmother's house.

The house always felt like a time capsule, preserving every memory. The duck wallpaper in the dining room, the scent of pine and clove, the worn couch cushions, her miniature schnauzer figurine collection, and the framed pressed flowers from her children’s weddings—everything was always in its rightful place. It always looked the same.

Memories of me and my siblings spending weekends here whirling behind my eyelids as I inhale the familiar scent.

It evokes a bittersweet feeling.

We keep the mood light, sharing stories with each memory we packed away. I still saw the flicker of sadness in my mom's eyes, even through her laughter as we reminisced.

Sitting on the carpet in the living room, we go through the boxes full of pictures to put together a collage for the funeral. I come across a picture of my mother pregnant with my older brother.

It's a candid photo in the kitchen of my grandmother's house, her hand resting on her swollen belly that pokes out the bottom of her blue shirt, a soft smile on her face. My grandmother is beside her, beaming with pride, tying an apron around her waist.

My mother looked so young, her freckles prominent on her flushed cheeks and her smile crinkling the corners of her eyes.

I was always told I looked more like my dad, but seeing her like this, so close to my own age now, I can't help but notice the resemblance.

My mom notices my pause and looks over my shoulder. "That was just a few weeks before your brother was born," she says softly, her voice laced with nostalgia. "Your grandmother knew we were having a boy from the moment we told her,"

Her words send a chill down my spine.

I linger on the photo, feeling a wave of emotion rise up at the mention of my grandmother as the weight of my own news presses heavier on my chest.

"Were you really sick, when you were pregnant?" I ask, lowly.

She hums in thought, "With your brother? Only for maybe the first few weeks. With you though? Forget about it, I was sick everyday for months."

I stay silent for a moment, studying another photo of my mom and dad in the hospital room with my brother the day he was born. My mom is in the hospital bed, looking tired but radiant, while my dad is crouched next to her, gently cradling my brother in his arms.

"He was so bald," I laugh softly, and my mom chuckles beside me.

"His hair was so blonde, it was practically see-through. Your father called him 'egghead' for the first two months of his life," she says, shaking her head and rolling her eyes with a smile.

I look at the photo again, my gaze lingering on my mom's face. Her expression is filled with such warmth and love as she looks at my dad.

"How did you tell dad? You guys were both pretty young," I ask and she stifles a laugh.

"We actually found out together in a gas station bathroom..." She starts off with a slightly shameful smile, "I had been so sick on our camping trip with your aunt and uncle, so I decided on our way back home to take a test. We were shocked to say the least, but we were happy," She shrugs casually.

I think about how I was alone when I found out I was pregnant. Matt wasn't there, and it wasn't his fault, but the last 36 hours of keeping this from him has been torture.

The moment I saw the second line show up with fresh cold sweat still rolling down my neck, I had to bottle up this relentless guilt.

I feel guilt. It wasn't anyone's fault. This is the most serendipitous situation I've ever been in, but I put the blame on me. I have a choice and I'm choosing the route that will completely flip our already hectic lives upside down.

Tethering us together for life.

Even if this decision it feels right, it still carries an enormous weight. It’s not just my life that’s about to change—it's Matt’s too.

I have no doubt Matt will be supportive, but when you're left alone with your thoughts long enough, you can convince yourself of anything.

I've spent every waking minute wondering how he'll react, imagining every possible scenario, from the worst to the best. It's been an endless loop of 'what ifs,' and it’s taken everything in me not to just blurt it out over the phone.

"Were you scared at all? I mean, weren't you like 20?" I press, searching for reassurance in her response.

Her eyes widen before nodding, "Oh, we were scared shitless. Your father almost passed out. We had no idea what we were doing, but hey, we survived. For better or for worse,"

I nod, looking down at my lap and fidgeting with my fingers. My chest feels tight, and the weight of everything becomes almost unbearable.

"Mom, there's something I need to tell you... I–"

"I know," She looks at me with a small smile, her green eyes glistening with tears.

My brows furrow together, giving her a confused look.

"You do?" I ask, my voice trembling.

She shrugs, "I know everything, I'm your mom... Plus, you gagged at the smell of chicken today, that was a dead giveaway." She bites back a smirk and I cover my face, laughing through some tears before looking at her again.

"I guess I’m not as good at hiding things as I thought."

"You never were," She says softly as she scoots closer to me, bringing me into her warm embrace.

I sigh deeply into her, squeezing her tight and breathing in her comforting scent.

"How are you feeling?" she asks, still holding onto me.

"Scared shitless..." I joke and we share a laugh before she pulls back to wipe the tears that escaped against my will, "But I'm happy," I admit, scanning my mother's face for any sign of judgement.

There was none.

She wipes her own few tears, looking at me with only love in her eyes.

"My baby's having a baby,"

"I think grandma sent me this baby," I whisper, allowing my emotions to come through.

My mom tucks my hair behind my ear with her gentle, comforting touch and she listens intently as I tell her my dream. We hold onto each other and cry. I then show her the ultrasound pictures and we talk until the sun disappears.

My phone buzzes softly and I check the message to find Matt’s text that he’s landed and on his way. The reality of his imminent arrival causes a mixed-wave of nausea and guilt to wash over me.

My mom looks at me with a reassuring smile.

"I'll leave you two be so you can talk. I'll see you in the morning, my love." She tells me softly, kissing my cheek and hugging me tight.

Matt and I were gonna stay here during our time in Maine. It's best right now that we have our own space, especially since my brother and his girlfriend are staying by my parents house.

As she heads out, I take a deep breath and text Matt to let him know the door is unlocked. I slip into the shower, trying to calm my racing thoughts and steady my nerves. The warm water helps, but my mind keeps racing as I mentally prepare for the conversation ahead.

Wrapped in a towel, I check my reflection in the mirror, trying to see if I look any more put together than before.

I think this is the best we're going to get.

I jump when I here the front door open and shut, then some feet shuffling. My heart skips a beat.

Matt's here.

"It's just me," I hear him call out as well as more shuffling and a paper bag crinkling.

"Hey! I-I'll be right out!" I call back out, my heart picking up again but I take a deep breath.

I quickly get dressed in a tank top and shorts; there's a heat wave here, and I can't figure out how to adjust the thermostat.

I step out of the bathroom to see Matt standing at the kitchen island, unpacking burgers and fries onto the counter. The aroma of it makes my stomach growl and I realize I hadn't eaten anything since lunch.

I admire him for a second; he's wearing pink sweatpants, a black hoodie and a backwards fitted hat.

He turns at the sound of my presence and his face softens. I'm trembling when he steps forward to embrace me into a tight hug. He buries his face into my neck before giving me a few kisses there.

"Hi," I breath out, my voice shaky.

I was so nervous.

"Hey, you okay?" His voice is so soft, my heart aches. He pulls away, rubbing his hands up and down my arms while scanning my face.

"You're shaking. What's going on?" He presses.

He knows something is up, he can see it all over my face. I shake my head, brushing it off to have one more minute with him.

I pull him back to me, wrapping my arms around his neck this time and locking him against me. He bends down a bit to accommodate but doesn't question it, just hugging me back. His arms wrapping around my waist and pressing our stomachs together.

My heart is slamming against my ribcage and I know he can feel it, his thumb rubbing my hip soothingly tells me he does.

"How are you doing?" His voice is muffled with his face buried into my neck.

"I'm okay, better now that you're here. I missed you," I mumble, kissing the side of his neck and running my hand down between his shoulder blades.

I breathe him in, noting the warmth of him and the solidness of his body against me.

"I missed you... I brought us food. I don't know about you, but I'm fucking starving," He puts his hands on my hips to pull back from the hug, but I stay put.

He chuckles, giving me one more squeeze.

I pull back just enough to line our faces up and give him a kiss, which he eagerly returns.

"Thank you for being here, it means a lot," I say against his lips and he pulls back slightly to push my hair out of my face.

"I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else." He hums into another kiss, then places three quick pecks before giving my butt a light tap, signaling that it’s time to let him go.

I finally release him and head to the food on the counter.

"I passed a Five Guys on the way here, so I hope that's good for you," He grabs a handful of fries before munching on them.

As I reach the counter, the smell of the burgers makes my mouth water, and I can’t help but smile at his thoughtfulness.

“Five Guys is perfect, thank you,” I say, grabbing a fry from the bag and tasting its salty warmth.

Matt grins, clearly pleased with himself. “Good, because I was too hungry to think of anything else,” he jokes, unwrapping one of the burgers and handing it to me.

I take it, thanking him quietly, my fingers brushing against his. For a moment, I just look at him.

He’s here, and I should be telling him I’m pregnant with his child, but instead, we’re standing in the kitchen eating burgers. As if I’m trying to cling to this last bit of normalcy before everything changes.

I force myself to take a bite of my burger, moaning at the greasy, savory goodness. Matt smirks at me, taking a hearty bite of his own burger.

“S’good?” he asks through his bite, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

I nod, moaning again in response, savoring the taste as it temporarily distracts me from everything else.

Matt takes a sip of his drink before bringing a napkin to my face and wiping the corner of my mouth and chin.

"Wipe ya lip, kid," He teases and I roll my eyes, grabbing the napkin from him.

Matt inhales another large bite of his burger, and we slip into our familiar rhythm.

He tells me about his brief trip to Chicago, and I’m relieved to hear he managed to gather a few funny stories and catch at least one day of the festival. He’s notably enthusiastic while he talks, and I can’t help but smile at his excitement.

He also reassured me that Chris wasn't upset at all, which I already knew from the sweet text he sent me this morning.

“Well, I’m glad you had fun,” I say, trying to match his enthusiasm.

I then give him the rundown for the next few days while we prepare for the funeral and memorial.

We continue eating, the conversation shifting to lighter topics as we enjoy the burgers and each other’s company.

It feels so easy, so light. It always is with us. But underneath the surface, the words I need to say weigh heavy on my mind, threatening to break the easy rhythm.

Matt watches me closely, his own burger forgotten for the moment as he sees me disappear inside my head again.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks again, his eyes look between mine. “You seem… I don’t know, you're acting weird.” He tries to find the right words.

"Matt..." I go to dismiss him, getting up slowly but he cuts me off, standing up too.

"No, I'm serious. You've been acting weird for days, and I'm no longer 2000 miles away for you to push me away or avoid me." He steps closer to me, trapping me against the counter with his arms on either side of me.

"Is it about your grandma? Did something else happen while I was gone?" He throws out, looking between my eyes.

"I–" I try to speak up but my voice gets caught in my throat and I get lost in the icy storm of his relentless gaze.

"It's not just my grandma," I manage to say, the admission causing him to soften slightly, a glimmer of relief at the small breakthrough.

"Okay, so talk to me, sweetheart. Please, I've been worried sick about you. You have no idea," he pleads, his breath brushing against my skin.

"I didn't know how to tell you..." I try to put together my words but I feel like I'm making it all worse.

I watch as his eyebrows pinch together and he leans down more so he's eye level with me instead towering over me.

"Tell me what, kid. I'm not a mind reader," His voice strains, frustration evident in his face.

When I try to break eye contact with him he pulls my chin to align our eyes again.

"What, d'you crash my car?" he guesses, clearly joking, his eyebrows raising playfully.

I can't help but smile and snort at his attempt to ease the tension.

"No, it’s not that," I say, my voice cracking slightly. "It's much bigger than that," I trail off and he waits expectantly.

"I uh– I went to the doctor yesterday," I pause and study his face, which drops ever so slightly, seeming to be bracing himself.

He stays silent, whether it was out of patience or fear, nothing could have prepared for my next sentence.

"I went to confirm that I was pregnant," I finally blurt out, my voice shaky, and he freezes.

Not one muscle moves in his face or his body.

"You're..." His voice cracks and he clears his dry throat, hitting his chest, "Are you serious?"

"I'm seven weeks, or a month and a half," I stammer, my voice wavering. "I don't really know how to—"

"Seven..." He whispers in disbelief, the shock settling in and I nod. "Y-you were on birth control– you have that AED–"

"IUD, yes, I did. It still happened, that shit is useless if it moves out of place," I explain and he looks down between us.

"A-and everything's okay, you're okay?" He looks up at me again, holding onto my face.

I take hold of his wrists, rubbing my thumb over his skin.

"I'm fine, the baby's fine..." I say softly and his eyes widen in realization as he pales.

"Oh my fucking god," He pulls back, cupping his hands over his mouth. "I need to sit down."

"Okay, okay. Do you want water?" I panic, hoping he doesn't pass out or puke.

He takes a seat at the dining table, shaking his head before taking off his hat and leaning his elbows on his knees.

"Oh my god, I thought I was crazy..." He says, his voice cracking with nerves as he presses his palms into his eye sockets.

"What?" I ask, confused.

"I had a feeling all fucking week," he says, his voice still shaky, and my brows knit together.

"I knew something was up. You were acting different. You were moodier than usual, you were napping all the time—and you never nap... and your tits are huge," he adds, and I roll my eyes.

"Sorry, that’s beside the point," he continues quickly, "I just couldn’t shake the feeling that you could be... I think I was trying to convince myself you weren't, but then you were so sick before I left," he rambles, staring blankly at the wall.

"It's a lot to take in, I know." I swallow thickly as I watch him process everything.

"You're pregnant," he says finally, looking at me again, this time with tears brimming his eyes. "And you were dealing with all of this by yourself," His voice is low and I shake my head, moving to stand between his legs, cupping his face gently.

"Hey, no. None of that... How could you have known?" I shush him and pull his head towards my chest.

His hands rest behind my thighs, his thumb lightly stroking my right leg. I run my fingers through his hair, comforting him as much as he's comforting me.

"I've been so scared to tell you..." I confess softly and he pulls back slightly, looking up at me with his brows furrowed.

"I know this wasn't part of our plan...at least not for a while. But before I took a test, the night my grandma passed, I had a dream. I was here, in my grandmother's garden... and she told me I was pregnant. Matt, the feeling I had," I pause, struggling to find the right words.

"It was the most intense, pure form of happiness I've ever felt. I can't even describe it to you..." I trail off.

I shake my head, "I know, I sound crazy. But I think this was meant to happen." I whisper, heat creeping up my neck at the admission.

He’s silent for a moment, absorbing my words. Then, a slow smirk carves a crease into the side of his mouth. "You are fucking crazy…" he murmurs, his playful tone breaking the tension as his smile lines deepen.

I huff a breathy laugh, the sound catching in my throat as my emotions take over again. Tears blur my vision, and I can’t hold them back any longer.

"Are you mad?" I squeak, letting my fear slip through the dam I built up.

He's immediately shaking his head, his eyes widen with sincerity, "Mad? Of course not. I mean, I thought we'd maybe get a cat first but..." He says, quirking his lip and I can't help the laugh that escapes through a sob.

I was the definition of an emotional wreck.

He gently squeezes my hips as I tip my head back to collect myself.

"Look at me," he says firmly, and I sniffle and hiccup before forcing myself to look at him. "Am I surprised? Yes. Terrified? Definitely. But, not even close to mad."

He wipes my tears tenderly, "We're going to be okay. Take it easy, alright? Deep breaths," His tone gentle but assertive, dragging me out of the pit of my dark thoughts.

I sigh as his thumbs draw circles on the exposed skin on my hips.

"I'm sorry," I say and he pulls me to sit sideways on his lap this time.

"Why are you sorry?" he asks softly, intertwining our fingers and bringing my hand to his mouth for a kiss.

"Our lives are going to change and I feel like it's my fault,"

"C'mere," He pulls me in fully, wrapping his arms around my waist. "I love you, and we're going to get through this... We were gonna do it anyway; we're just getting a headstart, yeah? Everything is going to work out," He tells me softly and I can tell he means every word.

Matt never says anything he doesn't mean.

"Also, don't say stupid shit like this is your fault. Last time I checked, it takes two to tango," He says firmly, lightly slapping my hip.

I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat as I lean into him completely, resting my head on his shoulder. His hand rubs gentle circles on my back, and I close my eyes, letting myself soak in the comfort of his presence.

"I missed you so much," I whisper, my voice muffled against his shirt. "I've been so sick, this kid might be trying to kill me," I try to joke, and he breathes a laugh into my shoulder.

A few beats of silence pass, broken only by the distant sound of crickets outside and the occasional creak of the old house settling.

"We're having a kid," He speaks up, realization laced in his voice and I hum against him. "Maybe we're both fucking crazy,"

I stifle a laugh and pull back to look at him, "D'wanna see it?" I ask, getting up from his lap and he looks to my stomach with a raised brow.

"Kid, you're not showing yet," he says, leaning back into the chair with his arms crossed, a playful smirk on his face and I roll my eyes.

"No, the ultrasound. Hold on," I say as I head to the counter to grab the pictures from my bag.

I pull out the strip of photos, and when I turn back, I see Matt standing up and stretching. He takes off his sweatshirt and his shirt riding up slightly, exposing a sliver of his stomach. Heat rises to my face but I can't stare too long though because he's walking towards me to look over my shoulder.

"Okay, what am I lookin' at?" He stands behind me, his hands on his hips as his head tilts in concentration.

"You see this black circle here?" I point to the sonogram, and he leans in closer, his breath warm against my neck as he grabs hold of the paper to steady it.

"Yeah, that's it?" He asks, narrowing his eyes and I giggle.

"No, do you see the tinier white blob inside it? That's the baby." I explain and his face scrunches for a second, looking at the picture again.

"No fucking way," he says in disbelief, a wide smile breaking across his face. "That tiny thing?" His voice raises a pitch as he looks at me, eyes wide with awe, "Can barely fucking see that," He says playfully before rubbing his eyes.

"Mhm," I can't help but giggle as he wraps an arm around me, pulling me in and placing a kiss to my temple. "Just wait til you hear it, the heartbeat was insane. It was so fast," I add and he freezes.

The realization in his face settles in even deeper as I tell him that, his soft smile returning.

"You heard the heartbeat?" He whispers, looking between my eyes and I nod.

"Yeah, yesterday. They emailed me the video of it, I'll show you in a bit if you want," I tell him and he kisses me then like he can't help himself.

"That's fucking nuts... do you feel pregnant?" he asks, his voice curious and his eyes slowly lowering to my stomach peaking out of my tank top.

I shake my head, "Not at all. I just feel like shit... and constantly bloated," I admit, laughing softly.

He lightly chuckles himself, a charmed smile on his face as he reaches to rubs my stomach a couple times.

"We're really gonna have to lock in, kid." He moves around me to pull me into a full hug, pressing our stomachs together.

"Okay, gamer...acting like this is a video game," I scoff teasingly and he bends down, laughing into my neck.

"Well, what else do you want me to say? We're leveling up in life–" he continues the joke and I jab his side with my finger.

"Ow," he fake-cries, clutching his side with exaggerated pain before breaking into a fit of giggles.

"Stop saying corny shit, you goof," I warn, though his laughter makes it impossible not to smile.

I bury my face in his chest, my ear pressed against his heart as we settle into a comfortable silence.

"Now we really gotta get our own place," He says and I can hear his smirk.

"I don't know…" I shrug slightly, considering. "Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to stick around for a bit. It might be nice to have the extra help before we go completely on our own."

He pulls back slightly to look at me, tilting his head with an inquisitive expression. "You really think my brothers will be any help? They don’t know anything about babies."

I snort. “Probably not, but neither do we." I reason and his mouth shrugs in defeat.

"Good point... I guess we can wait it out, we're not in a rush. It'll definitely give us more time to research where would want to be somewhat permanently," He points out.

I hum into him and try not stress about that. The reality is we'd be putting ourselves in a tough spot—both our families are here on the East Coast, but our jobs and lives are rooted in LA.

It's easy to go back and forth when it was just us, but now we're gonna have a kid.

"I already hear your mind racing," his voice breaks me out of my thoughts as he rubs my back. "Don't worry, we'll figure it out..." he says softly, and I sigh deeply.

My stomach turns when I get a whiff of the food still laid out on the table.

"Matt," I say, pulling back slowly, holding my stomach.

"Mm?" he hums, looking at me with concern as I put my hand over my mouth.

"The smell of those burgers is making me sick now," I try not to laugh, and he shakes his head, immediately tossing all the trash into the large paper bag it came in.

"Alright, where's the incinerator?"

[3liza]

i know ive done hundreds of hours of either actual protesting or doing equipment and training prep for protesting and then another hundred hours of research about riot weapon mitigation and maybe someone remembers and was expecting me to Post about it again but i just cant do a big posting marathon about it this time im sorry.

so heres the short version of what i have learned through personally being chemically attacked multiple times in multiple protests, and doing hundreds of hours of research in medical literature.. take it or leave it.

probably the single most important thing i can tell you is wear some kind of head protection (a head injury is the #1 way people get seriously hurt and killed at protests. i dont care if it looks dumb, wear a helmet).

one thing about chemical weapons is they are all different and sometimes you can make shit worse for one chemical by treating another. at the riot you wont know for sure what youve been exposed to because police use mixed products specifically to make treatment harder.

the best riot weapon treatment is to avoid being sprayed, gassed or shot in the first place. wear a helmet. wear protective clothing and if you have it, armor. buy a respirator or gas mask with an unused nato nbc filter, and do not use milk for tear gas or chemical treatment in your eyes. water is not really effective for a lot of exposures either but wont injure you, it will however often cause additional pain because riot weapons are often in oil based carriers and wont wash off with water and are designed to activate when they come into contact with it. ie, the water will make it hurt more until it wear off/evaporates.

^^^^ this thing should b e standard issue protest equipment for all street medics and i dont know why they arent except that people just dont know they exist. i want these to be the new meta. fill them with clean water or preferably saline (contact solution) before going in. the cup goes over your eyeball and then you squeeze and your eyeball gets sprayed off, which is the procedure that is hardest to accomplish in the middle of a protest because tear gas makes you clench your eyes closed involuntarily. a good street medic will basically restraint you like a dog at the vet and pry your eyelids open to rinse your eyes. this is a lot easier to accompkish with the proper equipment

you should be carrying sterile saline or lactated ringer for chemical weapon flushing, and you should get an eyewash bottle from a medical or industrial supply. or amazon. if you cant buy lactated ringer then those big bottles of contact solution with the little spray tips are also good because you can use the water pressure to spray chemical particulate off the affected surface while rinsing. sudecon and other chemical weapon ntreatment wipes also work somewhat but last time i looked into it years ago, it was very hard to source and purchase, expensive, and had limited efficacy

i did all the research on this and this was the conclusion of many papers and many military and police tests that i read.

additionally, rinsing your eyes with the lactated ringer BEFORE being contacted by riot weapons worked better in one trial than trying to treat exposure afterwards. no one tested this but i suspect that generously applying Visine to your eyes, mouth, and nostrils before getting gassed or sprayed would have a very similar mitigating effect

for skin surface treatment in the field, a 50/50 mixture of water and liquid antacid (referred to as LAW) is effective for some agents and wont hurt for the others. unfortunately the majority of chemical agents have to evaporate off you to stop hurting. all the serious, EMT-trained and experienced street medics i know carry and use LAW. i have used it on patients and on myself and i think it's more effective than water.

this web page concentrates a lot of the information and challenges about this stuff into a short amount of reading. i dont know anything about the site or the owners but the information on just this page agrees with what i found in my own research.

people will argue with me about this because theres a shitload of "folk wisdom" about protesting like the onion thing etc and most of it is straight bullshit that has been reinforced through superstition. since riot weapons wear off after a period of time, a lot of people will put stupid shit on their burns and then claim it "works" when the pain inevitably stops after X minutes. stick to saline and water if you dont know what youre doing, then wash your skin with dish soap when you get home and isolate your poisoned clothes immediately. using a clean oil and then soaping it off in a shower can help too but ONLY if you are removing the oil completely (dish soap again). oil is not a good field treatment and will make things worse if you apply it without soaping it off.

also for reasons probably related to nicotinic receptors, smoking a cigarette after tear gas inhalation helps with acute recovery. i dont know why, and it probably is obnly going to work for people who have smoking experience. there's no research about this, its purely personal observation

dehydration will make you sick and crazy and stupid faster than you think it will, so will low blood sugar. bring candy bars and water and salt to eat during the protest. bring extra to give to people.

as always, if someone is exhibiting asthma or anaphylaxis symptoms they need actual medical attention asap

reblogs off because i dont want to deal with the inevitable panic-based arguments this information always triggers

[gaintsnowflake]

❆ UNTIL THE EVEVATORE CHIMED (part two)

PAIRING : dick grayson x fem!reader

ONESHOT : you try to manage your feelings when your boyfriend doesn't remember

WARNINGS : angst. pure angst. heavy loads of grief. mentions of death, test, and memory loss

A/N : im not actually that happy with this part two, but at the same time i need some comfort in my hurt....

part one | masterlist

      THE MORNING AFTER Dick appeared, alive, was nothing you expected. It was quiet, not silent, but quiet enough for you to hear the people on the street and the hum of the air conditioning. 

     You hadn’t let him sleep in your bed. Not yet. He was still a stranger, wearing the skin of someone you loved. A man who used to fall asleep tangled in your limbs like ivy, now resting stiffly on your couch as if the cushions might reject him too. 

     That was, until 2 a.m. Until the nightmares hit— your name falling from his lips like a cry in the dark.  Suddenly you were wrapped in his arms again. His body moving on instinct. Yours doing the same. Holding you just the way he used to when he’d come home from a bad patrol.

      Soon enough, the sun crept through the blinds of the living room like a poorly kept secret. Hovering over the two of you in enough light that you seemed to forget this was technically a stranger, cuddling you in your lover's skin.

      “Good morning, pretty boy,” you said, before the words could filter through your shame. You pulled back fast, like your mouth had betrayed you. “Sorry— I didn’t mean…”

      And that start to made for an awfully weird day between the two of you. The silence wasn't welcoming. It wasn’t the kind you would share as lovers, not the peace after the storm. It was heavy, laced with too much unsaid and too many versions of him you weren’t sure existed anymore. Avoiding each other's pitiful stares seemed to become a dance in the hours before you made breakfast.

      For breakfast, you made sure to be soft with every movement as you placed a bowl of his favorite off brand cereal down in front of him at the table. Before realizing he sat in his exact seat, it must have been instinct.

     “You used to love this brand, swore by it,” you couldn’t help but laugh a bit, the feeling of uncertainty hitting your stomach. A shake in your hand as you watched him take the first bite. 

     “I can tell why,” he says. “Thank you!”

      Two words. And they broke you.

      “Of course.”

      You smiled, blinking too fast, trying to hide the tears. You weren’t sure if he saw them. Maybe it didn’t matter. 

      The silence that followed wasn’t painful this time. More like a mutual understanding. Something old trying to find a heartbeat again.

     “I called Bruce,” you finally said, watching how the name landed. It didn’t. “He’s your adoptive father. He wants us at the manor. They’re going to run some tests. Try to… help.”

     “Test?” His brow furrowed like a child trying to solve a math problem.

     “Just standard things like a brain scan and some questions, shouldn’t be painful,” your smile wavers slightly as you lightly lie. You in truth have no idea what they might put Dick through. “We could head over after breakfast?”

     “Sounds great! Are we taking… the dog?” The name of Haley was on the tip of his tongue, yet he couldn’t seem to remember. Concern seemed to wash over you again, if he couldn’t remember Haley, the dog he basically acts like he personally birthed, how far gone was he?

    “Yeah, Haley can come, I’m sure she will have fun with Titus, or any of your brother's pets really..” 

    “I have a brother?” 

     You felt yet another pang in your chest. The feeling of pieces being taken away from your heart. And you may never know if you would get them back. Yet you had to pretend that you weren’t fading away every time he didn’t remember. Because if you didn’t you knew he’d feel guilt. As if it was his fault. But how can you blame the man who can barely remember his own name.

    “A few, all adopted,” You whispered, as if they’d forgotten about him too. 

    “What are they like? Am I close to them?” 

    “You have a lot of adopted family, or at least somewhat adopted, you're closer with Jason, Tim, Damian,  and your ex, Barabra who is also kinda like your sister now, it's complicated,” You sighed and pinched your nose bridge trying to explain the family that took months for you to fully understand the dynamics of, “But, out of the people who will be there it most likely be Jason, Tim, Damian, Barabra, Steph, and then maybe Cass and Duke, and then Alfred your butler who you love greatly and is basically your grandfather.”

    “Wait, slow down, I’m confused…” Though his brows furrowed, he felt a sense of familiarity in the names. He knew them all, even if he didn’t exactly know.

    It only got worse when you arrived. The manor felt colder than usual. They welcomed him with small gestures, as confusion seemed to take over his face. They all looked similar enough to cause confusion when approaching one another, even confusing Bruce for Jason was a new low. 

    None of the brooding blokes willingly expressed their sorrows but it was obvious with how they rarely removed him from their sightlines, even Damian said, “You cannot do this to us again, Grayson.” Which, in evil demon child words, showed how truly scared he was for his brother.

    When the time they took him away from you came, they led him to the depths of the cave to attempt all kinds of things, he only glanced back to give an awkward but comforting smile. Leaving you a broken mess. 

    Doubts seemed to cause you to double over as sorry sobs came out of your body. You were left to mourn your lover for a second time. But instead of burying him, it was feared he may never know you again. 

   The sobs were loud, sudden, and uninvited. You didn’t cry pretty. Not anymore. Not for this. And before you knew, you ended up in his old room, staring at posters from a circus that didn’t exist anymore. Trinkets half-dusted. Memories that wouldn’t stop knocking.

   You didn’t even hear him come in. Too large to be Dick. Too familiar to be anyone else. Jason sat beside you, his voice breaking just enough to let you know he understood.

    “How are you holding up?” he asked.

    “I’m worried,” you said.

    Jason gave a ghost of a smile. “What if he forgets I tried to kill him once?”

    “You’d never win.”

    “Damn straight,” he muttered.

    The silence sat between you again. Not harsh. Just… grieving.

    Then he asked the question no one else had dared.

    “But how are you?”

    And this time, you didn’t dodge it.

    “Scared,” you whispered. “If he doesn’t remember... The man I love is gone. The one I wanted to marry. I’ll have to watch him rebuild, and maybe I won’t be part of it. Maybe I’ll just be the girl who reminds him of a life he doesn’t want anymore.”

     Jason didn’t speak.

     He didn’t need to.

     And then, like the universe had mercy— a hand touched your shoulder. Familiar. Gentle.

    “I don’t know who I am,” a voice said behind you. “But something in me still knows who you are.”

     You turned.

     His eyes weren’t just blue. They were your sky, the air you breathe.

     “If I fell for you once, what’s stopping me from doing it AGAIN?”

[floylia]

ELYSIAN ♫

18. Am I wrong? ✎

“So my manager leaked my information.” It’s not a question anymore.

Scara nods apologetically as if he was at fault, eyes gleaming with genuine sincerity. This is the third time, he’s been vulnerable with you. He guides you up the cobblestone path, leading you closer to the Estate’s courtyard. The sun has already grazed its goodbye, only the moon rests above, gleaming at you and Scara. The darkness along the trees, shrubs, and boulders around the garden is eerie but something about his presence soothes your worries—something about his rare smile, hushed voice, and messy hair.

Perhaps it’s everything about him.

You pause in your tracks, watching over the waves on the beach—hands on the wooden fences standing around the courtyard, “Do you think they’ll believe me?”

“They’ll believe you once you tell your side.”

Doubt lingers, “What if they don’t?”

“Then they’re all fuck heads with no hobbies,” He swerves his head, now facing you with narrow eyes, and brows pulled together, “It’s stupid, how some of them graduated with degrees but have no basic sense of empathy or respect. They’re all entitled, gullible, and hypocritical assholes who use every opportunity to deflect their insecurities on others. It’s a crazy world we live in.”

The scowl on his face is almost laughable—how angry at the world he is on your behalf. You take note of Scara's wrath, experiencing it is not for the weak. Although, you don’t need to worry. His patience for you seems limitless.

“I can’t believe Jean lets you handle your social media accounts. You have no filter.”

He scoffs, “She doesn’t, but I find my way. They have to change the password every other week or else I might be permanently banned on every platform.”

You chuckle at his smug expression, “I want your confidence.”

“You already have it, you just need to use it.”

You avoid his gaze, “You sure do have a lot of faith in me.”

“Because I believe in you.”

For how long? You heard those same words before and they never kept their promises. Your agency, your manager. It was blind trust. Funny how life works.

“You blindly trusted me.”

You didn’t mean to say that. But it can’t be helped. What if one day you disappoint him? Will he leave too, like your manager? Or your fans?

“I knew you wouldn’t do that.”

No he didn’t. What did he know?

“There’s always a possibility—“

“But you didn’t and that’s what matters,” He sighs before running a hand through his hair, “Am I wrong for trusting you?”

You shake your head in guilt, realizing you let your doubts slip. Overthinking kills the mood, “It’s just that—“

“Am I wrong for wanting to be with you?” His voice softened.

You squint your eyes, unsure of what he means. You open your mouth to say something, anything to fill the silence, but nothing comes out.

So he inches forward, his left hand rests on your cheek, the other latches down to your waist, gentle and warm—you lean in to his touch, “Is it wrong to be this close?”

“No but—“

“For once please,” He sounds desperate, “Fuck what they think, focus on me and you. They can all go to hell.”

“So tell me: Is it wrong to need you at every moment?”

Once again you shake your head, this time with no interruptions.

“Is it wrong to be with you? To wake up every morning knowing I’m yours—knowing I can flirt shamelessly without doubting your feelings? Knowing I can write songs about you without hiding my love. Knowing I can feed you my favorite dishes without asking: am I doing too much? Or buy you things that remind me of you because not a single day goes by without your presence in my fucked up head.”

You feel tears welling up in your eyes. Everything is blurry but your gaze remains on Scara. Only him, because it has always been him.

“Am I wrong for feeling this way?” He whispers softly—so gentle that you want to apologize for trying to push him away.

You wrap your arms around his neck, “Kiss me.”

“Can I really?”

“Please.”

He does.

He does like his life depends on it.

Notes:

im on vacation but nothing will stop me from writing 😃

sorry for grammatical errors or spelling mistakes

Synopsis: After 7 years of enduring the media’s relentless pursuit of painting you as a villain, you’re forced to go through an indefinite hiatus with a tainted reputation on your head. However, just when you thought your career was over, a certain 5WIRL member wants you to feature on his solo career. Surely, this won’t affect your reputation once more, would it?

Scaramouche x fem!reader

masterlist | previous | next

Taglist (open!): @aruatsu @magicalink @featuredtofu @scarasbaby @veekoko @scaranthropy @the-ghost-0f-t0m0 @vernith @thystarsshine @lily-lmao @lovemari @mellowberrie @kunikuzushis-darling @skyoverkill1 @alatusorrow @kukikoooo @kyon-cherri @keiiqq @tzuw1ce @xiaossocksniffer @kaitfae @infinitetrashbag @lvnalxve @lovelypadisarah @ulquiorraswife @sketcheeee @atyour-kitchencounter @pirate-of-the-dark-seas @neiiuna @sn1perz @kazioli @inelenastyle @hearts4shu @wisheslost @Kazeyozuha @kazumiku @eutopiastar @chemiro @bananasquash @mujiwuji @danhenglovebot @cremesluv @boomie-123 @kookiibun @help-whatdoimakemyusername @vavrin @beaniedoodz @misterpoofin @justpeachyteastea @one-and-only-tay @peaceindreams @strxwberryfetish @shutingstar @projectsfantasy @quacking-simp @morgyyyyyyy @cante-lope @k-cris

[random-thot-generator]

Reverse Trope Prompt: (see end notes after reading. No peeking!)

Full list here

Ghost x reader

sfw -bit of angst, profanity, a frisky drunk bird but nothing explicit

Divider by: @saradika-graphics

"Looks like LT's pulled 'imself another winner."

Gaz glances over his shoulder, sniffs, then turns back with a cynical curl to his lip. Lifting his pint glass, he slants a knowing look at his fellow sergeant. "He's lost the bloody plot, if ya ask me. Hooks up with every bird he gets his hands on, now." He shakes his head. "'S bloody mental, mate. What the hell is he thinkin'?"

Soap grunts, mouth twisting in disgust as he focuses on his lieutenant and the cackling drunk bird splayed across his lap. "Canna say. Dinnae ken wha's gotten into 'im. Feckin' mad, lettin' a bonnie, good lass go t'chase after sloppy-drunk tarts like tha' one."

"You lads ready for another round?"

Both men flinch at the sound of your voice and glance up at you with guilty expressions. They know you had to have heard what they were saying. Gaz drops his gaze as he nods and pushes his glass across the bar, while Soap tilts his head to study you. You meet his searching blue eyes while you refill Gaz's pint, knowing what's coming. You breathe out a tired sigh.

"What's the matter, Johnny?"

His brows pinch together in a perturbed frown. "Does it no' bother yeh, 'im flauntin' those mingin' slags right in yer face?"

"Jesus, Soap!" Gaz hisses, elbowing him. "Shut ya bloody gob." He then turns his attention back to you, offering an apologetic smile. "Sorry, luv. He's got no filter when he drinks too much."

"Oi! I dinnae need yeh t'make excuses fer meh," Soap fusses, still scowling when he looks back to you. "'M sorry, hen. Dinnae mean t'upset yeh. Jus' think it's no' right, 'im scrapin' yeh off the way 'e did, then comin' in 'ere where yeh work, messin' about with other birds, like 'e does. 'S disrespectful."

Your eyes drift to Ghost, grimacing at the way the woman in his lap is pawing at him, before dropping your eyes to glare at the bar top. "It doesn't matter," you mutter, wiping down the bar with more force than is necessary. "We're over, so he can do what he wants with whoever he wants. I think him breaking things off between us was probably for the best, don't you?"

The two sergeants exchange a look.

Soap huffs and slumps on his bar stool, mumbling into his pint, "Yeh're too good fer 'im, anyway." He knocks the last of his stout back with an angry sneer.

Gaz nods in agreement, his eyes sympathetic when he adds, "Ya can do better, luv. Deserve someone who'll treat ya right."

You try to smile, but it's fake, brittle. "Seriously, it's alright. I'm over it. Really."

You can tell that neither of them believes you.

Your call for last orders goes out a few minutes later, and the few customers left in the pub begin to drift towards the door. Gaz and Soap are settling up their tabs when Ghost steps up behind them, the giggling drunk bird tucked under his arm. His dark eyes slide over you, like you're not even there.

"'M headin' out, lads. I'll see the two'uh ya back at base. Gonna take 'er 'ome," he tells the sergeants, nodding down at the bleary-eyed bird glued to his side.

Gaz give a curt nod, avoiding eye contact. Soap makes a scoffing noise in the back of his throat. "Aye. Jus' keep rubbin' 'er nose in it," he mutters, then sniffs, shaking his head. "Steamin' Jaysus."

Ghost tenses, eyes narrowing over his face mask. "Ya gotta problem, sergeant?"

Just as Soap's mouth opens to reply, you clear your throat, breaking the tense moment. "How 'bout a bag of crisps to soak up all that alcohol, Johnny? My treat."

His head swivels around to look at you, the scowl slowly melting off his face when he sees your worried expression. He blows out a breath. "Aye. Thanks, bon." He side-eyes Ghost, then looks away. "See ya later, LT," he mumbles.

The drunk bird makes a whining noise, tugging at Ghost's jacket. "C'mon, luv. Leh's gooo. 'M ready t'get home." She then gives him a drunken, lewd grin, pressing up against him. "Ya can help me get these tights off, yeah?" she whispers to him, waggling her eyebrows.

Ghost grunts a laugh, seemingly amused. "Cheeky muppet. Olright. Let's get outta here."

You busy yourself with wiping down the bar as Ghost leads the tottering woman out the door, then toss your towel down once he's gone. Snagging two bags of crisps for the sergeants, you hand one to each of them.

"Here ya go," you murmur. "Need me to call a taxi for ya?"

"No thanks, luv," Gaz replies softly, sliding off his stool. "I already ordered us an Uber. Let's go, Soap."

Soap stands, his crisps clutched in his hand. He's scowling, shaking his head. "'E's a bloody eejit," he mutters.

You finally wave goodbye to the two sergeants, locking up behind them once you usher them out the door. Blowing out a tired breath, you lean back against it and stare down at your trainers.

"God, I'm glad this night is over," you mumble to yourself, then heave another sigh before heading back to the bar, ready to close up for the night and get out of there.

The drive home is short, just a couple blocks away, but it still gives you too much time to think. This is by far the worst break-up you've ever been through. None of your work mates or friends can seem to go a day without mentioning it. Even worse, Simon's mates won't let it go, either.

You appreciate their support, but seriously wish that Soap and Gaz would stop bringing Simon up, altogether. It's hard enough watching the big lug flirting with birds right under your nose. You don't need Soap pointing it out to you, or Gaz giving you those sad, pitying looks all night.

You try to shake off your negative thoughts as you park and walk to your flat. It's sweet that the lads are trying to be there for you, but you hope that they'll just let it go soon. Maybe you should just tell them you're seeing someone else. It might help put their minds at ease, get them to back off a little bit.

Once inside your flat, you toe off your trainers and turn on the lights, then pad into the kitchen. Putting some leftovers in the microwave, you shuffle off to take a quick shower while it's heating, hoping the hot water will soothe away some of your stress.

As you're toweling off, you hear your front door open and then close. Hurrying to get dressed, you open the bathroom door, the smell of yesterday's shepherd's pie hitting your nose. You hear the clatter of plates and utensils coming from the kitchen as you pace down the short hallway and peek around the corner. You stop when you reach the doorway, leaning your shoulder against the jamb and crossing your arms over your chest.

"Took you awhile to get here. Thought you might've decided to stay the night with that bird, after all."

Simon sets the leftover shepherd's pie he just took out of the microwave on the table, smirking. Tossing down the potholders, he comes to you, his big arms wrapping around your body to pull you close before his head dips to give you a kiss.

"Took forever t'get 'er outta the bloody truck an' into 'er flat. 'Ad t'fight 'er off'uh me the whole way there, too, the handsy git." He rumbles out a low chuckle. "She was right pissed when I left without helpin' 'er outta those tights."

You huff, cutting him a snarky look. "Yeah, I bet." You frown, sliding your hands down his chest. "I wish we didn't have to do this, Si. I don't like seeing other women all over my man, and I hate lying to everyone, especially Johnny and Kyle."

He sighs, lifting a hand to cradle your face. "I know, sweet'art, but it won't be f'much longer. Cap says Nik's almost got all of our documents an' passports in order. When it's time, we'll loop Gaz an' Johnny in. My next mission out, Ghost will be reported KIA, an' once he's laid t'rest, it'll finally be over. No more sneakin' around, no more lyin'. We'll 'ave new identities, a new life." He hugs you tighter. "An' I can finally provide my missus wiff a proper 'ome."

"Si..."

His eyes go lazy and warm as he slides his hand down to cover your belly. "Gotta 'ave a proper 'ome, love. 'S why we're doin' this. Wanna be free an' clear a'fore the li'l nipper gets 'ere. Yeah?"

You gaze up into your husband's eyes, a hopeful smile spreading across your face. You plant a kiss on his smirking lips and nod.

"Yeah."

-

End notes - *shrugs* I didn't want to spoil the ending. 😉

reverse trope: Instead of fake dating, everyone is convinced that you aren’t actually dating

[godtrauma]

glen (@godisaknife) sexually harassed me after being told to stop

tw: persistent sexual harassment, parasocial behavior, suicidal thoughts. tumblr will not even let me use tw or cw to trigger tag this

a few months ago, i received a kinky ask after i had been sharing some thoughts about wanting a dom who was intense but caring. i received an anonymous message along these lines and at first i was interested and consented to the interactions, but i wasn’t too comfortable with the anonymous part.

while asking these questions, i was speaking with a mutual about them and how i was getting uncomfortable. he had replied on anon that he was an older mutual, and that’s when i knew it was glen; he had been liking my posts at the time of sending asks, he had a very particular typing style, he’s into that BDSM kind of stuff. i never thought of glen in a romantic/attractive way, and the fact that he’s younger than me, has a very “uwu” personality (something he literally types out), and often posts very distressing mental health/suicidal ideation to the point where i filtered his URL instead of unfollowing because i was worried that might trigger him. he sent a couple more asks, which i ignored and hoped he’d get the memo.

in one ask, he gave another clue “daddy G”

(note: please remember this is the type of ask/fantasy i had consented to at this point.)

i told the “anon” i wasn’t interested.

glen replied with the most obvious “clues” telling me who he was, and continued to use kinky language that i had no longer consented to.

(note the “ILY” after i told him to stop and calling me “his boy”)

i shouldn’t have to explain myself in why i didn’t block him then, so i won’t.

some time went by and i received a new ask, this time again with dead ringer texting style than i knew was glen. i tried to put him off in the plainest way possible, again attempting to not make him feel awful because i have a bleeding heart/savior complex personality even though i can barely manage my mental health.

(here’s another instance of him using “fren”)

glen did NOT get the memo somehow and persisted further, telling me this:

that’s when i had completely had it. this ask finally gave me the clarity and drive that i needed to message him to directly tell him he’d cross the line and that i was blocking him. i proceeded to block him everywhere else i knew him from.

i never considered glen and i very close. we both have severe and similar mental health issues that i knew weren’t good for each other so i didn’t message him often. i looked back on what messages i did send, and realized how many times he referred to be as “my beloved” and such. now of course i realize that’s weird, especially because the only thing i know about him is that he lives in italy, he’s 25, he likes horror and hannibal, and like me, he’s mentally unstable (something we have in common and im not pointing out to demonize him)

hopefully people can learn from me that if someone is upsetting you to the point where you avoid them, just cut the ties now. there’s no merit or benefit of trying to be the savior/helper when if affects YOUR mental health too.

do not go to glen’s profile and send asks/messages. block him, please. he’s in a lot of my mutual circles and i don’t want to see him around anymore. his actions led to a sleepless night, a panic attack, and paranoia. i needed others to know and avoid him and it’s taken all my energy today to post this.

additionally, and i can't believe i have to say this:

trying to discredit someone's sexual harassment allegations by saying that the harasser "wasn't TRYING to be malicious" or "lacked social cues" or "didn't threaten anything" are all victim-blaming mentalities that side with the oppressor. i can't believe i have to explain this in 2025 but lack of intent to harm does not equal a lack of harm. i do not think that glen is purposefully harmful but he still harassed me and that's what matters.

[reegis]

Yo! Do you have any notes/tips for your coloring process? I've always had trouble with that part of drawings looking good lmao and I really like yours! If not for your specific style, do you have any tips with that in general?

Iv gotten a few asks about how I color but iv always avoided answering because

A) I am absolutely awful at explaining things, and

B) I am a very Very lazy artist you should probably Not do the things that I do

BUT i feel bad gatekeeping(?) my horrible technique if it helps anybody ig ill try and explain so

✨✨✨Welcome to Reegis’ Probably Not Reputable (But Very Long Winded) Art Advice✨✨✨✨

line art of a random character for the example, just pic whatever colors you have in mind for your base colors, you can try using palette generators or basing it off of existing palettes/characters/whatever I have absolutely no idea how color theory works (& this is why you shouldnt listen to me) so im solely going off of vibes. but it is Rough so onto step 2 & 3

(edit to add i usually start off with the skin hair & clothes on separate clipping layers and merge them together towards the end.. i think i forgot to say that at all here oops)

I abuse the hellll out of layer blending modes. overlay, saturation & multiply mainly, but also difference, brightness & screen. (just doodle something & try all of em out to get a feel for them honestly ik theres a Lot and they can be intimidating) for this i just wanted a more cohesive warmer tone to start with so i added a peachy overlay & a slight ombré to the hair to add a bit more interest to the character.

then just the most basic of rendering, some blush & highlights just wherever i think theyd go.

Another thing they tell you Not to do, my next step is to block out all my shading in a vaguely purpleish multiply layer!!! i cant be assed to do it any other way im sorry…. once i have the basic shading down, i lock the layer & go in with air brush eraser & also airbrush in other colors wherever I think the purple is maybe too harsh/clashing

still wasnt 100% happy with the colors so messed around with some more layer filter/modes/whatever you call them then colored in my line art! i think this is honestly the saving grace for all of my art shshsdhhf color your lines people. doesnt have to be all (i dont, i like the contrast) but it usually helps to make some at least a little less harsh

then with a little more color tweaking im done! one random sleepy dude, fully colored (by my standards)

and then if a piece needs more dramatic lighting you justttt

im so serious play around with layer settings! these are just basic multiply & add(glow), there as so many others you can abuse the shit out of & nobody will know or care in your finished piece.

was this?? in any way helpful???? I hope so.

[cherienymphe]

https://www.tumblr.com/cherienymphe/785079241110880256/im-actually-starting-to-genuinely-believe-my-mom

Why do you feel that way?

A whole list of things that are adding up!

I genuinely don't even know where to start off but for one thing I've always gotten the impression she tries to live through me. When she compliments me it's all nice and dandy but if I do something to my appearance that she doesn't like, it gets so ugly so fast for no reason 😭 she actually gets psycho mad anytime I pluck or shave my brows (because I prefer them thin. I think it elevates my face so much) and she'll talk about ruining my face and how the hair won't grow back and "if I could go back in time and never wax my brows as thin as I did then I would" and I'm like okay understandable but this is my face? Not yours? It's such a non problem "problem" and she has the same attitude about my hair always saying if she had my hair she'd wear it out more and okay that's a somewhat normal sentiment I guess but she gets weirdly obsessed about my hair. Always asking if I've cut it and anytime I say it wouldn't matter if I did, she gets mad and starts ranting about me needing to appreciate what I have. Y'all I've big chopped 3 times in the past and had to hide it from her because she's that attached and I don't have time to deal with a grown woman getting mad about what another grown woman (me) does with her own hair.

I'm literally in the process of locking my hair and I know it's going to be a huge thing when I can't avoid the topic anymore 😭 and I try to be gracious because I know she's sensitive because she's been dealing with hair loss for years but one time I straight up had to tell her in an argument "this is my hair, not yours" because at the end of the day what I do to my face and hair is no concern of hers like wtf

And she's told me before that she's jealous of me but I always took it in a casual playful way because she's my mom you know? Sometimes she'll just be looking at me and will go "you have the whitest eyes I'm so jealous" or will ask me if I'm wearing lashes sometimes and when I say no will go "ugh I hate you" and that sentiment gets expressed all the time whenever I buy something. I wish I was joking when I say almost anytime I buy something I saw online she'll say "why did you buy me one?" Or "you only think about yourself" or "I'm so jealous I want one" and y'all it'll be something like a fucking bookshelf (I did indeed send her the link and she got the exact one) or a bracelet I saw on Poshmark or a bedding I found at Ross like never mind the fact that I'm not about to furnish your room and closet for you but why are you acting like you're incapable of finding and shopping around for stuff you like? I remember verbatim saying one day "you want everything I get" just kind of offhandedly in response bc y'all know I have no filter and she didn't really have a proper response to that. She does it on a very annoying level because I'm thinking to myself damn can I enjoy anything I buy for myself without you telling me you want it too

She'll even randomly come in my room and poke around my shelves or look around and be like "your room is so nice and put together damn I'm jealous" and I know by this point y'all are probably thinking dang girl how many times does she have to say it before it clicks for you but I really never thought anything of it because she's my mom

But lately she'll get genuinely bothered when we're out and other women compliment me. I remember one day we were at the mall and like 6-7 different girls complimented this dress I was wearing (just some basic summer dress from Aeropostale) and after the 7th one she went "if one more person talks about your dress I'm going to scream" and today we went to the meat market together and the girl behind the register went "you look so pretty" and I was like omg thanks you too and my mom made a face and rolled her eyes and that was the moment it really started to sink in for me

She gets bothered if I want to put on a little makeup before we leave the house even if I literally do it in a timely manner so I'm not holding her up. She'll be like "you gotta do all that just to go to the mall" or some variation of that and I've just noticed an uptick in it once I started to feel a lot more comfortable in my skin and she gets bothered by my friendships too! She's made remarks in the past about me and my friends buying stuff for each other or when I'm out and tell her I'm with blank and will say stuff like sorry I can't compare to blank or "I know you like blank more than me it's okay"

And it's just all of this stuff is adding up and I lowkey feel like she wants to be in my skin

And maybe it's just me being the only daughter of a single mom but I like to think she's not aware of how this is all coming off or isn't aware she's showing her hand so openly because I know she has her own trauma when it comes to women and has a huge unhealed mother wound and I think she sometimes gets lost in that space between being proud of what she created while simultaneously envying what she's created idk. I just feel like I'm going crazy and making something out of nothing but on the other hand I'm like no you're weird 😭

[maritteknewtheenemy]

sejanus wasn’t more self aware than lenore dove whatsoever though, he ran into the arena & when he got punished for it by becoming a peacekeeper, he went to work with the rebels. one could argue that spraying graffiti on a wall and comforting a grieving mother is nowhere near the same level as working with the rebels. if sejanus didn’t have the family he had and somehow found his way into that arena, when they got out he & his family would’ve been killed instantly. he wasn’t “protecting” his family they just had plot armor, just like lenore dove had plot armor in the reaping scene for the sake of it. and comparing her to teenager snow is still a mischaracterization in my eyes, especially when the poor girl did absolutely nothing that was aiming to hurt anyone else or for her own benefit whatsoever😭 all her actions had impulsively got HER into trouble not the ones around her (if we ignore the reaping scene, which one could also argue that haymitch didn’t HAVE to get up to go to her, and neither did she ask him to do so)

i appreciate you willing to have a conversation about this though, and i’m glad you can see both sides (even if we disagree) but could you, please, start censoring her name when you talk badly about her 🥲 i know we’ll never agree on her character, but she happens to be a character i love and i don’t reallyyyyy enjoy seeing slander on her when i want to search on her tag. (also this is not me trying to be mean whatsoever, i just hope you understand) maybe tagging it antilenoredove would be better instead? thank you!

I appreciate you also being able to have a conversation and not resorting to personal attacks, it’s more than I’ve come to expect from a lot of the fandom, and this sort of dialogue is actually fun for me. I do so enjoy a debate!

You do make some really good points about Sejanus, and maybe he did have plot armour, but at least when he was working with the rebels he only told his supposed best friend he trusted implicitly instead of directly telling the whole district. It’s about the ability to be subtle for me, y’know?

Again we really don’t have any proof that none of Lenore’s actions had no malicious intent, we really don’t, and yeah she lucked out in that Haymitch ended up the only collateral damage but that in itself was a small miracle. At some point willful ignorance and carelessness and a refusal to learn from past mistakes does become malicious, and Lenore Dove in canon seems to be at that level.

I suppose I could tag my posts anti Lenore Dove, but my viewpoint is this. I already have my posts tagged with anti sunrise on the reaping. Anybody who doesn’t have any interest in seeing anything remotely negative about the book should have that tag blocked, and thus, my posts shouldn’t be an issue. But the character I’m talking about in my posts IS Lenore Dove. Yeah, it’s sucks to see criticism of a liked character but I’m also not attacking anyone who likes her. Stumbling across one of my posts, clicking on my blog and seeing I routinely post critical analysis of sotr should be enough for people to filter out the anti fandom tag and never see my posts again if they don’t want to. But the way I see it, my posts still belong in the Lenore Dove tag, because im talking about her as a character. Character tags are pretty broad, I’m not out here contributing to ship wars, and all my critiques have textual basis. I really am just sharing my interpretation of the character as written. So I do think my posts belongs in the Lenore Dove tag.

Out of respect for you anon, and the conversation we’ve had, I will make an effort to tag anti Lenore Dove going forward. That said, ask yourself why- in an absolute sea of positivity about her- any criticism of her is enough to send you to a strangers inbox asking them to tag their own posts differently, when you could block the anti sotr tag and avoid any criticism about the book you don’t want to see. Why is it up to me to censor my posts beyond the reasonable generally publicly agreed upon way that involves tagging the anti fandom tag?

[systematic-breakdown]

Would you have any advice for possible P-DID systems that are trying to "grow" their head mates? I'm the host (front stuck), and I can only feel the presence of my headmates. I was considering using tulpamancy methods to help them grow more confident/solid, but I'm unsure if that will do more harm than good. I'm also worried about loosing control of my headmates of that makes sense. Sorry if this ask bothers you -🕊

youre not a bother at all! its really flattering that you came to us <3 gotta give a disclaimer though: we're not a P-DID system and i havent done a whole lotta research into it so if something i say doesnt feel quite right or isnt applicable to your situation, feel free to ignore or adapt it :D

i know that feeling a loss of control over headmates can be distressing, but understanding why they do what they do can really help with cooperative management and integration. take things slow and focus more on what these parts want/need and how they intend to go about that instead of freaking out over "well what if i lose control of them" or "how will i know whos who if they arent "full" alters"

i dont think youll particularly have to worry about "losing control" anyway - if how i think P-DID works is correct, then youll rarely experience full switches. even if they do solidify themselves apart from you, how they present is heavily restricted to passive influence for safety/covertness/continuity/etc (again, this is only if my understanding is accurate!! please take this segment with a grain of salt)

and based on my current understanding of tulpamancy, i cannot in good faith endorse that as it does have the potential to cause harm and further confusion (im all about harm reduction so if theres an opportunity to avoid doing damage, i recommend taking it). BUT what i CAN do is give you some alternative mechanisms that have helped some of our fragments/in-betweens with development!

dont force it. i know its tempting and i know you just want things to feel easier, but forcing a part to solidify themselves outside of your filter when they arent ready will fuck with the whole system and send you down a spiral you do NOT want to go down. trust me, ive been there. gentle nudges and giving everyone their own space is more than enough - let them decide for themselves

keep a journal for collages, make an album in your digital photo library, make playlists, anything that gives those parts the space to express themselves (even if its through you) will help them develop and feel more like themselves beyond passive influence

when you feel a different part or what you suspect to be a different part, try to get down whatever info they're comfortable with! how you feel about certain people, places, or things; what memories you can recall; how old you feel; what makes you feel good; what exactly makes this part different from you; things like that will all be very helpful in keeping track of the system and what each alters purpose is. (tracking how uncomfortable a part may be with sharing certain information will also help serve as an indicator of who it may be and what they need/want out of fronting)

do NOT, i repeat, DO NOT go to "build an alter" or "build a headmate" pages. you may end up forcing a certain identity onto a part who doesnt want it or doesnt actually feel that way, which can be confusing and/or distressing for the system. "BAH" pages really should just be for fragments or in-between parts who ask for help on their own (from what i know, P-DID blurs that line in a way that could serve as a detriment to expression and development!)

gently encourage them to be more open - let them "tell" you what they want to wear, eat, listen to, engage with, where they want to go, what they want to do. "listen" to their thoughts and feelings and pick apart what you think is them and what you think is you. metaphorically drawing those more solid lines between "you" and "her" or "him" or "them" could help them branch off and be more comfortable in an identity thats more "individual" and less "Someone is speaking/thinking/feeling through me"

since you believe what you may have is P-DID, i honestly think its just better to take each day as it comes. just to reiterate: dont force anyone to being more than who or what they are. if they want to be more, they'll find a way! if they don't, let bygones be bygones. i know its difficult to let these things go but, whatever the reason may be, it really would benefit everyone to just take things as they are and manage them as they happen.

idk if tumblr tells anons when their asks are responded to so crossing my fingers you see this in a timely manner </3

whenever you do see this, know that we appreciate you for coming to us and that we hope you're doing well <3 be sure to take care of yourself first and foremost! drink water, eat something, open a window, take a break, etc. try not to go too far down this rabbit hole. its ok for you guys to just exist :)

[saltybean03]

cells at work oc that doesnt make sense, go!

a white blood cell thats gone so wrong that it eats all other cells and pathogens, and releases certain antigens to attract immune cells to act as a shield in the case its ever threatened (whether by OTHER immune cells or some rlly tough germs/parasites), and to avoid detection

they dont multiply, they dont infect other cells, they can make themselves look like other cells, and can eventually begin eating away at skin and bones if they get hungry enough

the white blood cell is able to camo by using the dna of the cells they consume (the same dna they use in the antigens to avoid being detected)

they exist to destroy you from the inside out because..... reasons? they will purposely trigger a response in vital organs by posing as a pathogen (typically a real nasty one), making a beeline for the brain because "mm brain cells! tasty!" i guess

immune cells will go on ignoring them though because the trigger, like this post, doesnt make sense, as the source remains veiled to them (they'll know there's a germ but not where or what tf it is)

and since the t cells wont know what to attack, they may turn on the body entirely because of that, resulting in a gotcha

and i suppose they spawn from when a white blood cell accidentally consumes a prion or.. something (if thats even possible)

- i had to look up if white blood cells could eat other white blood cells and the interwebs said no, so i said "yes" (so new kind of mutational disease, woohoo)

- i also looked up if white blood cells could eat prions. they contain some proteins of prions but apparently its not really known if they can outright eat the prions themselves

- had to look up if this qualifies as an autoimmune disease and it checks most of the boxes as far as "friendly fire" goes

this mf WILL eat cancer cells too, they dont discriminate. no one is safe! I'd say its a jekyll and hyde thing, so they're not ALWAYS trying to kill you, and their rampages have to be controlled with medication since the troublesome white blood cell cant be, y'know, filtered out 🤷‍♀️

this is a blorbo atp, but yeah

tell me im not the only one who's made a crazy cells at work oc like this PLEASE

[vivisols]

one of the least humanoid characters is the least engrossed in the circus (Zooble)

The most humanoid actively plays along (Ragatha)

Pomni doesn’t count she’s new

Also it’s you’re blog, why shouldn’t you ramble? Who’s stopping you? And why are you letting them stop you it’s YOUR blog I reiterate!! Spit your shit Vivi!!

THATS WHAT IM SAYING!!!!!!!!!! zooble is the least humanoid and is also actively the least immersed, with them literally hating the adventures and not wanting to go on the two we've seen so far!!!!!!!!

i MEAN they can literally pull themselves apart and swap out entire body parts, not to mention the fact that they're able to control them when separated.

ANYWAYS YOU'RE RIGHT ANON!!!!!! ITS MY BLOG!!!!!!!!!! SO IM GOING TO GO FERAL AND TALK ABOUT ZOOBLE FOR A LOT OF WORDS!!!!!!!!!! (under this cut of course)

zooble sticks out a ton considering that even kinger and gangle, the other two most non-humanoid members, still have very humanoid aspects. gangle's ribbon body gives off the illusion of a humanoid form and the comedy and tragedy masks she has for a head are based off of a human face (albeit hers are a very simple and detail-less version). kinger is a bit more of a stretch in the humanoid aspect but he has a somewhat humanoid silhouette (somewhat used very loosely here), two humanoid hands, and he wears clothes like the other humanoid characters.

zooble stands out since they look far more inhuman than the rest of the cast does. in the pilot, the parts they chose for that day literally included a crab claw. from what we've seen, they seem to lack a lot of parts that resemble "proper" humanoid appendages, save for the ones used for their right arm and left leg. zooble really stands out from the rest, considering how they're always swapping out their parts and messing with them. they're the only one in the circus who can change their appearance on their own. they're also going to have different parts for each episode, and while its an INCREDIBLY cool detail, it also really makes me think.

zooble seems to be actively avoiding getting immersed in the circus. i mean, personality wise they're a lot more down to earth than the rest of the main characters, which is evident from the fact that they're rather blunt. i mean they straight up tell kinger they thought that he would abstract next LMAO.... they really don't seem like the type to mince their words, considering that they tell pomni about not being able to leave in an incredibly straightforward way and dont particularly try to soften the blow like ragatha does.

they continuously swear despite the filter, even after having presumably been there for years. the only other character we see do that is pomni, though she's only been in the circus for two days and it's probably on impulse. yes its a silly thing to point out but most people tend to start censoring themselves if they know swearing is useless while zooble keeps doing it. they set up kaufmo's funeral as well and although they could have been asked to do so, i believe they did most of it, if not all of it on their own accord. zooble was the last to give their speech about him and clearly seemed upset when doing so.

unlike ragatha and jax, who are more than happy to actively play along with the immersion, zooble doesnt want to immersed at all.

they refuse to participate in adventures, as from caine's line in the pilot about making the adventure "unobtrusive" that they can "choose not to get involved with", it likely wasnt the first time they didnt want to go. though them not coming to the candy canyon kingdom could probably be because they chose to set up kaufmos funeral instead. i mean by the time pomni is at the stage everyone else had already gathered and they were likely just waiting for her and ragatha, so i imagine that the group worked out a whole plan on what to do.

they only went on the first adventure because the gloinks literally pulled them apart and dragged them into it and im like 99% sure that caine made the gloinks do that on purpose so that pomni would properly get introduced to everyone, including zooble. i mean it was clear that she was SUPPOSED go help save them from the gloink queen but got swept up with the whole kaufmo abstracting thing instead. plus gooseworx has mentioned numerous times that zooble hates the adventures.

this could all be because zooble is the most recent arrival to the circus before pomni and therefore they're still holding on to some hope that they can leave, but i believe that it's moreso about them wanting to remain "human" despite everything. they want to cling on to what still counts as their humanity.

to me, zooble doesnt get immersed in the circus because they're actively trying to cling onto their humanity and the reality in the outside world. theyre trying to remain as human as they can by holding on to what they view as uniquely human qualities and tendencies, like funerals. it allows them to remind themselves that they are human and that at one point they were indeed in the real world, despite the situation that they've found themselves in now. zooble doesnt want to get immersed in the circus since it would mean accepting it all, new non-humanoid body and far-too-wild adventures included. but i mean can you really blame them lol

zooble is such an interesting character AND LIKE NOBODY IS TALKING ABOUT THEM. AND EVEN IF SOMEBODY IS ITS USUALLY IN A GROUP CONTEXT BEFORE THEY BRUSH THEM OFF GRAHHHHHHHHHGHHHHHHHHH IM FERALLLLLLLLLL

ANYWAYSSSSS im normal Actually! i cant wait for the zooble episode aka episode 3!!!!!!!! i hope that this far too long ramble made at least some sense and that even if it didnt then you enjoyed it 😁

[ryuichirou]

Replies

Also shorter ones today… mostly related to our previous replies and posts!

Anonymous asked:

After seeing Eel Floyd with Riddle

AND THOSE BITE MARKS 👀👀👀👀

I gotta know -

Did Floyd slip and slide in Riddle?

Or

Also

Did Riddle magically goldfish form and the two had merman sex???

Honestly I wasn’t thinking about Riddle also becoming a merman, but they absolutely have to have merman sex at some point, otherwise it just isn’t fair (to me) lol

And to answer your first question, yes, there might have been some slipping and sliding in Riddle involved~

Anonymous asked:

re: the gaslighting Jade ask. I randomly stumbled on your blog from other ones, and I literally blocked you because shroudcest triggers me. Ultimately, we are responsible for our own safety. As long as it’s properly marked for (which yours clearly is since I blocked you the second I made a tumblr), really all we can do is filter the things that hurt us out.

(im agreeing with you btw. draw what you want i cant stop you. just feel like i in particular make a point worth mentioning from seeing that. you can answer this or not bc obviously i probably wont see it anyway)

Anon! Whether you see this reply or not, thank you very much for writing this despite having us blocked lol

You really are making a good point, and I am glad that you are taking care of yourself and avoiding uncomfortable stuff. I really encourage it. Thank you for understanding and for approaching this issue with respect.

Have a good day.

Anonymous asked:

Gaslighting IS Jade’s love language. Also mushrooms.

Facts, Anon <3 He doesn’t waste his gaslighting and mushrooms on those he doesn’t find entertaining love!

Anonymous asked:

Honestly I can totally see Cater as the kind of guy that now and then buys a random manga just because the cover looks aesthetically pleasing, although if they are BL they are probably more oriented towards shonen-ai than explicit content. But also he wouldn't really read them because he finds the stories and characters a bit ridiculous (is he a bitter anti-romantic? or maybe his sisters used to collect shojo manga and he associates the love story genre with them?). I bet when he had roommates he had fun leaving one of his manga lying around, just to see people's reaction and go "aw, shoot, you saw it? that's sooo embarassing..." or something like that

To be honest, I can see that too. Cater seems like someone who isn’t all that into anime and manga, but is aware of it enough to recognise that the cover is pretty and that there is something gay inside (he might figure out the latter thing later as he looks inside the book lol). His sisters really could be into it though, so I can see him having certain associations.

lol Cater’s roommates “finding” his manga though… Don’t act so coy, Cater 😭

Anonymous asked:

Goddammit! Idia, you cannot escape me for long, one way or another, your chest will be licked! *shakes fist at the sky*

I love how this is turning into a Looney Tunes cartoon…

Anonymous asked:

Idia doesn’t have nipples. He accidentally shaved them off. Tragic 😔 L in the chat for his nipples.

Damn. I’m afraid I have bad news for the previous Anon.

Anonymous asked:

Do you have any HCs for Neige and/or Chenya?

We do have HCs about Neige/Vil and Chenya/Riddle (1,2)!

Anonymous asked:

It is I, 🐩 anon,

So I got a friend into twst and tell me why her favorite character is goddamn Crowley? I'm currently trying to convert her to Divus supremacy. Enough about this. Let me ask my silly little question.

Is there anything about TWST's story plot that you dislike or wished it was worked on more? Or character you wish were more fleshed out? 

Your friend has quite the taste… She is probably a genius of sorts 😔🙏

I feel like I was pretty vocal about it, so I am sorry for talking about it again, but I really didn’t enjoy how Ch2 was handled and Leona in general, to be honest. I wrote a post about my grievances a whole year ago, but my stance didn’t really change. We’ve rewatched the majority of the main story since then, and I thought that maybe with fresh minds and fresh eyes we would enjoy Leona at least to some degree, but unfortunately it didn’t really help. The events don’t really help either…

There might be some other things, but this is the one I think about every time when we talk about the flaws of TWST writing.

Anonymous asked:

what is your notp?

A bunch of Leona ships come to mind, i.e. Leona/Malleus, Leona/Vil, Leona/Idia 🤔 But also a bunch of Trey ships, like Trey/Jade or Rook/Trey…

Anonymous asked:

if you had to go on a date with one of the twst boys who are you picking? i'm picking idia

Idia is a great option, Anon; he would be so uncomfortable and awkward, getting nervous about the smallest inconveniences and whispering “thank god” every time you don’t force him to do something… I would pick him to, but my second option would be Jamil. I think he’s pretty chill.

Katsu would've picked Jade because of course, this is the best pick.

Anonymous asked:

any old fandoms that you feel out of love with?

Can’t think of any, Anon… I feel like we never fall completely out of love with anything, just move on, but there is always an opportunity that we’ll come back at some point. Things like Homestuck are still on our minds constantly lol

There are some titles that we kind of started watching, but then stopped because it wasn’t fully out yet, and since then we kind of lost interest for this thing. And with some of these titles it’s very unlikely that we’ll ever go back, but it’s never 1000% impossible. But then again, it’s not like we loved these titles…

Anonymous asked:

Funfact: The crowley that crowley is named after used to perform sex based magic with men

Damn I hope this is what our Crowley also does. This is his dark secret that is very poorly hidden

Anonymous asked:

I think Riddle would be a really good teacher's pet

Oh he would <3 He is a teacher’s pet.

Ironically, I feel like this makes him a bit boring for Crewel…although it depends…🤔

Anonymous asked:

What is a ship you rarely draw but you love

I don’t draw any of them enough, I love them all! Waaaaah :(

I feel like I don’t draw Sebek/Silver nearly enough for how much we love them, Rook/Epel is also a rare one but we love it, Sebek/Idia could use more love, anything with Jamil too…

Anonymous asked:

Please share with us a full list of the preference of the TWST boys? Top or bottom? I typed up a list for you to use!

Anon, we have a list in our pinned post! But since you’ve typed up a list, I’ll go through the list again :) We also have a post in which we explain our reasoning for each choice, so you can read it too if you’re interested.

Oh! And if you meant some other types of preferences, please let me know. In that case though, we have a list of the boys’ kinks, which isn’t the same thing, but pretty close; so you can read this one too if you want <3

Riddle – bottom

Ace – top

Deuce – bottom

Trey – top

Cater – top

Leona – bottom

Ruggie – top

Jack  - top

Azul – top

Floyd – top

Jade – top

Kalim – top

Jamil – bottom

Vil – bottom

Rook – top

Epel – bottom

Idia – bottom

Ortho  – top

Malleus– bottom

Sebek  – top

Lilia  – top

Silver– bottom

[sleepdeprivedsimp234]

hey I just wanted you to know when you post or tag triggering content using different words or numbers or letters, as a kind of censor, people that use those whitelist filters to avoid that kind of stuff can still see it, because they're not whitelisting for every type of different spelling, just the original spelling

like, when you trigger warn and type "4bus3" instead the word "abuse" the filters don't pick it up

OH. UM- I DIDNT KNOW THAT IM SO SORRY- I’ll try to remember that! Thank for telling me.

[smilepilled]

— blog update post!

— blog update post!

hi! nothing big or major or special here, just a post with some changelogs for my blog. please read if you want, or disregard. i dont mind either way ^0^ some stuff is important tho so pls take a peek if u can

DEMOGRAPHIC & WARNINGS

my blog will be stated as ~15+ from the time of making this post. nothing will essentially change in how it operates, but i want to keep a somewhat mature audience to my posts & creations. this doesn't mean i will block or "put people in my DNI", it's just a warning for my blog :)

i will be attempting to use trigger & content warning tags more proficiently from now on. in the past, i've been (alongside too exhausted to tag) dismissive and defensive about questions/requests towards this. that's something i need to improve and fix, and i apologize to whoever i shellshocked 0_o

i will less leniently block anyone who is under the age of 13, accordingly to tumblr's TOS (and my own comfort). please be safe kids, im sorry for the scare but my blog isnt for you </3

if you are a minor or otherwise dont wish to see mature topics being discussed (such as IGM, medical abuse, real-life crisis and chaos, injustice and bigotry, systematic abuse & control, gender and sex based hatred, bioessentialism, and rarely things that mention kink/sexual stuff), please make sure to filter the following tags!

maturebuhge, — for mature topics

suggesbuhge, — for anything that includes suggestive stuff; namely jokes or memes, but also important notes regarding kink / sex / etc

some posts are not going to receive these tags either due to situational urgency or genuine mistake. either way please let me know if you need a post to receive a tw or cw <3

this doesnt mean i will straight-up post <Cocky Want Boing Boing> explicit stuff, just means ill be able to share important posts without worrying about unwanted/unwilling eyes seeing it.

MY POSTS & FORMATTING

most (if not all) of my coining posts have been altered to simplify/shorten them. this includes the use of tumblr's "under the cut" feature and removing unnecessary text!

from now on, i will avoid [over]using dividers and "replycons" in my usual posts. this excludes my pinned; the reason for this is that i cant always provide alt text, and id rather drop the aesthetics than keep being super unaccessible :') overall this will still be something i struggle with, i apologize for that

i hope this is anything... mostly nothing changes i suppose but i hope it helps whoever needs the accessibility <:)

TAGS & ORGANIZATION

fixing the millions of millions of posts without any tags (FINALLY!); if i missed anything, please do tell me and i'll fix it (if you notice it)

no major changes to usual tagging system. tags will be used as wobbly-ly as always, but i'll try to integrate more into my "[topic] tag" systematic!

the pinned & related posts have been revamped! woo! yay! nothing major but should be a nice change :)

this is kind of short lol can u tell i suck at organizing...

BLOG THEMES & TOPICS

i've decided this blog will be a < queer-centric, self-indulgent, thoughts-and-loves > blog — this essentially means that i cater to the LIOMOGAI/COINING + queer scene, some fandoms and interests, and i'll post whatever comes to me.

this does not mean i won't dabble in some other stuff once in a while, it just means that's the main focus of my blog— some side-stuff examples are graphics/editblr and textposts, because i really like web decor and tumblr culture.

i will try to make revamps to my theme that arent impossible to look at, but i'm still gonna be indulging myself with them. this means im gonna use image descriptions, plain text, simpler banners-icons-graphics, and the sort!

thats it :D woohoo!

anyways, please have a lovely day, this is all i had to say ^_^ YAY WOOHOOO