#for the past *checks calendar* almost 3 years now

[foxstarjelia]

noelle horrors yet again

i hope she's doing alright (keeps drawing her in great distress)

[getinthecar-elizabeth]

Title: Bébé Mbappe?

Pairing: Kylian x wife!reader

Summary: you get a surprise before you and Kylian move to Spain.

NB: This takes place before Kylian's presentation at Madrid.

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The day of departure to Spain was fast approaching. Kylian's friends had thrown him a farewell party. It was rowdy and filled with all types of celebrities, models and social media personalities.

However, the family decided to throw another, more intimate party with close family and friends. Your mother and younger sister would also be there, as this was not only Kylian's farewell but yours as well.

Kylian had gone out in the morning for breakfast with Hakimi and a couple of other friends he hadn't seen in a while. He wanted you to come with him, but you insisted he make the most of the little time he had left with his friends.

You hadn't been feeling like yourself for the past few days. You were more tired than usual. Even Kylian noticed, but you just credited it to the stress of moving. In addition, you were feeling rather nauseous and your breasts were extremely tender and sensitive. They usually felt like this during your period or ovulation, but this time, they were way too sensitive.

While putting away clean laundry, your phone pinged with a notification. You picked it up from the bed and unlocked it. Your eyes bulged when you read the notification. It was from your period calendar app.

The notification read, "Your period is 10 days late."

"10 days?" you thought. The app was not always accurate, sometimes being off by 2 or 3 days, but never 10. Your heart rate increased at the possibility of what this could mean. You went through the calendar and checked the last time you and Kylian were intimate. It was 5 weeks ago, just before he left for Germany for the Euros.

You took a moment to calm yourself down. "Okay, think... Pregnancy test," you snapped your fingers.

You hurried to the bathroom and rummaged through the cabinets, searching for the pregnancy test your mother-in-law had bought for you the previous year. She was convinced you were pregnant and had bought you four tests, only to later realize that you had gotten sick from drinking orange-flavoured soda. You hadn't touched the tests since then. Thankfully, you had only used one test and had three spares.

You took the first test, and it came out positive. You then took another one, and it also came out positive. You sat on the bathroom floor with your hands on your face.

It's not that you were not happy, but right now was not the best time for a baby. With the move to Spain, you planned to focus all your energy on helping Kylian settle in.

You thought about Kylian. How would he take this? You had agreed to wait a little longer before extending your family. And it was your desire for your child to be born in France, your home.

Could you even move over there anymore? Your entire support system was here. With your first baby, you would need all the help you could get. And you knew Kylian wanted to be present for something as big as this. You were conflicted.

"Chérie!" You heard Kylian call for you from the living room.

You quickly got off the floor and hid the tests. You were not going to worry about this for now. You wanted your husband's last moments at home to be memorable.

"Bébé," he called again, this time in the bedroom.

"I'm here amour," you walked out of the bathroom.

"You're doing laundry?" He looked at the clothes on the bed.

"Yeah. I'm almost done."

He pulled you towards him by your hand, and his other one rested on your waist. "Leave it, bébé. I want to spend a bit of time with you before we leave for the party."

The party was going to be held at his mother's house.

"Okay," you gave him a tight-lipped smile.

He noticed the grim look on your face. "Everything okay, amour?" He brought your hand, which he held, to his lips and kissed your knuckles.

"Yeah. It's just that we're getting closer and closer to leaving, and I'm going to miss everyone," you shrugged.

Kylian knew that you were a creature of habit. You liked being in familiar places and around familiar people, and you didn't like going out much. This move was a lot for you, but he was glad that you were going with him. In a whole new country, he needed a sense of familiarity, and you were exactly that, so he understood how you felt.

"It's okay, chérie. This is a big change for us both, and I'm glad you're coming with me," he said as he rested his forehead against yours.

"Yeah, right. Like I'm gonna let you go over there alone and let those Spanish girls steal you. No way," you rolled your eyes but smiled.

He chuckled. "No one could ever steal me from you. You know my heart beats for you alone," he said as he held your palm against his chest so you could feel his heart beating.

'That's about to change,' you thought.

You ordered pizza and watched TV before getting ready for the party. On the way to Fayza's house, Kylian noticed that you seemed distant. He figured you might be feeling a bit sad because it would be the last time you would see a lot of people for a while.

The party went well. You shed a few tears during the speeches. You completely broke down when you saw your mother and sister. You thought it was just the hormones making you more emotional, but then again, you were saying goodbye to everyone you loved, so you guessed it was understandable.

People bought gifts, and although you didn't think it was necessary, you appreciated the gesture.

When you got back home, you were tired, so you left the gifts in the car, intending to bring them in the next morning.

You and Kylian were in bed with the lights off, but you couldn't stop thinking about what you found out earlier.

You turned to face Kylian, who was lying on his stomach. You always envied how comfortably he could sleep like that, while you never could - your stomach would start hurting after a while.

In the midst of the darkness, you blurted out, "I'm pregnant." You held your breath, thinking Kylian was sleeping and probably didn't hear you.

However, he raised his head to look at you in the dark. He then switched on the bedside lamp and sat up against the headboard. You got up and copied his actions.

"Quoi (what)?" He looked at you with wide eyes.

You gulped. "I'm pregnant," you repeated.

Kylian stared unmoving. Shock was evident on his face. This is it; he is going to blow a gasket, you thought.

"Vraiment (really)?" he asked.

You nodded your head. "Oui."

"C'est super (that's great)!" he exclaimed, showering your face with a thousand kisses.

Relief washed over you "You're not upset?" you questioned.

"Why would I be upset, amour? We're having a baby," he laughed. "Are you not happy?" He looked at you, worried.

"Of course, I am. I thought maybe with the move and everything..." you trailed off.

He shrugged, "Well, sure this changes a few things, but we'll figure it out. And I will take good care of you. I'll make sure you have the best doctor in Spain..." he rambled.

"I hear you, but you know I wanted our baby to be born here, in our home country," you reminded him.

"That can be arranged. We have 9 months to figure things out. And we can come back when the time for you to give birth arrives,"

"Okay," you smiled.

"You know what? This calls for a celebration," he sat up on his knees.

"Mon mari, it's late though. We can celebrate tomorrow," you whined.

"Don't worry, we don't need to leave the bed for this kind of celebration," he took off his shirt and threw it somewhere in the room.

"What?" You gave him a confused look.

Kylian wiggled his eyebrows and smirked. Then it clicked.

"Oh no..."

But he pulled you towards him by your legs and you found yourself lying on your back.

"Kylian," you giggled as he pulled off your pyjama pants. "This is exactly how I got pregnant," you stated.

"I know," he said with a grin.

He lowered his body onto yours, planting his forearms on either side of your head. His lips hovered just above yours, and then, he kissed you.

The rest, as they say, is history.

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[sixhours]

One Day at a Time - Chapter 4 - Gestation

Series Chapter Index | Read on AO3 | Complete

Rating: Explicit, 18+, here be smut Series tags: The Last of Us, The Last of Us (HBO), Joel Miller x f!OFC, Joel & Ellie, mostly follows canon, SMUT, gratuitous smut, dubious consent (drunk sex), unplanned pregnancy, fluff, references to past miscarriages, angst, hurt/comfort, romance, age gap (~21 years), childbirth, fluffy baby stuff, I've probably forgotten some so please let me know <3

He’s browsing at the trading post when he sees Charlie again. He’s checked off 14 more days in his little calendar, and each time he picks up the pen, it stirs a bittersweet feeling of anticipation and sheer terror in his gut.

He’s picking over the trades, looking for new sneakers for Ellie, when his eyes fall on something else.

Footed pajamas, impossibly tiny, the little plastic price tag still clipped to the sleeve. His hand drifts over the yellow fabric, faded but minky soft. Warm. Good for winter.

Sarah had pajamas like this once…a sleep suit with a hood and little round ears peeking up from the top. He hasn’t thought about that outfit in…well, decades. The memory of her toddling toward him with those silly little ears poking up from her downy head is so vivid that he can almost hear her trill of laughter and he has to lean on the table to catch his breath, the yellow onesie still clutched in his hand.

“Joel? Are you okay?”

Charlie’s voice comes from over his shoulder, snapping him out of his reverie, and he turns around.

“Yeah…yeah just, uh…yeah, m’fine. What’re you doin’ here?”

He hides the pajamas behind him, balling them up in one large fist.

She holds up a white package. “Heard they had TP. Figured I’d better get down here and snag a roll before it was all gone. You?”

“Lookin’ for stuff for Ellie.”

“Find anything good?”

“She won’t think so.”

Charlie smirks. “Teenagers, huh?”

“Yeah,” he says, shoving the onesie deep into his bag and making for the counter. He drops off a sack of old clothes into the donation bin, all the stuff Ellie has outgrown, and watches as Charlie does the same with her trades.

They find themselves outside, the warmth of late spring making everything smell fresh and green. Charlie’s button-down shirt floats over her jeans in such a way as to hide her midsection, but her proportions have changed. Her face is fuller, her breasts are swollen, and her skin looks so soft and smooth and—

He coughs and looks away, feeling a brief wash of shame for noticing her. Again.

“So you’re, uh…still…”

“Yeah…I’m still,” she says.

“That’s good,” he says, and means it. “Feelin’ okay?”

She shrugs. “A little tired…but yeah. I feel better. So far, so good, I guess.”

He nods thoughtfully and bites his lip, thinking of the calendar next to his bed. He can almost hear the days falling away.

“Look, I…uh…I shoulda said somethin’ before now. I…know I haven’t been the most…uh…I’m not trying to get out of…anything.”

She blinks up at him, brow furrowed, waiting for him to make sense. He winces, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“I wanna help,” he tries again. “However I can. I know it’s not easy goin’ it alone,” he says, looking down at the bag with Ellie’s clothes and the onesie tucked at the bottom. Then he’s thinking of Sarah, of long nights spent pacing and rocking and soothing.

“You’ve done enough.”

“Oh,” he chokes out. “Uh, I, uh…s’pose I deserve that.”

Her eyes widen, cheeks turning a faint pink. Now it’s her turn to fumble her words.

“Oh…I didn’t mean it like that. I meant…you’ve been good. You’ve helped. I–shit. I’m sorry.”

There’s a painfully awkward silence as this sinks in and he bites back a smirk.

“We’re pretty fuckin’ bad at this, huh?”

“Yes,” she sighs. “We are.”

This admission seems to ease something between them. Before he can lose his nerve, he continues.

“Could I come to your next appointment? Is that somethin’ people still do?”

She nods slowly, considering this. “I have one next week. It’s not very exciting, but…you could come with me.”

“I’d like that.”

“I’m not sure you will,” she says. “The midwife is…intense.”

“I’ve heard,” he says. “I think I can handle it.”

He can’t handle it.

The midwife, Joanie, is cold and abrupt and downright abrasive. He can’t imagine this person welcoming anyone, let alone his future child, into the world. He wants to put his arm around Charlie, turn her around, and tell her they’ll find someone else.

But he can’t. Jackson has one midwife. And the town doctor is a 76-year-old man who “doesn’t do babies”.

The woman is dressed in a long, flowing caftan, gray hair pulled neatly into a braid down her back. She looks like a hippie but her eyes are sharp, and her tongue is sharper.

“You brought the boyfriend this time,” she says as Charlie settles on the makeshift exam bed, a chaise lounge with a sheet draped over it. Joel can’t help but notice that Charlie doesn’t bother correcting her.

“You can sit,” Joanie says to him, gesturing to the chair next to the chaise. When he doesn’t move, she throws her hands up. “Or keep hovering. Whatever.”

Joel crosses his arms and barely restrains a snarl. Charlie shoots him a look as she slides her unbuttoned jeans down to her hips.

I told you.

The woman performs a cursory physical exam in silence. It’s obvious they’ve done this routine several times, and neither seems to feel the need to explain it to Joel.

The midwife is frowning, digging into Charlie’s belly with pointed, demanding fingers, feeling around until Charlie winces. Joel clenches a fist at his side, resisting the urge to snap at the woman for being so careless and rough.

“Growth is on track. You’re measuring at sixteen weeks.”

She pulls out a speaker attached to a wand–he vaguely recognizes it from appointments with Sarah’s mother at the beginning–and a tube of gel. She covers Charlie’s lower abdomen with goop and presses the wand in, levering it this way and that, seeking the sound of a second heart. There’s a long moment where he thinks they won’t find it–that this will be the day it all goes to hell.

But then there’s a familiar but distant echo, a rapid pulse of sound, the memory coming back to him across thirty-five years and an apocalypse. It’s the sound that once filled a small room in a sterile hospital. He remembers it as a black-and-white flutter on the ultrasound screen, fast and vigorous and alive .

Mine , he thinks dimly. He sinks into the chair because his legs no longer want to hold him.

The midwife, satisfied she’s found what she’s looking for, holds the wand steady and looks at her watch. It’s the shortest fifteen seconds of Joel’s life and he doesn’t want it to end.

“One-twenty-six. You can sit up.”

Charlie does. Joel notices she doesn’t bother trying to button her jeans. He vaguely remembers Sarah’s mother needing soft, stretchy things, and wonders if Charlie has anything like that.

“Any cramping?” Joanie asks, flipping through a file.

“No.”

“Still bleeding?”

Charlie hesitates for a fraction of a second. “A little. Not every day.”

Joel’s eyes snap to her at that, but she’s not looking at him.

The midwife frowns. “Given your advanced maternal age and your history, I don’t like to hear that.”

Her sharp eyes focus on Joel. “You’re, what, sixty?”

“Fifty-seven.”

“Mmm. Sperm quality after fifty is a crapshoot,” she sighs. “You’re looking at an increased risk of genetic defects.”

Joel grips the arm of the chaise hard enough to rip it from the frame. He’s going to kill this woman.

“Look, I’ll be honest with you,” she continues. “Maternal-fetal medicine in this country was a shitshow before cordyceps, and the pandemic might as well have sent us back to the dark ages. I’ve seen one death for every five live births. Maternal survival rates are better, but only slightly.”

She’s looking at Charlie. “I can’t tell you you’re going to be okay. I can’t tell you your baby is going to be okay. I can only tell you what I think will help your chances and then…we wait and see.”

Charlie nods, her face drawn into a flat, emotionless mask as she takes this in.

“No more patrols. Light duty work only. No lifting. I can give you a doctor’s note for the council to reassign you if your regular job is too strenuous. No sex,” she says, looking pointedly at Joel. “And if the bleeding gets worse–if it’s bad enough that you need a pad–you go on bed rest immediately.”

Her eyes shift back to Joel. “Stress is a baby-killer. Your job is to take care of her and make sure there is no stress. None. If you can’t do that, you need to find someone who can.”

He grinds his teeth so hard he thinks he hears a molar crack.

“We’re done. I’ll see you next week,” she says dismissively.

And then Charlie’s off the chaise and ushering him to the door before he can open his mouth to give the woman hell and they’re stepping out into the rain. They make it to the end of the street before he stops her with a hand on her shoulder.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he says, hating the way his voice shakes, recognizing the animal clawing within his chest as barely contained rage.

“I did–I warned you,” she frowns. “She’s rough.”

“No–I mean, the bleeding. You said you were fine.”

“I was. I am,” she says flatly. “You heard the heartbeat.”

“S’not what I meant and you know it,” he hisses.

Her lip curls in a snarl. “You fucked me once . You think that gives you the right to—to everything?”

He blinks. “That’s not what I said.”

“Then what are you saying?”

When he can’t answer, she turns and walks away. The sight of her retreating back hunched against the rain only serves to stoke the fire of his anger further. Her shirt is getting soaked.

Where the fuck is her jacket? She’s going to get sick.

He catches up and grabs her by the arm, turning her around and holding her in place.

“You heard her. How am I supposed to take care of you if you won’t fuckin’ let me?”

Only then does he see the tears in her eyes, rain mingling with salt on her cheeks. Guilt stabs at him and he loosens his grip.

“I don’t know,” she hisses. “I can’t just…be that person with you. I don’t fucking know you! I don’t even know your middle name, but we’re having a fucking baby. Or maybe we’re not, because our odds are shit, and I should have taken care of this when I had the chan–”

The words hit like a punch to the gut. Without thinking, he pulls her to him, wrapping her in his arms until he’s holding her in the middle of the street. “Stop. Please.”

She shudders but doesn’t push him away. The sky rumbles, threatening a downpour.

He ducks his head, speaking softly. “It’s Arthur.”

She snorts into his shoulder. “What?”

“My middle name. S’Arthur. After my grandfather.”

She makes a noise that sounds like a sob…or a laugh. He can’t tell. The sound stirs a frantic need within him and he grips her by the shoulders.

“Move in with me.”

“What? No.”

“Just until the kid gets here. Let me take care of you both.”

She looks up at him, eyes ringed with dark circles. A raindrop splashes on the tip of her nose and drips into the divot above her upper lip. 

“Do you even want this? I need to hear you say it.”

Any lingering anger melts away. He thinks of the soft yellow onesie still tucked into the bottom of his pack.

“I do,” he says, hoping the two little words are enough to hold her, to convince her.

She ducks her head with a watery sigh, close enough for her hair to brush at his chest. “Let me think about it.”

He nods. “Alright, but…not too long, okay? You’re, uh…”

He trails off as the back of his hand touches her stomach, just grazing the fabric over her bellybutton, before dropping back to his side.

She sniffs. “Yeah. I’m well aware we’re on a schedule.”

“Okay…okay then,” he nods, resuming their walk toward town. They’ve almost reached the trading post when she speaks again.

“It’s Sarah, by the way.”

The name takes his breath as it always does, pulls at that black hole in his heart that even Ellie can’t completely fill.

“I don’t under–”

“My middle name,” she sniffs. “You didn’t ask, but…it’s Sarah.”

He doesn’t trust himself to speak, just ducks his chin in a nod. Sarah. Of course it’s Sarah.

“C’mon,” he says. “Let’s get out of the rain.”

That night, she appears on his porch. The rain has let up, but her hair is still damp, matted to her temples. 

“I’ll stay with you,” she says without preamble. “Under one condition.”

He blinks. “Anything.”

“We don’t talk about the kid. No names, no what-ifs…no…playing house. I can’t do any of that,” she says. “We take it one day at a time and…see what happens.”

“If that’s what you want,” he says, swallowing hard.

She nods, satisfied. “Alright. I can bring some stuff by tomorrow.”

“Good. That’d be good. But I uh, need to tell Ellie,” he pauses, thinking. “Can I make dinner for you? For the three of us, I mean?”

She raises an eyebrow.

“Not playin’ house or whatever,” he clarifies, feeling a blush creep up his neck. “Just…figured the news might go down better with food.”

She nods slowly. “I could do that.”

“You like spaghetti? S’Ellie’s favorite and it’s hard for me to fuck it up.”

“I like spaghetti,” she says, smiling a little. “I get off work at six.”

“Tomorrow,” he says. “Six. See you then.”

That night, instead of staring at the ceiling during his usual sleepless hours, he moves most of his clothes into the spare bedroom closet and cleans his stuff out of the attached bathroom.

As he works, he thinks of Charlie’s unbuttoned jeans straining around her womb and the climbing summer temperatures. Soon there would be no hiding her stomach under a jacket or sweater.

Jackson was friendly, but it was still a small town. People got bored and they talked, and anyone who paid attention would have seen Charlie and Joel together. There were already enough rumors about Tommy Miller’s broody older brother and his mysterious adopted daughter, the one who wore long sleeves even on the hottest days and carried a switchblade.

Ellie.

Another pang of guilt gnaws in his gut. He’d done enough damage to their relationship as it was, and now he’s about to drop a fucking bomb.

He finds himself knocking on the garage door the next morning, hands rubbing restlessly at the thighs of his jeans as he waits for her to answer. He realizes it’s been a few days since he’s talked with her beyond a simple “hello” in passing, or to pass the salt at dinner, or to ask where she’d put the TV remote. He chides himself; Ellie is independent by nature, but she’s still a kid, still his responsibility. She’s never going to trust him again if–

She answers the door, rubbing her eyes and blinking owlishly up at him. She looks so young when she first wakes up, hair tousled, sleep lines on her cheeks.

“Hey, I uh…we’re, uh…having dinner at the house tonight. Makin’ your favorite. Spaghetti.”

She raises an eyebrow. Joel doesn’t usually cook if he can help it; the caf is easier and less prone to burning things. “What’s the occasion?”

He swallows hard. “There’s somethin’ I need to talk to you about. And…Charlie will be there.”

“Ooooo-kay,” she yawns. “Love a good third wheel situation, I guess.”

“S’not like that,” he shakes his head. “She’s just a friend.”

“Yeah, I bet,” she smirks, then sighs dramatically. “I guess I can make room in my packed social calendar for dinner. As long as it’s spaghetti. Maria’s sauce, right? ‘Cause yours is…yikes.”

She sticks her tongue out to drive the point home.

He snorts softly. “Yeah. Maria’s sauce. And garlic bread.”

“Cool.”

He nods, and the moment draws itself out, that awful, awkward, twisting silence filled with all the things he can’t say.

“So…was there something else?” she asks. “I gotta get ready for school.”

“No…nope,” he mutters. “I guess not. I’ll see you tonight, kiddo.”

He doesn’t quite burn the garlic bread, but it’s pretty fucking dark. He’s scraping the crumbs into the sink when Charlie appears at the door with a salad in hand and a backpack slung over her shoulder. She’s wearing an oversized blue button-down over soft black leggings. For comfort’s sake, he hopes the jeans have been retired for a while.

“Thanks,” he says, taking the bag, frowning at its weight. “You’re not s’posed to be lifting stuff.”

“I can handle a bag of clothes.”

He grunts, gestures to the salad. “You can put that on the table. Ellie’ll be over in a few.”

“Anything I can help with?”

“You can sit,” he says, perhaps too gruffly, placing her pack by the stairs. On the stove, the reheated marinara starts to bubble, spitting red flecks. He rushes to take it off the heat.

Ellie arrives just as Joel is setting the last bowl on the table. She nods in a wary greeting to Charlie, then helps herself to spaghetti and salad and bread.

“So what’s up?” she asks around a mouthful of food, forgoing any small talk—his kid, through and through.

Joel swallows hard, looks at Charlie, who simply shrugs as if to say this is your show .

He opens his mouth but the words are stubborn and nothing seems right.

You’re going to be a big sister.

Your old man is going to be a dad again.

I fucked up and we’re having a baby.

He’d never had to worry about this with Sarah. On the rare occasion a date went further than dinner, he’d been cautious to a fault. He’d been considering a vasectomy before the pandemic but time and savings were sparse. He probably could have had the procedure done back in the QZ, but Tess had been his only partner, and she’d had a hysterectomy in her thirties. An operation that would put him out of commission for any length of time seemed like an unnecessary waste of ration cards.

He realizes he’s lost in thought, and they’re both watching him, still waiting.

“So, uh…Charlie’s gonna move in with me for a bit,” he says. “I’m givin’ her my room, and I’ll take your old one…if that’s okay.”

Ellie narrows her eyes. “You two aren’t… together ?”

“No,” Joel mutters, meeting Charlie’s eyes across the table. “S’temporary. She just needs a place for a bit.”

“Weird, but…fine with me,” Ellie shrugs, then turns to Charlie. “Joel’s good at taking in strays, it’s kinda his thing. Case in point.”

Charlie smiles a little at this, takes a sip of her water.

“She’s, uh, gonna have a baby,” Joel continues, focused on his plate, pushing the food around.

“Oh shit, congrats!” Ellie grins at Charlie, then looks back at Joel. He can’t meet her eyes.

There’s a heavy silence. Joel grips his fork until the design in the handle makes an imprint in his palm. He waits for Ellie to do what she does so well, to pick up the hints, put the pieces together, and say the things he can’t.

“Wait,” Ellie says, looking back and forth between them, mouth dropping open in a scandalized O .

“You didn’t—”

She coughs then, choking on a mouthful of food, and fumbles frantically for her water glass.

“Joel,” she says when she can speak again. “Tell me you didn’t.”

All he can offer is a tiny shrug.

“Holy shit ,” she breathes, fork clattering to her plate. “You slut !”

Not for the first time, Joel wishes she had a proper full name–Elspeth, Eleanor, Elizabeth, Eliza–anything that, combined with a solid middle name, made for a convincing and forceful reprimand.

“Sarah Elizabeth Miller” was always effective when his first kid was being a little shit, even if he rarely had to use it.

As it is, he can only growl Ellie’s short-and-sweet name under his breath and watch it roll right off her back. She doesn’t miss a beat.

“Wow, I can’t…I mean, you just said you weren’t even together –”

“We’re not,” he grates out. “It was a…a one-time thing.”

His face is so hot, he can practically feel the vein throbbing at his temple. He wonders if his second kid will give him a fucking aneurysm before his third kid can even be born.

“Thanks for that, now I need to bleach my fucking brain,” she says. “Gross. So, so gross. Dude, you’re like, sixty .”

“I’m fifty-seven,” he grumbles.

“Yeah, so really fucking old . Do you not know how babies are made ? FEDRA school was shit but even they taught us how to put on a fucking condom—”

“Ellie, we didn’t—“

“Don’t, dude. Just stop. You’re really fucked up, you know that? Like, I know I have issues, but this is fuckin’—”

She’s interrupted by a muffled snort from the other side of the table. Charlie has clapped a hand over her mouth and her eyes are brimming with tears. She’s going to fucking cry because his kid is an asshole and he is an even bigger asshole and this has gone all fifteen kinds of wrong.

Joel would like to die, right now, face down in a plate of spaghetti with his face the color of marinara—anything to end this godawful conversation.

“I’m sorry,” Charlie gasps, and it dawns on him that she’s not crying at all–she’s struggling not to laugh. “I’m so sorry. It’s just, I haven’t–this is just–holy shit .”

She breaks out into a peal of giggles, leaving both Joel and Ellie in stunned silence.

“I’m sorry,” she says again, heaving and hiccuping as she tries to catch her breath. “Everything has been so awful and serious and…this is just so…so…fucking funny –”

Ellie blinks, looking back and forth between Joel and Charlie in wide-eyed amazement.

Something in Joel’s chest unfurls from its tight, anxious knot, and when he meets Charlie’s eyes, he can’t help but return her grin.

“You two are fucked ,” Ellie pronounces, but there’s a slow smile spreading across her face.

“We are,” Joel agrees. “We’re fucked.”

“Totally fucked,” Charlie agrees, then giggles again.

Ellie shakes her head in disbelief, digging back into her spaghetti. “Welcome to the fucking family, I guess.”

Joel shows up for work the next day feeling lighter than he has in weeks. He’d finally slept . Ellie, while completely disgusted, hadn’t disowned him; she’d even hugged him before returning to the garage. And Charlie had made herself at home, joining him on the couch to watch a movie after dinner.

Maybe this could fucking work.

His newfound peace lasts about as long as it takes for Tommy to find him and clap him on the shoulder.

“What’s this I hear about you takin’ in strays?”

Joel scowls, picking up an extension cord and trying to untangle it from a pile of the things. “Don’t believe everythin’ you hear.”

“So Charlie isn’t shackin’ up with you, then?”

“S’not like that. It’s temporary.”

“Uh-huh.”

He shoots his brother a look over his shoulder, weighing his options. The rumor mill isn’t churning as fast as he thought or Tommy would be all over it by now. He rolls his eyes, knowing what comes next will be just about as bearable as a tooth extraction, aware he can’t put it off any longer.

“She’s gonna have a kid.”

“Right,” Tommy snorts. “Your kid?”

Joel turns and holds his brother’s gaze.

“Holy shit,” Tommy breathes. “You’re serious?”

“You’re gonna be an uncle again,” Joel says dryly.

Tommy whistles. “Well, don’t that just beat all. How the hell–”

“The usual way,” Joel grumbles, turning back to his work. “Can we not do this here?”

But Tommy has never been easily deterred. He practically launches himself at his brother for a bone-crushing hug while half the work crew looks on, bemused.

“Christ, get offa me.”

Tommy doesn’t. When he finally pulls away, grinning and gripping Joel’s shoulders, he’s almost teary-eyed.

“Maria’s gonna be thrilled.”

“I doubt it,” Joel mutters, thinking he’s already not held in high esteem by his sister-in-law. Knocking up a girl twenty years his junior is hardly going to redeem him.

“Does Ellie know?”

“Yeah, we told her last night. She’s…about as excited as you’d expect.”

“Damn. I can’t—I mean, I always thought—after—“

Tommy sobers, and the word lingers heavy between them.

After .

“I know,” Joel says, realizing with a dull ache that his brother is the only other person alive who understands the gravity of the situation…the only one who knew Sarah as more than a sad story in their history.

Joel closes his eyes and sees his brother at twenty, Sarah’s tiny arms wrapped around his neck as she clings to his back, laughing wildly as he dives through the sprinklers on the front lawn.

He blinks the memory away, busies himself with the extension cord again. He doesn’t even remember what he wanted it for, but he needs to do something with his hands.

“But it’s good, right? This is good,” Tommy says, finally breaking the silence.

“Yeah,” Joel swallows hard. “It’s good.”

Tommy grins, then frowns just as quickly. “Oh, man. The midwife–”

“Yeah, she’s awful.”

“Maria damn near killed her when Izzy was born.”

“‘Bout ready to myself,” Joel mutters.

“And…you and Charlie ain’t…?”

Joel glares at him in answer. 

“Alright, brother. Damn, man. A kid…and at your age…”

Tommy laughs and ducks just in time to avoid the extension cord as it whips by his head.

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: hiiii miss me? sorry about the lack of posting but june was a batshit crazy month for me and i’ve been dealing with a bit of writer’s block. i hate this title but 🤷🏼‍♀️ @making-it-big had prompted a fic where andrei was facetiming the kids while he’s away and this is what came of that idea! hope you guys enjoy 🥰

word count: 3k

tw: none! this is just some soft family cuteness

summary: while he’s on the road, andrei never misses a facetime call with you and the kids

The one thing you never forget though, is the nightly FaceTime with Andrei when he’s on the road. Every single road game is different when it comes to the call - sometimes they’re late at night and shorter, other times he’ll have time to talk for a while before they leave for the airport. It doesn’t matter where Andrei is, he FaceTimes you and the kids every day.

Tonight, the team’s in Columbus, after flying in from Detroit earlier in the afternoon. They have the night off before their game tomorrow. You only know the schedule because you have it all written out meticulously on the giant calendar in the kitchen. You had made fun of the calendar when some of the other older and more experienced WAGs had told you about it, but now it’s your saving grace. Otherwise you’d have basically no idea where in North America your husband is unless he’s next to you.

The kids are buzzing, excited to talk to Andrei and update him on the past few days. Evie and Alina jostle for their favored positions on the couch, eventually deciding that Alina gets to be wedged against the arm and Evie gets the other 2/3 of the couch cushion. You’re not sure how that ended up being the deal, but you’re not about to get involved in the careful negotiations between sisters. Kira, the ever unbothered middle child, wanders in and out of the den, various toys and snacks coming and going with her. “Hey,” you call out to her, stopping the five-year-old in her tracks. She looks up at you with wide eyes. “That’s the last Oreo,” you point at her, raising an eyebrow and crossing your index finger over your heart, your code with the kids that you’re serious and that they better promise to listen.

Kira blinks innocently at you and chirps, “yes, mommy!” in a tone that has you getting up from your squatted position at the coffee table and moving into the kitchen to take the family-sized pack of Oreos from a lower cabinet and moving it to a cabinet above the fridge. Kira pouts at you, clutching her remaining snacks in her hands.

“Remember when your tummy hurt because you ate too much cake at D’s birthday party and you puked on Daddy’s lap?” You ask, adjusting Maks in the carrier attached to your chest. The three-month-old yawns and presses his cheek to your chest, little eyelids fluttering shut.

“Oh,” Kira pulls a face, looking just like Andrei, “I didn’t like that. Puking was gross.”

You point at her, grinning, “too many Oreos before bed will make your tummy hurt and you might puke again.”

She looks scared, her eyes opening wide, and you almost feel bad for her. But then she looks down at the two Oreos clutched in her hands and shoves them both in her mouth, spewing crumbs as she shouts, “I don’t wanna puke, Mommy!” while running back into the den and around the dining room table.

“Your sister is such a little weirdo,” you murmur affectionately to Maks. The baby burrows his face close to your chest and you check the time over the stove - 6:43 - which means he’ll be up for a feed soon enough. Hopefully he’ll be awake while Andrei’s still on the call. Turning back to the den, you start to say, “girls, let’s give Daddy —“ stopping short when none of your children are in sight. Evie and Alina are gone from the couch and Kira isn’t in the room, although you can hear her singing to herself from behind a few walls. If you had to guess, she’s doing princess twirls in front of the full length mirror in the foyer.

You shake your head and mutter, “where the hell did they all go?”

Dimitri toddles into the room, blocks clutched in his chubby little baby hands. “Mama!” He shouts, holding the blocks up. “Yook!” You grin at his little speech impediment - he can’t say his Ls yet and they all sound like Ys. “Bocks”

“That’s right, buddy, blocks! Were you building something?” You take the blocks he offers you, holding the pair of them in one hand and taking his hand in your free one, leading him over to the couch so you can hopefully get this FaceTime call started.

“Bi’ding for mama,” he says proudly and you press a kiss to the top of his head, inhaling the scent of baby shampoo.

“Mama loves your building, but how about we call Papa?” You pitch your voice higher, infusing excessive excitement into your tone. Dimitri giggles and claps his hands.

“Papa! Papa!” He chants and while he’s distracted you reach over and tap at the screen of the iPad, swiping Andrei’s contact information and bringing up the FaceTime screen. Dimitri fidgets on the couch for the entire thirty seconds it takes for Andrei to answer, but once he sees Andrei’s face fill the screen, Dimitri shouts, “Papa!” and his face splits into a huge grin.

Andrei’s face is wearing a matching grin and he shouts back, “Dimka! How’s Papa’s big boy?”

You lean against the back of the couch while Dimitri babbles to Andrei, watching as your husband’s entire face lights up while they chat. Dimitri is Andrei’s little clone, if the baby pictures Elena sends are any indication, and when their faces are side by side like this, you can totally see it. Every so often, Andrei’s gaze slips over to look at you and he smiles, winking. You return the expression, one hand resting over Maks’s back. Dimitri could chatter about anything and everything, using his limited toddler vocabulary, and you shout up the stairs for the girls, still wondering where the older two went. Maks continues to sleep soundly, even after you’ve shouted for them twice - the fifth kid really learns to sleep anywhere and under any conditions.

“Coming!” Evie shouts back and then there she and Alina are, traipsing down the stairs in too long sweaters that you recognize from Andrei’s closet. They’re holding the hems of the sweaters in their hands like they’re princesses wearing ball gowns and it’s adorable. Both girls are tall for their age - the Svechnikov genes at work - but even still the sweaters hang to their ankles when they release the knit.

“What are you two doing?” You ask, pulling Alina back by her shoulder so you can twist her long hair up into a bun on top of her head. The seven-year-old is always wandering around with her hair in her face and you hate it, always worried she’s going to fall down the stairs because she can’t see anything.

Alina struggles under your hands, trying to get away from the bun, but you’re faster than she is and tie it off quickly before she runs off to the den, throwing herself onto the couch and interrupting Dimitri so she can start telling Andrei all about her day.

You turn to Evie and she looks a little shifty, but also extremely pleased with herself while she twists her fingers in the sleeves of Andrei’s sweater. “We just wanted Dad to know, like, because he wears the bracelets me and Al and Kira made for him when he plays in other places so we know that he misses us. We wanted to wear his sweaters when he calls so he knows we miss him,” she explains in a rambling, breathless monologue that has your tearing up with the sweetness of her gesture.

“How did we get so lucky with you?” You murmur, cupping her chin and kissing the top of her head. “Sweet as iced tea.”

She beams, happy with your praise, and runs off to join her brother and sister. You can hear her interrupt Alina’s story, talking over her sister to tell Andrei that she picked the sweaters special because she’s the oldest. Kira appears from somewhere, a juice box in her hand, and you shake your head. The four kids are piled on the couch, all talking over each other and not letting Andrei get a word in edgewise. From your spot behind the couch, you have a full view of his face and the completely adoring expression on his face. He’s smiling and laughing, trying to pay attention to all four of them at once and making it look easy.

Maks fusses against your chest and you look at the time, nearly 7:30, so while the kids are distracted and with Maks still strapped to your chest, you adjust so your breast is out and Maks can eat, wincing a little when he struggles for a second before latching on. The general chaos coming from the couch starts to cool off and one by one, the kids run out of things to say, starting to peel away from the screen. Kira disappears, as is her M.O. as the middle child, and Alina wiggles to the floor to start doing somersaults.

Dimitri is flat on his back on the couch, kicking his feet in the air, dangerously close to Evie’s head while she recounts the play date she had the day before. “And Mom said we get to watch the game tomorrow at Auntie Nykki’s so we get to see Gigi and are you suuuuure we can’t get a dog?” she finishes, deploying giant puppy dog eyes.

“I’m sure,” Andrei laughs, shaking his head. “It’s not fair to Mama, to have to take care of a dog and you crazy little goblins.”

“Buuuut….” Evie winds up to start begging, but you cut in.

“Eve, we talked about this. No puppy until you’re older, now time to say goodnight to Dad and head off to bed,” you ruffle her hair a little, bracing your hand against the back of Maks’s head when you lean forward a bit.

Andrei jumps in before Evie can protest, “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay zaychik? Spokoynoy nochi.”

“Spokoynoy nochi,” Evie replies, blowing kisses through the screen. Alina and Kira appear for virtual goodnight kisses too and you hoist Dimitri onto your hip and give Andrei the “one-minute” gesture while you usher the girls upstairs and get their teeth brushed and tucked into bed.

With Dimitri still clinging to you like a koala and Maks fast asleep in a milk coma, you finally return to the den and drop down onto the couch. “Hi,” you grin at Andrei. Dimitri rests his head on your thigh and runs a toy car over the cushion, clearly fading but reluctant to sleep. He’ll be out in a few minutes and you’ll transition him to his bed.

“Hi,” Andrei grins back. “Miss you.”

“Miss you too,” you card your fingers through Dimitri’s fine blond hair. “They were on something different tonight. And just so you know, both girls are sleeping in your sweaters.”

He shifts from sitting on the hotel bed to lying back against the pillows, tucking one hand behind his head and hiding the colourful braided and beaded bracelets that Evie, Alina, and Kira had made him. A soft smile makes his dimple pop. “We got lucky with them,” he says.

“We did,” you adjust Maks in the carrier, pulling aside the fabric covering the back of his head so Andrei can see him a little better. You’re getting warm having sixteen pounds of baby strapped so close to your chest. “How’s Columbus?”

“Boring,” he snorts a laugh. His smile turns a little sly. “What are you wearing?”

You laugh a little, until a new and familiar voice chimes in. “Oh fuck no,” Martin Necas yelps. “You’ve got five fucking kids, don’t tell me that you’re still chatting her up like a twenty-something idiot.”

Marty’s been your husband’s roommate on the road for years now, but you didn’t realize that he’d been around while the kids were talking to Andrei.

On-screen, Andrei smirks, a cocky expression taking over his face, “how do you think we got five kids? The stork?”

A towel flies into view from off-screen, whacking Andrei in the face while he laughs. You giggle at their antics and Neci comes into view, poking his head in front of Andrei’s phone. “Don’t let him talk to you like that, you’ve got all the power. He’s fucking whipped,” he teases, ruffling his hand through damp hair.

“Don’t worry,” you grin. “I’ve got babies attached to my hip and spit up all over my shirt. No chance he finds this attractive.”

Andrei’s expression turns hungry and he scrubs a hand over his bearded chin, the rasp of his fingers over the hair sending a shiver down your spine. “Neci, cover your ears, I want to say something adult to my wife,” Andrei teases. “It’s not for the ears of children.”

“Fuck you,” Marty whips a pillow from his bed at Andrei. It lands with a hollow noise on Andrei’s stomach and he exhales heavily. “One, I’m older than you and two, your literal children are right there. You’re gonna be disgusting in front of them?”

You smother a laugh with your hand. “Dimitri is passed out,” you say, angling the iPad down so they can see the conked out toddler spread out starfish style on the couch, toy car held loosely in one hand. “And Maks is definitely out.” You show them the infant, his little rosebud mouth gaping open and his eyelids twitching as he dreams. “So you’re good to say whatever you want.”

“No, do not encourage him,” Marty groans. “I have to share a room with him.”

Andrei tosses the pillow back, but Marty was expecting it and catches the pillow in mid-air. “You know, I’m the Captain. I don’t have to share a room,” Andrei says.

“You’d miss me too much,” Marty grins, waggling his eyebrows. “If you two are going to be disgusting, I’m leaving.”

“Good, leave,” Andrei deadpans.

You click your tongue, “be nice! What kind of leadership are you displaying?”

“Yeah, listen to your wife,” Marty teases, getting out of bed and shoving his feet into a pair of slides. “I’m telling Roddy that you’re a shitty Captain.”

He shoves at Andrei’s shoulder on his way out, waving to you. The door clicks shut behind him and you shake your head at Andrei, “you two are terrible.”

Andrei waves a hand in the air, grinning. “Neci’s dealt with worse from me on the road. I ever tell you about the food poisoning incident?”

“No,” you wince, “and I don’t want to know.” You yawn and apologize. “Sorry, baby. I’m exhausted.”

“I’m sorry I’m not there,” he replies, rubbing at his chin again. He pauses and you’re both quiet for a bit, just soaking up the other’s presence. Dimitri’s hand goes completely slack and he drops the toy car to the floor. You kick it slightly under the coffee table so you don’t step on it later. Andrei coughs a little, “it’s only been a couple days, but it feels like they’re different. Bigger.”

“The only one that really grew this week is this guy,” you pat Maks’s diapered bottom. “Gained another pound from his last checkup.”

Andrei grins. He sits up and pushes his hair off his forehead, leaning closer to the screen. “That’s my boy,” he chuckles. “How big is he now?”

“Sixteen pounds,” you laugh, shifting him against your chest. “He’s in the eightieth percentile for his age, Drei.”

“Big boy,” Andrei replies.

“Takes after his Daddy,” you blow him a kiss, yawning again. “I know it’s not even nine, but I really need to sleep for a bit before tiny Hulk wakes up for his next feeding.”

Andrei nods. “I know, I’m sorry I kept you up. I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” you tuck Maks back into the carrier so you can bring boy boys upstairs easier. “But you’ll be home in two days and then I’m happily passing off parenting duties to you.”

“I can’t wait, solnyshka,” Andrei says seriously, eyes twinkling at the prospect of being back home. “And once I handle parenting, I have a few things I’d like to do with you.”

You laugh, “those adult things that you kicked Marty out of the room to say?”

Andrei hums and affirmative. “I never even got to say them.” His lower lip pokes out in a pout, a childish expression in direct contrast with his beard and blown pupils.

“I’ll use my imagination,” you assure him. “I love you.”

“Love you,” he puckers his lips at you in a kiss and you tap the screen, ending the call. You skimp back against the couch for a minute, resting, before you get to your feet and lift Dimitri’s toddler dead weight into your arms to bring him up to bed. Once you’ve checked and reassured yourself that all five kids are asleep and tucked in bed, you finally crawl into your own bed and pass out for a bit before getting up to feed Maks. You’re so ready for Andrei to come home.

When he does come home, two days later, he bounds through the front door full of energy, swinging you into a kiss that makes you laugh and swooping the two closest children - Kira and Dimitri - up into his arms. They squeal with excitement that Daddy is home. The older two girls are at school and Andrei insists on being the one to pick them up, buckling Kira and Dimitri into their car seats and taking the fully loaded Navigator to the school.

He has the windows rolled down and the three of them wave at you while he backs down the driveway. Andrei at the wheel of the Navigator with all the children in tow is a much different picture than Andrei behind the wheel of his string of ugly coloured Lamborghinis.

His grin though, that full, missing-toothed, dimpled smile? That grin is the same on your thirty-six year old husband as it was on the twenty-one year old golden retriever of a boy you fell in love with.

[queer-mental-health]

reasons to live? sorry im having a really bad time atm i just need something

Hey love <3 There's no reason to apologize for needing help, you're awesome for reaching out! I'll get a list started, and I hope even more people add their own favorite reasons in replies and reblogs. 1. When you're queer, your existence encourages other queer people to keep going and keep being themselves. Just working my normal job while wearing pronoun pins, I have encountered multiple people who told me they felt relieved just to see me existing there. Even if you're closeted, getting to be an old queer is a privilege that has been denied so many people in the past, remember you can enjoy that privilege! 2. They're making a documentary about Abraham Lincoln having romantic relationships with men. Even if you're not big into history, *gay Abraham Lincoln in theaters*?? Gotta stick around to check that out, I bet the discourse will be hilarious. Even better, IMDB has a calendar full of upcoming movies, see if there's at least one worth waiting to see: https://www.imdb.com/calendar/ 3. It's almost the end of summer, and soon it's going to be fall. Seasons change, and so do you. Just like the leaves are slowly going to change colors until the tree is suddenly completely different, your life will change in little ways until you look back and realize it's completely different than it was. You can find a way to wait to give yourself the chance to grow, to see how things will change. 4. My cat fell asleep in my laundry basket this morning. I'd never seen him do that before, it was the cutest thing I'd ever seen ;; The world is full of cute little guys to pet and coo at, and if you have a pet, even better! They need you! 5. Within the last ten years alone, there have been dozens of new food inventions. The Doritos Locos taco. Cauliflower crust pizza. The Impossible Burger. Ruby chocolate. Cronuts. White Claw. There's going to be even more new foods to try out, and you never know: your favorite food might not have been invented yet. Even if you don't feel it right now, you are loved <3 You will find the strength and the help you need to keep going; the fact that you asked for help now when you needed it tells me you'll keep trying to find support wherever you can. Keep it up <3 - Paradox (he/they/xe)

[rom-e-o]

Liable to Fall - Chapter 3 (Scrooge/OC)(Post-canon)

Back with a short, angsty morsel before we get into the real agony. :)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

In that precious hour before dinner, Ebenezer Scrooge parked himself at his mahogany study and studied all the information about his wife that he could.

His wife. Gods above, he could still scarcely believe it.

It was hard to believe he wasn’t living some farce. The last he could recall, he was a bachelor in his home; a man who occupied his time by attending charitable galas and writing checks to institutions long past due for charitable donations. If his social calendar was free , he would busy himself by reading his nephew’s young daughter to sleep in front of a roaring fire.

That was his life as he knew it.

But … to be married?

He’d shared his heart and bed with a woman he couldn’t remember. The notion threatened to cleave his heart.

Perhaps it was a farce, he thought? Some elaborate hoax? To what end, he didn’t know … but perhaps.

Yet, document by document, his skepticism was proved wrong. As he dutifully scanned the records, he read detailed articles about her life before London, including her adoption by real estate investors turned youth activists Theresea and Arthur DoGoode after being orphaned at two years old. Also included in the batch was supplemental information about her previous marriage to Orin Gustav Spiegler, her storied medical history, a newspaper clipping about Spiegler’s conviction…then, their time together.

Everything was sorted chronologically, which made pursuing an easy feat. It seemed his record-keeping was still top-notch in the strange reality he was living in.

Included in the stack of documents, situated toward the front of the pile, was a copy of a marriage certificate. Their names were side-by-side. His own name scrawled in his familiar flourish, further leaving no room for argument in his mind that he had signed the document.

Then, her name. Constance Albany DoGoode-Scrooge. Bit of a mouthful, he thought with a laugh and strange fondness in his heart. Reflexively, he reached out and allowed his fingers to grace the name written before him, the ink long since dried to permanence.

She’d kept her father’s name, he thought with a smile. At least he knew with promise that his present-day self had a reasonable head on his shoulders.

He was quite aware of how other men, regardless of prestige or upbringing, didn’t allow their wives such an obvious degree of freedom … and it filled his heart with joy that he had.

Then, that joy hardened like ice at the realization that all that goodness was now essentially null and void.

“She had such a hard life, then finally, finally she found a better one.”

It had taken her almost forty years, twenty of which were spent shackled to an abusive spouse through golden bands, to find solace. She’d survived an attempted suicide, drug addition, losing her father … and yet, she glowed like a golden idol to him. A goddess of warmth and happiness.

He swallowed the words like sour medicine, and with a grimace.

It was so much more than a simple fall, he realized. Something far greater than even his memory was at risk.

A soft knock at the door interrupted his pitied musings.

“Mr. Scrooge, sir,” Magda called hollowly from the other side. “Dinner is ready, when it pleases you.”

“I’ll be down in a moment,” he found the lucidity to reply. While the man slowly felt like he was drifting back into the realm of reality, he couldn’t deny some of his actions and replies were likely the result of muscle memory and routine more than functioning thought.

With a hay-soft voice, he called back, “…The lady of the house will be joining us, yes?”

“Yes, sir.” The unspoken ‘as always’ hung in the air with tangible swing.

“Good,” he said, pushing himself up from his chair. “Very good. I’ll be down in a moment.”

He felt as if he needed a lifetime to rally himself for the occasion. Yet, seeing as time of the essence in this situation, he settled for five minutes.

The shortest – and longest – five minutes of his life.

Dinner began with palpable tension, but as time passed and their bellies filled with chatter and warm food, the mood began to lift.

The man took a gamble and initiated something Londoners usually despised; unnecessary small talk.

“So, you both prepared tonight’s dish, yes?” Ebenezer asked, eyes dancing between the two ladies. “I have a feeling I know the answer, but I must ask … which one of you added shaved truffle to the dish?”

The two exchanged surprised and pleased expressions before Constance raised a hand. “Me, I’m afraid. Truffle in pörkölt isn’t exactly a traditional ingredient.”

“No, it certainly isn’t, but it does add a quite a nice flavor. A wonderful decision, I’d say.”

Constance blushed lightly, her smile broadening. “Thank you.”

“Magda, does it meet your standards?”

“You jest, sir. Everything about this fine lady meets my standards.”

Constance reddened further, hiding that lovely smile of hers behind a raised hand. “Oh, please…”

“We’ve been adding truffle in this dish since Connie came to live here,” Magda said, reaching down to pinch the red-headed woman’s cheek delicately. “She offered the idea as a solution to balance out some of the paprika.”

“Really?” he asked, looking at her quizzically. “Without all the paprika, is it even the same dish?”

“Hm, it’s probably closer to tokány,” she said, tapping her chin as she pondered the question, “But I think it’s all well and fine.”

“That sounds like begrudging acquiescence on your part.”

“Perish the thought. I’ve had to alter the recipe for all the English lords I’ve served. My husband is the same way.”

“A-Ah…” Ebenezer sighed, only wounded for a moment before he heard Constance’s radiant laughter from across the table. Her natural, musical laughter.

It was a beautiful sound, he couldn’t deny that.

“Now, don’t tease too much, Magda,” Constance chastised, giving the maid a playful grin before turning her attention to Ebenezer from across the dining table. “My mother loved truffle, so we ate it in everything growing up. My father loved to cook, and every time he made dinner, she always added it to dishes. Even ones that, perhaps, didn’t need them. It never mattered. My father did anything for my mother.”

“Your father, Arthur.”

Her eyes practically lit up at the mention of the late man’s name. “Yes.”

Ebenezer dared to lean across the table a bit, just enough to search those cornflower blue eyes of hers more devoutly. He then lowered his voice a big so Magda couldn’t hear him as she rounded room to the drink cart to uncork a bottle of tawny port for dessert.

It was a dusty bottle too, from what he could see, so he had some time before the seal broke.

However, as he stared at her expectant expression, his mouth suddenly dried. “I-I…”

“Do you remember him?” she asked hopefully. She leaned forward, the rufflers of her peignoir draping over the tapered edge of the table.

Guilt flashed across his face, and her eyes clouded with sadness in recognition. “Oh.”

“I apologize.” That was moronic of me.

“N-no," she choked out with a nondescript laugh. "It’s quite alright. It's ... not your fault.”

Yet, he could tell from the way that her fingers trembled against the stem of her drinking glass that her pleasantries were bitter falsehoods.

The after-dinner drinks were consumed in silence.

[skymaiden32]

Mystery of the Eagle

AO3 link here

Fandom: Thunderbirds

October's calendar story

On the way home from a rescue, Alan spots a USAF aircraft crash in the Borneo forest. An investigation at the crash site will hopefully answer his questions. Why did the aircraft crash? Why did no-one call for help? And where is the crew?

Continuity: TOS

Tagging: @dragonoffantasyandreality @thundergeek59 @janetm74 @katblu42 @liseylou @amistrio @uniwolfcorn (Please ask if you would like to be updated when I update or write new stories)

Happy New Year! ^^

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

------

The skies were clear for miles around as Thunderbird One shot past the deep blue below, well on the way to home. In the pilot seat, Alan Tracy huffed. It had been a long and gruelling rescue. He was tired, hungry and very much in need of a shower. All he wanted right now was to see his family’s island home fade into view, but he was still about an hour out. 

The family was so stretched thin that everyone was sure the holes in their usually tightly woven operations were visible. Scott was at Tracy Industries HQ with their father right now, with Virgil taking on the duty of overseeing the Island. Gordon had been called on a oceanographic conference in Marineville, leaving Alan to do the vast majority of rescues alone. Everyone was on edge from the events of the past few months as well. Life was beyond exhausting at the moment…

Alan pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to banish the brewing headache before it hit him fully. The last thing he wanted was to crash into the waves at this speed. That’s when he saw it. A blip on the radar. He frowned, headache forgotten. There wasn’t supposed to be any other aircraft around but him. No flight was scheduled, commercial or military alike. Alan glanced over at his position. Just a few miles south of the island of Borneo, and the unknown aircraft was getting closer and closer. Soon, the craft came into full view. It was a United States Air Force plane, and it’s rear was aflame. It was heading straight for the large island ahead of them, nosediving towards the rapidly approaching treeline.

Almost immediately, Alan flicked open his comms. “This is International Rescue calling unidentified USAF aircraft. Do you require assistance?” All he got was a staticky silence, causing his brow to furrow. “Repeat, this is Thunderbird One. Do you need help?” He got nothing. He kept trying and trying to raise them until he couldn’t anymore, watching the damaged plane disappear into the vast jungle. He sighed, closing off the link to the now lost aircraft and opening up the link to base. “International Rescue Headquarters from Thunderbird One. Come in Virgil…”

It took a few moments, but his brother’s voice came on from the other side, managing to soothe Alan’s nerves a little. “This is base. Go ahead, Alan.” The astronaut could hear the relief in Virgil’s voice. After everything that had happened with the Hood, everyone was incredibly overprotective of each other. If Alan was honest, it was too much attention.

“I’m gonna be late for dinner, Virg.” He started, hovering over the jungle, trying to find a good space to land. “I saw an aircraft crash in the Borneo jungle and am going to check for survivors.”

Virgil hummed. “Did you try raising them?”

Alan nodded. “I did, but there was no answer…”

“Well…” His brother’s frown was audible. “Okay. But be careful, and keep your comm on at all times.” Alan rolled his eyes. “If you need help, radio immediately, and I’ll launch Thunderbird Two to assist. There’s other people on the Island who can take over, and Dad and Scott’ll be home soon anyway.”

“Okay.” Alan huffed. “I will. Thunderbird One out…” And with that, he cut off his connection with his brother, returning his full attention to the ground below. Finally, the perfect landing spot came into view, and he grinned as he maneuvered the silver rocket plane into position. He was going to get to the bottom of this.

------

“Hey Dad, Scott?” Virgil stood up when his elder brother strode into the room, Jeff just behind him. They’d pretty much just landed. “Do either of you know any faults that may cause a USAF aircraft to crash randomly?”

Scott frowned. “Oh, I saw plenty of those when I was serving, but they were usually fixed by the time the ships were flown again, and sometimes things just happen and there’s no specific reason for it.” Virgil saw their father nod in agreement. He raised an eyebrow, walking toward his immediate brother. “Why’d you ask?”

Virgil sighed, pinching the bridge of nose. “Alan saw a ship crash over Borneo on his way home. He tried to get in contact with the crew, but there was no answer, so he’s going to take a look at the crash site and try to figure out what happened…”

The patriarch and his eldest son looked more and more concerned every second. Jeff cleared his throat. “Nothing from the crew at all?”

Virgil shook his head. “No…”

“It’s definitely concerning, boys…” Jeff sighed, sitting down at his desk. “But we can’t really do anything right now except wait for Alan to give us an update.”

“I don’t like it.” Virgil admitted.

“I know.” Scott agreed. “But Dad’s right. Currently, there’s nothing we can do except trust Alan to know what he’s doing, and radio if he needs to…”

------

Alan inwardly cursed his luck. He’d somehow managed to land Thunderbird One as far away as possible, and was now trudging his way through the dense foliage of the rainforest in an attempt to find the downed plane. He was also keeping an eye out for any venomous or poisonous species while he was at it. The heat and humidity was starting to get to him, and he’d been on the hunt for a good hour now. The longer he spent away from the Thunderbird, the more on edge he got.

Finally, a flash of unnatural green against the lush leaves came into view, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He rushed towards it, eager to get this mission done and get home. Looking around the vast heap of metal, his fingers brushed briefly against some lettering, and his gaze was on it in a second. ‘The Eagle’... 

So, he had a name for the lost ship. Maybe Scott knew it. He made a mental note to ask his older brother when he had the chance.

In the distance, out of sight in the trees, a dark figure watched him approach the wreckage, ready to strike.

[saturnthemuse]

The Arkham Hellion: Year One

Chapter 1: The One Where Everything Worked Out (Part 3)

Characters: Connie Inviglio (oc), Dante Spectre (oc), Jonathan Crane/Scarecrow. Emril Griffith (oc, mentioned), Connie Inviglio x Jonathan Crane (slight)

Warnings: Language warning, dark themes, psychoanalysis

Word count: 2.2k

A/N: okay i know i tagged this as Crane x Connie but like it only sets the foundation for it here

———————

Connie stopped by her apartment first. She had thirty minutes until she had to be at the station, and she needed to feed her dog. Bilbo came bounding towards her, his fluffy tail wagging with excitement. Her shift at GCPD ran from 3 to 8, mirroring the hours she worked at Arkham, from 9 to 2. She was going to get home late tonight, so she fed Bo half of his dinner early. As she looked at her calendar in between shifts, she realized that her shift ended at 8 (way past when her parents would be enjoying dinner) and that right after she needed to get to the university for her class. A lot of her credits came from her work with the police and at the Asylum, but there were still a couple of classes that would help round out her degree and assure her future doctorate. Her class would be at nine, end at ten, she’d be home at ten thirty, and she could sleep. 

Today was Thursday for Miss Caroline Inviglio, which is why she had her night class with Dr. Crane. In the morning, she’d have to get up early to attend her positive psychology class, work her shift at Arkham, but she wasn’t needed at the station on Fridays, so she instead had a lecture, a self defense class, and the evening to herself to complete school work. Saturdays had no shifts, another self defense class and a kickboxing class, but then she’d have the rest of the day. Those were the days she’d take Bilbo out for walks, go to the park or maybe visit a cemetery and leave flowers at each grave. Sundays were more classes, more lectures, another walk, and then work would resume on Monday. 

Connie worked hard. She took her pills, minded her diet, and crammed as much effectiveness into her independent life as she could. Once upon a time, she was trapped with a family with animosity towards each other, surviving through mental illness and before that, living paycheck to paycheck in uncertain households. She never would have seen herself with the life that she had now. A dog, steady work, an abundance of education and the willpower and time to train her body to fight. Rest may have been limited, but she earned every bit of it, and didn’t regret the life she had. 

At 3:01 pm, Connie had parked her car, and five minutes later, she had her ID on and had checked in at the front desk of the Gotham City Police Department. 

"Ms. Inviglio?" a voice asked, and upon turning around Connie was faced with one of the most attractive men she had ever met.

"That's, uh, that's me." Her mind raced to keep calm, but very attractive people, men in particular, had a way of causing her common sense to falter. Women she felt more confident around, more encouraged to impress and befriend, but men were intimidating.

He had odd features, not the kind one would typically describe a perfect man- no square jaw, chiseled features, sharp nose, or piercing eyes. Quite frankly, his features could almost be described as soft, with a rounded jaw and no overly pronounced chin, thin lips and dark brown eyes. When he extended his hand for a handshake, she gripped it with a firm and confident shake, despite her trembling. The softness of his hands caught the hopeless romantic that Connie was off guard. 

A tattoo of a sun or star, some design that looked pagan but she wasn't familiar with, was tattooed on the side of his neck, and delicate symbols and shapes were tattooed on the back of his hands. A large windbreaker-type coat swamped his broad shoulders, and underneath that he wore a black shirt and a gold chain. His hair was shaved on the sides and slicked back. 

The man may have had gentler facial features and pianist's hands, but his time as a detective in Gotham wore him into the focused, grizzled and bitter cop before her. His eyes were dark and shadowed, and his thin lips were pulled into a hard line.

"I'm Detective Spectre; Commissioner Gordon said you'd be arriving. You're our intern?" Even his voice was pretty, and Connie struggled to compute how to maintain social etiquette. 

"I'm, uhm, yup. That’s me. I’m doing criminal profiling, yknow, ha..." Her father was an attorney and before that, a soldier. She gained a lot from growing up under him, and one of them was the lift of her chin, the squaring of her shoulders and her hands resting stiffly at her side when she was faced with a superior. 

The detective regarded her carefully. "I'm told you work with Dr. Griffith?" 

"Yes, sir." 

As the detective lead her down to her place in the forensics lab, Connie used her inhaler. Her hammering heart and nerves did not help the scratch and ache in her lungs. It confirmed a theory she had once told a friend - that attractive people were bad for her health. Once Dt. Spectre explained his expectations for her work on his case, he left, and Connie’s focus returned. 

Connie did see her dad when he came by the station to receive evidence; and she also noticed how it came from the Commissioner himself. It wasn’t hard to see the truth- that Batman was involved. In almost every aspect of her life and career, he was. Maybe, she’d get to see this fable of a man for herself, but until then, she regarded him as a resource for the criminal-justice system, and kept neutral opinions on the morality of his existence. Michael and Connie exchanged a hug, and Connie apologized that she would have to miss dinner to complete her work and make it to her class. Returning home was rescheduled for Saturday, when her mother Seanna would make her famous red rice.

Work went smoothly from there. As a forensic, she assisted a witness in Dt. Spectre’s case in sketching a depiction of the criminal. If the GCPD wasn’t so understaffed, Connie wouldn’t have any involvement in forensic art, but she was more than qualified to provide the service. As the witness struggled to describe her assailant, she shook, stammered and contradicted her own statements. Connie had to calm her down repeatedly. Connie then had to write out a rough description of what kind of person would be inclined to commit certain crimes - profiling. The assailant for Spectre’s case was the most interesting, because Connie deemed him to be a complete sociopath, and what behaviors and mannerisms he’d exhibit. Once Connie submitted her report and finished up other necessary paperwork for other cases, she finished her shift at 8.

Cold barbecue pizza, feed and pet the dog, double check on the plants, grab your lanyard. Four things, just a quick stop at her apartment, and then Connie was heading out again. Leftover pizza was not the most nutritious dinner, but it would tide her over for her class. She technically didn’t need to take this class, but of all the classes that could have given her credits, this one was the most interesting. A lot of students didn’t like Dr. Crane or his class, and found him creepy, but Connie gave him the benefit of the doubt and deemed him an eccentric; additionally, in a class about fear, creepy things would inevitably be the topic of discussion. 

Connie took this class despite its reputation, because understanding the psychology and behaviour centered around fear would inevitably assist her work at Arkham. It certainly helped Crane, who also worked at the asylum; his office was just down the hall from Dr. Griffith’s. She found Dr. Crane attractive in a way, but he was strange and intimidating, so it was much easier to dismiss, but she still found herself admiring him. He was dedicated to science and his work, and he had succeeded in his career. That gained her appreciation far more than his elegant features and cold blue eyes.

She made it to the campus early. After walking across the courtyard of Gotham University, going up a flight of steps and walking across the building, she found Dr. Crane’s classroom. Twenty minutes to go, and the door was closed. Not wanting to disturb her professor before he opened the door, she found a seat on the floor against the wall, and checked her phone. There were too many texts, messages, emails and notifications waiting for her; over ten hours since she was able to really check her phone, and Connie marveled at how work now distracted her from the device, and not vice versa. 

Several of the messages were from Camille Gutierrez, her friend from before Connie moved to Gotham, who moved there as well pursuing her acting career. Most of it was videos that Cam found funny, and others were updates on her life. Connie took the time to respond as appropriately as she could. 

“Hello, Caroline,” a voice said suddenly, and Connie jumped, jerking her eyes upward and swearing under her breath. Her gaze landed on Dr. Crane, thin and cold as always, looking down at where she sat. As her heart rate settled from the jump, Crane smiled. With one thin finger, he pushed his clear glasses up his nose, and regarded his frightened student with a remote intrigue.

“Dr. Crane!” Connie finally said once her thoughts were gathered. “Excuse my language.” 

Connie stood and gathered her bag, brushing herself off and straightening her shirt. 

“You’re early.” 

“Traffic wasn’t as bad as I was expecting.” 

Connie squirmed nervously in Crane’s presence, which brought him a mild form of delight. 

“No need to sit in the hall. Come inside.” 

Crane turned back into the classroom, and not wishing to be disrespectful, Connie followed. 

“How have you been enjoying my class, Caroline?” Crane asked as he walked to his desk. This was the most one on one discussion she had ever had with him, and her social anxiety crept in on her. She found her preferred seat in the class, a desk towards the front of the room where she could better see and hear the professor. It wasn’t directly next to Crane’s desk, but it was close enough that Crane could engage in conversation with her.

“I’m enjoying it,” she replied, clearing her throat. “I’m finding it insightful on behavior.” 

“Is that so?” He hummed. “Fear, I have found, is the most potent of neurological reactions. It is stronger than any other instinct.” 

“Even love?” Connie blurted, and when Crane looked up at her with an unamused expression, she regretted it. 

“What good is love to survival? And don’t say reproduction, because love is not needed for that.” 

“For other animals, love and reproduction coexist for a purpose, but not for humans.” 

Crane adjusted his glasses once more before looking at his computer. 

“Not exactly, of course,” Connie rushed to correct herself. “Love is objective and it’s not entirely known if animals feel love, except for like dogs, or maybe dolphins…” 

She laughed uncomfortably under her breath and sat back, curling in on herself. 

“Then tell me. Why do you suggest love?” 

“It- it gives people purpose. Without purpose, there is insanity. I think, uhm, at least. This is more philosophical, though…” Connie reached for her inhaler as she cleared her throat again. 

“And you think the need for purpose is stronger than fear?” 

“I think without purpose, there is no reason to fear anything.” 

Crane looked up at Connie again, leaning forward. 

“Interesting.” 

Silence fell as Connie’s mind raced and Crane studied his pupil. 

“What do you love, Caroline?” Crane asked carefully, breaking the silence. 

“I, uhm. I love my dog, for sure. And my family. And my friends.” 

Crane rolled his eyes. 

“Only living things that give you some sort of validation?” 

“I love my dog because seeing it happy makes me happy.” 

“You keep mentioning your dog.” 

“He’s not human. And I have nothing negative to connote to him.” 

“Do negative connotations negate love?” 

Connie thought over all that had happened in her life, the conflict and divisions and the fighting amongst her family, the distance and grief at missing her friends, the conflict and chaos that tore at her heart for years. At that moment, her pain of the past killed her social anxiety, and she winced.

“I’d rather not go over it. My dog is just an easy example.”

Her family was a weak point, and Crane took note of that. 

“Does your dog give your purpose?” 

“No,” Connie replied reluctantly. “But my dog makes the pay off of work sweeter.” 

“Then what gives you purpose?” Crane gave her one of those strange looks that only he seemed to give, that other students despised. 

“Helping others,” Connie replied steadily. “I can’t heal the world, but there are good people who don’t deserve to be in pain all the time.” 

“Like lunatics?” Crane smirked in amusement. 

“Like the people of Gotham,” Connie shot back, as politely as she could. “If I can understand fear, I can help others overcome it.” 

This elicited a small laugh from Crane, and he slowly removed his glasses. 

“Very well.” 

Other students began to arrive, and the rest of the class went on without anything unusual. She returned home, showered, took her medicine, and went to sleep. With her loyal Bernese pup curled up at her side, she felt safe, and at peace. Things were normal.

That was, until the next morning. She heard it on the news:

Harvey Dent had escaped Arkham.

Taglist: @arts-and-sharks @burnthashbrown27 comment or ask to be added to the taglist!

[thedivinefish]

TGIWednesday: The most haunted city in Florida

TGIWednesday News

I saw some bizarre random article about ghost tours and other shenanigans and almost fell over when I saw that the parking for "ghost tours" was at my old elementary school that I can see about 100 yards from my house.  You can go on YouTube and type in "Clearwater Florida the most haunted city in Florida" and see it!  I would have figured it was St. Augustine because that's really old and creepy, think conquistadors and Fountain of Youth.  What's the point?  There's good and bad all around us, yin and yang and we just have to roll with it and instead of hope. I like the word faith. Have faith that things can and will improve and turn out better than they were.  Life is an ebb and flow like the daily tides of high and low and always subject to change.  Know that your life can and will improve if you just ride out the waves!

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The Daily Bread To Feed The Fish

Tell the Fish - 365 Daily Inspirations and Affirmations - by Jimmy Mack Own this e-book so that you can read inspiration every day!

APRIL 24TH "Today I will not allow my mind to act like a runaway train. I will keep my feelings in check and note that what I worried about yesterday can only hamper my now and my tomorrow. I will let go of the past. I will remember to ask to question, will this matter 10 or 20 years from now and chances are that the answer is a resounding No!"

**Can't See The Full Email? Click Here to View Online**

From the Fish Box

 MY DAILY PRAYER SUBSCRIBER

  Hi Jimmy,

This was one of my prayer requests during the period 3/18 to 4/18/24:

 “Prayers to be cleared from April 19, 2024, jury duty service and all future timelines going forward.”

 In review, I received my first Grand Jury Summons the first week of January for jury service on February 16th.  I immediately sent in paperwork from my optometrist noting that I could no longer drive in the dark due to impending cataract evaluation/surgery. (I would have had to leave the house by 6 am well before sunrise to arrive on time.)  It was shot down because the optometrist was not considered a licensed physician. 

 Here’s the emailed response in part:

"The farthest day available we were able to postpone for Grand Jury is for 4/19/2024. Therefore, that is your new date of service. You will be receiving a new summons with the new information."

Guess what, Jimmy?  I never received another new summons in the mail!  I waited and waited for the summons to show up, but the prayer worked!  I didn’t have to drive the 30 miles and possibly sit there all day and wait for my group to be selected Whew! The prayer must have been on steroids!  How I slipped through the system, I guess we will never know; but thank you, Source, and thank you, Jimmy for launching my request out to the heavens!

- D. F.

What's On Deck?

Returning to Your Ethereal Restore Point  An excellent vehicle to support anti-aging, finances even wellness rebirth and a return to splendor!   💸🏦🌠 

  This got pushed down the calendar a bit, so look for it some time in the Spring/Summer. Prior to being born you were the culmination of stardust, energy, frequency and vibration.  Upon inception up until delivery you were a perfect being free of judgement, anger, or debt; unencumbered from whatever society, religion, politics, schooling and other people were going to rain down upon you throughout your life.  We'll take you back to that single point energetically and create a mystical do-over!  This work will infuse a mix of Tesla's 3-6-9 and David Hawkins' vibrational scale of consciousness.  As a bonus it will include a taster of the upcoming Cosmic Financing MyBeliefWorks clearings! These clearing statements can reset you back a restore point where you were energetically - prior to financial losses, bankruptcy, a bad divorce, job loss and so on! 

  Join us on our continuing voyage to navigate the unusual, the different and the deepest changes!

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We have grouped 40+ audio titles into MyBeliefWorks Audio Collections. Find a topic that addresses your issue(s)  We had a lot of help downloading & channeling these over the years & they keep getting better and we are ALWAYS working on the next one. Don’t forget… you can share these with your immediate friends and family.  

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[divinefishingtips]

TGIWednesday: The most haunted city in Florida

TGIWednesday News

I saw some bizarre random article about ghost tours and other shenanigans and almost fell over when I saw that the parking for "ghost tours" was at my old elementary school that I can see about 100 yards from my house.  You can go on YouTube and type in "Clearwater Florida the most haunted city in Florida" and see it!  I would have figured it was St. Augustine because that's really old and creepy, think conquistadors and Fountain of Youth.  What's the point?  There's good and bad all around us, yin and yang and we just have to roll with it and instead of hope. I like the word faith. Have faith that things can and will improve and turn out better than they were.  Life is an ebb and flow like the daily tides of high and low and always subject to change.  Know that your life can and will improve if you just ride out the waves!

Reach out whenever we can help/contribute to you and yours in any way. View Calendar First, Then Pay and Schedule 15 mins  | 30 mins  | 60 mins | Appointments

TGIWednesday Video Download

 ~ WIRY TENSION ~

I believe, think, know and feel that I can release all this daily tension off of my body, mind and spirit here and now.  I know when, where, how and why to enjoy activities that relax me and allow me to unwind from my day!  I know when, where, how and why to stop and take a moment for myself and to know that it's all about the journey instead of the destination.  I am asking in all languages and throughout all time lines and so it is.  We're seeing you now making a little daily progress which will translate into the rest of your life being the best of your life and so it is. 

▶️ Watch here on YouTube - Please Like 👍 and Subscribe 🔔

FREE Live Appearances

YOU WEALTH REVOLUTION SEASON 27 NEW LIVE Q&A CALL TOMORROW APRIL 25 4PM EDT 12:45pm PT/2:45pm CT/ 3:45pm ET  LISTEN LIVE - Raise Your Hand for possible 1-on-1 HELP: https://liveshow.youwealthrevolution.com/now.php  

Watch and listen to hundreds of Radio Show replays for FREE here in the archives from the Jimmy Mack Healing Radio show.

https://thejimmymackhealingshow.com/

Fish Food 

The Daily Bread To Feed The Fish

Tell the Fish - 365 Daily Inspirations and Affirmations - by Jimmy Mack Own this e-book so that you can read inspiration every day!

APRIL 24TH "Today I will not allow my mind to act like a runaway train. I will keep my feelings in check and note that what I worried about yesterday can only hamper my now and my tomorrow. I will let go of the past. I will remember to ask to question, will this matter 10 or 20 years from now and chances are that the answer is a resounding No!"

**Can't See The Full Email? Click Here to View Online**

From the Fish Box

 MY DAILY PRAYER SUBSCRIBER

  Hi Jimmy,

This was one of my prayer requests during the period 3/18 to 4/18/24:

 “Prayers to be cleared from April 19, 2024, jury duty service and all future timelines going forward.”

 In review, I received my first Grand Jury Summons the first week of January for jury service on February 16th.  I immediately sent in paperwork from my optometrist noting that I could no longer drive in the dark due to impending cataract evaluation/surgery. (I would have had to leave the house by 6 am well before sunrise to arrive on time.)  It was shot down because the optometrist was not considered a licensed physician. 

 Here’s the emailed response in part:

"The farthest day available we were able to postpone for Grand Jury is for 4/19/2024. Therefore, that is your new date of service. You will be receiving a new summons with the new information."

Guess what, Jimmy?  I never received another new summons in the mail!  I waited and waited for the summons to show up, but the prayer worked!  I didn’t have to drive the 30 miles and possibly sit there all day and wait for my group to be selected Whew! The prayer must have been on steroids!  How I slipped through the system, I guess we will never know; but thank you, Source, and thank you, Jimmy for launching my request out to the heavens!

- D. F.

What's On Deck?

Returning to Your Ethereal Restore Point  An excellent vehicle to support anti-aging, finances even wellness rebirth and a return to splendor!   💸🏦🌠 

  This got pushed down the calendar a bit, so look for it some time in the Spring/Summer. Prior to being born you were the culmination of stardust, energy, frequency and vibration.  Upon inception up until delivery you were a perfect being free of judgement, anger, or debt; unencumbered from whatever society, religion, politics, schooling and other people were going to rain down upon you throughout your life.  We'll take you back to that single point energetically and create a mystical do-over!  This work will infuse a mix of Tesla's 3-6-9 and David Hawkins' vibrational scale of consciousness.  As a bonus it will include a taster of the upcoming Cosmic Financing MyBeliefWorks clearings! These clearing statements can reset you back a restore point where you were energetically - prior to financial losses, bankruptcy, a bad divorce, job loss and so on! 

  Join us on our continuing voyage to navigate the unusual, the different and the deepest changes!

The Fish Market

We have grouped 40+ audio titles into MyBeliefWorks Audio Collections. Find a topic that addresses your issue(s)  We had a lot of help downloading & channeling these over the years & they keep getting better and we are ALWAYS working on the next one. Don’t forget… you can share these with your immediate friends and family.  

Shop The Prosperity Collection  Shop the Body, Mind and Spirit Collection Shop the Improve Your Life Collection

Browse over 45 Videos in the Zoom Replay Collection 

The 5 Anchors Energy Process The Purple Rain Energy Process The Magical Golden Key Process TheNight Passage Sleep Process  

Receive 24/7 Prayers from Jimmy

Your name will be added to a special VIP Prayer list where Jimmy will use his intelligent computer software, src4you which runs 24/7, to delete the negative and increase the strength of the positive creating a higher probability of favorable outcomes for you. Looking for a new job?  Going through a court proceeding? Upcoming surgery scheduled for you or a loved one?  Need help selling or buying a property? Troubled times in your relationship? These are just some of the life at the crossroads events that are ideal for My Daily Prayer program.

30 Days of Daily Prayer (single month) - $99/month This $99 service is for ONE SINGLE MONTH of 30 DAYS ONLY.  Click here After the 30 days, you will receive an email from Jimmy and have the opportunity to renew for an additional month plus update your list, but you are under no obligation.

You can add yourself and those living in your immediate household and yes you can include pets! Merely include everyone’s names and Jimmy will add them to his daily prayers.

**NOTE: Most clients save money and choose the auto-renew option listed below so they do not miss a single day of prayers PLUS they take advantage of the cummulative effects of this service over time. Monthly subscription - $95/month on auto-renew 

Use PayPal for subscription Click here 

Use Stripe for subscription Click here. 

*Anytime prior to your next scheduled payment within the 30 days, you can cancel or pause this service via email request.

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

Could you use a private session? Are you feeling extra-crispy?  If so, you can now Book Appointments... View Availability First, Then Pay 15 mins  | 30 mins  | 60 mins  

​Visit our ​O​nline ​Training Center "Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day. Teach him how to fish and you feed him for a lifetime" - Lao Tzu

All are welcome to CREATE A FREE ACCOUNT to access the NEW and IMPROVED My Liquid Fish Change Made Simple Basic Training Course. Anchors Away Masterclass:  Sustain and clear and sovereign energetic field of dark energies and anomalies. Life Force Energy Masterclass: Enhance your fishing practice by approaching from a deeper, numeric level. Mastery & Practitioner Certification Course

Visit now, Click Here!

TGIFunny

Share

Tweet

Forward

Pinterest

Jimmy Mack | Appointments ​​​Transformational Healing of Body, Mind​ & Spirit, People, Places, Pets & Situations!​ ​ View Availability First, Then Pay 15 mins  | 30 mins  | 60 mins Search FAQ Learn MyLiquidFish technique for FREE Clearing Audio Downloads​ and eBooks Get Certified in MLF Mastery or Practitioner Watch Free Videos on YouTube Radio Show Archives Healing and Grounding Mats ...enter code: MyLiquidFishfs at checkout for Free shipping! http://www.jimmymackhealingshop.com www.jimmymackhealing.com ©1996-2024 All Rights Reserved.  

-------------------------------------------------- TGIW newsletter managed by: Sandy Bidinger Digital Marketing Specialist at SMBeConnected Solutions www.sandybidinger.com

[365dailyaffirmations]

TGIWednesday: The most haunted city in Florida

TGIWednesday News

I saw some bizarre random article about ghost tours and other shenanigans and almost fell over when I saw that the parking for "ghost tours" was at my old elementary school that I can see about 100 yards from my house.  You can go on YouTube and type in "Clearwater Florida the most haunted city in Florida" and see it!  I would have figured it was St. Augustine because that's really old and creepy, think conquistadors and Fountain of Youth.  What's the point?  There's good and bad all around us, yin and yang and we just have to roll with it and instead of hope. I like the word faith. Have faith that things can and will improve and turn out better than they were.  Life is an ebb and flow like the daily tides of high and low and always subject to change.  Know that your life can and will improve if you just ride out the waves!

Reach out whenever we can help/contribute to you and yours in any way. View Calendar First, Then Pay and Schedule 15 mins  | 30 mins  | 60 mins | Appointments

TGIWednesday Video Download

 ~ WIRY TENSION ~

I believe, think, know and feel that I can release all this daily tension off of my body, mind and spirit here and now.  I know when, where, how and why to enjoy activities that relax me and allow me to unwind from my day!  I know when, where, how and why to stop and take a moment for myself and to know that it's all about the journey instead of the destination.  I am asking in all languages and throughout all time lines and so it is.  We're seeing you now making a little daily progress which will translate into the rest of your life being the best of your life and so it is. 

▶️ Watch here on YouTube - Please Like 👍 and Subscribe 🔔

FREE Live Appearances

YOU WEALTH REVOLUTION SEASON 27 NEW LIVE Q&A CALL TOMORROW APRIL 25 4PM EDT 12:45pm PT/2:45pm CT/ 3:45pm ET  LISTEN LIVE - Raise Your Hand for possible 1-on-1 HELP: https://liveshow.youwealthrevolution.com/now.php  

Watch and listen to hundreds of Radio Show replays for FREE here in the archives from the Jimmy Mack Healing Radio show.

https://thejimmymackhealingshow.com/

Fish Food 

The Daily Bread To Feed The Fish

Tell the Fish - 365 Daily Inspirations and Affirmations - by Jimmy Mack Own this e-book so that you can read inspiration every day!

APRIL 24TH "Today I will not allow my mind to act like a runaway train. I will keep my feelings in check and note that what I worried about yesterday can only hamper my now and my tomorrow. I will let go of the past. I will remember to ask to question, will this matter 10 or 20 years from now and chances are that the answer is a resounding No!"

**Can't See The Full Email? Click Here to View Online**

From the Fish Box

 MY DAILY PRAYER SUBSCRIBER

  Hi Jimmy,

This was one of my prayer requests during the period 3/18 to 4/18/24:

 “Prayers to be cleared from April 19, 2024, jury duty service and all future timelines going forward.”

 In review, I received my first Grand Jury Summons the first week of January for jury service on February 16th.  I immediately sent in paperwork from my optometrist noting that I could no longer drive in the dark due to impending cataract evaluation/surgery. (I would have had to leave the house by 6 am well before sunrise to arrive on time.)  It was shot down because the optometrist was not considered a licensed physician. 

 Here’s the emailed response in part:

"The farthest day available we were able to postpone for Grand Jury is for 4/19/2024. Therefore, that is your new date of service. You will be receiving a new summons with the new information."

Guess what, Jimmy?  I never received another new summons in the mail!  I waited and waited for the summons to show up, but the prayer worked!  I didn’t have to drive the 30 miles and possibly sit there all day and wait for my group to be selected Whew! The prayer must have been on steroids!  How I slipped through the system, I guess we will never know; but thank you, Source, and thank you, Jimmy for launching my request out to the heavens!

- D. F.

What's On Deck?

Returning to Your Ethereal Restore Point  An excellent vehicle to support anti-aging, finances even wellness rebirth and a return to splendor!   💸🏦🌠 

  This got pushed down the calendar a bit, so look for it some time in the Spring/Summer. Prior to being born you were the culmination of stardust, energy, frequency and vibration.  Upon inception up until delivery you were a perfect being free of judgement, anger, or debt; unencumbered from whatever society, religion, politics, schooling and other people were going to rain down upon you throughout your life.  We'll take you back to that single point energetically and create a mystical do-over!  This work will infuse a mix of Tesla's 3-6-9 and David Hawkins' vibrational scale of consciousness.  As a bonus it will include a taster of the upcoming Cosmic Financing MyBeliefWorks clearings! These clearing statements can reset you back a restore point where you were energetically - prior to financial losses, bankruptcy, a bad divorce, job loss and so on! 

  Join us on our continuing voyage to navigate the unusual, the different and the deepest changes!

The Fish Market

We have grouped 40+ audio titles into MyBeliefWorks Audio Collections. Find a topic that addresses your issue(s)  We had a lot of help downloading & channeling these over the years & they keep getting better and we are ALWAYS working on the next one. Don’t forget… you can share these with your immediate friends and family.  

Shop The Prosperity Collection  Shop the Body, Mind and Spirit Collection Shop the Improve Your Life Collection

Browse over 45 Videos in the Zoom Replay Collection 

The 5 Anchors Energy Process The Purple Rain Energy Process The Magical Golden Key Process TheNight Passage Sleep Process  

Receive 24/7 Prayers from Jimmy

Your name will be added to a special VIP Prayer list where Jimmy will use his intelligent computer software, src4you which runs 24/7, to delete the negative and increase the strength of the positive creating a higher probability of favorable outcomes for you. Looking for a new job?  Going through a court proceeding? Upcoming surgery scheduled for you or a loved one?  Need help selling or buying a property? Troubled times in your relationship? These are just some of the life at the crossroads events that are ideal for My Daily Prayer program.

30 Days of Daily Prayer (single month) - $99/month This $99 service is for ONE SINGLE MONTH of 30 DAYS ONLY.  Click here After the 30 days, you will receive an email from Jimmy and have the opportunity to renew for an additional month plus update your list, but you are under no obligation.

You can add yourself and those living in your immediate household and yes you can include pets! Merely include everyone’s names and Jimmy will add them to his daily prayers.

**NOTE: Most clients save money and choose the auto-renew option listed below so they do not miss a single day of prayers PLUS they take advantage of the cummulative effects of this service over time. Monthly subscription - $95/month on auto-renew 

Use PayPal for subscription Click here 

Use Stripe for subscription Click here. 

*Anytime prior to your next scheduled payment within the 30 days, you can cancel or pause this service via email request.

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

Could you use a private session? Are you feeling extra-crispy?  If so, you can now Book Appointments... View Availability First, Then Pay 15 mins  | 30 mins  | 60 mins  

​Visit our ​O​nline ​Training Center "Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day. Teach him how to fish and you feed him for a lifetime" - Lao Tzu

All are welcome to CREATE A FREE ACCOUNT to access the NEW and IMPROVED My Liquid Fish Change Made Simple Basic Training Course. Anchors Away Masterclass:  Sustain and clear and sovereign energetic field of dark energies and anomalies. Life Force Energy Masterclass: Enhance your fishing practice by approaching from a deeper, numeric level. Mastery & Practitioner Certification Course

Visit now, Click Here!

TGIFunny

Share

Tweet

Forward

Pinterest

Jimmy Mack | Appointments ​​​Transformational Healing of Body, Mind​ & Spirit, People, Places, Pets & Situations!​ ​ View Availability First, Then Pay 15 mins  | 30 mins  | 60 mins Search FAQ Learn MyLiquidFish technique for FREE Clearing Audio Downloads​ and eBooks Get Certified in MLF Mastery or Practitioner Watch Free Videos on YouTube Radio Show Archives Healing and Grounding Mats ...enter code: MyLiquidFishfs at checkout for Free shipping! http://www.jimmymackhealingshop.com www.jimmymackhealing.com ©1996-2024 All Rights Reserved.  

-------------------------------------------------- TGIW newsletter managed by: Sandy Bidinger Digital Marketing Specialist at SMBeConnected Solutions www.sandybidinger.com

[advancedthetapractitioner]

TGIWednesday: The most haunted city in Florida

TGIWednesday News

I saw some bizarre random article about ghost tours and other shenanigans and almost fell over when I saw that the parking for "ghost tours" was at my old elementary school that I can see about 100 yards from my house.  You can go on YouTube and type in "Clearwater Florida the most haunted city in Florida" and see it!  I would have figured it was St. Augustine because that's really old and creepy, think conquistadors and Fountain of Youth.  What's the point?  There's good and bad all around us, yin and yang and we just have to roll with it and instead of hope. I like the word faith. Have faith that things can and will improve and turn out better than they were.  Life is an ebb and flow like the daily tides of high and low and always subject to change.  Know that your life can and will improve if you just ride out the waves!

Reach out whenever we can help/contribute to you and yours in any way. View Calendar First, Then Pay and Schedule 15 mins  | 30 mins  | 60 mins | Appointments

TGIWednesday Video Download

 ~ WIRY TENSION ~

I believe, think, know and feel that I can release all this daily tension off of my body, mind and spirit here and now.  I know when, where, how and why to enjoy activities that relax me and allow me to unwind from my day!  I know when, where, how and why to stop and take a moment for myself and to know that it's all about the journey instead of the destination.  I am asking in all languages and throughout all time lines and so it is.  We're seeing you now making a little daily progress which will translate into the rest of your life being the best of your life and so it is. 

▶️ Watch here on YouTube - Please Like 👍 and Subscribe 🔔

FREE Live Appearances

YOU WEALTH REVOLUTION SEASON 27 NEW LIVE Q&A CALL TOMORROW APRIL 25 4PM EDT 12:45pm PT/2:45pm CT/ 3:45pm ET  LISTEN LIVE - Raise Your Hand for possible 1-on-1 HELP: https://liveshow.youwealthrevolution.com/now.php  

Watch and listen to hundreds of Radio Show replays for FREE here in the archives from the Jimmy Mack Healing Radio show.

https://thejimmymackhealingshow.com/

Fish Food 

The Daily Bread To Feed The Fish

Tell the Fish - 365 Daily Inspirations and Affirmations - by Jimmy Mack Own this e-book so that you can read inspiration every day!

APRIL 24TH "Today I will not allow my mind to act like a runaway train. I will keep my feelings in check and note that what I worried about yesterday can only hamper my now and my tomorrow. I will let go of the past. I will remember to ask to question, will this matter 10 or 20 years from now and chances are that the answer is a resounding No!"

**Can't See The Full Email? Click Here to View Online**

From the Fish Box

 MY DAILY PRAYER SUBSCRIBER

  Hi Jimmy,

This was one of my prayer requests during the period 3/18 to 4/18/24:

 “Prayers to be cleared from April 19, 2024, jury duty service and all future timelines going forward.”

 In review, I received my first Grand Jury Summons the first week of January for jury service on February 16th.  I immediately sent in paperwork from my optometrist noting that I could no longer drive in the dark due to impending cataract evaluation/surgery. (I would have had to leave the house by 6 am well before sunrise to arrive on time.)  It was shot down because the optometrist was not considered a licensed physician. 

 Here’s the emailed response in part:

"The farthest day available we were able to postpone for Grand Jury is for 4/19/2024. Therefore, that is your new date of service. You will be receiving a new summons with the new information."

Guess what, Jimmy?  I never received another new summons in the mail!  I waited and waited for the summons to show up, but the prayer worked!  I didn’t have to drive the 30 miles and possibly sit there all day and wait for my group to be selected Whew! The prayer must have been on steroids!  How I slipped through the system, I guess we will never know; but thank you, Source, and thank you, Jimmy for launching my request out to the heavens!

- D. F.

What's On Deck?

Returning to Your Ethereal Restore Point  An excellent vehicle to support anti-aging, finances even wellness rebirth and a return to splendor!   💸🏦🌠 

  This got pushed down the calendar a bit, so look for it some time in the Spring/Summer. Prior to being born you were the culmination of stardust, energy, frequency and vibration.  Upon inception up until delivery you were a perfect being free of judgement, anger, or debt; unencumbered from whatever society, religion, politics, schooling and other people were going to rain down upon you throughout your life.  We'll take you back to that single point energetically and create a mystical do-over!  This work will infuse a mix of Tesla's 3-6-9 and David Hawkins' vibrational scale of consciousness.  As a bonus it will include a taster of the upcoming Cosmic Financing MyBeliefWorks clearings! These clearing statements can reset you back a restore point where you were energetically - prior to financial losses, bankruptcy, a bad divorce, job loss and so on! 

  Join us on our continuing voyage to navigate the unusual, the different and the deepest changes!

The Fish Market

We have grouped 40+ audio titles into MyBeliefWorks Audio Collections. Find a topic that addresses your issue(s)  We had a lot of help downloading & channeling these over the years & they keep getting better and we are ALWAYS working on the next one. Don’t forget… you can share these with your immediate friends and family.  

Shop The Prosperity Collection  Shop the Body, Mind and Spirit Collection Shop the Improve Your Life Collection

Browse over 45 Videos in the Zoom Replay Collection 

The 5 Anchors Energy Process The Purple Rain Energy Process The Magical Golden Key Process TheNight Passage Sleep Process  

Receive 24/7 Prayers from Jimmy

Your name will be added to a special VIP Prayer list where Jimmy will use his intelligent computer software, src4you which runs 24/7, to delete the negative and increase the strength of the positive creating a higher probability of favorable outcomes for you. Looking for a new job?  Going through a court proceeding? Upcoming surgery scheduled for you or a loved one?  Need help selling or buying a property? Troubled times in your relationship? These are just some of the life at the crossroads events that are ideal for My Daily Prayer program.

30 Days of Daily Prayer (single month) - $99/month This $99 service is for ONE SINGLE MONTH of 30 DAYS ONLY.  Click here After the 30 days, you will receive an email from Jimmy and have the opportunity to renew for an additional month plus update your list, but you are under no obligation.

You can add yourself and those living in your immediate household and yes you can include pets! Merely include everyone’s names and Jimmy will add them to his daily prayers.

**NOTE: Most clients save money and choose the auto-renew option listed below so they do not miss a single day of prayers PLUS they take advantage of the cummulative effects of this service over time. Monthly subscription - $95/month on auto-renew 

Use PayPal for subscription Click here 

Use Stripe for subscription Click here. 

*Anytime prior to your next scheduled payment within the 30 days, you can cancel or pause this service via email request.

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

Could you use a private session? Are you feeling extra-crispy?  If so, you can now Book Appointments... View Availability First, Then Pay 15 mins  | 30 mins  | 60 mins  

​Visit our ​O​nline ​Training Center "Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day. Teach him how to fish and you feed him for a lifetime" - Lao Tzu

All are welcome to CREATE A FREE ACCOUNT to access the NEW and IMPROVED My Liquid Fish Change Made Simple Basic Training Course. Anchors Away Masterclass:  Sustain and clear and sovereign energetic field of dark energies and anomalies. Life Force Energy Masterclass: Enhance your fishing practice by approaching from a deeper, numeric level. Mastery & Practitioner Certification Course

Visit now, Click Here!

TGIFunny

Share

Tweet

Forward

Pinterest

Jimmy Mack | Appointments ​​​Transformational Healing of Body, Mind​ & Spirit, People, Places, Pets & Situations!​ ​ View Availability First, Then Pay 15 mins  | 30 mins  | 60 mins Search FAQ Learn MyLiquidFish technique for FREE Clearing Audio Downloads​ and eBooks Get Certified in MLF Mastery or Practitioner Watch Free Videos on YouTube Radio Show Archives Healing and Grounding Mats ...enter code: MyLiquidFishfs at checkout for Free shipping! http://www.jimmymackhealingshop.com www.jimmymackhealing.com ©1996-2024 All Rights Reserved.  

-------------------------------------------------- TGIW newsletter managed by: Sandy Bidinger Digital Marketing Specialist at SMBeConnected Solutions www.sandybidinger.com

[ash-alder]

I managed to submit my time off request wrong four months ago, so now the two days off I’ve been counting down to may not actually happen, and I feel very, very tired.

I requested this Friday and next Tuesday off, bracketing a 3-day weekend, so I could have a long stretch of rest and recoup time. My boyfriend and I have also planned a very tiny anniversary vacation (take the train to San Francisco Friday, do tourist stuff, stay the night there, take the train back Saturday), which we’ve been planning toward for like a year.

It was legitimately my mistake on submitting the request. I have almost never asked for time off that wasn’t for medical appointments or leave, and there’s a weird process I just didn’t remember. But the thing is, I /did/ submit it through our time sheet/time clock system, and it was officially approved and added to THAT calendar back in January. Except there’s a /second/ system and calendar, managed by different people. And I just straight up forgot.

I’ve been spending spell slots I don’t really have, banking against future self having this down time, so finding out I might not just kind of feels like the last domino in a couple weeks of sucky events. And I am really, really tired.

I’m checking in as soon as we open and I can log in, and I hope it’ll work out. My work is generally good about stuff, but the theme of the past couple weeks has been stuff going wrong.

[aliterarydumpsterfire]

The Crash, or The House That YouTube Built

It’s quiet this morning. It’s been quiet for weeks. Or maybe it’s been months? The calendar on the wall has been used more in the last seven months than probably any calendar we’ve owned. It hangs next to the fridge with a little post-it note that hovered over the twenty first that read in all caps “Dr. Theisen, 8AM!” From my spot at the kitchen table I squinted to find the date. The smell of coffee wafted through but it hadn’t quite kicked in for me. Today’s the tenth. It’s been exactly nine months. I’ve never been a good judge of the passage of time, especially without all of my automatic synced calendar alerts from before The Crash.

At first it was a crisis. Not to me, but to my wife Vanessa. I’ve always had a healthy aversion to the internet but to her the panic from the sudden loss of the invisible network that wove us all together was palpable. In the hours following The Crash it seemed easy for her to distract herself with shopping and admiring herself in the mirror but after the twentieth hour her efforts were something more…. Desperate. She asked me to take her phone so she wouldn’t obsessively check it, then took a melatonin and lain in bed, staring at the ceiling. She dreamt about hitting 3 million followers on Instagram. When she woke to the still-same status of The Crash she was crushed.

I remember how she put on that fake high voice she uses when she’s not okay. “Oh! Well, I’ll just… go for a run I guess”. She hadn’t actually ‘gone for a run’ since senior year for P.E. exams, though her feed would tell a different story. So many photos of her in running gear. So many hours meticulously feigning a runner’s sweat with glycerin and posing in athleisure for the camera. Her announcement to go on a run was cautious, and almost nervous. I didn’t laugh at her. I simply nodded and tried to keep my eyebrows from betraying my surprise. Be cool. Don’t make it a thing. “Okay, babe. Don’t forget your water bottle.” For a moment she perked up. She was cheered by the reminder of the branded posh water bottle, an item she’d received only the week before as a PR package. I went back to my book as I heard her fill the bottle in the kitchen and left out the front door. She came back in a better mood to proudly show off the most genuine selfies I’d ever seen from her, but her overall antsiness continued. Those small pick-me-ups as reminders of her importance grew fewer and more distant as The Crash became a greater reality.

Vanessa Moore is the beautiful woman I have called my wife these past seven years. I don’t remember quite how or when she became fully attached to her fame or phone, but it happened slowly. First she Marie Kondo’d all her favorite souvenir national park t-shirts, then the spare room became a filming room, then she went blonde, and then one day I found myself picking her up an outpatient clinic for a procedure she swore would make her happy. It all seemed so linear to me now, how I lost my wife to the internet personality she’d rather be. The word they use for someone with that great of a following is ‘influencer’ but I cringe to think of my Nessa like that. She used to be so different. I didn’t used to be an Instagram Husband. I couldn’t have been more relieved that The Crash happened, to be honest it probably saved my marriage. My wife wouldn’t share my opinion. I held that secret thought as bitterly as my coffee tasted in my cooling mug.

The first six months were rocky for us. I couldn’t conceal my annoyance at being constantly asked to take photos for an audience that was lost in the ether. More importantly, Nessa discovered something that rocked her world– her sudden loss of connection to the sycophants she called fans and community left her lonely and depressed. Somewhere along the way her self confidence had been replaced by relying on validation from faceless interactions. I bet that even that some of those interactions came from bots, but she missed them all the same. It’s been hard. She still has dreams about hitting 3 mil. Her therapist says she has PTSD and FOMO, the second of which I cannot help but doubt is a technical term. As baffling as it was, we’re still coming to terms with what that means. For Vanessa that means she has to find meaningful things to do, and learn new skills. She’s enrolled in school for a real degree…. .. this is where I have to stop myself. Reframe. She has a real degree– Online Influence Marketing. She’s just getting one that is more relevant to the post-Crash economy now. I can hear Dr Theisen’s voice in my head correcting me. “Mr. Moore, despite benefiting for your wife’s influence you don’t really respect her, do you?” That question still felt like a punch to the gut, followed by deep and immediate shame. I benefited from the free vacations, home that YouTube bought, the brand spokesperson discounts, the random PR boxes that arrived on our doorstep. I couldn’t deny that my wife had worked hard to paint a picture on her social media of a… ‘bossbabe’. That word still makes me shudder. It all seemed so vapid and empty to me. If The Crash hadn’t happened, would I still be here? I constantly asked myself that question, steeped in guilt.

Nessa’s voice in the hall broke me out of my shudder. “Babe?” “Yeah, hon?” I raised my head to look her direction. Morning rays from my nook window played on her face. Her eyes were heavily lidded, her blonde hair and dark roots a mess, but still a welcome sight after all these months. She wore a long tee with GLACIER emblazoned across the front in faded letters. I could’ve sworn that used to be my shirt, though I hadn’t seen it in years. Her voice came again, this time softer. “I had a dream.” Dr. Theisen said that was common after devastating loss. Recurring dreams that haunted the broken. I stretched out my hand to her and she took my hand, folding herself into my arms to perch on my lap and curl into me. Her heart beat felt unsteady through my shirt. “The three million again?” That’s the only dream she ever had. Her head shook slightly against my shoulder. Her voice was so quiet I strained to hear her before the silence of the kitchen swallowed it up. “You left me.” The guilt came back to me again with a roaring vengeance. “Oh, Nessa. No, honey. I’m right here”. I held her tight. The pain in my gut was visceral, twisting and searing up a rebuke at me. The smell of coffee drifted through the kitchen but was completely forgotten. The wetness from her cheeks smeared against my shoulder and that twisting deep in my chest amplified. “No, no, no. Sssshh. You’re ok,” I whispered to her. Now I could hardly get the words out. You bastard. You coward. You would have. I croaked out another reassurance and I felt a tear fall from my face too, my breath caught on the lump in my throat. She dreamt of you. I lifted her chin to look her in the eyes. With a thumb I wiped away her tears. I nearly lost you. “Vanessa Moore, I have not left you. Shhhh baby, I’m right here.” I hugged her tight again. You’re still in there. I’m still here. I nearly lost you, but I’m still here. The Crash ruined so many lives but it saved mine. I couldn’t ever tell her. I couldn’t ever tell her that The Crash may have left her nothing… but it had given me back everything.

[imdoingwhateverisnext]

Preparing myself, as the Nest Becomes More Empty....

I am guilty of coddling my kids too much at times. I realize now that it was something that helped me, not them. In a divided household, I knew they lived with a drill sergeant half of the time. I felt I needed to offset the balance and allow them to be "kids". Which meant I always had a messy house unless I did most of the cleaning.

Somehow in between my full time job, part time job, graduate school program, and 3 kids, I got by without child support. I was afraid to ask for support, and I figured I could support them on my own anyway. I lost a lot of sleep over the years. I probably lost a lot of years as well. Maintaining a home as the only adult is challenging; between the housework, cooking, bills, shopping, laundry, mom's taxi service, sports practices, homework, check-ups, dental, orthodontics, maintaining personal hygiene (yes theirs but also mine). I don't know how I even did it for as long as I did. It was like I was in robot mode with little time for introspection, I had too much to do.

My son is a senior and will be leaving home soon. My oldest son left a couple of years ago. When he did, I spent almost a week in full melt-down mode. I warned everyone ahead of time, I could feel it coming. Please stay away. I am not going to be normal or okay. Landon was my reason for continuing to exist. He was my reason for anything adult-like or responsible I had ever done. He moved out and I went full psycho mode. I warned my youngest kids to stay away for a few days. It was for the best.

Then, he moved back in after a couple of months. By the time he came back, I was already used to him being gone. It felt different. I thought, 'I just got used to you not being here'. He stayed a couple of months and then left for good. He is married now. Yesterday I realized his girlfriend now shares his last name, and is now his wife. It has been 4 months. One might think the realization should have dawned on me before now. I don't always do things in the proper order.

My 'babies' are grown and stretching their wings. When my son moved out the second time, I had no meltdowns. I am getting better, but I am terrified of losing my last two babies. I have to find something that is for me, and gives me reason to look forward to my empty nest. I would love to be able to help my kids pack and be excited for their futures as well as my own.

If I am being honest, it seems that coddling my kids made me feel important. If they needed me to cook, clean, help with homework, and be on call for medical questions, I would remain relevant (or so I thought). Now that much of the hard work of raising my kids is over, I have tried to "find myself" again. Rediscover my likes, my dislikes, and try to figure out what would actually be good for ME. I forgot about my own needs for so long, couldn't even remember what I liked. It is a process that has been frightening, painful, exciting, and fun.

As the time for Jack to leave home looms over my head and the calendar days fly past, my excitement and dread grow exponentially together. I don't like the dread at all. Fear of lack of purpose, death on the horizon, loneliness, and an overall lack of a solid plan for the future are all hanging like a black cloud over me.

I had to start preparing. There are no other realistic options. I know they will not flourish as adults if I "over-help" them and try to keep them with me forever. If I keep doing things for them, things that they should be doing for themselves, I am robbing them of their independence. I am not allowing them to grow up because I want them to stay my 'babies' forever, and I want to stay relevant in their lives. It is actually very selfish. I don't like this part of my personality/ mind. This is not helpful, and the probable outcome (needy adults who can not do anything for themselves) does not look like a future I want for my kids.

So, I have decided that I am going to be a 'lazy' mom (my mom guilt makes me refer to it as such). I have to let them cook, clean, wash their clothes until they no longer need me. They aren't going to love it at first, and I will be tempted to cave in, but I must get them ready for a future in which they are strong, well adjusted, and at least somewhat disciplined. I have to teach more, and do less chores. That doesn't sound too bad really. I should have started this years ago.

[frogluvr29]

I don’t normally make my own posts here but today is sad, my beetle is dying, and I want to vent :( He rolled himself over into his back at some point, and by the time I found him yesterday morning he was weak and I knew he would probably die. I don’t know how long he was rolled over, it could have been an hour or it could have been overnight. I’m just crushed because he was a Christmas present last year, and I spent an entire calendar year caring for him as a grub and feeding him and waiting for him to grow up into a big beetle. He only emerged as an adult ~3 months ago, and he spent the first two in a dormant period (which is normal). He only came out of it this past month and I’m so sad that he died so quickly, it feels like he only just got here. I only just started seeing him actively moving around the enclosure and doing his thing. I only got to witness him eat a couple times. I spent so many months caring for him and loving him and waiting excitedly for him to grow up and now he’s almost gone 😭 He’s really weak and slow right now and I know it’ll be over soon. I have him set up comfortably until it happens, but I’m so angry and sad and I didn’t mean to let it get to me this much but I can’t stop crying and thinking about what I could have done differently, how I could have set the terrarium up so he wouldn’t get stuck on his back, how I should have checked him more often, etc… this is my first time having pet beetles (I have two, him and a female who is doing fine) and I did my research and tried to do everything right but I still made mistakes. I should have given him more branches so he could right himself. I know you live and you learn but I feel so, so horrible about it. He was my baby and I was so proud of him and I showed him to everyone who came over :( My other beetle is only interested in burrowing so I never get to see her, but he would march around on top of the soil doing his little beetle thing. Happy Valentine’s Day everyone, pour one out for Michel for me. He was an eastern Hercules beetle and he was loved