#i have to double check everything this 50-something woman is doing like watching a child bc she just does things however she wants

[vampmilf]

few things piss me off more than older people not respecting my authority bc they perceive me as being too young to have it "i know you told me to do it like this but what if-" "you should-" i will gut you like a fish.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hello Steph! First, thank you for everything you do for this fandom!! I don’t know what we would do without you!! ♥️ I am looking to start my first novel length Johnlock fic. I found your list, and was wondering if you had a specific one to recommend to start off with? I’m looking for something that won’t make me too sad (the world does that on its own), and of course, lots of Johnlock!! Any recommendations would be appreciated, thank you!! Sending love!! *hugs*

HI NONNY!

Hmm, this is tough, because Novel Length is anything over 50K words, but some people don’t want to read “novels that short”. So I get a lot of requests for Epic novels over 100K, so like WOOO HOO LOL.

Hmm. How about I give you a few recs varying lengths, based on your requirements, and you can decide how long you want to go, since I list all my word counts on my recs?

First off, for when you become obsessed with the lengthy fics like I am now LOL:

Novel Length Fics: 50 to 100K (Nov. 2018)

Novel Length Fics: 50 to 100K Pt 2 (May 2020)

Novel Length Fics: 100K+ w. (May 2019)

Novel Length Fics: 100K+ w. Pt 2 (Aug 2020)

Novel Length Fics: 100K+ w. Pt 3 [MFL’s] (Dec 2020)

Next, here’s something for each range between 50 and 100K+ <3

BUT BEFORE I BEGIN: honourable mention because it IS my fave fic ever, and it fits your criteria minus the length so SORRY but please check it out:

A Promise Made to Be Broken by PlantsAreNeat (E, 37,018 w., 7 Ch. || Fake Relationship, Pining, Slow Burn, RST, Eventual Relationship, POV Sherlock) – A young John makes an ‘if we’re still single at 40, we’ll get together’ pledge to a woman who ends up all wrong for him. She keeps reminding him of the promise, and won’t let go of it. John asks Sherlock to pose as his boyfriend at a family wedding, so as to dash her hopes permanently. Sherlock, who has at last acknowledged his feelings for John, reluctantly agrees despite knowing how painful it will be to ‘have’ John, but not keep him.

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Okay, now the main event, of more-fluff-than-angst:

NOVEL LENGTH NOT-SO-ANGSTY FICS FOR NEWBIES

Spare Change by Ermerness (E, 51,966 w., 14 Ch. || Rich Holmeses AU || First Kiss / Time, Holmes Family, Virgin Sherlock, Anal, First Meetings, Bossy Bottomlock) – The Holmes family is one of the richest and most powerful in England. Sherlock spends his time flying around the world on the family's private jet drinking a lot and shopping at expensive boutiques as a way of trying to alleviate his endless boredom. His mother decides it's time he settles down with someone powerful, wealthy and well connected. John Watson happens to be none of those things.

Guilty Secrets by Ellipsical (E, 55,086 w., 16 Ch. || Post-TRF, Drumsticks, First Kiss/Time, Love Confession, Self-Sexual-Discovery, Anal, Rimming, Orgasm Denial, Butt Plugs, Cooking, Furniture Sex, Bath Sex, Rimming, Double Penetration, Prostate Massage, Anal Beads, Dancing, Romance, Tantric Edging, Internalized Homophobia, Case as Foreplay, Anal Beads, Tickling, Dancing, Dry Coming, Romance) – John has a prostate exam and discovers something surprising about himself. Experimentation follows. Sherlock wants to help. They're in love. You know the drill.

Bridging the Ravine by SilentAuror (E, 58,887 w., 3 Ch. || Post S4, Couple For a Case, Bed-Sharing, First Times, Confessions, Awkwardness, Sex Trafficking, Massages, Wet T-Shirt Contest, Group Therapy, Past Loss of Child) – Sherlock and John go undercover at Ravine Valley, a therapy centre for same-sex male couples in an investigation into a possible human trafficking ring. As they pose as a couple and fake their way through the therapy sessions for the sake of the case, it quickly becomes difficult to avoid discussing their very real issues. Set roughly six nine months after series 4.

Perdition's Flames by i_ship_an_armada (E, 63,435 w., 21 Ch. || Treklock AU, Est. Rel, Genetic Engineering, Angst & Fluff, BAMF!John) – Sherlock would do anything to save him. Risk anything. Give anything. His money, his life. His soul. What he does, though, is change both of their destinies forever. Genetic re-engineering is the only option left. It turns out researchers underestimated the life expectancy and potential abilities of genetically re-engineered subjects. The British government and what would eventually become the United Federation of Planets, however, had not. Part 1 of PF Universe

A Cure For Boredom by emmagrant01 (E, 81,665 w., 8 Ch. || Dirty Talk, Threesomes, Light Dom/Sub, Sex Club, Experiments, Anal, Mildly Dubious Consent, Rimming, Cheeking, Double Penetration, Mild Kink, Porn Watching, Voyeurism, Masturbation) – They’d never talked about sex in the year they’d known each other. Well, that wasn’t quite correct: Sherlock had never said a word about sex; John had bemoaned his personal dearth of it on many occasions.

Uphill by scullyseviltwin (E, 84,945 w., 18 Ch. || Olympics AU || Sherlock POV, Skier!Sherlock / Medic!John, Rivalry, 2014 Olympics, Happy Ending) – Sherlock Holmes is striving for gold in this, his fourth and final Olympics as a downhill Alpine racer.

A Study in Winning by Jupiter_Ash (E, 106,658 w., 11 Ch. || Tennis AU || John POV, Dirty Talk, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings, Happy Ending, Sherlock Speaks French, Switchlock, Wimbledon) – John and Sherlock are professional tennis players and it’s Wimbledon. One is a broken almost was at the end of his career, the other an arrogant rising star tipped for greatness. It should have been a straightforward tournament. It really should have been. How were they to know that a chance encounter would change everything? Part 1 of Tennis

A Further Sea by i_ship_an_armada & ShinySherlock (E, 125,492 w., 23 Ch. || Historical Pirates AU || Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Doctor John / Pirate Captain Sherlock, Sailing, UST / RST, Masturbation, Action / Adventure, Mild Angst & Peril, Romance, Shaving, Molly/Janine, Bottomlock, Hand / Blow Jobs, Past Drug Use, Slow Burn, Mild Violence, Facial Shaving, Happy Ending) – Here be a tale of adventure for both body and soul, but beware if ye be not of stout heart, for this be piratelock, ya savvy? Luckless ship's surgeon John Watson takes a chance, and finds himself eye to eye with The Ghost, the scourge of the seven seas and a definite thorn in the side of the blaggard, James Moriarty. But when John finds there's more to this most cunning pirate than be meetin' the eye, he has to choose... is it a pirate's life for him?

The Horse and his Doctor by khorazir (T, 129,003 w., 13 Ch. || Horse / Vet AU || Magical Realism, Horses, Vet John, Horse Sherlock, Implied Alcoholism) – Invalided after a run in with a poacher in Siberia, veterinary surgeon John Watson finds it difficult to acclimatise to the mundanity of London life. Things change when a friend invites him along to a local animal shelter and he meets their latest acquisition, a trouble-making Frisian with the strangest eyes and even stranger quirks John has ever encountered in a horse.

The Bang and the Clatter by earlgreytea68 (M, 137,049 w., 37 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Baseball AU || Slow Burn / Dev. Rel., Possessive/Obsessive Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock, Mutual Pining, Body Appreciation, Depression, Closeted Sexuality, Family, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Ogling Each Other, Anxious Sherlock, Panic Attack, Drunkenness, Talk of Forever, Big Feelings™) – Sherlock Holmes is a pitcher and John Watson is a catcher. No, no, no, it's a baseball AU. Part 1 of Baseball

Midnight Blue Serenity by BeautifulFiction (E, 151,907 w., 19 Ch. || Friends to Lovers, Gay Bar / For a Case, Drugs, Pining, Case Fic, UST) – When Sherlock infiltrates a club in order to track down a serial killer, his altered appearance is enough to make John question his assumption that Sherlock is beyond his reach. However, is he the only one who appreciates his flatmate's charms, or is Sherlock at risk of becoming the next victim?

Gimme Shelter by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John (E, 159,368 w., 21 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || 70′s Surfer AU || Period Typical Homophobia, Hawaii, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Professional Surfers, Gay John / Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, John was a Sailor, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining) – All John Watson wants is the feeling of a freshly waxed surfboard under his feet and the hot California sun baking down onto his back. To finally go pro in the newly formed world of professional surfing and leave the dark memories of his past behind him as he rips across the face of a towering blue barrel. To lounge beside the beach bonfire every evening with an ice cold beer tucked into the cool sand beside him and listen to Pink Floyd and the Doors while the saltwater dries in his sun bleached hair. That's all he wants, that is, until the hot young phenom taking Oahu and the Hawaiian shores by storm steps up next to him in the sand in the second round of the 1976 International Surf Competition. (PUBLISHED AS ‘The Sea Ain’t Mine Alone’)

Mise en Place by azriona (M, 161,004 w., 28 Ch. || Restaurant (Kitchen Nightmares) AU || Sherlock is Gordon Ramsay / Celebrity Sherlock, Restauranteur John, Harry Plays Prominent Role, Alternating POV, Mutual Pining, Cranky Sherlock, Bed Sharing, Slow Burn) – John Watson had no intentions of taking over the family business, but when he returns from Afghanistan, battered and bruised, and discovers that his sister Harry has run their restaurant into the ground, he doesn't have much choice. There's only one thing that can save the Empire from closing for good – the celebrity star of the BBC series Restaurant Reconstructed, Chef Sherlock Holmes. Part 1 of Mise en Place

-------

Hope you enjoy those!!! <3 PLEASE read them all, though, and THEN READ ALL THE ONES ON THOSE LISTS. Because once you start long fics, you get REALLY INTO THEM. Hah hah <3

[writingwithadinosaur]

“Under the Knife” - Part 5

“Under the Knife” - Part 5

My Masterlist - Here

Story Masterlist - Here

My Tag List - Here

Hannibal Lecter x Reader, Will Graham x Sister!Reader

Word Count: 3,100-ish

Key: Chunks of text in italics are (Y/N)’s thoughts. Y/N = Your Name, H/C = Your Hair Color, E/C = Your Eye Color

Warnings: Talks of Murder, Violence, Emotions, Cursing. Let me know if I missed anything! 

Summary: You are Will Graham’s sister who works with him at the FBI. When you get offered a job promotion, life starts to change. Some changes for the better; Some for the worst.

Author’s Note: This is my first Hannibal piece and I am proud of it. There aren’t too many stories for Hannibal, so I figured I would add to the collection.

This does take place in some happy medium where they are all alive and work together. Sort of a happier season 1 era.

This is beta-read by @theeactress​, but please let me know if there is something that we missed or that we should look at again! 

If you would like to be tagged in any of my future pieces, check out my tag list above and let me know! And as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!

<3

- DreaSaurusREX

Tag List: @fruitloopzzz @theeactress @melconnor2007 @ashenfallsof @geeksareunique @all-by-myself98 @sj-thefan​ @fuck-your-bad-vibes-dude​ @ntlmundy​ @a-person-unlabled

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

As much as you didn’t want to have this meeting with Crawford, you knew that you had to. You had to fill in not only Jack but Hannibal as well on where you were when it came to motive, suspects, and connections. The car ride back to the office was silent as you struggled to focus on case-related thoughts as opposed to the fact that your brother and Hannibal thought you needed backup. 

It wasn’t until you parked in your normal spot at headquarters that you felt yourself slip. 

Do they really not believe in me that much? Will, I can understand. He was wary about me joining from the start. But Hannibal? He was so supportive at dinner. He said that I was ‘wonderful and valuable.’ Why would he say that if he was just going to be watching over me and double-checking my work? I--

While Will seemed to not let his emotions come up often, you were the opposite. You were very empathetic and even though you had spent many years working on getting a better handle on them, you couldn’t help with your emotions got the best of you.

You managed to make it to your office before the angry tears started to spill. 

There were two soft knocks on your office door. You quickly scrambled to wipe your face with the inside of your shirt and grab a few papers that you planned on showing Jack in an effort to look okay. 

“Come on in.” You spoke just loud enough to be heard through the door, hoping it was just a student or delivery and wouldn’t have to turn around and face them. You heard the door slowly creak open a little, Hannibal peeked in.

“Everything alright, (Y/N)?” You let out a single harsh exhale in disbelief.  You kept your back facing him as you picked up a few more relevant papers to add to the growing pile in your arm.

“As alright as they can be.” You cursed internally as you felt the shakiness in your voice betray you. A normal person wouldn’t pick up on it, but you were sure Hannibal had.

“I understand you may not want to talk about this, but I think--” You quickly turn around and cut him off, really not in the mood to hear whatever explanation he has right now for his or Will’s behavior.

“I think Crawford is waiting for us. I would like to get this meeting over with and then go home so I can have an actual meal today. So how about we start moving?” You were sure he noticed the extreme lack of eye contact and the stuffiness in your nose making your voice slightly nasal. You were ready for him to ask about your wellbeing again.

Instead, you saw him nod once and held out his hands. 

“Well then, let's not keep him waiting. May I?” You gladly handed your stack of papers over to him while you picked out one more file and unhooked your bag from the back of your desk chair, in hopes that you could leave right after this session with Crawford. 

~~~~~~~~

“So what we have so far is that Dr. Pencalt was a neurologist with no obvious ties to Dr. Everet, Chasten, or Loreit other than the fact that they all live relatively close to one another. We also now have a potential height range and the small detail that he is left-handed.”

Hannibal hadn’t even shut the door to Jack’s office behind the two of you yet before Jack started talking. He wasn’t even facing you two, instead, he was looking at the board of evidence that now had a few pictures of tonight’s scene on it. Hannibal placed your papers on the desk in front of you as you made your way to a seat. You felt yourself zoning out because of how tired you were. Not only from the lack of sleep, but now your eyes were slightly stinging thanks to the tears that had slipped in your office moments ago. 

While you knew what Jack was saying, you felt yourself zoning out even more. It wasn’t new information and you were so spent. You hadn’t realized how far into your mind you were drifting until you felt a shoe tap against yours, jolting you back into reality. Hannibal had seen the minuscule fade in your eyes as you stared at the stack of papers. He knew Jack wouldn’t handle it well, so he did his best to help you.

You tuned back in as Jack started to turn to now face you two. 

"Dr. Lecter, do you think that this killer sees the spouses as nothing special, or are we missing something involving them?"

"I believe they were merely obstacles that our killer has to get through. (Y/N) said it best. These spouses are nothing more than 'trash that is taken care of.'"

You hated to admit that it hurt that Jack had to verify with Dr. Lecter on your findings. But it was a bit nice to know that Hannibal was on your side despite what your brain was told you back in your office. 

Jack then looked to you, his face not showing the indignation you were sure was bubbling inside him.

“What else you got?”

Slightly rubbing a bit of pain from your eyes, you looked in your notebook, trying to figure out what else to say. You saw a scribble and then reached to your pile of papers on Jack’s desk to try to find the specific ones you were looking for. 

“Well, I started to go through and find all of the doctors that work in any medical field within a 50-mile radius. I then tried to narrow it down by eliminating all of the females.”

“Why disregard females?”

“Because unless one of these female doctors is Wonder Woman, I don’t think any of them would be able to physically disable men like Dr. Chasten, who was a rather large man, by themselves.” Jack just nods his head in agreement and you keep your slowly derailing train of thought going.

“I uh-- I haven’t been able to do anything else with this list because we only just found this dominant hand and a good height range an hour ago. And I’ll be able to narrow down that height range even more when I get the angle of the incision point back from Beverly or Jimmy. But it's at least a start to what we’re looking for. ” 

You look up from your suspect list as you slide it to Jack on the other side of the desk, only to find him looking at you, expecting more. Reaching for your notebook, you fumble through your scrawlings again, trying to find any information that would please him. Hannibal watched your interaction and decided to step in.

“May I ask something?” 

“As long as it's not about my personal life.” You still had your eyes scanning your notebook as you responded. 

“It isn’t.” You looked up from your notes, saw that he was serious, and nod for him to continue. “Why did the bedding stand out to you, (Y/N)?”

“Hmm?”

“At the crime scene, you said that ‘the sheets are flat.’ What significance does that have?”

“Right. Um… Because it's odd.” Jack confusingly looks from you to Hannibal, who is his normal stoic self but still curious. You see that the two men don’t see what you do, so you pull out the crime scene photos from all of the cases that show the dead doctors in their beds.

“Because the killer fixed them before meticulously placing the various parts of Dr. Pencalt out. He didn’t do that for any of the other ones. And, I also noticed that Dr. Pencalt’s eyes were left open, unlike the others who have their’s closed. It's the first time we’ve seen either of these things.”

“It is also the first time he’s killed in one room, then moved the victim to the bed.” Hannibal chimed in.

“Yes! Exactly. But, the bed still would have been messy from Dr. Pencalt’s rushed exit to the bathroom to try and get his gun. Which means that our killer wanted this ‘sculpture’ of his to be nicer looking than his previous ones.” 

“Why?” Crawford could see what you were saying, be he needed more.

 “I-I’m not sure yet.” 

You looked down at your notebook in slight shame. So when Jack raised his voice and hit his hand on his desk in frustration, you couldn’t help but jump in your seat a bit, causing Hannibal to stiffen slightly. He had a watchful eye on you as he let Jack speak.

“Dammit, (Y/N)! This is why I brought you on. You’re supposed to be able to get inside this maniac’s brain and lead us to him. You’re implying that our killer gift-wrapped a victim at a scene that we have seen now four different times. So I’m gonna ask again: Why is this one so special?”

 “May--Maybe he has some sort of emotional attachment to this vic. O-or maybe this is about his ego and he knows we were now taking this- him seriously. So he wanted to show us a new mosaic that he was proud of, like a child showing their parents a shitty piece of macaroni art that they think is a masterpiece. Or maybe it’s none of these ideas and it’s something completely out of left field that I haven’t figured out. The point is: I don’t know yet, Jack!” 

You didn’t expect yourself to burst like that. But the mix of your personal feelings about Hannibal and your brother, your lack of rest, and Crawford’s accusatory tone had set you off. You focused on fiddling with your ring to try to reign yourself back in and attempt to clock out for the night.

While you tried to breathe for a few seconds, the men just stared. Hannibal was observing you, making sure you were okay enough that he wouldn’t have to physically assist you. Jack on the other hand was silent out of surprise. The two of them had seen Will at his most stressed, but they’d never seen you like this. Jack wasn’t sure how to proceed until you spoke again, much calmer and quieter than a moment ago.

“I need more evidence. We can sit here and spout out theories all night. But without details from whatever the techs got tonight, nothing can stick. So when the gang in the lab has results of any kind or we get more information from the autopsies, then I can reexamine everything I have and get a better idea of what the hell we’re looking for. For now, I’m exhausted, I’m hungry, and need a shower.”

“Are you quitting this case?” Your gaze shot from your hands in front of you to Crawford’s incredulous face; Now worried that he thought you were unfit for this job.

“No. Absolutely not. I want this asshole caught. I-- I just need to rest. I’ve been going almost non-stop since I signed those papers and took the files home. Hannibal can even vouch for me that I was immediately engrossed in this case the moment I got home. I promise that I will be more productive when I can get a sandwich and a few hours of sleep in me.”

You tried to keep your features calm, but you couldn’t help the slight sound of pleading in your voice. You knew you were right and that you just needed a small break. You felt the small sting of disheartened tears fighting their way back into your already sore eyes, hoping that Hannibal didn’t pick up on them. Jack looked to Hannibal for confirmation, getting a silent nod from him. Crawford slowly nodded his head in understanding.

“You’re right. Go home. We will pick this up tomorrow.” 

He motioned to the door. You thanked him and tried to stand up and calmly walk out without showing that one of those irritating tears had slid down your cheek as you turned away from Jack. Hannibal had gotten up and opened the door for you, but before you could pass through the threshold, Jack spoke up. 

“If you do think of anything, write it down and tell me first thing tomorrow.” You just nod and continue out the door, trying to make it to your car before you let yourself cry anymore. Hannibal was going to follow and ensure your safety as he usually did, but Jack stopped him.

“Not you, Dr. Lecter. I need to speak with you about a few things in private. Shouldn’t take long.” Hannibal nodded as he saw you quickly turn the corner towards the elevators. He shut the door and settled back in his seat at Crawford’s desk.

“I take it (Y/N) didn’t like the idea of you being on this case now too?”

“No. I suspect she thinks that Will and I don’t believe in her ability to handle this intense of a case as well as keep herself afloat. I’ve tried to get her to open up about it, but I fear that it may be too soon to bring it up.”

“Do you think she will be able to stay afloat?”

“I do. (Y/N) is a brilliant individual who’s empathic intuitions match those of her brother. That in addition to her curiosity for the abnormal, and desire for justice make her an ideal candidate for this position. However, I believe that she needs time to process everything that has happened over the course of her first 3 days here. She has only dealt with high-profile cases like this one after they have been solved. She’s never been in an active case of this caliber. She is bound to get overwhelmed and think that she isn’t good enough during this first week. I suspect that she will bounce back soon enough.”

Jack wasn’t sure what exactly he was trying to ask, but Hannibal saw the look of confusion on his face and continued.

“(Y/N) thinks that because she hasn’t found anything substantial yet and another body has been found, that she is not good at what she does. When in reality, she is right, we are at a standstill until we get more evidence.” 

At first Crawford wasn’t sure about having Hannibal ride in the backseat through this case. But now he was thankful. Through Hannibal’s understanding of your life outside of the FBI, he was able to remind Jack that you were human and could only do so much without a breather. Something he had failed to remember with Will at times..

Jack stood up and got his jacket that was hanging on the back of his desk chair, stretching a bit as he stood up. Hannibal stood as well, anticipating a dismissal.

“I see. Well, I think we should follow (Y/N)’s example and take the rest of the night to let things settle in. Start fresh tomorrow morning. Our’s killer’s timer is reset; We got less than two weeks to catch this lunatic.” 

~~~~~~~~

You were more than glad to get your keys in your door and finally be able to let your guard down. Your stomach growled as you turned the handle, thinking about the leftover pizza you had in your fridge. Before you could step too far into your apartment, you felt your shoe shift as you stepped on a piece of paper. You thought nothing of it, assuming it was a paper from one of your files that had fallen out, and plopped it on your counter, too focused on getting food heated up and getting out of your work clothes to read over it right now. 

After a quick shower to get the grime of today off of you, you popped some pizza in the microwave and got dressed in your pajamas. As you took the plate out, your eyes settled on the piece of paper that was on the counter. You set down your dinner and walked over to pick it up. One side was blank but the other was a printed out screenshot of an article from the awful tabloid, Tattle Crime. 

“The Virginia Scalpel Strikes Again! - A Deeper Look into the Work of a Killer and the Minds that the FBI Hired to Help Find Him.”

“Why were Dr. Pencalt and his wife targeted by the Scalpel? We still don’t know his motive, but the FBI brought on another member to their team in order to try and help answer some of our dying questions. (Y/N) Graham works within the Behavioral Science Unit at the FBI, but has never worked an active major case before this one. Which may be why we also saw Dr. Hannibal Lecter at the crime scene. We believe that she is shadowing him, learning how to run with the big dogs. The duo could be an almost unstoppable psychological force in the utility belt of Jack Crawford.

Much like her brother Will Graham, who we have talked about on this site before--”

You rolled your eyes and let out an annoyed sigh, not believing the shit you were seeing right now. Not only did Freddie just do the basic research on Dr. Pencalt that anyone could do from a simple google search, but then she had the gall to try to discredit your position on the team. All because she was new and Hannibal was at the crime scene with you.

You couldn’t read another demeaning word tonight. 

I was shadowing Hannibal?! That’s some misogynistic crap! I don’t even want to know what she has to say when it comes to comparing me to Will. This is a new low for Hannibal or Will. Going to a TC article as a fear tactic to try to get me to resign? Not today, boys. 

You were going to text them and call them out on their bullshit, but decided against it; not having the energy to deal with any more human interaction unless it was absolutely necessary. So you shoved the print-out into your work notebook and tossed it back in your work back, ignoring it until tomorrow.

For now? Pizza, wine, and a good comedy special were calling your name.

[extremelyblackandwhite]

i wanna know what love is - 13

Pairing: rockstar! sebastian stan x writer!reader

Warnings: jealousy

A/N: hello guys, i’ve been receiving so many messages from you guys telling me how much you love this series and i couldn’t be happier you enjoy it, so i decided to double post today. hope you enjoy xx 💕💕

Last Chapter // Next Chapter

Y/N didn’t want to believe Mary, it didn’t feel right. It just didn’t feel right to her that he would’ve done such thing. Sure Sebastian was a wild one and if Mary had told her that he had been kicked out of the band because he threw himself from a window into a pool, she would’ve believed more than an overdose scenario. She had never seen him even doing any drugs in the time she’d been with him. Sure he drank like the pirate but it didn’t look very different from what her mates used to do back at university. No, it didn’t feel right.

      - You alright, honey? - she put a hand on her shoulder, lightly shaking it to bring her out of her mind. Y/N turned to face the redhead which had a tense worried expression on her face. - C’mon, me, Fred, and the new photographer are going out for a very long, very expensive dinner. Why don’t you come with us?

     - Oh, I don’t wanna bother. - she gave her a shy smile but Mary was having none of it. She got up and stormed to her wardrobe, opening it and looking through her clothing. After a while, she stopped and turned to the side with a confused look on her face. - What now?

    - You have no dinning dresses. - the redhead was almost in horror. She had come from a high class family herself where changing for dinner was still a very alive practice. Y/N, however, was either at the office having grilled cheese for dinner or in her pjs eating pasta for dinner. There was no high class to the whole experience unless she had a work meeting. - You’ll have to take one of mine.

    - I can take the black dress you got me. - Y/N walked over to her, grabbing the hanger with the Burberry dress. Mary nodded no and placed the hanger back before taking her hand and walking to her bedroom were Fred was watching Mad Men. She’d rather be watching Mad Men with Fred than discovering what to wear. 

    - Y/N is coming with us to dinner. - Mary said, mindlessly walking to her wardrobe and pulling some hangers with what looked like very expensive dresses. Fred nodded and returned to watching Mad Men with Y/N who had sat by the edge of the bed. 

The red headed placed the hangers by the door and started to look at the dresses before she went to grab Y/N, ignoring her moans about watching TV and putting her in front of the mirror. She placed a burgundy dress in front of her and furrowed her brows, cocking her head to the side. 

    - Maybe if we curl the hair? - she said, taking the dress from her. - I grew up with only brothers so they never let me do their hair or pick their outfits.

    - I’d run, Y/N. - Fred mouthed before being hit in the face by a pillow thrown by Mary who gave him a sly smirk. - But hey, first night Mary isn’t looking at cases while dinning. 

Y/N would never admit it to herself but Mary was the picture perfect woman she wanted to be. Not only was she beautiful, always polished and rich, she was also a smart Yale graduate lawyer. With that said, she didn’t really mind her doing her makeup and hair for the night. She got dressed in the burgundy dress from before and took a good look at the mirror. It felt nice to look this beautiful after today, with her hair done, eyeliner so sharp it looked like it had been done using a knife and lips matching the dress colour. The only bad thing were the heels she could barely hold herself into. 

She was now sat on her bedroom, waiting for Fred and Mary while watching some reruns of B99 in her TV when she heard a knock. Finally, she was starving. She grabbed her purse, put her phone and debit card in it just in case, and walked to the door, opening it to see Sebastian instead of the couple. He himself was also not expecting to be greeted with the sight he was greeted with. 

   - Where are you going dressed like that? - he asked, shamelessly scanning her from head to toe. 

   - I’m going to dinner with Mary and Fred. The Eiffel Tower Restaurant. - she replied, exiting the room and closing the door behind them. - How are you doing?

  - I’m okay, thank you. Just wanted to come check on you to see if you needed anything for your article.

  - Actually, when I return, if you could, I’d like to ask you some questions. - she said, kind smile on her lips as Mary and Fred exited their room, motioning for her to come with them. - I’ll see you in a few hours. 

She joined the couple in the taxi who took them to the restaurant. Everything looked so pristine, so beautiful and symmetrical. She almost felt bad the tab was on the bad, but yet again Fred had said the dinner was almost a meeting with the new photographer. Speaking of which, they reached their table where a man that looked straight out of the 50s with beautifully slick blonde hair and perfectly tailored black velvet suit. Fred extended his hand to him, presenting him his wife. 

  - And this is Y/N Wiley, she’s from Rolling Stone. - Mary added, removing Y/N from her gaze of the beauty around her. - She’ll be dinning with us tonight. 

  - Pleasure to meet you, Leo Crawford. - he shook her hand, receiving a smile in exchange as they all sat down. - If it doesn’t sound to rude Miss, but you look far too young to be a Rolling Stone writer. 

  - I’m an intern. - she replied. - I wish to be a writer someday but so far I’m just an intern. 

  - Sebastian hired her. - Fred added. - We were very excited to get another tour article but Y/N quickly became part of the family.

  - I see. - he opened his briefcase, taking some photographs out. - I brought some of my old work to make sure I’m the artistic view you’re looking for. 

  - Is that Scorpion? - Y/N pointed at one of the pictures. - You photographed Scorpion?

  - One of my first jobs. - he scotched closer to her. - Just between us Ms. Wiley, I was quite the nervous one during it. 

  - I can imagine it. 

The dinner lasted for a good three hours until they all decided to go back to the hotel and have drinks at their personal bar. Y/N was relieved to take off her shoes as they sat by the bar. 

  - You’re far too stunning to be behind the scenes. I would love to photograph you something, Ms. Wiley. - he spoke putting his glass back on. Once she was about to reply, Sebastian and Melody walked into the room. Sebastian’s eyes immediately shot to the man who was speaking to Y/N, and how close he was too her. - I’m serious, whenever you need some photos taken. 

  - You’re a laugh, Leo. - she laughed, hand in front of her mouth as she noticed Sebastian’s gaze burn on her. - Oh Leo, this is Sebastian Stan, he’s the front man of the band. 

  - Pleasure, I’ve heard many things about you from Ms. Wiley. - he extended his arm to him, but he ignored it, grabbing a glass and some scotch. - I’d love to photograph the whole band together for the last time. 

  - I’m sure of it. - Sebastian rolled his eyes taking a seat by Melody. - Wiley, if you still want the interview, I’d suggest you get ready for it.

  - Oh, sorry. - Y/N apologised, getting up from her seat and smoothing her dress down. She turned to face Leo, an apologetic smile on her face. - It was so nice to meet you, Mr. Crawford. 

  - Here’s my card. - he handed her a white and black card. - If you ever need anything, please give me a call Ms. Wiley.

  - Thank you. 

She turned once more to face Sebastian pointing towards her bedroom with her head as she took off, her shoes held by her fingers. He followed behind like a scolded child as they entered her bedroom, once they entered her bedroom, she crossed her arms, considering throwing her shoes at him. 

  - You were unnecessarily rude to Mr. Crawford.

  - You were throwing yourself all over him, it’s not a good shade on you, sweetheart. 

  - I wasn’t and even if I was, it would be none of your business. - she placed her shoes by her closet before returning to the bed, turning on her laptop so she could record their small interview. 

  - Trust me, you don’t wanna date someone in the business. - Sebastian rolled his eyes at her, sitting on top of her bed. 

  - You’d know. - she snarled at him, getting up and reaching behind her back so she could reach the dress’ zipper. Sebastian was about to argue back at her but stopped once he saw her reach for her zipper and huff in disappointment when she couldn’t possibly pull it all down. She came to the conclusion of either leaving the room and ask someone or ask Sebastian. Since her feet hurt, Sebastian it was. - Can you zip me down?

  - Don’t you wanna go ask Mr. Crawford?

  - Do you want to stop being to childish? - she turned on her back, pushing her hair to the side. Sebastian got up, his hands shaking as he pushed her zipper down. He expected her to go into the bathroom to take her dress off, but to his surprise, she shook the dress off her, remaining on her lingerie as she went to grab a robe. He was supposed to be mad at her but here he was ogling her once again, something his girlfriend could never learn of. - Alright, let’s get this over and done with. 

[love-msj]

You Sent Me Flying

INVOLVED: Mercedes Jones & Samuel Evans TIME FRAME: Saturday, February 23rd, 2021 LOCATION: -: New York City, New York NOTES: Valentine’s Day. 

Mercedes eyed her phone as she typed out a response to her assistant, she tried to stay as still as possible as the woman before her completed her makeup for the night. She almost opted out of this event, for obvious reasons but at the last minute she chose to attend it. She was a highly requested guest, which wasn’t a shock, however she had caught wind and a usually invite for one turned into an invite for two. This would be their first public appearance as a supposed couple in the NYC high fashion nightlife. She was scared as hell even if she didn’t show it, her heart had been pounding her chest all day. However part of her felt that this would be a great practice run, right? Or they possible end up looking dumb ass hell in front of four maybe five hundred different notable celebrities and people alike. Exhaling softly she looked up at herself in the mirror and then towards the double doors that lead into another extended part of their Presidential Suite at the Pierre, Taj Hotel where Samuel occupied its space. 

Samuel sat awkwardly in the director’s chair. "Can we?" He said, turning the chair so he could see his profile in the mirror.  The barber worked effortlessly to shape his stringy mass of blond locks into something respectable. They wanted it all off. He wanted a half an inch trim.  They compromised and landed as something just to his broad shoulders. A win for both sides by his reckoning. Now he sat stiffly backed, as the stylist moussed his hair, placing it into a low man bun. Satisfied with his reflection. “Thank you.” He grinned kindly as he got to his feet, nervously rubbing his hand down his sides. "Umm.." He offered his hand to the stylist, a show of gratitude, wondering if a tip was in order.  "You're welcome the barber said with a flamboyant giggle.  Pointing Samuel to the bed, his clothes were neatly arranged for him. "Did you need anything else?" The barber asked, with a long thirsty look. Samuel shook his head no.  Moving over to the bed, he looked down at the suit, eyebrows raised. “This is mine? I mean for me-” He questioned as if there was a mistake.  The barber and his assistant's puzzled nods answered his question.  Without waiting for the audible confirmation, the blurted out another “Thank you.  Then waited on the room to clear so he could get dressed.

Mercedes looked away from the door, her eyes balls themselves the only thing moving as she looked back down at her phone. She hoped that watching the child wouldn’t prove to be too much for her assistant but so far so good. She trusted the woman, it was the child she feared. The thought made her smirk widely “sorry” she said quickly to the woman as she straightened up. Hopefully she didn’t give the young girl a run for her money, and with that she locked her phone and looked up again at her hairstylist began to style her hair, for them they chose something big. Loose curls and extremely full hair, which was a change from her usual silk straight hair styles she pushed for or even her usual bob. She looked at her nails, her eyes taking in the engagement ring that had finally come in. her hands were almost unrecognizable with it on, it left her feeling a series of emotions all the time and she didn’t know why. Maybe because it wasn’t real.

Samuel took his phone from his pocket and dropped down on the bed Facetiming his sister. He fingered the suit idly waiting for the girl to answer.  “Hey! Are you at least trying to behave yourself... “ He could tell she’d just put her fist on nonexistent hips.  “I’m always good. So you asking me that question is really about you.” Samuel snorted, beginning to wonder what the hell his sister's IQ was. “Whatever… but you know the drill.  Happy V-Day and don’t stay up all night.- Nope.. I said what I said.” He countered, before she could raise the objection.  “And I don’t care if tomorrow’s a school holiday.” He added, quickly. Addy sighed scowling at the man.  “Send me a picture of Mercedes. She’s going to be the prettiest woman there.” Addy said glowing. “Will do.”  Samuel said, looking towards the closed adjoining door. “I’m jealous.  You don’t want a picture of me?” Addy rolled her eyes, “No… boy’s clothes are boring” Samuel stood, turning the phone so she could see his outfit. “Woah... “ Addy exclaimed, eyes wide. “That suit is pretty.” Samuel turned the camera back around to face himself. “You like it?” he said shocked. “You have no style Sam. God.” She said, hanging up on her brother. 

Mercedes watched the woman lightly curl and tease the wig on her head and she shifted only slightly as the makeup artist applied the red lipstick on her lips. She had another assistant on standby always, life was easier that way. When the girl walked over and showed her the shoes she had picked out the three the woman offered her a thumbs up. “I like those” she said through her teeth before she asked for the time and when the girl gave it to her she said “thanks” softly. Her makeup was applied and naturally she looked herself over in the mirror she smiled a little making sure no lipstick was on her porcelain teeth. Her pearly whites glistened and she closed her mouth, making sure she liked the work she continued to look herself over. She stayed still as her makeup artist covered her face slightly with her hands and allowed the hairstylist to spray tons of hair spray. When she was finished she curled a few pieces in the back of the woman’s head, before she allowed Mercedes to stand. Mercedes did so and they all looked her over in the mirror. She turned around to check her hair out a bit, there she stood in a strapless bar, and one too many pairs of spanx. “I like it” she told the girl softly. 

Samuel was still chuckling as he stripped off his overpriced tee shirt and jeans.  Everything was new about him, but his soul. He could take comfort in that blackened stain still being intact.  Sliding into a suit that he knew cost more than his entire neighborhood shouldn’t be easy.  But it was.  "Roses?" He mumbled, shaking his head. "I am going to look like a walking flower." He stepped into the pants, toeing into the shoes as he did.  Then pulled the shirt over his lean rippled frame.  Not eating regularly had benefits, soon he would need to put in some gym time to maintain his slender yet muscular frame. He whistled with appreciation, as he picked up the red faced watch. Now this he liked. He fastened it to his arm, admiring himself in the full length mirror. One final adjustment to  the waistband of the pants, then put on the belt. He wasn’t sure who the man in the mirror was. It was certainly someone more worldly than he would ever be.  He shook off his doubts about this whole evening as he grabbed the matching jacket. "It will be fine." He told himself… then repeated it again “There is nothing to worry about.”  

Mercedes moved over towards the gown hanging up and with the help of the young girl she began to get ready, getting into the gown. Her assistant pulled it up over her hips and she allowed to rest off Mercedes’ shoulders as it should. She zipped it up for the woman, placing her hair in front of her shoulders as she did. Once she did, she bent down and rubbed the woman’s legs down with a combination of lotion and baby oil. After that, the girl helped Mercedes into her shoes, zipping them up and tying the ties of them eloquently. When the girl was finished, Mercedes walked in the shoes towards a full length mirror, the girls were pushed up far more than she activated but hey, what could she do? She looked herself over, before her assistant walked over with thousands of dollars in jewelry, the girl placed the 100+ thousand dollar necklace on her neck, her 50+ thousand dollar studs in her ear, the matching tennis bracelet, and her watch on her wrist. The woman was dripping in millions the girl thought as she looked at the woman in the mirror. “You look stunning Mrs. Jones” she complimented just taking her in fully. Mercedes looked at the girl and hid the happiness behind her lips and eyes. “As I should right?” she asked the girl brushing her off, she had to say stuff like that it came with the territory. “I just need our invitation to the after party of the party” she said with air quotes “and my phone in my clutch” she told the girl. She picked up the almost thousand dollar bottle of perfume and sprayed her neck and then her wrist, tapping both together. “What time is it?” she asked again, “I know a photographer wants to photograph me and Samuel” she told the young girl. “Yes he’s waiting near the water fountain, security is in that area. He’s going to snap a few photos and then you guys should proceed to the party. It’s 9:15” she told her thereafter. “Okay” she said “can you see if he’s ready” she asked the girl as she moved to the sitting area where a bottle of wine sat. She needed something to take the edge off a little. 

Samuel opted for the director’s chair. Feeling a bit like a kid trying not to get dirty before church. He licked his lips idly scrolling to his YouTube feed. There had to be something worth watching. Nothing stood out to him. He rubbed at his temples, trying to massage away the tension headache that was building behind his eyes. They had pulled their ruse off once. Mercedes was a lot more convincing them him, but he’d done a respectable job. Right? His eyes moved to the adjoining door as it slid open.  He rose slowly, “Is it time to go?” he asked, putting his iPhone in his pocket. 

Mercedes’ assistant looked at the man, she looked like a totally different person. He cleaned up far better than she expected, she shook her head looking away from him and nodded sheepishly. “She’s ready to go, um, they want to take photos of you two first” she said, tucking hair behind her ear as she looked back up at him longingly before she stepped away. She rested against a wall by the door as she waited for Mercedes to return from the next room. Mercedes poured a full glass of red wine, and she downed it no less. Never really taking a break once her lips touched the glass, thank God for matte lipstick. She fixed another glass full, this time taking it down a little slower before she sat the empty glass against the table trying to calm her nerves. Once she’d inhaled and exhaled a few times, closing her eyes and really settling down. She walked away from the glass and back into the room, she brushed her dress of a little in front idly as she reentered “okay, I am actually ready now” she spoke allowed as she looked at her shoes and the dresses skirt taking them both in, as she stuck her leg out through the split. 

Samuel eyebrows rose and fell at the woman’s odd behavior. “Okay…” He said, easily striding forward. He stepped over the threshold, still puzzled by the assistant's weird behavior. That was until he saw Mercedes. His mouth went completely dry and his stomach twisted into a knot.  Addy’s words ring too loudly in his ears. The red of the dress, hid and hinted, while in places completely told a story, he’d envy any man for reading. She was an absolute goddess. He felt awkward and unworthy to be in the same room with this woman.  At the same time he wanted her more than any person he’d ever laid eyes on.

Mercedes looked up and took Samuel in, damn, he looked really good. She didn’t know how the hair thing was going to work out but she didn’t hate it, which said a lot. She took in his suit that was tailored to perfection and then took in the watch resting against his wrist. Beauty, she thought to herself. She tried not to show an obvious smile as she said “good looking” a bit playfully for her. “Uh” she said awkwardly as she looked at the young girl “my clutch” she said clearing her throat a little. “Here you are,” the girl said, rushing to hand the rose sculpted bag to her. Mercedes nodded and grabbed the bag making sure it’s chain was actually on the inside of it, she simply wanted to hold the bag as is in her hand. “Okay” she said again, looking at Samuel and gesturing with her head towards the door as she picked up some dress material walking towards the door. “You can drop everything off to my home, we will leave the other party and go straight there” she said looking back at the girl quickly before she opened the door to walk out of it. 

Samuel stood stunned in the middle of the room. Mercedes had given him a compliment he did not really hear.  She then rushed off, moving on with things like the world could continue or should be normal. “Wait…” He said, shaking himself awake.  “You look..” He tossed around the average words in his mind that couldn't and won't ever be enough.  He recalled a word from his sister’s latest vocabulary test and said it without any further hesitation. “Exquisite. Like you stepped from a dream.”  hands gesturing openly to the woman still in awe of her.

Mercedes turned to the man and she nodded her head, a silent thank you. Again, he was just saying that, they all felt compelled to do so she wasn’t stupid. Did she think she was ugly? Heavens no. But compliments hardly reached her heart. She never knew a difference from people’s truths or lies when it came to her and this business. As she walked out into the hallway, she dropped the dress and allowed it to flow making her way towards the elevator so that they could meet the photographer. 

Samuel lowered his eyes, hand rubbing at the back of his neck.  He was not sad he’d said what he had. He meant it. But Mercedes' knowing dismissal meant something. This was business.  He cleared his throat and left the suite, getting to the elevator just in time. The doors opened and, as his custom, he moved to the side, holding the door back so she could enter.

Mercedes walked in as Samuel held the door open, she picked the dress up and made sure she was fully inside before she dropped it to the ground again. She inhaled and exhaled slowly, pressing the L button moving to the side. She looked down at her clutch as she gripped in her hands, long nails sparkling under the light. She shifted on her heels as they rode the elevator down and she touched her chest delicate, resting it against the many diamonds she was sporting. 

Samuel stepped into the elevator and stood beside the woman, hand clasped in front him.  She was distracting him. How the fuck? His mouth water, as her perfume found his nose. Jesus… He needed to get a handle on himself for the love of God. For the first time a simple truth came to mind, it had been weeks since he’d gotten laid and right now, his fiancé.. Boss… business partner… was a twelve course meal, and he could eat. 

Mercedes placed some hair over her shoulder as she waited for the doors to open, watching the numbers descend as they moved downward. She looked over at the man for a moment before she looked away and shifted on her heels gently. As the doors opened she picked her dress up gently and moved out of the elevator in the direction that her assistant told her to go, to meet the photographer. When she walked out the building towards the waterfall she said “hi” to the man as he approached with his hands stretched. 

Samuel nodded to the elevator attendant, swallowing hard.  He moved behind Mercedes exiting the elevator, slipping one hand into his pocket, and rested the other on his stomach. He kept his gate at a cool, casual, pace that easily matched the short woman’s purposeful stride. She seemed so professional to him despite the softness of her appearance.   He moved up beside her as they approached the photographer, nodding to the man. 

“Hi Ms. Jones, it is a pleasure. My name is Daniel” the photographer said “and you are a special guest tonight so I was just instructed to take a couple photos of you and you plus-one” he said thoughtfully. “I thought right over here before the waterfall would be amazing” he told her with a smile. “It couldn’t possibly compare to your beauty but it will be a nice background view” he said gesturing where he wanted them to stand. 

Mercedes nodded her head at the man, releasing the dress “of course” she said to him as she moved before the waterfall. She held the clutch with both hands and she looked towards the man. She wasn't one for photos, she actually hated taking them if you asked her. But they were necessary at certain points of time, this she knew, and unlike most photos taken of her around New York in this moment she couldn’t just ignore him and let him do his ‘work’ she must engage. 

Samuel shifted but understood what it meant.  A smirk came to his lips as he moved to stand near the waterfall.  The man was correct.  The backdrop didn’t compare to her beauty but just as before she didn’t even respond to his words, just agreed and moved to stand near him. He fidgeted, but moved in just over the woman’s shoulder awkwardly, like a boy at his first prom.  Truth be told. It was.  

The man looked at the two with a raised brow as they stood there, awkwardly. He ushered them to pose “maybe you could” he said gesturing to the other man as he held the camera up looking at the two through the lens. 

Mercedes offered the man a small smile as he held the camera up, she moved closer to Samuel upon the man’s suggestion. She dropped one of her hands, holding the clutch and looking directly into the lens. Adjusting her hair she looked to the man once more as snapped several pictures of them both. 

Samuel nodded, catching on to the looks they were really after.  As Mercedes moved in closer, had no choice but to place his arm around her waist. With that he tightened his grip, looking down on the woman. He wasn’t going for love.  That would come off as fake. He went with what was nature in this moment. Lust.  

Mercedes felt Samuel’s hand and she swallowed hard, she wanted to look at him but the heat rising on her cheeks wouldn’t let her. So instead, against her wishes she actually smiled brightly, showing off her pearly white teeth for a change. And when the man told them he was done, she looked up at Samuel innocently for a moment before she looked away. “Thanks” she told the man as she pulled away from Samuel and began to walk towards the direction she knew the party was being held. Walking past a multitude of bodies, that seemingly parted the red sea for her as she made way. 

In the last moments as the camera shot away, using lust died away for Samuel.  It happened the moment Mercedes smiled.  It was genuine and bright.  The look of her all a glow, gave him a directive for the evening, keeping that smile on her face. He grinned at the photographer as if he and the man were in on some private joke. He did not rush to catch Mercedes, her short steps could not take her far.  He took her arm as she moved, parting the crowd. He slid his long finger down her perfect skin and then intertwined her fingers in her. “Slow down.” His whispered leaning close to her ear. 

Looking at him she nodded her head “I didn’t realize” she said sheepishly to him, looking away as he laced their fingers. It felt so good to be touched by a man, even if it were just a touch of the hand she thought in her mind. Or was she desperate? Walking towards the entrance of the massive ballroom, she looked around at everyone and turned to the woman standing at the door that gave her a single rose. She offered the woman a small smile as she walked into the room further, a few people watched, others took in Samuel. She for the first time felt like a fish out of water, she any other day never even saw half these people in the room. They nothing more than ass lickers, but today they were in her shoes and she in theirs. 

Samuel chuckled lightly going back to his full height.  “Is tonight business or a kind of pleasure?” He asked, raising his eyebrow. He nodded to the rose lady.  His face fell a bit, as he noted the quick glances or in most cases open stares. “From the looks on everyone's faces, I’d assume you don’t often attend these kinds of shindigs.” He said, tugging at his suit jacket. 

“A little of both, some of these events I get paid to attend, while well it is a Valentine’s Day affair” she replied back to him still looking around. “No, I don’t. Especially not with a man” Mercedes replied through her teeth and she smiled at another Fashion Mogul as she passed them by. 

“A little of both…” Samuel mouthed, nodding his head. He chuckled, looking down at the woman. “Can you drink and dance at these things or not?” He asked curiously. The idea that you could get paid to party too much was unbelievable.  “ooOh… I see.” he said remembering their conversation from before.  Not bitterly but as a simple matter of truth.  “Well,” He grinned. Lifting her arm he brought her hand to his lips and kissed the back of her hand. “Let’s give them something to talk about.” 

“Of course” Mercedes said looking at him “they expect me to be my normal self, though I guess my normal self doesn’t really dance with people that much” she said more so to herself. “People pay to ‘party’ in the same room with me” she shrugged. “Though mostly I have a few drinks then leave, I never stay longer than 15-30 minutes” she told him. As he lifted her hand and kissed it she looked up at him, trying to keep her shock and amusement at bay as she processed his statement. “How so?” she asked  curiously, as she swallowed hard. Though he’d proven his point considering the bright flashes from photographers nearby. 

Samuel eyebrows climbed as she matter of factly said, yes to his question.  Now that was some rich people shit. “Wow… Just to be in your presence.” He whistled low under his breath, gazing into her lovely hazel eyes.  He leaned in close to her ear an excuse to breathe her in, “By having a good time with your fiancé.” He stood back, and raised a challenging eyebrow at the woman. 

Mercedes smirked at him a bit, she didn’t think about it that way often she just knew people were opportunist however factually what he said was accurate. As he leaned his close she held her breath thinking he’d steal a kiss, he didn’t which she was left to decide if it felt her longing for one or happy he hadn’t. At his words she nodded slowly another smirk forming on her lips and she said “of course” back to him. She was going to need a drink or more, along with a cold shower before the night was over. 

Samuel  looked around the well dressed crowd, “Now where is the bar? Or are they bringing around drinks on trays like in the movies?” He asked, staring to move through the crowd again.  “So, My next question is can you dance or is it just a choice not to?” 

“I am sure there are servers somewhere” Mercedes replied back to him as she gazed across the way, seeing someone that was utterly revolting to her head for her and Samuel. “Choice, by choice always” she said quickly to him as she clutched his hand tightly. “Heather” she said before the woman could speak her name first, she looked her up and down and smirked. “So nice to see you out” she lied. 

Heather Radcliff approached the only woman on the planet she despised at this present time in her life. “Mercedes” she said in unison with the woman stepping in line, she chuckled a champagne glass in her hand. “I could say the same about you hermit” she said wickedly as her eyes left the woman and looked the man up and down. Taking him in “Heather Radcliff, Editor in Chief of Marie Claire magazine” she said formally introducing herself as she held her hand out “you must be Mercedes’ assistant?” she asked him next. 

Samuel grimaced in confusion, “Huh?” He asked, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand.  As the woman came into frame, Samuel tensed. His face darkened at the set of insults that the woman managed to hurl in under five seconds. He gazed down, seizing Mercedes’ eyes with his own, while he let Heather’s hand linger in the air.  In a tone steep in southern charm, “If she asked me to be. That could be arranged.” He said,  thumb caressed the back of her hand again, and he was glad he’d chosen the one with the huge rock on it. After a moment, he reengaged the Heather woman. Smiling, he took her hand brushing a light kiss just above her knuckles. “I’m Samuel. Mercedes has graciously agreed to be my wife.” He said, letting the woman's hand fall away. 

Mercedes eyed the woman slightly as she threw a question at Samuel that made her nostrils flair and caused her to squint her eyes. When the man answered for them she loosened her grip on his hand a bit, calming down a little now though she wished to get away from the woman. Seeing a tray she took an opportunity and grabbed two glasses, offering him “here sweetie” she said lovingly with a smile before she looked back at Heather. “And your-”

“Husband is home, with our two beautiful children” Heather said without looking at the woman instead she examined Samuel a little more before she said. “Something you know nothing about” left her lips as she fixed the fabric on the woman’s shoulder before she walked off. “Enjoy your night” she said cutely as she moved towards another group of party guests. 

Samuel accepted the glass from Mercedes, with a mouthed, “thank you,” and a smile. His face dropped into an angry scowl as the woman said her last piece to Mercedes cuttingly, and walked away almost as quickly as she had arrived. “She’s a bitch.” He said, turning to look at the woman on his arm. “You okay?” He asked sincerely. 

Taking a sip from the glass in her hand Mercedes offered the woman a knowing smile, as she finished her sentence and threw another insult at her. Her eyes followed the woman as she left before she turned to Samuel “yes she is” she told him. “I’m fine, it’s nothing” she shrugged her shoulders lightly before she said “would you like to find a seat?” curiously. 

“So… Did you steal Heather’s man or something? She’s bitter.” Samuel grinned. Craning his neck a bit looking for an empty table. “Come on. I assume there are a pair of nifty little cards with your name on one of these tables.” He asked as they moved on further into the ballroom.

Mercedes chuckled, shaking her head, “hardly” she replied to him “just her job” she admitted. “I couldn’t help it, I am better at it than she is,” she told him. “She’s probably over there telling them I am lying about my engagement” she said looking back. At his words she nodded again taking another sip from her glass as she followed him. 

Samuel laughed out amused by her statement. “That’s what she gets.” He’d considered that. “No doubt.” He agreed, “It will be fine.” he offered, trying to be convincing in a way that would sound genuine.  He knew she was looking in the Heather woman's direction, it’s what all women did. He leaned over and kissed her lightly on her forehead. “We got this. “ 

As he kissed her forehead she smirked at him “okay” she said as they approached the tables, seeing a few seated guests she looked at them as they passed them by. “Mercedes!” a voice rang out happily behind the two. Mercedes turned to see the red head “hi, Pamela” she said to the woman as she approached she and Samuel. “Your seat is at my table, yours and your guest” she said looking over at Samuel taking him in. “Great” Mercedes said just playing the part at this point she found none of these people to be friends or even associates really. They all just shared the same industry. 

Samuel offered the woman a lopsided grin, raising his eyebrow in challenge to the less than believable ‘okay’. “Say it with your chest.” He said, doing a quick impressions of Kevin Hart. He covered his laughter as a new woman approached, taking a drink from the wine in his hand. The constant head to toe looks made the skin between his shoulder blades crawl.  He sighed deeply, lowering the glass, then  placed his hand in the small of Mercedes back guiding her towards their table. 

“You look amazing by the way” the woman said to Mercedes, it wasn’t a lie by any means it was the truth. “I would ask you who are you wearing, but I can just about guess that” she chuckled as she walked with the two. “Oh, pardon me, I am Pamela Nelson” she said to the tall fellow “and you are?” she asked him curiously. 

“Same as you,” Mercedes said, nodding her head at the woman though she was in fact wearing something from last season. That made Mercedes' skin crawl but she said nothing of course, that wasn’t her business after all. They made their way to the table and she smirked “Samuel Evans, my fiancé to answer your real question” she said taking a sip of wine. “Ladies, gentlemen” she said to the other people at the table as she stood before her assigned seat. “Oh please don’t stand up” she waved the people off. 

Samuel took the time as they moved to admire Mercedes. Smirking as the newcomer echoed his early comment. “Doesn’t she.” he added, taking down the rest of his wine in a final gulp.  Thinking movies were good trainers. He moved in behind Mercedes and pulled out her chair standing near it as he waited for her to take a seat. Now his nervous rose in the pit of his stomach. Short conversations in passing were one thing, but now they were cornered. Here goes nothing he thought swallowing his nerves. 

Pamela chuckled at Mercedes brushing her off “oh Mercedes you are such a jokester” she told her as she sat down next to her husband. “So, tell us everything! How did you two meet? I mean I didn’t know you were even dating you are so darn busy Miss” she said. 

Mercedes looked to the woman and smirked, though she wasn’t at all joking. She sat down and looked at Samuel with a smile “thanks” she said before she sat her glass on the table. “Well” she said with a chuckle, they’d talked about ideas but only one stuck. “A art gallery, Samuel is an artist” she said to them smoothly. 

Samuel nodded to Mercedes, unbuttoning his jacket as he moved to take his seat. He pulled at his collar lightly clearing his throat as Mercedes spoke his profession into existence.  Mechanic would have been a more truthful route but when in Rome. “I wanted to draw her, but she wouldn’t let me.” He said, with a chuckle. 

Vivian’s eyes glinted as the handsome pair approached. “Mercedes… What a pleasant surprise.” She greeted, in a voice husky and rich. “Down Pamela. Let her breathe a bit.  It’s clear she's been using her time…  Wisely.” She grinned giving Samuel a proper once over.  Even taking a moment to chuckle at his little joke. “You do look radiant Mercedes. I’ll attribute that to you. I suppose.” She said, all eyes on Samuel.  

At his words Mercedes looked at Samuel yet again chuckling him off, for the, she didn’t know how many times now tonight already. “He’s always joking” she said brushing hair over her shoulder as she looked across the table. “Yeah, well it is love day and it's all in the air” she gestured back to her. 

“That’s small talk” Pamela said back to Vivian, “when is the wedding, I mean. Where will it be? Milan? Paris?” she listed before she gasped “Hawaii?” she listed further. 

Samuel relaxed slightly as the table collectively laughed at his little joke. He sat back in his chair, tapping his foot under the table. 

“Everyone needs a little humor in their life.” Vivian said, rolling her eyes tiredly at Pamela.  She was interested in the answers to the woman's questions but thought a bit of tack was a better approach. “You’re an artist?  Has your work been displayed anywhere?  Mercedes has such impeccable taste. You must be wonderful.” 

Mercedes looked to Pamela and she took a sip from her glass before she sat it back down. “He haven’t decided yet,” she told her respectfully. She looked at Vivian again and smirked at her compliment as she wondered what answer he would give the woman. Did he even know enough about art to pull this off? Probably not and then they both will look like jackasses for sure. Great. 

Score one. Mercedes shut down the questions about when they were actually getting married.  Good thing too, because even he didn’t know the answers to those questions. His eyes shifted to Mercedes as he sat up clasping his hands in front of him.  “I hope my work impresses her. But sadly, not yet.  I’ve always been a great admirer of the works of Cecile Gray Bazelon and the late Joyce Pensato.  Right now I'm working with Harvey Dinnerstein.  He is preparing for a showing, hopefully I should be able to showcase one or two of my pieces. Hopefully.” 

Vivian rested her chin on the back of her hands, smirking at the young man.  Her eyebrows furrowed at the names he dropped.  Not her type of artist to be sure, but names she’d heard before.  “Impressive. You’ll have to let me know.  -Or we’ll have to schedule time to get together. Honestly, I thought you were a model.” She smiled, still admiring the man. “You should let him immortalize you, Mercedes. Let see how good he is good with his hand.”

Mercedes looked at Samuel and tilted her head “I am far too impressed with clothes I assume” she joked as she looked at him again. As he began to list off people she squinted slightly taken back Joyce maybe, the rest were actually out of her league. At his last words she plastered a smile and looked away from him, now that was a huge ass shoe to fill and gap to cover. “A mode” she repeated “he is amazing to look at isn’t he” she said looking at Samuel, that wasn’t a lie. Looking at Vivian “you know I am just so darn busy with Vogue… I am shocked we get as much time together as we do. Me sit still longer than an hour?” she chuckled. 

Pamela smirked eyes bouncing from person to person, “I know” she agreed with Mercedes. The lady schedule didn’t add room for much, they all assumed she’d be alone with her thousand dollar jewels and furs forever, or maybe she just thought that. “Wow, a marriage” she said shaking her head again “you know what comes next, a baby carriage” she sang out. “You a mother Mercedes, how iconic! A mini you strutting NYC, we have to see it” she said nodding her head. 

Samuel chuckled, biting his lip, “You said it not me. He told Mercedes, reaching over  he stroked  her bare arm lovingly, “However, I’ll  let it slide. At Vivian’s compliment he grinned, the tips of his ears to darkening. “You’re kind. I’m just a man who likes to work with his hands.” he told the group looking down at his finger.  “We’ll have to see.  Fingers crossed Cecil like me pieces. “Mercedes is going to be a great mother. When the time comes.  My sister already adores her.” He said reaching for the woman’s hand. Beaming as he told the absolute truth for the first time tonight.  

Vivian eyebrow rose. She’d actually been thinking escort. Mercedes was too driven to find anyone. It was the idle joke of everyone in the fashion industry.  ‘I never kind dear. I’m direct. If painting doesn’t work out.  I’d be glad to take some test shots of you. As a matter of fact.” she reached in her pocket and handed the man a card.  “I insist on it.  Not many men could pull off that suit.”  She exhaled, and uncrossed her legs, “I could see it.  Didn’t think our Ms. Jones wants it.  But one never knows.” she said, asking a question of Mercedes without saying the words. 

Mercedes looked at Pamela, “well you know” she said with a heavy sigh “I’ve already given birth to my career” she said to the woman matter-of-factly. “It was a hard push and pull,” she exclaimed. “However, yes we do have a tiny tot we take care of” she chuckled. “And one day who knows, I may have a child who knows” she shrugged “32 is up there….” she said, looking at Vivian. 

Samuel chuckled as Mercedes dismantled the small jabs of the other woman at the table with grace.  He only wished Mrs. Heather had been around.  Samuel reached the card, tucking it into his pocket. “I’ll think about it.” He told Vivian with no intentions of ever doing so. “She is joking.  I think adding at least two more kids would be great. I want a big family.” He interjected, watching Mercedes face for a reaction 

“Vivian, do you always keep business cards on you?” she asked slyly, before she looked at Samuel. She shook her head and chuckled “and wreck this figure?” she asked him jokingly. “I’m only kidding,” she added, looking to everyone else. “Once things are finalized and we really get to planning. Building our dream home” she said lying through her teeth. “We will, you know, venture into those neck of the woods…” 

Vivian grinned at Mercedes, then chuckled.  “For the right person… Of course.” She answered a wiry grin on her face.  “Mercedes, Mercedes… My, my I must applaud you.” She said raising her glass, “To the new Ms. Jones.” 

Samuel held Mercedes eyes, peeling back layer after layer for her clothes, “That could never be done.” He said, seriously. Then chuckled with the rest of the table, as Mercedes went on laying out a life of lies. He exhaled feeling guilty. She really did need a family. Better yet she deserved one. No matter what she thought.  

Pamela looked to the couple, oh the gossip she would tell from this conversation. By the end of the week all of NYC will know that Mercedes lucked up with a real man is actually going to marry him. Shocking. She raised her glass and smirked to herself before she took a sip. She still had plenty of questions however, but she guessed those could wait. 

Mercedes looked at Samuel, eyeing him another blush hidden behind a playful eye roll. “You mean to the same Ms. Jones, but future Mrs. Evans” she corrected with a smile. The bitch, what did she mean new Ms. Jones? Men didn’t make or break her, wouldn’t move or shake her. What the hell was wrong with these women? 

Samuel raised his glass, smirking at the expression he’d put on Mercedes' face.  “To Mercedes Jones.” He said in unison with the table. His eyes shifted to the woman beside him now she was laying it a little too thick.  There was no way in hell, she’d ever take his name. Even he thought  the idea was laughable. “Ladies if you’d excuse us.  Mercedes promised me a dance.” He said rising to his feet, he turned and offered the woman his hand. 

Mercedes sat her glass back down avoiding the actual sip, before she looked over at Samuel. At his words she smirked a little and said “excuse us” as she moved to stand up from the table. Leaving her clutch and rose behind on the table as she maneuvered with the gown. “Thank God, I was nearly sick of them….” 

Samuel nodded to the collective, smiling as he pulled Mercedes away from the table. “Wow… that was worse than meeting my first girlfriend's dad.” He said, weaving his way through the guests. At the edge of the white and black tile dance floor, Samuel turned the Mercedes and brought her flush against his form, wrapping his hand around her waist, beginning the waltz seamlessly.  “Jesus. I needed a timeout…” He breathed whispers in the woman’s ear.

“They are so annoying, judgmental pricks” she said as she looked back at the table. Mercedes followed the man’s lead and when they reached the dance floor, her breath hitched a bit as he pulled her to him. Feeling his hand on her waist she looked up into his eyes as he began to carry her, again following his lead she moved in time with him. Chuckling, she said “thanks for being a trooper” kindly. “Before you know this will all be over and you are free to do whatever your heart desires….” 

Samuel moved effortlessly around the floor.  His face fell when Mercedes spoke of the eventual end of their entanglement.  HIs eyes rose, finding different faces in the room. Heather, Pamela, Vivian. The thought of any of those women turned his stomach. “Who says I’m not doing what my heart desires right now.” He said, eyes going back to her. He smiles, spinning her out then pulling her back to him. 

Mercedes eyed him, looking over her shoulder before she looked at his face again curiously. At his statement, she squinted lightly at him before he spun her suddenly and pulled her back. She looked at him, she didn’t believe him at all, he was just saying that. Why she didn’t know however. Usually she would have had something witty to come back with but, right now, no. After a moment she finally spoke and said “because I know”.

Samuel chuckled, “You know nothing Ms. Jones.” He said, shaking his head.  “Aside from the interrogation.  I’m having a pretty okay time.” He said conversationally. “Come on. You were enjoying yourself just a little over there. Admit it.’ 

“I know all things Mr. Evans” she challenged a little, listening to him she glanced at a couple who passed by. “Is that so?” she asked him, “it’s not a bad night” she shrugged lightly. “I’ve been to better parties, but none involved a comedian like yourself Mr. Evans. Two kids?” she asked, brow furrowed a smirk on her face. 

Samuel bowed his head in conceit.  “If you say so.” He pursed his lips, “I am not sure.  You tell me.” He said, a twisted smile on his lips.  He stretched his eyes, “That wasn’t a lie.  I actually want two kids. Or more. Speaking of… Are you really going to take my name?” 

“Best of luck to that lucky lady” Mercedes replied without thought. At the question he posed she chuckled lightly “why wouldn’t I?” she asked before she corrected “why wouldn’t I take my future husband’s last name?” curiously. “Do you think I am that shallow… or self absorbed?” she asked him. “You know it’s every woman’s dream to find her Prince, marry him, and in turn become the Princess…” 

Samuel laughed, “That is cold. You don’t want to have my babies.” He said, a mock hurt on his face.  He shrugged, shaking his head. “I never said any of that. I just thought I’d take your name.” He chuckled. “Well, then that settles it. I have to take your name because God knows ain’t nothing prince or charming about me.” 

Shaking her head Mercedes licked her red painted lips, she hadn’t a clue why he had to joke around so much. There was no harm it however it could be tiring sometimes, but she assumed that was just his nature. “You are too much…” 

Samuel stared down at the woman turning his head. “I am.” He agreed.  But this was really him taking the liberty to be free. Something he rarely got to do. He bit his lips face going still, “I want you to accept something for me. Would you do that?” He asked her seriously. 

She continued to move in time with him before she asked her something that made her very uneasy. However, she brushed it off and said “okay, sure” a little hesitancy in her voice still. Despite herself Mercedes couldn’t help but to look into his eyes as she waited for his remark. 

Samuel rubbed his thumb over the bare skin of Mercedes back.  A personal gesture, but perfect for the eyes of the multitude of onlookers in the room. “For tonight stop blowing off complements. You really are the most stunning woman here tonight.” 

At his words she looked off before she looked back at him “okay” she said quietly, Mercedes really didn’t understand why he cared or why that bothered him so much. “That’s easy I guess…” 

Samuel looked down at the woman. She had everything, -was more than he’d ever be.  Yet, she was humble. Why? “Thank you.” He said holding her just a little closer as they glided peacefully into the next song.

[tangledcassandra]

Over My Head

Title: Over My Head

Description: Cassandra thought she was hiding her feelings for Rapunzel pretty well, until Eugene Fitzherjerk called her out.

[Read on AO3]

"Admit it! You like my girlfriend."

Eugene and Cassandra found themselves at the campsite while the others explored or gathered supplies. It was a rare occurrence for the two of them to be left alone together, but that's exactly what had happened today. Of course, friendly banter quickly ensued, which turned into petty insults, which led to a final surprising blow by Eugene. Quick-witted as always, Cassandra was ready to counter.

"It is AMAZING how wrong you are," she rolled her eyes, leaning up against the wagon as she folded her arms across her chest.

"So, you think nobody has noticed the way you look at her?" Eugene glanced up from where he was checking the condition of one of the wheels.

"I do not look at her!"

"You've never looked at her before?"

"Well, of course I've looked at her. I'm literally her lady-in-waiting. I have to look at her."

"You have to, but you don't want to?"

"I want to. I can. I'm allowed."

"But you don't like her?"

"I like her!"

"Mhmm."

"As a friend."

"This conversation is going splendidly."

"This conversation is over," Cassandra turned, intending to stride off into the woods.

"Not until you admit you're in love," Eugene yelled after her.

That sent Cassandra scrambling back, hissing through her teeth, "I don't do 'love.'"

"So, I should tell Rapunzel you don't love her?"

"No! You should. Not. Do that."

"Because you love her?"

"I can love her without being in love with her."

"But you are in love with her."

"Did not say that."

"Not with your words, but your actions scream it."

Cassandra glanced around to make sure no one else was within earshot, before she responded, "Is it that obvious?"

Eugene chuckled, standing and leaning casually against their vehicle. "Well, for a person like Rapunzel, who hasn't had a lot of social experience, probably not. For me, someone who has charmed and been charmed by many a lass, yes, it is very obvious."

"Great. Well, I'm sure you'll have fun hanging this over my head for the rest of my life."

"Why?"

"Haha, why?" Cassandra scoffed, throwing her hands in the air. "Why, he asks! Okay, fine. Milk it. Because you win this one. You got the girl. You had her long before I came into the picture. I fell for someone who was already practically engaged, and I knew it the whole time. I left my home and my dad and the safety of Corona so I could travel the world with this girl. I've made sacrifices to protect her. Knowing all along there's no way in hell we can ever be together. Making goo-goo eyes every time she isn't looking. Being really, truly, stupid."

"Wow, you sure know how to pick 'em."

"Tch, yeah," she covered her face with her hand.

Eugene blew a puff of air from his mouth as he ran a hand through his hair. "It's not really that stupid. She is an amazing girl and I am so lucky to have found her. Some days, I don't even feel like I deserve her. You know? I may be reformed, but this trip has reminded me I'm still a wanted criminal in most cities. Just because Corona pardoned me doesn't make my past go away. All the things I did, I can't take them back. I ask myself, wouldn't she be better off with someone who grew up honestly? Someone she wouldn't have to worry about being arrested, or worse? I double-crossed a lot of royalty, true, but I double-crossed a lot of other thieves and criminals as well. Several people are still out for my blood."

"Is this supposed to make me feel better?" Cassandra deadpanned.

"I guess spouting my life story isn't exactly comforting."

"You think?"

"Okay, so trying to reassure you isn't exactly my strong suit. But you're going to tell her now, right? Because you know how terrible I am with secrets."

"Eugene!"

"I'm serious!"

"I haven't told her in nearly two years and I'm not about to spill my guts out now. Especially when we're going to be cooped up together for who knows how many more weeks."

"As soon as she so much as looks at me she's going to know I know something and she's going to get it out of me."

"Ugh, master thief and city's formally most wanted criminal and he can't even tell a lie."

"That's why I work with my hands, not my lips."

"Do you know how many filthy jokes I could make with that statement if I were not too busy internally freaking out?"

"I walked into that one," Eugene chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. "But she should hear how you feel from you, and not me."

"Not going to happen."

"It would probably make you both feel better to get things out in the open."

"Uuugghhhh this is YOUR fault!" Cassandra accusingly shoved her pointer finger into his chest.

"It's my fault you're in love with her?"

"Stop saying that out loud! And it IS your fault you brought it up in the first place!"

"Well maybe you shouldn't have insulted my-"

"Fine. I'll talk to her, or whatever," Cassandra hoisted herself up to the drivers seat so she could keep watch for the others returning.

Eugene climbed up the other side to join her, keeping space between them. "Well, before you do that, let's you and I talk about one more thing."

"Great, more talking."

"Like the smooth sound of my voice doesn't lull you into a tranquil calmness," he threw a smolder in her direction, well aware it wouldn't have any effect.

"It doesn't."

"Okay, so," he tapped his fingers against his knees as he carefully considered his next words, "it's not like I never dated more than one girl at once. Of course, in my case, they didn't exactly know-"

"Ah buh-buh-buh, do not need to know this!" Cassandra gave him an absolutely disgusted look.

"Right, well, the point is, these are changing times and since I am a reformed thief, I know how to share, rather than horde things- or people- for myself."

"Good for you."

"Rapunzel is her own person and she should decide who she wants to be with. Even if it's both of us."

"Both of us?"

"Yeah, you know, she dates me, and she also dates you, and we all mutually know about it."

"Pass."

"Cassandra, come on. I know I'm not always the nicest to you, and vice versa. But I have seen the way you look at her. You don't look at anyone else the same way. With "goo-goo eyes-", he created air quotes with his fingers, "-your words, not mine. You clearly have a lot of deep feelings for her, and I think if she knew, she'd probably reciprocate. Even if I can't stand you, Blondie always manages to. You, with your cute nicknames and your solo adventures. She definitely has a soft spot for you as well. I love being with her and spending time with her, but in all honesty I'm ready to settle down. Give up the adventuring life. I couldn't let her go on this life-altering journey alone, but when it's over, I want to be done. But you, you've still got enough wanderlust to match hers. That could really work in our favor if we were both to be romantically involved with her. You two could travel the world together. I'd know she was safe and taken care of. And I wouldn't have to worry about something going on between you two because I'd already know."

"I've got to admit, I thought you were messing with me. But you're actually serious," Cassandra paused, weighing her options. "Wait, did you worry something was going on between Raps and I?"

"The thought crossed my mind, but I'd hoped if there was you two would be able to tell me. Seems like I was wrong."

"Well, you don't have to worry. It's completely one-sided."

"Maybe it doesn't have to be. Rapunzel is a wonderful woman and I can see why you fell for her. I can't imagine what it would be like to be locked up for nearly 20 years. I've done time in prison. I always managed to escape, but… it's not pleasant. A child shouldn't have to go through that. But she did. She survived what would have been torture for most people. And now, she deserves to be happy. Anything and everything she wants, she should have. I'm sure you feel the same way. "

"Why do you think I haven't said anything to her? I'm not about to mess up her happy life with you by pouring out my heart to her."

"I can't make you talk about your feelings, but I think if you did, everything would work out. For all of us. I just wanted you to know that it's okay with me if you tell her."

"It's tempting. But what if my confession screws up what you have with her?"

"It's a risk I'm willing to take. I figured it was only a matter of time before you told her or she found out, but it seems your resolve is stronger than I thought. So, I've been ready for things to change. For things to progress between you two. I mean I can't say whether or not Rapunzel is interested in you in that way, but if she is-"

"I get it."

"That's part of why I'm even proposing something like this. I know you care for her just as much as I do. And I believe she has enough love in her heart for the both of us. She looks at you with a certain fondness, too. I can't make the decision for her, but maybe if she knew how you feel, she'd realize some things about herself. Maybe she didn't even consider the possibility of you because she knows she's already with me."

"You really think we can all make this work?"

"I'm willing to give it a try."

"I'll think about it, Eugene. No matter how I feel, she's still WAY out of my league."

"Out of YOUR league? At least you grew up being raised by a royal guard. Your reputation is in WAY better shape than mine!"

"Yeah, I guess when it comes to being a respectable citizen, I've got you beat."

"Too bad you do not have my rugged good looks."

"Oh, I am so glad not to have a face like yours."

"Like you could pull off a beard."

"Do you think you're pulling it off?"

"All the ladies love it, so yes, I do."

"I'm a lady and I don't love it."

"You barely count as a lady."

"Why? Because I'm more manly than you?"

"As if! How much can you even lift, like 50 pounds?"

"Plus 200."

"Excuse me?"

"Yeah, I can bench like two of your girlfriend, no sweat."

"Yeah, well," Eugene grumpily folded his arms across his chest, "I am still more athletic."

"You barely passed guard training!"

"I am still more handy with a sword!"

"You think you could beat the captain of the guard's daughter in a swordfight?

"Okay, scratch that one, but given my previous track record I can probably run faster than you."

"My chances with Raps are starting to look better and better."

"Speed is my forte and it would give me the upper hand in a wrestling match, I guarantee it!"

"Is that a challenge?" Cassandra grinned mischievously.

"Wh- no!"

Too late, she leaped across the seat and pushed Eugene off the wagon, just in time for Rapunzel and the others to come walking into the clearing.

"Cassandra! Eugene!" Rapunzel helped her boyfriend to his feet as he dusted himself off. "Did you two just fight the whole time we were gone?"

The pair shared a glance, before answering in unison.

"Yes."

"Absolutely."

Rapunzel sighed, smiling as she gave Eugene a hug and a peck on the cheek, before she reached up and clasped one of Cassandra's hands in her own. "Well, nobody got hurt, and we got back before you ended up in an all out brawl," she headed to the rear of the wagon to help load in supplies. "We should get back on the road."

"Sure thing, Blondie."

"Got it, Raps."

Eugene started to follow, but Cassandra stopped him.

"Hey, Eugene?"

He turned, shooting her a curious glance.

Thank you, she mouthed, wary of anyone hearing her being nice to Eugene, and especially cautious of Rapunzel finding out about their conversation.

He nodded, before heading back to join the others, as Cassandra prepared the horses and double-checked the condition of their vehicle. They still had a long road ahead, and Cassandra had a lot more to think about.

Support this and other stories! https://ko-fi.com/gemology

[kainna15]

Lend Ne Your Sanity

Chapter 3

https://www.fanfiction.net/~kainna15

Jasper sat rigidly at the cafeteria table, his posture straight and eyes trained on the entrance doors. Alice informed their little group of the surprising occurrence (to anyone besides Alice of course) of Rosalie becoming friends with Scarlett. The two girls shared their first class, AP English Literature, and their fourth class that was before lunch, French 4. And now they were both on their way to lunch, the plan of having Scarlett sit at their table already underway.

“Jasper....you should blink bro.” Emmett's deep rumble of a voice broke Jasper out of his staring contest with the lunchroom double doors.

“Noted.” Jasper spoke with a small smile. He didn’t realize how stone still he was sitting and slowly relaxed his muscles. He blinked a couple of times to moisten his eyes and started to pick apart his lunch. He could hear Rosalie’s voice from the hallway and knew any moment she was going to be walking through those doors.

"There she is." Alice's voice excitedly spoke. Jasper turned his head so quickly that any normal person would have broken their neck. His eyes quickly searched the small group of students before finding Rosalie, who was smirking at something the girl to her left said. His eyes trailed over said girl's form quickly; her beautiful smile, the brightness of her eyes, the gorgeous auburn of her hair. His eyes went further down, stopping momentarily at her breasts, average for her form but delicious nonetheless, and settled on her full hips and thick thighs. Venom pooled in his mouth and his eyes continued to following her as she walked across the cafeteria to the lunch line. He let out a small groan watching her plush ass as she walked. He appreciated all forms on women, Rose and Alice were equally beautiful to him, but he had to admit he was very pleased with how his mate looked. He was used to thicker women, a man coming from 1800s Texas should be, and he found himself immensely attracted to his mate's full child-bearing hips, despite the fact that he could not have children, the thought alone of grabbing those hips while he thrusted deep in her-

"Jazz, control your thoughts please." Edward rolled his eyes at the vulgar thoughts that were coming out of the normally proper gentleman. Jasper quickly emptied his mind, a skill he learned while practicing meditation at the beginning of his vegetarian diet. He could grant Edward a little peace for now, but tonight he couldn't promise to have control over the thoughts that might roll through his head.

"Hey everyone, this is Scarlett." Rosalie drawled as she finally arrived at the table, lunch tray in one hand and purse in the other.

"Hi! It's great to meet you! I'm Alice!" Alice stood up quickly and hugged the startled girl. She knew already that Rose and Scarlett were going to be on more friendlier terms than herself and Scarlett, just like Bella would be better friends with herself than Rose. She didn't mind, they were all going to get along fine.

"Bella?" Edward asked lowly in vampiric speed. Alice quickly shifted her thoughts while ignoring Edward's penetrating gaze.

"Nice to meet you." Scarlett answered in a small voice, her hands held tightly onto her bagged lunch while she glance around at the more than possible beautiful family. Self-conscious of herself and trying not to dwell too much on it, she nervously ran her hand through her hair. Simultaneous smiles broke out around the table, Edward finding it especially funny that she had a habit of running her hand through her hair as well, creating a bed-head like hair similar to his own.

"This is Emmett, my boyfriend." Rosalie continued on with the introductions. Pointing to each one, Scarlett tried to remember each of their names. Emmett was the big muscular boy, she used boy to describe his cute dimples and child-like friendliness he displayed at his introduction.

"Wow Rose, you actually made a friend?" Emmett joked with an affectionate smile. Rosalie rolled her eyes and pointed to another man.

"That's Edward, my adopted brother." Edward was handsome in a dark way, like he spent to much time thinking negatively than positively. Scarlett could tell by his cautious and intelligent eyes that were paired with bed-head that rivaled her own. The realization of what they were smiling at hit her as she watched Edward run a hand through his bronzed hair creating a neat messiness that matched hers.

"Hello." His greeting was simple and she appreciated that, the nerves in her stomach made it hard to speak at the moment.

"Alice has already introduce herself." Rosalie breezed by the small short girl who seemed too happy to be a normal teenage girl.

"And this is my twin, Jasper." It seemed like everyone was holding their breath, metaphorically since they didn't need to breath anyways. Jasper for a moment didn't know what to say; speechless, he searched his mind for something.

"Hello, darling" He spoke a simple greeting, allowing his southern twang to enter his voice. Scarlett stared at the most handsome man she had ever seen. His blonde hair and gold eyes gave him an angelic look that she would have believed if not for his dark pained look he carried. His body was fit with lean muscle and she wanted nothing more than to be wrapped up in those strong arms of his. Her heart stuttered at the sight of his knowing smile, as if he could hear how fast her heart was beating.

Realizing that she was checking out the twin of her first real friend sent panic and guilt through her. Coupled with the awareness that she hasn't said anything sent her anxiety off.

Jasper felt her emotions, a frown settling on his face. He reached out and sent a wave of calm only to discover her feelings hardly changed. It was like trying to wade through muck instead of water, it clung to her and was resistant to budge. Her emotions were too strong for him.

"Hi, pleasure to meet you all." Scarlett managed to utter, her voice timid and hesitant. Rosalie took that as a que to slide into the empty middle seat next to Emmett who was at the end and patted the seat next to her for Scarlett; right across from Jasper. Scarlett sat down, placing her lunch bag on the table as she did so. Jasper felt his hands morph the metal of his seat as her scent assaulted him. She smelled delicious, and Jasper wanted to taste her in a way only her mate could. His eyes turned pitch black and it took everything within him not to jump her.

In the vampire world, it would be normal for them to be all over each other already. Vampires felt and accepted the mate bond more quickly than humans did. The sexual tensions that came with meeting ones mate were overbearing on vampires’ senses and were therefore quick to accept it when the knowledge that they were your soul mate came crashing down moments later. But humans couldn’t feel this, humans couldn’t instinctively know when they met their soul mates. The metal under Jasper’s hand bent more, he would have to have her fall in love with him before he could touch her, and he was all too excited to start.

Scarlett on the other hand felt too nervous at the moment to do anything but stare at her clasped hands. Which was a convenient time for Jasper to regain control of himself. She was thankfully relieved when Rosalie struck up a conversation.

"So an asshole of a human dumped orange juice all over my bag this morning." She complained as she opened up her milk and delicately placed a straw in it. Scarlett smiled at her foul language, and started pulling out her own lunch. Fresh chicken breast and cheese with spinach and light mayo on whole grain bread, some carrots since she had plenty of carbs in the bread, and a bottle of water.

While her mother had thought starvation was the key to weight loss, Scarlett herself knew better. Nutrition was the key and she spent most of her health classes throughout high school in perfecting her diet. It was useless until now, her mother still took away half the portions that she should have had and Scarlett suffered because of it. But she was happy she could finally eat the way she wanted, she missed cooking. And now with the proper nutrition and without her overbearing mother, she could finally go back to sports and working out. Don’t want to get too bulky, no man wants a muscular woman. Her mother’s voice sang in her head and Scarlett started to feel her appetite go away.

Edward couldn't help but to hear the thoughts that flooded through her mind, quicker than normal for a human but he managed to follow along fine. Hearing the other voice of a woman he could only assume was her mother was unsettling. Most people don’t actually hear another voice, not one they themselves didn’t create. Hoping to make her feel more comfortable, and in an effort to calm his restless brother who was currently thinking of 50 different conversation topics to talk about, he spoke to Scarlett.

"Is that homemade bread?" Edward asked, speaking over his sisters as they inspected Rose's bag for damage. Scarlett snapped up her head at Edward, a small shy smile played on her lips.

“Yea, I baked it myself Saturday.” She answered as she started eating her carrots. Jasper was relieved to see how healthy she was eating compared to the rest of the teenagers her age. He had been reading some of Carlisle's health and anatomy books these past few years to better understand the human body. They were even more fragile than he had originally thought, any imbalances to their diet could throw off their whole system. Eying her food, he approved of her eating habits although he wondered why she didn’t grab a treat. Humans usually had some sort of processed sugar and going long without some usually produced binge eating. Maybe he was just thinking too hard, but he didn’t want his mate to prohibit herself.

“You baked your own bread?” Alice asked to try to help her talk more. She discreetly nudged Jasper with her leg, hoping he would start talking soon.

“Yea. My dad loves sandwiches and of course taught me how to make him his favorite. He likes a lot of fattening foods on it, so I try to make it as healthy as possible for him. So far he hasn’t noticed.” Scarlett felt more comfortable talking about her father, the obvious love she had for him was prevalent in her smile and the soft tone of her voice. Jasper admired her love for her father, it was rare these days to find anyone who spoke so loving of anything. He hoped one day she would speak of him with affection.

“You’re still missing something from your lunch.” Rosalie spoke with a scrutinizing look. While Jasper was grateful with what Scarlett was eating, Rosalie was suspicious. She found Scarlett’s eating habits too clean, and witnessing her anxiety attack earlier that morning made Rosalie all that more suspicious of anything abnormal. “You need chocolate.” Rosalie continued and moved over her mandated cafeteria lunch dessert, a chocolate muffin, to join Scarlett’s collection of food.

Scarlett at first was speechless; if she were back in New Jersey with her mother she would assume this was a test and quickly object it but....she wasn’t with her mother anymore. This wasn’t a test that she would be punished for later if she failed, this was just a friend giving her some food. When was the last time she had chocolate? Sometime in the early summer when she was here visiting with her father.

“I-Thank you.” Scarlett stopped herself from protesting and instead accepted the muffin. “Are you sure you don’t want it?” Scarlett asked as she continued eating her sandwich.

“I’m sure.” Rosalie answered with a small smile. She was just grateful she didn’t have to pretend to eat it again. Carbs always tasted the worse to her, maybe because it didn’t have any blood in it.

The lunch continued, Scarlett finished her food and ate her muffin slowly, savoring the taste of chocolate. Jasper was still staring at his mate, words simply evaded his mind as he distractedly searched for something to say. His time was dwindling down, there was only a few more minutes until lunch was over. Oh wait, that's it.

“What classes do you have now?” Jasper spoke suddenly causing Scarlett to jump at the sound. Her stomach churned uneasily as his attention settled on herself.

“Uh-“ Scarlett stuttered as she collected her thoughts and tried to remember her schedule from memory. Jasper watched with a fond smile as she furrowed her eyebrows and looked up to the left in thought. “After lunch I have calculus,” Jasper perked up at that, they shared a class together. He can at least walk her there...and maybe sit next to her if she didn’t mind. “Then gym,” Emmett and Alice did a weird simultaneous squeal that left Scarlett giggling, “Then my last class is AP Chemistry.” Jasper grinned, he was blessed with two classes with her?

“We have calculus and chemistry together.” Jasper shared with an excited grin. A small blush graced Scarlett’s features as she felt her mind go blank just from his smile.

“And we have gym together!” Alice and Emmett sang together. Rosalie rolled her eyes at the two but couldn’t help the small affectionate smile that graced her lips.

“It seems like the only person you don’t have class with is Edward.” Rosalie spoke as she broke off some more pieces of her burger in an attempt to look like she was eating. Scarlett, distracted by the statement, luckily didn’t notice the lack of eating.

“No, we had music together in 2nd period. You play the piano.” Edward addressed Scarlett who seemed to just recognize Edward as the boy who was moodily brooding in the corner of music class, taking the only other piano in the classroom. He was practicing with his headphones plugged in so she couldn't hear what he was playing but by the complicated and speedy hand movements she saw she could tell he was levels ahead of her.

“Not like you, I’m still a beginner.” Scarlett admitted with the smile, humbly pointing out Edward’s proficiency over her own.

“You’re getting there.” Edward dismissed her compliment with a wave of his hand.

“So what do you have for 3rd period then?” Jasper asked, filling her schedule in his mind except for that class. Scarlett didn’t seem affected by the fact that he wanted to know her schedule, or that he seemed to know the classes that she shared with Rosalie, and instead answered him.

“I take art.” Scarlett knew she should have taken a history but considering at her old school she had taken all her history credits, she decided to relax this year a bit and take an art class. Jasper smiled at the realization of her lack of history.

“No history class?” He asked her curiously and watched as her nose wrinkled with disgust.

“No, I finished my history requirements at my old school, I don’t like history so I got it out of the way as quickly as possible.” Jasper’s amusement was obvious, his mate didn’t like history. Before he could further the conversation and find out what his mate really did like, the bell rang. Scarlett quickly scooped up her garbage and went to throw it out. Jasper stood faithfully at the table, waiting for her to return for her knapsack. His siblings left quickly, giving him some time alone with his mate.

Scarlett was surprised by how quickly everyone left the table, all but Jasper who was waiting for her. She tried not to think too much of it; of course he would wait for her, they did have the same class. She gave him a shy smile as she slung her knapsack over her shoulder.

“Shall we?” He asked and lead her through the cafeteria doors, his hand ghosting over the small of her back. In another time he would have offered her his arm but for this time he would have to wait until she felt more comfortable to offer his touch.

“Do you like calculus?” He asked in an attempt to breach the awkward silence that settled between them. He could feel her nervousness and tried to calm her. His powers hardly worked, only diminishing her nervousness marginally.

“Actually I do.” Scarlett answered with an embarrassed look. She nervously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and accidentally made eye contact with her friend’s handsome brother. The way his eyes seemed to pierce through her halted her breath and she quickly found herself breaking the eye contact and hoping he didn’t see her embarrassment. Jasper, however; found her reactions endearing and wanted nothing more then to pull her closer to him so he could get more of her delicious scent.

“Math is fun to me.” She continued with a smile. “It's like a puzzle, you only get some of the parts and need to figure out the rest.” A blush settled on her face when she realized how nerdy she sounded and was relieved to see, with a quick glance, that he didn’t seem fazed by what she said. A fond smile was still on his face and he seemed to never take his eyes off of her.

“That’s a way to look at it. Is math your favorite then?” Jasper asked as they approached their classroom, Scarlett slowing as they made their way to the teacher’s desk. She thought about his question, she never hated going to math or got a bad grade, or even wanted to skip it before.

“Yea.” She said with a grin. “Math is my favorite academic subject, otherwise I would have to say art is.” Jasper was aware of the other students coming into class now, their whispers and stares were anything but subtle and he was disappointed to see Scarlett’s attention divert to the nosey student body. Her smile started to disappear and he felt as her happy emotions she started to feel, go away.

“Oh, so that’s way history got kicked to the side.” Jasper teased with a grin in hopes of keeping her attention, and her good mood. The lightness of his tone brought her attention back to him and he was relieved to see her grinning back.

“Ah so I guess history is your favorite subject, sorry to offend you.” Scarlett teased back, despite the growing ball of nerves she was happy to see Jasper lingering at the teacher’s desk with her. Even though it seemed the student body had nothing better to do then to spy on them.

“Alright class, in your seats. The late bell is about to ring.” An african man in his thirties entered the classroom in a rush, sliding his briefcase underneath the desk and digging in his pocket for chalk as he spoke. Jasper hesitated for a moment longer before he followed the teacher’s orders and sat at his desk in the back, a single empty seat besides him.

The teacher didn't seem to notice Scarlett at first, he made to go to the board but stopped and turned quickly to her. She smiled and shifted her bag.

“You must be the new girl, what's your name again?” He spoke quickly and without waiting for a reply grabbed his attendance sheet and spotted her name.”Scarlett Quinn, nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too, sir.” Scarlett managed to say her greeting before he was quickly speaking again and lead her towards her seat.

“Good, always good to have new students. We are in chapter 3, you’ll be sitting next to Jasper here- a book should be inside the desk. There is- good! Please don’t be shy if you don’t understand let me know. Now class-“ Scarlett tuned out here as she turned her book to the correct chapter and started to copy down the notes he was writing on the board. She enjoyed this teacher so far, he left no room for her to think and with everyone stealing glances at her, and with Jasper sitting so close she could smell him, she needed something to focus on.

[fuwafuwagem]

mc is pregnant and jumin is happy about it, but what he doesn't know that mc being pregnant will threaten her life as her body will have complications during labour. Mc keep this a secret from him because she wants to have the baby. Will Jumin be traumatised of seeing mc dying while giving birth to his child? How would he reacts if mc pulls through. How would he reacts of almost losing her

Research! Research!! Research!!! So I looked intocommon causes of death during labour, and the recurring issue was heartproblems~ Because a pregnant women’s heart has to do 50% more work by the timeshe is 3 months pregnant! So if MC were to have a pre-existing heart condition,she would be pretty high-risk… Cue more research! Dilated cardiomyopathy is aheart condition that causes the heart muscle to become stretched and no longerable to pump blood effectively. It’s also passed through families. It can becontrolled with medication, but currently there is no cure.

Keepin mind, I have never suffered from any heart condition. I don’t know anyonewho has. I’m basing this 100% on what I found on le internets, so I apologizeif there are inaccuracies ^^

Also,don’t be scared of pregnancy or labour ^^ Dying during the process is extremelyrare nowadays. Modern medicine is a wonderful thing

 ***

“Jumin!”

MC’s hand squeezed her husband’s fingers painfullytight. He had never known her to have so much strength until now.

“What is it, my love?” he asked, unable to wipe thesmile from his face despite the obvious pain his wife was in.

Jumin and MC were rushing through the hospital, anurse pushing MC in a wheelchair while he walked at her side on the way to thelabour ward, where MC would give birth to their first child.

“I… if something happens…”

“Nothing will happen,” Jumin reassured her with agentle voice. “This is the best hospital in the country. You are in goodhands.”

“Jumin…” MC was almost crying, her brow wrinkled withworry. “There’s something I haven’t told you because I didn’t want to upset you,and… I wanted to have a child with you so much…”

Jumin suddenly felt a chill run down his spine. Helooked down at his wife, her teeth clenched as she endured another contraction,tears streaming down cheeks that seemed much too pale.

“MC… what… what are you saying?”

MC began to sob openly. “I have… a heart condition Inever told you about…”

Jumin felt the blood freeze in his veins. His visionbecame cloudy. His mind became a tangled mess.

“I knew that getting pregnant could be dangerous forme…” she continued. “…but I wanted it so much…” She held his hand tightly inboth of hers, looking up at him with imploring eyes. “Jumin… if somethinghappens to me-”

She was cut off by another contraction just as theyarrived at the labour suite.

GoodEnding

MC was wheeled into the private room and assisted ontothe bed. Jumin could only stand by and watch as the woman he loved was wired upto several monitors.

“Due to her condition,” the midwife said to him, “weneed to take her for an emergency c-section. We can’t allow the labour to go onfor too long or she runs the risk of heart failure.”

Jumin stared at the woman in disbelief. “Heartfailure? You mean she could die?”

“Mr Han, we will do everything in our power to deliverthis baby safely. Please, don’t worry. You’ll need to change into scrubs if youwant to enter the operating room with her.”

Jumin nodded and allowed himself to be led to a placewhere he could change.

MC’s body was already numb when Jumin arrived at herside. He gripped her hand and kissed her forehead while the surgeons did theirwork behind a small curtain.

“Why?” Jumin asked, the prick of tears stinging hiseyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

MC’s eyes filled to the brim with tears, but shelooked right at him. “I want this baby so much, and I know you do too. I waswilling to take the risk…”

“What about me?” asked Jumin. “What if I lose you? I’dlose everything!”

MC let out a sob. “I’m sorry Jumin. I’m so, so sorry.”

Jumin placed his hands on her damp cheeks. “Nothing isgoing to happen to you,” he whispered. “I won’t let it.”

MC frowned, shifting uncomfortably.

“What is it?” Jumin asked, his voice panicked. “Are youin pain?”

MC shook her head. “No, it just feels like I’m beingpulled around. I can’t feel anything though.”

Jumin looked over at the surgeon, his gloves coated inblood, and then suddenly, his hands held out a small lump of flesh. A momentlater, the lump began to bawl.

“Oh, oh gosh, she’s here? Is she okay?” MC was tryingdesperately to look over the curtain that covered the lower half of her body.

“Here she is,” said the nurse, bringing the newborn tomeet her parents for the first time. “She is perfect and healthy. You did sowell.”

Tears poured from MC’s eyes as she looked down at thetiny bundle she had just given birth to. Jumin gazed down at the child. She wasso small, so defenceless. The love he felt for her was so intense he couldn’thold back the tears. He reached out and touched his daughter’s cheek with thepad of his thumb.

“I love you,” he said, his heart full to bursting withhis adoration. “I love you both so much.”

NormalEnding

“Are you okay Mrs Han?” the midwife asked as shehelped her up onto the bed. “You’re looking pale.”

Jumin looked at his wife. She did have a grim pallor.He swallowed as he felt bile creeping up his throat. “Her heart. She told meshe has a heart problem.”

MC was struggling for breath and sweat dripped downher temples as she gripped the sheets. Then suddenly he body went completelylimp. Jumin rushed to her side but was quickly moved away by the midwife.

“She’s gone into cardiac arrest. We need to resuscitateand get the baby out now!”

Everything happened in a blur. MC was taken away andhe was not permitted to go with her. He was placed in a quiet waiting room wherehe stood alone. He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t let himself linger onthoughts of the worst-case scenarios, but still they came unbidden to theforefront of his mind. MC could die. Ourbaby could die. I could lose both of them. I could lose everything. Hepaced the small room trying to cast out all of the intrusive thoughts. The cost of a double funeral? I’ll have tocontact her family. I wish V were here. How much would Assistant Kang help me?Just as he felt like his mind might crumble to dust, a doctor poked her headinto the room.

“Ah, Mr Han. You’re here. You can see your wife anddaughter now.”

Jumin felt his heart leap in his chest. “She’salright? They both are?”

The doctor nodded. “They will both have to remain inhospital for observation. I’m afraid Mrs Han is still at a high risk of havinganother heart attack.”

Jumin nodded, and the doctor led him to a private roomwhere MC was laid in bed, wired up to several machines.

Shelooks so ill, Jumin thought.

“Meet your daughter,” the doctor said, holding a smallpink bundle.

Jumin took the baby in his arms, her tiny body wrappedup in pink blankets. He gazed down at her adoringly. “She’s so perfect.”

“Mrs Han won’t be able to nurse her, so we will havemidwives feed her with a syringe every couple of hours. We thankfully have milkdonations, so we’ll make sure she never goes hungry while she’s here.”

“Thank you,” Jumin said sincerely. “If the hospitalneeds any funding, any monetary donations at all, I will provide it. Please askme for anything.”

The doctor smiled. “We’d be so grateful for yoursupport Mr Han. Thank you. I’ll leave you now to spend some time with yourfamily.”

Jumin took a seat beside the bed. He had thought shewas asleep, but her eyes fluttered open and she smiled at him weakly.

“I’m sorry Jumin,” she mumbled. “I’m so sorry to putyou through all of this.”

Jumin shook his head. “Don’t be sorry. You’re here,and you brought our beautiful daughter into this world. You have nothing toapologise for.” He frowned. “I cannot allow you to risk your life further.Another pregnancy will be too dangerous, and I cannot risk losing you again.Once you’re out of hospital, I will schedule a vasectomy. We have our daughter.We have everything we need.”

BadEnding

As the midwife tried to help her to the bed, MCcollapsed.

“MC!” Jumin was on his knees beside her in seconds. “MC?Can you hear me?”

The nurses began to lift her onto the bed, checkingher vitals, pushing Jumin back.

“It’s heart failure, we have to get her into surgerynow!”

Everything happened quickly. MC’s bed was wheeled intothe corridor, the midwives and nurses rushing to save her life.

“MC?” Jumin cried out, trying to follow.

“I’m sorry, Mr Han. You will have to wait in thefamily room. We’ll update you on her progress as soon as we can.”

Jumin was left alone without any idea if his wife anddaughter would even survive.

It was hours before Jumin saw a familiar face.

“Mr Han, I came as soon as I heard.”

“Assistant Kang?” Jumin lifted his face out of hishands, his eyes bloodshot and his skin pale. “I don’t know what to do. I feelso helpless.”

Jaehee sat beside him, a gentle and reassuring hand onhis shoulder. “I’m sure someone will be along, but I can go and make an inquiryif you’d like.”

Jumin nodded, but the doctor arrived just as Jaeheegot to her feet.

“Mr Han…” The doctor looked heartbroken, and Juminknew what he was going to say even before he uttered a word. “I’m so sorry. MrsHan… didn’t make it. She died while we were trying to resuscitate…”

Jumin collapsed into the chair, not even trying to withholdhis tears. Jaehee’s eyes glazed, but she tried to remain composed despite theaching in her heart.

“What about the baby?” she asked with a tremblingvoice.

“I’m afraid she was stillborn,” the doctor replied. “Iam so very sorry for your losses, Mr Han. If you’d like to see your family tosay goodbye, I’ll take you there now.”

Jumin couldn’t hear. He couldn’t see. He couldn’tbreathe. He couldn’t think. All he could do was feel, and it was agony. He wasalone, everything he loved had been taken from him.

Ican’t I can’t I can’t…

He stood up and began to walk. He didn’t follow thedoctor. He didn’t listen to Jaehee when she asked him where he was going. Hejust walked, and he didn’t stop. He walked home. He walked into the elevator.He walked to the rooftop garden. He walked until there was only air beneathhim. Then he stopped.

[aridara]

Verifying a list of “hateful feminist quotes”. (From S to Z + groups and anonymous individuals)

Final part of my rebuttal at all those lists that are supposed to show how feminism is evil, but in practice shows how anti-feminists rely on an extremely inaccurate (and, in some parts, deliberately lying) list.

"Colored people are like human weeds and are to be exterminated."

Margaret Sanger

False.

"The most merciful thing a family can do to one of its infant members is to kill it."

Margaret Sanger, founder of planned parenthood

True, but extremely edited; not hateful. I’ve bolded the parts that anti-feminists didn't bother to include in the list:

"Thus we see that the second and third children have a very good chance to live through the first year. Children arriving later have less and less chance, until the twelfth has hardly any chance at all to live twelve months."

"This does not complete the case, however, for those who care to go farther into the subject will find that many of those who live for a year die before they reach the age of five."

"Many, perhaps, will think it idle to go farther in demonstrating the immorality of large families, but since there is still an abundance of proof at hand, it may be offered for the sake of those who find difficulty in adjusting old-fashioned ideas to the facts. The most merciful thing that the large family does to one of its infant members is to kill it. The same factors which create the terrible infant mortality rate, and which swell the death rate of children between the ages of one and five, operate even more extensively to lower the health rate of the surviving members."

(Yeah, anti-feminists cut out a LOT.)

Also: she was talking about using birth control to deal with unwanted pregnancies. Not about using infanticide to kill already-born children.

“I do want to be able to explain to a 9-year-old boy in terms he will understand why I think it’s OK for girls to wear shirts that revel in their superiority over boys.”

– Treena Shapiro

Unverifiable.

“In general, I support a girl’s right to offend any member of the opposite sex who happens to cross her path. In fact, I’d much rather see a little girl wearing a shirt that mocks boys than one that turns them on.”

– Treena Shapiro

Also unverifiable. In fact, I think it's not even hateful at all: it points out a double standard where there's a lot of men's shirts that mock women, while a lot of women's shirt are designed to look "seductive" to men - and the reverse doesn't happen.

(Small diversion: while I tried to look for this quote's source, I found this ebook. The 2-3 pages I read sound like a book version of these "List of hateful feminist quotes" lists.)

[insert literally any quote from the SCUM Manifesto]

Valerie Solanas

I won't give a different rating to each individual quote, given how these kinds of lists tend to have many, many, so fucking many quotes from Solanas. I'll only give a general rating.

Usually, in these "hateful feminist quotes" lists, all of the Solanas quotes are true and hateful, and come from the SCUM (Society for Cutting Up Men) manifesto she wrote in 1967. However, I’m doubtful that they count as “quote by a famous feminist”, considering that:

SCUM was never founded - it stopped at its manifesto;

Feminists’ opinion of SCUM at the time was divided between “What is wrong with you, Valerie?” and “This is satire in really bad taste”;

Feminists’ opinion of SCUM today is divided between “What is wrong with you, Valerie?” and “Who the hell is Valerie Solanas?”;

Absolutely nobody, feminist or not, condoned Solanas’ attack on Andy Warhol; and

Solanas's attack on Warhol wasn't motivated by her feminist beliefs.

“We are, as a sex, infinitely superior to men.”

– Elizabeth Cady Stanton

True, possibly hateful. But I want to point out something: this quote is from 1890. This is what anti-feminists believe modern feminism to be? Really? Haven’t they heard of how feminism isn’t a monolith, how there have been various discussions, schisms and revolutions during feminism's history, how there’s a lot of positions and criticism - oh, right, I forgot, feminism is evil and has always been the same since the dawn of time, duh. (# sarcasm)

“The more famous and powerful I get the more power I have to hurt men.”

- Sharon Stone; Actress

Almost 100% false. It also seems that Sharon either wasn’t a feminist during those years, or chose to not display her feminist beliefs back then. In either case, Sharon Stone cannot be considered a significantly important feminist by any stretch of the word.

"If the classroom situation is very heteropatriarchal--a large beginning class of 50 to 60 students, say, with few feminist students--I am likely to define my task as largely one of recruitment...of persuading students that women are oppressed,"

Professor Joyce Trebilcot of Washington University, as quoted in Who Stole Feminism: How Women Have Betrayed Women.

Hm, this is an interesting one.

It’s unverifiable. Yes, AGAIN. No, it doesn’t count that it’s (supposedly) in Christina Sommers’ book “Who Stole Feminism” - she still needs to source the quote. As far as I can tell, Sommers mught've just made that quote up and falsely attributed it to Trebilcot.

Not only that, but the quote  looks like it has been truncated. Considering the level of this list, I’m quite suspicious every time I see some ellypsis.

By the way: Sommers? Really?

“Men are animals. Don’t you think so?”

– Ireen von Wachenfeldt, radical feminist leader in Sweden

True and hateful, apparently (given that she quoted SOOOLAAANAAASS). Here's the link to the Wikipedia page on her - you'll have to run it on Google Translate or similar, though.

On another note: of all the quotes in anti-feminists' lists of "hateful feminist quotes" that are actually hateful quotes, it's noticeable how many of those come from Solanas alone. It’s almost as if anti-feminists focus excessively on her, and use her as the base that forms their opinion of all feminists.

I wondered if the woman married to a pig had read this ... Did that mean that all over the globe, in all innocence, women were marrying beasts? ... Why are so many men really beasts? "

Jeanette Winterson "Oranges are Not the Only Fruit" 1993, pp.71 -76

Fictional. The novel is about a lesbian girl growing up in a Pentecostal community. At one point, various religious people from that same community take the main character and her girlfriend, and subject them to exorcism.

In response to a question concerning China’s policy of compulsory abortion after the first child, Molly Yard responded, “I consider the Chinese government’s policy among the most intelligent in the world”

(Gary Bauer, “Abetting Coercion in China,” The Washington Times, Oct. 10, 1989).

Unverifiable. There is no trace of the quote in the "Washington Times", but I think that I found the original source: the American Life League, an evidently anti-abortion group. You'll forgive me if I treat that source with all the respect it deserves.

...

We aren't done yet, though! Here's some more quotes from organizations or unknown individuals!

"We are taught, encouraged, moulded by and lulled into accepting a range of false notions about the family. As a source of some of our most profound experiences, it continues to be such an integral part of our emotional lives that it appears beyond criticism. Yet hiding from the truth of family life leaves women and children vulnerable."

Canadian Panel on Violence Against Women.

Unverifiable and not hateful. It sounds like they’re talking about how a lot of assumptions and myths about “proper” families have lead women to believe that abuse is a “normal” part of a relationship.

MALE: represents a variant of or deviation from the category of female. The first males were mutants...the male sex represents a degeneration and deformity of the female.

MAN: an obsolete life form... an ordinary creature who needs to be watched...a contradictory baby-man...

TESTOSTERONE POISONING: ... ‘Until now it has been though that the level of testosterone in men is normal simply because they have it. But if you consider how abnormal their behavior is, then you are led to the hypothesis that almost all men are suffering from "testosterone poisoning."

From 'A Feminist Dictionary; ed. Kramarae & Triechler, Pandora Press, 1985

Unverifiable. The book DOES exist. What does NOT exist, is scans of it. Nor are there extensive citations of it - the only ones around are the same ones anti-feminists uses, same ellipsis and all. And, frankly, whoever first wrote this list has done such a sloppy job fact-checking this list that, by this point, I don’t trust them if they said that the sky is blue.

"Women have their faults- men have only two: everything they say and everything they do."

Popular Feminist Graffiti

Goddammit. Yet ANOTHER joke from a collection of jokes. No indication whatsoever this was from a feminist.

"Men, as a group, tend to be abusive, either verbally, sexually or emotionally. There are always the exceptions, but they are few and far between (I am married to one of them). There are different levels of violence and abuse and individual men buy into this system by varying degrees. But the male power structure always remains intact."

Message on FEMISA, responding to a request for arguments that men are unnecessary for a child to grow into mature adulthood.

Oh, now you’re just grasping at straws - misattributed. This quote is not from the FEMISA staff; it's from an e-mail sent to FEMISA. Come on - I thought this was a list of hateful quotes from *relevant* feminists - not from any random anon down the street!

"Clearly you are not yet a free-thinking feminist but rather one of those women who bounce off the male-dominated, male-controlled social structures. Who cares how men feel or what they do or whether they suffer? They have had over 2000 years to dominate and made a complete hash of it. Now it is our turn. My only comment to men is, if you don't like it, bad luck - and if you get in my way I'll run you down."

Letter to the editor, signed: "Liberated Women", Boronia Herald-Sun, Melbourne, Australia - 9 February 1996

Unverifiable. Once again, the only places where this quote pops up are lists of “hateful feminist quotes”. And judging by the quality of this list, that isn’t nearly enough.

“The simple fact is that every woman must be willing to be identified as a lesbian to be fully feminist”

(National NOW Times, January, 1988).

Unverifiable (supposedly written in 1988). There’s a lot of citations for this particular quote (many from copies of this list), but no image of the original.

“We identify the agents of our oppression as men…….ALL MEN HAVE OPPRESSED WOMEN…..We do not need to change ourselves, but to change men……The most slanderous evasion of all is that women can oppress men.”

–The Redstockings Manifesto

True, but out of context. Once again, anti-feminists have deliberately cut out various parts of the original manifesto. Here's the full quote (the bolded parts are the ones anti-feminists cut out):

"III    We identify the agents of our oppression as men.  Male supremacy is the oldest, most basic form of domination.  All other forms of exploitation and oppression (racism, capitalism, imperialism, etc.) are extensions of male supremacy: men dominate women, a few men dominate the rest.  All power structures throughout history have been male-dominated and male-oriented.  Men have controlled all political, economic and cultural institutions and backed up this control with physical force.  They have used their power to keep women in an inferior position.  All men receive economic, sexual, and psychological benefits from male supremacy. All men have oppressed women."

"IV    Attempts have been made to shift the burden of responsibility from men to institutions or to women themselves.  We condemn these arguments as evasions.  Institutions alone do not oppress; they are merely tools of the oppressor.  To blame institutions implies that men and women are equally victimized, obscures the fact that men benefit from the subordination of women, and gives men the excuse that they are forced to be oppressors.  On the contrary, any man is free to renounce his superior position, provided that he is willing to be treated like a woman by other men."

"We also reject the idea that women consent to or are to blame for their own oppression. Women's submission is not the result of brain-washing, stupidity or mental illness but of continual, daily pressure from men.  We do not need to change ourselves, but to change men."

"The most slanderous evasion of all is that women can oppress men.  The basis for this illusion is the isolation of individual relationships from their political context and the tendency of men to see any legitimate challenge to their privileges as persecution."

So, to sum it up:

Systemic sexism is caused by men.

All men benefit from this oppressive system.

Various people have tried to shift the blame for systemic sexism on "the institutions", which wrongly implies that both men and women are equally affected by sexism, and that men have no choice but to act as oppressors.

Various people have also tried to shift the blame on women, falsely claiming that sexism exists because women deliberately "consent" to be subjected to sexism.

Various people fail to see sexism as a systemic problem; instead, they wrongly paint it as a collection of individual acts that have no relation with each other.

When an oppressive system is challenged, the privileged group does not see that as "the dismantling of an unjust system"; instead, it sees that as "unjust persecution, and an attempt to upturn equality".

This is pretty accurate, and isn't hateful.

“We regard our personal experience, and our FEELINGS about that experience, as the basis for an analysis of our common situation. We cannot rely on existing ideologies as they are all the products of male supremicist culture.”

– The Redstockings Manifesto

True, but not hateful. Oh, no, feminists dare to talk about all their personal experiences about sexism and how they feel about it; and they also dare to reject existing sexist explanations of why sexist gender roles are just "natural". How dare they.

Also, why is "feelings" in all-caps like that? Is this the usual jab that women are emotional and therefore "inferior" to the logical men? Because that jab is shit.

FMS stands for: Full of Mostly (Bull) shit; For More Sadism; Felons, Murdereres, Ssumballs; Frequent Molesters Society

From a February 1995 handout at the "Stone Angels" satanic ritual abuse conference in Thunder Bay, Ontario, Canada. The conference was supported financially by the Ontario Government

Unverifiable. And frankly too ridiculous to be true.

"All men are good for is fucking, and running over with a truck".

Statement made by A University of Maine Feminist Administrator, quoted by Richard Dinsmore, who brought a successful civil suit against the University in the amount of a $600,000.1995 settlement Richard had protested the quote; was dismissed thereafter on the grounds of harassment; and responded by bringing suit against the University..

Unverifiable. It IS true that Dinsmore sued the university due to, in his own words, “man-hating feminists”; HOWEVER, there’s no mention of the quote itself.

"Masculine sexuality involves the oppression of women, competition among men, and fear of homosexuality." "Rape is the end logic of masculine sexuality." "Male sexuality is negative."

Introductory texts for Women's Studies Courses at UCLA including: "More Power than We Want: Masculine Sexuality and Violence" by

Bruce Kokopeli and George Lakey [Cited in TNV]

Unverifiable.

And that’s it. The VAST MAJORITY of quotes are either not-hateful once we actually see the context (and paste back all the parts that anti-feminists censored behind ellypsis); or, their origin cannot be verified (and therefore we can’t be sure whether they actually came from feminists). Some quotes came from works of fiction and were spoken by fictional characters; they aren’t statements that the author personally made and supported. Of the remaining quotes that are both verified and hateful, a GIANT chunk of them is comprised entirely of Valerie Solanas - which isn’t held in much regard by modern feminists. In fact, I’m pretty sure many don’t even know about her.

[tubelessxhopeful]

Hi - I’m Em. I’ve started this blog to let my feelings and thoughts and everything in between out. I’ve been through ectopic pregnancies 4 times and have unfortunately lost my tubes. This post I’m posting now was written during my third ectopic in august 2020 and when I was losing my left tube. I’m hoping this can be an outlet for me and all the crazy thoughts. Since writing the below post, I lost my only remaining tube to my fourth ectopic on January 31/2021 and we are now going to be starting our journey with ivf.

OLD POST ~ WRITTEN AUGUST 2020

Ectopic pregnancy was never something that came to mind when worrying about getting pregnant, I honestly didn’t even really know about it until I was one of the unfortunate women that had to go through it for the first time in 2018. I always worried about fertility issues or miscarriage or still births (all absolutely horrendous situations as well) but ectopic was not even in the back of my mind.

I know I’m not the only one who’s been through this nor will I be the last.

I can’t even put into words the gut wrenching feeling that came over me the first time I was diagnosed in June 2018. I had no idea I was pregnant for almost 2 months before I took a test (obviously I wasnt tracking my cycles at the time...oops.) literally the day after I got my positive pregnancy test I started having extreme pain. Pain that doubled me over and tears running down my face. I knew something was wrong. This first pregnancy wasn’t planned but honestly, as soon as I got the positive I started planning my husband and my future with our new baby in my head. I could picture a little one with us and how our lives would be. That all got ripped away.

I spent 5 days in the hospital with what they define as a pregnancy of unknown location (PUL.) I got countless blood tests and many ultrasounds until finally my gynaecologist diagnosed it as a non viable pregnancy. I had the option to either receive a double shot of methotrexate which is a chemotherapy drug that kills fast developing cells which ultimately ends the non viable pregnancy or I could have laparoscopic surgery. I chose methotrexate.

After the shot, the pain doesn’t end there. Methotrexate depletes your body of folate and makes you feel like absolute garbage in general. You have to get blood tests constantly to monitor your HCG (pregnancy hormone) to ensure the medication is in fact working. I was miserable. On top of the sickness from the medication, you still feel completely pregnant. It’s extremely hard. You bleed, you pass clots and it can take a very long time for your HCG to reach non pregnant levels. The scariest part of this is that until your levels go below 5 you are still at risk of the ectopic rupturing where ever it is implanted. This is a medical emergency and you can hemorrhage and bleed out internally very quickly. You have to have someone with you 24/7 incase you rupture because the pain is usually so severe that you pass out. Luckily I have the best mother in the world who flew to Newfoundland from New Brunswick to stay with me. I couldn’t work, I couldn’t do housework, I couldn’t do light lifting AT ALL for the risk of rupture was there.

With this first experience it took me almost 2 months for my hormones to reach non pregnant levels and pregnancy symptoms to subside.

After your levels reach 0 you have to start taking folic acid again to replenish your body and can’t start trying for another baby for 3 months as methotrexate can harm a fetus and lack of folate can cause birth defects.

Steve and I decided not to try again until after our wedding in 2019.

In that time I got an HSG test done to check if my tubes were clear which is a pretty uncomfortable proceedure that they put a catheter up through and push dye through your Fallopian tubes. To my surprise and happiness - my tubes were clear and looked perfect.

Flash forward to December 2019 - we decided this was our month. We tried again and found out we were pregnant again the second week of January. I couldn’t believe we got pregnant again so quick. I felt so lucky that we could get pregnant easily and we were scared but also excited. I honestly believed this would work out. About a week after finding out I was pregnant I doubled over at work, sweating and felt like I was in the worst pain of my life. I thought I was going to pass out. It’s a pain I can’t describe and unlike anything I’ve ever felt with anything else. I knew it was ectopic again.

I went to the hospital in the morning after work as I was on night shift. They did an ultrasound and immediately found my ectopic in my left tube.

Once again, I chose methotrexate. I mean, who wants to go into surgery if you can avoid it, right?

I was able to go home from the hospital the same day with the promise that someone would be with me to monitor me 24/7. My amazing mom came once again to stay with me so that Steve could go back to work.

This time it took about 5 weeks for my levels to drop to 0.

5 weeks of feeling pregnant and knowing our child wouldn’t survive.

5 weeks of feeling like absolute death from methotrexate.

5 weeks of emotional turmoil.

5 weeks of wondering what I did to cause this.

5 weeks of trying to pretend I was okay to the outside world so they wouldn’t worry.

5 weeks of bloodwork and doctor visits.

5 weeks of tears and pain and feeling so bad.

So - we waited for my levels to get to non pregnant levels. I started taking folic acid. I started exercising to lose weight and making my body the healthiest I’ve ever been. I lost 30 pounds. I did everything under the sun to try to prevent this. Maybe I just had bad luck and the third time would be the time it all works out.

1 in 50 pregnancies are ectopic which is about 2% of pregnancies. I can’t POSSIBLY have another one. I did the testing, my tubes are clear. We were just unlucky.

We decided we would try again in June. We didn’t get pregnant. So we tried again in July.

We got our positive. I was again so thankful that we don’t have the fertility problems that many couples deal with.

But - the feeling of dread came over me immediately. I think one of the shittiest things people who’ve been through pregnancy loss is that we can never be truly excited about a pregnancy. There’s always that feeling of terror and dread that we will once again go through the worst thing that’s ever happened to us.

I immediately got blood work done, I got 3 blood tests done in a week as levels are supposed to double every 48 hours in a normal pregnancy.

Mine were looking great! But I still couldn’t breathe. I still couldn’t enjoy this. I was terrified.

We went on vacation and we had an amazing time. At the start of our vacation I did have bleeding and went to the emergency room (2 hours away from our campsite) to see if everything was okay. They couldn’t see anything on the ultrasound but the gynaecologist said it was too early to see anything anyway but there was nothing obvious in my tube and to wait it out.

We spent the week camping and having fun.

I still had the feeling of dread, though. I felt something was wrong but kept telling myself STATISTICALLY this pregnancy should be normal. I can’t possibly have a THIRD.

My bloodwork continued to rise normal which isn’t typical in ectopics so my doctor kept reassuring me that I was probably okay.

I worked my weekend of nights but I couldn’t settle. I went to the emergency room Monday morning where they did another scan and couldn’t see anything in uterus or tubes. It was likely an unviable pregnancy and I was told it was yet another pregnancy of unknown location at this time. I left the ER but as soon as I got home I had extreme cramping and bleeding. I rushed back to the hospital. I got admitted after about 18 hours of waiting so they could monitor my pregnancy hormone and do another ultrasound on Thursday.

We were devastated. We knew this was going to be yet another loss for us. We couldn’t believe it.

On Thursday the 13th of August I got my 3rd internal ultrasound which once again showed nothing anywhere. We still don’t know where the pregnancy is but if it’s not showing in my uterus, it’s not viable and has implanted somewhere else.

My hormone was rising pretty good. I didn’t understand.

I’m writing this as I try to cope with another loss. Another let down.

As a woman I feel like I’m letting my husband down. I feel like I can’t do the one thing women are “supposed” to be able to naturally do. What is wrong with my body? What did I do to deserve this?

I opted for surgery this time. In hopes to find this pregnancy somewhere so it can be removed as well as try to figure out why this has happened 3 times.

There is clearly something going on inside to cause these ectopics that needs to be looked at internally and hopefully fixed.

the thought of surgery made my mind race.

I may lose one of my tubes.

I may lose both of my tubes.

I may lose an ovary.

I may lose part of my reproductive system and It’s terrifying.

The only thing I want in life is to be a mom. I want to watch my belly grow, I want to give birth. I want that experience so bad. It scares me so much that this may never happen. I hope so much that this will be the last time we need to go through this. I would give anything to have a happy healthy pregnancy for myself and for Steve. Because although my body is going through this - it is also his loss and his pain as well. I can’t stand to see the look of sadness on his face again and hate seeing him so scared for me. It’s so unfortunate that us, as a newlywed couple will never get the experience of being truly happy and excited about a pregnancy like majority of couples can. We will always worry the moment that positive tests shows up and I can’t explain how devastating that is.

Pregnancy loss affects a relationship and I’m so very lucky that although we’ve only been together for 6 years (not even married a year yet) that these losses and experiences have not broken us. It has made us stronger. It has made me realize that Steve truly meant his vows and will fight for me and with me every step of the way; whatever life throws at us. I’m so grateful for him and so grateful for the amazing friends and family that I have to support me through this, multiple times.

Today I wait for surgery. I may be able to get squeezed in today, I may not. All I know is I have such hope that this will be the last time we have to lose a child and face this problem.

My heart aches for any woman or couple that has to deal with any sort of pregnancy loss or fertility issues. It’s so hard to explain the feeling to someone who hasn’t gone through it but I hope I could shed some light. Hope is always there and if anyone needs to talk - I am here. I may not understand your personal journey completely but I will listen.

[multifandom-damnation]

I never wanted to change

In my life, I’ve found that you have to unlearn a lot.

I never expected my life to change so much. I’m 17 and already, I’ve gone through changes that other boys my age could only marvel at.

I’ve never wanted to change, but to better suit the people around me- I’ve had to.

It seems cruel. You spend so much of your life trying to please people, and then it’s all turned around and you end up changing who you are to please others.

My hands, the same, but much different.

My words? Sometimes, I don’t even know if I’m the one saying them. They seem so odd to me, like ill-fitting teeth.

I don’t know how to fix it, really. People tell me to fight, but I never wanted that. I just wanted to be left alone.

That’s all I still want.

I never wanted to fight, not for me, not for the city, not for anyone. I just wanted to be a normal kid, going to school, cheating on tests, pranking teachers with whoopee cushions and stink bombs, changing the speakers to play “The Macarena” for the recess bells. Competing in gymnastics tournaments, going ice skating at Christmas, studying for finals, going to the circus and watching the jugglers making balls fall in different patterns and acrobats fly across the stadium with every daring leap.

I think my life started to change when Dick’s parents fell those agonising feet to the hard circus floor and collapsed in a silent and unmoving pile of blood and tears and broken bones-

I could never remember which sound was worse- the crunch of their bodies as they collided with the woodwork or Dick’s bawling pleas for them to wake up.

I look down over the city, my city, and I realise that I’ve changed with it. That fast food place had never been there. Neither had that office building.  And Wayne Enterprises had never been so large or so brightly lit.

The idea that we are all meant for “something greater” is foolish. Childish, even. The card’s we are dealt are the cards we must play. Thinking you can change your hand is just wishful thinking. I can do anything I want with my metaphorical cards, except change them.

But just because I ‘can’ doesn’t mean I ‘should’.

I leap off the building I was perched on, like a bird, like a bat, and fell the 20 meters into open air so I can open my wings and glide through the streets from far above. I’m on patrol and even though deep thinking and reminiscing is encouraged in our little family, I have work to do.

Work like protecting my city. The city I only ever wanted to see from the streets and pathways with my feet firmly rooted to the ground. Only wanted to watch the heroes beat up criminals and stop crime. Only wanted to understand why they did what they did within the safety of my room and four walls.

But I found out too much, got in too deep and I had to change everything about myself in order to survive.

An alarm goes off and I land, searching for the disturbance. The Gotham city bank has its windows smashed and lights flashing. My eyepiece detects 12 armoured men, 8 armed hostiles, 4 unarmed and shovelling stacks of money into duffle bags to be loaded onto a cart then shoved in the back of a van.

An average bank robbery then. Nothing interesting.

I stand on the edge of the roof, five seconds away from dropping off and gliding to the bank to smash through a window and land on the ground.

Gunfire explodes through the air, the scent of gunpowder strong, even from here.

A flaming arrow flies through a window and screams could be heard as it burst inside. Heat and whistles on my right and a flaming woman is carrying a rowdy redhead by his shoulders. He’s shooting arrows into the building. Roy and Kori

A whistle on my left and Red Hood lands a few feet from me. “We got this covered” Came through my com and a salute is the only recognition I get as Jason jumps off the building to follow Arsenal and Starfire, guns already firing.

I can’t be bothered telling him to go in non-lethal.

I wonder when that changed?

I shrug it off, instead spinning on my heel and talking off in the other direction.

Almost double checking to make sure I the Outlaws are alright, I soar through the musky Gotham air to land on a perch far enough away that the sounds of gunshots and screaming were just a distant memory. I can’t be bothered checking to see if they can handle it. I never have. I wonder now if that’s weird. Shouldn’t I be concerned for my brother and his merry band of renegades?

No. Jason has never been the type to need people to worry about him. He would never appreciate it. He would much rather solve his problems with bullet casings and fists, only worrying about the damage done to his bloodied knuckles after the fact.

I’m on a fire escape, perched on the ladders top rung of unit 486. The sound of car alarms and sirens echo far below me, the gunshots from Jason’s position disappearing on the wind.

I can hardly see the roads below me. I wonder what it would like to fall, to leap off the building and plummet to a deep and endless slumber before I pull up at the last minute to wind whistling in my ears, leaves and grime flying up to meet me as I land safely on the dirty streets of Gotham.

Although, I have a feeling that if I were to jump, I would hear nothing but the ring of a circus song like the dreaded toll of church bells, the shocked gasping of the audience like a tidal wave of despair and the screams of my brother like an oncoming storm as he finds me in a pool of my own blood and broken bones and begs me to wake up.

I wonder how Dick can fly the way he does when everyone he loves is always falling.

I have a feeling he doesn’t do it very well.

There is always a blank hesitation behind his confident eyes when he sees one of us leap off a building too merrily, before his eyes sparkle as though the darkness had never been there in the first place when he assuredly follows us down to the rapidly approaching pavement with a bright smile plastered on his face like a galaxy of stars.

A scream echoes from an alleyway, and I let go of the ladder to fly towards it. A flash of yellow and green soars past me before I could, and I watch as the last flecks of Damian’s costume disappear behind the walls of the alley. I hear the quick hiss of blades and the glinting of swords in the darkness.

I used to worry that Damian would tarnish the name of Robin, like reddening rust ghosting over diligently polished steel. But now I know that he can use whatever he wants because Robin needed to change.

For better or for worse, I could never decide.

The screaming had stopped, replaced with hushed thank you’s and the zing of Damian’s grapple. I didn’t bother looking, didn’t bother listening for the police sirens of police cars when the GCPD finally come down. It was always funny to watch them rage over how the bat-brats had taken another catch, but I wasn’t in the mood tonight.

I just wanted this night to be over so I could fall into the dark embrace of my bed and stop thinking.

That could mean one of two things, I realise now.

It could mean falling into the warm folds of my covers, the blissful softness that my pillows allow and the peaceful silence that is an empty Wayne Manor in the much too early hours of the morning. It could mean a night of heavenly darkness and the forgotten moments between falling asleep and waking up, or the cosy afterglow of a successful night of patrol that leads to comforting dreams full of soft colours and cloud jumping like a blessing from Hypnos.

Or it could mean the agonizing screaming as my own mortality rushes up to meet me, the darkness enveloping me like a suffocating and unescapable gas that takes my breath away and turns the world chrome. It could mean falling into sleeps warm embrace, only to have my doom reach me and to never wake up again, or to have everything that makes me who I am ripped away like paper in a shredder until I literally do stop thinking and my body dissolves into the ether.

The concrete floor looks in inviting, like a spring-loaded pad for a gymnastics trick.

Looking around, I realise that everything I can see is… momentary? The buildings, the statues, the cars, the roads, the homes, the families- all temporary.

Nothing ever seems to stay the same. Thinks are always changing. Always decaying.

Everything is temporary.

My life is temporary.

I’m temporary.

I’m flying before I know it, sailing through the dark skies. Maybe I’ll see Bruce on patrol. Maybe Alfred convinced him to stay in. Maybe Dick took on the cowl and became the Dark Knight for the midnight hours.

No, I see his bright blues flipping around and showing off to the stars. I can help but laugh as I hear his whoops of joy as he relishes the freedom he has when he is out here, in the darkness, with nobody but the cosmos and the smiling eyes of the dead watching him from their place in the sky.

I touch down on a construction site to watch him, one that hadn’t seen work in months due to Gotham’s poor weather and unsanitary conditions.

It’s Gotham. What else do you expect?

I watch Dick twist and turn until he summersaults high into the air and falls down over the edge of a roof, the manic giggling of an over-excitable child echoing through the street. At least he enjoys these late nights. At least he’s ok.

My com beeps, and a message quietly comes through. It’s Bruce.

“Quiet night tonight.” Same tired, gravelly voice. At least that hasn’t changed. “Come back in half an hour and maybe you can get an extra hours sleep tonight.”

“Affirmative.”

“Okie Dokie!”

“Of course, Father.”

“We clocked out ages ago. Night B.”

“I’m just doing some late night jumps. I’ll be home soon. Don’t wait up for me.”

“Yes, sir. Steph, who say ‘okie dokie’ ever?”

“I do, Cass! It’s funny. Make fun of Harper! Who the hell says ‘affirmative”?

“Shut it blondie, a superior came into work today and I had to say that about 50 times. I’m stuck in the mode.”

“Sure Harpo, if that’s what you’re telling people.”

“I swear to god Steph don’t make me zap you- “

“Girls! That’s enough.”

The same routine. Out of all the things in my life that are changing, I hope this isn’t one of them. I hope this is the one, everlasting constant.

I don’t need to reply. They know I’m here, know that I’m too tired to care and too tired to speak. I can only think. Sometimes, I feel like my own thoughts are my own undoing.

My “Kryptonite” as Kon would say. He would laugh. I’d just roll my eyes and silently agree.

My life is an hourglass. Constantly turning and turning, grains falling towards the end, only to be swept up and turned around to start again in a continuous pattern of pain and fear and suffering as my grains of sand reached the very last turn.

It is a blinking star. In one cosmic moment, I will be blown out like a candle wick by the universe and have everything end around me like the snuffing of a flame as the world ends to a gruesome and non-existent chalk.

It is an ocean. Waves come in to rip away any fleeting moment that might bring any sort of light, any happiness and just drags it back out to drown in the murky depths and transform into a nightmare of despair and overpowering fear.

It is a storm. Clouds draw me in with the enticing of sweet melodies and sunshine, warping into a dark and painful scream as I try to claw my way through the sickly sweet explosions of both distress and melancholy as the eye swallows me whole.

My life is the blink of an eye.

Soon, it will be 2050 and I’ll still be the same person and I don’t know if I’ll be happy then or if I’ll just be the same as I always have been.

Full of highs and lows.

But my life isn’t all bad.

Of course, it’s mostly full of lows, lows so deep that sometimes I can never see myself crawling out. But where the lows are bleak and deadly, there are always highs that float me back towards the light.

My life is a fireplace. Flames that lick and burn, I am the warm and deadly encounter when you get too close, comforting and secure in the way I glow. I am the heat that radiates off of wooden logs and crackles in your ears like a softly spoken melody.

It is a cup of coffee. An exponentially warm porcelain that you hold in your hand and keeps you company on cold nights alone in the dark or mornings where your only company is the rising sun. I am the steam that rises up to fog your glasses, obscuring your sight of what you don’t want to see.

It is a stream. A babbling brook, flowing in a constant and reassuring pattern from the beginning to the end, gentle and soft in the roaring of the soft lapping waves as you dip your feet into the water and the cool and calming nature runs between your toes.

It is a book. Different with every page you turn, yet more and more of the same. I am the gasping amazement and the soft tears that blur the words as you turn faster and faster to get to the end and find out why you picked up the book in the first place.

I’m tired, but I don’t care. I want to stay with my city the little while longer.

My city, more earth than air. Soil and trees reaching up to the clouds and snow peaked mountains and mist in your lungs. It’s tangible.

All my life, I had thought that when I die, I will go somewhere like this. Somewhere tangible. But what if there is no afterlife? What if I don’t go anywhere? What if I just… stop?

I try not to think like that, but sometimes doubt creeps up on me.

My com beeps, and I don’t even need to answer to know it’s Dick. “Hey Timmy,” he yawned, fondness dripping through his voice like warm honey, “Why don’t you come home now?”

“Give me 5.”

“Sure. I’ll leave your window open. See you when you get home Tim.”

The city expanded out before me, and I free fell off the scaffolding until I am at a distance to the floor so I can open my wings, wind whipping through my hair and whistling through my ears like the Pied Piper.

The streets are empty. Shutters are closed and lights are off in homes. A baby cries every now and again, and a parent’s grumble is the only reply as they get out of their warm and cosy bed to tend to their bundle of joy.

These people, the ones behind the closed shutters and darkened rooms are the ones I fight for. The reason I stick around and fight.

Death has never been something I have wanted, but it is all around me. It follows me like an inky mist that will one-day swallow me whole and reunite me with those I have lost. Even though death is such a common thing, I still want to save others from that fate.

I still want to fight for my right to live. I still want to fight for the life I deserve. I still want to fight for my family, for the ones I love.

I still want to fight to keep my head above the water.

It's been a slow night for me. I think I might head home.

The lights of the Manor were on when I get there, illuminating the house like a beacon. A beacon of hope in the dark night. How ironic.

Sliding in through my bedroom window, I could smell Alfred’s hot chocolate from the kitchen.

If I didn’t have any reason for me to exist before, there is no way I’m missing out of a cup of Alfie’s hot chocolate.

I can hear Dick laughing, the keys on the piano playing a soft melody through the marbled foyers. The chandelier is working again, light spilling in through the gap beneath my door. Harper must have fixed it. Clapping and feet stomping on the floor and Damian’s strangled but laughed protests give way that the girls are trying to get Damian to dance. Fat chance.

A tentative knock on my door and some shuffling bring me out of my reverie. “Hey Tim, you in there?” It’s Cullen. Harper must have brought him on her way home. “I think I heard you come in. If you are, I was just asking if you wanted to come down and join us? Alfred is making hot chocolate and Dick convinced Bruce to play the piano. It’s really fun.” A pause “If you’re not there, I suppose I’m just talking to myself, huh?” Silence and retreating footsteps. He’s a good kid.

I’d better go and join them.

Life is only a temporary thing in the great span of the universe. Once the Grim Reaper comes to welcome me, I will greet death as the old friend that it is. But until then, the world still needs a little bit more Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne.

And I will still be here to give the world what it needs. I never wanted to change. But after a night of reflection?

I’m glad I have.

Because I’m nothing if not a Bat. And Bats?

Bats never give up

Hi! So, this is a gift to @identityconstellations , who was feeling a little down and existential, so I thought I would write this to cheer her up. If Tim turned out suicidal, that was not the intention, so I apologise. I love you Stell x I used her words from a conversation we had and tried to incorporate it. This is also the first time I’ve ever written a 1st-person perspective fic, and I have to say that I’m actually really proud. I know it’s shit, but I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless. (Thanks to @zinziinziiin and @the-casual-cheesecake for attempting to edit this monstrosity. I know I fucked it up and ruined Tim, but I hope I fixed it somewhat) Bye!

[gingervsblondie]

Blondie on a Budget (1940)

11:31 PM, Wednesday, 2 October 2019

Here we go again. What are we watching this time? Let’s see…

Blondie on a Budget.

LET’S GET HYPED Y’ALL READY FOR-

Nah I can’t get into that wedding MC vibe. “ARE YOU EXCITED? I CAN’T HEAR YOU!!” That’s because I’m at a wedding.

So! Let’s watch Blondie on a Budget like civilized people. No hooping and hollering, just a quaint suburban american family and some comedic misunderstandings. 

11:42

Alright, I just bought my ticket to go see Joker tomorrow NOW LET’S WATCH THE REAL JOKER, DAGWOOD BUMSTEAD

And we’re going to be VERY careful this time not to let Mr. Amazon spoil the movie for us.

...Never mind this one isn’t on Amazon.

11:45

Hey hey! Dick Flournoy’s back in the writer’s chair! Is that a saying? Probably not. I mean everyone has a chair if you think about it.

First shot of the movie and Willie Best is back. (For real this time.) Now instead of working at a hotel, he’s delivering newspapers. Not to be confused with the young guy who said he was gonna look for Daisy on his bike last time. Come to think of it, did anyone tell him they found Daisy? Maybe Willie Best got his job because he didn’t come to work the next day. Maybe he’s still looking for Daisy. Maybe he’s gone all noir detective, questioning dames and drinking from a flask, sitting under a window so the shades throw stripey shadows over him.

“Someday I’ll find Daisy. Or I’ll find the hoodlums that put her out of the picture. Then I’ll make ‘em pay. Until then, I just gotta keep looking. On my bike.”

11:54

Alexander wants Blondie to read the funnies to him from the newspaper. I absolutely won’t be able to tell from the picture quality, but how much do you wanna bet that there’s a Blondie strip in there? I think superhero movies can get away with comic books existing within their universe, but I can’t think of a way that Blondie the comic strip can coexist with a real Blondie and Dagwood Bumstead.

Although Dagwood’s reaction to finding his life in the funnies could lead to some interesting The Truman Show/The Matrix shenanigans.

11:58

When Blondie ignores Alexander’s plea to read him the comics, (she’s busy doing some kind of accounting) he walks away, and then she says “Get daddy to read it to you.” And Alexander says:

“Hm. Heard every word I said. That’s a woman for ya.”

Just a reminder that Gladys Lehman isn’t writing this anymore.

12:02

Dagwood just did a pretty impressive somersault pratfall. I mean, it wasn’t funny, but it was mildly impressive, so good job Arthur Lake.

12:03

HEY OKAY I LIKED A THING! Again, wasn’t laugh-out-loud funny, but:

Dagwood came in, inhaled deeply through his nose, and sincerely delivered the line “Blondie, would you believe it? I could smell that good old coffee all the way in the backyard.” And Blondie replies solemnly: “I’m sorry, dear, I forgot to make it.” And Dagwood does his “Ye-huh?” but the one where he doesn’t make any noise so I don’t mind it. The facial “Ye-huh?” we’ll call it.

Now, Dagwood being his lovably oblivious but well-meaning self, just tried to say something nice, and Blondie interpreted it as sarcasm. Which as a misunderstanding doesn’t put Blondie into any awkwardness, but puts Dagwood in the position of having tried to open the conversation with a compliment and it instead being taken as a snide jab at Blondie for not making his coffee. But Dagwood isn’t about to correct Blondie, so this goes completely unremarked.

THAT’S ACTUALLY A PRETTY NICE PIECE OF WRITING.

12:13

I think they’re trying harder this time to give Dagwood those little hair points he has in the comics. I’d probably appreciate that if I were a Blondie comic aficionado. But as I hope I’ve made clear by now, my only goal is to be a Blondie movie aficionado.

12:18

Blondie: “I was awake half the night, dreaming. I dreamed that you asked me for 200 dollars. We had a violent argument, and I killed you. Wasn’t it silly? Why would you want 200 dollars?”

I’m a little worried about Blondie. And a lot worried about Dagwood.

12:24

Haha, Alexander just did what I’m assuming is meant to be Dagwood’s double-take. It doesn’t look like his, because he’s a small small child, but what it does look like is what would happen if the makers of a Blondie movie tried to explain how to do Dagwood’s double-take to a small small child.

12:28

Um. Okay. What the fuck.

I don’t know if I really want to describe what just happened? But it’s more of “hey look a woman didn’t write this one.”

A woman showed up at the Bumsteads’ door. As Alexander answers it, he looks up at her, and catcalls, he whistles at her. He’s 6 years old in this according to math. She says “I’m an old old friend of your father’s.” He says “You��re not so old.” She says “What a lovely thing to say! I could kiss you for that. Would you mind if I kiss you?” And then she does.

I nEeD aN ADuLT

12:35

Addendum: It wasn’t Alexander, it was Alvin, who pretended to be Alexander so as to talk to this woman. That makes nothing better. Also while we’re at it, Alexander doesn’t actually look like he could be 6 in this?

Man I just had do Google “What does a 6 year old look like.” For one thing I’m absolutely terrible at telling what age any child is, and for another I’m definitely on some kind of list now.

12:36

OK BUT THE SECOND I FINISHED WRITING THAT AND HIT PLAY, it became a plot-point that Alvin is 6, but once he tells the woman that, that’s how she finds out that he isn’t Alexander, because Alexander “couldn’t possibly be 6.”

I’M VALIDATED! I WASN’T CRAZY!

12:41

Alvin just said “Baby Dumpling, meet the woman who was almost your mother,” a line which is absolutely 3000% too real for a Blondie movie, back-to-back with Daisy’s ears going up, and her running over and pushing the door shut so Dagwood and Blondie can’t hear.

Which is maybe the most anthropomorphized and funniest thing Daisy has done so far. I mean, that time she closed a cupboard door after herself was good, but that was self-preservation and fear. This is Daisy actually getting wrapped up in the drama of what’s going on and trying to prevent it from developing.

12:50

My dad just told me when he was in university, he had a picture of Dagwood in a straightjacket, screaming, on his wall.

This is just a reminder that all fan-art is appreciated.

12:55

OH MY GOD.

I just found out Alexander’s full name was revealed in the comic in 1934. It is Alexander Hamilton Bumstead.

I promise you I didn’t know that when I opened the last review with a Hamilton parody.

(I was trying to figure out at what point in the strip he stopped being a baby and started being a teenager. I couldn’t find that on the Wikipedia article.)

1:43

Took a break. Back now.

1:55

Y’know, I guess Blondie is, from a certain point of view, equally demeaning a thing to call a human being as Baby Dumpling is. I decided to check if that was her real name, and found out that it is, and also her maiden name is “Boopadoop.”

2:00

Somebody is doing an impression of Dagwood to try and fool Blondie over the phone. And it’s amazing.

...awwww, he’s just dubbed. Man, I thought he was actually doing a great impression.

2:05

The return of Snort Watch 2019:

Daisy put her hand in her mouth, in the “that’s bad” kinda way.

2:09

Decent joke: A car won’t start. Dagwood, giggling, says “Where’s the tools? I’ll have it fixed in a jiffy.” Hard cut to the car being towed.

2:11

Dagwood just did the “I’m ready to punch someone in the face at the drop of a hat” thing again, and threw his hat on the ground just to emphasize it.

2:13

Dagwood’s a little infuriating. He realizes when the situation he’s in is going to end with Blondie threatening to divorce him again, but he’s such a pushover that he’ll only ever whine about it a little, and then continue on. It somehow makes it feel even more crushing to know exactly how this is going to go when Dagwood also knows how it’s going to go, but isn’t going to stop it.

2:22

It’s also frustrating that Dagwood never learns anything. He lies to Blondie about whatever misunderstanding there is so he doesn’t get in trouble with her, and then the lying just makes it worse and prolongs the drama, and then she finds out the truth and everything’s resolved. And then there’s a new misunderstanding and he starts lying to her again like he’s a goddamn 6 foot goldfish.

2:25

Blondie just said she went to Church off-screen. I think this might be the first allusion to religion in the Blondieverse? Presumably they worship their lord and saviour Richard Flournoy.

2:29

Weird race joke just happened. Earlier Blondie I mean Dagwood (I’m still doing that) was in a movie theater, and he was looking around at people, and then they’d morph into Blondie, glaring at him and making him feel guilty. The last time this happened, it was an Asian mother with a baby that morphed into Blondie holding Alexander. I didn’t notice that they also did it that time, but this time, now that he’s home, he looks at Blondie and Alexander, and they have black hair and what looks like eye makeup to make them look Asian. And then he looks down at Daisy and she’s turned into a Pekingese (which I had to Google dog breeds to figure out was the joke.)

And now I’m concerned what post-Pearl Harbour Blondie is going to look like. (I’m looking at you, 1942’s Blondie for Victory.)

2:43

“That scheming hussy.” -Blondie Bumstead, formerly Blondie Boopadoop, 1940.

2:47

Uggghghhghghg. They just had a scene where Dagwood confessed the truth about everything to Blondie, most of which were things she’d figured out for herself. That might’ve fixed what I’ve been complaining about. Then Dagwood gets a phone call, which is telling him he won 200 dollars in a raffle that we’ve seen him tear up the ticket for, and now he’s decided he’s going to spend the money we know he won’t get on a fur coat Blondie wants. So when he goes back up, he wants to keep who he was on the phone with a secret from Blondie, and starts lying again. And Blondie knows he’s lying, and punches her pillow in frustration.

But then she goes to sleep.

AGAIN she sees where this is going and DOESN’T DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT WHICH MAKES ME FEEL LIKE I’M GOING INSANE. EVERYTHING IS FUTILE, THESE ARE THE THINGS THAT HAPPEN IN EVERY BLONDIE MOVIE AND EVEN WHEN THE CHARACTERS INSIDE THE MOVIE HAVE BEEN READING BLONDIE COMICS IN THEIR MORNING NEWSPAPER, EVEN WHEN THEY CAN SEE THE CODE OF THE MATRIX, THEY DON’T DO ANYTHING TO DISRUPT THE LOOP. THEY KNOW WHAT’S HAPPENING AND THEY KNOW THEY CAN’T STOP IT. THIS ISN’T JUST FATALISM, THIS IS OPENING A GUN, SEEING THAT IT’S LOADED, CLOSING IT AGAIN, AND LOOKING DOWN THE BARREL TO SEE IF IT’S ACTUALLY LOADED. AND THEN SHOOTING YOURSELF IN THE FUCKING FACE AND TELLING ST. PETER “yeah it was loaded.”

I’m going to bed.

10:56 PM, Friday, 4 October 2019

It’s been 2 days. Whoops! Let’s get back to it.

11:03

There’s a featured extra that just delivered a line in a way that’s funny, but the line itself isn’t actually funny. Blondie’s buying a bus ticket, I think to leave town because she thinks Dagwood’s cheating on her again. Blondie’s on the brink of tears, and the cashier selling her the bus ticket starts tearing up, and says “I know just how you feel. I wish I could sell a ticket to Niagara Falls…”

I don’t get it. Was there something going on at Niagara Falls in 1940 or is it just a total non-sequitur? 

11:09

I think… Blondie might’ve skipped town, but left Daisy.

11:13

And now Daisy is drunk, through a chain of events that left booze on the floor. I don’t know how to feel about this development.

11:19

There’s something different about the way Flournoy shows Dagwood’s loneliness in this one. I think this is the first time where Dagwood hasn’t had anything to do while Blondie thinks he’s cheated on him. He’s not in jail, he’s not off trying to get a good deal done selling property to some mogul, he’s just at home, alone, and completely defeated. A lot of it has been silent, like right now he’s stacking pillows in Blondie’s twin bed, because he can’t get to sleep without her there. The pathos is through the roof compared to the other movies.

11:30

Blondie: “Oh, I’ve been such a fool.”

Dagwood, hugging her: “Oh, that’s alright. Everybody’s a fool.”

Is that a sweet moment? I think that’s a sweet moment. Something about that is sweet to me.

11:33

A minor twist at the end involved a trout club burning down. I suspect pyromaniac uncle.

11:36

And that was Blondie on a Budget! Took me longer than usual to get through it, I’ll try not to do that again too often. Got real mad at it in the middle, but it was inoffensive and of typical quality for the second half. Maybe a little above average, because Dagwood sad and alone at home was something new.

My Dagwood sandwich rating is: one sandwich that is practically identical to a sandwich you just ate a minute ago, which annoys you, but then once you’ve finished eating it, you can appreciate the minute details that distinguished it from the previous sandwich.

[annaddendy-blog]

This Woman's Story Will Change the Way You Think About Public Assistance

I had a kid… once.

Her name was Averi. She looked like my daughter, but she was my niece.

My sister was unable to care for Averi. It came down to me or foster care. I decided my life was no more important than hers, so the Florida Department of Children and Families (DCF) granted me temporary custody. At 27, I was suddenly responsible for keeping a 4-year-old alive.

Most parents get months to prepare; I had less than a week.

I made $360 a week, about $18,500 a year. Now, I had to squeeze caring for a child - day care, food, clothes and all those unexpected expenses - out of an already razor-thin budget.

On top of that, I was consumed by grief from losing my own mother that same year.

I kept telling myself I could do this. After all, it was only supposed to be for two months.

My First Days in the Single-Mom Hustle

My first days as a stand-in mommy presented more questions than my sleep-deprived brain was prepared for: Who was going to watch her while I work? How the hell was I going to afford this?

Luckily, there was a voluntary prekindergarten, or VPK, and day care two blocks from my apartment, and they graciously let me bring Averi by the same evening I picked her up from the DCF.

Averi curiously roamed about the classroom as I quietly explained the situation to the teachers and administrators.

Back in my apartment, we settled into our first night together.

I rolled out an air mattress on the floor of my bedroom. She was required to have her own bed, and an air mattress was the fastest and cheapest solution.

The first day I dropped her off at day care was emotionally taxing for both of us. I cried the entire drive to work.

And once I got there, I could barely focus. I kept thinking through this new set of obligations, commitments and sacrifices I was only beginning to unravel. My mind raced through checklists, appointments and my shoddy finances.

I knew my salary was no match for the expenses of child care. I lived paycheck to paycheck as it was.

Rebekah, my roommate and childhood friend, shouldered the circumstance alongside me. We split rent and utilities, which lowered my core costs considerably. But my credit card debt had nearly doubled since my mom's death.

My approximate monthly expenses were:

Rent payment: $375

Car payment: $350

Electric bill: $75

Internet and cable: $65

Car insurance: $115

Cell phone: $75

Gas: $40

Credit card: $200

Groceries: $150

Total monthly expenses: $1,445.

My average monthly income: $1,440.

Adding in the cost of caring for Averi took me to a new level of financial anxiety. Trying to map out an impossible budget only made it worse.

It started to suffocate me.

The Maze of Applying for Public Assistance

During my first home visit with Averi's social worker, I reluctantly shared my concerns. I was so scared of losing her to the system.

The social worker urged me to apply for public assistance, which I hadn't even considered. I had never seen myself ever needing it. But I had to do something.

Asking for help wasn't in my familial toolbox. My parents always struggled financially, but they rarely ever asked for help. So not taking “charity” was in my blood - from gifts to handouts, I always paid my way even if it secretly broke me.

But I cared more about Averi's well-being than my dignity. It was too real. I needed the help. Any help.

I had no idea where to begin, so the social worker provided me with a list of all the programs I was eligible for. I dove in headfirst.

I swallowed my pride and signed my name on all the dotted lines I could. Applying for government assistance at 27 years old was my new reality.

School Readiness

The first program that came through was Florida's School Readiness financial assistance program.

It subsidized the weekly day care costs, so I could continue working without spending most of my salary on child care, like so many parents are forced to do.

After a $125 deposit, I paid $9.20 a week for Averi's day care.

She attended VPK in the morning and an after-school program within the same building after. I had to pick her up by 6 p.m. every day, or else face a non-subsidized, minute-by-minute late fee.

Temporary Cash Assistance

Initially, my circumstance made me eligible for temporary cash assistance (TCA), a $180 monthly stipend designed to help struggling families with minors.

The benefits help keep children in their own homes, or in the home of a blood relative, instead of foster care.

I received an Access debit card, the same card people use for food stamps. (The Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP) wasn't born yet.)

The card was automatically loaded with $180 each month. I could use it anywhere that accepted electronic benefit transfer (EBT) payments.

Suddenly, I was that person scouting the exterior of stores for a “We Accept EBT” sign, or quietly asking the cashier if they accepted EBT cards, worried about being judged by other customers.

Eventually, DCF approved me for the Relative Caregiver program, and the $180 increased to $240 monthly.

Women, Infants and Children

Because of Averi's age, I was also eligible to receive assistance from the U.S. Department of Agriculture's supplemental nutrition program for Women, Infants and Children, WIC.

WIC provides assistance for low-income women with children under 5 years old. WIC serves 53% of all infants in the United States.  

Thankfully, my 32-hour-a-week job allowed some wiggle room for the sloth-like government waiting rooms. I spent a whole morning waiting.

Eventually, I walked out with a handful of food vouchers. They had date ranges and expirations and a list of specific items they could be exchanged for. How hard could it be?

The items on my monthly food allowance weren't exactly the nutritional foods I'd hoped for.  

But I had to face it: These were the times of white bread, cereal and canned beans. No more organic eggs and vegetables or soy milk, which I'd become accustomed to consuming before I became responsible for Averi.

The monthly allowance included a whopping $8 for fruits and vegetables. While I would have hoped for more, I was thankful for food in our mouths, regardless of the form it came in.

Averi loved bananas and green beans, so I would purchase those fresh, along with a bag of carrots or apples, whichever I could squeeze out of that voucher.  

I won't forget the first time I tried to use them at the register. I dreaded the whole experience, fearful of the disgusted eyes cast by other customers as they waited for me to shamefully get my government-issued rations.

I'd read the voucher over and over to be sure I followed the instructions perfectly to avoid any holdup at the register.

But at the checkout, the cashier informed me I'd made a mistake.

I'd picked up a 24-ounce loaf of bread when the voucher clearly stated I was only allowed the 20-ounce loaf. I was mortified. I couldn't leave Averi there while I ran back, so I put everything back in my basket, careful to avoid the gaze of the line forming behind me.

There it was on the shelf, the 20-ounce loaf of bread with the letters “WIC” plain as day on the price tag.

After that, I spent much more time at the grocery store than necessary, cross-referencing my vouchers so I could avoid any unwanted hubbub at the register.

Medicaid

Averi caught a cold the first week at day care, and then I caught it. I hadn't been sick in over a year, but my stressed immune system was no match for kid germs.

After that, it was pink eye.

Then Averi's repeated sinus infections, futile prescriptions and doctor visits led to a diagnosis of asthma. She was prescribed a nebulizer treatment three to four times a day.

She hopped and bopped around with the cough of a 50-year-old smoker. Eventually, her breathing improved a little, and she got off the nebulizer.

The symptoms kept creeping back, though, so we went to the pediatrician again. She got chest X-rays that determined she had pneumonia. She needed bed rest. That meant finding babysitters or missing work.

By the summer, we both contracted scabies from visiting the place my grandmother lived. The scratching saga continued for months. I wouldn't wish that itching on anyone.

I'm scared to think what may have happened to her if she didn't have Medicaid.

What Life as a Single Parent Was Like

After the first week, I was informed that the original two-month timeline would actually be six months.

To pass the time, I kept her busy.

I found plenty of free kid-friendly events happening around town. We went to community festivals, parks and free concerts.

Friends gave me free tickets to museums and local events like the Renaissance Festival. Averi thrived on all of the new experiences.

I registered her for a Busch Gardens preschool pass, offered free for children ages 5 and younger. I already had a monthly pass - with a $7 monthly rate I'd been grandfathered into - so we frequently visited the park for free entertainment.

When she outgrew her clothes, there was someone bringing me hand-me-downs so I didn't have to buy more. When I did, we went to thrift stores, making it a fun treasure hunt to pick out an outfit she loved.

You learn a lot about people when you fall between a rock and a hard place.

I'd come into work to find a handwritten note and AMC gift cards on my desk. Or a friend's mom would slide me $20 when I hugged her. My boyfriend would treat us to dinner, or his mother would make breakfast on a Sunday morning without asking for anything in return.

Many endured DCF-required background checks just to babysit her for a few hours so I could have a wink of sleep, or time to catch up on work or other obligations.

On Averi's fifth birthday, more than 40 people attended her party at Chuck E. Cheese.

At home, we danced around in all of the tissue paper from the gifts. The joy on Averi's face showed she didn't know about our struggle. She only knew the kindness of friends and family, which is exactly how I wanted it.

The network of support humbled me, and I allowed myself to lean into it.

That August, Averi started school. She received free lunches, and I made her breakfast at home. She adapted with ease, and I shouldered the expense of fundraisers, classroom activities and gifts for her classmate's birthday parties.

One night before bed, I saw the light bulb click in her eyes as the words to Dr. Seuss' “Marvin K. Mooney Will You Please Go Now!” started to make sense. She read every last one of them (except Zumble-Zay).

Sharing that milestone was priceless; I'll forever treasure the memory.

The Financial Toll of Being a Caregiver

Soon August rolled into September, and as the time toiled on, so did my financial problems.

While everyone thought I was due some karmic reward, I was busy maxing out my credit cards.

I knew I'd literally pay for it in the end, but I didn't care. My maternal instinct was to protect her at any cost.

The credit card companies started to lower my limits, because I was only making the minimum payments and overspending.

Overdraft fees on my checking account sent me to my Bank of America branch. I didn't mean to cry when I talked to the teller, but the flood came anyway. All I wanted was to reverse a $30 fee for going $2 over my balance.

It happened more than once. One bank associate began to know my face and my circumstance. His patience and benevolence will always be beyond me, as was his advice.

He told me about financial hardship programs that would allow me to close my credit cards and pay little to no interest.

By September, I started closing my credit cards. I knew this would kill my “age of credit history,” but it was the only way I could keep from drowning in debt, consolidate and lower my interest rates.

The Life I Chose for Averi

I was granted permanent guardianship of Averi that November.

I wanted to keep her as close to my chest as she'd become, but I knew deep down I couldn't continue to provide for her or afford our life together.

My older brother had recently moved back from out of state. We discussed the option of Averi living with him and what would serve her best long term.

On paper, I was single and broke. He had a wife and daughter and was financially stable.

We both knew living with him would be best for her, regardless of how it made my heart ache.

That Christmas came fast.

Between the donations set up by DCF and the continued generosity of family and friends, Averi wanted for nothing. Santa supplied maybe her best Christmas yet. Gifts towered over our 3-foot pink Christmas tree.

While she tore open presents, I snapped a ridiculous amount of photos, mentally preparing myself for the fact that our time, like 2010, was nearing an end.

I was coming to terms with letting go and the decision to give her a better life. A life not supported by the system. A life still with family and within an arm's reach of me.

A week shy of a full year together, I packed her stuff, swallowing back tears.

Her moving in with my brother was an easy sell. She adored her little cousin and wanted to have sleepovers with her every night. The only problem, she said, was that she would miss me.

As we piled her stuff into my brother's black Suburban, she hugged me tight and said, “I love you with all my heart, Aunt Stephanie.”

What My Year on Public Assistance Taught Me

My year of living on public assistance was eight years ago.

Averi now lives 2,000 miles away.

My brother took a job up north, so they moved a year after she left my care.

We've seen each other only a handful of times since; we stay in touch with handwritten letters.

It took me some time to readjust to life without her, both emotionally and financially.

I had plenty of credit card debt before Averi, but it nearly doubled after a year of unexpected child care. The public assistance support ended the moment she left me.

While I did receive a boost in my tax return for claiming her as a dependent, it barely made a dent.

It took me a few years to get serious about paying it off instead of wallowing. I felt like I'd made enough sacrifices that I just wanted to live without worrying about it.

Obviously, ignoring debt doesn't work. I couldn't escape the financial obligations lest I file for bankruptcy. That wasn't me, or who I wanted to be. I'd already danced with the public assistance system, and this time, I wanted to clear it for good. So I faced it.

I slayed that interest-laden beast with balance transfer credit cards and a personal loan to consolidate other outstanding debts.

I inched my way out of debt every year since, and as of August 2018, I'm finally debt-free - aside from a car payment - for the first time in 16 years.

My credit score rebounded, but I had to learn some costly lessons.

I'm not embarrassed to admit that public assistance helped me through the hardest year of my life.

My experience with social workers, courts and public assistance offices made me realize how many kids need our help. Those insights led me to seek out opportunities locally.

I learned that while it isn't easy, asking for help is OK; people love you and want to help you.

And one day, you might even have the chance to help them.

Stephanie Bolling is a staff writer at The Penny Hoarder. She'd love to talk to you about your experience on public assistance.

This was originally published on The Penny Hoarder, which helps millions of readers worldwide earn and save money by sharing unique job opportunities, personal stories, freebies and more. The Inc. 5000 ranked The Penny Hoarder as the fastest-growing private media company in the U.S. in 2017.

The Penny Hoarder Promise: We provide accurate, reliable information. Here's why you can trust us and how we make money.

[sherlockshite]

List of fucky things in the Six Thatchers (Sherlock 04x01)

You should know that this is going to be a long post, so read all the way if you want. This is just a thread of fucky things/parallels/loose ends/inconsistencies that are questioned in TST (arranged according to appearance). Your ideas, opinions, and additions are of course welcome. 

1. So is it really Alicia or Elizabeth (Smallwood)? Which one?

2. Could be Mycroft or Mark saying this. So what is the truth, Mycroft? WHAT IS IT?

3. THE CODE NAMES (There’s Dale Pike) (Love = Norbury) x

4. Does the “back on terra firma” tweet mean that Sherlock has been tweeting ever since before?? But we don’t see him tweeting in the previous episodes and in any episodes after TST...

Because it’s still morning, still A.M. even after the tarmac scene, Sherlock’s TAB MP in the plane, and after seeing the doctor. Didn’t know the morning had so many hours in it.

5. Out of character Sherlock? 

Staying Alive?

6. Double meaning. Can mean the footage on CAM and THE LOST SPECIAL?  Or @the-missing-footage you know...  ...... ... The episode we’ve all been waiting for. GIVE US THE REAL VERSION MOFTISS   Also, the Picadilly Circus screens or glitches on BBC??

7. Let’s go through the script (continued from 6)

“No need to go to the trouble of getting some sort of official pardon. You're off the hook, Mr Holmes. You're home and dry.”

“OK, cheers.” 

“Obviously, there's unfinished business.”

8. “You also say you know what he's going to do next. What does that mean? Perhaps that's all there is to it. Perhaps he was just trying to frighten you. 

No, no, he would never be that disappointing. He's planned something, something long-term. Something that would take effect if he never made it off that rooftop alive” Yeah, yeah we get it. The Eurus thing is long-term plan right?

9. WE ARE PLAYING AN ARG

10. “Appointment In Samarra. I'm sorry?” tf was the point of the appointment in Samarra? Mary planned to die. It’s not her who had an appointment.

11. THIS LINE MIGHT BE ABOUT THE FUCKY ADVERTISMENTS?

12. Watson’s blog is typing into a static image. Why??? (don’t tell me that this was NOT intentional)

“And we’re back! Sorry I haven’t updated the blog for such a long time but things really have been very busy. You’ll have seen on the news about how Sherlock recovered the Mona Lisa. He described it as “an utterly dreary affair” and was much more interested in the the case of a missing horseshoe and how it was connected to a bright blue deckchair on Brighton beach.I’ll try to write everything up when I get a chance but it’s not been missing portraits and horseshoes that have taken up my time.I’m going to be a dad.I mean, I thought I’d spent the last few years being a Dad to Sherlock, but it really doesn’t compare. The baby runs all of our lives. Maybe not THAT different to [….] I’ve fought in two wars, my best friend once faked his own death but none of that [….] terrifying and amazing and the biggest adventure I’ve been on.” x

13. When Sherlock realized he’s gay

14. ALSO, JOHN, THE DOCTOR, WHOSE WIFE IS GOING INTO LABOR, IS THE ONE DRIVING THE CAR. WHY??

15. The baby is not real. A disguise? It’s literally on the wall.

16. Parallels to Redbeard and Eurus

17. Molly saying this? Out of context? (You look sad when you think he can’t see you). Molly knows.

18. Sherlock asks?? 

19. The red-haired girl had the paper in her hands before she even saw John. This is really a plan (around 9:57)

20. Moftiss, you know what to do.

21. Sherlock saying “Mr and Mrs Welsborough, I really am most terribly sorry to hear about your daughter.” when he knew it was a son.

22. So it just happened to be a coincidence that Sherlock noticed and it’s related to Mary and Redbeard and Churros ok....

23. Ever been into a magic room?

24. Remember the moles? Why are they we playing this game again?

Intuitions are not to be ignored, John. Besides, I have the strangest feeling...

25. Sherlock asked about Moriarty to Mycroft. But Mycorft already had Moriarty’s folder on his desk prior to the question. Why? (until 22:10)

26. What’s so significant about the Black Pearl??

“..and had latterly shown some interest in tracking down the Black Pearl of the Borgias, which is still missing, by the way, in case you feel like applying yourself to something practical. It's a pearl - get another one. There's something important about this. I'm sure. Maybe it's Moriarty. Maybe it's not.”

27. So.... what’s with these lines? Premonitions? We can calculate what’s going to happen? Does this sound familiar?

 “What we call premonition is just movement of the web. If you could attenuate to every strand of quivering data, the future would be entirely calculable.

As inevitable as mathematics.

Appointment In Samarra. I'm sorry?”

28. Rewriting stories.

“Appointment In Samarra. I'm sorry? The merchant who can't outrun Death. You always hated that story as a child. Less keen on predestination back then.

 I'm not sure I like it now.

You wrote your own version, as I remember. Appointment In Sumatra.”

29. MOOD: “Keep me informed. Of what? Absolutely no idea.”

30. “AMMO!”

31. And of course, Arwel’s glowing skull. Because he likes it to glow, right?

32. GIVE US THE BORGIA BLACK PEARL TRAIL STORY

“ Well, Interpol think the Borgia Pearl trail leads back to London, so... The Borgia Pearl? T

hey still after that, are they?”

33. THE CHESSBOARD. IN THE MIDDLE. Framed by the chair. Zoom in to see it. CHESS. promo pic? we’re playing a game?

34. wax bust. This transition.

35. Is this us? TJLC? (you can’t kill an idea, can you? not once it’s made its home right... there)  or is it John confessing his feelings? idk?

36. John smelled Lestrade right after “No, he's got a lunch date with a brunette forensic officer that he doesn't want to be late for [...] The right sleeve of your jacket, plus the formaldehyde mixed with your cologne and your complete inability to stop looking at your watch.”

He getting a whiff of Sherlock’s kink or 

37. THESE LINES ARE SAID WHILE THE SCENE SHOWS A TEXT.  THE TIMING IS PERFECT.

“Trust me, though, she's not right for you.

What?

She's not the one.” (because The Woman is gay)

38. “I LIKE YOU”

“He's not moving.

He's thinking.

He's really not moving.

Slow but sure, John, not dissimilar to yourself.

You just like this dog, don't you?

Well, I like you.”

39. Sherlock saying these lines. Moftiss, say it to my face: MORIARTY is not dead.

“This is it, though. This is the one, I can feel it. 

Not Moriarty? 

It has to be him. It's too bizarre, it's too baroque. It's designed to beguile me, tease me and lure me in.”

40. THE TRANSITION/FRAMES OF THIS SCENE 

41. ANNND THE TRANSITION HERE AGAIN. Mary and John talking on their bed and... the dialogue and... 

42. THE BLACK PEARL. AGAIN.

43. Is it normal to talk about the Exorcist and 666 and your baby?

44. Sherlock popped out of nowhere

45. the pool scene is about Eurus and redbeard? ok

46. Who is the missing one??? 

Also, the chessboard again??? Notice it in the middle. ^ RIGHT THERE IN THE MIDDLE.

47. But did the past matter? No it did not. (For Mary, it was heavily stressed that she did not care about her past).Then why this? What about Rosie and John?

“ Sorry, no, no, because we... we were family. 

Families fall out. The memory stick is the easiest way to track you down. You're the only other survivor, it must be you that he wants, and he's already killed looking for the Thatcher bust.

Well, he's just trying to find me. He survived, that's all that matters”

48. Both Mycroft and Mary said the line “the dragon-slayer” about Sherlock... 

49. Mycroft:  “ Oh, good, I love an acronym. All the best secret societies have them.”

T - J - L - C  

50. Could be both Mycroft and Mark talking. No LOOSE ENDS.

51. “ In a way? So many lies.

I'm so sorry. And I don't just mean you.

What?

Alex, Gabriel, Ajay...

You're R? Rosamund? Rosamund Mary.”

So... WHAT are the OTHER lies?

52. “ I always liked Mary.

Yeah, me too. I used to.” Something fucky about Mary again.

53. Mary and John look at each other then the kid drops the tea. What. is the meaning.

54. One seat apart? Married couple, right. Also, the plane John = little girl

55. Mary while going to the baby: “ I'm coming, darling. Mummy's coming.Oh, what are you doing? What are you doing? Come here.”

THIS SCENE IS JUST SO RICH. JOHN TEXTING SOMEONE. 

Background noise: Rosie is crying then we see John texting

Background noise: Mary is shushing the child, while the other one sends texts.

Why?

56.  Look at that “stopping” on the left hand corner of the frame. John is ending the texting now. 

57. The first time we see Sherlock almost dying (and he knows it) but does not say “John!”  (unlike when he got shot or during TRF)

58. John’s fourth wall break

59. WHY, MARY? FOR WHAT REASON?

60. 

When a person dies in a case: 

John: CALL A NURSE! *takes care of the person*

When Sherlock dies during TRF:

John: *checks pulse* *tries to see other signs if SH is alive or dead*

When Mary gets shot:

John, the DOCTOR : *listens to the speech* MARY MARYYY MARRYYYYY

61.  THINGS ON THE REFRIGERATOR

62. The balloon

63. Subtext? It’s still about SH, isn’t it?

64. AND OF COURSE, THE DVDs

65. THIS TRANSITION feels like “i’m watching you” 

66. Mary: “ If you are watching this, I'm probably dead. I hope I can have an ordinary life but who knows? [...] When I'm... gone, IF I'm gone... I need you to do something for me.'

That “probably” and “when I’m gone” to “IF” I’m gone” sounds to me like this is really all a plan.

67. So.... what was the content of John’s letter???

68.  THIS.

“ 'When does the path we walk on lock around our feet? When does the road become a river with only one destination?' 'Death waits for us all in Samarra. But can Samarra be avoided?'” 

So it’s only about Eurus and Redbeard, right?? lol ok

69. and of course... The GO TO HELL line. Was she saying something important or is she just evil? Think.

Bonus: Americanism: “Awesome, isn't it?”

If you read it this far, congratulations! Thank you for reading all the way. Go for your additions, questions, analyses. This is just a rough list of things that are fucky. Not meaning to interpret anything though (but some happened while I was making this post).

Transcript here. 

Ideas come from: seekmyroom’s twitter

[volchonika]

I was tagged by @stitchcasual!  How exciting.

Always post these rules!

Answer the questions given by the person who tagged you

Write 11 questions of your own. Tag 11 people.

1. Who do you look up to most?

Oh boy.  Carrie Fisher was a big one I discovered only in recent years.  She was an incredible advocate for herself and others, a woman who lived without fear, a beautiful and glittery soul.

Maxine Waters is the hero Gotham deserves, and the one it needs right now.

Amy Tenbrink, who y’all probably don’t know, is one of the most spectacular and awe-inspiring people I have ever personally known.  She’s a goddamn superhero.

2. What is your favorite passage of literature?

Virtually all of The Last Unicorn, but especially: “They went down all the roads long ago, and the Red Bull ran close behind them and covered their footprints.”  I’d like to have that tattooed on me, preferably in Peter S. Beagle’s handwriting.  Another favorite is Mommy Fortuna’s death at the claws of the harpy, capped by the unicorn’s rule for survival: “You must never run from anything immortal.  It attracts their attention.”  Also the ending passages.  And--and everything in that book.

I also really, really love the death of Wen Jian in Under Heaven, by Guy Gavriel Kay:

“I didn’t think of it that way.”

“I know you didn’t,” said Liu.  “If you can, have me buried beside father in the orchard.”  Another thin smile as he glanced back.  “You are skilled at quieting ghosts, are you not?”

And with that, he went down the steps to the sunlit yard, drawing a jewelled court blade from the sleeve of his robe.

Tai saw him approach Jian and bow to her. The dui commander was the only one near them, and now he withdrew, backing away a dozen steps, as if to, belatedly, distance himself from this.

Tai saw his brother say something to Jian, too softly for anyone to hear. But he saw her smile, as if surprised, and pleased, by what she heard. She murmured something to Liu, and he bowed again.

He spoke one more time, and after a motionless instant she nodded her head. She made a dancer’s spinning movement, a last one, the sort that ends a performance and releases the audience’s approval and applause.

She ended it with her back to Liu, to the posting station. She faced south (her people had come from the south), towards the cypress trees lining the road and the summer fields beyond them, bright in the morning light, and Tai’s brother placed his left hand around her waist, to steady the both of them, and he thrust his knife cleanly into her, between ribs, into the heart, from behind.

Liu held her, gently, carefully, as she died.  And then he held her a little longer, and then he laid her down on her back in the dust of the yard, because there was nothing else he could do.

He knelt beside her a moment, arranging her clothing. One of her hairpins had come loose. Tai watched his brother fix it in place again.  Then Liu set down his jewelled blade and stood up and he moved a distance away from her, toward the archers of the Second Army.  He stopped.

“Do it,” he said.  Making it his command.  And was standing very straight as they sent half a dozen arrows into him.

Tai had no way of knowing if his brother’s eyes were open or closed before he died. He did become aware, after a time, that Sima Zian was beside him, saying nothing, but present.

He looked out into the yard. At Liu, face down, and Jian on her back, the blue robe spread about her, and it seemed to him that sunlight was wrong for what the moment was, what it would always be now, even as it receded. This morning brightness, the birds rising and darting, their singing.

He said that, to the poet. “Should there be birdsong?”

Zian said, “No, and yes. We do what we do, and the world continues. Somewhere, a child is being born and the parents are tasting a joy they never imagined.”

“I know that,” said Tai. “But here? Should there be so much light here?”

“No,” said Sima Zian, after a moment. “Not here.”

3. Star Wars or Star Trek?

Oh my fucking god.  Both were a huge part of my upbringing (my parents are huge nerds and I started watching TNG around the same time they showed me the original trilogy).  If I had to choose TODAY, it would be Star Wars because of my evolving love of space opera, but--goddamn it, I need both.

4. What is your favorite thing that makes other people go “whaaat?”

Jousting.  I’d say about 60% of the people I tell think I’m joking, and another 25-30% have to check:  “You mean, like--in Game of Thrones?”

Which--no, not like in Game of Thrones.  Same sport, just... not done like that.  I’m training to compete in light-armor jousting, which is a sport of precision (you have to hit a target the size of a silver dollar with a lance the diameter of... well, a silver dollar.  While running at each other on horses).  No one gets unhorsed (provided everything goes right) or killed or even hurt, usually.  I used to do eventing, and jousting is a *much* safer equestrian sport.  Most injuries in jousting are rider error.

5. What do you bring to a potluck?

Gin and tonic.  I’m such a novelist.

6. What is your favorite food for a dark and stormy night?

Meat cooked over a fire.

7. What is your beverage of choice?

This speakeasy, Social, makes the most amazing cocktail I’ve ever had.  It’s called La Vie en Rose, and it’s mezcal vida, pamplemousse rose, maple-allspice, fresh lime, and rosewater.

That or a gin and tonic.  With a little squeeze of lime.  In a 10oz heavy-bottomed double old fashioned glass.

8. What’s your most ridiculous memory from childhood?

I have so many.  Ridiculous as in, it should be ridiculed?  One time my Sunday school teacher called me a murderer for pulling a leaf off a bush.

9. What Thing that you do/have done are you the most proud of?

I have two, which is sort of cheating.  First, I’m super proud of my writing, because it’s a constant labor of self-improvement and I am the only one who can take responsibility for it.

But I’ve had the chance to encourage some really amazing tiny warrior-girls performing as Gudrun the She-Bear.  I love doing that.  I want a generation of girls who are armed to the teeth by confidence and the childhood memory of a woman bellowing and then tackling a man twice her size to the ground and punching him in the mouth because he acted like a chauvinistic piece of pigfart.

10. What’s your favorite holiday?

Aviator Day.

Because the Sirens Conference is not a widely recognized holiday.

11. If you knew your expiration date was 3/1/2017, what would you do with the rest of your February?

First, I would distribute The Pale Queen.  The pre-publication life of an original fiction author is lonely as fuck.  I’m so excited about these characters, and I have no one to talk to about it.  I’m alone in this fandom.  I’m not deluded enough to think that enthusiasm would spring up in two and a half weeks, but maybe it would outlive me.

Then I would travel.  I’m not sure where.  Southeast Asia?  Russia?  Stick in-continent and do a ghost roadtrip across the American south?  Steal a horse and head for Panama?  I dunno.  But I would take my dog and my cat and the people I love most and go.

My 11 Questions for whosoever wants to answer them:

1. What animal creeps you out the most? 2. What terrible scene ruined a movie you might otherwise have loved? 3. Favorite single episode of a TV show? 4. What is the best thing you’ve ever made with your hands? 5. What’s your favorite way to get rid of something? 6. If you could spend ten minutes unattended with any object, what would it be? 7. What was the last thing you doodled? 8. What book is better if you only read the last 50 pages? 9. Tell me some of the words in your vernacular. 10. What do you lose the most frequently? 11.   What would you do if you woke up in a strange cottage, alone, with a clear set of instructions written for you in a language you couldn’t read?

[kennethherrerablog]

This Woman’s Story Will Change the Way You Think About Public Assistance

I had a kid… once.

Her name was Averi. She looked like my daughter, but she was my niece.

My sister was unable to care for Averi. It came down to me or foster care. I decided my life was no more important than hers, so the Florida Department of Children and Families (DCF) granted me temporary custody. At 27, I was suddenly responsible for keeping a 4-year-old alive.

Most parents get months to prepare; I had less than a week.

I made $360 a week, about $18,500 a year. Now, I had to squeeze caring for a child — day care, food, clothes and all those unexpected expenses — out of an already razor-thin budget.

On top of that, I was consumed by grief from losing my own mother that same year.

I kept telling myself I could do this. After all, it was only supposed to be for two months.

My First Days in the Single-Mom Hustle

My first days as a stand-in mommy presented more questions than my sleep-deprived brain was prepared for: Who was going to watch her while I work? How the hell was I going to afford this?

Luckily, there was a voluntary prekindergarten, or VPK, and day care two blocks from my apartment, and they graciously let me bring Averi by the same evening I picked her up from the DCF.

Averi curiously roamed about the classroom as I quietly explained the situation to the teachers and administrators.

Back in my apartment, we settled into our first night together.

I rolled out an air mattress on the floor of my bedroom. She was required to have her own bed, and an air mattress was the fastest and cheapest solution.

The first day I dropped her off at day care was emotionally taxing for both of us. I cried the entire drive to work.

And once I got there, I could barely focus. I kept thinking through this new set of obligations, commitments and sacrifices I was only beginning to unravel. My mind raced through checklists, appointments and my shoddy finances.

I knew my salary was no match for the expenses of child care. I lived paycheck to paycheck as it was.

Rebekah, my roommate and childhood friend, shouldered the circumstance alongside me. We split rent and utilities, which lowered my core costs considerably. But my credit card debt had nearly doubled since my mom’s death.

My approximate monthly expenses were:

Rent payment: $375

Car payment: $350

Electric bill: $75

Internet and cable: $65

Car insurance: $115

Cell phone: $75

Gas: $40

Credit card: $200

Groceries: $150

Total monthly expenses: $1,445.

My average monthly income: $1,440.

Adding in the cost of caring for Averi took me to a new level of financial anxiety. Trying to map out an impossible budget only made it worse.

It started to suffocate me.

The Maze of Applying for Public Assistance

During my first home visit with Averi’s social worker, I reluctantly shared my concerns. I was so scared of losing her to the system.

The social worker urged me to apply for public assistance, which I hadn’t even considered. I had never seen myself ever needing it. But I had to do something.

Asking for help wasn’t in my familial toolbox. My parents always struggled financially, but they rarely ever asked for help. So not taking “charity” was in my blood — from gifts to handouts, I always paid my way even if it secretly broke me.

But I cared more about Averi’s well-being than my dignity. It was too real. I needed the help. Any help.

I had no idea where to begin, so the social worker provided me with a list of all the programs I was eligible for. I dove in headfirst.

I swallowed my pride and signed my name on all the dotted lines I could. Applying for government assistance at 27 years old was my new reality.

School Readiness

The first program that came through was Florida’s School Readiness financial assistance program.

It subsidized the weekly day care costs, so I could continue working without spending most of my salary on child care, like so many parents are forced to do.

After a $125 deposit, I paid $9.20 a week for Averi’s day care.

She attended VPK in the morning and an after-school program within the same building after. I had to pick her up by 6 p.m. every day, or else face a non-subsidized, minute-by-minute late fee.

Temporary Cash Assistance

Initially, my circumstance made me eligible for temporary cash assistance (TCA), a $180 monthly stipend designed to help struggling families with minors.

The benefits help keep children in their own homes, or in the home of a blood relative, instead of foster care.

I received an Access debit card, the same card people use for food stamps. (The Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP) wasn’t born yet.)

The card was automatically loaded with $180 each month. I could use it anywhere that accepted electronic benefit transfer (EBT) payments.

Suddenly, I was that person scouting the exterior of stores for a “We Accept EBT” sign, or quietly asking the cashier if they accepted EBT cards, worried about being judged by other customers.

Eventually, DCF approved me for the Relative Caregiver program, and the $180 increased to $240 monthly.

Women, Infants and Children

Because of Averi’s age, I was also eligible to receive assistance from the U.S. Department of Agriculture’s supplemental nutrition program for Women, Infants and Children, WIC.

WIC provides assistance for low-income women with children under 5 years old. WIC serves 53% of all infants in the United States.  

Thankfully, my 32-hour-a-week job allowed some wiggle room for the sloth-like government waiting rooms. I spent a whole morning waiting.

Eventually, I walked out with a handful of food vouchers. They had date ranges and expirations and a list of specific items they could be exchanged for. How hard could it be?

The items on my monthly food allowance weren’t exactly the nutritional foods I’d hoped for.  

But I had to face it: These were the times of white bread, cereal and canned beans. No more organic eggs and vegetables or soy milk, which I’d become accustomed to consuming before I became responsible for Averi.

The monthly allowance included a whopping $8 for fruits and vegetables. While I would have hoped for more, I was thankful for food in our mouths, regardless of the form it came in.

Averi loved bananas and green beans, so I would purchase those fresh, along with a bag of carrots or apples, whichever I could squeeze out of that voucher.  

I won’t forget the first time I tried to use them at the register. I dreaded the whole experience, fearful of the disgusted eyes cast by other customers as they waited for me to shamefully get my government-issued rations.

I’d read the voucher over and over to be sure I followed the instructions perfectly to avoid any holdup at the register.

But at the checkout, the cashier informed me I’d made a mistake.

I’d picked up a 24-ounce loaf of bread when the voucher clearly stated I was only allowed the 20-ounce loaf. I was mortified. I couldn’t leave Averi there while I ran back, so I put everything back in my basket, careful to avoid the gaze of the line forming behind me.

There it was on the shelf, the 20-ounce loaf of bread with the letters “WIC” plain as day on the price tag.

After that, I spent much more time at the grocery store than necessary, cross-referencing my vouchers so I could avoid any unwanted hubbub at the register.

Medicaid

Averi caught a cold the first week at day care, and then I caught it. I hadn’t been sick in over a year, but my stressed immune system was no match for kid germs.

After that, it was pink eye.

Then Averi’s repeated sinus infections, futile prescriptions and doctor visits led to a diagnosis of asthma. She was prescribed a nebulizer treatment three to four times a day.

She hopped and bopped around with the cough of a 50-year-old smoker. Eventually, her breathing improved a little, and she got off the nebulizer.

The symptoms kept creeping back, though, so we went to the pediatrician again. She got chest X-rays that determined she had pneumonia. She needed bed rest. That meant finding babysitters or missing work.

By the summer, we both contracted scabies from visiting the place my grandmother lived. The scratching saga continued for months. I wouldn’t wish that itching on anyone.

I’m scared to think what may have happened to her if she didn’t have Medicaid.

What Life as a Single Parent Was Like

After the first week, I was informed that the original two-month timeline would actually be six months.

To pass the time, I kept her busy.

I found plenty of free kid-friendly events happening around town. We went to community festivals, parks and free concerts.

Friends gave me free tickets to museums and local events like the Renaissance Festival. Averi thrived on all of the new experiences.

I registered her for a Busch Gardens preschool pass, offered free for children ages 5 and younger. I already had a monthly pass — with a $7 monthly rate I’d been grandfathered into — so we frequently visited the park for free entertainment.

When she outgrew her clothes, there was someone bringing me hand-me-downs so I didn’t have to buy more. When I did, we went to thrift stores, making it a fun treasure hunt to pick out an outfit she loved.

You learn a lot about people when you fall between a rock and a hard place.

I’d come into work to find a handwritten note and AMC gift cards on my desk. Or a friend’s mom would slide me $20 when I hugged her. My boyfriend would treat us to dinner, or his mother would make breakfast on a Sunday morning without asking for anything in return.

Many endured DCF-required background checks just to babysit her for a few hours so I could have a wink of sleep, or time to catch up on work or other obligations.

On Averi’s fifth birthday, more than 40 people attended her party at Chuck E. Cheese.

At home, we danced around in all of the tissue paper from the gifts. The joy on Averi’s face showed she didn’t know about our struggle. She only knew the kindness of friends and family, which is exactly how I wanted it.

The network of support humbled me, and I allowed myself to lean into it.

That August, Averi started school. She received free lunches, and I made her breakfast at home. She adapted with ease, and I shouldered the expense of fundraisers, classroom activities and gifts for her classmate’s birthday parties.

One night before bed, I saw the light bulb click in her eyes as the words to Dr. Seuss’ “Marvin K. Mooney Will You Please Go Now!” started to make sense. She read every last one of them (except Zumble-Zay).

Sharing that milestone was priceless; I’ll forever treasure the memory.

The Financial Toll of Being a Caregiver

Soon August rolled into September, and as the time toiled on, so did my financial problems.

While everyone thought I was due some karmic reward, I was busy maxing out my credit cards.

I knew I’d literally pay for it in the end, but I didn’t care. My maternal instinct was to protect her at any cost.

The credit card companies started to lower my limits, because I was only making the minimum payments and overspending.

Overdraft fees on my checking account sent me to my Bank of America branch. I didn’t mean to cry when I talked to the teller, but the flood came anyway. All I wanted was to reverse a $30 fee for going $2 over my balance.

It happened more than once. One bank associate began to know my face and my circumstance. His patience and benevolence will always be beyond me, as was his advice.

He told me about financial hardship programs that would allow me to close my credit cards and pay little to no interest.

By September, I started closing my credit cards. I knew this would kill my “age of credit history,” but it was the only way I could keep from drowning in debt, consolidate and lower my interest rates.

The Life I Chose for Averi

I was granted permanent guardianship of Averi that November.

I wanted to keep her as close to my chest as she’d become, but I knew deep down I couldn’t continue to provide for her or afford our life together.

My older brother had recently moved back from out of state. We discussed the option of Averi living with him and what would serve her best long term.

On paper, I was single and broke. He had a wife and daughter and was financially stable.

We both knew living with him would be best for her, regardless of how it made my heart ache.

That Christmas came fast.

Between the donations set up by DCF and the continued generosity of family and friends, Averi wanted for nothing. Santa supplied maybe her best Christmas yet. Gifts towered over our 3-foot pink Christmas tree.

While she tore open presents, I snapped a ridiculous amount of photos, mentally preparing myself for the fact that our time, like 2010, was nearing an end.

I was coming to terms with letting go and the decision to give her a better life. A life not supported by the system. A life still with family and within an arm’s reach of me.

A week shy of a full year together, I packed her stuff, swallowing back tears.

Her moving in with my brother was an easy sell. She adored her little cousin and wanted to have sleepovers with her every night. The only problem, she said, was that she would miss me.

As we piled her stuff into my brother’s black Suburban, she hugged me tight and said, “I love you with all my heart, Aunt Stephanie.”

What My Year on Public Assistance Taught Me

My year of living on public assistance was eight years ago.

Averi now lives 2,000 miles away.

My brother took a job up north, so they moved a year after she left my care.

We’ve seen each other only a handful of times since; we stay in touch with handwritten letters.

It took me some time to readjust to life without her, both emotionally and financially.

I had plenty of credit card debt before Averi, but it nearly doubled after a year of unexpected child care. The public assistance support ended the moment she left me.

While I did receive a boost in my tax return for claiming her as a dependent, it barely made a dent.

It took me a few years to get serious about paying it off instead of wallowing. I felt like I’d made enough sacrifices that I just wanted to live without worrying about it.

Obviously, ignoring debt doesn’t work. I couldn’t escape the financial obligations lest I file for bankruptcy. That wasn’t me, or who I wanted to be. I’d already danced with the public assistance system, and this time, I wanted to clear it for good. So I faced it.

I slayed that interest-laden beast with balance transfer credit cards and a personal loan to consolidate other outstanding debts.

I inched my way out of debt every year since, and as of August 2018, I’m finally debt-free — aside from a car payment — for the first time in 16 years.

My credit score rebounded, but I had to learn some costly lessons.

I’m not embarrassed to admit that public assistance helped me through the hardest year of my life.

My experience with social workers, courts and public assistance offices made me realize how many kids need our help. Those insights led me to seek out opportunities locally.

I learned that while it isn’t easy, asking for help is OK; people love you and want to help you.

And one day, you might even have the chance to help them.

Stephanie Bolling is a staff writer at The Penny Hoarder. She’d love to talk to you about your experience on public assistance.

This was originally published on The Penny Hoarder, which helps millions of readers worldwide earn and save money by sharing unique job opportunities, personal stories, freebies and more. The Inc. 5000 ranked The Penny Hoarder as the fastest-growing private media company in the U.S. in 2017.

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