#i quite literally have been reading all day for several days straight

[boomstab-papa]

Hi tumblr, middle-aged bitch here, reblogging to confirm the stuff on this post. (TW for discussion of eating disorders and suicidal ideation)

Personally, I've never been tiny or thin. Trim and muscular, maybe, but never tiny. My lowest weight happened during high school, after WEEKS of being SUPER FUCKING SICK.

See, when you're sick, your body needs nutrients that are easy to break down and absorb. But digestion is hard work. So instead of dutifully digesting the food you eat while you're sick, it starts eating ITSELF. Especially your muscles. I lost a significant chunk of weight while I was sick (and couldn't lift as much afterwards) because MY BODY ATE MY MUSCLES.

"Fun" fact: if you severely starve yourself, your body really will start digesting your other organs, not just your muscles. I know somebody who was on a starvation diet due to being a broke college student, and his body straight up ate his tonsils. They're gone. He never had them surgically removed. His body just ATE THEM.

It is NOT FUCKING WORTH IT to starve yourself try to make some of your fat disappear. Your body eats itself, not "just your fat".

It is additionally NOT FUCKING WORTH IT to be regularly, debilitatingly hungry.

Like, I get it, most of us are not the shape we were when we were younger. Maybe you feel like this is a bad trend. But this trend is true of most animals as they age. The teenagers are stringbeans, the mature adults are chonkier. Quit fetishizing youth. Quit fetishizing thinness. Get used to being old and chonky. Get used to telling people to "fuck off" if they think being older and fatter is bad. Furthermore, GET USED TO EATING ENOUGH.

Again, my experience here, I spent almost 20 years trying to stay "trim" like I was in high school and eating the tiniest lunches. I even cut that lunch into two smaller lunch breaks at work, trying to spend less continuous time hungry. But fuck, I was still hungry. Lightheaded. Dizzy. Confused. Tired. Shitty focus. MISERABLE. My work suffered, my mood suffered, and I literally wanted to die.

(Also I was overeating in the evenings, to the point of discomfort. I wasn't eating enough and my body was MAD.)

Somewhere in the last couple years, I decided "FUCK THAT SHIT".

Now I eat a lunch that's big enough to keep me from getting lightheaded until it's time for dinner anyway. I don't make myself uncomfortable with too much food in the evenings. I'm not spending most of my day half-fainting or mondo bloated. I'm also on three different medications that all warn that they might "cause weight gain".

And I'm fat now. I'm fine with that. I feel better than ever.

TL;DR go read the original post again:

"If you feel like you have to eat less than your body tells you it needs to be skinny, please just be ok with being fat."

Diet companies won’t tell you this but starving yourself is a lot worse for your health than overeating

This post is explicitly about being ok with being fat. If you feel like you have to eat less than your body tells you it needs to be skinny, please just be ok with being fat.

[bookwyrminspiration]

heyyy people who follow me for completely different things. i've lost my mind again <3

[babyjakes]

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event | kinkmas 2023

prompt | monster fucking

pairing | steve rogers x fairy!reader

warnings | me knowing nothing about fairies. reader is in "fairy heat"? bruce captured reader (potentially inhumane conditions for fairy-keeping?) soft sweet steve. size kink LOL. th-thumb riding? fingering. p-pinky fucking? stretching. multiple orgasms. squirting. praise and encouragement that makes me feral. pity kink? is that a thing? if it is, i think i have it.

word count | 1,225

an | i've never written monster fucking (or really anything super fantasy-oriented) so please be kind!! wasn't expecting to get sooo into this, but like there's just something about reader being literally so tiny that steve's pinky stuffs her to the brim that's making me all 🥲🫠😩

what if bruce was off working in some top-secret remote location and brought you back with him: a sweet little fairy he'd captured while working out in the field, just as you were entering your fairy heat 🫠

maybe you're just about 7 inches tall, with the body/proportions of a grown young woman. he's been conducting research on your species for quite some time, so he's able to determine basics like your age, your likely place of origin, etc. he's thrilled to have caught you at the start of your heat

what's your fairy heat? i made that part up simple, it's the span of several days that occur around the same time every month when your body's at its prime and looking to breed. you become insatiably horny, almost to the point of it being debilitating, and all you can focus on during your excruciating waking moments is fucking yourself on anything of appropriate size in sight

you're kept in some sort of incubator in his lab, a glass box that's a few feet by a few feet wide and deep. the bottom of the enclosure is made of a soft cushiony material, making any spot a good spot to lay down and rest. miniature food and water bowls are set out for you, and a bright lamp hanging from the ceiling of the box shines 12 hours a day. it's a pretty miserable existence, your makeshift habitat nothing close to the wide open flower fields and prairies you're used to, but it allows the scientist to observe you closely without any distractions or interfering variables. and since you're in heat, you aren't too worried about where you are or who's taken you. all you can do is writhe around on the soft floor of the incubator in desperate, horny agony

maybe one day bruce is out of the lab, but he told steve he could come check out his new findings and maybe keep you company if you'd let him. when he enters the room and sees you lying there, squirming and struggling weakly, of course the supersoldier's heart is instantly hurting for you 🥺

he approaches the incubator slowly, not wanting to startle you. but pretty quickly he realizes that you're paying him no mind; you're too preoccupied with your discomfort. he takes his time observing you, standing right in front of the glass box as his huge frame towers over you. bruce told him a little about your condition and the science behind it. it made him blush, but he accepted it like he would learning about any other species and their unique reproductive habits

"poor thing," he hums to himself as he watches your tiny body wriggle in distress. he's stunned by how pretty you are. you have the most delicate little face, and your translucent wings with their iridescent shimmer look like something straight out of a fairytale movie. you're completely naked- bruce removed your scraps of moss carpeting and leaf clothing when he found you. but it's not strange or offputting in the slightest to steve. he just thinks you're beautiful, such a stunning little creature that seems too precious for this world 💕

he notices the plugged openings in the glass wall that allow bruce to reach in and work inside the enclosure. carefully removing the rubber inserts, he reaches a large hand in, wanting to offer you some comfort if you'll take it. you're so tiny that you could nearly crawl right into the palm of his hand and curl up if you wanted to

but snuggles are the last thing you're looking for in this moment. when you see his huge hand lying there, palm up just a short distance away from you, you weakly crawl over, wings drooping in exhaustion. you couldn't fly at the moment if you tried

steve is a little surprised as you hoist yourself up onto his thumb, your tiny legs dangling on either side of it. it only takes him a moment to realize what you're doing- his cheeks turn bright red as you begin rolling your hips desperately, a faint feeling of wetness forming on the pad of his finger as you leak your glistening juices all over him

"oh doll-" his voice is dripping with pity and concern. he doesn't try to stop you, just watches as you so needily try to relieve yourself. as strange as the situation is, he can't help but find your primal actions endearing, in a way

he continues watching sympathetically as you grind your tiny little pussy down against his large digit. his heart swells at the way you place your hands down in front of you, trying to keep yourself upright as you rock at a steady pace. just a few moments later, he sees your little body spasming and realizes you've reached orgasm by merely riding along on his finger. "oh my," he hums thoughtfully, watching as your precious little toes curl in delight

your face is much happier after your climax. steve watches curiously to see what you'll do next, staying silent as you climb off of his thumb and move to the other end of his splayed-out fingers. as you lie yourself down on your back and spread your legs out on either side of his pinky, he's again blushing deeply. "o-oh, hey little one-"

he watches as you begin pushing down to press the tip of his smallest finger up against your leaking hole. seeing how much you struggle to maneuver against him, steve takes even more pity on you. "here, doll. let me help," he decides, bringing his other arm through the unused hole in the glass. he moves it over to lift your back up gently, supporting you in a sitting position as he carefully begins easing his smallest digit up into you, smiling affectionately as you let out a soft sigh of relief

"there you go. that's it," he's murmuring encouragingly as he carefully fucks you with his pinky. your little pussy is so tight around him, he's surprised he's able to fit. but you're taking him so well, and there's something so sweet about the way you look as you sit here in his hands, letting him stretch you out over the smallest finger he has 💕

"good, just like that" "such a pretty little thing you are" "that feel good, doll?" "just keep taking it, sweetheart" "so good for me, keep going" he's not sure if you can understand his words, but there's something he finds satisfying about talking to you this way

he can somehow feel your second orgasm approaching, your walls growing a bit tighter around him as he works up his pace a little more to carry you over the edge. "there," he's humming proudly, smiling as you manage to squirt out forcefully against him. your come ✨literally sparkles✨ as it coats his finger

as you're floating down from your high, he strokes your hair with his thumb as you lean up against the rest of his hand that's behind you. your eyes are droopy, your body no longer writhing in discomfort. as questionable as his actions might've been, it's clear he's taken care of much of your discomfort- at least for now

whyyy was this hot 🫠🫠 maybe i need to write fantasy shit more often lol

[beneathashadytree]

HEY GUYS! LONG POST HERE, BUT PLEASE READ🙏🏽

I am genuinely appalled by the discourse ongoing in the LNDS fandom these past few days—but above all, I am severely disappointed in what had started out as one of the most inclusive and sweet fandoms I’ve ever been in. I have a few things to say, so in this post I’m trying to put all my thoughts to words. Apologies if I sound harsh, but I’m genuinely livid. Also, please ignore any typos. I’m not wearing my glasses while word-vomiting.

First off, for a fandom that is composed of mostly adults, you guys have been acting terribly childishly. It’s 2024, and yet people are still unironically shaming others for “switching up on their favs” as if a person owes 2D characters any loyalty. Let people enjoy things. The novelty of Sylus and how he’s quite literally 6 months behind the other 3 love interests makes people want to catch up on the enjoyment of him all at once. He’s still such a brand new character and concept, so there’s no wonder everyone’s hyped up over him.

I’ve seen people get genuinely mad at other players and writing whole think-pieces about this. I promise you guys, the company making this game is still benefiting whether you’re pouring your money into Sylus or any one of the previous 3. We’re all happy to have an interesting character pop up among the roster now, and we’re taking our time getting to know him. Doesn’t make any of the first 3 any less loved. I genuinely don’t remember this amount of nastiness when solo events for each of the guys used to drop.

In fact, if the popularity thing is worrying you, going off MLQC (the company’s past game) the character who was last added was—eventually, after the initial hype died down—kicked off to the sidelines in most major events and was given the least content, and was the least favorite of fans.

Secondly, and this has my blood boiling, there is an insane amount of entitlement and rudeness I’ve seen on my timeline concerning how people characterize the men—particularly Rafayel.

Absolutely nothing warrants this shitty attitude towards other creators for how they depict characters in their fics. It seems you guys feel protected behind a screen and think it gives you the right to bully strangers online. Fanfiction is for fantasizing about your favs; for letting your imagination run wild. If this were a character analysis, then yes, maybe I’d agree that inaccuracies are aggravating. However, in fanfiction, there are zero rules, especially when it comes to smut.

Sexual preferences are not equivalent to a person’s whole personality—so whether he’s written as a dom, a sub, a switch, or whatever the fuck you wanna call it, this has nothing to do with his kindness, gentlemanliness, passion, power, ruthlessness, snark, or whatever minuscule aspect of his character makes up his lovely whole and matters to you.

I think this circles back to a lack of ability to separate sexual matters and personality, because how else do people interpret fics depicting him in a certain manner as them erasing his character? They might overlap, but they can very well be mutually exclusive. I’ve seen incredibly sweet and gentle men irl who were absolute doms in bed, and I’ve seen powerful and passionate men who were reduced to tears between the sheets. There is barely any correlation whatsoever, and if anything, claiming otherwise is what I consider piss-poor media literacy and reading-comprehension.

My third point is that for some reason, there have been many, many posts and replies on here where I’ve seen people just straight-up spread pure hate for the characters. Maybe this bothered me in particular because I’m an OT3 (OT4 now!) and absolutely adore all of them, but I find no logical reason for “yucking someone’s yum” when we’re talking about liking the characters of an Otome game—a genre of video games which is made to literally cater to the tastes of as many people as possible.

It’s especially disheartening to see when it’s at a time like this, when new content is about to drop, and you find in the replies of every other post/discussion at least a few people spewing hate and disgust at Sylus. Again, so many people are incredibly excited about him. Why is there a need to rain on everyone’s parade, especially in such an unsolicited manner?

This fandom originally started as a safe space for people of all races, backgrounds, genders, sexualities, and personalities to bond over our mutual love for characters. All I’ve seen on my TL lately (in terms of discussion) is negativity, and it’s such a fucking let-down. I hope whatever the fuck has happened to this fandom cools down after a bit. It’s probably exaggerated and very in-your-face rn, cause more and more people are downloading LNDS, so the probabilities of finding people being nasty are increasing. But I seriously don’t want to grow to resent this fandom and find myself distancing myself from it to protect my peace.

Let’s all remember to be kind towards other players, to not act entitled or bratty about the characters, and to try and mind our own business if we see content that doesn’t suit our tastes.

[cwicseolfor]

“I don’t notice, because I won’t” is a recognition of capacity in that context, not willingness.

Literally everything you “shouldn’t have to be told” was likely in fact told to you at an age young enough you don’t remember it.

But the post isn’t about chores. I’ll talk about chores for a bit here though:

In every romantic relationship I’ve been in (being a het woman, this means men) I am the clean one by far and the tidy one only sometimes, and even then by half an inch.

In several roommate situations I’ve been all over the board. The tidy one, the walking tornado. The clean one, the careless one (not reliably mapped to the same venn diagram of people!)

I say this to lay out that I’m very familiar with unequal division of housekeeping. I’m a straight woman. None of the men I’ve dated realized sinks and toilets and mirrors don’t just magically stay shiny and floors stay un-hairy without being taught so - by me. (But none of us who didn’t have to be reparented by our partners just came out of the womb knowing, either - we just had the lesson laid out earlier in life by someone else!)

“Noticing” is predicated on the idea that there exists a known and shared standard to adhere to and those standards are not in fact universal. Especially that first example given - “I left my wallet on the table to see if you would notice” - there are people to whom this is the obvious place to leave a wallet. There are people for whom doing such a thing is anarchy, everything needs to be in a dedicated container at all times. And both of those people likely have reasons unrelated to the division of chores! It took active effort for me to even comprehend this explicit example when I first read it - my first thought was worrying they left it on the table at a restaurant or similar, the implicit question being not “did you see me being Untidy?” but “are you looking out for me?”

The problem the OP is describing is ask culture vs. guess culture, in which ask culture accommodates a wider variety of social standards and expectations (“mud people” and “dirt people”) and guess culture demands people have internalized, or have the innate social skill to intuit (even with deliberate and concentrated effort), the (highly cultural and local and arbitrary) standard to which they are expected to conform. When you have a high degree of heterogeneity in society - diversity, whether cultural or neurotype - you MUST ENGAGE A DEGREE OF ASK CULTURE to get results without social disharmony.

So again, it’s not about (just) chores, which are merely a really easy example to pull in addressing this issue because they are tangible and visible (…at least to some people.) But many of the examples OP gave are not household duties, they are relational ones centered around preferences and needs.

Only 1 and 3 are directly about chores.

2. “I’d like you to ask me how I’m doing more often.” 4. “I feel like the onus is on me to initiate X, and it’s wearing me down. Could you try making the first move more? Like 3-4 times a week?” 5. “I’m feeling upset right now and I’d like to spend some more time with you.” These strike me as pretty explicitly and solely relational, and though I suppose it’s conceivable that one could “make the first move” on cooking dinner, it’s become something of a fixed expression about sex. These are about what A and B find personally meaningful as modes of emotional relation.

7. “I’m feeling neglected, could you do X?” could mean “perform a housekeeping labor for me” but just as easily “could you give me a hug/ put down your book and go for a walk with me/ tell me what is going on at work or school that seems to be troubling you/ look me in the eyes more often.” 9. “I feel like I’m the only one putting effort into X” might be the kid’s tutoring or the hedgeclipping, but it could just as easily be “household water usage,” or “talking about our hopes and dreams instead of day to day matters or entertainment.” Ditto for 6, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, and quite possibly 14. They’re about differential values and priorities and might not be anything alike, or even register as values to different people.

The idea that “some things shouldn’t have to be told” cannot exist without a shared cultural context and agreement not only on values but underlying circumstances, and resultant beliefs and knowledge about the world. How long can an infant be in a stroller unattended outside a cafe? Is that rag hanging in the kitchen for drying clean hands, or wiping up the floor? How long are eggs safe to eat if left out at room temperature?

This matters a great deal because it is entirely possible for reasonable, kind, considerate people with totally normal interpersonal people-reading skills to be putting in conscious effort toward the others’ comfort and still have zero idea whatsoever that others’ orthogonal priorities even exist. And no amount of intention makes everyone else’s motives accurately legible to an observer with a different cultural or personal context.

(Children in parts of Europe are routinely left to sleep outdoors unattended in all weather, possibly a holdover from the days when all indoor heat came from smoky combustion - unlike adults, babies don’t need their hands free for labor and can be warmly swaddled - so a few hours while the parents have lunch is nothing, whereas in the US and many other places child protective services would be called and most likely immediately separate the child from a perceived dangerously negligent family. Washing cleaning rags every single time they’re used would be onerous where mechanical laundry is not available in the home, so the dirtiest cleaning rags in some cultures are hung up between uses at eye height - to keep them out of reach of children. Eggs in the US are washed of their protective pellicle and thus must be refrigerated for storage within hours, unlike the week or so expected shelf life at room temperature elsewhere.)

Obvious cultural variations are easy. If I have enough context to know there’s such a thing as unlucky gifts, I can look up information and learn that I should not pool my team to give my Chinese boss a watch for their retirement. But I would more likely have to be told, however, that it would be intensely rude to make direct and ongoing eye contact with my Iranian roomate’s visiting father if he is addressing me - because my culture says that eye contact shows deferential respect, and until I have been in another culture with a significantly different expectation, I have no way of intuiting that it’s not a human universal standard before fucking it up. It’s arbitrary.

A lot of other cultural variations are more subtle. I was stunned to learn that it isn’t bog-standard basically everywhere to feed children visiting your home during mealtime (and without even asking the parents first.) I’m from the South. Apparently there are parts of the States where this would be considered rude because it might spoil the kid’s dinner when they get home. Traveling elsewhere in the country as a tween, occupying the role of quasi-babysitter as the oldest child at a gathering, a woman called us to the kitchen for popsicles of choice but was unable to hide her surprise when I too, going last, specified the kind I wanted - mistakenly assuming she had meant to include me - and I immediately felt terrible for having asked for hospitality when I thought I was merely receiving it.

Likewise I picked up the habit of wearing no shoes in the house from living in urban, Chinese culture for a while - but in more rurally-influenced local US Southern culture this is not something I’d expect others to do unless I discussed it with them (even though it has very practical effects on the amount of indoor cleaning I end up doing.) To them, me taking my shoes off would be a choice about comfort, not sanitation, especially if I had been wearing heels. They’d notice my doing it, but the why is invisible - and they’d not necessarily infer they should do likewise.

Neurotypes and psychology are a whole other thing and really do manifest most often in chores on the less extreme spectrum of difference - I mentioned above I’m often the clean one. Reusing an unwashed dish hours later gives me anxiety - if there was a fly in the house, it could have been waltzing over that cup rim immediately after a visit to the kitchen sink drain, ew ew ew ew ew. But to other people that’s normal and my habit of putting their “dirty” dishes in the washer when I saw them unused was making them nuts - I’d moved their cup, again! And I only thought I was helping! They went on in ambiguously passive-aggressive annoyance for months before finally mentioning - on seeing me do it in front of them, and that it wasn’t some nefarious cup-theft side-hustle - that they’d meant to leave the cup on the stove for reuse, which is to say that they had a different expectation than I do.

Conversely I’ve also had friends horrified I don’t do the dishes immediately after a meal no matter what. Until I negotiated this - out loud, with words - with one roommate they essentially assumed I was leaving it in the sink for them to do, when my preference is to do it in the morning after when a party runs late.

But it’s also come up that one person’s “hanging out” in parallel play is another person’s idea of getting the silent treatment. Dedicated attention and concerned questions, or scrutiny and interrogation? Romantic planned evening or overly-regimented itinerary? Blessedly open vacation schedule or secret demand to be entertained? Spontaneous suggestion or terrifying change of plans? These don’t overlap in the ways you might imagine, either.

The ways that people can inhabit the same space or interact with each other are as infinitely variable as the people. Assuming that everyone else is coming from the same context, with the same needs, expecting you to overfunction to fill them without bringing it up to check is unfair.

Relationships have to be negotiated and will not always map to anything you’ve experienced before. Respect takes a thousand different forms, because needs do. Ask. If things aren’t addressed after asking, then you have a right to be aggrieved, but not on point of projecting specifics and assuming motives. You can choose that you don’t want to associate with someone who doesn’t share your expected common ground, but that doesn’t make them lazy, selfish, or invalid.

I hate that thing some people do where it's like. "I left my wallet on the table to see if you'd say anything" or "I wanted to see if you'd wash the car if I stopped doing it"

Cause like

I dont know about anyone else

But I am perpetually hovering three inches above the strong subconscious belief that everyone knows what they're doing at all times except me, so if you change your normal patterns and I notice, then I will assume it is an intentional choice with a thought-out plan behind it and I will avoid interfering

And if I don't notice, because I won't, because why would I, because not much bothers me and if you don't say anything to indicate you are bothered then how would I KNOW

[tarotchariotpickyourcard]

Why You're Single

Yeah. Here you go.

Please choose between the numbers one, two or three. Or, choose one of the following charms. From left to right is one two or three.

One is the teapot, two is Blossom from powerpuff girls, and three is a sparkly blue clip.

This may be brutal. Don’t hate me, or if you do, you’re allowed I guess but just move on and get a little treat or something. Always a little treat.

GROUP ONE

UNREQUITED LOVE (SPECIAL ATTENTION)

PAY ATTENTION TO THE RED FLAGS

GIVE YOUR RELATIONSHIP A CHANCE (SPECIAL ATTENTION)

You got some quite funny mini cards in my opinion, one was literally The Joker, which made sense when I turned over Pay attention to red flags. Then the other could be a hint to yourself or someone important. It was a king card, not sure which one. The animal depicting it was a monkey.

That could signify to me (yes, I do read into everything) that someone could have been ‘monkeying around’, someone likes monkeys, someone is silly as a characteristic. It also has another side that shows a football. So someone could be a football player or really into it (or soccer), or they like to watch it. This could be yourself, a past or current interest. There is also the letter M as a possible initial, doesn’t have to mean anything.

So what I’m going to do, I’ll give you the basic run down on each card meaning but I will be looking at what I feel when I look at the images for you.

Unrequited love – There’s not enough attraction or chemistry to keep this relationship going. Speaks about one of the two retreating and disappearing often. Talks about how some can attract unhealthy situations with another romantically to try and heal childhood wounds. You deserve to be in a relationship with mutual love, respect and attraction. Ask the angels to help you attract someone of a similar nature.

Oooooof. Your intuition strikes again and again but you seem to keep ignoring it, or something holds you back from taking action on your insights. All very valid, not gonna judge. But I see in the woman’s face that she knows something is wrong in an interaction with a suitor, but she stays planted in place. It’s like she has trouble walking away. Maybe she is scared what the suitor will do if she walks away. Maybe she doesn’t like to be cruel, maybe she has issues saying no. This could be connected to possible childhood wounds, like the original meaning suggests.

I see a past love interest (whether serious or not) may have genuinely hurt your feelings. Repeatedly. This could be on a scale of low to high severity on what may have happened.

I’m going to be straight up, pretty fast. This combination of cards just gives me the initial thought that you could be giving the wrong people chances. You may have chased after love interests that didn’t show you the time of day compared, you seem to naturally be interested or go after those that don’t really seem for you, versus people that would be helpful or healthy for you. I get the thought block in my brain of liking drama (thinking it means something is happening), or thinking attraction is something that true attraction…isn’t quite? Love means something different to you, it’s misconstrued. The expression of it, at least.

It’s like if someone hurt you, but they came back and it was this big thing, or event or something. It’s like you want to be proven to that you are wanted. Maybe, just maybe there’s a part of someone here who deep down thinks if they can have someone interested in them or love them that initially seemed unreachable…Then finally, that means they are wanted.

But in reality, this is just you giving and giving, I think.

PAY ATTENTION TO THE RED FLAGS – The signs are cautioning you. If you are swept up in a new romance, this card is cautioning you. Pay attention to your feelings and thoughts. Don’t allow emotion to blind you to characteristics or habits that won’t serve you in the relationship. A red flag is a sign that something is off. Indications of dishonesty, disrespect, flirtatiousness with others, substance abuse, lack of integrity etc. A person may treat you very well at the start, but watch for the way they treat others. Red flags can be markers for healing, in the right places.

Nah, nah nah nahhhh. I feel like you have given attention to people who were definitely nowhere near your level. What are you doinnnnn. Your angels are saying protect yourself, protect yourself. Giving too many chances for the wrong people to talk to you, you’re giving people the time of day and they don’t deserve any attention at all. I see someone trying to appear more smart or well learned than they are, nooooo. Excuse me while I get a bucket. It’s like “Yeah this thing you brought up, I know all about it, let me talk over you or teach you to assert my dominan…I mean attractiveness.”

But I kind of see you putting on a mask. And it’s not in way that’s on purpose I don’t think. Or to manipulate for gains. I guess subconsciously it’s to manipulate for something you think you desire. Maybe. This mask, it could be as simple as people pleasing. It could be that you don’t quite express your honest self out of shyness or fear. That’s a journey in itself, and you’ll feel comfortable being yourself when it’s the right person.

People might say they want something, and ghost. People might say they want to try and fix something, but go back to a pattern. People say a lot of stuff. Give your relationship a chance just makes me think you could be listening to what people say, more than looking at what they do. And they’re wasting your time. And that’s not fair. Watch the person. Watch what they value. When they say they want something, do they make plans? When they say they love their family and they’re a family person, do they even spend time with them? They say they love football? (lol) well do you see them going to matches? Do they ever have it on tv?

It says in the meaning for this card, if you do end a relationship, know that you gave it your all. But some things and people don’t deserve your all, because they never gave it theirs. So don’t effing give it. Watch and wait and see if someone deserves all of you. Because you deserve all of the right person.

Jeysus.

Right angel card guidance/notes and charms.

You have a penny which has me thinking see a penny pick it up…You know the rest, and be mine.

You’ve got count your blessings – Study and learning – Live your joy

You’ve got a lot going on in life and a lot going for you. You’re a smart cookie, and you’ll learn more how to navigate romance and relationships, but for now I feel like one or more have wasted your time, which annoys me a bit to be honest, because you have cool stuff to do. Way cooler than entertain dorks. You know more than a lot of these people that might approach you, so don’t let them think you’re not as smart as them either. The more you live your life, enjoy yourself and pay attention to your schoolwork, studies or work, the more likely you are to energetically attract someone better for you. It’s like releasing shackles. You don’t need to prove anything, you don’t need validation, you are your own darn blessing and you will be the ultimate blessing in someone elses life. So the next one better be real, and better know they’re talking to a good egg.

I do like eggs.

 That’s it good luck look at your childhood but don’t forget your cool hobbies or to get one.

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GROUP 2

PASSION – allow your heart and soul to sing with joy

CHILDREN – Your love life is being affected by children

ATTRACTION – You attract romantic love by enjoying this moment fully

Mini cards are jelly fish and tent. Jelly fish makes me think you’ve been stung. Tent makes me think of a safe place outside.

Your charms are D as a possible initial, and flowers may be special to you, especially cherry blossoms or pink flowers.

Passion talks about reviving passion in your own life. Romantic improvements beginning with yourself. Maybe things have been a bit apathetic lately, or mundane. Maybe you’ve been focussed on just getting on with things. It says when you can enjoy your life completely and be involved in it, it brings that energy into your relationships. Suggests that you could meet someone through hobbies, activities or causes.

Children suggests that yourself, or a love interest may be affected by children right now. So perhaps you are looking after a child currently, perhaps you work with children. Sometimes this can mean inner child work. The meaning says there could be a need to be more playful or lighthearted, or it’s time to heal an inner child wound. (I personally would recommend guided meditations, there are some free ones on youtube.)

Attraction says you are most attractive when you are being yourself and enjoying yourself in the moment. (so many hints to play, have fun, do something interesting or a hobby). Your joyful laughter, self expression and body language are beautiful. If you are straining to find romance, can create stress and unpleasant consequences physically as a result of stress but also energetically. The fear that you may not find someone can create blocks. Enjoy simple things in life such as flowers or art, and visualize what a loving healthy relationship looks like to you.

All together this is out right just telling me you’re too stressed. It’s like your body freezes up when someone tries to invite you to dance, or play a game. It’s like you’re not used to relaxing, and you’re naturally tense. I’m going to check with you now – are your shoulders high up, is your jaw clenched? What about your back. Is it straight or hunched? Listen to your body.

First, I suggest you go out just with you yourself and you, no judgement, no eyes one you. Go out and enjoy a day at the museum, or a café, or visit a historical place. Whatever seems interesting. Or even just dance like a weirdo in your living room with no one there. I feel like you need to be more yourself and in your body. Because, I feel like you could attract the right person, it’s just a matter of you being ready and in the right place mentally.

If there are childhood wounds like suggested, this could be around self-expression or individuality. Or maybe you didn’t feel allowed to enjoy things. Just some brainstorming.

I am seeing that having a partner who is kind is very important to you. Someone familial, someone loving. Maybe you even want someone who is passionate, even a go getter. But I feel like that’s something that you can be, too. You don’t have to wait for that type of energy to come into your life. I get the idea that maybe you play it safe. Maybe it’s time for you to step out of your comfort zone a bit. You never know if you will either really light up a connection already, or if you’ll attract someone you never would have before.

Your angel card is study and learning. This goes hand in hand with doing something new or getting involved in a hobby/cause. Maybe you could meet someone at school/university? The book meaning suggests asking yourself ‘what is this situation teaching me?’. While you’re single, what do you think is happening for you? What does it enable for you? If you’ve been considering taking a course or learning something new, the angels are giving a yes to that. I see as well that someone could get your attention because they are interested in the same thing you are. Mutual interests are a great ice breaker.

There you go group 2, I’m hoping that you have some fun soon, let loose a little.

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GROUP 3

You seem like you’ve been working hard. Backs hurting here at the top.

 Gone and given me more cards to read, lolllll

Okkkkkkk.

You guys are always on the go, that’s why. These mini cards just have a car and a plane taking off. You’re too darn busyyyy.

For charms, I have ‘love’ and what I call a mystery, because the purple looks mysterious. With the hello kitty charm. I see this is maybe you see love as a mystery, maybe you have never been in love or experienced it yet regardless of age. Maybe relationships are confusing to you right now. The cat and the mystery seem to me like maybe you’re mysterious and/or hold back a bit too much.

HONEYMOON

Do you like traveling? Or do you travel for work? This could be affecting your chances to hold down a partnership right now. It’s not inherently bad, it just is what it is. However, practically speaking, most people stay put and would like to have their partner with them most of the time. Decisions/priorities may need to adapt or there may need to just be acceptance of the situation.

CODEPENDENCY

Addictions are affecting your romantic life.

DECEPTION

Someone is wearing a false self-mask in this relationship

TRUE LOVE

This is the romance of a lifetime

A lot of you here seem to have a soft heart, and as a result, can be easily hurt and it may be more difficult for you than others to overcome when others lose your trust or harm you. It may take longer, or you might find things to distract yourself, from games/socializing, all the way to the other side of the spectrum such as harmful substances.

I feel like I might have to be a bit hard line with you here. There are a few possibilities with this combination of cards, and honestly there’s no real judgement because they can be common, but it may be things that people don’t like to hear, quite frankly.

Some here might be scared of love so they jet off, or are always on the move or tend to run from potential relationships. It’s like a secret little inner self sabotage person in the back of your brain. Figuratively speaking.

Someone here may have been cheated on (I’m sorry) and ever since have kind of lamented about it, and been afraid of trusting again so you may wear a mask of not caring or being more interested in something/someone else. You may do things just for show, to protect your feelings and ego.

Someone here might have been the ‘toxic’ one, and this has been a growth experience, even if upsetting.

There may also be idealistic thinking and unrealistic expectations, which is not what true love is in the grand scheme of life.

Codependency is what it says on the tin. This could be within relationships (for example needing validation or attention, feeling that you can’t do something without a particular person, feeling like you need their permission, even.) or substances, or activities. Some co-dependency’s in life are more subtle than others. You can even be addicted to work. It may give a sense of meaning to the point you rely on it to feel important or valued.

Deception shows that you aren’t being real with others romantically, but it also means with yourself, too.  Take some time to understand your real desires and priorities. It can also mean you’ve had people lie to you, and you find it hard to trust and open up. My advice for that would be to try, but wait and watch for a little bit and open up bit by bit yourself. It doesn’t have to be all at once. It’s not true love when someone just let’s their whole life story out at the first conversation, though some might like to think that. It just means they like talking.

It’s important for you to be honest with others as well, even if you feel paranoid that they won’t be honest with you. You can attract the energy by being it. Keep having integrity.

Overall, I see fear, and using something to run away. You may claim to want a partner/healthy relationship but you are your own barrier. You deserve a healthy relationship that is loving and full of mutual trust. But do you agree?

 Please don’t let shame hold you back from enjoying your life moving forward as a human being. Everyone deserves love.

Your angel advice is

Don’t hate, meditate – Thank you angels for sending me love through meditation

Synchronicity – Thank you angels, I trust your well timed guidance and signs.

Yeah, you’ve definitely been burnt. The angels say any time you feel the anger or frustration, to close your eyes and connect. The meaning says that these feelings don’t serve you and they will help you to remove them. It talks about having an independent and self sufficient soul, but the angels invite you to meditate and ask for their help. Every time you think of the ‘hate’ word, just try and switch to something you love.

I want to say to remember that you’re better than this, as well. You’re growing into a better person every day, and if you’ve been wronged, you’re miles further in development than they are. So never lower yourself, and never lower your standards. You’re both strong and kind in your own way and you deserve a unique soul, someone who understands things differently too.

Synchronicity talks about how some things happen for a reason in life. They’re asking you to trust the process and try and have faith. They also suggest if there’s a project you’ve been thinking of, now is the perfect time to start. I see Neptune, so it makes me think of a creative project.

Ok good luck with your romantic life and your whole life in general hope something cool happens bye

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Well that was interesting. No tomato throwing please. Have a good dayyy

[ghostchems]

hello my darling. i see your requests are back open… 👀 i've got a prompt for you if you so wish to write it… reader has been dead for decades, aimlessly wandering the halls of the ministry where no one has ever seen her, heard her or even felt her… until one day, she's walking (or y'know… floating…) through the halls and someone is walking towards her. He stops in his tracks and stares straight ahead. Then she realises…

he's staring at her… Choose a papa, any papa! Whoever you would like to write, if you choose to write it! 😘

a/n: almost 1k words of some sweetness. after reading the prompt i KNEW i had to pick Cardinal Copia 🥹 bee. thank you SO much for sending this in. hit me right in the dang feels

Loneliness has driven you to the busy corridors of the Abbey. Despite the clergy members quite literally seeing right through you, their presence around you is enough to alleviate the void inside you. You’ve had to make do over the decades but even after all of the disappointment there is still an unwavering flicker of hope that you’ll make some sort of contact. Who knew it would be impossible for a ghost to be noticed in a Satanic Ministry? Many attempts have been made, ranging from morose to macabre (floating candles vs. severed limbs) but to no avail. Perhaps there’s something wrong with you. Is your spirit not dark enough to be seen? You remember how you died and decide that can’t be the case.

You gave everything for The Olde One. The Ministry was a very different place back then.

You’re lost in the endless abyss of your thoughts until there’s a shift in energy around you. Something new. Someone new. The wisps of your ghostly train curl towards the ceiling behind you and gust of warm air blows your hair out of your face.

Oooh. A Cardinal. It’s been ages since there’s been one here, the last one being in 19—

Is he looking at you?

There’s no way but… his gaze is fixated on the space you occupy, eyes wide. He bears the Mark of The Olde One — just like the Papas, but even with the Eye no one has ever seen you. He picks up his pace, walking to you with such purpose. You feel an excitement you haven’t felt since you were alive but it’s quickly replaced with crippling anxiety. In a fit of panic you poof out of the corridor and reappear deep into the underground archives, far far away from any person. But the new Cardinal saw you. He really did. After vying for this for so long… you aren’t ready for it.

***

You’ve meandered further into more densely populated areas of the Abbey over the last two weeks after taking some time for yourself to come to grips with the fact that he saw you. Problem is now the Cardinal is nowhere to be found. The longer the week stretched the more you began to believe it was over — he must have only been visiting for the day and thus your chance at talking to someone other than yourself for the first time in 55 years has slipped through your fingers. But that same hope you’ve clung to keeps you pacing and wandering day after day, hoping to catch of glimpse of his black cassock.

One late night you find yourself perusing the library, hovering around the new releases aisle (you like to see how ridiculous the names of romance novels have gotten). The further you get down the aisle the thicker the air becomes around you, the familiar buzzing in your ear from the first time you saw him. There’s a dim light coming from one of the nooks. You steel yourself, you’re going to make yourself known like you planned. Glowing brighter than you ever have before, you float toward the light. How can a ghost have anxiety? You’d think all of those feelings would be gone but somehow you feel like you’d throw up if that were even possible. You reach the outside of the nook and suck in a sharp breath before peering around the corner.

His duochromatic eyes are on you instantly.

“Per favore — please, do not run away again.” He sounds quiet, sleepy but polite and he extends a hand out to you. “I was worried I would not see you.” You blink at him as you reveal yourself fully to him, his gaze taking you in.

“You… you really see me?” Your voice cracks, your ghost trail wiggling with how charged you are emotionally.

“Yes. I do.” The Cardinal stands, his hand still out to you. “I, ehh… I’m the new Cardinal, Cardinal Copia. What is your name?”

My name?

“You’re… you’re the only person who’s ever seen me.” Not an answer to his question at all but your brain is broken. All that time you spent hoping for this…

“Oh. Oh, poverino.” His fingertips graze your hand and you jump — he could feel you too? “Ah! I am sorry! Ehhh… what can I do? How can I help you?” Copia shuffles on his feet anxiously, making sure to keep a safe distance so that he doesn’t startle you again. Your guise is crackling, vibrating with energy, more than you’ve ever felt before. He seems… delighted by your prescience and it makes you feel warm.

“H-how? Cardinal, how?” You push in closer to him, wisps brushing against his cassock.

“Non lo so. I’ve… I’ve just always been able to.” He gives you a sad smile. “I eh… had some weird “imaginary friends” growing up. But please, you must… you must have a lot to say after spending so long only listening.” Copia may have the gentlest voice you’ve ever heard. You want to hug him especially since something about this feels deeply personal to him…but you compose yourself and instead take him by the hand as you sit on the corner of his desk.

“What do I even say now?” You laugh to yourself. “I’ve been so worried about ever being heard that I haven’t thought about what to say. What do you… want to know, Cardinal?” Even now you’re feeling shy.

He gingerly rests his hand on top of yours, a warmth spreading through you that you’ve never experienced before.

“I’ve wanted to get to know you since I saw you, fantasmina. Please, tell me about you.” Copia squeezes your hand with a kind smile. Speechless. You take a deep breath and nod.

You’ll tell him.

You’ll tell him everything.

[coolshadowtwins]

SVSSS System Reveal Fic round up!

If you know one that hasn’t been recc’ed, then please put it in the comments/tags! I’ll add it to the post!

A Transmigrator and a Time Traveler Walk into the Bamboo House by VeryCharismaticDragon

Over a year after Shen Qingqiu's death, Luo Binghe consults his servant's servant, concurrently his disgraced martial uncle, for a way to bring the love of his life back. Shang Qinghua sends him in the direction of a certain time-traveling artifact, which supposedly brings one to the day they first met their soulmate.

Odd, though, that the artifact ends up missing the destination by just a few years…

A story in which post-Abyss Luo Binghe relives his disciple days, while juggling his secrets, traumas, and some unexpected revelations about the man he loves on top of that.

What is Seen by CaveteDracones

…is not [always] the real truth.

Truth-compelling artifacts in the hands of an enemy to one side, SYSTEM-mandated silence on the other, and Shen Qingqiu caught between the two. Is it too late to go back to the Water Prison? (NOTE: This one was recommended three times, and I have personally reread it multiple times. It’s one of my favorites and I really do want to read more fics in a similar vein lol)

open my lungs to let you in by ghostybreads

Shen Qingqiu had a secret. So, naturally, it was only a matter of time before he was hit by a truth serum wife plot.

//

“How are you?”

“Horny. Kind of want Binghe to rail me, I guess. But it’s manageable.”

Liu Qingge’s hand on his forehead froze, and he was close enough that Shen Qingqiu could hear his breathing stop. He stared back expressionlessly, the mortification distantly crawling up the back of his neck. Honest One-Horned–

The frustrated scream that he usually vented in his head, came out straight from mouth.

“aaAAAAAHHHH GODDAMNIT AIRPLANE–”

Futility in Practice by TGP

When Luo Binghe is fourteen years old, his shizun suffers a terrible qi deviation and fever that completely changes who he is.

and judgment is just like a cup that we share by Kieron_ODuibhir

The blob finished rotating into place in a way that wasn’t quite compatible with geometry as Shen Qingqiu understood it, and cleared a throat it didn’t seem to have.

“Greetings,” it said, somehow clearly addressing him in particular more than the room as a whole despite its total lack of features other than blueness and translucency. “I’m here on behalf of the Hyper-Celestial Peace and Order Enforcement Bureau. Crime scene secure, proceeding to interviews. Beginning with Subject One: You are Shen Qingqiu, formerly Shen Yuan, also known as Peerless Cucumber?”

First, do no harm by Terias

Shen Qingqiu has been acting especially erratic since awakening from his three day coma after a severe qi deviation.

Mu Qingfang investigates and discovers a great many things about his new shixiong. (NOTE: This one has Shen Yuan and Shen Jiu as the same soul, technically, but it still works I think!)

Show The Screenshots by A_Non_ymousWriter

When a rogue foreign System sends out a subtle virus, some outsiders are shown chat messages between a certain two transmigrators and their Systems.

AirplaneBro: nah dude shen jiu would never lay a hand on his female disciples like that, hes gay

Liu Qingge tripped on thin air while Mu Qingfang choked on his tea as Shang Qinghua (their god? creator??) casually shattered their view of their original Shen Qingiu. The fake Shen Qingqiu at least, was sharing their shock.

CucumberBro: EXCUSE ME WHAT??

CucumberBro: The fuck he is?!?! He literally GOES TO BROTHELS! LIU QINGGE FOUND HIM IN BED WITH A WOMAN THAT ONE TIME?

AirplaneBro: aight bro buckle the fuck up cuz imma take u on a joyride all about shen jiu >:)

—————-

Binghes#1Fan: I don't want to send Binghe into the Abyss...

System 2: User must comply, if User cannot do the task User will be punished and the account will be terminated.

Mobeis #1Fan: sorry bro unless ur okay w being ded af u gotta push binghe into the abyss

Ning Yingying's fists clenched. Okay, so trying to get Yuan-ge and A-Luo together would be harder than she thought.

[humbledragon669]

S2E1 - The Arrival Write Up P5 - the Present Day from Crowley’s arrival at the coffee shop up to his entry to the book shop

Alright, buckle up, because despite the fact I said I wasn’t going to be so detailed, there is A LOT to cover in these next couple of scenes, and it is ALL about the subtext.

The first thing I picked up on is mere seconds after Crowley gets out of the Bentley, because despite the fact that Aziraphale told him to meet him in the coffee shop (literally 2 minutes previously, if we’re to believe the demon’s time estimates), his reflex is to go straight to the book shop as soon as he’s out of the car:

That is one hard-wired reflex, isn’t it? He’s several steps into his approach before he realises that’s not where he’s supposed to be going. Cute. Not so cute is the foreshadowing that we can see on the board outside the coffee shop:

It’s not easy to make out in this little screenshot, but it reads “Life begins after coffee”. Knowing how intricately designed this series is with the Easter eggs and references, I can’t help but believe this is alludes to what is planned to come in season 3 (after Aziraphale’s coffee). That’s the simple solution. The letters in this simple phrase can actually be rearranged into something else however:

L I F E  B E G I N S  A F T E R  C O F F E E

===============================

I F  C E E  F O R G E T S  I N E F F A B L E

Obviously I would interpret “CEE” as Crowley in this potential Clue, and the reference to “ineffable” being the Ineffable Plan. So expanding the phrase becomes “If Crowley forgets the Ineffable Plan”. But that would mean that the demon either currently knows or has previously known the details of the Ineffable Plan, which is in theory impossible (unless he was also God). And what’s the rest of the sentence? What happens if Crowley’s memory does empty of those details? I don’t have any answers to these questions, all I know is that the ability to rearrange those letters into something that makes incredible contextual sense cannot be coincidental.

This next scene in the coffee shop is one of my absolute favourites across this show - there’s just so much to it! Before we get into the weeds with the conversation that’s about to ensue, I just want to pick up on the background music being used here: it’s an instrumental version of Bohemian Rhapsody, possibly for a string quartet. In the write up for episode 5 of season 1, I hinted that there might be something to look at about music when it’s used as an “in-universe” element (rather than when it’s used as soundtrack for the audience), and this is a great example of that. We know that pretty much all music that plays in the Bentley (at least when Crowley is driving it) is by Queen, whether that was the original choice of the passengers in the car or not. That combined with Queen’s music being frequently used in the soundtrack to represent Crowley means that we, the audience, have come to associate anything that sounds remotely like Queen with the demon. Likewise, we have been given a lot of information to suggest that the same applies to classical music being associated with Aziraphale. What we have in the background of the coffee shop in this scene is an example of the merging of the two very different styles to produce a rather beautiful result, where both styles can be recognised and heard, whilst also projecting an air of individuality of its own. Here’s why I think this is interesting – this is exactly how we’ve come to think of the relationship between Crowley and Aziraphale. Furthermore, the fact that the music is playing in-universe here would suggest, if my badly formed (and yet to be written up) ideas about Crowley are correct, that its presence is the demon’s (possibly subconscious) doing in the first place.

One last thing before I start looking at the conversation: How gorgeous is that camera one-shot as it passes “through” the coffee shop window? We see quite a few of those types of shots in this show, and they’re always seamless. The benefit they add to the flow of the storyline is undeniable.

OK, I lied. This really is the last thing before I get to the conversation. I am not ignoring the fact that the walls in the coffee shop could be littered with Easter eggs in amongst all the “graffiti” there. I have been collecting screenshots of the walls in the scenes when I can, and will put together a collage of them at some point. I’ve yet to find anything of particular interest, but I also feel like somebody has already done quite a bit of research into this, so I’ll see if I can find that post before I talk about it any further.

Alright, finally – our hero couple are united in the present day for the first time in this season! Here’s our first reminder of the familiarity that exists between them:

Aziraphale looks over his left shoulder to see if Crowley has appeared yet because that’s “Crowley’s side”. He actually seems to get quite the fright when he suddenly detects a presence on the opposite side of him.

I love the insight we get from Crowley reeling off the reasons that Aziraphale calls him: finding out that the angel instinctively calls the demon to satisfy his need for intellectual engagement (when he’s bored), for approval, or for help when he needs it highlights just how intricately woven into one another’s lives they are. I think it’s the middle of those points that strikes the biggest chord with me though; that the only person Aziraphale wants to share his successes with is Crowley speaks volumes, and it’s the only one of the three points he feels any need to defend (which in turn tells us how highly he thinks of Crowley). The familiarity that comes out of this speech just oozes, and I absolutely love how casually the demon delivers it.

Here we have the start of the next part of the case for my “Aziraphale and Crowley are already together” theory. Notice how the angel asks Crowley if this mega-espresso has calming properties:

AZIRAPHALE: Does it calm you down?

Not does it calm people down. Specifically “you”, which in this case is Crowley. Aziraphale knows that what he’s about to tell Crowley is not going to go down well, and wants to make sure the demon is as calm as possible, which he recruits Nina in to help with:

AZIRAPHALE: What do you sell that calms people down?

Again, the words here give the game away; he doesn’t ask what would calm “him” down, but what item would be particularly useful for calming other people down. Those Eccles cakes aren’t for him, they’re for Crowley. And why on earth Nina says that these calm people down, I have no idea – I’ve certainly never heard of them as having particularly restful qualities. You would have thought that maybe a chamomile tea would be a better solution.

If we combine all of this information with THAT look from Crowley and THOSE looks from Aziraphale (you know the ones, but I’m going to GIF them below anyway – I do love it so), I think the case for believing this pair to be secretly romantically involved already looks pretty strong.

There is a LOT going on in that tiny snippet of film so let’s break it down a bit. First we have this look of dread from Aziraphale when Nina drops him in the shit:

That is guilt, embarrassment, fear, desperation, and chagrin all wrapped up in one right there, and there’s really only one thing that tends to bring that complex mix of emotions to the fore in people – getting caught doing something you know very well you shouldn’t have been doing in the first place. And Crowley’s reaction tells us everything we need to know about how he feels about this new and shocking piece of information:

There is one phrase that comes to mind when I see Crowley’s expression here: “EXPLAIN YOURSELF”. That little head tilt at the end says that loud and clear. Most importantly for my case, there is no amusement on his face at all. He’s not entertained by this rather amusing turn of events, he’s fuming, as his expression makes very obvious.

And Aziraphale knows very well how much trouble he’s now in:

The wide eyes, increased breathing, inability to get his words out, and pathetic protestations – he is floundering here, badly. As well he should.

There are two more indicators here that there is something more going on between the two of them that is being overtly stated at this point in the storyline. Firstly, there’s that look he flicks over to Crowley to check in with him and see where the demon is in the emotional journey. Secondly there’s the appropriate look of somebody absolutely cowed by a sequence of events:

Bless his little cotton socks, he’s so ashamed. It’s such a childlike expression, exactly what you’d see if somebody had been reprimanded for something they knew they shouldn’t have done, didn’t have any good explanation for why they’d done it, and can only say how sorry they are in their own defence. Lastly (for this exchange anyway), we can see that Crowley is still awaiting his explanation at this point, even if we (very sadly) don’t get to see his expression:

Out of focus as Crowley’s face is, it’s still clear to see that his gaze is firmly fixed on Aziraphale. His attention is only diverted when Nina asks him a direct question. So, to sum all of this up: Aziraphale’s shame and desperation and Crowley’s indignant expression – that’s really all it took for me. This pair are a couple at the very least, more likely married. End of. Case closed. However, if you’re still on the fence, there’s one other thing that might push you over the edge. Listen, VERY CLOSELY, to the music in the background here:

Just after Nina says the phrase “naked man friend”, you can hear a very high-pitched note in the string arrangement, followed by a small pause. Almost like the music has crashed to a halt with the shock of the information that’s just been given (I’m sure you know what I mean – it’s a pretty common device to use in media). If that’s not a coincidence, that would further strengthen my ideas about Crowley influencing the music around him, and provide some more evidence for how he’s feeling at that particular time.

Right, let’s move on to the next piece of evidence for my case:

This is so lovely to me. How could he possibly sum up what he and Crowley are in one tiny sentence? Not only that, it’s clear he doesn’t know how to describe the situation between them without lying. He could have said they were friends (not entirely a lie, not entirely the truth), or even work colleagues (ditto). Instead, he says the only thing he can think of that is definitely true. And as a quick side note, both he and Crowley are so focussed on the mess that the angel has found himself in here, they miss the quick once over Nina gives the demon as she leaves the table.

There’s something really primal in me that makes me want to pull her hair and scream at her to stay away from him, like a crazed jealous teenager. I have no idea why; we all know Crowley has absolutely no interest in anybody or anything other than Aziraphale. Besides, he’s fair too concerned with reminding Aziraphale that he’s still in trouble.

Whoop, more evidence to add to my case! This is so beautifully done – Crowley changes the subject, thinking to lull the angel into a false sense of security, only to bring it immediately back to the issue that he clearly feels still needs to be resolved (and rightly so), and his expression clearly tells Aziraphale that this conversation is far from over, that he’s still not amused, and that he’s still waiting for an explanation:

Now that Aziraphale hasn’t got someone watching on, he’s become a little bit braver, actually managing to speak some of his defence, but I think it’s pretty obvious he knows there isn’t going to be anything he can say or do in the coffee shop that will resolve this situation. And if there was any doubt about that, Crowley’s gesture after downing his mega-espresso (which I find almost threatening) is clearly meant to be a reminder that he is still pissed about things.

Message received loud and clear:

In another casual display of intimate familiarity, and despite Crowley’s clear displeasure with the situation, he still holds the door open for his angel (ever the romantic). There is something going on in this shot here that I find interesting though:

What is that look going on between Nina and Crowley? This is an odd one, not least because of that once over we saw her giving him earlier on. And unfortunately we can’t see his face in this shot to be any degree of sure. To me it feels almost territorial, in a reverse sort of way – as if Crowley is making sure Nina bears witness to his romantic gesture, delivering a subtle but clear message about his interests. I’d buy into that totally if it didn’t run completely contrary to the need for them to hide their relationship. What I do like about this little interaction, and Aziraphale’s behaviour during it, is that we’re already being shown that this pair are still really bad at picking up on the other’s cues – whilst Crowley is busy pissing on a lamp post, Aziraphale’s face is giving away just how worried he is about what’s about to come:

Alright, final thing of note for this part, because this seems like quite a neat place to stop. Remember way back when I said that those Eccles cakes weren’t really for Aziraphale, but for Crowley? (Side note - way to go, stealing crockery from a local coffee shop Aziraphale, I hope you took it back at some point. Not that Nina seems to give much of a shit. Such odd behaviour.) Well we’re about to see the realisation of that.

Alright, I know, it could just be that Aziraphale hands the plate to him so that he has both hands to find the right key with (another side note – what are all the rest of those keys for?) but there’s a fleeting expression on Crowley’s face that suggests otherwise, as if he’s just now realising that the food is really for him:

He’s really not impressed with the quality of this peace offering, is he? Which is unsurprising, given that he’s not the one of them that has a burning desire to inhale anything that tastes good. At best, he might get to see Aziraphale eat it later I suppose. He’s gracious about his gift at least, because we don’t see him hand the plate back to the angel after the door is opened (in fact we’ll see it placed on the pedestal that the statue he uses to rest his glasses on later).

Right then, I have yet again wittered on quite long enough about this very small piece of film, so let’s wrap this up here. I’m hoping that now we’ve had the reunion of our hero couple in the present day, and the main establishment of the premise of the season, my write ups might get to be a little less picky (with some exceptions for notable scenes), but I guess we’ll find out. For now though, and as always, questions, comments, discussion – always welcome. See you next time 😊

[jakeyt]

Covet: Chapter 9 (Part 2 of 2)

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Covet Summary:

Life was good. No, life was great. 

Was. 

Until.

Jake Kiszka crashed into the picture.

You welcomed him into your life—your home. 

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

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

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

Warnings: MINORS DNI (18+); angst; fainting; regurgitating profusely; nausea; extreme feelings of stress and anxiety; extreme feelings of sadness; abandonment issues; allusions to a dark, forgotten childhood; therapy; mentions of EMDR therapy; prenatal visits; arguing/raising of voices; heart issues addressed (POTs); use of heart monitors; hemoglobin kits mentioned; emergency room visit and all that might entail (e.r. visit is a longer one, so strap in); revisited, vivid memories of sex; jealousy; body changes as a result of pregnancy; negative self-talk; looooots of baby talk; pregnancy hormones (and this is nothing compared to what's to come - that's all i'll say); reader still being sad while she checks Jake out; oh! and Joshua Michael Kiszka being the perfect angel he is <3 (as usual, PLEASE lmk if i missed anything that is triggering to you!)

Chapter Word Count: 32.6k+ (what the actual-?)

a/n: hi my lovely readers <333 i am deeply apologetic for the time you waited to receive this chapter, but i hope the length (holy fucking shit, btw) will make up for it. i really will try my damndest to not take almost a month next time.....

BUT, as you guys have learned, my chapters are very rarely "short" in length, so you can rest assured i'm quite literally busting ass trying to write the chapters in the near-month span of time between updates. lol <3 (while also doing real-time life w a job and family to tend to every single day)

this story is my baby that has been outlined for months in a google doc and i refuse to release chapters until they're completed with everything i deem necessary to include. i promise it's all for the good of the story and for the ultimate enjoyment of the readers (you!). <3 i'm never purposefully leaving you hangin', babes <3 ily all more than i'll ever be able to properly express. 🫶🏻

special shout out to my sis for being my go-to beta, ear, advice-giver, helper, AND EVERYTHING IN-BETWEEN when it comes to all of the silly little stories i write. @joshym. you are my favorite. you know that. and i love you. so fucking much. forever the daniel to my samuel :)

and another shoutout to my wonderful pal @welightthefire - GOD, i love you. y'all, this lady has been my main source for all things baby related and i'd be hurting without her help on alllll things baby and pregnancy. <3 babe, you are the bomb and you better KNOW IT.

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

Covet Masterlist

-🌼🌼🌼-

“The covetous person is full of fear; and he or she will who lives in fear will ever be a slave.”

-Horace

-🌼🌼🌼-

Your stomach dipped all the way to the heels of your feet, your body feeling a rush of equal parts cold and hot. 

There were no words spoken for several moments, and almost as soon as you’d said it, Josh had turned to face the front. Jaw clenched tighter than you’d ever seen it, he put the car in drive as his hands wrapped tightly around the wheel – 10 and 2. His back was ramrod straight and his jaw didn’t stop flexing as you swiveled to sit to look out the windshield alongside him.

Your stomach was churning— for multiple reasons. On top of the anxiety in the moment, you also hadn’t been eating much as of late. Your appetite was almost nothing — save for pickles and Cosmic-fucking-Brownies. 

It had blossomed seemingly out of nowhere. 

After your night of Mac and Cheese with Jake, you had started borderline craving it afterwards—alongside the brownies and pickles. But, when you’d made some for yourself, you came to realize, with the first bite to your mouth. . . That Mac and Cheese was no longer your friend. 

Although, it had made very close friends with the toilet, as you’d bent over it hurling until every last bit of the yellow food deposited in front of your sweaty face.  

Surprisingly, you’d still been hungry after puking. . . but unfortunately, everything else you’d tried to eat either ended up in the toilet or in the trash from the smell alone. 

And, to your utter demise, Cosmic Brownies had been ruined that day, too. Their contents eventually met the toilet when you’d tried to snack on one that same evening to fill your empty stomach.

Suffice to say, the nausea had started to kick your ass and this particularly tense situation was doing you no favors.

All you could do was steal glances at him, awkwardly, for the thirty or so minutes it took to get to the women’s clinic. He wasn’t talking at all which was so unlike Josh. You’d never gone this long being in the same space as him where he wasn’t talking. The man loved to talk. And you loved to listen and engage.

But that was not the energy that was transpiring between you two.

You would have normally put on music to fill the hollow, painfully silent space. But, you couldn’t bring yourself to move, much less put on music that would just add to the discomfort that you’d created with your confession. And, honestly, it felt like you were already making too much noise every time you took a deep breath. 

Besides stealing the occasional peek at him, you watched the multiple semis that passed you, and the forests that lined the highway, full of leaves with changing colors. 

And Josh just drove. Just fucking drove. And, even worse, he drove normally. Better than normal, actually. Unlike ever before, he was following the highway’s speed limit, all while not getting emotional anytime someone pulled an asshole move on the road. 

He seemed to be putting every bit of his energy into three things: focusing on the road, keeping his jaw clenched tight, and not moving his hands from 10 and 2 unless he had to look over his shoulder to switch lanes.

Once you pulled up to parallel park on a busier street in SoHo, you’d made up your mind to tell Josh to just drive back and that you could hitch a ride with an Uber. 

You didn’t want to make him feel any more uncomfortable than he apparently already felt. 

For one, he didn’t need to be here if he didn’t want to be. And secondly, you couldn’t fucking handle any more right now. The whole point of him being with you was because you were already fucking stressed before you’d ever even told him. And at this point, it seemed you’d been correct in your assumption of him being angry. 

But right now, his reaction didn’t fucking matter. This appointment mattered. Your baby mattered. You needed to be in some sort of decent mind space before you stepped foot into the place. And whether or not that included him was relative to his response when you informed him of this.

You breathed in and out heavily, shutting your eyes as you did so. Once you opened them, you pressed the unlock button on your door, signaling to him that you were ready to get the show on the road. You didn’t have time to fucking sit here and let him sulk. 

Releasing a deep breath once more, you finally turned to look at him once you’d unbuckled. Then, once facing him, you mustered the firmest tone possible at that moment. “Josh,” you started, sharply. He blinked slowly and flexed the muscle in his jaw once more before he turned to make eye contact with you. 

Fuck. His eyes. . . Was he angry? Sad? Indifferent? You couldn’t fucking tell. You’d never seen him so guarded. God, you shouldn’t have invited him to this. You really had started to hope that he would react more like Elsie and Gia thought he would. 

But he hadn’t, and you were faced with whatever the fuck this attitude was that he had chosen to wear. 

Once it was obvious he was going to look at you as you spoke, you continued. “You don’t have to go in there with me,” you began, firm yet empathetic. “I won’t make you. I will go in on my own. I have to. For my own reasons, I have to keep this appointment today. But you don’t have to come in if you would rather not,” you stated, steady and sure. He was free to fucking leave if he wanted. “You can fucking leave. I will not make you go in if you’re angry or upset or uncomfortable. I’ll get a damn Uber and you can drive back to the complex to get your car.”

He seemed to come back to the present, blinking several times and shaking his head. He rubbed one hand down his face, just as Jake did when he would get stressed. 

The similar reaction made your tummy feel fuzzy and desperate for the security you needed at the moment. You needed someone right now. Even if you were willing to do this on your own (which you were), you could really use his support at the moment. 

You unlocked the doors once more, making sure they were ready to go before you reached for the handle. 

Resolutely, you looked over your shoulder before you addressed him once more. “I’m sorry that I made you angr—.”

“I’m not angry,” he finally said softly. After clearing his throat to talk properly again after not talking for so long, he continued. “I’m shocked and— I’m just feeling a lot of things,” he iterated, his eyes begging you to understand. And, you did. “But I am honored that you wanted me to come with you today,” he said, his face transforming to once again show you your Josh. He was back. Grabbing your hand, he finished his thought. “And I would love to go to this appointment with you.”

The tears that filled your eyes and trailed down your cheeks one by one couldn’t be helped. 

“I couldn’t have done this today without you,” you said, voice cracking with emotion. You popped the glovebox to get a napkin to wipe your face, not looking at him as you kept on. “I’ve been so scared for this, and the only person— besides Elsie— that I wanted here with me, was you.”

He reached over to hold your hand, and you tucked the napkin into your lap for backup when you caught his eye again. Before he spoke again, one tear escaped his eye. With one hand lightly squeezing yours, the other dashed up to wipe at the new wetness under his eye. 

Then, after shaking his head, he raised a curious eyebrow to address you. “Wait,” he said wetly before clearing his throat. “Is this your first appointment?”

“Yes,” you blinked, a blush skirting over your cheeks. “I’ve been in denial of it all until super recently.” You sniffed, feeling a couple more tears escape your eye at the topic of conversation and finally talking to Josh about it. It was, admittedly, a lot. “It took me a hot fucking second to come to terms with all of it, so I’m just now at the first appointment.”

He nodded, brows still furrowed as he looked down briefly before finding your eyes again. “How far along are you?”

“I think I’m technically like eleven-ish weeks,” you replied, doing quick math in your head. “I would need to look at my app to give you an exact number. Normally I have it right at the front of my brain, but my nerves are fucking wracked right now,” you bashfully swept your eyes over your hands, interlocked on the armrest. “For obvious reasons.”

You heard him hum and took that as your sign to look at him again. He was watching you carefully, quizzically. His eyes squinted as you, yet again, flushed under his stare. 

“What?!” You hastily spit out, nervous. 

“Does he. . .?”

Knowing exactly what he was asking, you quickly shut down his train of thought. “Jake doesn’t know,” you informed him, tucking your chin as you quietly repeated yourself. “He doesn’t know.”

“Alright,” he responded, not questioning you in the slightest. Your eyes flashed up to meet his: the color of cocoa and sparkling. “Does Elsie?”

Without any words, you gave him a look that answered his pondering thoughts. 

He chuckled, and you joined him by huffing a little laugh, just under your breath. You felt your cheeks loosen with an easy smile. Your shoulders were relaxing more and more by the second. The familiar, natural sense of joviality with him was settling your frazzled nerves.

You eyed the clock on the dashboard and suddenly realized that you were cutting it very close to your appointment time, with no more than a few minutes to spare before you would be running late. 

Sensing your sudden shift in mood, he took the keys out of the ignition just as you unlocked the doors once again, and opened yours. 

“Let’s go inside,” he encouraged, mimicking your action as he opened his own door behind your turned back. 

When you were out of the car, and waiting (sort of) patiently on the sidewalk for him, you physically shook out some of the anxiety that had made home in your bones for the last several months. 

He officially knew that you’d had sex with Jake. He knew that now. And he knew that it had resulted in a baby. He knew enough for now.

And it actually seemed like things were going to be okay. Maybe Elsie had been right all along (though you’d never tell her that).

Your thoughts were affirmed when he came up beside you, pulling you into a hug as soon as he was at your side. A full-on Josh hug: arms wrapped securely around your shoulders. You did your best to hold back tears, so as not to soil his stark white sweatshirt.

Pulling away before you could let any inevitable tears take over, you looked up at him to see his dimple, present in his cheek. You couldn’t help the single tear that trickled down your cheek at the overwhelming feeling of normality. He was warm. He was real. He was Josh. 

He wrapped an arm around your shoulder, bringing you to him once more before taking your hand in his and wrapping it up tightly. 

Peeking up at him through wet lashes, you saw his face was still turned up in his signature grin, his eyes, slightly playful as he gave you a knowing look he’d given you a thousand times before. 

“You’ve got this, mama,” he reassured with a wink, opening the door to the clinic for you.

-🌼🌼🌼-

The place was fucking amazing. The pictures you’d seen on its website hadn’t done it justice at all. The environment was trendy and relaxing and comfortable. Soft music, similar to that of a lullaby played in the open space, only illuminated by the natural light of the day. No overbearing fluorescent bulbs.

Thank God.

As you made your way to the front desk, you decided to let go of Josh’s hand. 

For some reason, it just felt right to do this on your own. Felt right to make this stride on your own. You could handle the front desk.

“You go sit down,” you offered, motioning to the couches that filtered the chic waiting room. “I think I can do this part.” 

“You sure?” He asked, brows dipping to show his genuine concern. “I’m with you every step of the way. I mean it.”

Your eyes drew wet at the words, but you sniffled and cleared the emotion from your throat when you went to grab his arm through the soft white material of his sweatshirt. “I love you so much for that. I can’t even tell you, Josh,” you told him, a tear escaping despite your efforts. “But I’ve gotta take this step on my own.”

He nodded, needing no further explanation. “I’m over here if you need me,” he threw a thumb at the couches behind him. 

You watched as he walked to the couch nearest to the front desk, sitting comfortably on the blush pink velvet that covered it. You tipped your head at him once, showing him and yourself that you were starting your trek to the counter. 

Once there, you were greeted by the kind smile of a woman most likely in her fifties or sixties, her thick black-framed glasses taking up more than half of her face. Her tanned complexion was flawless and her lips were full with red lipstick as she stretched them over perfectly white teeth. Her jet-black hair was half-up, half-down, haphazardly thrown up with a claw clip, but looking flawless nonetheless. 

She matched the modish aesthetic of the clinic to a T. 

“Hi, babe,” she cheerily greeted you with an out-of-place Southern accent in SoHo, her voice still low to keep the room quiet. “You have an appointment today?”

You froze. The reality of it all suddenly came barreling towards you.

Fuck. Shit. Yes. I do have an appointment today. I’m pregnant. I’m standing here, waiting for an appointment because I’m fucking pregnant.

Dammit. What the fuck? I’m. . .?

You standing here suddenly seemed completely astronomical and unreal– was this truly what life was for you now? While thinking about it nonstop, you’d also not been thinking about it to the extent that it would’ve taken for all of this change to click. This was real. Real life. 

You were carrying a human child. 

And you were at your first appointment for it.

Goddamn.

Blinking several times, you tried to keep your grounding firm as your eyes traced her features a thousand times– searching your suddenly static-filled brain for the most simple word in the English language. 

“Y-y-y–,” you shut your eyes tightly to reset. Come on, y/n. You’ve got this. It’s just one word. 

But you suddenly weren’t sure if you ‘had this’. Your hands began to shake uncontrollably at your sides; you wiped them repeatedly on your leggings. 

But before you could moisten the fabric covering your thighs completely, you went to place them on the counter, touching your current surroundings to center yourself. To hold on to what was real. 

Gia would be so proud.

But then your brain raced right back to the true reality of it all. The reason you were freaking out in the first place was because of the real you couldn’t escape–not that you wanted to, by any means. . .right?! You wanted this. You wanted this. 

You DO want this, y/n. Deep breaths.

The voice sounded so eerily similar to your therapist’s that it helped you to grasp onto a flicker of stabilization. 

This reality was not new. You’d known it was real. You had known there was (probably—hopefully) a kid in you for the past few weeks. And being in this place didn’t make that anymore different than before— minutes before when you’d stepped through the door of the clinic. 

Then you’d walked up to the counter and had one simple question asked of you.

You shook your head once more before blinking open your suddenly-wet eyes. 

But you couldn’t look up from the floor. From your high-top, white Chuck Taylors, now off-white and stained from years of wear. 

And swirling before your eyes in ways they shouldn’t be from the amount of nerves encapsulating your brain. . . Your stomach was rolling.

All of a sudden, you felt a familiar arm wrap around your trembling shoulders, strongly holding you to his chest to keep you stable. The cologne that came from the person, along with the overwhelming rush of relief that came with his presence was a dead giveaway for your new company.

Everything settled.

“Yes,” Josh stated, clearly, for you. “Yes, it’s her first appointment. Y/n? Y/l/n?”

A couple of beats and a few clicks from a mouse followed his words. Then you heard a clipboard clack lightly against the counter and a pen getting clicked open before she sat it on top of the board. 

“Whenever she’s ready,” her voice assuredly spoke, so soft and warm. “I’ll get y’all back there when the time feels right.”

You’d effectively curled tighter into Josh before you looked back up at the sweet lady, meeting her eyes with embarrassment laced through every feature on your face. The muscles in your jaw relaxed when you met her eyes, finally speaking. 

“Thank you,” you muttered. “I’m so sorry.”

She tilted her head at you, sending an understanding wink your way. “No need to apologize, sweet pea,” she calmly hushed, her voice sounding reminiscent of any old Southern woman you’d ever seen in a movie. “It’s a whole lot to deal with. We get it.”

Your lips quivered up into a small smile, eyes watery. “That means a lot,” you sputtered, fresh tears making their way to your jaw. 

Dear fucking God. The tears had to stop at some point. You’d always been a crier, but these motherfucking hormones were just bringing out the absolute most. Pulling out all of the stops. Your emotions, pre-pregnancy, were already shaky, at best. . . and they were apparently just getting progressively worse with the damned baby hormones.

The anxiety was understandable. But the crying? It was almost nonstop. And it was getting old already. 

Though, you knew–you knew–that it wasn’t even fucking close to being over. If everything today went accordingly and you officially found out there was a whole ass baby growing inside of you, you knew that this spike in emotions was only the beginning. 

Sharing one more smile with the lady behind the desk, you walked with Josh back to the waiting room couch he’d been occupying prior to your blessed meltdown. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

Unashamedly, you let Josh fill out all of the paperwork. You were still tense and uneasy, but the way you’d handled answering the questions, with him right by your side helped more than you’d intended it to. The process had just been an easy ebb and flow, answering basic questions about yourself. 

And questions about Jake—but Josh answered those with zero problems. Basic Father-Of-The-Child shit that Josh could ramble off in his sleep. You couldn’t help peering over his shoulder as he answered those. You couldn’t explain the intrigue— you just thought it funny seeing him answer questions about his twin. . . Like it was nothing. 

Then came questions about your menstrual cycle. Which were not your favorite to have Josh write the answers to— but you didn’t want to put pen to paper, so you continued to let him write even those, too.

The rest of the process went easily. He’d rattle off a question, and you’d answer it. That was how it’d gone for roughly thirty minutes. 

He’d clicked his tongue, drawing a line down the section about past pregnancies. And then he’d come to a question that made him give you a look. He had one eyebrow raised as soon as he’d read through the last question. 

The last question. The last question that had been slightly unwelcome and less than wonderful to have him fill in for you. 

You didn’t know why you hadn’t thought of it being on the sheet. Your mind had been too focused on other things for the past several days. Like hopelessly depressing scenarios involving your baby’s wellbeing and telling people and eating fucking pickles. . . you just hadn’t really given much weight to possible questions on this initial patient questionnaire. 

You pulled your body back slightly, your own face morphing to one that mirrored his. “What?”

“The last question— they want to know if you’re sexually—,” he cleared his throat, shaking his head once before before continuing. “If you’re sexually active.”

You blushed deep crimson—your cheeks, flaming hot. You knew exactly where his mind went because it was where yours went with the question. 

Are you still having sex with Jake?

You coughed briefly, clearing the awkward air before you responded. “No,” you divulged, your eyes flitting up to his: big, wondering and deep chocolate. “No. We’re not— fuck. I’m not. I’m not having sex. I don’t know if he is,” you rambled, bringing a hand up to slap your forehead. Your heart rate even accelerated the slightest bit, hurting your chest. What in the fuck? That's unnecessary. It’s one question, y/n. Quit being nervous—there’s no need. “But—I’m not having sex. Not sexually active, no.”

Josh brought your hand away from your head, which was suddenly breaking out in a cold sweat. You found his eyes: open and willing to listen and understand. Your heart rate slowed considerably at his expression. “It’s okay, y/n. Either way, I don’t care. It’s your life.”

You blinked away more tears—god, fuck. Not trusting yourself to speak, you simply nodded in response. The response was what you’d needed to hear from the beginning. Would things be different if you’d heard those words from him at the beginning of all of this? 

It was no use to imagine. You hadn’t heard his affirmation before now, and at this point, it was officially too late. You’d hurt Jake. Jake had moved on and proved to you that you really weren’t that important to him.

And, the sad truth: even if Josh was okay with it, you had plenty more reasons to keep your title with Jake strictly roommate—friend at most. 

Also, officially, the mother of his child.

Clasping your hands over your tummy, you watched as he checked the “no” box. Then, you watched his eyes scan the sheet quickly to check for any missed questions, clicking his tongue against his teeth all the while.

Thankfully, it seemed you’d successfully answered all of them when he got up to walk the sheet back to the counter for you, where a nurse now occupied the seat, you’d observed. Scrubs, making that apparent.

You had been too busy spacing out on the many questions Josh had asked of you, per the sheets. You hadn’t the mind to pay attention to where the receptionist had gone.

Josh came back over to you shortly to get your driver’s license from you, along with your insurance card. 

“They’ll need these on file,” he said, flashing both at you once you’d given them to him. He brought them back after they’d scanned them into the system, but went up to the counter to answer any questions they may've had as you waited on the couch. 

He was seriously the best. You, proving to be completely useless, didn’t hinder him from being the most incredible friend whilst you sat, doing nothing. 

Before too long, once (you assumed) the general information from the sheet had been entered in the system, you heard your name called from the door to the side of the desk, and you were steadily ushered to the back by a nurse. (With Josh in tow, of course. He wasn’t going anywhere.)

“Nice day outside?” The young nurse, blonde hair pulled into a sleek ponytail, asked politely, as you stepped off the scale she’d weighed you on. 

“Yeah,” you responded, glancing over your shoulder at Josh. “Nice fall day. But a little warmer than we like it, huh, Josh?”

He nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, yes,” he responded. “Definitely not enjoying my choice of clothing today. . . Not the day for a sweater, I’ll say.”

The nurse hummed, taking in the information as she grabbed a cup from the counter with your first initial and last name on it. “How long have you guys been together?” She addressed you once with a smile, looking between the two of you with a twinkle in her eye. 

You didn’t mean to squawk with a laugh. 

But thankfully you didn’t have to worry about it because Josh did, too. 

The laugh was, once again, exactly what you needed to calm you down. Your shoulders, still releasing their tension from earlier, became more and more relaxed with each giggle you released. Josh was holding his mouth and shaking his head, his smiling eyes closed while you answered the question. 

“We’re not together,” you explained, the laughter dying down as you caught the nurse’s wide eyes sympathetically. “He’s my best friend. Dating my sister, actually.”

“Oh,” she grinned shakily, eyes jumping back and forth between the two of you. “You both just–he’s here with you today—and you two just seem to fit so well together.”

You smirked, throwing a sideways glance at Josh who was watching the woman with the same sympathetic gaze as you. He must’ve sensed your staring, though, because he quickly threw a look your way. 

He winked at you before adding in his two cents. “I mean, you weren’t wrong. We do mesh incredibly well, but her sister’s had my heart for a helluva a long time. However, I am the uncle,” he informed her, pointing to himself before throwing the same pointer at your tummy. 

It made your heart flutter a thousand beats per minute at hearing him say, for the first time, that he’s the uncle. Josh being bound by blood to the little bean growing within you is another reason you feel assured in your decision to keep it. It’s part of Jake, and part of your closest confidant (aside from Elsie) for years. You’ve obviously thought about it plenty of times before now, but finally hearing Josh acknowledge it was something your heart desperately needed.

“My brother is the father. I’m just her best friend–don’t know what he is to her, though," he finished.

Your eyes widened as you were still getting used to hearing Jake being referred to as the father out loud. . .

Better get fucking used to it, though–nothing you could do about it. 

You also weren’t sure what to make of Josh’s last statement–was he still upset with you that he didn’t know anything about Jake’s role in your life? The inflection in his tone sounded a bit more sneering than you would have liked.

Whenever she spoke next, you were able to snap out of it, recovering quickly.

“Whoa,” she said, blowing out a breath. “That’s. . . wow.” Shaking her head, she looked at the cup in her hand, handing it over to you before she continued. She seemed to be done with the conversation, and ready to get back to the task at hand. “Every woman that comes in for her first appointment gets her blood drawn and urinates in a cup,” she motions to the plastic container she’d handed over to you, then taps at her arm as she watches you carefully for her next spiel. “We draw the blood so we can use it to identify your blood type and to look for other conditions we may have to monitor or treat during your pregnancy.”

Damn. That was a hell ton of information. What do I even make of all of that?

It was your turn to just stare blankly at her and offer a simple okay before she was pointing to the room with the open door, across the hallway, for Josh.

“You can wait in that room for her,” she stretched a little half smile over her delicate features. “She will be there shortly.”

He gave you two thumbs up and a reassuring grin before going in the direction she’d told him. Then she was leading you to the nearest bathroom so you could pee in your fucking cup. After giving you a few instructions, along with a sterile wipe, and informing you on how to get an uncontaminated urine sample, she was letting you in to the single-person restroom. 

It definitely matched the trendy environment of the rest of the clinic and was cleaner than probably any other public restroom you’d ever been inside. You did exactly as she’d instructed and made your business quick before handing off the sample to the same nurse from before. She sat it in a window where someone behind immediately grabbed it. 

“Going off to the lab,” she half-smiled, but quickly tipped her finger to signal you to follow her further down the hallway. “Now I’m going to draw some blood real fast, and then you’ll be free to go wait for the doctor in your room.”

Sitting in a chair in a room towards the back, a couple of other nurses went about their business as your nurse cleaned your arm, using a cotton ball with her now-gloved hands. 

“Does getting your blood drawn freak you out?” She apprehensively questioned before she went to insert the needle. “Or these?” She wiggled the needle in the air to emphasize.

You shook your head, pursing your lips. “For some reason, those are two things I’m totally fine with,” you spoke, your voice tilting up at the end. “I don’t know why they don’t freak me out—everything else fucking does.”

God, shut the fuck up, y/n. Let her do her job.

The blonde gave you an odd look, as if you’d spoken too much for her taste. 

And that pissed you off. You no longer felt bad for talking too much. 

You fucking asked me, bitch.

Thankfully, you were able to get rid of her in minutes-time. As soon as she’d bandaged your arm over a cotton ball, she pointed you to the room she’d sent Josh. 

“Thanks,” you mumbled with a small, semi-annoyed smile before making your way to the room where Josh waited. 

His eyes were huge when you made your way into the small exam room. 

“Holy shit,” he breathed. “You’ve got it cut the fuck out for you, huh?”

You gave him a look that said Seriously? and rolled your eyes. “Duh, Josh,” you replied, taking in the small room with pretty pictures of babies all over the walls. “I kind of already knew that. Since I am the one carrying the fuckin’ baby and all.”

God, that was harsh, y/n. He doesn’t deserve your anger like that.

Both of his hands went up to guard him as he crossed one leg over the other. “Jesus, y/n,” he sighed, eyes huge. “Give me a damn break. I didn’t even know until today that you were pregnant. Didn't fully know any of it. It’s a lot for a guy, I guess.”

“Damn, I’m so sorry that it’s so much for you as a man, Josh,” you scowled, your voice not hiding any of your irritation with him for his last comment. 

Seriously, y/n?

To be fair, as amazing as Josh truly was, he was still a man— and half of the time men didn’t know their heads from their assholes. Didn’t ever know the proper times to say stupid shit. (Or, to not say it at all.) 

You had to put it in perspective, though . . .because you kind of sucked at saying ridiculous shit, too. So you could only get so angry with him.

“That was a stupid thing to say,” he admitted. “Sorry.”

You tried to laugh it off. You didn’t want there to be unnecessary tension right now—it was the very last thing you needed. “It’s fine,” you encouraged. 

You propped yourself to sit the best you could on the edge of the beige-matted table. The thin paper that covered it crinkled underneath you– made you feel like you were making way too much noise for the tiny room.

“I’m sorry for being short. I need you. For multiple reasons. But right now. . .I just need you to be with me when I find out if this bean actually exists in my loins. . . If I’ve been imagining it the whole fucking time, or if I’ve lost it. . .,” you swallowed. You had to blink back the tears gathering in your eyes as you trailed off at the dreaded possibility. “I just need you to see with me if there’s anything sad to be seen,” you added, voice suddenly wet. 

“Hey,” Josh spoke, softly. “Look at me.”

You swiveled to do as he said. The attempt to not cry was useless. The tears were drenching your cheeks. The fear that had settled so deeply in your bones since the day you’d heard that podcast was coming to light, as you’d just uttered the worries aloud for the first time. 

Barely seeing Josh through the wetness that clouded your vision, you replied the best you could, albeit extremely pathetically. “Yeah?” 

“Why are you worried about those things?” He asked, so quietly, eyes gleaming to bring light. Grabbing your hands, his eyes became suspicious slits when he addressed his next question. “Y/n. . . Have you given yourself any time to feel excited about this appointment? Or have you just focused on the anxiety you’ve built up, surrounding today?”

You bowed your head out of embarrassment. “I’ve been excited, Josh. . .,” you muttered, completely aware of the lie. 

“Mmm,” he responded, rubbing his chin with one hand as the other still grasped both of yours, sure and comforting. “I suspect that’s untrue. . . I know you, my love.”

Gasping on a sob, you closed your eyes to stop crying, covering your face with your hands. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he said, squeezing your hands, down and away from your face. He held them still with one of his own, the other helping to slide his chair closer to you. “Don’t you dare be sorry, mama— there’s no reason. This is just the beginning; you’ve got plenty more opportunities to be excited. . . I’m sure plenty of women get worried before this first appointment. There’s a lot up in the air before the first time you see the little thing on the screen.”

You opened your eyes to look at him. And though they were still wet, nothing else was coming from your ducts— thank god. “Yeah?” You asked, desperate to know he actually might understand, tone begging him to tell you you’re not crazy. “You think?”

He nodded with his lips pursed, his new mustache squiggly with the action; his brows, tied together, and eyes, serious. “Oh, yes. I know it. You are not alone, love,” he reassured you, helping your heart rate slow to normal for the millionth time that day. “But that’s why I hope every single one of those women has a person who is there for them on days like today.” He paused, setting his eyes firmly on you before continuing. “Because, today, we are going to discover and conquer whatever we find out from that screen—,” he tilted his forehead toward the monitor screen, “Together.”

Your eyes welled, lip sticking out with a pout. God, you loved him. You truly couldn’t have done today without him. “I really need a hug from you.” 

Without question, he was up and out of his seat, wrapping his arms snugly around you. You tucked your nose into his neck, breathing in his cologne— the familiar smell of his patchouli exactly what you needed to feel secure in the moment. 

You were busy focusing on his breathing, in and out, in and out, when the door received a knock and creaked open behind his back. He must’ve heard, too, and moved away from hugging you and back to his seat as you both watched for the doctor to walk through the door.

But the only person you saw was. . . the receptionist? What was she doing in—? 

“I’m Dr. Rose,” the beautiful lady—who was a doctor apparently, not a receptionist—greeted you with that same, thick Southern accent. “It’s nice to see you doin’ better since I last saw ya, babygirl.”

You blinked several times, feeling immediately at ease with the familiar face. “You’re a doctor? Not a receptionist?”

God, stupid, y/n. Duh. She just said that, you moron.

She chuckled. “Yes ma’am,” she replied, as she clicked on every button on the monitor needed to complete the appointment. Afterwards, as things whirred to life, she went to open the laptop she’d carried in with her, sitting atop the counter. “I’m your doctor, sweet cakes,” she twanged in her western tone. “I’ll be with y’all until the very end of this wonderful journey we call pregnancy.”

You grinned, appreciative of the fact that you were already familiar with her—even if it was from the tiniest interaction earlier. But you couldn’t hold onto that feeling for too long before you got nervous of the impression you’d made earlier with your anxiety attack (or whatever the hell that’d been). 

With concerned brows, you cleared your throat before offering up some words of your own. “I’m so sorry that the first time you met me I was acting like a basket case,” you apologized, extremely self conscious. Crossing your legs tighter, you tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. When that still hadn’t been enough to contain the nervous energy, you let your hands rest on your belly. 

Tapping away at the small bump, skin tight under your sweater, you waited for her response. 

She gave you a look that immediately eased you. Her brow, raised, and beautiful red lips quirked up in a small grin. “Now, little missy, I told you earlier that we get it and I meant it.” Dr. Rose sat on her rolling stool, wheeling over to the table. And once there, extended it to be higher so she could talk better with you closer to eye level. “You are not the first one to get all nervous at your first prenatal appointment—or any OB appointment at all— and you’re certainly not the last—far, far from it,” she smiled wide, close-lipped and completely empathetic. Her deep set, big, brown eyes— lashes so long and curled to perfection— showed you how much she cared, behind her big black frames. “Now, how about we get to the good stuff?”

There were obviously a couple tears dripping down your cheek, and you pushed them away as you nodded. Your tummy did all of the flips and tosses and turns—your skin was practically buzzing with nerves. 

You were so close to seeing the truth.

Facing this head on.

“Go ahead and lay back for me,” she instructed. You did as you were told, bending an arm behind your head, trying to get comfortable in skin that felt restrictive. As she stood up, clicking a few buttons to get the monitor screen situated, she asked some questions. “Now can you give me a small debrief on your health history? Anything you can think of? Don’t worry about digging too, too deep right now. We have your blood samples and urine sample that will also aid in indicating any abnormalities.”

The word abnormalities wasn’t your favorite thing to hear, but you didn’t let it sit tight in your brain as you pondered anything she might need to know. 

“Um,” you dipped into the more current issues you’d faced. “I guess. . . anxiety? Depression? Do those count?” 

Dr. Rose hummed in approval and gave a small grin as she went to get a few materials from the cabinet.

“I think the anxiety is worse than the depression, but they’re both persistently just. . . there,” you contemplated what else. . . nothing much was coming to your mind. “I also got my tonsils taken out when I was like 12 years old. . .?”

“You say that as a question,” she commented, a lilt in her voice and a smile on her face, showing that she found it funny. 

“I did have them taken out,” you huffed a laugh, rolling your eyes at yourself as you pushed back a few strands of hair that had fallen out from behind your ear. “I’m just kind of. . .blanking. I know there’s more, but I’m just–just fucking nervous.”

“That’s understandable, sweetie pie,” she assured, her thick Southern accent making your heart rate settle just a bit.

“I know I’m probably missing a few things. Like, there are parts of my childhood that are hazy at best, so there might be things buried back there that I can’t tell you today,” you informed carefully, hoping she understood. When she nodded, you took that as your sign to continue. “I’m seeing a therapist right now who is actually helping me dig up some of it, so I might have a few more answers for you next visit.”

There was a moment of silence as Dr. Rose continued to prepare the sonogram machine, the obnoxious clacking of keys and buttons covering the dull electrical hum that surrounded you. However, that singular moment of time seemed to carry on and on as the nerves in your body seemed to twist your gut to the point that your organs felt close to pushing out of your belly button.

It was as if simply mentioning your mental health – and whispering of your past – was enough to send you into a mini spiral. The muted lull of the clinic didn’t help anything. . . the almost soundless environment, wrapping you up in its emptiness and choking you.

Tap, tap . . .  Tap, tap . . .  Tap, tap . . .

You tried to focus on the thrum of your fingertips along the tender skin of your swollen abdomen, hoping and praying it would keep your thoughts at bay.  

She was taking a long fucking time–which you were sure was normal and warranted. 

But, God. The room just started feeling smaller and smaller as the thoughts got bigger and bigger. You were in the room that was about to tell you the truth of the matter and you still seemed so far away from finding out. . . You weren’t sure what to think. 

Were you even ready to see what the ultrasound was about to show you?

Josh must have noticed the nervous energy you were exuding as the stoppers on the legs of the chair made a sharp scraping noise against the sterile linoleum tile, making you cringe the tiniest bit. He moved his chair closer to the side of the table next to you, opposite of where Dr. Rose sat on the other side.  His dark eyes made contact with yours and his brow raised as if to say, ‘are you okay?’.

All you could manage to do was nod in response, brows knitted.

“Alrighty, I’m going to put some of this gel on your belly and then you’ll feel a bit of pressure once we start.”

You were half expecting a chill to make you jolt with the application of the thick gel, much like you'd seen in movies - you know, where it’s freezing cold and uncomfortable - but as it fell against your skin, you were surprised to be met with a warm temperature that relaxed you.  The clean scent of the gel overpowered your nostrils, but not in a bad way.  It gave you something else to focus on as a slight pressure from the head of the wand, came to push lightly against your belly, just above your pelvic bone.

The black and white image appeared on the screen and. . . showed you nothing. 

Nothing. 

Emptiness. Empty stomach.

Amidst the gray static on the screen, there was nothing but a big black spot that resembled a the shape of a bean.  You had to force yourself to look away, an all-too familiar stinging feeling in the corner of your eyes, showing up again.

All this time, the acceptance of your pregnancy and the effort and hard work you’d put in to create a better life for yourself (and this part of him inside you). . . had shown to be completely pointless.  The feeling of hope that you'd begun to welcome into your life was on the brink of shattering and it didn’t help that Dr. Rose wasn’t saying anything. . . wasn’t doing anything aside from sliding the wand against your empty stomach.

God fucking dammit. All of your worst fears were coming to fruition and every moment you stared at the bleak screen you felt the emptiness on the screen envelop your heart until—.

Thump thump.

You felt your breath catch in your throat as Josh gently grabbed onto your arm, reassuring, and pointed at the screen above you. On the screen, displayed clear as day right in front of you, was the outline of a baby’s delicate profile.

The soft curve of its forehead, the splotchy spikes of a tell-tale spine, a little belly, the slightest movement of four tiny limbs protruding from the sides and bottom. . . and the tiniest flicker in the center of it all.

You couldn’t tear your gaze away as Dr. Rose started to press more buttons and a bunch of small dotted yellow lines showed over the image of your baby, measuring from point A to point B. She was speaking, but you couldn’t be bothered to listen to the words she was saying. All you cared about was the miniscule movements on the screen as a leg kicked up or an arm pushed out.  

It was beautiful, striking, amazing, wonderful, unbelievable, and real. . . so very real.

What you had found yourself questioning for weeks wasn’t just a thought, but now cemented reality. The concerns you had and the voice in your head doubting you were silenced to nothing - because the life growing inside you, the product of you and Jake, was right in front of you.  

The product of the best night of your life was finally proven to be the best part of you and it was real.

Thump thump.

The steady sound of a little racing heartbeat drew you back to the present and to the words your doctor was saying to you.

“Profile looks darn good, placenta is anterior, there’s the umbilical cord. . .,” She spoke as she pointed with her finger to each shape of white that was mixed into the static. “Heartbeat is 160, there’s the bladder and the kidneys, oh!” Dr. Rose exclaimed with a chuckle as she seemed to record a movement. Upon playing it back in front of you, she explained the movement as a little hand with five fingers moved up towards a space by the baby’s nose. “The little angel is wavin' at you, mama,” she looked down at you with a knowing smile. 

Your heart swelled more than you’d ever felt in your entire life. This was . . . otherworldly. Absolutely earth-shattering. There were not any words you could string together that would do this moment justice.

“Wow,” you muttered, voice officially clogged with the tears that relentlessly poured down your cheeks. You sniffled. “It’s. . . moving?”

“Sure is,” she winked. “Has been for a while. You have an especially active little one – already. Prepare for some monster kicks here in a couple months, mama.”

“Wow,” you repeated.

“Gets it from their uncle,”Josh said, sniffling behind you.

You smiled over at him. You felt the joy he did. All around. More. This was your baby. Yours and Jake’s. God.

“Exciting, huh, babe?” She asked knowingly. 

All you could do was nod. You weren’t sure you could stop smiling. . . it was hurting your cheeks, but you welcomed it. This was. . . this was everything. Everything you could have ever wished for.

“I know it, honey bun,” she agreed, her red lips perked with joy for you. “Also, according to the size of the baby and the start date of your last menstrual cycle, I would say you are at right about 12 weeks, little missy.”

Once she’d confirmed the gestational age, you saw her scoot the cart back a bit and wipe the wand she’d used with a sterile wipe, putting it back in its slot. Then, she cleaned your belly of any leftover jelly. You just watched from where you were still leaned back, head resting on one arm behind it. She stripped her gloves and tossed them in the nearest waste bin.

“Twelve weeks. Yep,” you breathed, pulling your shirt down. Your cheeks lifted even more at officially knowing (relatively) how old your little bean was. “Based on my last period.”

“Yes. Because, oddly enough, that is technically when the pregnancy started,” she explained. “On the first date of your last menstrual cycle.”

Dr. Rose went to grab a packet, a pamphlet, and a few free-flying papers, all paper-clipped together, from the counter. You sat up as she clicked her way back to you on her stilettos. She kept talking as she handed them to you. “I don’t wanna clog up our time today with all of the technicalities – unless that’s what ya want?” She offered. 

You shook your head no. Today, all you’d come in wanting to know was that your baby was alive. And you knew that now. And fuck, it felt nice. Better than. 

Except . . .

“Is the baby healthy?” You asked worriedly, needing to hear her tell you.

“Positively. One hundred percent, mama,” she confirmed, her teeth sparkling behind her red lips. “From what I could see on the scan, you’ve got a perfectly healthy baby squirmin’ around in there.”

You internally and externally let out a sigh of relief that had needed released for a fat second. The baby was okay. Healthy. Moving. Alive. 

Everything was going to be alright.

You looked down at Josh, his face glowing, cheeks glistening with tears. “I’m so proud of you,” he choked. 

Another tear slipped down his cheek as you felt one well in your eye. You didn’t know why he was proud of you, but the words made your emotions spike. You were proud of the little life inside of you. . . already doing its best to live its best life.

“Back to what I was sayin’ before,” Dr. Rose went on. Your eyes found her, clicking off the machine. “In that paperwork you’ll find all of the technicalities and logistics about the pregnancy. Which vitamins you should take. Prenatals our clinic suggests. Recommended foods to eat. The baby’s size week by week. When I say everything, sweetie, I mean ev-er-ything,” she emphasized in her twang. “You can find the same information on our clinic’s website. There is a help tab on there for our mothers-to-be, but I always provide physical copies for my girls. I also recommend downloading at least one pregnancy tracker app to get notified with updates – it’s just convenient and fun.”

“I downloaded one recently, actually. It’s been amazing. Thank you for everything,” you weakly offered. You also had to know. . . “Will you be the one delivering the baby?”

“Sure thing,” she affirmed. “With ya till ya want rid of me. Speaking of that day, our partnering hospital is Cedars-Sinai, so that is where you’ll end up having the baby,” she paused, bringing her eyes to you. “Since you indicated on the form that you would prefer a planned hospital birth over a planned home birth.”

“Correct. Hospital birth for me,” you affirmed.

“Now, we are going to schedule your next appointment for four weeks from now,” she continued, opening her tablet and typing out the information for her calendar, presumably. “How does December 8th sound, honey bun?”

You didn’t check your calendar, because you would make that day okay. Anything you needed to do to make it happen. “Sounds perfect,” you replied, practically jittering with excitement for the next one. “When will I find out the gender?”

“I always have my girls wait until week 18,” she responded, turning buttons off on the machine before scooting it back where it had started. “So, when you come in for your next appointment, we will actually have ya schedule an extra lil appointment in there to see what our little buddy is in there.”

“Got it,” you told her. 

“Your sonogram pictures will be waitin’ at the front desk for ya,” she said, washing her hands. Then, after she dried them, she grabbed her laptop. “And finally, your due date is–at this point, according to what we know–May 23rd.”

The date was suddenly the most important you’d ever heard. 

It was the day you now felt you’d been waiting for your entire life.

Without ever knowing it. 

This baby was already changing your heart for the better and everyday, it seemed like all the little (alive and moving) bundle of hope did was bring you unadulterated joy. 

The most precious gift that you’d made with someone so precious to you.

-🌼🌼🌼-

Once you’d finished the appointment, Josh had asked if you had any plans. And when you’d said no, he ended up driving you both to a cute little cafe he'd heard about in SoHo. A place that, even from the outside, oozed with a charming aesthetic. 

The two of you sat there, pointing out every single detail of the sonogram pictures, ooh-ing and ahh-ing over the tiny feet, tiny hands, and the itty bitty, adorable body that belonged to your baby. . . You had never seen something so beautiful. You were sure of it.

And after that, you’d taken some time to catch up. You’d talked about him and Elsie, Elsie and her travels, and the fact that you’d started going to therapy. (Next to the baby, he was most excited about this.)

All you’d ordered was a Sprite since you weren’t feeling the most hungry as of late. Josh had followed in your lead and only ordered drinks as well. Honey tea and a glass of water. He’d made sure to tell the waitress to grab you a water, too. 

And after a quick trip to the bathroom to relieve your ever-aching bladder, you were back at the table. 

Back at a table where Josh was giving you a look. His eyes were narrowed, a mischievous grin turning his lips up to show a dimple in his cheek.

Just as you’d sat down, the waitress was bringing Josh a new, piping hot tea, since he'd (apparently) already finished the first. 

And then, as soon as she was gone, he was talking.

“I sort of had a weird inkling of something going on. . .,” Josh noted as he stirred, then took a long swig of his tea, steam still emitting from the top. “Goddammit!” He gasped, a pained expression painting his features, as he coughed over the warm temperature of the beverage. “Hot hot hot hot,” he repeated to himself, finding his ice water and taking an even longer swig.

You couldn’t help the burst of laughter that bloomed in your chest, flying past your lips as he continued to down the water. All you got in response was him flipping you off with one long digit, and a wrinkle, knitting his brow.

The sinking feeling in your stomach couldn’t be ignored, though. . . you’d heard what he initially said. How had he known? God. . . how long? Your mind was a frenzy as you forced yourself to stop laughing to focus on the serious subject matter at hand.

“How?”

“Well, y/n,” he replied smartly, motioning to the cup. “It just came from the pot, I’m sure. Don’t you see the damned thing is steaming? Why did I even take a–?”

“No,” you stopped his rambling to clarify your question. “How did you . . .? Did you seriously know?” As you were still air-quoting the last few words, he was already nodding his head to answer you. “How? Why? What did we do wrong? I-I mean- God. Do Sam and Danny know, too?”

“Now, I didn’t say I knew,” he corrected you, feeling at the sides of the mug to test the temperature. And, yet again, he was met with the scorching temperature, thus hissing and placing his hands around the plastic of the water cup. “In essence, I said I had an idea. And you didn’t do anything wrong. I just– he’s my fucking twin, y/n,” he set you with a stare that said ‘Remember?! Can’t fool me!’, before he continued. “And where you’re concerned. . . I know you very well. You’ve been my best friend for several years. . ." he reminded you. "Oh, and I’m also a fucking empath. Which you, my dear, were the first one to ever point out my empathic tendencies. . .,” he winked at you with a grin on his full lips. “You should’ve known you couldn’t keep that shit from me. Not without me getting suspicious as hell.”

“Are you mad?”

He stuck his lip out, looking down at the tea, running his finger tip along the rim of the mug before he wrapped his hands around it again. Apparently not at a burning temperature anymore, he decided to bring the cup up to his lips, pinky up as he gripped the handle. This time, he closed his eyes in relief at the taste of the honeyed tea on his tongue. When he placed it back down, he continued watching it, lips still pushed out in a pout as he shook his head, brow wrinkled.

“Nah,” was all he supplied, his eyes hyper focused on the white ceramic mug.

Of course, you were not convinced. “Josh. Look at me.”

When his eyes slowly slid up to find yours, you found at least one reason he hadn’t been looking at you. There were wet pools accumulating in the ducts of his deep brown eyes. He breathed in deeply, his chest expanding with the giant breath before he blew it out, a lone tear making its way down his cheek. 

“I–,” he started, shaking his head and messing with the front of his curly mop of hair. He dropped his hand to tap against the table. “It’s not that I’m mad. It’s really hard to make me mad. I’m more mad at Jake. He makes me mad very easily when he wants. Because I know he can do better. . . Like starting this with you and not having the balls to see it through and leaving you with a baby in your belly.” It was as if the steam had been transferred from his cup to his ears, his nostrils were flaring as he shook his head and squinted his eyes shut. 

Damn, he and Jake look very similar when they get angry, you suddenly discovered.

“And now, he’s just been fucking Maya while you’ve had to deal with–.”

The tears came instantly. Your vision was blurry before you were even able to process that the tears were there. 

“Oh my god, y/n. I’m so– fuck. I’m sorry,” Josh tried, his tone willing you to hear him out. 

You blinked furiously, covering your eyes with one hand. But, finding it useless to try to hide the tears, you just let them fall freely as you now took deep breaths, your eyes piercing through the window of the cafe. “Can we please not–?”

“Y-yeah, Goddammit,” he nervously fluffed the front of his hair. “Y/n, please look at me.”

Forcing your eyes away from the clear autumn sky, you found his eyes, earnestly begging for you to listen to him. “He wasn’t– he hasn’t– I don’t–,” he growled under his breath, reaching forward for your hand. Which you only stared at until he spoke next. “Please, just take my hand.”

So, you did as he asked and looked at him with desperately sad eyes. 

He watched you carefully for a few minutes, letting the tears leave as he reassured you and apologized a couple more times. 

He cleared his throat, blinking his eyes a few times before apparently deciding on a new conversation. “When did you guys begin. . .?”

You knew he was asking when you’d started fucking his brother. But he obviously wasn’t going to say it. 

Nice turn in conversation, Josh.

“It’s complicated,” you offered wetly, not in the mood to talk.

He hummed, before raising a brow with searching eyes. He was trying to get through to you. “Was it that night at Baby’s All Right?”

How the fuck did he know that–?

But, like you said, it was more complicated–because, no, it really didn’t start at Baby’s. 

“Technically," you sniffled, swiping a finger, then a thumb under both of your eyes. "It started before and after that night. It was a long, drawn out thing that shouldn’t have ever started.”

Instantly, you felt guilty. 

The words felt wrong to say. . .the first thing coming to your mind – the baby. 

If it hadn’t started, you wouldn’t have the baby. The sweet little bean in your belly with a beautiful, beating heart. You placed a steady hand against your tummy to make up for the harsh words. 

And the second thing. . . you couldn’t begin to imagine never getting to be that close to Jake. . . you were grateful it had started. . . But you also hated yourself for ever letting yourself get so tied up in Jake Kiszka.

Figuratively and literally. God. Stupid.

“Yes, it should have,” he affirmed, your eyes flickering to him. “For my niece or nephew alone.”

“You’re right,” you agreed, eyes filling with more tears at the conversation and the spiraling thoughts in your mind. “But, I guess, if we are getting technical. . .," you sniffed. "It started that night he left the venue so pissed and you were equally as pissed with him.”

He seemed to think on that for a second or two, trying to go back to the night to which you were referring. Once he finally found it, his eyes lit up with a twitch on his lips. 

“He was mad that night,” he remembered, his hand squeezing yours. You decided to pull yours away from his as you felt it beginning to perspire. Wiped them on your pants, waiting for him to continue. “And now I know why. You weren’t there.”

“Essentially, yes,” you confirmed with a tilt of your head. You couldn't help but snicker with the next part. “It started when I got home.”

Josh’s lips stretched to the point that his eyes bulged and his cheeks puffed out. He blew out a breath while his eyes stayed huge. “And that is all I need to know about that night.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at his expression and his words, to which he lightened with you, falling into a soft moment of laughter alongside you. 

When the humor died down, he took the initiative to speak. And you let him. You really weren’t feeling like talking. The smells of the cafe, for one, were starting to make your stomach turn. “I could’ve guessed that it started around that time,” he began. You quirked a brow, asking him to explain further. “He . . . he changed around that time.” You didn’t speak, which told him to continue. “You see, when he first got to New York, he was so fucking surly and rude. He wasn’t just like that with you, mama. He was short as hell with me, too. And the other guys got his bad side – especially Sammy. His heart was broken and he didn’t know how to handle his shit. He started coming back into himself around that time, though. . .Middle of summer. He sort of peaked around the middle of summer. And if I am doing the math right. . . that is when it was happening?”

You nodded an affirmation, impressed by the quick math. 

“Yeah, he was Jake again,” he expressed, eyes tearing up again. “He was joyful for the first time in years. I hadn’t seen him act so freely and fun since before he and Amelia started dating. There was always something stopping him when he was with her – she was stopping him. But you. . . you must’ve encouraged him to be himself. You didn’t turn down the challenge. You took a chance on my brother.”

After considering the words, the lightbulb appeared above your head. That conversation the day in the record shop. The same day you’d played over and over again to convince yourself out of being with Jake. You’d focused on the other words so much that you’d forgotten all about the positive things–the possibilities that had been discussed that day.

You remembered it now. You'd been talking about high school. And how Jake had sort of decided to fuck all when Josh hadn't. . . and it had turned into you bringing up your love of a challenge. 

Josh had nodded, lips turned down, his eyes still holding a little glint. “Yup. Get my point now?”

“Yeah, but like I just said, I’m not one to turn down a challenge. Just like you, Josh. And your brother. . .I’ve learned he is nothing if not a challenge.” 

He had nodded, knowing you were right. And he’d known you long enough to know that you did indeed enjoy overcoming any problem life may hand you.

God, what had happened to you? Where had the desire to accomplish challenges gone?

Why had you given up? Had you given him up? Or had you simply been done with that challenge? Had Jake just been ready to fly? Had you done what was best?

But, you sidelined those thoughts and decided there were more important matters at hand. Like Josh telling you more about how he was feeling.

“So. . . you’re not hurt?” You asked, your voice hoarse from not talking. You cleared it, and tried again. “You’re not hurt?”

“A little, I guess,” he nodded, eyes studying you.

“That’s fair,” you encouraged – glad he was sharing his heart. “I’m sorry for not telling you. But I just kept hearing your voice in my head–that same day we talked about challenges– that same day you’d told me something and it repeated itself over and over to the point that I tried to resist things happening with Jake. Mostly for you, Josh. I didn’t want to betray you. Didn't want him to betray his dreams. But then it just became something bigger that I couldn’t control. It was . . . different than anything else I’ve ever experienced. I couldn’t stop it from happening.”

“Did you want to stop it?”

“I tried to convince myself that I wanted to . . . but I never did. Not really. I wanted him the whole time, but I felt wrong for it. I was totally disregarding what you’d said to me. . . Going against your wishes for him.”

His eyes got big as he took another sip of his tea, that at this point, was probably lukewarm. But if it was, his face didn’t show it. He licked at his lips and peered at you pensively, curiously. “God, y/n. I’m sorry. What did I even say? I don’t remember,” he sighed, rubbing his forehead. “I hate that my words have been just fuckin’ tormenting you, mama. I’m so sorry.”

“No,” you said, pointing your finger at him, your eyes serious to communicate your point. “You don’t be sorry. I’m the one who was in the wrong. Not even Jake, necessarily,” you included the last part, just on Jake’s behalf. “I was the one who did it even after you’d confided in me that you were happy Jake was getting to live life for himself for the first time – without having to worry about being hung up on a girl. And, then I just let myself be that girl you didn’t want for him – I was the girl to get in his way while he should’ve been living for himself.”

“In the spirit of fairness, though, I told him that he needed to take a break from women. He didn’t listen to me either. Well, sort of. . . he actually did follow my advice, I guess,” he encouraged, his eyes searching yours. “Because I also told him that I wanted him to think of what he wanted first.” His tone lifted as he winked at you. 

Your brow wrinkled . . . what was he trying to say? 

He continued, “Which, I guess, my dear, after the dream . . . was you.”

Feeling suddenly lightheaded and loopy with Josh’s words, you let them settle for a minute or two before saying anything more. 

And, the waitress had perfect timing. She filled the open air by asking if you needed anything. First time she’d been back in a hot damn second. Josh asked for a new tea, and you asked for another glass of Sprite. 

All that you could think in that moment was that you really had been the opposite of the right thing for Jake. So, you decided to speak your mind.

“But. . . no,” you declined his words, shaking your head. “No, Josh. He didn’t put himself first – he had a woman – me – that he was focused on instead of learning himself.”

He took a bit to consider your words, his eyes squinted at you as he pursed his lips. The waitress came back to the table as the conversation lulled for his response. 

As soon as she left, though, the two of you were back to it.

“Y/n,” he began, his lips growing into a sure smile. His hands came to clasp in front of him, his hair bouncing with each disbelieving shake of his head. “He did. He moved here. He started pursuing the dream. He got a job he loved by teaching lessons.” Thus meeting Maya, you snarkily thought. “He did put himself first. Did all of that, and then he pursued you.”

. . . you hadn’t really thought of it that way. Not once had you considered that. 

God. What if you’d told Josh a long time ago? Chances were, he would’ve eased your fears and worries. . . but instead, you’d assumed he’d think the worst and let your thoughts derail. 

Would you even be in the predicament you were today? 

You knew the answer. The answer was most likely no. You wouldn’t have the baby because there would’ve never been a night - the night - to relieve your Jake-induced stress. Because you would have already taken the time to talk to Josh. . . He would have reassured you before you even had time to ever get to that depressive point.

Would he have convinced you to be with Jake? 

You didn’t know. . . but. . . it was too late now. 

You were where you were now and there was nothing you could do about it. 

And none of this ever worked in how Maya had already been in the picture – maybe she had been part of the reason he became happier in the middle of summer.

In the end, she could be the one to thank for this– it could most definitely not be you. The sad truth of the matter was, she had probably been filling his cup all along. . .while he was filling yours.

While you were letting yourself get tangled in him, he was feeling the same emotions. . . but for her. Because, in the end, she was easier than you.

You couldn't find it in good conscience to be with him anyway.

Because, well, you still wouldn’t have wanted to distract him from his dream with a relationship. His dream was too valuable to possibly table for you. You were too much of a mess that he could get distracted by, rather than taking the time to fulfill his dream.

She freed up his time with her carefree nature. And you only infiltrated his time with your darkness. She was sunshine, brightening up his paths.

You had to figure you out before you could ever make someone as happy as Maya made Jake. 

Before you had this baby.

However the tables turned, they had already turned. And it was too late to go back and change anything now. You weren’t even sure what you would change–or what you would think if you could turn back time. There was too much filling up your brain–your life– to make the wisest decision. 

It didn’t matter anyway.

So, you told Josh all you could think to say. The same words you’d thrown nastily in Jake’s face, you threw harshly in your own.

“Well, I guess I served my purpose.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

When Josh pulled your car into your space, Jake’s was nowhere to be found. As always, you couldn't help but wonder where he was. He hadn't worked today so he was probably with-.

“I really am most mad at my brother.”

“Try not to be,” you encouraged lamely. You really didn’t care too much about him being angry at anyone right now. . . all you really cared about was getting upstairs to your bed to take a nice, long nap. It had been a day. 

“I’m going to be for a whi–.”

Tap tap tap.

Both of your eyes turned to Josh’s window. Outside of the driver’s side was Jake. You could see all the way down his loose shirt. It was open and tempting his tanned skin and firm chest, while his necklaces hung loosely in front of him, as he was bent over to peek into the car.

But. . . you could see the heated glare from his eyes, even through the tint of his Ray-Bans. His nostrils were flared and his lips had curled into a faux smirk. 

When Josh rolled his window down, you heard Jake's breathy chuckles that had no indication of anything truly humorous behind them. They sounded more bitter than anything else. 

“What have you two been up to?” he questioned, the inflection on the word ‘you’ paired with his snide tone told you he was probably less than thrilled to see you and Josh together. Alone, at that. 

But why? Why the fuck would he care?

You were struck completely motionless and silent, feeling nauseous again, desperately trying to swallow down that all too familiar sensation. But this time, it wasn’t due to the hormones wreaking havoc in your tummy, it was Jake’s presence at this incredibly horrid time that had your belly flipping in slow motion somersaults. 

Josh huffed a laugh that nearly replicated Jake’s. Mimicking his twin to further his irritation, no doubt. You knew Josh was in no mood to put up with Jake’s piss-poor attitude, especially given everything he had discovered. You were tightly holding your breath at whatever the hell could possibly come from Josh's mouth, hoping that he would say as little as possible.

“Funny that you should ask, Jacob,” Josh retorted. He turned his head to the left to make eye contact with his twin, his fingers were still gripped to the steering wheel with a force that turned his knuckles stark white.

What was he about to say? Shit. He knew better. . . right?

“Because," Josh began. "I don’t exactly believe it’s any of your business what we're doing. In fact, I know it’s none of your business.”

Ironic. . . because it most definitely was his business. He just didn’t know it. Not yet.

He flashed Jake his classic Josh grin, extra wide with eyes squinted, an extra, added dramatic flair of his fluttering eyelashes to seal his condescending statement. 

You let out the breath you had been holding, thankful that Josh kept from saying too much. This was not how you wanted Jake to find out. Although, you still had no idea when or how you would approach that. 

All you knew for sure, was that this wasn’t the right time. 

Jake had stood firm the entire time, a brow raised with an obviously fake grin that held his lips in a tight line. His first response was a snicker through his nose and a patronizing simper, just shy of a full on scowl. 

“‘Kay, got it,” he sneered. Then, he was patting the side of the driver's door with his opened palm before swiftly turning on his heel to walk away. He forcibly shoved his hands in the front pockets of his black jeans as he sauntered off, and you couldn’t help but notice how it stretched the fabric even tighter against his perfectly, rounded ass. A sight you still fawned over, admittedly. 

How could you not?

But you broke your gaze quickly once Josh turned to face you once again. Even though he finally knew about the special addition that you shared with his brother, you’d still feel awkward (and a little guilty) as fuck if he watched you gawk over him so openly. Especially on a day so sensitive as today.

Josh had let out an exasperated sigh deep from his lungs, his jaw clenched and hard when he finally shut the humming engine off. “I have so much that I want to say to him,” he muttered, mostly to himself as his tone was hushed.

Yeah. Me fucking too, you thought to yourself. Don’t you think I get it?

Without the engine running, the car had become dead silent. The type of silence that allowed you to hear the rapid beating of your own heart clearly in your ears. (You even thought for a moment that you could hear Josh’s, too. That kind of quiet. Like earlier. Right after you'd told him.)

It gave you time to ponder. . . Despite his incredible response to all of this today, you still worried. Because, for the first time in the literal years of having Josh as your safe haven, you feared that things could have changed far too much for him to ever look at you the same again.

But then, your never ending train of overthinking was put to a halt when he placed a loving hand on your knee. When his warm eyes connected with yours, they reassured you that he wasn’t planning on going anywhere. At least not anytime soon.

“You ready to go inside, mama?” 

His sweet smile that you had loved for years lit up his once hard features. Seeing the signature grin lifted some weight off your heavy shoulders.

You nodded your head and unbuckled your seatbelt as he did the same. But as you lifted the latch on the passenger door, another thought began clouding your mind, a question that you felt you needed to ask someone. That you needed to ask Josh.

“Hey. . .,” you started as he already had one foot out the door.

He stalled his movements and promptly turned his head to face you. 

“Yeah?” he answered, the same smile still cocked in the corner of his mouth.

“When should I tell him?”

He situated himself back inside, resting his back against the dark leather. His eyes were cast on yours, soft and kind as you’d always known them to be, yet a seriousness found within them. 

“That’s up to you, mama. You have to decide when the time feels right.” His gentle hand reached to grab your shoulder in a reassuring gesture, effectively pulling you away from your burdening thoughts. 

Once you’d finally made your way out of the car, you heard him clear his throat and looked to see what else he had to say. He was squinting at you through the autumn day’s rays when he finished the line of thought he’d started in the car.

“But. . . knowing my twin, he’d want to know sooner rather than later. Don’t wait too long, love. He’s got a good heart, you know that. Give him the chance to step up like I know he will.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

Friday, November 11, 2022

You’d missed the show completely. As you knew you would. 

Josh had known you were going to show up later than usual since your school work was (quite actually) burying you. Specifically, it was thanks to a 20-page paper that was due tonight. 

Thankfully, you’d been able to finish it in time to at least meet the boys at the bar (smoke free, Josh had clarified on the phone) they’d decided to hang out at after the show. You hadn’t hung out with them after a show in forever. Hadn’t even been to a show in. . .well, you didn’t even know how long.

The reason could be mostly chalked up to your intense homework load this semester, but part of you knew you’d also been trying to avoid them due to the addition of Maya. 

It just didn’t feel the same anymore. And you knew you couldn’t force yourself to pretend. So, the extra school work turned out to be a pretty good excuse. At least you weren’t fabricating anything when you’d told them you couldn’t make it. (Although you would prefer if you didn’t have so much fucking homework.)

But you did miss watching Jake perform. You missed the faces he’d make while playing his guitar, the ones that so closely resembled the one’s he’d make with you. The way he’d thrust himself into his beloved instrument, or pull it close to his body with a force that left your head reeling and your body in dire need for him. 

As much as you missed all of that, something you missed even more was witnessing how his passion exuded through his entire body while he played. How his love for his art was so wonderfully evident as he put so much of himself into every song he played. 

And with the way your body kept betraying you – literally pulsing with desire for him anytime he was simply near you . . . to the point of needing to relieve yourself with your hands or a toy. . . You were weak as fuck. You figured it probably wasn’t the best idea to watch him perform like that with your hormones going ballistic.  

Too many factors worked together to make you feel rather uncomfortable about being near him in that capacity. But. . . here you were. Waiting at the bar for them to arrive. 

Putting yourself in a situation where he’d inevitably be near – sitting at the same booth as you, most likely. Admittedly, it wasn’t your most incredible idea. But Josh telling you the other guys had been missing you made you realize how badly you’d missed them. 

So. Here you were. Scrolling on pregnant influencers’ Instagram pages for helpful tips and testimonials (and occasionally Jake’s page, just to torture yourself) as you waited for them.

Just as you’d thought to send Josh a text letting him know you were at the bar and sitting at a booth near the back, you felt the urge to pee like no other. Your belly had sort of popped in the few days that had transpired since your first ultrasound. You were learning that twelve weeks on your body was the. . . rounder version of twelve weeks. . . Which was not working in your favor to hide your changing body. 

Thankfully, the rest of your body looked mostly the same as normal – save for your boobs which were still about as big as they were in your Shining twin costume (not growing too much more yet, but continuing to be sore as hell). They weren’t giant, per se, but they definitely looked noticeably bigger and felt fucking heavy.

So, you were officially having to wear looser-fitting clothing to avoid anyone looking at you differently. To be fair, to most eyes, it probably would've looked like some weight gain around your midsection if you wore normal clothing. But to you, it literally just looked like you were pregnant. 

You were definitely getting used to waking up every morning to a body that looked just a little different than the day before. Noticed every little change—but they didn’t feel little to you. . . Anything that changed felt massive to you.  

. . .Hence why you were being overly cautious with the giant sweaters. . . Because, to you, it looked so obviously different that you didn’t want to risk people thinking anything or asking any questions.

And, thanks to your newly expanding uterus and a spike in your progesterone (according to your Ovia app), you were beginning to actually wiggle in your seat from the urge to pee. It was all rather unkind on your poor bladder. . .  You had to fucking relieve yourself soon or you would be peeing your leggings. It would be embarrassing as hell to pee yourself and smell like it for the entire evening.

Though, you realized, as people started filtering in, that you couldn’t get up to pee. . . It was too much of a risk that you’d lose the one big booth to this hastily growing Friday night crowd.

Just as you’d started contemplating your lack of options, a particular laugh you’d gotten (unfortunately) used to, made its way through the crowded bar. Your eyes zoomed to the dark haired, caramel-skinned beauty who’d taken up residence in Jake’s life. 

Maya. 

Her laugh was just as beautiful as she was. . . Directing every eye in the front of the establishment to her as they joined in on whatever she was laughing about. She was a force to be reckoned with and it was obvious anytime you saw her. You were pretty sure you could see her chocolate eyes actually sparkling, all the way from across the bar.

Then, here you were in a giant ass Pratt hoodie with plain black, ratty leggings and your white Chucks. Feeling bloated and gross. . . And still needing to really fucking pee. So you had to put your insecurities to the side and get up from the spot you’d effectively heated up for the last twenty minutes because your one and only solution had just walked in. 

You didn’t want to walk away and lose your spot, so you did the only thing you could think to do. 

“Maya!” You called in her direction, tucking your phone into your hoodie pocket with one hand while the other waved at her. An incredibly forced smile was plastered to your face. 

Is this the first time I’ve ever spoken to her? You wondered briefly. 

Even though you knew the answer. 

Yes, definitely the first time I’ve ever talked to her. Weird. And funny fucking cause for it, too, you giggled to yourself, just behind your close-mouthed grin.

It was as if she’d already seen you, because she looked at you with a knowing look. She sent you a (stupid) wink and a (stupid, yet admittedly kind) wave, along with a wide smile—bright white teeth complimented by her full lips. 

Standing up had caused your bladder to go into emergency mode—a sensation similar to nearly bursting was the only way you could describe it. And, strangely, you suddenly felt sort of dizzy from the overwhelming pressure. 

That’s odd, you thought absently, brows wrinkling ever so slightly with the feeling. Ignoring it, you kept waving. And, the smile slipped from your face as you urgently motioned her over. Getting the hint, she said goodbye to the few patrons she’d been talking with and made her way to you. 

Long, wavy hair, inky as the night sky, flowed in waves around her shoulders as she sweetly pushed through people on the way to the booth. 

Every man she passed had to do a double take, watching her as she passed by them. . . You didn’t blame them. She was a fucking dream. (And you hated it.)

Body positively snatched and voluptuous in her all-black outfit. Her large breasts, exposed just right in her extremely low-cut black shirt. The shirt dipped all the way to the middle of her rib cage, exposing a lot of her perfect, perky breasts and tight abdomen. The tiny waist just below the dip was intimidating at best and had you feeling extremely self conscious of your nearly non-existent waist (thanks to the tiny friend living inside of you). You were glad you couldn’t see her ass, because you knew the exquisitely round part of her would have you heading for the door rather than the restroom. 

God, why did she have to look like a damn model? It was the worst possible thing for you. You were sure of it.

Once she was finally at the table, you didn’t want to stand there and stare at her. She had you feeling ready to jump out of your unfamiliar, changing body. Made you feel like nothing, just by standing there.

And, most importantly, you were nearing the risk of peeing with a singular movement at this point. You really weren’t sure how you’d make it to the restroom, but you had to try. 

You were already toeing around the table, out of the booth, when you spoke to her, averting your eyes and finding the restroom sign instead. “I’ve gotta pee really fucking bad,” you hastily said, taking the final step from the back of the booth. “Can you save this table for me so we have a place to sit?”

“We?” She questioned. “Y/n, I would definitely normally save it for you and your friends, but I have to work on finding my own place since I’m waiting here for Jake and the—.”

“Jake and the guys, I know.” You snapped, eyes flashing as you finished for her, not focusing on your facial expression. You were almost positive you rolled your eyes at her comment. 

Does she not know? Why? Did no one tell her?

Bouncing on the heels of your feet, back and forth, you quickly continued. Matter at hand. “I’m here to hang with you guys, too, but I’ve gotta—.”

“Pee!” She finished, a giggle that was probably supposed to be cute left her lips. “Go! I’ll save it. Go, go, go!” 

You were already walking away with her last sentence, hearing her from behind your back as you focused on not wetting your pants on the way to the ladies room. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

When you got back out, you were instantly met with the sight of all of the guys at the back booth you’d saved.

Your eyes, sadly, found Jake and Maya first – sitting practically on top of each other in the back corner of the booth. She was wrapped up in Jake, while engaging in a conversation with Sam. And, even though she seemed to only be halfway listening, Sammy kept on talking like she was interested in only him. 

But with the way Jake’s hand toyed with the hair over her shoulder and eventually traveled to squeeze (and hold) her waist. . . you knew why she wasn’t fully listening. Sammy would not be getting her full attention any time soon, and you knew that from personal experience. If it were you Jake was playing with like that, you would have tuned Sam completely out. 

Pushing any emotion down that threatened to boil up to the surface, you kept on walking to the booth. 

And when you got close enough, all of the attention was suddenly on you. The first one to notice you was Danny, who got up from his end seat on the booth to greet you with a giant hug. You sank into him, feeling all of the love that he was emitting sink into your sore body. 

Then, Sam was loudly exclaiming your presence, telling you that he was waiting for his own hug. 

You went around the three brothers who wanted to give you a squeeze. 

Sam hugged you especially hard, making your boobs ache like no other when he pressed hard against you. Gratefully, Josh had been paying attention when you caught his eye with a pained expression and had loudly determined that it was his turn.

After Josh had grasped you from Sam and given a loose hug, you stood awkwardly. Waiting. But for what?

But. . .you knew what. . .knew why.

It was Jake’s turn. 

Though, all you got was a little close-lipped smile and a half-wave with a head nod from his spot next to his supermodel girlfriend. 

You reciprocated with essentially the same response, your stomach falling to your feet as you did so. It was ludicrous to think he’d get up for a hug, too. Especially with Maya sitting next to him with her perfectly-fucking-manicured hand clutching the inside of his thigh. 

God, you needed to feel him close to you, though. You needed your hand on his inner thigh, dangerously close to a place on his body that’d been so accustomed to yours. You couldn’t help the way you yearned for him to be inside of you again. . . It was fucking embarrassing as hell.

And, then there was an incredibly intrusive thought. 

It told you that, for some (strange) reason, the idea of his pecs pressing into your sore breasts. . .sounded extremely appealing. (And the thought of his hands or his warm, wet mouth on them? Fuck.) 

But— you knew at this point, there was a fat chance of that ever happening.

He didn’t want you near him like that. And definitely not his hands or mouth on you. So you were sure he did not want a measly hug either.

And right now? In this bar? At this exact time? Obviously-fucking-not. Why would he move away from perfection? For you? In your frumpy-ass outfit? As you glanced down self-consciously, you even noticed one white sock peeking way higher than the other from your high-tops. 

Small details. Small details that showed how much of a fucking mess you were in comparison to her.

When you heard his laugh cut through the wave of emotion you were feeling, you looked back up at him. Only to see that he was engaged with Maya and Sam in some (apparently) hilarious conversation. 

He didn’t give two shits about you that way anymore. Why would he?

The terrible things you’d said to him in the kitchen were the first reason that came to your mind. Haunted you everyday, reminding you that you didn’t deserve his attention. 

You bet she, in her utter perfection and 'sunshiney' ways, would never tell him the things you had. He was probably relishing in the mental break she provided him. A break from the emotional thunderstorm that was you. 

But what the two lovebirds didn’t know was that you were carrying a part of him within you that she couldn’t do a thing about. No matter what she was to him, she didn’t have what you did. 

Though, the depressing truth of the matter was even if you were carrying his baby, Maya was still the one falling asleep next to him more nights than not. You had a piece of him, yes, but she had all of him. 

Fuck. That felt selfish. Without even thinking about it, you brought your hands up to your stomach as an effort to apologize to the little lemon-sized baby in your tummy. 

You are enough for me, you desperately thought, looking down, hoping to translate the words somehow to your unborn bundle of hope. You give me plenty of joy. 

“Y/n,” Josh spoke, breaking you from your reverie. 

“Mmm?” You hummed.

Then he was leaning over, whispering so quietly in your ear. “You’re about to give particular notice to your stomach.”

Shit. You instantly dropped your hand, looking around to make sure no one had noticed. 

Thankfully, no one had. 

You mouthed a ‘thank you’ to your best friend, and scooted into the space he and Daniel had left for you, between them, on their side. 

Sitting again helped to balance you, as the dizziness from earlier kept coming back in tiny spurts. You didn’t know what it was all about, but you knew it was probably something attributed to pregnancy. It was probably something normal that you didn’t need to be worried about. 

But, you figured having someone to lean on would help to keep you steady. So, you found Josh’s shoulder, pressing against him. It was more than necessary, so you let your shoulder lazily lay against his arm. The closeness to a safe person felt overwhelmingly comforting in the otherwise emotionally-wrought headspace you were experiencing. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

About an hour later, you found yourself humming along to the music that had gotten progressively louder over the time you’d been sitting with the guys. Getting lost in the melodies felt nice. And you’d noticed, walking in that night, that it was soul music night, according to the sign on the front door of the bar.

Your favorite.

After sitting with them for only a few minutes, making small talk with Sam and Danny to catch up, you’d essentially let yourself become an observer. You’d just listened to them talk about all of these new, sudden opportunities that were coming around for them.

So much was changing. 

They were essentially done with the smaller gigs. Their label’s management had put their foot down that they were done with those. They wanted them going to more popular, reputable places to get their name out there. The label had taken it upon themselves to work with their manager to put them in bigger venues. They’d even begun advertising the boys with promotional pictures and posters all over active streets in Brooklyn.

“We’ve had photoshoots, y/n,” Sam had boasted in wonder at one point, making sure to involve you in the conversation. “Photoshoots! Like, real rockstar things.”

“‘S fucking nuts,” Daniel agreed, nodding beside you, sending you a small smile. “People working on wardrobe for us and all that shit.”

“Well, you are rockstars,” you told Sammy genuinely, letting your eyes skate to each of the boys (save for one). But, when you finished your statement, you let your eyes find him. And his eyes literally melted into yours. Like he’d been waiting for you to acknowledge him. “You’ve been ready for this for a long time. I’m just glad you are finally getting to live it.”

But you tore your gaze away before it could become too much. Though, the snicker you heard from Maya made your eyes cut to her. You forced yourself to hold your tongue. Didn’t trust yourself with what might come out of your mouth. What had her feeling all bitter and shit? She didn’t get the fucking half of it.

That particular thought had your hands falling to clasp tightly against your tummy, thankfully hidden by the table. 

They’d also begun working on their first album (which you knew about), but its release date had officially been set in stone for May. It was daunting for you and felt huge to you, so you couldn’t imagine how it felt for them. 

It was all moving so fast. . . Which, if you were being honest, terrified you for what was to come in the near future. The little bean that was set to arrive around the time of the album’s release. Because of all of your recent . . .changes, it just felt like a terrible time for things to feel so unsure and abnormal. 

You knew it was selfish to feel that way. You did. It was just impossible to not feel worried and anxious. 

The stress inevitably started climbing up into your upper back, creating tension. And, Josh, being Josh, must’ve sensed a change in your demeanor. He’d wrapped his arm around your shoulders when you started feeling all bunched up and jittery. You’d leaned into it, needing the incredible amount of comfort in his embrace and presence. 

The music was setting your mind at ease from the tension you felt in your body. It also helped to alleviate the awkward air you felt with the proximity of Jake’s guest. Who sat there looking so beautiful all night. Jake’s arm hadn’t left her shoulders all night, twirling her long waves between his long fingers. You had to look away at several points. It didn’t take long for the sight to become too much. Your ever-present nausea only increased by watching them. 

So you didn’t watch. Didn’t allow yourself to look at him.

You breathed in the music. The music saved you. You just listened to the music. The world was a blur. 

But, when they all joined in on mutual excitement, all smiles and voices getting louder, you tuned back in just slightly.

And when you did, they were talking about one particular thing they were all looking forward to: a special event of sorts that was coming up. 

Apparently it was a huge thing for this event to take place. One final step before embracing the stardom. It would happen in a few months’ time — once the label execs heard a few songs, and released them as singles. Then, they would get to preview them to the public. 

It would be an intimate type of event, more like old times, but for a few semi-important people who worked for the tour management team and whoever else wanted to come. It would be a listening party where the boys would play their new music. And according to the boys, it was the label’s attempt to get an idea of touring being a possibility. 

A lot of it was pinned on if the turnout was good. On how the guys interacted with the crowd. How the performed. . . It would be a sort of audition for the tour management team. 

“I have faith that they’ll love us,” Sammy said, buzzing with excitement. “I’m speaking that shit into existence.” 

The rest of the guys agreed.

Your eyes inadvertently snapped to Jake when he spoke next. “And once we start touring. . .,” he said, grin huge and his eyes shining at the other guys. “That’s when it all becomes fucking real. And it’ll be here before we even know it.”

Your stomach fell.

Josh squeezed your knee after he’d said it, knowing exactly what you were thinking.

Your thoughts were fucking spiraling. Looking down, you closed your eyes to will the tears away— tried your best to be subtle with your bundled up emotions. 

You felt so excited for him. You wanted it for them—for him. All along, you’d wanted him to live his dream. The one he’d had for so long. But the idea of him going off and away. . . All of them being so far away, all of the time, right at the time your life would be inevitably changing for the rest of forever. . . It was a lot to wrap your mind around.

It had your stomach tied in fucking knots—the idea of Jake being a dad, but not getting to be one. Leaving you. Leaving the baby. It wouldn’t be a bad thing, per se, but it was going to hurt like hell. 

You swore, right then and there, that you would not let him give it up for anything. Not a baby, definitely not you (not that he’d want to abandon it for you) — it was the last thing you wanted. The last thing that would happen. 

He would live the dream. Even if you had to force him to do so.

No matter how badly you already knew you’d  want him around during that massively  transformative time. . . You were capable of doing it on your own. And Elsie would help. She would most definitely be around, you already knew. 

But. . . Jake. 

You shoved the thoughts down to the tresses of hell, literally planting your feet flat on the floor to center yourself to present time. Shifting a bit, you laid your head on Josh’s shoulder, letting your eyes drift closed after a while. Didn’t sleep, no, but you felt like you could have. Your body felt loose and weak from the night’s stress slowly leaving your body as you focused on Josh’s steady breathing and the music. 

As the night wore on, the volume had ended up getting so loud that everyone practically had to yell at one another to have a conversation, even within the close confines of the booth. 

So, you had to blink your eyes open at that point. It was too much. The over-stimulation was soon approaching. You could feel it. You felt. . . heavier than normal. Like, you were being pulled down to the earth with exhaustion. Which was new, but probably just over-stimulation.

Even with your eyes open, they were hooded. You were so tired, you felt as though you couldn’t open them much more. And the dizziness from earlier was back with force. 

So you focused on swaying your body a little to the rhythm of each song, tapping out the beat of each on the table. Josh had instinctively begun humming along with you while still managing to keep conversation with everyone else. He’d sneak the occasional smile to give a sign of him remaining loyal to your company as well as the others’.

The melodious harmonies of Stevie Wonder’s "Please Don't Go" had been a surprise, as it was a more unpopular hit of his. It was a welcome distraction to listen to a song you knew well over the speakers, for all ears to hear. Nothing beat hearing songs you loved, playing in public spaces. 

Oh, Stevie. His songs had historically been known to bring you peace. Always had. Always would. Stevie's music never failed to meet you where you were emotionally. This song, not being an exception, and hitting extremely close to home for the present time. . . But still, the tension you’d felt all night began to dissipate, sizzling out almost completely with the beautiful ending of the track.

Just as the heavy weight of your anxieties you’d carried all night had lifted, the next song started to ring throughout the building.

Only this time, the feeling it gave you was a far cry from the previous. 

You knew it instantly. You’d be able to hear this song even if it weren’t blaring throughout the building. 

As soon as the first note sounded, it sent a vibration straight to your heart and a swarm of butterflies (that actually felt more like bees) to your tummy. 

You hadn’t looked at him yet, but you felt Jake’s eyes piercing through you. 

You didn’t want to look at him. Not yet. 

Your hormones had been far too out of whack for that. You knew you’d cry instantly upon seeing his face while this song played at a volume that you now wish was much, much lower.

Aretha’s powerhouse voice repeated it over and over again. 

You’re all I need to get by, you’re all I need to get by, you’re all I need. . .

No, you weren’t looking at Jake. But he was still the only vision clouding your mind’s eye. 

You were back on your living room floor. . . his eyebrows bunched together with each heavy thrust into you, the sweat that accumulated between them, the perspiration and exertion that could only come from real intimacy. . .passion.

And it was plain to see that you were my destiny. . .

His coffee colored eyes that bore into you as his body connected with yours in the most intimate way that it could’ve. 

And when I lose my will, you’ll be there to push me up that hill. . .

How he filled you so completely, stretching you the only way you ever wanted. . . How, in that moment, it felt like he was made to fit you. Your body, your heart, your life.

I don’t know what’s in store, but together we can open any door. . . 

Without even meaning to, your eyes met his. 

And while Maya was going on about whatever she felt the need to talk about, he was watching you. His eyes were extremely thoughtful. . . So much being communicated behind them. 

If you were delusional, you’d even go so far as to say he was admiring you. . . The way his eyes flashed a bit as you watched him, too. 

But you weren’t delusional. 

Though, you just knew that he was thinking the same thing as you. . . He knew. He knew this song was special. 

And as much as you attempted to not wear your emotions, with your condition, it was impossible.

You felt your eyes prick with tears as the song came to an end, and you quickly put your head down for what you knew was coming. And when the small drop hit your cheek, as soon as it appeared, you wiped it away. 

You looked back up, sniffing once and shaking your head.

Why did I have to fucking look?

“God, I wish they’d play music from this century here for once. Or at least something halfway decent,” Maya snickered, her attention on Jake, pulling his gaze away from you with her ignorant remark. “This song could put me straight to sleep. Music like this is meant to be left in the past where it belongs.” 

What the hell? What was even the point? 

What she said had your blood boiling with red hot rage. Of course she had to pick this song to insert her disgusting opinion.

And how was Jake, of all people, in a relationship with someone who thought so little of older music? How did he put up with that shit? It would be really fucking hard to hear things like that all the time if you were in his shoes.

A look of pure disgust washed over Josh’s face, and you knew he wouldn’t take her shit laying down. Not when it came to good, classic soul music. Not to mention, Aretha was one of his biggest vocal inspirations. “How can you not appreciate the Queen of Soul? She paved the way for singers of every genre, her voice is timeless and immaculate. To criticize her is to criticize all music.” 

His defensive tone had everyone silent for an almost uncomfortable amount of time.

You wanted to chime in and let her know that you agreed with everything he said. But you felt it best to keep your mouth shut given the real reason you were so pissed. Didn’t trust your emotions to stay steady enough to get your point across. 

This was personal.

To your shock, it was Jake that ended up breaking the awkward silence at the table. “You know, babe, some of us have some pretty significant memories tied back to music like this,” he asserted, sharply, pulling away from her, dropping his arm from her shoulders to look at her better. “This song specifically. . . At least for me.”

Your heart leapt into your throat at what he was implying. Significant? He couldn’t mean. . .? But then he flashed his eyes to you. And you knew. 

Fuck, Jake. The butterflies let completely loose in your tummy at the implication. At the look. 

He continued, his voice growing softer, while staying assertive. “And it could very possibly be hurtful to others when you say surface level shit like that.”

Maya scoffed, rolling her eyes. This was the first time you’d ever witnessed the woman be something other than a dream. “So I can’t have opinions, hm?” 

“I never said—,” Jake tried, getting interrupted by her continuing. 

She was piercing him with a glare, tone biting. “Did you ever stop to think about how it hurt my feelings when you refused to see 21 Savage with me? And after I got us the tickets, no less?” 

You didn’t mean to snort a small laugh at her words. 

But. . . 21 Savage?!

Thankfully, you weren’t alone in finding amusement in the words as everyone else had a similar response. Sammy spit out the drink he’d just taken, some of it even coming out of his nose. Daniel had clapped a hand over his mouth and dragged it down his face, closing his eyes in the process. 

And Josh turned to you as soon as you turned your sights to him. He made eyes at you, raising his brows with a grin threatening to turn into a laugh. If he could’ve spoken, you assumed he’d say something along the lines of ‘oh, shit.’

Sam was the next to speak, barely able to catch a breath as he wiped the leftover drink from around his mouth with a napkin. “Maya, my dear,” he giggled, the words distorted a little by the wipe of the napkin. “You surely can’t have an emotional connection with his music?”

“Maybe I do,” she retorted, scooting away from Jake a little. Crossing her arms over her cleavage, she eyed Sammy, judgmentally. “Maybe it saw me through some really hard times.”

“Did it?” Danny tried, his face seeming earnest in pursuit to find sense in her music taste. 

“Well,” her eyes found Danny’s, but darted around a bit, still. “Not necessarily. . . But I do enjoy his music. . . Which is my prerogative.”

Josh’s brow was quirked. He stared her down, his face a mixture of amusement and annoyance. “Maya,” he cleared his throat. Her eyes found him, hard and defensive. But it was obvious she was losing some steam. “There is a difference between enjoying music and having it change the entire trajectory of your entire life.”

Before she could sputter out a response, the waiter was back at the head of the table with the two pizzas the guys had ordered. 

“One pepperoni pizza,” she said, placing one giant tray of pizza on the table. 

Your nose immediately picked up on the overwhelming scent of cheese and pepperoni. You had never smelt something so greasy. This was even worse than the greasy smell at Waffle House on the morning you’d gone with Elsie. And where there, you could find some sort of nostalgic comfort in the smell of it. . . there was nothing that could make this pizza’s smell appealing. Fuck.

“And. . .,” Sammy’s excited tone broke through your nauseous reverie. 

You didn’t look up, only watched in near agony as the second pizza, filled with every vegetable in the book, was sat right in front of you. Every fucking vegetable had it’s own special, rancid smell that you hadn’t ever noticed until now. 

Goddamn. And it just got worse as you let your eyes follow a slice that Sam took off the tray, cheese so disgustingly stringy, to his waiting mouth. The way his teeth sunk into the pizza and the oil slipped down his chin. . . You felt the bile rise in the back of your throat at the sight. The dizziness set in again. Then there was the cheese that came to the corner of his mouth as he chewed his first bite with an open mouth. 

Closing your eyes, you tried your best to will it away. 

But you couldn’t. It was too late. Behind your closed eyes, all you could see was the sight again, but this time, in slow motion. . . more and more repulsive with every flash of the image. 

You found Josh’s leg, hitting it repeatedly to indicate that you needed out of the booth. Your other hand, held tightly over your mouth, which felt as though it could explode with projectile vomit at any moment. 

That would be real cute. A really effective way to make Jake look at you. . . but not for the reasons you’d want. 

At. All.

Thankfully, Josh got the hint and quickly scooted out of the booth to allow you out. 

And as soon as your feet hit the concrete floor, you were speeding to the bathroom once more. This time, immediately landing on your knees over the toilet with a hand clutching your hair, as you retched the (very little) contents of your stomach into the toilet.

It was alarming, to say the least, as you saw only clear saliva goo floating around in the bowl. . . no food accompanying the sickness you’d just produced. 

I haven’t eaten today, you thought suddenly, wiping your brow of the sweat that had accumulated. Nothing to puke out because everything sounded vile.

And then the dizziness was setting in again as you rose from your place on the ground.

You really hadn’t been eating much at all. And pickles, being the only thing you could stand to eat, did not give you proper nutrients. You knew that. 

Have to figure something out, you decided as you washed your hands. Disturbingly, you saw four hands instead of two and it was daunting at best. Need to go home and do some research so I can figure out how to fucking eat something.

By the time you got back to the booth, you already had your keys out of your belt bag. 

Josh gave you a sympathetic grin. He mouthed an ‘I’m sorry’ and you just shook your head, reassuring him with a mimicked ‘It’s fine’ in response.

When you snapped your head up from Josh to say bye to the others, you realized that Jake was watching you closely. Pensively. Unsurely. 

You gulped, setting your eyes on him. If only you knew, Jake. . . But, suddenly, anger was flaring in the place of any butterflies. Lack of food and pregnancy could do that to a person. But you don’t know. So quit looking at me. 

“You feelin’ sick, Baby Dragon?” Sam said, breaking you out of your staring contest with Jake.

“Yeah, noticed you weren’t drinking tonight. . . you okay?” Danny interjected. 

“O–Oh, yeah. No, yeah,” you shook your head, which only caused your head to throb. Shit. “Just tired. Exhausted from school.” And from carrying a human life in my uterus. “I wanna get home and rest.”

“I forced her to come tonight,” Josh added. He looked at you before exchanging looks with the other guys, emphasizing his point to help you out. “She has had her nose to the fucking grindstone. I insisted she needed a night out.”

“Forced her?” Jake scoffed with a roll of his eyes. “God, y/n. If you don’t want to come, then don’t come.”

You fumed at his words. What the fuck? Just minutes ago he was jumping to defend your song. “He didn’t force me,” you growled back at him. Don’t test a pregnant woman carrying your goddamn baby, Jacob. “What he meant was that he encouraged me to come since I haven’t been around for a while.”

“And why’s that?” Jake pushed, continuing to jest at you. Is this a game to you, asshole? 

“Jake,” Josh snapped, tone sharp and heated. 

“School,” you asserted (with a partial lie), shutting your eyes when you started seeing two of him. When you opened them to stare back at him, you focused hard as you continued to see four brown eyes instead of two. “But that’s not really any of your business is it, Jake?”

He was silent, his jaw clenching. Then he looked back to Maya, starting a conversation with her, effectively shutting you out. 

You weren’t sure how long you could put up with the hot and cold act from him. You knew that he was hurt, but you preferred the moments in recent times where he’d shown the soft side of his heart. The Jake side of his heart. 

The one flashing through your mind at this moment was on the night of the Halloween party. When he’d picked up the dropped brownies for you and then offered to help you carry stuff to your room. . . albeit he had been drunk. It’d still been him. You knew it. It was something he’d do. . . you knew him. 

And you knew him well enough to know when he was acting like an ass, it meant he was hurt. You weren’t oblivious to the recent hurt you’d inflicted on him. . . but why was he suddenly reacting like this again? Why now?

When another wave of dizziness took you over, you had to once again shut your eyes to keep your balance, and you held tight to the strap of your bag. Your head was also, once again, pulsing.

You opened your eyes and tried to stay steady, as you didn’t want to worry the three who cared. Pulling your phone from the pocket of your oversized hoodie, you shook your keys at the guys who still watched with concerned eyes. 

“Be safe,” Danny offered sympathetically, reaching a hand out. You grasped it, rubbing your thumb over the back. 

As soon as he let go, Sam was up and pulling you into a hug. Once he’d succeeded in killing your boobs again, he held onto your shoulders. “We miss you,” he said, breath thick with alcohol that was making your stomach turn. You held your breath and tapped at his hand politely before scooting back from him. “Love you, y/n.”

You repeated the phrase back to him before Josh got up, presumably to walk you to the door. “I promise I’ll start coming around more often again,” you told them. “I miss you, too.”

And just before you stepped to head toward the exit, you found Jake’s eyes again. 

They were softer now, showing concern he couldn’t hide at your current state. But there was still that fire behind them that you’d learned was purely Jake. And it made your heart thump a little harder in your chest.

-🌼🌼🌼-

The tiredness was unreal. You honestly couldn’t remember the last time you were so fucking exhausted. Everything that had been happening recently–the therapy, telling Josh that you were pregnant with his twin’s baby, being pregnant with said baby (and worrying that you weren’t), taking sixteen-fucking-hours of classes. . . it had been a lot. That much was obvious as hell. 

And tonight had been emotionally taxing for sure. . . and knowing you, you knew it was more than extremely possible that the emotions alone had been what’d finally done you in. Drained you for all you were worth.

Well, that, and the lack of food in your system. And the persistent barfing.

You'd been poring over the resources that Dr. Rose had given you access to. And, one of the links on their site had informed you that it was extremely possible for the fatigue to peak around this point of the pregnancy–ten to twelve weeks.

And considering you were right about at 12 or so, it was on the mark.

But when you’d read that, you hadn’t been expecting the feeling to be similar to that of being weighed down to the Earth by heavy-ass lead. You were dying to fall into bed and sleep off the exhaustion–right after taking a measly Tylenol for the pounding headache that’d been burgeoning for the past several minutes. 

All you could do at this specific moment, though, was focus on driving–and pulling into the apartment complex with as much precision as possible. The pain in your head was beginning to make your vision blurry and the things around you waved in ways you knew they weren’t supposed to. Goddamn. 

You finally made it to your parking space–by the grace of some higher entity. But, as soon as you tried to move to get out, everything around you began to spin at an accelerated speed. Moaning, you brought two shaking hands up to your eyes as you closed them. You started to count to ten, trying your best to take deep breaths–but even that was getting hard to do. Fuck. 

Finding your motherfucking bearings was proving to be a task and a half. 

And your head was just fucking throbbing relentlessly. 

“Dammit,” you groaned again, the words slurring just a bit. 

Somehow, though, you were able to make the trek from your car to the complex’s staircase–so close, yet so far, from your place. But you could feel the way your heart was thrumming quickly in your chest—just pounding against your ribcage from the basic action of walking.

Everything began waving around you again. You felt like you were floating and your head was becoming lighter and lighter by the second; the only reminder that it housed a brain was the raging, convulsing feeling in your skull. 

Your vision was incredibly blurry at best, as you looked from the base of the stairs, all the way up to the top. The top of the stairs was hardly visible. 

Shit. How the fuck am I going to climb these steps like this?

But, you weren’t able to contemplate it for much longer before everything started fading more and more, until you felt yourself falling and all you saw was a black abyss.

-🌼🌼🌼-

The hand you felt holding yours was the only thing that weighed you down to the white room. The other things that you immediately noticed: the sound of steady beeping (which was incessant) and the smell of antiseptic and bleach wafting from the bedding. 

The bed itself felt reminiscent of high quality cardboard, but the sheets were warmer than you would’ve expected. 

Letting your body relax back into the warm, polycotton sheets, you began to drift back to wherever you’d been. But you felt something hold you to the present. It was the someone with the hand who was helping to keep you conscious. The thumb that swept purposefully across the back of your hand tied you to the real world before you could escape to the one behind your eyelids.

Then you felt the hand holding yours squeeze the slightest bit tighter. Your lids were heavy when you squinted them open–immediately hating the way the fluorescent lighting assaulted your irises. You didn’t know if it was possible, but you were damned sure you could feel your pupils adjusting to the overbearing beams from the bulbs. 

Moaning, you reached your free hand up to cover your eyes. And when you did, you noticed the influx of tubes, taped to and sticking out of your hand. Specifically, the needle connected directly to your vein. What the fuck was going on?

Amidst your confusion, you finally processed who the hand was connected to as you heard his voice.

“Yes, yes,” Josh said in response to something. You noticed that he was seeming to squeeze your hand in little pulsing intervals. When you squeezed back to indicate you were awake, his eyes were immediately on you, abandoning his conversation. “Y/n? Oh, fuck,” his voice was thick with emotion. His gaze became wet as he checked your face over. “I was so worried about you.”

You didn’t know what to say, since you weren’t really sure why you were here or what had happened to get you here. . . All you could remember was being tired and dizzy with a pounding in your head. 

You tried to speak, but it was in vain, as your throat was dry as fuck. All that came from your lips was a measly croak. But, thankfully, Josh was immediately coming to your rescue with one of the hospital’s giant plastic cups, filled to the brim with water. He held the straw to your lips and you sat up a little to have better leverage to take a drink. To your surprise, the pounding in your head was gone, and there was no dizziness accompanying your movements. 

And no nausea – best part of all.

As soon as the water slipped past your lips, you shut your eyes in utter relief. Water had never tasted so good. You weren’t sure if water even had a taste, but at that moment, you swore it did and that it tasted like liquid gold would. 

Once you’d had enough for the moment, almost draining the large cup, you backed away and leaned into the pillows that awaited behind you. 

Sighing in relief, you tried to say words again. And this time, it worked. “What’s going on?” You slowly spoke, your head still feeling slightly airy. You let your eyes trail to Josh’s, questioning him. “Why am I here?”

Then, you started panicking. You shot up from where you’d settled against the pillows, clutching your stomach. The IV’s connected to your hand pulled at your skin, stinging. You ignored the pain though, and felt your tummy. It was still round, but obviously that didn’t mean– oh no. Your deepest fears came to life in your head, piece by terrifying piece. The baby. 

“Oh, fuck, Josh,” you said, your eyes were wild and immediately drew wetness, which ran steadily down your cheeks. No no no no no. “The baby? Is the baby–? Oh–.”

“Yes, yes,” Josh shushed you, running his free hand over the top of your head. “The baby is fine. Already checked and looks the same as it did a few days ago,” his eyes shone with reassurance. “Nothing is wrong with the baby.”

“Heartbeat?”

“Steady as can be.”

You felt your lungs fill with air again. “Okay,” you breathed out, leaning back into the pillows once more. “Okay.”

“But you on the other hand,” he started, his brow raising and eyes burning into yours. “You need to be giving yourself proper attention, mama.”

“I—?” You shook your head. You knew you weren’t the most attentive to yourself, but you’d tried very hard to be more self-serving recently in some regards. Longer showers, Friends, Cosmic Brownies (RIP) and pickles, therapy (if that counted). . . “I’ve been trying. . .” 

But the vomiting is proving some of that to be impossible, Joshua, you thought silently, snidely.

“What your friend is trying to tell you,” the doctor began. Your eyes shifted to her, an older woman with delicate features whose gray hair was pushed back by a pair of readers. Then her brows wrinkled. “Well—friend? Father of the baby?”

You both spoke at the same time.

“Oh, no—.”

“Not me,” Josh corrected with a laugh, his smile bright and humored underneath his new mustache. “That’s my brother’s baby in there.”

Ridiculously, you began to blush at hearing Josh say it out loud. You were learning that any time it came from his lips, it made your breath catch in your chest just a little.

Jake’s baby. 

“Oh, my apologies,” she smiled, her crows feet wrinkling, voice wise with years of experience. “I just wanted to proceed using the correct title to address you. Speaking of which, I am Dr. Stevens. It’s nice to meet you, Miss y/n.”

“Same to you,” you answered with a tiny, unsure smile and nod. “Thank you.”

Dr. Stevens hummed, then came to sit on the end of the bed, same side as Josh. You eyed her curiously as her expression turned a touch more serious. “Miss y/n,” she said, sounding like you’d imagine a caring mother would. “You are here because your iron was frighteningly low,” she said, concerned and checking your chart. “If it had gone untreated one more night, you would have been incredibly ill and unable to function properly at all come morning.”

“What?” You asked, shocked. Anemia wasn’t a new thing to you, you’d always had it. How had it intensified so quickly? “I mean, sure, I’ve always had mild anemia. Just kind of a thing that’s been there . . .haven’t thought about it in years, actually,” (because of some damn triggering, buried memories attached to it). “But I’ve never had – it’s never been as. . . Intense as this,” you held up your hand that was covered in tape and inserted tubes.

“Well, honey, you’re carrying a baby now who also needs those vital nutrients to help it develop,” she counseled. “And proper hydration,” she reminded. You nodded, eyes zoned in on your hands, full with pieces of plastic and tape, and not her face. When Dr. Stevens spoke next, her voice was the most stern it’d been so far. “And prenatal vitamins– those are essential for you and the baby.”

Your eyes flicked up to hers. The way she pierced you with her stare made you lean back like a scolded puppy. Your tail would have been between your legs if you had one.

Why hadn’t you bought any damned prenatals yet? Fuck all.

“Yes ma’am. I don’t know why I haven’t been taking–,” you tried, huffing. You were ashamed of yourself. “God, I feel bad,” you placed two hands on your tummy and looked down at it through the hospital gown you’d been changed into. “How has all of it not harmed the baby?”

“Well, again, tomorrow would have been a completely different story had you not been rushed in tonight,” she reminded, talking you through it slowly. “But we’ve got fluids pumping through you to get you back to normal.” She motioned to Josh, you looked at him with a small smile that he reciprocated. “And your friend has promised to take you for a prenatal run tomorrow morning. To find the ones that you feel might suit you best.” Dr. Stevens smiled, looking over at your bedside table. Your eyes followed, seeing the small medicine bottle sitting there, waiting for you. “For now, I have a couple ready to send home with you,” she assured.

“I’ve never been the best at prioritizing my health,” you mumbled, messing with a loose thread on the hospital gown. Josh held the hand that was anxiously picking at the material, making you stop. You looked over to see his kind, encouraging eyes. “I have ingrained my brain with several unhealthy, learned habits,” you admitted, finally looking at Dr. Stevens again. “So I guess this was a reality check of sorts. That it’s not just me anymore. I can’t just ignore what I need to acknowledge.”

You didn’t know what was inspiring the constant flow of transparently deep emotions to all of these unknown people in your life, but you weren’t totally opposed to it anymore. 

Dr. Stevens’ face contorted to show that she had sympathy. You were relieved. But when she spoke next, her voice was firm. “You’re right. This baby is forcing you to take care of yourself so he or she can survive and come out healthy and happy. I believe this baby is teaching you some proper life skills. But you need to be eating well to help this child have a good, healthy time in the womb. . .help him or her thrive at this vital stage in its life.”

God. She was right. You had seen the words Failure to Thrive on multiple sources you’d checked out about pregnancy. . . .always just skimmed past them, as it didn’t seem to pertain to you. But, of course it did. The vomiting. Not taking prenatals (seriously, what the fuck, y/n?). The lack of eating anything (save for the baby pickles). . .

You’d been so in your head about the present state of your health that you hadn’t taken nearly enough time to consider the baby. 

“I’ve just never been bad about eating. This is new,” you confided. “And it’s just gotten worse this past week or so. . . I haven’t been able to eat. Everything has made me want to vomit.” Then you decided to add, “Well, everything besides pickles. They’ve been my only source of any nutrients – which I know is pathetic, by the way – I just–just can’t even be in the same room as most food, much less eat it.”

“You’re experiencing a severe case of hyperemesis gravidarum, which is just a fancy way of saying that you’re excessively vomiting during your pregnancy. It’s due to a drastic change in hormones. Your HCG levels are through the roof, where they’re usually not. Most women just have to suffer through it,” she said in response, handing you sheet with the fancy medical term at the top. “That is an information sheet. Keeps you informed on the ins and outs of why you might be experiencing it.” She sighed before going on. “It will pass, honey. Give it a few more weeks and you should be over the worst of it – if not before. But being anemic makes it that much worse,” she explained, flipping her readers over her eyes and looking through the papers on her fancy clipboard. “You’ve just gotta stay on top of those preexisting conditions.”

“And not taking the prenatals. . .,” she scolded, making you look up from scanning the sheet. She gave you a look. “Is what has you in this condition. You should also be taking an additional iron supplement. I’m. . . sure you didn’t tell your OB about your previous anemia?” She wondered aloud. 

“No,” you murmured. “I really haven’t seen it present itself since I was really young. And it wasn’t really severe. . . at least I don’t think,” you rubbed your forehead, suddenly experiencing several sad moments in time. From a long time ago. So, once again, you bared your heart and explained.  “There are things from my childhood that I’ve forgotten. And even though I do actually know I experienced bouts of it during that time, I haven’t ever really acknowledged it because I just kind of forced myself to forget about it.”

Really, for some godforsaken reason, thinking about your anemia only brought back very unwelcome flashes of your mother’s house. . . and other dirty places you didn’t want to think about. Hence why you’d blocked it out.

Josh squeezed your hand– tried to bring you back.

Thankfully, Dr. Stevens continued before the thoughts could take over. “I am sorry, honey,” she said, empathetic. But, she continued on professionally. “The hard truth is that some of the things that have always sort of laid dormant can come back with a raging force during pregnancy. . . simply considering that the pregnancy is essentially a revamp on your body,” she paused when you chuckled at the word ‘revamp’. Yeah, right. She smirked at it, too. “I know, funny word choice. Doesn’t always feel like you’re revamping,” she flipped to the next page in her chart. “What I mean is, things can come back up and be bigger–stronger–than before. One more thing that is changing and increasing in your body. Medical conditions from the past may come back and get more ‘intense’,” she winked at you, using your word from earlier. “But, it’s important: now that the anemia has shown itself again – so aggressively –  at a time that your body is already very vulnerable. . .” She sighed, flipping her readers back into her dark gray hair before unclipping a paper from the chart and handing it to you. “It’s time we get a handle on all of it before it possibly shows its ugly face again.”

The sheet she handed you included several foods that you could eat to remedy the morning sickness. Some of which had made you feel like puking – or actually puke. But, there were a few things you didn’t have at home. Boring, bland foods. Things you just never bought. A few fruits and vegetables. . .

And a shit ton of vitamins.

“A lot of plain Jane stuff on there, I know. And vitamins, vitamins, vitamins,” she acknowledged. “But those supplements and bland diet are what will see you through the dark ages of this morning sickness. We need to treat that first. And then, you should be able to ease yourself into other foods and get your iron levels healthy again for you and your baby. Please focus on following that guide of foods and vitamins and just call my extension – which I attached to the top of that sheet – if you have any issues.” 

She then passed one more sheet over to you and added one more piece of information. “This sheet will include the Hemoglobin Kit I’ve ordered for you and it will be sent to the address your friend provided for us within the next few days. Please be using it to check your hemoglobin levels. Hemoglobin is the main component of red blood cells–a protein– that we need to see at normal levels. I’ve included where your levels should be on that sheet. They should never be too low or too high. Please read the information on the sheet and in the kit to answer any additional questions you may have. This will help you to track of how your levels are doing and if your anemia is spiking again,” she said, her voice seeming to drone on and on in your ears. “And again, call if you have any questions or concerns.”

As you continued reading through the paper, she unclipped another and handed it over to you.

You really were thankful for the documents, really, but dear god there were a lot of them. Virtually and physically. From your OB visit and tonight. It was overwhelming . . . made your skin feel tight and overheated.

It was also a lot of information for you to over-fucking-think. 

I’ll have to take them to Gia. She’ll help me sort through them, you reassured yourself, taking a deep breath in and out to calm the nerves. 

“And the morning sickness should. . . pass sooner rather than later?” Josh’s question broke through your reverie. Your eyes shut to refocus on the present moment and not the papers.

“It should, yes. For most women, it does,” the graying doctor confirmed. “You’re. . .how far along? I’d estimate about eleven, maybe twelve weeks?”

“Yes,” you nodded. “Twelve weeks according to my OB.”

“Yep. You should only have a few weeks – or less – left. Just try the foods on that sheet. The vitamins. Stay hydrated. There are several recommended supplements the sheet provides. You can find most all of them on Amazon.” 

You handed the sheets over to Josh, needing them away from you for the time being. You needed to be in the now. Needed to focus on anything else the aging, wise doctor may need to say. 

To put it plainly, tonight’s event landing you in the hospital had you scared shitless. And learning as much as possible from her would hopefully wind up putting your mind at ease. . . though, at this moment, it just had your heart rate increasing rather quickly.

She eyed the monitor next to your bed, moving closer to it as she observed something. “There goes that heart rate again,” she squinted at the vitals once more before pushing her glasses into her hair. She looked down at her chart, her lips pursing and readers going back on as she checked it over. “That’s another thing I want to address,” she hummed, sitting next to your legs, facing you and Josh from her seat. “Have you been under a lot of stress lately? A major change? Besides the baby? Mentally, perhaps? Emotionally?” She questioned. “Because while your iron levels were scarily low, your heart rate was also dramatically high. Which, yes, is related to the iron levels. . . but, I thought I’d go ahead and check as more often than not, it can pertain to an extreme amount of stress your heart is under from other sources.”

You stuttered out a response that involved you beginning therapy for the first time in years. You tried to touch on how you were experiencing a lot of emotions around what you would eventually be talking about in therapy. . . how you’d already bared your heart to Gia and opened up every single gate possible to effectively begin therapy. 

“I wanted to do it. Still do," you explained, needing Dr. Stevens to know that. “I would do it all over again right now if I needed to. She’s already helped me so much – after only one session, just with me basically projectile vomiting my past and emotions all over the room.” You took a breath, before finishing. “It doesn’t make it any less difficult though. It hurts. Physically, it hurts to talk about it all. I know it will all come together in the end. I trust the process–I trust my therapist. But it was extremely taxing – on top of everything else I’m feeling right now.” You glanced over at Josh before adding, “The baby’s father is. . . he’s just. . .”

“A lot,” Josh finished with a half-chuckle. “He’s a very good guy. He’s just a lot.”

“I have a lot of feelings about everything happening in my life right now, I’ll just say that,” you ventured to tell her. “And I had somewhat of a handle on my anxiety and depression before I got pregnant, but it’s also been something to resurface in a brand new way with the pregnancy hormones. Without me even knowing it sometimes. And before I know it, my heart is actually hurting my chest from the amount of pressure I’m putting myself under.”

Josh scooted his chair over closer to you and wrapped one of your hands in two of his, holding on tightly.

“It hasn’t all really clicked until now. . . that all of it might be related to my. . . issues,” you confirmed aloud, peeking over at Josh just briefly before looking back to Dr. Stevens. You’d just spilled your entire heart and it was making you feel extremely uneasy. God, she hadn’t asked to hear all of that. “I’m so sorry about spilling all of whatever that was,” you waved your hands around before combing them through your hair, trying to breathe deep breaths. You found her eyes, which you now realized were green. “I really–god, fuck. I’m– that was a lot for you to hear and you didn’t ask for the whole–.”

“I needed to hear it all,” she consoled you, tapping a comforting hand on the top bed sheet, rather than your leg. “It helps me assess the situation. . . and from what I’ve heard, it sounds like the most probable cause of you fainting tonight was due to the iron deficiency and your heart.” She assessed the numbers on the blinking monitor yet again. “It just hasn’t slowed much since you’ve been here, sweetie. Even with the medications we’ve given you to temporarily alleviate it, it’s still been sitting at around 120 beats per minute. And since you’ve been awake, it’s spiked enough to cause some concern to this doctor.”

As she expressed her concern again for your thrumming heart, (which you had noticed an increase in it’s pounding as of late) it began beating a little harder once again, causing an unpleasant tightness within your sternum. You winced. 

Josh noted the change almost as quickly as you did. His hands that held onto yours began squeezing even tighter, the skin of his palms now wet and clammy. He brought your hand, wrapped in his, up to his chin. The hair on his chin was unfamiliar to the last time you’d touched his face (who even knew when you last did that), but it still felt familiar enough against your knuckles to calm some of your nerves.

You couldn’t help but look at him with wide, fearful eyes. His eyes were steady on you, his attention only breaking from you to look at Dr. Stevens with a nonverbal note of worry for you. 

She stood from the bed and came to stand beside you, inserting the buds to the stethoscope around her neck, and held the circular part to your back. “Cough for me, sweetie,” she told you, her calm demeanor forcing you to come back from your momentary freak out. “Make it a big one.”

You found it to be an odd request, but you weren’t in any place to question this doctor who had shown you nothing but kindness. And offered help when you, apparently, so desperately needed it.

You did as she said, and forced the best cough you could muster. It instantly relieved the tension in your chest, even lowered your heart rate a bit as you watched the blinking numbers begin to drop on the screen. 

“Wh-what was that? Am I having a heart attack?” You felt silly asking her that. . .but you didn’t know any better, it may as well have been your body plummeting straight into a cardiac arrest. 

This was all a lot, and now you were very hyper aware of every little change in your heart that you felt, saw, or heard from the screen.

She chuckled softly, taking the stethoscope away from her ears, hanging once again around her neck. She watched your vitals intently as the blood pressure cuff attached to your left arm (that you hadn’t noticed yet) began squeezing you rather uncomfortably. 

“You’re not having a heart attack, my dear. Not even close,” she reassured. Although, you still felt the worry present in the pit of your tummy that you were unknowingly clutching again. “I am no stranger to the intense effects of anxiety. I’ve seen it time and time again. I think that was a big part of the palpitation episode you experienced a few minutes ago and the persistent increase in your heart rate I've seen so far tonight. However, I would like to conduct a little further testing. Just want to be sure your heart is nice and strong – for you and for the baby.”

You felt the air from Josh’s lungs release against your knuckles as he let out the breath he must’ve been holding, squeezing your hand just as tight as before. As terrified as you were, his presence provided the safety net your spirit needed to not be thrown back in a massive panic attack. 

She sat down on the bed next to you once again, her kind eyes offering little comfort right now as you start to feel overwhelmed with the sudden discovery of so many things that were apparently wrong with your body.

“If you can remember, have you ever been rather sensitive to the heat? Maybe suffered from heat strokes during your youth?” 

Her question had your mind yet again returning to your past that had been kept securely behind a locked door with no key. A place you didn’t venture often. 

But it did bring forth some hazy recollections of your days as a child, playing outside in the thick,  dry summer heat. How you couldn’t stand to be out in it for very long without feeling. . . faint. And dizzy. So fucking dizzy. 

A long since forgotten trait of yours that you never thought to pay any mind to. 

“Um– yeah, actually. Now that I think about it, Summers were always a challenge. I couldn’t stand being outside for much longer than a few minutes some days without feeling like I could pass out or throw up,” you huffed a humorless laugh at the memories playing back in your head. Miserable times. “It was. . .fucking awful.” 

You’d suddenly started to remember all the times you felt faint as a child. But it wasn’t always from the rise in temperature. Sometimes, it was from the stresses your mom tossed your way, the fights, the troubles that brewed in your home. It became more and more clear that fainting was most definitely not new to you. You just couldn’t remember. 

“Okay,” Dr. Stevens continued, her hand now patting your shin as she seemed to pick up on the unease of remembering your past. “What about when you go to stand up after a period of being seated or lying down, does your vision become a bit obscured at times? Like you’re seeing stars? Tunneled vision, maybe?”

“I mean, y-yeah,” you stuttered. “Sometimes. But it doesn't last for very long. Doesn’t everybody experience that, though?”

You had no clue where she was going with all of these questions— questions that she seemingly already knew the answers to. Of what it all meant, you weren’t sure. But you knew you needed her to cut to the chase soon before you began plummeting even further down the anxious path you’d started paving. 

“What does it mean? Is this something I should be worried about?” You asked through newly developed tears you had no control over. 

Your mind was running rampant with only one singular thought: the baby. What does this mean for the baby? 

“You don’t need to worry, sweetie. This is actually a lot more common than you think.”

She stood up from the bed, unclipping one more piece of paper from the board she’d been holding prior to sitting down. She handed it over to you, the paper weighing your hand down with what you were to find on it. 

But before you could begin to worry about what was on it, she was explaining it to you.

“That sheet is going to inform you on the ins and outs of Postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome, most commonly referred to as POTs,” she seriously informed, her eyebrows dipping to show concern for your worries that you knew were painted all over your face. 

“That’s a funny name,” Josh giggled, the breath from the laugh he’d let out fanned against your knuckles. “Like pots and pans. . . you know?”

You wanted to slap him because, shut the fuck up, Josh, now is not the time, but. . . try as you might, it actually calmed you down a bit. You couldn’t help the tiny ghost of a grin that floated over your lips.

Dr. Stevens glared at him, causing him to stop his little joke, before she continued on. “POTs,” she enunciated the name while flashing her eyes to Josh, “is nothing to be concerned with, but it is a valid heart condition that does require a bit more testing to confirm if it’s present or not. Just to be safe.” 

You peered down at the sheet in front of you and the bolded print that you tried so fucking hard to not be too overwhelmed by. It wasn’t the worst possible condition, but it was still a fucking heart condition that you could possibly have. And with everything else that’d happened tonight and your current life predicament. . . it was causing your head to spin.

Postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome (POTS) is a condition that causes a number of symptoms when you transition from lying down to standing up, such as a fast heart rate, dizziness and fatigue. While there’s no cure, several treatments and lifestyle changes can help manage the symptoms of POTS.

As you read the small print across the page, she told you exactly what it was she suspected you had. “To put it plainly, your heart can’t pump blood quickly enough to your body, resulting in a higher heart rate and a lower blood pressure that can sometimes cause you to faint.” She came close to your bedside again, “If you don’t mind, I am going to need to listen to your heart again.” 

It took you a bit to come to, but when you did, you finally nodded in response. She placed the cold end of the stethoscope against your chest while securing the buds in her ears to listen to you.

“This, combined with your lack of eating that caused the extremely low iron levels could have developed from your pregnancy. Although, I’m willing to bet they’ve been present your entire life. Certain instances can trigger them. Stress, severe anxiety, or pregnancy. In your case, dear, I’d say it’s all of the above. A bit of a trifecta, you could say. The ingredients for the perfect, terrifying storm.” 

“Jesus, mama," Josh breathed, his lips faintly brushed over your knuckles as he continued to hold your hand close to his face. “You have got to start taking care of yourself. I can’t stand to see you like this.”

You knew that. God, you knew that. It had always been easier said than done. But it was no longer all about you anymore; the moment the life began growing within you, it gave you a newfound motivation to take care of yourself for the little life you were now responsible for.

“What other testing needs to be done?” You asked. You were hesitant of what her answer would be, but if it provided a step in the right direction towards becoming the healthiest version of yourself that you could possibly be, you were all ears.

“There’s a specific test, a tilt table test, that must be done to provide us with a little more insight to the specifics of your case. However, it’s not safe to perform it while you're pregnant,” she explained. “So for now, I’m just going to send in for a heart monitor that will be delivered to your house in the next week or so. You’ll wear it for four weeks and that'll give us plenty of information in the meantime. I’m also going to refer you to one of the best cardiologists we have on staff here.”

A heart monitor? That sounded utterly terrifying to you. 

“I am also going to insist that you keep track of your hemoglobin levels daily,” she continued. “You can also buy your own blood pressure cuff to partner with the hemoglobin kit we have set to deliver at your doorstep. You should be able to apply your insurance to the purchase of the blood pressure cuff, if you decide to include that step as well,” Stevens took a deep breath before going on. “Keep a daily journal to log your numbers. Just a notebook to track your blood pressure and hemoglobin levels. It’s vital that you do these things, y/n. Fainting like this can not be a normal occurrence. It’s not good for you or the baby.” When she spoke next, you felt your heart leap into your throat. “The lasting effects on you or the fetus could be life threatening if you’re not careful. . . could be terribly detrimental to the baby’s development—specifically his or her little body or brain development.”

Life threatening. Detrimental. Baby’s development. Little body or brain development.

You heard your heart rate go up on the monitor, but you weren’t about to freak yourself out any further by looking at the changing numbers. You literally felt your pulse quicken and your breath become shallow in your throat as you struggled to take full breaths.

Focus on the now. Focus on what is real. What is right now. Baby is not in trouble yet. 

You have time.

You brought a thumb and middle finger up to your temple, rubbing away furiously to relieve the oncoming headache that had been simmering at the surface for the past several minutes. Your other hand found its home on your swollen belly.

It was all so overwhelming–staggering, really, and you weren’t prepared for any of it in the slightest. 

But, then again, how would someone prepare? You felt as if you were living in a brand new body, much different from the one you’d lived your whole life in up to this point. There was so fucking much out of your control and unknown. It was all pushing down, heavily, on your already-tense shoulders.

“Relax, mama,” Josh sensed your tension, and knowing you as well as he did, he knew it was time to start helping you articulate the right questions. He brushed his thumb across the back of your hand as he calmly asked, “What do we need to do if her numbers aren’t. . . normal? What are some measures we can take to get them to where they need to be?” 

The fact that he was willing to stand alongside you during this whole thing, that he wanted to, it was such a comforting thing to know at this moment. Not that you had any doubt in your mind, but hearing him say something as simple as ‘we’. . . it just warmed your heart completely. 

“Lots of fluids,” she answered through a sincere smile. “And an increase in your salt intake to help your body maintain those fluids.” She handed you yet another sheet and sat back down next to you, looking you in the eye with a stern, motherly expression. “That should help you out with foods to eat and fluids to drink, in addition to the sheet from earlier. But, honey, you need to change your diet. It’s essential that you incorporate healthy eating habits at this point in your pregnancy. After you’ve gotten your body accustomed to the bland foods on the other list I’ve supplied you, you need to start adding lots of iron heavy foods to your meals. Meats, leafy greens, rice. . . things of that nature.” She searched your eyes, hers kind and knowledgeable from years in the field. “Alright?”

You nodded your head in confirmation, wondering how the hell you were going to make that happen with the way normal food left you utterly disgusted at the present time. 

“We’ll make sure of that, doc,” Josh responded in your place, throwing a wink at you as he knew damn well how horrible your food aversions had been. 

“M-my therapy,” you found your voice. “It’s going to be intense. It will cause my body stress.” Dr. Stevens looked at you quizzically before you went on, “It’s called EMDR therapy. Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing; although, I’m sure you’ve heard of it in your profession. I don’t know all of the logistics yet, but I know it’s not a conventional form of therapy. What do I do if I wish to continue that? Should I continue it?”

“It should be safe, as long as you make sure to have a thorough discussion with your therapist after each session. That is dire in helping your body and your mind process it all in a healthy manner. In order to have a healthy body, you must also take care of your mind, especially in those circumstances. I do want you to consult with your therapist over how much stress you’ll be able to handle at any given time. Don’t let your mind go too far. If you have a good therapist, they’ll know the signs if you’ve had enough, though, don’t be afraid to tell them.” 

If there was one thing you did know about all this uncertainty, it was that you could trust Gia to not lead you astray, or towards anything that would be detrimental to your mental health. 

Dr. Stevens smiled, her clipboard once again tight in her grip before she stepped further to the curtained room you were shielded by. “Do you have any more questions?” 

Josh glanced at you, waiting for you to say anything or waiting for you to communicate something for him to say on your behalf. You were sure you had questions, but you were just fucking flooded with stress to the point that all you wanted to do was sleep. . . just ready to get home.

Also, seeing as it was an emergency room, the idea was to get patients in and out. Wasn’t supposed to be the length of a standard visit. 

You’d taken up too much of her time.

So, you shook your head at Josh and then looked to Dr. Stevens to tell her no thank you.

And when you did, you glanced down at the name on her coat and the name of the hospital stitched into the white fabric. You hadn’t even noticed. . . .  Cedars-Sinai.

Same hospital I’ll have the baby at, if all goes according to plan, you suddenly realized, the thought bringing you a weird sense of peace. And it will go according to plan.

-🌼🌼🌼-

Josh went about gathering up all of the documents that had been handed to you and the prenatal pills provided as a nurse came in to disconnect all of your tubes and shit. He'd waited outside the curtain. and asked the nurse a few more questions as you'd changed back into your clothes.

And on the ride home, he’d put on peaceful music over the speaker of the car. He was used to doing it when you rode in his car as you hated riding in it. But tonight? Tonight you found comfort in the hunk of creaking metal. 

Because it meant you were going home. 

When you got home, Josh helped you up to the apartment and went about opening the front door and setting up your bed for you. All while you brushed your teeth, pulled up your hair that smelled like hospital, and changed into your comfiest PJs. 

Just as he’d tucked you in and was about to leave, you pulled on his hand and begged for him to stay. You really didn’t want to be alone for the night, mumbling as much to him. 

So, like the perfect friend he was, he set up a pallet on the floor as you tossed him a pillow from your bed. 

And to your solace, sleep found you as soon as your head hit the satin of your pillowcase. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

November 14, 2022

Every Monday being your therapy day was honestly the perfect way to start your week. You’d decided that on the way to the counseling practice on the chilly November afternoon of your second appointment.

You already knew it would be like it had been before. Before, (on your first and only other visit before today’s) it had just felt like a breath of fresh air to talk to a licensed professional like Gia. She was just fucking amazing. And you knew every week would be like before: a fresh start with a confidant who could give you killer fucking advice. A little date of sorts with a licensed professional who was positively eager to help you get through your week (life, generally) the best you possibly could.

Well, at least your therapist was eager to do that. 

Even as you sat on her trendy, camel-colored leather couch for your second appointment, you felt completely comfortable and at ease with Gia. She had already become one of your favorite people. 

You’d spent the first thirty minutes or so filling her in on telling Josh, your first prenatal exam (also showed her the sonogram pictures, which she’d loved), and the emergency visit. No details had been spared and you made sure she had time to give you any advice or words of wisdom she deemed necessary. But she’d really just let you have the floor and talk. 

Once you wrapped up your scary details from the night of the E.R., handed over all of the documents you wanted to sort through with her, and talked through them until you felt more ease about all of the anemia and heart shit, she’d looked at you seriously. 

Pinned you with a stare, her eyes sparkling like emeralds as she thoughtfully assessed you. 

She sat down her tea, and then wheeled herself over to you. Her oversized sweater was a turtle neck that matched the color of her couch, and the too-long sleeves of it touched your hands as she grasped them loosely in her hands. “Y/n,” she began, peering at you openly through her circular, wire framed-lenses, “We do not have to do EMDR. I want to remind you, it is entirely up to you if you choose to go that route. If you are fearful of it causing too much stress, I understand wanting to venture down another therapeutic route.”

“No,” you shook your head, a small smile curled the corner of your lips to reassure her. “I want to do it. I believe it’s what will work best to get to the heart of things. Don’t you?”

“Yes,” she agreed, brow knitted. “I just don’t want you to feel any unnecessary stress during this vulnerable time in your life.”

“As long as you promise to help me wrap it all up with a good talk at the end of each appointment,” you suggested with hope evident in your tone. “To wrap it up as much as we can for me to make it through the week.”

She grinned. “I can do that,” she affirmed with one certain nod, her loose bun, full of her soft blonde hair bounced with the action. “Did the doctor recommend continuing it?”

“Yep. Said it shouldn’t be an issue if we manage to discuss it all at the end of each session,” you offered. “Doesn’t want me carrying around anything unresolved that could make my stress levels increase.”

“Well, that’s definitely doable,” she confirmed with a wide grin. Scooting back, she grabbed her tea from the repurposed desk in the corner of her office before propping her ankle on top of her bent knee. “So, if you do wish to continue with EMDR, I’ll go ahead and explain it a little better than I have yet.”

“I do,” you said as a final agreement. “What should I know before we start?”

So, Gia proposed EMDR and all of the benefits that could come from the specific form of therapy. You listened to every detail readily. Were you scared? Yes. Were you anxious to begin? Also yes. It was intriguing and a little exciting to be so close to finally diving deep into the curves and corners of your mind and memories. 

Once she’d finished with that, she was rolling her chair back over to you and placing her elbows on the ends of her thighs as she bent to talk intimately with you. When she spoke, the smell of spearmint on her breath was oddly calming. “There’s something I feel I should mention before we begin. A bit of a warning that you should heed. Some clients experience this, some don’t. But something to be aware of, nonetheless.” 

Your eyes widened at her use of the word ‘warning,’ and her sudden change in tone made you believe this was something a little more serious. You knew there were risks involved with this somewhat unconventional form of therapy, but you hadn’t let yourself delve into all of them just yet. You had tried your best to leave the ball in Gia’s court to explain it all to you. 

And you knew that anything deemed risky, Gia would let you know of them before you agreed. Any online research wouldn't be nearly as viable as it would be coming straight from Gia’s mouth. 

Still yet, your heart beat just a little faster in preparation for whatever she had to tell you.

Deep breaths, y/n.

“Tell me,” you asserted. In search of some extra comfort, you placed a hand on your belly, the pulse vibrating in your palm also immediately triggered the fear in you that your heart was possibly over exerting itself.

Deep. Breaths. Gia’s got this. She won’t let you do anything too risky to your health. She wouldn’t let you.

“Some people report experiencing rather intense flashbacks that can come unannounced. And when I say intense, I truly mean just that, y/n. If they come, they can be debilitating.” 

This was the first you had seen her eyes downturned, a picture of worry painted within her emerald green irises. “There have also been accounts of severe nightmares—well, more along the lines of night terrors. The kind that can wake you up in a panic. I just want you to be aware of these possibilities before we begin. I need you to promise me right now, that if these things do happen, you’ll call me. I don’t care if it’s in the middle of the night or the middle of the day, you have to call me, and I will answer.” 

Middle of the day? They could come then, too? Shit.

“Is it. . .  really that serious?” You took a moment to ponder your question, not entirely sure what to make of it all just yet. (And you couldn’t help but wonder if Jake found out about these little occurrences during his research before bringing the idea up to you.)

“It can be,” she noted with a stern tone that sent yet another wave of anxiety through your tense muscles. “That’s why I need you to make me that promise. That isn’t something you should ever experience alone. As I said, it can be debilitating.”

Your mind began turning furiously with the thought of having to experience flashbacks. Would they be flashbacks to things you already remembered? Or worse. . . things you didn’t? Both?

If you were being honest with yourself, you knew the answer and it was honestly terrifying to you.

For a split second, you started to doubt whether or not this was the right solution for you. But, you couldn’t deny any longer that you did need the help. You had to be better. For you and for the life that was growing inside of you. The baby needed a healed mother. 

And you knew Gia was the perfect person to guide you through it. You trusted her, and that was something that has never come easily for you. 

“I’ll admit,” you began, still holding tight to your belly, reminding yourself of the growing reason why you needed to do this. “I’m nervous. But I still want to do it. I promise I’ll call you when— if— that happens. . . but, what if you’re not available?”

“Don’t be nervous. You’ve got this.” She flashed you her sparkling white teeth in a smile that put your spirit right back at ease. “And I do my best to answer. It’s my job as your therapist to see you through this. Some don’t take it as seriously as I do, but I know that you’ll need me in your corner and I’m happy to be there. I signed up for this, just like you did,” she grinned, once again using her feet to scoot her back to her desk, in her plush, light pink chair. “But, on the off chance I’m not able to answer, I would immediately contact someone you trust to see you through it. Hold you. Talk to you. Just be there with you. Whatever you need. Someone who would be willing to do that.” She opened her laptop before turning to you, an idea seeming to spark in her mind. “As a matter of fact, before our next session, why don’t you make it your assignment to think of the person you’ll go to in situations like that? Just one person for now and if you think of more, then double whammy.”

She winked, and you just sent a barely-there grin back to her in response. As she went about clicking open tabs on her computer, you knew you didn’t need until next session to think of your person. 

Because as soon as she started talking about that person, you were back in the hallway of your grandparents’ home – right outside your bedroom. And the person next to you right then and there. . . he was the one you wanted with you if the terrors hit. 

Not Josh. Not even Elsie. 

But Jake. 

Would he be okay with that though? Would it be worth asking him?

Gia was once again speaking as she clicked through a few buttons on her laptop. “Y/n? You okay, love?” 

You looked up, finding her eyes waiting for yours. “Oh–oh, yeah,” you stretched your lips to make the best smile you could. “Just being an overachiever and already brainstorming my person to contact.”

She hummed, giving you a sneaky smirk. “Does it happen to be a certain roommate of yours?”

Eyes bugging, you were shocked that she’d guessed. But were you really? She sorta kinda (definitely) knew the depths of your heart. She'd probably known who you’d want to pick as soon as you'd known it. 

Nodding sheepishly, you decided to ask, “Is that a bad idea?”

“I don’t believe so,” she assured. “From what you’ve told me about him, he seems like a pretty good guy and I think he’d be more than willing to help you if you needed him.”

“Really?”

“Really. It’s also super convenient because he lives with you,” she insisted with a final wink before she said, “Anything I might’ve forgotten will be in the PowerPoint I’m about to send to your email. But, I’ve gotta say, I’ve done it enough times with enough clients, I think I’ve covered every base for today.” A few beats of silence passed before she triumphantly pressed a button. “Aaand, sent!” 

Then, wheeling back over to you, her pristinely white Nikes made the smallest squeak on the stained concrete floor of her office. “Okay, so today,” she began. “How are we feeling?”

“Really good,” you confidently responded, wiping your palms against your leggings before a true smile fit to your features. “When will we start?”

“I think next session we will find your safe place,” she said with a raise of her brow. “I will explain what I mean by ‘safe place’ next time, and directly after, we will send you there. Try not to worry about it until then, okay?” She requested, eyes searching yours for an answer. To which, you nodded. She continued with a grin. “For today, I want to call it quits with the EMDR talk. . . Let you rest. Unless. . . you have any questions, of course. . . .”

You wracked your brain, and when you couldn’t think of anything immediately, you told her you didn’t have any questions. 

“Come with some next time if you think of any. And, my email is always open in between visits if needed–even if it’s just a minor inquiry you have,” she reminded. “Oh! And I’m not sure if I mentioned this yet. . . but, if we need to ever schedule an emergency visit over Zoom or in the office. . . that is also always, always on the table. I know that these things get heavy, and I want to be here for you through all of it, y/n.”

“Got it.”

Although, something did come to your mind as you were both standing to leave the session. You hadn’t given the question much thought in your own mind (shockingly). It had entered your wave of thought the day of your first prenatal appointment. When you’d asked Josh. 

But since then, your mind had been too preoccupied with everything else that had recently happened that this thought had been put on the backburner. 

But, you were curious what her opinion was on the matter, now that it had resurfaced. 

Right before she opened the door, delicate hand on the handle, you grew sweaty. But you needed to ask the question, because if you didn’t do it now, it would be tormenting you until next Monday. 

So, you asked her the same question you’d asked Josh.

“When should I tell Jake about the baby?”

She turned her shoulder, her eyes stern when she responded. “Soon. . . sooner rather than later. Just focus on what is real.”

Sooner rather than later. . . same exact words Josh had said.

-🌼🌼🌼-

It had been a long day of classes and the short shift at the Black and Gold after your classes had completely wiped you out. 

When you got home, all you’d wanted to do was take a nap to sleep off the exhaustion from the short day. Before pregnancy, you wouldn’t be hitting a wall so early in the day, but now that you were, you could hardly function after going nonstop for more than a few hours. 

Your body was functioning in overdrive, trying to produce enough energy to sustain two lives. . . and you were still getting used to it. Honestly, you weren’t sure you would ever get used to it.

But before your nap. . . you wanted to take some time to release some of the soreness in your changing body with a warm shower. You were sure to grab a towel from the dryer because, even though you knew Jake wasn’t supposed to be home for a few hours, you still didn’t want to risk him seeing you. The idea of him seeing any slight changes on your body made you cringe. You weren’t sure if you felt comfortable in your body yet, so you definitely didn’t want him seeing it. 

There was also the enormous, glaring factor of him seeing the changes and realizing what was going on. You really still just looked bloated (albeit very, very bloated). . . but you had a feeling that he would catch on. He’d gotten very used to what your body looked like for the better part of the summer, so you could see him noticing your stomach protruding more than it ever did before. 

He’d know. . . you just had a feeling.

After a day of trying to wear regular jeans, you’d decided it was a bad idea to wear your normal sized jeans anymore. The tight waistband had cut into your abdomen all day and squeezed you like a motherfucker. Thankfully, there’d been a lull in customers before the end of your shift, and the oversized sweater you’d worn had provided enough coverage for you to unbutton the jeans when you were alone in the store. 

But when you finally got to take them off, you breathed a sigh of relief to be out of the confines of the stiff clothing. And the big, fluffy sweater had gotten to be too warm by the end of your shift, so taking that off had also been extremely relieving as well. 

After you’d tied your hair back and heated the shower a little cooler than your usually steaming hot showers, you had to get used to the temperature as you stood and lathered up your belly, giving yourself your daily time to just observe how it was growing. Ever since your visit to the E.R., you’d become more conscientious of how it was growing.

You were new to this pregnancy thing. You didn’t know if it meant your baby was okay or not if your belly wasn’t growing at a certain rate.

To your utter relief, over the past few days, you had finally been able to eat more–following the lists of food Dr. Stevens had given you. You occasionally got nauseous, but the puking had limited significantly with the suggested bland, healthier foods and constant Ginger Ale (which you’d actually found much more delicious and helpful to your twisty stomach than Sprite). 

Then there were the Preggie Pops and the heaven-sent PregEase: both of which had been fucking life savers. (Both stayed safely locked away in your room, on a shelf in your closet, right next to where you’d pinned the sonogram pictures.)

Once you’d let the quick shower relax your muscles exactly like you’d needed, you took your time drying off. And once you’d washed your face and changed into bike shorts and a giant t-shirt, you weren’t so tired as before. So, you’d settled into the couch with your phone, a book, a fluffy blanket, and a delicious bowl of sweet red peppers and pretzels.

It had become a go-to snack as of late. 

You were looking forward to finishing the steamy romance that had popped up on your BookTok a few weeks back, but you wanted to look into BookTok reviews for the second book in the series before you finished the first. Just to prepare yourself. 

Though, when you opened your TikTok app, you didn’t look into the book. No, instead, you found your fingers searching ‘13 weeks pregnant’. You wanted to see how other women looked at this point in the game. You couldn’t help wanting to compare your progression to other women. It wasn’t a healthy course of action – you knew that. You just had to see. . . get an idea.

You saw a lot of videos of them talking about entering their second trimester. Which, like your Ovia app had already informed you today, you knew you had officially passed the first trimester. . . which was a massive thing to you. Passing the first trimester meant several exciting things. A few being: the chances of your baby surviving the pregnancy increased tenfold; the morning sickness started screeching to a halt (thank god); and you’d be able to find out the gender of your baby in a few short weeks.

Though, the other glaring thing at the front of your brain was how you needed to tell Jake. Because of the fact that you were already in your second trimester.

The main thing you were concerned about was staying healthy, though. . . you were really hoping you were doing okay at keeping yourself healthy; you needed your baby to be healthy. All of your numbers seemed to be getting back on the right track as you’d been tracking your hemoglobin for the past few days. It was all very comforting–-you felt better.

Just as you clicked on a video about symptoms at week 13, the front door opened to show Jake coming through. You quickly shut the app off and locked your phone, pretended to be reading as sweat accumulated in your arm and knee pits. (Lovely.) 

Though, you couldn’t help but turn your body to peek at him in his peacoat, with a scarf wrapped around his neck, and a beanie covering his ears. Much like he’d looked on the night of the macaroni and cheese and therapy talk. 

He had a little chill in his bones, it seemed, as he shook them out when taking off his coat and scarf. His hat was next, leaving his long hair staticky in its wake. He smoothed it back with one more chill before he was off to the counter, dropping off the mail and his keys. But he didn’t immediately go to his room. He went about opening a drawer, finding a pair of scissors and heading to the mail on the counter. 

You did notice a package now that you looked closer. And he was hurriedly going about cutting through the yellow protective packaging.

Out of nowhere, you decided to speak. No idea where it came from. Curiosity killed the cat was all you could come up with.

“Whatcha got there?” Whatcha got there? Okay, first of all, what the fuck?

He peered over at you, raising a brow before lifting the now-open package to display it to you. “New guitar part I ordered.”

“Oh,” you blinked, not sure what else you’d been expecting from him. Of course he wasn’t about to make pleasant conversation. Not when something had apparently climbed up his ass where you were concerned for the past several days. 

Once again, you were right back at square one at the most inopportune time. It made you question your idea to make him your go-to person for your expected night terrors. . . but you didn’t want to let go of the possibility yet. Not yet. 

“Have fun with that,” you offered, turning back around to the book you most definitely didn’t want to read at the present time. Instead, you took a nervous bite of a pepper. 

“Um, y/n,” he said your name with a question in his tone. “What the fuck is this?”

Your heart tripped over itself in your chest. What had he found? Without looking at him, you decided to just go ahead and get your ass off the couch to survey the situation. 

He was holding the box containing your heart monitor in his hands.

Fuck. You really didn’t want him to be privy to that part of your life. For whatever ridiculous reason, you were embarrassed by it. 

Deciding honesty was the best policy, you decided to just flat out tell him. “I went to the Emergency Room the other night,” you started. “And the doctor just wanted –.”

“The Emergency Room?!” His voice raised a decibel, obviously alarmed at the new information. “Wait . . . is that why Josh had to leave the bar–? The same night you were gone all night.”

“Wait. . .how do you know I was gone all night?”

“I live with you, y/n,” he scoffed, talking to you like you were an idiot. 

You felt your blood pressure rise, your heart beating in your ears. “Yes, Jake, I know this,” you matched his tone, the hormones working in your favor this time–making you angry rather than sad. “But why the fuck were you awake?”

“I was waiting for–,” he stopped, clearing his throat before starting over. He looked down, a crinkle in his brow. “I couldn’t sleep.”

He was waiting for. . . who? Waiting for. . . what? Your curiosity peaked, but you ignored it for the time being. 

“Well, not that you need to know, but yes. I was at the E.R. that night,” you explained. “Something happened that landed me there and it resulted in them wanting to track my heart activity. Nothing huge.”

And for once, you didn’t feel bad for lying to him. Your nerves were lit on fire with irritation towards him. 

He doesn’t need to know.

“You got a heart monitor in the mail,” he stated, not dropping the possible severity of the situation. "And you're saying it's nothing huge?"

Without a second thought, you were yanking the package from his hands. 

“It’s. not. your. business, Jacob,” you squeezed the package until the plastic wrap squeaked from the tight grip of your fingertips. Then, something else clicked. “Why the fuck were you not looking at the name on the package? Remember, like you said, you live with me. You know that not all of the shit that comes in the mail is yours.”

“I just wasn’t thinking–.”

“Kind of fucking invasive, Jake,” you interrupted hotly. “Don’t you think?”

“Well, it helped me to know something was wrong with your heart. You wouldn’t have told me if I hadn’t opened the package,” he argued back. 

“You didn’t need to know!” You said, your voice raising at the same speed as your blood pressure. “Still don’t!”

“But Josh sure as hell does, right?” He demanded, swinging his finger towards the door, his jaw clenching. “He needed to be your knight in shining fucking armor, huh?”

“Why the hell do you care?!” You fumed, the question exploding from your chest with the same emotion that had tears gathering in your eyes at the question. Angry tears. Confused tears. 

“I don’t!” He snapped, his beautiful, brown eyes, hard. His jaw, set and tight. 

His words sat in the air for a few minutes. Your stares were intertwined; swimming with tangled emotions. The air felt hot and heavy as it surrounded you. It was taut with newly spoken (and still unspoken) surmounting feelings and disequilibrium. Nostrils were flaring. Both of your chests heaved, the sound of his breathing mixed with yours in a way that made you want to slap and kiss his pursed lips.

You didn’t let yourself stand there much longer – needed to get away from him. Without speaking to him, you tore your eyes from his, gathered up your stuff from the couch, and tried to walk with as much dignity as you could to your room. 

Somehow, you were able to get the door open with your hands inexplicably full, and after you’d entered and before you could shut it behind you, you shot a glare his way. He was still watching you.

“Fuck you, Jake.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

November 17, 2022

The next night saw your ass in the shower again. 

Except this time, you were sitting in the tub, legs drawn to your chest as close as possible with your rounder tummy, and chin on your knees as you let the warm water soak you through. 

You’d already shaved and washed everything. So, now, you were just letting yourself be.

Your thoughts had been spinning since last night. So, in an effort to help your heart, you’d invited Josh over for a movie when Jake left to give lessons for the day. And, of course, he’d said yes without question. 

You’d spent the day drowning yourself in popcorn and Canada Dry (Josh surprised you with a new 12-pack when he’d arrived) as you’d watched all three Bridget Jones movies. Back to back to back. They weren’t Josh’s favorites, but he humored you by trying to indulge in the trilogy – even managing to laugh at the funny parts. 

Between movies, he’d let you cry on his shoulder. Or, intermittently, during the movies. . . By the time he’d left, your tears had positively stained the white long sleeve tee he was wearing. 

He didn’t ever ask what it was about – who it was about. And you never told him. But you knew he wasn’t oblivious to who caused your emotional episode.

Now he was gone. Had been for about an hour. And Jake wasn’t home yet. Not that you fucking cared. 

You’d meant it when you told him what you did. Fuck him.

Though, the devastating matter was that you couldn’t decide if you were more mad at yourself or him. Everyday was a replay of the day in the kitchen. And you were sure he replayed it everyday, too. . . and he was definitely allowed to feel hurt after the horrendous shit you’d thrown at him.

But what was with the back and forth? Hot and cold? How he’d been okay the night with the mac and cheese? How he’d spent his time researching therapy for you to try? How he’d been quick to defend your song to his girlfriend? 

And, just as quickly, he was snapping at you. Getting upset out of nowhere. Instantly angry with you when you’d come out of the bathroom at the bar. Getting pissed for no reason at you and Josh for sitting in the car. Telling you last night that he didn’t care about you. 

Was that true? Did he not? It fucking killed you if it was true. But you couldn’t blame him if he didn’t care. Why would he?

You took the moment to stretch your legs out in the shower, watching as the water painted your skin with droplet after droplet. Then, you looked down at your tummy, extra round after a day of pigging out. 

Placing a pruned hand on it, you looked down at the part of your body that housed your human. Surprisingly (not), tears clouded your voice as you spoke to it, rubbing the skin reassuringly. “I’m so sorry that your mommy and daddy are so fucked up.”

After letting a few tears fall to meet the tight, rounded skin of your tummy, you forced your legs to stand up. The feat was proven a little difficult as they’d fallen asleep, but you still managed. Regretfully, you’d turned the water off. You didn’t want to leave the shower but you were officially prune-y as hell.

And, as you gathered a towel to wrap up in, you realized you were also very fucking tired.

You carefully attached the heart monitor’s adhesive to your chest like the instruction manual (and multiple videos you’d watched) told you to, and followed it with the monitor itself. You then checked to make sure the phone you’d been given with the kit was ready to track what it needed.

Finding your phone on the counter after you’d washed your face and brushed your teeth, you decided Josh deserved a thank you after putting up with you the last several days.

Especially after you’d just rocked his motherfucking world . . . and he’d been so cool about it.

God, you just loved him.

You, 10:17 p.m.: I’m so glad I have you. I mean it from the bottom of my heart that I wouldn’t make it through this pregnancy without you. And your love and amazing fucking support. I’d be lost without you.

And after you sent it, you began towel drying your hair, then brushed through any tangles the best you could. 

When you heard a ding! sound from the living room, you spent a few minutes thinking it was your imagination. But when you heard it a second time, you realized it was most likely not in your head, and that Jake was home. 

So, checking your appearance once more, you wrapped the towel as tight as you could around your body before shutting the light off and opening the door. 

You glanced up to see if he was in fact home, and the sight that met you had you stop in your tracks. 

Josh’s white phone case with the little triangle symbol he’d drawn on it one day at the B&G. 

In Jake’s hands. 

Jake’s face, looking at the screen of said phone, mouth open in shock.

And as soon as you closed the door to the bathroom, the smallest sound of it shutting, made his eyes slowly slide up from the phone to your face.

He held the phone up, showing you just what he’d seen. Fuck. 

“You’re pregnant?”

You took a careful step forward, the blood in your veins frazzled and vibrating. Deny deny deny. As long as you can, y/n. “What gives you the right to be in Josh’s phone? Your invasiveness really knows no fucking bounds these days,” you clipped, voice shaking in spite of yourself.

He blinked a couple of times, a smile forming on his mouth. A wide, sarcastic one, which turned into an astounded scoff. “Really? That’s what we’re going to focus on right no–?” He shook his head, clicking the phone shut before taking a few cautious steps towards you. “His face I.D.; it opens to me. I’m his fucking identical twin.”

“Prove it,” you challenged. 

“Was already planning on it,” he snipped. And right in your line of sight, he opened the phone, putting his face in front of it. Then, it was turned to show you. The same tantalizing screen as before. “Proven.”

“Well. . .,” you faltered, scrambling. “Why did you have it?”

“It was laying on the counter. I went to grab it and my keys,” he jingled the keys in his other hand. “I was going to take it to him,” he explained, sounding exasperated and patient all at once. An anomaly. “But when I picked it up, I looked down, and it opened.”

He took two steps back, once again, holding the phone up to show you the text screen. The gray bubble had never looked so horrifying as it did in that moment. The sweat accumulating on your forehead proved your entire skin care routine pointless. You were shaking. Your skin felt like it was going to fall off from the vibrations taking over underneath it.

“Now,” he started slowly. “Will you answer my question, please?” 

His voice broke on the last word and it triggered a single tear to trickle down your cheek. 

“Yes, I am.”

“Whose?”

“Really, Jake?” You questioned, the question making your heart break. How could he–? 

His eyes went soft momentarily, pleading with you. “I just need to hear you say it, y/n.”

“It’s yours, Jake. The baby is yours. Who the fuck else?”

-🌼🌼🌼-

a/n: this monstrous chapter was a fucking doozy and you already know i wanna talk about it!! come to my asks and we shall chat <333

oh, but i'm just wondering........ what do you think reader's safe place will be? ;) a place? a person? both? hmmm....

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

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

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

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

[meimi-haneoka]

Clear Card Trivia 3 ~ Sakura's journey of growth and self-understanding throughout Cardcaptor Sakura Clear Card

Hello and welcome back to my "Clear Card Trivia" series, a collection of informative posts where I delve into certain aspects of the story of Cardcaptor Sakura Clear Card! ✨

The topic I will talk about today has been on my "to-do list" for long time. It's something I felt the need to talk about, and I won't hide the reason why: the desire to fully eviscerate this topic grew particularly after reading around certain criticism of Clear Card Arc. But also after listening to CLAMP's Twitter Spaces, particularly the ones towards the end of the story.

It's something that, setting aside my obvious love for the new characters, will always make me think that Clear Card Arc has been a very welcome addition to the series.

This post will delve into Sakura's growth throughout Clear Card Arc.

Sakura grew up considerably during the story, and had a character development that sadly not many people truly realized.

I'm not talking about an evolution of the character design which, despite changing and evolving throughout the story (as it's expected for a long-running serialization), kept depicting Sakura consistently with quite young looks...no, I'm talking about her mental growth, in relation to her self-knowledge and her relationship with her magic powers.

A journey that might almost feel "frustrating", because it is full of "up and downs", and Sakura sometimes seems to be taking one step forward and two back. Aside from the obvious practical reasons (the plot had to develop several other storylines simultaneously), it very much reflects the realistic growth of a pre-teen, which is never a straight line but is made of improvements and relapses.

Along the journey, I couldn't really avoid mentioning some bits of the development of Sakura's relationship with Syaoran, which will get its own deep and detailed post another day.

There's also an extra about the significance of the Clear Cards in the story, at the end.

I have to be honest, the post is very long, but I tried to insert visual elements to make it easier on the eye. If you're curious to know how the hell I found so much to talk about for this specific topic, follow me under the cut and dive into Sakura's journey throughout Clear Card (it's also a good way to review the story)! ✨

A Disconnected Beginning

Clear Card Arc starts in a very "festive" and happy way: everything is peaceful, a new exciting chapter of Sakura's educational life is starting with the beginning of middle school, Syaoran is back to Tomoeda, this time to stay forever with his beloved girl...everything seems so perfect. And precisely in chapter 1, before everything takes an unexpected turn, we have this scene here, which I consider the "true" beginning of everything:

Sakura says "I haven't been using this lately...well, that's for the better".

At the beginning of Clear Card Arc, Sakura seems to be feeling disconnected from her natural gift.

Despite she had to go on a quest to collect all the Clow Cards, which later she gave a new life to by changing them into Sakura Cards, we have to remember that Sakura was born with magic powers. They weren't bestowed on her by Kero-chan, nor by the contract with the Clow Book: she always had magic in her blood, and it apparently "woke up" on that fateful day she found the Clow Book in the library of her father.

At the beginning of this arc, Sakura seems to think that the purpose, the meaning of this natural gift which is literally part of herself, has been fulfilled by transforming all the Cards, and splitting Eriol's power as he had requested. Her words here seem to be suggesting a general idea of "if I have to use this key (therefore, my magic powers), it means something troublesome is happening, so it's better if I'm not using it because it means everything is okay".

And although we can't really deny that what happened afterwards is far from being able to be considered "peaceful", this scene here always left a bad taste in my mouth because there's almost a negative vibe attached to the idea of her magic, transpiring from Sakura's words. It's almost as if she's politely rejecting it.

Precisely after she places her Star Key in her jewelry box, probably hoping to never have to use it again, she has her first premonitory dream of the events that will shake her life afterwards. Almost as if her powers were trying to tell her "no my dear, this is you and you'd better come to terms with it as soon as possible".

Then, as we all know, the Cards turn blank. Sakura produces a new key while having another dream and a quest to fight and "secure" some strange phenomena happening around her begins, leaving her in a state of increasing confusion.

This is the beginning of the part of the story that I quite literally call "Sakura loses sight of herself".

At this very early stage of the story, she still doesn't know that she started losing control over her increasing magical power, and it is definitely not a coincidence that all of this began when she thought of shutting her main magic tool away in a box, hoping to ignore it forever. For plot reasons, this also happens simultaneously to Syaoran taking the spirits of the Sakura Cards away from her (because in the beginning, you had to be tricked into thinking he was up to something shady and was the real mastermind behind all the incidents).

Syaoran expected for Sakura to lose control over her powers, as his mother predicted a general period of trouble for her that could lead her to unhappiness, albeit without any clear indication of what could happen: Syaoran came to Japan knowing something was bound to happen to his girl and her powers, and that something was going to lead her to grief, but he had no idea about all the rest. So his uncertain and reckless approach, which ended up in some cases worsening the situation, is also somewhat understandable. He was acting like a worried, overprotective boyfriend at his wit's end.

The strange events, which Sakura materializes into a new set of Cards, surely leave her distraught and confused, not to mention the situation with the Sakura Cards and Eriol's missing replies, but I feel that what really destabilizes her core are the constant dreams she gets, sometimes even in the middle of her waking hours, making her faint on the spot wherever she is.

Premonitory dreams are a part of her natural gift that she began to express ever since the OG manga, but she never seemed to really understand them or take them seriously.

This time around, she keeps seeing this cloaked figure and this terrifying dragon, no one speaks a word despite her relentless questions and the cloaked figure seems to be wanting to take her newly made key away (Lilie!!! what were you trying to do!! *facepalm* she probably tried to pull her closer so she could talk to her), so it's just normal that all of that leaves her increasingly stressed and anxious, even though initially you never see her openly and verbally stating that, due to her overall positive nature ("I'll manage it, somehow" is part of her "everything will be alright" invincible spell, and this is indeed what she keeps telling herself in the beginning of the arc, even though in some occasions it turned out to be a double-edged sword, as sometimes it looked more like sweeping her fears under the carpet, to me).

"Something Is Not Right"

Dream after dream, Card after Card, Sakura begins to have these general feelings of discomfort and of "something is not right, here", as she openly states to Syaoran in this scene of volume 4, chapter 14. There's something about this situation that is pricking her sixth sense, and makes her uneasy, but she can't quite put her finger on it yet. All she can do is to keep "fighting" these phenomena happening around her, hoping to find out more along the way. She reiterates the same feeling of uneasiness at the end of chapter 15, after what I consider one of the most concerning side-effects of her poor control over her powers: Sakura seems almost "in trance" while she leads her guardians to the exit of the maze, and acts in a very uncharacteristic, cold way by shoving her bag in front of Yue to make him hold it for her. It's almost as if her magical sixth sense worked too strongly and warped her personality in that moment: an effect that has been mentioned several times in relation to powerful magicians like Clow, Eriol and later Kaito too, so it's not farfetched at all to attribute this one-off occurrence to her loss of control over her strong powers, which ended up affecting her personality too. Luckily, it didn't happen again in the rest of the story and the capture of this Card was completely changed in the anime (a wise decision imho, since the JP fandom is particularly fussy about the integrity of Sakura's character, and she needed to stay "Sakura" in order to do what she did at the end).

At the culmination of a "mini arc" (the visit to great-grandpa Masaki) characterized by uncontrolled visions of Nadeshiko, another frightening dream (one that ended up dragging even Akiho in, due to the synchronization) and Sakura for the first time ever confronting Syaoran about the things he's been hiding from her, we reach the following scene of volume 5, chapter 23.

"I Wish I Had A Mirror"

I always considered this scene extremely important, because for the first time Sakura spells out clearly the inner turmoil that's been gnawing at her soul ever since this ordeal with the new Cards started.

"The truth is...I'm the worst at understanding myself. And that is probably causing lots of concern to everyone." "I wish I had a mirror. A mirror that could reflect the real me. Then, I would probably understand how to not make everyone worry"

Here, Sakura clearly spells out the frustration of knowing, feeling in her bones that there's something wrong with her, something that she's not understanding about herself, and that something is causing problems, but most importantly, is causing her loved ones to worry about her. Let's not forget that not only Syaoran, but also Yukito, Touya, Fujitaka, Tomoyo, Eriol & his family have all been watching her situation in apprehension, each of them making decisions and moving discretely in a direction they felt was right (and admittedly, not all instances were so).

Sakura can somehow feel all of that, she can feel that it's related to something she still hasn't realized about herself. This tends to be forgotten because it happens in a relatively early part of the plot, but notice how this is the same problem Kaito suffers from. A quite stunted ability to understand oneself. Sakura and Kaito definitely have lots in common, when it comes to this specific part of themselves. Keep this in mind, because it'll be relevant later.

And then, the situation worsens.

Sakura's dreams start to terrify her, because they begin to show Syaoran's face under the cloak of the mysterious figure who's scaring her in her dreams. An apparent truth she cannot accept, she won't accept, even though she's still unsure about what exactly these dreams she's having are. Despite her boyfriend has been acting shady for long time, she decides to trust him and wait for him to talk to her about all the stuff he's holding inside, instead of putting him through the wringer. This also means, though, that Sakura will keep all her fears to herself, eventually bottling up.

Furthermore, Kaito starts to rewind time to fix a situation without a way out (in chapter 28, Akiho was on the verge of going berserk completely and unleash the artifact), creating an additional sense of confusion when Sakura can feel that her finger is numb due to strain, but she can't understand why (she had fought Kaito's time magic unconsciously). Whenever Kaito will rewind time, even later on, Sakura's magical sixth sense will try to wake her consciousness up more and more, giving her these vibes of "deja vu" or making her act in an apparently inexplicable way.

In the first part of Clear Card, Sakura sometimes literally looks like a soul wandering about in confusion, dragged by the events.

I wish to point out that this is not a flaw in the characterization, it is a precise design by CLAMP. Sakura IS, in this part of the story, confused and lost, overwhelmed by the events. She has no idea how to approach this matter other than "treating the symptoms" as they come. This happens because she's still, surprisingly, quite reluctant to embrace a fundamental part of herself: her innate magic power, which expresses itself mainly through her intuition. But we'll gradually get there.

Around chapter 30, before the big realization, Sakura's situation reached a point where:

- her Sakura Cards unexpectedly became blank; - almost everyday (sometimes multiple times a day) there's a new incident that she secures into new transparent Cards; - she constantly sees ominous dreams (in scattered order) with a cloaked figure acting in a questionable way and a scary dragon, and at some point she starts seeing her boyfriend under that cloak; - her boyfriend acts shady, Eriol doesn't reply to her messages; - there's a general feeling of "something is not right" with her magic and some stuff starts to not make sense to her (because Kaito rewinds time)

It is at this point that Sakura finally moves one (giant) step forward and connects all the "puzzle pieces" she collected (particularly, how much more "obvious" the creation of a Card became) and understands that she's been the one causing subconsciously each and every single incident that lead to the creation of a new transparent Card.

"I'm Angry At Myself"

And with Syaoran finally coming clean with her (because at that point he had no reason to keep things hidden anymore, as the thing he was trying to delay ultimately happened - and believe me, I'm sure he partly felt relieved to not need to lie anymore, as that took quite a toll on him too), Sakura can at last give an explanation to at least a part of the things that are happening. And she finally realizes that the doubt that was tormenting her was true: she DID, in fact, not understand something very important about herself, she didn't realize that it was her own power going out of control and that all the incidents that happened bore "her magic signature", so to speak. She failed to "tune in" with her magic.

For the first time ever, Sakura expresses anger at herself.

She will direct that anger (to a lesser extent) to Syaoran too, but I'll tackle that in a separate post.

This is a moment of deep reflection and regrets for Sakura: the poor understanding of herself, the poor "communication" between her heart and her magic powers brought to a situation where her most beloved person was putting himself in danger in order to protect her, while trying to not make things escalate. This is a very sensitive, beautiful and important moment, steeped in conflicting and complex feelings (and remember, Sakura is just a pre-teen. It is normal for a pre-teen like her to not understand herself, but there's just one tiny detail: she's not a common pre-teen, due to her natural gift, and she needs to take that into account). Eventually Sakura calms down, and after creating Rewind, her resolute face while hugging tightly Syaoran suggests that from now on she'll face this matter from another, more courageous and determined perspective.

Or at least, these were her good intentions. Because unfortunately, insecurities are hard to eradicate and in the central part of the story it's shocking to realize how far longer Sakura will insist in shutting away her emotions and refusing to listen to her heart (and intuition) fully.

"It's Just My Imagination"

Part of Sakura's anxiety might have been sedated with the revelation that the Clear Cards are produced by the girl herself, but unfortunately the true core of her problems was not solved at all and will only surface more clearly in the next 20 chapters.

Sakura actively starts having "premonitory bad feelings" when she sees Akiho in volume 7 chapter 34, a bad feeling that she does check with Syaoran, but quickly dismisses as "well, it's just my imagination". This will basically be one of the major problems preventing her from reaching the complete control of her magic. Sakura, knowing her magic potential, should've given way more credit to her sixth sense, but her anxiety, her insecurity and her crippled connection to her innate gift still pushes her to dismiss these "signs" as nothing really important or true. Timely as hell, a few hours later something bad will indeed happen to Akiho, where she completely loses consciousness for the first time and the clan/Association actively starts to absorb Sakura's power through the artifact implanted in Akiho. All of this was caused by the high concentration of magic that "triggered" Akiho's artifact (and here I have to sarcastically "applaud" Kaito, just like Syaoran he's another one who does stuff before thinking through, ultimately worsening the problem).

Once trapped in Akiho's artifact, thanks to her power Sakura can see the most horrifying glimpse of Akiho's past, when she was turned into a magic artifact, by living it on her own skin. And even though Kaito is forced to rewind time once again to save the situation, erasing these memories from Sakura's head, her heart (which is tightly connected to her magical sixth sense - I'd daresay her heart is straight up the source of her magic) DOES REMEMBER, pushing Sakura to act in an apparently irrational way, crying and hugging Akiho tight in empathy. Sakura is particularly shaken by this feeling, still in pain even hours later, but once again she doesn't understand where it comes from. However, she does express with Syaoran an intention to talk to him about it once she's able to put it into words, and in the meantime do her best with all the rest. At least, there's an intention to understand better this part of herself, but it's still soon to see actual results.

Aaand CLAMP really seem to be wanting to test Sakura in this arc, because at this point of the plot, they add the electrocution spell. 😅 No one seems to understand who caused it (it's not Sakura, nor Kaito, but now we know it was none other than Yelan!!) and Sakura's anxiety increases once again. The fact only Syaoran gets affected by it inevitably reignites the doubts in her mind, unwittingly reminded of that terrifying dream of Cloaked Syaoran she keeps seeing...but she stubbornly keeps telling herself "no, it's not like that, it's just a dream". It's undeniable that this situation where she cannot understand her foretelling dreams yet, and the way they show her scattered hints because her power is out of control, has surely contributed to Sakura's insecurity when it comes to trust her own intuition.

Her power is so out of control at this point, that even when Kaito shrinks her and throws her in a hole carved into a tree (landing in a "world" created with magic where he hopes she'll create the right Card) her dreams take over again (it's apparent by the "shaaan" sound and how everything turns suddenly pitch black, a common background of her dreams), showing her Akiho in the dress she was wearing when she was turned into an artifact and, inevitably, Sakura's biggest fear, "Cloaked Syaoran". Pay attention because these visions she's getting here thanks to her power match what will happen later on: what the talking flowers tell her here will turn out to be the beginning of the lyrics of the main theme of the "Alice in Clockland" play. This vision of Cloaked Syaoran seemingly "about to do something" to Akiho horrifies Sakura to the point of screaming in terror and creating one of the most unsettling Cards, "Break". It is after this very scary moment that Sakura starts to wonder very specifically for what purpose she is creating all these Cards. The purpose is actually more than one, but she definitely posed herself THE RIGHT question, as this brings her one step closer to the core of the problem and eventually embracing her own magic abilities.

Then, between chapters 43 and 45 we finally start to see some changes in Sakura: surprisingly, she begins to listen more to her sixth sense, first catching Yukito red-handed while activating a newly acquired magic, and then wondering about a strange painful feeling in her chest when her father tells her that lately she and Akiho became even more similar. We were all lead to believe that this was the foreshadowing of Akiho taking her place (cause everything in the plot at this point deceivingly hints at Kaito wanting to switch them), but she actually was getting foreshadowings of the "rewritten world", where Sakura would genuinely feel wrecked to know that someone important to Akiho was missing, precisely when Akiho would've become part of her family as her twin. In fact, in chapter 45, before falling completely asleep, she hears again the ominous "you won't be able to come back" (the Association's threat to Kaito), wondering WHO wouldn't be able to come back - somehow, Sakura knows that it's not directed at her.

"Just Tell me Honestly How You Feel"

And then, we reach another moment that I consider pivotal for Sakura's growth during this Clear Card Arc. The moment when she's on the verge of breaking down and finally lets all her feelings out.

Her anxiety over the dream with the Cloaked Figure reached the highest peak, so much that she finally manifests a Card, Mirage, that challenges her precisely with that appearance. While Sakura battles that Card (which at the moment she still believes it's an actual person), she seems resoluted to get to the bottom of this story, and to pull down that hood to know the truth. You can really feel that she's so done with all this psychological torture. The fact the real Syaoran appears right at that moment and she finds out the person she saw was just a Card is partly a relief for her, but also throws Sakura again in despair because who the hell is that person in the dream, then??

Syaoran, as the good and attentive boyfriend he is, can just feel that Sakura is stressing over something, so he brings her to his home to help her calming down. And to her umpteenth attempt at sweeping her negative emotions under the carpet, beating around the bush commenting over the tea with a fake smile, he cuts immediately her bullshit and just tells her : "You don't need to force yourself. Just tell me how you feel right now". When she hears that she's allowed to speak out her emotions with honesty, Sakura wears on her face one of the most heartbreaking expressions of the entire manga. She's literally about to break down in tears of exhaustion, as you can see it above. ☝️ Listening to her, gradually, Syaoran encourages Sakura to get out all that's been torturing her lately, particularly about the dream with the Cloaked Figure. It is a very difficult moment for her, because she has to relive the dream, and expose in front of him all the fears and doubts that were trying to tamper with her trust in him. Courageously, she goes through with it, even though her denial ("it's just a dream!") is so strong that she ends up creating another Card: "Dreaming". Sakura at first seems relieved to see the Card, in the hope that everything she saw was indeed a mere messed up dream and nothing else (see? she's again self-sabotaging her relationship with her magic) but Syaoran with his frankness is quick to bring her feet on the ground: the kanji on the Card show "yumemi", and the word can also indicate a "foretelling dream".

Although Sakura seems disheartened at first, her next dream with the Cloaked Figure is much more relaxed, so much that even the dragon doesn't particularly scare her anymore: our girl's intuition makes her correctly feel a sense of loneliness in this dream, which she attributes to the hooded figure, not realizing that it was more likely coming from the dragon itself (aka, Kaito). After all, in chapter 72, Lilie will confirm that her presence ended up distracting her from the one "character" she should've paid all of her attention to. Her intuition, despite being misattributed, ended up having a positive effect through the synchronization with Akiho: the girl will wake up with the same feeling of discomfort of her friend, and as if guided by hitsuzen, she will head to the garden where she'll find a sickly Kaito staring at the moon - most likely feeling the loneliness Sakura perceived in her dream. I like to think that in this scene of chapter 48, Sakura subconsciously helped Akiho comforting Kaito, by waking her up with the unresting feeling, precisely when Kaito needed it the most. Still not completely embraced her magical sixth sense yet, but a significant improvement.

The road between chapter 48 and chapter 52 is paved with lots of struggles, as the Mirror Sakura Card gets stolen by Kaito, Sakura runs the risk of being absorbed into Akiho's artifact again, she meets Momo for the first time and she's even given a hint about Kaito's plan (or what Momo thought was his plan, as he had benignly lied to her about that), but almost all of that gets rewound and erased when Kaito intervenes. Moreover, despite not remembering anything consciously, Sakura is left with a sense of unhappiness when she looks at her home, a remnant of her brief journey in the world of Momo's book which straight up threw her into despair, showing her what her life would be if everyone forgot about her. She also finds once again a Card produced out of nowhere, "Time": I'm convinced she produced this Card because her conscience was awake while Momo and Kaito talked in stopped time, and their conversation triggered her sixth sense to produce Time as a result. Needless to say, all of this worsens her state of mind once again, which leads to the other pivotal, and finally resolutive, scene of chapter 52.

Never Avert Your Eyes From Your Heart

We finally get to what I consider THE scene, the one that will definitively shake Sakura from her deadlock, from the anxiety that stunted her connection with her innate gift and her deepest emotions. And the one who helps her overcoming all her fears is, of course, the love of her life - with a honorable mention for none other than his mother Yelan!!

Chapter 52 got a very, very special place in my heart, because it's basically one giant parallel between SyaoSaku and YunaAki. The two pairings experience similar situations, but the response from one side of each pairing is quite different. Let's remind you for a moment of the part earlier in this post when I told you that Kaito and Sakura, for most of Clear Card, surprisingly have one thing in common: they don't seem to understand themselves well enough, and both have a tendency to look away from feelings that cause unrest to their hearts - anxiety for Sakura, love for Kaito.

Syaoran, always attentive and observant towards his girlfriend, notices immediately that Sakura is suffering, as soon as he sees her at school. Despite being unable to touch her to comfort her, he offers all of himself to support and listen to her concerns. Sakura is visibly and pleasantly surprised of how the boy could read behind her mask, that usual contrived smile with which she tries to dissimulate her emotions and not make him worry. A bad habit she's consolidated lately, but that Syaoran is gently determined to dismantle. After opening up with him (and this is where Sakura differs from Kaito - by having an established relationship made of love and trust with Syaoran, Sakura lowers her walls with him), she falls once again into the usual trap of "but maybe it's just my imagination" and I love to see how Syaoran is her anchor to the ground, making her see the concreteness of this situation: he straight up tells her "you produced a Card out of it, it cannot be 'just your imagination'. " And then, like a precious family gift, he passes on to her the priceless words of wisdom of his mother Yelan, an advice that not only Sakura, but also the other "lost soul" of the other paralleling pairing should listen to:

"People with magical power should never ignore the turmoil and stirring in their hearts, the so-called 'intuition'. And it’s not limited to people with magical powers. People should never avert their eyes from the changes in their heart."

This is a turning point for Sakura. These words seem to positively "break" something inside of her, showing her the correct path to follow. CLAMP beautifully portray this process of "embracing and assimilating" the words she's just heard, by making her place her hand over her heart. I love when they do that (they used the same visual when Akiho heard Kaito's true name, and 'wrote it' on the most important page of the book of her life). Sakura is truly grateful for the words Syaoran relayed to her, precisely what she needed to get out of her impasse with her feelings and magic. She knows she can always count on the support of her soulmate even in the darkest moments, and she's thankful for having him in her life.

From this moment onwards, Sakura will experience several instances where her magical premonitory senses give her signals through the "stirring" of her heart. Contrarily to before, she starts to actively take them seriously, listening, without dismissing them as the delirium of an anxious little girl. This allows her to activate the Siege Card in the fraction of a second, successfully shielding herself from Kaito's time magic, making her the first person ever who achieved that. This also leads her to effectively remember that she saw Kaito using magic, even when time was rewound by him, and contact immediately Syaoran to talk about it, planning how to move from that moment onwards. A little relapse on her bad habit is immediately dispelled by Syaoran, and our girl even goes as far as saying "there's something inside Akiho", even though she's not sure exactly why she's feeling that way. But it's an intuition she's having and she decides to not dismiss it anymore, with everyone trusting and supporting her in that direction. By listening more and better to what her heart tells her, Sakura also decides to not confront Akiho about Kaito and his magic, because she's well aware of the feelings Akiho got for Kaito and she doesn't want to potentially disrupt their relationship. So, she decides to wait for her friend to talk about it first.

Thanks to this better understanding of her own intuition, she also says in chapter 57 that she wants to meet the guardian of the book "Alice in Clockland" once more, despite not remembering if and when she's met her before. This also ultimately leads her to accept the role of Alice in the upcoming play scripted by her friend Naoko, because her sixth sense tells her that it's inevitable for her to do so. It's important to emphasize how the other characters support and encourage her to listen to her innate gift, at this point, without trampling over her self-determination like they did before.

It is a moment of big growth and character development for everyone.

The Ultimate Growth: Finding a Meaning and a Purpose

What happens afterwards is history: the fateful "Alice in Clockland" play unfolds, and Kaito completes his plan to push Sakura to create the Card he needs, exchanging his magic artifact (the watch) with Akiho's one (the book), in addition to activating the forbidden magic to rewrite the memories of everyone, to fit Akiho as part of Sakura's family.

Sakura's intuition will be crucial to wake her true self up while in Clockland, succeeding in beating Kaito's magic multiple times, till Syaoran comes in and gives the "final blow", cutting off the spell definitively.

And even when everything seems lost because Kaito successfully activated the fobidden magic, changing their memories and erasing himself from their existence, Sakura's magic and sixth sense keep making her say things she either already said or heard before in the "unrewritten world". Not only that, but even after meeting Lilie in a dream and forgetting her face (due to the strong influence of the forbidden spell), bit and pieces of that conversation keep coming back to her, and she listens dutifully to every single one of these "feelings". Kaito might have overridden part of their memories (only the ones concerning him, Akiho and the events connected to the creation of the Cards), but the experience, feelings and personal growth of each character were left untouched, that's why the chemistry between Sakura and Syaoran is the same as before the play started, but also Sakura's personal relationship with her magic is far better than before (an information that might have seemed random and unimportant is that now Sakura summons Mirror even just to chat, an indication of her completely changed perspective on her magic).

Now that Sakura finally embraced her magical power, all that's left for her is to find a true purpose for it.

A question echoes in my mind, "What am I creating these Cards for?". Sakura poses herself this question halfway through the story, and she finds the answer to it precisely at the end of the journey.

Her powerful magic intuition, combined with her immense empathy, leads her to realize that somebody is missing from their reality, and that person is the one Akiho loves. At this point Sakura is unstoppable: she wants to listen to the voice in her heart that's screaming "Go and help them!! Give the true happiness back to Akiho!", and everyone can only follow her lead as she assertively puts into practice what her heart is telling her to do.

Sakura in this final part of the story shines brighter than ever. She's more assertive and self-confident than ever. All of this is because there's something she strongly wants to do with her innate gift, as Eriol unequivocally says in chapter 75: her power grows exponentially again, but this time it's not out of her control - it is Sakura herself who's voluntarily boosting it, thanks to her strong wish. And that allows her to control it and use it exactly as she wants.

In chapter 79 her growth reaches the highest peak, by handling the resolution of Akiho and Kaito's personal problems in an admirable way (she steps aside for a moment to give Akiho all the agency she needed), but also finding herself in front of an uncomfortable dilemma, which leads her to an unavoidable reality: Sakura quickly understands that she cannot be on everyone's side and there are lines to be drawn at some point. She can't be a pure and oblivious girl forever. She needs to grow up. There are choices to be made, especially when dealing with real evil people.

And Sakura choses to go on with the people she loves, even if that means she has to "stain" her "moral record" a little bit.

Empowered by this strong wish to fix the situation, she literally gives life to a miracle, protecting her dear friend and her beloved from the grasp of their abusers, simultanously giving everyone their true memories back. The effort exerts her greatly, but what she achieved is by far the most important thing she's ever done with her magic power till now: she helped two dear people lost in a life-and-death situation. Her magical growth went along with her personal, mental one.

This is also the reason why the accusations of "the other magicians should've trained her" end up being in vain: Sakura's problem with her powers was mainly on a personal level, not on a technical one. This was a journey she had to mainly walk by herself, finding the right balance and confidence in her abilities, deep down in her heart.

No one could've done that for her.

Merely training the practical aspect of it would've just worsened the situation, because Sakura wouldn't have been truly "in it" with her heart and mind. She needed to go through this process of growth, before reaching this stage of self-awareness in relation to her magic powers. I truly feel this is the reason why CLAMP made certain choices inside this story. Again, as I always say, a good part of Cardcaptor Sakura does revolve around magic, but the main focus and linchpin of this story is and always will be the main character's heart, her growth and the interpersonal relationships with her loved ones.

This makes Clear Card Arc, in my opinion, a worthy sequel and a full-fledged part of the Cardcaptor Sakura series. I think those who decide to skip it or read it with a superficial approach miss a journey of tremendous growth for our beloved protagonist.

So much for those who kept saying "This is not Sakura's story".

How can all that ☝️ NOT be Sakura's story?

I'll let you judge. 😊

Extra: The Significance of the Clear Cards

I want to digress for a moment about a thorny topic: the significance of the Clear Cards in this story.

Sakura isn't always completely passive towards the events happening around her, but wonders several times during the story why all those Cards are manifesting like that. While the first and easiest answer is of course "because her powers are going out of control" (and this is something Momo herself questions Sakura about in chapter 50), it becomes apparent at some point that the more the story goes on, the more the Cards that are created by her are particularly relevant and connected to the events that will happen in the final part of the story.

I know this is a sore spot for many who complain about not understanding the purpose of the Clear cards. It's because people tend to compare this set of Cards with the ones Sakura captured previously. That's not the right way to look at them, because their origin and purpose are different and change throughout the story. Forget about the Sakura Cards, even though so many of these "Clear Cards" (which are never called so, not even once, in the story itself, but just "new cards" or "transparent cards") might look so similar in purpose to the previous ones.

First of all, the Clear Cards are an outlet for Sakura to vent in a healthy way her power in excess. Power that if kept inside, untapped and confined in her body, might have unpredictable harmful effects on her (<- probably the grief Yelan foresaw). God bless the Clear Cards for existing and allowing Sakura to vent out these bouts of uncontrolled power in a relatively safe way.

The Cards that Sakura produces in the beginning are sometimes reminiscing of the Sakura Cards, because her power manifests itself basing on Sakura's experiences, feelings, thoughts and wishes. The Sakura Cards are an important part of her life (before Syaoran took them, she literally acted like their "mom", keeping them alive with her power) so it's only normal that the first base for some of these new Cards would be a magic tool that she already knows. In this sense, it becomes easier to understand why many of the "captures" seem so easy, way too easy compared to what a reader would expect from a sequel: the goal of the capture here isn't to make her power and experience in capturing cards grow. She already had 2 arcs to do all of that. The capture of the Cards in this third arc becomes something new and unexpected: a "damage control" of a regrettable situation with Sakura's powers, while she learns to dominate them and enter into harmony with her supernatural abilities. The growth Sakura needs here is mainly a mental one. Performing her magical power aimlessly without having a true connection with it and a true understanding will only exacerbate the problem. This is the reason why, despite having a "capture" element, Clear Card derails from the previous arcs in the purpose of the capture. It's a pity that an element that should've brought freshness to the plot was in many cases received as an actual flaw.

In the beginning, as Sakura's power is completely out of her control, some Cards might look completely random too - they don't look based on Cards, thoughts or wishes (like Appear, Reflect, Action, etc.). But pay attention, because the more the story goes on, the more the Cards begin to become particularly specific to something that shook Sakura's heart in that moment, or referencing events/feelings that will become pivotal to the events Sakura will experience later. Especially regarding Kaito's plan. Many of the later Cards Sakura produces are a direct reflection of the feelings and wishes that Kaito infused in the activation of the forbidden magic, with the creation of "the story for Akiho", the one he wanted to absolutely have a happy ending for. Cards like Repair, Promise, Choice, Kindness, True and False, Synchronization, Rewind....many of them didn't even get to express their magical abilities in a "conventional way" (everyone expected to see Sakura literally activating them like she does with all the others), but it's just because at that point the Cards Sakura is producing are born following her premonitory intuition: thanks to the hints/speeches that those Cards give her in Clockland, Sakura little by little regains consciousness of her true self (it's a pity that many English readers will never realize all the times Sakura was about to "wake up" in Clockland, because the translation didn't respect the change in fonts of the JP text). Sakura wasn't supposed to "use" them in a conventional way (how do you "use" Kindness? You force people to be "kind"? 🤨 and what about Choice??), she was supposed to listen to them and let them guide her towards the truth. This is also the reason why all of these Cards bear the face of her loved ones. Think of them as tarots. Which is, incidentally, another use of the original Clow/Sakura Cards. I am basically sure of this interpretation because the kanji of some of those Cards I mentioned above are brought up during the climax: particularly when Akiho talks to Kaito in chapter 78, she uses two specific verbs, referring to Kindness (慈愛 - a kind of gentle and tender love) when she describes the love and support her family gives her in this rewritten world, and to Choice (選択) when she questions Kaito about his choice to disappear completely from her life. So to summarize, the last Cards Sakura produced "accidentally" weren't accidental at all, but were actually specifically produced by her power in reference to Kaito's plan, to help her finding the way out to a dire situation. This represents a very important indicator in the plot: at that stage of the story, Sakura started to listen more and more to her intuition and her sixth sense, finally quitting her bad habit of downplaying it ("maybe it's just me") but actually giving it credit and taking it seriously, trusting her instinct to lead her in the right direction. And this was, of course, all thanks to the speech Syaoran gave her back in chapter 52. It is also the case of the Rewind Card, which Sakura will ultimately understand the purpose of on her own, at the very end of the series. That's the moment where everything will become clear and make sense to her: "This Card, too...I created it precisely for this moment". The Clear Cards ultimately became the embodiment of her foretelling powers. Which then led to the birth of the first two consciously created Cards, Blank & Remind, which will become so important in the climax.

If we ever get a new arc in the next years, we'll certainly deal with a more mature Sakura, who's more in sync with her magical powers 🩷.

[ashensgrotto]

Hey I was reading your yandere Azul fanfic for like the 50th time and I had this idea for a request:

Can you do the other overblot boys in similar situations?

Also when are we going to have Azul's redemption arc when we get trapped in Scariba?

Have a lovely day/night/morning/afternoon

Why, greetings my dear anon! I’m happy that you enjoyed the ‘Poor Unfortunate Souls’ to read it that many times - and I apologized that I haven’t been able to get started on the Scarbia segment yet (between that and Raison D’être plus work & other stories… and GloMas, I really need to get my priorities straight seriously -_-). However, I do intend on working on it as soon as I can so I can get it out sometime this month or in December - I mean, I think that would be the most logical since that one takes place during holiday break, right?

Now, for your request - I hope head cannons are alright for the time being. I’ll try to come back to them and do short stories for each of them that follows the same concept design as “Am I Feeling Love?” - which is the first installment of the Yandere!Azul series. I'm also going to divide this into two parts - about halfway through I realized I hadn't posted anything in a while and thus, I want to make it up to all of you for not writing or posting anything for some time.

Part 1 (Here) will feature Riddle Rosehearts, Leona Kingscholar, and Jamil Viper

Part 2 (Here) will feature Vil Schoenheit, Idia Shroud, and Malleus Draconia

***

Riddle Rosehearts:

Yandere Riddle is more of the controlling type - that much is certain. While during his youth, he came across a story about ‘soulmates’ - and the idea of someone made for him took root like a weed in the rose garden. Although his mother ordered for him to dismiss the idea as nothing but a fairytale, Riddle could not push the idea away and it slowly became a source of comfort and drive - if he could stand out both in academics and athletics, surely his soulmate would recognize him as their other half. (There really was no way for him to search for his other half while trapped under his mother’s unwavering gaze, especially after the tart incident.) 

When he saw you in the mirror chamber for the first time many years later, he was awestruck by your grace and beauty, reminding him of how the queen of heart once was long ago… the problem was your impeccable timing. You had the worst sense of direction as well as time - quite literally to the point that he had to give you several (and I mean like five to ten) different watches to have on your person so you wouldn’t run late for your scheduled tea time and after school lessons with him (which he made a priority to keep an eye on your movements, especially with the way you hang around the ADuo).

He likes that you have a favorite tea flavor, but hates that you drink it. All. The. Time. (“There are other teas, you know?” he tells you softly, trying to reign in his urge to yell at you for drinking your tea when you should be drinking the green tea with honey that is required following a lesson with him.)

He recognizes you for your hard work - often watching you from the shadows when time permits as you paint the roses red, care for the hedgehogs, feed the flamingos in that pink attire he provided for you, and assist with the dorm’s random tea party celebrations. Riddle also enjoys your conversations - even though he would like it better if you opened your mouth and stopped speaking so quietly (“Look up, speak nicely. AND DON’T TWIDDLE YOUR FINGERS! Turn out your toes, curtsy, open your mouth a little wider and always say, ‘Yes, Housewarden Riddle.’" He’s constantly reminding you.)

The one thing he can not stand though: your friendship with Duece and Ace and the furball menace. He has added a new rule to the roster: ‘Rule #687: (Y/N) is to always be supervised by either Trey Clover or Cater Diamond when not in the presence of the housewarden.’ (It’s for your wellbeing, after all. Trey and Cater are much more reliable than those two annoying freshmen and fire-breathing direbeast.)

However, his real breaking point is when you side with Ace and Duece following the ‘collaring’. He wouldn’t have dreamed in a million years that you would’ve sided with them over him. He was only trying to look out for your best interests… the best interests of the dorm… He was supposed to be the one…

Leona Kingscholar:

Yandere Leona is more of the… dependent type. During his youth, one lazy afternoon, his older brother was talking to him about how he read in his studies about a certain smell that would allow him to know if his soulmate was nearby. Leona had at first shrugged it off, not really caring - after all, he wasn’t going to be king… why should he worry about finding the right one? He didn’t need annoying little brats running circles around him like his nephew did already… what a pain.

That changed the moment you entered the mirror chamber. Your scent wafted through the air and tickled Leona’s nose like a call of a hornbill to its mate. Leona could feel a need rising within him - a sudden need to protect and lay claim to you as his. And when the mirror turned you away, Ruggie was surprised when he stepped forward, offering a place to stay in Savanclaw.

It was no surprise to anyone that Leona decided to make you his personal gopher (although he knew that he couldn’t rely on you 24/7 as you weren’t allowed to attend the school - not that he cared much anyway for classes). During practice, you would bring water and snacks - the housewarden always scruffing the top of your head and messing your hair up, offering a cheeky grin that no one had seen before. In the dorm, you would sit with him and look over his homework and studies - Ruggie nearby to help you understand what was being taught, considering that this was something far beyond your understanding - especially since you had no magic ability either.

Speaking of which, Ruggie was the only other person - besides Leona - that was allowed to get close to you. Any other student that attempted to get within a foot of you would suffer under Leona’s frightening stare before choking on ‘King’s Roar’ until they begged for mercy when you weren’t around.

When the spelldrive tournament came up - and you unknowingly found out about the plan to hurt another student - you confronted Leona about it. Leona tried to play innocent - pretending not to know what you were talking about, Ruggie assisting with the typically ‘innocent until guilty’ look that he often gave you.

His last straw was when you and Jack warned the others of Savanaclaw's plan - the housewarden of Heartslabyul and his students effectively coming to your aid. Leona thought he could trust you… that you would respect him and love him as the king he was supposed to be…

Jamil Viper

Jamil is your typical stalker type - wanting to know about your every move, it’s ingrained in him after all. During his youth, he - along with the other servants of the Al-Asim home - would watch over the young masters as they grew up, one eye always on the lookout for danger that could befall the family. Kalim - as sweet and carefree as he was - would often spend time in Jamil’s presence, chewing his ear off with stories and such, Jamil often ignoring what he said or taking everything with a grain of salt. However - the story of the Scalding Sands princess and the thief never completely left his mind. Legends stated that the two were fated to be together - and the land had been prosperous during their reign. Jamil would often turn the story over in his mind a handful of times, but tsk at the idea of soulmates. It was only a fairy tale… right?

That changed the moment he saw you in the mirror chamber - your eyes wide by everything that was different and strange to you. If Jamil was honest, he thought back to the story of the desert princess and the thief right then and there - he imagined himself as the thief and you as the princess, and the longing that filled him had to be the same as it was for the thief when he had seen the princess’ beauty for the first time. It was easy to persuade Kalim to let you stay in Scarabia, using ‘Snake Whisper’ to charm him into allowing the headmaster for you to stay. Once within the safe confines of the dorm, Jamil offered for you to assist him with taking care of Kalim (“Trust me, my little desert flower,” he tells you, “things aren’t always as they seem. You will get what’s coming to you.”)

Speaking of which - like Azul’s pet name of ‘Angelfish,’ Jamil refers to you as ‘Desert Flower.’ When you asked why that was, Jamil would cough and say something about how you reminded him of the flowers back in the Scalding Sands - particularly the Desert Hyacinth (which is a parasitic plant, oddly enough).

Regardless, Jamil enjoys spending time with you - when not chasing Kalim around. In the evenings, when the dorm is asleep, he finds the evenings quite relaxing in your presence; playing Mancala on the carpeted flooring after having his feet rubbed in oil to alleviate the tension and pain from all the hard work he did. When he asks if there’s anything he can do for you in return, you simply smile and shake your head, explaining how you’re thankful for his kindness and generosity for keeping you company in the late evenings when you both know he should be getting rest.

However, as the holiday season approaches and the rest of the school heads home for the holidays, Jamil notices your disappearance one night - making him frantic to know where you had disappeared to. That fear turns into seething rage when you return with an octopus and two eels in tow - Jamil demanding to know what the meaning of this is. Out of the goodness of your heart, you explain that you sought help for him and Kalim - especially with Kalim’s strange mood swings making you more and more nervous with each passing day. The presence of the scheming octomer and his twin pals makes Jamil more on edge than ever - watching from the shadows as you and Kalim turn to your new allies. It would seem… desperate times call for desperate measures.

The look on your face when it’s revealed that he was the one behind the changes in Kalim’s behavior was enough to shatter Jamil’s heart into a thousand pieces - like a glass lamp crushed under the weight of stone. The fear… the anger… the resentment towards Kalim has become centerfold - but Jamil could never hate you… his little desert flower. If only he was headwarden… if he was in charge… none of this would have happened… it was all Kalim’s fault, after all…

[sunsents]

(I read the tono fic and im literally on my knees for this man rn he’s looks yummy☹️) we need a pt 2 on that beetie, but what if it was him being so rough and aggressive we dont get to see that, him manhandling and corrupting/degrading them whew Lord 🤭

I had the time of my life while writing this because I'm a slut and I want this man to do these exact things to me with no regards to my basic needs. <3 I couldn't really incorporate the corruption I think? I didn't really know how to build up to it 😟 so I'mma practice with my jakey poo, look out for an upcoming drabble

Tonowari - Punishment (M)

read part 1 here

➵ summary: Little plot and pure smut. After your escapade with Tonowari, his neglect tugs at your heartstring. Of course, the Olo'Eyktan is here to soothe your ache and remind you who you belong to.

➵ pairing: tonowari x fem!reader (no use of y/n)

➵ word count: 5.6k (I might have gotten a little carried away with this)

➵ warnings: severe degradation kink/probably age gap/rough ass sex/corruption/dirty talk/cursing/aggression/jealous tonowari/spanking/nudity/sexual intercourse/edging/descriptions of body parts /finger fucking/humping/kissing...and much more I can't remember atm. this work is purely nsfw and not suitable for minors, if you're under the age of 18, DNI

DON’T REPOST MY WORK

➵ vocabulary

syulang - flower

tiyawn - love

yomyo lerik - leaf plate

yawne - beloved

You spend the next few days in bed due to a sore back.

Most would think you pulled something while fishing in the early hours of the morning. Most are wrong, however, as they didn't know about your secret rendezvous with the Olo'eyktan. 

But you couldn't forget. 

How he fucked into your cunt with his thick cock, buried to the hilt and throbbing inside your sensitive walls. How he sat you down on his warm, plush thighs, coaxed your body to press against his chest with sweet whispers and completely engulfed you in his dizzying presence. He'd ask you to hold on tight as he stretched you open - because he knew you could take it. You would take anything he gave you with needy whines and a firm grip that would engrave his touch into your body. 

"You’ve never been touched, have you?" he had asked you, smoothing a hand down your hair, sweetly kissing your temple, slowly pulling you down into a pleasure-ridden world that consisted of nothing but sweaty bodies and heated pants.

As he kissed you tenderly, his hips humped into you like a nantang in heat. "Take it," he would tell you, muffling your mouth with his palm while letting out grunts of pleasure. 

And when he stretched you out specifically to his liking, specifically to be used only by his cock, he was barely satisfied.  "You fit me perfectly now, syulang." was his last whisper before you broke completely, babbling and drooling on his cock with your sopping heat. The rest is a blur, being fucked senseless while he bounced you on his thighs.

It's only when you hear a thump that you snap out of your gaze. "Oh!" you gasp, fishing around the water to find your blade. Your cheeks are flushed because you can feel them, and it's embarrassing enough for you to run a hand over them after dipping your fingers into cold water. You curse under your breath - of course, you can’t reach the blade, because, of course, Eywa is never on your side when it comes to your stubborn crush on Tonowari.

The fish you were cleaning is long forgotten, dropped in your wooden plate to be picked up after you get your bearings straight. The communal fire is bursting with warmth as children dance around and families group to share their food. Though, you’re still quite distant from the shared space. You had opted to get a piece of mind away from all the activity - surely not because you were avoiding the clan Olo’Eyktan. 

It's been exactly a week since you saw Tonowari, and the memories never cease to replay. You clear your throat even though nothing is lodged in it. Nonetheless, you smooth a hand down your hair just like he had done, quickly rinse your fingers in the water again, pull out an old yet sharp blade then continue your filet. 

You hadn’t seen the man all week, and all of a sudden he was commanding your attention by sending you fleeting looks, passing by your frame a little too closely, and gazing into your soul while you tried to enjoy your food in peace. The nerve.

Again, Eywa is barely on your side.

"Need some help?" 

The deep treble of his voice causes you to flinch. Tonowari stands tall in his gorgeous glory with his hands on his hips, adorning hunting garments and his hair tied back in a bun. You see the eclipse constellation on his skin, stretching beautifully over his lithe muscles. A band decorates his firm pecs and enhances his incredibly slim waist that you crave to run your fingers over. His legs stand strong, supporting his mouth-watering frame. You physically feel his authority, trickling down his body and slapping your face. 

You hold back a laugh at the thought - his presence was intense. The thought helps to put your mind at ease, but the quick thumping of your heart commands your attention.

"If it's no trouble," you croak, desperately trying to ignore the lump in your throat. You fail, however, as your voice comes out in a deep rasp. You clear your throat and pat the space next to you. "Please, sit Olo'eyktan."

Tonowari smiles at you warmly before sitting down. You hand him a fish, which he gracefully accepts, then starts the rhythmic movement of his blade. He’s extremely quick in his work - mesmerized, you gawk at his skilled fingers.

With each passing flick, you wait for the man to address the tension between you - because someone has to, and you decide it won’t be you. No, not after he didn’t talk to you for a week, then suddenly plagued your peaceful dinner with his sensual touch and sultry gaze. Taking a deep breath to calm your traitorous heart, you patiently wait for his inquiry. 

One, the scales fly into the water as larger fish nip at them; was he not going to mention that he fucked you raw last week? Two, Tonowari grunts, blade slightly slipping from his wet hands; Eywa, the tension is burning at your skin. Three, you were choking, you could feel it. Your heart was betraying you as it thumped for the Olo'Eyktan.

Four, "So, are we not going to talk about it?" you snap.

Tonowari stills then jerks his beautiful large head (which was fitting to his beautiful large body) to you. "What is there to address?" he mutters, hand resting on his thigh.

"W-well," you clear your throat, suddenly losing all conduct. You're quick to sharpen your tone, "Last week, at your kelku..."

"Oh?”

You hear him swallow before you nod, and his stare darkens with an indecipherable disposition. "And why shall we address it?" he asks, tone rough to match yours.

You have no choice but to abandon your blade and the fish - Eywa bless its poor heart with the way you were fileting it with lust, anger, shame, and excitement all at once. Your ears fold against your head instinctively before you have the chance to control them. It was embarrassing being so clear with your feelings when Tonowari kept a straight face.

"Because," you start, avoiding his gaze. "Right, because..." 

Was he expecting you to tell him, in front of everyone in the clan? Of course, your backs were facing the distant chatter of the people as you sat on a far edge. You were blocked out from their view by a giant tapestry that dated back to the first moons, still, if someone was to peek their head out, they'd see you sitting together.

You shift closer to him, ignoring the thrumming of your heart, then whisper. "Because we did that." 

Even though you didn't say the word, you can't help but flush. It was just so vulgar, and it was the first time you had ever experienced anything so intimate and erotic. You were naive but weirdly enough, knew better. Your act of intimacy with Tonowari was reserved for mates, and you were certain Tonowari never asked to mate with you. 

He chuckles at your humility and your stomach churns. He makes you feel so belittled with his reaction - had your time together been mere seconds in his lust-filled life? The thought brings a pout to your lips before you straighten and manage a neutral expression. Though, Tonowari notices, and he's quick to tease.

"Ah, I see." his coy smile is critical as he speaks in a low, baritone voice. "Did fucking not satisfy you, girl? Is that it?" 

He shuffles close until his plush thigh bumps into yours and the heat of him hugs around your entire being. He’s barely touching you and your body reacts on instinct, craving for him to take you as his munxta. His muscular  arms are not helping your desires whatsoever, looking obscenely huge in contrast to yours. 

"You want me to fuck you nice and slow again? Or do you want me to be rough with you? Can you handle that, syulang?" he leans in, hand inching closer to your thigh. You gasp, unable to control your twitch.

It's too much - his burly frame, his thighs, his sweet whispers. You dart up to your feet, leaving behind a satisfied Tonowari. He looks almost proud at making you feel this embarrassed. Again, the nerve. 

"Olo'eyktan Tonowari, you are needed."

A warrior and good friend of Tonowari's, Zeir, stands tall with a yomyo lerik in his hand. He's chewing on fish as he waits expectantly for his Olo'eyktan.

Your heart hammers loud in your chest. You almost got caught.

If your embarrassment hadn't gotten the better of you, you'd be spread out before Tonowari with his head between your legs, and you’d do nothing to stop your Olo’Eyktan when Zeir, inevitably, encounters the view due to your cravings. 

Humiliation is all you feel as heat spreads through your body. You're red, and Zeir throws you a pointed look. "How sweet," he grins.

Tonowari's head snaps so fast to his friend that you feel obligated to follow his line of sight. Zeir is smiling at you, drinking in your frame because you can feel his eyes on your skin, poking and prodding. 

His gaze isn't unwanted per se, just a surprising development seeing as he never gave you this attention before. You're not complaining, rather, keening at the overwhelming attention you’re getting. It seems after years of curiosity, Eywa was on your side. The noise of complaint Tonowari lets out, however, tells you that Eywa is not on his side. It was delightful to see the roles reversed.

"Zeir, brother, what is so important that you interrupt us," he warns. 

Zeir takes a moment to think about what you assume is a well-strung answer that won't anger the Olo'eyktan. "The people are asking for you, is all." 

Tonowari nods but lingers for a moment longer than necessary. His eyes survey you as he stands up, then strides across the bouncy weaving strung across the open sea. "You," he looks at you, "we are not finished. Stay there."

You gulp, then nod obediently. The sudden change in his demeanor scares you. You didn't know the man enough to comment on his personality, but it was common knowledge that he rarely got angry. He was usually calm and collected, and when something, or someone, was testing his patience, he was calculative in his approach. Many instances where he had taken hunting parties and returned with nothing but fish skin due to the idiocy and naïveté of the young warriors proved this to you. It was almost comical how he listened to Rakxe and Vetsu bicker about who the mightiest fisherman in the clan is while seemingly catching no fish; hands tight, lip a straight line, yet voice surprisingly soft, as if he was explaining the concept of fishing and hunger to a small child. 

Tonowari leaves you alone with Zeir, a fact he forgot to consider in his haste to please the clan. You give Zeir a pointed look that screams, what in Eywa's name are you doing?

"Oh, don't look at me like that." he scoffs, rolling his eyes.

Your lips twitch. "Like what?"

"Like I've done something bad." he tells you, "You and I know both that your little crush will be in vain if you don't do anything."

Your jaw drops at his straightforwardness. "Well," you start, frustrated. "I was in the middle of doing something!"

"Yeah?" he laughs though it's very obviously forced. "It seemed like he was in the middle of rejecting you, or was that just me?"

His words make a pang go through your chest. While his assumption is false (Tonowari was about ready to fuck you nice and deep), it holds some truth. He seeks you out to whisper filthy words and toss you aside when he's satiated, at least that's what you convince yourself. He had merely used your cunt and then disappeared for the entirety of the week. Was he avoiding you, or was he just busy? 

You didn't want that question answered. You were too far gone, and the answer would shatter your heart. 

In your silence, Zeir clears his throat. "Look, Tonowari is very open with his feelings - sometimes they just need a little push...which I'm generously granting you."

You look at him incredulously, "Oh? And how is angering the man helping me?”

Zeir looks at you like you know the answer. "Jealousy!" he snaps.

"No!" you're quick to yell. 

"Yes!" he whines. "I merely looked at you and he was seething like a  hungry palulukan!"

It would be a lie if you said his words didn't make you giddy. Tonowari? Jealous over you? It would only feed into your hope of claiming the strong warrior. You feel tremors rush through your spine at the thought. Now that his words settle in, you're seriously considering his offer. "Okay," you finally decide.

Zeir smirks, then slowly peeks his head through the flap. The bustle is rambunctious, noises filling the open space when the covering is pushed aside. "Uh oh," he quickly rushes to your side, way too close for your liking. "He's coming back. I'm going to put my hand on your waist, and you," he grabs your hands and presses them to your chest. "Act like I made a joke."

The laugh you let out falls on deaf ears as Tonowari returns. You see his face drop into a scowl, then into a look much more dangerous than what you had anticipated. You quickly break away from Zeir and dust yourself off. "You're back."

"What are you doing with her," he seethes through gritted teeth. 

Zeir crosses his arms, "Nothing, just showing her how a real man should be." 

At his comment, Tonowari's eyes turn. He lunges forward and grabs Zeir's neck - you've never seen him this angry before. It's exhilarating. 

"She's mine," he spits, eyes glazed over. His irises have dilated into something much more feral. You see a flash of panic sail through Zeir's eyes before he nods.

"Mine! Don't ever touch her again, I'm warning you brother," he speaks in a low rasp, tail trashing. It's uncontrollable and swats at your hip before thumping on the ground. "If I ever see you even breathe in her direction..."

"What are you going to do about it?" Zeir chuckles nervously. You do feel bad for him, even if it's only for a moment. He suggested this. He suggested that Tonowari harbors feelings toward you. He suggested that Tonowari would get jealous. 

And he was right. 

"Tonowari," you croak out. He dismisses you with a glance, "Don't hurt him."

This seems to set him off. He lets go of the man before rushing towards you. He yanks your hand, then starts pulling you towards his kelku with hurried steps. You look back at Zeir and he grins at you, mouthing told you so. Though before you can reply, The sullen Olo’Eyktan yanks your arm forward which causes you to crash against his warm back. "Stupid girl!" he growls.

Anger drips from his movements; his quick strides, his snapping tail, the way he opens the flap to his kelku and drags you inside with rough force. You're practically flung inside the marui like a doll. And as he paces back and forth, you're regretting your decisions. He was too angry, too uncharacteristic for his serene persona. His ragged breaths alert the flames inside you to burn, scorching your insides and causing you to crave his thick body, warm. He suddenly stops, then snaps his glaring eyes to your face. Thighs rubbing together, you try not to flinch away from his gaze. 

"On your knees." he all but demands. You tilt your head in confusion, was he actually going to punish you? "Are you deaf, girl? On your knees!"

You quickly lower yourself, quivering in excitement. He stops before you’re facing his swollen tewng. The carnal beast inside you rages with desire, screaming at you to grab his kuru and mate him. Mate him, mate him, mate him. 

You’re quick to dismiss her, it’s too soon. Will he even accept you as his? 

He grips your chin, too tight for your liking, and tells you all you need to know. His fingers squeeze your face before roughly tilting your head upwards. "You dirty cock-slut," he spits, and your eyes widen. "Are you going to let every man into your cunt?"

"W-what?" you croak, tears burning your eyes. 

He grips your hair roughly and then pulls. You yelp, having no choice but to hold onto his thigh to not topple back. Tears stream down your face at the humiliation. "You heard what I said. Don't make me repeat myself."

Eywa, what had you gotten yourself into? Your chest hurt from the mortification, but you couldn't deny the desire burning between your legs at his words. He looked at you with such intensity, eyes blown out. You merely croak out a, "No."

A feral growl leaves his lips before he pulls the string for his tewng. His cock springs out, and he looks at you expectantly. "Open,"

When you hesitate, he mushes your cheeks and forces your mouth to open. “Why?” you croak out, though it’s muffled and barely audible. “Tonowari, I’m scared. It feels hot, please…”

Teary-eyed, you don’t know what you’re begging for. It’s all the more thrilling. 

“Shhh, you have nothing to be afraid of,” he coos, suddenly gentle as he caresses your cheek. His undulant tones give you whiplash. “You’re going to suck on it, sweet girl. Make your Olo’Eyktan feel good,”

You nod, and with no warning, he plunges his cock into the confines of your mouth. 

Tonowari does not allow you to breathe, he doesn't even allow you to adjust to the feeling of your mouth stuffed full of his cock. It’s your first time, and in an array of emotions, you try your best to keep your jaw slack, and teeth at bay. It hurts to have his tip poke your throat, graze it so harshly with no regard for your respiration. A plethora of gargled noises come from your mouth - you’re trying to complain and failing miserably. It didn't matter, since Tonowari wasn't in his right mind. It was terrifying and thrilling all at the same time.

"Ohh, that's good," he grunts, shifting his hips slightly. You fight back more tears but fail, it's the pain that causes them now, instead of his belittling words. In comical timing, Tonowari grips your hair by the roots and pulls your head back, then slams his hips back in. You clutch his thighs, screaming around his cock. 

"Shut up," he grits. "Shut up and take it, filthy girl."

You nod, crying. Your eyelashes stick together as you look up at him, and Tonowari bares his teeth. "Mmph, fuck...Keep your eyes on me, you’re doing so good, syulang - so good,"

He slightly bends his head, then spits at the base of his cock where your mouth doesn't reach. Your eyes widen, just how wet did he need to be for this...activity. You wouldn't know, and Tonowari is aware of this. 

"Have you ever had a cock stuffed in your mouth, syulang?" he chuckles, yet his words contain zero humor - low and raspy as they burn his tongue. "Look at you, drooling on it like this. Ahh, fuck - open wider and do it properly before I stuff it down your throat," 

You nod again, but whatever you do or however you do it seems to fail at satiating his anger. He grunts, starting to snap his hips into your mouth and you can’t help but choke, gargle, and make obscene noises which fall fruitless. His head is thrown back in bliss.

Your jaw is slack, and your throat burns, - you cannot help but crave more. His thick cock slams into your mouth with crude noises and causes your spit to roll down your chin. Unable to wipe it, you grip onto his thick thighs that flex every other second - rhythmic to his snapping hips. Your nails dig into his skin but the man, pure muscle and sex, doesn't flinch. He doesn't even feel it, too busy fucking into your mouth with noises that border on animalistic. He moans though it's rough and coarse, a complete contrast to the whines he let out last week as he fucked you slow and good.

This was not slow and good. This was possessive, raw, and dominating. 

"This mouth is mine. Look at you, you're pathetic. You can barely fucking breathe, girl. What? You want to stop?"

You nod desperately, hoping for some sort of release. 

"Oh, Eywa...You're not allowed to stop…you're out here, whoring for every man in the clan - fuck," his hips jerk, ", and have the nerve to ask for release from me. This is your punishment girl, you better remember your place from now on."

You shake your head, your body trembling with desire. He suddenly stops his thrusts, heaving out a breath that rumbles deep from his chest. "I..." His cock twitches in his mouth, and you watch him grit his teeth and squeeze his eyes shut. He's edging himself, you realize. He's denying himself release because it would mean your ‘punishment’ is over. "It's time I claim this pussy of yours before those brainless bastards lay a hand on you, hm?"

You let out a shaky cough as he pulls his cock out. The way you heave is enough evidence that this is all new to you, and in his wicked mind, Tonowari is more than pleased as he watches you catch your breath. 

"Up, yawne," he demands. His endearment means nothing, not when he's so harsh with his tone. "Be a good girl and get up."

You try, you really do. But you can't. Your legs betray you as you try to stand and topple over. Tonowari is quick to catch you. "Pathetic little girl," he growls. His large hands wind around your thighs before he effortlessly lifts you. He doesn't even pull you to his chest, he just carries you like you're some sort of toy that he was going to bend into submission. He disregards you on his nest and your back hits the soft weaving with a yelp. Before you can move, his hands grip the back of your thighs, pushing them to your chest. Somehow, he rips your tewng with a grunt and sniffs the scent that circles the marui. "You got this wet from sucking my cock?" he snarls. Your folds, already puffy, must look so plush due to your current position. You can feel his breath on your entrance as he sniffs you like he's borderline manic. 

"N-no," you manage to utter. "That was hardly a punishment..."

"Do I have to stuff my cock in there again? Don't get mouthy with me, girl." he snaps, his anger visibly seething.

Now you've done it. You don't even know what kind of power made you answer back to him, but there was no going back now. He was only fueled more. "What? Want me to rip this pussy of yours so you have no choice but to take me? You know nothing, look at you."

Your chest tightens at his words.

"My dick was the first one stuffed in this cunt, and it will be the last." and with that, he plunges his cock in you. You scream his name in pain, and generously, he allows you to get used to the stretch for a few, short moments. "Ohhh fuck, yawne - so tight."

His generosity does not last long, however. Soon, he's drilling into your aching cunt with untetheredly rough thrusts. His grunts accompany the quick strokes he graces you with, and it's grounding. As his big hands stay firmly planted on the back of your thighs, he uses you as leverage to fuck into the tight hole he's fixated on - it's grounding. So much so that your arms desperately flail around to hold onto something to balance yourself and keep your consciousness intact, but to no avail. Tonowari's wet heat, his noises of pleasure, his abdomen that grind into the puffy pebble that pulses with the desire between your legs, they work together to drag you down into the depth of Pandora and trap you in a prison of pure pleasure. When he gives a particularly hard thrust, he heaves a rewarding whine of pleasure, and you can merely scream and take it. 

Your gummy walls are being pounded and any hope of movement is distant. Tonowari won't even let your hands grasp onto something. He lowers himself, trapping your body with his sweat-ridden chest, and reminds you, once again, that without his permission, his cock, and his sweet words, you’re anguished and empty. He manhandles you into submission and pulls the feral creature that burns in your chest, screaming at you to mate him. 

"Look at you, fuck...whimpering like a lost angstik pup." he coos, never once stopping his ruthless pace. "You see how I fuck into your sweet pussy, yawne?”

He brings your palm to rest on your belly, and urges you to press - you cry out in pleasure and pain all at once. You could feel the bulge of his cock protruding from your abdomen and causing dizzying bliss. "So sweet, my pretty little syulang," he grunts. "My filthy little cock-slut. Mine to use. All mine."

"T-Tonowari!" you whine at the disorienting senses. Lost in all the pleasure he's inflicting with thrusts. His drilling has stopped, opting to grind his pelvis into your aching cunt with the same pace. His pace, Eywa. It hasn't faltered once and with the delicious friction he's providing you, all the while ruthlessly stretching you out, the strings that keep you on reality are about to snap. Something is fast approaching, yet it feels nothing like the release he granted you last week. It’s more, slowly building up around your chest with tingles.  "I feel weird! It's-"

Tonowari pulls out of your shuddering cunt and the emptiness he causes  builds tears in your eyes. It's nothing but cruel - coaxing you to give in to pleasure completely, then taking it away all at once. "It hurts syulang, doesn't it? That's right...I'm the only one that could make it go away."

You whimper, babbling incoherently when he thumbs your pussy. "Shhh," he coos, wiping your tears sweetly. "It's okay yawne, don’t cry. I’ll take care of you," 

But it's not okay. You frantically shake your head, begging for more when he plunges two fingers into your pussy and curls the digits. Your head jerks back, and Tonowari plants a firm slap on the curve of your ass. The long, drawn-out moan that leaves you is lewd, and Tonowari is quick to bend down and drink it all up with a wet kiss. He pulls away entirely - fingers, hands, everything, then grasps your waist and turns you around. Since your escapade last week, you have had no control over your body. He left you a whiny, aching mess, and addicted you to all the pleasure he could give. Especially now, in your cock-drunk mindset, you merely whimper and whine as his hands knead at your skin. 

He pulls you by the waist, fingers digging into your pelvis and causing an embarrassing gush of your juices to flow down between your legs. You relish in his low chuckle with a shudder, until a wet heat graces your ass. When his teeth dig in, you can all but gasp at the delicious pain. “Oh!”

The bastard bit your ass. 

"There we go, yawne." he dares to tell you. 

You can feel his muscular arm gather your hands and lock them tightly in his grip. He pulls them back, causing your back to arch for his pleasure, then wedges his thick thigh between your legs to rub against your wet, aching, cunt - you're about to pass out from the need to have him inside you. You can only beg to be filled as he bends and handles you to his liking. He plants his thick cock between the expense of your ass, then humps into you once, twice, before plunging into your pussy once again.

It's all feeling at this point - you try to look back and see his face, but Tonowari doesn't allow you. He rocks into you while sitting back on his legs, and plants a firm hand on the back of your head to push you into the weaving. Your ears flicker at the sound of his thick thighs slapping against your ass, his deep moans and growls that fill the marui once again, overlapping with your screams for mercy. 

He grants you none. Pulling you back further, his hand let go of your head and slither down your chest to push you up to his chest. You don't understand where you're seated until Tonowari's thighs guide yours to open wide, pushing his cock deeper. You feel him everywhere, in your stomach, your ribs, and your throat as you cry out his name in pleasure. He grips your waist and humps into you like he would burn if he didn’t, grunting and cursing into your ear. One of his hands closes around your throat, and you can merely throw your head back against his pectoral and grant him further access. "You look beautiful, my syulang," he tells you. "So pathetic and needy like this, letting the Olo'Eyktan bounce you on his thighs like a little whore."

"Yes! T-Tonowari, there - ahh, right there!"

And when he hits the spongy spot that would be your rise and downfall all at once, it hits you. It hits you as he drills into your g-spot from below with rugged thrusts, hits you like a heart stuttering scare that's been creeping behind for weeks, only to catch you when you least expect it. "That's right. Only I can, fuck - make you cum like this. Ohh Eywa, yes! Just like that." he encourages, and you can only let out a plethora of yes yes yes’, shuddering and clamping down on his cock like a steel vice. Your walls spasm around his cock, and you feel him shoot hot ropes of cum into you with a loud groan. You pump him dry, orgasm lasting until your juices flow down his thick cock and the expense of your legs, coating you both in the fruits of his 'punishment'.

Limp in his arms, you can merely pant with glazed eyes. You can't think, Eywa, you're not able to. You feel numb, a buzzing feeling throughout your body. You pant in unison with the man behind you, whose cock twitches in your fucked out pussy. You stay like this for a while, tangled in his arms as he presses sweet kisses in the crook of your neck, whispering sweet nothings to soothe his previous harsh words. "You did so well, my tiyawn." he caresses your hair with his gentle touch.

"Tonowari..." you call out to him. After the post-orgasmic bliss dies down, a rush of emotions envelops your chest and tightens your heart - they encourage you to finally set this relationship between the two of you. As much as you like this... arrangement, Tonowari was your first, and you hope he will be your last.

Traditionally, while Na'vi can court a variety of prospects, that's all they would be, prospects. Sooner or later, you’re required to find a mate and carry out the mating ritual that you've done not once, but twice with Tonowari. It was forbidden, and inevitably exciting, but you desire something more. You won’t allow him to use your body as he pleases, then toss you aside. 

Tonowari hums into your hair, taking a deep breath. "We are to be mated, right?" you hesitantly ask. 

Tonowari wavers for a second, and you feel your heart drop. As the seconds stretch, you feel it getting pulled down lower, and lower, and lower, until...

"Of course, yawne?" he asks, confusion evident in his voice. "I have fucked you twice, came in you thrice. I thought I was obvious with my intentions."

"Oh..."

It would be an understatement to say your heart soars. No matter if you had absolutely no idea he was courting you, or that he gave no indication of being interested in you in the past. As you fall deep in thought, you realize you've never really paid attention to anyone - anyone except Tonowari that is. Even then, you were far too embarrassed to approach the Olo'Eyktan of the clan, let alone look at him. He was mighty, strong, and sought after by many. 

"That's right, oh." he chuckles, bringing you back down to reality again. It's almost comical how he was making you lose all your sensibility just moments ago with his skilled hips, and now grounding you with his tender tone. "As much as I love being inside you like this, we should clean up."

Slowly but surely, he grips your waist and lifts you from his cock. You watch as the delicious mixture of your releases drips down from your entrance, then whine at the emptiness. "I know," he coos, turning you to face him, then placing you on his lap again. With a sweet kiss on your lips, his strong frame envelops you once again. 

You're inches away from giving in when it hits you - he was the one who ignored you this past week. "Wait," you plant your palm on his chest and push. He frowns, lips chasing yours with a whine. "You ignored me all week."

He pauses, and you can faintly hear him suck in a breath. "I didn't ignore you, I was on a hunting party."

"How?" you ask. "Hunting parties never last a week."

"Well syulang, when Zeir loses the map to the village, it does."

"Oh..."

You start laughing at all the unnecessary insecurities that plagued your mind for seven whole days, and your mate lets out an awkward chuckle.

[endlessmidnightcreates]

Finally was able to finish the character sheet of my girl, Opal Skai for my most recent DND campaign. It's going super well so far!

Can you see all the lil notes I made, I had a lot of fun doing those :3

Here's the low down on her below the cut

She is a Fire Genasi Druid who is all smarts and like 2% fight despite her ferocious appearance (some would say). She is sometimes seen smoldering or glowing. But she is a Huge Nerd and Babygirl and a bit odd.

Opal is a Bookshop Keeper in Baldur’s Gate. Even though the town is regarded as a nest of vipers, she values knowledge and community and takes pride in the family library/store that she runs with her mother. People around it respect her and the store and it’s seen as neutral ground and is both used for gang negotiations and occasional toddler reading circles, sometimes in the same day. 

She Spends 50% her time in the store, 30% in nature and doing #HotDruidShit (like hot girl shit but with druids) and then the other 20% vibing. She’s quiet, but not shy and actually quite talkative when the moment is right (someone asks her a question about a book–or she’s drunk). She will talk and say hi and bye to people on the street. When it comes to fighting, she prefers not to but that won’t stop her from slapping a bitch (with her hand or staff). But like she reeeeally prefers not to (int. modifier Is -1). Mainly cus she’s Genasi and she is mostly untrained so she would rather not kill someone. But she’s capable.

More Deets

Occupation: 

She owns a small bookshop specialty store. Well, technically it belongs to her mother, but it will go to her once she retires or dies (god forbid).

Denizens of Baldur’s gate can get a wide range of books and scrolls as well as several common herbs and spell components. Everything from eye of newt to various animal bones. She partly keeps it stocked with her own foraging as well as having a supplier and an elderly mother (human npc) who watches over the shop and manages logistics. She manages the front of shop. Having read all the books and catalogued everything in the store, she has begun to work on her every-expanding growing “To buy” list that consists of various rare books and magical items. 

She has started to take on minor mercenary/adventurer jobs to build up capital. There are expensive texts and components in Elturel that she wants to get her hands on. These jobs have ranged from delivering 20 rabbit pelts to serving court papers in creative ways (read: transforms into a cat and tricks them into letting her in). Though, for some of the more rare artifacts, she figures, the easiest way is to tag along with one of the many Adventuring parties in BG to gather information on its whereabouts. 

Class: Druid

Why is she a druid. Druidism runs in the family. Opal’s mother and a few aunts and uncles are and were druids. Her grandmother was as well. It was only natural that Momma Opal taught the ways to her flaming baby. But Opal was resistant to the lifestyle as a young one. The spells, the philosophy, heck, being around leaves as someone whose average body temperature could easily reach 300°C made it difficult for her to find the value of the practice. She figured that blacksmithing would be more useful. Being a Druid helps her live more in harmony with the energies and elements that swirl around in her blood. She’s a valued member of the Druid Community in Baldur’s Gate because she’s just a cool gal, but also because she has helped many a druid get lava flowers (a flower that grows inside volcanoes)[i also literally just made that up] 

Combat 

Opal has only ever unwillingly killed once. She was on one of her many quests. She was an ox, lugging a massive stag carcass behind her. Bandits attacked her and she fought them off, maiming a few and kiling one instantly. The others escaped. She went straight home, fleeing the scene. That was the first time she had ever been attacked. She was rarely provoked or approached in human form because of her stature. But as an ox, people didn’t recognize or fear her. She missed a big payday that day. She doesn’t know if they survived or not. She tries not think about it often. 

Fighting and killing are not things she often does. She’s the type of gal to grab a spider and let it outside rather than smush it. But– She CAN do it. She CAN fight (in humanoid form) and she CAN and WILL hurt someone if they hurt or try to hurt her. She will turn into what the situation needs and act accordingly - need to make a quick getaway? HONSE. Need to serve court papers? KITTY. Need to slap a bitch? HUMANOID

She will not attack unless provoked physically. Her moral code is fuck around and find out but reeeally hopes that they don’t have to find out, cus she doesn't know herself tbh.

Childhood:

Opal doesn't know much about her Genie father’s side, though he comes to visit often enough from the elemental plane. She also has a way to contact him whenever she wants.

She has 12 aunts and uncles who are scattered throughout the country, quite a few of them are druids and frequent their local bogs while the others reside in normal villages and have average families and lives. Opal has ALOT of cousins.

She has an aunt and uncle who live in other parts of Baldur's gate. they sometimes take shifts at the shop. All of them contribute to building the shop’s library and maintaining goods. Her aunt is an adventurer while her uncle is a cook at a tavern.

Religion:

She believes in the spirit of nature. Thus she tries to respect it whenever she has the opportunity. Aside from that, she tries to be respectful of everyone else’s gods, except the evil ones (like bal) or the ones that expect an unhealthy blind devotion. She’s not a devout worshiper. Prays on occasion to the universe but other than that, she focuses on her own actions.

[polufabrikat-na-vilke]

Thoughts about Diavolo and Doppio

Introducion

All that ton of text exists because I didn't believe it was DID since my first time watching and reading Golden Wind. Literally from the first time seeing their actions and interactions, I thought it looked more like some sort of supernatural thing than that condition, to which I only found more confirmation as I watched. I still want to call the following examples thin, since there is a very high probability that Araki was simply going way too wild with all this mystical mysterious secrecy of the antagonist, and everything that I will give may turn out to be just the fattest wicked technique for exaggerating this, but I want to express my thoughts nonetheless. Plus, I think it might be a narrative trick after all, so I may turn out to be right in the end of the day.

Point

So, let's get it straight: the theory is that there's no DID in that story, Diavolo is not an alter-ego, but something else and probably not a human at all. And now to the specifics.

Let's start from afar: his (to make it easier to read, I'm talking about Diavolo in a generally accepted way) mother, in her words, became pregnant from an unknown man who died 2 years before his birth, and, moreover, she has been sitting in isolation from the outside world for 2 years, in a specifically women's prison without any men at all. AND, MOREOVER, the anime adaptation shows that the fetus develops in just a few hours (I’ll say a few more words about the validity of David's version later). Well, it’s impossible, well, it’s a huge nonsense, even if we consider from a seemingly scientific point of view of this universe, with which Araki tried to explain, for example, the change in physical parameters when switching egos. Here's mystical supernatural shit number 1.

Further. This particular point is relevant only for anime adaptation. Unfortunately, I haven’t found any data on how much Araki took part in its creation, I confess, but I have the right to assume that if it was approved by him and released the way we see it, it is quite a canon by which we can argue. It came out after the manga and this is quite possibly a more correct representation of events from the point of view of canon details. In the same scene, after birth, the baby's eye color momentarily changes from hazel to red, then back. This move, I want to note, is often used to show a character’s possession, usually with supernatural forces or the like. Yes, it is also used to refer to a "second personality" or some hidden nature of a character, but newborns do not have DID, it is a disorder that develops after severe repeating trauma. Mystical supernatural shit number 2.

We smoothly move on to the extreme turbidity and ambiguity of DID, and I’m not even going to talk about body changes when switching. So, DID develops, as, by the way, even in the original source is noted, as a result of a deep shock or trauma. A person dissociates from the traumatic experience, which, if severe and repetative to the point when their mind can't really survive it, results in violation of an identity integrity. It does not develop immediately and is noticeable to others, while commonly not being noticable to a person expiriensing it. And what do we see on this topic there? Nothing, only Doppio shows symptoms of dissociation, and only in situations where something threatens to expose the boss’s identity (or in other situations related to him, that’s the only way), which is strange, because I can’t even imagine such a trauma can be (i.e., it becomes a chicken-and-egg paradox: the trauma, in theory, should be related to the boss, to alter, but without the trauma there should be no boss, no alter). Other trauma is either not shown, which is a serious omission from the script, because this is no longer a mystery, but a hole, or it simply does not exist, because in the village, as far as can be seen, the attitude towards him was near normal, and his foster father is caring and loving, and has a trusting relationship with him (judging by the phrase casually thrown by the drivers from a flashback with his youth, where they warn him not to complain about an accident on the road to the priest, which seems to refer to the fact that this has already happened at least once before, and as if he would hardly have gone to him to complain if he did not trust him). Mystical supernatural shit number 3.

The same muddy and unclear story with his mother under the floor. Why is she there? For what is she there? How did she survive there? But who would know. In my opinion, it looks like some kind of some ritual-related bullshit, or at least a sacrifice to something, but I don’t undertake to make any special statements or comments here, I’m just noting and thinking. Mystical supernatural shit number 4.

Let's get to non-flashback events. POSSIBLY Diavolo is able to influence Doppio's consciousness (which does not happen in the opposite direction). This is indicated by the latter’s holy faith in the fact that he is talking to his boss on real work phones, well, that’s how he sees them, as well as the clouding and memory lapses that suddenly occur after the end of the call, which is strange, but still convenient for Diavolo, what a goddamn lucky coincidence, huh? I don't think alters are able to perform such tricks. Mystical supernatural shit number 5.

In the SCR arc, characters mutually switch bodies with closest persons. What's going on with Diavolo in that situation? He, like a self-respecting individual soul newly revealed to the audience (!), not like everyone else, not like a sucker, "attached" to someone else’s soul (it was kind of similar with Doppio before), and for time secretly sit happily in one body for two. And now, this is no longer a person suffering from DID (that is, a soul with, in our case, an ego split in two (that's PSYCHE thing)), but a whole separate being, moreover, also capable of ruling his soul as he pleases. Mystical supernatural shit number 6.

We will need some of the things from the previous point now. At the end of the arc of Ciocolatta and Secco, Diavolo not only immediately knows from somewhere that Bruno can only see souls, but he also, in order to make Doppio look like Trish for him, lends him a fucking piece of his (let me remind you, separate, like we have already found out) soul. A piece of his soul, God damn it! He (again) not only knows some unreal information about souls, he, as already said, is able to manipulate at least his own. Mystical supernatural shit number 7.

His eyes (iris and pupil), already extremely unique in themselves, are the eyes of his entity, but not his body. When he takes control of someone's body it is visible, when Bruno is in his body it is visible. Worth a mention. Mystical supernatural asshole number 8.

The last, probably the most interesting mystical, but not so supernatural screw-up lies in a small detail: when the souls of the characters in the final battle return back to their bodies, we are shown all of them, except for Diavolo's (well, more precisely they showed King Crimson as it, but this doesn't count (otherwise Diavolo is KC, lol)). Coincidence? I don't think so. More likely it was done on purpose, and this is not even attributed to the supposedly yet another creation of an aura of mysticism around his personality - at this point we seem to already know very well what he looks like... Or we don't, actually?

Conclusion

That's all, actually. The bottom line is the same: Diavolo is something supernatural, I don’t presume to say what he is exactly. This is probably all the fairly significant evidence (meaning those that are less than half conjecture) that I had. There were a lot of strange things in JoJo, inspired by some things from the real world, and then blown up to the point of "incredibility," but here they tried to tie it into some kind of pseudoscientific nonsense that I didn’t believe in. In any case, this is not the first "spirit" in this universe (it’s worth remembering Anubis), so this theory, I think, is more than valid.

So thank you for reading, it's open for discussion, since we'll never know the truth for sure (DID was the assumption of the characters of Vento Aureo, and they called it "assumption" themselves (I want to believe with all my soul Araki fooled everyone, being an unreliable narrator so Diavolo will be even more of an enigma)).

[aritany]

hey hey! im literally on tenterhooks waiting for your announcement (: but in the meantime i thought id ask - you said that getting back into the groove you wrote a bad book SOTM? could you maybe talk about why you thought it was bad, what was bad about it, that sorta thing? interested to hear the perspective of someone who's written SO MANY words and recognising that maybe something isn't working?

only a few short days to wait!! 👀 i even made art to go along with it, i'm very excited!!

YES. okay. i've actually been considering talking about this for a while, because it's so interesting to me. SOTM (straight on til morning) was a queer peter pan (... retelling?) book that i wrote in november of 2022. it was the first thing i wrote start to finish since the first flare of my chronic illness back in 2021, and had since gone through a divorce, a disownment, and had really struggled with the editing process on my debut. regrettably, it was also the first thing i sourced new beta readers on, and was the first thing a bunch of people had ever read from me (it keeps me up at night, i swear).

and the thing is, sometimes books just don't work because they don't work. i have four unfinished novels i'm squinting at because i don't think they're going to work the way i want them to, and that's just because i feel stalled out and frustrated with them. and i don't think they're

in other cases, books don't work because there are road blocks in the way. such was the case for SOTM, which had a pretty cool premise, characters i still love, and probably could have been really interesting, but fell short in several aspects.

here's what i think contributed:

in dev edits for my debut, my prose was stripped down to bare bones. no descriptors, nothing extra. no detail. it was all dialogue, dialogue tags, and plot beats. extraordinarily depressing, but as a literal thinker, i took this and went "ah ok this is what is desirable? taking notes" and started writing new content in a similar fashion. the result was as unpleasant as you might think. feedback from betas was like: "hey what's going on here. i can't visualize anything. where are we" and they were RIGHT.

SOTM is technically supposed to be a horror novel, but i got squeamish at the last second and couldn't figure out how to make my ending actually scary. i feel like i do pacing quite well for suspense, but when suspense leads up to something that just sort of sucks, the end result... sucks.

it was the first thing i wrote after a long period of writing almost nothing at all. i dove right back in with no training wheels, and while i had fun, i was also mostly stressed and rushed, and you could tell.

i was desperate to write something my then-agent would read. i'd had no luck with the first 2 books i sent her, and was trying to cater to somebody who's tastes i no longer aligned with, which was an impossible task, and as a result, there's something forced about the whole book. it's like when you bake a cake with no love.

anyway. the voices Often tell you a project isn't working. sometimes they are evil gremlins trying to sabotage you, and sometimes they're right.

DO listen to the voice when: you're finished the book, your beta readers are giving you feedback that makes you go "honestly yeah", and whenever you think about the project you feel vaguely ill

DON'T listen to the voice when: you're between 30-60% finished (that's when the kill switch activates and it's never right), one person is saying they personally didn't like something (opinions! subjective!), or when it's past 10 pm (thoughts are not peer reviewed)