#i wrote this at 2am while buzzed on caffeine

[iminaloine]

Writing #2: The earth that she was

Here’s a little tribute to Mother Nature. Enjoy!

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She knew this would happen. From the very first moment the Great One declared their creation, she had been afraid. Of them. Of what they would do, the potential they had to destroy all the she was, all that the Great One created for her.

She was one with the earth, with the land and the sky and the water. She was one with the breath of the wind, with the animals and the life force that flowed deep within everything that she was. But them--not them. She could never be one with them.

She feared them. But the Great One loved them, and forgave them of their transgressions each time. And there were many, many times. She would watch them trample over all the Great One had built for their sake, neglecting the beauty of the world surrounding them, the world that she was. That the Great One created for them.

She asked the Great One how he could watch them and forgive. He responded that it was how they chose to be, and that he would always be accepting of them when they became ashamed and sought forgiveness. That one day they would come to him forever.

But this did not happen. Over and over they rebelled and destroyed, over and over they repented, crushed under the weight of their sins. And the Great One forgave them every time without fail, and she didn't understand it. They were savages, terrors that roamed the earth as if it were their own creation, when they were only inhabitants who had been placed there by the Great One's will. They forsook the Great One's kindness, exploited it, molded it to fit their own crazed ideologies. They morphed false stories about everything that was, everything that was created for them. They made it seem like they created it all. They worshipped themselves, and ruled over themselves, and hated themselves.

They warred.

She hated the wars. And there were many. They hurt her. The chaos they created resonated deep within the land and the sky and the water and it hurt her.

When she was younger, and the wars first began, she had lain on the ground, felt the tremors, the agony that shook the very earth that she was. The pain flowed through her; a dry, hollow feeling that sapped her energy and left her shuddering with terror and misery. The earth called out to her, pleaded for mercy against the savages, and she vowed to help it, to lessen its suffering if she could not eradicate it completely.

As time went by, the cycle repeated. They destroyed and sought redemption and were forgiven, and destroyed. And her fear turned into anger.

And her anger turned into hatred.

And her hatred flowed through her, into the earth, deep within the land and the sky and the water, into everything that they had forsaken, that they had destroyed. Her anger was great. Ferocious, and it expelled itself in torrents that did not relent. And the earth accepted it, for it was not hatred out of evil, but hatred borne of compassion, of empathy.

And the earth took her anger, her hatred, and harnessed it; the land quaked and split, the sky twisted into itself uncontrollably, carried by the wind. The water rose, and rose, and rose still, and then it fell upon them, the evil ones that destroyed and were forgiven. The earth consumed its inhabitants, swallowing them up, leaving behind the animals, and the life force within all that she was. And the earth was grateful, for it was at peace for a little while.

But she was not powerful enough. She was loving, and her hatred could not devour all of them. So she watched over the earth, and when it called out to her for mercy she sent her hatred to swallow them up once again. To bring peace for a little while.

Eventually they knew that it was her, and then they knew who she was. Some feared her, and some loved her. She loved them too, for she could not bring herself to hate anything or anyone that felt that way. The ones that loved her helped her; they protected the earth, and her hatred dimmed, for the earth was peaceful now. For a little while.

They called her Mother Nature. And they protected her, and the land and the sky and the water that she was. And even though the others still destroyed, and her hatred was still loosed upon them, she could see beyond that now. That they could be wonderful. That they could one day be deserving of the Great One's love.

And she would protect them, and the earth that she was, until that day came.

[thats-pucking-amazing]

Cannonball (Anthony Duclair) *Requested*

@thevezinamonologues​ requested:  Can you do either #12 in the "Right to the Good Parts" list or #48 in the dialogues list. 

There was no specified player...just someone who wasn’t wrote about often...so i chose Duclair (I hope this works)

Requested: Yes

Requests: Open

Up Next: Travis Konecny

Edited: HA! No.

Warnings: None

Cannonball? Was the text that woke you up at 2am. You blinked to clear the sleep from your eyes and refocused on the word. What the heck was he talking about??

Am I supposed to understand what that means? Also...2am...you woke me up at 2 just to confuse me? You angrily tapped out the message to your neighbor/resident best friend, Anthony Duclair. You’d met each other walking to the elevator everyday at the same time and by day three, the two of you had fallen into a fast friendship.Which apparently meant that he was allowed to text you...all hours of the night.

Sorry Sweet. Just got on bus to head to airport and forgot time change.

What’d you want?

Cannonball. Was again the only thing that was sent.

Anthony. Duclair. I do not. Know. What that. MEANS.

Note to self. Never wake Y/N up early. She is mean when tired. Your eyes narrowed at his cheekiness and you quickly tapped out a reply.

That should’ve already been in your notes to self. We’ve been friends for almost 6 months. Now explain it to me before I go trash your place.

The Cannonball. It’s the teams like giant charity gala. It’s 70’s themed.

Are you asking me to go with you?

Yeah. A second later your phone buzzed again. Just as friends. No worries. You sighed. Just friends was all the two of you were ever going to be...you knew that. So there was no reason that you should feel disappointed right now. But there it was, the disappointment sitting heavy in your heart.

When is it?

This weekend.

Seriously? You give me like four days notice? You’re in big trouble when you get back.

Is that a yes?

Of course. I’m going back to sleep. See you when you get back.

Night Sweet.

You laid your phone back down and collapsed back into your pillows. You knew that no matter how hard you tried, sleep would not be coming. Your friendship with Ant was easy and you felt like you’d known him your entire life. You were the only one allowed to call him Ant and he was the only one who could call you Sweet.

Resigning yourself to being awake you headed to the living room where, after getting yourself a cup of tea, pulled out your laptop to start working. Working from home could be lonely, but you loved it. The freedom and flexibility...the ability to be able to work when you couldn’t sleep. It allowed you to just pick up and go...something you loved.

By 7am you had finished up two editing projects, had three cups of caffeine in you, and were now sprawled on your couch as Dwight mourned the loss of Megadesk. Pausing your show you got up to grab one of the muffins you had made yesterday while you’d waited for the game to come on. You were just about to sit back down when you heard a knock.

After checking through the peephole you opened the door. “Hey. Did you know you’re at the wrong apartment, Ant?”

“I’d noticed. Can I have my spare? Pretty sure I left my keys at the arena before we left...and I caught a ride with Josh, not even thinking about the fact that my door was locked.”

You laughed at him. “Dumb. But yeah, come on in. I’ll get it.” He followed you in and plopped down on your couch as you continued on into your bedroom to grab his key.

“I love this episode.” You heard him say before he began to sing, “Cats in the cradle and the silver spoon.”

“I’m not to that part yet. Here you- Are you eating my muffin??”

He looked at you with his mouthful. “This is yours?”

“Who else would it belong to? It’s in my house...on my plate!”

“Well it’s good.” You glared and chucked his key at him before stomping back into your kitchen to grab yourself another muffin. “Can you get me some water while you’re in there?” You rolled your eyes but grabbed him a bottle from the fridge...which you threw at him as soon as you rounded the corner. He caught it...which definitely ruined your fun.

“Why are you still in my apartment?” You asked, not unkindly, just curious.

“You have The Office….and muffins.” He explained simply. “Why are you in such a mood madam?”

“Well, in case you forgot...someone woke me up at 2am. I couldn’t fall back asleep...so I’m going to blame my lack of sleep.”

He pulled you into his side as he unpaused your show. “Sorry, Sweet. I really am.”

“I know. I’m not mad.” You abruptly straightened. “I am mad that you only gave me four days to find something to wear that is 70s themed.”

“You’ll be fine. You look good in everything.” He gave you a smug smirk. “You might even look as good as me.”

���Now you’re pushing your luck.” He just chuckled and wrapped you back into his arms and the two of you turned your attention back to the tv.

Four days later you finished straightening your hair and added the necklace that you’d found for less that two dollars. You glanced over yourself in the mirror...you looked...hot.

“Maybe I should wear 70s stuff from now on,” You mumbled.

A few minutes later you and Anthony were headed down to his car hand in hand. He was rocking a powder blue suit and he even had on a bolo tie. You loved it.

“Thank you for inviting me. I’m really excited.” He shot you a smile before turning his attention back to the road. “I’ve decided that I’m going to wear clothes from this decade from now on. Cuz I look hot.”

He laughed out loud. “I agree. You gonna dance with me pretty lady?”

“I could probably be persuaded.”

“Well decide fast...cuz we’re here.”

The night moved rather quickly. You socialized with other players, their significant others or friends they’d brought. You danced with a bunch of the girls and some of the fans who’d bought tickets to come attend as well. You were having a great time and were really glad that Anthony had invited you to come. Even more glad when you saw PL walk by in his afro and paisley bell bottoms.

“You decide to dance with me?” Ant asked as the night began to wind down.

“I think I could probably manage it.” You wrapped your arms around his neck and his fell on your waist. You twirled around the room for awhile, just enjoying each others company. “You’re a good dancer.”

“You make it pretty easy,” He looked down at you and gave you a look you couldn’t quite decipher. “You make me want things I can’t have.”

“What are you talking about?” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Looking at you...being able to hold you and dance with you...talk about all kinds of things. Or just watch The Office...you’re my best friend but you make me want things I can’t have.”

You were still confused. “I still don’t understand. What can’t you have? Me?” He nodded. “You think you can’t have me? Are you stupid?”

He sputtered. “What?”

“Ant...do you think I text just anybody at 2am? Give people I don’t care about my spare key? Dress up and go to a dance just to hang out with my friend? No! Anthony...you’re all I want and everything that I never thought I could have.”

“You…” He blinked rapidly and you almost watched as he connected everything you’d said. Then his lips were on yours for all of a second before he pulled back. “Sorry. I didn’t ask. Can I kiss you? Please?”

You gave him a soft smile. “Of course.”

So he did.

Let me know if you see any blazin’ errors

[rorybirth]

Rory - 5 and a half months old (part 2)

I had to break this up - I scribbled so much down the first time I got down to it. Must have had a sore hand by the end of it.

Those first 10-12 weeks… Sean would help with the feeding shifts by doing a late night bottle now and then. It was never every night but often enough so that we knew the drill - I’d do a last feed around 11pm, go to bed and leave him with Sean. He was in the moses basket so could be deposited anywhere. He slept through background noise at that time - Sean watched TV and gave him his next feed at 1 or 2am. Then he’d join me in bed, bringing sleeping baby in basket and I’d get up for the 3 or 4am feed. Those 4 or 5 hours were wonderful - I slept really well. When you have less than 2 hours in a row round the clock that is bliss! I’d feel refreshed when I got up to feed Rory, taking him into the living room and diverting myself with the World Service, rolling TV news or breakfast TV, or simply scrolling Facebook. Now I get up once a night to feed him (twice if unlucky) and I am strict not to do any of these things. Would set my head buzzing now. I can have longer sleeps but I’m finding it hard to sleep - a lot on my mind! So trying to be strict, no pm caffeine, no screen time just before bed. I’m not complaining, I could not go back to those days and I pity those who still struggle with broken nights. There’s a limit…! Although of course I’d do it all again for no. 2. Yes thinking a lot about that! Isn’t being pregnant amazing!! (I now think, with distance.) Isn’t having a new baby the most wonderful joyful feeling (I now know)! Yes this is the same me who was crying to my mum last week saying I’d lost all my confidence. I felt pretty low. Peaks and troughs - it’s extraordinary.

I wrote my birth story to my pregnancy yoga teacher (not the long version you see here). I remember thinking I mustn’t leave it too late or I will forget. I revisited it a few months later so I could start writing a fuller version. I didn’t want to forget details; order of events. I’m still working on it. That original note was written one week after Rory was born! I can’t believe it - I remember thinking I’d let loads of time go by.

Another milestone - the name! That took just over a week I think. But everyone seemed to think it took forever. People are quick, we had quite a few cards and presents to ‘baby boy’. And I still call him that, so simple, he’s our (my) baby boy. Can you believe it to be true?? There he is! A new beautiful being, but most of all a baby. These magical things that are babies, and he’s the most magical. And then of course he became Rory really quickly. It suited him, with his wonderful head of hair ‘Red King’ - took a few weeks to be free of the big black scab covering it.

Oh yes, the time when we were much more comfortable with blood and tender parts of you and recovery. Was it weeks of leaking? This never-ending period. Using huge pads. The morning douche was a life-saver. To feel fresh again. Constant leaking breasts. Yes pads everywhere. Couldn’t be naked without making a mess. Painkillers regime - had to write it all down as time was strange, there was no way to remember how long ago the last ones were taken. Feeling like the guy in Memento. Good to live in the present though. It’s like nothing that’s ever happened before, draining and strangely exhilarating. Was only paracetamol and ibuprofen. All that was needed to fade out those vulnerable parts of me that were fusing together again with the help of those excellent surgical stitches - a grand job confirmed those that checked on them. I needed cushioning for a while. Now I am completely healed. I don’t think about it at all.