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half-dead-ham · 2 days ago

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Tim Drake's I.E.F Chap 5

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Mmmmm this is probably gonna be the last chapter I link to Tumblr tonight. It's like, 2am? Yea I deserve some sleep. I'll hopefully get some more out tmrr. But who knows? Certainly not me.

Also. I have never pulled a prank on my sib and this chapter displays that fully.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Looking over the plans on his laptop, Tim can't help but smile. It may be slightly maniacal, but with the plans he has, he couldn't help it.

Only a day has passed since Jason came to check on Tim, and since then he's been putting together a series of plans for his siblings. We're they good plans? No, not at all.

Tim, with the ready help of his new friend that could go both invisible and intangible had prepared a set of pranks specifically for each family member -minus Bruce and Alfred- in order of who needs it most. A few times while writing in the document he titled 'the shit list' he could hear his friend giggling from over his shoulder, the soft reverb sending chills down his spine that had nothing to do with the familiar cold his friend gave off. It was distracting, but it showed that Tim had gotten a bit closer with Arcturus, even if just a little bit.

"Alright," he nodded, giving the list one last look over before turning to where he could feel the epicentre of the cold.

"I have one last thing that'll make this perfect." Tim turned to rummage in his bedside table, absently noting the lack of strain such a movement had on his wounds. His hand brushed what he was looking for, and he pulled it out to show to Arct, laying the object on the palm of his hand. A compact surveillance camera sat neatly on his palm, perfect for watching the chaos unfold from the safety of his hospital bed in the medbay while his friend enacted righteous vengeance.

Arcturus must have grabbed the camera because it floated off his palm over to the bedside chair, turning every so often for his friend to get a better view of the device.

"Cool isn't it? We use these to keep tabs on some of the regular rogue hideouts, and sometimes infiltrations if we need a wire." Tapping a few things on his keyboard he brought up the camera's feed. A grainy image appeared, jumping and lagging every few seconds. Odd, this was supposed to be a newer model, there shouldn't be any interference with the signal, especially this close to the cam itself.

To his left Arct made a trill that sounded like clinking icicles and a feeling of understanding that wasn't his own washed over Tim. Frowning and looking over he watched his friend bring up the camera to what Tim thought would be about chest level, and just to its left sparked to life a green flame.

No, that wasn't quite right, the green pulsed and warbled, but it stayed mostly circular, not pointed like a candle's flame. The light moved closer to the camera and Tim could just make out the silhouette of his friend's pointed claw before it made contact. Touching the light to the camera seemed to affect it somehow, as he watched the camera absorb the light fully, glowing slightly before that too faded into the device.

Tim wondered just what Arct had done to the device until the laptop in front of him notified him with a ding!

'New power source detected, convert?' He'd never seen that pop-up before. Cautiously glancing back over to the chair, he clicked the 'accept' button and watched as the program closed, then opened back up a second later. The camera feed now had a slight green tint to it, but the glitching and static had stopped. 'Whatever Arct had done to the camera probably counteracted the interference his aura gave off,' Tim figured.

He turned to his friend to give his thanks, but the words died on his lips as he watched the small figure of the camera flicker and disappear. Trying to find them was useless, his friend could obscure the cold feeling he gave off when he wanted, even Tim couldn't find him. Tim turned back to the footage on his laptop only to get jumpscared by a closeup of his own face.

A ghostly giggle echoed in front of him as Tim groaned. Arcturus really did fit perfectly in this family if he was already scaring him like that for no reason.

"Okay, okay, enough playing around. Ready to start a war?" He grinned, sharp and feral. He could only imagine Arct was doing the same as the camera came back into view to bob up and down rapidly.

Oh, this was going to be fun.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Danny first tracks down Stephanie in the library. The blond Danny's come to know as Spoiler is lounging on one of the many couches in the large room with a book in hand and a glass of water on the small table next to her. Too focused on her book, she reaches over to get her drink without looking. She frowns, she knew she put her glass close by, but she can't find it by touch alone.

Frowning, she finally tears her gaze from her book to the end table beside her, only to find her water, sitting innocently where she had left it. Taking and inspecting it reveals nothing out of place with the glass or the table. Stephanie says nothing as she looks out to the rows of bookshelves, then behind her and the couch, trying to find anyone to place blame, but she was alone. Or so she thought.

Turning back, she shrugs to herself and tips the glass to take a sip, only to yelp as a large ice cube slid out of the cup and onto her nose. She jumps back in her seat, startled, at the solid chunk of what used to be her drinking water now sitting in her lap. Hesitantly, she pokes at it, expecting it to seemingly explode. Once, twice, three times all come up with something cold but solid. The fourth time her nail lightly grazes the side and suddenly she's drenched from the waist down in room temperature water.

She rushes to her feet, pants soaked and dripping onto the carpet. Again, she looks around for anyone in the room, even glaring at the high tops of the bookshelves, expecting one of her family members to jump out and tell her she just got pranked. But again, she's alone in the library. Danny lets a breathy chuckle escape him as he watches Stephanie glare accusingly at nothing, then her soiled pants, and finally storming out of the library, book now forgotten. He makes sure the book is left on another couch in case she comes back. Then floats off to find his next target.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Damian is in his room working on that day's portion of homework when he feels a presence. An all too familiar presence that reminds him of a time before he lived in the manor.

A dangerous presence.

He spins around in his chair, previously concealed dagger now in hand. The room hasn't changed, his weapons are still perched in their displays on his wall, the curtains sway lightly in the mid afternoon breeze. Paranoia runs through him like electricity as he crosses the room to close the window, certain of what he felt. Pit demons could not be seen by normal men, they were monsters spawned by the Lazarus pits to bring chaos and madness for all those trying to use their powers. If there were a pit demon in the manor, they would all be dead before long.

Moving back to his desk in slow movements, Damian tried to pick up on that familiar feeling. The feeling of unchecked desire and death. He found an empty room.

This did not comfort him.

Damian took another dagger out of its hiding place just as he heard the door handle rattle. Tearing the door almost off its hinges he raced after that presence through the house, down corridors and ballrooms, stairways and secret passageways. The presence finally stopped in the main foyer. Damian scanned the entrance room with daggers drawn, trying to sense where the thing had disappeared to.

Just as the tension started to leave his shoulders with the thought of 'needing more sleep, lest he end up like Drake' a snowflake landed on his nose. He looked up just in time to see a mound of snow fall on him in a whump! leaving only his head and neck exposed. With his body restrained, Damian could do nothing as the pit demon's presence glides back up the main staircase and disappears down a corridor, static hissing conveying its glee in its wake.

Damian returns to his room cold and damp, a blanket on his shoulders and mug of warm cardamom milk in his hand. Swinging the door open Damian is outraged to see all his weapons, hidden ones included, painted and arranged on his floor in the forms of several different flowers. He growls and glowers at nothing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tim made sure to save Duke for last, as his powers might give Arct some trouble. Danny doesn't know exactly why a guy like Duke is on 'the shit list' but doesn't question it if it means getting to prank someone.

The meta is currently using the training space in the cave to practice grapples and throws in a simulation.

A cold chill runs up his spine and he blocks a punch. Duke knows no one besides Tim is in the cave, and he shouldn't be up and running around yet, so otherwise Duke is alone. The simulation ends, Duke bent over with hands on his knees as he tries to steady his breathing. Something passes behind him, cold and charged, like a broken power line in the middle of winter. He glanced behind him, breathing having levelled out some, but sees nothing. Looking over his other shoulder provides similar results.

Suspicious, Duke calls out to the empty room.

"Hello?" His voice echoes in the silence of the cavernous room. Something else replies, a cold haunting whisper of a laugh. It has no source that he could see, bouncing off the stone walls and seemingly coming from every direction. The black and white streak from the corner of his vision is the final straw, he needs to nope the heck out of here.

Taking quick strides out of the training room, he only makes it past the threshold when something grabs his ankle. He tries to jerk away but the thing's grip is strong, keeping him bound to that spot on the floor even as he's leaning back with his full weight. It's grip on his ankle loosens ever so slightly after a moment, and Duke hopes he's able to get away with that smidge more wiggle room.

His heart plummets as a sensation radiates out from the grip, cold like spearmint and chilled water. It envelops him, and for a second Duke feels weightless.

Then, the thing pulls.

Duke is pulled through the floor, scream caught in his throat as stone and dirt pass through him and the unseen being. He tries to see what has him, but this darkness doesn't respond as it would normally. His X-ray vision doesn't help either, as it just shows him more earth and the sewers below Gotham.

A sinking feeling slips into the pit of his stomach as he wonders if he'll be left down here, were the thing that has him let go. That thought was jerked away with him as the being dragged him up up up and breaches land. It was all he could do to not cry from relief at seeing the late Gotham sky when gravity reasserted itself and the pressure on his ankle vanished. He dropped face first into the grass.

"Owww…" Duke groans. Laying there seems like the better option as he tries to get his heart rate under control for a different reason than before. Rolling over takes more energy than he'd like, but it's worth it if it means he's not inhaling grass. Cracking one eye open he does not expect to see a shadowy figure leaning over him, it's green eyes peering at him, inspecting him like a specimen. He lays as still as he can, not wanting to breathe as this creature's eyes wash over him like a tiger watching an antelope.

The things eyes travel up to his face, and a cheshire grin manifests itself in the roiling black of its face, stark white in contrast and with too many teeth. 'Ah, I'm going to die' was all Duke could think before the thing lunges. Screwing his eyes shut might have been the last thing he ever does…

A few minutes pass and nothing happens. No pain or cold could be felt anywhere on his body, so he cautiously cracks an eye open. Blue sky overhead, trees and the manor in the distance, but no sight of the black thing that literally dragged him here. Duke sits up slowly, turning his head to try and see the thing.

It's gone.

He could almost think it was a dream if he didn't have to walk all the way back to the manor in his workout gear.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The prank war—more of a slaughter really—went on for the next two days. At random hours strange things will go on around the three siblings still in the manor, things disappearing and reappearing in other locations, water turning to ice when they blink and back again, strange noises or cold spots in empty rooms. It all leads up to dinner.

Tim had been given the okay from Alfred to exit medbay and eat solid food. Alfred had marvelled at Tim's speedy recovery—no one heals from a bullet to the lung in a week and a half—but made sure to drill into him that he wouldn't be doing any strenuous work, during the day or night.

Tim was okay with that, he thought as he sat down and watched as the others set the table around him. The three targets were haggard and paranoid, jumping at shadows (in Duke's case literally.) Arcturus was around somewhere close, he had hidden his presence as Tim hobbled up the stairs with Alfred's help, and Tim wondered if he'd be able to get away with anymore pranking today.

With the table set, the three sat across from Tim, stiff and uncomfortable. Tonight's dinner would be soup, mainly because Tim still had to recover, but there was a side of steamed vegetables and buttered bread to be dipped if preferred.

They sat in tense silence, Bruce late again, as always. Smirking, Tim tried to make conversation with his three siblings.

"So, anything interesting happen around here while I was rotting in bed?"

Damian scowled and glanced to his left, towards Bruce's chair. Duke paled by at least two shades, and Stephanie's eye twitched.

"Nothing happened Timmy, we're all just peachy." Steph ground out. Man she was really on her last straw.

Good.

He watched absently as a piece of steamed broccoli dropped into the plate. 'So Arct was hiding under the table' he thought as he tried making more small talk with his siblings.

"Y'know I've been hearing some strange things down in the cave, I'm almost starting to believe it's haunted." He says with a chuckle. Not like he was wrong.

The elbow to the shin both confirms where Arct is and tells him maybe that joke was in bad taste if the ghost doesn't want to be noticed.

Damian's glare told him he didn't miss the minute flinch he gave at that. Neither did Duke apparently, as his brow furrows. Damn detective training. Luckily Steph is still trying to burn a hole through her bowl with her eyes like Superman.

After that they eat in silence. The sound of clinking cutlery and shuffling in seats fills the room. At one point Duke seems to notice Tim's disappearing veggies, despite Tim not eating them. He drops his spoon, and it clatters off the table with a sound that could have been a gunshot in the quiet dining room.

"Ope, sorry,'' he mutters sheepishly as he scoots his chair back enough to bend down and get it.

As he's bent over, Duke looks over to Tim's side of the table. He nearly jumps out of his skin as he watches the thing, just sitting against his brother's legs, pulling a carrot through the table and putting it in its mouth. He must've made a noise or something, because the thing snaps to look at him with those toxic green eyes. A black appendage lifts for it to wave at him, that Cheshire grin curling out of its face with too many teeth.

Duke jumps back, hitting his head on the underside of the table and falling out of his seat. He scrambles out from under the table to see his three siblings staring at him. Pointing a shaking hand at the thing at Tim's feet he croaked, his voice cracking in fear.

"Something-" He swallowed, mouth suddenly dry, "-Something's under the table."

Damian shoots to his feet, newly revealed dagger in hand. Stephanie bolts up too, backing away slowly from the table like it might eat her if she moves too quickly.

Yeah, Tim might have just screwed up.

The frosty sensation pressing against his leg vanishes and he could see Duke gaping at him from the floor. Right, Intangibly, Arcturus probably went through the floor and is gonna hide out in the cave for a while until dinner is over. Tim inwardly let out a sigh of relief. Time to cover his ass.

"What's wrong Duke? Saw a spider or something?" Tim grins down at the other boy from his seat.

"What? No! I saw this, this thing! It was this smokey black thing with green eyes and way too many teeth!" Duke is still pointing at his legs under the table, like Arct will just come back for funsies.

Tim absently wondered if that's what Jason saw, looking at Arcturus. He never gave a description of his friend, even though he came back a few days later. Though he did get pranked by them. They got found out pretty quickly and started talking about other ways to mess with the family after that.

"Tt, so you can see the pit demon then, unsurprising." Damian scowled in Tim's direction, was he taking his anger out on Tim like that? Maybe.

"Wait, hold on-" Steph points at Damian. "-You know what this thing is? And you haven't told us?" She accused.

"I had it under control, it did not seem important as it had not yet tried to harm anyone as of yet." Damian retorted.

"Harm anyone? That thing is violent?!"

"Normally, those of its species are, yes."

Their shouting soon devolved into bickering, their feelings of suspicion and paranoia finally being released in the form of a shouting match as Duke remained frozen on the floor staring at Tim from under the table.

Tim propped his chin on his fist, elbow on the table as the show went on. Honestly this could use some popcorn.

Just as he was getting comfortable Duke squinted at him.

"You knew about that thing, didn't you?" The suspicion was palpable in his voice.

"Knew about what?" He asked innocently.

"The thing! It was up against your legs, you would either have noticed it and tried to get away or you already knew about it!"

Oh, shit. The other two had died down in their shouting match to look at him now. Not good.

Tim tries deflecting, "Duke, I've been tired and sore for a week and a half, you really think I'd be noticing if my legs felt a little chilly?"

The arguing turned into a four-way match. He tried valiantly to deny all accusations thrown at him, but he was up against three other bat-trained detectives, he was bound to let something slip.

"Are you telling us," Damian ground out, "that you just let a dangerous supernatural creature follow you to the manor? Not only are you an imbecile, but you are suicidal as well."

"I didn't let it follow me, I was unconscious. Dick let it follow him." He countered, full face in his hands. This really did not turn out the way he wanted it to.

"And so, what? You just decided 'well they didn't believe me about this, so let's get back at them a little?'" Stephanie had stopped shouting, but the anger was still hot in her voice.

"Basically," he shrugged.

The three across from Tim were about to start berating him, again, when Bruce finally showed up. He looked at the three angry teenagers on one side of the table, then Tim trying to disappear into the chair cushions on the other.

"Did I miss something?" He asked.

His siblings wanted to regale Bruce with his stupidity, but Tim cut them off before they could start.

"They were just telling me how stupid it was of me to try and have coffee with dinner so soon into my recovery." He lied.

Bruce shot a stern look at Tim as he sat down. "And they're right, you're barely out of medbay Tim, coffee won't do you any good right now."

Tim gave a noncommittal hum at that.

The dinner moved quickly after that. Glares were not so subtly shot his way and he no longer felt the same joy he did at the beginning. He decided to cut his losses and retire to his room early.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

'This did not go how I thought it would,' Tim thought as he not so gently shut his door and flopped onto his bed. At least he could hole himself up in his room now, so that's a positive.

A cold presence nears his right and gives a small hum, the noise conveyed concern and regret. Arct felt sorry for leaving him? It was his own fault he got himself into that mess. He turned his head from where it was smashed into the mattress to look at where his friend sat, the bed dipping slightly at the invisible weight.

"Not your fault," Tim mumbled through the sheets. "I thought of the pranks, you just did them for me. You still don't trust me enough to even show yourself, and I put you in a dangerous spot for some fun."

He glumly turned his head back into the sheets. He knew his friend didn't trust the bats, he knew Damian knew about pit demons from Jason, yet he still thought using his friend and possibly outing him to his family was a good idea. Stupid, stupid! Tim let out an anguished groan, wallowing and repeating depressing thoughts like a mantra in his head.

All thoughts screeched to a halt when something ran over his scalp. He looked up, expecting not to see anything but instead found a floating white glove carding its fingers soothingly through his hair. Tim felt his eyes flutter as he practically melted into the mattress, his previous thought spiral completely forgotten.

A Trilling chirp sounding of a connecting audio jack moved a question through the air, one simple enough Tim could decipher clearly; better? Leaning into his friend's touch he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Yeah," he breathed. "Thanks for helping me get out of my head. Sorry I had to tell them some things about you, Dami will probably try and stick around me now to make sure you aren't going to hurt anyone."

The fingers continued their paths through his hair as a trill of understanding filled him. Man, he'd made a great friend.

They continued like that in silence for a while, a floating white glove carding through Tim's hair, and Tim condensing into a puddle on the sheets from the comforting ministrations.

At Tim's yawn, the fingers stopped. Tim groaned at the loss. He looked hazily to his friend, silently urging him to continue. His friend responded with a cold wind rustling branches, the meaning of rest drew another groan from the puddle of teen. Ever so slowly he got up to go to the bathroom and get ready for bed, swaying slightly on his feet occasionally. Arcturus was still there when he got back, with clean pyjamas and a washed face. Tim crawled back into bead and was delighted when the fingers returned to his hair, accompanied by the purr he'd heard on the first night he'd met Arcturus, promising safety and sleep. The petting didn't stop until soft snores could be heard in the dark bedroom.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Danny was feeling hungry. His stomach had been roaring since he smelled dinner and it only got worse since stealing the veggies off Tim's plate. Maybe not attending to his human needs for a week and a half wasn't the greatest idea in retrospect, but the need for safety came first. He was currently in a house filled with highly trained and suspicious heroes and hero adjacents, he needed to be more than careful here, or he'd get caught by someone less friendly than Tim and Jason.

Still, he was hungry, and he probably needed a shower. After making sure all the vigilantes' returned from their patrols and tucked themselves safely in their beds, Danny used one of the furthest of the many spare bedroom ensuites (seriously how many rooms does this mansion have?) to scrub all his built up grime away. Not that he sweat or got dirty in ghost form, really, he just phases all the dirt off him, but nothing felt better after a week of stress than a shower.

It was heavenly.

Phasing the water off while in the tub would save the suspicion of a damp towel in an unused bedroom. He got dressed in his most recently washed clothes, thanking his past self for going to the laundromat before all this went down as he stuck his stuff back in the wall.

Danny crept down the winding halls of the manor towards the kitchen, remembering each turn from when he'd explore invisibly while Tim was asleep. Adding a little ghost power aided his steps to be deathly silent.

The kitchen was dark, not that it bothered Danny, as he made a B-line for the fridge. Opening it revealed a treasure trove of ingredients, fruits and veggies, meats and cheese, truly a fridge fit to serve five to twenty people at a time.

He grabbed a carrot and shoved it in his mouth, satisfied he had that to munch on. Danny started cherry picking other snacks, trying to make sure he could get somewhat of a balanced meal out of his pilfering.

The slight rustling of fabric made him stiffen, then a voice behind him had his core sink to his stomach.

"Master Jason, I do believe I have told you to send an advanced notice before you decide to come for a late-night snack," Alfred scolded the large silhouetted form.

Shit.

Shit shit shit shit shit.

Danny didn't move from his hunched position, unsure of what to do. He couldn't lie to the butler, he knew Jason much better than Danny did and would be able to smell the lie as soon as he turned around. Running wouldn't help either, Alfred had seen him. In human form. He'd tell Bruce as soon as he could. 'A mysterious man had bypassed all the detection alarms and raided the fridge early this morning' would send the bat on a search of the manor, top to bottom.

"Master Jason? Are you alright?"

Ah, he'd stayed quiet too long, shit.

The rustling of cloth came closer and in a panic Danny went invisible. A sharp inhale was the only indication of Alfred's surprise, and turning showed the man searching the room with eyebrows raised. Slowly the butler walked to the fridge, taking graceful, sturdy steps as he glided across the kitchen, expecting an attack. As he grabbed the handle of the open fridge door Danny turned intangible to let the door pass through him.

Alfred jerked his hand back as it went through Danny's chest, feeling as though he'd just stuck it in a bucket of dry ice. He'd tried to find the cold spot again, but by then Danny had already flown through the ceiling to Tim's room, the food in his arms forgotten.

Dropping his snacks to the floor as he made it to the correct bedroom Danny rushed to the sleeping form before him and shook him.

"Tim, Tim wake up!" He whisper-shouted, not caring if he was speaking English instead of ghost speak. "Tim, I need your help!"

Tim rolled over, groggy and half asleep.

"Whazzap?" He slurred before yawning.

"Your butler saw me."

"What?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~

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#danny phantom #danny fenton #tim drake #dp x dc #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #batman #dc x dp #ham writes #chapter fic #chapter 5

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gardenoblues · 7 months ago

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Woe...what a night.

The relief in his eyes when she said she wouldn't judge him so easily. The delight in his face when she said she would've taken it further.

The curious tilt of her head, thinking how he knew she got expelled, and with no hesitation she'd do it again. His reaction to it; the evident joy that he couldn't hide.

Then all goes to hell when he says;

"I knew there was a reason I liked you."

Her face softens as he says it. Thee Wednesday Freakin' Friday Addams.

It sealed it. A validation.

Someone liked how unhinged she was, a normie even, accepted her for who she is. He was different from the snobbish, insufferable elites she had met in the school she didn't want to attend. He gets his hands dirty and not like the Nevermore brats too spoiled to know how a coffee machine works.

And it all made sense at the end why she was so into him too.

Him being a normie was fine.

She couldn't have foresaw or imagine him as an outcast.

But him being both of two worlds was so unexpected, it stung. Everything he did was a mockery of her shortcomings, and they both knew it. Him more than anyone else.

As much as she couldn't stand the fact that being a psychic, a raven, and missing the most crucial part of the puzzle humiliates her to the bone, it didn't change the fact that, yes.

Yes. All was done, blood was shed, tears were wasted and lives were taken.

He was suddenly the monster wreaking havoc in town. Disemboweling bodies in the woods, lying as if it were walking, killed his therapist boy-monster.

He wasn't just Tyler Galpin; a part time barista, and a wide eyed boy ready to comply with her whims.

He was, and is the Hyde.

Walking freely in town wearing the same innocent face that managed to fool her and stayed out of her radar. With his bigot, normie, sheriff father.

All smiles and sunshine in the daylight, but at night the shadows consume him.

"Of course the first boy I'd kiss would turn out to be a psycho killing monster. Guess I have a type."

Yeah girl you have a type.

And it's a temperemental beast with a mind of its own.

And it all started with a cup of coffee he had made for her. And those damn words she held in the back of her mind every time she does something unpleasant or disappoints her family or the head of the wretched school.

"I knew there was a reason I liked you."

But this time, it wasn't Tyler Galpin's voice echoing in her shabby mind.

It was her voice that she tried to suppress as her ribcage claws out of her chest. Denying any hint of affection.

There is always an explanation why things are the way they are, and why people act the way that they do.

And it was in front of her all this time.

Even now that Tyler is splayed bloody in the open.

There it is.

The reason why she liked him.

#wyler #tyler galpin #wednesday addams #wednesday series #ao3 #this may have gotten a little unplanned #but guess it turned out well #GIVE US SEASON 2 BECAUSE HOW CAN YOU DROP A MASTERPIECE AND DISAPPEAR FOR WHAT FEELS LIKE YEARS #the subtle acting in this scene tho 🤌#hunter and jena have the perfect chemistry together on screen no one should deny that #another wyler brainrot enjoy suckers #if someone can write more or continue this thread lol jk #this scene made me a solid wyler fan frfr #when he said that line i just knew they'd be end game because why else would have been that iconic?#there was no need for it to hit that hard it they're not gonna end up together okay??!!#okok I'll stop

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astrolotte · 3 months ago

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augh . this show

#i have a tendency to get REALLY attached to one character from every show I'm interested in #to the point where my perspective of the show is kinda warped by their views #like if they hate a character i'll hate the character that kind of thing #and this is fun most of the time. a pleasant enough experience #certainly an interesting way to go abt it lol #but this time #I got attached to Peri #so what comes with that is. I like Hazel. I like Cosmo and Wanda a lot. And I also like DEV a lot #(he's also just a great character so far in general)#and I've come to really like where i THOUGHT Peri and Dev's dynamic was going #but some of the staff on twitter are saying some Mysterious things #and implying that Dev's just gonna be Proper Evil for a while. even beyond the series finale #and it's really throwing me off guard #like if he's gonna be evil then I feel like he and Peri are just gonna hate each other? but i like the idea of them getting along #so now it's just. twisting my mind in different directions #i don't think i'll ever HATE Dev even if Peri does. He's a very interesting and compelling character #but still #anyway if they really do end up making Dev a longstanding villain i just??? i don't think that's the best choice for the series #especially considering it's a KIDS CARTOON #saying ''this kid is mean but he has the potential to be good :)#unfortunately he won't be. he's evil now!''#like huh. what kind of message is that for kids #i hope this is just them tricking us lol. intentionally misguiding us #bc otherwise... mmh... idk

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piningpercussionist · 3 months ago

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uuugHHH I hate tagging stuff

I've dragged some stuff out of the drafts and into the queue! Sorry for the content drought, I'm adjusting to new medications ^^"

Anyhow- posting this primarily to promo a fic someone wrote! Because everyone knows I'm constantly chomping at the bit for new Kim content, and I imagine several of you are too,,,

You can read it here, over on ao3!! It gets a little heavy for some people probably, but it's really quite nice, so I hope you'll consider giving it a chance! (It's seriously really good, please consider reading it.)

#also yes it is tagged w knikim but i am begging you to please read it anyway. SPOILERS but it's really so brief a moment #like it's about as brief or perhaps even Briefer- one could argue- than how they've been brushed on in canon before. because it's a look +#+at brushes with relationships Kim's had throughout the series. so please please please consider reading it I Beg Of You #okay that's all the begging I'll do. i just know that's a a tag that's gonna make some people do a 180- so I needed to get that out there #but it's really good i swear. it's got some lines I've got Rattling in my head still #sp comic #spvtw #spto #fanfics #links #kim pine #scott pilgrim #lisa miller #jason kim #hollie hawkes #knives chau #ramona flowers #ship stuff #sckim #lisim #i dont actually have a jason and kim tag im realizing. not sure i want to make one really lol. id probably make it... kim squared maybe?#kimona #always feels weird to put something in this one! bc i swore up and down this would be a basically one time use tag but here we are like 3 +#+or 4 posts deep at this point:#knikim #scott pilgrim fanfiction #scott pilgrim fandom #whoops im running out of tags. okay that's all folks!#ooc #txt

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skrunksthatwunk · 11 months ago

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yakuza: dead souls - american vibes, bigass guns, and why zombies are super weird to have in ryu ga gotoku thematically/ideologically speaking

so i've been playing dead souls recently (hell yeah hell yeah hell yeah) and although i'm having the time of my life with it, there was something about it that kinda felt off to me, and i think i've figured out what it was, but i'm gonna have to walk you through a bit of my thought process to get there.

my first instinct was that it felt... american? and upon further examination i think that boils down to a couple of things:

everyone suddenly has lots of guns and also way way bigger guns

high emphasis on individual heroism (this itself is quite typical for rgg, but it manifests differently here; more on that in a bit)

military/government incompetence, which must be solved by the right individuals having the biggest and bestest guns

[for the sake of transparency i will note that my experience with zombie media is pretty limited and skews american (and i myself am american), so that may create bias. however, the 'this feels american to me' instinct is a rare one for me even in genres where i have seen little/no non-american media, so i think the fact that it did occur to me is notable. what about dead souls triggered that response when little else has? that's why i examined it and, truthfully, i think there's merit in the idea itself.]

the first point is pretty self-explanatory. america's got more guns than it does people, and its gun worship is infamous. japan's ban on guns (aided by its being an island state) means there's far fewer guns in the country, as well as far fewer people with guns (and likely far fewer guns per gun owner, excepting arms dealers/smugglers) than somewhere without such a ban. obviously, there are guns anyway. due to their illegality they are clustered within the criminal population, which explains their presence within organized crime within the series. very few guns will be sitting around in the homes of otherwise law-abiding citizens.

and yet, when the zombie outbreak hits kamurocho, plenty of civilians suddenly have access to quite an arsenal. everyone has the knowledge they need to aim, fire, and reload smoothly and quickly; ammo is infinite for certain guns. characters we've never seen using firearms before suddenly have shotguns under their couches (looking at you, majima). it's not only very different from reality, it's very different from guns' place within the series up until this point, when they were limited weapons used primarily by the enemy.

and they're making a zombie shooter, so of course they would have to do this. it has to be unrealistic to be simultaneously in this setting and in this genre, in the same way that yakuza solving their problems with bareback fistfights instead of guns is itself both unrealistic and necessary to being the kinds of games rgg are.

my point is that this is a kind of focus on and valorization of gun ownership and competency unusual for the series and setting. further, it serves as an argument for why an armed, competent populace is crucial typical in american media.

which brings us to the third point (we'll get to 2 in a minute). guns are often marketed as self-defense weapons. the implication is that the government's defense of the individual (via law enforcement or the military, but particularly the former), are insufficient. this is objectively true. if someone pulls a gun on you at the gas station, will a cop manifest out of thin air to intercede? no. that's impossible. but if you have a gun, or if some bystander has a gun, you or they may be able to do something with that gun to stop the armed person. thus, there is an undeniable gap in the effective immediacy of such responses.

many gun advocates also point to the incompetence or insufficiency of law enforcement, even when they are present to stop an armed aggressor. the fact that law enforcement do not have a 100% success rate in protecting the citizenry is also objectively true.

so, when you are in danger, arming yourself increases your chances of being able to put down (or at least take armed action against) a present or potential threat. whether it is viewed it as a supplement to or a replacement for law enforcement, it is meant to make up for the shortcomings of the government's ability to completely protect all its citizens. it's a safety net for state failure.

back to dead souls. rgg has always centered political corruption in its stories, including politicians, the police, and sometimes even the military, though usually the former two. sometimes this is treated sympathetically (i.e. tanimura, a dirty cop, whose dirty-cop-ness allows him to work outside/against the law to help disadvantaged people, not unlike how kiryu views being a yakuza), and other times it's simply a matter of greed or lust for power (i.e. jingu).

however, something that's almost never touched on so clearly is government incompetence. when the government fails to help people or hurts them or does corrupt things, it's usually due to a competent, malicious bad apple who is removed from power by the end of the game. this implies holes in the system because it keeps happening all the time, but that's on a series-wide scale, a pattern ignored by the series in favor of the individual game solution of "this guy's gone now :) yay".

but in dead souls, the SDF's barracades fall, their men are killed, they are unable to help protect the people outside or inside the quarantine zone. they are weak in a way the government usually isn't in these games. and who is stronger than them? our individual good guys with guns. so we need to be armed because the government is weak and can't protect us. boom. america.

returning to point 2, i'd like to say that dead souls is not particularly more individualistic than any of the other games in the series (other than, perhaps, y7). rgg is an incredibly individualistic series, actually. its protagonists are usually men who defy, oppose, and skirt around the law as a way of helping others and doing what is truly right (with a few exceptions, like shinada and haruka). the romanticized view of the yakuza as a force for helping the community in the face of government incompetence is a real one, and one that tends to manifest itself most in kiryu and how the series treats him. it shows us yakuza who aren't willing to kill, yakuza who cry about honor and justice and humanity and brotherhood, yakuza who never dip their hands into less palatable crimes, or only do with intense regret (and only ever as part of their backstory). the beat-em-up style emphasizes this as well. i mean, what's more individualistic than a one-man army?

put more clearly, this series is about men defying legal and social laws and expectations to live in a way that feels right to them, and about making themselves strong enough to combat those who would get in their way. the individual is placed before the society in importance, (though generally in a way that benefits the community, because they are good guys who want to use that agency and power for good).

all of this is true in dead souls as well, technically. those who live on the outskirts of society are the ones who actually save the day, and the ones who go in there and save people rather than just walling them off and pretending like they don't exist. they have the guns, which are illegal and mark them as criminals, but this broken law is what gives them the power to save themselves when the government will not, and to save their community if they so choose.

where dead souls differs is in the nature of that strength.

rgg places a lot of emphasis on self-improvement, both of one's body and of one's character. do both of these, and you will be strong enough to back up your ambitions. what allows someone to carve their own path in life is the ability to put down ideological and physical resistance by having resolve and the ability to tiger drop whoever won't be swayed by your impassioned speeches. you make yourself a weapon. you make yourself strong. in dead souls, that strength comes from an external, material possession. strength is something you buy (or that you take from someone else). who is able to survive the apocalypse comes not from the heart, nor from rigorous training, but from who has the most, the biggest, and the most bestest guns. it's an intersection of capitalism, militarization, and individualism. simply, deeply american.

[when i was talking myself through this a few days ago, i spent a lot more time on the capitalism + individualism stuff, but i think i'll keep this moving. consider this aside the intermission]

dead souls also differs for a few other interlocking reasons. it can be described with this equation:

zombification of enemies + lethality of guns = loss of emphasis on redemption

if your best friend turned into a zombie, could you shoot them? or your child? or your lover? it's a common trope, but it's a damn good one. watching your family, your neighbors, your town, everyone turn into a husk of themselves, something that looks like them but cannot be reached, is deeply tragic. it's even more tragic when these husks are trying to kill you. unable to be reasoned with and unable to be cured, you must incapacitate them before someone innocent is hurt--or hurt, then themselves made dangerous; each loss adds to the number of threats surrounding you. your life is seen as more valuable than that of your zombified friend, not only because the zombie is attacking you and it's self defense, but because they are no longer a person to you. to be a zombie is to no longer be human; zombification is dehumanization.

and so in a series so focused on connection with one's community, on saving innocent civilians, often on saving kamurocho specifically, one would expect similar tropes to occur. even if one's friends aren't turned, perhaps the cashier at poppo you chat with sometimes is. it's the destruction of that community and of the members one has tertiary relationships with that i expect would occur most within a kamurocho zombie story, since they are likely unwilling to axe anyone more important than that, even if dead souls isn't canon. i'd especially expect to see that in the beginning, before the need to kill zombies rather than contain or redeem them becomes apparent.

this does not happen.

i cannot speak for the entire game, but i can speak of gameplay choices that affect this, and ones i think will not be subverted throughout, even if they are somewhat contradicted by plot events i am presently unaware of.

kamurocho is not a community to protect, nor is it filled with your fellows. it is a playground filled with infinitely respawning, infinitely mow-downable, infinitely disposable zombies. you are meant and encouraged to kill them by the thousands, and never to hesitate or consider whether they may be cured or who may be mourning them. who may be unable to identify their loved one because you were trying to reach a headshot goal from hasegawa. you are not meant to consider them as human, nor beings that were once human, nor beings that could be human again, in the eyes of the zombie shooter. they are merely bodies, targets, and obstacles.

the zombies are contrasted with the true humans, those barricading themselves within the quarantine zone or those living in ignorance outside it. humans are meant to be saved, zombies are meant to be killed. the player character is the only one who can truly help with either of these goals, because the other humans are cowardly, ignorant, or unarmed/helpless. you must be their savior. to be a savior is to eliminate zombies, who are less than human.

the black and white nature of this is also emphasized by another gameplay characteristic: the lack of street encounters. when you traverse the peaceful parts of kamurocho, you are never attacked. you are also never directly attacked by the humans within the quarantine zone. kamurocho feels very different without its muggers and hooligans, but it's because this is a zombie shooter, not a beat-em-up. in a normal rgg title, you'd subdue threats by punching, kicking, and throwing them. you'd use your body in (supposedly) nonlethal ways. dead souls does not have a combat system meant for civilians. you have your guns. you subdue threats by shooting them, preferably lethally. the game doesn't want you to do that to humans, so you never fight humans. this furthers the black and white divide between the salvation-worthy, noble humans and the death-worthy, worthless zombies. combat is only lethal, and only used against the inherent other.

this leads me to the part of dead souls i find most conflicting with the ethos of rgg broadly, and perhaps its greatest ideological/thematic failing.

because the enemy are incurable, dangerous, and inhuman, you must kill them to protect yourself and others, others who are still human. humanity is something that is lost or preserved, but never regained. once someone's gone, they're gone, and you not only must kill them, it is your duty and your right to kill them. you should kill them.

in dead souls, there is no redeeming the enemy.

and that's a big problem.

rgg is about a lot of things, but a key one is the ability of people to change for the better. its most memorable, beloved villains are those who see the light by the end and change their wicked ways (usually through some form of redemptive suicide, though that's another essay in itself). its pantheon of characters is full of those who come from questionable backgrounds struggling to be the best people they can be, to live as themselves authentically and compassionately. it's about the good and the love you can find in the moral and legal gray zones of life/society, and the potential/capacity for good all of us have, no matter how far we may have fallen. it is a hopeful series. it is a merciful series.

this is something bolstered by its gameplay. countless substories are resolved by punching a lesson into someone until they improve their behavior, either out of fear or genuine remorse/development. the games don't just discourage killing your enemies, they don't allow you to (yes, we've all seen the "kiryu hasn't killed anybody? umm. look at this heat action" stuff before, and while they've got a point, i believe it's the narrative's intent that none of this is actually lethal, based on how laxly it treats certain plot injuries (cough cough. y7 bartender) and the actual concept of taking a life, the gravity it is given by the text, particularly when it comes to characters crossing that threshold into someone who has killed. explicit killing is not an option open to you, even when you're being attacked by dozens and dozens of armed men. conflicts are resolved by simply beating up enough guys in this nonlethal manner.

but dead souls is a shooter. to avoid conflict with the series' moral qualms about letting its characters kill, the enemies cannot be human. furthermore, the zombie shooter genre can only fit within the series if its zombies are completely inhuman. this means their pasts as humans cannot be acknowledged, nor the possibility of a cure, nor the characters' own potential conflicts about killing them; or, at least, not in a way that impedes their or the player's ability to gun them down afterwards.

if you can't kill humans in your series, then it cannot be possible to save (in this case, rehumanize) zombies. this is especially true in a game where you are unable to fight humans, and thus human lives are universally more valuable than zombie lives. because if you kill a zombie that can be cured, you are, in a way, killing a human.

and so, in a series where you should always assume your enemies (and everyone, for that matter) are capable of reason, compassion, change, and redemption, and where they are always worth that effort, even if they reject it in the end, dead souls' enemies are irredeemable and only worth swift, stylish slaughter. there are only good guys and bad guys. good guys must be protected, lest they be turned irreversibly into bad guys. good guys are only protected by killing bad guys, and the only way to save good guys is to kill every last one of the bad guys. do not spare them, and do not ask whether or not it's right. only kill.

i love dead souls. it's a silly game. i like seeing daigo in decoy-drag and majima gleefully cartwheeling his way through zombies and ryuji with his giant gun arm prosthetic. it's fun. but when i was trying to figure out what felt off about it to me, one of the words that came to mind (besides american) was indulgent. that, too, felt odd, because i love indulgent media. i am not one to scorn decadent, hedonistic, beautiful high-calorie slop type media. if dead souls was just fan servicey, that wouldn't really bother me. i am a fan and boy do i feel serviced. it rocks. but i think my problem is in what dead souls is indulging.

i think dead souls indulges in the desire to cut loose, and to see these characters cut loose. thing is, they're cutting loose all over kamurocho, and all over the bodies of people they used to (at least in concept) care for. with lethal weapons. it is catharsis via bloodbath, not by pushing your body and mind to the limit in man to man combat, but by pulling a trigger before the other guy can hurt you, or even think about hurting you, for the crime of existing as the wrong kind of thing.

and i just don't think that's in line with rgg's beliefs.

yes, it's probably fair for dead souls' characters to kill zombies. i'm not against that. i'm also not against games letting you do purposeless violence. i spent a good amount of my elementary school years killing oblivion npcs for shits, like. that's not what bothers me about dead souls.

rgg as a series has always taken a hard stance in both its game design and narrative choices against killing and for the potential for redemption in its enemies. and i think the lengths to which it goes to promote that despite the probably-lethal moves you do and the improbability of a harmless do-gooder yakuza is one of the most endearing things about the games. so for this one entry to disregard that key theme for the sake of a genre shift that flopped super hard, well? i dunno. it feels weird i guess. it's out of place not just because it's a dramatic shift in gameplay and style and also zombies are only a thing here (and the supernatural/fantastical are thus only prominent here), but because of what those shifts imply.

so, uh. yeah. my pre-dead-souls thoughts that dead souls wasn't that out of pocket bc rgg's just kinda weird? turns out it was actually super weird to have a zombie shooter in there, but for way way deeper reasons than anyone gives it credit for.

(footnotes in tags)

#1) i deemphasized the physicality of shooting to emphasize my points about the viscerality and personal nature of rgg #brawls and the colder more detached nature of gun use relative to that but i do NOT mean that shooting has no physical component to it #obviously it takes a lot of skill to shoot quickly and accurately and lugging a bigass gun around kamurocho would tucker me out for sure #2) no i don't think all those things i said were american were usa-exclusive. it's a big world out there. i'm just saying those things #combined feel like a particularly american flavor of thing to me #3) there's probably more to be said about the connection between wanton killing and american styling or anti-immigration theming in zombie #stories or dead souls But i figured that was a bit too disconnected to the funny zombie game. this shit was a lot anyway y'know?#4) also i don't think most of this was intentional on the part of rgg studios. i genuinely think they just wanted to make a fun zombie #shooter and didnt really think about it all that hard. whenever you make smth there's gonna be implications you never considered. it happen #5) is it ballsy to write a giant essay on a game i'm like 1/4 the way through? yes. i've done smarter things. i'll revisit it when im done #if i'm wrong then i'll figure it out probably. but like. i don't think they'd set up the hasegawa objective stuff or have akiyama just #unflinchingly start shooting zombies and then later challenge that. we'll see but my hopes aren't high y'know? i know rgg #6) i should also clarify that violent catharsis is a) a part of all rgg games and b) cool as hell. it's the lethal bit that doesn't fit with #the series y'know?#rgg #ryu ga gotoku #yakuza #like a dragon #yakuza dead souls #dead souls #classic skrunk 4 hr middle of the night impulse essay hooorayy

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meowchela · 2 months ago

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guys inanimate insanity is updating again and i kinda dgaf because the hyperfixation died years ago but i just got spoiled (??? i think) for something and ngl its making me kinda intruiged.........these days ive moved on to other things and grown up (which is ironic considering i got into II when i was a little bit over the target age in the first place) but like. should i finish it just to finish it since season 2 is finally wrapping up or nah since idk if i feel like going back to it rn

#meow meows #idk because on one hand i AM curious #but on the other hand. watching things takes energy that i could b using 4 more current interests or things my friends have reccomended #im also teeter tottering on if i'm gonna get sucked back into the osc or not #because on one hand. that took up a huge part of my life and going back to it might reawaken the obsession #but on the other hand i fell off keeping up with ii and bfdi because i naturally lost interest #and then it became too much to catch up with at once for smth i barely cared about anymore #like lightbulb and paintbrush are both gone whats even the point /j #but you see the dilemma; i'm on the fence about a lot #but also like. what do you mean theyre doing a movie. what does that Mean in terms of indie animation #most of all im just nervous about getting invested again tbh #i have other stuff i want to focus on more so like. idk maybe i'll wait until my current special interests subside a little #so theres room for new stuff again. or new old stuff?#idk my nostalgia goggles arent really on for object show stuff yet so maybe i'll finish the series whenever that kicks in #i got into the osc around like 2016 sooooo maybe i'll feel like reminiscing in 2026? to mark an even ten years

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hanzajesthanza · 2 months ago

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it's both a really good feeling and a really bad feeling to have the next three videos planned out and drafted, and the next four to six videos planned for after that...

like i'm glad to have a vision and all, but i'm staring down the barrel of a lot of work, and a path which i can't necessarily diverge from now

#IV #it feels episodic which i guess might be fun to watch!#this is kind of why i'd like to do one long video to get it all done with but that wouldn't allow me to be as detailed as i'd like to #what was supposed to be a quick interlude video has now evolved into a large video has now involved into three successive videos #that is going to be so much work but well it needs to be done and said and it's not gonna do itself #like there is a whole timeline of 'first this then that' which needs to happen IN ORDER #and it's annoying bc i'd like to do some videos on more specific topics but before i get these done i can't do those #because these topics are literally foundational to everything else i'll talk about ever #im just relieved that large video is done as i explained witcher's origins in fantastyka and why i dont like the netflix show LOL #because those things are probably the hardest to explain #everything else is like OK well we have a book series in front of us. read it lol

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martianbugsbunny · 7 months ago

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I had the benefit of a really strong liberal arts education bc I was homeschooled and that was really important to my mom, and I'm pretty aware that public education in that domain can be pretty lacking (which is a criticism of the system that doesn't teach writing skills the way it should, not of the people who go through the system), so I'm considering starting a series of posts for vocabulary/writing tips. just for fun, just in case there are people who might find it useful. not in a "writing can't be good unless it's perfect" way but in a "if you want help figuring out the right word to use in such-and-such situation or ways to structure things to make them flow better" way.

if you're interested, cool! and if there's a specific thing you struggle with and wouldn't mind an outside voice on, drop me an ask, both anons and otherwise are turned on w this blog, so whatever you're comfortable with, and I can either give you my best advice or throw it anybody else who knows

#personally I've come across a lot of writing tips on here that I've found incredibly helpful #because so much of this website is writers of one kind or another #and I also feel that as a young writer I would've really liked to just have a series of posts to refer to #especially w similar vocabulary words those have REALLY tripped me up in the past #I'll be posting vocabulary stuff under the tag 'martian's vocabulary tips' and other stuff under 'martian's writing tips'#and it's not gonna be like...all the time #just whenever I happen to think of something I wish I had been able to find advice about online when I was starting writing #anyway!#that's my two cents #martian's writing tips #martian's vocabulary tips #who knows maybe this is the least necessary thing on the planet but like...I don't even care if these are flop posts #half of them will probably be reminders to myself on how to use words lol #writing tips #writing tumblr

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bonestrouslingbones · 11 months ago

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sigh. ebony's birthday is at some point this month isnt it.

sigh. i'm not gonna be able to get this idea to combine that with a sort of last hurrah to finally kill off the ask blog format for atbb out of my head am i.

#hey dont click that “see all” button for the tags. just dont. its not worth it #not giving any character tags because secrets #but. ugh. i had the idea to give him his own mini ask event at some point last year and never went through with it #but now. well i've already pretty much fully decided atbb's just gonna be a fic series right. i need to post about that at some point #so what if. you know. just as a final celebration to what atbb was #and also me somewhat remedying being sad that y'all won't get to actually TALK to this fucker #and also me getting some feel for his voice since i still won't get to write him for a MINUTE #it would be almost entirely text tho. probably use the chat font lol #probably the intro to the event would have a pic of him and then the ending and MAYBE some bits in between #for the inevitable Can We See Your Mouth question #but just enough to not burn me the fuck out #but also would anyone even send anything in lmao....kinda a big part of hiatusing atbb at all was lack of engagement #hm. maybe i will post about ebony a tad on my normal blog. just to test the waters #not today tho becase i need to work on my finals so so fucking bad oh god everything's due tomorrow #but. soon maybe.#OR maybe i'll chicken out again lmao who knows!

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ofieugogyshz · 2 years ago

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me @ myself: you don't have to recycle your old oc if you don't wanna

me (cont): you can just make a new insert

me (cont): and you can just borrow your family f/os from other series

me: :0 i could be honey and mustard's kid for realsies...........

#anyways im talking about mmbn #like only one person know the old s/i and bc im like. so much older. it was gonna feel weird to keep going the older sib route #i don't even have an f/o for this series it was just the second series i made an oc/multiverse with.#so it's a lot of nostalgia tbh LOL #(also i may or may not be going Thru It rn w/ not having parental or older adult figures to look to for guidance on the most mundane stuff)#like its legit been 20 years since i first made the s/i //played my first bn game #mmbnlc *is* the 20th anniv series event thing #so. yeah.#also im like. thinkin bout nevin #he could be my gramps for realsies too....#not sure whose side of the fam bc either side is perfectly fitting!!!!!!#im #bouncing even tho i'll never use this shit xD #also bc i just miss my netnavi oc Jenna #who was just recycled oc oc from something vaguely inspired by tmm that never got much beyond concept #so. yeah lol #but i mostly just miss my netnavi oc lol i don't even recall much about her having a personality but my brain is like #implanting some other 'recently seen' similar personality into that space rn 8l

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orcelito · 2 years ago

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ok it's rly stupid but discacc chapter 42 felt so weird writing not for anything in the chapter but bc i wrote it outside of my normal active chapter document. for the most part. LIKE i have this one document that i use for writing all my discacc chapters and HAVE since like way way way early on. like since chapter 2 ish early on? bc things were getting too long it was freaking out the doc & also it's easier to copy-paste new chapters into ao3 if i just have that chapter there. so i have my main fic thing (well, multiple, since discacc is too long to fit into one document lmfaoo) & then i write new chapters in this active chapter doc & then copy paste them into the main thing once im done

EXCEPT

so 42 was originally a part of 41. it was all gonna be chapter 41. and i wrote like 4.6k words of it in active document with chapter 41. then decided it was gonna be its own thing, so i just plopped that bit into its own document to cut it from the active chapter doc. but then. when it came time to continue it in chapter 42. i just. didnt move it back to the active chapter document. i just kept writing in separate document '42'.

and idk there's just smth that feels so WEIRD about that. like it wasn't a normal discacc chapter or smth. which is kinda stupid but idk. like i couldve moved it back over at any point. but i didnt. bc i was already there

anyways im looking forward to writing again in "DA active chapter" doc aka the RIGHT doc for discacc writing. thank you very much

#speculation nation #discacc shit #yes i have DA active and DA beta docs as in DA an acronym used in documents but NEVER in talking about it #bc i was really really really into dragon age some years back so DA is dragon age in my mind #aka the origins for me using 'discacc' as an abbreviation instead. if anyone cares.#uhm. so yea idk i just have all these documents for fic wriitng.#i have. 11 documents in my discacc folder (which is a subset of my fic folder. there are separate ones for different WIPs)#i'll give u guys the names bc i feel like sharing #'42' (as talked about here) 'akira personas' (gotta plan for them bc Hoo there r many possibilities) 'DA active chapter' (as spoken of)#'DA beta chapter' (for passing completed chapters off to andi to read. back when they could beta. hoping it can be used again sometime)#'DA ch2' (lmaoo aka i was gonna start working on early edits beyond 1 and then just never did)#'DA reject passages' (BARELY used. like 2 lil things in there. already both recycled i think. i keep it just in case.)#'Discordant Accord' first main collection 'Discordant Accord 2' 2nd main collection bc first got too long to keep adding to it #'Goro journal' aka where i wrote the recently posted side thing. man that sure was something #'goro skills' CRUCIAL document from info i gathered early on. compiles all skills from robin hood loki AND his boss fight.#it's very good for personal reference lol #and FINALLY... 'Ryukita planning' which tbh is just a series of screenshots. but i have some plans for orders of events #sometimes the sub plots need planning too ok? ok #uhm. hi. im being encouraged too much with praise. here's some talk about my process that no one asked for.

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dreamlandcreations · 1 year ago

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whatever he wants

pairing: darkish!bucky barnes x (gray?)curvy!reader

warnings: 18+ only. smut. tiny hint of voyeurism. uhhh this isn’t really dark but it’s not not dark either… so idk. if there’s something i’m missing pls lmk.

words: 3.4k

notes: smutty little part two to IOU. hope you guys like it. thank you in advance for reading and reblogging! as always, feedback and comments are more than welcome and so appreciated. please leave your thoughts, let me know what you think. 🖤

You can’t get up.

You’ve tried three times now, and nothing. The heavy metal arm slung around your waist just. won’t. budge.

You’re about to elbow him in the ribs, the heat of his body and the hot summer air is suffocating and you need to get up - you need to breathe.

One more try and if he doesn’t move, you’re gonna make him.

You roll onto your front and his arm drops onto your back, still keeping you from leaving the bed.

You writhe and huff in annoyance, turning your face to look at him.

He’s still sleeping. Still deceptively beautiful.

You stop your wiggling for a moment as you take him in. His pouty lips, his unfairly long lashes that brush just against his cheekbones, the stubble that’s lining his perfectly sculpted jaw, and his unruly bedhead.. He looks peaceful like this. Nice. So nice, you’d never believe he could be such an absolute dick so much of the time.

You stare a bit longer, wanting to commit the moment, how beautiful and content he looks right now, to memory.

You take a deep breath and try to roll back over, but the weight of his arm makes it no easy feat.

“Bucky,” you whisper yell, not wanting your voice to carry through the rest of the cabin.

You’re sure you’re the only one awake right now; well aside from Steve.

His leaving for his morning run was what had woken you up to begin with. You’ve been laying here for fifteen minutes and you needed to get up now, but Bucky still didn’t move.

You roll your eyes and exhale heavily.

If you punch him, he’ll wake up, but he’ll be pissed. And you don’t think you wanna start your morning off dealing with his attitude.

You swear Bucky Barnes might just be the most dramatic man you’ve ever met.

If one thought he was grumpy normally, they’d be entirely unprepared for him when he was woken up by anything or anyone other than himself or his alarm.

With the one exception of you, of course. More accurately: you working his cock.

Whether it was your hand, your mouth, your cunt, what have you - it was a surefire way to make sure he woke up on the right side of the bed.

But you really aren’t in the mood right now.

Instead, you begin to wiggle under his arm again, worming your way down the bed until finally, blessedly, you get free.

You exhale with a breathy laugh as you sit up on your haunches before looking over to Bucky again.

You can tell already that your absence from where he expects you to be beside him is disturbing him. His brows furrow and then his hand is searching for you among the mess of sheets.

You watch curiously as he pats around the bed before he finally blinks open his eyes and meets your gaze.

He scowls when he recognizes you sitting up across from him.

“Don’t start,” you say as you get off the bed, “in fact, don’t say a word. Just go back to sleep, princess.”

He growls, not nearly as loud as you know he’d like, with sleep still clinging to him.

“What the fuck did I say about you calling me princess,” he gruffs.

“Said not to, if I’m not mistaken. But I like doing it, so I’m not gonna stop.”

“Til I make you,” he vaguely threatens, his voice getting darker and more clear as he wakes up fully.

“Like to see you try,” you taunt as you make your way into the bathroom.

Bucky doesn’t scare you so much anymore. Though you’ve had to learn when to stop pushing. You’ve gotten pretty damn good at reading him. Knowing when he’s entirely serious and at his limit is something you can spot nearly right away now. Since that first night all those months ago, the only times you ignore the warnings are when you’re wanting what he’d given you the first time he had you. Something more rough than normal from him. Something purely carnal. Bordering on truly depraved.. And god, he’s never failed to deliver.

You know you’ve become complicit in this whole arrangement, but you’re starting to care less and less. What can you say? A powerful, beefy, hot as hell super soldier wants you. Chose you. He’s possessively protective over you, and problematic as that can be, you find it ridiculously attractive. And the sex if fucking amazing.

Sure, he can be a dick, but he’s been less of a dick to you. And you quite enjoy the way he now directs his annoyance and anger at those he knows irk you, too.

It's not like you don't fight or argue anymore, but it's almost always resolved quite.. nicely. Who are you to complain about that?

And god, the perks being with Bucky has come with.

You never really fed into the whole “fuck your way to the top” thing, but hey, here you were.

Getting better missions, nicer gear, getting more involved with the big leagues. And though you wouldn’t say it aloud, Bucky always having your back - during missions, in meetings, coming to your defense when someone would question your input - it was nice. Sometimes it was like he was your own personal guard dog.

And you loved the way people would shrink in on themselves, making themselves sparse when you and Bucky were around. You'd never admit it, but you guys were definitely a power couple around the tower. And you were thriving.

The attention, the opportunities, the sex. If you hadn't been blackmailed into this whole thing, you wouldn't have a solitary complaint.

You’re spitting out toothpaste and putting your toothbrush away as Bucky barges into the bathroom. You look up from the sink and shoot him an annoyed glance at the unnecessary disturbance.

“Really?” you ask as he grabs his own toothbrush from its spot.

“What?” he says. You roll your eyes and brush past him to start getting dressed.

“Put on your swimsuit,” he orders as he pauses his brushing to speak.

“Why?” you’re already annoyed knowing the answer. You guys have been here on this little summer getaway for two days now, both of which you’ve successfully managed to avoid getting in the water.

It wasn’t that you were scared or couldn’t swim, no, it was nothing like that.

It was that goddamn bathing suit.

The only bathing suit you had, thanks to Bucky who went into your bags after you’d finished packing and took your other two options out.

You’d swear it was skimpier than some of your lingerie.

“We’re going swimming,” he smirks, eyeing you hungrily.

You turn with another roll of your eyes and head to the drawer that holds your swimming wear. You throw Bucky’s trunks on the bed without care and grab your suit without looking at it.

You lean in the doorway of the bathroom as Bucky washes his face off, scowling.

“Can’t we get breakfast first?”

“You can get breakfast while wearing it.”

“You get off on humiliating me, that’s it, isn’t it?”

He barks a laugh as he turns to face you, “You think this is me trying to humiliate you?”

You don’t respond as you keep your face stoic. He approaches and his large hands come around your neck, cradling the back of your head as he pulls your face closer to his. He crashes his lips to yours, the minty feel still lingering as he licks into your mouth, pushing you against the wall as he backs you up, his hands keeping your head from hitting it. You return his fervent kiss, your hands coming up to hold his forearms, despite your annoyance before he pulls away suddenly and leaves you wanting.

You lick your lips as you catch your breath and meet his eye.

“If I wanted to humiliate you, sweetheart, you’d know.”

—

When you’re both done getting ready for the day, you having taken your sweet time to get into the bathing suit, you slowly open the bathroom door you had shut and locked behind you nearly fifteen minutes ago.

You’re overly aware of your belly and the jiggle of your ass and thighs with each step you take.

You hate this swimsuit and you swear you’d burn it if you weren’t sure he’d take you skinny dipping should it mysteriously disappear.

The growl that emanates from Bucky when he sees you genuinely startles you and when his big hands grab you by the waist, you feel that familiar heat growing deep within you.

His hands move down to grab your ass, kneading the ample flesh he finds there as you push against him.

Your breasts are nearly spilling out of the too small cups and though the band of the thong-like bottoms can be pulled to sit high on your hips, it really does nothing to hide or cover your stomach the way you’d like. And the tropical blue color brings too much attention.

It’s not that you’re self conscious, though you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a bit, it’s just way too revealing for you. You hate that everyone will get to see parts of you you don’t like showing. You feel like you’re giving away parts of your privacy.

But you know Bucky doesn’t care.

As long as he’s the only one who gets to touch you, he’d happily let the world feast their eyes on you like this, show them what they’ll never have.

“This is ridiculous,” you complain for the tenth time.

“You look fuckin’ sexy,” he purrs, letting his hands run back up your body.

“Ugh,” you groan as you push him again, swiping your towel off the bed and slipping on your slides as you pass him and leave the room.

You can feel his eyes on you as he follows behind, his gaze seemingly glued to your body.

You walk downstairs quietly, still unsurprised to find no one else up. Everyone else had stayed up well into the early hours of the morning last night, drinking and chatting, playing stupid games. You and Bucky had been taking part until around midnight when he decided he was done keeping his hands to himself. He took you back to your room upstairs where you both stayed the rest of the night while the party continued on downstairs. You were grateful the loud chatting seemed to drown out your and Bucky’s moans.

You threw your things in an empty bag Nat had left on the table and then followed Bucky into the kitchen to make a quick breakfast.

You were hoping you could get out and into the lake before anyone could see you, so you hurriedly toasted some bread and sliced an avocado while Bucky made eggs. You threw everything together on a paper plate, leaving the used pan on the stove and had Bucky get water while you seasoned the food.

You had the plate in one hand and your bag in the other as Bucky carried the cooler with drinks out behind you.

It was only nine and yet the heat was already sweltering.

The perks of being at a lake house, though, is you don’t have to go far to get to the lake.

The setup from yesterday and the day before was still there as you set your stuff down in one of the big wooden loungers and then put the food down on the long table. The dock was just behind and to the right of you as you sat on the wooden bench attached to the table.

Bucky set the cooler down at the end of the table before taking a seat across from you on the opposite bench.

“You were quick to come out here.”

“Yeah, I’m praying no one sees me in this atrocity,” you say as you pick up your toast and take a bite.

He scoffs before grabbing his own piece.

You both eat fairly quickly, having been hungry from your late night activities, and soon you’re watching as Bucky strips off his tank top.

He grabs your towels and the sunscreen, handing the bottle to you and expecting you to follow him as he walks onto the dock.

You do so after taking another drink of your water and forcing yourself up.

He sits on the edge of the dock, his legs in the clear blue water as he waits for you, the towels thrown down haphazardly, ready for you to use them when you’re done swimming.

You move to sit behind him, opening the bottle and squeezing some sunscreen into your hands.

You rub it between your hands for a second before you start to apply it to Bucky’s back.

More and more until you’ve got him covered, massaging his tense muscles as you do. The groans that slip past his lips let you know he’s enjoying it.

You apply more to your hands as you run them over his shoulders and down his chest. You’re pressed right up against his back as you work. The lower your hands slip, the deeper his groans. You smile to yourself and slip one hand past the band of his trunks teasingly, running gently across the top of his pelvis before you pull away and start to work on his right arm.

“There, you’re all done,” you say as you let your hands run down his solid back once more.

You move back and Bucky brings his legs out of the water as he turns to you.

“You’re not.”

He pushes you to lay down on your towel as he moves to straddle you, the water still on his legs sending shivers across your skin.

He grabs the sunscreen and starts to deliver the same attention to you.

He’s obsessed with touching you. Your softness is his favorite thing, and as he applies the sunscreen to your exposed torso, he really takes his time feeling you, enjoying the goosebumps that raise, the tickles and shivers you try to hide. He runs his hands all over you. You’ve closed your eyes as the sun was shining in them and gasp when you feel Bucky’s hands on your breasts, squeezing them before you feel his lips on you, too. You can’t help the moan that leaves you under his attention.

“Turn over,” he says firmly and headily.

You don’t even think to not listen.

He gets more sunscreen as he covers your backsides, rubbing it in with perfect pressure. Another moan slips as he squeezes your neck with one hand, the other trailing down your spine.

And when he’s done, his fingers move to easily undo the string holding your top together, running his hands up and down your back before he leans further down and starts kissing your bare skin.

“Bucky,” you whine, stopping yourself from sitting up knowing your chest will be on complete display.

“Everyone’s sleeping, no one’s gonna see.”

You want to argue, but you can’t bring yourself to. Even if you did, he always gets his way in the end.

You feel him move the flimsy fabric covering you and you really are moving out of thoughtless desire as you bend your knees and hips up slightly before he starts prodding you with his fingers, your wetness evident as your cunt glistens.

You groan as he slips two thick digits into you, pumping his fingers in and out, curling them just right.

“Fuck,” you whimper under your breath.

You’re so lost in his touch you don’t expect it when his fingers move to part your folds open, your slick hole on display for him as he wastes no time and pushes into you with his aching cock.

You moan into the towel beneath you as he stretches your pussy.

The position is unexpectedly delightful as he hits you deeper and deeper with his every thrust.

You swear you could cry with how fucking good it feels.

“You like that baby?” he pants, “Like having this big dick inside your tight fucking pussy.”

A cry leaves you as you nod your head emphatically.

His speed picks up as his words get dirtier and you get closer and closer to the orgasm you can feel building.

You’re both sweating, Bucky more than you, as you fist the towel and groan loudly through grit teeth.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you’re aware anyone could come out at anytime and see, but you don’t have the will to care as Bucky keeps fucking into you, his hands tight on your hips as he uses you. Another hard thrust has you careening over the edge, moans and mewls leaving your lips as your toes curl and your walls squeeze his thick cock as you come.

Bucky doesn’t let up as he fucks you through it, hips pummeling against your ass over and over until he growls deep in his chest, his hips twitching as he let’s himself go inside you. His grunts and moans fill your ears until he eventually slows completely and pulls out, slapping your ass as he gets up.

You lay there, trying to catch your breath from a moment before you fix your bottoms and roll over, holding your top together.

“I fuckin’ hate you,” you breathe heavily.

He laughs to himself at your words as you slowly get up. He takes his time adjusting himself in his trunks before he turns on you, grabbing your face and tilting your head up in his direction. He leans down and brushes his stubbly cheek against your soft one as he speaks in your ear, “I know you fuckin’ wish you did.”

He keeps his hold on you as he turns his face and takes your lips hotly in his own. He walks you back. And back. And then grabs your loose top from your hands as you gasp, allowing his tongue to slip past your lips. He moves his hand to grab your ass as he holds you against him, your full breasts pressing against his built chest.

He walks you back once more, smiling wickedly into the kiss. Then suddenly your stomach drops as your eyes shoot open when you feel your feet leave the dock. You're under water in a second and quickly swim back up to break the surface, a scowl etched across your face as you struggle to get your breathing back.

Before you can say anything, Bucky joins you in the water, jumping in and splashing you as he does.

You fight the urge to try and hold him down as you swim to the ladder and blindly search the deck for your top. It may be skimpy, but it’s better than nothing.

Bucky’s arms circle you as he pulls you back before his large palm crawls up your chest to cup your breast. Squeezing your flesh before he starts thumbing and tweaking your nipple.

You hate that your body reacts so fucking quickly to him as you feel yourself getting horny all over again. His lips are on your neck as your ass is against him. Your eyes close as a soft moan falls from you when he moves his attention to your other breast.

The creaking of the deck has your eyes shooting open as you attempt to cover your chest. You see Steve walking up, his chest gleaming with sweat as his running shirt is held in his hands.

You want to just let yourself sink under the water but Bucky’s hold on you doesn’t loosen for a second, in fact it only grows tighter, more possessive the closer Steve gets.

“Morning, lovebirds,” Steve greets with a smirk.

You know Bucky won’t let you go so instead of struggling and bringing attention to your nakedness, you grab his hand under the water and pull his arm across your chest as you hold him there.

Bucky wears a smirk of his own as he palms your tit and feels your body’s instant reaction.

“Hey,” Bucky replies, squeezing your breast again knowingly.

Your eyes widen when you see the twitch in Steve’s shorts, his prominent bulge growing as he stares down at you two.

You risk peering up at him and meet his eye instantly as you do. You swallow thickly as you look back down, trying to keep your composure. You know he can see everything, but as long as no one acknowledges that out loud, you can at least pretend that he can’t.

And then, of course, Bucky speaks again.

“So, you enjoy the show, pal?”

#if this is gonna be a series I have a feeling I'll be using this gif again #also #whaaaaaaaat #????#👀#tell me there's gonna be more #that ending #I'm am also oddly curious of their arguing #she surely throws it at his head how they 'got together'#dark!bucky #bucky barnes x reader #reblog

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sturniolohouse · 2 months ago

Text

Do Not Wait - M.S

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

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

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

word count: 11.7k

song: do not wait - wallows

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I nod weakly, thanking him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I decline shaking my head with a frown.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kid worries too much.

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

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

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

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

He picks up on the first ring.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I sigh, “I know,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No, I can’t be.

I’m just stressed, that’s all.

I have an IUD, it's not possible.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This should be Matt.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is uncharted territory for both of us.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nick nods, "Couldn't agree more,"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s strong too, just like you.”

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

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

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

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

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

Something was wrong.

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

It’s my mom.

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

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

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

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

A flood of emotions overcome me.

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

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

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

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

I feel numb.

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

I'm pregnant.

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

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

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

I feel robbed of the happiness I should be feeling.

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

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

“You’re both going to be okay,”

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

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

“She’s strong too, just like you,”

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

I don’t feel strong. I feel weak.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Matt–" I start to protest.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My grandmother's words echo in my mind.

"Don't be afraid, Petal."

–

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

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

I cry into his chest, feeling overwhelmed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

More dread fills me.

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

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

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

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

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

They told me to come in right away.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Any spotting or bleeding?"

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

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

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

"Any nausea or vomiting?"

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

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

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

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

She swivels herself back towards me, smiling warmly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I feel much stronger than I did merely hours ago.

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

–

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

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

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

It evokes a bittersweet feeling.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her words send a chill down my spine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tethering us together for life.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My brows furrow together, giving her a confused look.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was none.

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

"My baby's having a baby,"

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

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

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

My mom looks at me with a reassuring smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Matt's here.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I was so nervous.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He chuckles, giving me one more squeeze.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not one muscle moves in his face or his body.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What?" I ask, confused.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I was the definition of an emotional wreck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Matt never says anything he doesn't mean.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Alright, where's the incinerator?"

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