#like picking which of my childrens placentas

[peanutbuttaz]

Dinosauchestra?

oh shit

1. dinosaurs orchestra 123

2. fine

3. this hyper world

4.indie cindy

5. too much song

[hauntingmothgirl]

Jealousy, Jealousy - Part 2

Hi so a lot of people liked the To Hell and Back series, thank you for the support, it really makes me smile. This was an original idea thought up by @shelikesloki. So thank you so much for the recommendation. If you have any suggestions/requests or want me to write a specific idea then feel free to ask, my dms and asks are open, but for now here’s part 2! Part 3 will be up tomorrow. PLEASE give me some suggestions of what you want to see! This series spans across the beginning of season 8.

Concept from @shelikesloki: After overhearing Morgan and Reid speaking about Maeve, Y/n has trouble with the idea that she's missed her chance with Spencer. But after the team helps save Maeve, will Reid and Maeve even work out?

☾

After the unsub kidnapped a pregnant lady and removed the child from the womb, leaving both the mother and child at a hospital, the team became frantic. At this point the M.O. was non-existent. A completely different victim combined with a completely different type of crime was enough to label anyone and everyone as a potential victim.

With the idea that unsub might be trying to make up an entire family, we focused our eyes onto infants and children that could potentially be at risk. The placenta being completely scraped out of the female adult victim gave Spencer the idea that it could be linked to Placentophagy. I’d had to force myself not to leave the room once he began speaking, knowing he’d be able to pick up on it. I needed to remain friendly with him, at least for now, to avoid suspicion. He needed to think my silence still had something to do with my made up date, not my undying affection for him. “Consuming the placenta, in the wild it’s common for animals to eat their own afterbirth. It’s super rich in nutrients,” Spencer explained. I stifled a low groan in response, nausea rising as Rossi spoke, “So the unsub might have harvested this last victim… for food?”

In the end, with the sawdust present in the victim’s airways, and nothing in the profile that suggested cannibalism, and with one of the most efficient substrates for compost on the earth being sawdust, we’d discovered she’d been using her victims as human fertilizer. Emma Kerrigan, a widow who ran a small juice and vegetable stand at the farmer’s market according to Garcia, living west of town on a 100 acre farm that belonged to her late husband. She fit the profile of our unsub. I’d stayed at the office while Morgan, Hotch and Blake left to apprehend the unsub.

The flight back to Quantico was quiet, most of the team asleep. When retreating to our desks upon our return to Headquarters, JJ had filled me in on how Henry, her son, was too afraid to dress up this year, a fellow classmate had explained to him that the real monsters always came out on Halloween since they wouldn’t need to disguise themselves. I’d stopped short in my tracks, my gaze moving to Spencer unconsciously. It was Halloween. I’d been so caught up in the case that I’d missed that it was Halloween, Spencer’s favorite holiday.

Filing in our paperwork one by one, the team slowly grabbed their things, discussing their plans for tonight and getting ready to leave, JJ’s raised voice from the doorway caught my attention. “Uh- Excuse me, everybody. I have an announcement to make,” eyes fell to her figure walking towards the center of the room. I grabbed my bag and through it over my chest as I powered off my computer, turning to give her my full attention. “As I’m sure some of you are aware, Henry was a little nervous about Trick-Or-Treating this year,” she started. “But,” she lingered on the word for a moment, “He’s decided to go anyway.”

“Great, what changed his mind?” Rossi asked.

“The BAU did,” Jennifer answered, “I told him that he should go out on Halloween and try to figure out which monsters are real and which ones are not.” Warmth swept through the room slowly, Morgan being the first one to speak, “So he wants to be a profiler.” I suppressed an “awe,” as JJ held a finger up.

“Ah, he wants to be his favorite profiler.” There wasn’t time to process her words, however, before the tiny man himself walked through the door holding Penelope’s hand. Converse were the first thing I saw, mini converse. A beaming Henry wore a blue polo, a gray sweater vest tucked into his tan pants. A red tie peeked out from behind the vest, a satchel draped across his chest. I’d recognize that style anywhere. He was dressed as Spencer.

Cheers erupted from around the office, smiles replacing previous frowns as Spencer rose from his seat. “You look great, Henry!” Spencer exclaimed as the mini version of him bounded over to his desk. A laugh bubbled from my lips before I could stop it. Bending down to the boy’s height, Reid pulled his identification card for the office from his sweater, mumbling to Henry as he attached it to him, “Put this on here.” Henry stood still as Spence clicked it on, looking down to inspect it.

“Now it’s official,” Morgan called from the back of the room. Penelope stood just behind the scene, taking a step forward and bending down to whisper in Henry’s ear, “Tell him.” Without hesitation Henry turned to Spencer, smiling before he spoke, “E equals MC squared.” His voice came out softly, Reid’s eyes crinkled, his mouth making an “o” shape. Morgan’s head threw back, he let out a deep laugh, “There it is!” He exclaimed. It was impossible to hide the giggles now, I couldn’t fight a grin as Spencer raised his hand for a high five.

“The monster’s don't stand a chance,” Blake smirked.

Spencer stood, looking over his shoulder to me. My smile faltered. Just for a moment. But that didn’t stop him from noticing. My eyes burned, misty eyed I stood as a thought echoed in my mind. He’ll be a lovely father. That was all it took, five little words to bend my frame, to sink my heart. A warm liquid trailed down my cheek, I turned away from the team as I touched a hand to my cheek. I hadn't noticed I’d begun crying. I was out of the room before I could comprehend my own movements.

☾

The sound of heels clicking on the floor stopped my sob. “Y/n?” A set of black glittery pumps stopped outside of my stall. “I know you’re in there, are you okay?” Penelope’s voice echoed off the walls. “Did you eat something bad? Cause I saw you run and I’ve got a bottle of Pepto-” She stopped short in the middle of her sentence as I opened the stall door.

There was no point in pretending I hadn’t been crying, she’d stay outside until I left to make sure I was okay, and she’d notice my face at some point.

“What happened?” Her voice came out higher than normal, her mouth agape as she stepped back so I could leave the stall. Her wide eyes followed mine as I stepped toward the sink, resting my hands on the cold countertop. My face was blotchy and red, deep bags had formed under my eyes from the lack of sleep. My nose bright ruby. My cheeks were soaked wet, my lips and eyelids swollen as I turned the faucet on. I let my eyes fall to the water in my hands as I washed them, looking in the mirror just made me feel worse, more small and weak than I already felt. I leaned my head down and felt Penelope’s fingertips gliding through my hair, pulling my hair back as I washed the tears off my cheeks. She waited in silence as I turned the faucet off, pulling paper towels out of the dispenser to dry my face. Finally when I’d recovered what little pride I had, I spun to look at her.

I was surprised to find her eyes understanding and calm, rather than wide and expectant. I struggled to find the words, “It’s just- I can’t- I don't know how to-”

“It’s him, isn’t it?” She asked. Heat flowed into my cheeks as I responded, running a hand through my hair, “It’s who?”

“Spencer.”

There was no point in lying, and who was I kidding anyways? I needed someone. My words choked in my throat so I nodded instead. Arms enveloped me as another sob broke through my chest. heaving, I held my hands together to force them to stop shaking. A numbness set through my body, starting first at my legs and then rising upward. I slumped forward into her arms, my eyes shut tight as a strangled groan leapt from my lips.

I’m not sure how long we sat like that before I pulled back, reminding myself that standing in heels was difficult and Penelope was probably having a hard time right now. I muttered apologies to no avail. Pushing my hair out of my face, I couldn’t keep eye contact with her. “He’s- he’s so happy and- and-”

“And you’re stuck crying in a public bathroom,” she finished for me. “You know about her, don't you?” Her voice was low, controlled, whereas mine broke apart with every sentence.

I worked to keep my composure, “Seeing him with Henry,” I hiccupped, “He‘s going to be such a great father, and not that I ever thought of him as mine, but-”

“You wanted that future with him?” Penelope made this easier, I wasn’t the best at talking through my emotions, she knew when I couldn’t find the right words.

“But now it’s hers. Her future. And I know I never acted on how I felt, but knowing it’s completely off the table now- I don’t know how I’m going to sit across from him everyday,” I was rambling with no endpoint now, so I let my voice fall quiet and stared at the grout between the tiles as Penelope draped a hand over my shoulder. “You could take time off, come back when you’re ready, when you’ve made peace with it?” She suggested.

“I don't know if I can make peace with it. He deserves his best friend and I just don't know how to go back to that,” I sniffled.

“Love, you deserve happiness too, you shouldn’t have to suffer just to make it easier for him,” she said.

It was silent for a moment before a thought entered my head. “How did you know it was Spencer?” Penelope rolled her eyes before giving a smile, “Oh come all the talk about letting yourself get hurt, and the cold shoulder to Spencer? It doesn’t take a profiler to pick up on it. Besides who could’ve missed you fawning over him for the past 6 years?” She giggled. I smiled at that.

“You know he hasn’t even told me about her? I’m his best friend and he didn’t tell me,” I chuckled.

“Oh, call the churches, what ever will we do?” She teased.

☾

I made it out of the bathroom 15 minutes later. Penelope had supplied concealer to cover the redness in my face but there was no covering the swollen lips and eyes. Penelope figured no one would notice and for the most part, no one did. When I emerged to the lobby of our building I found most of the team still there surprisingly, still discussing the plans for dinner. JJ and Henry had already left, along with Hotch taking leave to go see his son. Rossi and Morgan however, had taken seats in the benches to the right.

“Hey, mama, where’ve you been, we’ve been waiting on you,” Morgan called as soon as Garcia was in view. “We had some girly issues,” she replied, she’d been smart to leave it at that, Derek immediately backs away from the topic, wrapping an arm over Penelope’s shoulder as he walks toward the parking lot. Feeling someone’s eyes watching me, I scan my surroundings before I notice brown eyes watching me. I know he picked up on what happened earlier, but he doesn’t mention it as he strides forward. “We’re going to head to JJ’s for the Halloween party, I figured I’d ask if you wanted to go too?” He asked, pursing his lips. I nodded, pulling my coat on as we started for the lot.

He pulled the door open for me and I gave a small smile in response. I was done trying to distance myself. This was going to hurt no matter what, and frankly I wasn’t sure I could manage without my best friend. He wasn’t mine, he never was. And I’d just have to deal with that. “Spence?” He hummed in return, the group was only a couple feet away, getting into their cars as he walked me to mine. “About Comic Con,” his eyes lit up as the words left my lips, “Still have those tickets?”

okay that’s part 2, and like always, i hope it didn’t disappoint. and if it did then, again, that’s chill too. and again if you have any suggestions or recommendations just ask, and if you want to be tagged in part 3, let me know! part 3 will be up tomorrow. have a beautiful day loves :)

Thanks again @shelikesloki

Masterlist

Part 1

Part 3

[jaehyunspeachparty]

daddy jaehyun

iii.iii.

"Maybe we should just go away for a few days. Only the two of us. Without the kids." Jaehyun flipped through a travel magazine and looked at the pictures of the turquoise sea. You are sitting in your gynecologist's waiting room and this time it took a little longer to wait. Sunoh was sitting on your lap playing with a little toy. "Hmm can we live a few days without the kids?" You stroke the head of the little boy who was playing very focused. It broke your heart a little bit to leave your children. "Didn't you say that you will have so many seminars off next week? And I have nothing to do either. Let's go on a trip for a few days." Jaehyun smiled excitedly and you think about it. It sounded really tempting. You've been devoting a lot of time to the kids lately, a little break to revive your marriage might be a good thing. But before you could say anything, the door opened and your gynecologist came out. "Ms. Jung? You can come now." She smiled gently and you put Sunoh on his father's lap. But he didn't like that at all, and he immediately started crying. He stretched his little arms out and tried to reach for you. "Mummy....Mummy." He looked so desperate and he makes it hard for you to go every time. "My baby, I'm just going to be gone for a minute. I'll be right back. Okay?" You smile and Sunoh calmed down for a moment, but when you were in the other room you could hear him cry again. "My daughter was so attached in that age too." The doctor smiled and sat down at her desk. "Yes, it wasn't that bad on my first one, but my son is pretty affectionate." You also sit down at the table and put your bag down. "So Ms. Jung. Just a control or do you have any complaints?" "I'm doing pretty well. I just want to use the IUD again." The doctor then nods and looks at her computer. "I wrote down that you wanted to have a third child." "Yes, but I think I've put too much pressure on myself, I just haven't gotten pregnant lately. I started my studies and I want to wait with the third child." "Okay, okay. I'm going to do an ultrasound and see if everything fits."

After you undressed and she examined you, she did a vaginal ultrasound to measure your uterus. The gynecologist was quite concentrated and she looked at the screen for a while. "Ms. Jung, I can't use the IUD for you." She pulled out the device and cleaned it. You look up and don't quite understand what she meant. "What why? Is it because she slipped once?" But the doctor shook her head. She put everything aside and leaned over to you. "I can't use it because you're pregnant." "WHAT?" You couldn't believe it, it was so unreal to hear these words at this moment. None of that made sense. You don't understand anything anymore. "I would like to see the baby on normal ultrasound. Should I go to get your husband?" The doctor was very understanding. You were certainly not the first to be surprised by a pregnancy. "Yes, please." You nod, but you still couldn't realize what was happening. The doctor went out briefly and a minute later Jaehyun came to you with Sunoh in his arms. "Mommy", he squeaked happily, and his father put him down so that he could stand by you. Jaehyun was visibly confused and asked why he suddenly had to be there. He looked at you, but you couldn't say anything. "Mister Jung, I just told your wife the same thing. I did a vaginal ultrasound before to measure everything for the uterus, but I could see that Ms. Jung is pregnant." The doctor stopped for a moment and gave Jaehyun time to process the information. "You're pregnant?" He looks at you with big eyes and he smiles, which surprised you. You thought he was more shocked. "Is the baby healthy?" He looked up at the doctor because the last ultrasound made you both have such bad experiences that your joy was little. "Baby!" Sunoh kept doing this lately that he picked up a few words and saying it also. You look at him, smile and stroke his head. "I haven't looked at it yet. I thought we would do it together so that you two could see the child right away." The gynecologist smiled gently. It was really a nice touch of hers to consider Jaehyun. "You're pregnant." Jaehyun leaned towards you excitedly and you could see that he was really happy with the news. But somehow it was all so unreal for you. "Let's wait again. Not that I have to find out again that it's a miscarriage." At such a moment you become aware of how much your last miscarriage was still in you and the moment the doctor put the device on your stomach you became nervous. "Mummy! Cuddle." Sunoh tried to climb on the lounger to you. He was clearly bored with what you could understand because it was not an environment for a 2-year-old. "Wait a little longer. Mummy will be ready soon." You smile and Jaehyun hugged Sunoh. "So I can tell you that the baby is healthy. Or rather the babies." The doctor smiled and turned the screen to you and Jaehyun. "WHAT?" Your eyes grew big and you try to see something on the screen. The ultrasound was clearly different from Miga and Sunoh. "Do you mean ...?" Jaehyun was now completely frozen and also looked at the screen. "Ms. Jung, you are pregnant with twins. They will be identical twins, which means they will be of the same gender. The conditions for the babies are perfect. Each child has its own amniotic cavity and placenta. This means that both are the same can be taken care of. And listen, their heartbeat is very strong." The doctor showed you everything, but you were totally in shock. "I guess you are in the 10th week of pregnancy." "10th week? I ... What? .... But I don't have a stomach yet, I had my period a month ago." You just didn't know what you should feel. Twins?! Two babies would grow in you now. "Some women think they have their periods, but there can be other reasons. And every pregnancy is different, including the belly. But your babies have a perfect size and their heartbeat is loud and strong." You hear the hearts of the two beating through the ultrasound and that just made everything much more real. "Do we have to take care of something? Can't she do something? What about sports, traveling and ... uh ...you know…" Jaehyun looked nervous and his legs bobbed up and down. But that should reassure Sunoh, because he slowly closed his eyes. "So a twin pregnancy is always a risky pregnancy. But that shouldn't worry you. Ms. Jung, it may be that pregnancy problems like morning sickness will soon appear and they will be stronger than usual. I will definitely prescribe you some medicine. Sport is okay, but take it slow. So don't lift anything heavy. Traveling is totally okay now. And sex is absolutely not a problem. You may have to limit yourself in the past few months. But we'll see how the pregnancy is proceeding." The doctor prints out the ultrasound image and put the device aside. Then she handed the picture to Jaehyun and cleaned your stomach. "Everything is really perfect at the moment. Nevertheless, twins often come a little earlier. You can think about whether you want a c-section or natural birth. Otherwise, I would like to see you again for a month to check." You slide your shirt down and nod.

After the gynecologist-appointment you go to a cafe because you had to kill a little more time until you could pick up Miga. "What do you like to eat Sunoh?" You took your son and wanted to lift him up so that he could choose something to eat, but Jaehyun took it from you. "You shouldn't lift heavy." He looked at you in panic and picked up Sunoh. "I will probably still be able to lift my son up." You roll your eyes and turn away from your husband. "Two Americano ...", you start ordering, but Jaehyun didn't fit that either. "One Americano, Y/N you have to drink something else. Because of the two little ones ..." He pointed unobtrusively at your stomach and you sighed. That you are pregnant is still so unreal to you. The visit to the gynecologist seemed like a dream to you. When you sat down at the table, you still weren't in reality. Jaehyun wanted to take Sunoh so that you could slowly come back to life, but he just wanted to sit with you. "Y/N, you don't look happy. I mean it was a surprise, but we didn't use contraception for over a year. It wasn't so strange now that you were getting pregnant." Jaehyun sighed and looked worriedly at you. "Yes, I know ... but twins..." You look up and slowly everything became clearer to you. "I mean there are two babies growing in me. TWO! I will have a huge belly. My body will be destroyed afterward. And then we will have twice as many children. Jaehyun, we will then have four children and I’m afraid to neglect Miga and Sunoh. And what about us? Can we still sleep? Can we still have a life? Can we still have a relationship? We have so many babies then!" You hardly get any air because of all this. The panic started and you didn't know what to worry about first. Sunoh noticed that you were restless and started to cry as well. You push your little boy to you and try to calm him down, but your heart still races all the time. "Y/N we can do it." Jaehyun now sits next to you and put one arm around you and with the other he caressed Sunoh's cheek. "How do you know?" Sunoh had calmed down by now, but you were still on the verge of collapse. "Because we always make it." He smiled and his voice was so calm and gentle. Your heartbeat slowly normalized and you stroked Sunoh's head soothingly. "I can't believe that you are so calm. You are actually the one who originally only wanted two children." You sigh and look down at your stomach. "I know, I know, but we're getting twins. That's something unique." Jaehyun put his forehead on yours and slowly the feeling of happiness flows into you.

daddy jaehyun masterlist

[bedbellyandbeyond]

Mystery Baby Theatre, Part 5

(Short Story Post, 5/6)

“You think I have something to do with this?” Dusty asked, hands on his hips. “The nerve…” “We’re not accusing you. You’re just the only demon we have on file,” Korsy explained. When the agent got the family to APID safely, they got them set up in the hospital wing and called Dusty in while Carlos waited outside with his kids. He’d been at home putting his son to bed when he was called so he’d had to drop Grey at his other father’s house quickly before popping into APID. Now he stood in front of Reggie’s hospital bed, glaring at Korsy. He was in no good mood. “I am a succubus,” Dusty said. “This is clearly the work of an incubus.” “What’s the difference?” Korsy asked. “Aren’t succubi supposed to be female?” Reggie asked. He was set up on the exam table but the doctor wasn’t here yet to look him over. Dusty seemed to only get more ticked off. “Demons don’t have sexes. The latin ‘succubare’ means ‘to lie beneath’. It literally just means I’m a bottom. And looking at all those children lined up outside, I could say you’re more of a succubus than I am.” “Are you calling me a whore?” Reggie growled. “If the shoe fits…”

“Hey, none of that!” Korsy said. “Dusty, I get it. You’re tired. We pulled you away from your son for this. But we need your help if you can give it. Do you know what's going on with him?” Dusty crossed his arms. “I don't know much about incubi. What I do know is that they’re terrible testosterone junkies who couldn’t care less about anyone else and always try to get what they want whenever they want. So, I imagine, whatever one that’s after you wants that kid.” Reggie shook his head. “No, we made a deal.” “What deal did you make?” Dusty asked. “What did you give in exchange for this child?” “He asked me to sacrifice a goat in his name,” Reggie said. “So, I found one on Kijiji and did it. It was really really gross…” “So, he just wanted a goat?” Korsy asked. “Hard to believe…” “Naw, goats are pretty powerful…” Dusty said. “But this is an incubus we’re talking about. He’s probably found a loophole. What exactly did he promise?” “He gets the goat, I get to keep the baby,” Reggie said. “Simple as—” He suddenly doubled over, clenching his stomach. “Ahh… Ow…” Korsy was startled. “Are you okay?” “Y-Yeah, I…” Reggie grimaced. “…Just a bit of pain…” “You’re going into labour, aren’t you?” Dusty said. “No, I’m still a month from due,” Reggie said. The lights suddenly shut off and the room got cold. Reggie suddenly let out a scream of pain. “Oh god, it hurts!” Dusty and Korsy’s eyes took a moment to adjust but soon they could see. Reggie was still balled up in pain, but there was now a puddle of black liquid pooling under him. “Your water broke,” Dusty said. “You are in labour.” “I’ll get the doctor,” Korsy said leaving the room. As he did, Carlos came in. “What’s going on?” Carlos asked, blindly trying to find his partner in the darkness. “It’s too early…” Reggie whimpered. “Your partner’s in labour,” Dusty said. He grabbed Carlos’s shoulder and directed him to Reggie’s side. “I don’t think this is a coincidence. I think your incubus is forcing you into labour.” “You think right,” a deep voice said. Everyone was startled by the sudden strange voice. Dusty suddenly saw him, a tall dark shadow standing in the corner of the room, a huge grin on his face. Reggie screamed out in pain again. The contractions hurt ten times more than any of his other pregnancies and he was in absolute agony. The stranger looked over at Dusty then tilted it’s head slightly. “Succubus? What are you doing here?” “I’m just… I’m just helping,” Dusty said, feeling his body tremble in the presence of a much stronger demon. The other stared for a moment. “…Darathan?” Dusty lowered his eyes. “Who’s asking?” “Thaungal.” He raised a hand, forcing Dusty’s chin up again. “Don’t be rude. Look at me when I’m talking to you.” Dusty whimpered, feeling the incubus’s invisible strength holding him up. “I’m sorry…” “You’re wanted back home,” Thaungal said. Dusty shook his head stiffly. “I’m not tied to home…I was bound…” “You’re not bound anymore.” Thaungal shrugged anyway and let him go. “What do I care. You’re not worth much…” Dusty immediately teleported away, leaving the humans in darkness alone with the incubus. Reggie was still clutching his stomach, his labour progressing quickly. Carlos was trying to soothe him, rubbing his back and whispering to him, though he was also frightened out of his mind. “Reggie…” the demon said in a low voice. “The child is ready for you.” He waved a hand over the labouring man, forcing his body flat against the exam table, his arms and legs out as if restrained. Reggie shrieked in pain, his body tensing in agony. He felt like he would faint from the sheer pain. The child within his stomach writhed and squirmed as if trying to rip out. “Oh, it’s alright,” Thaungal said. “I’m here for you.” He placed his hand down on Reggie’s belly and the hell spawn calmed down. The pain in Reggie’s body ebbed and he was able to regain his breath. “You promised…” he cried. “You promised not to take my baby…” “I promised you could keep it,” Thaungal admitted. “But I’ve decided I want it. But I won’t go back on my word. You can keep your child but I’ll take both of you.” “No!” Carlos yelled. “You can’t take him!” “Oh, can’t I?” Thaungal chuckled. “Perhaps you’d be right if you were married to him. But you’re not. Therefore, he can be bound to me.” Carlos threw his torso over Reggie’s body. “¡Demonio! ¡No puedes tenerlo! You can’t have him!” Thaungal let out a boisterous laugh. “Human, you’re very funny to think you have any power against—” Thaungal suddenly jumped back, narrowly missing the edge of a blade being swung at him. Dusty had reappeared with Korsy and the doctor, Sydryn, the former brandishing knives. “Stay away from them!” Korsy barked, holding his blade out to Thaungal. “Syd, take care of the patient!” “Obviously,” Sydryn huffed, moving over between Reggie's legs to check him. Thaungal eyes narrowed on Dusty. “You traitor!” “I work here, asshole!” Dusty said. “You don’t get to come to my job and just do whatever the fuck you want!” Thaungal started to approach Dusty. “You little—" Korsy lunged out in front of Dusty, slashing his knives towards Thaungal, the catching the incubus across the chest and making a shallow gash. The demon hissed, swiping a clawed hand at the agent, but Korsy ducked out of the way and countered with another slash of his knives. The demon dodged it easily and chuckled, but Korsy caught him off guard with a swift kick to the gut. What should've been a harmless kick for an incubus of his strength turned out to be fatal however and Thaungal staggered backward, black blood seeping out of his wounds. He looked at himself then glared at Korsy. “...You...” Before he could finish his sentence, he disintegrated into dust. The lights flickered back on and Korsy stood there panting. The grip on Reggie's body was lifted and he was able to relax a bit though still subject to his contractions. “What just happened?” Carlos asked, unable to have seen everything that had transpired. “Did you kill him?” “He did,” Dusty said. “But he shouldn't have been able to... Not with a kick...” Korsy caught his breath then slammed a fist against his knee. His right leg fell out of his pant and he picked it up, showing off the blade coming from his prosthetic. “Dark elf blade. Good for killing...bad things. Still sharp enough for everybody else too so watch out.” “Scary...” Dusty said, though he was a little turned on. “...You have my number.” “Thank you...for getting rid...of Thaun...” Reggie panted. “But I'm still...in labour!” “Right. Syd, how's he doing?” Korsy asked. “Crowning,” Sydryn stated. “Reggie, another big push.” Reggie grabbed his ankles and pushed hard. “Oh shit, it's almost here!” Carlos pulled out his phone and started recording, going around beside Syd to get a good angle. “You can do it, mi amor!” Reggie pushed harder, screaming in pain, and the head came free. He eased up and panted, tears streaming down his face. “Humans film these things?” Dusty critiqued. “Strange...” “Get out if you're not helping!” Reggie growled before starting to push again. “I concur. Darathan. Korsgaard. Out,” Sydryn instructed. “Köbi’s watching the children. Replace him and send him in.” Dusty and Korsy stepped out quickly and were replaced by the curly haired young man. Köbi stood ready by the doctor. “What do you need me to do?” “Prepare for the baby. Ready a blanket,” Sydryn said. “Ahhhhhhhh!” Reggie bore down with all his strength. Sydryn reached around the baby's head and helped guide it out. Finally, with a rush of more black amniotic fluid, the child was born. She was completely grey and squirmed in the doctor’s hands. “¡Una niña!” Carlos said happily. “Reggie, she’s so cute!” Reggie however didn’t respond. His energy was all drained and the pain had been unbearable. He was fighting just to stay conscious. “Reg?” Carlos dropped his phone and grabbed Reggie’s hand. “Reggie, stay with me!” “Köbi, take the child,” Sydryn said, being quick to cut the umbilical cord. “Quickly.” Köbi did as told, taking the newborn and wrapping her up in the blanket. Carlos pushed back his partner’s hair, watching as his consciousness faded. “Is Reggie going to be okay?” “He’s lost a lot of blood. If we don’t treat this immediately, it could be fatal,” Sydryn stated. “No!” Carlos’s voice shook. “Do something!” “I am.” Sydryn had already begun manually removing the placenta. “I suggest you go outside and take care of your children.” “I can’t leave him here!” Carlos sobbed. “I need him!” “I am no longer suggesting. Step outside, sir, or you will be forcibly removed.” “I can’t go!” “Köbi!” Köbi handed the newborn over to Carlos. “Trust us, okay? You have beautiful children to look after.” He placed a hand on Carlos’s shoulder which helped soothe the man. Carlos nodded and stepped outside. “Köbi, stop the bleeding while I get an IV,” Sydryn asked. “On it.” Köbi placed his hands on Reggie’s sternum and closed his eyes.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 6

[thejonzone]

Riverdale is the Best Show You’ve Written Off

About once a month, a tweet will go around, reading something like “I can’t believe Netflix cancelled [SHOW X], but Riverdale is still on?!? *eye roll emoji, angry cussing emoji*.” It can be difficult to read tweets like these, because I like Riverdale. But I understand why it has struggled to keep an audience-- there is a perception that the show has gone completely off the rails, a chaos of hot actors in their mid-20s playing glamorous high school sociopaths, with the show choosing excess over narrative cohesion. That perception is pretty accurate. It’s an easy show to write off and easy to make fun of, especially because, as a CW show, it’s ostensibly geared to teens. So it brings me no pleasure to say that Riverdale, currently in its 5th season, has reached a renaissance, and its episodes so far this season represent its high-water mark. 

To appreciate how stunning and exciting Riverdale’s new direction is, it’s important to understand how we got here.

In the first season, a murder in the titular town revealed an underbelly of thugs, power brokers, and shady backroom rulers, all vying for control with gothic morbidity. What followed after that season though, was something else entirely. 

Riverdale, ramping up during Seasons 2 through 4, became a beautiful mess. I think it’s important to state that no other show on television is even attempting to do what Riverdale did/is doing. The show is, at any one point, 5-7 wholly different shows. There is a season’s worth of plot per episode. It’s storytelling mania and in-real-time dementia. I don’t remember what happened at the end of last episode because SO much happened. And besides, coherence is overrated! Give me hot actors, give me drug-addicted mobsters, give me creepy principals! On Riverdale, the parents are both former teen heartthrobs and serial killers, children operate underground speakeasies, and for some reason not one therapist has realized they could make a fortune helping our cast work through the intense psychological terror and emotional abuse they receive every episode.

This show is beyond pastiche, hyper-loaded with reference. My roommate and I had a joke that the show’s third season could be mapped to a quadrant of influences: Twin Peaks, True Detective, The Sopranos, and Gossip Girl. At any point Riverdale was acknowledging and playing into the influence of one of these shows. Season Four doubled down on the show’s horror anthology tendency. No one wants you to miss the references being made. You know that menacing boarding school Jughead attends in Season Four? You’d be right If it reminded you of Donna Tartt’s A Secret History. After all, consider Jughead’s classmate, whose name is Donna Sweet. Maybe you picked up on the violence simmering underneath the surface of Jughead’s other classmate, Bret Easton-Elli--  I mean, Bret Weston-Wallis.

Every week, the show seems primed for failure, attempting to juggle more storylines than possible or even necessary. The show is like a house of cards that has already fallen, and yet the writers are somehow still haphazardly adding more cards to the top. “Be reasonable!” I would plead. To no avail. And that’s the thrill of it. The plotlines are secondary to the spectacle. The show is a celebration and parody of violent legacy dramas, camp, teen horror, canonical literature, and anything else it can stuff under the hood, as much an ode to other pieces of media as it is an original work itself. 

But now, something completely different is happening. The beginning of Season Five brought an end to the seasons-long saga the show felt trapped in. Archie, Veronica, Betty, and Jughead graduated high school, and the show flashed forward seven years. What might be considered a hokey technique was one of the best decisions the writers ever did. Because now we have a blank slate for our main cast. The writers effectively cut the fat from three seasons of violent, ridiculous maximalism. And it’s psychically refreshing.

At the heart of any good sitcom, we just want to see our main characters hanging out together. Change is part of life, but it shouldn’t be in television. Which is why this new season is so exciting-- Riverdale is now in the process of bringing its four main characters back from their adult lives and re-engaging them in the deadly politics of their hometown. Pop Tate, the owner-manager of Pop’s, Riverdale’s diner, is retiring, and Archie gets the gang back in town to celebrate the man who helped make the diner such a great hang-out spot. In the words of Jughead, “You gave us a home, Pop.” Like so mant other sitcoms before it, Riverdale used Pop’s to establish its characters and their relationships to each other.

I grew up on Seinfeld so I’ve always been attracted to the idea of the diner. The pandemic has made me yearn even harder for the sitcom diner, that idealistic place where all my friends are, where people enter with problems to be solved, drama to be explained, good news to be celebrated. Riverdale’s acknowledgment of Pop and his diner as the show’s connective tissue is a grounding and human choice. It works fantastically to set up this upcoming season, where our gang must confront the newest nefarious plot for control over the soul of Riverdale.

No doubt the show will continue its pattern of naming and spoofing genre. Veronica, in her adult life, had an Uncut Gems-style few scenes where she works as a charismatic (of course) diamond merchant. She married a possessive, boring guy who’s only characteristic seems to be that his voice is *exactly* like Veronica’s megalomaniac dad, Hiram. Something something Freud, something something daddy sexy. And credit where credit is due, Mark Consuelos is really hot.

Jughead is a writer now, in the most white guy college freshman fantasy of being a writer possible. He attended the Iowa Writers Workshop as an undergrad, something that is definitely not possible. He’s written a hit book but now suffers from *gasp* writer’s block?? He’s a cool guy writer who, in his opening montage, gets recognized by, hit on, and then has sex with a college-aged fan. Back in Riverdale, Jug writes a speech for Pop’s retirement and sends it to his agent. His agent is smitten with the work, calling it “tragic americana” and proclaiming that Jughead’s next book will be titled “Elegy for a Small Town”. This is almost certainly a reference to J.D. Vance’s bad book, and I’m sure the show will be bringing in more elements of “tragic” “americana” as the season unfolds. 

Betty is FBI in training, because as the show has loved to tell us, Betty has “the serial killer gene”, but is using it for good. For the record, her dad was a serial killer, and her brother was a serial killer. And it’s not like her mom or sister can cast the first stone. Betty’s endured enough trauma to fill 100 lives with unending pain and I’m sure the show will have no trouble heaping more on top. Already in the new season we’ve seen flashbacks to some point during the time jump when Betty was taken hostage, in what’s clearly a homage to The Silence of the Lambs. 

And then there’s Archie. I don’t know if anyone knows what to do with the guy. Played by K.J. Apa, who is both really good-looking with his shirt off and a god-awful actor, Archie has been in the army. The show is using him to shill for the military-industrial complex. 

I’ve long joked that the Riverdale writers have no idea what they’re doing. But through a global pandemic affecting TV production and *the* major narrative complication in any high school-set show (graduation), the Riverdale writers have seamlessly transitioned the show to a new stasis. Past seasons are informing this one, but we aren’t bogged down by the details in this new season. The bigger joke, of course, is that the writers have known exactly what they’ve been doing this whole time, and I’m just an idiot. Well I mean, of course I’m an idiot. I use television to regulate my emotions and simulate a static friend group that doesn’t leave or change. And Riverdale is perfect for that. If a renaissance is a rebirth, well then my friends, cut the umbilical cord and save the placenta to put in pills, because Riverdale is cranking out episodes that are better than ever.

[loveafterthefact]

Love After the Fact Chapter 70: Making Long-Distance Calls

Tfw you haven’t heard from your kid in a while and part of you is really worried and the other part of you wants to kill him yourself to save your enemies the trouble… and then that mf just says he ‘forgot’.

First  Previous  Next

“Okay, so do you two see each other?” Lance asks.

“I see a Balmeran.” Thace cocks his head curiously. “Quite different from the race that I am familiar with- Ulaz! Get out! Patient confidentiality!” There’s a snicker in the background, followed by a door opening and closing.

“Excellent!” Lance chirps, typing in another code, waiting for it to pick up. “Tavo, are you there?”

“I am here. Hello, your Majesties. Crown Prince Lancel, I've heard the kings are quite bitter that they have not heard from you.”

“Oh, fuck.” The prince pales, then brushes it off. “I need to call them anyway. They can scold me for spending too much time in the sun or not wearing socks.”

Keith glances at his mate, noting his darker complexion, the little brown spots creeping from underneath his skin. An Altean, blessed by Daibazaal’s sun. It’s perfect. He’s perfect.

Keith really needs to reboot his brain.

“So what are we here for, then?” Tavo asks, pulling his chair closer to his desk.

“We’re planning on having a kit,” Keith says, cutting right to the chase. He’s already done too many of these calls this quintant.

“I see. How soon do you expect to conceive?” Tavo accesses his desktop, fingers sliding over the glass table.

“I go into season in a few quintants- Shut up, Thace.” The medic scowls, shaking his head in silent disapproval.  “I will hopefully conceive sometime in the following movement.”

“Understood. What are your concerns?” The Altean medic casts his dark eyes around the group.

“Nutrition, complications at any point during pregnancy, and predicting needs of the kit once born,” Thace clarifies. “Your majesties, we can carry this conversation without you.”

“You can,” Lance agrees. “But you won’t.” Keith smiles, delighted by his mate’s enthusiasm. “All we want, for today, is to make considerations regarding how we help Keith -and the baby- stay healthy. Starting with nutrition.”

“Right. Excellent.” Thace pulls up several holographic panels. “In your particular case, your Majesty, nutrition is definitely where we need to begin. Your metabolism is extremely fast for a Galra.”

“Is it?” Hunk asks. “Alteans have high metabolisms, but I’ve just been making as much as Keith will eat.”

“Your average Galra consumes roughly one sixth the amount of calories that Kei- Prince Yorak requires to maintain his current condition. That amount in turn does not account for growth spurts, season, pregnancy, or any increase in muscle mass. Basically, anything more than the normal amount of physical output creates strain upon his body that our species is not naturally equipped to deal with.

We’re meant to go for a long time on nothing. Prince Yorak goes for a short time, and only on a great deal.”

“Basically, how do you keep me and a fetus alive and healthy without stuffing me like one of those weird birds you people always eat,” Keith clarifies. “I’ll be stuffed enough.”

“Damn right you will,” Lance snickers. Keith promptly whacks him with the back of his hand with a scolding, while Thace chokes on a laugh and Tavo shakes his head in disappointment.

“Well, my wife is going into labor any dobosh now, so let’s get to work on some meal ideas and then I’m gonna duck out.” Hunk grins. “Your Majesties must come visit once he’s born.”

“We wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Keith promises. “Let’s get to work!”

“Okay! So for the sake of this discussion… Let’s divide nutrient sources into three categories: proteins, fats, and carbs. Carbs should further be divided into starches and cellulose. During pregnancy, you may require more fruits and vegetables as Alteans are primarily vegetarian, so we’ll need to ensure a balanced diet both for you and a your hybrid fetus-”

It takes two vargas to come up with some kind of meal plan, which will probably change a million times anyway, but at least it gives them something to work with -and gives the princes headaches, but whatever-. It’s worth it, and Lance knows it will relieve some of Keith’s anxiety.

“Well, if we’re done, I’d better head out. Rosie is being an absolute monster today, so-”

“Just one thing.” All eyes fall to Keith. “We’re keeping this quiet. There are too many risks to say anything until we’re sure there’s a chance of having a viable fetus. Basically, all of this is a secret until I say otherwise.”

“Understood.” Hunk bows his heads. “We look forward to seeing you home, your Majesties. Farewell.”

“Farewell,” the princes chorus.

“On to complications, then.” Thace decides. “Complications include embryotic miscarriage, fetal miscarriage, stillbirth, birth defects, underdevelopment, excessive bleeding, parasitic placental syndrome-”

“I’m sorry. What did you just say?” Lance leans forward, visibly horrified. Tavo lifts an eyebrow. Apparently, the Altean royal physician hasn’t heard of this either.

“Parasitic placental syndrome. It’s a condition in Galra where the placenta takes an excessive amount of nutrients from the bearer, resulting in malnourishment, miscarriage, premature stillbirth, and extreme malnourishment. Basically, the placenta starves the bearer until they eventually cannot support the fetus.

“In Prince Yorak’s case-”

“It could be fatal,” Keith finishes. “Which brings us to a touchy subject: If it comes down to it, do you save me, or the kit? The answer is me.”

“You’re sure?” Tavo asks.

“Yes. It’s selfish to die for one life, when I have the potential to carry many more.” Keith looks to Lance for his opinion, if the Altean wants to give one. Lance just kisses his cheek.

“Up to you, beloved. But I’d like to have you as a part of my family if at all possible.”

Keith smiles at his mate, brushes a bit of starlight hair away from his face. “Me too.”

“You guys are so cute,” Thace sighs. “Also, total dorks.”

Tavo frowns. “Your Majesties, is this man some kind of prince, to speak so informally to you?”

“No, that’s just Thace. He has no respect for authority unless Daibazaal is in crisis mode.” Keith rolls his eyes, even as his lips curl with the edge of a small smile.

“Bitch, I have five kits. I am the authority.”

“FIVE?” Tavo chokes. “Five children???”

“Oh, yeah.” Thace smirks, clearly enjoying messing with the Altean medic. “Granted three of them are triplets, but… I think that just makes it more impressive.”

Tavo turns to the princes. “Your Majesties, surely this… degenerate is not the only reproductive authority on Daibazaal.”

“No, but he is the best. And my species is suspected to have at least four kits within the span of a decaphoeb, and encourage to have between six and eight. Some have even more.” Keith smiles. “Thace is the best in his field, and he has an intimate understanding of my growth disorder. There is no one I’d trust more with my life during such a critical time. And…

“I’ve not spent much time with you, Tavo, but I know your reputation well, and trust me when I say that you both have a great deal to learn from each other. I can see you two doing amazing things together.” The smile turns to an imperious stare. “Regardless, I expect you both to work together and be nice to each other. If I hear otherwise, I’ll kick your asses.”

The two medical professionals grumble their assent, Thace insulted and Tavo wary but abashed.

“Right,” Keith sighs. “Now, back to our discussion… There’s not really a whole lot to be done about any of those things.”

“Yes, but you should understand the symptoms,” Thace explains. “Bleeding, cramping, contractions, gastrointestinal distress, pain in the lower abdomen, fatigue, rapidly increasing fatigue, etc., etc. I’ll send along some resources on general self care and rearing that you both should read as.”

“Naturally.” Lance grins, puts his arm around Keith's shoulders. “We’re learning together. Right, beloved?”

“Absolutely.” Keith smiles. “Thanks for your time, guys. Thace, we’ll see you quite soon. Tavo, I imagine we’ll see you in a few movements.”

“Indeed you will, your Majesties. You’ll need to receive a health check upon your return from Daibazaal anyway before you are exposed to anyone on Altea. Our planet has far more stringent protocols for entry than Daibazaal does.”

“Understood. We’ll see you then.” Lance waves as the Altean signs off. It’s just them and Thace.

“I’ll come by your den when you return. I want to give you a once-over before your season. Which is extremely close, by the way. I recommend you return here by tomorrow night.” Thace looks Keith up and down. “You seem relatively relaxed, so I doubt it’ll be tonight.”

Keith nods, agreeing with his medic. He feels relaxed, now that his problem with Lance has been resolved. But before long, he’ll get restless, and generally uncomfortable, and he knows it. But he also knows he has Lance, and Lance will help him keep comfortable and safe. Everything will be fine.

As they say their goodbyes to Thace, however, he braces himself for an entirely different kind of conversation.

“So.” Coran sips his tea. The aging Altean’s sitting sideways on the loveseat in their quarters, legs thrown over his husband’s lap. It’s been a habit of theirs almost as long as they’ve been together. “What excuse will they give?”

“Hm…” Alfor pretends to think, massaging Coran’s knee, moving in circles to help ease the pain. Old injuries are the worst, especially when you get old yourself. “Probably ‘We were busy’ or ‘We just forgot’.” The king sighs. “I didn’t expect them to call, to be honest.Our boy’s grown up.”

“He’s been grown up for a while now, dearest.”

“A person’s not grown until they act grown. But I suspect Lancel has been grown for a while now, and just didn’t want anyone to know.”

“Probably.”

A long pause of silence-

“I’m going to call them.” Alfor gently removes his husband’s legs from his lap, reaches for his datapad.

“Darling, don’t you think-”

“I should let them be? No, I do not. They are on Daibazaal, a planet crawling with enemies-”

“Dear…”

“... Crawling with people who are not fond of my family, including and perhaps especially our son and heir?” Alfor types in Lance’s comms code.

“Better.” The red-haired man smiles at his husband, appreciative of his efforts.

“Father! Believe it or not, we were just about to call you!”

“Hello, son!” Coran smiles at the happy face before him. He’s missed his child. Alfor has too, though he hasn’t said it. “Good to see you’re both still alive!”

Alfor, for once, chooses the softer approach. “You look well. Both of you.”

They do indeed. Keith seems a little taller now, his frame a bit more robust. Lance’s skin has darkened, freckles creeping over his nose.

“We’re doing quite well here,” Keith agrees. “I’ve touched base with several contacts from within the Compound and surrounding villages. Lance has established himself as a respectable mate and warrior, thanks to his excellent conduct and impressive displays of mettel.”

Coran raises an eyebrow. “So… You’re as well-behaved as we would expect you to be, and you’ve also managed to get into some trouble. Sound about right?”

“Pretty much,” Lance admits, slightly sheepish. “I am every bit the model guest, and I also squared off against a kronil and saved a dying wolf cub with alchemy. Y’know, normal stuff.”

“A kronil. Really?” Alfor leans back. “Well now, that is impressive.” Especially given his boy’s struggles with combat and alchemy. Alfor smiles, proud of his son, delighted with the giddy pride on his son’s face.

“Now.” Alfor settles back next to Coran, throwing an arm over the back of the loveseat. “I was calling to guilt you for dropping off the edge of the star system. Why were you calling?”

The couple exchanges a glance. “We’re not… entirely sure. We’ve found something, and it could be nothing at all, or something very serious,” Lance explains.

Alfor frowns. It must be serious if Lance wants to tell him about it. There’s really only one thing he knows more about that his son: violence. “I see… What have you found?”

Keith explains the various falsified ship inspection records, where the shipments came from, and what it might mean. Alfor listens, nods. It’s a serious matter, and the boys are taking it very seriously. Both of them.

“So let me see if I understand this correctly,” he says when they’ve finished. “These ships with extra cargo bypassed inspection somehow, and come from planets that help supply the Galra with food, medicine, and raw materials?”

“Yes.” Keith leans forward, brushing a lock of loose hair over his shoulder. “These shipments could be one of two things: smugglers, looking to make a profit by supplying the Galra on Daibazaal with resources not typically available to them in large quantities, or they’re supplying a militia that may be looking to overthrow the Imperial family and name a champion, and/ or invade Altea.

“Neither of our peoples want this,” Keith stresses, staring earnestly at the king. “My people want peace. They have already chosen Lotor as their Champion upon his father’s death or retirement.”

“What exactly does it mean for him to be the Champion?” Alfor asks, unfamiliar with the term.

“Well, you know how there’s the Kral Zera?” Keith asks. Alfor nods. “Even though anyone can participate, the people can petition to choose a Champion, at which point most challengers would back down and allow the Champion to light the flame unhindered.”

“So Lotor is… the Successor Elect?” Alfor clarifies.

“Yes. He argues for strengthening and uniting the empire, instead of continuing to expand. This means more resources available to the commonwealth both here and abroad, as well as better foreign relations with conquered planets and external societies.”

“I see… Some would take issue with this?”

Keith nods. “Some are bitter that my uncle agreed to this alliance. They feel as though they have been cheated. Your people are comparatively few, but formidable. They are one of the reasons that same sex coupling is currently illegal. They don’t produce kits, and so would be considered traitors. Others are simply angered that the atrocities they were ordered to commit came to nothing, that their sacrifices and losses did not lead to victory.”

“So you believe these shipments are supplies being moved by rebels staging a coup?”

“We believe…” Keith rolls his lips between his teeth, tugs on the ends of some of his hair. “We should be prepared for every eventuality. Please understand,” he whispers. “I want so badly for this to never be our problem, but I love my people, just as surely as you love yours. I would do anything for them.”

Alfor sighs through his nose, nods. “I will begin working on plans should Daibazaal face a threat from within. In that case, we would need to split our assets between defence and military assistance, followed by relief efforts. When you return, we can look at them together.”

“Speaking of which, when do you intend to return? Some time this decaphoeb, perhaps?” Coran asks, still a little miffed that his son hasn’t kept in touch.

“Three movements. Keith’s about to go into season, and Thace wants us to stay two movements to keep an eye on him. Just in case of any complications.”

Lance lies so smoothly, Alfor almost doesn’t see the excited glint in his son’s eyes. He chooses not to mention it. He’ll let their life together be as private as they like. Nothing else ever is for a royal couple. Instead, he smiles.

“You’re both doing wonderfully. Keep up the good work, and we’ll see you in a few movements.”

Lance bows his head. “Thank you, Father. Dad.”

Coran waves away his thanks. “Just come home, lads. That’s all we ask. We love you.”

“We will,” Lance affirms. His father signs off without another word, only a fond smile -a small miracle in and of itself-, and Lance throws himself back against the tree with a loud huff.

“I agree,” Keith murmurs, settling against him with a yawn.

Lance puts an arm around him immediately. “Is this normal sleepiness, or season-related sleepiness?”

“Not sure, but we’re just gonna go with it, okay?”

Lance smiles, brushing a thumb across Keith’s cheekbone. The Galra sighs, settling in to sleep. “Sometimes I think the only reason you’re keeping me is to have something to lay on.”

“Hmph. Bed’s never poked me with it’s dick-” Lance gasps, playfully scandalized. “-so that’s definitely not it. I keep you because you're cute.”

“I have never felt so betrayed in my entire life,” Lance teases.

“Shut up and cuddle with me,” Keith grumbles, wrapping his tail around Lance’s waist as he curls up against his chest. Lance chuckles, wraps him up in his arms. “Alfor still sucks. Just so we’re clear.”

“I know. Thanks for behaving.”

“Of course I behaved. He’s your father and you love him.”

“Yeah… I think he loves me, too.” The fact that Lance barely seems to believe it breaks Keith’s heart a little.

“Of course he does. And so do I.”

“I love you too.” Lance kisses his forehead. “Get some sleep.”

“No need to tell me twice.” Keith yawns, settling in to sleep through the warmth of the afternoon.

[vernonfielding]

I’ll keep it (our secret)

Jake agrees it's best they don't tell Charles they're trying. It's just really, really hard. (Yep, it’s a missing scene from Pimemento.)

Thanks to @fezzle for the beta! She’s just the best, you guys. And thanks also to @exploding-snapple, who inadvertently inspired this story, somewhat, from a conversation we had last week.

Read on AO3.

The morning after their first foray into baby-making sex, Jake is sitting at his desk when a woman walks into the precinct holding a baby on her hip and weirdly, his first thought is, ‘That was fast.’

It’s followed immediately by his second thought, which is that the baby, of course, is not his.

“Can I help you?” Jake says to the woman.

“Someone broke into my apartment last night,” the woman says, and then bursts into tears.

Jake’s not bad with people who are crying; he’s not great with them either. But the bullpen is currently empty of detectives other than Hitchcock and Scully, who appear to be playing cat’s cradle with their toes, so he leads the woman to the chair by his own desk and waits for her to calm down enough to tell him more. He gets why the woman is freaked out -- she woke up this morning to find her living room in disarray, her TV and laptop and purse all gone -- but it’s a relatively boring case. When he’s done getting the basics, the woman -- her name is Caroline Wu -- dabs at her eyes and sniffles dramatically.

“I’m sorry I’m such a mess, it’s just my wife is out of town and this is my first time alone with the baby,” Ms. Wu says, gesturing to the kid on her lap. He has black hair that sticks up straight all over, like a cartoon character who’s just been shocked, and he’s been drooling steadily for the past half hour.

“It’s okay,” Jake says. “We’ll take care of this.”

The woman gives him a weak, watery smile and rubs at her nose with the sleeve of her shirt. Her eyes are bloodshot and swollen and her cheeks are a splotchy pink and he feels bad for noticing that she’s kind of a wreck. He feels worse when she sighs and says, “I’m such a mess. Is there a bathroom I can use?”

“Yeah, down the hall,” Jake says, and nods in the right direction.

The woman stands, shuffling the baby back onto her hip, and then she bites her lip and shuffles her feet before saying, “I hate to ask, but- would you mind holding my son? I’ll just be a minute.”

Jake feels himself go wide-eyed for a moment, then shakes himself and says, “Sure, yeah, here,” and holds his hands up for the baby. Ms. Wu passes him over and thanks Jake and heads down the hall, her sneakers squeaking against the linoleum.

The baby is heavy in his arms, and Jake sets him on his knee and bounces him a little. The kid could be three months old or three years, Jake honestly has no clue. He blinks up at Jake, looking totally unbothered to be left here without his mom, and Jake wonders if it’s too early for a “stranger danger” conversation.

“Can you talk?” Jake says to the baby. The baby drools. “Okay, well. I’m Jake. I guess you can’t tell me your name.”

He’s held babies before, of course: Ava and Iggy, Amy’s niece Dolores and her nephew Reggie, Cagney and Lacey, though not when they were this small. He’s never really noticed before how warm babies are, and how sturdy. This baby’s eyes are so brown they’re almost black, and he’s looking at Jake like he can see straight into his soul (and hasn’t yet made up his mind about whether he likes what he sees).

The baby jams a fist in his mouth, and in the same instant he grabs for the badge around Jake’s neck and yanks, hard. Jake lurches forward in his chair and throws his arms around the baby to keep him from slipping off his knee to the floor, and that’s when he hears the shutter-click of an iphone camera and looks up into the gleeful face of Charles.

“This is so beautiful,” says Charles, who may or may not be crying. “I’m sending it to Amy.”

Jake hears the “swoosh” of a sent message, and less than a minute after that his own phone vibrates on his desk. Jake shuffles the baby to his other knee so he can pick up the phone. It’s a text from Amy, all caps: DO NOT TELL HIM.

Jake sighs and sets his phone face-down on his desk. The baby has stuffed Jake’s badge in his mouth, and Charles is still taking photos. This is going to be impossible.

+++

It’s not like Jake actually tells Charles everything. He kept the proposal a secret -- never even let on that he was buying the ring. He doesn’t talk about his sex life (it’s too private, and Charles’ brain and/or heart couldn’t take it anyway), or about how sometimes Amy’s tendency to schedule every minute of their shared days off makes him want to burn her special weekend binders (just a little burning -- like a light char).

But this feels different. A baby -- that’s such a huge step, and Jake’s excited, his whole body practically thrumming with a nervous, joyful anticipation, but he’s still scared, too. And now that they’re committed to this, like actually having the unprotected baby-making sex (and oh god, Amy could be pregnant right now), Jake doesn’t want to lay all his fears on Amy. She needs him to be all in, and he is all in, he truly is, but it’s possible to be all in and also terrified, he’s realizing, because that’s where he’s at.

He can’t even articulate to himself what he’s scared of, exactly. He knows by now that he won’t be his dad, that he would never abandon Amy or their child and that he’ll always do his very best. But what if his best still isn’t good enough? What if he lets them down in some way he can’t even begin to imagine right now, because he never had a dad to let him down (other than the obvious let-down of total abandonment -- but aside from that)? Jake doesn’t even know what he doesn’t know about being a good father. 

Charles would say, ‘You’re Jake, any baby you father is going to be the luckiest baby in the world.’ And then he’d say, ‘You’re going to be top ten, maybe top five dads of all time, like probably not better than Mufasa or Full House’s Danny Tanner, but right up there.’ And then things would start to get weird and Charles would talk about how he wishes Jake was his father, and Jake would have to hang up on him or walk away or whatever, but the other stuff? Jake kind of really wants to hear that right now. He wants Charles’ uncomplicated, unrelenting confidence in all things Jake.

+++

“You can tell Charles if you really want to,” Amy says that night, after their second round of baby-making sex of the evening.

Jake’s feeling pretty spent as the sweat cools on his face and chest, and he idly winds his fingers through Amy’s hair. She’s tucked up against him, her head on his shoulder, and he can feel her heart still beating fast.

“Are you really talking about Charles?” Jake says, and Amy chuckles.

“I was thinking about how right now one of your little sperms might be swimming to my egg and this could be it,” Amy says, and Jake feels a nervous, happy flutter in his belly. “And then I realized that was exactly the kind of thing Charles would be thinking about, which, by the way, is why we’re not telling him. But he’s your best friend, and-”

“Ames, you’re my best friend,” Jake says, and pulls her closer to him. “It’s fine if we keep this just between us.”

“And Rosa,” Amy says.

“And- You told Rosa?” Jake sits up a little, and Amy rolls onto her back and gives him a sheepish half-smile.

“I’d told her when I thought I might be pregnant. You were dealing with the manhunt and I was freaking out a little and I needed her help,” Amy says. “And then the next day she asked how you’d taken it and I kind of just- told her we were trying. I’m sorry!”

“It’s fine,” Jake says quickly, leaning over to kiss her briefly. “At least we know Rosa won’t tell anyone, ever.”

Whereas Charles -- well. “I just don’t want everyone to know,” Amy says. “We don’t know how long this will take, or if there might even be problems along the way. And if we tell Charles you know he’ll start bringing in some kind of animal placenta soup and trust me, there will be plenty of time for morning sickness later, I don’t need the nausea now.”

“I get it, babe,” Jake says. He lies back down alongside her, and this time he rests his head on her shoulder, and he traces his fingers over her flat stomach. “Just us. And Rosa.”

Amy laughs, and Jake feels it under his fingers and imagines a baby there. He lays his palm over her skin and concentrates.

“I love you,” Amy says.

“Love you too.”

+++

The next morning Jake gets a call from Terry before Amy’s first alarm has even gone off. He’s got a suspected kidnapping case, and he needs Jake and Charles at the scene ASAP.

“Please tell me this is kicking your paternal instinct into overdrive,” Charles says, as soon as they’ve walked into La Petite Bebe daycare center, where a dozen children of various sizes, shapes and colors are toddling and squatting and crying and chewing on things.

Jake hisses, “Not now, Charles,” and squares his shoulders as a middle-aged woman with her hair pulled into a messy ponytail rushes toward them and introduces herself as Lena, the owner of the daycare.

One of the children has gone missing, Lena says, and shows them the ledger where she keeps track of drop-offs. She points out the name of the 5-month-old who was delivered by her father that morning at 6 a.m. and is now nowhere to be found.

“Could she have left on her own?” Jake says.

Lena stares at him, and Jake feels his cheeks start to burn. “She’s 5 months old,” she repeats. “She can’t even crawl yet.”

“So, no,” Jake says.

Lena leads them to a sofa where they can talk while her aide watches the remaining kids. She gives them a description of the baby: short brown hair, blue eyes, wearing pink leggings and a white onesie printed with “Welcome to the Shit Show” (“I don’t dress them,” Lena adds quickly). The parents are married and don’t seem to have any conflict. She’s called them both and left messages but they haven’t replied yet -- they don’t know their child is missing.

Charles takes notes and Jake is doing a fine job of not getting distracted by the total chaos around them, until a small child suddenly crawls right up to him, uses his knee to leverage herself to her feet, and makes a grab for his badge. She’s shoved it in her mouth before Jake can figure out what he’s supposed to do. 

Lena sighs and picks up the child, who wails when Jake’s badge slips out of her mouth.

“Sorry about that,” she says.

“It’s okay. I haven’t even cleaned it since the last one,” Jake says.

Five minutes later, the mother calls and tells Lena there was a miscommunication with her husband -- little Leslie wasn’t supposed to go to daycare at all that day, so they came by and picked her up and took her home and oops, forgot to tell anyone. She’s sorry for the inconvenience.

“Parents,” Lena says, shoulders slumping with relief or exhaustion, or both.

“Quick question,” Charles says, eyes darting to Jake and then back to Lena, “do you have a waiting list? And would it be presumptive to get on that waiting list before the child has been conceived?”

Jake stands up so quickly he pulls a small muscle in his back, and yanks Charles to his feet.

“Have a nice day, ma’am,” he says and hauls them both out the door.

+++

They get sent to a kid’s first birthday party in the afternoon, after a man who had been stabbed multiple times stumbled into the parents’ Greenpoint backyard. Fortunately none of the babies saw anything.

“You have to feel like the universe is sending you a message,” Charles says, after the paramedics have hauled the man away. He and Jake are following a blood trail, which starts at the sidewalk in front of the house and ends just beneath the pinata strung to a tree branch. Jake’s pretty sure 1-year-olds are too young to be swinging bats at pinatas, but he’s not a dad (yet), what does he know?

Jake takes off his sunglasses and pinches the bridge of his nose. He does actually feel like the universe or whatever is trying to tell him something, but he doesn’t know what. Behind him, he can hear children squealing and parents laughing, and then everyone starts singing “Happy Birthday.”

In a year and nine months, it might be his own kid’s first birthday. The image of it flashes before his eyes: A brown-haired baby with bright laughing eyes and a huge smile, chocolate cake smeared all over its face. Amy is crying a little, and Jake is too, and Charles makes them stand on either side of the high chair for a photo. Charles is, of course, bawling.

Jake realizes he’s smiling to himself and bites his lip to stop. He puts his sunglasses back on and turns to Charles, who is watching him expectantly, rocking back on his heels.

“It looks like the stabbing happened out front,” Jake says, wincing a little when Charles’ face falls. “We should start there.”

Later, the father of the birthday boy invites them to the party for cake, and they both politely decline. But when they’re alone again Charles says he knows of a place nearby that has a pork-and-beans cupcake he’s been dying to try and Jake opens his mouth to say yes, of course (even though -- no, absolutely not).

But he thinks about dodging Charles’ comments and questions about babies and biological clocks and fertility windows and he knows he’ll never survive.

“Sorry, bud. I’ve got plans.”

“Sure, okay,” Charles says, voice gone flat and horrible. “Some other time.”

+++

Jake’s standing at the kitchen counter wiping down his badge with Purell when Amy gets home that evening. She raises a questioning eyebrow but doesn’t actually ask what he’s doing.

They have salads for dinner because Amy read an article about fertility superfoods and apparently spinach and kale are the superest. When Jake doesn’t even raise a cursory protest, Amy asks him if he’s feeling okay.

“Yeah, fine,” Jake says, and stuffs a forkful of deep green spinach in his mouth. It tastes chalky and bitter and he swallows it down with grape soda (he’s trying to branch out a little).

Amy tells him about Gary’s latest accidental attempt at a coup among the beat cops -- “I know he doesn’t mean to undermine me, but he really needs to shut the f up about color-coding the weekend rotations” -- and Jake tells her about the not-missing kid from the morning and finding a man bleeding to death under a pinata.

They’re cleaning up together, Amy wiping down counters while Jake gets the dishwasher going, when Amy asks how it’s going with Charles. “He must have been losing it with all of those babies in the vicinity,” she says, and though she’s laughing a little Jake senses that she’s concerned.

“He was fine,” Jake says, and off Amy’s skeptical smirk, adds, “Okay, he was Charles.”

Amy tosses her sponge into the sink and rests a hip against the counter, and he can feel her gaze on the side of his face as he crouches over the dishwasher. He sets it running and then wipes off his hands on a towel and steps over to her. He loops his arms around her waist, tugging her to him, and kisses her, gently at first. When she hums against his lips he opens his mouth, tilts his head just so, and slides his tongue alongside hers. They make out for a while, Amy’s hands curling over his neck and his fingers reaching up under her shirt to stroke over her back.

Then the dishwasher gurgles loudly and they break apart, laughing.

“C’mon,” Jake says, letting go of her waist to grab her hand and pull her toward the bedroom. “I think it’s time for me to put some bludgers in your golden snitch.”

He hears Amy sigh behind him. “That’s not how Quidditch works, Jake.”

+++

Pimento, at least, takes Charles’ mind off of babies. It helps that they’ve gone more than 24 hours without a single child sighting.

Which is why Jake’s glad he’s alone in the main hospital waiting area when a couple emerges from an elevator. They’re young and their eyes are bruised with exhaustion and they both have the shell-shocked look that Jake usually associates with people who have just survived near-death experiences, but there’s a glow about them that he recognizes too. The man is holding a tiny pink bundle in his arms, and the woman keeps peeking over at them both, like she can’t help herself, like she can hardly stand to look anywhere else.

Jake’s heart is beating too-fast, because that will be him -- he’ll be the man with the bundle, the father taking his little girl or little boy home for the first time, and Amy will be right there too, and it’s going to be incredible. 

And when they get home, after they’ve settled in a bit, Charles will bring them so much soup and so many casseroles and they’ll even eat most of it because they won’t have time to shop or cook for themselves. And Charles will take photos and change diapers when they both need a break, and he’ll tell Jake he’s doing great, he’s doing his best, and that’s all any kid needs, after all.

“We can go up and see him now,” Charles says, breaking into his thoughts. Jake jerks and looks away from the new family, just as they disappear out the main hospital doors.

“Huh?”

“Pimento, we can see him,” Charles says. “Are you ready?”

Jake thinks about that for a moment and then grins up at Charles and stands. “Yeah,” he says, “I’m ready.”

End Notes:

The title is from Feed the Beast (Bash Brothers, of course).

A note on the timeline: I THINK this fits with what we have so far from the season? I notice some people are thinking that a couple of months have passed since the first episode, but I’m going with this being Jake and Amy’s first round at baby-making. If I missed some canon detail, please let me know! 

[mummy-in-lockdown]

The start...

I’m pregnant! It’s a girl! She’s due May 2020! Less than 2 months left at work! BANG!! Coronavirus hits the UK. Lockdown began!

When I found out I was pregnant in September 2019 I was both extremely happy and very shocked. We’d only been married a month! I took over 20 tests to keep checking I was pregnant! I don’t think I fully believed it until the first scan.

I’d had a relatively good pregnancy in the first few months. Not a lot of morning sickness and coped quite well. The main thing I ‘suffered’ from was swollen feet, the children I taught said I had feet like an elephant! Cheeky I know!

I remember the day lockdown for me began - Tuesday 17th March. Prime Minister Boris Johnson held a news conference on the Monday to explain that Pregnant Women were classed in the vulnerable category and should take measures to protect themselves. I didn’t know what to do. Legally could I leave work? Should I leave to protect me and the baby? Would I still get paid? Or would I be forced to start my maternity? It was March! There was no way I wanted to start my maternity 2 months early! Safe to say I didn’t sleep well that night!

I got into work early on the 17th. I was definitely the first teacher in. I started to pack some of my things just in case I made the decision to leave. I just didn’t know what to do. By 10am the decision had been made for me. I was told to go home and thank God I was still getting paid!

Saying goodbye to my class was hard. I knew I wouldn’t be back till after my baby was born and it was hard that I never got the chance to say a proper goodbye.

Coming home that day I didn’t know what to do. So I sat and had a hot drink (never get a chance to do that midweek!!). It was a bit of a novelty. The next couple of days were relaxing. It felt normal to be honest, just kind of felt like it was half term. After two weeks, it hit me. It was probably because of my hormones but there was one particular day I just couldn’t stop crying. Sitting at home within the same four walls was hard. My husband was at work full time and I’d not left my house in over 14 days. I missed the freedom to visit people or even go to shops. I think it hit me more because I, along with everyone else, didn’t know how long this would last.

I had just reached over 32 weeks and things took a turn. I’d stopped feeling my baby move or kick. On the drive to the hospital I remember being very quiet and my husband was trying his best to keep my spirits up. We’ve been told on the phone that I would have to go into hospital on my own. I had not been to any appointments without him and this day of all days I needed him there. I got in the antenatal day unit and everyone was wearing masks, had gloves on and aprons on and it all felt quite scary. I had to turn my phone off as they affected the machines so I had no contact with my husband for the whole time I was in there. The nurses strapped me up to the monitor and took my blood pressure and left me to sit and wait. As I sat there I watched the monitor. I was watching my little girls heartbeat, thanking God that I knew she was still there. It was the biggest relief after days of not feeling her. The nurses explained that they needed me to come back every day for the next week at least to continue monitoring.

After a week of attending the unit the doctor came to see me and explained that due to me being diabetic and the fact that gradually every day my blood pressure was going higher they wanted me to continue to come in twice a week for the rest of my pregnancy. This was to have her monitored, to check my blood pressure, and have blood tests carried out.

As it continued my blood pressure had gone very high and I was put on medication to control it. I had also had a blood test which revealed that I was pre-eclampsia and they continued to monitor this. At 36 Weeks I had a scan to check on the baby’s size and was told that the baby was still in a breech position and I agreed to have a procedure called a External cephalic version (ECV). This is where a Doctor presses on your stomach to push the baby into the right place. There are risks to this procedure, one being a tear in the placenta or a change to the baby’s heartbeat. But I still made the decision to have it carried out. So on the 28th April I had to pack my hospital bags into the car just in case they had to bring the baby out. Again just like all the other times I had to go into hospital on my own. I had to read all the risks. I had to make all the decisions on my own.

I’m not going to lie or play it down but the ECV was so painful and so scary I’m not sure I could do it again. The doctor pushed on my stomach so hard I thought he was going to hurt the baby and I was convinced she was going to have to be brought out as an emergency. I remembered crying thinking all I wanted was my husband there to help me through it and to be with me in case anything went wrong. It’s not a situation I would wish on anyone. At the end of the procedure I sat there for another hour while they monitored the baby to check that everything was still ok. All I could do was pray. Pray that she was ok. Pray that she was safe.

The doctor eventually came back and explained that the ECV had failed and they had been unable to turn the baby around. This then meant I would have to have a Caesarean at about 39 weeks. I’ll be honest when my husband picked me up and we drove home I felt like a failure. Not being able to give birth naturally made me feel like a failure. I had a plan. A plan to give birth with my husband next to me. With all this time at home I had written what would be the most perfect birth plan. But it’s so true what people used to say to me, when you have a baby your birth plan goes out the window.

A few days later I was back in hospital for my weekly monitoring. My husband decided to go do some shopping as I was in hospital for about two hours each time. They put the monitor on me as usual, they took my blood pressure and checked my bloods from the previous time I was in. But this time it felt different, this time I knew something wasn’t right....

[lilyp-and-me]

Where to start? Pregnancy..

It seems like a lifetime ago now Lily is here with us. I know a lot of ladies who say their pregnancy dragged, mine seemed to go fairly quick.

The pregnancy was a surprise-ish, but the most amazing surprise-ish ever. Jai and I were meant to be booking tickets to visit my family in Houston for the following May on the day we found out I was pregnant, good job I did a test before we booked the tickets really as we had decided to go for the non-refundable option! I was lucky as my pregnancy was fairly straight forward, that doesn’t mean to say I didn’t spend every day worrying about my unborn baby and the changes my body was going through.

Being a woman, and someone who has always wanted children, you have an idea in your head of how you think it will be to be pregnant. Well, let me tell you throw those ideas out the window. Say GOODBYE  to them. Nobody can prepare you for the sheer amount of emotions, changes to you body (and wind) you experience. It’s mind blowing. And then there is the worry.. here are just a few worries I had personally:

“Will I be a good Mum? Am I eating enough for the baby? Or in later trimesters, am I eating too much? Where is my bump? It’s not a perfect round size like other bumps, that makes me feel sad. Is she kicking enough?  Why can’t I feel my hands anymore when I wake up?  And oh I forgot to get Gaviscon from the supermarket, suffering awaits me this evening.”

I think the biggest worry was feeling her kick. Although the NHS doesn’t advise to count kicks any more, they do advise babies should have a pattern. But as every baby is unique, they can’t state what the pattern should be. It is something you figure out over time for yourself. We had a couple of episodes of reduced movements, which we got checked out each time - turns out she was just having a snooze each time and as soon as the midwives listened in, she made herself known. But of course the very worst scenario runs through your mind. Turns out I had an anterior placenta too (basically in front of baby rather than behind) so her kicks weren’t as strong. She makes up for it now by boldly kicking me in the tummy every time she is laid facing me. Anybody who knows me well enough will tell you I am a natural born worrier. I can’t really pinpoint when the worrying began in my life, but as long as I can remember if there wasn’t something to worry about you can be sure I would find something to worry about. As stupid as it sounds, I spent a lot of my pregnancy worrying about being worried - I’d be Little Miss Anxious if I was a Mr Men character I swear. Never have I known such worry and as my lovely Mum wisely said, “it only gets worse once the baby is here!”. She was right (N.B she is right about 99.9% of the things). But amongst all the worry I was so ridiculously excited to meet my baby. I don’t know if any other Mums/Dads experienced this but I could never envision her face whilst pregnant, I tried to a few times. My mind would often wander to my unborn baby whilst tackling floods of emails at work. But then when I first laid eyes on her she looked exactly how I imagined her to be. It was such a strange feeling, but honestly the best moment of my life. The elation and love I felt when she was placed on me is too much to put into words. Also, new baby smell should be bottled.

So there is worry, and then there are changes to your body. One of my bosses at work described it as, “you are now a host”, which immediately made me think of the film Alien. Thanks Tina! Ha. But yes, it really is quite incredible what the female bod is capable of. For me, other than childbirth (blog post on this to follow soon), I think the most surreal/painful/odd symptom of pregnancy was burning nips. Yes, burning nipples. I remember the first time I experienced it vividly, popped into Morrison’s to pick up a few bits and I think I was around 20ish weeks pregnant. I made my way to the milk aisle and BAM my nips literally felt like they were on fire. It was like a white hot flame was being held right next to them. I immediately stopped in my tracks and threw my arms over them to try and ease it, I got a funny look from an older gent - if only you’d have known sir. And then they went icy cold, but they were still burning. I almost cried at the sensation as it was so overwhelming. I was wearing about three layers of clothing yet the cold chill from the refrigerators hit my nips like a bird flying into window at full speed. Hard and fast. I didn’t risk the freezer aisle. My midwife chuckled quite a bit at my next check up when I asked her, “oh yeah one last thing, why are my nipples burning when I go outside in the cold or near refrigerator units in shops?”. She explained it was perfectly normal and looked very amused at my perplexed face. No high school biology lesson on pregnancy prepared 28 year old Sarah for burning nips whilst picking up 2 pints of milk at Morrison’s. Overall besides those few panicky episodes, the UNRELENTING heartburn, the inability to eat a full meal until I was around 15 weeks pregnant due to nausea and the general aches and pains of carrying a human for 9 months my pregnancy was enjoyable (although by week 34ish I was ready for her to vacate my womb - 3/4 trips to the bathroom a night can really take a toll of a person). That being said, I would do it all over again in a heartbeat as the outcome was my beautiful Lily Jayne. I struggle to remember our life before you. Being her Mummy is just the best thing in the entire universe. She has made my bad days easier and my good days absolutely amazing.

[resilientmama]

Starting with the basics...

I’ve been told I am resilient. 

And I guess people viewing me in this light could be a good thing. But from my eyes, I just see a plethora of other people who are out here testing how much I can take. What will be her breaking point? When will she finally give in and go away?

If you’re one of those people, and you’re reading this; I’d like to formally let you know that once again you didn’t win. 

There has been no “winner” here. We’re all losing something in this scenario I’m going to layout. We’re all sad at the end of the day. I’m still here, without some of the things I love the most. And you’re still here, wondering what in the hell you have to do to make my existence disappear without being put into a prison for murder.

I’ve cried to the people that meant the most to me a number of times, “What do they want from me? To kill myself?” But this wasn’t suicidal thoughts or idealizations. Because I, Vanessa Green, don’t want to kill myself. I want to live. I want to watch my children grow. I want to enjoy my older years with my husband. I want to complete school and have the career I love. I want to laugh with my friends and continue to build a better relationship with my parents. I’m not going to sub-come to anyone else’s wishes, ever.

What got me to the title of resilient, strong, tough? PARENTAL ALIENATION.

What is parental alienation?

“Parental alienation describes a process through which a child becomes estranged from a parent as the result of the psychological manipulation of another parent. The child's estrangement may manifest itself as fear, disrespect or hostility toward the parent, and may extend to additional relatives or parties.”

The onset of PA can be derived from a variety of instances: a messy divorce, a partner with domestic violence problems, money and/or property, not wanting to pay child support, a preventative to keep an ex partner from carrying out a new romantic relationship, underlying mental health issues, social judgement, ETC. The list is literally endless.

But what is very clear if you do any type of research is that it is a form of abuse, to the child and the alienated parent.

I have been alienated from my children since 2016. It was a slow process. It usually is. Those RESILIENT little minds that children have are not as easily molded as you believe they could be. 

How was I alienated? 

I believe in my heart that the Father’s Rights Movement organization was the ultimate nail in my coffin. The organization has a forum post titled “The List” that gives a play by play account of how to manipulate the mother into a maniac state of emotion to make her look mentally unfit to care for a child/children. It then details out how to get your children involved, coaching techniques, the kinds of psychologist to take them to, top notch father’s rights attorneys in your area. I have this page bookmarked and I will link it in another post.

My alienation started with false allegations reported to DHS not by the other parent, but by his new partner. The key is to never get any blood on your own hands so if it all falls down, and it will, the blame can be put on someone else.

When the allegations about myself weren’t picked up, they had to move on to another victim. They chose my partner at the time. Granted, he wasn’t an amazing guy, but they still chose an innocent bystander.

I will never know the exact details of what happened the day the alleged abuse happened. So it is not my place to speak with complete confidence on what did or didn’t happen. 

Emergency custody hearings occurred, at the expense of both parties and guess what happened. I got my children back into my care. Sole custody renewed.

Then a custody modification. My life was turned upside down. I moved back in with my parents and hoped for the best. 

With over twelve witnesses subpoenaed to testify against me, my attorney advised I agree to joint custody. It was put into my mind that I was being alienated and this was not the last time that I would be in a courtroom with these people. 

So I had to watch my children be permanently moved to another state, accepting I would only see them every other weekend and for holiday breaks.

It went well for not even a year. I started having visitation denied, denied phone conversations, access to school information. At one point I was even told I wasn’t allowed to attend their school events because I made the new partner uncomfortable. I found out my children were referring to her as their mother now. 

It started to make sense and I braced myself for the impact.

Then came the storm of a lifetime. 

At this time I was twelve weeks pregnant with Logan and suffering from a hemorrhage of sorts due to my placenta not properly attaching. I was on bed rest and Paxton was having to temporarily live with parents. I was only allowed to get up to use the restroom and grab quick things to eat out of the fridge.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK. Its my local DHS caseworker.

“Yes, Vanessa...I’m here to speak with you about your children. We’ve had a report filed that they have been sexually molested in your home.”

I thought I would die right then and there. 

I explained to her about the bed rest and she immediately asked to come in and helped me get settled back on to the couch. At this point in time I was in such a hysterical state that I couldn’t even breathe. 

I knew they were going to pin it on Taylor. 

After all was said and done the allegations had moved from Taylor to my previous partner whom was already the alleged physical abuser.

Two days later she called back to inform me that the reporting party had ultimately decided to push the allegations to myself and a VPO had been filed against me, in another state in which the alleged abuse didn’t even happen.

This was just the first half of my alienation. Way more was to come in the following years. My stepchildren, my now husband’s ex partner was involved, other members of my family were named for other alleged abusive acts.

I will go into more detail on the investigations of my ex partner that was originally used as a pawn on the upcoming posts.

This is a twisted web. And if for a second you think there’s no way all of this happened...it did. 

I want to clarify that I haven’t seen, spoken to or even been sent a photo of my children since March of 2018.

I was kindly sent a mother’s day present in the middle of the investigation. I had to respectively return it as I was not going to accept anymore psychological abuse.

This is just the beginning to the foundation of my story.

Thank you for taking time out of your day to read this, and bare with me as I navigate how to properly construct this blog into something that I feel represents me in a way that I feel is honest and fit.

Disclaimer: I will not disclose the names of my other children and stepchildren, along with anyone else involved without their permission. Do not send hate, threats or make disparaging comments to anyone involved in my story. My goal is not to cause harm. My goal is clarification and my opportunity to tell my story.

[emmapills]

New Jeankob fic!

Having a week off SM has really helped me mentally, so I was able to work on this fic!Tumblr prompt by StefanSalvatore requested by anon. No beta (as usual), although I wouldn't reject one ;) Will I ever write a Jeankob fic that doesn’t have Jean pregnant? Who knows, this is just my way of tiding things over until season 3. As always, also on AO3 and soon coming to fanfiction.net!

Stay safe and well!

X

“Breathe, okay? Just breathe.”

“I am breathing. You try pushing a watermelon out of your vagina!”

As much as he knew she was in pain, he chuckled softly at her comment. He pushed her bangs away from her face and lightly kissed her forehead. As a contraction came, she groaned, grabbing his hand for dear life. The contraction passed and she was panting, not letting go of his hand, her other hand on the handle of the hospital bed.

“How long has it been?” she asked hoarsely.

He looked at his watch. “About 5 minutes.”

She whimpered and laid her head back on the pillow. He handed her a cup of water and she drank greedily, placing it on a rolling tray next to her bed.

While she would have preferred a home birth, the hospital was the safest place for her to be due to the complications that could happen, so that was where they found themselves on a late autumn afternoon.

“Can you go ahead and call them?” she asked.

He nodded and proceeded to call his oldest daughter. “Ola, are you at home?...Can you get to the hospital with Alana?...Jean’s having the baby…I’m about to call Otis now…Okay, see you later.”

While he called Otis, Jean shifted in the hospital bed, her back uncomfortable from the weight of her belly. He finished the call and went over to her, picking up a washcloth and dabbing her heavily perspiring forehead. She looked up at him with tears in her eyes.

“I’m sorry Jakob, for snapping earlier.”

“Hey, it’s alright.” He smiled at her and kissed her cheek for assurance.

“It’s just that, I don’t know…”

He took her hand and stroked one hand along her jawline.

“You are bringing life into the world, Jean, you can snap at me all you want.”

“Oh, Jakob.”

Jean was sobbing now, and Jakob wrapped his arms around her. She sighed and relaxed in his embrace. Even during labor, he found a way to comfort her. Soon, another contraction came, and she moaned into his neck, her hands clutching his shirt.

“Fuck!” she cried out.

Just then the nurse came in. Sophie was her name, maybe? They vaguely remembered it started with an S.

“Alright, Jean, let’s see how dilated you are.” She lifted the sheet covering Jean and checked. “Okay, you’re about seven centimeters dilated, and baby should be coming by evening. You can still get an epidural if that is what you want.”

Jean shook her head, surprising Jakob.

“Okay, well let me know if you decide to change your mind. I’ll be back later to see how we’ve progressed.” She quickly looked over Jean and the baby’s heart monitors and left the room.

“Are you sure you don’t want the epidural?” Jakob asked as the door closed.

“I’m sure. Besides, it can increase the need for a c-section, and I want to do everything I can not to need it.”

Jakob nodded in understanding.

After two more contractions, he got a text from Ola letting him know that she, Alana, and Otis had arrived. He texted them the room number. “The kids just got here,” he informed her.

They soon heard a knock on the door and the hospital room increased by three occupants. Otis went to his mom, hugging her, while Ola and Alana went to stand on the other side where Jakob stood.

“How’re you feeling, mum?” Otis asked, letting go.

Jean exhaled, rubbing her belly. “Not great.”

Otis smiled sadly but was a little uncomfortable. It was weird to become a big brother at almost 17, plus the whole concept of labor and birth was not his thing. However, he loved his mom and so he swallowed these thoughts.

“How long until the baby comes?” Ola asked.

“A few hours if all goes as planned,” Jean answered, looking at Jakob.

In just hours, they would be welcoming a new life into the world. Two people who thought they were done having children, were now having another one. If they had been told just a year ago this is where they’d be now, they would have laughed. How things change in such a short amount of time.

“May I feel? If that’s okay.”

“Of course.”

Jean took Ola’s hand and placed it just underneath her bellybutton, and sure enough, the baby kicked at the sudden contact.

Ola’s smile was wide. “Wow,” she gasped. “Alana, do you want to feel?”

Her younger sister stayed standing by Jakob, arms crossed over her chest. It took her a while to get used to the idea of gaining another sibling, and she certainly wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of Jean replacing her mother, but she made her dad happy. She contemplated the question, and ultimately decided to follow Ola. She silently placed her hand where Ola just took hers away and waited to feel movement. She wasn’t disappointed, and a small half-smile showed on her face. She looked at Jean for a moment, the woman sharing the same smile. She removed her hand and went back to where her dad and older sister were.

The small group conversed for a few minutes and stopped when Jean felt another contraction. Jakob held her hand, while Otis, Ola, and Alana stood awkwardly, unsure of what to do.

“We’re at four minutes now,” Jakob said.

Jean was not pleased and grabbed the cup of water from its place on the tray, taking a few sips.

Jakob took the washcloth again and repeated his earlier actions. He turned back to the teens and told them, “it’s okay if you want to wait outside.”

He had answered an unasked question. Otis gave Jean a quick kiss on the cheek and followed the two girls out of the room as the nurse came back in.

“Okay, you should be about 8 centimeters dilated by now, which means the baby will be here soon. And you don’t want the epidural, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, then. Now it’s just a waiting game from here.”

X

And wait they did. Finally, two hours later, Jean was ten centimeters dilated and fully effaced. The baby was coming.

There were more people in the room than before and Otis, Ola, and Alana could hear Jean cry out in pain when new contractions came, which at this point they seemed to merge.

Inside the hospital room, Jakob had ended up on the bed with Jean, her back to his chest, while he held both her thighs so the baby could come. It was unconventional, but so were they. While the contractions kept coming, Jakob tried to whisper sweet nothings into her ear. It had helped a little, but not much.

“Okay, Jean, on this next one I need you to push,” the obstetrician had told her. “Try to push for as long as you can.”

Jean, sweaty and breathless, nodded. She felt the next contraction and pushed, crying out in pain, Jakob holding onto her, her hands gripping his forearms.

“You’re doing great, Jean. The head’s going to come out with this next push.”

Jean was panting and shaking her head, sobbing, laying her head back against Jakob.

“I can’t do this,” she cried.

“Hey, you’re doing amazing. You can do this,” he whispered into her ear. “Just a couple more pushes and our baby will be here.”

Before she could respond, she felt another contraction and pushed as hard as she could, her lower half burning as she felt her baby’s head come out.

“The head’s out! Just one more push and you’ll have your baby,” the obstetrician stated as she wiped the child’s nose and mouth.

As promised, the baby came out with the next push and entered the world with a strong set of lungs. The obstetrician handed the baby over to the nurse who cleaned them up a bit.

“Congratulations, Jean! You have a baby girl!”

Jean and Jakob smiled, and the nurse handed their little girl over to Jean. Jakob untied the back of her gown so she could do skin-to-skin with their baby. She soon brought the baby to her breast to see if she would latch. After some encouragement, their daughter latched and soon after the cord was cut and placenta was delivered. Jakob wrapped Jean and the baby in his arms and rested his head on Jean’s shoulder.

“We have a daughter.”

Jean looked at him, smiling just as wide.

“Have you thought of a name?”

Jean looked back down at their daughter and stroked her cheek with her finger.

“What about Charlotte Olivia?”

Jakob kissed Jean’s cheek and put his hands over hers. “It’s perfect.”

After Charlotte finished nursing, Jakob got out of the bed to get their now older children. He opened the door and all three stood up anxiously.

“You have a new sister.”

Surprisingly, all three were excited about the news. They walked past him and went over to Jean holding the small baby. She handed the baby to Jakob and Otis hugged her.

“Are you okay with having a sister?” Jean asked him. As much as she wanted a girl, she knew Otis didn’t have many other male figures in his life besides Eric and Jakob. She would count Remi, but…

“Trust me, mum, I’m glad it’s a girl. Fewer things for me to share.” He winked and she knew it’d be okay.

As the three teens cooed over Charlotte and took turns holding her, Jakob put his hands on Jean’s shoulders. They smiled at each other for what felt like the umpteenth time that day. They looked at all four of their children and knew everything was going to be alright.

[caddy-whump-us]

More? More! Marisol’s (Dr. Marisol Gutiérrez) character is developing even as I write: it seems she was a researcher involved with The Company (Jamf Research? IDK yet) that developed Julian but she was only involved in earlier iterations of the project. After a crisis of conscience, she got out (a story in and of itself) and got involved with Jack, Ryan, Phillip, and the rest. Phillip (Dr. Phillip Yeoun) was never involved in the project, but found himself involved in the “resistance” side of things through Jack--details still evolving. Anyway:

This is kind of long and a bit of a mess but it follows these events and sets things up for later. Julian is still under observation in his quarantine cell. Marisol has been monitoring him for most of the night (via camera feed) in the hopes that he’ll start showing signs of memory recovery. (Also, I think Phillip and Marisol are work-spouses, so that’s rad.)

Phillip pushed open the office door bearing aloft a cardboard tray in which stood two coffee cups. “Doctor.”

Marisol leaned back from the desk and computer monitor and rubbed her eyes. “Ah. Doctor.”

Stupid routines and inside jokes are sometimes the only way to get along without screaming.

Phillip set Marisol’s cup next to her keyboard, picked up his own from the tray and took a sip. Hot. “What’s the news this morning?”

“He’s taken his shoes off.”

“Okay...” He sipped.

“You probably weren’t at the house enough to see it, but he stayed barefoot around there a lot. I never quite figured out if it was conditioning or preference.”

“But he’s taken his shoes off now, so--”

“Don’t get your hopes up, but he could have some memory recovery, if being barefoot is his preference. Or he may think he’s off his mission, so he may have gone back into kind of a holding pattern. It’s too soon to tell.”

“Is he sleeping at all?” Phillip asked over the rim of his cup.

“If he is, it’s only ten or fifteen minutes at a time and he’s sitting up for it.”

Phillip dropped into the chair next to her and they both studied the gray, green, grainy feed coming up from the quarantine rooms below. Julian was still, sitting in half-lotus (barefoot) with his back against the far wall. Then, movement: he rolled his head on his neck, ducked his face to his chest, and yawned.

Phillip sat back with a sigh. “Even comatose patients yawn.”

“Yes, thank you, doctor.”

“You’re welcome, doctor.” And Phillip saluted her with his cup.

They were quiet for a time, both looking at the camera feed, waiting for some sign that might or might not come. Julian was still. Phillip spoke at last:

“Are you sleeping at all?”

“I survived my internship. So this? This is nothing.”

“No, I mean it. You know more about the project--”

“--I know.”

“We need what you know,” Phillip said, “but we also need you healthy.”

“I’ll be fine.” She waved him off.

“Marisol,” and Phillip’s voice was grave, “is this some kind of penance?”

Marisol turned back to the screen and spoke almost brightly, almost cheerful, “I broke the oath, Phillip. ‘First, do no harm.’ And I hurt him. Because I did the research that kept the project going until it was used on him. He survived when so few others did because of my research to get the right sequences and viruses. I hurt him, Phillip. So if it isn’t penance, it’s at least an apology.”

Phillip said nothing at first. And they were quiet, side by side, for a time.

“Have you talked to Ryan about this at all?”

She shrugged. “Back when Ryan was in with them, it was all military research contracts. They were looking ways to take any kind of volunteer and make them into high-alert special-ops types. They were trying to build an army, not...breed one.”

And they both looked at Julian’s small shape on the screen, crouched on the floor, in his quarantine room.

“It’s the memory issues that really give me pause. It’s so global. When I was involved, it wasn’t at all this sort of--”

“Meatball surgery?” Phillip suggested, sipping at his coffee again.

Marisol snorted, “Meatball surgery.”

Phillip counted that near-laugh as a success.

“They can do detailed memory alteration,” she went on. “They’ve been able to do that for years. It’s to the point that they can spark or deaden individual neurons. After all, they did it on me. They snipped out what they wanted and left the rest intact--with no reversal.”

She stared into the monitor, chin in hand.

“No reversal that you know of,” Phillip said.

She didn’t answer but still turned toward him and leaned on the arm of the chair. “Why not perform the alterations on his memory before the genetic enhancements? Create the scar-tissue before implementing the accelerated healing. They’ve all but set themselves up for failure, having to go back and block his memory all over again every few months. No sooner have they set up the amnesia, but he’s starting to recover from it. Is it a control tactic--to make him dependent on them? It is to keep him disoriented? Is there a memory boost from the enhancements they didn’t want to lose? I’m still trying to figure it out.”

Listening, sure, but Phillip leaned forward towards the screen.

Julian was up off the floor. Dusty, dried-mud footprints followed him from the corner to the sink. And Julian himself was standing, leaning over the sink. Distantly came the tinny sound of splashing water over the computer speakers.

“What’s he doing?” Phillip asked, still staring.

“He’s washing his face…” Marisol said, trailing off, trying not to let too much hope color her voice.

“Can we get Ryan on the phone? I want the boyfriend down there.”

“Call him. They’re both at Jack’s apartment right now.”

But even as Phillip was jumping up, leaving his chair spinning, he stopped at the doorway and spoke over his shoulder: “Marisol, how many more kids like him do you think there are still?”

A faint vision: white rooms and perfect lighting; endless tanks of frozen embryos; the cold stir of clouds of liquid nitrogen; needles finer than a human hair; artificial wombs and clumps, clusters, spines, hearts growing therein; fetal heartbeats in glass chambers; the human zoo; synthetic amniotic fluid that smelled faintly of maple syrup; jokes flipping between the Nobel and condemnation; pieces of small, translucent bodies but not the whole; life support for prenatal infants; steady streams of response testing and in-utero (“in-utero”) tests; cell cultures; the failures; the “births”; the newborn children. Meatball.

It was easy to trace the progression forward, branching out towards the behaviorists, the early developmental encouragement, the Skinner Boxes and dime-store Pavlovian conditioning, the new plan for foster parents, the obligate activities for the children, the expectations and the results, forward even unto this ever moment. But where was the root? Following back all the umbilical cords, placenta to cord to navel, placenta to cord to navel, in that bloodied tree, who was first? Who was the Zero? Who was the Firstborn? And now, who held the leash? What word had started the cascade and whose voice had sounded it?

“I don’t know. And sometimes I wonder if that’s what they had me forget.”

“Hey, Avery! Get your stuff--we’re going to see your boyfriend!”

His face was different: not the hard, sharp mask he’d been wearing at first, but softer now and faintly dazed. Even his eyes were roving more slowly around the small room (cell?), drifting and studying the ceilings, the patterns of lights, the doctors or nurses or researchers who passed by, the movement of the curtain in a thin stream of air, thoughts behind his eyes, sniffing the air.

And Avery smiled seeing him looking around the room, all moving lines instead of spiky planes and hidden teeth like he’d been before. Good. He sat down in front of the glass again and Ryan kept just aside, ready to move, ready to guard once again.

Julian came pacing over, slower this time than before, not a strike, just curiosity--again, so catlike in this half-crouch, curious. And he sat in front of the glass and yawned again.

Avery, slowly, hesitantly, laid his hand flat against the glass again. “Do you still recognize me?”

Julian mirrored him, setting his hand, palm to palm, though still divided, against Avery’s. He nodded, once.

“Do you--do you remember how we met?”

This time he shook his head, once: no.

“But you still recognize me.”

A nod. And he yawned again.

“Well, I guess it’s a start.” And Avery did his best to smile.

Julian didn’t (didn’t or couldn’t, Ryan wondered) return the smile. But he leaned forward, resting his face against the glass, resting his face against the glass as though he were lying against Avery’s shoulder. And he stayed very still for a time.

His eyes opened as Ryan passed behind Avery and his eyes followed him as he went to the electronic lock that kept the glass between them. Julian closed his eyes again. And Ryan reached for the silver keypad.

A voice popped from the intercom speaker near the keypad. “Don’t do that, Ryan.”

“Hey Phillip?” Ryan called into the air, “Trust me that I know what I’m doing here.”

Seven keys, a series of clicks and sounds, a tinny warning, another code, another warning, and then, a rush of air as the glass panel slid away from between them.

Julian tumbled forward into Avery’s arms--skinny, dirty, barefoot Julian slumped against Avery, one hand thrown over his shoulder.

A woman came running from somewhere back in the soft corridors near the elevator. She carried a pale blue blanket and knelt down beside Avery and Julian. “Is he all right?”

“He’s asleep,” Ryan answered.

“Finally.” She draped the blanket over Julian’s shoulders and checked his pulse from the hand hanging loose on the floor. She whispered, “I’m Doctor Gutiérrez. I’ve been monitoring him since he was brought in.”

Julian settled a little deeper against Avery’s chest. He smelled of dirt; his breathing was slow. Avery was looking down at his face and said nothing but his eyes were bright and wet.

She set one hand on Avery’s shoulder. “Can you pick him up?”

“Yeah,” Avery said, wiping his eyes, “Easy.”

Blanket and all, he scooped Julian into his arms--he weighed nothing, or next to nothing. Never tall or broad-shouldered, always on the skinnier side of the politeness of “thin,” Julian seemed thinner and smaller than Avery remembered. But he was asleep, with one hand hooked into the front of Avery’s shirt, and that was all right. Following Ryan, who motioned him along, Avery started with his burden back to the elevator.

Dr. Gutiérrez, Marisol, slipped back into the glass room and, with a glove on her hand, picked up Julian’s boots; sealed and locked, she left the room for more testing later--the blood, the dirt, the air itself, anything.

She caught up to them, a peculiar trio, in the elevator, waiting for her.

Slowly, they started to rise up to the surface again.

Avery looked over at Julian’s boots hanging from Marisol’s hand. She looked at him, looked at the boots, then back at him and she smiled faintly. No fool, this boy. Good.

“We have reason to believe he’s been dosed with stimulants, and possibly other drugs,” she said. “And we want to identify them. There should be traces in the sweat in his shoes.”

Avery smiled, more to himself than anyone, and nodded. But, slowly and quietly, his brows drew down and his smile tightened itself towards tears again.

Ryan rubbed his back. “Big relief, right?”

“Yeah.”

Marisol was looking up at the rising numbers on the elevator screen. Still, she spoke: “His recovery is going to take time. But this is a good first step.”

Three nurses were waiting around a wheeled bed when the elevator doors opened on the back side of the elevator. Avery turned to find sunlight--real and true sunlight--pouring in from a row of skylights. No, this wasn’t the lobby floor with its rows of glass offices; this was still one floor below that, at least, but there was more light and more air here. The walls were white, sure, but they didn’t have the kind of institutional darkness Avery had expected. It was more like, and he had to smile a little at the comparison when it hit him so instantly, walking into the hallway of a brand new school.

With the nurses leading him along, he laid Julian out on the bed and draped the blanket over him. “I’m going with him. Just so we’re clear.”

“Absolutely,” Marisol said and led the way down the hall to another room--bigger than the cell downstairs, but not exactly palatial. And it still had one glass wall, but okay, fine. On the other hand, it had a skylight.

One of the nurses set up an IV in Julian’s arm. Julian only barely stirred and tried to roll a little away.

Avery smoothed Julian’s hair back from his forehead. “Geeze, you’re so out of it,” he said and tried to smile.

Marisol was busy with the nurses, busy sending something on her phone, busy checking Julian’s pulse or heart or lungs. The nurses came and went, bringing in trays or carts of things, staying alongside for a while, then changing over and someone new came in. Low chatter, soft footsteps. And Avery just crouched by the bed, holding Julian’s hand and looking at his face.

He looked almost--almost--like himself asleep like this. Almost.

“All right,” Marisol said, pulling on a fresh pair of gloves. “Phillip’s on his way; let’s see how he’s healing. If he’s healing.” And Marisol and one of the nurses were suddenly both brandishing scissors.

As they cut away the torn black uniform, Avery rubbed at his face. “Please tell me you’re wearing underwear, dude.”

Marisol stopped cutting for a moment. “Well, if he isn’t, it won’t be anything you or I haven’t seen before.”

And Avery blushed.

He was quiet, though, and patient, staying nearby. And trying not to get underfoot. He held Julian’s hand and smoothed his thumb over Julian’s fingers and Marisol dabbed at the dozens of scratches, scrapes, cuts that seemed to litter, to crosshatch Julian’s body--even his palms (and Avery had to surrender Julian’s hand long enough to suit Marisol), his left temple, across his cheek and nose, his lower lip. And wherever there was a scrape, there seemed to likewise be a bruise.

But, slowly, the worst of the cuts and gashes were disappearing under gauze and bandages. And the bruises were covered by electrodes on his chest, wires. And the rest of him was softened with a little soap and water, to get the worst of the grime off his face and hands and away from the cuts and scrapes, then covered with a pale blue gown (with some tiny repetitive flower-petal print all over it and snaps at the shoulders). No giant tubes running in and out of him (yet), and for that Avery was grateful.

Marisol, content at last, stripped off her gloves. “Well. Nothing worth putting a stitch in.” Though maybe there had been a few days ago. Still, she looked at Avery. “That’s good. He’s healing. We’ll help him clean up more when he’s really awake again.”

Avery nodded and held back his question: What happened to him? Not now, he decided, but soon. He’d ask it. No more obscurity from these fuckers.

“Doctor Yeoun is on his way.” And she looked at Avery crouching there on the floor. “You can pull a chair over if you want.”

Avery met her eyes, steady. “I don’t want to let go of his hand.”

And Marisol had to smile.

Avery was dozing, leaning over onto Julian’s bed (and sitting on a chair Marisol had brought over to him), their hands still together, when the sound of the glass door sliding aside woke him and he sat up. A man, young, but definitely a doctor, came in.

Avery rubbed his eyes. “Are you Dr. Yeoun?”

“I am,” and he smiled. “Call me Phillip, though. I’m not quite as formal as my colleague.”

“Sure.” Avery sniffed, waking up.

A nurse came in just behind him, carrying a steel tray. He set it a little aside of Julian’s bed; even from his seat, Avery could see the syringe, the gauze, and the scalpel.

“What’s that for?” he asked, flat, grave.

“Can you stay and help me with this?” Phillip was asking the nurse. “Thank you.”

“Hey, Dr. Phil: what’s the knife for?”

And Phillip closed his eyes; the nickname would haunt him forever (whether he ought to blame his parents or Oprah…). But it only took him a moment. He pulled over a second chair and sat down across Julian’s bed and his covered legs (lumpy blanket mountains).

“So how much do you know already?”

“I know it’s not the bullshit witness protection story I heard. And I know my mom got dragged into it.” His voice rose near to cracking again.

“And you got dragged into it.”

Avery nodded.

“And Julian got dragged back into it.”

Avery nodded again.

Phillip laced his fingers together, let his hands hang down between his knees. “We’re dealing with some dangerous people. And they’re going to want Julian back, bad.”

Avery turned away, squeezing his eyes shut. “Yeah.” He dropped his face in his hand.

Phillip reached out across the bed between them, across Julian asleep between them, and set his hand on Avery’s (Avery’s hand still holding to Julian’s hand).

They were quiet a moment; only the machinery surrounding and monitoring Julian hummed and chirped, rhythmically.

Avery, his voice straining, spoke in a rush from behind his hand. “They already took him twice. Like--the first time it was bad enough because he just fucking vanished all of a sudden and he’s gone for months, and then his dad turns up and starts talking to me about him and wants me to bring him back and that’s already fucking weird but then they bring my mom into it and start saying she’ll lose her job or might get hurt--but maybe I can see him again if I do what they say, so it’s lose-lose and win-win at the same time--and I did get to see him, but just because they used me as bait and that time I actually saw what they do to him, like, when they gagged him and tied him up and threw him in the van? And that’s, like--that doesn’t even explain half of the bruises he’s got or why he doesn’t remember for shit or why he keeps looking like he maybe wants to kill everyone he fucking looks at.” And he broke at last, sobbing into his hand, loud, choking.

The nurse brought tissues and crouched beside him, rubbing one hand along Avery’s shoulder. Phillip kept his hold on Avery’s hand. They let him cry as he needed to, the choked sobs quieting at last, leaving Avery sniffling and wet; the nurse handed him a tissue and stayed crouched beside him.

“Will you be okay if we keep talking?” Phillip asked.

“Yeah, probably.” He shook his head to clear it.

“I’ll stop if you need me to, but I want you to know the truth as far as I can tell it.” (Avery nodded.) “Because they want him back, they’ll do what they have to to keep from losing him in the first place.”

“What, like giving him amnesia so he doesn’t remember--” he stopped short: the people who love him?

“That’s part of it. The last time he was with us, he had embedded telemetry in his body.”

Avery cocked his head, blinking, frowning. “Tracking devices.”

“Exactly. So--”

“You have to take them out to keep him,” and Avery paused, “hidden.”

And Phillip nodded, squeezing Avery’s hand one last time. “You got it. Now I can let you stay while we do this. It’s a little bloody, but hopefully the chip is in about the same place as before. One thing about these people is they’re pretty organized.”

“Yeah, I’ll stay.” And he managed a wry smile. “Please tell me the chip is somewhere embarrassing like in his ass so I can tease him about it later.”

Phillip stood up, trying not to smile. “I hate to break it to you, but it was in the back of his neck last time.”

“Damn.”

“Hey, Doctor Yeoun? I think he’s awake.”

One dark eye, shining in the blue glow under the surgical cloths that covered most of Julian’s head and shoulders, turned, roamed, and finally focused on Avery’s face.

“Well, we’re almost done back here. Any pain, Julian?”

Julian made no move and no sound.

“Hey,” Avery said under the cloth, “You doing okay? Don’t nod, just, I don’t know, blink.”

Julian blinked. Avery smiled.

“Yeah, he’s okay.”

But that stillness--nothing moved but his eyes (eye; the other was hidden under the folds of cloth). Even his breathing seemed small and slow, as though he were holding himself inordinately still. And that one eye: empty of purpose, focused only on Avery, waiting for something--to start, to end. An almost unearthly stillness. Avery reached under the cloths to hold Julian’s hand again.

“You can go back to sleep if you want, if you’re still tired. I’ll stick around here as long as they’ll let me.”

Julian blinked again, then again but slower. And, slowly and slowly, his eyes closed and, perhaps, he slept. From over his shoulder:

Phillip: All right, I think I’m pretty happy with that. Michael, let me hold onto the--yeah, perfect. I think we ought to take a look at this thing before we do anything else.

(The sound of surgical tools being laid back into the tray. The cloths are lifted and rolled away. Julian is rolled back onto his back, which covers the gauze pad taped to the back of his neck which covers the tiny line of sutures which covers the cut that had to be made to draw out the tiny sliver that was the tracking chip. Michael left, then Phillip left, bearing with him the chip in the bottom of a plastic cup. And Avery and Julian were alone again for a little while.)

Phillip caught up to Marisol in the hallway. He tipped the cup towards her to show her the bloodied chip. “Same as before, but a little deeper this time.”

Marisol set her mouth and nodded. “Well, that’s one thing solved. I said in the elevator that this was a good first step,” she paused, “but I have to wonder if this isn’t just a crash after the stimulants have worn off. He may seem better, but--”

“He may not actually be any better.” And Phillip nodded. “Yeah. This is new territory. We saw him so much later in his recovery process before.”

“He’s responding differently, though. I’d almost call it positively.”

“Well, maybe Avery can set a dopamine bomb off on him.”

“I’m determined to start an EEG recording on him--the sooner the better. But I’m not going to set it up with the boyfriend there. He’s about to lose it as it is. You should’ve seen him--”

“I did see him. He saw them take him back. He saw everything.”

“Is he still in there?”

“You’re going to have to get security to drag him out.”

Marisol shrugged. “We’ll send Ryan.”

[thearrangment-phff]

LVII. Switzerland

January 2018

“Could you lift up your shirt Your Imperial Highness?”

Isabella looked around the room. There had been no less than 5 doctors, many from the Royal Medical Household, along with her and Harry. Isabella had 4 more months until she gave birth, making her about 5 months pregnant at this time.

Isabella lifted up her shift and watched as the doctor talked to her and asked if she was comfortable. She had given Isabella a small warning about the coldness before moving around to find the babies. There was medical talk among all the doctors in the room. Harry had just been watching awkwardly not knowing what to do.

There were so many people in the tiny room that Isabella was getting uncomfortable very quickly. Rather than voice her thoughts she immediately grabbed onto Harry’s arm. Her grip on his arm left visible markings because of Harry’s pale skin. He got closer to her and used his other hand to brush Isabella’s hair back.

“Here we have baby number one and... there is baby number two.”

“We can know the genders, now right? I’m 5 months already,” asked Isabella.

“Yes, we can. So here is baby number one and it looks to be a boy. Baby two on the side right here is... also a boy. We can find out if they are identical right now if you want.”

“We would,” answered Harry.

“They do not share of placenta... which in simpler terms means they are not identical,” explained one doctor.

“This means we have to change how we approach this pregnancy differently,” added another.

“What are you talking about?” asked Harry.

“Her Imperial Highness had fainted before. She is physically weak and suffers from anemia and macrosomia and this is a high-risk pregnancy after all. Medications will have to be different to accommodate the pregnancy, the fact that Her Imperial Highness is having twins, and her depression all need to be accounted for,” explained one doctor.

“I cannot and will not do bed rest. That is out of the question. Harry and I have a tour next month, I have important engagements, and dozens of family events to attend to. For god’s sake, my brother is getting married this year and I cannot, not show up,” argued Isabella.

“You would be risking your health and the health of your children.”

“I don’t have the same privileges as Kate,” continued arguing Isabella.

“Why are you bringing Kate into this Isabella?” asked Harry.

“Because she is treated better than me in the press. She is not the wife of spare, she doesn’t have to worry.”

“Ma’am, you have serious medical issues. The press shouldn’t matter when it comes to something like this.”

“But it does and none of you understand that. My image is all I have,” stated Isabella.

“That’s enough for right now. My wife is upset so could we have the room for a couple of minutes,” interrupted Harry.

Once it was the two of them alone Isabella spoke up, “I won’t listen.”

“We are talking about the health of our children and you. Do I have to call your mother and grandmother saying you're endangering the welfare of our children? Or should I get my father and grandmother involved?” asked Harry in anger.

“No one needs to know anything,” replied Isabella.

“I am begging you Isabella don’t do this.”

“Can you please not talk to me about this?”

“For god’s sake Isabella do I need to declare you insane so you won’t kill our children?!” asked Harry.

“You do what you have to do and so will I Harry.”

“We can legally declare her insane but the public backlash would ruin the monarchy.”

“They say everything will ruin the monarchy but nothing ever does,” stated Charles.

“Sir, if we do this what makes you believe that Isabella’s family won’t contest this?”  

“They won’t have no know,” answered Harry.

“We won’t do that. Isabella’s mother is a friend and if we tell her the situation perhaps she would agree with us. It would help if we could speak to Isabella’s ladies,” said Charles.

“They would take her side,” replied Harry.

The door had opened revealing Isabella and her 4 ladies in waiting.

“Good. You all are here. Isabella would like to say something,” smiled Princess Charlotte.

“I am very sorry for my behavior. There is no excuse and I will be glad to take some time off but I would like to be surrounded family if I am to be locked up until the baby’s come. Staying in Geneva, Switzerland with my mother and sister Gabriella is my suggestion. I can also take trains to Belgium, Luxembourg, and France for weddings and christenings,” explained Isabella.

“Harry?” asked Charles.

“Fine by me.”

“Well, then it’s settled. You’ll be on the next train to Geneva,” smiled Charles.

“Why did you change your mind?” asked Harry.

“It was brought to my attention how selfish I was being. I shouldn’t have fought with you like that. It was in everyone’s best interest that I take leave until the babies are born,” answered Isabella.

Her Imperial and Royal Highness Archduchess Isabella, The Duchess of Sussex has been suffering from anemia and macrosomia and has been hospitalized several times over the course of 3 months. The Duchess of Sussex will forgo all engagements, including the Royal Tour and will be staying in Switzerland with family. The Duke of Sussex will stay in Switzerland for some time before returning to London and continuing the tour alone.

February 2018

“I remember being pregnant with you like it wasn’t too long ago. You were such a tiny little thing,” smiled Marie Astrid.

“I feel like a cow. I’ve gained almost 30 pounds and I’m only 6 months along. I still have 3 more months and everyone is telling me that babies gain all their weight in the last month and a half!” complained Isabella.

“How are you and my grandsons?” asked Marie Astrid.

Isabella rubbed her stomach, “We are fine. Doctors say they are fine besides them growing faster than normal.”

“Have you finished the names yet?”  

“Charles Baudouin Jean Philip and Albert Christian Leopold Felix. Although, I don’t think those are the set names. I might add a name or two, maybe even take away one or two. Nothing is certain at this point,” answered Isabella.

“Well, those are amazing names. They are very Belgian if I may say.”

“Belgium will always have a special place in my hearts. Papa was born in Belgium; both my grandmothers are Belgian, and through you, my great-grandparents were the King and Queen of the Belgians.”

“You always were at peace when we would go to Belœil,” smiled Marie Astrid.

“Well, it was the one place where I go and just forget about the world. Mamie’s brother Antoine always made sure we all had fun whenever we would go visit. The whole family would just go for a couple of days and nothing else mattered. It was peaceful,” smiled Isabella.

“Do you feel like you don’t have that anymore?”  

“I feel like I am a fish in a bowl. To be put on display and to be picked apart by people I will never know,” answered Isabella.

“You married into the British Royal Family, love. The most publicized family of them all.”

“Sometimes I think to myself, why did I agree to this,” laughed Isabella.

“Belle don’t say that now. Your married and with two little boys on the way.”

“I could still leave. You remember my part of the deal right mama?”

“You could divorce him at any time you see fit,” answered Marie Astrid.

“I could start now. The divorce papers, that is. I think it would take about a year, making me about 26 by the time we divorce. I could marry Joachim. More titles with no work what’s so ever like I do in London. Less press and more freedom. It’s sounding more tempting as the days go by.”

“Oh, my sweet girl.”

Marie Astrid pulled Isabella into a hug. Isabella’s head laid on her mother’s chest as Marie Astrid stroked her hair. Though there were no obvious signs Isabella had let out a couple of tears.

“Do you know what they say about me? Do you hear what they say as if they know me? How could anyone survive this and come out the other end a sane person?” asked Isabella.

“You will get through this.”

“It’s no wonder they all started marrying commoners. No one in their right mind with a family history as long as theirs would marry them. I should’ve stuck with Catholics and save myself from this torture.”

“You will feel differently once you hold those boys in your arms. Marie Christine and Gabriella both turned into different people once they had kids. It changes you for the better and I have no doubt in my mind the same will happen to you.”

“What if I change for the worse? What if it’s downhill from here?” asked Isabella.

“You are a good person Belle. You always have been and once the world can see that, then they will know who you really are,” explained Marie Astrid.

“I do that. I did that. Then I was chewed up because I dared to give money to those in need. As if those little nothings don’t understand that money makes this world go round. They can donate their time but it means nothing without money. Am I the only one who sees that?”

“No darling, you’re not, but the people who comment on everything aren’t worth your time,” assured Marie Astrid.

“It would be easier to ignore if they weren’t the ones keeping me in London in a Palace with a British title.”

“Seeing you like this breaks my heart. If I could go back to that day in London I would’ve made your father and I go back to Geneva and never look back,” whispered Marie Astrid.

“It’s hard sometimes. I care too much about everything and it’s driving me insane. It plays in my head over and over again but nothing seems to fix it. Every smile, every gesture, every word just replays in my head all the time. I remember things from years ago like conversations that I wish I could change. Do something different, say a different word, and I feel like my head will implode one day. I want to fix them but I know I can’t go back in time.”

“Do you want to go back on medication? Have you’ve been on them?”

“I’m on different medications since I’m pregnant. They haven’t been working so the doctors put me on something different last week but it hasn’t been helping. I feel as helpless more than ever right now,” explained Isabella.

“Have you told the doctors about this?”

“Yes, and then they’ll just change my medications again.”

“Gabriella should be up in a couple of minutes from her nap with Victoria. Why don’t we go make something for dinner? Your father will be home from work in an hour and we couldn’t make your favorite?”

“10 cheese macaroni?” asked Isabella.

“Of course. Just a little something to cheer you up a bit, yes?”

“I’ve been craving so much cheese since I got pregnant. Thank you, mama,” smiled Isabella.

“You are my beautiful daughter. Seeing you like this makes my heart hurt. I would do anything in the world to fix it.”

“She is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen,” smiled Isabella.

“Even when she crying my bloody ears off she’s still beautiful,” laughed Gabriella.

“She’s gotten bigger. The thought of her being a toddler baffles me, let alone a teenager girl or a grown woman” laughed Isabella.

“Henri insists that she’s too small for her age but I think he’s out of his damn mind. He isn’t the one feeding her through his breasts. Believe me, you won’t like breastfeeding.”

“How is Henri?”

“He had to go back to Copenhagen this past weekend. It broke his heart to leave Vicky and I but he had to. I was thinking of going to visit him next month. Would you like to come?” asked Gabriella.

“I can’t go on in an airplane and I’m supposed to be on bed rest as much as possible,” replied Isabella.

“Of course, sorry.”

“It’s not a big deal. I’d just rather stick to Luxembourg, Belgium, and Switzerland if I can.”

“Okay, have you heard from Alexander lately?” asked Gabriella.

“I think he mentioned his wedding is going to be in Belgium? Was I correct on that?” asked Isabella.

“Yes! He and Luisa picked the Cathedral of St. Michael and St. Gudula in Brussels for the religious ceremony.”

“Why does that sound familiar.”

“It’s the cathedral were our great-grandparents King Leopold and Queen Astrid married. Mamie suggested it because Luisa and Alexander both descend from them,” answered Gabriella.

“Have they chosen a date yet?”

“No date but they are thinking summer.”

“Great. Either it will close to my due date or after I don’t think I’ll be willing to attend,” said Isabella.

“What happens if you have your boys on foreign soil? Victoria was a couple of days late but having babies a couple of days early is always a possibility too. What happens then?” asked Gabriella.

“I have no idea. I don’t think they’ve had someone in the direct line of succession born on foreign soil since the Hanover days,” replied Isabella.

“Pretty hard to have a British prince born on foreign soil, don’t you think?”

“I honestly don’t know what would happen. If it was going to happen to anyone it would be me. I’m the working royals who is constantly out of the country for familial reasons.”

“Everyone is having babies, it’s going to be such fun! Just like when we were growing up, right?”

Isabella nodded at her little sister as she rocked her baby girl in her arms.

[juminsmysticmc]

𝐹𝒶𝓂𝒾𝓁𝓎 - 𝒫𝒶𝓇𝓉 5

𝒵𝑒𝓃 𝓍 𝑀𝒸 Genre: Fluff/ Happy End Find here:  Part 1// Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

So guys! I’m sorry that i couldn’t post this last chapter yesterday but i had a sleepover with my cousin. I had to go to church today in another city and so it was much better to stay at her house. So...YES THIS IS THE LAST CHAPTER! SORRY FOR THIS SHITTY END BUT PLEASE ENJOY IT!

Zen has entered the chat

Yoosung: My flat isn’t that small! 707: Ohhh our little Yoosung wants to invite us! Jaehee: Yoosung, grow up and understand. YOU HAVE TO LEARN. We can’t celebrate Christmas at your apartment.  Zen: What's up? 707: The little boy wants to invite us for Christmas Eve because we couldn‘t  throw a party like last year .... Jaehee: But it's too small and he has to learn. 707: WOW Jaehee, how are you writing today? Jaehee: XD Yoosung: Oh gosh.... Jumin: At my place? Zen: NEVER. Your ugly cat ... my babies .... Jumin: (-.- ;;) 707: Then at Zen‘s place! Zen: My fiancé could give birth to triplets any time. AND I SHOULD ORGANIZE A CHRISTMAS PARTY A FEW DAYS BEFORE SHE GIVES BIRTH?! Yoosung: Seven you are so stupid. Jaehee: We could come on the 23rd and help you. I can clean, you can decorate the apartment, Mc won‘t sit still anyway so she can manage everything, Mr. Han can order the food, Seven the drinks and snacks, and Yoosung a dessert. Jumin: Good idea Assistant Kang. Jaehee: XD 707: DR Pepper! Zen: No. Just coke, water, wine, soft drinks ... 707: T.T ..... O K A Y But only for my Mc !! I will buy some cat sleeping bags for the babies! Zen: WHAT? Jumin: Luciel, good idea. Mc entered the chat Mc: Why is Zen so shocked? Yoosung: Seven just said that you were his property and he wants to buy cat sleeping bags for the children. Mc: Seven ... 707: Oh-oh Mc: That's such a cute idea !!!! 707: (: D) I know! Mc: So we will organize a Christmas party? Can Zen’s parents come too? I invited them and his brother and I can’t take it back right now... Yoosung: Sure! 707: Okay - Jaehee: All right. Jumin: Well then I will order more food. Zen: Mc has to eat now! Goodbye! Zen left the chat Mc: You heard the man. See you!! Jumin: Bye we will go too. Jaehee: You all heard the boss. Yoosung: I'll search dessert!  707: I have to work! :( Mc left the chat

"How are my sweethearts?" "All right, my back is just aching! Hahah.'', you laughed happily. The birth date was the 29th December. "Are you sure we can celebrate a party?" Zen asked, kissing your forehead. He loved you so much. ,,Yup !!! I believe that your children will wait for a long time until they will come! '' ,,Hey! If they are calm and sweet, you say, that they are your children. But when they move too much or they are just 'lazy' you say, that they are mine! "Zen teased you.  "Hahaha, come on. I'm not that bad, Zenny! "Zen looked at you with big eyes. You used to call him Zenny but you didn’t say it a lot these days. He kissed you. You lost your balance laid now on your back. You hugged him tightly and pressed his head to your chest. He kissed your breast: "Do you know how much I love you, Mc?" "Yes, Zenny. I'm pregnant thanks to you“ you giggled. "Hahaha that's right." He stroked your stomach over and over again until you fell asleep below his gentle strokes. "Good night babe.'', he covered you with a blanket. "Damn, I wanted to let her eat ..." he thought out loud. However, your sleep was more important to him, which is why he let you sleep. 

In the evening you woke up. He ordered Chinese food and the door bell woke you up. You ate together and then watched a Christmas movie, Zen at least. You fell asleep after half an hour.

,,ZEN!“ "MC is everything okay?!" Zen yelled as he ran to you in the morning.  It was the 23rd of December and the RFA was about to arrive soon. "We don’t have any presents!" You cried. How could you forget that? You even forgot Zen! "I don’t need a gift. If you stay healthy, I‘m happy!" "Nice, what about Jumin ?! Or Yoosung and Jaehee? What about Seven! I thought he never went out for Christmas and now that he comes for once, we don’t have anything for him! Your parents ... .No they will hate me !!!“ you cried even louder. "Alright, alright.", He helped you up and got you warm and cozy clothes. No stress. He had to remember that. "I'll help you to change your clothes, then I'll change myself and we can go, okay?" "Yes!", you nodded. You and Zen went to a shopping center and walked through the shop with a lot of presents. Zen spent quite a lot of money. ,,Zenny! Now we can go and buy a Christmas tree!“, you smiled. "Not too tall, okay Zenny?"  "Anything you want, my princess." You chuckled. He took your hand, he was afraid that you could stumble over one of the branches. You soon found the perfect tree. Two men helped Zen because they saw that you were pregnant and of course they couldn’t let Zen carry the tree on his own. While Zen paid, you were already in the car. "Ohwwww!" A pain traversed your abdomen. When Zen came back, you just pretended that everything was fine. You went home and arrived in time, the RFA just arrived  ,,Guys. Help me. Yoosung take the presents, Seven we the tree and you, Han... do whatever you want. '' ,,Hey ....’’ ''Come on, Mc, let's go inside. You look pale. Are you all right?“, Jaehee asked. She still had flashbacks about how you collapsed and how Zen sat by your side after hearing that there might be difficulties while giving birth. Everyone cried except Jumin. He just said: "Well then that's exactly what shouldn’t happen.'' That’s why he paid the pregnancy courses and registered you in a very good hospital. ,,Good. I just have back ache ... ''  Jaehee had read somewhere that back pains could be a sign for contractions. She was about to tell you but you already left. 

"What do you want to drink?" You asked with a smile.  "Ufff ....'', you gasped in the kitchen as none looked. You were in such a pain. Were that already the contractions?  But they were too early! You soon felt better and so you took a few glasses, water, a coce and a can of Dr Pepper on a tablet.  You sat down on the couche because you had to gasp for a while. You had such a difficulty to breath. You then remembered the thing the doctor told you. The kids could come earlier.  ,,Zen!" you called him calmly. Everyone was in the house now.  ,,Yes?" He asked back, trying to set the tree. "Mhhh.....'' "What are you thinking about, Mc? ", Yoosung asked you with a puzzled face.   "Oh, nothing. I just think I'm going in labor.'' Everyone looked at you and Zen was at your side in no time.   "Has your amniotic membrane burst?!"  "Not yet." you said quietly.  "Let’s go with Jumin's car to a hospital!" Seven shouted enthusiastically and jumped.  Zen helped you to get into to the car.  After half an hour later you started screaming, "Breathe! Don’t forget to breathe!“, Yoosung shouted.  The pain was gone and you realized how hard it was to breathe properly. "Everything will be fine, babe."

You got a VIP room and everything became a bit calmer. Jaehee and Zen were in the room with you and the other members were waiting outside. "Hee-huu-hee! AHHHHHH!“ you were screaming again, five hour passed and still, nothing was happening.  But now you had to cough violently "Heeeee!", you hit Zen with your little fists. "What's going on? Mc what’s wrong?! ", he asked worriedly but you couldn’t answer. You just hit him and gasped ,,Breath, Mc! ", Jaehee ordered who had noticed your problem.  You just shook your head and became red. Zen was scared. But he knew that you were the one who was scared the most. You cried and couldn’t still breath.  You couldn’t leave Zen alone. You wanted to meet your children.  You had to do it, but you couldn’t breathe.  ,,HELP! WE NEED HELP!’’  Zen shouted.  "We have to get in there!"  "We can’t! There is a lady into there, Yoosung!"  ,,It’s okay, Jumin! Yoosung let’s go!'' The guys heard your screams. When they entered the VIP room they noticed Jaehee pressing the help button non-stop.  "I'll get the doctors!", Jumin screamed and ran out.  Seven searched some relaxing melodies you loved.  ,,Zen! You have to stay calm otherwise she won’t calm down!’’, Yoosung yelled at Zen.  He already felt like a doctor and tried to help.  Your favorite melody came from Seven's computer and Zen took your hand and kissed it.  ,,You’re going to be a mother. You can’t panic now. You have to breathe properly. You have to think about you and your children now. So babe, breathe with me, Hehe-Huu.Hehe-Huu.'', Zen had the hope that, despite his trembling voice, he could calm you.  He appreciated Yoosung's words and realized that he was the man and had to protect his family.  No doctor in the world could help you except he and his friends. He was so thankful to the RFA. They helped you out and protected you. They were your family.

You finally managed to breathe normally. But you were still screaming like crazy. 

The doctors came in and send everyone except Zen out. "

It can start now. Please stand behind your wife. Is the tub good enough?"

,,GO TO HELL! WHO CARES ABOUT THAT?! AHHHHHH!!! HEHE-HUU, HEHE-HUU, HEHE-HUU'', you were somehow acting crazy and Zen was horrified. 

,,Good. Just push as hard as you can." The doctor ordered calmly and politely. He sounded nice and sympathetic. He probably had to go through this often. The midwife now stood between the doctor and next to you. She told you what to do „Push! Push, you can do it! ’’ you took all your strength and pushed. Zen didn’t know where you took all that power from. 

,,You’re great, Babe’’ Zen kissed the sweaty forehead of yours. That somehow gave you more strength and you pushed again. 

 ,,A boy! The first one is a boy!!’’, the nurse called and the doctor picked him up.  She cut the umbilical cord and brushed the little boy ,,Now the placenta, Mc!“ The midwife cried, and after a big push it was outside. The nurse handed Zen his son ,,A big brother, huh? Look, babe, you did it'' Zen was crying. You looked at your son. 

,,There are two more treasures coming." you told him while you touched your son's hand. You wanted to take him in your arms but the next woe came and you had to push. 

,,Wait! The umbilical cord is wrapped around the neck!'' The doctor shouted and everyone stopped tho breath. You and your first born baby began to cry ,,Whaaaa! Zen my baby! Zen my child!! Whaaaa baby don’t let us down! Do something! Save it DAMN!" Zen trembled and the nurse took the screaming child out of his arms. He was born at 8:55 pm and had brown hair. He looked like Zen. 

,,Now you can keep pushing!", You were a little bit weaker. ,,Zen ... I ... don’t want-anymore! I can’t do it!"  You started to cough. He took your face between his hands ,,You are going to be a mother. Think about your children."

,,A boy! It's a boy again! " It was already 8:59 pm. This baby had white hair but resembled you. You gasped. Everything was aching and you just wanted to sleep. 

,,Look babe! Only one more time and then you too can take them! Another baby and then we'll know if it's a him or a her! '' He was so happy and you forced yourself to push again. 

,,Good! Two more times!’’ You finally wanted hug your children. 

„A Girl! it's a girl!"At 9:00 pm, you had finally given birth to your last child. Zen cried and kissed you, his queen. He had a princess now, after all. Zen wanted to show you the children and to hug you, but he was sent out. The only thing he heard was ,,Quickly! She’s losing too much blood! She can’t breathe! We have to do something!" Zen stood there with his crying daughter in front of the door. The other two babies were still in the room with you. The RFA and his family noticed him. They looked happy and worried at the same time. 

,,A girl!" Zen's mother looked over his shoulder and cried. 

,,Don’t worry. Your mother won’t die. She can do it. She survived a shot. She managed to avoid a crazy hacke. She won’t die here.''

 'Mothers don’t die because of their children, but for them.‘

Your words echoed in his ears and he realized that he had no strength hold his daughter. His mother took the baby and looked at it. She looked so cute. She was blond for some reason. None was blond.

,,Haha, she looks like Mc’s mother. I saw a picture. A beautiful woman. The other two are ... boys ... one looks like me, the oldest one ... a-and the other one looks-like his ... ..mother ... .''Zen was now sitting on the floor and his brother was sitting next to him. Everyone listened to Zen. His father had his granddaughter in his arms so that his mother could comfort him ,,You're not like everyone else, are you? You have managed to become famous on your own. You saved her from a bomb, according to your friend. Now you have to stay strong. Don’t lose your hopes. Don’t do it for you but for the children.’’ Two nurses came with the boys and handled him the second boy ,,This one had a few problems. The umbilical cord was tied around his neck. But now he's here.’’ Yoosung took the first born boy and Zen’s mother paid attention that he did everything right. ,,What's their name?" Yoosung asked Zen. 

,,I don’t know yet. We had a few names that we liked. We'll see what mom says after she's okay, right?"Zen smiled at his daughter, who was lying in Seven's arms ,,I became an uncle !" he cried. Everyone giggled. Jumin took her in his arms. He had expected Zen to say something but he stayed quiet ,,Well, my girl? Not only your father is protecting you but also a rich idiot man, a LOLOL addicted vet and a hacker who will hack your phone in the future to see if you're chatting with boys.'' Everyone laughed at Zen’s speech ,,And there it is another uncle who will teach you everything you need to know and a grandpa who will tell you old stories. Besides, you have a wonderful grandma who will tell you everything about boys and an aunt who will always help you. But until then, you can walk around the flat with your mom as a princess and cuddle with me!’’

Zen’s tears came back.

,,And boys. Don’t dare to say that you want to have a cat. You can go to the rich idiot. If you want to do any bad jokes, go to Sven. And if you want, you can just annoy Yoosung" 

,,Hey!’’ Yoosung laughed at his comment ,,And don’t drive Jaehee crazy just because you will look much better than me. Or your grandma. And if I'm not at home, you have to protect your ... mom ...'' Zen still cried after he talked to his three children. He blushed a bit but this were just his real feelings. He couldn’t do anything about that.

,,Excuse me.’’ Everyone looked at the crying midwife ,,She...." Everyone was waiting. It was certainly a misunderstanding "...did it.“, the midwife finished her sentence. Three weeks later you were at home on the couch with Zen. While Zen carried his youngest daughter, you had your two boys in your arms. 

,,And, tell me, Mc. How is it to be a mother ?’’, The reporter asked you.  

,,The hardest job of my life. Zen is too sensitive."

,,Hey!" he acted as if he was hurt by your words.

,,Hahaha really? An example for the fans!'' 

,,Mhhhh…No male fan is allowed to take pictures of the children. He bought a bigger bed so we could sleep together in a bed...'' the reporter laughed as Zen blushed. After the Reporter went away, he came over to you after he brought the children to bed. He kissed you ,,I love you. Did I already say thank you?" 

,,Emm you say it every day…!’’

,,Hahah hey! I was so scared to lose you, Mc"

,,I know. When I woke up, you kissed me and sobbed in my chest and said we should marry immediately."Zen blushed ,,You are so special to me, Mc. I couldn’t live without you. Everyone always says that you only fall in love with someone once in a lifetime but I fall in love with you every time I look at you...’’ ,,Zen, you are my hero! I love you so much! Hug me!’’ 

THE END

[soberblogger]

Medical abortion hell

Hi,

I sit here almost one week after having a medical termination. I found out I was pregnant in September the day before my birthday and a month after my little sister had just passed away. I found out I was around 7 weeks, I had previously had the implant and once I had it removed it seemed to mess up my cycles. I also found out in July that I had Polycystic ovarian syndrome, which I was devastated about as I knew it meant I would face difficulties in getting pregnant. I have always wanted children but hadn’t planned to have them for a good few more years. Initially I was shocked and thought the test was wrong, then I handed in a sample to my doctors and it came back positive, it wasn’t until I saw an ultrasound of the pregnancy until I was fully convinced I was pregnant. At the time, I was still with my partner and we did discuss it and both agreed we weren’t ready for children I am only 22 and in my last year of university plus I don’t have any family support around me. About 2 weeks later my partner split up with me giving me the reason that he couldn’t deal with the stress of a relationship. However, he had promised me that I wouldn’t have to go through the termination alone. He then broke that promise and said that it wasn’t his problem and that he didn’t want to deal with it and that I would be fine to go through it on my own. He couldn’t have been more wrong. So, I went for my initial appointment with the nurse to talk through it and what my options were, I realised during that appointment that I hadn’t fully thought about other options, so she told me to go home and consider other options whether I could financially do it or perhaps adoption. I really tortured myself in those weeks after, I referred myself to the midwives I got all my antenatal checks and even went for my 12-week scan. It didn’t make me feel any different, please understand that I have not had time to properly grieve about my sister and a lot of other things have been going on in my life. I then had to rebook an appointment with the nurse, by this point I was 13 weeks pregnant, I cried through the whole appointment as I felt a massive guilt and wish it had of been under different circumstances. I initially wanted the surgical option as I didn’t want the guilt of having to take the tablet that killed my baby. However, dates were a long way away, so I opted for medical termination, I was told that I would take a pill on the Sunday and this pill would alter the hormones to cut off nutrition to the baby, and then 2 days later I would come back into hospital to insert Pessaries into my vagina and that would cause my womb to contract and expel the pregnancy. I was told the pain would be mild like period pains. I took the tablet on the Sunday and had no symptoms from that, I came back on the Tuesday for the second part of the termination. I came in with my aunty, and was directed to a small bay where 6 beds were crammed into what should have been a 2-bed bay, the only privacy you got was the thin curtain around the bed. I could hear everything that was happening with these girls. There was also a shared toilet that had just cubicles. I went into a room with the nurse to sign a consent form and was given some antibiotics and the pessaries to insert into my vagina. I went to the toilet and inserted them. It wasn’t until 3 hours into being there, until I started to get any pain. when they said the pain would mimic period pains they lied, the pain I experienced is by far the worst pain I have ever had to go through. nothing happened so they then started giving me the oral tablets to take 3 hourly. there was a point where I felt like I needed to empty my bowels, so I went to the toilet and just sat. we were told every time that we used the toilet we needed to do it into a bedpan so that they could see if there was anything in it. I sat on the toilet for about 20 minutes and can only describe what was like lava coming out of my back passage. I was so embarrassed as another girl was in the other cubicle. I then went to stand up and wipe myself, and then all i can describe was a gush of watery blood exploded out of my vagina. I screamed and rang for the nurse. No one ever told me that this would happen I was petrified I had no idea what was happening. the nurse then made me go into the other cubicle and came in with me and told me told open my legs wide while she looked at my vagina which was even more embarrassing. I was still hysterical and she then told me to push and cough and whilst this was happening i was being sick into one bowl whilst blood and diarrhoea were coming out the other end. this was all while the nurse watched I was mortified and embarrassed. Nothing happened and was told to go back to bed and try this weird exercise. which I was unable to do as the pain was overbearing. I lay crying in pain and then off goes the emergency buzzer and all the staff shoot into the toilet with the arrest trolley. I can honestly say I thought i was going to die I was extremely terrified at what happened. from what I could hear quite clearly the girl had fainted and needed fluids but was going to be ok. No blood passed however I was in regular pain and was crippled by it I couldn’t eat or drink. I was given pain medication but it didn’t help. I lay down and the pain resided slightly I felt so drained from the pin and the mental drainage also. I then sat up feeling like I needed to go to the toilet and an explosion of blood came out of my vagina I cried and begged the healthcare assistant to help me to the toilet. literally just as I sat down the foetus came out however was attached to the placenta that was still inside me, I was never told about this. I cried and was saying i was a murderer and that I was a bad person. they had to cut off the umbilical cord and told me to go to next cubicle to pass the placenta I was still hysterical and the only person that seemed to be helping me was the student nurse she was amazing. I then passed the placenta and cleaned myself up. I can’t describe in words how I felt after the pregnancy passed. I cried on my bed wishing i was dead and calling myself a murderer. Not once did the nurses check on me to see if I was ok. I felt so empty and alone even though my aunty was there trying to say I had done the right thing, she may as well have been on another planet as i was in my own world and now baby less. the nurses didn’t explain to me what would happen next and i just carried on using the bedpans as they hadn’t said anything different. I was getting larger clots and a lot of blood and was quite scared by this. I asked the HCA and she was very cold with me and said it was normal and that I didn’t need to do it in a bedpan anymore. My aunt wondered off the ward and she overheard the healthcare assistant saying she wasn’t going to answer my calls and that shed wish id hurry up so she could redo the beds. I was shocked by this and felt upset and disgusted now I am a student nurse myself and for a member of staff to say this in such a delicate situation made me feel like I was being a nuisance. they didn’t say how long I had to stay so I hadn’t made arrangements to be picked up as i needed spare clothes because by spares were covered in blood and i didn’t want to wear jeans because of how much I was bleeding. I was then told i could go and wasn’t really told what to look out for in terms of infection it was all rushed and non-empathetic. I got home and decided I didn’t want to be alone so stayed at my aunties. the next morning, I felt numb and was in so much pain I felt really low and drained. I have had such a traumatic experience. I feel if they had told me the truth about medical termination I would have opted for surgical as it is not dignifying, it’s extremely painful and you bleed tons. I never want anyone to have to experience what I went through last week. I’m trying to block it out right now but feel by writing this I will help someone make the right decision in terms of surgical or medical. I’m sorry for being so graphic just wanted to be honest.

[justinehudock]

When You Finish This Story, Just Remember: The Cat’s Name is Molly Sarlé

I wanted to make his first name Ammo, exactly like “what comes out of a gun” ammo. I really thought it sounded cool. As the child’s mother, that would make me The Gun—a nickname I knew would suit me to the ground, and that I could live up to, I knew—having a handle like that on him. Seeing as how, my little son, baby would-be Ammo, barreled through me as ammunition does its steely, swaddling “mother”. Dark and cold her interior may be, notwithstanding. It’s not important; a mother’s a mother’s a mother. 

But, my partner, and the other half of the sireage—they don’t like any term more intimate, isn’t that gross?—to would-be Ammo, hated the whole suggestion “'fiercely”. They said to me, “From Point A, all the way to Point O.” In fact, when I tossed up the idea, my partner responded, "I mean, holy shit, that should be illegal." And looked it up, too. To see if it was! Boy, they’d’ve been a real smug shit if it had been. 

It isn’t, obviously. Why should it be illegal to name a baby Ammo, especially a baby human, which’s got all those rights? Of course, it can’t be. Unlike license plates, we could have named him FUK, or B00B, or anything else that agreed with us. We could have given him your name, too, if we wanted, but we didn’t like it. No, Ammo’s no violation of the law, not just for the fact of having that name and the little sucker living with it, shooting through life and all of life’s unique barrels with that tacked to its bib. It’s just that a lot about the situation would hazard the illegal, apparently. I’ve been unfairly coerced to concede that — that there are a “number of issues” with it. Life as an Ammo’d be a “house of law waiting to collapse”, so my partner analogized, in the terrible, hammy way they have that I really — I almost can’t stomach it after a day at work. 

This is their own logic (I don’t buy a bit of it, for the record): you’d be like someone, I don’t have names, with a credit card number and chip frequency duplicator on hand; lying around the house. You may snort, the thing’s just a reader! or so my partner began, even doing the snort for effect, though it came out more like a snuffle. To be totally honest, I barely heard this speech, hardly even glanced up from my puzzle to watch their theatrics, which my partner was only doing to stomp all over my most favorite name. I was slurping up coffee like a pig to tune out whatever they were building to. But my partner went on, and I had only made a small cup.

It only recognizes numbers, too, they said. So you couldn’t even call it a good reader. I’ve got a young nephew on my brother’s side that can read back the alphabet in burps. And his younger sister, a niece of mine, can sing it back. Her elocution? Touchable like silk. With whole words thrown in, too! wonderful, delicious, like those dried bits of red in a fruit cake. But the credit card reader, it's just a mediumish, blackish box, sitting on the side table we use for desk stuff overflow, and sometimes the cat sleeps on it. You know the thing I’m talking about.

Like with Ammo, as a name, you can’t make a box illegal, if you’re just keeping it more like a fish, like we planned to, remember? Planned to feed it expired Coldstone Creamery gift cards and, for a snack, little slips of paper scrawled with different sections of pi? Not harnessing the box for its intended purpose, I mean. Never for anything immoral!

It’s the inevitability issue, though, with your friends’ credit cards, the visiting work guys’ credit cards, our moms’, their boyfriends’, more cards, plastic cards, thin plastic cards: they all start falling into the machine’s reader sleeve, mysteriously -- don’t look at me! Buttons get pushed, you’re being really Bond about it and only when they flush the toilet or wash their hands do you even start fiddling with the stupid slow piece of shit, so it’s all utterly inaudible. The whole maneuver is as silent as falling snow, I’m telling you. Quiet, I’m always quiet.

But, see, did you catch that? The cards would end up in the reader, despite your good intentions. All I’m saying is, illegality would always be on the sidelines, like, uh, the devil’s hands. Like using a permanent marker on flimsy-everyday writing paper, the mundane bleeds into disaster. The machine isn’t bad but bad things happen when it’s around. Was it Washington who said “anything that can go wrong will go wrong”? It was him, or some other guy with a wig. Any guy with a wig would know. And this, it’s just your basic black box, hardly more interesting than a shoe box, in my view. Any son of mine’d be a whole lot smarter, and more disposed to white-collar troublemaking, than that box, too. So, there’s the entire issue in a nutshell.

I really did want to name my little son Ammo, though. The craving shot through me in rounds: wake up, wham, Ammo. On the supermarket’s produce floor, squeezing Asian pears, sniffing Spanish oranges, picking Chilean peppers, kabloom! Ammo, mi amore. More bad than I wanted any idea original to my hormone-fermented brain, at that point; badder even than my incontrovertible but “really unfeminine” desire for a pregnancy body that resembled 2009 Chris Pratt’s. His thick physique that looked so warm, the perfect ward for growing a brawny Ammo, more evenly than all the other little boys in the world. But, me and my partner also knew our son should get the chance to see an airport sometime, as well as other, crowded public places important to anyone’s formative years. Dog parks, and fairgrounds. Ball places. That’s something my partner and I agreed on, that it was important to the rearing of any well-adjusted boy that he visit all kinds of environments, bustling ones and snoring ones, too, but to sniff around, learn the meaning of “horizons”, bang and bounce all the important germs so they don’t come sniffing around his immune system anymore. Tousle with the other kids and poke fun at the ones on leashes. But not choke them with their own collars, when their parents looked away. We’d tell him no-no-no.

Listen, though: if the boy ever got lost, and that can happen in crowds, you’d see how shouting his name—with alarm in your voice, because it’s not unalarming to lose a baby. It’s a parental thing.—wouldn’t please the immediate society too well. Wouldn’t please society in earshot, or the powers that be, too well at all. And we factored in letting him get lost a couple times as a child. It was important to us. No self-respecting adult I know was in constant parental purview as a kid. I know some people, and this is true, who, as children, were always near their parents in public spaces, and they’re in jail now. And, trust me, you don’t want to know the shocking sort of stuff they stole to get there. Adult prison! They don’t send you there for burgling righteous items, or for working under the thumb of right-minded Johns. There is no “wholesome” in organized crime. They share fewer than three letters, in fact. So, it’s all pretty disgusting. 

Yeah, the name idea was, as I said, eighty-sixed. My second and third choices, too, but I wasn't as attached to Bullet and Bomb anyhow. Once we crossed Ammo off the list, though, officially and everything and all that, black ink spilled & etcetera, etcetera, my partner picked up on my disappointment. They saw the little furrows—dents—developing in my disposition, like spooky UFO photos in a red room. I had begun to walk through the condo with my shoes on; and, when I made tea, I’d steep for four minutes, rather than the three that had always been my signature. My partner knew, now, just how much I wanted a little Ammo, barreling through the house, barreling through his school years, barreling through his SATs, barreling, barreling, barreling. Starting gymnastics, tumbling through that. Meeting the president, ultimately.

My partner, they aren’t the shiniest penny in the bank—they don’t hear euphemisms like you or I do, just regular sentences and snickering—but they are careful to notice these sorts of things. The little shifts of emotion in their other half. And that’s worth more in a partner than one hundred of the shiniest pennies! So, we decided on a compromise. Compromised on a decision. Turned back the odometer from a red-hot eighty-six to a chill, alright-everyone-take-it-easy forty-three, and the baby was given Ammo as a middle name. 

To keep the whole thing totally and definitely not a flag-raiser, we even made his first name Luigi. So Ammo’s tucked in there like any creatively bullshit, Italianate honorific. Sometimes people ask us about the spelling, and we tell them (and you’re just gonna scream over this) that it means “extra love” — because of the extra M. They believe it. So many people believed it, in fact, I started to doubt that it was a lie, after all. So I looked it up. 

Of course, you couldn’t fool the real Italians with that, because they know the pronunciation differences as a pretty basic requirement, but most people, they’re not Italians. And the ones who are, anyway, are so turned on by talking about their own families, and their own jobs as high school psychiatrists, and their own trouble finding this or that something-or-other from the old country, States-produced mozzarella that doesn’t taste like placenta—and oversalted, oh, Dio—or whatever, that they never say a thing about Ammo or his extra M. Never even heard a word we said to begin with. Fucking Italians. 

So we’ve got a little Luigi in the family. But everyone who loves him calls him “Ammo”. Except, you’ve got it now, when we’re in public. In public, he’s Luigi. To his acquaintances, and, it’s what he taps into the bowling alley’s keypad to track his climbing score. And what he told the butcher to call him, who saves the calf giblets we treat to our cat, Molly Sarlé. It all works pretty smoothly that way. Like “buffed marble,” my partner says (I got an attack of sneezes from that). But I have my Ammo. And, if he gets lost in any of those public spaces we’re always in, we have this system where we’ll shout “Middle name! Middle name!” to the nebula. And he’ll shout back, “It’s kind of illegal! It’s debatably illegal! It’s risky! It could induce a panic!” like our own family game of Marco/Polo. (You should hear him: Ammo’s cute baby voice, shouting those long, older-boy sentences so beautifully and articulately.) 

In that way, we find our way back to each other, with a big smile on my and my partner’s faces when we see our precious son in the crowd: his wonderful chubby cheeks shining like lead alloy; his bright eyes, gleaming and glowier than coppermines. God love that wonderful son of a gun.