#like. yes your body your choice when it comes to abortion

[yappacadaver]

Nothing makes me mad quite like people who want to have children

[adimilkys]

JJK men finding out that you’re… pregnant?

MDNI tw : pregnancy, mentions of abortion, mostly fluff

Gojo Satoru

“Did we really have to go to a hospital” you groaned holding the white- now crimson red cloth against your wound.

“Shoko is out of the town so we sadly didn’t have any choice.” Mei Mei answered holding you up as she cringed at the blood on her hands.

Arriving at the hospital the nurses immediately helped you into a wheelchair and took you to a room, leaving Mei Mei waiting in the hallway, she dialed Gojo’s number and waited for him to pick up.

“What is it?? Is everything alright? Why are you suddenly calling me?” Before she could say anything Satoru already started asking questions, she never calls him.

“Your wifey is in the hospital.”

“…”

Just like that, a second later Satoru was in the hospital “What happened?!” He asked, a little too loud causing other people to look at him.

“Jeez don’t worry, she just got stabbed in her thigh. She’s already being taken care of.” Mei sighed, leaning against the wall.

Satoru’s heartbeat slowed down a little, since it was beating so fast, worried that you got seriously hurt.

“The curse should be happy it’s dead.” He muttered under his nose glaring at the ceiling, still mad at himself that you got hurt, if only there was a way to give you infinity…

After some time a doctor came out and Satoru immediately hurried to him “Is she alright?!”

“And you are?” The doctor asked, raising his eyebrow.

“Husband of Y/N.”

“Oh yes, she’s alright no need to worry. She didn’t lose a lot of blood. You can go see her.” Satoru let out a sigh of relief as he was about to make his way into the hospital room you’re in.

“I forgot to mention, the baby is fine too.”

…

…

Satoru paused, his whole body freezing. Even Mei Mei’s eyes widened as she was waiting with him. He sprinted towards your room, “YOU’RE PREGNANT?!” he ran into the room yelling, you’re eyes widening.

“wait wait hold up- what?” You replied, confusion on your face.

“The doctor said ‘the baby is fine too’! Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you go to the mission??” He said confused, as he walked up to the bed you were lying in.

“Because I didn’t know that I’m pregnant!” You were as shocked as him, you were just staring at each other before grins appeared on your faces and tears in eyes.

“W-We’re going to be parents?” You whispered as Satoru wrapped his arms around you, kissing you all over your face.

“I’m going to be a daddy…” a huge grin on his face.

“You’re an idiot for putting yourself in danger-“

“Please shut up Toru.”

Nanami Kento

Four days. Four days since you were supposed to get your period. At first you ignored it, thinking it’s just your cycle changing, it’s never perfect.

But then the morning sickness came. Maybe you just ate something bad? Yeah that’s the reason-

“Do you still want kids?” You asked Kento as both of you cuddled in bed. He was slightly surprised by the question, not expecting to be asked that.

“If you want kids, I want kids. If you don’t want kids, I don’t want kids.” He said, his hand caressing your head.

“Why ask that all of a sudden?”

“My periods late.”

“I noticed that, maybe it’s just your cycle changing?” Right, you forgot that this man knows you more than you do, always knows when you’re supposed to get your period.

“I thought that too until I started puking my guts out every morning.”

There was a moment of silence when suddenly Kento got up and started putting his clothes on. “Where-”

“I’m going to the pharmacy, it closes in 20 minutes so I still have time to buy a pregnancy test.” Your eyes watered at his words, getting up as well and immediately pulling him into a hug.

“Are… you mad?” You asked quietly, letting out a sniffle. He grabbed your face with his hands, connecting your foreheads. “Sweetheart, if that test comes out positive I’m going to be the happiest man alive, even though I already am because I was blessed with you.” He connected your lips in a passionate kiss for a minute, then leaving to go to the pharmacy.

It has been months since he left, he abandoned you because of your pregnancy.

(I had to I’m sorry 😭)

You were stressed as hell, you wanted a child but didn’t expect one now. Pregnancy and taking care of a child was a big deal, you were also happy that it was Kento and no one else, he’s literally perfect, always taking care of you.

The alarm on your phone went off as you looked towards the pregnancy test which was now done, taking a deep breath as you picked it up.

Positive

Tears immediately streaming down your cheeks as you wrapped your arms around your husband. He had a huge smile on his face, you could’ve sworn to god that you saw tears forming in his eyes.

“You’re going to be an amazing mama.” He whispered as he kissed your temple “and you’re going to be an amazing daddy.”

“I love you so much.”

Sukuna Ryomen

You and him never really had a talk about having children.

Firstly - you were sure he didn’t want kids because he’s a menace. Secondly - was it even possible for him to have kids?

Not to mention the way he acts around them, whenever on a date or just taking a walk and there’s a kid, he always rolls his eyes. Annoyed at the bratty child.

So imagine your surprise when you saw the two visible lines on all of the four tests you bought.

Well shit

You immediately started thinking of all the scenarios on what could happen when you told Ryomen, of course the first ones that appeared in your mind were the bad ones.

You never really thought about kids yourself, you wouldn��t mind one but you were also terrified of pregnancy and birth, you’ve heard so many stories on the internet and it was a huge no for you.

What if he wanted you to have an abortion? You weren’t against it but you also couldn’t get yourself to do it.

What if he would leave you?

What if-

“Woman, how long can you be in the bathroom?” Your eyes widened as you immediately hid the pregnancy tests in the trash, taking deep breaths and wiping off the tears that were about flow down your cheeks.

“Gosh, I’m out.” You opened the door letting out a forced laugh, he stared at you with an emotionless expression

“What is it.” You raised your eyebrow at the question, “what?” Confusion written on your face as you stared at him.

“Brat, did you forget that I can feel your emotions?” well shit, you did indeed forget, were you going to tell him? Of course- not.

“I-I just saw a sad video about a puppy.” You mumbled with a small pout, making up a quick lie.

“You humans are weird.” He scoffed, rolling his eyes. You let out a sigh, thank god he believed you.

…

He did in-fact not believe you, but he decided not to push it.

Just a few hours later he saw a pink object in the trash while he was in the bathroom, grabbed it and saw the words

two lines : pregnant one line : not pregnant

And how many lines were there? Two.

Was he surprised? Yes

Was he mad? Yes

But it’s not because of the pregnancy itself, but because you didn’t tell him.

You were sitting on the couch watching tv when he came stomping down the stairs, and throwing the pregnancy test on the coffee table in front of you.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You were once again, in shock, unable to say anything

“Kuna I-”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked once again now more louder, you looked down at the floor and bit your lip.

“I was scared…” you whispered, that actually surprised him. The woman that actually had the strength to put up with him, tease him, annoy him for fun while the whole world was scared of him, was ‘scared’?

“Why the fuck-“

“Because you don’t want a child!” You said now louder, tears in your eyes, thinking he’ll abandon you now.

He was taken aback, brows furrowed “I never said that.” Before you could say anything else he continued.

“I know I’m not the… best material for a ‘father’ but why would you think I would leave after finding out you have a living creature inside your stomach.”

“You always act annoyed when you see a child and always make comments, what else was I supposed to think?” You huffed out, burying your head in your knees.

He grabbed your face, making you look at him. “So dumb…” he scoffed before attacking your lips with his. Your eyes widened as you yelped.

“You know I act like that around every single filthy human except you. That child is my creation and my heir, I’ll accept it.”

“So… you don’t want to leave me? Aww-”

“Right now I’m temped to-“

“ M’sorry my lord.” You laughed, kissing him again.

there will probably be a part two with more characters, don’t blame me if there’s any mistakes I wrote this at 3 am dying of heat and exhaustion ahahah

[nowimjustastranger]

I don't know if this has already been asked before but has Stcmo Ford ever had to intervene in a world where Stanley took the journel(where that world's Ford wasn't sent through the portal) and planned for it to be the last thing he'd ever do before dying?

As he was trudging through the snow back to his car, Stan couldn't help but hear Ford's words play on an endless loop in his head, drowning out everything else. Stan had wanted so badly to shove the journal back at Ford after his brother had branded him, but he couldn't. Ford was right, he was always right.

So he kept the fucking diary and stormed out.

Ford didn't follow, so Stan must've said something about giving in to his brother's will before leaving, but he couldn't remember what had come out of his mouth. His head was swimming in a nauseating way as his shoulder screamed at him, his body shaking violently with every gust of wind.

He already knew that he wasn't going far. He just needed to get to the car, then he'd burn the stupid fucking journal and drive himself off the nearest cliff. He was tired. So very tired and hungry and cold. He had dropped everything just to come when his brother called, hoping against all hope that maybe they could finally talk.

He should know better than to entertain hope by now.

He didn't even realize someone was in front of him until he literally ran into them, stumbling back with a curse as he clutched his arm, a new burst of pain surging through his shoulder. He blinked the black spots out of his vision, squinting at the weirdo who was wearing a flashy all-black getup in the middle of a blizzard.

He would've noticed that something was off sooner if he hadn't been so worn down.

But, as it stood, he heard a sharp twang before a bolt was rushing past his ear from behind. Stan stiffened, adrenaline flooding his body when Ford yelled at him, ordering him to run to his car and get out of town as fast as he could.

He took a total of three stumbling steps toward his car before an arm was curling around his throat, getting him into a firm headlock. The stranger wasn't choking him though, so small mercies. Actually, it seemed like the guy was actively avoiding his brand, which was weird because why would that matter if he was gonna take Stan hostage anyway?

Stan tried to hold on to the journal, he really did, but the asshole pulled it away from his icy fingers with ease. Stan choked on what might've been a sob, devastated that he had failed the one task that he'd been given. How did he manage to keep fucking everything up so spectacularly?

He should've never been born.

"Stanley!" Ford shouted with no small amount of distress, clearly upset about his journal falling into the wrong hands on his front lawn. Stan couldn't look at him, couldn't bear to see the disappointment and anger that were surely coloring Ford's face right now.

"You can either have the journal or your brother." The stranger's voice carried over the howling wind, Stan's wide eyes darting to the book in the man's other hand with a sinking feeling in his gut. Stan already knew what Ford would pick, he had proved time and time again that he cared about his research more than he loved his brother.

"Let him go!" Ford seethed, the anger far more familiar to Stan, who finally braved a look at his brother. Ford was surprisingly close, only a few feet away with his crossbow loaded and aimed at the stranger. His expression was a mixture of terror and fury, his bloodshot eyes darting from Stan to the stranger several times.

He didn't look at the journal once.

"Is that your choice?" The stranger asked, the arm around Stan's neck slowly tightening, Stan's hands frantically prying at the dark fabric and flexing muscle with a pitiful wheeze that had Ford making an aborted movement toward him.

"Yes! Yes! I choose him!" Ford's voice cracked, face crumpling like he was about to burst into tears.

Stan grit his teeth and swung his elbow down to bury it into the man's kidney, the grip on his neck loosening just enough that Stan could twist and punch the asshole right in the chest, knocking the wind out of him.

Stan lunged for the journal, wrenching it from the man's grip as he kicked the bastard's knee, hearing the joint pop out of place. The guy grunted in pain as he went down, Stan scrambling toward his brother, who had lurched forward to meet him. Stan couldn't see what was happening, but he heard another bolt fire and then Ford was dropping the weapon to grab at Stan.

"He's gone! He's gone! He left!" Ford gasped as he dragged Stan to his feet, using his body as a crutch to keep Stan upright as the two of them unsteadily made their way back to the shack. Stan's legs gave out on him as soon as they were inside, Ford slamming and locking the door behind them with an urgency that bordered on manic.

"Ford..." Stan panted, slumped against the wall, and Ford was beside him in the blink of an eye.

"What? What is it? Did he hurt you?" Ford asked in rapid-fire, shaking hands fluttering over his body. Stan caught one, Ford flinching at how cold Stan's hand was.

"I... the journal... I got it back." Stan said breathlessly, weakly raising his other hand to offer it to Ford, who looked stunned as he stared at it. Maybe he didn't think Stan would bother to grab it? Just how little did Ford trust him?

It was Stan's turn to be speechless when Ford took the journal from him and carelessly set it aside before he was back to fussing over Stan, who was too busy blinking dumbly to stop Ford from accidentally touching the brand while searching for wounds.

Stan cried out, hunching on on himself as Ford profusely apologized, scurrying away after assuring Stan that he'd be back with his first aid kit. Stan kept his head down as he nodded, teeth grit against the pain. He was used to waiting. Waiting for the millions to miraculously come pouring in, waiting for Ford to reach out first, waiting for his next meal, waiting for rough hands to stop touching him.

Always waiting.

He heard Ford making a racket further in the house and decided that he could wait just a little longer.

[danihow]

You are... what?

Enhypen hyung line x Fem!Reader

Summary: How would Enhypen's hyung line react to you telling them you are pregnant.

Word count: 3.6k

Heeseung (0.82k), Jay (0.99k), Jake (0.96k), Sunghoon (0.83k).

Warnings: pregnancy, unplanned pregnancy, mentions of vomiting, mentions of unwanted pregnancy, mentions of implied abortions, use of nickanmes as baby, love, etc; they're scared.

A/N: This is a year and a half year old imagine so you may have an idea of how off this is on the members.

❁ Heeseung

Heeseung had been away for a month now, coming home today, and you should be absolutely thrilled, as you always were when he come home from touring.

But you couldn't feel thrilled.

You felt rather nervous and slightly panicked.

The nerves were eating you from the inside out, and you felt like vomiting the three toasts you had in your system, but Heeseung was supposed to walk in the apartment by any moment now and it was probably the worst way of telling him the news.

How were you even going to tell him?

Hey, you are going to be a dad?

Hell no, he would faint, and you were ninety percent sure about it.

You should be simple and straight forward, tell him in the face.

That way it’s probably easier to process, no confusion, no problems, just... news.

Yeah. That'd be it, that's how it should be done. Not good or bad news, just news.

"Love I'm back!" You hear right before the sound of the door closing, and the thud of his bag hitting the floor.

You walk out of your shared room, walking towards him and hugging him, giggling as he twirls you around before leaving a sweet kiss on your lips.

"How was it? How are you?"

"I'm tired but great, missed being home. And the tour was amazing." He says, placing his hands on your hips as he takes a moment to look at you.

"And how you've been?" He asks back, smiling widely as he stares at you.

"Been good..." You start, trailing off to think if the moment to tell him is now, or maybe he needs to rest.

"But?" He asks a tiny bit confused but amused at your expressions, as cute as ever but a bit more zoned out than usual, noticing the way your eyes nervously moved around his features.

"Uh I- I got to tell you something." You say quickly, the courage pushing to the no return point, Heeseung just humming as he looks at you intently. "I'm pregnant."

That's it, you've done it, it’s done. And Heeseung is as confused as you thought he would, face blank, eyes wide as Bambi’s.

"Say again?" He reiterates, brows furrowing a bit as if he heard wrong.

"I'm pregnant."

"Oh..." He simply states, looking around, he wasn't going to ask how, he knew how, and he inferred when. "How long have you known?"

"A couple of weeks maybe? Didn't wanted to tell you over the phone." You say quickly, rather surprised by his silence and calm reaction. "Are you okay Hee?"

"Most definitely, yeah, in shock, but okay i guess'." He nods, hands grabbing yours to check if it was real, pulling it genlty towards his face, resting his cheek in your warm palm. "We're going to be parents, I'm going to be a dad." He says, the idea slowly dawning on him."

"Yes."

"And you are going to be a mom." He says, eyes falling back on yours.

"Yeah, that's pretty much how it works." You nod, worrying yourself. "Are you... upset?"

"What? No, no, I'm... scared, in shock, excited?" He says, unsure himself of what he’s feeling. "You're keeping it?"

"You don't want me to?"

"No! No, I mean, yes, I want you to keep, but you know, your body your choice and all that." He says, blushing by his statement. Oh, it had downed on him now. "Oh my god you’re pregnant." He reiterates, excitement soon filling his face, the shock still the most evident emotion in him, making you chuckle as he hugged you tightly. "Oh my god."

"Yes Hee, we're having a baby." You say, laughing as he twirls you again now, kissing your face repeatedly. "Didn't expected you to be this excited."

"What you mean?" He asks happily, putting you back down. "I'm abso-fucking-lutely scared of the idea, yeah, but happy." He nods, worrying as you seem less colored now. "You good hun?" He asks, right hand caressing your cheek.

"Yeah just..." You say, before feeling that familiar instinct of vomiting, sprinting to the kitchen as its nearer than the bathroom.

"Oh god yeah, and I twirled you, oh my god I'm sorry love."

"It's okay." You way once you finish, cleaning your mouth with a paper towel. "I kind of got used to it."

"You've faced all that puking all alone?" He asks, now a bit sad that you got through a month and a bit more of pregnancy by yourself.

"It's alright." You reassure him. "Can you serve some orange juice for me?" You ask, hating the taste of vomit in your mouth.

"Sure, anything for my love." He smiles, almost placing a kiss on your lips before he remembered and kissed your forehead before going to the fridge.

Heeseung's reaction was by far off of your expectations, but you smiled to yourself at the sigh if him, happier than you thought he would be.

❁ Jay

"Y/N! I'm home!" Jay said, walking into your apartment with a bag full of ice cream and snacks for your weekly movie night, met up by a silent apartment. "Y/N?" He called, leaving the bag on the counter to go and search for you, maybe you were asleep?

He looked on the living room, the kitchen, the laundry room and then got to your room, finding it empty. "Maybe she went out..." He said in a whisper to himself, before hearing a silent sob from the bathroom, waking out to the hallway and then to that door, seeing a glimpse of light shining under it. The shadow of your body sat on the floor worrying him.

"Y/N? Are you okay? Did you got hurt? Do you want me to come in?" He asks as he knocks the door, worried, his breathing getting uneven as his mind wondered bad scenarios.

"N-no, no, I'm fine." You say from the other side, a silent sniff making you regret even talking, he knows you're crying, how are you going to keep from him now.

Is not that you didn't want him to know, you knew he had all the right. But you were scared, you both are too young, he is an idol, and you are still studying, you can't be pregnant right now, you shouldn’t.

"Can I come in? You wanna talk with me about it?" Oh Jay, how sweet and caring he has always been, and how fucked he is now. You thought, scared.

"If you want to, you can." You voice is low, as if not wanting him to hear, as if you want him to forget he had even heard you.

"Coming in then." He says, door slowly opening, revealing you sat on the floor in front of the toilet, head resting against the tile that covers the walls. "Hey darling, what's wrong?" He asks, coming to kneel besides you, brushing your tears away with his thumb and making you cry again.

"I'm so sorry..." It's all you manage to say before sobbing again, hands coming to cover your face and tears falling down your cheeks again.

"Hey, hey, don't, please look at me, please." He says almost in a plead, gently snaking his hands around yours to softly pull them away from your face. "What's wrong? Why are you apologizing?"

"I'm pregnant Jay, I'm pregnant." You says, feeling even worse when you see him freeze in place, face blank as he processes your words, your own eyes clouding with tears once again. "I'm sorry."

"No, no baby, don't apologize, there's nothing to be sorry for, it's not wrong." He says, moving to cradle your face, kissing both of your cheeks where the tears stained.

"You are an idol, this is going to ruin your career, the boys I-, I don't want to ruin your life." You say, looking up at his face, confusion setting deep in you at the look in his face.

"You are not ruining my life, first, this is not something you can control now, second, we should rather think of making our lifes... better" He smiles weakly, brushing the hair out of your face to look at your beautiful eyes. "We are young, maybe its earlier than we thought, but i know we can do this, if you want to keep it, that is."

"I... I do want to keep it, I'm scared, but... i don't know" You say, grabbing a few squares of toilet paper to clean your stuffy nose.

"It's okay not to know, are you really sure you are pregnant?" He asks, grabbing you to move him to straddle him. Seeing your every move as you then stretch to grab two tests from the counter, showing the prominent two lines in each of them. "You're sure then." He says, grabbing them and placing them aside. "A penny for yout thoughts?" He asks, letting you rest your head against his chest, his chin resting above your head as his hands slowly caress your back.

"What if I'm not a good enough mom? I know nothing about motherhood." He hears your voice crack mid sentence, placing a rather long kiss on your head before talking.

"Do you think your mother knew how to be one? Or mine? I don't know how to be a dad, but I'm willing to learn as we go." His one hand stayed on your back, thumb drawing figurines on the fabric of your shirt as the other moved to caress your thigh.

"But is not fair for the baby..." You whisper slowly, shrinking a bit in your place in his lap.

"Hm... maybe, but, if we try our best and fill them with love, I think they will understand when they grow up." He mutter back, still rubbing your back soothingly as he talks. "Imagine it, you, me, a little you running around, giggling." He says against your hair. "Your eyes, your hair, and your smile." He starts, making you smile.

"What about you? They are not only going to look like me." You say against his chest, feeling him chuckle.

"But you are prettier." He mumbles, resting his head against the tile.

"I would love if they had your smile." You say, making him smile, seeing you finally come around to term with the idea of the baby.

"They are gonna be beautiful, I just know." He says in a happy tone, letting you two fall in a few minutes of silence as you both came to terms with the idea.

"Thank you for hearing me out." You mutter.

"Always, thank you for trusting me."

"You're my boyfriend, I couldn't push you away even if I had to, my heart wouldn't let me." You admit, separating yourself to look at him and smile. "I love you, I'm sorry I was being pessimistic."

"It's okay, you're scared, it's totally okay."

And maybe it was, after all, he was the rational one between the two of you.

❁ Jake

You'd known you are pregnant for the past month, thinking of ways to tell your boyfriend the news.

You've thought of everything, from gifting him a box of cupcakes that spelled "I'm pregnant" to just giving him the 5 pregnancy tests you took and keep hidden in the bottom of your drawer.

Resigning with a little gift bag that had an enhypen-merch-like newborn onesie.

"Jake?" You asked, head picking through the door from his little studio-like room in your shared apartment.

"Yes?" He asks, eyes still focused on his lyrics notebook, pencil fiddled between his fingers.

"Oh your busy, nevermind." You say in a whisperish tone, starting to close the door when Jake's head snap up to meet your gaze.

"No, no, come in." He says, putting the notebook aside and turning in his chair towards you.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, totally, what happened?" He asks, looking at your figure walk in, hands behind you back.

"I got you this, open it before i overthink more." You say, almost shoving the bag in his hands before nervously start picking at your fingers.

He takes a hot minute analyzing your words, opening the bag slowly and eyes blankly stopping once he extended the onesie, face unexpresive as he process it over and over again.

"Are you for real?" He asked, your gut slowly feeling as if its closer and closer to the floor, himself adorning an unreadable face not helping at all.

"I so so for real I'm about to puke." You confirmed, your hands playing with the rings in your fingers nervous, himself nodding before returning his gaze to the clothing piece.

"You're pregnant..." He mutters, slowly downing on the realization but you are so scared you actually feel like passing out. "Oh my god..."

"I know it's not at all in our plans, and I get that you are mad or sad and I-" you couldn't even speak properly, tears filling your eyes and your throat knotting itself.

"Oh my god, oh my god Y/N, you're pregnant." He said, standing from the chair straight into your arms and passing his around your torso, bringing you closer to his body as his face buried in your neck, he was so full of different emotions he didn't even knew how to react.

You couldn't answer him, silently crying, scared, anxious, all the possible emotions drowning you. Your hands slowly coming up and resting on his hair to caress it, excitement slowly buildng up.

"We are going to be parents." He mumbled, voice muffled by your shirt that you slowly felt dampening.

"Jake, are you crying?" You asked now worriedly as if you weren't too, taking him apart from you, hands cupping his face as you checked on him, trails of wet tears down his cute little cheeks and the brightest and cutest smile you'd seen in him painted along his face.

"Sorry, sorry, I'm just really stunned Y/N, we are having a kid, I- I am really really happy right now, a so fucking scared too." He said, leaning against your loving touch, kissing your palm as his hands rubbed your sides up and down. "No, don't cry you too, you know I hate see you crying." He says noticing the tears falling down your cheeks too, voice slowly turning bubbly as he leans to leave multiple kisses all over your face until you laugh your tears out, his right hand moving up to craddle your cheek and clean the trail of the tears.

"You scared me so much." You admit between giggles, a few sobs escaping in between.

"I'm so sorry for scaring you, I- I don't know how to feel just... thank you so much for being in my live, Y/N. I mean it." He says, his forehead resting against yours as his thumb still caresses your cheek. "I'm so, so grateful right now." The smile in his voice was easily picked up by your ears, putting a smile as bright as his in your face.

"I love you Jake." You say, your hand in his face pinching his cheek with a bit of tease.

"I love you too" He says, eyes wandering down to your belly for a few seconds. "We'll really have a mini us." He mutters, looking you straight in the eyes, his hand on you waist playing with the hem of your shirt.

"We will, yeah." You slowly smile at his rising excitement. "A mini you, or a mini me."

He smiles, his hand slipping under your shirt to caress the skin of your waist. "I can't believe it, god."

"Well, you better start believing it soon Jake, 'cause it really real." You say, his bright puppy eyes never leaving you, the few confetti you gathered scattered throught the floor and the onesie somewhere forgotten.

"So this is why you were throwing up the other morning when I sleft a bit later." He startes, bringing a cringing sound from you, the morning sickness you've felt for the last month since you found out and were figuring out how to tell him still haunting you, specially because you weren't out of it yet.

After that you better trust me when I say you and Jake spent at least half an hour just cuddling and kissing in the couch, not even talking, just enjoying each other company and taking it all in together, his hand leaving sweet and loving rubs on your belly from time to time.

Now there were three of you, Jake feeling slowly happier as his mind kept on making out all the posibilities, feeling excited to say at most.

And yes, later that night he spent all the damn night talking about your future as a family.

❁ Sunghoon

You two already owned a cat. He gifted it to you before going on tour so you wouldn't feel alone at night without him at the apartment.

Now, with your white cat all grown up you had found out while he was at work that you were pregnant, your period had been late, but it was usual, and as you started to have this sickness in the mornings after sunghoon went to work, you decided to do a pregnancy test, just to be sure.

Much to your surprise, you were not just late this time, you were pregnant, for real.

You decided to just put the pregnancy test in a ziploc bag and bury it in a bunch of confetti you bought at the convenience store near your building, waiting for him to finish his daily schedule qand just come back home.

As you sat in the soft cushions of your couch, you mind started pacing.

Were you ready to be amother?

What if Sunghoon isn't ready to be a father?

What if he doesn't want to be part of it?

No, that's dumb, he loves you.

But he's so early in his career, it will do more damage than good.

But he would be really cute as a dad, just a month ago he was high on baby fever after babysutting your cousin with you.

Nevertheless, your train of though was interrupted the moment he closed the door behind him , the sound snapping you out of it. He turned around and his brows almost immediately furrowed at the sight of you sat in the couch, nervousness, doubt and a tiny bit of excitement flowing out of you.

"Hi love." He says, walking with suspicion to you, sitting at your side after you patted it. "What's going on?"

"Here, I got this for you." And with that, he took it from your hands with maybe a bit too much precaution, opening it up as if it could explode in any moment, just to be more confused at the ridiculous amount of white confetti it had in it.

The moment his eyes saw the pregnancy test they were wide, wider than you have ever seen; silently, he stared at it, in case he understood wrong and it said covid somewhere, but it didn't. "Is this real? You aren't joking?" He asks, voice shaky and glassy eyes looking up to you, rather than tears there was no sign of any other emotion on his face, making you over think, your heart twisting in its place at the look of him.

"I would never joke with that, love." You mutter, fiddling with your fingers that rested on your lap. "I know we're really young, and you have so much in your life right now for me to put it out for you now, but I didn't knew how to tell you and I totally get if you are disapointed or mad, I would be too, but I really want to keep it and..." You were rambling, nerves tajing over your mouth and eyes dropping to stare at the floor.

You were gladly interrupted just to be engulfed in the most bone crushing hug ever, his hands slowly lowering themselves to grab you by your hips bring you over to his lap; quite a bunch of little "oh my god"s leaving from his mouth as you two hugged, each getting more breathier as he realized, his head buried in the crook of your neck, his unsteady breath tickling your skin.

"You're pregnant." He said finally letting you go, eyes a bit red as a few tears fell from his eyes, hands still placed on your hips as his thumbs rub up and down.

"Yes, I am" You nodded, unable to stop a little sob from escaping your lips, Sunghoon's face morphing into a worried expression. "You aren't mad?" You asked in a mutter, ashamed.

"Not at all." He denied, leaving a sweet kiss on your nose before placing his forehead against yours. "I'm rather excited, thank you." He says, smiling into your lips, giving you a couple centimeters of space. "Did you really think I wouldn't want to keep it though?" He asks still, a bit hurt.

"What?" You asked, looking in his deep eyes.

"You said so in your rambling, did you really thought so?" He said, eyes watery, again.

"I was being dumb, I'm sorry, I got scared when I found out." You said with so much regret he nods, blinking the unshed tears away.

"No, its okay, I get it." You hear him say, his eyes closing as he exhales. "I'm going to be there for you, we're in this together." He reassures you. A soft giggle escaping you as hi presses a ticklish kiss on your jaw.

"Thank you. I really needed to hear that." You whispered, kissing his forehead back. "I'm scared."

"And I'm really scared too, but we can with this, I know we can."

[misguidedasgardian]

The course of Nature, part (2)

First Part

Pairing: Negan x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of Negan’s brutality, cursing, implied coercion and kidnapping, mentions of polygamy, (c’mon guys, everything related to Negan in the Sanctuary), talking of periods and pregnancy, thoughts about abortion, sensitive content regarding pro-choice… SMUT, a soft mommy kink, rather pregnancy kink, a little biting and a little blood, Negan being a horny jackass.

might miss some warnings. 

TWD Era: Alexandria, Negan Era, (season 7) 

Notes: Seeing Negan saying, “Oh my, look at this little Angel!” and grabbing Judith from her crib did something to me, and here it is 

“Why don’t you want to be my wife?” he asked her, amused 

“Negan, I know you are like a rabbit or a jackass… you are horny and you hump the first thing you see, but I’m like a cool Eagle, or a wolf… I mate for life” she answered simply. And it was so clever he wasn’t even mad, he chuckled darkly watching her intently, hoping to burn the shape of her body and her face in his mind forever

“You are acting like someday I’m going to get bored of you and just let you leave” he whispered in her ear. He felt her getting nervous, the small hairs on the back of her head standing to attention and goosebumps in her arms. But still she acted like he didn’t cause her incredible fear.

“You might” she whispered

“Believe me, I will not” he answered back 

You didn’t want to have anything to do with the other wives of Negan, really, you didn’t want to talk to anyone, you didn’t want to make friends, you just wanted to stay in your room and most importantly, stay fucking alive and not make it worse for your friends in Alexandria

But…   

When weeks passed and you didn't get your period. You were quickly losing your mind

It was hard to keep track of the calendar in the fucking zombie apocalypse. All the electronics went to shit… but you guessed that outside in some place of the sactuary, someone might have a fucking clue.

Your period was like a swiss watch, you were never late, it was like clockwork, so you had a sense of when it was coming, so now, you left your room looking frantically for a calendar, or something 

The wives seemed surprised to see you, but somehow relieved, since he took you, Negan never left your side, he didn’t spend the night with any of them, you thought they’d be angry, or jealous, but the looks on their faces told you they were grateful, and relieved.

Even though Negan was proud to say he had killed rapists and didn’t tolerate the awful act, he did use coercion to get what he wanted, he used it on you, and probably all of them as well. Yes he did give them a choice but… “Be my wife or I’ll bash yours or your boyfriend's brains” didn’t seem much of a choice to you.

“Hey, we have been wanting to meet you” only two of them approached you, a redhead, and a smaller girl, with dark hair and and bangs, “I’m Frankie, this is Tanya”

“(Y/N)” You answered, “Sorry I was hiding in my room” you explained 

“It’s understandable” she drew an apologetic smile. There was an awkward silence, in which they expected you to say something, and all the way around

“I was wondering…” you started, “if any of you had a calendar, or something… a way to tell what day it is?” you explained. They all looked at eachother. The one you knew her name was Frankie took your hand softly and led you to the wall where there was this old calendar

“It’s the 17th” she said softly. You just nodded, confirming your fears, you were late, two fucking weeks late. You drew a shaky breath, tears burning the back of your eyes.

“Shit” you whispered, debating internally if you should share your fears or not

“What’s going on?” she asked you, “you can tell us”

“Yeah” a blonde one that seemed a little out of it also came close to you, “we are so grateful to you” she whispered with a reassuring smile, “For… distracting him…”

“I’m late” you choked out. You heard them gasp loudly, “I don’t know… I’m two weeks late and I feel like shit, I’m probably…”

“pregnant” murmured the blonde one 

Frankie must have known how you felt. Maybe they all did. She placed her soft hand on your shoulder to comfort you, and it worked. You draw a shaky breath, wiping the tears with the back of your hand

“What is he going to do?” you asked, “Is he going to… push me down the stairs or something?”

“We don’t know” she whispered, “we are the ones that take care of it” she explained, “he had never express his want to… have kids”

“He is the one that makes sure we use contraceptives” the black haired woman said

“I’ll go with you to the doctor” Frankie said, and you just nodded, “It’s the only way to be sure”. grabbing the hand she offered you tightly, and under the sad eyes of all of Negan’s wives, you left the room.

“I’m terrified” you murmured, when you came face to face with a man you knew they called Fat Joey

“Hey joey” greeted Frankie, and he eyes you both suspiciously

“Negan wouldn’t want you to walk alone” he said, “specially if you are terrified” you wanted to swallow your own words

“We are fine, Fat Joey” Frankie muttered

“Let me escort you” you squeezed her hand, but he walked behind you silently in your journey to the doctor’s office 

You managed to shake him off of you in the consult, you closed the door on his face.

“Good morning ladies, what can I do for you?”, this doctor gave you the creeps, but he was the only one around so…

Frankie gave you a reassuring smile, nodding, so you turned to the doctor

“I think I’m late”, you whispered, he looked at you and nodded

“Very well, I have a pregnancy test you could take”

It was the most uncomfortable 5 minutes of your entire life, and you were living in the middle of a zombie apocalypse, go figure

It took less than 10 minutes for the two lines to appear, and you truly felt like you were going to lose it. Frankie didn’t say anything, neither did you, but she hugged you tightly and you hugged her back

“Everything is going to be alright, it’s still early”, she whispered sweetly in your ear, caressing your hair, you only nodded, it was true, it was only a couple of weeks… Frankie looked at the doctor

“Is there anything you could give her?”, she asked. The doctor looked at you and then at her. 

“No”

“That’s a lie”, she accused

“Yes”, he said simply

“You have to do something!” you demanded, “Give me something…”

“I’m sorry, I can’t do anything without Negan’s permission” 

“WHAT?” you argued, “It’s my body…”

“It’s Negan’s baby” he said seriously, “I can’t do anything or give you anything without him knowing” He perfectly could, but he had clear instructions from Negan, and he valued his own life more than yours. 

. . .

Negan knew something was wrong when he passed the lounge where his wives were and they all looked at him in terror.

Did someone die?

Did someone escape? or tried to?

He hadn't punished someone publicly this week, so he knew this wasn’t that. And if someone actually had died, betrayed him or escaped, he would have known by now, so, what was it? He looked directly at Frankie, she averted her gaze, but her eyes looked at the wall to the right. He just nodded, silently, and kept walking until he found himself at your door. He knocked twice, but you didn’t answer, so he just went in.

He found you with your back turned to the door, in a fetal position on the bed 

“Hey sunshine” he greeted carefully, and he saw you flinch. You turned, slowly, and he was surprised to see you crying. Did you find out about all the things he had done in Alexandria? No, impossible, “What is going on?” he asked, you were there, in front of him, so you didn’t tried to scape, and you didn’t kill anyone so he wondered what got you so fucking scared of him right now

“I’m sorry” you whispered, “Negan” you called, “I love you” oh how much he could have given to hear you say those words, but the way you say them, it was desperate, you sounded like Amber, you didn’t mean it, in fact, you wanted to calm him down

“What is going on?” he repeated the question, harder this time, making you flinch raising your shoulders and trying to hide between them 

“I’m pregnant” you whispered, you dropped the revelation and then you wanted to bend over your own body to protect yourself from him, and that is what kind of broke him. “I’m sorry”

Of all the reactions he may had that you played in your mind, him chuckling and smiling widely wasn’t one of them 

“You are not mad?” you asked back, and he shook his head

One of the most scary things about Negan is that he was totally unpredictable, you could never guess what’s coming 

In one scenario he grabbed you by the arm and threw you down the stairs, and then made sure to beat you up until there was nothing left inside of you. In another he’d let the doctor get his hands on you, but you never, ever, thought he’d be happy about it

“Aw honey, this is wonderful news!” you jumped when he yelled that, opening his arms in celebration, he never stopped looking at you, “An heir!” he continued, “A little savior, a little Negan or Lucille” you shook in your place when he called his deceased wife’s name

And suddenly, you were more scared.

“A little Lucille?” you muttered, he had told you everything about his late wife, and the thought he might be using you to relive some weird fantasy chilled your bones. Suddenly you felt your eyes wet with tears, and not being able to stop them, fat, bitter tears started running down your cheeks, “No…” you whined. His face dropped when he saw how you started to lose it, you started to hyperventilate 

“Hey, sweetheart, I need you to relax”

“You have to talk to the doctor, so he’ll give me something…” you tried to explain

“Why would I do that, baby?” he asked

“I can’t have your baby” you whined, wiping your tears

“Why the hell not?” he asked, this time his face became so serious so fast you shook in fear

“Negan…” you called, expecting him to understand, “please” he softened his gaze on you, with his gloved hand he caressed your cheek as he smiled sweetly at you, but that didn’t calm you, he was unpredictable and you’ll do well in remembering that. He leaned in and kissed you softly, gently, as he was scared of breaking you

“You are going to be an amazing mother sweety” he whispered against your lips and you only whined, “anything you want, everything is yours!” he announced, standing up, “I’ll tell all of them, to bring you anything you could need” 

“You are going to let me carry this baby?” you asked

“Of course”, he said simply

“Please Negan”, you whispered, “I can’t bring a child into this world”

“It will have hundreds of people that will take care of him”, he said, “we are in the sanctuary baby”

“Negan please”, you begged, he just say on the edge of the bed, cradling your face with his big hands

“This a good thing baby”, he whispered, leaning in and catching your lips with his

“Negan”, you whined against his lips

“You are going to be such a good mommy”, he purred, abandoning your lips and going down your throat with heated open kisses

And you snapped out of your hornyness, you grabbed his face and pushed him off of you

“Darling..!”

“Fuck off Negan!”, you grunted, but your heated face told him your resolution wouldn’t last long, you were as horny as he was. He smiled wickedly

He knew he had chosen well, you were going to protect that baby with your life, your lioness instincts already kicking in 

“C’mon mommy”, he purred, “come to daddy”

“I hate you”, you said, with no conviction in your voice

“No you don’t”

And perhaps that is what was so messed up about all of this

You were scared to death, yes, but you were also… excited

And Negan could see that

He approached you again and held you in his arms, he leaned in and again he kissed you. It was soft at first but then it turned heated, you grabbed him roughly, pulling on the hairs on the back of his neck making him grunt needily

“You like it rough, don’t you?”, he mocked, you didn’t want to talk, you just took his leather jacket and threw it on the floor caresly

Another day he would have make a big fuss about it, but today he knew better

“he leaned over you, wanting to pin you down to the bed, but you didn’t let him, instead you managed to pin him down, straddling him 

“Oh baby”, he purred, “or should I say… mommy?”

“Shut up”, you growled, leaning in and kissing him roughly. he immediately responded with teeth and licks of his own, but as you separated from him, you bit his lower lip until blood came up 

He whined under you, not pained but horny and almost pathetic, you grind your hips against his own, feeling his cock hardening between you, giving you goosebumps

“Hormones?”, he teased, but you shushed him up, you wanted him, you needed to feel him, you needed to distract yourself from everything that has happening

You almost ripped his pants off of him, making him chuckle, setting himself comfortably on the bed, you stood up to toss your own pants away from you, and then you crawled back over him. HIs greedy hands tossed your upper clothes, and finally he had you naked all to himself. You leaned in and kissed him roughly

“Yes mommy”, he teased, and you couldn’t help but slap him, not hard, and he only smiled wickedly, “I loved this side of you baby”, he purred, placing his hands on your hips

“You are so fucking mean Negan”, you accused, “you misogynistic prick!”, but you couldn't stay angry at him, you leaned in and kissed him before he could make some snarky remark. He responded at the kiss immediately, his greedy hands caressing you all over he could, your thighs, your sides, your hips. You rubbed your pussy against his hard cock, and you couldn’t help it anymore, you needed him.

You used your hand to pumped his thick cock a few times, before impaling yourself with it

“Fuck!”, you cursed at the same time, perhaps Negan was so attracted to you because you both sounded alike sometimes

You started riding him angrily, almost like you wanted to hurt him, but that turned him on even more. You started moving your hips back and forth. and the friction in your clit almost made you loss it

“FUCK THAT’S IT BABY”, he whined, and you gasped, feeling your orgasm build incredibly quickly

“I hate you”, you cried when you cummed

“I know”, he whispered, entertained, letting you fuck him for once, admiring the goddess riding him.

But you rode him until you cummed again, finally making him finish inside of you.

You let yourself fall on top of him, as you both recuperated, he just held you, caressing your naked back

“I mean it”, he gasped

“What?”, you asked back

“I will do anything to protect you”, he promised, “I leave Rick alone, I promise, you will be a great mother, I really believe that”, you smiled, not letting him see it, of course.

. . .

“Arat” the girl was on his side on a second, that determined look in her eyes that Negan liked so much, “If something happens to me… “ he started, and she frowned, like he just spoke treason, “If this world is fucked up and for reason I fucking die and Rick the prick is still alive I want you to do something for me, ok?”

“You want me to kill him Sir?” she asked, and he chuckled

“No, I want you to take (Y/N) to him” he whispered, “without me controlling everything she is in danger, I want you to make sure she comes back to her people”

Damn, being a father does change you and your priorities 

He thought with a smirk on his face and a swing of his bat

TAGLIST @neganswoman @nijiru @imvomitting @aleemendoza2425-blog @0vecam @heavenhatesme

[urmomzballs]

Annoy the shit out of your bastard state rep!! They deserve it!!

"Bill H.R.722 - To implement equal protection under the 14th article of amendment to the Constitution for the right to life of each born and preborn human person." -Congress.gov

There is no summary on the bill as of now, but let's be so for real it is to ban abortion, other women's health care, and control the women of America.

The lack of summary is alarming because of literally everything happening right now in America. So act before they vote!!

It currently is introduced to the House with 67 Cosponsors from 28 states.

If you find your state and the idiot(s) behind the bill, click on them and it will take you to their little headshot. Next to that is their website where you will find their email.

If you don't find someone from your state, praise whatever you hold dear and maybe don't send this to a rep not on the list.

But!! Maybe check back.. things change.

Hello, I am (your name here), a cornered citizen who takes issue with your support of the proposed Bill H.R.722. Vote no. 

Women are being dehumanized, demonized, and painted as untrustworthy when they are trying to receive medical care. Furthermore, fetuses do not equate to the life of a living woman. 

This bill is absolutely the most invasive way you have attempted to control Americans. 

The Bible is not the Constitution, nor is it the law of the land. You did not swear to uphold the Bible. You did not get a job as a priest. It is ludicrous that your position on women's rights comes from a book started in 1400 BC. You do not get an opinion, other than ‘Yes girl, do what you want with your body, I respect you as a person’. This is health care. Life-saving care for women. If Jesus were alive today he would be disgusted by the late-stage capitalistic surveillance state driven by a patriarchal oligarchy that you push and hold so dear. 

There are 8 billion people on this planet and you think that everyone is going to have the same white Christian views as you? That is asinine. I mean honestly, are you even ashamed of being a Nazi for the sitting president? 

..or were you a Nazi before... 

The rights of every woman in this country should not be argued again in Congress. We went over this before, women wanted a choice and freedom. The fact that you have used marketing and brainwashing to continue to convince women that they want no other life than the life of a mother is disgusting. You realized women were outperforming you and got butthurt. Suck it up.

Women are people, believe it or not, women can be trusted with their bodies. Men think women are evil and willing to kill babies because men see them as something expendable. Children are something to occasionally dote on and then right back to the “Man Cave” to jerk off. 

Women are people. Women are people. Women are people. Women are people. Women are people. Women are people. Women are people. Women are people. Women are people. Women are people. Women are people. Women are people. Women are people.

Do you get it? 

Do you see the message? You would never discuss this stupid shit if it were about men. Never once have you tried to make a law for health care about men, honestly though you should. 

How about everyone gets snipped at 18 and then if their wife signs off on it saying, ‘Yes I want to have a baby with this man’ only then it can be reversed. Let's be real it hurts less than childbirth. I think it's only fair.

Women are going to die. This is Life. Saving. Health Care. This is not your church's family Christmas pageant. You don’t get a say. Trying to get a say is crazy, why do you care so much? What difference does it make to you? It makes all the difference to women everywhere. This is health care. The government should not be in women's health care. You guys have proven time and time again that all you will do is fuck up. Go away. 

Why are you so obsessed with it? Why will you never view women as equals? Or even people. It’s because women came from men, right? They are something a man uses as an accessory. But here’s the thing, God created Adam, realized he fucked up, then took something from him because he didn’t matter so why not lose the rib. Then created something better, women. And men will never get over it. 

You are the puppet for a Nazi who believes women are less than, nothing but a pussy to grab. This bill is about nothing more than the attempt to control women. This isn’t about the “sanctity of life” it’s about control over women. The combination of DEI rollbacks and the pro-birth agenda threatens all the women in this nation. Women must be able to lead their lives in the direction they see fit. Americans are supposed to be in charge of their bodies, Americans have the right to free speech and the freedom to express themselves, and the right to bodily autonomy. 

Here, I’ll hold your hand. These aren’t just American rights, these are also God-given rights. That everyone is allowed to have because everyone is a person like you. Like me. 

Don’t try to think of this as the right of a “preborn human person”. The fetus doesn’t have rights, the fetus is cells within a woman’s body (this is science) and since it is her body she may do with it as she sees fit. It is in no way an easy decision, this is not something women are doing with joy. 

No woman is going through 8-9 months of pregnancy and then thinking ���Hm.. Maybe I’ll kill the baby inside me that I was so excited to have’. The abortions that do occur during this time frame are from miscarriages. Which are traumatic and tragic and should be dealt with by the parents and doctors. Did you get your medical degree? No. So how do you possibly know better? 

Furthermore, who wants to carry their dead baby inside of them? All because the “great nation” of America decided women are nothing more than a housing unit for men's children? 

It’s health care, if you don’t understand it, that’s fine, but don’t then try to insert yourself where you do not belong nor know what's happening. I’m sick of the narrative that this is saving women and going to save the lives of so many babies. This is going to kill women and their children. The lack of health care women will have because of this will kill them. And it's not because the resources don’t exist, it's because the government stuck its nose where it doesn’t belong and once again biffed it. It’s getting old. Go away. Go back to your corner you crotchety bitch. 

Stop trying to ruin the lives of the 168.6 million American women. Also the statistic of the women who do want this ..it’s just brainwashing. If they actually knew what was happening I’m sure they would be against it too. 

Or maybe not, cults are crazy.

Vote no on this stupid fucking bill. Don’t get butthurt and try to get revenge. Do you know how many protests will happen if you do vote yes? Box your feelings and opinions up, and stop trying to work through the Bible. This is America, not Jerusalem 1400BC. 

Once again I will remind you, that this is Congress, not bible study. 

Vote no. This is health care. And a stupid topic to focus on. 

(End.)

It may be vulgar, but let's be real if we can only fight with words right now why not have fun. Also they 100% deserve it.

Have some fun, send this, write your own, call, bug them whenever you think about how bad things are right now, and stay silly slime.

[maudie-duan]

A/N: I hope everyone had a beautiful weekend! We're drawing to a close only one Chapter left! I hope you guys enjoy this one. I love getting Harry's POV!

Tag List: Always Open

All Chapters<-

Word Count: 9.9k

Warnings: 18+, Language, Smut, Eating Disorder, Talk of Pregnancy, Mentions of Abortion, Teen Angst, Emotions. (If I miss anything, let me know.)

Is it strange that I knew she was pregnant? Aside from all the other tell-tale signs, something about her felt different; after a few quick searches, it was self-evident. If I’m honest, I kind of had the feeling when I dropped her off after we hooked up the first time, like what was I thinking not using a condom, but the truth was I wasn’t thinking. I felt like if we didn’t have sex with her right then and there, it would never happen.

It wasn’t that I was expecting her to take all of that on herself; I just figured if worse came to worse, she would tell me. There were so many questions that I wanted to bombard her with, but none of my emotional burdens felt fair when her body was the one going through so many changes—The fact that she could cry at the drop of a dime made me feel like I had to be even more careful with my words.

If my mum and sister had instilled anything, it was that sex has consequences—How long would Marlowe have waited to tell me? Did she want to keep it? Was she for an abortion? Was I? Does my say matter? 

“Her body, her choice,” they say, but in all reality, it was confusing as hell. 

“Hey, I’m sorry to wake you…I know it’s late there.” I told my sister because I had forgotten it was already 2 a.m. in England when I called her. 

“You’re fine—is everything okay?” She asks.

“No—” And I burst into tears, sucking in a deep breath of cold air, “I just—I just…didn’t know who to call…” I mutter.

“Harry, what’s wrong, Darling?” Sometimes, Gemma’s voice sounds so much like our mums that it’s scary, and I have to pull the phone away from my ear to make sure I have the right number.

“I’ve really fucked up this time, Gem.” I force out as another wave of emotions course through me, the tears streaming.

“What have you done? I’m sure it’s not that bad. Mum said you’re doing quite well, even though you never call.”

I draw a hard breath through my nose, “I’ve gotten someone pregnant, and I think I love her—and now everything is ruined…and it’s all my fault—” And the news is abrupt, but it’s the only way to get the words out of my system before I become a blubbering mess. 

“Oh, Harry—” she sighs. 

“Are you sure she’s pregnant?”

“Well, I didn’t see the test…but she told me she went to the doctor today,”

“And are you sure it’s yours?” She questions.

“Yes—” I breathe, “I don’t think she would lie to me.”

“Who is she, Harry?” 

“Marlowe Asher…” I answer.

“Asher, as is Sienna Asher’s sister? The one that had a major crush on you when you were younger?” And I’m not surprised this is the one thing she refers to. 

“Yes, that one—” 

“Wow—I never saw that one coming—”

I clear my throat, wiping my nose, “That makes two of us...”

“And have you asked what she wants to do?” 

I take a seat on the paved walk overlooking the lake. From where I’m sitting, I can see my house off in the distance, but I’m far enough from Marlowe’s Grandma’s that she can’t hear me talking. The whole point of my leaving was to take a walk, but I barely made it through her back gate before I was dialing Gemma’s number in a panic:

“Harry? Are you there?” Gemma asks, pulling for my attention.

“I haven’t asked…that’s why I was calling you?” I tell her.

“I see—” is all she says.

“I just didn’t want to say the wrong thing because she seems really fragile right now.” I confide.

“Well, that’s a good start and how did you take her telling you the news?”

“I think I handled it fine. I mean, she was crying, but it’s all really emotional.”

“Especially for Marlowe—” Gemma adds.

“I know…” I agree.

“Harry, I’m sure this feels really scary for you, but whatever you’re feeling, times that by ten, and just know that this will have a bigger impact on her than you.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“I mean, that even if this feels like a burden to you, it’s really her burden. Marlowe is the one who’s going to have to make the right decision; whether you like it or not, the decision is ultimately hers.”

“I know—I know—her body, her choice…but that’s all just a bit confusing. This will affect me too.”

“I’m sure that it will, but she’s the one carrying the baby…or whatever you would like to call it, depending on how far along she is—I don’t know.” Then she sighs into the phone again.

And my eyes dart to the ground as I drag the back of my hand over my eyes, “It’s just all really scary…”

“It’s terrifying—” she agrees.

“I just want to do the right thing…”

“Harry, the best thing you can do is be supportive in any decision she makes. If Marlowe decides she wants to keep it, you have to be okay with that. If she decides abortion is her best option, be supportive.”

“Both are scary—” I confess.

“But they’re both consequences. I don’t think either of you gets to walk away without the impact of this. The change is unavoidable. 

“I know—Gemma.”

“It’s not a lecture. I’m just trying to be honest. I’ve had several friends go through this. It all makes an impact…just be supportive, H.”

“I’ll be supportive…I just don’t think that I’m ready to be a dad,” I tell her, rubbing the collar of my shirt over my wet nose.

“Harry, it’s okay to be honest with her about how you feel. As long as you’re both honest, that’s all that matters. Lay everything out, weigh out your options, and then make your decision…and whatever you do…wait to tell mum. You know she’s going through a lot right now with Robin’s cancer scare.”

“I probably won’t tell her unless I have to,” I assure her.

“I hate to cut our conversation short, but I have an exam in the morning, and I really need some sleep…”

I laugh, “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be. I love you, bubs. Hang in there. I’m here if you need me. Any time, obviously…” She laughs, then hangs up the phone.

I stand, lifting my shirt to wipe my face, a cold breeze chilling me to my core, and I turn to take one last glance at my house—the pull of safety it brings makes me homesick for a life that will no longer exist in the morning, and there’s a deep thread of yearning aching at my chest, but I turn away. When I return, Marlowe’s already asleep, so I crawl into bed next to her, trying not to press my cold limbs to her body.

That morning, I woke to the sound of the shower running, Bon Iver playing over the speakers in the bathroom, just loud enough that I could hear the last verse of Re: Stacks:

This is not the sound of a new man

Or a crispy realization

It’s the sound of the unlocking and the lift away

Your love will be safe with me.

And now I could never listen to this album again without thinking of Marlowe, frozen in this moment, anytime I hear this song again— the feeling of complete and utter helplessness, me surrendering to Marlowe, putting my future in her hands.

When Marlowe opens the door, my eyes move to hers as she stands there, hesitant to walk back into the room, “Hey…” I speak, clearing the sleep from my throat. 

Marlowe’s eyes drop to the floor, and she walks to the closet, skimming through the outfits she brought from home. “I’m breaking up with Trent today—” she divulges.

“Are you sure,” she turns, glancing over her shoulder, then back to her clothes, “I just feel like—what’s the point.”

Although I agree, I don’t say anything. It feels like another layer that I keep forgetting to factor in. Though I’m supportive, I don’t know what this means for us, if anything at all.

“He’s cheating on me…” and she lets out a light laugh, her shoulders bobbing up, “I guess I’ve cheated too—”

“I don’t think it’s the same, Lowe—”

“But isn’t it? Harry—!” She yells, and I leap off the bed. My first instinct is to wrap my arms around her. 

“He’s a fucking prick—He deserved it…” I whisper, leaning down, pushing the words into her ear, trying to kiss her neck, but she rips away from me, and stomps to the bathroom, then slams the door. 

“I’m sorry!” I shout, returning to the bed, and I sit there, burying my face in my hands.

The sound of the knob sounds, and I look up then. Marlowe opens the door and then goes back to getting ready. From the bed, I can see her reflection in the mirror, the fog around the glass clear at the center. I don’t know if her opening the door is an invitation, but I take my chance and lean against the door frame, shoving my hands in my pockets.

“I’m sorry—” she starts.

“You don’t—” I try.

“Harry, please…” and she turns around, pressing her body to the counter, “I’m having a hard time controlling my moods. They’re like—all over the fucking place…like even now. I’m talking to you…and I just want to cry…” 

“I understand—I mean, I don’t, but I can try…” I tell her.

She smiles, eyes darting to the floor, and crosses her arms, “You’re so confusing…” 

“I’m confusing?” I ask, genuinely curious.

Marlowe looks up then, smile still painted on her beautiful face, “Yeah—it’s just crazy that you’re like single…I don’t think I’ve ever heard of you dating anyone…”

“Because I haven’t—”

“Why?” she questions.

I shrug, “Don’t know…heartbreak and stuff—” Then she laughs, making me laugh.

“That’s the most elusive answer I’ve ever heard.”

I laugh again, “But is it?” And my pitch raises, trying to keep that smile on her face.

Marlowe licks her lips, eyes moving away as she bites down on her lower lip, “But you could like—have annnnnny girl…” she tells me.

“I don’t want other girls—” I tell her, with absolute certainty, driving home the point when I say:

“I’ve already told you that I like you.” And my gaze doesn’t leave her face. 

She clears her throat, “Well, now, you’re stuck with me for a little bit longer.” 

“Good…”

She perks up and laughs, “Oh yeah…I heard there was a mystery girl that gave you a gross hickey.”

I roll my eyes, bounding next to her, playfully pushing her out of the way to get a better look at my neck, “I know it looks gnarly—”

“I can’t believe I did that…” She tells me, eyes gazing at the hickey reflected in the mirror, “That was my first one—”

My eyes flick to hers, “Wait—really?” 

“Yes—I’ve always thought they were gross. I think I was pissed that Trent was walking around with another girl’s hickey on his neck, like I gave it to him, lying about it…”

I turned to face her, then, “What was his answer?”

“That it was a rash…and then Skylar came over the other day, and she had a hickey on her neck—she was the one that told me about yours, by the way, but still…”

“And what does that mean?” I ask, trying to pry, seeing if she has pieced it together herself yet. 

She shrugs, reaching up to my neck and pulling me closer to get a better look. “I didn’t know that hickeys were a trend,” she laughs, and my heart drops.

I try and keep my expression neutral, but Marlowe is too quick, “What?” She asks, smoothing her thumb over my bottom lip, and I press my lips to it, making her smile.

“Nothing—” I tell her, grabbing her hand to kiss the tips of her fingers, “You’re just beautiful…that’s all. Then she stands on the tips of her toes and kisses me, wrapping her arms around my neck.

Passing by Marlowe at school was like living in a parallel universe, where we were the same but abiding by the bounds of a law we no longer fit.

She didn’t tell me how or when she would break up with Trent; all she told me was that she would. I sat on the edge of my seat all morning, listening in on conversations, hoping to catch a clue or a tidbit of information, trying to stay ahead so I knew how to show up for Marlowe when or if she needed me.

Would she cry? Or rage? She was teetering on the edge of every emotion right now; there was no telling how this would play out. I still found myself second-guessing my position in her life. Even though we had this epic situation, it didn’t mean she owed me anything. At least, that’s what Gemma made it seem like, and it made sense, even though it made me doubt myself.

So many times, I picked up my phone, wanting to send her a text, but I knew I needed to give her space. I was only desperate because I wanted her to choose me. 

By lunch, I was still on the outs. The only news circulating was about some random girl being pregnant, except, so far, the people around me didn’t know her name. I knew it wasn’t Marlowe, or people would really be talking because dating Trent made you popular by association. 

Skylar was the first to sit at the table, flicking a glance my way the moment she sat at the table, and maybe there was a ghost of a smile, so faint I could barely see it, but something about her didn’t sit well with me, and as their table filled with the usual crowd, Marlowe and Trent were nowhere to be found. 

“Dude, did you hear?” Josh says, crashing his tray to the table. 

“What?” I ask, half interested.

Andy speaks up then, “Yeah, I heard too, but somehow I’m not surprised…”

“Oh my god—” Miley says as she slides into the seat next to Andy.

“Yo, your ex-friend Trent got Marlowe Asher pregnant—” He announces loud, and I peer around, guessing that the news was already buzzing around us, eyes shifting toward Marlowe’s table as she walks in with Trent, anger etched on every muscle of his face, and as soon as she takes a seat next to him, he leans down and starts whispering.

Each word he pushed into her ear looked sharp and pointed. His mouth scrunched like the conversation was leaving a bitter taste in his mouth; then, out of nowhere, Marlowe’s chair scrapes across the floor and stands to her feet, rage sweeping her features. 

“Can you just shut the fuck up—!” She screams—it’s like time itself stops, her voice echoing through the room as the voices around me start to silence, and I’m gripping my tray, unsure of what to do.

Trent flies out of his chair, his tall stature towering over Marlowe, sending my heart pounding in my chest. I couldn’t imagine that he would ever put his hands on her, but hopefully, he wouldn’t fucking dare try.

“You want me to shut my fucking mouth,” he booms, getting in her face. I hit Josh on the arm, scooting my chair back a few inches, and he gives me a slight nod; then Mikey stands, and I know they see it, too.

“I don’t care what you have to say anymore!” Marlowe yells, but she doesn’t stand down, even though he’s inches from her face, his anger visible to every person in this room, and I’m clenching my jaw, a cold sweat spreading over my palms. 

“So you think you’re going to have my baby and not say a fucking word…god—you’re so fucking stupid.”

“Trent, I’m not having a baby—and if I were, it would never be yours—I would rather die than be stuck with you.” Her words send a flutter to the pit of my stomach, and even though it’s not the time, the thought of her loathing him this much makes me happy.

This news hits his ego because he leans up, crossing his arms over his chest, and smiles, “Oh really—because if I can recall correctly, it didn’t take you very long to spread those legs for me…what was it…like a week after we started dating…” He laughs then, brushing a finger under her chin, and she smacks it away. 

Chatter erupts in low whispers, “Do you feel good about that one? Only a loser would dig that low—” She says, pushing him against the wall, squeezing a handful of his shirt, “I fucking hate you with every fiber of my being,” She seethes. 

Trent grabs Marlowe’s wrist, and she winces, a pained look overtaking her face. Joshes chair grates across the tile, getting Trent’s attention; then I stand, locking eyes with him.

Marlowe glances over, eyes flitting between the three of us standing, then around the lunch room, all eyes on them. She laughs then, releasing the fabric of his shirt, turning to face everyone, “If any of you girls were ever wonder what Trent would be like in bed—He fucking sucks!” She announces, bringing her hands up to her mouth. 

“Well, maybe if you were more like this—crazy,” He yells, moving his hands around, “I wouldn’t have to beg you to sleep with me.”

She smiles, “And you just proved my point, you fucking idiot…We’re done—” 

“Well guys—” Trent says, needing the last word, “Marlowes single now…and I’ve heard she’s pretty easy.” 

This pisses Marlowe off, and while Trent is trying to put on a show, she snatches an empty tray off the table and slams it across his face the second he turns around, slapping that stupid fucking smirk right off his face, taking everyone by surprise as the tension thickens in the air, everyone holding their breath, Trent momentarily silenced, and all you hear is the tray hitting the ground.

And while I don’t condone violence, he fucking deserved getting put in his place, and honestly, the sound of that tray hitting his pretty face was so damn epic that I felt it in my soul, soaring on the fact that he’ll never be able to live that one down. 

Marlowe stands there blank-faced, taking in the damage, I think stunned because she didn’t even flinch, no uncertainty in her action, and then, like a badass, turns and walks out the lunch room, running a hand through her hair, completely unphased by the wreckage as cheers implode.

It’s like a scene playing out in a movie, except there’s no director that’s yell cut, and the aftermath is Trent, standing there clutching his pretty face, crying, yelling “Bitch,” as Marlowe walks off. Blood drooling from his mouth between sobs, Skylar rushes over, panic gripping her manic movements as she attempts to help—Trent pushing her away like a big baby, his pride still getting the best of him, shouting, “I think she broke my tooth,” over and over like anyone cared. 

I went straight home and packed a bag. This would be the last week that Marlowe would be house-sitting for her Grandma, so I wanted to make it count. I wanted to give her the perfect week so that she could forget about all of the big things—and even then, a part of me wanted to show her that we could work; that part of me thought everything could work because what if she wanted to keep this baby? I needed to show her that I could be there during the hard times:

The first night was an emotional blur. I sat outside Marlowe’s Grandma’s house for two hours before I even heard a word from her. I was stuck in one of those helpless loops of second-guessing myself, raking my brain for any reason why she wouldn’t want to talk to me anymore, thinking maybe my existence would become a reminder of everything going wrong in her life.

I kept thinking maybe I was to blame for all of this; if I hadn’t sought her out, would we be in this same mess right now? Would the universe have found a way to bring us together because everything about this felt right, like maybe this was my future, and whatever I had planned before was just an idea jotted down on a piece of paper, crumbled in a waste basket, getting pushed to the back of my mind like a forgotten memory?

I had never felt so sure about something in my life, and when Marlowe finally pulled into the drive. She got out of her car and stood in the middle of the lawn, waiting for me to approach, staring helplessly, her big brown eyes puffy. She had definitely been crying—it was also the first time I had noticed the exhaustion etched into her features like the world was ringing her out—I had so many questions, but I shoved them aside, leaping out of the car, my heart hammering in my chest as a smile spread on her face. She had never looked more beautiful to me than at that moment. 

Her presence hummed through my body, a shiver of joy racing up my spine, chills spreading across my skin like wildfire the second she lifted herself onto the tips of her toes, her arms wrapping around my neck. When her mouth crashed into mine, I knew this was it; I knew I was in love because I’ve never wanted something so bad in my life—call it what you want, but at that moment, she was my entire world, whether it was changing for better or worse, this kiss was familiar, her hands on my body were real, and when she breathed, “I want you,” into my mouth, I was lost.

We had barely made it through the door before she tugged at the button of my jeans. I had never seen this side of her, the hunger undoubtedly apparent in her blown-out pupils. Then she kicked the door shut, her eyes never leaving mine. 

I kept my gaze focused on hers, trying to get a read on the situation, waiting for the smile to reach her eyes, and when I wasn’t moving fast enough, she started taking off her own clothes, pushing me down to the ground, yet I went down willingly, abiding by whatever she wanted because I knew I was good at this, making her feel good, and that’s what I chalked it up to—she just wanted to feel good.

So, I played into it, taking the lead, climbing on top of her, pushing into her without warning—doing all the things that she liked—and when she said “more,” I pushed deeper as she gasped out in pain or pleasure I don’t know, because we were both lost in it, in that rhythm that had become ours and then Marlowe yelled, “More—deeper—” and so I listened, I listened every time she wanted more until I was burying myself inside her, harder, deeper, listening to every moan, that rolled off her lips.

I knew she was close when the grip on her legs tightened, calling out my name, so I drove deeper, basking in my own pleasure as she called out my name, her body tensing underneath me. I knew I had her, gave her exactly what she wanted, and then I was coming, pinning her to the ground with my last final thrusts, lost in the euphoria of satisfaction, sweeping through every muscle in my body as I went limp over her, burying my face into the crook of her neck.

At first, I thought she was laughing, her body trembling under mine, something I’d witnessed before. I thought, “Yeah, that was really good.” I breathed, but then her hands started pushing at my chest, and when I lifted my head, big, wet tears fell from the corners of her eyes, landing in her hair, now sprawling across the carpet. 

I was confused, stunned by the tears, and when her push became a shove, forcing me off her, I pushed myself up, ripping out of her as a loud yelp filled my ear, making my slowing heart pick back up, my eyes trained on her face. Marlowe burst into more tears then, grabbing at her lower belly as panic started surging through my body, my hand shaking as I tried to reach out to her. 

She started moving away then, crawling backward, her hand now pushing into her stomach, and all I could think was that I just fucked up because the pained look on her face was agonizing, and I didn’t know. I didn’t think I was hurting her, and then I’m saying it out loud, “I didn’t—”

“I didn’t know—I’m—” I force, past the lump in my throat, tears stinging at my eyes.

Marlowe shakes her head, clutching her belly, and pushes herself up to stand on wobbly legs. Then she turns and runs toward the stairs. I’m up on my feet in a matter of seconds, debating what I should do. Then I dart up the stairs, hoping to catch her. 

As soon as I reach the top landing, I hear the bathroom door slam, feeling my heart drop in my chest, guilt swallowing me whole.

The only thing I could do was wait.

And that’s what I did. I waited outside the bathroom until the fog of my thoughts crept in. Stealing me entirely until I was so lost in myself that I forgot where I was and what I was doing here— realizing I could no longer hear Marlowe’s sobs muffled behind a door I couldn’t open, physically or emotionally, not a single word enough to let me in, and I swear I tried. 

Begging until I was in tears, promising over and over that I didn’t mean to hurt her, promising I would never do it again, I never meant to hurt her, convincing myself it was all my fault until another stream of thoughts broke way, making me question if I had even done anything wrong—I did what she asked. Isn’t that what she wanted? 

Was I the reason for the tears, or was it the weight of the day, and all I needed her to do was open the door? To open the damn door until I was banging, yelling, “Open the damn door, Marlowe, anger forcing me under, until I didn’t even recognize the person banging on the door, jiggling the handle like some mad man. She was making me crazy, like maybe I was going crazy.

At some point, I must have gotten defeated, scorned by her words on the other side of the door, “Stop it, Harry! You’re scaring me—” Did Marlowe scream those words, or was it all in my head? 

Am I still here? That’s all I can think when the sound of the knob stirs me from each of those devouring thoughts as the door creaks open; as Marlowe steps out, and with her, the scent of her body wash, freshly showered, my soccer hoodie swallowing small frame, hidden below. The warm air ghosts over my skin as she stands there in the doorway, looking down at me, and the moment we lock eyes, I break, my head falling to my knees, hoping that I didn’t ruin this.

Stripped and bare, I am alone, I am nothing, but I want to be everything for this girl, this girl standing before me—because Marlowe is holding out her hand, and when she leads me to her bed, taking me into her arms. She lets me fall apart as I press my head into her chest, and I close my eyes, drifting off to the rhythm of her heartbeat—because this is love, right? I am in love; I am miserably and hopelessly in love. 

The next day was a blur. I skipped school, turned off my phone, and disappeared to the world outside these walls. Whatever I thought I needed was wrapped in my arms as we drifted in and out of sleep, only stirring to use the bathroom. At times, I guzzled gulps of water from the faucet in my hands, parched, only sneaking away when I knew Marlowe was asleep—thinking maybe misery is the light at the end of the tunnel because how could I have everything I want, and still feel this ache of longing?

Sometimes, I slept, and sometimes, I watched her sleep, leaning in to kiss my favorite parts of her face, trying not to wake her. When she chose to open her eyes, it was only long enough to cry until she drifted back to sleep, crying in short bursts that stole what little energy she had. 

At times, she turned away, wrapping my arms around her body, clutching my hands to her chest, then to her stomach, and every time I pressed my hand flat to her lower belly, she cried harder, whispering “Sorry” like it was her fault; like this was all her fault, and then I was crying, and she would turn to face me, stroking her thumb over my cheek, tracing her fingers along the lines of my face like she was seeing me for the first time, a pained look in her eyes, the saddest look I’ve ever seen, and even today if I closed my eyes I can still see that look of goodbye like she was letting me go, but I didn’t want to believe it then.

Because there she was in my arms, and there was nothing else but this, my hand pressed to her belly, thinking of the life we created, how we could make this work, that all I would need was for her to just give me a chance—and how fickle we are when we’re young when we think we know everything like we’re invincible to the world—Only if we’re lucky enough that the world hasn’t swallowed us whole, because that’s what I thought. That I could take on the world—It’s crazy how quickly the world can knock you on your ass when you think you’re on your way to figuring it out. 

I skipped school the rest of the week, refusing to leave the tiny nibble of hope I found myself holding onto. I wanted to spend every second that I could with Marlowe, no matter the consequence. 

After spending that whole day in bed, I decided that instead of both of us wasting away, I would get up and show her that I could handle this, take care of her, and make everything perfect. She wouldn’t have to lift a finger—Yes, this meant leaving her side, but she needed nourishment, substances. I didn’t think she could afford to lose any more weight, and the fact that she was so good at skipping meals made me wonder if there was an underlying problem, or at least a hint of one, because I’ve seen her eat plenty of times, just not consistently—and now she would have to eat for two, right?

When I knew my mum wouldn’t be home, I stole a few cookbooks and random stuff on soups. I wanted to make a cozy meal that would warm Marlowe’s insides up like a warm hug and keep her full if she decided to stay in bed. 

I took care at the store to pick out the right ingredients, double-checking the list I left open in the cart, the book taking up space at the top of the basket, apparently where a baby would fit. I had never paid much attention to this part, never thinking twice about a baby’s tiny legs fitting through the slots, until I passed by a mother and her baby, watching for a few seconds. Taking in their interaction, watching the mother lean down to kiss the top of the baby’s head, and every time she moved away, the baby would swing its tiny little legs dangling from the cart, with a huge grin on his little face, watching every move she made. 

I had no clue how old the baby was; to me, they all looked the same until today. The way he interacted with his mum blew my mind. I didn’t know they could do that; notice their surrounding, and when the mum looked over at me and smiled, the baby stared over at me until I smiled back, and it was like a light turning on in his teeny mind. He smiled back, watching me as they strolled out of the aisle, and I wondered how much Marlowe knew about babies or if this was something I should hold off asking.

It’s funny how many babies we’re out that morning, how many I actually noticed. When I got back, it was all I could think about: chopping vegetables while visualizing myself loading a baby into the car. Some of the babies were small enough to stay in their car seats—I knew it was a car seat because after I loaded all of my belongings in my trunk, I looked it up—Those were newborns, not like the ones I interacted with. I kept trying to picture lugging around one of those things. I knew I was strong enough to do it, but would Marlowe want to take that on?

While I was deep cleaning the bathroom on my hands and knees, I kept running over different scenarios in my head, wondering if Marlowe would be open to breastfeeding or if she would rather bottle-feed. I also looked up that topic because I remembered seeing another baby holding its own bottle, and that was another thing I didn’t know they were capable of.

While the stew was cooking, I cleaned. All the while, I was building these little facts up in my head, my Google search putting in more work than ever as I started making a list in my notes, typing away on my laptop every time a new thought popped up in my mind. With every new interesting fact, I found myself getting used to the idea—that maybe this could work, that maybe we could do this.

I was vacuuming the stairs when Marlowe appeared, stopping midway to kiss me. She looked lively, the minty freshness of her breath filling my mouth, and when I kissed her neck, she smelled like vanilla bathing in the sun on a warm day. Her hair was up in a high ponytail, and my eyes flitted over the curly strands as she made her descent down the stairs.

When I made my way back to the kitchen, Marlowe had a jar of peanut butter in her hand, bringing a spoonful to her mouth.

“Your stoop smells gwood,” She voices with a glob of peanut butter stuck to the roof of her mouth; then she laughs, trying to force down the rest as she dug her spoon into the jar again.

I laughed, glad that actual words were leaving her mouth. “Are you hungry? “ I asked, grabbing the bowls.

“I’m starving—” She answers.

Me too—” 

She shoves the spoon back in the jar and sets it on the counter, “I’ve never had a guy cook for me…” she tells me, walking over to the stove.

“Well—I’ve never cooked for a girl…” I confess, “Unless my mum and sister count?”

She smiles, “I think that counts…” and moves behind me, wrapping her arms around my waist.

“Fine—I’ve never cooked for a girl I’ve liked before…”

She squeezes me, then, “So you still like me?” She asks, pushing the words into my back, sending a muffled vibration to the top of my spine. I stretch my neck to try and look over my shoulder, but she’s holding me in place.

“I would never clean the toilet for someone I don’t like…trust me…” I joke, a bowl in each hand, and I lift my arms up in the air, Marlowe unmoving, glued to my body as I shuffle my way to the silverware drawer.

“You know where everything is.” She states.

I chuckle, “I’ve had time to grow familiar…I guess—”

“That’s hot—” She tells me as I place the soups on the counters.

She’s making me smile, everything she’s doing, “Yes…the soup is hot—”

And she scoffs then, pushing away with a smile on her face, “I meant you—”

“I know…I’m just teasing…” I tell her, scooting a bowl of stew toward her, and she picks it up unreluctantly, making me grateful that I wouldn’t have to push.

She brings the bowl up to her nose. “God—this looks so good!” she coos, making my heart leap because she looks so happy that I could cry at the thought of what the alternative would have been—me coaxing her out of the dark cave, the room had become, the blinds drawn, curtains closed, blacking out any ray of light desperate to push through.

“It tastes even better than it smells…oh my god, Harry, it’s so good,” she blurts, trying to shove another bite into her mouth, but it’s too hot, and she nearly burns her lips with the effort. 

“Careful—Careful…I want to kiss those lips later…” I kid, passing her a napkin.

I place my bowl on the counter and pull my open laptop toward me, typing my current question into the search engine; “What should pregnant women avoid eating?” A list pops up, and I start reading down the list, stopping near the top, when the word “alcohol” catches my eye, “Oh shit—” I say under my breath, looking over at Marlowe.

“What?” Marlowe’s eyebrows jut up in surprise, “Is it homework? Did you forget an assignment?

I shake my head, panic rising, “There’s wine in that stew…” I tell her, eyes wide.

“So—?” She asks, confusion pulling between her brow, “I’ve had wine before…”

“Well—I mean—” I start.

She shakes her head this time. “What? Was it not part of the recipe? It tastes delicious either way,” she tells me, casually shrugging her shoulders, not a care in the world.

“Well—it’s not good for the baby…” I answer hesitantly, not sure if I should say anything.

“Mmmm…” She hums, letting her spoon sink into her soup, and she steps forward and swipes a finger over the trackpad, bringing the screen back to life.

The low light of the screen casts a soft glow over Marlowe’s face as her eyes roam over the computer screen, then fall to the list, moving her fingers over the touchpad, the list much longer than I expected, “Wow—so nothing good, huh?” She says flatly, then takes another bite of her soup.

When she finishes the list, I watch the arrow move across all the tabs I’ve left open at the top, my heart racing every time she clicks over a new one, evidence that my mind has been busy.

“I guess I was just bored…” I tell her when she moves away, silently spooning a bite of soup into her mouth. Her face is totally neutral; I don’t know what she’s thinking, and when I exit Safari, my notes app is open, clear as day as to what I’ve been up to.

“Wait, “ she says when she catches me trying to clear the screen. “May I?” 

Marlowe sets her bowl on the counter, moving back to the screen; I step away without pause, not wanting her to think I’m hiding anything, nor am I ashamed of what I’ve been doing, even though I can feel my face growing hot. 

Her eyes shift to me and then back to the computer screen. “You’ve been busy…” she implies, and I watch as she mouths the sentences silently to herself.

“It’s kind of a mess. They were all just quick thoughts…really random—”

“Rear-facing and forward-facing car seats?” She says, pinching her brows together in confusion.

“Yeah—I know—” I say.

“I never even heard of that…what does that even mean?” she asks, not looking away from the computer, and I’m not sure if she wants me to answer or if she’s just thinking out loud.

I chime in anyway. “I think they said the baby should be rear-facing—like the seat facing the back windshield—” I explain, placing my bowl on the counter next to me. 

“Oh—wow—”

“But that’s only for the first year—” I continue, her gaze moving to mine, “Or like if they reach a certain height and weight…but I couldn’t figure out if it was one or the other…like if they had to be a certain weight or if they were a tall baby—if they got the pass…”

“Hmmm…” She says, scanning my face, then her eyes are back on the screen.

“Yikes…Breastfeeding…sounds yikes—” and Marlowe shakes her head, moves past that one quickly, and I wonder if she would reconsider it later, like if we decided to keep this baby.

“Wait—they can smile as early as six weeks?” She questions, brows shooting up, eyes wide, the whites of her eyes brighten with the light, “That seems so little…”

“That’s exactly what I thought…I saw a baby at the store, and I couldn’t tell how old it was, and then I looked it up when I got here…”

She peers over at me, swallowing hard, “Yeah?”

“Yeah…I guess I’ve been kind of thinking about it today…” I confess, running a hand up the back of my head.

Marlowe moves away from the counter and back to her soup. “And does it scare you?” she asks, raising her spoon to her mouth.

“I mean kinda, but I don’t know…I would rather be informed than go into anything blindly…you know…seems like a big deal. I want to be supportive in any way that I can…”I answer, trying to force a smile, but the look on Marlowe’s face is anything but interested. She looks panicked, her eyes darting back to the screen as our silence mounts.

I pick up my bowl, taking a tasteless bite as the worry sets in. When Marlowe walks over to the stove and fills her bowl with seconds, she wanders to the fridge, taking in the cards and pictures pinned between magnets. Marlowe takes a bite, then reaches up and yanks a pink card from the refrigerator.

“My cousin just had a baby…” She announces, breaking the silence, and she holds up a pink card that reads, “It’s A Girl,” then she flips it over, reading the words printed on the back.

“She’s my sister’s age—” she tells me.

“Yeah?” I ask.

“I should check in on her…see how she’s doing,” Marlowe says, shrugging her shoulders.

Then she lets out a light laugh, “Random, but I do remember her saying she was always horny…it makes so much sense now…” Then her eyes flick to me, a smirk turning up at the corners of her mouth.

“Marlowe—” 

“I didn’t see that on your list…” She expresses, nudging her head at my laptop with a smile.

I shake my head, unable to bring myself to smile, not after last time, “I don’t know Marlowe…after—”

“No—No—No—we’re looking this up!” she interrupts, rushing over to my computer, then her fingers move over the keyboard as I lose my appetite at the thought of another repeat, unwilling to subject us both to another moment like that. 

“Okay—” she says, dragging a finger over the screen, reading the last line out loud, “Some women also have cramps, similar to period cramping, after an orgasm.”

Her face lights up with excitement over this line, taking me by surprise, “This Harry—” she says, grabbing my arm, “This is what happened the other day…it just took me by surprise…It was just a pain I wasn’t expecting, but now that I know—”

“I don’t know…Marlowe, it looked excruciating…” I push, my throat tightening, and I gently place my bowl on the counter, starting to feel sick to my stomach.

Marlowes is the complete opposite because her bowl is back in her hands, mindlessly shoving a big bite into her mouth, eyes moving back to the screen, reading the information to herself, “It basically says do what makes you comfortable…I mean, we obviously don’t have to be rough—”

“God—Marlowe…” I breathe.

“What? Is this upsetting you?” she asks, tugging at my arm, “Talk to me—”

“Like, would that be worth it to you? I question, trying to keep my anger at bay.

Marlowe’s face drops then, “I mean—I don’t know. I’m already pregnant. What’s the worst that can happen now?” Then she laughs, “Harry, how many times are we going to be able to just have sex…like no worries—no, man, I hope I don’t get pregnant, thoughts eating away at me…or you…we can just like…do it.”

And I mean, she had a point, so there I was, reading over every bit of information, typing in question after question as Marlowe ate at another bowl, and then after, I felt sure. I closed out of all the tabs and shut the computer, feeling somewhat better. 

“I bet you have really good grades…” She says, eyeing me over her shoulder as she puts the stew away, gathers dishes, and places them in the sink.

I smile, “I mean, I had to keep my grade up for sports…” 

“And were you this thorough before you had sex for the first time?” She pries.

I shrug, shooting her a grin. “Okay—that explains a lot,” she tells me, wrapping her arms around my body.

“Okay…there’s one other question I’m dying to know…” She says, glancing up at me, “Who was your first…who was so lucky?”

I click my tongue, looking away, “I don’t know about lucky…is anyone’s first time great…” I say, slowly swaying us back and forth.

She shrugs, “I’m sure you at least tried to make it good for her…” 

“I did—” I confirm.

“Okay…so tell me who…”

“I don’t know…why do you want to know…?”

“I’ll tell you mine…” she jokes.

“I already know—” 

“Exactly—the whole school knows—” She says, burying her face into my chest.

And I press a kiss to the top of her head, pushing the name out in an exhale, “Meily Jenkins…”

“Really?” she asked, lifting her head.

“Yeah…”

“Hmmm…that makes so much sense…” She expresses, “Like that’s exactly who I would picture you dating—”

“You picture me dating?” I question.

She laughs, “I’ve pictured a lot of things—” she grins, “But I guess if I had to choose a girl, it would be her…two soccer captains…you guys are made for each other…like really hot athletic sex…”

“Athletic sex, Marlowe—?”

“Yes…like wild, aggressive, just ran 100 miles on the field, I have all this energy…let me take it out on you…kind of sex.”

“It was never like that…” I tell her.

“Really…hmmm…” And she looks down, pressing her lips together, pondering the information, like she should be disappointed, “damn, what a waste…that sucks…”

“I’m fine with it…” I laugh, “You know what doesn’t suck?”

And she straightens, curious, “What tell me? Is there more?”

“What doesn’t suck is our sex…it’s without a doubt the best I’ve ever had…like hands down. All I can think about—”

“Really?” she asks, a shy smile spreading across her face, “The best?” 

I nod, “The best—and maybe we should do some more exploring—” I tell her, hunching down to lift her onto my shoulder.

“Harry—wait—wait—” And I stop in my tracks, “My stomach is so full, I don’t want to throw up!” she laughs out.

“Oh right—I’m sorry…” 

If I’ve ever thought of paradise, I’ve thought of this: three blissful days of Marlowe. Not a care in the world, just this: eat, sleep, and breathe Marlowe. 

If anyone needed me, I wouldn’t know; if my mum had been calling, I didn’t care. No one else existed but us, tucked away in bed. It felt like it couldn’t get any better than this. It was strange how it was all working out. We only had a couple of days left at her Grandma’s. I wanted to end the week with a bang, so I got her a ticket to the Wilco concert tomorrow night. 

Marlowe and I seemed to click in so many ways, not just in bed but in our interest. I’ve never talked to someone for hours on end without running out of things to say. I’d never met someone I could fully be myself with—Never afraid to say the wrong thing or feel the constant need to impress her or uphold this image that everyone held me by—I was just Harry, no other labels.

I woke early on the morning of the concert, running out to get flowers and sneaking by my house to print off the tickets. Thankfully, no one was awake, but I left a note for my mum, placing one of the roses I bought on the counter next to it. I thought this would be a nice touch, maybe lessen the impact of my punishment later, if there was one.

I knew I would have homework to make up since I ended up skipping more school than I expected, but I didn’t care. 

When Marlowe woke and found me downstairs, the vase of roses was the first thing that caught her eye, and then me, of course. The look on her face had me reeling for hours afterward. The genuine surprise left the topic open all day, kissing me every time the thought popped into her mind.

That afternoon, before the concert, we dropped by her house to grab an outfit that she had to wear. She knew her mother would be gone all day and begged me to come in with her—This would be a side of her I had never seen before, and although she was playing it casual, she kept periodically glancing over her shoulder as we reached her room, which said otherwise.

“You’re room is exactly how I pictured it…” I tell her, peering around.

She laughs, flipping through the closet, “You’ve pictured my room?” she jokes, looking over at me.

“Yes—I’ve pictured a lot of things…” I retort, using her line from last night.

I’m scanning a finger over her well-curated CD collection when she says, “I’ve definitely pictured you in it…except it was always on the bed…” And I peek over, catching the grin widening on her face. 

“Yeah?” I ask, licking my lips, “Show me…” 

That’s all it took, and then she was locking her bedroom door, pulling her shirt over her head as I kicked my boots off, unbuttoning my pants, and god, this part was easy, so easy that it scared me, how good we were at this part—How little we had to say, how well I knew her body, the way she knew exactly what I liked, this mutual trust I had never had before, to this extent, and as she pinned me to the bed, with her hips, with that stare that I don’t think I’ll ever forget, she moans, “I think I’m falling in love with you…” and I know she’s on the verge of coming. Without thought, I’m thrusting my hips up, driving into her, coming harder than I’ve ever come before as she comes undone, and I lean up and wrap her in my arms, letting her ride out wave after wave, and she hugs me then, laughing, a giggly shy laugh rolling out of her mouth into my neck and I start laughing, her words a haze swirl seeping into my mind. 

I didn’t know how to respond, but I’m glad it turned into this—pleased that she wasn’t waiting for an answer— I guess I never dreamed of her saying it or if I would ever hear the words fall from her mouth. 

We lay there for a while, the subject never returning. While we were getting dressed, I spotted an acceptance letter posted on a corkboard right next to a school logo, and I held my breath, walking over to read it.

“Is this where you’re going to school?” I ask, wondering how this subject had never come up, feeling like an idiot.

Marlowe glances up from adjusting her bra, then smiles, “Yeah, I’ve already got everything set up—” She says as my heart plummets to the pit of my stomach, “My dad’s mom lives there. So, it kind of works out perfectly. I’ve been working my ass off to get into that school…”

“Do you know where you’re going to school?” she asked as if we didn’t have a whole situation on our hands. 

I can’t look at her because I’m not sure if I could keep it together, “I was thinking about going back to England, but I’m not a hundred percent sure yet…” And this is a lie because my future is laid out similar to hers, a knowing plan waiting for me just on the other side of this reality we’re in. 

“Oh yeah—” Marlowe says, coming up to next to me, making me jump, and she smiles, then turns to stare at the board, her face beaming with pride—a look of absolute certainty, and this is the first time it hits me that I may not hold any space in her life beyond this.

“England is so badass…” She notes.

“Is it?” I question, turning away, “It’s just another place…”

Thankfully, she isn’t picking up on the shift in mood. “Well, Mr…” she says.

“We can’t all be so lucky to be born and raised there for most of our lives…” Then she wraps her body around me from behind, “We should get out of here. My mom will be home soon…”

I know I’m too quiet on the car ride back to her Grandma’s. I couldn’t help how bummed I felt, replaying the song that had just ended, Wilco filling the car with the song ‘Please Be Patient With Me’ now bleeding my soul, the lyrics cutting at my frayed edges, and maybe Marlowe is more in tune than I thought because she reaches over then, resting her hand on my knee, sorrow washing over her face while her eyes stay pinned to the road, and it’s the last lines that stole me the first time we listened: 

How can I warn you when my tongue turns to dust like we’ve discussed?

It doesn’t mean that I don’t care

It means I’m partially there

You’re gonna need to be patient with me

Next plays You Are My Face, and I grab hold of her hand, squeezing as I watch her profile light up, a small smile playing on her lips. This brings me back, and she grips my knee, then moves her hand away to drive as the song takes on a whole new meaning—and that sinking feeling of what we are doing is back, but I don’t let it take me, not completely. 

I didn’t want to ruin the night, so I put on a smile, and when we got to the house, we blared Wilco the whole time, changing between CDs: showering, getting ready, talking to her while she managed to line her eyes perfectly, those wing things, that every girl says is hard to nail, and she does it with little effort, leaving her hair curly and free, and she’s a fucking site, and it’s so hard to be mad when she looks like a star I’ve just plucked from the night sky, glowing under the soft, warm lights of the bathroom, and I want to kiss her whole face, but I don’t want to ruin her makeup.

It was a two-and-a-half-hour drive to the venue, talking the entire time. I was so swept up in my feelings for Marlowe that I didn’t see it coming—The end. 

Later, this would leave me with only one question: What is love? Something I keep asking myself, still to this very day, so far removed from the situation, from a past that could never be taken back, and when I think of her, I’ll always go back to this night because I still don’t know where it went wrong.

Was it love leading up to this point, or did I love the idea? How long had she known? Did she know that night in the kitchen when she read through my entire list? Me taking time to show her we could do this. Did she know when we fell into bed together? How many times was I inside her before she thought, hmmm, maybe this isn’t what I want?

The concert was perfect. Every second was like a picture reel of tiny beats, where I could see this working out for the best. We were so good together, and Marlowe fit me so well. 

When I was wrapped around her body, swaying to the music, whispering lyrics into her ear, getting lost in the moment, the world around us fading away, I felt it; I felt her running through me like a storm, a storm I couldn’t outrun.

She held onto me the whole time, clutching my arms around her as if I’d leave, inching us forward every chance we got until we were front row, starring up the stage in awe, the music humming through our bodies, taking every opportunity I could to kiss her neck, her cheek, breathe in the scent of her hair. I wanted to remember every second, I wanted to look back and be able to tell her, this was the night I knew without a doubt that I loved you. 

And maybe love is erratic when you’re young, but the heart knows even when we don’t—I was madly, deeply in love, and I know she felt it too. Every time she looked up at me, her big brown eyes reflected the stage lights, sparkling as her head fell back against my chest, and she pursed her lips, silently asking for a kiss, the smile on her face magnetic when I pulled away, sucking me in further, until I felt like I couldn’t breathe without her. 

Then our song started playing, and she turned around, slinging her arms around my neck, jumping up and down, excitement buzzing through her. She pressed her lips to mine, stealing the words from my mouth when she leaned up and whispered, “This is our song…” Then she pulled away with a smile, wrapped her arms around my torse, and buried her cheek into my chest.

Marlowe turned around just as the bridge was about to take off, and I grabbed hold of her, enveloping her in my arms once again. Then I lean down, nuzzling my nose against the shell of her ear, and push out the words, “I love you…” Hoping they land at the perfect moment.

A/N: Love always has a funny way of showing up! What are your thoughts?

All Chapters<-

[givemearmstopraywith]

how do i reconcile being religious (catholic specifically) while also being pro-choice? I’m sorry if this sounds like a bait question, it’s not i promise! But recently i’ve been grappling with my faith again and trying to immerse myself with god again and i feel a bit….dissonant i guess? over having strong opinions on abortion and then on the other hand being religious. i don’t feel grief about being pro-choice, it’s something i believe proudly and w integrity. but it seems like i am in between two opposing great forces which demand of me to choose one over the other? do you have any kind words on how i could possibly reconcile with these? thank you x

i just finished writing research close to this topic, specifically on the problem of mary's consent. which of course comes back to issue of bodily autonomy which is central to questions of abortion. and mary is a problem: theology can neither acknowledge the problem of rape nor accept a consenting woman. to not consent is to be raped, to have control over your body, to say "yes," to consent, is to show a yearning for sexual pleasure, for oneness, and to innate acknowledge that a woman has control over her body before Go does. women must be both and neither: that is why we have the virgin mary. according to contemporary understandings of consent, mary simply could not consent: effectively God has autonomy over her body before she does.

the historical mary is a woman: she is jewish, poor, young, unmarried, and pregnant, and is the ultimate embodiment of liberation theology’s “preferential option for the poor.” but she is absolutely absent of any sexuality. when marcella althaus-reid states that poverty is a bodily and sexual matter, mary cannot be included in this statement. mary is never indecent: her existence is pinioned on the concept of her decency. she is the “right” version of all women, the perfect mate for the god-man: she is submissive, and receives him without becoming distracted by the matter of her self-determination. mary is never overcome by a profane hunger. theology requires this ultimate model of femininity to measure against all other women.

elisabeth schussler fiorenza calls attention to the danger to ecclesiastical and political authorities if mary is rendered as a self-determining single mother: a single woman who is “god-empowered, god-protected” and “filled with the holy spirit who exalts the violated and makes the fruit of illegitimacy holy.” if mary was rendered as excitedly or joyfully consenting to the act of impregnation by god, she would not suit the dominant narrative of women’s sexuality in theology: her joy can only be vocalised after she has already submitted to the masculine-penetrative god-man.

a woman who leans into the oneness and pleasure of union with god because it is pleasurable, out of the locus of her body and her sense of self-determination rather than a sense of duty or submission, has no defined place in christian theology. she can only be appropriated and co-opted by dominant patriarchal narratives, talked over, and silenced. a mary who found pleasure and joy in her impregnation, who readily and excitedly agreed to the divine directive in full knowledge of its implications, implies a femininity which cannot be controlled.

i mention mary because mary is the nexus of most catholic arguments about abortion, whether she is specifically named or not. she is the excuse used to block anyone regarded as "receptive" to patriarchy from having control of their body. i personally read the lucan narrative as mary consenting: let what you have said be done to me. this is consent, though we may debate whether or not it was informed or coerced. but i cannot imagine that christ would have come into the world through an unwilling mother. nor does God force belief on those who do not consent to believe: only people, only dogma, forces itself on the unconsenting. so in this way i can say that God cannot exist to us without consent. violation is a human creation: it is humans who violate God at the crucifixion. as such God cannot exist to us without bodily autonymy, without allowing us choice- it is the human creation of fascism which denies choice, and i hold that dimension of denial absolutely separate from God, because it is not part of God. God may be used to excuse it, but God cannot deny the natural choice and autonomy of his creation without also violating his own existence.

as for catholicism, it is old and it loves augustine. the idea that abortion is wrong is a fairly new invention in the cahtolic church and really only comes from fears that all babies are destined to hell. medieval catholicism saw life as beginning at the "quickening," which could mean anything but was seen as the first movement of the child in the womb. quickening was seen as the moment of ensoulment, and church views of abortion dictated that after ensoulment, a baby would be condemned if not baptized. it is this bizarre and exceptionally antiquated view that is the foundation of contemporary abortion debates: but even contemporary ideas of "human at conception" are ludicrous in comparison to how medieval catholicism understood when a person became a person separate from the person of the one bearing it. christianity dispelled with the judaic idea that the mother's life was more important than the fetus: it is typical of christianity to dispel of its own humanity.

effectively what i'm saying is that things change. the church changes: we find ourselves in unfortunate epochs, but the catholic church is prone to evolution and i appreciate that. but i don't feel, in any way, that being pro-choice and being catholic are at odds with each other. your morality is simply beyond where the magisterium can currently gather itself, and that's okay. the church has always been like that and probably always will be. it is the body of believers, those in the grassroots, those out in the world, who matter the most: over and above canon law, since all law (unlike God) is subject to editing and change. maybe that's a bit controversial: i don't believe it is. jesus didn't live in the temple, he lived on the street. he loved his religion, but he also knew that certain aspects did more harm then good. and maybe he felt conflicted over his love for his faith and his conviction about humanity. you walk where he treads: be proud of that.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Charlotte Clymer at Charlotte's Web Thoughts:

Over the years, I’ve occasionally seen the argument pop up from some conservatives that men’s bodies are controlled through the military draft system. They use this bad faith response to women’s bodies being controlled by anti-choice lawmakers. In recent months, this argument has been more prevalent, particularly online, as abortion has become arguably the single most potent issue in the presidential campaign. So, let's quickly discuss this ridiculous talking point given that some conservative men have betrayed their complete ignorance on the Selective Service System.

Arguing the draft is to men like abortion is to women is ludicrous for three big reasons. First, the draft in the United States hasn't been in effect since December 27th, 1972. That was the last day young men were inducted in our Armed Forces. And yes, that means young men in the U.S. have been free of being drafted longer than young women have had abortion access. Second, the consequences for young men failing to register for the draft are not even close to being similar for young women who don't have abortion access. It's like comparing a scratch on your car to a catastrophic wreck. Young men who don't register for the draft essentially cannot be hired by the federal government and some state governments. And in some states, they cannot get a driver's license without registering for the draft.

That's completely unjust, I agree, but it ain't close to being the same. Conservative men will then come back and claim young men can be prosecuted for failing to register, but this is basically false. The Justice Department decided to suspend prosecutions for draft registration back in 1988 because they realized it's pointless and helps no one. Then they’ll claim that young men who don’t register for the draft can't receive federal student aid for college, but this isn't true, either. That law is no longer on the books. A young man's federal aid for college will NOT be impacted by their draft registration. Meanwhile, young women who don't have abortion access can literally die and many have. Women have died at hospitals because doctors were too afraid to offer abortion care for fear of breaking cruel laws implemented after the Dobbs ruling.

[...] For more than five decades, feminist leaders have argued that: 1) young men should have autonomy over their bodies and a military draft is the complete opposite of that and 2) exempting young women from the draft is a sexist double standard. But when efforts come up to either eliminate the military draft entirely OR require young women to register for it just like young men, it's Republicans in Congress who have led the way, every time, in killing those efforts. So, if you're a conservative young man who is angry about this double standard, I agree with you. It's not fair that you're required to register for the military draft and women aren't.

You have every right to be angry about that, but you should be angry at Republicans. Because it's feminist leaders who have been fighting for your equality all this time. It's the feminist movement who was first making the argument that young men shouldn't be coerced into military service. It's an issue of autonomy. And Republicans have consistently opposed that. So, please, don't compare draft registration to abortion access because it makes you look ridiculous, but moreover, you should hold Republican elected officials accountable for stripping away your autonomy in service to a sexist double standard. While you’re at it, thank feminist leaders who were calling this out long before you were born.

Charlotte Clymer wrote an excellent column on how males that were once being drafted to serve in the military is NOTHING like lots of American women losing abortion access as a result of Dobbs.

[misrepresentedmorallygrey]

PROPAGANDA

Dimitri Alexendre Blaiddyd

PLEASE NOTE: THE MOD OF THIS TOURNAMENT HATES THIS PROPAGANDA! THEY BELIEVE THAT IT'S ACTIVELY LYING ABOUT THE CHARACTER AND COMING FROM A PLACE OF HATE FOR SAID CHARACTER INSTEAD OF THE FANDOM CULTURE SURROUNDING HIM. You have been warned

Why is this man so woobified. The literal whole point of him is that he's meant to be a bait and switch for the typical perfect fire emblem lord hero. He's a sadistic killer without a hint of mercy for a huge part of the story, he works with the dictator church without considering whether or not there's something wrong with it, and his route ends in him being just as much of an imperialist as the others (taking over the whole continent and being crowned its ruler), just by a different name. He's SO interesting and SO conflicted and yet it feels like 99% of the fandom can't look past "uwu emo sad boy :((( so damaged :((((" and completely disregards that he's just as brutal as the other main characters from any other route's perspective, that's the whole point of the game!

Yuno Kashiki

Yuno Kashiki is an 18 year old rental girlfriend and sexworker in Japan. She was incarcerated in Milgram for murder at the start of the series in 2020. Since then she has been repeatedly dehumanized by the fandom. Having her agency and statements on her own life overwhelmingly ignored in order to give her a sob story she has consistently rebuked at every turn. Stating from the beginning even if she had to beg for forgiveness like her life depended on it she would. However, it's simply been handed to her as the audience continually goes she was too young and stupid to actually be held accountable for her actions. The same audience that later tries to vote a 12 year old child abuse victim guilty because she has to learn her lesson and she knew what she was doing. Yes the fandom interprets the eighteen year old who chose to work in the profession they did simply because they wanted to something they have no qualms admitting as having less agency than the twelve year old. They treat her like a stupid baby who's only error was not knowing how a condom worked as a sexworker. They say her only crime is an abortion despite her overtly getting upset at other individuals alluded to be clients throughout her songs. Having the literal lyrics of her second song go, ""Poor naive little girl"? So off the mark, what's it to you? It's absurd. Like really who do you think you are? Don't weigh me meassure me against your morality. Just shut it, will you? You know it all." And "Carrssing me with your "good girl". Who needs your self-righteous pardon?" They're so committed to the abortion equating to the murder she's in here for idea that fans got mad at the writer for even writing it that way when at least several other very not fetuses are alluded to throughout her songs and at points literally shown. Her first song even highlighting her clients belongings throughout it with inverted coloring. But instead of thinking she may have just killed a client who was bothering her they've convinced themselves that she's just a silly little outlier who's not meant to be here because abortion isn't murder her body her choice which fair if it wasn't for the fact the only people putting it on the table to compare to murder is the audience themselves. Despite everyone else in here very literally killing actual people with lives, professions, etc as they frame her case as a feminism issue and say if you vote her guilty you just hate women or are anti-abortion. In response to the framing of her situation as she can hear the audiences thoughts on her she's only gotten more depressed and closed off as tge series has progressed blatantly stating to hurry all this up so she can go home. Because it doesn't matter what she says about her situation the audience and the guard by proxy will just end up creating whatever story they want about her so it doesn't matter she's over it. Which in all honesty fucking fair- Wouldn't anyone be after getting treated like that for going on four years.

She's far more morally grey than folks want to admit. She's not evil, not by a long shot, but she's not exactly innocent either. She's innocent of her (perceived) crime in her media, but in terms of her attitude and outlook on life, I feel people downplay her incredibly grey actions. She uses / used compensated dating as a way to feel "warm" without forming emotional attachments. She hasn't killed anyone, nor has she manipulated anyone into killing for her, but that's why she's a good representative of a more everyday morally grey person. Her actions aren't outlandish or extreme, and if anything she can fade into the background with relative ease, yet I still firmly believe she's morally grey. tldr; Yuno has far more depth than the (general) fandom sees her as having. She gets misrepresented and her voice as a character is often unheard.

[lorynna]

Seperate post because I am unable to reblog yesterday's debate about sex-selective abortions:

Down below is the link to the full blog post if anyone is interested in reading the whole thing. I am just going to reply to a few of the absolute insane and brainrot takes by @aux-squiggle :

1) "I'm sure you'd (correctly) chastize me if I went on every post with someone having bleach & dyed hair crying about how hair bleach harms the hair and saying "yes I understand it's your body and I'm not against your autonomy but hair dye is so stupid" at some point one realizes that it's just my opinion on hair dye and I should shut up unless explicitly asked for my opinion, which at no point were you asked for your opinion on what I'll do or (what you think) makes sense to do with my body."

Starting right off, it's actually the first time I ever spoke about sex-selective abortion on here, so me "going on every post" is wrong and intentional inflammatory wording. The comparison between dyed/bleached hair and abortion lacks heavily - it's also ridiculously stupid. I'm sure what you do with your hair and the policies surrounding it is an equally political and complicated topic like abortion. Even if you should go around telling people "Sure, do your thing, dye your hair but it's unnecessary in my opinion to promote the beauty industry by partaking in it, because it makes money off of women's insecurities" you have the right to speak your opinion and reblogging another person who's stating their opinion, who's stopping you? Surprise, you can speak your opinion even without being asked for it! Some people will agree, some won't, that's the way it is! I'm sure you don't ask people you have differing opinions from each time if you please may reblog their post, or do you? This is the internet babe.

2) "Next thing idk where you've gotten this "trivilization of abortion thing" or making it seem like I have said abortion is a cutesy procedure with absolutely no harm but as poodle has said it's also very safe. Idk if you think every mention of abortion has to come with a full list of disclaimers but if you read me saying "I will get an abortion if it's a male" to mean "lol guys I get abortions every weekend let's go down to the spa for a pampering plus abortion trolololol" that's your own tbh. The issue is you view being pregnant with a male fetus (as opposed to a female one) as a trivial difference, when it's not trivial to me, many other radfems and indeed for many libfem women."

Surely not every mention of abortion needs to come with a huge list of disclaimers, after all you're not their doctor but idk about you, talking about "i will get pregnant and abort as many times as I have to, until I conceive a daughter" does sound very trivializing to me. Lastly, sure the future sex of anyone's baby means something different to anyone and a certain preference or even the so called "gender disappointment" is real and valid, but is it really the solution to spin the wheel on each pregnancy again and again until you get what you want?

3) "As for the race, sex, other attributes thing, as I've already established, since fetuses are not people and are not going to suffer if their mom gets rid of them, I don't care. I couldn't give a fuck if a white woman aborts a half POC baby tbh like that's her business. No POC suffers from her actions. I also refuse to have a half white baby.

Obviously that's easily addressed by me choosing a black African sire but if I were in a consensual relationship with a white male (would never happen because I don't date males but ygtp) I would abort because I don't want to birth a half Euro baby, as statically they pair up with Eurodescendants themselves. I already know you probably also think that's stupid but I have no wish to contribute to my oppressor's group in that regard either, even by a generational separation, as I know the most likely choice Afro/Euro biracial children make as opposed to monoracial black children.

To me, mixed (b&w) people are black, but ¾ white people are white. Having a monoracial black child means my grandchildren (if any) will also be black (mixed b& something else, or monoracial) meaning the family makeup is what I'm most happy with. Idc what my great-grandchildren (if any) are, I'm probably dead anyways.

So yes I would intentionally make choices, including that of abortion, that bring me the life I'm happiest with. Other women who do that are not my business, I don't care. They could abort because they don't like the star sign their kid is expected to have. A birth that brings the mother sadness, no matter how small or how frivolous the reason for sadness is, is not good and if she aborts to avoid that, all power to her."

That's....really interesting...to know. You have established you would not blink an eye for whatever reason people abort, be it their future baby's star sign, their sex or their ethnicity & race. Your reasoning for not wanting a non 100% black baby being that according to you they statistically are more likely to pair up with eurodescendants making you worry about your family tree becoming "less black"? Then you're going on about "who is black" and "who is white" according to you.

To clarify to anyone who does not know my stance on abortion: I am pro choice, I support every woman's right that does want to get an abortion, despite her reasoning. An abortion as the process itself is not tied to a moral aspect, as the fetus in these stages of development where an abortion is possible, is a non conscious clump of cells. However I do think that the reason for why a woman decides to abort can be criticised. For example: A woman wants to get pregnant and succeeds. She finds out the baby would be born in February, making it an Aquarius, so she aborts it. My stance on sex-selective is similar to how I view cheating on a spouse. I don't think cheating is right but I wouldn't want it to be illegal.

"Regarding pro-choicers saying "no one aborts for fun and silly reasons" and prolifers potentially using this as a clapback, what do you want me to do about that? There's far superior pro-choice arguments, and further to that, these are only fun and silly reasons to you. These are monumental to other people (including me), and since it's their womb they're the only one's who's feelings matter.

Again as I've told you, I will not censor myself for the sake of prolifers not getting offended, I genuinely could not give less of a fuck what they feel. They will always find a reason to hate on the pro-choice movement and since we understand prolifism is actually about tying women down to men and control of women, everything about both my and your lifestyles upset them. There's no placating their bs. If you are upset that I won't censor myself, keep it to yourself."

Making it seem like I gave a fuck about pro lifers and said "oh look at this poor pro lifer being so upset about your words!" instead of "you are actively harming the acceptance of the pro choice movement". You don't understand that the activism you are making is nothing the world is ready for yet. In most countries, abortion is completely banned and women who go through with it nonetheless are going to prison or are even paying with their lives. I am genuinly glad, that you are living in a progressive country where you can access abortion easily and safely and where healthcare even pays for it. Most people do not have that kind of privilege and pro choice activism firstly needs to focus on gaining acceptance by introducing people step by step to the movement, coming to them with facts and good arguments. You've got to understand your far rad stance is not realistically applicable as of right now.

"If in the 0.00001% chance the genetic test is wrong (which have functionality been at 100% accuracy for years, btw I've found several Irish based tests so I don't have to use an international product) at 8 weeks (and the tests after that) then I get several scans from 14 weeks on that also confirm the sex (and would be told if there is a discrepancy). If at those tests they find it's actually a male and the Y chromosome was somehow not picked up, I go to the UK and get an abortion then. If somehow it's not found out until 24 weeks+ (I'd have an easier time winning the lottery) I go to New Zealand for a 3rd trimester abortion. There's probably something wrong if it was missed that many times, at every single scan and test.

Have you prepared for nuclear war Lorynna? Have you decided what to do if a gamma ray burst sanitizes exactly half the planet (the side you're not on), and have you got a contingency plan on what to do if suddenly 4 billion people die? What if global supply chains collapse tomorrow (an actual likely thing tbh). Nuclear war and supply chain collapse at least are far more likely than a fetus being missed as male not only on the first genetic test, AND the tests after that, AND every single ultrasound after that. Idk about gamma ray burst though, probably the same likelihood.

If by some hellish demon reality I get stuck with a son then obviously I raise my son, as I've discussed previously in the linked essay."

Insanity. Proceeding to ask me about every possible catastrophic event that potentially happen and asking me if i prepared for it because yes, sure - it is exactly as unlikely as your baby to turn out being a boy despite all of your fancy tests. But glad to know that should the tests fail, you'll raise your son?

"" There's no reason to fight" "but I do have an opinion." As established, your opinion was unnecessary and uninvited, so it's very likely people will get mad at you if you call major life choices "stupid" without providing any reasoning beyond your feelings. Like I said, telling me what I should be ok with residing in my womb is nothing short of foul, and frankly unasked for."

Oh no! How evil of me, I dare to have an opinion and according to you it was unnecessary and uninvited! Oh man, so many people are going to get mad at me for calling major life choices stupid without providing any reason at all! At this point I'm almost 100% sure you're illiterate and typed your responses while blindfolded and with your left pinky toe. Claiming my arguments are feeling-based rather than objective criticism. And sure, because I said that if you were mature, you'd approach an intended pregnancy, accepting that both sexes can be the outcome of that and that a person who wants to get pregnant in my opinion should be okay with either, I am the worst!

[kittievampire]

Kin of the Demon Prince (pt. 7)

Warnings: Cursing, Angst, MC is a fuckin unit, Mention of abortion, Female MC, Single Mom MC, MC x Diavolo

Link to part 1

Link to part 2

Link to part 3

Link to part 4

Link to part 5

Link to part 6

Link to part 8

Link to part 9

Enjoy.

The silence that filled the room was uncomfortable, almost.

The both of you could tell that the other was hurting, that the other was bitter, but both believed it to be for different reasons. Reasons far from the truth of the matter.

You met his gaze, trying to seem as indifferent as possible. This resulted in your eyebrows scrunching upward, however, to express your upset. "I don't think there's anything to talk about, Diavolo." You kept your voice soft, as to not scare either the child in your arms or her father beside you. "While I am curious as to why you were there, I don't think it's information I need to know, do I?"

Diavolo sighed softly at your tone, already becoming a little frustrated. "MC, please, just listen to what I have to say. I understand you're upset at me, but this is more than just a lover's quarrel—" He motioned toward Selene— "We have our daughter to consider."

You scoffed at his statement. "Our daughter? Our? You weren't there when she was born. You weren't there these past few months, what suddenly makes her your daughter as well?" You could feel his frustration, and a feeling of relief presented itself to you. It felt nice knowing that he felt in this moment what you felt this past year.

"I wasn't there because I wasn't given much of a choice." "Yeah, I bet. The all-powerful Demon Prince doesn't have the power to see his own daughter? That sounds right. I totally forgive you," You spat, venom and sarcasm laced in your words that poked and pulled at his heart. His tired, sore, and wounded heart. "MC, I'm trying to have a conversation with you, could you stop focusing on how upset you are with me for a moment?"

Your gaze shifted down to the child in your arms. You were so angry at him, but he was right. You had Selene to consider in this situation, you can't afford to be selfish. If there was a chance that Selene could have a father figure in her life, you were not going to be the one to take that away from her. She would not be forced to live her life like that. Not if you could help it at least. Maybe you could try and convince him to be there, even if it has to be as a co-parent.

Maybe there was still a chance.

Diavolo took your silence as permission to speak, finally. He let out a small sigh and shifted in his seat. "MC, I know that things between us are... Iffy. But, before we get into that, I want to talk to you about Selene, okay?" His soft tone didn't falter as he spoke.

Slowly, you nodded, gently stroking Selene's red hair as she closed her eyes. Diavolo swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat, biting his lip and looking up at you. "I want to be a part of Selene's life. I don't know what made you think I was unfit, but I swear to you, I will do whatever it takes to prove that I'm worthy of being her father. Please don't take her away from me."

The amount of emotion you heard behind his words made you snap your head toward him immediately, face pale with a look of shock present. "You..." You paused, trying to gather your thoughts so they didn't come out jumbled and unorganized. "You want to be a part of her life?" You asked softly, body beginning to tremble a little.

Diavolo nodded. "Yes, MC. I want to be there for my daughter no matter what. I know that you don't want me around, but I can't sentence her to the life I was forced to live, having only one parent." He bit his lip once more, dragging a palm along his face as he tried to keep himself composed. "My mother died giving birth to me. My father went crazy, and his strictness and overprotective nature left me bitter and lonely. I'm sure anyone else in my position would've resented him for such a thing," He said, gold eyes slowly shifting to look at the sleeping infant in your arms. "I don't want her to grow up despising either one of us. If we can fix this enough to where we can agree to, at the very least, co-parent, I want to try."

The look in his eyes made your heart swell. The sheer desperation you saw in him to be a part of your child's life, to be her father, put your mind at ease for a moment. "Dia," Diavolo shifted a little at the nickname, relieved to hear it after all this time. "Dia, Solomon told me that... You wanted nothing to do with me when you found out I was pregnant," You explained, not breaking eye contact with the demon before you.

The red-head flinched, quickly grasping one of your hands with both of his. "No! My darling, MC, I would never ever leave you, let alone leave you with my baby. Our baby." He reached up to gently tuck a few strands of your hair behind your ear. "I may be a demon, but I am not that heartless." He looked down for a moment, now recalling the conversation that he and the sorcerer had a year ago. "He... Told me you were the one who wanted to call it off," He said, looking up and meeting your gaze once more.

You shook your head immediately. "No! That's not true! Lucifer told me that he said I'd gotten rid of the baby, is that true as well?" You asked. Diavolo nodded, making you let out a small sigh in frustration. "That sorcerer is a liar and a fucking psycho. I would never get rid of our baby!" You argued, holding Selene close to you. The red-head quickly pulled an index finger to his lips, glancing down at the sleeping baby in your arms before looking back up at you.

Slowly, both hands came to gently cup your face, one of his thumbs wiping away a single tear that had fallen from your eye. A small smile appeared on his face as his own eyes began to well up. He let out a small sigh, closing his eyes for a moment. "I'm just glad that the both of you are okay," He said, gently resting his forehead against yours. "I don't know what I would've done, had I lost both of you forever."

You swallowed the lump that had begun to form in your throat, allowing a few more tears to slip from your eyes as you raised your hand to gently cup one of his. "Dia—" Your hand began to shake while holding his— "Do you... Uhm..." You felt like you were confessing for the first time again. Here you were, a sputtering mess, while Diavolo sat there expectantly with a small smile on his face. "Yes, MC?" He asked softly, bringing himself just a little bit closer. Close enough to make you blush like a schoolgirl.

You sighed, glancing down at Selene. Everything was so different now. Different factors in the equation that you hadn't thought would be there, some you hadn't thought would be there so soon, were things you had to consider.

"Do you still love me?"

The demon prince leaned forward, turning your head with one of his hands to face him as he locked his lips with yours. The kiss was warm and passionate, something you'd been craving this past year.

It made you wonder how you could ever believe that this demon didn't love you.

As his lips left yours, you opened your eyes to see his looking at you lovingly. "How could I not?" He asked, lifting a hand to gently stroke your hair before looking down at Selene. "I'm going to let you rest now, My Queen. Your body still needs to recuperate. Besides, if I'm here a moment longer, I feel I won't be able to hold myself back." He looked down at Selene and stroked the small red strands of hair on her head. "I'll leave you two be. Perhaps we'll have the brothers visit."

With that, Diavolo stood and left the room, leaving you and Selene in silence.

Slowly, you adjusted yourself so you could lie down with her beside you, letting out a small sigh in bliss.

Moments like these are what made you think the world wasn't so bad after all. All the trauma you'd been forced to endure through your childhood may have been worth it.

No, it was worth it. All of it was worth it if it meant you, Diavolo, and Selene could be together. Maybe you'd even get married, make things official.

The thought made you smile.

You closed your eyes, allowing sleep to take over your senses, the dimly-lit room fading out of sight as you drifted off.

_

"Calling me a liar was expected, but calling me a psycho, too, MC? Now, that's just hurtful..."

The white-haired sorcerer stood over you and Selene, shifting his stance as he turned to glance at the door for a moment. He held out a hand, two purple glyphs forming before his palm as the door glowed, being sealed tightly with magic.

"I've tried everything I could to get you all to myself," He said, lowering his arm and shifting his gaze to look down at, seemingly, the two of you. "But, it appears I'll have to take you by force."

You stirred ever so slightly, opening your eyes a little to see the blurry image of Solomon before you. "Wha... S-Solomon?" You asked softly, placing a protective arm over Selene.

Solomon scoffed, holding out both hands toward you. "Sleep. I don't need you—" He scoffed, the spell expanding as three glyphs formed before his palm— "I was hoping she'd be older, her power more cultivated before I took her. But, I won't be picky. Demonic royal blood is still demonic royal blood, after all." He chuckled softly, another glyph appearing as the spell grew in power once more.

You had already fallen asleep, body outlined in a blue light before you stilled.

Solomon shifted his gaze to Selene. "Now then, I'll be taking you, my dear." He gently picked up Selene and held her close to him.

He held out his hand, making a cutting motion as a portal tore open in the middle of the room.

The sorcerer took a step toward the portal, taking a moment to look back at your sleeping form. He smiled, waving to no one before continuing into the portal.

"Sweet dreams, MC."

The tear in reality snapped shut.

And you were fast asleep.

Sorry if this was a bit underwhelming and short, guys. Had a lot of shit going on this past week and I had to rush it 🥲

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Tag list; @lavynne , @jessiegerl , @romaissa , @krispsprite , @unlikelysublimekryptonite , @t-misaki , @zarakem , @darkflowerav , @lloydlovebot , @lovemidnighteclipse12 , @rose-ly , @quackimilktea , @traumamakesmefunnier , @buggaboorenegade , @simpinginthecorner , @thebixchyravenclaw , @pjsflowers , @basicgukk , @blue-rae18

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[airandangels]

Email I’ve just sent to the public consultation on the use of puberty blockers:

Kia ora,

Although I have already made a submission through the form on your website, I want to send this email in my own words in case there was any ambiguity in my response caused by the wording of the questions. I found the one about limiting puberty blockers to medical trials manipulative. It implies that puberty blockers are a new and untested method, when really they have been approved for use and prescribed for years, both to transgender youth and to cisgender children with precocious puberty.

Just because puberty blockers are first coming to many people’s attention about now does not mean they are new, but that question reads as someone trying to play upon that misperception. It reminded me a bit of the infamous referendum question in one of the earliest elections I voted in, in which victims’ rights and “hard labour” for prisoners were presented together so that you couldn’t say yes to one and no to the other. I thought it was devious.

Returning to the point of children being treated for precocious puberty, if puberty blockers are safe enough to use on them, why is there any doubt that they’re safe enough for transgender children a few years older? Or should, for example, a six-year-old girl whose natural hormones are out of kilter have to go through the ordeal of starting her periods years before she’s mature enough to cope with them? That would be cruel, wouldn’t it? In the same way, it’s cruel to force a transgender boy to go through that process, even if it is at the typical age, because it inflicts needless distress on him. Why not put the issue on pause until he is mature enough to make a more informed and rational decision about it? It sounds eminently sensible and humane to me.

The issue here is not really one of safety but one of autonomy. The only medical issues that we treat as political ones like this are abortion and gender-affirming treatments, and that’s because when they are allowed they give people, especially women and young people, more autonomy and choice about what happens to their own bodies. Please stop and imagine how horrifying it can be to have something happening to your body that you don’t want and can’t control and that if it continues will change your life permanently. (There’s a whole subgenre of horror movies called body horror precisely because that’s so viscerally frightening an idea!) Perhaps you don’t need to just imagine because you’ve experienced something like that already. I hope that experience will help you to empathise.

A child or teenager’s hormones are no more the business of Parliament (or any random New Zealander with an opinion) than the contents of my uterus. The best way to deal with them should be decided by the person themself in consultation with medical professionals who can advise on how treatments work, what to expect, and risks to be managed, exactly the same as any other medical issue we might have, from a skin condition to cancer. Please bear this in mind, and give these young people the autonomy they deserve. Please listen to transgender people themselves and to the medical professionals who specialise in their care.

Ngā mihi,

[Airy]

[marc--chilton]

(mgv) au where adam and lawrence lose touch after adam is saved from the bathroom without his help, both assuming in the aftermath that the other never wants to see him again -- lawrence doesn't even know adam made it out for the longest time. after that he thinks of him daily, particularly lingering on the memory of adam spilling why he took the job to stalk lawrence.

i'm good at it and i need the money. i, uh. i'm.... pregnant. i can barely scrape by just feeding myself and paying rent, so....

he remembered, vaguely, having placed one bloody hand on adam's cheek and one on his still-flat stomach, promising in a rattling breath, "i'll get help. you'll get out of here-- both of you."

it's adam who reaches out five years later. a message left at lawrence's desk phone at work he lets play while he hangs his coat up. the shaky timbre jolts him to his core.

he doesn't make sense at first, calling him 'andy' and mentioning a 'gig', but it becomes clear the call was made in secret by the way his tone shifts to something trembling, desperate, and terrified. lawrence manages to piece together only a few things from the hasty message; adam is living with someone (a friend? a mate?) who he's certain will kill him one of these days, and he's pregnant again (the likely catalyst for the call in the first place)

as he scrawls the address to a cafe to meet at that adam manages to list off through his sniffling, lawrence wonders with no measure of dread if adam managed to terminate the first pregnancy like he had planned. whatever is going on that's enough to bring a spitfire to tears is cruel to inflict on a pup.

the next time lawrence sees adam again, he's just as scrawny and pale as he was in the bathroom. only now he also holds faded yellow along his jaw and dark circles that have bruised just as brightly. his gaze is downcast when he explains in hushed tones how he had to move back in with scott ("the boy who stabbed you with a nail on your birthday?" "oh-- uh, yeah, i didn't think you'd remember that.") because the money he had saved for the abortion was stolen by his shithead landlord as rent money, and with medical debt, trauma, and no job on his back, he ended up kicked out anyway with the "bonus" of being too far along to terminate.

scott wasn't his first choice, but he was the first one to say yes and adam wasn't in the position to be picky. maybe they could figure out co-parenting -- the pup was his, after all. but adam knew scott better than that; scott didn't let him in out of the goodness of his heart, he wanted a warm body to knot whenever he pleased. that's why adam was there now.

"i can't bring another pup into this, lawrence, i can't. i can't even go to the clinic behind his back 'cause he keeps all our money with him and--"

"is that....?" lawrence had followed adam's jittering line of sight to where it kept flicking outside to where a little girl sat in a jalopy pretending to drive with a dog plush in her arms. adam had her stay in the car as to not 'manipulate' lawrence into taking them in if his heart wasn't in it, parked strategically so she was in full view from the booth.

"y-yeah," adam says back, fighting off waves of nausea from nerves and morning sickness. "sorry, couldn't leave her home, scott gets pissed if she bothers him and i couldn't risk it."

a splinter of his broken heart catches lawrence in the throat. he hopes jigsaw catches wind of him one day soon. "could you introduce me?" he asks him, head dipped so he has to look up to adam through his lashes -- a willful assurance that if he refuses, lawrence will respect the decision. in a small (publicly acceptable) way, lawrence is submitting to him despite holding their fates in his hands.

trina, he comes to learn, already knows about him. kind of. while adam excuses himself to have a minor episode in the bathroom, she asks if he's the bathroom pirate. "my daddy's got a friend with a pirate leg he met in the scary bathroom. is that you?" lawrence immediately adores her.

they're moved into lawrence's place in two days

misc notes:

adam's bondmark detox from scott is so harsh that lawrence has to keep a close eye on him to make sure he doesn't start miscarrying out of stress, and he still holds some scarring from scott's teeth

while using his 'claim' of an omega and production of a pup as status symbols to appear as a more attractive alpha, scott doesn't let trina call him any form of 'dad'. he opts for 'alpha', which chills adam to hear her refer to him as once they're out of there because it's like. giving him power even when he's not there.

trina learns a (child-friendlier) version of how adam and lawrence met after scott uses it to mock adam's vulnerability. adam leaves out the worst details.

"bothering scott" = when she sneaks out of her room past her bedtime to creep to the living room where scott is watching mtv and sit silently on the other end of the couch. she was completely silent until scott barked at adam "come get your fuckin' kid!" when she struggled to hold back crushed, apologetic whines ("you gotta leave him alone, baby," adam stressed as he rushed her down the hall, "you remember what happened last time? we gotta stay out of his way so it won't happen again, okay?")

[itmeblog]

So...

I've learned more about the couch fucker❤️. Also against my will. I'll link the article below. It's hbomberguy levels of biased so take that as you will.

So JD Vance wrote a forward for a book with a release date that has been pushed back until a week after the election. But early copies n all. Someone read it and wrote an article that will go into more detail than I will.

BUT what it does do, at the very least is contextualize some Republican actions.

If you've been watching the news I'm sure you've noticed that the right and left are currently occupying 2 different realities. One is supported by objective fact the other is... currently under siege by a nonexistent violent wave of immigrants stealing *checks notes* Black jobs. They're also apparently pedophiles and murderers because that wasn't enough.

Regardless, this read helped me understand their actions. Because, I find, when people go this far their actions are *logical* if only to themselves.

Here's my totally biased take on what's going on.

To understand Republicans you must acknowledge that their reality is fundamentally different. It is constantly under attack (by whom? Everyone) There is no freedom but *your* freedom codified somewhere between the Civil War and the 1920s (people are saying 50s but it's the 20s they don't just want bodily autonomy they want to take away the right of women to vote, you can find the sentiment in tradwife spaces and in JD Vances mentors statements) your prejudices may extend well into the 50s for non white individuals. So long as white meets modern definitions.

So first and foremost you must know that China is an existential threat. As is globalization. China, in particular, is stealing American manufacturing jobs, spying on you, stealing from you, brainwashing your kids etc. You're probably on the cusp of war.

Hence the weird 2018 policies and the TikTok ban.

The way to combat this? Prayer, family values (the nuclear family is the bedrock of American values) and bringing back low paying manufacturing jobs but for that you need more bodies.

Prayer comes first. A man's religion shapes his morality and the only religion that counts is your specific brand of Christianity. (Hence the move to add the 10 commandments in schools and in school prayer). Having that will unite the US in faith which is important because...

Babies! There aren't enough babies!! But remaining willfully child free is not a financial or personal choice. It's a choice predicated on a lack of Faith. You don't have kids? You have no faith in the American future and you have no faith in the fact that God and community will help you make ends meet. Having children is not only an American duty but a godly one. (Note: church and state are a single unit)

Hence the abortion laws and the refusal to grant the right to birth control. [Birth control has made having children seem "unnatural" and was funded by eugenicists to cut down the population, porn and modern tech have made men impotent] Also likely the reason to defund public education as public schools have to follow laws that privately funded schools do not. Besides all that new labor force [in predominantly poor areas who will need to Golden Ticket their way into a good private school, look up voucher programs for more on this] need not be educated enough to understand how much they're being taken advantage of.

Gun laws comes from the distrust in cops and big government!! Yes!!! Oddly enough the thin blue line values do not extend here! The Uvalde shooting was *that* bad. But you must protect yourself with roving bands of militias should a BLM protest come your way! Remember the Koreatown values after the Rodney King debacle? That. The ability to arm yourself and defend your community and beliefs from threats by m&m haired liberals and BLM will harken back to the days of the wild west the most American time there was!

By doing all this you can reestablish old values, reinvigorate the economy, and bring back American strength!

If you're sitting back thinking none of this makes sense and will in fact make things worse... you must remember that you have been trained to be afraid and angry. At all times you are scared and you are angry because you are scared. You are under constant attack the rest of your community echoes these sentiments back at you.

Doubting your leader is akin to doubting faith. Leaving any of this means you risk losing your community. You will be alone and belittled, without God, without friends, without family, without structure and all that's left is the world you have learned from a very young age, hates you for your very existence.

[aajjks]

it’s long 😬😅

TPOL!JK

jungkook’s past is sad and only holds pain, loss, and insanity. it plays over and over like a bad dream, and his source of peace is you, his calm to weather the storms. you listen as jungkook reminds you of that pain, the reason he doesn’t desire children, and you empathize with his pain.

however, that shouldn’t rob you of continuing your bloodline. you can imagine the smile on your mother’s face when you hand her the gift bag containing pictures of your baby’s ultrasound, but that vision isn’t complete with jungkook by your side.

if jungkook isn’t there, she’ll be so disappointed in you, but you don’t tell jungkook that. by the time your eyes meet with his, he’s walking out the door, leaving you alone with a mess you never made by yourself. by the time he comes back, he’ll want to hear your agreement, but the longer you stare at the black-and-white picture on the bed, you lean further and further away.

*knock knock* “hello ms. y/n,” greets dr. seong mi-na. “so, you’re good to go. i prescribed you some medicines that will help with your nausea and prenatal vitamins. also, no more caffeine. no sodas, coffee—nothing. you want to drink as much water as you can and look into foods that are beneficial for your pregnancy.” you place your hand over your heart when she tells you, ‘no more caffeine.’ you suppose this is where you tell the doctor about jungkook’s ‘choice,’ but you don’t.

“any more questions for me?”

“yeah…the-the baby is trying to hurt me, right?”

“the baby is trying to hurt you. your body is changing and preparing to make room for your embryo. what you’re feeling are the early signs of pregnancy symptoms: morning sickness, fatigue, changes in mood, constipation, cramps, spotting—the list goes on, but it varies”

“i don’t think i can do this,” you mumble to yourself as you place your head into your hands and sigh. sensing your distress, the doctor takes your hands in hers and looks you in the eye. “hey, i know this is a lot, and i can tell this pregnancy was unplanned, but i promise you, the journey is so rewarding. what you have inside you is a baby that will bring so much light into your life and fill you with joy. of course, if you do not want the child, you can have an abortion and be better prepared next time.”

but what if there isn’t a ‘next time?’

you appreciate the doctor’s encouraging words and thank her for reminding you that joy can sometimes come with pain, but it’s all temporary. this little ball of sunshine inside you is the light jungkook needs, a reminder that he is nothing like the monster who raised him.

you change your clothes and take the elevator to the pharmacy on the second floor, and yes, you’re keeping the baby.

~🫧

Jungkook steps into the cold, sterile halls of the mental institution, his usual calm veneer cracking with every step.

He just wants to be in his arms of his mother right now.

This is not a place where she deserves to be…

The air feels heavy, almost suffocating, as the faint murmur of voices and the occasional clatter of trays echo through the corridor.

He stops outside the familiar door, his hand hovering over the handle as his chest tightens.

Behind that door is Jeon Jiyeon, his 어머니 (mother), a woman whose once-vivid spirit has been eroded by tragedy.

When he finally pushes the door open, he’s met with the sight of her sitting by the window, her frail figure bathed in moonlight.

Her hands tremble slightly as she folds and refolds the edge of her blanket.

She turns her head at the sound of his entrance, her eyes dim yet flickering with recognition. “Jungkook-ah,” she says softly, her voice like a fragile thread threatening to snap.

He swallows the lump in his throat, forcing a small smile. “Eomeoni, how are you feeling today?” He approaches her slowly, his heart pounding in his chest.

Jiyeon tilts her head, studying him like she’s trying to piece together a memory.

“You’ve grown so much,” she murmurs, her lips curving into a faint smile.

“So much like your brother… Junghyun.” Her expression falters, her brows knitting together as her mind drifts. “But he’s not here.. He’s busy just like you.”

Jungkook’s throat tightens as he kneels beside her, taking her fragile hands in his. “No, eomeoni, it’s me. I’m here,” he reassures her, his voice trembling. “I came to see you.”

Her gaze sharpens momentarily, her hand moving to touch his face.

“You’re always so busy, my son. Always working, always running… You don’t need to be like your father,” she whispers, her words cutting through him like a blade.

“I’m not,” Jungkook says firmly, though his voice wavers. “I’m nothing like him.”

Jiyeon blinks, confusion clouding her expression again. “Your father is so cold. So cruel… He took everything from me. And Junghyun… he tried to protect us, didn’t he? But it wasn’t enough.”

She begins to shake, her voice rising with panic. “I couldn’t save him, Jungkook. I couldn’t save any of you.”

Jungkook grips her hands tighter, his own trembling now. “Stop, eomeoni. Please, stop,” he says, his voice breaking. “You didn’t fail. None of this was your fault.”

Tears well up in her eyes as she looks at him, her mind wavering between the past and present.

“You’re all I have left,” she whispers. “But I see the pain in your eyes, Jungkook. Don’t let it consume you like it did him. Promise me.”

He doesn’t respond immediately, his jaw clenching as he fights back his own tears. Finally, he nods. “I’ll try, eomeoni. I’ll try.”

For a moment, the room is silent, the weight of their shared grief hanging heavily between them.

Jiyeon leans back into her chair, exhaustion taking over, and Jungkook stays by her side, holding her hand like a lifeline.

•••

But she needs to know he’s been talking to her for half an hour.

She can help him.

Jungkook exhales deeply, his trembling hands resting on his knees as he prepares himself to speak. Looking at his 어머니,

Jiyeon, he notices her fleeting moments of clarity, the way her eyes sometimes pierce through the fog of her mind. Tonight, he hopes she’ll understand.

“Eomeoni,” he begins softly, his voice low but steady. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

He pauses, searching for the right words. “Yn… she’s pregnant.”

At first, Jiyeon doesn’t react, her gaze fixed on the window as if she didn’t hear him. But then her head slowly turns, her eyes locking with his.

There’s a flicker of surprise, followed by something deeper—recognition.

“Pregnant?” she whispers, the word barely audible.

“Yes,” Jungkook confirms, his heart hammering against his ribs. “She’s carrying my child. Your grandchild.” The words feel foreign in his mouth, almost surreal.

A faint smile graces Jiyeon’s lips, and for a moment, she seems entirely lucid. “She’s good for you, Jungkook. So gentle, so kind.”

Her voice grows softer, tinged with a warmth he hadn’t heard in years. “You love her, don’t you?”

Jungkook stiffens, his throat tightening. “I do,” he admits, the confession leaving him vulnerable. “I love her more than I’ve ever loved anyone. But, eomeoni,”

his voice cracks, “I don’t know how to be a father. I don’t think I can do this.”

Jiyeon’s eyes widen slightly, and her hand reaches out, trembling, to touch his face.

“You think you’ll be like him,” she says, her voice filled with sorrow. “You think you’ll fail.”

He closes his eyes, her words hitting the very core of his fears. “I’m not ready,” he whispers, his voice hoarse. “I never wanted this.”

“And because of me, because of this… she fainted, eomeoni. Her health—what if something happens to her? What if I can’t protect them?”

He’s breaking…. He doesn’t know what to do.

Jiyeon’s expression softens, and for the first time in years, she seems entirely present. “Listen to me, Jungkook,” she says, her tone firm but tender.

“You are not your father. You have love in your heart, even if you don’t see it. That girl… yn… she is your anchor.”

She’s right about that, but…

“She will guide you if you let her. And that baby… it is not a curse. It’s a gift. A part of you and her, something pure amidst all this pain.”

He looks at her, his chest tightening as emotions threaten to overwhelm him. “But what if I fail? What if I hurt them?”

Jiyeon shakes her head, her frail hand cupping his cheek. “You won’t,” she says softly.

“Because you already love her enough to worry. You already care enough to fear. That’s more than he ever gave us.”

Her voice falters, her own pain bubbling to the surface.

“Don’t let your past steal this from you, Jungkook. Don’t let it take them away like it took Junghyun.”

Her words strike him deeply, and he lowers his head, the weight of her understanding pressing on him. “I just… I don’t know if I can do this.”

“You can,” Jiyeon says firmly, her strength surprising him. “Because you have her. And because you are my son.”

She doesn’t understand…

The room falls into a heavy silence, Jiyeon’s breaths growing slower as exhaustion takes over.

Jungkook stays by her side, gripping her hand tightly as his thoughts swirl. Her words linger in his mind, battling with his doubts.

Finally, Jiyeon speaks again, her voice faint.

“Don’t push her away, Jungkook-ah. Don’t let fear take what little happiness you have left.”

Jungkook nods, though his heart is still heavy. “Rest now, eomeoni,” he whispers.

“I’ll stay a little longer.” As she closes her eyes, he leans back in his chair, staring at the ceiling as the weight of everything crashes down on him.

Even she doesn’t understand…

•••

It’s past midnight when Jungkook unlocks the door to his penthouse, stepping into the silence that greets him.

The lights are dim, and the cityscape beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows glimmers faintly.

Where the fuck are you? How could he even leave you like that at the hospital?

He loosens his tie with one hand while the other clenches his phone.

“Yn?” he calls out, his voice sharp, almost frantic. “Yn, where are you?”

He paces through the living room, his heart pounding as he checks the kitchen, the hallway, the bedroom.

The thought of not finding you where you should be gnaws at his chest.

Finally, he spots you curled up on the sofa in the corner of the room, a blanket draped over you.

Relief floods him, but it’s short-lived. You look so small, so fragile, and he can see the faint shadows under your eyes.

“Why didn’t you answer?” he asks, his tone stern but trembling at the edges. “Do you have any idea how worried I was?”

You sit up, startled by his intensity, but his eyes soften when they meet yours.

He kneels in front of you, his large hands cupping your face. “Are you okay?” he asks, his voice quieter now. “You’re not… feeling faint again, are you?”

You shake your head, trying to reassure him, but he doesn’t look convinced.

His thumb brushes against your cheek as he studies your face, his brows furrowing.

“You scared me, yn,” he admits, the vulnerability in his voice catching you off guard.

When you murmur a soft apology, he pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly as if you might slip away.

His lips press against the crown of your head, lingering there as he closes his eyes.

“I can’t lose you,” he whispers, more to himself than to you.

“Yn… but… I need to ask you what is your decision?”