#or fit into your little carboard box of what you think I am

[shinxeysartgallery]

People just get too damn comfortable with the anonymity of the Internet.

when did we normalise headcanoning real people??

[chasingthepoguelife]

Lonely Boys Do Stupid Things Part 2

Lonely boys do stupid things Part 2

 (gif credits to @rafecameron​)

  Summary: Rafe is tired of an already boring summer, constantly being judged by everyone on the island, and is looking for a challenge. When the group is introduced to the new girl hanging out with Kiara, Topper suggests a challenge and Rafe accepts only to be conflicted along the way.

  Author’s: So in this world Rafe is still a bad guy, just not a “I killed a cop and have all these daddy issues” bad, Topper hasn’t developed yet, and also John B hasn’t dragged anyone into his stupid shit and there is a civil ground between kooks and pogues and Ward isn’t a “I love two out my three children and murdered my friend” dad. For reference, I do not support Rafe’s canon character. I’m just blinded by the attraction I feel for him and I love Drew, but will never condone or excuse Rafe’s actions. Also, I’m not writing y/n with many descriptions. I know all types of people might read this and I want to make everyone feel included but I also don’t want to do it the wrong way so I’m leaving a lot of physical features up to the reader’s imagination. I would also accept tips and constructive criticism to be more of an inclusive writer.

 Warning: For part 2 I don’t think there is anything, just a mention of underwear and little yelling from Rafe.

 For reference, Rafe is 19, y/n just turned 18 and she’s figuring out her college plans for the upcoming year.

Tag List: @nxsmss​ @prejudic3​ @spencereidbasis​ @alexandracheers​ @ifilwtmfc​ @billybonesxx​

 “So you’re telling me out of all those guys I met today, you don’t have a thing for a single one of them?” y/n asked.

“Dating here is complicated y/n,” Kie began. “Everyone is so focused on money and status, it’s hard to find anyone real. I used to think John B and I would end up together, but that ended sooner than it began. I kissed Topper one time in the ninth grade, and it was like what I imagine kissing your cousin is like.”

“And what about Rafe?” y/n questioned.

“y/n, no. I know that tone. He may look perfect on the outside, and he may seem like he could give a girl everything she wants but there’s a whole lot of issues and drama that he comes with. Ask around. There’s not 1 girl here he hasn’t screwed over or put in danger. The boy only has feelings and compassion for himself.”

“I always believe that people can change, but if it’s coming from you, I believe that you’re just looking out for me Kie.”

“I promise when you ease more into the island, I have two other guy friends that not only look as good as Rafe, but they won’t drag you down with all their problems.”

“Alright Kie, if I’m not making out with someone soon, it’s really on you if I go looking for Rafe.” Y/n teased.

2 Days Later

“How much you want to bet Kiara already bashed you in front of y/n?” Topper asked.

“She can talk all the shit she wants. I saw the way y/n was staring at me. Guarantee she will be dreaming about me tonight,” Rafe smirked.

“But do you think you’ll even get the chance to talk to her? There’s no way Kie is going to let this happen.”

“Kie can’t be with her 24/7. Lucky for me their houses are 20 minutes apart, and thanks to good old dad and his real estate connections, I already know where she lives.”

“Where are you going man?”

“To put her address in my gps,” Rafe yelled running away.

The ride to the Marigold neighborhood felt like a lifetime to Rafe. He had only ever been here one time as a kid, and even that was a distant memory. It didn’t seem much different than figure eight, except for the fact that he couldn’t even fit his driveway onto some of these properties. To his surprise when the gps said he arrived, he was in front of the last house on the street, probably the largest house he’d seen in the entire neighborhood. One might say that he was a little impressed, but back to being small minded after questioning if all 3 cars in the driveway belong to the family. Rafe parked his car in front of the house, locking it once he got out. Within seconds, he was at y/n’s front door, noting how short the walk is in comparison to his own home. He knocked on the door, waiting for what seemed like forever until the door opened. An older woman resembling y/n answered the door.

“Can I help you son?”

“I’m looking for y/n, did I come to right house?” Rafe asked for effect, knowing very well he was at the right house.

“I wasn’t aware my y/n had made so many friends here already. She should be around somewhere in between all these boxes. Y/n!, please come downstairs,” her mother yelled.

Rafe waited in an awkward silence until he heard foot steps coming down. To say he was looking at a different person was understatement, and had y/n known someone like Rafe was in her living room, well she would be coming down with more than a tshirt and underwear.

Y/n stood there, arms crossed, glaring at her mother. “Really? Couldn’t have bothered to mention that someone else was here?” y/n said grabbing a convenient pair of her dad’s sweatpants on the nearest carboard box.

“In all honesty I didn’t think you’d be putting on a show,” her mother joked.

“What are you doing here Rafe, how did you even know which house we bought?” y/n asked.

“I’m sure Kiara told you, but I have a lot of resources available to me,” Rafe smirked.

“Doesn’t make it any less weird, I’ve met you two days ago.”

“Y/N! Don’t be rude,” her mother said slapping her arm. “You’ve already made one more friend than I have.”

“May I use your restroom?” Rafe asked.

As y/n refused to moved, her mother came back momentarily from showing Rafe where to go.

“10/10 daughter,’ y/n’s mom spoke like she was talking to her best friend.

“Just because he has a nice face and body doesn’t make him a 10 mom, besides, I’ve heard some bad things about him, especially from Kiara,” y/n shared.

Rafe couldn’t help but hear everything from the bathroom. He had needed a moment to cool down after already seeing her half naked after two days, but chose to stay extra to hear more compliments about himself. Topper could’ve at least made this harder by picking a girl he wasn’t physically attracted to.

“Kiara is a lovely girl, but she’s just one person. Sometimes you need to give people the benefit of the doubt “ y/n’s mom said.

Rafe was relieved how much y/n’s mom was on his side, at this point he’d even date her mom just to add some difficulty to this challenge. He was about to join them again in the living room when he heard a louder noise come from the back of the house. A few seconds later, a louder, deeper voice began calling for y/n and her mother.

“Lovely to see two more Marigold residents in these parts,” the older man said.

“Ugh it doesn’t matter where we go you two are such dorks!”

“You should be so luck to find someone half as good as your father young lady.”

Rafe couldn’t help but barf. Relationships make him sick as he’s never a real one in his life, nor did he ever have a good example of one. The only one he could ever consider is the nauseating relationship between his sister and John B. He decided  was going to wait for her father to leave the room. He could not handle anymore jokes.

As her mom left the room to her and her dad, y/n had a feeling a hard conversation was coming.

“How about an update on school kiddo?”

“There’s not much to tell dad, I’m still figuring things out,” y/n shrugged.

“Well maybe had you taken 7 APs instead of 4, you would’ve impressed the schools more.”

4 Aps Rafe thought? He could barley get through 1 and this guy was complaining about not taking 7?

“What does it matter dad, I got A’s in all classes. That’s 4 GPA boosters and 4 college credits. Between that a year off to save, I won’t be needing much from you and mom, you know, after all you’ve done for me,” y/n explained.

“After 18 I didn’t see my father and mother for 5 years until I got a stable job. I didn’t go back to them until I could stand on my own two feet without needing anything from them.”

“The world is different now, and you’re acting like I’m never going to do anything on my own.”

“Well you know kid; you have to rustle up something good by next year or we’re going to have to teach you the hard way. Anyways, you know what you have to do. Tell your mother I’m headed down to the Wreck for some work things. See you later pumpkin.”

Rafe thought his dad was messed up, how could this guy insult and support his kid with every other sentence? He waited until it seemed like it was just y/n out there before coming back.

“Finally, I thought you fell in the toilet or something?” y/n joked, but Rafe could tell she was half joking, half compensating for her father putting her down, something Rafe knows all too well.

“I don’t need to explain to you my bathroom habits,” Rafe joked,

“No, but what you need to explain to me is why after two days you think it’s ok to just show up uninvited, without getting the address from me?”

“So you’re saying there’s a problem?” Rafe teased.

“Let’s see, I met you two days ago, you show up unannounced, intruding, and I know nothing about you except for all the bad things-“ y/n shut her mouth once she realized what she was saying.

“Go on, finish what you were saying. All the bad things…. that Kiara told you? Rafe questioned.

“Well what am I supposed to think, you’re not off to the best start. And I’m supposed to believe that after spending like 5 minutes with me, you just have to get to know me, or let me guess, you can’t stop thinking about me?” y/n said sarcastically.

“You haven’t even given me a chance yet,” Rafe stated.

“Rafe, we both know you’re cute, but I can’t take this on right now. I had hoped to meet someone after moving here, but this is already screaming red flag to me. You should just go.”

“You should know, that just because you’re not a pogue, doesn’t mean you’re worth anything on this island!” Rafe spat before storming out the front door.

Rafe made his way back to the car, in disbelief that he didn’t get anywhere with y/n. Kiara must have told her countless stories to turn her off. Not that there weren’t enough known incidences about Rafe, but everyone deserves another chance.  Considering Rafe believes he was sculpted by the gods and can’t remember the last time he’s ever been rejected; he’s still confused as to why he couldn’t make it work on y/n.

After Rafe left to head back to Figure Eight, y/n went on her own drive to Kie’s house, letting her know she’d be there soon. When she arrived, Kie was on the steps of her house, watching y/n’s face.

“It’s only been 2 days, what have you done now?” Kie questioned.

“This island is like a lifetime movie! I met the guy two days ago and he just shows up to my house in his fancy car sweet talking my mother!!”

“Rafe? What that makes no sense? We would’ve heard something by now if he was interested in you. That’s how he likes to move,” Kie noted.

“Apparently not, he just blitzed me, and caught in my underwear I may add.”

“So then what happened?”

“Don’t get me wrong I thought about. He seems perfect and really hot, as you know. But I keep replaying everything you told me about him, and that’s not something to ignore. He said you were lying about it all and that I should find out for myself. But my gut told me to not go down that road.”

“He’ll get over it y/n, even more so when he sees you on the arm of my friend JJ.”

“Kie you are not already trying to set me up with another outer banks man!”

“Did you not say you were looking to make out with someone soon?” Kie teased.

“Well after Rafe insulted me for not giving him a choice, I might need to reconsider.”

[avengers-nextgen]

All Things Grow XII

Scout shuffled some of the dusty boxes about to create a clear place on the floor. He wasn’t exactly pleased by the dirtiness of the situation, but he didn’t mind too much. It was time he could spend with his mother. “Where do I start?”

“Anywhere,” Wanda laughed, rolling up the sleeves to her shirt.

“Okay, do I need to ask before I toss it?” Scout asked skeptically.

“Chances are, if you think it’s garbage it probably is.” Wanda sighed, sitting crossed legged on the floor with a trash bag settled to her right. “Honestly, I don’t remember most of this anyways.”

Scout nodded, and pulled the closest box into his lap tearing open the tape. Folding the flaps back he peered curiously inside. “Uhm, this is all old clothing. Are we donating it?”

“Yeah, that’s probably the best thing to do.” Wanda agreed pulling the cap of a sharpie off with her teeth to write ‘Donation pile’ on a sticky note. Then, with an excessive flourish, she smacked it onto the floor. “Dump site established.”

“Okay.” Scout snorted, taking time to folding everything neatly anyways. Once the clothes were settled he kicked the empty box over into the corner.

“Is that an empty box I hear?” Piper’s head poked into the room with her eyes alight in excitement.

“Yes, you can take it, and the other empty ones too,” Wanda laughed.

“Yes!” Snatching up the empty cardboard Piper ran down the hallway. “ALEX! WE CAN MAKE CARBOARD RACE CARS!”

“How’d she hear that?” Scout asked, glancing down the hallway trying to catch a glimpse of Piper.

“I’ve learned over the years that the Starks have impeccable hearing only when it’s something that interests them. Like boxes.” Wanda explained, adding to the clothing pile.

“Huh,” Nodding Scout turned back to the work at hand.

He uncovered an old set of plastic drums that his mother had bought so he would quit stealing Tupperware. Giving it a good pat for old times sake, Scout moved it to the garbage pile. He then moved on to the old books about animals and shapes and colors. Almost all of them were worn thin.

“You could barely read most of the time, but you’d sit in your dad’s lap and make up stories like you were reading the words,” Wanda smiled, taking the books from her son and adding them to the recycling section.

“Guess some things don’t change,” Scout laughed. “Oh, what’s this? Awe, these are Dad’s big sunglasses he got as a crappy Christmas gift! He looked like he had bug eyes when wearing them!”

“Yep, and then you insisted on having a pair. Unfortunately, your uncle Clint decided to indulge you. But I got a good picture out of it.” Wanna mused watching Scout put the oversized glasses on. He really did look like a bug. Snorting, she took them off of his face and tossed them aside. “Dork.”

“Oh oh oh! The puzzles we used to play on vacation!” Scout practically dove into the box to retrieve them. “Star Wars, NASCAR, dolphins, cats, and your favorite being the one of a rabbit.”

“You called it the Bun-Bun puzzle when you were little. Tell you what, we’ll keep those. We can do them together sometime,” Wanda promised. Scout liked the idea and put them back into the box gently.

“I’m done with this set.” Scout huffed, standing and dusting off his hands. “I’m going in again.”

Scout headed over to the cluttered closet which had accumulated most of the tower’s residents’ junk. Standing on his tip toes he managed to tug a box from the upper portion of the stack.

Hours ticked by as the duo gradually made sense of the mess. Occasionally, Vision would pop by to help taking a pause in his work. He also managed to convince the two to go out with him to lunch. One thing about the Maximoff family was their ability to hyper focus.

Once their hunger was effectively satiated, Scout and Wanda set to work again. They were in the final stretch of the clutter having reached the worn, dented, and warped bottom boxes.

Carefully tugging off the lid to a particularly fragile one Scout shuffled through the objects inside. It seemed to be a lot of scrap books and little picture folders. Glancing through them he paused only when he saw something labeled with his name. Scooping it out of the bottom and wiping off the dust, Scout opened the tiny folder to see grey and black film like pictures inside.

At first he was confused. It was nearly impossible to make out what the picture was of, until he shifted into better light. After another moment of contemplation he realized what they were. Ultrasound pictures. Curiosity getting the best of him he studied the murky images as best he could. The bottom ones were clearer than the top having been shielded by the upper images.

He was astonished to find the last four-which he could actually make out- not of one small baby but two. “Hey, uh Mom? Is this ours?”

Scout scooted closer to his mother and passed over the pictures to her outstretched hand. After tossing old and damaged CDs into the garbage, Wanda turned her attention to what her son had handed over. She visibly paled. “Where’d you find these?”

“Over here,” Scout grunted, stretching out onto his side and pulling the box over to them. “I was thinking it might have gotten mixed up with Chloe and Arthur’s stuff when they moved in.”

“Well, uhm...it- it’s not there’s.” Scout looked at his mother in absolute confusion, both by the sudden shift in demeanor, and the waver in her voice.

“I don’t understand.” He frowned taking the images back to inspect them further. He checked the ghost colored date on the bottom and the name printed on the front of the folder once more. Slowly, he began to decipher what exactly was happening. “I’m a twin.”

“Yeah.” Wanda nodded, swallowing hard.

“I’m a twin.” Scout repeated. “How-what...?”

“You had a sister.”

“You’re joking.” Scout felt like he couldn’t breath. “Where-is she...she didn’t make it? I don’t understand.”

Scout studied his mother closely. He wanted an answer but she seemed too upset to say anything for some time. Part of him knew he should feel bad, sorry, and sad even, but all he could feel was angry.

“She was stillborn.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” He asked, unable to keep his voice from rising. “It just never occurred to you to say anything?”

“It was a mutual decision.-“ Wanda started.

“So dad’s in on this too?” Scout cried, clambering to his feet. “Are you serious? I can’t believe you! Were you ever going to mention anything about this?”

He waited impatiently for an answer but none came. He wasn’t going to get one.

“I’m literally so angry right now you have absolutely no idea. I-I need to go before I do something.” Scout fumbled for words. Tugging lightly at his hair he left the room hurriedly behind. His mind was going a million miles a minute.

He had a sister. A sister he hadn’t known about for years. A sister he may not have known about for more than decades. There was a big chance he’d have gone on clueless to this major fact until he died. What was worse, none of his aunts or uncles bothered to tell him. Then again they’d probably sworn not to.

“Hey, Scout! Come check out the carboard race cars.” Orion beamed, jogging up to the other boy. “Oh no. What’s wrong? Did a character die?”

“No.” Scout snapped.

“Wow.” Orion blinked. “Okay, hey, uhm come on.”

Scout allowed Orion to tow him into his room and ease the door shut.

“I need a minute before we talk.” Scout huffed, pacing back and forth at an impeccable rate. But no matter how hard he tried, the anger wouldn’t dissipate. Then, with a burst of anger, he spilled everything in a frenzy that left him gasping for air at the end. “I’m so angry.”

“You have a right to be.” Orion agreed.

“I’m not talking to her ever again. I can’t.” Scout shook his head. Orion noticed the way the other boy’s hands twitched with faint red energy. “Or my dad.”

“Scout, you have to calm down.” Orion frowned. “Think about this. Think about what you’re saying.”

“I am.”

“No you’re not.” Orion spoke firmly. It was so out of the norm that Scout actually paused to stare at him. He’d never seen Orion so authoritative. “You’re going to listen to me for one minute mister. Then, you can talk as much as you want but I think this is important for you to hear.”

“But-“

Orion held up a hand silencing his boyfriend. “Have you thought about your mother’s perspective? Don’t answer- that was rhetorical. You always tell me and the others to think things through. See both sides to the same story. Right now you’re being very hypocritical in not doing that. So, I’m going to help you out. I’m laying this down from her point of view.”

“Fine.”

“Don’t you think that if anyone knows what it’s like to lose a twin it’s her? That maybe she knows the pain about it more than anyone? What if, even if it was done with good intentions but not the best action, she was trying to protect you from that? To keep you from growing up and longing for someone you weren’t ever going to have? To spend a life wondering perpetually about this sibling and who or what they’d be like? What your relationships would be like? Spending years with fantasies that would only hurt you?”

“Orion, most of my life I felt like something was missing. I couldn’t understand why I didn’t fit anywhere.” Scout’s voice trembled. He stared with teary eyes at the ground. “It might have made things easier to know.”

“Yeah, It might have. But don’t you see? Maybe she was trying to do what’s best for you?” Orion asked.

“Yeah,” Scout nodded. Logistically, Orion was right. “But it’s like my mom was trying to forget about it. Like she was hiding that away so she could pretend it never happened. How does someone want or try to forget about their kid?”

“I guarantee you Scout, there’s not a day that goes by where she doesn’t think about your sister.” Orion felt a lump form in his throat. “My uncle Drax? I can’t tell you how many times he’s cried over his family and kids. He’d give anything to have just one of them back.”

Silence settled between the two of them for some time until Orion pulled Scout into a hug. “I feel like an ass Orion.”

“You should, but you should also feel angry. It’s natural. But now you have to go back and talk about it. You can’t ignore it now, and it’s best to understand and attempt to clear the air than let things be left alone.” Orion consoled him, running a hand through Scout’s hair.

— — —

“Mom?” Scout asked hesitantly, knocking on his parent’s door. “Can we talk?”

Seconds later Scout was perched on the end of his parent’s bed listening intently to what they had to say. In turn he explained himself. He learned that Orion’s presumptions were mostly correct and that his sister was supposed to have the name Janice (Jane for short) after a variation of JARVIS, with the middle name Pietra (they had planned on Scout having a middle name after Pietro’s middle name).

It hurt to see his mother cry but he also wondered how long she’d been hiding that burden and how much it wore on her. What struck him the most was seeing his dad cry too. He was normally so stoic that it nearly startled Scout. But at the end of it, after Scout had cried some too, he fell asleep tucked snuggly between the two of them. Both of his parents held onto him like he was the most precious thing in the entire world.

And though he wouldn’t say it, Scout felt a shift in the room. A sense of peace. Something that he hadn’t realized was oddly missing for some time. Maybe he’d needed this, but most of all maybe his parents had. He by no means approved of the secrecy, but he at least understood. And sometimes the best thing you can do for someone is to understand. He’d have to thank Orion later for knocking some sense into him. For now though, he would enjoy the company and the embraces.

[noexit-ff]

40.

My sleep is none existent, just constantly peeing. Rubbing my stomach groaning out, I can’t even deal with this extra weight and the baby anymore. I am fucking huge, I don’t even see a point in getting off the toilet, I can feel the fucking baby just resting on my pelvis. I can feel him, this extra weight is killing me. I miss when I could sleep, when this giant ass baby wasn’t taking over my whole life. I am still sad for Chris that I can’t have sex with him since he came back, I cannot even deal with that. I am not even a baby elephant anymore, I am a whale now. Chris is awake anyways, he has been awake for a while so I want to see what he is up too “oh my back” stretching my back out “you good?” I gasped seeing Chris in front of me “you could have knocked you know, that is rude” walks in on me like this “you’re in your bra taking a shit?” pulling a face at Chris “no I am not, don’t be so nasty” I am glad he is back with me, he is so supportive no matter the issue he will do it even though I am like no “well I don’t mind if you are? Can’t you reach your ass?” mean mugging Chris “please, stop” putting my hand up “I just want baby Brown out, I wish I could eject this baby out of my body. What kind of liberties is this baby having in my stomach, look how big I am” I whined “oh my god, I can’t even walk” I didn’t think I would be huge “if this baby is all head I am blaming you” Chris chuckled touching my shoulder, shrugging his hand off me “don’t touch me, I am coming out. I need to clean the house, that is what I need to do, I need to change the sheets too. Can I wipe in peace please?” I don’t him to see my struggle “I am the same nigga that checked your pussy for hairs last night!” a small smile played on my face “look, I am just in a weird mood. Just please leave” he is something else.

I do love the clothing that got sent out, maternity dresses are cute as fuck. I feel like wearing a dress even though I am going to clean, I want to wear a dress. This grey pencil dress is cute, I like it. It makes my bump look cuter than it feels, staring at myself in the mirror. Even though my baby is making me feel like a whale I will miss him in my stomach, it’s been so long that I am used to having a bump. Touching my bump while staring in the long mirror “can’t wait to meet you son” I am going to be a wreck when I hold him in my arms, all these years. I have always wanted to have Chris’ baby and I am, I am so close to having our child in my arms. I mean it will never make up for what I did when I was younger but it will fill the void in my heart that was missing, I always felt like I lost something in my life. I am so nervous but happy, scared, annoyed, I am going to be a mess and that is it.

I put some make up on, I want to feel like a sexy pregnant woman today, I even put on red lipstick. Let me see my husband, see what he is doing. Closing the bedroom door behind me, seeing Baby Chris’ bedroom door open. I know that was closed, shuffling my way over to the room. I am so happy that the baby room is not far, imagine having to walk all the way to the other side but if we do have another child, that child will be on the other side shamefully. Poking my head around the door, this room is so damn beautiful. It is fit for a king, my baby king inside of me. Stepping inside further, seeing Chris on the floor of the room near the open planned walk in closet “what are you doing?” I questioned, Chris looked behind him “I am setting Bean’ sneakers up, every Jordan in sets” walking over closer to him “you have double pairs?” I questioned “they came today, I know this is for Mijo. Look, Bean has Jordan’s for days. I was just setting them out babe, it’s May fourth, he might come into the world on my birthday” Chris is so adorable, he got up from his position on the floor “I was just making sure his sneakers are in order, you look so beautiful. Where are you going?” I blushed smiling “thank you, and nowhere. I am going to clean now, don’t get your hopes up because the baby might not come early. I am sad because this is a big date tomorrow and you’re being ever so stubborn and won’t let me do anything for you” Chris pulled a face “ok but it’s been weeks, shouldn’t you be seeing Mel? Why ain’t you going? And babe you are giving me the greatest gift, just don’t” shaking my head rolling my eyes.

“I’ll go when I want too, I still got you something though” turning around to walk off but Chris pulled me back to him “did something happen when I was gone? I am going to see Mijo today and give him the sneakers, he has the baby. You want to come?” sighing out “just words was said, very hurtful words but I will see how I feel” I shrugged, I am not a hard ass bitch because it hurts me, that is my bitch for life “nah, this is weird. You ain’t making a big deal of Mel so what happened, its been weeks Robyn?” sighing out touching Chris’ chest “she just just said some things that hurt me a lot, she wanted to hurt you but said it to me which you’re my husband. I am not repeating the words but they was harsh, I wish nothing but the best for her. Just a shame she didn’t wish the best for me. It will be fine ok? I love you, it’s about us, this moment so let’s ignore that” Chris kissed my lips “you look very beautiful though, can I take a picture?” pulling a face at him smiling “no, I look bad” shaking my head “you ain’t shy, stop it. Come on” he stepped back “let me baby” sighing out smiling I feel all shy “can’t we take a picture together” Chris shook his head “just stand there” he is hyping me up, looking down at the ground smiling “look at me baby, come on! You looking like heaven on earth, my baby carrying my baby” looking up at him laughing “ok I got it” I groaned out “no, my double chin when I laugh Chris!” he walked over to me “and I love you for every flaw” placing my arm around Chris sighing out as he showed me the pictures.

Sighing out, I can’t help but love him so much. He is so ready for this baby, I am kind of sitting back about it because of the pain but he is being wishful in the baby coming now. Rubbing my stomach watching him set his sneakers out, he is loving this “you know what baby” walking over to him “I need you to help me with something that I have not done yet” seeing the baby bag on the floor, slowly leaning down and picking it up “can you pick out a few outfits, make sure you put in baby grows, back up clothing because you never know, diapers, wipes. Anything here, put them in here for me please. Pacifier, please too” Chris took the bag from me “I can do that” god, I don’t want this pregnancy to end, just watching him like this “also, can you pack me a bag, and yourself. We don’t know how long we will be there for, we need to be ready for this” walking off “I will do it” one thing off my list.

I was thinking of packing the Black Pyramid chain but I didn’t, he will be tiny for that or maybe not. According to Robyn and then my mom, she thinks my son is going to be big. I think I will pack his gold name bracelet though, I got this in London. It says Christopher M Brown Jnr, I am so damn excited. Zipping the bag up for my son, he is going to be so bomb. Fixing the Jordon sneaker that I set out, it looked a little out of line. Carrying the bag out of the room, I am sure I have packed enough things, if not then I will always come back. Closing the bedroom door, Robyn is cleaning and singing, but that kind of out of breath singing. She needs to not clean, she is straining herself. Walking into the bedroom “Chris, can you take the sheets downstairs when you go, you done everything?” she looks so pretty dressed up but is doing cleaning in it, she is so weird “I will” placing the bag down, let me do our bag now for when we do go.

Throwing the sheets on the floor in the laundry room, I don’t know what to do with those so I will leave it for Robyn. I think we need a cleaner, Robyn didn’t want a cook or a cleaner. She wants to be a real ass housewife, she’s odd but we need a cleaner I think. Hearing the buzzer go off upstairs, I wonder who is here, if it is my mom again I will act like we are not home. Jogging up the stairs, making my way to the cameras. UPS guy again, pressing the buzzer. This guy must be fed the fuck up coming here “UPS guy again Princess, stop getting excited” she loves when people come, stupid dog. Opening the door and waited for the guy to walk over to me “another delivery for Mr and Mrs Brown, just one box this time” he placed it down, kind of big though “cool, I bet you can’t wait for this baby to come now. You’re constantly here” he chuckled “keeps me in a job, good luck Mr Brown” passing the tablet back to him “thank you bro” seeing Princess run out “hey! Come back in now, with your little ass” picking up the box, her ass won’t go far. Holding the door open with my foot as she ran inside, like I said she don’t go far. Letting the door close “who came?” Robyn asked “not my mom anyways but this box” placing the box down, ripping open the box “how annoying” there is a black box inside this carboard box, picking the box up and turning it around so the black box slipped out “this is from Karl Lagerfeld, I can tell with the Chanel box, he boujee as shit” Robyn said “he really didn’t have too, I know he got Junior some cute outfits” my son about to be boujee as shit too “we have so much to open and look at, but put that in the room full of gifts for me please. I will have to thank him for that” we do have so much shit, we just put it in the spare room.

I am actually happy Robyn came out to see Mijo with me, she is actually leaving the home “you promise I look nice right?” Robyn asked me for the fifth time, parking up outside the grill place Mijo is meeting me at “I did say you do baby, you are so beautiful” turning the car engine off “I will help you out of the car, just wait in the car” she struggles a little, opening the car door and stepping out. Opening Robyn’ side of the door, holding my hand out to her “I can still get out” she is playing because she would then say I don’t help “thank you though” pulling Robyn’ dress down “it’s ok, just going to get the gift bag out from the back seat” letting her hand go and opening the back seat door, grabbing the gift bag. Locking my car door and placing the key in my pocket, holding Robyn’ hand “how come we meeting here? Why not at the place you got him?” Robyn questioned “because it’s closer to where Mel stays, he only has him for a few hours” Robyn let out an oh.

Smiling at Mijo, seeing him with a stroller at the side of him looking like a single dad on his own with no friends “you look sad as hell bro” Mijo jumped looking behind him “my nigga” he got up from the chair “congratulations Barry, another nepew” I said hugging him close “thank you Chris” placing the gift bag down “got the nephew some gear” Mijo looked at Robyn mad awkward “you never hugged a pregnant woman before?” Robyn said, pulling Robyn’ chair back as Mijo hugged Robyn “congratulations Mijo” I am glad she ain’t in that mood of being an ass “y’all didn’t have to get him anything, thank you though” Robyn sat down and now I can sit down “nigga is a gentleman and shit. Push my chair in” Mijo said “I would pull your chair out nigga, don’t test me” I pointed “anyways, why are you sitting down. Show me him? He better not have a stank diaper, you last time gave me Mylen when he was born with a stank diaper” Mijo laughed getting up again “no, he legit. No stank diaper” new born babies are weird, like how the the fuck do you hold them “oh nah, he look fragile. Hold that” I said, Mijo side eyed me “he looks just like you Mijo, oh my god. He reminds me of Mylen when he was born, come here” Robyn is all up for holding such a fragile thing “you will get used to it, you have no choice” Robyn said.

Robyn is looking at him in awe “his name is Milo” Mijo said, my eyes bulged out “you and Mel came out with Milo? She actually let you do that?” Mijo nodded “what can I say, she still weird as shit with me, but he is called Milo” smiling at my nephew “when he can hold is own head up, then I will hold him. He cute though, Robyn is right. He is a mini Mylen, have they seen him?” Mijo nodded “yeah, they alright. I mean we are working through it but they happy to see me again” that is what I want to hear “I think your baby needs feeding Mijo, your baby is sniffing out my milk” looking over at Robyn “give that baby back, the barbadian milk is precious. We don’t share” Mijo busted out laughing “milk is milk nigga” I shrugged “no, this is my milk” Robyn pulled a face at me “can you stop, he is a baby. Mijo is right, milk is milk he don’t know that it’s not his mother’s milk” shaking my head “this milk is straight from Barbados” Miljo is laughing too much, he better sit his ass down with his fragile ass baby “honestly, Chris. Don’t change, you’re just dumb as fuck” Robyn is not impressed at all.

Robyn as barely touched her meal “you doing anything for tomorrow? It’s a big age for you, getting old now” sipping my drink with my eyebrows knitted together, placing my drink down “nothing, I got the biggest blessing here. I don’t want to do anything, Robyn is ready to have the baby soon so going out and shit is a no for now. I just want to chill with my woman, I might see the boys but nothing. I just want to be at home, Vegas is for kids. What do I gain out of it?” I know it’s a big deal and age but what is to come is bigger, I am not risking leaving Robyn alone for anything “that is big of you Chris, I still will come out and see you though. Turn up at your home” Robyn got up from the chair “I need the bathroom” looking at Robyn’ face, she don’t look good. Grabbing her hand “are you ok?” she nodded her head so I let her hand go “the emotions I guess, first time for you Chris. I can’t wait for you to go through it in that room, you will see your wife in a whole new light, trust me” sitting back in the chair “I am scared, no lie. I am putting up a front though, I need to be strong for Robyn. She be having meltdowns, she looks to me for things. Just worries me though, I don’t understand why she don’t speak to Mel anymore, do you know?” Mijo must know, Mijo sighed out “Mel spoke on you, from what Jen said to me in the hospital. She said something about she pity’s you and for everything your child is going to go through because of everything you have done, I got so angry hearing she said that. Now I can only imagine what Robyn feels like when that is y’all child” letting out an oh “no wonder she won’t tell me, that is fucked up. Why would you think of something so mean when I am trying here” I am hurt by that “and you have, just please don’t say anything. Robyn will hate me but let them sort it out, listen bro. You have done so well, don’t let one person knock you down” that is so evil, how can one be so evil when I was always there for her.

That shit is so fucked up “Robyn is coming back, don’t say shit. I don’t want to seem like I am a gossip, you know” nodding my head, watching Robyn sit down “you look a little pale” she don’t look like the happy self she was half hour ago “I feel sick, like I want to be sick” I thought so “y’all go back, I will come up and see you tomorrow. Don’t help being out here” Mijo said “I want to go home, I feel so ill” I guess I better go “ok then, let’s go. Don’t cry, it’s fine” Robyn get’s so emotional over nothing “stay strong Rih, it’s a journey of emotions and pain. You going to be good, it will be worth it” Mijo said, getting up from the chair “thanks Mijo” Robyn sniffled “you want to be sick now?” I am worried about my car now “no, I will be good. I just want to get into bed. My head is hurting” holding Robyn’ hand “I got the bill homie, see you tomorrow” dapping Mijo “you better come down, thanks for getting the bill” walking around the table.

It’s weird how Robyn just deteriorated like that, she looks so tired and weak out of nowhere “we home now babe, don’t worry” stopping outside the gate, the officer came out of his booth with flowers as I typed in the code “sir, these were left for you. I told the driver you was not home and they couldn’t go through” letting out an oh “thank you” taking the flowers from him “here” passing the flowers to Robyn, this is why I am so happy I live in a gated community. Nobody can pop up like that, if nobody is home you can’t even get pass the gates. Driving off slowly “it just says sorry, from Mel” Robyn mumbled, taking in a deep breath. It blows me that she even thought such a vile thing, what an actual bitch.

Tucking Robyn in bed “I will probably ring Mel tomorrow” Robyn mumbled, sitting on the edge of the bed “don’t worry about her, just think of you. Do you feel better?” pushing Robyn’ hair back, touching her forehead “babe, you are burning up. This is not good right” Robyn closed her eyes “I will just sleep it off, I can’t have painkillers or anything. I feel cold though” pulling a face “you’re actually hot though, you might be getting ill? Is the baby ok?” Robyn opened her eyes “he is moving, I just want to sleep it off. I will let you know if it gets worse” my hand still on Robyn’ forehead, she is burning. She placed her hand a top of mine “stop worrying, I will tell you. Thank you for taking my makeup off, just go and make sure princess has been fed” moving my hand back “fine, I will come to bed after” Robyn is actually stressing me out now.

Placing the covers over me, who would have thought I would be in bed before twelve. I would usually be awake ready to celebrate my birthday in a club but here I am on baby watch, life as come at me fast. Robyn is asleep and I am here watching over her, I have to be here because she is at the crucial time and she is not well. I honestly would like god to answer my prayers and let the baby arrive on my birthday, I would like that to be my present. Just for Robyn and the baby to be healthy, I am scared for Robyn too. I read on google that women die through this, how would I even function without Robyn. Shit is scary so I am praying but yet scared, I want god to be kind to us and let everything go well. Placing my arm under my head, I don’t want Robyn to do anything for me because I am content, she wanted to do a party in Vegas for me and she would fly but I am fine, why throw a party for people I barely will like. I guess I can do a little get together tomorrow, just lowkey at the home.

“Chris!” Robyn spat, feeling a shake to my body “Chris, wake up!” opening my eyes frowning, looking at Robyn towering over me “my waters broke” looking at her dumbfounded “you dropped water?” I said, Robyn shook her head letting out a sob “my waters broke, I think it’s time but I don’t feel like pushing” propping myself up “I was going to go to the bathroom and my waters broke on the carpet” staring in shock ever so silent “holy shit, it’s actually happening” I am in a daze “I think so, I don’t know what’s happening” pushing my covers off me “ring Sarah, tell her” I remember that, this shit is really happening.

[bladedbalatablog-blog]

How Golfing Saved my Life

I first picked up a

golf club

the year after my mom died.

And it saved my life.

I grew up in a magical, if not entirely backwards, period known as the 1980s. In addition to my miraculous survival through an era when seat belts were practically optional, organic hadn’t been invented yet, and parents only had the wisdom that their parents had passed down to them, my childhood was spent in a very small town. The year I was born, it’s population was just over six hundred people. And so, my beginning was spent as the oldest child of a barely-making-ends-meet working class family of five, in a three-bedroom house that stood next to a filbert orchard in Dundee, Oregon.

In that town, whose only municipal buildings were a single post office and an elementary school, my parents, for fear my brain would rot or my soul lost to the devil, forbade me many things. Mind you, I was allowed to do some things. Like ride my bike in the street completely unsupervised, without even owning a helmet. But there are two things that have stood out over my thirty-six years as being the most important. So of course now, besides my wife and kids, they’re the two things that have meant the most to me in the world.

I was five years old when I asked my father what the bag full of chrome sticks was hanging in the rafters of our garage.

“They’re golf clubs,” he told me.

“Can I see them?” I asked.

“Golf is for rich, old people. I only have those so I can play when my boss asks me to. It’s not for you. Don’t ask again,” he told me.

That was it. For the rest of my developmental years that’s what I believed. And anyone who played golf fit right into that stereotype for me. Golf was for rich people. Old people. And not me. If you weren’t those things, rich or old, then you weren’t doing it right. And golf wasn’t for you either.

That is, save a single instance in high school, when I was sixteen years old, and the girl I worshiped most had a poster of Tiger Woods hanging on the back of her door.

“Who’s that?” I asked.

“Tiger Woods,” she smiled. She was always smiling. Like she knew something I didn’t know. It drove me crazy.

“I don’t know who that is.”

“You will.” Maybe she really did know things.

Secondly, I wasn’t allowed to listen to music.

Not the music I wanted to, anyway.

Around the same time that my dad was telling me that golf wasn’t for me, my mom was telling me how dangerous music was. And was subsequently only allowed to listen to Bible stories on the record player and mom’s gospel music. But, she thought, even gospel could get a little racy sometimes.

It wasn’t until I was quite a bit older, riding the bus to the next town over for middle school, that I finally heard genuinely artistic music through the awful clock-radio speakers of my blessed bus driver’s radio.

I very clearly remember hearing Peter Gabriel for the first time. Eric Clapton for the first time. And remember my heart absolutely stopping any time Michael Jackson came on.

I admitted to her one day that I didn’t want to spend any more time learning to play the clarinet. They had bought it for me to play in the school band after I had specifically asked for a saxophone. So I could be like Kenny G. “It’s the same thing, just cheaper,” they told me. Every male trumpet player in the 6th grade disagreed.

I told my mom that I would rather spend my time learning to play the electric guitar.

“Electric guitars are the devil’s music,” she informed me. She added later that it was the high squealing solo parts that made the devil especially happy, which made me sad because those made me happy too.

That was the first time in my life I remember thinking that my parents were wrong about something. And refused to believe something they had told me. It took me nearly ten years from that moment, after thousands of attempts, from multiple angles, with every last bit of angst and determination a boy could muster to finally wear my mother down.

She bought me my first guitar when I was sixteen. I went to music college in New York City when I was eighteen. And was playing professionally by the time I was twenty-one.

She never got to see it.

I still loved my parents, then. I love them even more now. It’s just that my father was, and I think to some degree continues to be, filled with the kind of wisdom a person gets filled with growing up in the late 50s as the youngest son of a WWII chaplain and his British war-bride. His great rebellions consisted of going to see a movie after they told him movies were evil. And running off to live with his sister after high school, who herself was married to a pastor. What I’m saying is that his story isn’t a life lived out in The Hunger Games or The Catcher in the Rye. It was a life built with rules and boundaries and precision, and measured only by how steady one could be.

I want to be steady now, too. For my family.

But my story happened differently.

Mom got sick when I was fifteen and was gone by the time I was twenty. And when my world ended, collapsed, meaning ceased to exist, I just wanted something to fight against.

I needed it. A new battle. Something I could win. Because you can’t punch cancer.

And I was already well on my way musically.

What I needed was something new to fight. Something to pour the passions and fires and war from my life’s destruction into. Lest I destroy myself. Or someone I loved. Or both.

I remembered then the poster on the back of the door, and felt romance and passion.

I remembered my father telling me no. Rebellion.

I remembered what it took to get good at guitar. How my fingers bled on the frets. Fire.

My next door neighbor, a man named John, was one of the angels in my young life. He found out I wanted to play golf, was himself left-handed, and gave me my first clubs. He set them on our doorstep, bound together in a carboard box, for me to find. In those months after my mom’s death, being happy was such a foreign feeling to me that I cried when I saw them.

They were rough in my beginner hands.

MacGregor blades with hard, cord, black and green grips. You know the ones. They’re the ones your neighbor probably gave you when you first started playing.

My maiden voyage out was nine holes at the OSU home course with my best friend. I couldn’t hit a 7 iron more than a hundred yards and we barely finished. The skin on my hands, red and raw, pealed off in quarter sized blisters.

“When can we go again?”

The only words I could speak. I was in awe.

There’s never a good time to lose your parents. There’s never a good time to lose anyone. But spending high school watching her go. And then facing the idea of my twenties, trying to become the person I was meant to be, by myself? Alone? That I would never hear her calming voice again?

There’s no other word for it. I was scared.

But also, something new was forming. After buying a set of baseball gloves to cover both my hands so that I could still play guitar the next day, I wanted something beautiful. Maybe more than I had ever wanted anything before. I wanted to flush a 7 iron again. I wanted to learn how to hit the ball farther and straighter than anyone else could. And I wanted to hear my name called by the starter and walk out onto the course with nothing but me and the ball for hours and hours.

You can’t compare some things. Being a father or a good husband isn’t compatible or comparable to golf. Those things have separate categories.

But golf is perfect to me.

That’s what I’m trying to say.

For however long I’m out on the course, it’s perfect. Golf is my heaven.

When I first started out, the oldest, and hence cheapest, balls in the used ball bin were the old balata balls. Soft cover balls that, if you hit it with the leading edge of your club, left a scar that never went away. Cut it right to the core.

Some scars never fade. We can accept that.

But you can still finish the hole if you can find new reasons to go on. New joys and passions. New games to play. New courses. New playing partners.

A long time ago I was a very broken boy. Maybe I was broken from the start. But I’m still here and playing. And I couldn’t be happier.

That’s what I’m going to write about here.

My name is Nathan Christensen, and I am an old bladed balata.

And maybe that’s great, because maybe you are too.