#this is what you may have to look forward to kids with a uterus

[msviolacea]

Really, you can tell that I'm on the verge of what will, statistically, probably be another monster month-long period by the number of snarky or bitchy posts I want to make. I need an Xkit addon that will let me temporarily disable the posting function for a set period of time, while still allowing me to get some dopamine via dashboard.

[archivalofsins]

maybe i'm overthinking this, but Yuno's Tear Drop line

"Don't weigh me measure me against your morality"

makes me think of how pregant women have to consistently check their weight/measure their stomach size by doctors sometimes, or themselves

and looking at it from this lens makes me think of her talking to the client instead of just the auidence.

what do you think?

Well, before we get into the rabbit hole this has caused me to go down for several hours I do hafta tap the sign again,

Content Warning: Filicide, murder (self-explanatory), child death (self-explanatory), an in depth run down of pregnancy, it's many side effects, and the procedures done over the course of carrying a child to term.

Heads up I was fine with saying it was pregnancy entrapment and moving forward with my day. Because I could not give one less of a damn about this child in theory or in the reality of the narrative either. However, I try my best to report facts-

It is a fact that children have an overwhelming place not only in Yuno's narrative but in the narrative overall.

There are no prisoners who aren't in some aspect related to children. Be it wanting to have them their selves like with Mahiru, Kazui and Yuno. Being a child themselves like Amane, negatively impacting the life of a child or ending it like Haruka, Futa, Shidou, and Kotoko. Or just being related to one and focused on setting a good example for them like with Mikoto, Yuno, and Shidou when it comes to Amane (even though this is mostly projection on his part).

Very few prisoners are beating the we're bad with kids allegations.

The best we got is Mikoto who to his own admission through song lyrics and interrogation answers rarely visits home and doesn't call that much. So, his relationship with his sister now is estranged at best or nonexistent/incredibly infantilizing at worse because he may think of her more like his daughter than a sibling.

Something that older siblings easily fall into regardless of how far apart in age they are.

So, I feel it's important for me to make this clear. I mostly want to see Yuno kill a man twice her size- Because I believe in her. She can do it! Kill a client girl, please? Possibly the two responsible for this messy predicament we're about to go into in such egregious detail it's sidetracked my other work. I have no stake in what happened to this child. This child is a side story to me.

However, I do care about honestly laying out the facts for people who seek to know more about them. As well as doing due diligence whenever someone goes out of their way to communicate a question to me. That is my biggest priority first and foremost. Regardless of whether something aligns with my interests or not I would like to motivate people to seek out more knowledge.

It's hard to look into something all on one's own collaboration is a necessary and enjoyable way to learn something new at times. So, really from the start there's no such thing as overthinking. If you're engaging with the story in front of you in a way that inspires you to learn more and form your own opinions that's never a bad thing in my opinion.

So, anon you're asking me what I think about the fact that the line,

"Don’t weigh me measure me against your morality."

Can bring about imagery of prenatal care practices. Of weighing the mother and measuring their stomach. In this case taking Fundal Height Measurements.

What is fundal height? (Cleveland Clinic)

Fundal height is the distance between your pubic bone and the top of your uterus during pregnancy. Measuring fundal height helps healthcare providers assess if the fetus is developing correctly. It also can help determine gestational age (term to describe how far along the pregnancy is) and the fetus's position in your uterus. It's measured in centimeters with measuring tape. After about 20 weeks of pregnancy, your fundal height in centimeters should be close to the fetus's gestational age. For example, if you are 24 weeks pregnant, your fundal height should be around 24 centimeters.

You're also stating this is why you believe Yuno is referring to her client when she says this and not the audience or Es. This is the beginning of a good train of thought that's mostly being derailed by the overall lack of literacy around pregnancy. People around the world sometimes don't find out anything in regards to pregnancy until after they become pregnant.

Some schools don't even teach health classes in depth or at all. So, the likely hood of her client checking her on this isn't that high in my opinion. That doesn't mean that they couldn't have done this but these are usually things done during prenatal checkups throughout a persons pregnancy. Mostly in order to check if the baby is coming along healthily or if anything has gone wrong.

Which brings is to issue one.

Why would Yuno's songs have lyrics that allude to prenatal care as though she was going to it if the pregnancy was just an accident and she,

"I messed up. I found out."

Well would anyone happen to know what's murder and way too late to be considered an abortion?

Filicide

"Filicide, or the murder of one's own child, is an unfathomable crime." - "Parents may, for a variety of reasons, be compelled to kill their children. This article aims to educate mental health providers about the concept of filicide by presenting a broad overview of the topic, including a discussion of its history, definitions, classifications, outcomes, and the research surrounding it."

Source: An Overview of Filicide

Yeah that's why that content warning was there. Yuno wouldn't be the first prisoner in Milgram to kill a kid. I mean did anyone seriously believe that- This murder was smaller than the others?

"……don’t tell me, did this murder seem smaller to you than the murders of the other prisoners? Thought-provoking!" - Jackalope MILGRAM / Jackalope’s “Report on the end of Second Trial

That they could just decide,

"I wonder though, what decides the worth of a life?"

That just because the victim may have been a newborn infant they had less agency? There life didn't matter as much?

"I'm disappointed. You don't seem to be taking me seriously, merely based on the fact that I am a child."

But it is true that a parents influence on adolescents is strong, isn't it? Compared to adults, you are a lot more dependent on your parents.

"I see. Then, are things that I as a twelve-year-old think irrelevant? Are you going to cast aside the feelings I know that I know I have in this very moment, purely based on the fact that I have not yet lived for a very long time? Judging these things based on someone's age will not take you very far."

...

"Do I, at age twelve, not have my own will? Does Mu-san, at age sixteen, have more of a free will than I do? Does Yuno-san, at age eighteen, have even more of a free will? Does Futa-san, at age twenty, have an entirely free will?"

Does an infant at the age of weeks or months have no free will or a claim to life at all? A mere baby? The age where a person is the most reliant on their parents and the people around them. The time in a person's life they are the most vulnerable.

If their parents just decide that they can't or won't-

"I ***'t be bothered."

Is that alright? I mean it's not like they're even a person yet. A baby can't comprehend what they're being robbed of.

"Judging these things based on someone's age will not take you very far."

The difference between an infant and fetus. A lot of people would say it's a big one. Even so there a re many cases of filicide. More than most like to admit.

Oh, come on Gunsli- Are we so hard up for content in these trying times that we're falling back on theories from the very beginning of the series. Are you saying that Yuno threw a kid over a balcony.

Like,

"Oh, please?! Give me that baby and I'd yeet it off a tower."

I have no stake in this I'm choosing my peace. Don't shoot the messenger. I am simply saying there's a mountain of implications for this being the case.

A mountain that has only grown larger over the course of Milgram.

This isn't even my theory people were saying this as far back as trial one simply based on this being her Undercover image,

And the focus on staircases in Umbilical.

Some may still be asking what would even imply that even after everything said so far. Outside of these ridiculous accusations and subtle illusions to prenatal care being received.

There's nothing else.

I mean other than the fact she blatantly admitted the prisoner most like her is Kazui. All without ever saying he wasn't like her in some other aspects outside of the reasons they lie.

Q.18 Which of the other prisoners is most like you?

Yuno: Kazui without a doubt.

Q.05 Which of the other prisoners is most like you?

Kazui: I suppose I have to answer Kashiki-chan, since she said all that.

And Kazui was intimately involved with and responsible for this-

This was done to a whole ass adult. Yuno would have a lot less work to do if her victim was an infant. Since if you hold a baby wrong it can die. It's skulls hasn't even fully formed yet. Infants have soft spots in the skull referred to as the,

Fontanelles

Key facts Fontanelles are soft spots on your baby's head where the skull bones have not yet completely fused together. Fontanelles are completely normal and important for brain and skull development. The fontanelles should be completely closed by the time your baby is 26 months old. It's safe to gently touch your baby's fontanelles. If your baby's fontanelles are sunken or bulging, seek urgent medical advice.

It would not be difficult to kill one of the squishiest things in existence. This is why there are very specific ways one is meant to hold a newborn baby. Dropping one at all is a serious issue by itself.

Still Kazui and Yuno be like,

"I've never run into a problem that I couldn't be bothered with any longer that gravity couldn't solve!"

Plus, she's paired with the guy known to have literally killed a child himself. Then as I've brought up numerous times before... Her second song as is called Tear Drop. Tear as in to rip something up or out and drop as in to discard.

Something that here could imply the baby was torn out of her which is usually what happens during pregnancy anyway especially if she had to get a C-section. Yet it's also common during natural births for mothers to feel like the baby is tearing them apart from the inside as they're in labor/giving birth. Something commonly displayed across media.

So the name of her second song already implies to an extent that she went into labor at a point without even touching on the line that highlighted that alludes directly to prenatal care.

So, without further delay let's have a health lesson courtesy of Milgram and Kashiki Yuno~

Definition of Labor

Labor is a series of continuous, progressive contractions of the uterus that help the cervix dilate and efface (thin out). This lets the fetus move through the birth canal. Labor usually starts two weeks before or after the estimated date of delivery. However, the exact trigger for the onset of labor is unknown.

Signs of Labor

While each woman experiences labor differently, some common signs of labor may include: Bloody show: A small amount of mucus, slightly mixed with blood, may be expelled from the vagina.

Contractions: Uterine muscle spasms that occur at intervals of less than 10 minutes may signify that labor has started. These may become more frequent and severe as labor progresses.

"I feel a little weird I’m still not used to feeling this way. - I can’t smile well anymore. It’s because of you."

Contractions: Uterine muscle spasms.

What do contractions feel like?

Contractions feel different for everyone. Some of the ways people describe them are: Very strong and intense menstrual cramps. A wave-like tightness that begins at the top of your uterus and moves downward. A squeezing or pushing sensation across your entire abdomen. So painful that you can’t walk or talk during one.

So the tingle can't be that. Labor would be too painful to be described that way. Hm, what else is there...?

Braxton Hicks contractions

Key facts Braxton Hicks contractions are a normal part of pregnancy. Braxton Hicks contractions feel like the muscles across your belly are tightening. Braxton Hicks contractions are irregular, usually lasting for about 30 seconds — while they can be uncomfortable, they aren’t usually painful. Braxton Hicks contractions don’t mean that you’re going into labour. If you’re not sure if you are having Braxton Hicks or labour contractions, contact your doctor or midwife.

"I feel a little tingle inside."

Or the most likely option is the tingle being referred to is the baby kicking. Also knowns as-

Fetal Movement

Fetal movements felt by pregnant women are a sign that the fetus is growing in size and strength. The pregnant woman is usually the first to feel these movements, which can later be perceived by others. Women are often taught by their healthcare provider to monitor or be aware of the movements of the fetus. This can be a general awareness of fetal movements, or the women can be taught to count the number of kicks they feel in a set amount of time. Reduced fetal movement can be worrisome for both the mother and the attending healthcare provider. Decreased fetal movement can be a warning sign of potential fetal impairment or risk, and therefore, warrants further evaluation by the healthcare provider.

Your baby's movements (NHS)

You should start to feel your baby move between 16 to 24 weeks of pregnancy. If this is your first baby, you might not feel movements until after 20 weeks.

What your baby's movements feel like?

The movements can feel like a gentle swirling or fluttering. As your pregnancy progresses, you may feel kicks and jerky movements.

Check, check and check.

By the facts and Yuno's own statements in her song lyrics and elsewhere- She is at best 16 to 24 weeks pregnant.

In Japan, abortion is permissible up to a pregnancy period of less than 22 weeks.

Source: J-Stage

She's cutting it pretty close here and that's at the very beginning of Umbilical. She continues to carry the pregnancy forward throughout that song. Even after it's popped we're actually shown it's gotten bigger.

The balloon looks to be smaller before it's popped as well.

Shown by how even when Yuno is not applying much pressure to it the smaller ones inside still do not have as much space to move around in as the balloon we see in the balloon shown after this popping scene.

Once again implying that this pregnancy is getting closer and closer to term as the song continues. Not only does this information display that. It also showcases that Yuno-

For all of the audience talking saying she was just naïve and didn't know what she was doing and just made a mistake- In fact recognized she was pregnant and did things to make sure that pregnancy was viable and was probably looking forward to having a kid for a small bit.

Like she said in Tear Drop.

"“Poor naive little girl”? So off the mark,what’s it to you? It’s just absurd." - "Feeling magnanimous? INNOCENT? I’m so not that."

In Umbilical the audience is even shown her looking into buying baby toys reminiscent to Haruka's,

One decently different from the one she receives in Tear Drop latter.

This is something implied from the beginning of the series. It is implied not only through the scene in Umbilical combined with this statement,

Q.20 What’s the most expensive thing you’ve ever bought for yourself?

Yuno: I can’t really remember. Maybe a plush toy?

Which proves the one within Umbilical is more than likely not the same one in Tear Drop. Considering that the one seen in her second mv is expressly being gifted to her. She did not buy it for herself. Meanwhile the one in Umbilical is one she went out and looked at herself with seemingly no one else present.

Since none of her clients have really been outside or in stores with her often. At least not so openly in empty spaces like that. Yuno even states that she tends to go shopping with friends.

Q.12  Tell us your hobby.

Yuno: Going out shopping with my friends, I guess? Also I’m part of the theatre club, so occasionally practice.

Baby plush toys can get really up there in price too. Especially if they're good quality made to last for a while again similar to Haruka's. It's not unheard of for new mothers to splurge on their children's first toy.

Beyond that, the store Yuno is currently in is set up like every store for new mothers that sells goods for infants. Even down to the layout.

Here are some links that have some visuals of baby stores that I found with help from @doctorbunny while looking into this,

Favorite Baby Boutiques in Los Angeles

5 Best Baby Shops in Los Angeles

Wee Bee Baby Boutique

Betta

Pictures from inside a shop in Tokyo that Bunny found.

The bunny she's holding in the photo is even a neutral muted color unlike the brighter yellow one she's given later.

Please feel free to look up more examples. Since I'm not from Japan and have never been there I can't be entirely sure what stores for expecting mothers and infants are like out there.

Bright Colors vs. Muted Colors - How it affects your little one

How to present color to a newborn and children up to 3 years? A baby that is only a few days old prefers contrasting patterns. Their eyes aren't fully developed yet in the first days, even months. Different shades of one color are preferred not to overstimulate the newborn visually. Use black, white, and grey color in different patterns and shapes to offer a strong, contrasting visual experience and to offer the best form of visual stimulation without overstimulating them. These colors stand out in their field of vision.

From 3 to 6 months, babies prefer primary colors, and at 7 months, their vision is developed very well, and you can introduce most colors and shades of it. But GRADUALLY. After one year, children learn to differentiate colors, so they can be used to stimulate cognitive development. After 3 years, every color plays its own role in your child's development and has a beneficial role.

How Colors Play a Role in Baby’s Development (the BUMP)

"Initially, newborns can’t see in full color, so most toys and board books for the first few months of life use bright images with high contrast (like black and white) and lots of white space, says Natasha Burgert, MD, FAAP, a Kansas-based pediatrician and Philips Avent expert." These sharply contrasting colors, shapes and patterns encourage baby’s development in many ways. First, they’re easier for babies to see and process, compared to muted colors with lower contrast, says Jody LeVos, PhD, childhood development expert and chief learning officer at the education company BEGiN. Plus, they also help to boost “the development of optic nerves and encourage babies’ cognitive development without overstimulating them,” Hafeez explains. Babies gradually begin to process more colors as they grow and can typically see the full color spectrum by 6 months old, Burgert says. “As children age, so do the cells in the eye.” And the more color baby sees, the better their retinas will begin to process them, says Carolyn Rubenstein, PhD, a licensed psychologist in Florida. She recommends paying attention to baby’s interest and how long they look at something. This can help determine when to add more colors to baby’s space to slowly stimulate their visual development and strengthen the bond between visual and cognitive processing. “Brain cells receive input from baby’s different developing senses that allow the nerves to expand and grow,” Rubenstein explains. “The more visual stimuli you provide, the more the baby’s retina matures, and the optic nerves progress.”

Sorry babies eyes are still in the development stage. Please introduce high contrasting colors first. So they can get acclimated to colors. Nothing too big those peepers are still sensitive. You wouldn't want to overstimulate the baby. Yuno: Aww what a cute rabbit. (Fucking yellow piece of shit.)

What Colors Are Best for Baby’s Development?

Experts agree that black, white and high-contrast colors are best for baby’s early development, and a spectrum of colors can help little ones manage their big feelings later on. But does this mean beige and neutral colors might be hindering baby’s development? Not necessarily. “While a toy that’s beige is not harmful, a toy with a bold black-and-white pattern (which has high contrast) will likely be more interesting for baby,” LeVos says. “Having said that, you don’t need to turn everything black and white!” The good news is there are plenty of existing objects that provide sharp contrast that you may not even think about. “You may notice that baby is fascinated with the ceiling fan (even when it’s not on), which is an example of an object in the real world that already provides the type of contrasting colors baby craves,” LeVos explains. 

This may be why the bunny we see her have in Umbilical is a plain beige. Because at the time this was the trend when it came to designing baby rooms and still is. It was particularly a trend on the website Yuno is implied to be using,

Instagram. So it wouldn't be surprising for her to follow these sort of trends when it comes to aesthetics.

Outside of all that though. Milgram and Yuno herself made it clear from the beginning that the pregnancy was something she was prolonging.

Through showing her blowing up the balloon herself (the balloons also match the coloring on the toy rabbit seen in Umbilical) throughout her first trial song.

For those curious Star color picked the balloons and stuffed rabbit in IbisX and these are the hex codes

FFEDD9 <- Bunny

FCEAE0 <- Balloons.

She said they're in the same range whatever that means I don't know how these work. I just work here.

Yuno wanting to have kids regardless of her personal motivations as to why- Would still track with the man she went on record saying was like her the most out of the prisoners without a doubt. Giving the audience more of an insight into why Yuno the most observant of the cast who tells the audience that her habit is people watching would be so certain of this.

20/06/30

Mu: ……yeah, that’s right, since I went to an all-girls school. I’m not really used to being around adult men…… other than Papa.

Kazui: I see…… I get why a big guy like me could be scary for you, then. Hm? Ah…… Kusunoki-chan. Sorry for asking out of the blue, but how old is your father?

Mu: Eh……? Um…… I think he’s 41……

Kazui: ……it wouldn’t be strange for me to have a kid around your age then, huh. I’m getting old. Well, nothing to be gained by thinking about it……

Q.08 If you could have one of the other prisoners as your family, who would you pick?

Kazui: Maybe Amane- Having children was the furthest thing imaginable in our family.

24/06/27 (Amane’s Birthday)

Kazui: We never really thought about having kids in my family. So because of that, it’s a bit dazzling having you here. I am still worried about you though, despite everything. If things were different, it wouldn’t be that weird for me to have my own kid about your age.

Amane: ……not having children is just a different way one can choose to live. Bringing new life into the world is something to be respected, but it isn’t a guarantee or measure of happiness. If this is the choice you made based on your own environment and responsibilities, then you can feel pride in your choice.

Kazui: Ah, I guess so. I mean, hypothetically, even if I did want kids. Children can easily be influenced by the way their parents raise them. I understand that first-hand. And I know I can’t take on that responsibility. Yeah. Well, if there’s anything this old man can say to the next generation. I think you should do what you like. Do things the way you want to. Whether you’re a child or not, it doesn’t matter. Don’t lie to your own true feelings.

Amane: Who do you think you’re lecturing…… I don’t need you to tell me that. I’m faithful to my own feelings. I am, to mine.

23/09/02 (Yuno’s Birthday)

Kazui: I heard you’ve been helping Shidou-kun out. ……er, sorry if this comes across as rude, but it’s kind of unexpected. It always seemed like you didn’t care that much about other people.

Yuno: Hmm? What’s with that all of a sudden. I mean, you’re right, I don’t care much. But if there’s someone dying in front of you anyone would do what they could to help, right? And anyway, aren’t you the same? You usually don’t care much either, right?

Kazui: ……I wonder. This old man isn’t as much of a thinker as you are. I mean, until now I’ve been in an environment where it’s all about having physical strength. So I’ve never really thought about stuff like that.

Yuno: Haha, we’re the same in that we’re both liars too. I guess the difference is the reasons we lie. You care about yourself, so lie to protect yourself. I don’t care about anyone at all, including myself.

Kazui has not hidden (or hasn't done a good job of hiding) the fact that he has wanted or is interested in having children himself since the series started. Plus the audience has been shown time and time again Yuno's no pushover when it comes to her observations and she doesn't say things when she knows it would be pointless to.

20/05/26

Kazui: Ahh, this old man’s gonna go and smoke in the corner a bit. I checked with the guard, and apparently we can use our free time however we want. Man, I’m glad this place is so relaxed.

Shidou: ……! Are…… we allowed to smoke……?

Kazui: Huh…… Shidou-kun, was it? You smoke too? That’s kinda unexpected.

Shidou: Ah, yes. ……I only started fairly recently though. I’ll go with you…… to smoke.

Futa: Ahh, those old men really stink of tobacco. Are they idiots or something? They should know better at that age…… If they really can’t cope without relying on something like that then I worry about their sanity.

Yuno: ……it doesn’t really matter does it? They’re making sure they’re staying far away from the people who don’t smoke. Personally I quite like the smell anyway.

Futa: Huh!? What are you talking about? It means you’re more likely to get sick, it costs money, it’s a nuisance for everyone around you, what’s even the point. Our tax money is being wasted going towards paying for that, you know? If you were really smart, you’d know not to smoke at all!

Yuno: I see~

She knows when to let a topic die as one could put it.

Now let's get back into the facts of childbirth.

The last sign of Labor

Rupture of the amniotic sac (bag of water): If you experience amniotic fluid gushing or leaking from your vagina, go to the hospital immediately and contact your health care provider. Most women go into labor within hours of the amniotic sac breaking. If labor does not begin soon after rupturing your amniotic sac, you will be given medications to induce your labor. This step is often taken to prevent infection and other delivery complications.

Something that could be related back to the state we see Yuno in during the artistic depiction of her crime in Undercover. Yes, I know... But Gunsli by that logic wouldn't it mean the only crime to occur in Yuno's story would be filicide?

Not exactly.

This is why I said artistic depiction of her crime. What we get in Undercover is not the most realistic depiction we have of any of the prisoners crimes. That would be the third anniversary art of them all after their crime.

To further prove this isn't the most realistic depiction of their crime and could instead be the inciting incidents. In the art for Mikoto who we've seen commit murder with a bat there's no bat in sight. Then for Amane who we saw in Purge March use her umbrella as a weapon he anniversary art has her in the attire from magic. Implying in Amane and Mikoto's cases there were more than one murders.

Especially since some prisoners such as Kotoko and Futa are dressed exclusively as they were dressed when they committed their crimes. Now sure Kotoko wears that outfit whenever she's doing crime probably so this doesn't mean her or Futa didn't kill more than one person. It just means they're a bit more economical about they are not changing their clothes for this or may just own multiple of those outfits.

However, the fact that Amane, Mikoto, and Yuno are all dressed in ways that are specifically contradictory to the states we are shown them comiting the crime in within their videos... Should raise some eyebrows. Especially since Mu's art makes it abundantly clear these are after the crimes. Because it lines up directly with what we have been given in her mvs even down to the missing shoe.

Also it's clear the undercover one is an artistic rendition of the events because they're already in their uniforms during those which they were definitely not wearing. Meaning this may not only be an artistic rendition but foreshadowing of what the prisoners very well could do in Milgram.

I mean Kotoko already kicked a few people around. So it wouldn't surprise me at this point. Plus like Jackalope said-

"There's a possibility that these prisoners are all monsters, who could eat us up, and that's exactly why-"

That's exactly why, determining that is my duty as the prison guard- Is what you'll say.

What I'm getting at is that Undercover showcases the triggers for the prisoners misdeeds and what they may very will still be capable of even now. Despite the predicament Milgram has put them in. Two things can be true at once the instances in Undercover can alluded to their crimes prior to Milgram while still foreshadowing what they can do in Milgram.

Yet, Undercover doesn't show all of their misdeeds. If we think of Undercover in as displaying all prisoners' and Es' starting points along with their possible end points based on our choices. I.E the attacks on Es being what occurs if they're left unrestrained or provoked too much.

Than that would allude to several things being true for Yuno.

That she in fact did have an abortion and that's what triggered her behavior in Umbilical. It's just that abortion happened prior to that. Due to the contractual nature of her situation that is alluded to during her part of Undercover.

Hell even these lyrics by themselves imply that she didn't want to get a abortion.

"“UNDER” My cord’s being pulled but nothing’s ever enough Contractual desires, oh what to do, FUTURE."

Stating that her cord's being pulled by something outside of her volition and asking ,what to do about these contractual desires. The same desires alluded to at the beginning and throughout Tear Drop-

"The wanted wanting the wanter. The overlap, isn’t that some sort of perfection?" - "Desire, bestow, and desire again."

This again isn't anything new I've said this before.

Yes, I know that's a picture of Kotoko I need to make it clear that's not the first picture in that post. It's not even the last and yes the post is about Yuno. That image is just misleading.

I've discussed this many times at this point. I'll probably end up discussing it again too.

Because the posts I make on Yuno inevitably get lost to fucking time, banished from the tag entirely, and then even when I look for them on my end knowing full and well how they're tagged I can't find them either. Prime example I know I linked this stuff again in an ask specifically from Astarthatburnsbrightly. I've gone into my own blogs archive then organized post by asks and it's not fucking there of course.

Why would it be? According to it that ask never happened. An ask I was only trying to find because of how difficult it was to find the post I just linked the previous times I had to. Which is why I linked it in that ask. I'd usually attempt to gently convince myself into thinking I'm just recalling incorrectly but this person was really nice about my fuck ups when I answered that ask.

So, I don't think I am this time. Because if there's one thing I remember clear as crystal it's my own mistakes. I'm gonna say this right now. Save this somewhere else I do not know if I or anyone will be able to find this again after it's up for a few weeks or even a month. I just I really don't know anymore.

Hopefully the same thing doesn't happen to this ask. Yet, at the same time it does give me pause. Like I wouldn't be holding my breath to prove it won't disappear I can tell you that. I literally had to hunt the thing I just linked back down. Again something I went out of my way to do the time I linked in that ask and went ya know this one won't disappear it'll be fine. When I was sent that other ask.

If we manage to find that ask we'll link it too but I'm not holding my breath for it.

Back to the point. This would also explain why Umbilical has a focus on reloading the warmth.

“Let’s reload the warmth.”

A line so important that it is the highlighted lyric within her first trial song description,

Milgram has never shied away from the the fact that Yuno was trying to get back something she'd lost. Even within the old English lyrics of the music video,

"“UNDER” I feel the emptiness inside me. We agreed to seek each other, I wish we could do something about it, Future."

It would make a lot of sense if that something she lost was her previous and first pregnancy. As well as give her actions more emotional weight. Considering how emotionally devastating it is to be put into a situation where one wants to carry a pregnancy to term but is forced not to.

"Just me alone, it really is lonely. Let’s reload the warmth." - "Are we over? Please don’t answer. What do you want to do? Please tell me."

This would also shed some light on her mannerisms around Amane,

23/06/27 (Amane’s Birthday)

Amane: What is it…… Kashiki Yuno. Don’t sit so close to me. Go away.

Yuno: Sorry for barging in when you’re getting into your worldview thing. But Mahiru-san’s finally managed to get to sleep. Humour me with some small talk while I take a break. By the way, Amane. Have you ever wished you were never born? I’ve thankfully lived a pretty fun life so far, so haven’t really. But you seem to be struggling with something. So I kinda wondered if you thought like that.

Amane: ……I don’t think that. Being born into this world is the first miracle any person experiences, and is something to celebrate. Even if after birth I was put through trial after trial, the value of that will never disappear.

Yuno: Hmm. Ok. ……happy birthday, then. It’s good that you were brought into the world, I guess.

Asking her if she's ever wished she was never born to possibly get a yes and maybe feel a bit better about not being able to bring that previous pregnancy to term. Like well Amane's young and she already kind of regrets being here no guarantee my child would've had it better. But instead getting a entire spiel about how being born is the first miracle.

Leaving her to only be able to reply with,

"It's good that you were brought into the world, I guess."

Because that simply may be much better than pointing out not everyone gets that miracle. Yet it would definitely be something I could see someone who has gone through circumstances like that thinking. I feel like people greatly underestimate how many people in the world want children who may never be able to have any or have for reasons outside of their personal control been able to carry a pregnancy to term.

Like the fact that people can have kids is something that they take for granted literally everyday. Until they come across someone who cannot have kids for whatever reasons. It's to the point where most people go I'll do it when I feel like it because it's so commonly discussed as something people can do with very little complications.

But children are born stillborn, some fetuses form without heart beats, some people due to their line of work if they get pregnant on their job by accident will have to get an abortion. That's how the world has always worked. There are people who have kids and people who don't but the reasons for that are completely unknown to anyone outside of those people themselves.

This is a very intimate and personal issue. So, to just go oh yeah abortion easy Innocent no more thought needed was bit foolhardy at best and actively emotionally damning at worse. I can't imagine wanting a kid and having a bunch of people going you go girl ditch that fetus evict that baby. Like I'd be so upset. The fuck gives anyone else the right to weigh in on that without even asking if I wanted children or not.

Which is something the audience could have asked at any time but was very comfortable assuming the answer was no.

"Interesting. I guess that’s how it is in your era."

I guess it is. There's nothing more to say. Who the fuck wants a child in this economy I guess. Let's just ignore that I feel the emptiness inside me thing it's not important. But Gunsli you've been acussing here of filicide this whole time and now you're saying she wanted a kid.

Oh would you look at that it's- This is a good time to get back to that second trial song title point.

Different Stages of Labor

Typically, labor is divided into three stages: First stage: During the onset of labor, your cervix will complete dilation. Early in this stage, you may not recognize that you are in labor if your contractions are mild and irregular.

Dilation is when the cervix opens up after thinning. One could equate this to tearing. The cervix thinning and opening up in this way allows for the baby to pass through the birth canal for the delivery to be done without need of a c-section.

To put it in more detail which I know is what everyone here wants.

Effacement

Put simply this is what the thinning of the cervix during pregnancy and child birth is referred to as. Effacement begins when the baby's head drops down into the pregnant persons pelvis and pushes against the cervix. This causes the cervix to stretch and thin out, or efface.

Then

Early labor is divided into two phases The latent phase: Marked by strong contractions that usually occur at five- to 20-minute intervals. During this phase, your cervix will dilate approximately 3 to 4 centimeters and efface. This is usually the longest and least intense phase of labor. You may be admitted to the hospital during this phase. Your doctor will perform pelvic exams to determine the dilation of the cervix. The active phase: Signaled by the dilation of the cervix from 4 to 10 centimeters. Your contractions will likely increase in length, severity and frequency, occurring at three- to four-minute intervals. In most cases, the active phase is shorter than the latent phase. Especially since the baby is meant to drop out head side first when giving birth anyhow. Implying that the baby got out fine but was dropped at a latter time.

"Especially since the baby is meant to drop out head side first when giving birth anyhow. Implying that the baby got out fine but was dropped at a latter time."

Tear Drop- “Phew. Anyway!”

Oh.... Kay but that's all circumstantial. Ya know what- Yeah it is. It's also completely rooted in fact not just from how pregnancy works in reality but the facts provided from the series itself. If someone doesn't like it that's on them at this point.

Honestly, ya know I was gonna wait until I was done with what I was doing to say anything about or look into this. Especially since I was recently told that this environment still doesn't handle critical analysis of the characters well. Especially Yuno who has gotten a reputation of being able to do no wrong.

Then I was like I have a mother and a friend who had a child. I'll just phone them real quick and ask about this. Never a bad time to learn something new from people who have experienced the thing being discussed first hand. My friend told me that the measuring and weighing is sometimes incorporate into games at baby showers for people to attempt to guess the weight of the child on that info alone.

Which she stumbled across while planning a baby shower for someone else. Basically went yeah they weigh and measure. My mother was like of course they weighed me they do that when anyone goes to the doctor but they never put any tape on my stomach to measure it or anything.

My friend is more on the petite side around about the same weight as Yuno and didn't show when she was pregnant. Something that seems to be the same case for Yuno as well. So I could see measurements like that being done in her case but it's also just a common practice to do now.

Fundal height tells your healthcare provider important things about your baby's size, growth and position in your uterus. It helps confirm that your baby is growing as they should. It can also tell them how much amniotic fluid is in your uterus. Too little or too much amniotic fluid can indicate a problem.

Unlike back in my mother's day. Then outside of those things I began talking about it in private which is a guarantee to get an answer from me quicker than one usually would. Sadly no one outside of myself possibly not even the asker themselves may enjoy the answer I gave here.

Yet, in my opinion anonymous asker- You just highlighted a lyric that without a shadow of a doubt proves that Yuno committing filicide while not confirmed is incredibly likely. For all of the reasons I just listed above.

Damn when Yamanaka was not lying when he said,

Q.15 Is there anything the guards aren't aware of yet?

Yamanaka: Of course, there may be some minor details, but I don't think there are any major points missing. The mysteries have already disseminated, I feel the full picture will be clearly revealed if the theories and wild speculations, which have been shared around the world, come together. As expected.

That was a real all according to plan way he said that in hindsight. Still I think what just happened here is a good example of what he was probably anticipating happening. Wait a second- you didn't say why she would kill a baby if she wanted one.

Oh; yeah! I forgot here first song title Umbilical. Yeah funny thing about those. Did you know that the umbilical cord is used for paternity tests after the child is born?

What is paternity test using umbilical cord? (HIRO CLINIC)

The umbilical cord, which is cut at birth, is an important organ that physically connects the baby to the mother. The cord and placenta are rich in the baby’s DNA, which can be used to confirm the parent-child relationship. While the most popular method of paternity testing is the “oral swab,” in which DNA is collected from the inside of the cheek, testing using the umbilical cord is particularly effective when a DNA sample remains from the time of birth. Let’s take a look at the process of how paternity testing using the umbilical cord is performed.

"I messed up, I found out."

DNA Paternity Test (American Pregnancy Association)

Postnatal testing, after a child’s birth, is done through an umbilical cord collection at the time of delivery or a sample is collected at a lab after the baby is released from the hospital. Either a buccal (cheek swab) or a blood collection can be performed.

Her cords being pulled alright. Can't believe I almost forgot that part well... I'm gonna go play crypt. This took from twelve forty to eleven thirty pm to write. Well at least I'm pretty proud of it.

[slafkovskys]

have Petey and princess ever talked about her not wanting kids? Like how did that conversation go?

warnings: talks heavily about the possibility of never having kids due to a medical condition and also talks about said medical condition. please proceed with care.

princess had never wanted a serious relationship, but things were different with elias. when they get back to vancouver from sweden and she’s spending basically all of her nights at his apartment, she knows that they’re serious before they even put a label on it. she knows that she has to tell him then.

“we need to talk,” she breaks the ice over dinner. she has cooked that night, just a basic pasta and sauce but elias still said that it was the best he had ever tasted, “about something serious.”

“okay,” elias sets his fork down and crosses his hands together in front of him.

“i care about you, elias. i can see a future with you and what i’m about to tell you, i can’t move forward with us without you knowing it. there’s only two people in the world that know,” she swallows the lump in her throat, “me and the doctor who diagnosed me.”

“princess,” he trails off, a look of concern taking over his face as he reaches across the table to grab onto her hand and she’s so grateful for that in the moment, “you don’t have to tell me-”

“i have endometriosis,” she says the words that she had never uttered out loud to another soul before. her eyes search his face for a reaction which she doesn’t get. “it’s a medical condition where basically the tissue that’s supposed to grow inside of my uterus, isn’t growing there and because of that, i may never be able to have children.”

realization flashes across his face and she nods.

“i’ve known for a few years now and i’ve made peace with the fact that children just may not be in my future. i- i love them, but just not for me,” she squeezes his hand, “if that’s a deal breaker for you i understand-”

“no, it’s just- i don’t know anything about the condition-”

“endometriosis.”

“endometriosis,” he looks at her for confirmation and she nods her head, “it’s not a dealbreaker for me, princess. not at all. thank you for telling me.”

“you understand that i may never be able to give you children,” she needs that clarification and he cracks a small smile. “elias-”

“but i’ll still have you?” he asks and she nods, “you’re going to have to teach me about it because i don’t know anything, seriously, but i don’t look at you any differently than i did five minutes ago when i thought you were going to tell me that you just ordered this from a restaurant and threw away the boxes.”

she can’t help but laugh at his attempt to lighten the mood, “is it that bad?”

“you burned microwave mac and cheese the other day, princess. and i saw the receipt sticking out of the trashcan.”

[randomisemily]

So, I’m a new mom.

Writing this on this blog, I can’t believe it. But this blog has been my rant blog for years and years. And it still is. Even when years have passed, crazy.

So yes, new mom. My baby girl is three weeks old tomorrow. And the reason I need to rant is because of my issues with breastfeeding.

My breastfeeding journey is short. But I love long stories, so I’ll start with the baby making process. No, it’s not that kind of blog. I mean, the journey. Because that was, in fact, quite a journey as well.

Before Covid, my husband and I got engaged. We were ready for marriage and after that, kids. I’m not “traditional” in the sense that I needed to be married before getting kids, it just made more sense to me. Practically, I wanted a typical big wedding and I knew I didn’t have planning skills (etc…) to put together a wedding while having a baby already. So, wedding first. Then babies!

We set the date in August 2020. But yes, Covid came along and yes, we had to postpone, at least, the party. We did actually get married that day. With 14 people in total to witness it.

We needed to wait to throw the party until the end of september 2021. Baby fever, however, did not wait.

The wedding finally happened and I threw out birth control as fast as I could. I even went to the doctor for a check up, right before the wedding. Forget getting my nails done, what’s up with my uterus?!

Trying to conceive, I quickly learned, is a whole thing in itself. Tracking your cycle. Finding your ovulation. And so forth. But I did it. And came to the conclusion: this is hard! I quickly became obsessed with my ovulation and trying to figure out the timing. After a few months of obsessively trying to conceive, I really felt like something was off. My cycle. What a long cycle did I have. For people who don’t know, on average a cycle is 28 days. Mine was often 35 days or longer. WEIRD.

Fast forward a few months and in April-May of 2022, I needed to put a hold on conceiving because of gall bladder surgery. I had known about this surgery since February, so it didn’t make sense for me to try and conceive for a few months. Bummer!

After the surgery, I went to see my OBGYN. It was about damn time there was a baby in my belly, I figured.

PCOS. That is what I have. And that’s why I couldn’t conceive. I was heartbroken. Sure, it wasn’t severe. But the future was so uncertain. Will I ever be a mom?! (If you read the first line of this long ass rant, you’ll know that I will).

There was a solution, however. Pills and check-up. It’s really not hard, if I look back at it. It’s not IVF, or anything. But oh god, it was still really tough. You take the pills. You wait. You go for check-ups, get your blood drawn, get the results and you have intercourse whenever THEY say you should. And then… you wait once more. Ha, what a joy. So, first cycle, nothing. Not even an egg growing. No ovulation. Just hormones all over the place. 2nd cycle: yes, I ovulated! No baby. Third cycle: A BABY!!! A red line appeared on my (many many many) tests!

What a relief. What a miracle. Incoming: baby on the way at the end of May! (Actually, she came on the first of June)

My pregnancy was smooth AF. First trimester was mostly me, a zombie. Wanting to sleep all day. Barely ever getting sick. One time, I was sick. And I also got the flu. That is all. In fact, I went on a trip to Madrid while 8 weeks pregnant. Had lots of fun and barely any symptoms.

My bump started to grow around 20 weeks. I was so exicted, yet also very insecure. What if people thought I couldn’t poop? That’s what the tiny bump looked like. I felt pregnant. I had been feeling kicks for a few weeks. But I didn’t look pregnant.

But that’s okay because the bump came around and I enjoyed every day. Even the days with heartburn. And even the ones where I felt like I couldn’t put shoes on anymore or shave my legs (and other parts).

If someone were to ask me to do it all over again, I would. It was wonderful.

I was a week late when I gave birth and I thought I’d get induced. In fact, me and my husband were SURE. So sure that we booked a table at the restaurant we went for dinner to celebrate me being pregnant. Yeahhh, we had to cancel, of course. Stupid us. Labor was fine. Painful. Traumatic. And all that. But fine. I mean, I ended up with a baby. Puked three times and fainted on the toilet seat. But I got a baby!!!!

AND HERE COMES THE BREAST FEEDING PART

So, I had always expressed wanting to breast feed. I don’t know, seems like the normal thing to do. Nine months, my baby had been eating what I was eating. I thought I wanted to continue. And create that bond.

From the start, though, it was painful. My nipples were bleeding. And by the time I left the hospital, I was almost scared to let my baby near my boobs. Here is the thing: I was informed. Breastfeeding didn’t have secrets for me. So I thought. Nobody tells you that your 3 day old baby can cause blood gushing from your nipples. A midwife told me: “you think she has teeth, right?” Jokingly, ha ha ha. Yes, she seems to be a vampire. That’s for sure.

The first day home, she didn’t want to eat. The 7 AM feedtime turned into the 1 PM feed time. The hours in between, screaming and crying. And not just her.

With a lot of help from my midwife, she finally had her breakfast and lunch. And we found a solution for the pain, as well as why she wouldn’t want to eat, etc.

The weekend came around and the midwife weighed my baby. She gained weight! Yaay!

Come Tuesday, she had lost a massive amount of weight. I was in shock. What the actual???

Breastfeeding hadn’t been going great. She wasn’t the best at it, I wasn’t the best at it. But it had been going, you know? Yet, she didn’t gain weight. She dropped weight. My tiny baby was losing weight and she didn’t have a cute thick belly but you could see her ribs. Man, I cried.

The next few days were terrifying. We decided to add formula to her feeding schedule, so she’d gain the weight. And she finally did. But the breastfeeding was getting tougher and tougher. At a certain point, I breast fed her for 20+ minutes, my husband gave her a bottle and while he was doing that, I was pumping. That whole ordeal took 45+ minutes and we had to do it all over again every two hours. My husband felt like a washing machine, I felt like a milk cow.

The pumping wasn’t working and my husband had to go back to work so we switched to the combo of breast/formula at the beginning of this week.

Yet, soon enough, she wouldn’t drink anymore. Was I afraid she’d lose the weight again? No, we had formula now. But God, I was TIRED.

And so was my body. I needed to give it a rest. I realized I barely make enough milk for her to get fed once a day. And she needs it 8 times a day.

I am heartbroken and releived at the same time. I needed to learn how to enjoy my baby without the dread of feeding time. And I have. I love her so much. But man, the mom guilt is real. The fact she doesn’t get to taste the food I eat every day. The fact I can’t give her what she needs now that she’s not inside me anymore. It could eat me up. But, I’m writing it off. She’s thriving on formula. Her belly is full every day. And she’s happy. I’m letting it go.

And I can’t wait to tell her how her first three weeks of her life were like. 🥰

The truth about breastfeeding is, it’s hard. It can be wonderful. I wholeheartly believe that. I do. I always will. But for me, it just wasn’t. I now feed her in a lot less time and, after she’s fed, she sleeps on my belly or in my arms. I don’t know if I’d trade anymore.

I was so informed and had so much help. Which I am so grateful for. But no one prepared me for when breastfeeding just doesn’t work.

You know, come to think of it. The same thing goes for trying to conceive. I was informed and knew all about my cycle. When to try. How to try. But at the end of the day, no one informed me about the devestation of when it doesn’t work.

I guess this is just a rant. But listen, if someone does read this: it’s all worth it. Trying to conceive. Worth it. Pregnancy and labor: worth it. And yes, breastfeeding was worth it as well. If I wouldn’t have tried…. I wouldn’t have known.

And at the end of the day, I love her so much.

[bedbellyandbeyond]

Contraband

(Story Post)

“Dax, sorry to keep you waiting,” Syd said as they came into the exam room. “No, it's fine,” Dax said. “I'm just happy to get some possible answers today.” Syd sat down at their desk and crossed their legs. “First of all, have you recently been in contact with either Jeffrey Matthews or Oliver Larson?” “Yes, Jeffrey has been over to my partner's house a lot, and I met his cousin over a week ago. Why?” “I had Oliver in today and he informed me that he shared a substance from this container with you, is that correct?” Syd took out the container of protein powder and placed it on the edge of his desk.

Dax blinked and turned it around. “Yes, he let me try some. I was looking for a new protein powder. Why? Is there something wrong with it?” “Yes, unfortunately Mr. Larson was mistaken of its contents,” Sydryn explained. “The container has been misused to carry alien made contraband that is almost certainly the cause of your incident a week ago.” Dax stared at the container. “…That caused me to do all that?” Sydryn nodded slowly. “It belonged to and was created by one Bler 9 Tid, a Prilarian formerly acquainted with Jeffrey Matthews. It has the ability of altering one's internal anatomy to create a womb capable of bearing viable live offspring in persons without one. It also increases the consumers libido and hormone production, causing the consumer to go into a chemically induced oestrus. Tid gave the contraband to Matthews to be able to impregnate him.” Dax was still for a few moment, unsure what to say. Piecing the events together in his mind, it all started to make sense. “…So, you're saying that the ‘protein powder' I added to my smoothie that morning actually made me grow a uterus and put me in a manufactured heat?” “Correct.” “So…” Dax was still searching for what he wanted to say. “…I was in heat, I tried to have sex with my boyfriend and when that didn't work…I just went to the next closest guy I knew… And now what, are you saying I could be pregnant?” Sydryn exhaled. “Yes, that is why we need to draw blood again.” “What happened to the blood you drew last week?” Dax asked. “We only tested it to check your hormone levels,” Sydryn said. “Also, a pregnancy cannot be confirmed until the second week.” “But it's only been one week,” Dax pointed out. “Yes, I failed to add earlier that this contraband you consumed also doubles the speed of a human pregnancy,” Sydryn said. “One week for you is two weeks for a pregnancy, if an egg was successfully fertilised.” Dax put his head in his hands trying to process all this information. “…After all that…I could be pregnant…with Kent's child?” Sydryn uncrossed their legs and leaned forward to place a hand on Dax's shoulder. “I understand that this is a lot to take in. We cannot confirm a pregnancy yet until the results of a blood test, but we can confirm the formation of a uterus now with an ultrasound.” Dax took a deep breath. “...Okay. Do whatever you have to do, I guess... I need to know.” “When was the last time you ate or drank, by the way?” Sydryn asked. “I had water on the way down, but I haven't eaten anything since last night, at like 8pm,” Dax answered. “How much did you drink and have you urinated since drinking today?” “Uh, maybe half a litre? And no. Is that bad?” “No, a full bladder is ideal to lift the organ we are looking for. A full litre is ideal, but we should be fine. I will have to press which may cause some discomfort.” “Okay.” “Alright. Please lean back and lift you shirt. Unbutton your pants as well,” Sydryn directed as they got up to start the ultrasound machine. Dax did as instructed and they proceeded with the ultrasound. Syd was able to confirm the uterus as well as a thickening of the uterine lining. Afterwards, they drew a sample of Dax's blood. “It will take some time, but this has been prioritised so you should hear from me tonight or tomorrow,” Sydryn explained, as they put away the test tubes. “Do you have any questions for me?” “If I am pregnant, what do I do?” Dax said. “Can I even really have a baby? Like, carry to term?” “The research is new, however yourself and Jeffrey's family are not the first to have been exposed to this particular Prilarian contraband,” Sydryn stated. “So far, all who've taken it and carried out a pregnancy have carried healthily to term.” Dax blanched. “And if I don't want a baby?” “You have all the same options as any other pregnant person,” Sydryn said. “Since we have not confirmed a pregnancy as of yet, you should abstain from receiving unprotected anal penetration during intercourse. If you have done so within the last 72 hours, you can take a morning after pill.” “I haven't,” Dax said. “But will I have a uterus forever now?” “No, if you are not pregnant, it should pass within a month. The same would occur after a pregnancy,” Sydryn said. “We can go over the details of that later, once we have your results.” Dax nodded slowly. “Okay...” “Did you have a talk with the therapist like we discussed last time?” Syd asked. “No, not yet...” Sydryn woke up their computer. “Let's make you an appointment to come talk with me, how about that?” “Uh, sure,” Dax agreed, nodding. “Monday at 1pm?” Dax took out his phone out and opened his calendar. “Sounds good.” “I will be calling you as well as soon as I have a result for you,” Syd reminded, getting up. “How are you feeling? Do you think you'll be alright for now?” “Yeah, I'll be fine,” Dax assured getting up as well. “This is just...a lot to take in.” “I understand.” “Well, I wouldn't be surprised about Jeffrey, but his cousin,” Dax inquired as he started walking out. “Is he alright? I imagine he's been taking that stuff for a while without knowing...” “I can't share such information on my other patients,” Sydryn stated as they escorted him. “Ah, yeah... Maybe I'll try to contact them,” Dax said. “Nathan should have Jeffrey's number...” “I wouldn't stress yourself with their well-being for now,” Sydryn said. “You should take some time to yourself. Relax.” “I just, I don’t know if it's the teacher in me, but I worry about those kids,” Dax said. “I don’t know if you know, but I taught Jeffrey in high school. A good teacher cares about all their students.” Sydryn placed a hand on Dax's shoulder. “That is admirable, but he is not your student anymore. Neither of them are your responsibility.” “I know...” When they got to the lobby, Reid was sitting waiting for Dax. He got up as soon as he saw them. “So? How did it go? Is he dying, doc?” Sydryn furrowed their brow. “You're here for Dax?” “No, I thought I'd come in for a shift,” Reid said sarcastically. “Aye, I made sure to get him here in good time. We're friends now, you know.” Sydryn sighed. “We’ll have a talk about that later, but anyway, are you driving him home?” “Well actually, he drove us here,” Reid said. “Why? Should he not drive? I can drive if I have to. You didn't answer if he's dying or not.” “He's not dying,” Sydryn stated. “He can drive, but you, however, are not clear to drive yet.” “I'd like to talk about that, actually.” “Bring it up in our meeting on Monday,” Sydryn said turning to go back to the exam rooms. Reid patted Dax's back. “You alright? What'd Syd tell you?” Dax sighed. “I'll tell you on the drive back, alright?” “Sure, sure. Let's go then.”

[finn-ray-nal-beads]

I need a crack fic of Clyde hiding his last present *insert Justin Timberlake Dick in a Box playing*

A/N: I HAVE COMPLETED SO MANY CRACK THOTS IN MY HEAD TONIGHT IT’S SICK THANK YOU EVERYONE WHO HAS FUELED THIS FIRE! @xxcatrenxx I really hope you love the twist I put on this fic, thank you for allowing me to write it out... to completion 👀ENJOY BABE! 

Warnings: mentions of children, all the Xmas feels because I have to with this big ol’ softy bear, a big ol’ dick in a box, slight teasing, ass slapping, Doggystyle, deep penetration from our good ol’ country boi, caught in the act of or slightly thereafter, stuffing, breeding kink, dirty talk because Clyde is the best dirty talker, unprotected sex, cum eating, smut smut and more smut, with a lot of Xmas fluff because I hate myself

“Now what do y’all say to yer mama fer lettin’ ya open these on Christmas Eve?” Clyde bellows out at the kids as they ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ at their Christmas themed PJ’s. 

“Thank you, mama,” your five-year-old daughter and three-year-old son collectively turn and run to you perched on the couch, a Tom and Jerry in hand, enveloping them in the biggest hug you could possibly muster. 

“Yer so welcome ma sweet babies,” wrapping them in the fuzzy blanket you had draped over yourself, and kissing them until they begged to be let go of, “mama loves ya so much,” laughing as they screamed in fake cries as they wiggled away from your affections. 

“Now y’all go ahead an’ getcha jammies on an’ all that stuff,” he chuckled, watching you love and kiss on them as they tried to run away, “then ya can come give yer mama more kisses before Santa comes tonight,” they stopped dead in their tracks to beam at their dad who had said the magic word. 

They leaped off the loveseat, bounding up the stairs with new jammies in hand to get their little teeth brushed, and go potty before slipping into dreamland. You moved to get up off the couch to go help with the marathon of getting them to settle in bed before having a strong hand push you right back down. 

“Now, darlin’,” he tsked, the light from the Christmas tree glimmering in his eyes, “ya jus sit here an’ look perty while I get the babies all ready fer bed,” lowering down to steal a kiss from your lips, “you do enough round these parts, let me handle it fer one night,” kissing your forehead as he put the blanket back over your legs and lumbered upstairs to survey the damage from the kids. 

You sighed, watching the fire burn in the large fireplace of your new home, the farmhouse feel enveloping you in the country Christmas you’d been dreaming of since you’d met your sweet husband. The large pine tree beside your couch, emanating a fresh scent coupled with the embers from the flames in the kindling, and the sweetness of your hot drink as you let out a relieved sigh. 

Life was absolutely perfect. You had a home, two perfect children, a doting and affectionate husband, and the financial freedom the both of you had worked so hard for the past several years, not akin to the ‘cauliflower incident’ as you referred to it fondly. 

Above your loud thoughts, a low hum rang through the stairs as you took a sip from your mug. The sound of Clyde’s honeyed voice, lulling your sweet babies to bed with a Christmas story as they questioned every single page he’d read. 

You chuckled at their wonder, asking where Rudolph was in Santa’s line up, how many cookies does he usually eat, and your daughter making sure to tell her daddy to turn the fire off before he and mama went to bed so Santa wouldn’t burn his bottom on the way down the chimney. 

“Goodnight babies,” you heard him whisper, latching the doors to their rooms as he padded down the hallway. 

You waited for him to appear on the stairs, wanting to cuddle up with him by the fire with your mugs of liquor before heading off to bed, but after a few minutes, were growing slightly worried as to what he was up to. 

You released your legs to the slightly colder air, placing your mug on the coffee table as you padded upstairs, enclosing yourself in the sweater you had chosen for the evening. 

“Babe?” you whispered, wondering if he was alright, seeing the dark hallway with no light in your master bedroom. 

“Clyde, honey?” walking into the room to flip on the bedside light, jumping at the scene before you. 

“Holy shit!” you cleared your throat, “what’s goin’ on here?” eyebrows raised as you saw your big bear perched on the ivory comforter of your California king bed, clad in nothing but a pretty big box wrapped around his pelvis. 

“I don’t know Mrs. Logan,” he purred out, “why dontcha open it up ta see what’s inside… I think ya might like it just a lil’ bit,” winking as he watched you inch closer to the edge of the bed. 

Pushing your hair behind your head, gathering your body onto the sheets as you reached for the bow covered box, unwrapping the pretty packaging as his hand snaked behind to grip you full ass perched on your feet. 

“Oh honey,” you mewled, salivating at his large and in charge cock, bobbing at attention, practically springing out of its cage covered in precum and begging to be stuffed inside you, “I love it,” bringing your hands to stuff the oversized sweater in between your legs to curb the aching sensation in your netherregions. 

“He loves ya so much baby girl,” gripping and kneading on your ass as you removed the rest of the contents from his body, “in fact, he may wanna stuff ya like a Christmas turkey tonight darlin’,” smacking the covered skin as you fell forward on his stomach. 

“Would ya like that?” he mewled, gathering your fuzzy covering to push it, revealing your little blush pink panties underneath, “ta be stuffed with me again?” feeling the wetness that had soaked through them in the process. 

“Y-yes babe,” you whined, pushing your cunt into his touch as you sucked hickeys on his belly, “please fill me up,” whining into the darkness of the bedroom. 

“That’s all I want for Christmas big bear,” assuming the position, ass up, face down on the plush comforter as he scrambled his hulking body to position his cock at your entrance. 

“Well big bear is gon’ stuff ya full again,” pushing down the sheer lace to your knees, “make ya all big an’ round again with ma baby,” slapping your ass as hard as humanly possible before sheathing his aching cock into your tight little hole. 

“Fuck!” you cried out, prompting Clyde to grip the back of your head, pulling you up just enough to penetrate that perfect spot of yours, “now baby girl, ya know ya can’t yell like that,” he huffed in your ear, pushing himself to rearrange your guts in knots, “you’ll wake our precious babies up an’ then what?” snaking a hand to tease your clit as he left open kisses on the exposed shoulder of your sweater. 

“I-I,” you stuttered as he sped up his motions on your mound, only to break away again and shove your face into the down comforter. 

“B-babeeee,” whining as your pussy throbbed on his length, the sensation never failing to burn just a little at his girth, “I-I l-love bein’ full a you,” gasping on every push of his cock on your cervix. 

“I love seein’ my perty baby all full a me,” mewling and grunting as he thrust deeper and deeper, balls clapping on your pussy as he drank in your moans, “ya carry my babies s-so damn well,” gripping the sweater that had fallen up your back, pulling you even more flush with him as he railed the fuck out of you. 

The thought of being completely filled, sending a shockwave to your budding clit, a tingling in your spine egging on the flutters in your pussy walls. 

“I-is ma baby almost ready?” he growled, setting an even more brutal pace as he released his flesh and blood hand on your hip, no doubt a bruise already blooming from his iron grip on it. 

His thick, meaty fingers found their way back to your stiffened bud, the slightest touch sending you to the complete edge of your orgasm, “that’s it Y/N,” he whispered, sweat dripping from his inky locks as he encircled the peak in your sopping folds, “cum all over yer cock,” he uttered out, feeling the shockwaves clamp over his member as you cried out in complete bliss. 

“God fuckin’ d-dammit!” screaming as he sped up to ride your wave out into his own, “C-Clyde baby please!” feeling his movements become more erratic as you slipped from your high. 

“I-I’m,” he stammered out, pumping his cock a few more times into your glistening hole, “‘m fillin’ this p-pussy full,” growling like the bear he was as he released his swimmers into your gaping womb, the warmth wrapping your uterus in a hug it so badly desired. 

“Jesus f-fuckin,” he moaned out, hands covering your ass as he stilled himself, shaking from the aftershocks of his orgasm, “ya alright darlin’?’ patting your ass lightly, smoothing over the raised handprint he’d left. 

“Ya,” you panted out, trying to still your breathing as you felt his softened cock slide out of you, the sound making you sigh in relief as the air hit your hole. 

“Gah, yer so damn perty,” marveling at the mixture seeping out of your slit, “so fuckin’ wet,” scooping it up to stuff right back in, causing your pussy to clamp back down on his thick fingers. 

“Gettin’ greedy, huh,” he chuckled, watching as your cunt ate up the spend, “ya know we’re gonna hafta do this more than once ta get it right,” removing it to lick up the rest in his mouth. 

“I know babe,” setting yourself up to his blushing chest, rubbing his pecs as you leveled with his face, “remember we have two kids,” raising your pretty fingers to his face only to have him kiss the tips ever so lightly. 

“I know baby doll,” he cooed, pushing strands of hair out of the way, leading your lips to meet his in a searing kiss on the bed. 

“Daddy?” a shrill voice echoed from the doorway of the bedroom, the both of you freezing in horror as your pupils met, trying to ignore the call. 

Clyde turned around slightly, to notice your daughter crowding the side of the entryway, “y-yes baby?” he whispered faintly, hoping the voice was a figment of his imagination, the color leaving his face as he noticed her sweet little face scrunched up in a questioning look. 

“What were you an’ mama doin”?” she cocked her head to the side, inching into the light, teddy bear in hand, blinking her cute little eyes to adjust to the light. 

“Uhm,” voice cracking as he cleared his throat to give her an answer, not daring to turn around as he was still fully nude, “mama an’ I well, uhm, well we were,” panicking to look back and you completely lost in silent laughter at his starstruck behavior. 

You pat his chest, “I got this babe,” you tutted, pressing your index finger into his plush lips, and glancing over at your little girl, still waiting for an answer. 

“Daddy an’ I were havin’ some alone time baby girl,” you spoke just loud enough for her to hear and hopefully simple enough to understand, “now dontcha think you should be in bed?” cocking an eyebrow “I don’t think Santa will come if he knows yer still awake,” crossing your arms as you stared her pretty little puppy dog eyes into the abyss they were. 

“I jus’ wanted ta make sure daddy wasn’t hurtin’ ya, mama,” a tear rolling down her cheek as she started to back away into the dark hallway. 

“Oh baby girl,” getting up from your spot to lower your sweater and pull your panties back up, “daddy wasn’t hurtin’ me at all, now were ya daddy?” looking to him as you pulled her into a hug. 

“No honey,” he pandered, still facing away to shield her innocent eyes from his now completely limp member, “daddy wasn’t causin’ mama any kinda pain, I promise,” blushing and shying away at his little girl. 

“See?” you pet her little head, “I promise we’re both okay baby,” kissing her forehead, “now let’s get back ta bed now,” leading her back into the hallway towards her room, and tucking her in bed. 

“Mama?” she whispered as you back away towards the door. 

“Yes, baby?” answering her back as you glanced back into the night lit room. 

“Whatever y’all was doin’, I think you won the contest,” her face showing absolutely no signs of joking. 

“Well,” stifling an all-out snort, “t-thank ya, baby,” shying into the hallway to take a deep breath, “I think mama won too,” smiling at her dozing off. 

“Good night sweet girl, Merry Christmas,” whispering as you moved to leave the room. 

“Merry Christmas mama,” her sweet voice echoed back as you found your way back to the bedroom, chuckling in the hallway as you shook your head. 

This was for sure the merriest Christmas you’d ever experienced, and the most mortifying to boot. 

And it all started with a dick in a wrapped box.  

_____________

WELL, I HOPE WE ALL LEARNED A VALUABLE LESSON HERE... LOCK YOUR DOORS AND CLYDE IS FUCKIN’ DADDY WHO NEEDS A PRETTY LARGE BOX TO COVER THAT MANHOOD A HIS... 😉

THANK YOU FOR THE ASK AND I HOPE YOU LIKED IT, BABE!

🖤,

ray-nal-beads

[let-it-raines]

What a Wicked Game {15/15}

Killian met her in a pub on a rainy night in March. Going inside was only supposed to be a way for him to avoid the rain and fight off the demons in his head. It was a place for him to pass through, not stay. But then he was charmed by a blonde woman with a quick wit who had absolutely no interest in him or who he was.

That was a first. It was also the beginning of Emma Nolan helping to bring him back to life. It was the beginning of everything.

Five years later, with their worlds crumbling around them, Killian can’t help but wonder if this is the end of the peace they have known now that his family knows about his relationship. It wouldn’t be a problem if his father wasn’t the King of England.

rating: mature

a/n: thank you to @captainswanbigbang for running this event and letting me write this story, to @resident-of-storybrooke for plotting and listening to me talk and for reading this, like, four times while never complaining, to @captainsjedi for making all of the incredible art for it and writing the sweetest tags, and to @wellhellotragic for finding the original story over on ao3 years ago and supporting me then and still supporting me now ❤️

ao3: beginning | current

tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15

-/-

February 2021

His heart is in his throat.

It’s been that way for several hours now, and at some point, Killian should probably get that checked out by a medical professional who can assure him that he’s not going to die and that his heart will return to his chest and beat at a normal rate again.

He is in a hospital, after all, so there’s likely someone who can help him out.

“Killian, you have to stop clenching your fist.”

“I’m not clenching my fist.”

“Literally, look down at your hand.”

Killian blinks before looking down at his hands. His right is tangled with Emma’s, his grip stronger than it should be, while his left is, indeed, balled into a fist on her mattress.

Oh.

Sighing, Killian unclenches his first before loosening his grip on Emma and leaning forward to press his lips against her knuckles. “I’m sorry, love. I - fuck. I really don’t mean to be so dramatic, but you fainted out of nowhere just as we were about to leave to go home, and I’m terrified that something awful is wrong with you.”

Emma’s hand pushes into his hair, scratching at his scalp, and he shouldn’t be the one who is being comforted right now. He should be comforting Emma. She’s the one who is in a hospital bed waiting on the results of all of the tests they ran on her, and while he knows she likely had low blood sugar and a lack of sleep from the hectic schedule of their tour, he cannot help but think of all of the horrendous things that could be wrong with his wife.

He loves her in sickness and in health, always, but God, he hopes she’s alright. He can’t live without her, which is so damn selfish to think, but this is where they are now.

(And he can be selfish when it comes to wanting Emma to be alright.)

It’s nothing. It has to be nothing.

“I’m fine,” Emma promises, but he knows she doesn’t actually know, not yet. “It’s been a crazy week with no sleep, and I skipped meals, which was stupid. It’s probably low blood sugar or exhaustion or something else I can fix when we get home and have some time off.”

“But you don’t know that.”

“I mean, I could be dying, but I didn’t think that’s what you wanted me to say.”

“Swan - ”

Emma huffs and rolls her eyes at him. “I’m fine until the doctor says otherwise because I pretty much refuse for something to be wrong with me.”

Killian nods and leans down to press his lips against her knuckles once more. He understands. He refuses for something to be wrong with her too. They’ve already spent too much time in their lives with Emma in a hospital, and he doesn’t want to keep doing this.

“Good afternoon, Your Highnesses,” Dr. Roberts sing-songs as she walks back into the room. He has no idea if this woman is always this peppy or if maybe this is her way of saying there’s nothing wrong with Emma before she actually says it. If there is something wrong, Dr. Roberts really has to work on how she speaks. “So, I have some good news.”

Killian perks up, while Emma stays sitting as she was, her thumb rubbing over his knuckles. “What is it?”

“Well, you’re fine,” Dr. Roberts continues, her smile bright as ever, “and so is your baby.”

“Oh thank God,” Killian sighs, leaning forward again. He’d truly convinced himself that something awful was wrong, but Emma is fine. She’s fine.

“I’m sorry,” Emma mumbles, “did you just say I’m pregnant?”

What?

“I did.”

Pregnant.

“I cannot be pregnant.”

Emma is pregnant.

How did he not hear that part?

“You are most definitely pregnant, Your Highness.”

How is Emma pregnant?

“You just told me I apparently have a baby in my uterus. You can call me Emma.”

Is he going to be a dad? Is Emma going to be a mum?

Killian’s head shoots up from where it’s buried against Emma’s hand to quickly look at her and her slack-jawed expression before looking at Dr. Roberts.

The doctor nods before looking between the two of them, and Killian stops staring a hole into her eyes to turn to look back at his wife who is apparently carrying their child. He feels like the biggest asshole in the world because he can’t seem to form coherent thoughts and should probably be having some kind of poetic thought about what this is going to mean to him, to the both of them.

Killian may be a little shocked.

The fact that Emma is too makes him feel a hell of a lot better.

“Emma,” Dr. Roberts sighs, “I think I’ll give the two of you some time to yourselves to talk since I seem to have shared some rather big news. Just know that both you and your baby are fine, but you need to make sure that you’re not overexerting yourself. You fainted because of a lack of sleep, proper nutrition, and your pregnancy.”

“Thank you,” Killian manages to mutter out while his thumb caresses Emma’s knuckles and Dr. Roberts walks out of the room. The moment the door closes, Killian leans down to kiss Emma’s hand before looking up at her. “Penny for your thoughts, love.”

“I’m really scared that my feet are going to get bigger.”

Killian barks out a laugh and rises from his chair in order to get closer to Emma, dipping his head down and kissing her because he can’t think of a single reason why he shouldn’t be kissing her at every available moment.

Especially now.

Especially always.

“I believe that means you’ll simply have to get new shoes. I think that can be arranged.”

“Never did I think there would be a day where you were encouraging me to get more shoes.”

“Well, you do have to throw out the old ones, of course.”

Emma’s chuckle is small, but it’s there, and Killian rests his forehead against hers while Emma’s hand comes to rest in his hair, toying with the little strands at the nape of his neck.

God, that feels good.

They’re having a baby.

“Killian,” she whispers, “how am I pregnant?”

“I don’t think I really need to explain the concept of sex to you.”

“Shut up.”

“No, I’m serious. When we are having sex, or making love if that’s your preferred term, and I reach my - ”

“You’re being an ass.”

“Wrong part of the body.”

“Ten years from now, when we think back on the moment I found out I was pregnant, this is what you’re going to have to remember.”

Emma is pregnant.

They’re going to be parents.

Bloody hell.

“I love you, darling,” he whispers, pulling back from her so that he can tuck her hair behind her ears and see the beautiful green of her eyes. They’re wet with tears, and he imagines his are too. “And I don’t know how this happened. I assume...I don’t know. I don’t know how this happened, but I do know that I’m happy. Are you happy?”

Emma nods while tugging on her bottom lip. “I’m happy, but I’m scared. I mean, we’ve talked about wanting kids, but talking about it and actually knowing that I’m pregnant is - ”

“Nerve-wracking.”

“Pretty much,” she laughs. “I’m pregnant. We’re going to have a baby. I don’t think we know how to have a baby.”

“I imagine we’ll figure it out.”

“I guess we will.”

-/-

Killian is flooded with joy for the first week of them knowing Emma is pregnant. She’s only eight weeks along now, so they haven’t told a soul yet, but he’s itching to, if only because he desperately needs to talk to someone about it.

Someone who isn’t Emma because right now, he’s feeling like a piece of worthless scum on the sidewalk for some of the thoughts he’s having.

There are so many damn emotions that come with Killian knowing Emma is pregnant - happiness, elation, joy, terror, anxiousness, excitement - and as much as he fluctuates between all of them, there’s only one that creeps into the forefront of his mind in the middle of the night after a day wandering around knowing that their lives are going to keep changing every single day.

Uncertainty.

And it’s rubbish because he’s not even sure if uncertainty is an emotion, but it’s also rubbish because he’s feeling uncertain not because he doesn’t want this baby, but because he’s terrified that he won’t be a good father to their child.

Killian has a piss poor excuse for a father, and as much as David has filled in for that role, it’s not the same as having a good example for his entire life and seeing year-by-year proof that children can grow up to love their dads and not resent them or be hesitant to even be in the same room as them at family gatherings. He doesn’t love his dad, and he hates that he’s consumed by that. This is supposed to be one of the happiest times in his life, and all Killian feels some days is that he’s already a failure.

(It’s been a week. How is he already screwing up after a week?)

If he didn’t know that Emma is going to be the most incredible mum on the planet and make up for all of his shortcomings, he’d be fully convinced that he couldn’t do this and that fatherhood simply wasn’t for him.

Which is utter bullshit. He’s been in love with Emma for nearly a decade, has known he’s wanted to have children with her for most of that time, and Brennan should not still be able to take up so much space in Killian’s head.

Not anymore.

He’s fighting those demons and dealing with them in his counseling and every time he has to deal with his father, and Killian is determined not to let him taint this.

He can’t.

Not when the woman in bed next to him might as well be an angel sent to him from above, and not when the almost invisible curve of her stomach resting underneath his hand can be felt. They weren’t prepared for this. It wasn’t planned, and it’s apparently the result of the two of them thinking that the month of December was some kind of sex parade where birth control was sometimes optional.

(Emma found where she had skipped birth control pills after they got home, and he thinks she stared at the package for an hour at the very least.)

They were so stupid.

But he doesn’t regret it. Killian can’t. If they’d waited and tried some time from now, the baby growing in Emma wouldn’t be this baby. It would be a wonderful baby he and Emma both love with everything in them, but it wouldn’t be the same. Maybe next time, if they’re lucky enough, the pregnancy will be a result of months of careful love-making and a pointed attempt at trying, but to him, it doesn’t matter.

He’s scared out of his mind about being a dad, doesn’t know how he’s going to do it, but he wouldn’t change a thing. Not when he has Emma.

“You’re thinking too much,” Emma mumbles, twisting in the bed.

He lays his hand flat over her stomach. “You’re talking in your sleep.”

“I’m awake. Your thoughts were so loud.”

“If you can hear my thoughts, I feel like you need to explain quite a few of the fights we’ve had.”

“Don’t wanna,” Emma mumbles sleepily. Killian huffs into her hair before twisting around her and allowing her to stick her freezing cold feet between his calves while his lips brush over her cheek. His hand flexes over her stomach again, feeling the proof of a decade of love and heartbreak and everything in between. “You’re a good baby daddy.”

(He rather despises that term, and Emma seems fit to call him that this week. Hopefully that will die down, but he really can’t complain when Emma has just become fraught with morning sickness as of yesterday.)

“Am I?” he whispers into her hair, trying not to laugh. She’s not going to remember any of this in the morning. She has a habit of waking in the middle of the night, having a conversation, and then forgetting about it the next morning.

“Mhm. You’re sweet, and you’re also really hot. I like that about you.”

“Oh, well, I’m glad I can be of service for you in that way.”

Her breathing starts to even out after that, slowly returning to how it was, and Killian keeps moving his hand over the small, almost swell of her stomach, something that he knows is a comfort to both of them already.

“Killian?”

“Yes, love?” he whispers so quietly the ceiling fan drowns out the noise of his voice.

“You’re going to be a good dad.”

And even though she’s mostly asleep when she says it, Killian knows that Emma thinks that. She has so much faith in him even when she shouldn’t, and her words settle the beating of his heart and the worry running circles in his mind.

It’s not everything, but it’s a start.

(And technically, Emma having faith in him is everything.

It’s all he’s ever wanted and far more than he deserves.

But he’s glad for it.)

-/-

“What the hell are you wearing?”

“What? You don’t like it?”

“It’s rather beige.”

Emma huffs and tugs at her bra, pulling it out and gathering all of the excess fabric there. “My mom thought it would be appropriate to buy me nursing bras, but this isn’t even close to my size. Like, I understand I’m going to balloon up in every way imaginable, but this is gigantic.”

“We told your parents about the baby two days ago. How has your mom already sent you new bras?”

“Express shipping, babe.”

Killian laughs and walks toward her. She’s standing in front of the bathroom mirror in nothing but her knickers and this massive bra that he can’t ever imagine Emma properly fitting into. Apparently, she can’t imagine it either. It hangs far off her back and over her breasts, and if she lets it go from her grasp, it falls to expose her nipples.

She looks ridiculous.

But also rather lovely, and when she turns around to face him, bottom lip jutted out in a pout, he steps up to her and places his hands on her hips, fingers inching up over her sides. “This is the sexiest you have ever looked.”

“Shut up,” she laughs, slapping his stomach.

“What? Can I not talk about it? This bra is so much better than everything you have in your closet.”

“You’re being dumb.”

“Oh, always.”

He leans into her and brushes his scruff against her neck, knowing that it tickles her, before doing the same with his fingers against her sides. Emma is squirming away from him, or, at least, trying to, but he doesn’t let her, backing her up against the counter as he keeps moving against her while she gasps for breath and laughs.

In between calling him an asshole, of course. That’s her favorite name for him.

“K-killian,” she gasps, leaning away from him as he kisses her neck and moves to kiss her jaw. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“In an hour.”

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready?”

“Aye,” he promises before kissing the corner of her lips until she’s turning to him so she can move her mouth over his, soft and slow and absolutely perfectly. As always. “But I think I might have some time to spend with you first.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm.”

“Can I take this damn bra off?”

“That was kind of the plan.”

-/-

They’re having a boy.

Killian was convinced that they were going to have a girl, as was Emma, and while it’s definitely a shock despite the equal odds, it doesn’t change anything about their excitement level or any of their plans going forward.

They’re having a boy.

And they can’t decide on a name. Everything in his head and on the list on the refrigerator were decidedly more feminine names, and while David, Liam, and Graham all cheekily suggest that their son should be named after one of them, Killian isn’t too sure about that.

(Ruby says their son can and should be named Ruby because she simply cannot wait until they have a girl for her to have a kid named after her.

When Emma suggests she have her own kid - “pregnancy is a bitch,” Emma mumbles - Ruby raises her hands in defeat and says they should name the kid whatever they want.)

It’s not that simple.

For as much as he and Emma push back on the traditions of his family and some of the inane rituals, they do want the name to fit. However, they want it to fit both them as a couple and his family. It’s a mixing of lifestyles and opinions, and the debates seem to rage on and on. Killian’s mum tells him she’s happy with whatever name they choose because it’s their family, Killian’s father makes a rare comment just to tell them how much he’s still pissed over Emma saying she won’t pose for photographs the day after giving birth, and Emma can’t seem to decide on anything.

(Except that she’s still not going to pose for photographs and expose their child to the wildness of the press after twenty-four hours of life, and he supports her wholeheartedly.

The press has tried to ruin them time and time again, emotionally and physically, and Killian will not stand for it for his wife or their child.)

Killian has his preferences, but he’s trying to narrow down her choices on the massive list that seems to keep growing and growing each day.

The name debate wages on as the weeks pass by and Emma’s stomach continues to grow. Killian never spent a lot of time imagining what this period in his life would be like, but overall, it’s mostly the same as he expected it would be. At least for him. Emma has gone through highs and extreme lows as her hormones attack her and change her body, and all he could do was support her and rub her back when she was vomiting.

And make every food that she wants, no questions asked. Though, surprisingly, her cravings are not at all what movies make them out to be. They do follow along with a lot that he’s read in the books and articles he’s consuming.

“There is literally no reason to read ten different books on the same thing,” Emma mumbles as she pulls her up into a bun. “That’s got to be information overload.”

“It’s varying opinions, love,” he insists, taking another note and sticking it to the page in his book. “I want to know as much as I can so I’m not caught unaware, and I needed a break from looking at cabinet handles for the new house.”

“Babe, you’re going to be caught unaware. It’s going to happen. Not even you can completely prepare for this.”

“Aye, but I can try.”

And he does try. He tries as he reads his books and looks at articles online so that he can at least be the tiniest bit more prepared than he would be. Emma reads books as well and is always looking to see his notes and what he knows, but she’s definitely the more relaxed of the two of them.

At least he thinks that.

She’s six and a half months pregnant and in a wonderful phase of constantly wanting him no matter what they’re doing when he realizes that Emma doesn’t like to constantly talk about the baby because it is all anyone talks to her about. When she does engagements, it’s what people mention. When they go out to dinner, even the servers mention their impending parenthood. When Emma talks on the phone with his mother, Allison is constantly talking about gifts for the baby and plans and asking if Emma has looked into some of the classes Allison suggested. Everyone means well and simply wants to share in their excitement, but their life isn’t all about this baby.

Their life is greatly enhanced by him and will change because of him, but at the core of it all, they’re still Emma and Killian who have been having conversations for nearly a decade about things other than a baby.

And Emma is still Emma, and she wants people to ask her how she is or what books she’s read lately or any conversation that would have been had before she was pregnant.

Late at night, though, when they’re lounging in bed with his hand on her stomach and his chest pressed into her back, sometimes she likes to whisper her thoughts and her fears, all of the hopes that she has for this future that keeps getting nearer and nearer to them.

The road to getting here was full of sharp wrong turns and dark corners full of heartbreak, and while they may have gotten a little lost along the way, they’re here now. That’s absolutely all that matters.

It always has been.

“Babe,” Emma calls out on a sunny day in June. They’ve been home all day, neither of them changing out of their pajamas, and he imagines from the look of it, Emma hasn’t combed through her hair. To be fair, he hasn’t either. “Do you know where the peanut butter is?”

“We had that entire box shipped here for you. It should be in the cupboard.”

“I don’t see it.”

“Have you checked the bottom shelf?”

“Yes.”

“Did you really?”

“I’m going to slap you.”

Killian sighs and puts down the letters he was responding to in order to get up and walk toward Emma and the cupboard. When he steps inside the room, he immediately goes in search of the box of jars of peanut butter he ordered for Emma only for it not to be there.

“Fuck,” he mutters.

“That’s kind of an extreme reaction to not being able to find the peanut butter.”

“How did we lose an entire box of peanut butter?”

“It can’t be lost. It has to be misplaced.”

“Lost, misplaced. Whatever, love.”

He squats down to look over all of the bottom shelves before scanning each and every other one, shifting around containers and boxes and every other insane organizational tool he decided to buy when he wanted this room to be contained and not a mess.

Except he can’t seem to find anything.

Mostly this damn peanut butter.

“You know what,” Emma sighs, “it’s fine. I’ll eat something else.”

“Darling, I will find it.”

“It’s fine.”

“I’ll find it.”

“Killian,” Emma huffs, tugging on his wrist until he turns around to look at her, “it’s fine. We have those smoothies I like in the fridge. I’ll drink one of those instead.”

“Are you certain?”

“Absolutely.” She tugs on his wrists again until she’s pulling him out of the room and back into their kitchen. “It wasn’t important.”

“I simply don’t understand where the peanut butter could have gone. I mean, I suppose it could have been moved, but I - ”

Emma loops her arms around his neck and presses up on her toes until she’s gently sliding her lips over his in a slow kiss that has his heartbeat quickening and gooseflesh rising over his skin.

“Stop worrying about it,” she murmurs as they sway back and forth with her stomach pressed tightly against his. “I don’t want a repeat of the blueberry muffin incident.”

“Dammit, don’t - ”

She kisses him again, insistently pressing her lips into his, and Killian presses back, pecking her lips once before doing it again and again and again. He kisses her fleetingly all the while continuing to sway the both of them. The wood is cold against his bare feet, so he’s sure Emma’s feet are literal icicles, but he’s not focusing on that as Emma begins to laugh, a small melodic sound that carries with the music that’s playing over the speaker on his phone from where he was listening to it when he was working.

But the laugh grows louder as Killian’s mouth moves away from hers and more toward the corner of her lips so that his scruff brushes against her skin, tickling her in the same way that his fingers are scratching against her sides and over the edges of her belly.

“You’re the only one I want to make laugh, truly.”

Emma’s laugh quiets at those words until she’s tightening her arms around his neck and nuzzling her face into his neck. There’s a sharp inhale of her breathing him in, and Killian kisses the top of her hair.

“You’re a romantic, my love,” she whispers.

“That’s what I strive to be.”

“I know. It’s why you practice all of those lines in the mirror.”

Killian scoffs. “I do not do that.”

“If anyone asks, it’s your word against mine, and well…”

She lets the words trail off, obviously waiting for him to fill in the blanks and continue their banter, but he doesn’t. He can’t, because the song is changing, and it’s been ages since he danced with her in the privacy of their home. Everything lately has been in suits and dresses with Emma’s heels making her nearly his height, but it hasn’t been the two of them in pajamas with messy hair and the ghost of missing peanut butter cascading over them.

So he keeps moving them, a gentle sway that turns into more, and they traverse the space in the kitchen, their feet quickly moving as Killian whispers in Emma’s ear words of affection that flow from his heart. It’s moments and times like these in the sanctity of their kitchen when it’s just the two of them and no one and nothing else that he thinks of how grateful he is that they fought for their love and won. Nothing about this was ever guaranteed or predestined, but they figured it out.

“I love you.”

Emma hums. “I love you, too.”

She pulls her head back until he can see her eyes, the beautiful glint of blue wrapped up in the green, and her smile is so bright that he can’t imagine not kissing her. He can’t imagine not kissing her as often as he’s able and not kissing her every day on a multitude of occasions. So he does.

And he hopes not to ever stop having that desire.

He won’t.

Emma is his wife and the mother of his child, of this one between them now and any ones in the future, but most of all, he thinks, she’ll always be his closest companion.

His best friend.

“Hey,” Emma whispers after they’ve been silently dancing for at least two songs.

“Yeah, love?”

“I think I’ve finally decided what name I want for the baby.”

Killian chuckles and tilts his head to the side to press his lips into her hair once more, inhaling the scent of her shampoo and everything that he’s grown accustomed to over the years. “And what’s that then?”

-/-

Their son is born on September twenty-third, a few days after Killian’s thirty-second birthday.

They name him Andrew Killian Phillip Jones.

He always goes by Andy.  

-/-

-/-

-/-

Any of my Second in Command (the original version of this story) will recognize Andy. He was, like, star of the show for that crazy long epilogue/sequel I wrote, and I really wanted to include him here. The main reason, though, was to show that even though some parts of Emma and Killian’s story changed, that they went through more of a wild ride this go round, that they still get to have the same happy ending...wait, I think I have to say “happy beginning” here 😉

Thank you all for the INCREDIBLE support! I hope you enjoyed this story!

@mrtinski @klynn-stormz @jonirobinson64 @snowbellewells @therealstartraveller776 @thejollyroger-writer​ @sherifemma​ @shardminds​ @captainsjedi​ @galaxyzxstark​ @galadriel26​ @idristardis​ @karenfrommisthaven​ @teamhook​ @spartanguard​ @searchingwardrobes​ @itsfabianadocarmo​ @owlways-and-forever​ @jamif​ @shireness-says​ @ultimiflos​ @nikkiemms​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @onepunintendid​ @bluewildcatfanatic​ @397bartonstreet​ @killianswannn​ @carpedzem​ @captainkillianswanjones​ @mayquita​ @jennjenn615​ @onceuponaprincessworld​ @a-faekindagirl​ @scientificapricot​ @scarletslippers​ @xellewoods​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @stahlop​ @kmomof4​ @tiganasummertree​ @singersdd​ @tornadoamy​ @captainswanbigbang​

[birdyisanightingale]

THT S4 Predictions: Brazil Trailer

Back by popular demand, I’m going to be doing a comprehensive set of predictions based on the Brazilian S4 trailer which has additional footage to the main one. If you want to watch it, here’s the link: https://www.handmaidsbrasil.com/2020/12/exclusivo-assista-ao-novo-teaser-legendado-da-quarta-temporada-de-tht.html

SPOILER ALERT!! Please be aware that if you keep reading there will be major S3 spoilers and potentially some S4 ones too!!

First up, we appear to have some sort of scene where June has been captured by eyes (or someone posing as the eyes - I’ll come back to this) . I think this must be at least an episode or so in because she seems to be walking fine and she doesn’t have any obvious injuries (she was basically dead at the end of S3). Another good sign is that she appears to be alone, so if she has indeed been taken by the eyes, they haven’t managed to capture all of the ‘magnificent seven’ (this is the new term being given to the fugitive handmaids from the end of the S3 Finale). 

However, considering the remote location, it looks likely that this scene may be an attempted execution of June. I know what you’re thinking, this is Gilead - if they want to kill you they won’t bother making it private, they’ll make an example out of you and leave you hanging on a wall until you rot. But think about it - at this point, killing June will not be an example, the resistance in all its different forms has gotten too big for that. If they kill June now, they will only be creating a martyr, and the only way to avoid that is to kill her secretly and get rid of all the evidence so no one knows if she’s dead or missing or maybe even escaped to Canada without telling anyone - a great way to crack a resistance is to take away the element of trust! Anyway that’s why they’d make her execution a quiet affair.

But here’s why I think it was only made to look like the yes have taken her. Judging from the location and costumes (although admittedly costume variety is particularly limited in this show), while this is later in the trailer, it looks like a continuation of the same scene. It looks almost like Nick knew that June was in a situation where either he intervened or she was captured (or worse) for real. He obviously still has to make it look somewhat legit because he’s a commander now and he needs to keep good standing to be able to help June and Mayday (not to mention, staying off the wall). 

I think this element of Nick being an asset to Mayday will be explored quite a lot this season, and beyond. Nick’s character development is particularly interesting because we’ve almost had a different Nick every season, but the writers are still finding new ways to surprise us with new dimensions to his character. In S1 we had ‘Nick the Eye’ who was battling this sense of duty and obligation that he had never bothered to question whether he agreed with his orders or not, with finally finding a reason to question those orders - June. Then in S2 when he’d finally gotten to a point where he’d chosen June over duty, we saw ‘Nick the husband’. We know from his flashbacks that he had a religious background before Gilead so he’s had ‘the sanctity of marriage’ instilled in him from a young age. So he’s somehow trying to reconcile his new role as a husband with his love for another woman who’s carrying his baby. And then we get the (admittedly infrequent) S3 ‘Nick the Soldier’ who we know absolutely nothing about, and how dominate that side of him is. Not dominant enough and Nick won’t have enough influence to be useful to Mayday, too dominant and he could potentially betray Mayday... we’ll have to wait and see...

“You can’t save her; some women don’t want to be saved.” Oof, literal chills. I’m really looking forward to this character dynamic. Both are commanders, both helped to create Gilead and regret it, and both have a connection to June. I know this is scene is talking about Nick wanting to save June and probably get her to Canada, but I can’t help thinking that the writers specifically wrote this line to have an underlying tone about Eleanor as her death will still be very fresh for Lawrence. 

This isn’t a prediction so much as a musing but I really hope there gets to be some sort of interaction between June and Lawrence about the circumstances of her suicide. Every time I watch the funeral scene where June and Lawrence just look at each other, I get more and more sure that Lawrence knows that something else happened that she’s not saying - he’s a smart man, after all.

Maybe this scene is a continuation of the ‘secluded forest/potential eyes’ scene. He could have asked her to stop “playing handmaid commander” (I believe this was a direct quote from S2, tell me if I’m wrong) and go with him to Canada and she refuses, hence why he goes to see Lawrence. That would fit the potential timeline as Lawrence would have to have been released from the interrogation scenes we saw in the main trailer, and we’ve established that the forest seven must be at least a few episodes in.

Speaking of rebel handmaid shenanigans, this looks fun! June is heard saying “Where we’re going isn’t safe.” and Mrs. Keyes (Mckenna Grace) replies “It’s not safe anywhere!”. I mean, straight off the bat, it looks like we’re going to get one hell of a performance from Mckenna Grace who seems insanely talented for 14! We’ve had it teased to us by different producers and show runners that Mrs. Keyes will be the confident teenage wife of a commander, who helps to facilitate the resistance. And, I mean being a child bride is horrifying so I can understand why she’s willing to help!

As where they’re actually going, I’m thinking that it’s got to be another ‘attack’ by Mayday. What that will look like is hard to say - another Lillie Fuller style bomb seems unlikely since the bomb-maker was moved and it doesn’t really seem like June’s style anyway (she’d rather go for the targeted kill without Handmaid/Martha casualties), and all remaining kids in Gilead will be under heavy security after the S3 Finale. My money would be on a plan to get out Handmaids/Marthas - in the originally trailer we hear June saying “These women deserve to be helped” which supports that theory. I think her efforts will particularly focus on handmaids since a lot of the kids they got out were kids of handmaids before Gilead so she’ll want them to be reunited where it’s safe to do so.

Right - my guess is that this scene must be following whatever Mayday attempted (successful or not...). Remember in S2 when June was looking at all the Marthas who had been hanged and she said that they had been hanged for being heretics and not for being part of resistance because officially there was no resistance because there was nothing to resist? I think what we’re seeing is June has been caught and she’s being given one of the hanging bags with the symbols on to say why they were hung, pre-execution (which I assume June will somehow survive - my guess would be Nick gets her out before the execution). June’s bag has a cross because she’ll be hung for being a heretic, because officially there is no resistance - although this seems like a bit of a stretch of a story even for Gilead considering what Mayday just pulled off. It’ll be interesting to see the story that Gilead do use to explain what happened.

Another thing I just want to quickly touch on is the costume - mustard yellow with a red strip. It’s a bit out there but I’m putting my money on ‘death row uniform’ - here’s why: the colours of the uniforms all have biblical connotations e.g. the wives where blue because it symbolises the purity of the Virgin Mary, handmaids wear read to symbolise Mary Magdalene who is a redeemed sinner etc. In Revelation (final book of the bible that talks of the end of the world and second coming etc.) the four horsemen (bringers of the end of the world) are described as being yellow as sulphur and red as fire. So the colours yellow and red would symbolise ‘the end’ i.e. a salvaging/execution. This is purely speculation so make sure to comment your thoughts!

Now the opinion you’re probably all here for - Hannah. In the shots shown in the trailer, she can be seen in some sort of glass prison with a doll, and she draws an eye in the dust. There’s been a lot of speculation about the context of this scene with the overriding theory being that this scene is a dream. In some ways this makes sense: June is in the yellow costume but she doesn’t have the same injuries shown in the other footage where she’s wearing this costume (although this could just be that this scene is slightly before that scene), the idea of a glass prison doesn’t really make sense in relation to what all the other cells look like that we’ve seen, the eye that Hannah draws is just way too precise for a drawing done with dust let alone a drawing done by a child, the idea of Hannah drawing an eye is also a strange drawing for a child whereas June would dream that because of the connotations to Gilead spies and ‘under his eye’. Not to mention it makes sense that June would be dreaming about Hannah being trapped as she’s been spending time with Mrs. Keyes who is a child bride close to Hannah’s age.

In all honesty, I don’t really know what I believe. I think that placing Hannah in a glass prison and allowing June to see her and be centimetres away but not be able to get to her is a very Gilead style power trip. Gilead officials know that the only reason that she’s still in Gilead is because of Hannah so it makes sense for them to hold her in a place that is blatantly obvious to June so she can be used as leverage in stopping an on-coming attack. Gilead pretend to be all about protecting children but we all know they’re not above cutting off a limb or two - as long as she still has a working uterus. So if this isn’t a dream and Hannah is being used as leverage, this puts a spanner in the works on my death row theory because you only keep leverage on someone if you need them for something and they won’t kill her if they still need her for something. There’s a number of things that could be - stopping an on-coming attack, intel on Mayday and the Martha network, maybe they’re blackmailing her to tell Luke to stand down on trying to get Fred and Serena convicted?

Anyway.... that was A LOT. Please reply to this post with any ideas you have or to prove me wrong - this is all we have till S4 drops!

Blessed be the fruit loops, bitches x

[rose-of-gabriel]

i wrote a fic about the Mandalorian taking care of you while you menstruate bc i can

that’s where we’re at rn

You have a personal bone to pick with whatever laser-brain designed the human female. Let’s make it continuously bleed for a quarter of every month, and since that isn’t enough of a pain, let’s add actual pain on top of that. Genius.

You bite your lip and try to focus on successfully landing the Razor Crest. Mando’s cashing in on three separate bounties, which should give you enough credits to take it easy for a while. Well, as easy as the Mandalorian can take it. You suspect his pace was even more ruthless before he found the kid, but fatherhood has forced him to relent, just a little.

You really don’t mind his lifestyle. Anything is better than that mind-numbing mechanics job back on Nevarro, though the stabbing pain in your gut makes you miss the old shack you called home.  No one around to judge you for collapsing in on yourself and praying for death.

That’s how Mando finds you: in the pilot’s chair, folded in half with your head on your knees. You don’t bother to look up as you grumble, “Ready to go?”

He doesn’t respond right away, probably deciding whether or not he should be concerned. You realize that this is the first time he’s seen you like this. Your implant makes it so you only bleed every three months, and you’ve been traveling together for almost four. The part of you that is harboring a completely futile crush on the Mandalorian wants to melt into the floor. The rest of you can’t be bothered to care, knowing that if it doesn’t concern his kid, his work, or his creed, he doesn’t care, anyway.

When he still doesn’t answer, you slowly lift you head to meet his metal gaze. You try to offer a smile, but the lights of the cockpit make your head pulse and it turns into a grimace.

The baritone of his voice reveals nothing when he asks, “You okay?”

No, you want to growl between your teeth. You don’t, because if there’s one person in the universe you know you shouldn’t complain to, it’s the Mandalorian.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You close your eyes and take a purposeful breath through your nose. “Are there any heat packs left in the medkit?”

“No. I think we used them up when the kid had that cold.”

Kriffing aces.

“Okay, I’ll add it to the list.” You sag deeper into the chair. “We shouldn’t go so long between supply trips, next time.”

“No one was stopping you when we were on Malthor.” He says with a hint of mockery.

You wave a dismissive hand. “That was all merchants and you know I can’t haggle for shit.”

He blows out a breath, the closest thing you get to making him laugh. It’s a small victory that nearly makes you forget the demon attacking your uterus.

You haul yourself out of the pilot’s seat and the protests from you body must be so loud even the Mandalorian can hear, because he takes a step forward and insists, “What’s wrong?”

You start to say it’s nothing when he takes yet another step, getting closer than you’ve ever dared to. Gods, you hope he doesn’t notice the way your breath catches.

“I’ve spent my whole life watching people.” He says in a tone you’ve never heard before, equal parts menacing and tender. It makes your gut twist in a completely different way. Then he adds dryly, “And you’ve got about as much subtlety as a rancor.”

You deflate.

“Yeah, yeah, piss off.” You mutter under your breath. Then in a huff, you admit, “It’s menstrual pain. You happy? Nothing I haven’t dealt with before so let’s go.”

You’re through the hatch faster than you need to be, the awkwardness burning under your skin. You busy yourself with the kid’s cradle, making sure he’s secure despite there being nothing to actually secure him with. The child tilts his little head at you like he can sense your embarrassment.

“Hey, Bug.” You whisper conspiratorially, “Don’t look at me like that.”

He lets out a string of nonsense that sounds a lot like you’re the one acting weird, although you may just be projecting. Mando drops down from the cockpit and you suddenly remember you need to check every single pocket of your day pack, just to make sure everything is where you left it.

“Is it bad?”

The question surprises you, and you’re not really sure why. It’s not because he cares. You know there’s a heart underneath all that beskar. It’s something in his voice, a gentleness that isn’t like the kind he uses with the kid.

After a moment, your neurons decide to fire again and you manage to say, “No. I mean, mine are pretty heavy, and the pain is sometimes a lot, and the migraines really suck but oh my gods, I can’t believe I am talking to you about this.” Or that you just said that part out loud.

You spin on your heel, all attempts at subtly flying out the window as you activate the kid’s pram. “Ready to go, Bug?” You squeak, cheeks burning.

You reach for the control panel to lower the ramp when Mando takes your hand and pulls you around to face him. You can’t think of anything other than kriffkriffkriffkriffkriff, heart hammering against your ribs so hard he must be able to see it.

There’s a torturous moment of silence before he says, “You stay here with the kid. I’ll go to town and get what we need.”

That brings your panic to a screeching halt. “But… you have to turn in the quarries.”

“I’ll collect the credits then head to the shopping district.”

All your nerves start to dissipate in the wake of a very familiar spite. “Mando, I’m not a liability. I don’t need to stay behind.”

A nagging voice reminds you that there’s no way to sound tough when talking to the kriffing Mandalorian, but something shifts. There’s the slightest dip of his helmet that makes you think you’ve surprised him, that he’s looking at you through new eyes.

“I know you can handle yourself.” He says carefully, like he’s worried about getting this wrong. “This isn’t an emergency, though. Just… just let me go. Try to feel… better.”

There’s something in his voice that helps you know it isn’t a judgement, that he’s not offering because he thinks you’re some stupid flower that needs protected. He’s just a friend who sees your pain and wants to help, in whatever small way he can.

You do smile, this time, though quickly squash it in favor of a very serious-business-face. “Okay, fine. Let me help you unload the quarries, at least.”

Once that’s done, you sit on the loading ramp with Bug and watch the Mandalorian leave for as long as you can before the pulsing behind your eyes becomes too much. Leaving the ramp lowered, you shut the bay doors and find your data pad, searching for a kid-friendly holo that Bug will like. He’s going through a phase where anything to do with water excites him. You lay out your bedroll and set the kid up with a Mon Cala cartoon, his ears perking up in approval.

After he’s situated, you skulk off to the fresher. Luckily, you have a decent stash, so you don’t have to ask the Mando-fucking-lorian to buy you menstrual products. The Crest’s medkit is pretty sparse, though, and most of what you do have is either for field injuries or baby stuff. You toss back some child’s pain killers and go to curl up with the kid, keeping your eyes shut tight against the barrage of colorful animations.

By the time Mando comes back, you’re both only half awake. Without a word, he scoops the child from your arms and settles him in the bassinet that Kuiil made. You don’t try to move, just listen as the Mandalorian flits about the ship and puts away supplies. After a while, he returns, sitting with his back against the wall, facing you.

“How’d it go?” you mumble, peeling your eyes open to see that he’s removed his armor and sits in just his helmet and base layers. You want to appreciate the form-fitting clothes, but everything hurts too much.

“Sit up for a second.” He tells you, and that’s when you notice the huge shopping bag beside him. He coaxes you up, then fishes into the bag. “Here.” He says, handing you a heat pack.

“Oh, bless you.” You nearly weep, cracking it in half to activate the heated gel. You press the pad against your stomach and immediately sag with relief.

“Take these.” The Mandalorian says, producing two white pills and a thermos. “They’ll help with the pain, and your headache.”

“Oh…” you bring the thermos to your nose and realize it’s some kind of tea. “Thank you.”

You revel in the hot compress and tea, totally satiated, but the Mandalorian goes on. “I picked these up, too.” You actually gasp when he pulls out a box of golden tuiles. “I thought they might be…”

“My favorite.” You all-but shriek, setting your tea aside and making the same grabby hands you’ve seen the kid do a hundred times. You stare at the pack of cookies as if they’re precious treasure. “How the hell did you know?”

Even the voice modulator can’t hide his amusement. “A few weeks ago, when we were in that market place on Naboo? A woman was selling them and you got this feral look in your eye.”

“Yeah, that’s because these are the best thing ever.” You insist, tearing the box open. The sweet scent is like a drug, and without thinking, you reach in and hand him a cookie. “You have to try one.”

Equally thoughtless, Mando takes it, and before the obvious can come crashing down, you spin around and shove a cookie into your mouth, burying your head between your knees. You try to focus on the taste of the cookie and not the fact you just stupidly offered the Mandalorian food when you know full-well that he can’t eat in front of you. Nothing to do now but just bear down and wait out the awkwardness.

Your ears are practically ringing as the seconds tick by, bracing for the humiliation as he reminds you about one of his culture’s most obvious rules. You wait, but instead of a discontented sigh, you hear a crunch, chewing, and then, “Okay, yeah. I see your point.”

Your brain short circuits at the sound of his unmodulated voice, but there’s no time to savor it. He’s already getting up and heading toward the cockpit, speaking to you from behind a wall of static. “I’m going to set course for Arvala.”

You lift your head, too tired to process what just happened or what it means, if it means anything. “Hey, Mando.” He stops but doesn’t turn around. You smile anyway, because this definitely meant something. “Thank you, for all this. It’s… thank you.”

He turns his head just slightly and gives you a nod before disappearing into the cockpit. You take another swig of tea before curling up on your bedroll. Physically, you’re a disaster, but even that can’t keep the smile off your face.

[yourdeepestfathoms]

the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb

TW: Vomit, blood, descriptions of periods, strangulation, opium 

——————

Mercy wasn’t feeling good in the first place.

She groaned before her eyes were even open that morning. She cringed when she rolled over, feeling hot slickness between her thighs, and didn’t even want to look at the crime scene that she already knew was lying beneath her blankets. Remaining in the mess, however, was plain gross. It was going to be painful to stand, but if she lays in bed for too long then the fabric will stain. Mr. Putnam and Goody Putnam would certainly not appreciate that, so she has no other choice but to haul herself up and save the bedding.

As if it were that easy.

Mercy liked to describe the feeling she just went through as “the floodgates opening” because that’s exactly what it was. She was forced to kneel when the pain flares up, which only seemed to strengthen the flow when her knees parted and her vagina seemed to feel the need to open like a window during a hurricane. She prayed for her ruined undershorts, which are sticky and wet around her legs, clinging tightly to her skin like they had been glued there.

Eventually, she gets herself to stand and, with trembling hands, carefully and quietly strips the sheets of the bed, relieved to find that the blood hasn’t soaked through to the mattress. She stumbles down the stairs and out of the house, trying to keep the bloodstained part of the sheets angled forward and away from the rest of her body, but her groin was already sopping wet with what was probably twenty-five percent of her body’s blood, so hygiene didn’t really matter in the long run. On the way outside to clean, she grabs a rag and then a bucket once out of the house.

Walking is uncomfortable, lugging a bucket of water from the well isn’t any better, and the wet fabric of her undershorts chafe horribly. However, the blood is almost welcoming in a gross sort of way because it was freezing outside and the dead-baby sauce was actually pretty warm. Unfortunately, the cold seeps in through every fabric of clothing and she’s soon chilled to the bone, even with the abundance of red syrup glazing her loins. The cold only intensifies when she plunges her hands into the ever-icy water of the bucket and gets to scrubbing her bedding.

It takes nearly half an hour to clean the bed sheets, half an hour of having to stare in humiliation at a crimson mark created from her leaky vagina in her sleep, having to smell the scent of her shredded uterus juice, and having to bleed all over herself. By the time she’s finished her hands are so cold she can barely feel them, her thighs are so wet she’s sure they’re going to be permanently stained red, and she’s in absolute agony. All she wants to do is curl up in a ball and cry.

Then, she hears the front door open and someone calls her name from the porch- a high pitched, youthful voice. Mercy doesn’t answer. She’s too embarrassed by her state and she doesn’t want who she sure is Ruth to see her suffering and ruin the cool image of herself the younger girl sees her as.

Her silence is to no avail.

Fallen leaves and icy grass crunch underneath shoes.

“Mercy?”

Mercy kept her eyes shut for a long moment before forcing herself to own up to and face her situation.

“Ruth, hey,” She said, standing up, but nearly collapsing back down because of it. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Ruth replied, “What are you doing?”

“Washing some sheets.”

Ruth went to ask why exactly, but then her eyes trailed downwards and she saw the small puddle that had accumulated in the grass beneath Mercy, as well as the dark red streams running down her legs.

“Your monthly blood?” Ruth said quietly.

“Clearly.” Mercy said, attempting to keep her voice from wavering. She shifted her weight to a different leg and cringed when a fresh bout of blood oozes free.

“Will you be okay?” Ruth asked, “We’re supposed to go to the forest today, but if you’re in pain...”

“No, no, I’m fine,” Mercy lied quickly. “Trust me. I’ll get a cloth to catch the blood and then I’ll be all good.”

Ruth nodded, believing her, since she has it to bleed and didn’t know the intense pain that came with it.

Mercy also believed herself, thinking that should would be fine, but when she actually went out to the woods with her friends, she proved herself to be very, very wrong.

In just a few hours, the sharp cramps in her stomach had become violent spasms and the dull aching in her back turned into an intense, radiating burn. She was both sick with hunger and too nauseous to eat. Her bladder and bowels ached. She was sweating from the pain of it all, but also shivering and weak from anemia. And, to top it all off was the gross, hot feeling of her uterus being filled to the absolute brim with blood and pressing uncomfortably up against her lower stomach with so much pressure she thought she would burst if the fluids weren’t deposited. The cloth she had bunched up to her vagina was doing its job at soaking up the blood, but it rubbed her thighs in a way that made her want to peel her skin off, which was a whole other problem in and of itself. Plus, sometimes it feels like the rag shifts a bit too high and actually goes into her bloody folds and she just about passes out from the unwanted sensation of a piece of fabric literally plugging up her vagina.

Needless to say, Mercy felt like death warmed over with an extra pinch of suffering.

Somehow, she still found herself at the usual meeting spot in the woods, despite how sick and horrible and disgusting she felt. As much as she wanted to spend the whole day curled up in bed while cuddling her pillow close to her stomach, she knew she couldn’t skip out on the outings just because it was her time to suffer Eve’s curse. Susanna, Abigail, and Mary all suffered through their own every month- hell, they could be bleeding right now as well- and they were able to function just fine, although Mary does have a tendency to not talk or move around too much, or simply not go out at all. Mercy didn’t want to be that girl, especially since Abigail didn’t like it when someone chickens out just because of a little leaky vagina and stomach pain.

Though, that sounded like an impossible feat with the way that her frame shook from the exertion of standing alone. Mercy’s whole body was as heavy as lead, everything in her entire being hurt, and it was all swirling in a kaleidoscope of pain until all she could focus on was how bad she felt. She was sure she could faint, could already feel the faintest numbness slowly creeping in on the edges of her consciousness, but she held strong until she just couldn’t anymore.

One of the worst cramps she’s ever felt in her entire life hit her when she was clambering across a thick branch to get to another tree. She and the other girls were playing a very serious match of hide-and-go-seek and she was determined to win by hiding in the dense patch of leaves and branches she saw when she had been seeker during the round before. However, her plans of victory were rudely interrupted when the ovaries at the end of her Fallopian tubes seemed to morph into claws and viciously stab her from the inside, causing her to teeter right off of the branch just as Mary, who was that round’s seeker, burst through the underbrush.

Mercy didn’t feel her body hit the forest floor- the pain in her stomach overpowered every other sensation in her body. She could, however, miraculously still see through the raging storm of black spots across her vision and saw Mary above her, looking absolutely mortified, like she could see the invisible ovary-claws goring their way out of Mercy’s abdomen. The younger girl was completely paralyzed and stark white, and her mouth was opening and closing like a fish out of water, which would have made Mercy laugh if it weren’t for the fact that laughing pulled the muscles in her stomach tighter until it felt like they would snap.

Mary wasn’t doing anything to help, too stunned to get her head on straight, and, if she had the strength, Mercy would be griping at her to do something. Luckily, someone more capable of functioning properly in dire situations came to the rescue.

“What happened?!”

Abigail, who must have been hiding somewhere nearby or maybe was just trying to sneak around, leapt from the thicket like a jungle cat, startling Mary into awareness. Mary looked from Abigail, to Mercy, then back to Abigail, stammering and sputtering over her words and clenching the rims of her cowl like she does when she was anxious. It was honestly quite pitiful, and Mercy felt kind of bad for the kid.

Abigail, however, felt the opposite.

“What did you do?” Abigail snarled, stalking towards Mary, whose eyes were practically bulging out of their sockets. Her own were smoldering like hot coals. “What have you done to her, Mary Warren?”

“N-nothing!” Mary squeaked, “I haven’t touched her!” She backs away, but Abigail advances on her, seizing her by the throat. “Abby...-!!”

“You are a liar!” Abigail roared, shaking Mary slightly, “What did you do to her?!” She could so easily wring Mary’s neck like a towel. She grips tighter in her fit of rage. “TELL ME!”

“Abby...”

Abigail pauses her process of strangling the younger girl to glance over her shoulder. When she realizes it was Mercy who had called her name, she releases her prey and darts down to her side. Carefully, she lifts Mercy’s head into her lap.

“Mercy? It’s Abby. I’m right here. Can you tell me what’s wrong?” She sets a hand on Mercy’s back, “Your muscles are so tight... What happened? What did that little mouse do to you?”

“Hurts...” Mercy rasps out, so soft Abigail nearly missed it.

“What hurts, Mercy? Where does it hurt?”

Mercy couldn’t answer when the cramps return with just as much power as before and render her uselessly silent. She can only grit her teeth to the point where they may shatter and hold onto Abigail’s dress like it was her only anchor to consciousness.

“What’s going on?”

Susanna, Betty, and Ruth all emerge from the tree line, having been alerted by Abigail’s yelling. They don’t miss the way the leader of the group protectively holds Mercy closer to her.

“Is she okay?” Susanna, who had spoken before, asked, glancing at the blue-clad girl.

“I don’t know.” Abigail answered. First she shoots a momentary glare at Mary, then looks back down at Mercy, who seems to have settled slightly. “But she’s trembling and is really flush.” She said, feeling her friend’s cheeks with the back of her hand.

“Wait,” Ruth piped up, “Is this because of her monthly blood?”

Silence.

Abigail feels Mercy tense in her lap.

“Oh, Mercy,” She murmured, “You should have told us.”

Her eyes then glance at Mary, who was on her hands and knees, silent as she paws tentatively at her neck. Abigail wanted to send the other girls away, give Mercy privacy so she wouldn’t be anymore embarrassed than she already was, but she knew she had to settle things with Mary first.

“Mary Warren.” She said, not missing the way the younger girl flinched when her name was spoken. “Come here.”

Mary doesn’t move, like she was now being immobilized by cramps.

“I will not ask you again.”

That does it.

The smaller girl awkwardly skitters over, still very much shrunk in on herself. It doesn’t help when Abigail makes contact by cupping one of her cheeks, keeping the other hand on Mercy’s waist, and lifting her chin to make her meet her gaze.

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” Abigail whispers, thumbing away a stray fearful tear that managed to escape Mary’s sparkling eyes. “I didn’t know. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. Are you okay?”

Mary nodded feebly. She tried to break eye contact while doing so, but Abigail taps her cheek with a finger and she’s too scared to not look back up at her.

“Are you sure?”

Another nod, although this one is definitely weaker and more unsure. However, Mary knows she shouldn’t be fretted over, Mercy is clearly the one in a lot more pain, not her.

“Alright,” Abigail said. She leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to Mary’s forehead. “Go home.” Her voice raised to address the others, “All of you. Go home.”

Like that, they disperse. The others knew not to cross Abigail, especially when she was protective like this, so they all obey and head back to town. Only for a moment does Mary hang around. Her hand hovered over Mercy’s shoulder, but she pulls back at the last second. She mutters a tiny “Feel better soon” and “I’m sorry” before scampering away through the trees.

Abigail waited until the footsteps of the fawn-like girl receded to do something. She wasn’t really all that guilty about what she did to Mary- Mercy was her best friend and if she’s hurt and someone is around, then that makes them a possible culprit and she was going to attack! Mary had just been at the wrong place at the wrong time and her poor neck was the victim of Abigail’s chosen assault method via strangulation. Abigail made a mental note to go check on the younger girl later that day, just to make sure she was completely alright.

Right now, however, she had someone else to tend to.

“Do you have anything?” Abigail asked once the sound of footsteps completely died off in the distance.

Knowing what she meant, Mercy nodded.

“That’s good, at least,” Abigail hummed. “Wanna go home?”

“I don’t- I don’t think I can-I can stand.” Mercy panted, “Can I-” She swallowed thickly, “-can I lay here for a little longer? Please?”

“Of course,” Abigail said. She cards her hand through Mercy’s hair to calm her. “We can stay here as long as you need, okay? Just try to relax.”

“Thank you,” Mercy whispered. She closes her eyes and nuzzles closer to Abigail.

For a long time, they just sat there in silence, relaxing and listening to the sounds of the woods. That would soon be broken by Mercy whimpering and wrapping her arms around her stomach.

“Mercy?” Abigail looked down at her. She set a hand on her shoulder as she writhes in her lap, “Mercy, sweetie, talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“...hurts...” Mercy gurgles, holding tighter. Acid curls in the back of her throat.

“I know, sweetie. I know.” Abigail said, threading her fingers through her hair.

The acid curls higher, burns more.

“No, no, Abby-”

Mercy jerked upwards and began to vomit, just barely missing her dress. Through her coughing and heaving, she heard Abigail cuss and then pull any stray fringes of hair that may have escaped her bonnet out of the way.

“Get it out, sweetie. It’s okay. Just get it out.” Abigail murmured, holding Mercy upright so she wouldn’t completely crumple in on herself.

Eventually, Mercy stopped ejecting her internal organs through her mouth and collapsed against Abigail, panting heavily. The cloth Abigail kept her in her pocket wiped away the bile dribbling down the sides of her mouth, but she can’t find the voice to thank her friend. All she could do was make a miserable keening noise.

“Shh, shh,” Abigail hushed her. She wrapped an arm around Mercy’s waist and leaned back so Mercy would be slightly laying on her, hoping that position would be more comfortable. It must not have been, because Mercy began pushing herself up with shaking arms.

“I’m sorry,” Mercy mumbled, deep shame burning on her cheeks. “I think- I think I can go home now.”

“Are you sure?” Abigail asked, worry glinting in her eyes. “Maybe we should wait a moment longer. Let you get your bearings.”

“Please,” Mercy said softly, “I just want to-” She swallowed thickly, “-go lay in my bed and sleep.”

Abigail pursed her lips, but agreed and helped Mercy stand up. Her friend didn’t lean on her to walk, she seemed to be able to do that on her own, but Abigail would still reach out to steady her every one and awhile.

“Where were you hiding?” Mercy asked, trying to distract herself. The conversation was much needed, especially when blood squirted free onto the rag and reminding of just why she felt so miserable.

“In a log,” Abigail answered with a small laugh, “It was kind of hidden in the bushes, so I thought it would be a good hiding spot.”

“If Susanna was seeking, maybe,” Mercy comments, “You know how thorough Mary Warren is when she’s seeker.”

“True,” Abigail agreed. Whatever she said after that was completely drowned out by ringing in Mercy’s ears when a powerful wave of dizziness washed over her.

Mercy couldn’t help but doubled over, wrapping both arms around her aching middle. She grits her teeth tightly, but the cramps last longer than usual and tears start to well up in her eyes.

“Abby-” She gasped, “Abby-!”

Abigail looked over her shoulder and her eyes widen. She darts to Mercy’s side and the girl just about crumples in her arms.

“Abby-” Mercy rasps out, “Can I-” It’s punctuated with a wince, “Can I sit down- for a moment? Please?”

“Yes, yes, of course.”

Abigail helped lower Mercy to the ground, and her friend instantly curls around her stomach. She lifted her head into her lap.

“Shh, shh,” Abigail murmured. She untied Mercy’s bonnet and let her hair down. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

Despite her calming tone, Mercy still writhes. She squirms like she’s trying to wriggle our of her own skin, and wept silently, unable to hold back the tears any longer. The pain was too much- it felt as if someone was reaching in and pulling out her small intestines.

“It hurts,” Mercy sobbed, digging her face against Abigail’s thighs. “It feels like I’m being stabbed, Abby- I’m being stabbed!”

“No, no, you’re not.” Abigail said. She picked up one of Mercy’s hands and makes her feel her lower stomach. “See, sweetie? There’s nothing there. No knife, no arrow, no nothing.”

The dagger was inside of Mercy, stabbing and stabbing and stabbing away at everything within her. Abigail couldn’t see it, of course, so all Mercy could really do was make a tiny noise and curl up tighter. She clung to her best friend’s dress, digging her nails in. If it hurts when they hook on Abigail’s skin, she doesn’t show it.

“Abby...” Mercy moaned softly.

“I’m right here, sweetie. I’m right here.” Abigail assured her. She used one hand to caress her friend’s tear-stained cheek while the other remained on her waist for a sense of grounding. “You’re going to be okay, my sweet. I promise.”

Mercy shook her head. When she looked up at Abigail, her eyes are glazed and unfocused.

“It hurts so much, Abby...” She whimpered.

“Where does it hurt?” Abigail asked, slightly taking Mercy by surprise.

Mercy didn’t answer immediately, instead hissed air in through her teeth and waited for her Fallopian tubes to stop using her ovaries as projectiles against every other organ in her body.

“L-lower stomach,” She stammered, clearly shy about this. “...And my back.”

Abigail nodded and carefully placed a hand on her friend’s lower stomach.

“Here?”

Mercy nodded. She gasped softly when Abigail began to rub her stomach in slow, tentative circular motions, but then eased up beneath her touch.

“Does this help?” Abigail asked.

“Yes,” Mercy said softly, “A lot.” She sighed quietly, relaxing as Abigail massaged her abdomen gently, moving in careful circles against her dress.

After a few minutes, Mercy’s breathing no longer hiccuped, and her arms weren't squeezed at her front anymore. Abigail’s fingers were still soothing the cramps as best as they could. She’d always been affectionate with her girls, but she’d never done anything like this before. However, she assumed she was on the right track, as Mercy seemed about ready to fall asleep against her, with her hands working easy patterns on her body. She couldn’t help but chuckle lovingly and use her other hand to stroke back sweaty hair from Mercy’s face.

“Thank you,” Mercy mumbled, dozing.

“You’re welcome,” Abigail replied, just as quiet as to not hurt Mercy’s ears.

“I think...I think I can walk again.” Mercy said. “Can I try?”

Abigail nodded and helped Mercy to her feet, despite the hiss of pain that was elicited immediately after. She kept an arm around her friend’s waist, letting her lean on her when needed. She kept glancing down at the hand over Mercy’s stomach, which would sometimes clench tightly during a cramp.

Finally, they got to the edge of the Putnam’s property and Mercy untangled herself from Abigail’s tender embrace.

“Thanks, Abby,” Mercy said, completely coiling an arm around her middle.

“I can walk you to the house.” Abigail said, but Mercy shook her head.

“Go check on Mary Warren.”

“...Alright.” Abigail agreed. Before she left, however, she tied Mercy’s hair back up, put her bonnet back on, and then kissed her forehead. “I’ll come by and check on you tomorrow, okay?” Mercy nods in her hand when she’s cupping her cheek, “Feel better soon, sweetie.”

With that, she begrudgingly leaves, starting down the dirt road that led to the Proctor’s house.

Mercy stands there for a moment, just breathing through vice grip-like cramps, before turning around and walking to the house.

The short trek proves to be hellish without Abigail’s tender, protective presence, what with the dizziness and the increasingly wet slickness between her legs. The rag was completely soaked through by this point, turning her thighs into a sticky, sopping wet mess. Every step made the soggy cloth shift and rub, smearing against her skin to dirty it further. She knew she would have to exchange it for a clean cloth, so she grabbed two new rags and two buckets, one filled with water and the other empty, before heading inside.

She manages to get up to her room without being seen or called and quickly closed the door. The first thing she did was strip from her dress and then undergarments.

As expected, the cloth was soaked. In fact, there wasn’t a single speck of white left anywhere on it. The sickeningly sweet, fishy aroma the uterus blood gave off made Mercy’s stomach churn and she quickly dropped the fabric into the empty bucket. With one of the clean rags, she uses it to wash off her thighs and paw water on her messy vagina to try and flush it out of blood, despite knowing it wouldn’t matter in the long run.

Once she was cleaned up, she scrubbed her hands in the water, put a new rag in her undergarments, threw on soft trousers and a tunic to sleep in, disposed of the buckets, and then finally collapsed into bed. Just in time, too, because her stomach twists again and she whimpers into her pillow.

For awhile, she just writhes and thrashes in her bed, unable to get comfortable or fall asleep due to the intense pain. She began to hear Goody Putnam calling for her, but she just couldn’t get up, so she lied there, weeping softly and wishing she hadn’t sent Abigail to the Proctor’s.

Footsteps walked up the steps and approached her room. Mercy braced herself for a storm.

“Young lady, I have been calling you for-”

Ann’s scolding died on her tongue when she saw the state her servant was in- face very grey and drenched in sweat, cheeks stained with tears, panting heavily, hair falling out of her crinkled bonnet, curled up into a tight ball, clutching her stomach. Mercy is rocking herself ever so slightly and Ann watches for a half second before going to her bedside.

“Mercy?” She brushes the girl’s bangs out of her eyes and felt her forehead. “You’re so hot... What’s wrong?”

“Monthly...monthly blood.” Mercy panted, her voice tight with pain, “It’s my monthly blood.”

Ann hummed in sympathy, knowing exactly what the teenager was going through. She began untying Mercy’s bonnet and then her hair as the girl started to talk again. Her worry grew as she did so.

“It- it hurts so bad, Goody Putnam. It’s never lasted this long before. Nothing helps.” Mercy screwed her eyes shut and hugged her stomach tighter. An audible sob accidentally slipped from her lips and she felt her ears burn hot with embarrassment.

“Oh, my poor dear,” Ann murmured, stroking Mercy’s cheek with a finger. “Take deep breaths, darling. I’ll be back.”

“Wait-”

But Ann was already out the door.

Mercy stared at the empty doorway, hand outstretched, mouth half open in a cry, and tears brimming in her eyes. Her delirium-riddled mind began to hiss horrible words of abandonment and she started to weep much harder than before, flipping onto her other side and burying her face into a pillow.

That’s how Ann found her about half an hour later and she gasped softly, rushing over to comfort the crying child.

“Mercy, Mercy, sweetheart,” She gently shook the teenager to rouse her. “I’m right here. It’s okay.”

Mercy’s glossy eyes widen and she launches herself into her mistress’ arms, not caring about how unprofessional it may have seemed. When she was vulnerable like this, she desperately needed to be held by someone, consequences be damned.

“Shh, shh,” Ann soothed, stroking her servant’s messy hair. “I’m right here, darling. You’re alright.”

“No, no-” One hand moves to grip back at her stomach as Mercy shook her head. “It hurts too much, Goody Putnam. I think I’m dying...”

“Don’t be daft,” Ann said. “Eve’s curse is a terrible one. Unfortunately, it seems to be bewitching you pretty horribly right now.” She notices Mercy grimace and quickly went on, “But I have something for that.”

Mercy hadn’t even realized Ann had brought a few things in- a steaming cup of liquid and an equally steaming pot of hot water.

Ann props Mercy up and brings the cup to her lips. She urges her to drink with encouraging words and the girl eventually relents.

“Good girl,” Ann cooed and it makes Mercy’s heart leap in her chest. “Ah, ah.” She tuts when her servant tried to pull back. “You need to drink all of it, sweetheart.” She puts the cup back to Mercy’s lips, who has no other choice but to down the bittersweet liquid.

When Mercy pulls back, taking deep breaths, she realizes how lightheaded she feels. She lifts both hands to grip at either sides of her skull and doesn’t even notice how she was swaying in her bed. Ann’s chuckle alerts her to look up.

“Someone’s feeling the effects already,” Ann mused, stroking back some sweaty hair from Mercy’s face.

Mercy’s tongue feels swollen and numb in her mouth for some reason. She blinked several times, but it won’t clear up she vision. That combined with how she struggled to speak made her panic slightly.

“Shh, shh,” Ann hushed when her servant began to freak out. She rubbed comforting circles against the girl’s back to relax her. “It’s just laudanum tea, sweetheart. It’s pain relief. You only feel dizzy because of the opium in it.”

Mercy stared at her mistress in shock. She had just been given liquid opium. Although, she wasn’t going to complain if it was a pain relief.

“Now, lay back for me, sweet girl.” Ann helped Mercy lie back down. She lifts her servant’s shirt slightly and pulls a damp rag out of the pot of water, placing the hot cloth on Mercy’s stomach.

At first, it was way too hot, but Mercy’s hiss of pain turned into a sigh of pleasure when the warmth soaked into her skin and began untangling the knots in her stomach. She rests her head back into the pillows, letting her eyelids droop close. With the nice, hot compress, added with the pain relief and Ann’s hand stroking at her hair, she found herself being pulled closer and closer to sleep.

“Goody Putnam?” She croaked, managing to find her voice.

“Yes, Mercy?”

“Thank...thank you...”

Ann smiled at the dazed, loopy girl.

“You’re welcome. Now rest, sweetheart. I shall stay here until you have fallen asleep.”

Mercy liked the sound of that.

She relaxed her body and let herself think she was rolling in molten gold, because that’s exactly what it felt like. For the first time all day, she felt the closest thing to relaxation.

[cameronspecial]

The Marriage Games (Prologue)

Pairing: Prince! Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: (Y/N) (Y/L/N) grew up in the palace with her brother and the royals; her and her brother are practically apart of the royal family. The Queen decides to help her eldest son find his own queen by inviting ten female suitors to live in the palace. What happens when through this process he finds love with a woman that is not one of the contestants?  

Word Count: 2 333

Disclaimer: This series is inspired by The Selection by Kiera Cass and Yellow Roses by @h-osterfield .

King Dominic and Queen Nicola were coming back from an event in town when they saw two small figures on the side of the road all alone. It was hard to see what it was because of the heavy rain pouring outside, but the king thought nothing of it. “Pull over, please,” the queen asks the driver. Dom looks at his wife with worry on his face, “Is everything okay, love?” She doesn’t answer but instead throws open the car door once the car slows down. Once Dom got out of the car, he immediately understands why his wife wanted to stop. Standing in the rain was a four-year-old little girl with tears streaming down her face and a one-year-old toddler. There were no adults in sight and that worried the young queen. “Hey, it’s okay sweetie. We are going to keep you safe. Where are your parents?” Nikki tries to approach the young girl, but she flinches away. The younger boy, however, runs into the young queen’s arms. He was cold, so she assumed that the young girl must be cold as well. Since there was no response from the two children and it seemed that there were no adults around, Nikki took it upon herself to take the kids to a safe environment. “Come on, loves. Let’s get you warmed up.” The little girl seemed to realize that Nikki was not going to be hurt, so she goes into the queen’s arms with her little brother.

During the car ride, the young girl did not speak at all and all the toddler did was snuggle into the queen’s side. When they got home, Tom and the twins were waiting at the door to see their parents. They didn’t expect to see their parents with two other kids. “Hello, my loves. This little girl and boy were all alone, so they are going to be staying with us for a little while,” Nikki informs her children, “Now, come along sweeties, let’s get you two into a nice warm bath.” The Queen leads the children up to her bedroom and runs a bath for them. She looks over to the two kids and asks, “Is it okay if I give you two a bath?” They both nod their heads whilst shivering in their wet clothes. Once the bath was ready, she tells the young girl that she can get into the bath while the Queen helps the toddler out of his clothes and into the tub. The girl does not play with the multiple toys that Nikki placed in the tub like her brother, but instead, she just stares at her brother with tears in her eyes. They finish their bath then gets on the softest pair of pyjamas that they have ever felt.

After they were finally ready for bed, Nikki brings the little boy to the twins’ room and the young girl to Tom’s room.  She makes sure that both children were comfortable and heads to her room to get some sleep. Tommy couldn’t sleep because he wanted to know more about the little girl sleeping beside him. “What happened to you? Are you hurt? Did you have a nice bath? What’s your name? How old are you? Where are your parents? Is that your little brother? Do you want to go to sleep? Or maybe you are hungry?” he inquires as he turns around to look at her on the other side of the bed. She just turns to face him with big sad eyes that show how lonely and scared she is. “You look sad and whenever I am sad my mummy says to hug my blue bunny so that I can remember just how much she and my daddy loves me,” Tom advises her before he runs off to his bookshelf to get his bunny and runs back over to her side of the bed, “You can have this. I think you need it more than me right now.” The little girl slowly wipes her tears and takes the fluffy stuffy into her arms then whispers thank you. “What’s your name?” Tom tries again. “My name is Y/N and you talk too much,” she mumbles with the bunny in front of her mouth. That was the beginning of a great friendship.

*11 Years Later*

By the time Y/N was 15 years old, she had fallen in love with the eldest prince and everyone knows it. However, Tom had no idea how she felt or that he felt the same way for her. Y/N had just finished her film lessons with Professor Xan and was making her way over to the stable where she had her next lessons with Tom. “Don’t you like Y/N? I mean everyone thinks that you like her and everyone knows that she likes you,” Y/N overhears Harrison ask Tom. She couldn’t see Tom’s face, but she could definitely hear what he said, “She likes me? I-I never knew that, but I really don’t feel the same way. I mean we grew up together, she is one of my best friends and I really never thought of her in that way before. Georgy is practically just another one of my brothers. Plus, I like Felicity.” When Y/N heard those words, her heart broke into a million little pieces. She didn’t know that everyone knew how she felt and that made her totally embarrassed. She made the split-second decision not to go to riding lessons and ran off to her room. Tom and Harrison hear a twig snap from behind them and immediately look in that direction to see Y/N running off towards the castle. Both buys can hear the sound of her faint sniffles and they both knew that she had overheard their conversation. “Y/N! Wait!” Tom yells as he runs after her. She doesn’t listen and continues to make her way back to her room.

*Flash Forward To The Present*

Y/N stood in front of the mirror in her walk-in closet as some of the maids fix her dress at the back. The dress is a beautiful red colour that went off of both her shoulder with a princess cut neckline. The skirt of the dress hugs her curves and goes down to her ankles. Per Tom’s request, she is wearing the dark blue heels with a little black Spiderman symbol on the side. To most girls, the shoes were not the most fashionable, but Y/N found them cute and they were a gift from Tom.  Adorning her neck was a simple chain necklace with a single pearl hanging from it with her and Tom’s initials on it. The necklace was a birthday gift from Tom for when she turned sixteen years old. The pearl represented their birth month and their initials represented their friendship. This is the only necklace that she would wear despite the many choices that she has. Her hair is braid over her left shoulder and is decorated with small little diamond studs. Her makeup is done perfectly and her nails are painted a nice shade of blue. This look may look ridiculous if anyone else wore it, but she knew that Tom would love her outfit and that’s all that mattered. It is her best friends 22nd birthday after all.

She just finished getting ready and starts making her way over to the ballroom where his ball is being held. When she arrives there, her brother, the twins, Paddy, Nikki, Dom, and Harrison were already there waiting for Tom, so that they can start entering the ballroom. “Only Tom can take longer than Y/N,” Harrison jokes. Everyone finishes laughing and that is when Tom comes walking towards them, “Hahahaha! Harrison, you are so hilarious! Maybe if you  stayed a little longer in your mom’s uterus than you wouldn’t be stuck with that face.” Everyone erupts in giggles again and the two men just glare at each other in a joking way. “Okay, that’s enough you divs. Let’s go before all your guest drop dead from old age,” Y/N suggests as everyone lines up in the order that they normally come in. Harrison sneaks off to the ballroom because of the fact that he is just another royal guest. The first person to be announced into the Ballroom is Tom as he is the guest of honour, then the king and queen, then the twins, then Paddy, then Georgy, and finally it is her turn. “And finally Lady Y/N of the House of Holland,” the Royal Announcer announces to the room full of people. She carefully makes her way down the marble stairs with her hand gently gliding on the railing.

As she nears the end of the stairs, Tom holds his hand out to her and she hooks her arm with his. “You look beautiful,” he whispers into her ear. To anyone else, it may look like they are flirting, but everyone knows that the pair were just friends.  She mumbles back a thank you as they make their way to the dance floor for the first dance to start off the ball. Tom’s favourite classical song starts playing, and he places one of his hands in hers and the other on her waist. The pair glides along the dance floor perfectly in sync just like they have been practicing for the past six months. Once the song ended, everyone claps and joins them on the dance floor. Nikki and Georgy waive their way through the crowd so that they can dance with Tom and Y/N. Tom takes his mother’s hand in his and they start dancing together while Y/N does the same with her brother.  “You know maybe you should ask Y/N out on a date if you think she is so beautiful,” the older woman mumbles into her son’s ear.  The young man shakes his head, “Mom, we’ve talked about this. Y/N and I are just friends.” She gives him a disapproving look and mumbles under her breath, “Well then I guess I am going to have to continue with the plan then.” Tom heard what his mother said, but decided to ignore it. He probably should have asked what she was talking about.

The five-course meal had just been finished by everyone and they were now preparing to cut the 6 tier cake that had just been rolled out into the middle of the dance floor. They sang Happy Birthday, Y/N may or may not have shoved Tom’s face into his slice of cake, and distributed the cake to everyone. Once everyone was settled with a new glass of champagne and a slice of cake, Queen Nikki and King Dom decided that it is time to make the big announcement. They made their way up to the balcony that overlooks everything. “Hello, everyone! Thank you for coming to our son’s 22nd Birthday! As everyone knows that when the eldest child reaches the age of 24, she/he is to take over the throne. However, our son is having a little bit of a problem with finding a Queen and as we all know a partner is need to produce an heir, which is ideal when you are a part of a Royal family. So my husband and I have decided that we would try and help him out in that process. The House of Holland invites ten female suitors, five royal females and five English female citizens, to try to see if they can pique the interest of the prince. If you are interested in applying to be a suitor, then please head to our website, where you may sign up. Each suitor will be randomly chosen and remember to please read the conditions and rules,” the Queen notifies everyone in the room. The crowd erupts in whispers as soon as she had finished talking and most of the single females in the room pull out their phones to apply to be a suitor.

Tom looks around in confusion as his mother just announced that he will be living with 10 other females. He quickly makes his way up to see his mother and father. “Tommy, we know we went behind your back, but we think this will really help you find someone. I know you don’t want to spend your life alone, so with this help maybe you can at least narrow the options of who you don’t want to be with,” his mother tried to explain to him. Tom, however, thought that this is a good idea to help him hopefully find his soulmate. “Mum, I am not mad. I actually think this is a good idea. I just don’t want to promise any of the suitors that I am going to end up marrying one of them or even dating one of them,” Tom worries to his mother. Nikki gives her son a reassuring hug, “Don’t worry, love. In the discloser, it says just that. This is just meant to hopefully help you,” she tells her son. Tom nods his head and figures that he should make his way back to the party, which is exactly what he did.

Y/N waits for him at the bottom of the stair with her arm out for him. He hooks their arms together and leads them to somewhere a little more private than in the ballroom. “So I guess I am not going to be the only female in the castle anymore. How do you feel about this idea?” she mutters to him. “I am fine with it. I actually think it might hopefully help me with finding a partner. I have had problems with finding a partner in the past, so maybe this will help me,” he reveals to her. “Yeah, you have your fair share of crazy girlfriend. Maybe it will help,” she says as she rests her head on his shoulder. Little did they both know that the girl that Tom would fall in love with is already standing right next to him.

Taglist:  @tmrhollandkay @embrace-themagic @whereartthouwakanda @smexylemony @bookgirlunicorn @mysteriouslydelightfulwolf  @melancholland @casualprincess77   @notes-from-my-journal  @katiekitty261 @spidermansmj14 @redrebecca @deranged-sewer-rat @loverofthingscool @jackiehollanderr @iamthescarlettwitch @parkeret @i-bitch-you-bitch @furiouspaperfarmegg @arrantsnowdrop @loxbbg @hollandechart @converseskyline  @musicandbokkslovingweirdo @holypizzafestivalfire @youllbemineandillbeyours @lydiasbxtch @tomshufflepuff @bookgirlunicorn @spideysimpossiblegirl @starlightfound @softspideyboy @captainbuckyy

[novel-aworldapart]

The Painter

My name is Nathaniel, last name of unimportance, or at least now it feels that way. My wife Abigail, or as I like to call her – Abby, was very sick, she was ill for quite some time, and the clock was ticking faster than we could have imagined. She had stage four ovarian cancer, and the doctor gave her three years to live, well, she only made it through the first...

Abby always experienced very severe pains and cramps but refused to see a doctor for such a long time. The straw that broke the camel’s back was some time last year in October that led through November.

Abby sat upright at her desk, scribbling away feverishly with her eyebrows knitted so tightly together I thought they might tie around another. It didn't take her long to lose her fire and put her red pen down with an exasperated sigh, "I hate kids…"

I, of course, chuckled, "Is that why you wanted to be a teacher?"

She whipped back so ferociously in her chair that the legs creaked angrily. "Haha," she said sarcastically then let her shoulders slump. "I just don't know what to do for these guys anymore, I stand there for about an hour every day, and it feels like they're staring through me, y'know?"

I nodded, teaching is her dream, but the reality of it is a little more crushing than she bargained for – or maybe it's just the kids that she's teaching this semester? Of course, if I offer up that it's the kids and not her, she'll bat away the idea, even though she just said they're not paying attention. She gets so defensive over these kids.

It doesn't take me long to pull her out of her stupor, she's soon in my arms and giggling like a mad-man, or mad-woman would be the better way to put it. She starts laughing so hard that the next words that spill from her lips have a thick Irish draw, ah, I love it when she reverts.

The smile I have is big and "dopey" as she has described it to me a thousand and one times, honestly, it is, but she loves it. Find yourself someone who loves that about you.

"Nate," she kind of whines with her arms crossed over her chest as I cradle her tightly against my own.

The smile wipes off my face, and I become stone-cold serious, every muscle in my face so tight that I might pop a blood vessel. Of course, I am doing this just to make her laugh again, but now, I really might pop a blood vessel!

She puts a hand on my cheek, and I let the tough guy act drop immediately, allowing myself to cave into the small and slightly calloused hand.

"I love you," she leans in to kiss, not my lips, but my forehead so gently that I want to cry. I try to go in for a kiss, but her hand covers my mouth swiftly. "Patience, I have to grade the rest of these papers."

"Abby, it's Friday, you literally have all weekend!" I am saying this because I want to steal her away from her frustrations, even if it's just temporary.

She pulls away and heads back to her desk with a sway in her hips that I have trouble resisting. I knew as soon as she was back in her chair that I would have to entertain her later, she's all work and no play at the moment.

"I'm going to go finish that painting downstairs then," I tell her, leaving the room but not before I return the gentle kiss to her forehead that almost makes her pull me back.

I am somewhat of a painter, I use all sorts of mediums, but my absolute favorite is traditional oils. I've dabbled in the digital realm. Yet there is something about the smell of the paints and the scrape of my hand against the canvas that brings me back. Sure, I'd save much more money by going digital, but I guess in a way, I'm a snob who enjoys the experience of bringing my brush down against a thick paper and hearing that slightly gritty sound as the bristles spread.

The only thing this piece is missing is some highlights in the facial features to bring in the liveliness that I wake up to everyday. I could do a white for a highlight and blend it in or go for a mixture of white and something lighter than the base. I opt for white, not because it is easier, but because it will blend just about the same since the paint is still very fresh.

My hand moves, not with a swiftness, but a deft accuracy, as this is something that I have seen a thousand times – how could I miss any divine detail?

I just about finished when I hear Abby gasp slightly, I turn my head over my shoulder to see her shocked expression.

"I thought we said-"

 "I never agreed," I smiled as I wiped my paint-smeared hands on a nearby towel.

She never wanted me to paint her, but it is something that I have always wanted to do, and now I have. It was my desire to capture her essence as it stands now, and I have to say, this may be the most beautiful portrait I have ever done. Actually, it's the only, but still, I don't think anything I do from this point on could compare.

"It's beautiful." She stepped forward with her green eyes wide and mouth slightly parted.

"Just like you." I'll do anything to get a cheesy compliment in.

She stood in front of the painting, and it was like looking into a mirror.

"I-I don't know what to say, Nate, it's- "she stopped and turned to me with tears in her eyes, "it's the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me!" And with that, she wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me in for a hug so tight that it felt like a blood vessel might pop again, but that's okay, this hug feels like everything I need right now.

In all of my time in knowing Abigail, I have never known her to cry, at least not like this. She cries when she gets hurt sometimes, but I've never seen – what are these? Happy tears?

"I'm glad you like it," I said with a smile that's caught by her lips. It doesn't take long for me to drown in her touch. A familiar warmth spreads through me, and I find it hard to control myself.

Her lips find my neck, I can say that grading papers is definitely on hold for the rest of the night, and she trails up from my collarbones then whispers in my ear, "take me upstairs."

I, being the gentleman that I am, pick her up and hurry to our bedroom. I lay her on the bed, start undressing, and then doing the same to her – but she stops me before I can take her slacks off. "Stop rushing!" She whined as she crossed her arms over her chest with a pout that made me want to kiss her all over.

"Sorry!" I say with a bit of embarrassment, I have a habit of doing that, "I'll take it slow."

 "Promise?" She asks me, her arms lowering.

I carefully get on top of her and place a kiss against her forehead like I did earlier, "I promise." With my hand, I brushed some hair out from her eyes and took in every ounce of beauty that I could.

I'll bring things up to speed because remembering that with such intense detail makes my heart crumble.

We got pregnant!

She forgot to take her pill that morning, explained to me that she was trying to avoid having sex because she remembered when she was grading papers that she forgot the pill, but when she saw the painting… Like she said before, it was the nicest thing anyone has ever done for her, and she just wanted to be close to me.

When she told me she was pregnant, which was a week after that night we shared, she told me like she was scared, because she was. She thought that I wouldn't want to have a kid because of our prior discussions, but it's not that I didn't want one, we just weren't financially ready for one yet, but I was too excited to even worry about that. I told her that we would make it work and that I would love to be a dad, because, well, I wanted to be one.

Frankly, I would have been the best damn dad ever.

It wasn't long before we found out that the pregnancy was ectopic. If you don't know what that means, I'll explain it. Basically, our potential child was growing outside of her uterus, which was causing some complications. I finally convinced her to go to a doctor, not just for herself, but the baby, because she was bleeding so irregularly and becoming sickly. We found out with that visit that she was ectopic and had cancer… and that she wasn't going to live long. The pregnancy had to be terminated because it was threatening her life and the cancer… well, it wouldn't be a hospitable environment for a child. 

For a while, I thought that my Abby might take her own life, but instead, she succumbed to severe cancer – refusing any treatment at the hospital. She was crying when she died. I found her. When I came in to give her some soup and hot tea, she wasn't moving… I had approached and saw the stains of tears on her cheeks, her eyes puffy and red from lack of sleep and profound sorrow.

My Abby, she had left this world so sad and bitter…

My Abby, what I would do to have you again…

And now I sit in front of this portrait of her. I caught her essence. Her smile is bright with her green eyes filled with light; her skin pale but warm at the same time. This is how I want to remember her. But… but I find that I can only see the negative. I compare the two. This Abby to the dying one, and I know, I know that sounds so horrible. But I can't help but compare the two, I love both, I always will, but I miss this one the most. I'd give anything to have her in health or in sickness, but I know she wasn't happy at the end. She needed to go so she wouldn’t suffer, but I wasn't ready to let her go, and I'm still not.

My eyes found my feet, I wonder if this is close to how she felt before she passed, so absolutely defeated.

Then I felt something, something so incredibly hard to describe, but I guess you could say it was a presence of some sort. I don't know why I feel it so suddenly, but it's here. I find myself staring at the painting again, it was different looking somehow, but I couldn't put my finger on it. It didn't take long for me to be standing in front of it, inspecting it.

There was a voice, it was quiet, but I could just faintly hear it enough to recognize it was trying to say something. I leaned my head against the painted portrait of my dead wife and could have sworn there was a heartbeat.

"Abigail?" I asked frantically, my hands on either side of the portrait on stretched canvas

I know, I know that there is no way that it could be her, that it could be anything. Maybe I'm just losing it, but if I could hear that voice of hers just one more time, maybe things would feel alright again.

But what was said next, in her voice, was something I didn't expect to hear. The voice was so cold and icy, but I know it was her, I know my wife's voice, "It's all your fault..."

I froze, the hair on the back of my neck standing as if in salute. "Abby…" I whispered in doubt. There was a silence that actually brought me relief for once, but it was brief.

"It's your fault I'm dead!" She yelled, and in all of my years of knowing her, she has never once yelled unless she stubbed her toe on the end table.

And all I could think was that this couldn't be my wife. This had to be a demon, it had to be something else. She would never yell at me. She would never go out of her way to make me feel bad. She was supportive, she was caring, she was loving, hell she supported me being an artist of all things! I don't want to think if there is an afterlife of any kind, that she would grow to hate me or blame me.

The canvas began to heat, and before I knew it, my hands were burning, I pushed myself back and accidentally tumbled into one of the shelves where old work was left to dry and knocked it to the ground.

I looked up at the portrait of my dead wife baffled, but I knew what had just happened was real. You want to know why? Because my hands are still blistered from the burns.

[the-marvel-wars]

I need to talk about GoT 8x02

My thoughts on Game of Thrones 8x02 (grab a glass of wine because it’s a fucking ride and a half)

This will be moved over to my new blog for nerd reviews, Sounds Like Nerds.

WARNING: THIS WILL BE VERY SPOILER-Y AND FULL OF SWEARING!

PLEASE, IF YOU HAVEN’T SEEN THIS EPISODE, DO NOT READ THE SPOILERS!

IT’S SO HARD TO STAY AWAY WHEN YOU��RE CURIOUS AS HELL, BUT PLEASE DON’T LOOK AT THESE SPOILERS IF YOU HAVEN’T SEEN THE EPISODE!

SPOILERS WILL BE BELOW THE CUT, SO IF YOU DON’T TURN AWAY NOW, I CAN’T BE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE SPOILERS YOU WILL SEE.

THIS IS YOUR LAST CHANCE.

ALRIGHT!

Let me be very clear that this episode brought about a slight meltdown for me. The little moments these characters had with one another broke me in half, and next week, I’ll be dead entirely. Resurrect me only to watch these episodes because life will mean nothing after “Avengers: Endgame” and GoT 8x03. I’m tired, dazed, very confused, and on the verge of a complete breakdown. While I still have some energy, here we fucking go.

That opening STILL gives me goosebumps after all these years, not gonna lie.

I lost my whole uterus when Daenerys stared down Jaime and was like, “yo, I always thought of how I would kill you. Here you are” (rough translation). I was like, “BiTcH nOoOoOoO”

ALSO, DAENERYS, HOW DARE YOU QUESTION TYRION! I FELT LIKE I WAS HALLUCINATING! Someone get me some water!

Sansa, a fucking goddess, the QUEEN IN THE NORTH, A RED WOLF. I DON’T GIVE A HOLY SHIT. I LOVE HER. I WANT HER IN MY LIFE FOREVER. TOUCH HER, AND I WILL BURN THE WHOLE WORLD TO THE GROUND!

“The things we do for love” -Jaime, 1x01

“The things we do for love” -Bran, 8x02

Me, during that scene:

Brienne standing up for Jaime the way she did is not helping my desperate need for them to get together. I’m trying to put OUT this fire, not add fuel to it, ffs.

When Sansa began speaking to Brienne after that, I was terrified that Sansa would be like “you vouch for him? You would fight beside him? Then you will suffer the same fate as him.” I was like, are they gonna get fed to the dragons? TaKe Me InStEaD!

Sansa giving Jaime a pass because of her respect for Brienne cleared my skin up, and I will breathe easier until I see Endgame on Thursday night. help.

LISTEN! Here’s my issue! Daenerys’ look at Sansa infuriated me when Sansa gave Jaime a pardon of sorts. Then, she’s like, “UH, JON! WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SAY ABOUT THIS?!?!?!?!” like she’s just magically gonna get what she wants because they’re having………….the sex. Jon’s not gonna turn on his sister/cousin. I’m sorry, but don’t.

Bran just keeps staring at people. Just get that kid a blindfold, he’ll be less of a creep.

Me at Bran the ENTIRE episode:

Let me say this, I knew from the moment Arya did that little eyebrow lift at Gendry in the beginning of the episode, that they were gonna sex by the end of it. I’ve shipped it since they first met, and I will ship it until I die.

“It’s gonna be safer down in the crypt” -Gendry, totally oblivious to the little assassin Arya’s become.

“I know death. He’s got many faces. I look forward to seeing this one.” -Arya, giving me goosebumps while throwing dragonglass at a post. What a little fucking queen. Oh, God, take me away.

I lowkey want Arya to stare right into the face of the Night King, right into the face of death, and I just want her to say “not today” as a callback to season 1 and her training with Syrio Forel. Ugh. SHIT.

“Bran looks like a coconut” -my friend, 2k19

“At least Cersei won’t get to murder me” -Tyrion, giving me goosebumps because Bronn’s got that fucking crossbow of poetic justice, and I WILL NOT HAVE IT! TOUCH TYRION, AND I WILL RIOT!

Podrick has also gotten so much better with the sword, and I AM JUST SO PROUD!

“I’m not the fighter I used to be, but I’d be honored to serve under your command if you’ll have me” -Jaime, giving Brienne the credit she has always deserved, but that’s not even the best part. What happens later is what truly had me weeping.

I just want Jorah and Daenerys to kiss one time in a ship-fulfilling way. I just want him to be happy. I NEED him to be happy. Jorah fighting on behalf of Tyrion made me love him all the more, and if he dies, I WILL RIOT AGAIN!

The Sansa/Daenerys interaction had me quaking. I was literally sitting on the couch, head in my hands, shaking. I was both angry and relieved. While I’m upset they’re being pitted against one another, I’m relieved that they’re staying true to their characters. Sansa is true to her home and her people, Daenerys just wants to take what is rightfully hers (I mean, as we all know, it’s not TECHNICALLY hers *cough* Jon Snow). They’re both such headstrong women, and I hope they come together at some point. The women of this show would bring the entire population of Westeros to their knees.

Theon and Sansa reuniting had me in tears yet again. This episode was so fucking emotional for me, but I know that next week will break me even more.

“I want to fight for Winterfell, Lady Sansa, if you’ll have me” -Theon Greyjoy, reformed.

Those two have been through so much together (too much, really), and so much on their own. The fact that they are together again makes me so emotional. JUST KILL ME!

That little girl that Davos served made me cry AGAIN! He was reminded of Shireen. He wants to protect the little girl he couldn’t save.

Tormund TACKLING Jon like a quarterback was hilarious as shit in such a touching scene.

“The big woman still here?” -Tormund Giantsbane, the man who just wants some fuq

Seeing my favorite characters gathered around the command table made me shake with pure fucking fangirl excitement. It’s what I’ve wanted from the beginning.

“I took this castle from you. Let me defend you, now” -THEON GREYJOY oh my god, just bury me at this point with my collection of Marvel comics, my Star Wars pajamas, and my replica dragon eggs. Just put me to rest because I can’t. I cannot. I have been unable to can. No.

“We’re all going to die” -Tormund, putting it all out there like it’s no big deal. It’s a VERY BIG DEAL

Missandei and Greyworm having their little moment just drove home my fear that one of them is going to die before the end of the season, perhaps by the end of the next episode. WHEN YOU MAKE PROMISES IN THIS SHOW, YOU WILL NOT BE ABLE TO KEEP THEM! YOU FUCKING FICTIONAL CHARACTERS SHOULD KNOW THIS!

Ghost just chilling in the background of that scene with Sam, Jon, and Edd is a whole 2019 mood. He gets no attention, barely any screen time, and others may not even notice him. But not us. Not us.

I’M BEING SO SUPER SERIOUS RIGHT NOW, IF SAMWELL TARLEY DIES, I WILL FUCK EVERYONE UP IN THE WORST POSSIBLE WAY! I SWEAR TO THE WHOLE UNIVERSE! SAM IS THE LAST GOOD, PURE, INNOCENT CHARACTER IN THIS GOD FORSAKEN WORLD, AND IF HE GOES DOWN, I’M GOING DOWN, TOO! I WILL HAVE A COMPLETE AND UTTER MELTDOWN, AND MY THERAPIST WILL BE GETTING A CALL AT 10:30 AT NIGHT! IF HE DIES, YOU’LL CATCH MY WHOLE ASS PICKETING IN A WALMART PARKING LOT, WEEPING.

*ahem*

sorry.

The scene with everyone around the fire was such an incredibly beautiful scene.

Also, Tyrion pouring Podrick a full cup when Brienne clearly said “HALF” is a wholeass mood.

I’m scared that the characters by the fire are the ones who are going to bite it in the next episode, and I’m not ready. I’m just gonna blackout.

TORMUND TELLING THE STORY OF HOW HE GOT THE NAME “GIANTSBANE” MADE ME CACKLE. A BEAM OF PURE LIGHT IN THIS SAD, TERRIBLE UNIVERSE! I’m still laughing.

Arya and Sandor drinking together. Leave me alone, I’m weak. I can’t talk about this right now. I’m too emotional about it still. One of these little shits is gonna die in the next episode, and I just cannot.

“I fought for you, didn’t I?” -Sandor Clegane, coming in at the last moment to rip the soul from my body. Thanks.

HeLp!

“I’m not spending my final hours with you two miserable old shits” -Arya, about to go get her freak on with Gendry ;)

When Arya started talking about Gendry’s experience with women, my friend and I both looked at each other, knowing exactly what the shit was gonna happen. It was gonna be weird, but it was gonna happen no matter what.

When Gendry finally admitted that he had been with three women, I was like, “Arya’s gonna say some smooth shit, like “want to add a fourth?”” but I was gonna be happy no matter what because these two are cute as shit together.

Me, when they were doing...the...sex:

Also me:

“Women can’t be knights” -Brienne, laying down some realness

AND THEN JAIME KNIGHTED HER, AND I CRIED LIKE A LITTLE BITCH! I TURNED INTO A PUDDLE ON THE FUCKING GROUND BECAUSE I HAVE WAITED FOR THIS MOMENT FOR SO LONG! BRIENNE DESERVED THAT TITLE MORE THAN ANYONE I’VE EVER KNOWN, AND THIS WAS SO INSPIRING TO WATCH!

I cried, babies cried, my dogs probably fucking cried.

“ARISE BRIENNE OF TARTH, A KNIGHT OF THE SEVEN KINGDOMS”

oh my HOLY ASS!

I’m crying for my giant baby right now.

LYANNA MORMONT BEING A BABY QUEEN!

“I pledged to fight for the North, and I will fight!” -Lyanna Mormont, a little beast.

I PLEDGED TO FIGHT FOR THESE CHARACTERS, AND I WILL FIGHT FOR HER!

Sam gifting Jorah his family’s sword just drove home my suspicion that they won’t see each other again because ONE OF THEM IS GONNA DIE! SO HELP ME GOD, I WILL BURN IT DOWN! I’M GONNA FUCKSTART MY TV NEXT WEEK, AND I’M GONNA THROW UP!

Jenny’s Song.

Jenny’s Song.

Jenny’s Song.

shit.

Jon telling Daenerys about his lineage had my heart POUNDING in my chest. I DO NOT want this to be a rivalry. I don’t want it. I do not...want it. Not at all. I want it a negative amount. None want. Will not support.

I’m not ready for next week.

I’m not ready for any of this.

I will never be ready!

MY LITTLE, GROWN UP BABIES ARE GOING TO DIE! I’VE WATCHED THIS SHOW FOR LONG ENOUGH TO KNOW THAT NOT EVERYONE IS MAKING IT OUT OF THIS SHIT ALIVE! I’M GONNA GO DOWN WITH WHOEVER DIES NEXT WEEK. I WILL BE BURIED WITH THEM, SO HELP ME ASS! I’M GONNA PUKE!

Honestly, this episode made me so fucking emotional. I think it sunk in that these characters I’ve been following for so many years through the books and show, are likely to meet their end so soon. I’m just having a hard time grasping this concept, and it started to sink in tonight. I’ve read these books since I was a young teen, and I started watching the show when it was coming out (against my father’s wishes). I’ve followed these stories for such a long time, and a lot is going to happen this week for me, between Endgame and this upcoming episode. I’m experiencing too many emotions, and my body may just decide to shut down altogether. Who knows?

[thelanguageoflovers]

Little White Lies - Chapter 9

"How do you think Buffy's going to feel about this?" Andi asked, walking alongside Cyrus through the warm fall night. "I know she said you could be friends with whomever you want, but..."

"I just hope she doesn't hate me. I don't think I could deal with that all over again." Andi frowned, glancing at Cyrus through the dark of the night. Cyrus could nearly hear the wheels in he head turning as she reached for his hand. "Cyrus. I know Buffy might not be the happiest with TJ. And I know she probably won't be too happy if you two get together. But-" "Andi, she's not just going to be a little uncomfortable. What if she makes me choose between her and TJ again?" Cyrus cut her off, voice weighted with fear. "I can't do that again!" "Hey, Cyrus. You know Buffy. She just wants you to be happy. Granted, she wants you to be happy her way, but she wants you to be happy nonetheless. Buffy loves you so much, Cy. She'd never want you to get hurt." "Andi, I don't think I've ever felt the way I do about TJ for anyone else," Cyrus admitted. "What about Jonah?" Andi offered, still holding Cyrus's hand tightly. "It's different with TJ. It's like- I just want him to be happy, and okay, all the time. And as much as I can't stand the fact that he doesn't want my help, if my leaving is what makes him happy, then I'll do it. "My crush on Jonah was- it was easy. It was like those crushes you get in elementary school, where you're attracted to this concept of them. There's this picture of them in your head, and they're perfect and sweet all the time. And you're in love with this thought that they could be perfect with you. "But with TJ- I don't even think TJ is perfect like I did when I first met him, but I'm still in love with him. It's like I loved this perfect version of him, but I'm in love with who he actually is. When we met, he was this tall, funny, charismatic person- the picture of what perfect was supposed to be. But he was mean to Buffy, and he's imperfect and messy and broken and I am still in love with him." "Cyrus, why did you fight? I know you did, but you never told me why," Andi said. Cyrus could feel her understanding what had happened, even without his help; he could hear it in her voice, could see it in her eyes, could feel it in the way she held his hand tighter as he spoke. "I just wanted to help," he finished after several moments, voice trembling slightly. "Andi, do you think they're okay?" Andi let go of Cyrus's hand to pull his phone from his pocket. She quickly unlocked it, clicking into his contacts and scrolling down to 'Not So Scary Basketball Guy'. She turned the phone so he could see the bright screen. She'd opened TJ's contact, the green outline of a phone effectively taunting him. "I think there's only one way to find out, Cyrus." 

TJ followed Amber out of the house quietly, holding his breath as the door clicked shut behind them. "Where exactly are we going?" TJ asked quietly, following Amber to the car. "Bold of you to assume I'm telling you," Amber winked, turning the key in the ignition. "You left mom a note, right?" "Yep," TJ nodded. "Though it may say we'll be back by 21:00, not midnight." "Eh, I think she'll know we can't go back in time," Amber shrugged, turning out of their neighborhood. "And don't you dare ask where we're going again." "...Fine." TJ turned to look out the window with a sigh, the black outline of the trees contrasting the dark blue of the night sky as they drove. "Ambs?" "Hmm?" "I just- you're in love with Andi, aren't you?" Amber abruptly turned to face him for a moment before returning her eyes to the road. "That's an interesting question, TJ. A complicated, loaded, very interesting question. One that I'm not really sure I know how to answer," she admitted quietly. "That's fine, Ambs. You aren't required to know how you feel about any-" "Yes," Amber interrupted. "I'm in love with her." "That was fast," TJ chuckled, grinning at Amber. "I don't know. It's been on my mind for a long time, you know?" "I get it," TJ smiled gently. "...TJ?" "What's up?" He turned to face Amber in concern. "Do you still miss her?" "Amber. It's only been a month. And in any case, we will always miss Molly. It'll sneak up on us for the rest of our lives," he responded. "I know you're right, but I don't want you to be. I want this all to be some twisted nightmare we just haven't woken up from yet. I want to wake up to her shaking me because she had an accident, I want to brush her hair and help her pick out her outfits again. I miss her so much, TJ," she said quietly, voice threatening to break. "I miss her too, Ambs. I can't stop thinking about what she'd be doing if she was still alive. Like, all those stupid little things she'll never get to do now." "God, I know! I keep reliving that split second before she fell. She was just sitting on her bed, playing, and then- she wasn't. I can't even wrap my mind around the fact that she's gone. It's like, one second she's asleep in a hospital bed. We're all assuming she'll be fine. We don't say our goodbyes because we're so positive she'll be fine. "Mom even told me, while you and Cyrus went to find tea and coffee. She said that we weren't going to say goodbye. She said there were going to be a lot of people dying in that hospital that night, but Molly wasn't going to be one of them. And I believed her. And then, she was just- gone. We never even got to say goodbye." Amber was actually crying by the time she finished speaking, tears rolling down her cheeks as she turned into the parking lot of the cemetery. "This was your idea?!" TJ asked, glancing around. "No," Amber sniffled. "I just kinda...Changed course halfway here. We were gonna sneak onto the school's roof." "...Yeah, I like this idea much better. and that's saying a lot, given that we're literally in a cemetery." They got out of the car simultaneously, walking toward the gate in front of them. TJ tried to push it open, but found it to be restrained by a padlock. "Did we plan for this?" he asked, turning to Amber. "No we did not," she laughed drily, wiping tears from her eyes. "C'mon, the fence will be easier to jump." "Ladies and gentlemen, Monday night with the Kippens. We are so lucky tomorrow is a teacher work day." TJ muttered, hopping over the fence and following Amber. "Also, aren't you like...Bleeding from the uterus at the moment?" "Yeah, but cramps don't usually get really bad until like the third day of my period." "Jesus," TJ mumbled, turning toward Molly's grave. "So you're just like suff-" His breath caught in his throat when he glanced up from the ground and found himself face to face with Molly Eleanor Kippen's headstone. Amber reached behind herself, grasping TJ's hand in her own as he stepped forward. They sat down side by side, knees pulled into their chests. "Hey, Molls," Amber started slowly. "Sorry, we don't have flowers or anything. Um, we just- we miss you so much, Molly. Life just isn't the same without you here. And, uh, we never really got to say goodbye to you, so I guess here it is. Goodbye, Molls. We miss you, kiddo. We miss you more every day you're not here, and we promise we'll never stop. I love you so much, M." "My turn?" TJ asked softly. Amber nodded silently, wiping her tears on her sleeve. "Okay, here we go." He reached into his pocket, pulling out a tiny stuffed dinosaur. "I- uh, I found Diplo the diplodocus in your room a couple of days ago. I've been carrying him around with me, but I figured you might want him here." TJ extended a shaking hand, resting Diplo among the surplus of plastic flowers laid against her headstone. "...If you can't see us from, wherever it is that you are, I want you to know we're gonna be alright. Eventually. Because I know you, kid, and I know that you are worrying your head, or whatever the equivalent of that is when you die, off about us. We're gonna be okay again, Molly. I promise." They sat in silence for a few moments, Amber resting her head against TJ's shoulder. "You ready to go?" she asked, dusting herself off and standing up. "...Could we make a stop first?" "Yeah, of course, where at? I mean, not a lot is open this late, but-" "No, in the cemetery." "...Oh. Okay, lead the way." TJ nodded, starting to turn away from Molly's grave, before pausing. He turned around, bent down, and picked up a single fake daisy from the pile of flowers. "Sorry, Molls. It's for a good cause, I promise." TJ took Amber's hand, leading her back through the cemetery, mentally blessing whomever it was who decided to organize it alphabetically the whole way. They came to a stop in front of a marble headstone, long since lacking in flowers. He crouched in front of the headstone, laying the daisy in front of it. The marble was engraved: Rachel Elizabeth Goodman 1997-2013 "Life is not a problem to be solved, but a reality to be experienced." ~Søren Kierkegaard "Hey, Rachel," TJ started. "Cyrus told me you liked daisies. I kinda stole this one from my little sister, but I figured you might need it more. Cyrus has told me a lot about you. I don't really know how the whole death thing works, but I figured I'd try anyway. I just, I wanted to tell you that Cyrus misses you so much, and he wouldn't be who he is today without you. I'm also...I'm also here to, I guess, ask your blessing? I don't know how this works, really, but I really like your little brother. And I was wondering if you could, I dunno, give me a sign or something? I figured your input was as important as anyone's. I guess that's it, then. It was good to...you know, talk...at you." TJ started to walk toward Amber, then pivoted, crouching front of Rachel's headstone again. "Oh! And, if there is some kind of a god or other omniscient being wherever you are, could you ask them where they stand on the whole gay thing? We'd all really like to know. Um, goodbye, then." TJ stood up again, following Amber to the car. "Cyrus's cousin?" Amber asked, backing out of their parking space. "No, sister," TJ corrected, voice heavy and somber. "I didn't know he had a sister." "Me either. He only told me a couple of weeks ago." "Ah," Amber nodded. They drove in silence for a few minutes, content to be alone with their own thoughts. That is, until TJ's phone interrupted the comfortable silence, piercing through it as it rang. "Cyrus?" TJ muttered to himself, picking up the phone. "Hello?" "...Hey, TJ." "Uh...What's up?" TJ asked, ignoring Amber as she smacked the side of his head. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I know you don't want or need my help or anything, but I-" "Cyrus," TJ interrupted. "Stop, please. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to push you away earlier. I just- I had to deal with my dad." The apology was awkward as he forced it from his lips, but hearing the way Cyrus sighed in relief on the line was infinitely worth it. "I get it, TJ. But, you're okay, right?" TJ adjusted his grip on his phone, glancing over at Amber. Tears were pooling at the corner of her eyes, and she was clearly thinking about Molly. "Yeah, we're alright." Cyrus let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Oh thank God. Listen, I have to go, but can we hang out tomorrow? Get some work done on our project?" "I'd love that. How about I come to you this time?" TJ offered. "Sounds good. Around noon?" "I'll be there, Underdog."

Cyrus stepped into his dark house as he hung up the phone, wood flooring creaking under his feet. "Hey, Cy," his dad greeted from the living room, where he was reading a book under a small lamp. "Hey, dad," Cyrus mumbled, passing the living room to go upstairs. However, the moment his foot landed on the first step of the staircase, his dad spoke up again. "Cyrus, come sit with me for a second?" He obliged after a moment of standing still, one foot frozen against the stairs. "What's up?" he asked, sitting down across from his dad. "Are you okay, kiddo?" Norman asked, setting his book aside. "I'm fine," Cyrus said with a shrug. "Just tired." "Hey, what's going on? Is this about TJ? You know you can tell me anything." "...Indirectly. I've been thinking about Rachel lately. Where she'd be, who she'd be," Cyrus admitted. "I hate that I don't know much about her, except that she'd be 24 right now." "She'd be in law school," Norman mumbled, mostly to himself. "She wanted to be a lawyer?" "Defense attorney." Norman glanced at the side table to his left, where his car keys sat gleaming under the lamplight. He smiled slightly, picking them up off the table. "C'mon." "Where are we going?" Cyrus asked, following his dad to the car. "I imagine you'll find out when we get there, will you not?"

Norman jumped over the black wrought iron fence surrounding the cemetery in one fluid motion, leaving a heavily stunned Cyrus on the other side. He turned around to help Cyrus over, taking his hand and catching him when he inevitably tumbled over the fence. "I didn't know we could do that!" Cyrus exclaimed, following his dad through the graveyard. "Well, we can't. Not legally." "Who even are you?" Cyrus asked, staring at his father in wonder. Norman simply smiled, taking his son's hand and weaving them through the gravestones surrounding them. They reached Rachel's after a few minutes of silently walking alongside one another. Cyrus crouched to read the text under the moonlight, while his dad picked up the daisy laying on the ground in front of it. "Who would leave a single fake daisy on a headstone?" he asked, handing it to Cyrus, who twirled it between his thumb and index finger. He remembered the conversation he'd had with TJ a couple weeks before, a smile gracing his face. "So what was she like?" TJ had asked, running his hands gently over the photo on Cyrus's desk; a thirteen-year-old Rachel with five-year-old Cyrus, who was grinning widely as he handed her a daisy. "I don't really remember," Cyrus had responded quietly. "Liked daisies, I guess." "TJ Kippen would."

[smoochcal]

numb without you (part fifteen)

a/n: two updates in two days? you bet! thank you to miss el for convincing me to write today before I work on my homework (helping a procrastinator at its finest) and thank you to all of my readers for supporting my writing one update at a time. please leave any questions, comments, suggestions, or concerns about this update or the series in general in my inbox :) read part fourteen here!

pairing: readerxluke

playlist: numb without you by the maine, remembering sunday by all time low

word count: 2.0 k

rating: PG-13

summary: you and calum discuss the situation at hand, you finally have a civil conversation with rm/n

warnings: swearing, crying, mentions of slight jealousy

Calum’s POV:

You quickly ask Luke to go inside while you talk to Y/N in private. You know how uncomfortable she is with the entire conversation and you just want to smooth things over before things get too out of hand. Even though you know that you both are probably there already. Y/N is not sitting with her feet in the water like she usually does when she’s by the pool, but it’s understandable considering that all of this mess is currently occurring. Luke reluctantly complies, squeezing Y/N’s hand before leaving her outside with you by the pool. You aren’t exactly keen on the whole Luke spending more time interrogating RM/N thing, but you know that it is way overdue that you and Y/N work this out the best you can now rather than later.

“So…” you start, kind of nervous which seems silly considering this conversation was inevitable, “what are your thoughts about RM/N?”

Y/N sighs, before starting her reasoning behind her problems, for a lack of a better word, with your roommate that you just happen to have a romantic type of thing for. “Well first off, you never told me she was that pretty. And don’t tell me that isn’t a big deal because it definitely is to me and I’m hormonal and carrying your dumb offspring in my uterus and I’m getting fat and I’m really not looking forward to you have three girls in your life besides just me and the dinosaur.”

“I have so many questions,” you start, “but I’m going to start with the dinosaur thing…is that what you are calling our daughter now?”

“Yes…what did you have something better to call her?” Y/N questions, raising her eyebrow at you.

“I thought we were going to call her baby girl Hood,” you state, trying not to sound as a matter of factly as you were planning on stating it.

“Absolutely not,” Y/N replies, “dinosaur works just fine. Besides, we don’t even know if Hood is going to be her last name yet, we haven’t really discussed it.”

“What else would her last name be?” you ask, a little confused.

“Well I don’t know…mine…Luke’s…yours…there are a lot of options,” Y/N says wearily.

“I mean considering you and Luke haven’t decided who is going to make the first move yet, I don’t think his last name is on the table of options for our little bundle of joy,” you state bluntly, avoiding eye contact knowing you probably crossed a line with the last thing you said to Y/N.

“If we are discussing last names we might as well discuss first names too…how about we name her RM/N?” Y/N inquires, obviously trying to stir something up with you.

“Absolutely not,” you start, knowing that she is just being this way to make you as uncomfortable as you recently made her about her whole romantic situation, or lack thereof, with Luke.

“Is it because you would think of our daughter when you’re getting busy and fucking your roommate if we named her after RM/N?” Y/N continues, even though you wish she would just stop.

“I’m going to ignore that and get us back to the originally conversation at hand. What is your problem with RM/N? Besides her being pretty which I still don’t think is that big of a deal considering the two of us had one single night of attraction that was ultimately a mistake even though the results of it, aka our daughter, is not a mistake” you explain as you look at Y/N sincerely hoping you get to the root of the problem at hand.

“I mean it also doesn’t help that she didn’t think to introduce herself to all of us the night we all went to that club. You said she was there that night, why didn’t she introduce herself then? If she was going to be moving in anyway, she could’ve at least said hi and I could have met her then instead of five months later. If the intention was that she was going to become your roommate, you didn’t have to hide her from us the entire five months your daughter has been growing inside of my uterus,” Y/N goes on, explaining her issues that she has with your roommate that if you’re being honest you are completely and utterly head over heels in love with.

You shrug not knowing how else to respond to the statement Y/N just made. Y/N made a very valid point, but you still don’t think that she understands where you were coming from with the whole keeping RM/N from everyone else thing. The past couple months have been a lot with the amount of doctor appointments you have accompanied Y/N to and the amount of blood, sweat, and tears you have put into writing this next album for the band. And now you have been living with this wonderful girl for the past couple months who has helped you prepare the nursery for your daughter on the way, but Y/N is still upset with the entire situation. You are trying your best to not push too many buttons because you know Y/N is pretty hormonal because of the baby and you just want to explain your logic behind the decisions you have made over the past few months. You know it is not easy to understand your side of things often, but you are hoping that she can try to grasp where you are coming from without being hurt by your words.

You open your mouth to speak, but before you have the time to start your long explanation Y/N goes on about her practical problems she may have with RM/N.

“What if our little dinosaur likes RM/N more than me? If I remember correctly, Luke told me she was good with kids and if she is going to stick around I don’t want our daughter to think that her new stepmom type figure is better than me…” Y/N mumbles and you can tell that this is a serious concern of hers.

“She has worked at a daycare before and really likes kids, but I promise dinosaur will like you better because you are her mom,” you start, hoping that she will agree to what you propose next. “Maybe you two should spend some time talking without me and Luke in the picture…I’m sure RM/N will be down for some uh girl bonding time with you if you are okay with that.”

“I think that would really help me wrap my head around the fact that she will probably be a big part of dinosaur’s life,” Y/N says ultimately agreeing to the plan that you just proposed to her.

You still can’t believe that Y/N has decided to name your daughter dinosaur instead of actually discussing real names for her, but you decide to let it slide and blame it on the mommy brain that she definitely already has.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Y/N’s POV: (1 hour later)

You and RM/N have actually had a civil conversation for the past hour or so. Throughout this conversation you found out that she has been working on the nursery that Calum loosely mentioned beforehand, but she wants to keep it a surprise until after the baby shower that you are ultimately going to have. You found out that she’s a writer and she does some remote work from home, Calum’s home, which you guess is also her home now too. She travels at the end of each month for a week out to Chicago to meet with her boss and discuss what she is currently working on, which you think is pretty neat.

You also learned that she has a big heart, which is probably the reason Calum fell for her in the first place. She is adamant on planning and throwing you an entire baby shower within the next month or so and she got a lot of you closest friends and family members contacts so she could reach out to them with the invitations her and Calum have been working on. She said that ultimately, she wanted the shower to be a surprise too, but you both know that Calum could not be trusted with keeping that many secrets from you.

After this hour passed, RM/N explained that she should probably get back to work and invited Calum and Luke back inside to get you home. Since Calum drove the three of you to his place, he either needs to drive you guys back or call you an Uber so you and Luke can get back to his car and get himself home. As Luke makes sure that you have gathered up your purse and housekeys and phone charger and other things, you pull Calum aside so you can ask him a couple things before you head home.

“So, what’s the deal with this whole surprise nursery thing that I’m not allowed to see yet?” you inquire, hoping that Calum’s inability to keep a secret would lead you to a little more insight on the so called surprise nursery that was being created for you and the little dinosaur growing inside of you as you speak.

“I’m really not allowed to say…” he states, not letting you in on the secret as easily as you thought he would.

“Oh, so you’re just going to not tell me anything like you did with this whole situation with having a roommate. You know I don’t like to be kept in the dark, but I really think it is a lot worse when I am not even aware of the fact that something is being kept from me. If this is going to work, the whole co-parenting thing, then you are really going to need to learn to not treat me like the dirt stuck to the bottom of your shoe,” you reply angrily, obviously still upset with the situation regardless of the nice conversation you finally had with RM/N.

“Y/N it’s nothing personal it’s just that we want to keep it a secret a little longer-” he starts, but you quickly cut him off.

“No. It is personal. All of this is personal. You felt the need to keep RM/N from me. You felt that this whole situation would rub me the wrong way, which is did, but you kept her around anyway. It’s fine that you have a girlfriend or whatever, but you didn’t need to hide her from me. You didn’t really take my feelings into account at all, you just decided to leave this situation on the backburner until you couldn’t hide her from us any longer. Be honest, if Luke hadn’t stopped by to talk to you when you weren’t home, would we even know about her?” you ask, knowing the cold hard truth that will be revealed momentarily.

He starts to say something but is struggling to find the right words to make it seem like he wasn’t planning to hide RM/N from you forever. Since he doesn’t start talking as soon as you have stopped, you already know his answer.

“Well if that is how you are going to be, I’m just going to go get Luke and go home,” you state, feeling the tears start to threaten to spill.

You walk towards Luke at Calum’s front door, trying to avoid eye contact and leaving before the tears start to stream down your face. Luke can sense that you are upset and want to leave, but he doesn’t recognize the urgency of the matter until you start sobbing uncontrollably and walk out Calum’s front door without knowing how you are getting home. Luckily Luke had already ordered an Uber which was waiting for you outside. You quickly got in the car with Luke close behind you as you wiped your tears, hoping he didn’t ask you what was going on.

Calum fucked up, big time, and you aren’t referencing the fact that you are five months pregnant with his child, but more about the fact that he was planning on hiding his girlfriend, or whatever, that has been living with him as long as your baby has been forming inside of you. You hate that you are crying over him, but you want to mainly blame the hormones this pregnancy is causing you. You learned a lot about RM/N today, but you learned even more about Calum and the type of person he is because of this situation.

[quaintlouise]

#thequinneffect

I spent the morning of Quinn Harper’s birthday angry.

I'd been thinking about how to make the significance of my contribution to #thequinneffect worthy of the importance of Amber in my life. That's not shade at/on (which is correct? I don’t really care, do you? Lololololol. Be Best.) anyone else's participation, it's just that Amber and I share a bond born of tremendous grief. Loneliness. Loss.

We both know that pulsing sternum when people remind us of God's plan.

Thanks, random coworker/neighbor/third cousin on FB who has an affinity for minions (???). But God's plan for this chapter of my life is so sad/hard/cruel that I haven't yet had time to reconcile with all that seeing as this death/diagnosis/devastation hit me three days ago, or three weeks or however long it takes for me to understand, or never understand, or until FMLA runs out.

We know the confusion and sadness at the disappearance of loved ones you'd never imagine would leave your side. The annoyed satisfaction when loved ones act as poorly as you would have predicted. The friends and family who stepped up beyond belief and the acquaintances who did the same and became family. We also know the loneliness that descends once you realize those loved ones need to deal with their own BS that continued or began during your crisis.

Anyway, I was angry at the world. Angry that the Ruszkowski’s have been denied the type of family that seemingly everyone else gets. Angry that my little girl will grow up without her twin. Angry that I got cancer. Angry about the heartbreaking cruelties that leave mothers with empty arms and children without the arms of their mother to hold them. Angry that instead of pinning ideas for Quinn Harper’s first birthday party, Amber is instead bravely trying to find ways to honor her daughter's sweet soul while managing her own sorrow.

I grew surlier as I walked past the windowless steel door at the OBGYN, the one they usher you out of when things go terribly wrong.  

I’m sorry to tell you I have very sad news.

The heaving sobs subside a bit when you are hit with the fresh air from a door you didn’t know existed. Best to keep the waiting area free of the weeping formerly expectant parents, I suppose.

I'm sorry to tell you that you have cancer.

We’ll need to fill you with poison...just enough not to kill you; poison with ingredients of mustard gas and platinum. Then we will take your breasts, uterus, ovaries, fallopian tubes and cervix. You’ll need thirty rounds of radiation on those fresh scars. This might keep you alive. There’s also a special pill you can take that will shut down all the rest of your estrogen production! This may be the hardest part of treatment. Surgical menopause at 38 is gonna f with your head. There is no way to relieve the symptoms. Antidepressants might help. Oh, I see you take some. Wow, you’re on a lot of meds. Perhaps that’s part of your problem.  

Nah. My problem right then, on Quinn's birthday? Was the gynecological nurse who read my chart, looked me dead in the eye, and said

I’m not sure what you’re here for?  

Me neither, lady. Me neither. But actualllllllly the surgeon (y’all referred me to) built a cuff (TF? Can they come up with a better word?) down there so my insides don’t fall out and this is the place you go to get that looked at?  Also, thank you for the offer of the lap gown, however, I’ll just leave my skirt on and take my panties (old maternity underwear) off. Oh? Oh yes, thank you for correcting me that it is a breast gown I’ve turned down. Fitting!  

It was an easy walk across the street to get another blood draw after a full round of bloodwork three days earlier.  

Your white count is low. I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about but we need to check that again and call me this afternoon for results.

Awesome.

I asked if I was going to be one of those rare cases where the chemo causes leukemia. The neurologist deadpanned that I was funny.  

I proceeded that day to my psychiatrist and managed to overwhelm her with all my new diagnoses, calendar of appointments, and general complaints of apathy, mania, obsessions, rage, malaise, guilt, forgetfulness, indecisiveness, impulsiveness blah blah blah.

She upped the valium.

I drove around for a while. I sang sad and angry sounds at the top of my lungs in the car. I contemplated buying a pack of smokes.

I pulled into Little Flower and felt hopeful that just sitting in a pew listening to the quiet would spark something.

The door was locked. (When did they start locking church doors???)

I wept. I stood in that parking lot scattered with cars and I wept tears of just pure despair.

But then I looked up and I saw the prayer garden. Circular, with small benches surrounding a statue of Our Lady. Or maybe it was St. Therese. It doesn’t matter. Behind it was a small labyrinth with instructions to enter with an open heart, meditate while walking the labyrinth, and exit it with a peaceful thankfulness. I sat on one of the benches to try and clear my head. I figured I’d pray the rosary and then it occurred to me that it was Tuesday. Of course.

The Sorrowful Mysteries. Eyeroll. I couldn’t get glorious or joyful? Something uplifting? (See what I did there????)

I said my rosary. I was cold (wearing a skirt, remember) and weepy and feeling like I was too screwed up to get it together to honor little Q.

But something happened as I fell deeper into meditative prayer (I know, I know, who am I?).  A peace fell upon me at the fifth mystery.

Woman behold your son. Son behold your Mother.

The sun at that moment hit my face. I looked up to the sky and saw the moon as the clouds swirled.

I smiled. Took a deep breath. Because it was then that I knew.

I knew that it was in the arms of the Blessed Mother where Quinn Harper is safe and loved.  

As am I.

As is Amber.

As is my Bridget being my earthly life to end.

As are all the motherless babes and the babeless mothers.  

A droplet of rain glimmered in the brief warmth of the sun as I entered the center of the labyrinth. I felt hopeful. I turned to exit the labyrinth and saw my body cast a long shadow through a row of boxwoods in the shape of the cross. Make of that what you will.

Rather than me doing something to honor Quinn that day, she helped me. Helped me acknowledge some of my grief, helped me find solace in prayer, helped me look for other ways to find peace when the obvious path of day drinking alone at the View lost its appeal when I remembered you couldn’t smoke in bars anymore.

I blew Quinn a kiss and made it through the day.

However, I knew I wasn't done and I left my heart open looking for a way to pay it forward.  

On Saturday I received a text from an old friend that I hadn’t talked to in a while. The kind of friend you can not talk to for a while or months or years but is still family.

He and his husband had signed up to be foster parents and had been (long-term? permanently?) placed with two little girls, 3 and 4. Sisters.

And then I knew. I knew how to pay it forward in honor of one little girl to two others that so desperately needed it.

That night I sent a Target delivery of cabbage patch dolls, coloring books, crayons, fruit snacks, juice boxes, cereal bars, pajamas, cuddly blankets, bath toys, kiddy spoons, forks, bowls and plates, goldfish crackers, pudding packs, mini muffins, peanut butter, honey, uncrustables, raisins, bubbles, a bubble machine, bigger kid sippy cups, shampoo, tangle spray, string cheese, mandarin oranges, mac and cheese, smoothies, pull-ups, wipes, fridge magnets, Rapunzel, Cinderella, peanut butter crackers, and stickers.

I felt joy. Joy that these little girls had warm beds and a loving home. Joy that my friend had been gifted this experience. Joy that a contentedness had befallen me as I felt my contribution to #thequinneffect was complete. Joy that even though I knew all too well that contentedness is temporary, so is sorrow.

For years I've been saying "When I start my blog...". I think this is it. Post #1. Could be the first of many, could be the last. Whatever, I did it.

Thanks, Q. I owe you.