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surrogate-fawn · 2 years ago

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Quartz and Sea Glass

((Drabble/Short story based on the backstory a rp with @mittysins of Fawn's first step into the world of surrogacy.))

{This drabble is a sequel to "The First Goodbye" and is Part Two of a planned series based on the rp between Mitty and I. This drabble will not make sense without the context of Part One.}

TW: Mentioned miscarriage/stillbirth, infertility, family abandonment.

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

Don't put me on a pedestal for what I decided to do with my life. I ain't a saint.

I'll fully admit that I became a surrogate for selfish reasons. When I discovered there was a market out there of couples who needed a healthy body to carry their baby, I did not give a single shit about helping them -- all I cared about was the money.

I was twenty years old and homeless, still living off minimum wage. Can 'ya really blame me?

Lord only knows how that little worm of an idea got into my brain. Maybe it was during a mindless re-watch of season four of Friends. Maybe it was seeing something on the news. Or maybe it was during one of those three-in-the-morning anxiety attacks -- the ones that had me scribbling down as many outlandish solutions to my life as could fit on a napkin.

Not a lot of good ideas came about that way.

However it got there, one day I found myself seated at a library computer searching up as much information as I could find about surrogacy. As soon as I saw the rates some of these couples were willing to pay, I was sold. Fifty to sixty grand -- paid over the span of months. That sure as hell beat $7.25 an hour! The fact I could be eligible for certain state benefits on top of that money didn't hurt, either.

Best part? The one obstacle that could've been in my way had been crashed down a year ago: at least one healthy and successful prior pregnancy.

This was it. This was my way out!

But I hesitated.

As I sat there, staring at the Google search results that led me down the rabbit hole, I wondered if I was really capable of going through it all again. Not so much the physical symptoms, those all passed as soon as the pregnancy was over.

I was wondering if I could handle saying goodbye again.

My son's first birthday had just passed. I'd put a candle in a cupcake and blown it out for him the day of, alone in my room and still in my UDF uniform after work. I'd wished I'd known what name they gave him. The "Happy Birthday" song is a 'lil hard to sing without a name. I'd just called him "my baby" in the song. At least it fit. He would always be my baby, wherever he was and whatever he was called.

I blinked at the blue-tinted monitor. The screen was getting fuzzy and my eyes were stinging. I force-closed the dozens of tabs I had open, shut the computer off, and began my walk back to the women's shelter.

No, I couldn't. Money or no money, I couldn't go through it again. I never...never wanted to go through it again.

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

A week later, I made another trip to the library to borrow some time at the computer. I couldn't afford a laptop or smartphone, so it was a trip I usually made every other day; but work had been leaving me too tired to swing by.

I found an email waiting for me in my inbox, from a surrogate agency site I remembered looking up. In my mad scrolling, I must have signed up for their mailing list without thinking about it. It was from the highest-rated site I'd found, so at least I didn't have to worry about it being a phishing scam or tied to some baby black market or whatever.

I almost deleted it out of reflex, but the subject line read: "The Basics of Surrogacy, Free Information Guide". A brochure? Not an ad pressuring me to join so they could start taking a cut of my pay? Sure, I'd take a brochure.

So, that was the moment I made the best decision of my life: I opened that email.

I'll spare you the business side of things, but once I got in touch with the agency it all started falling into place. The whole process was much more voluntary than I realized. I spoke with several surrogate mothers who had been matched with clients through the site, and they all stood firm that nothing was done unless both the surrogate and the parents agreed to it. I would have a say in who I matched with. I would have a say in how much I was to be paid. I would even have a say in what the birthing experience would be like!

What finally sealed the deal for me, though, was the fact this company only dealt with what I learned were called "gestational surrogacies" -- meaning none of their surrogates were the biological parents of the babies they carried. I'd have someone else's egg inside me -- I would essentially be a walking incubator. That sounds kinda weird when you think about it, but it solved the biggest issue I had with tapping into this gold mine.

Not my baby? Not my DNA? Fine by me. I decided I'd gladly get paid fifty grand to sit around and grow someone else's kid. Sounded like the easiest job in the world.

I sent my application in two days later.

Two months, a psychiatric assessment, and dozens of medical tests later, I was in.

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

The Tariqs weren't the first couple who asked to meet with me. There were two other couples I had a first meeting with, but neither of them clicked with me the way Ray and Tess did.

We met for the first time at a park situated alongside the Tennessee River, bundled in jackets to keep out the early-autumn chill. There just so happened to be a food truck parked by the entrance we agreed to meet at, and Tess declared we should get to know each other over lunch. Seeing as I had skipped breakfast to make it to work on time, I didn't mind the idea.

I was standing off to the side while the Tariqs ordered from the truck, counting out the amount of cash I had on me, when suddenly I heard Tess call me over.

"Which one 'ya want, shug?" she asked, pointing to the menu plastered on the truck's side.

They bought me a chicken panini and a hot hazelnut macchiato, insisting it was their treat. If it were up to me, I wouldn't have needed the rest of that interview -- I had already chosen to be their surrogate in my head.

Buying me food is a fantastic way to get to get me to like you.

We sat at a picnic table beneath the golden oak trees and got to talking. Raymond (or Ray, as he preferred to be called) was a second-generation Indian immigrant and Tess, his wife, was a born-and-bred Knoxville gal. They lived on the rural side of Knoxville, just barely inside the city limits, in a 1960's farmhouse they'd refurbished themselves. Both were in their mid-thirties by the time they sought out surrogacy; up until that point, they'd been though quite a battle with infertility:

They'd been trying throughout their four years of marriage, but Tess could never carry to term. The few times her pregnancy tests would come up positive, she'd bleed a few weeks later. Although they weren't opposed to modern medicine, they'd preferred to try more "natural" methods to solve their fertility issue before going to a doctor. Such methods included the Kama Sutra, meditation, crystals, herbal blends and -- of course -- prayer.

Just the year prior, it seemed their home remedies had worked when Tess finally made it into the second trimester with a baby boy.

They'd lost him in a stillbirth days before the third trimester milestone.

Piled onto that tragedy, the hospital discovered Tess had a defective uterus -- it was physically impossible for her to carry to term. So, that's where I came in.

As I told them about myself, they were delighted to know I came from a household that had rather New Age ideas about life. I didn't mention that I no longer lived by those ideas -- it would've opened too many questions.

However, I certainly understood the good home remedies could do! I was more than happy to trade my recipes for salves for Ray's tips on where to buy the best beeswax in Knoxville. So happy, in fact, that I got carried away.

"My mom makes beeswax candles," I said, hurrying to swallow the bite of panini I had in my mouth. "She used to scent 'em with oils from her flowers, but the oil would seep right outta the wax once it got warm." I chuckled, feeling my nose crinkle in the embarrassing way it does when I laugh. "Sometimes, at dinner, we'd light one of her candles at the table. We'd blink and suddenly there'd be a puddle of rose oil dripping onto the beans and cornbread!"

"Maybe I can help her out with that," Ray said with a grin. He took a quick sip of his coffee. "My grandparents keep bees over in India. My family has a lot of tips on how to melt and mix the wax."

I almost choked on my food when I realized I'd brought up my family. Shit...now I had to be careful.

"Maybe," I said with a causal shrug. "She's back home in West Viginia with everyone else. It's a little hard to make time to see 'em."

"Oh, I'm sure," Tess nodded. "It's the same with my daddy's side of the family. We're just so far apart we forget 'ta check up on each other as often as we should." She finished off the last of her bagel. "And with you, Fawn, you work full time with a little 'un at home. I'm sure 'ya family understands."

I didn't blink for a while. I just stared at the river until the cold breeze dried my eyes out. "Oh, well..." I cleared my throat, "I don't have a little one at home."

Tess looked confused. Ray looked mortified.

"But it says on 'ya file you were pregnant last year?" Tess half-asked, half-stated. I could tell from her tone that there was no malice in her. She'd clearly read my profile and made assumptions.

I smiled, maybe showing a little too much teeth. "Yeah, I was. Very healthy pregnancy, very healthy baby boy, but I don't have a little one at home."

Ray put his hand over his wife's wrist, his sea glass bracelet quietly clattering on the wooden table. Tess went pale and her look of confusion faded into a silent scream.

"Oh. I'm...I'm sorry," she stammered. "I didn't mean 'ta-."

"No, no! I don't mind bringing him up!" I said, a nervous laugh jittering my lungs. "I never get the chance to talk about my son, but I think about him all the time!"

I surprised myself when the expected sorrow didn't come. Instead, excitement filled its place -- an odd sense of relief that I could let out some of the thoughts that had been haunting me.

I proceeded to word-vomit about how wonderful it was to be pregnant with my son, and how angelic his parents were to me, and how I knew he would be okay -- even if I missed him -- and so forth and so on. I honestly don't think I stopped for breath.

I saw Ray and Tess glance at each other from the corners of their eyes as I rambled, a pair of knowing grins on their faces.

I'm no mind reader, but I think that's when the Tariqs made their final decision.

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

Tess was with me for the embryo transfer, her ring-laden hand resting on my arm as everything was prepped. I was bloated as a water balloon from the multiple fertility drugs I'd been plunging into my veins -- every day, might I add -- for the past month. I sure was hoping those suckers worked, because being in a permanent state of PMS was ass. Total ass.

I reclined on the exam table, legs up in those familiar stirrups and my hips covered by a thin sheet of paper. I inhaled through my nose as the doctor inserted a long, thin tube of plastic through the ring of my cervix -- the end of which was attached to a syringe full of clear fluid. Somewhere in that syringe, three little embryos floated around -- and one of them was hopefully about to nestle into its new home.

I watched the fuzzy grey blurs on the ultrasound screen as the doctor angled the wand to see what he was doing. As I watched each of the three tiny balls leave the tube...I just hoped those fertility drugs didn't work too well.

Tess grinned down at me once it was over, her blonde braid falling over her shoulder. "We got three good un's in there," she said. I noticed she was clutching the quartz pendant around her neck like a string of prayer beads. "I'm sure one of 'em will like 'ya enough 'ta stick around."

I think she was just as worried as I was. Tess's egg retrieval, the test tube fertilization, the freezing, and my daily injections all combined into almost three months of prep work just for this ten-minute procedure.

And if it failed, we'd have to do it all over again. And if that failed, we'd do it again. And again.

"Yeah," I sighed, lowering my legs from the stirrups, "I hope you're right, Tess. 'Cause if not, I swear to God I'm gonna have-."

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

"A girl!" Tess screeched to the high heavens, throwing herself against Ray in an attack hug. She jumped for joy while hanging from his neck, almost pulling the poor man to the floor. "It's a girl, Ray! We're havin' a girl!"

Ray laughed, backing up from the table so his wife didn't mule kick the ultrasound technician. "I don't know, Fawn," he said, looking my way with a huge smile and a raised eyebrow. "Do you think it's a girl?"

"Not sure," I said, my nose crinkling in a snicker, "but I think Tess said something about it being a girl."

"Shuddup you two," Tess giggled, sniffling as tears began falling down her cheeks.

Ray held his wife's face in his hands and gave her a kiss deep enough to explore the sea floor. The technician and I decided to focus on the ultrasound images to give the couple some privacy.

I craned my neck to look up at the screen. What had been a microscopic ball four months ago was now an apple-sized baby girl with wiggling arms and legs, and -- thank God -- there was only her in there. The other two embryos had never taken, but this rowdy little girl had held tight. I smiled as I watched the rapid flutter of her heart beating, amazed at the sight. I remembered being just as amazed by my son's heartbeat, what few times I'd gotten to see it.

"Look how active she is!" the technician said, pointing to the baby's constant wiggling. "You should be feeling those little dance moves of hers very soon."

Ray and Tess returned to admire the fuzzy images on the screen. Tess was drying her eyes on her sleeves, and Ray's smile may as well have been glowing. He had his arm around Tess's shoulders as they watched the miniature dance party going on inside me. The sea glass bracelet rattled as his hand came to rest over his heart.

"That's our daughter, Tess," he said. His voice broke a bit as he repeated: "That's our daughter."

"Yep," Tess sniffled, hugging her husband's torso and resting her head on his shoulder, "that's her."

I watched them hold each other like that until the technician turned off the wand and wiped the gel from my slightly rounded belly.

The Tariqs had already begun the steady payment plan we'd agreed to. Even after the agency took its cut each month, it was still more than I'd ever made in my life. That had been why I'd agreed to do this for them, after all.

That ultrasound appointment is what changed my outlook on what I was doing.

These two people. These two amazing people, so overcome with joy because I was carrying the baby that they could not.

I wasn't an incubator anymore. I felt more like a nanny, protecting their baby for them until she was strong enough to come out. They'd wanted this baby for so, so long -- and I was the one making that dream of theirs come true.

I knew what it was like to desperately want to hold a baby you were unable to have. I may not have been able to heal my own hurt, but here I was...healing theirs.

I wasn't doing it for the money after that.

I never did it for the money again.

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

Five days after my twenty-first birthday, I woke up to a rather nasty surprise at one in the morning. I'd gotten kicked in the bladder, and my bedsheets and pajama bottoms were damp and sticking to my skin in the humid July air. Fantastic. Not again.

With a groan, I rolled out of bed and started shuffling my way to my door. I held the weight of my belly in my arms as I made my way to the upstairs communal bathroom, hoping to take the pressure off my hips.

I blinked against the harsh florescent light as it sputtered to life over the toilet. With a gruff sigh, I shut and locked the door.

"Suri, you gotta stop doing this," I slurred, my mouth too tired to move. "I'm letting you use my uterus as a bed and breakfast. The least you could do is not try to pop my bladder every night."

Surinder. Her name was Surinder, but we'd been calling her Suri for short. Ray picked it out. He liked it because it was based on the name of a Hindu god and also sounded like the word 'surrender' in English. Tess had fallen in love with the name. Me? I would've just stuck with 'Suri'. I knew exactly what kind of teasing she was in for at school with a name like 'Surinder'.

You can't exactly walk into public school with a name like 'Fawn' and not get laughed into oblivion.

At least the nickname gave her an extra name to fall back on. If that didn't work, she also had her middle name to use: Elora. I would've done the same back in high school -- I did have three to pick from -- but 'Aspen', 'Coriander', and 'Medulla' wouldn't have made the teasing any better.

I'd gone in at age eighteen and erased two of those names. It was just "Fawn Coriander Sequioa" now. Still not a normal name by any means. I often thought about going back into the records and legally changing my last name, just like my parents had done when they'd joined the commune before I was born.

I didn't need my last name. My family didn't want me anymore.

Alexander may have opened up a whole new world for me, but he made sure I burned every bridge behind me as I crossed it. I was already beginning to question my parents' worldview by the time I started dating him, but he took that little spark of doubt -- a spark that, if left alone, would've grown into a steady burn-away of my old ideals -- and fanned those embers into an uncontrollable hatred.

"They're a cult, babe," he'd told me. "Why can't you see that? I can take you away from that bullshit that says you gotta fuck other guys to be happy. I only want what's best for you, and for us."

After months of letting my teenaged angst and frustration boil over, it happened. An argument started between Mom and I over something asinine, and the geyser fucking exploded.

I parroted everything Alexander had been telling me. I told my parents they were nothing but sexual perverts who wanted me to be a whore all my life. I told them how their "woo-woo" medicine got kids killed all over the country, and that blood was on their hands. I told them how much they'd fucked up in raising me.

I told them I hated them.

I told Dad I hoped the next woman who sucked his dick bit it off.

I told Mom that if it was her, I hoped she died choking on it.

The last time I saw Dad, he was throwing everything I owned out of my bedroom window until I was on the sidewalk surrounded by broken furniture and muddy clothes.

The last time I saw Mom, she was sobbing face-down on the couch and refusing to look at me.

Even now, I would be willing sell my soul -- to lay down and die -- just to undo what I did that day.

I didn't give a shit at the time, though. I picked up what I could carry off the front lawn and walked to the nearest payphone to call Alex. I had to tell him I was finally free.

Free.

Right.

What a fucking joke.

I splashed some cold water on my face to wash off the nighttime sweat. Suri rolled one of her feet against the top of my belly, causing a little moving bump that I playfully poked with my finger.

"I'm going to bill you for all those crazy dance parties you're having in there, missy," I said with a grin, a lot less frustrated with her than I was a second ago.

I grabbed a washcloth to start cleaning myself off, but the realization dawned on me and I stopped cold. That was her foot. Her foot was at the top of my belly...which meant her head was angled down...which meant there was no way she'd kicked my bladder.

As I stood at the sink trying to solve that puzzle, I found the missing piece. My belly clamped down hard enough to pitch me forward. I grabbed onto the sides of the sink with a small gasp, feeling the muscles of my torso all tighten and shrink in the direction of my uterus. As it did, a little more dampness spread across my pajama pants.

Oh fuck.

Oh, holy fuck!

I left the bathroom in as much of a jog as I could manage, rushing back into my room and to the brand-new cell phone charging by the window. I had no idea how to save numbers on that thing, so I manually dialed Ray's number. His was the only one I could remember.

The other side of the call rang for a solid thirty seconds before Ray's sleep-drunk voice picked up:

"Hello?" he grumbled. "Who is this?"

Oh, right. He probably didn't have my new number saved, either.

"Ray, it's Fawn," I said, noticing too late that my voice was trembling. "You and Tess need to come pick me up...like right now!"

I heard a rustle on the other end, and suddenly Ray sounded very much awake. "Fawn? Fawn, what's wrong?!" I thought I heard Tess say something nearby, probably on the other side of their bed. "Why do you need us to get you?! Suri isn't due for another two weeks!"

"She...she had other plans," I said, taking a deep breath to steel my nerves. "My water just broke."

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

Ray's face was illuminated by the highway streetlights as he glanced back at Tess and I in the backseat of the car. "How's it going back there?" he asked, flicking his gaze between us and the road.

"Aughh!" I groaned in response as a contraction stole my ability to speak. I tried to lift my hips off the leather seat as more fluid leaked from me, but the seatbelt held me down. I was already sitting in a small puddle of it, and I was worried I was ruining their upholstery. I was still dressed in my pajamas, but I considered them a lost cause.

"We're doin' fine," Tess said, slipping her hand into mine so I could squeeze it -- which I did. "Focus on the road, Ray."

Tess had buckled herself into the middle seat of the minivan, giving her enough room to tend to me while I was strapped in the window seat. I sat with my legs as far apart as the seatbelt would allow. I could already feel the baby pressing through my cervix, and I recognized the pounding pressure that came with it.

The contraction lasted about forty seconds, and it left me reeling and panting. I had no idea when to expect the next one. "Why is this happening so fast?!" I asked, my voice shrill with anxiety. "I was in labor for over a day last time!"

"It's probably not happenin' as fast as 'ya think, doll," Tess assured me, giving my hand a pat. "You could'a slept through most of early labor. Second baby always comes faster than the first, 'ya know."

No. No, I did not know!

"Tessie, how close did the doula say she was?" Ray asked, obeying his wife and not taking his eyes off the road that time.

Tess's face was bathed in white light as she quickly checked her phone. "Ten minutes," she said. "She'll be waiting outside the house when we get there."

Just before she put her phone away, I saw her clutching the quartz pendant again.

Just as promised, the doula was parked outside the Tariqs' farmhouse when we got there. She climbed out of her car as soon as our headlights lit up the gravel driveway. Ray parked the minivan with a lurch and jumped out to start helping her carry things into the house.

Tess helped me out of the car, letting me use her as a crutch as we hobbled up the front steps.

"You ready 'ta do this, Fawn?" she asked.

"Are you ready to do this?" I rebutted.

Tess paused for a second, and then rubbed my lower back as we reached the porch. "Not really," she said, "but no one ever is."

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

Turns out, I wasn't as deep into active labor as I thought I was. In fact, I'd barely started it. The doula told me I was six centimeters dilated, and that I'd likely been in labor for close to twelve hours at that point.

"No, that's not possible," I protested from my reclined position on the sofa. "I wasn't having contractions until now."

"Trust me, you were," the doula grinned from her place between my knees. She slipped off her blue latex gloves and tossed them in the trash as she stood up. "I'm willing to bet they were just really mild up until you started leaking."

It was a relief to know my water breaking didn't mean I was going to deliver right there and then; but it also sucked knowing I was still in for a long ride.

I spent the rest of that night laboring around the farmhouse. It was so nice to not be stuck in a hospital room that time. I was free to do as I pleased, which Ray and Tess were sure to make clear.

Ray opened a few of the windows to let the sounds of crickets and frogs in, as well as the sweet-smelling breeze of the countryside. Meanwhile, Tess made it her life's mission to make me as cozy as possible -- no matter where I ended up. Thanks to her, pillows followed me from the sofa to the floor, from the floor to the recliner, and then back to the sofa.

Eventually, I got too restless to sit still and I needed to be upright. I was on my feet for the rest of active labor, hanging from the edges of furniture or leaning on either Tess or Ray for support during the contractions. Neither of them minded a bit.

It didn't hurt any less than the first time I went into labor. At times, I was so overcome by the increasing horrible sensations that I began screaming. Each time that happened, either Tess or Ray (whichever I was currently clinging to) would wrap their arms around me and the other would redirect my focus.

"Look at me, doll," Tess said, taking my face in her hands while Ray held me upright.

I was hyperventilating and sobbing my way through a nasty contraction and had forgotten how to use my legs.

"Look at me," she repeated gently. "Focus on my face. See my eyes? My nose? My mouth?" she pointed to each feature as she listed them. "Just think about what'cha see. Think about every detail 'ya can."

It was a technique that sounded stupid on paper, but in practice it was very effective at keeping me grounded. If I counted each of Tess's eyelashes or tried to trace the shape of her mouth in my mind's eye, then I didn't focus on the pain.

I could do it. I knew I could. I'd done this whole song and dance before without painkillers. I could do it again.

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

At ten in the morning, eight hours after arriving at the house, I finally felt the shift that told me I was almost done with this.

I was kneeling on the hardwood floor of the living room, my thighs supported by the shallow birthing stool the doula had brought. Beneath me was an absorbent blue pad. Based on the design of the packaging it was pulled it from, it was supposed to be for potty training puppies. Weird...but if it worked, it worked -- and it was certainly needed. The head was descending quicky, and a few bloody strands of cervical mucus were dripping from me as the last of it gave way.

I'd shed the damp pajamas I came in, but the sweat rolling down my back made me shiver each time an outdoor breeze came through. Tess draped a thin blanket over my shoulders and stayed at my back, her hands never leaving my upper arms as I bowed my head and wailed through a transition contraction.

Ray knelt a few feet in front of me, the doula at his side. He looked a strange mixture of nauseous and excited -- we had decided he would be the one to catch the baby, and the doula was talking him through the process ahead of time. I noticed he was holding a hand to his heart as he listened to her, the sea glass bracelet hanging from his wrist.

We all knew it was about to happen.

When the head finally lodged itself into my birth canal, I said nothing. I just acted. I gripped the front edges of the foot-tall birthing stool and let out a feral growl as I started to push. A chorus of encouragement came from the people around me:

"That's it, doll! C'mon!"

"Go with the urge, Fawn. You've got this!"

"Very good, that's what we like to see."

Having gravity on my side this time made pushing feel much less like a chore. I could feel Suri working her way down each push I gave, and she usually stayed where she was once I let up. Kneeling on the stool seemed to be easing her down exactly where she needed to go.

I let out a yelp -- of surprise more than pain -- as I suddenly felt her head pressing against the skin of my perineum. The pressure opened my lips up like a flower, and the doula shined a flashlight underneath me to confirm her head was visible just inside the bulge of my lips, sitting there ready to crown with the next push.

And holy fuck, did she crown! The burn started the second her scalp met the outside air.

"Oww! God-fucking-damn it!" I white-knuckled the wooden stool, a strangled scream leaving my throat as I felt the head bulge out further, peeling my vagina apart like some demented fruit.

Ray scooted closer, rubbing alcohol up and down his arms in preparation to catch. With the doula watching over his shoulder and aiming a flashlight down so he could see, Ray slipped his hands beneath me. I felt his fingers prodding the skin around the head.

"Just like that, yes," the doula told him. "Help her open, this baby seems to be eager."

"No shit!" I roared, my arms trembling as another push sent the head rushing downward. "Fuck!"

I felt Ray's fingers trace the circumference of his daughter's head as more of it emerged, heard the quiet squelching of the afterbirth coating his fingers. When I no longer had the contraction to help me, I let up. Ray kept trying to massage my vagina open, even as I was trying to rest.

"Stop!" I snapped, and he withdrew.

Tess was hiding behind me, her hands on my shoulders the only reminder she was there. She peeked over my shoulder at her husband during the brief lull in my screaming.

"How far is she out?" she asked, unable to see for herself.

The doula craned her neck. "Almost fully crowned."

"She has so much hair," Ray said with a breathy laugh.

"She does," the doula agreed with a grin. "Her daddy's hair, too. Very dark."

I tilted my head to the side, panting heavily but morbidly curious. "Can...can I feel?" I asked.

The doula took my hand and lead it below my belly. I gasped in awe when I touched the hot, gooey ball of hair sticking out from my body.

"Woah..." I muttered, not sure what to else to say.

My fingertips wandered between my legs for a few seconds, and it was both fascinating and horrifying how my anatomy felt nothing like my own body. Everything was stretched and moved around, and it didn't feel like I was touching anything resembling a human body part -- save for the head sitting where a head shouldn't be. Frightened, I pulled my hand back just in time to bear down against a new contraction.

"Hands out, Ray," the doula gently encouraged. "Here she comes."

I felt Tess press her forehead into my upper back. I think she was feeling faint.

"Ah!" A sharp cry, almost a bark, shot from me as the head reached a full crown for a few terrible seconds. Then, with a wet slip, her whole head came free.

"Holy Mother Gaia..." Ray marveled in a half-whisper. His hands cupped the head hanging under me with the most attentive care in the world.

He didn't have much time to admire the view, I wasn't done pushing. I screamed through closed lips as I felt the ring of flesh just behind my skin get stretched wider than it had ever been. I knew something was wrong as soon as that stabbing, tearing burn began. Suri was two weeks early, but she suddenly felt bigger than my son had been.

"Pull her out!" I begged, remembering what the doctor had done. "Just pull her out!"

"Can't," the doula said. "Her hands are up by her ears, there's nowhere for us to grab."

"Take it slow, Fawn," Ray offered. "I've got her, there's no reason to rush."

I took a few quick pants and rested, hoping the stabbing burn would lessen if I let myself stretch out. It's no wonder it hurt so bad delivering her shoulders, she was making this part more difficult than it needed to be.

Tess's hands lightly squeezed my arms and I felt her hiding her face in the blanket draped over my back. Yeah, she was definitely on the verge of passing out.

Gravity was pulling on Suri even as I was trying to let myself stretch, and the shifting pressure triggered me to push without the aid of a contraction.

"Aughh, Suri come on!" I begged, pushing so hard my vision was going double.

Maybe saying her name was intimidating enough to get her to move, because with that push I felt her arms pop free. Ray gasped, and I felt his hands shift to support her upper body as the rest of her slipped out of me. I heard fluid splash and splatter onto the puppy pad, and just a second later, Ray lifted a small blue baby up from under me.

"Get her breathing," the doula urgently instructed. "Turn her over and rub her back. Support her head."

Ray obeyed, gently flipping Suri over on his lap and rubbing his large hand over her back. Her head hung disturbingly limp on her neck as he jostled her around, but I knew that's what it was supposed to be like. It still looked scary.

Suri splayed her arms out, as if she's been surprised, and let out a gurgling wail as her first breath.

"There she is," Ray sighed with releif, turning her back over to hold her in his arms. The doula whipped out a small towel and draped it over her body to keep her warm.

Tess came back to life and rushed to be beside her husband the instant she heard the baby cry. The moment she saw Suri in her daddy's hands, she dropped to her knees and covered her mouth. Her eyes spilled over, tears flowing down her cheeks.

"Oh, Ray!" she cried, her voice shaky and breaking. She reached out and pet her daughter's wet mop of black hair. "Ray, she's beautiful!"

Ray couldn't answer, he was too choked on tears of his own. Both parents held their daughter between their bodies, too joyful for words to express. Their tears and shared kisses told the story, though.

As for me, I wasn't too sure what to make of the situation. She was out, she was healthy, and her parents would be taking it from here. My job was done; but it did feel a bit...abrupt.

"Fawn," Tess turned to me, uselessly trying to dry her eyes, "do you want to hold her?"

I didn't think, I just spoke: "Yes. I've never held a baby before."

Ray and Tess lifted Suri up to me. Ray adjusted my hold so I could support the places that needed it, and Tess made sure the bloodied towel was in place so Suri wouldn't get cold. Within seconds, there I was with a minute-old baby in my arms, sitting against my bare chest.

I stared down silently at the tiny person who had been living inside me the last nine months. She was screaming her head off, but her lungs were sounding clearer each time her mouth opened. Her pink, toothless gums reminded me of a fish's mouth.

"Hey, Suri," I said, my voice sounding far away. "Must feel better out here, huh?" Suri wailed again, unhappily flailing her arms and legs around. "Or not."

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

I rested on the sofa, extra puppy pads beneath me, as the doula and the parents did the 'lotus ceremony' on the other side of the room. I'd had to sit on that stool for an extra twenty minutes until the placenta passed -- Ray and Tess wanted to have a lotus birth, where the cord was burned through only after the afterbirth was delivered.

I didn't want to know what they planned to do with the placenta itself.

Ray had offered to drive back to the women's shelter later that day to grab my duffel bag for me. In my panic, I'd completely forgotten the overnight bag I'd packed. So, for the time being, I was naked and covered only by the thin blanket Tess had given me.

The lotus ceremony finished up, and Ray and Tess pulled up some chairs to sit beside me. Tess had gone topless and had laid a sleeping Suri carefully across her chest, doing skin-to-skin so they could establish the proper mother-baby bond. Her eyes were red and raw, and fresh tears were falling from them.

"Fawn," she began, "you'll never know how much this means 'ta us."

"You're welcome," I said, offering the couple a tired smile. "She was a rowdy tenant, but I'd gladly do it again to give you guys the family you want. You'll be an amazing mom, Tess."

Tess let out a small sob that turned into a chuckle. "Thank 'ya."

Ray rubbed his wife's back, his own fresh tears falling. "We have something very special to give you, Fawn. It's...the closest thing we have to fully repaying you."

Tess nodded. "Money ain't enough. It would never be enough."

In sync, both couples removed the pieces of jewelry I'd never seen them without: Tess, her quartz pendant; Ray, his sea glass bracelet. Without a word, both new parents bestowed the items on me as if it were a coronation. Tess slipped the pendant around my neck and flipped my hair out from under the chain it hung on. Ray carefully slid the band of clattering sea-green beads over my hand until it came to rest softly on my wrist.

I looked at the new gifts with a grateful smile. "Something to remember you guys by?"

The couple gave each other one of their classic knowing grins.

"No," Tess said. "We chose these items months ago. They were always intended for who our surrogate would be."

I tilted my head to the side like a confused dog -- I guess the puppy pads were appropriate after all. "What?"

"From the day we met you, we've been praying over them," Ray explained, repeating the hand-over-heart motion I'd frequently seen him do with the hand that had worn the bracelet. "Each milestone we reached, we made sure our joy in the moment was stored in the crystals."

"Quartz is best to channel the energy of a mother, for Mother Gaia," Tess explained. "Glass shaped by the sea is best for a father's energy, for all life was fathered by the sea."

We were silent for a while, just staring at each other. The only sound was the soft cooing Surinder made in her sleep.

"We want you 'ta be a part of this family, Fawn," Tess said. "We've put a part of our essence into these crystals. Our joy, our love, our gratitude. So, whenever 'ya wear 'em, we'll be with 'ya."

Now I was crying. I opened my jaw to say something, but nothing came.

"We've talked about it, and..." Ray said with a smile. "...if you would like to, we'd be more than happy to have you stay here with us until you get back on your feet."

"Livin' out here has been much less of a headache than in the city," Tess continued. "We could help you find a nice 'lil place of your own sometime soon, a home where you can make a life for 'yaself."

There was another pause. I let tears fall silently down my bewildered face.

"You don't talk much about 'ya family," Tess said. "You don't owe us no explanation, but...Ray and I figured...you might need someone in 'ya corner."

That was it. That was the killing blow.

I jumped forward and threw my arms over Ray, collapsing into sobs I hadn't experienced in months. I would've grabbed both of them, but Tess had the baby. I didn't actually say anything to them, but I think they got the message.

Maybe there was something to those New Age ideas of theirs. As I sat there sobbing, I swear I could feel the warmth of Tess and Ray's love seeping into my skin through those minerals.

It seeped through my blood and sinew, and even though bone. It settled into the bleeding wound in my soul that refused to heal, the one that had been torn open the first time I called my family after the fallout:

My own mother, the one who promised to love me no matter what life threw, plunged the knife in and twisted it. The last words she ever spoke to me...were a threat to kill me if I ever tried to come back home.

The warmth of Ray and Tess's gift poured into that wound like warm honey -- not healing it, but soothing it for the first time in three years.

Maybe I was overthinking it. Maybe the heat in the jewelry was just from their body heat.

But I was sure about one thing:

I wasn't alone anymore.

~ END ~

#Fawn Drabbles #mittysins #birth kink #RP Drabble

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marshmallow-biscuit-blog · 2 years ago

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New Allen reference. I also didn't really add stats for him before, so here.

Name: Allen Beera

Gender: Male (cis)

Age (At beginning of the game/show): 39 (April 2nd, 1891)

Species: Root Beer (Irish Glass Mug)

Sexuality: Gay (Closeted except to Sunne who's dead)

Kids: Rooty Beera Float

More info/backstory: Allen's really quiet and tries to keep to himself. He met his "wife" Sunne as a teen, and they hit it off as friends quickly. Allen hadn't had a friend until then. Or anyone who wanted to even interact with him. So, he ended up loving her, but differently than she loved him. He loved her as a best friend, she loved him with a crush. However, Allen didn't realize he had a platonic love for her until their first kiss, and it didn't feel quite right. He explains his feelings, and she understands. However, their parents would never understand, and due to speculations on Allen, they force the two to get married. Jokes on them, Allen and Sunne are 100% okay with being besties and living with one another. Forever sleepover.

Though one day, Sunne brought up the fact she wanted a baby. Not that she wanted him to be the dad, but just it was one of the things she wanted some day in her life, to be a mom. Despite the time's surrogacy having to be one-on-one, he offered to be the surrogate dad. Soon, they find out the news about Rooty and are actually excited. Scared, worried, but excited. And who better to raise a kid with than your best friend? That is, until you don't get to raise that kid with your best friend, because she's no longer here. When Sunne passed away after having Rooty, Allen felt like he lost a piece of himself, but also gained one. Did he have any clue what he was doing as a dad? No, absolutely not, not on his own. But he wasn't about to just give her up; he had to try.

Despite his job being dangerous for what it's worth (Coal miner) and literally being the death of him eventually, he kept at it until he physically could not anymore. At that, it barely was enough to feed him and his kid and pay the bills. (Sometimes he pickpockets to get dinner on the table, a trick Rooty caught him doing and learned herself.)

That being said, he's constantly tired, hungry, and just wants to take care of Rooty. Though, that means he rarely has any moments to spare to actually bond with her. He feels guilty for it, even though he's trying his best.

Before he does pass away from black lung, he does get to see Rooty get married, and meet both of his grandbabies who he loves very much.

Extra: Tw: Physical Discipline (one hit)

One day that sent him in a downward spiral even more so, was when he had no energy, no patience, and complete fear. Rooty, being six at the time, was playing with her friend (Flower) On the side walks. However, she had lost track of time. Allen's rule was she was inside before the street lamps came on. It was well past that time (like an hour) and she only realized when the sky turned a darker blue and she could hear her dad's worried voice hollering for her. She quickly ran home, but was greeted by her dad grabbing her arm and dragging her inside before hitting her and scolding her. After his adrenalin rush died down, his heart shattered when he saw the crack on her neck on tears as well as fear in her eyes. He never forgave himself for hitting her like that.

ALL OF ROOTY'S OTHER CRACKS ARE NOT FROM ALLEN, THEY ARE FROM HER OWN MISHAPS AND CLUMSINESS

#allen float #allen beera #allen #the kitchen utensil family #kitchen utensil family #I won't forget when a friend at school said #Eeyore looking mother fucker I love him so much #rooty float #she's mentioned a lot in here lmfao

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seijorhi · 4 years ago

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so speaking of bnha, I don’t know if any of y’all are into erasermic, but this thought has not left my head for the past 48 hours and so i’m gonna share it because i have no impulse control

TW breeding kink, pregnancy stuff, slight nsfw

So the two heroes finally decide that they want to have a kid, but instead of adopting, they decide to try surrogacy. Along comes you, sweet as can be and in need of a little cash. You’re not expecting the Heroes to choose you from the agency, but (after extensive background searches and vetting) both heroes are in agreement - you’re the one they want to carry their baby.

So at first it’s all very normal. You meet with them a few times over coffee before getting everything sorted and the procedure is done - hell, both of them show up to the actual appointment, which makes you a little embarrassed, but they quick to reassure you that they’re gonna be there every step of the way. This is their kid - the most important thing in their lives, of course they’re gonna want to be there for them (and you). They’re such a nice couple and they seem to like you, and it honestly doesn’t even seem real sometimes, but you’re so happy to help them out.

And nothing really seems out of place, until your first ultrasound. Mic insists on coming to pick you up for the appointment, and who are you to turn him down? It’s just that you kind of live in a bad part of town? And your apartment’s a little run down, but hey, rent is expensive and you’re making it work. Except neither Mic nor Shouta are particularly thrilled about your living conditions. You’re carrying the child of two pro heroes, they’re not trying to scare you, but you realise that if anybody with the wrong intentions were to find out, you’d be in danger?

So they suggest that you move in with them. There’s tons of space - they’re richer than you think, sweetheart - and that means that they can keep a closer eye on the pregnancy. It has to be nicer than your one bedroom shoebox, and won’t it be nice to have somebody there to look after you a little too? You’re carrying their child - you deserve to be spoiled a little.

The changes are subtle, so subtle, the heroes themselves aren’t even really aware they’re happening. They like having you around - there’s something oddly satisfying about coming home after a long day to see you sitting on the couch with a book in hand, absentmindedly rubbing your growing stomach with a quiet hum. The first time the baby kicks, you call them over so excitedly, and you’re so caught up in the odd sensation that you miss the shared look between the two of them. You just seem to slide into their life - Hizashi cooks for you (a pregnancy approved meal plan) and you try to keep the place neat and tidy while they’re gone - though Shouta warns you not to push yourself. You see them off every morning, and you’re there most nights when they get home - sleep doesn’t come as easily as it once did, so you sometimes just move to the living room, tune into Hizashi’s show and try to distract yourself - they’ve come home a few times to you passed out on that exact couch. On those nights Shouta has no problem carrying you up to your room and tucking you into bed with a kiss on your forehead During the days they have off, you usually spend it with them, lazing around their penthouse apartment or helping do baby stuff - getting the nursery ready, shopping, reading pregnancy books.

When your body aches and you’re overtired and worn out, Shouta will drag you upstairs, force you to lie down and give you a massage that has you moaning appreciatively beneath him. Hizashi’ll hold your hair back when you get morning sickness, rubbing your back soothingly. Affection becomes second nature between the three of you. Truthfully, you’re not sure how you would have gotten through this pregnancy without them. But there is a little part of you that worries about what’ll happen when you actually give birth - you’ve become so used to living with them, it’ll be weird to go back to being strangers.

Meanwhile, as your pregnancy goes on, the heroes are having the same kinds of thoughts. Well, almost. You see, they’re growing kind of attached. You’ve always been beautiful, but the sight of you, breasts swollen, tummy round with their child... it’s growing on them. Fuck, who are they kidding - it’s hot as hell. They’d be lying if they said they hadn’t imagined how it would feel to fuck you like that, how it would feel to breed you themselves, the proper way. You fit in so well with them, they adore you. You’re their sweetheart, and suddenly they’re not all that keen on letting you leave them at the end of this whole thing.

You’ll make such a good mother. They understood it when you explained that you didn’t really want kids of your own - at least, not yet, you’re still so young! But that was before you had them. They can support you, look after you so much better than when you were on your own and between the three of you, the kid’s gonna be the most spoiled little angel on the planet. And... and they like you a whole fucking lot, they love you, and you feel the same too, right? That’s why you curl up to Shouta when your hormones make you all emotional at the drop of a hat, it’s why you blush so prettily whenever Hizashi drops to his knees and showers your pregnant stomach with kisses.

You’re gonna be a family. And when the baby is born, well neither hero has much objection to the thought of getting you pregnant with another. You’re gonna make such a pretty little housewife for them.

#yandere erasermic #yandere erasermic x reader #yandere aizawa #yandere present mic #BD rambles #like a lot #tw breeding kink #tw pregnancy

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hold-him-down · 3 years ago

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Maybe I'm stupid but in the first piece when that doctor was asking Luke to buy Leo's contract so he "didn't have to do what they want him to do".... what did they want him to do?

Hi! Not stupid, and definitely not the first person to ask!

tw: scientific terminology that is often considered 'gross', implied noncon, discussion of reproductive rights

the short answer: semen.

the longer answer: beginning of the story takes place about two weeks before a bill is being voted on to strip workers of reproductive rights (among other undisclosed rights, but reproductive rights are the main issue on the table). the bill would allow things like forcible semen collection and subsequent sale, egg retrieval, surrogacy and forced pregnancy (not for the purpose of breeding workers, but for the purpose of aiding buyers who want children but can't or don't want to take traditional means for any reason).

what hasn't happened yet is resolution to that story line, including how that vote went. it'll happen eventually :)

#implied noncon #discussion of reproductive rights #minors dni #anonymous #tumblr changed to anonymoose #didn't feel right here

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mshyde · 4 years ago

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Why is liberal feminism wrong about...

...Por.nography being “feminist” or “harmless”? (TW for discussions of se.xual violence, pe.dophilia, and r.ape)

Over 88% of po.rnographic scenes contain violence against women

Watching even non-violent po.rn is correlated with the consumer being more likely to use verbal coercion, drugs, and alcohol to coerce individuals into s.ex.

In the po.rn industry, abuse of po.rnstars, particularly women, runs rampant. Yes, even in the “big companies”.

Exposure to p.orn has been found, along with poverty, drug abuse, and homelessness, to be one of the most consistent risk factors associated with human trafficking.

58% of the p.ornographic internet domains under watch of the IWF (internet Watch Foundation) contain images of children in penetrative s.exual activity involving a child or children, or both children and adults, and sadism or p.enetration of or by an animal.

There is no true consent for po.rnstars on set: “ If a performer is honest about the abuse they endured on set, they will not be paid for the day’s work—many live paycheck to paycheck, so this isn’t an option—and the entire day’s shoot will be rendered wasted and unusable.”

...More.

..."S.ex work” being just another job and/or empowering? (same TW as before)

90% of women in the s.ex industry want out of it.

Violence in prostitution:

“Attitudes of [s.ex] buyers demonstrate that prostitution is not an equal exchange by any means. The men do not care if the exchange is consensual, they do not care about the woman’s boundaries, and they do not care that the woman is doing it for the money. In fact, prostitution involves the man’s right to treat the woman as he pleases, say what he pleases, be in control as he pleases, and to have her give him the reaction he wants the entire time. The consequences of this are that women face immense psychological trauma and are forced to dissociate themselves from their experiences of disgust and pain- leading to PTSD and forcing them to turn to drug abuse or alcoholism.”

Despite the fact that “underage s.ex tourism” is booming worldwide, mainstream sites like the Huffington post publish “tips” on how to get prostitues while traveling abroad, because the popular narrative of “empowering s.ex work” allows those sites to promote sexual exploitation.

Countries where prostitution is legal experience larger reported human trafficking inflows.

Interviews with prostituted individuals in New Zealand reveal that legalization or decriminalization does not curb the violence they experience.

...etc.

...Biological s.ex being irrelevant when talking about the oppression of women?

FGM (female genital mutilation) is a problem that affects little girls all around the world.

“Virginity testing” is another worldwide phenomenon impacting women and girls, common in countries such as Philippines, Morocco, Iraq, the USA, Indonesia, Afghanistan, etc, where women who are found to not be virgins might be denied jobs, be denied their justice in cases where they were raped, and (when they are found to be virgins) might be pr.ostituted.

Violent physical assaults are comitted in their majority against women, with 80% of all acid attacks done against women.

Reproductive rights are an issue that affects exclusively women (as in, female people), with women worldwide being denied abortions, menstrual products, sex education, and dignified living conditions.

In many places, little girls are still being married to men much older than them - child brides are still very much a problem

The current rise in surrogacy is becoming more and more of a problem for women, especially marginalized women. The harm to their healths and the impact pregnancies have in the bodies of surrogate mothers are often ignored and leave already vulnerable women in an even worse condition.

...etc.

...“Gender identity” being harmless to women and TIMs belonging in female spaces?

“The tip of the iceberg” masterpost (including: “the bathroom debacle,” s.ex offenders looking for srs, violent male offenders in women’s prisons, males invading female-only spaces with the intent to harm women, transitioning children, pharma’s role in hrt, TIMs harming women and children, TRA ties toanti-LGBT and conservative organisations, men pretending to be trans to get into women spaces, “brain s.ex” debunked, etc).

Advocacy for GNC kids to become trans instead of letting kids be kids and express themselves in any way they want is leading to children being pumped full of harmful drugs.

The cotton ceiling and framing sexuality as something that can be “corrected” to include TIMs. This rethoric aims to “convert” gay women into “people who could like male genit.alia if it’s attached to a TW”.

TRA ideology does not support women. In fact, it harms us, badly.

...etc (2).

Sources for all claims might be found here.

#for pinning to my blog. im not linking everything here bc of reasons but all sources are in the last link.#radfem #radical feminism #terfs please interact #hyde.txt #ref #female oppression #trans activism

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vicecityhq · 3 years ago

Photo

██████████████]99% LOADING...SUSPECT INTO THE APD DATABASE...

WITNESS(ES) SAY HE REMINDS THEM OF: autumn, forestpunk, cottagegore, darkest academia . With a slight resemblance to PAKORN THANASRIVANITCHAI of/the ACTOR.

CLICK BELOW TO VIEW ENTIRE FILE.

FULL FILE:

Last Name, First Name: Suwannarat, Briar Alias: Pan (codename for his job), Ari (more of a nickname than an alias) Realm of birth (if earth, nationality): Earth realm, Thailand Age: 29 Date of Birth: November 23rd Gender: Male Preferred Pronouns: He/Him Species: Children of the Twelve - Sagittarius Occupation: Police Detective Sexual Orientation: Homosexual

VISUAL FILE:

Skin Color: Tanned, burnt orange hue with a smattering of chocolate freckles along his face. He has the same freckles throughout his body, but has bigger white spots along his shoulders, the backs of his ears, and his outer hips. Eye color: Honey Brown Scars: None that have a significant story Piercings: None Tattoos: None Hair color: Dark chocolate brown Abnormalities: Fawn-like ears Horns/ wings/ etc: Small, stumpy antlers that stick just above his hair Transformed form: He does not have a transformation.

PERSONAL FILE:

RELIGIOUS BELIEF: Agnostic, but was raised Buddhist SINS: greed / gluttony / sloth / lust / pride / envy / wrath VIRTUES: chastity / charity / diligence / humility / kindness / patience / justice KNOWN LANGUAGES: English, Thai, Latin SECRETS: Teen romance can be rough, right? It’s like two colliding whirlwinds of emotions, hormones, and desires. One minute you’re together, the next you’re broken up for no reason. Now when that volatility is coupled with doubts about sexuality, it’s just a disaster waiting to happen. Most people didn’t accidentally melt half of their boyfriend’s face off and cause him to have to undergo grueling, expensive reconstructive surgery that would never quite make things right, though. Briar had told him the gloves had to stay on, but kids were reckless and foolishly believed in their own infallibility so it didn’t take much convincing to risk it all for some skin on skin. Then next thing they knew, Briar was babbling some half brained excuse about a science experiment gone wrong while his boyfriend’s blood curdling screams echoed in his ears. It was believably enough… until a month after - when the swelling from some of his injuries went down - his former lover was able to unintelligibly mutter “Briar did it.” Then suddenly an ‘accident’ turned into a full scale investigation of malicious intent. All Briar could do was tell the truth. He didn’t know which was more difficult - coming clean about his powers or coming out of the closet. But the officer sitting across from him and his distraught mother in the cramped interrogation room didn’t seem particularly disturbed by the confession. His bushy brows only furrowed in disappointment over the entire situation. In the end, Briar was only charged with obstruction of justice for initially lying to police, but the damage to his reputation was irreparable. His mother decided it would be best to relocate, which is how Briar came to finish his last years of high school in Agdoeg.

SAVVIES: hiking, gardening, camping, sightseeing, investigative work, problem solving, riddles and puzzles.

Powers & Abilities: Zodiac Empowerment (Sagittarius: enhanced accuracy, vision, tracking), Zodiac Physiology (see above appearance), Animal (deer) Spirit Summoning, Fthinóporokinesis (Autumn manipulation), Rot Inducement/Decaying Touch, Body Part Erosion, Luck, Evolution Manipulation, Supernatural Bowmanship.

Traits: (positive) Determined, intelligent, neat freak, health conscious, animal lover, usually down to earth, assertive, responsible, (negative) Sarcastic, impatient, untrusting, can have a temper when someone pushes him too far, distant, prioritizes work over everything else.

BACKGROUND CHECK:

Date of Birth: November 23rd

Date of Death: N/A

Crime Record: Most would assume someone has to have a clean slate to enter law enforcement, but that would leave slim pickings in a city like Agdoeg. Briar doesn’t have any outstanding criminal record, but he did have a couple of dings on his juvenile one that were expunged once he became a legal adult and, therefore, they can no longer be found in most databases.

Background/Biography

(tw miscarriage, tw immaculate conception by some strange god XD, tw domestic disputes, tw divorce)

Briar’s parents had been struggling to conceive a child for many years, since their prompt marriage right out of secondary school. These sweet hearts had longed to have a cookie cutter life and family, but fate seemed to inhibit that every step of the way. His mother have seven miscarriages due to the condition of an incompetent cervix and was told many times that she may never be able to carry a child to full term. This had been devastating news to the couple, who had no means of affording everything that went into surrogacy and were now facing the reality that they may never be able to have their own children. In spite of these odds, though, they kept trying and praying that whatever Gods that were out there might grant them a miracle.

Their prayers never seemed to be answered, though, and this put an understandable strain on their marriage. It was when his mother was thirty three and beginning to lose hope that she was plagued by a strange dream. She was floating in a vast emptiness, unable to move or even scream. This might have terrified someone else, but she somehow felt safe blanketed in the darkness. It was as if the entire universe lay bare before her, starlight dancing between her outstretched fingertips. Except she didn’t have fingers. She didn’t even have a physical body. There was a sense that she had become a part of something greater or perhaps been broken down into a form akin to what they had all been before the universe collided together in some cosmic firework show to create all that they knew. After what seemed like an eternity if time even passed in that world, the stars began to slowly take shape before her, pulled together by gravity or some other force she would never quite understand. As they converged, the light became so bright that it was nearly blinding, but she was space dust so how could she look away? She remembers trying to rationalize it with that absurd thought as the light shifted around her and the sound of harps and a heavenly chorus interrupted the sacred stillness that she’d been immersed in until then. Heralding the coming of something… or someone. The light came together at the peak of the crescendo, shapeless but she somehow got the sense of a shapely figure wrapped in a gown the longer she stared into it. This motherly figure bent over her and she recalled the warmth as its tendrils of light stroked over her cheek before urging her mouth open. In that moment, she didn’t feel any sense of unease as the being urged her to partake of its light. It traveled past her lips and through every corner of her being, rushing into her fingertips and even the ends of her hair. It was the first time since being in that plane that she had any sense of where she ended and the rest of the world began. The last thing she remembered was that light condensing, forming into its own little star in the lower part of her abdomen and radiating such soothing warmth…

Then she woke up and that was the first time she really had any sense of unease about the strange dream. As someone who had experienced how odd dreams could get during pregnancy, though, she took it as a good sign. Sure enough, when she took a test three weeks later, she was pregnant! Unlike prior, when she’d lost her children around the three month mark, this child was growing strong and without the complications she always worried about. Everything seemed to finally be falling into place. Their marriage and hope in the future was revitalized! And after nine months of perhaps the most physical and emotional pain she had ever been in in her entire life, she was welcoming a beautiful, healthy baby boy into the world and never once thought about the unsettling dream at the start of it all.

Admittedly, Briar was certainly a unique baby. His ears had always been a little odd since birth - bigger than usual - but his parents figured he would just grow into them and found it one of his most endearing traits. However, when he was three years old, that’s when his antlers started coming in. His mother found them one night when she was reading him a bedtime story and running her fingers through his unruly mop of wavy hair. Understandably, she freaked out and brought him to the doctor the next day, who took a biopsy and found the strange growths to primarily be made of calcium. It was unusual, but they decided to simply keep an eye on it since it seemed harmless enough. They only became more noticeable as the years went by, poking through his hair, and Briar recalls the Chinese Buddhists of his neighborhood always telling his mother it was a sign of good fortune. At the time, Briar had always thought it was annoying how they’d always want to lay their hands on him, but he realized as he’d gotten older that they believed the cow was Guanyin’s reincarnated father and the stubby little nubs atop his head made them think he was blessed. But horns and antlers are two different things - one being keratinous and, the other, bone - but he supposed it was easy to confuse them at first glance. Going into adolescence, those things grew like crazy. As if puberty and having velvety twigs growing on your head wasn’t stressful enough, that was when Briar first noticed his parents beginning to drift apart. One night, when coming home late from a friend’s house, he overheard a heated argument between them in the kitchen and his father’s accusations would forever be etched into his mind... “You thought you could trick me forever? I don’t know who knocked you up, but I can’t pretend that thing is my son!” The words drove through him like a knife. Yet after the initial shock subsided, Briar felt for the first time that all the little confusing pieces he’d chosen to overlook his entire life began to make sense. At first his parents had simply assumed he’d taken on more features of his mother, but his father had begun to grow distant as his otherworldly features and powers emerged. The reality was that two humans couldn’t possibly have made a half-deer-whatever-he-was and the only logical explanation was that he wasn’t his father’s at all. He only wished he’d come to that conclusion sooner instead of deluding himself and becoming foolishly attached to the man… The divorce was relatively swift. The judge didn’t even demand a paternity test when his father rebuked having to pay child support. All he had to do was look across the courtroom and he could tell that the speckled, big eared, horned child standing there wasn’t his. It was a dirty, unjust move that besmirched his mother as a disloyal wife and watching her go through that emotional rollercoaster was perhaps the toughest thing of the whole ordeal. Thirteen year old Briar comforted her through the fits of tears and had a strong upper lip when she insisted that she’d never betrayed his father… What bothered him the most was that he couldn’t believe her, but he also couldn’t be angry or blame her either. He had always been closer with his mother and he promised her in those moments of weakness that he would always take care of her. Of course, a single mother with a bad reputation was not an easy gig when trying to support a family. They were forced to move from their smaller town into the teeming metropolis of Bangkok for her to find work and Briar was honestly quite happy with leaving the past behind him. He thrived in the city with its far more diverse population. No one looked at him like he was a freak when he rode the bus or went to buy groceries. It was the first time he felt like he could truly be himself. He had his fair share of rough patches, just like any hormonal teenager, but having otherworldly powers and no one to teach you how to use them certainly caused a few catastrophic, social life obliterating faux pas. His mother thankfully was able to transfer within her company to the Agdoeg branch. It meant not only relocating in the middle of high school for Briar, but moving to an entirely new country. The level of diversity and integration of the supernatural community within Agdoeg was even better than what he’d experienced before. They were in government, owned small businesses… But not all of them were reputable or honest. Briar quickly learned that there were parts of the city that he shouldn’t venture to if he knew what was good for him. However, in spite of the seedier things going on in the underbelly, he was able to find a youth center which helped him to get a better handle on his powers and met his role model who would eventually lead him into his career as a police officer.

INTERVIEW QUESTION (para sample): “Just run us through what happened that night”. - Officer

Briar squeezed his eyes shut tight in an attempt to chase away the spots dancing across his vision from the overbearing fluorescent bulbs that bore down on the table in the center of the interrogation room. It was so intense that he could hear the hum of the electricity going to it and, somehow, he mentally processed that before the weight of the officer’s words. Words he’d uttered himself many times when the roles were flipped. Normally, this was the point a smart suspect would clam up and demand to talk to a lawyer, but clearly this was some kind of joke and he’d just missed the punchline. “Ha. Ha! Very funny.” He gruffed, devoid of amusement as he reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose to ward off the pounding headache settling in like someone was playing the bass drum behind his eyeballs.

The precinct had all been out drinking the night before, celebrating closing a case that had been busting their proverbial balls for the last six months, and there was a point after countless shots of tequila that Briar didn’t even know what was up and what was down, let alone why they were even there anymore. Now, he didn’t doubt that many profoundly stupid things had fallen from his lips and been done, but he hardly would have thought it would be anything illegal. Officers protected their own and someone less inebriated surely would have stopped him before he did anything he’d regret. Trying to wrack his brain, Briar bent to press his forehead to the cool metal of the table with a pitious groan. He remembered waking up in one of the cells to the sound of the door noisily being opened and before he could even get his bearings, two uniformed men were hauling him up and dragging him down the hallway toward the room he sat in now. None of it made a lick of sense.

“I’m afraid this isn’t a joke, Officer Suwannarat. Something very serious happened tonight and we need you to tell us why.”

The brutally stern voice sobered Briar up really quick and he lifted his head up from the table to narrow his eyes on the man that sat across from him, his fawn-like ears flicking in annoyance. He’d worked on the force for many years now and he wasn’t about to be hassled by some nameless rookie who was probably forced in here by his supervising officer, like a lamb being pushed into a cage with a bear. “Listen- no. What is going on?” He demanded with surprising eloquence for someone who’s tongue felt like a dried up sponge in his mouth. Drunk drought be damned. “Am I under arrest? ‘Cause if I am, you better tell me the charges or else I’m walking right out that door and finding your commanding off-”

What was likely going to be a memorable tirade was cut short as the door to the interrogation room swung open and a handful of officers poured into the small space like salmon all fighting to spawn upstream. All Briar could do was stare wide eyed where he was glued to his seat and watch with no small amount of mortification while a cake was set in front of him with messy lettering iced on top that read ‘Congrats on your Promotion! Now you’re their problem.’ Feeling the mixture of rage and bewilderment quickly begin to ebb away, the corners of Briar’s lips twitched into a crooked smile and he shook his head in exasperation. “You’re fucking kidding me. Who’s terrible idea was this?” He demanded with a mirthless laugh as he deflated back into the hard metal chair and glanced around at the familiar faces of the men and women he’d worked with for the past ten years. God, how had he survived their crazy antics and made it this far?

“What do you mean? We had to give you a memorable send-off.” His partner mounted his defense and slunk out from the crowd to give Briar an encouraging clap on the shoulder. “Besides, do you know how hard it was to carry your heavy ass into the cell to pull this off? The least you could do was say thank you. Geez. Too good for us already, Detective?”

Briar should thank him. That much he’d already mentally concluded. But shoving his partner’s smug face into the cake was also a tempting option. Instead, he reached up to gently pat the other’s hand with his gloved one. “Never.” He assured him gently before a chorus of obnoxious coos from the peanut gallery made sure to not only kill the moment but beat it once it was down. Pushing himself up from the chair, Briar swayed unsteadily and shamelessly grappled a couple of his friends for balance on his route to the door. “Ugh. Alright, get me out of this room before I literally end someone and get stuck here forever. That cake better be chocolate, I swear-”

#vcaccepted #vccivilian

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mshyde-side · 4 years ago

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Why is liberal feminism wrong about...

…Por.nography being “feminist” or “harmless”? (TW for discussions of se.xual violence, pe.dophilia, and r.ape)

Over 88% of po.rnographic scenes contain violence against women

Watching even non-violent po.rn is correlated with the consumer being more likely to use verbal coercion, drugs, and alcohol to coerce individuals into s.ex.

In the po.rn industry, abuse of po.rnstars, particularly women, runs rampant. Yes, even in the “big companies”.

Exposure to p.orn has been found, along with poverty, drug abuse, and homelessness, to be one of the most consistent risk factors associated with human trafficking.

…More.

…“S.ex work” being just another job and/or empowering? (same TW as before)

90% of women in the s.ex industry want out of it.

Violence in prostitution:

Countries where prostitution is legal experience larger reported human trafficking inflows

Interviews with prostituted individuals in New Zealand reveal that legalization or decriminalization does not curb the violence they experience.

…Biological s.ex being irrelevant when talking about the oppression of women?

FGM (female genital mutilation) is a problem around the world

Virginity testing is another worldwide phenomenon impacting women and girls, common in countries such as Philippines, Morocco, Iraq, the USA, Indonesia, Afghanistan, etc.

Violent physical assaults are comitted in their majority against women, with 80% of all acid attacks done against women.

Reproductive rights are an issue that affects exclusively women, as in, female people.

Child brides are still very much a problem

Surrogacy and its harm to women.

…etc

…“Gender identity” being harmless to women and TIMs belonging in female spaces?

”The tip of the iceberg” masterpost (including: “the bathroom debacle,” s.ex offenders looking for srs, violent male offenders in women’s prisons, males invading female-only spaces with the intent to harm women, transitioning children, pharma’s role in hrt, TIMs harming women and children, TRA ties toanti-LGBT and conservative organisations, men pretending to be trans to get into women spaces, “brain s.ex” debunked, etc).

Advocacy for GNC kids to become trans instead of letting kids be kids and express themselves in any way they want.

The cotton ceiling and framing sexuality as something that can be “corrected” to include TIMs.

TRA ideology does not support women. In fact, it harms them.

…etc (2).

#hyde.txt

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movedto-jewishbucke · 5 years ago

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Day 1: Family

TWs: miscarriage/mentions of miscarriage

summary: TK and Carlos want to be fathers. It's all they've been able to talk about for the last four years, but with each failed embryo transfer Carlos finds it harder and harder to talk about their future as fathers and has started to accept the fact that they might never be fathers, especially since this embryo transfer is their last shot at biological children. (And considering they're a gay couple in Texas, their last shot at children period.) [This is part of the Dad AU (which you can read more about here.]

available on ao3

TK has a lot of worries when it comes to having his own children.

What if he passes his mental health issues to his biological children, or they end up being addicts? Being mentally ill, or an addict, isn't an end-of-world situation, and there's no guarantee adopting kids will eliminate that risk, but there's still something terrifying about possibly being responsible for any pain they might experience. How can he look his future child in the eye if they end up exactly like him, knowing it's his fault?

What if they hate him, or he turns into his dad? It's natural for him to want to protect his children, but what if that spirals and he ends up taking it too far, like his dad has in the past? The thought terrifies him, and it worries him that turning into his dad could be a path he ends up going down without even realizing it. What will be the straw that turns the camel into Owen? Will it be his kid falling off his bike when he's first learning, or smoking weed out of curiosity when he's in his teens?

The list went on.

These are all worries he has discussed at length with Carlos - back when IVF and surrogacy weren't even on their minds - and has gotten reassurance from him that he's different from his dad and that if their children do have mental health, or addiction, issues they'll be fine. It helps to know he's not alone in this, because of course he's not alone in it, but the worries don't dissipate.

But despite those worries, he knows he wants children.

This was a thought that was further solidified two and a half years ago when they started discussing the idea of children more seriously, and the excitement on Carlos' face when he talked about how badly he wanted to be a father… it was precious.

It's the same excitement he had when he would talk about what their children might look like, when they matched with a surrogate in Houston and they went to the clinic for the first time to see if the embryo transfer had been successful, and when they went at the ten week mark to check on how the second embryo was coming along.

However, when they lost the second embryo his excitement disappeared.

The miscarriage took a toll on them, he wouldn't pretend it didn't, but he still thought if they received good news at this appointment then Carlos would start talking about all the things he's looking forward to doing as a father again, or at the very least he'd seem a little excited the transfer went well.

But TK hasn't seen him crack a smile at all in the past two hours and he hasn't even mentioned the appointment, which annoys him in the worst way possible.

"It's good news the embryo attached," he says. If Carlos isn't going to bring it up, then he's going to because it's killing him.

"Yeah. Are you okay with spaghetti? I don't think we have garlic bread, but I think it should be fine without."

"Carlos."

"I can run to the store if you want garlic bread."

Deep breaths. In, out, in, out, in, out, in, out.

"I don't care about the garlic bread," he says through gritted teeth, pressing his palms against the edge of the counter to ground him. "You haven't said a word since the appointment."

"What do you want me to say?"

Anything. Tell me what you think they're going to look like, how you want to coach their little league team, how you can't wait to teach them to cook. Tell me everything.

But he doesn't say this, because he knows whatever Carlos would say would be forced. The thing he loves about Carlos is that… he's always genuine when he talks about what he looks forward to when it comes to being a father, even the "bad" parts. While he wouldn't mind bypassing the "waking up in the middle of the night" stage, Carlos wants that just as much as he wants to sit at the kitchen table every night and help their kid with math.

"I just wish you'd pretend like this pregnancy is going to end in a kid," he whispers, whatever anger he had a few minutes ago has disappeared. "Our kid. The one we're going to have photos of in our wallet so we can show them off to anyone who is interested, the one who is going to be so fucking spoiled that we're probably going to try to get Michelle and Marjan to adopt them."

He can't help but smile at the idea that they'd ever try to pawn them off onto someone else, jokingly or not. TK knows their kid could have every awful personality trait he could think of and they would still love them, because that's what they're supposed to do as parents.

"I just don't want to get my hopes up."

When he looks up, he wishes he hadn't because for the first time since they've started this entire process, there's nothing but sadness in his eyes. This is different from how he looked after the news of the miscarriage and it's a look that he has seen before, because it's the look that TK would always see when he looked in a mirror.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. He moves around the counter to wrap his arms around Carlos' waist, pulling him as tight as he can against him, and resting his check against his shoulder. "I'm sorry," he repeats, and he is because they've been together for six years and he should've picked up on it sooner.

"It's fine, TK. I just…" He sighs and, despite TK's best efforts to keep hold of him, pulls away from him, putting a little distance between them. "I just… maybe we're not meant to be parents."

#911lonestarweek #911lsweek #tarlos #mywriting #dad au #not sure how I feel about this tbh #I was gonna edit it this morning before posting but then I woke up and felt like death warmed over SO #you get the unedited version that I might rewrite/expand on later #anyway please be kind :)#cause like I'm pretty sure I did a somewhat Okay job at connecting all the thoughts to each other #but also I'm a dumb bitch with ADHD and I love to ramble so what makes sense and connects for me might not make sense or connect for you #also TK is trans in this fic but I didn't get to really touch on it in this one shot?#but just know he's trans #(gd I'm pulling a jkr I'm sorry)#mine

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starbrightblack · 5 years ago

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The Noble House of Black

Content tw: Verbal domestic abuse, Verbal child abuse, Threat of physical abuse, Kidnapping, Murder, Pregnancy… It focuses on Walburga Black and includes the kind of crazy you’d associate with her.

Summary: Walburga was never pleased with Sirius, and that simple truth existed before he’d even been born.

Walburga Black was raised in the ancestral home. The House of Black at 12 Grimmauld Place was in her mind a beautiful place, grand and glorious for all its gothic quirks. She was content to live there forever, but her parents made it quite clear that although she was the oldest, she would not be inheriting 12 Grimmauld Place. As a woman, it was her duty to marry into and continue on a pureblood line. However, she would be continuing her husband’s family line, not the Black family’s. In order to stay, the Black family home, it was to go to Alphard as the oldest son. Walburga had always hated her brother and his peculiar mannerisms, and she couldn’t stand the idea of him taking away her house, especially when his only opinion on that matter was he didn’t want it. In that case, he deserved it even less.

So Walburga did what any sensible witch would do in her situation. She married her cousin.

By marrying Orion, she kept her family name, ensured at least one branch of the Black family stayed pure, and reinforced her own claim to 12 Grimmauld Place. Alphard gave up his stake for it without a fuss, and Cygnus had always been sensible enough to know when his sister would win. She kept her home and had a husband to whom she could always speak her mind.

Once the two had been married and moved into the home Walburga had never had to move out of, Walburga and Orion got to work on the next set of expectations. Walburga didn’t particularly like the idea of motherhood, but it was her duty and had been part of the deal to keep the house.

After a few years of trying, however, the couple realized that something was gravely amiss. They summoned a discreet healer to solve the issue, and Walburga nearly hexed him when he said there was little he could do. He explained that some of the issues she’d always had with menstruation had hinted at her problem with conceiving and carrying a child. While it was not necessarily impossible, it was highly improbable. He recommended they consider their other options.

Walburga raged. None of the alternative methods pleased her, especially the ones that wouldn’t given them a biological heir. Walburga—and Orion too, thought not as strongly as his wife—felt passionate about not letting the Black family line die. Yes, Cygnus was now married and had just been blessed with a third child, but they were all girls. That was hardly a blessing. Walburga needed to do better.

The only option that seemed feasible was surrogacy, but Walburga hated the thought of Orion bedding someone else. She especially hated that it would mean involving someone who could become very hard to control once pregnancy had made her bold. There were too many factors, and Walburga refused to consider it as a viable option. They would just need to wait a while and start trying again.

Fate seemed to have other plans for the pair. Unbeknownst to his wife, Orion somewhat frequently slipped away to Ganymede’s. Unlike his brother-in-law, Orion had no interest in the men who had traditionally been called on at Ganymede’s. Instead he turned his attention to the few woman on staff, paying special attention to those who seemed especially young and innocent. They seemed so at odds with his domineering wife who sought his bedside touch only as a matter of duty and not pleasure. These girls were a chance for Orion to play at romance, at tenderness and seduction in ways his wife would never have allowed.

He grew careless. The girl—for she was barely old enough to be considered anything else—had been disowned by her family after a scandal her last year at Beauxbatons and had come to England seeking a fresh start. She’d ended up at Ganymede’s for lack of other options, and she was just naive enough to think that all his empty promises might come true. Adeline believed him so much that she stopped seeing other clients. It drastically reduced her income, but if all Orion’s pretty words were real, she wouldn’t need income. He would soon be taking care of her.

When Adeline realized she was pregnant, she had expected Orion to see it as a call to action to finally leave his wife for her. Instead he panicked and vowed they couldn’t do anything until he came up with a plan. They stayed locked away in her Ganymede’s room for more than a day, until a screeching howler from Orion’s wife arrived. Adeline had built up Walburga in her mind, and she was terrified of being forced to meet her. Still, her imaginary version didn’t compare to the fearsome woman Orion then dragged Adeline to meet in the entrance hall of 12 Grimmauld Place.

Walburga lost it. She started screaming and cursing, furious that Orion would be unfaithful and furious that this girl hadn’t been smart enough to avoid a child. She threatened the girl with the Cruciatus, only avoiding it because Orion got in the middle and started yelling back.

He managed to talk her out of immediately torturing or killing Adeline, but it was a long, tense afternoon before their conversation went anywhere. Eventually Adeline swore she wouldn’t tell anyone who the father was, and Orion offered her a place in his home until the baby arrived, carefully signaling to Walburga that this was an argument they could have later.

Orion tucked Adeline in a guest room upstairs, one that he magically sealed to lock her inside. Then he went back down to his wife to further calm her down and promise that this baby would be theirs and theirs alone. No one would ever have to know Walburga hadn’t conceived and carried it.

Although Walburga didn’t like it, Orion’s proposed plan of using the situation did make sense in some ways. They needed to produce an heir with blood from the House of Black, and even if the child wouldn’t have their combined genetics, Orion had at least had the decency to knock up a pureblood with no one to miss her when she disappeared in the night.

Still, Walburga had her doubts. The nineteen-year-old upstairs did have hair that somewhat resemble Walburga’s, but her glowing olive skin would never produce a child that could pass for Walburga’s as far as she was concerned.

“You worry too much,” Orion murmured, trying to soothe his wife’s anger. “No one would call us on it. Besides, the girl is so docile. We could probably keep her here, hide her away until we’re ready for another child. I bet she’d stay.”

Walburga’s eyes had flashed as her husband proposed keeping a mistress in her own home, but she’d said nothing. Instead Walburga announced her own expectancy to pureblood society and then disappeared back into the house that she hardly left anyway. Walburga’s reclusive nature fit perfectly into Orion’s narrative.

But Walburga never forgot his proposal of keeping the girl. She waited until the baby had been born before taking him from the room, naming him after Orion’s grandfather and her great uncle, and depositing the boy with his father. If this was to be their one chance at a child and the Black family’s only male heir, his name should represent both legacy and guidance for the future.

Walburga returned to the girl’s room to find her still weeping about her baby being wretched away. She wasted no further time before slitting Adeline’s throat the muggle way because Walburga did have to admit some things were more satisfying by hand.

Orion’s prediction turned out to be true. Publicly no one would dare suggest the child didn’t belong to both of them. If any whispers happened behind closed doors, Walburga wasn’t listening at the fire to find out. She was too focused on attempt to mother a child.

Sirius was a horridly fussy baby who screamed and cried and carried on, and nothing Walburga did seemed to calm him down. Only the family house elf seemed to have a way with him, and Orion quickly grew to resent that Kreacher spending most of his time caring for their baby meant that the wix couple had to do more things for themselves.

Still, he was trying to mend bridges. Although she still didn’t see much warmth in the act, Orion began to bed his wife with more regularity as he continued to try and make up for his indiscretion.

Then Walburga realized she was pregnant. She realized she could have killed the girl and her bastard baby all along.

She did see to it that the healer who had declared her infertile never saw another day of work at St. Mungo’s, although the healer who replaced him as Walburga’s caregiver warned that this pregnancy would not be an easy road for Walburga. He marveled that she’s managed the first one at home and was eventually talked into a home delivery when Walburga was adamant that she would “again.”

When her baby boy was born, he was her bright spot, Walburga’s own personal miracle and proof that the magic in her veins was too strong to be denied, especially in the face of the pureblood but only half-noble toddler down the hall. She named him Regulus after Orion’s uncle and knew he would always be perfect. No matter how much of a disappointment the older one turned out to be, Regulus was the only one that truly mattered in her eyes.

Sirius was only five when he first unleashed enough anger in his mother for her to truly admit how much she didn’t want him. After he’d encouraged Regulus to run around the house in a silly game, Regulus had knocked over a vase. Sirius was quick to label it his own fault. Walburga was too. She let loose, screaming at him about his father’s incompetency and admitting Sirius wasn’t her son. She called his mother an unaccomplished harlot and sneered that while she suspected Sirius would the same kind of disappointment, he was never to taint his brother by dragging Regulus down to his level. His baby brother was meant for better things, and Sirius would not get in the way of that.

Traumatized, Sirius had fled upstairs to Regulus’ room, and Walburga let him go, her anger momentarily sated. Sirius sat and cried and cried and cried, but Regulus cried with him. The brothers clung to each other, as they would for the next six years.

Still, a tiny part of Sirius wondered about that other mother—the kind beautiful woman in his imagination who sat looking out a window and longing to love Sirius the way he would someday see his friends being loved by their mothers. For years, the idea of her gave him strength during conflict with his parents. She was a fantasy he didn’t know how to live without, even if she was never quite a full plan.

Eventually the cracks between Regulus and Sirius would grow, turning into canyons by the time Sirius had taken his OWLS and returned to hell for the summer.

Sirius was an animagus now, not that anyone in his family knew, and he’d see things that put his parents’ views at odds with his understanding years ago. When what started as a small argument over a muggle girlfriend—one who Sirius would forever feel guilty about, thanks to a mysterious accident breaking her arm—quickly boiled over in the mass battle he and his parents had been ramping up to for years.

When he made a snide comment about finding his true mother, Walburga began to cackle with a kind of cruel pleasure Sirius had never heard before. Eventually she admitted the truth. She told Sirius in graphic detail about how much enjoyment she’d gotten from murdering his biological mother.

Sirius denied it, of course. It was exactly the kind of trick his parents would play to twist him around, but Walburga was too gleeful about her story to be telling anything but the truth.

He wretched open the door and ran, not knowing where he was actually going until he’d somehow made his way to The Leaky Cauldron. From there, it was only a short floo trip to the Potters.

Sirius couldn’t go back. The only threads remaining between himself and Regulus seemed to be severed, and the secret fantasy he’d used on bad days was gone, slashed through like his biological mother’s neck.

Adeline never knew what Walburga had named her son. Walburga made sure that while Sirius knew his birth mother was a whore and a destitute and a nothing, he never learned her name either.

#if this looks familiar it's because i lifted the beginning off the last version #sheadcanon #sdrabbles

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ms-hells-bells · 5 years ago

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lol...I just found out about Atwood, because a screencap of her saying: "Tw are w and lipstick is feminist." was circulated around radlr for weeks a few years ago. And nah, the "Karen" point still stands. She is white and in "The Handmaid's Tale" she writes about things that predominantly happen to woc (forced marriage, surrogacy, etc.). And PLEASE, I would never use the word "b*tch" or any other sexist slur against any woman. "Karen" is not the same as "b*tch", even though I dislike both.

tfw you think sexist insults are okay because they’re against bad women. it’s what genderists do with terf.

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invivoinsomnium · 1 year ago

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As my first post of 2024, let me ask you...

How would you impregnante/breed me? Would you force me to be an unwilling surrogate? Part of an experiment? Medically impregnated? Tied to an alter surrounded by a cult as some part of a ritual? Maybe medical staff working with a cult to fetilize my eggs or implant me with already fertilized ones?

What would you force me to carry to term? Alien, monster, animal, human or something else.

How would you make me deliver? Restrained, on my back, on all fours, vacuum, forceps, c-section or some other way?

Give me horror/dark/medfet....

#tw forced surrogacy #tw forced breeding #tw forced pregnancy #pregnancy #medfet #dark #birth #fantasy #horror

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i-was-a-naive--prolifer · 8 years ago

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I’m pro-choice, which really means I’m pro-bodily autonomy. That means I support these things:

Not being forced to stay pregnant

Not being forced to have an abortion

Being able to get sterilized without hassle or shame

Not being forced to get sterilized

Affordable care for carrying a pregnancy to term

Respecting patients’ right to consent during childbirth (tw: birth violence)

Access to affordable contraception

Comprehensive sex education

Not being forced to have sex without contraception

Freedom from all rape and sexual assault

Compassionate treatment of sexual assault victims and justice in the courts

Wearing whatever clothing you want without harassment

Access to affordable gender confirmation surgery and hormones for trans people

Ending infant circumcision and genital mutilation

Respecting patients’ right to consent to all medical treatment

Death with dignity for the terminally ill

Elimination of torture as an interrogation technique

Ending domestic violence and all other violent crime

Ending sex, organ, and surrogacy human trafficking

Sex workers legally working in safe, violence-free environments

Consent for all interactions involving your body

Your body, your choice.

#pro choice #bodily autonomy #abortion #rape culture #feminism #birth control #sex ed #trans rights #circumcision #obstetric violence #medical malpractice #death with dignity #euthanisation #domestic violence #human trafficking #sex worker rights #whorephobia #consent

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starbrightblack · 5 years ago

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Long Live The Noble House of Black

OOC: No longer relevant or true to the canon of the rp.

Content tw: Verbal domestic abuse, Verbal child abuse, Threat of physical abuse, Murder, Pregnancy... It focuses on Walburga Black and includes the kind of crazy you’d associate with her.

Summary: The situations that led to Sirius and Regulus’ conceptions were not as straight forward as one might assume.

@nilamdeuil

Walburga Black was raised in the ancestral home. The House of Black at 12 Grimmauld Place was in her mind a beautiful place, grand and glorious for all its gothic quirks. She was content to live there forever, but her parents made it quite clear that although she was the oldest, she would not be inheriting 12 Grimmauld Place. As a woman, it was her duty to marry into and continue on a pureblood line. However, she would be continuing her husband’s family line, not the Black family’s. Therefore, the family home was to go to Alphard as the oldest son. Walburga had always hated her brother and his peculiar mannerisms, and she couldn’t stand the idea of him taking away her house, especially when he tried to make her feel better by insisting he didn’t want it anyway. So Walburga did what any sensible witch would do in her situation.

She married her cousin.

By marrying Orion, she kept her family name, ensured at least one branch of the Black family' stayed pure, and reinforced her own claim to 12 Grimmauld Place. Alphard gave up his stake for it without a fuss, and Cygnus had always been sensible enough to know when his sister would win. She kept her home and had a husband to whom she could always speak her mind.

After a few years of trying, however, the couple realized that something was gravely amiss. They summoned a very discreet healer to solve the issue, and Walburga nearly hexed him when he said there was little he could do. He explained that some of the issues she’d always had with menstruation had hinted at her problem with carrying a baby. It was possible that Walburga could carry a child to term, but it would take a lot of pain, many potions, and a great deal of luck besides. He recommended they consider their other options.

They knew they couldn’t do anything local, and most of the options he’d recommended were unlikely and very indiscreet. A pureblood baby up for adoption was unlikely in the UK and untrustable from another country where an orphanage might say anything to get them to take a child. Besides, the matter was more difficult than just finding a child they could pretend was biologically theirs. Walburga—and Orion too to a less extent—felt passionate that they could not let the Black family line die. Yes, Cygnus was now married and had just been blessed with a third child, but they were all girls. Some blessing.

Walburga and Orion turned their consideration toward another option the healer had suggested: surrogacy.

Orion had been uncertain at first, concerned that his wife would change her mind about allowing him to sleep with someone else. For Walburga, though, it seemed to offer a lot of wonderful benefits, and if someone else dealing with her husband for a little while was one of them, well, she wouldn’t voice the concern aloud.

They made a plan. The two staged a trip abroad together, but Walburga didn’t go. She trusted Orion to make a suitable pureblood choice and to bring her back before the pregnancy ended. Walburga stayed isolated inside her house, but she didn’t mind. She loved her house. She never wanted to leave it anyway, and an excuse to stay there exclusively for a little while sounded heavenly.

Perhaps she should have gone, Walburga realized in hindsight. While Walburga had sat at home musing about whether Elladora or Belvina would be a better namesake for a daughter, Orion had been led astray in his choice by beauty. He claimed that finding a pureblood witch who looked like Walburga and was willing to carry a child she wouldn’t keep was too much to expect. Walburga would have expected him to come home empty-handed, not with his hand on the shoulder of some pretty Beauxbatons dropout hard on her luck.

The girl—for she was barely old enough to be considered anything else—had been disowned by her family and was willing to do whatever Orion wished as long as he paid her for it.

“That makes her a whore,” Walburga had hissed.

“That makes her sensible,” Orion had argued.

The nineteen-year-old was stunningly beautiful, and her hair did somewhat resemble Walburga’s hair. But her glowing olive skin would never produce a child that could pass for Walburga’s.

“You worry too much,” Orion murmured against Walburga’s hair, trying to soothe his wife’s anger. “No one would call us on it. Besides, the girl is so docile. We could probably keep her here, hide her away until we’re ready for another child. I bet she’d stay.”

Walburga’s eyes had flashed as her husband proposed keeping a mistress in Walburga’s own home, but she’d said nothing. Instead Walburga waited until the baby had been born before taking him from the room, naming him after Orion’s grandfather and her great uncle, depositing him with Orion momentarily, and returning to the girl’s room to slit her throat the muggle way. Walburga did have to admit some things were more satisfying by hand.

Orion’s prediction turned out to be true that no one would dare suggest the child didn’t belong to both of them. If any whispers happened behind closed doors, Walburga wasn’t listening at the fire to find out. She was too content in her own little world as she attempted to mother a baby.

Sirius was a horridly fussy baby who screamed and cried and carried on, and nothing Walburga did seemed to calm him down. Only the family house elf seemed to have a way with him, and Orion quickly grew to resent that the elf caring for their baby meant that he and Walburga had to do more things for themselves. In Orion’s frustration, he planned another trip abroad to take care of some business. Walburga didn’t bother to hide her resentment at him leaving her alone with the child, especially now that he was starting to walk and getting into things like mad.

The trip was meant to last two months. When Orion had been gone for three, Walburga didn’t think much of it. When he’d been gone for four, she sent a howler.

That got him home fairly quickly, although Orion arrived in the dead of night, once again with his arm around some floozy’s shoulder. That wasn’t the worst of it. Orion had gotten her pregnant, this time an accident instead of a planned surrogacy, and this witch was Korean.

Walburga lost it. She started screaming and cursing right there in the entryway, furious that Orion would be unfaithful, furious that this girl hadn’t been smart enough to avoid a child, and furious that Orion’s wandering eye hadn’t picked someone who looked like her. She threatened the girl with the Cruciatus, only avoiding it because Orion got in the middle and started yelling back. In her anger, she threatened to hex him too and in a different way. What good was his manhood to her if it couldn’t even give her a child correctly?

Eventually Orion managed to placate his wife enough that she didn’t kill the girl, but it was tempting. He tried to shield her from the same fate Sirius’ mother had suffered; however, when Walburga’s eyes flashed during the girl’s labor and she’d told him to walk away, Orion had listened. This one didn’t want to give up her baby, but she didn’t have much choice in the matter. She did force Walburga to deal with things in a slightly different order. She killed the birth mother first, then named him after Orion’s uncle and carried him to Orion.

Regulus wasn’t as easy a pill to swallow as Sirius had been for the pureblood community, but when Orion insisted both were pureblood, no one questioned it. They did start to whisper about a potential affair leading to Regulus, and “Come to think of it, Sirius doesn’t really follow the Black family looks, does he?” Walburga hated it, and as Sirius grew older and began to act out, she blamed him and his heritage for every little thing.

Sirius was just five when he innocently asked his mother why he and Regulus didn’t look alike. She let loose, screaming at him about his father’s incompetency and admitting neither boy was hers. She even went far enough to admit that she’d killed “the harlots” who had carried them and threatening Sirius that if either boy ever stepped out of line, she wasn’t afraid to do the same to them. Traumatized, Sirius had fled upstairs to Regulus’ room, and Walburga let him go, her anger momentarily sated.

Upstairs Sirius openly sobbed as he clung tight to his toddler brother and decided right then that if she was ever going to hurt one of them like that, it should be him. He had to protect Regulus at all costs, no matter what happened to himself in the process.

After six years and Hogwarts, that resolve began to crack, but it took eleven to break it completely.

#nilamdeuil #black family #sheadcanon #sdrabbles

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