#you are the universe experiencing itself

[feralchaton]

Trust

[pubeplucker0]

Your thoughts, your feelings, your brain and your body don’t make up your worth. Your actions and your genuine self are what’s important. Don’t hide yourself for nobody this life is too short to care about the little things like “fitting in”. Depending on what you believe you’re only here once. The grass, the sky, the stars and the planets aren’t looking at you with judgment the ground that holds you isn’t judging you, neither is the oxygen that keeps you breathing so why worry about the millions of other abnormal people on this planet who rely on the same ground and air to hold them to. Have fun, make friends, fall in love (if that’s for you) and live because you’re alive and that in itself is all the worth you need.

YOUR WORTHY OKAY 🫵

[ibvix]

What marvelously and intuitively inspired writing, thank You for sharing this compelling and cautionary tale for all of humanity.

In other words, presumably Eddie and Steve are pals, friends? If this assumptions is true, then the facts clearly suggests Steve is quite well aware of Eddie's hypersensitivity along with his incisive responses when faced with, so it seems, consistently and relentlessly taunting remarks from Steve.

Analysis, were Steve in truth Eddie's buddy, an awareness of Eddie's hypersensitivity is known, so in fact Steve has an unequivocally formed a pattern of acting with aforethought of 'bad intent' towards Eddie, rather than possessing empathy towards his pal' he chooses, Steve intentionally uses his free will to inflict upon Eddie unrelenting and unremitting contemptuous and derisively actions and words injurious to Eddie and his well being. Rather than simply care about his supposed pal whilst demonstrating good will towards mending the relationship and mitigating all circumstances of hurt and anger whilst demonstrating true compassion and an active willingness to communicate with his 'supposed buddy' in attempt to better understand Eddie.

An unsolicited comment for Eddie, you would be well advised to retain Legal Counsel to discuss a civil assault suit contributing to the countless years of extreme pain and suffering caused by Steve rather than believe that he is actually your 'trusted friend' ... With friends like that, Steve even makes a lawyer look good.

Thanks again, truly a fabulously written piece !!!

If there is something that Eddie Munson deeply hates about Steve Harrington is the irrevocable fact that he always wins whenever they play Uno cards.

Every.

Single.

Time.

It has been like that for years, and it riles him up like no other thing. Well, yes, Eddie is a sour loser, mainly because he is not used to lose at playing games. He is good at almost everything, but playing Uno with Steve? He always goes down in the most humiliating way.

The worst part is that Steve isn't even cocky about it, or rubbing his victory in Eddie's face, he just looks at Eddie. Stares, really. He stares, and Eddie knows his expression means "why do you even bother, man?" He just knows. It makes him so mad. Especially when he sees the shadow of a smirk forming in Steve's lips, or when Steve slowly rises one of his eyebrows as he wins for the fourth time in a row.

And when that happens, Eddie always storms out of the room, mumbling shit about it being a stupid game.

Which is really fortunate, to be honest. That way, Steve can calmly sit up and gather the bunch of cards he had been hiding under his thighs for the past forty five minutes.

[iridiss]

hello it’s 3 in the morning as I type this but. one of the reasons why aphmau is meant to be the protagonist of MCD/Mystreet/so on and so forth is because literally none of this would happen without her. and that’s a core tenant of her character!! She finds people, she pulls them to her from wherever they are in the universe, they are naturally magnetized to her. She brings them into her life, again and again, and resolves their problems, again and again. She’s like the universe’s little handyman. She is a people magnet, on a cosmic level. She collects people. in a friendship way. And it doesn’t even matter how far away you are from her, she pulls people to her from far and wide, even across dimensions and universes!! Across continents and different towns !! She just… brings people to her! Universally! It’s a whole entire thing!

She discovers more and more new people, and every time she provides exactly the solution they needed to fix their problems. She fixes their problems. And that’s literally how the story of MCD and Mystreet even happens. The entirety of diaries wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for her, BECAUSE of her magnetism. Because of her active altruism.

She then provides a home for each of these people, resolving their issues and helping them out. She’s kind, she’s altruistic, she’s like…made to help people. Cosmically. she leaves the door open for anyone to come in and make themselves at home, she picks up strays everywhere she goes and gives them a better home. That’s literally how she becomes a mother, she collects children like stray cats because she never stops finding people and pulling them into the light. Pushing them to their fullest potential. Making them feel loved. She just has so much love to give that she pulls the whole entire world into her heart

And it even has in-universe reasoning to back it up, with her being the reincarnation of Irene!!! Because Irene literally did the same thing, that’s what an Irene is SUPPOSED to DO. She pulls the whole world to her doorstep and finds every single problem there is to fix and she fixes it! Because that’s her purpose! That’s her divine purpose! That’s her job! To help everyone! Her people magnetism is literally a crucial aspect of being an Irene !!

And I think MID’s Ava has it too, because of that. She’s likely the next reincarnation in line after the many Aphmaus, she’s the next Irene, so she inherited that crucial and fundamental part of being an Irene. Only difference is, Ava does not actually want this. She hates it, actually. She keeps magnetizing people to her, she magnetizes friends- she LITERALLY has a universal pull strong enough that beings from alternate dimensions or planets or whatever the fuck it was are sent to Earth and meet her. Billions of people on the planet, and the Daemos boys go to her. Of all people. Because they’re pulled into her, the same way Aphmau’s gang was. The same way Laurance and Katelyn and Dante and Travis and Aaron were. Ava has the same damn “ability,” but this time she’s spiteful about it because she just wants everyone to leave her alone and honey it is NOT working. The universe is so determined to give her a friend that it literally drops five dogs into her apartment and tells her to Fix. and she does not want to. but destiny calls, and she does it anyway, because she’s an Irene, and that’s what Irenes do. do you see my vision

[seaweedstarshine]

Sometimes I think of Amy Pond, who grew up being called mad by those who wielded the word as a tool of exclusion and shame —

Amy Pond, who though forced into the hands of four psychiatrists, still clung to that which they called madness until those systems which elevate psychosocial conformity above humanity stripped it from her —

Amy Pond, whose imaginary friend reappeared for a single hour after twelve years and reignited that faith before disappearing for two more years —

Amy Pond, who spent those those two years under the same implicit threat ingrained in her through psychiatric violence, and thus began to believe the man who stopped the invasion was “just a madman with a box,” only for him to agree, and to also call her “mad, impossible Amy Pond,” reframing madness as non-negative for the first time in her life —

Amy Pond, who ignored the disembodied voice of her imaginary friend even as she ran away with him for real, who still lived each day with the traumatic internalization of deviancy dictated upon her by the psychiatric-industrial complex that shaped her from childhood —

Amy Pond, who wouldn't acknowledge the Doctor's voice, such that it took an Angel in her eye that was literally killing her to ensure she couldn't reality check herself —

Amy Pond, who stood before a room which muttered about “the psychiatrists we brought her to,” and though afraid, escaped their rigid parameters of acceptable existence.

[carbonateddelusion]

on a show of hands who here remembers how possession works in the 80s universe it was SO long ago I'm assuming none of you do

[poisonouspastels]

Atlas I promise you it gets worse <3

[eorzeashan]

*sits up in bed* what if. Jadus' full concealing armor is a limiter.

[xyintersex]

I hope that by celebrating being me it will inspire you to celebrate being you.

[excellencehasnosex]

Worshipping the Rising Sun, Agnes Nanogak Goose, 1972

∞

Mihajlo Arsovski, Tipografske grafike Helvetica a1, (silkscreen), 1972 [MoMA, New York, NY. © Mihajlo Arsovski]

[boogiewoogieweeb]

I'm not saying The Terror in general and Joplittle specifically have definitively given me permanent brain rot but I am finding it funny that I'm picking up parallels and similarities with both in a series as far removed from it as Netflix's Blue Eye Samurai

[stilljuststardust]

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Things to remember about shifting

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

1:

It's ok if you can feel your CR. Your awareness shifts and THEN your senses follow.

YOU as a consciousness shift before your senses do. Don't sit and obsess over what you are experiencing physically because your senses are not the determining factor of your reality your awareness is.

2:

You always have the ability to shift. It doesn't go away just because you're "stuck" in this reality. It is an ability that you have always had. You can shift ALREADY.

Stop telling yourself that you have to do something before you can shift. You don't have to solve every blockage you've ever had, you don't have to drink a magic potion, you don't have to obtain some "key"

You are not trying to obtain the ability to shift. The ability to shift is inherent.

3:

You are not waiting on anything but yourself.

I know that may be triggering to hear and you're probably saying "well then why haven't I?". That is because you are consistently selecting a reality which proves to you what you already believe.

Your subconscious mind believes ANYTHING you tell it and then provides proof of it. If you tell it you're stuck it will do its job and prove that to you.

4:

You are more than your body. You have the potential to be anything that ever was or ever could be. You are not your senses you are not your body you are not your thoughts. You are pure potential. You are the universe experiencing itself.

There are no limits except the ones you give to yourself. You are the operant power of your reality. You alone have full control over when you shift.

5:

You cannot shame yourself better. Hating yourself, comparing yourself to others, being cruel to yourself because you "aren't doing good enough" has never helped you. If you only have one person in your corner it should be you. If you have only one person telling you to keep going it should be you.

On days when everything seems out of your control you can control how you treat yourself. You deserve kindness and patience too. It's ok if you have setbacks. It's ok if you got off track.

It's ok to trust yourself. It's ok to tell yourself you're good enough and that what you're doing is enough. It's ok to tell yourself that you're good at this.

6:

You can feel like shit and still shift. You are not doomed to this reality just because you feel things deeply. It's ok to feel scared or sad or disappointed. You are doing good enough even if you're feeling like total shit. Suffering is not evidence of damnation.

7:

If you repeat something enough it will become true.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

[ourmadramblr]

We’re all the Universe experiencing itself in all of its divine glory. Don’t believe that you’re trash just because some people would benefit from you believing such lies.

You’re IMPORTANT. Your story MATTERS. You are valid. And I fucking love you. Every person reading this. I love you. Please believe me when I say that the world needs you. Alright enough sappy shit get the fuck outta here.

[mathisshiftss]

Friendly reminder that:

You’ve shifted. “What? No I haven’t—“ Yes you have. Every time you consider shifting, you’ve shifted. If you’ve ever felt “close to your dr” you’ve shifted. If you’ve minishifted? You shifted.

You shift every second of every day. Shift right now if you want to. You don’t need some special key or sign in order to shift, you’ve done it. You will continue to do it.

Don’t make yourself less than what you are. You are pure consciousness. You are the universe experiencing itself. You have this power, stop doubting it.

This is as much a reminder to myself as it is for you!!

[crystallilytarot]

MDNI 18 + post

A glimpse of your most intense night with your future spouse/partner. Choose an earring!

Pile 1

I think this can be a night out or even an indoor date, but alcohol can be involved. If you don't drink, than still something a little bit special, definitely good food, chocolate, strawberries. If you went to a date, than you are both dressed up, but if it's an indoor date, than probably some nice lingerie or even other clothes for a roleplay. I don't see a lot of kinkiness, but you are having fun, and literally nothing else matters, nothing exists, just the two of you. It's full of love and feelings. But the sex itself is very intense, you will be very tired, can be more than one rounds. It feels a little like tantric sex. You are really like one person, not two in this moment. You look at each other's eyes and you can stay like that forever. You feel powerful, sexy, loved. Very intense, like you are out in the space, you two are the whole Universe. And you are a perfect match in bed too.

Pile 2

This can be your wedding night or the day you became a couple officially. For some of you, your child will conceive at that night. It feels a full night together. You are their, they are yours, you can't wait to be with each other forever, you are very happy to have each other. The sex is very intense, passionate, fast pace, and intense orgasm too. Like you faint for a moment. Probably not, but this is how it feels. Dirty talking is very strong here, even if you didn't do it before. Moaning, lots of "that's it baby". It's very hot. One of you is probably a little more experienced, can be older too. Foreplay will be very long, maybe longer than the penetration, not neccesseraly for teasing, but because you can't get enough of each other. Maybe a little bit of semi-public too. Kissing, touching each other until sunrise.

Pile 3

Well. It's either some argument or jealousy. It gives enemies to lovers vibe. Probably the sexual tension was here for a while, maybe you had some flirting, but this will be the first night together. One of you maybe have a little jealous sex kink too. And also you will probably like that it's a little rough. You both fantasized about having sex with each other a lot. The sexual chemistry is perfect, and your bodies fit perfectly too. It's not really a romantic night, it's very much fucking. But also, after sex you will be more gentle with each other, caressing each other, cuddling, of course naked. You really love each other's body. You would like to be naked with each other 24/7, but also not, because it's like instant boner, instant turned on. You just want each other so bad. You can be a little bit of an unexpected couple, but still you are a very good match.

[pedrospatch]

softness

Jackson! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: Joel’s a little unsure of doing skin to skin with his newborn daughter.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. established relationship. (TW) PREGNANCY. mentions of premature birth, minor descriptions of childbirth, mentions of birth weight, it is implied that reader is breastfeeding her baby, semi accurate medical journal research, girldad! Joel, mentions of scars (Joel), mentions of insecurities and anxieties, if i missed anything, please let me know! NO MENTION OF READER’S AGE. NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION OF READER. no physical description of child except for her hair color/type. very minimal editing.

word count: 3.5k

a/n: i had this outline sitting in my drafts and i decided to finally just write it out and post it. it ain’t much, but it’s honest work. it is part of the safe and sound universe.

She’d made her entrance into the world early.

About four or five weeks, the commune’s doctor thinks.

Without ultrasounds, it’d been a guessing game.

And a fucking terrifying guessing game at that.

For several months, all you could do was hope.

Hope for a smooth pregnancy.

Hope for a safe labor and delivery.

Hope for a strong, healthy baby.

When you went into labor earlier than the doctor had predicted you would, all of your hopes shattered, the pieces falling around you like shards of broken glass you couldn’t put back together even if you tried.

“No! No, it’s too soon! It’s too fucking soon!” you’d cried out, the sheer panic setting in and seeping into your bones as a warm, clear liquid dripped down the insides of your legs and pooled around your bare feet. You had been in the kitchen making Ellie breakfast and packing her lunch for school—one second you’re standing there in front of the food pantry debating with yourself on what vegetable to throw into the kid’s lunch bag with her sandwich and the next you’re calling out for help as an intense pressure nestled itself between your hips. It wasn’t until you heard a faint popping sound and then felt the gush of fluid between your thighs that you’d realized what was happening. An unmistakable first sign of labor, you’d experienced your water breaking. “This can’t be happening, it’s not time yet!”

Joel, who by some stroke of sheer stupid luck had the morning off from patrol duty, instructed Ellie to run upstairs and gather some clean clothes along with a pair of boots and the warmest coat you owned that still fit. November had brought along the first snowfall of the season—the frigid temperatures outside were anything but kind and the clinic was on the opposite side of the commune, a fifteen minute walk he wished you didn’t have to make in your condition. “I know this is real fuckin’ scary darlin’ but y’need to stay calm. I need you to stay as calm as possible. Y’think that you can do that for me, sweetheart?”

He’d been just as terrified, but he masked it well.

On the outside, he kept a calm, collected composure for your sake and for Ellie’s too, shoved aside his own fears so he could be the support you both needed, act as the glue that held yours and his little family unit together should anything were to happen. But on the inside, he was scared shitless, to say the least. He couldn’t be certain he would have the strength to hold himself together if something went wrong, if he lost you—or his unborn child.

Admittedly, it had taken him a few months to come to terms with the fact that he was going to be a father again at this stage in his life. The thought of him changing diapers at his age was one he couldn’t quite wrap his mind around—but the moment he felt that first little flutter of movement one night as you lay curled up against his side fast asleep, something shifted. That night, he had stayed wide awake, his large hand splayed over your belly in hopes he would feel that little flutter again.

“Joel, I’m really fucking scared. What if it’s too early—”

“Baby, look at me.” He reached up and gently took your chin, holding it between his thumb and index finger as he coaxed your gaze to meet his own. “S’gonna be okay,” he’d assured you, softly. “If this is happenin’ now, it’s because she’s ready, alright?”

For a split second, that panic had ceased.

“She?”

Confused, Joel’s brow furrowed. “Huh?”

“You just referred to the baby as a she, Joel.”

“I did?”

“Yeah—just now.” You’d stared at him with curiosity and took a step back, cradling your belly in both of your hands. “Do you think we’re having a girl?”

Sheepishly, he had shaken his head at you.

“No, I just—m’sorry. I ain’t all too sure why I said that.”

He truly, honestly hadn’t.

It’d slipped before he could even think about it.

But his accidental slip had been right.

After thirteen hours of grueling labor in Jackson’s small clinic, you’d given birth to a little girl, the sound of her loud wailing filling the whole room like a sweet melody eliciting a sob of joy from you and a shaky sigh of relief from Joel.

“Holy shit, she’s here! She’s actually fucking here,” Ellie breathed, her eyes going wide. Her arms were still wrapped around one of your legs—despite you warning the teenager about what she would see, it hadn’t stopped her from volunteering her assistance in the childbirth process. She watched on in a mix of both fascination and disgust as Dr. Porter, a woman in her sixties who served as Jackson’s sole physician, lifted the infant and immediately placed her onto your bare chest to clean her off. “This has gotta be the grossest, most amazing fucking thing I have ever fucking seen in my life.” Gently, she set your leg down onto the bed before walking around it to stand beside Joel. His hand was stroking your hair, his dark eyes trained on his crying newborn daughter. It was the perfect moment for Ellie to run her mouth and tease, “You’re not gonna cry, are you, Joel? I’d think you’re a lot fucking tougher than that, old man.”

“Shut up,” he’d muttered under his breath, putting an arm around her and pulling her against his side. He almost couldn’t believe this was now his life—a life he would have never even known if he hadn’t flinched twenty years ago when he had pulled the trigger.

Though she’d been born a few weeks prematurely, Rosemary Miller was deemed to be healthy—a tad underweight, but nothing to be worried about just yet, according to Jackie, the commune’s nurse. At about four pounds, eleven ounces, Rosemary was the tiniest thing you’d ever seen and somehow even tinier when Joel would cradle her in the palms of his large hands. Despite the fact that you’d been reassured that the baby’s low birth weight was nothing to be alarmed about, you and Joel had been advised it was best if you didn’t take her home until she gained a few more ounces and tipped the a scale at what the books state is a normal birth weight of five pounds, eight ounces.

“We just would feel better if she were here at the clinic where we can closely monitor her weight,” Jackie had said upon seeing the crestfallen look on your face. “Besides, you tore a little and you need time to heal as well, you know.”

Left with very little choice, you’d agreed to it.

“I’m losing it,” you say with an exasperated sigh as you stare up at the drab, gray ceiling. It’s been three days since you had given birth and all you want to do is take your daughter home. In an effort to lift your spirits, Maria had tried to warm the place up and make it feel more comfortable for you. She had swapped out the rough, scratchy bedsheet the clinic provided for you with a soft, knitted blanket she had made herself. She also took it upon herself to pack you a bag with your own clothes, a couple of books to read, and your favorite polaroids of Joel and Ellie. While it had been incredibly sweet of her to do for you, you still wanted out of that clinic sooner rather than later. “I miss our house. I miss our bed. I miss our kid.”

Joel, who’s sitting in an old, worn leather armchair tucked over in a corner of your room next to the frosted window, raises an eyebrow at you and then juts his chin towards Rosemary, who is swaddled up and sleeping soundly in the plastic bassinet beside your bed.

“Our kid’s right there, darlin’.”

You lift your head off your pillow and glare at him.

“I’m talking about Ellie, Joel.”

He chuckles and leans forward in his chair. Next to him sits a brown stuffed bunny rabbit—Ellie had traded a precious comic book for it and gifted it to the baby the same afternoon she was born. 

“She’s been comin’ to visit every day after school.”

“It’s not the same,” you pout, shaking your head.

Joel sighs and glances at the cot that he had been sleeping on for the last few days—truth be told, he misses the house too. His back certainly misses the bed. “It ain’t the same,” he agrees, tiredly. His face is worn with exhaustion. Despite you insisting that he go home and get some proper rest, he’s too stubborn to listen and only leaves the clinic to take a shower and change his clothes—and to check on Ellie, who’s got a bad habit of not doing her homework unless you or Joel nag her to get it done. “M’real sorry, darlin’. But you heard what they said. Baby’s gotta gain a little more weight before we can take her home.”

Even from where he’s sitting, he can see your eyes glaze over with tears of frustration. Since the baby was born, you’ve been very sensitive, more so than when you’d been pregnant—something he didn’t think was even possible.

“If she keeps on eatin’ the way she’s eatin’ we’ll be home by the end of the week,” Joel adds in an effort to cheer you up. “Besides, you need to heal before we make that long walk across town and back to the house, sweetheart. S’not like I can just pull up the fuckin’ minivan and drive you girls home like back in the day, y’know?”

You wrinkle your nose at him. “Ew, Joel. We would not have a fucking minivan.” Dabbing at your eyes with the back of your hand, you can’t help but laugh at the thought of Joel Miller behind the wheel of one of those things. Then, you realize how endearing it would be to watch as he’s loading up Rosemary’s car seat into the van, the muscles of his broad back flexing underneath his shirt as he pulled on the straps to make sure it was safe and secure. You’d climb into the backseat with her and on the way home, you would ask Joel to swing through the nearest burger joint drive through because you’re fucking starving and in need of a proper meal after being subjected to boring, bland hospital food. You shoot him a small smile. “On second thought, that doesn’t sound all that bad. Maybe we would.”

Suddenly, there’s a light knock at the door.

“Come in,” you call, careful not to be too loud.

Dr. Porter walks into the room.

She had been a primary care physician prior to the world ending, according to Maria, who a couple of months ago had given birth to her son while under Dr. Porter’s care. Maria had assured you that, even though the woman never trained in obstetrics, she always went above and beyond for all the mothers to be in the commune. She dedicated her spare time to studying, lost herself in medical books she found on the shelves of the town’s library—kind of like the one that’s currently tucked underneath her arm.

“Hi there mama,” she greets, her eyes shining brightly behind her coke-bottle glasses. Wearing jeans and a sweater, she doesn’t quite look the part—maybe she’d worn a white coat once in her life, but now it was only the old, silver metal stethoscope she had draped around her neck that gave her profession away. “How are you feeling this morning?”

“I’m okay,” you say with a shrug. “Can’t complain.”

Over in his corner, Joel can’t help but snort.

Ignoring him, you add, “Bleeding’s slowing down.”

“Good, that’s good,” Dr. Porter tells you. “And how about this sweet little girl?” She smiles and makes her way over to the bassinet, keeping her voice low. “She eating well?”

“She is. Her last feed was about two hours ago.”

“How’s she sleeping?”

“Like a rock.”

“And you’ve been doing skin to skin as well?”

You nod. “Yes, before and after her feedings.”

“That’s perfect.” Dr. Porter beams at you with pride. “Keep it up and do it as often as possible. There are a ton of benefits of doing skin to skin with her. It’s one of the most incredible things that a mother can do for her baby. Actually—” She pauses for a moment and pulls the book out from under her arm. “I have been doing a bit of research and as it turns out, there are also benefits if dad does skin to skin with baby as well.”

Joel stiffens slightly in his chair. “S’cuse me?”

“I found this book in the library. It talks about all of the benefits of fathers doing skin to skin with their newborn. It was written some time in the nineties and studies were still being conducted, but I really believe they were onto something.” She hands you the book. “For being preterm, Rosemary’s healthy, but it doesn’t do any harm to try whatever you can to make sure that she builds up that immune system and stays healthy, especially now that winter’s here.” Flashing you a smile, she informs you, “I went ahead and folded the pages for you and made some notes. There’s a few benefits in it for Joel as well. Could be worth a try.”

After telling you she’ll be back in a couple hours to check on you and to weigh the baby, Dr. Porter excuses herself from your room, quietly closing the door behind her.

Curiously, you open the book to the first page that she’d folded for you and start reading the first passage out loud.

“Ongoing studies have found skin to skin between father and child have similar benefits to those that come from skin to skin between mother and child. It regulates the baby's body temperature, blood sugar, and stress levels.” You pause and look over at Joel, who appears thoroughly unimpressed. “It also helps to regulate the baby’s heart rate and breathing rate. Joel, this is incredible! I think you should—”

“No.”

Joel winces. He doesn’t mean to sound so curt.

Your face falls. “Why not?”

“That’s for mothers,” he grumbles. “Y’know, for feedin’ the baby.”

“It’s for much more than just that.” You shake your head and flip over to the next page, scanning both the text as well as Dr. Porter’s notes. “It says here that it also helps the baby pick up their father’s natural scent and promotes bonding.”

“Sweetheart, I can bond with her just fine with my fuckin’ shirt on, there ain’t no need for me to—what in the world are you doin’?” Perturbed, Joel watches you as you take a handful of your blanket, throwing it off yourself. He jumps up to his feet the second he realizes that you’re about to get out of bed. “Don’t—”

“Oh relax, Joel. I should be moving more anyway,” you say, wincing as you sit up and swing both legs over the side of the bed. It isn’t so much pain as it is discomfort—everything had been shoved up and out of place for months, after all. As soon as you stand, Joel’s there at your side, one hand on your arm and the other on your back, trying to guide you back onto the bed. You lightly swat him away with your hand. “Joel, stop fussing over me! I’m fine!”

“Baby, y’need to lie down right now—”

“Take off your shirt.”

His hands fall away from you and his eyes widen.

“What?”

“Take off your shirt and go sit down in the chair.”

The blood drains from his face and he pales. 

It’s not that Joel doesn’t want to do it. He does.

He’ll do anything if it’s for his daughter’s benefit.

Still.

The idea of laying his innocent little baby girl on him without his shirt on—it’s uncomfortable. His chest and stomach are littered with several scars. Rough, raised patches of skin that serve as reminders of a brutal past he doesn’t want her finding out about, not for as long as he can fucking help it.

Rosemary deserves to be wrapped up in softness.

The softness of your smooth, blemish free skin.

The softness of the blankets you’d knitted for her.

The softness of the stuffed bunny Ellie had given her.

Joel?

He isn’t soft.

Nothing about him is soft.

Even holding her in his hands for the first time had been something of a battle. Hands that once snapped necks and slit throats didn’t deserve to hold something so pure and innocent.

“This sounds really promising, Joel.” Slowly, you make your way over to the plastic bassinet, ignoring the dull ache between your thighs. With your back to him, you carefully begin to unswaddle the baby. You try not to wake her as you peel off her warm, knitted onesie and matching socks, leaving her in nothing but her teeny, tiny cloth diaper. Gingerly, you pick her up and turn around to face him. “If Dr. Porter thinks we should try it, then it’s for a good reason, don’t you think so?”

Joel swallows harshly.

“What is it?”

“S’just that I—I’ve got scars everywhere, y’know?”

Your expression instantly softens for him. “Joel, you’re her daddy,” you remind him, gently. “She’s not going to care about things like that.” Pausing, it suddenly occurs to you that it’s not just about his scars. It’s about something else, something that runs so much deeper for Joel. He’d done what he had done in order to survive, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t live with the shame—the guilt and the regret. Rosemary begins to fuss awake and you lightly bounce her in your arms as you assure him, “She isn’t going to care about your past or what you’ve done. Her love for you is going to be as unconditional as yours is for her. She’s going to love you no matter what, Joel. I can promise you that.”

His jaw clenches and his lips press into a tight line.

Rosemary starts to cry—she’s cold, no doubt.

The old heater in the clinic hardly runs.

And when it does, it breaks down.

“Joel, please,” you beg over her wails. “Just try it? For me? For her?”

Sighing in defeat, Joel shrugs out of his jacket and he tosses it aside. With trembling fingers, he begins to unbutton his green flannel shirt—his long sleeved thermal henley comes off next and then he takes off the cotton t-shirt he wears underneath for an added layer of warmth during the winter season. As he stands there shirtless, he shivers and his flesh erupts with goosebumps. “Wait,” he mutters as he watches you take a step forward. He drags the armchair away from the window. He then sits down, his heart racing and the anxiety flaring as he gives you a subtle nod of his head. “Okay.”

You walk over to him and place her on his bare chest.

The second he feels Rosie’s soft skin on his, there’s a shift.

It’s similar to the one he felt when he first felt her move in your belly.

He calms and his heart slows—his nerves dissipate. 

And Rosemary stops crying.

She scrunches, curls up on his chest, and yawns.

Grimacing, you lean over and pick up his flannel shirt. “Here,” you say, draping it over them as a makeshift blanket. “How’s that feel?”

“Think she likes it, darlin’,” Joel murmurs, his fingers delicately brushing over her soft tufts of dark brown hair. His touch causes the newborn’s lip to curl and he catches a glimpse of the prominent dimple in her left cheek—the same dimple Sarah had inherited from him, Rosemary had inherited too. There’s a dull ache in his chest, but somehow, he still smiles as she peers up at him with sleepy eyes. “Hi, Rosie Posie. S’me, babygirl. Your daddy.”

Rolling your lip between your teeth, you stifle a giggle.

“What?” he asks, arching an eyebrow at you.

“She’s not the only one who seems to like it.”

Joel chuckles, admitting, “S’pretty relaxin’.” He presses his nose into his daughter’s curls and inhales deeply, relishing in the warm, sweet milky scent of her. After a minute, his smile falters slightly. “Baby?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you really believe it?”

Your brow furrows. “Believe what?”

“That she’s gonna love me no matter what.”

“Of course I do.”

“How can you be so sure ‘bout it?”

Carefully, you perch yourself on the arm of the chair and press a gentle kiss against his right temple, your lips brushing over his scar. “Because I just am, Joel.”

Somehow, he believes it—he believes you.

Joel tilts his head back, puckering his lips.

Grinning, you give him a chaste kiss before standing. “I’m going to see if I can get a nap in before her next feed,” you tell him, padding back over to the bed. “Do you think you’ll be okay with her for a while, just the two of you?”

“I think we’ll be just fine,” he murmurs, gingerly stroking Rosemary’s silky cheek with his finger. “Yeah. We’ll be just fine, won’t we, babygirl?”

divider credit to @saradika-graphics 🤎