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phantom-0-writer · 1 month

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regular boy: daniel wayne

masterlist/link to ao3

summary:

“Reporting live from Gotham City!” The reporter spoke “Here at the scene of the crime where Dr. Collin Kilye, renowned geneticist, has shot himself and has been declared dead by the paramedics. Dr. Kilye is suspected to be responsible for the purposeful switching of newborns between families under his care, where an estimated over 500 babies have been swapped in the last 20 years of his employment here. Based on the information provided to the Gotham PD by Nightwing and Batman, the vigilantes investigating the crime, we are led to believe that Nightwing has been investigating this case after an anonymous tipoff of Dr. Kilye’s suspicious activities. After a month and a half of investigating, Nightwing reason to believe the Dr. Kilye of malpractice and came to his office to investigate-” - Dick had learned that people never know a situation as well as they assume they did. Dick had always assumed that he wouldn’t be one of those people. He was a detective, a Bat, the first Robin. The case file in front of him glared tauntingly. Danny Fenton; Birth Parents: Bruce Wayne (father) and Clarissa King (mother). Status: Alive

chapter 01: breaking news

tw/cw: mentions of infant death and fictional medical procedures

dick: 25 jason: 20 danny: 16 tim: 16 steph: 17 cass: 15 duke: 17 damian: 13

Danny sighed, stepping through the front door and into the empty living room not bothering to turn on the lights and tossed his hoodie onto a nearby sofa. Normally Jazz would have berated him for being messy, or maybe Mom would have nagged about Danny being older and needing to clean up after himself. But Jazz was off studying neurology at Harvard. And his parents had gotten an “an amazingly irrefutable offer, Danno” to work at Dalv Co. under their new ecto-technologies sector, that partnered closely with the GIW. So they were usually busy with that.

Not that Danny wasn’t glad to have time apart from his parents. After what Danny only referred to as The Chicago Incident, he could barely stand being in the same room with them. Danny kept quiet about what happened. He hadn't told anyone, not Sam or Tuck or Val or Wes and especially not Jazz. He couldn’t. He’d only managed to survive thanks to the timely aid of Fright Knight and Firebolt (a ghost friend he made when he was stuck in the Ghost Zone during the GIW’s six-month Martial Law lockdown- but that was a story for another time).

Leaving his shoes somewhere by the door, Danny made his way into the kitchen, perusing through the remnants of edible material. The equipment in the basement would have been collecting dust if Danny hadn’t taken his liberties with it. Apart from his newfound and unbounded freedom that he regarded with gratitude, Danny even began dabbling in cooking real people food. And it was definitely because he wanted to and not because he was sick of microwavable food, Jazz.

With Danny’s rendition of chicken alfredo ready, he ate in front of the TV. He flipped through a few channels before just landing back on the news. He half-listened to the anchor telling him about the incoming weather front before the screen abruptly changed, flashing a bright red Breaking News sign for a moment before panning over to a lady in front of what looked like a crime scene.

“I’m Jenifer Blair, reporting live from West Gotham City with Z News!” The reporter spoke urgently over the loud sounds of police and ambulance sirens in the background. “Here at the scene of the crime where Dr. Collin Kilye, renowned geneticist, and lead researcher at West Gotham General Hospital, has shot himself and has been declared dead by the paramedics. Dr. Kilye is suspected to be responsible for the purposeful switching of newborns of families under his care. It is estimated that over 500 babies have been swapped in the last 20 years of his employment here. Based on the information provided to the Gotham PD by Nightwing and Batman, the vigilantes investigating the crime, we have been told that Nightwing has been investigating this case after an anonymous tipoff of Dr. Kilye’s suspicious activities. After a reported month and a half of investigating, Nightwing had reason to suspect Dr. Kilye of malpractice and came to his office to investigate where--”

The sudden sound of his phone ringing brought Danny back to his living room. “Hey, Tuck,” Danny answered, lowering the volume of the TV.

“Danny! Dude! Have you seen the news story of Batman and Nightwing’s recent bust?” Tucker asked, his voice radiating fanboy excitement.

“Wasn’t it mostly just Nightwing?” Danny raised an eyebrow at his friend, even though he couldn’t see it. “Batman showed up later.”

“Yeah, well, Batman and Nightwing-”

“Nightwing and Batman.”

“Okay, whatever- but isn’t this totally insane? It’s like Parent Trap- but illegal.”

“That’s not what happens in Parent Trap.” Danny pointed out for the sole purpose of being annoying.

“It’s the essence, Danny!” Tucker groaned. Danny could practically hear him rolling his eyes through the phone. “We’re still on for the new Doom game tonight?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world. The others come by yet?” Danny put his plate in the sink.

“I’m adding them to the call.”

On the third ring, “‘Sup Fenton ‘n Foley. Ready to get your nonexistent butts handed to you?” Val goaded, already hyped for their game.

“Hey! I’ll have you know I have a very nice butt. And Danny’s isn’t anything to scoff at either-” Tucker snapped only to be cut off by Danny.

“Okay! Thanks for the defense, Tuck.” Danny stepped in quickly before the conversation took a turn he did not want to witness.

---

Dick was alone in the BatCave, working out the final details of his case before sending it off to be released publicly. In all of Dick’s years as Robin to Nightwing, this case was easily one of the most disastrous to the general public. Given that it was his case, Dick wanted to make sure it went smoothly. Or as smoothly as telling a family their child isn’t biologically theirs can go.

Sorting through the files and pairing up the families with the correct child was relatively easy, thanks to the incredible details Dr. Kilye stored in his files. If the circumstances were different, Dick would have been amazed at how much data the doctor managed to keep collecting for 568 different subjects of his experiment. Silently praising himself for having already made his way through about half the files, Dick stretched his neck as he clicked the View Next button.

In his line of work, Dick had learned that people never know a person or situation as well as they thought they did. Dick had been confident he wouldn’t be one of those people. He was a detective, a Bat, the first Robin. He knew better than to assume anything. The file that showed up next was chilling proof that he was wrong. For a Bat, the past never stayed in the past.

File Number: 6678

Date of Birth: 12 February 20XX

Name: Thomas Wayne Jr

Assigned Mother: Clarissa King (missing)

Assigned Father: Bruce Wayne (alive)

Biological Mother: Madeline Fenton (alive)

Biological Father: Jack Fenton (alive)

Medical Conditions:

Malformations of the heart and lungs

Unidentified chemicals present in blood test

Updates and Notes:

Deceased on 23 February 20XX (11 days old)

The memories he managed to keep buried for years seized Dick’s senses, and he was back in the hospital waiting room at age 9. None of the others had known about the time Bruce and Thalia had tried to work things out and had given having a family together a try. No LoA business. No Bat or JLA. Just regular(ish) people in a regular(ish) family.

It had gone well for the months before Talia had become pregnant. Even most of the pregnancy had gone smoothly. Dick got to be in an actual family again after the death of his parents. They had dinner together. Talked about their day. Watched movies together.

But then Talia had gotten sick, and the baby ended up coming out a little early. The doctors had told them it was normal and that the baby would probably still be healthy. So Alfred sat in the waiting room with a nervous Dick, excited to meet his first-ever little brother. He’d always wanted a little brother. Bruce came to the waiting room after making Dick and Alfred wait forever and told them they could come in now. Talia, under the alias Clarissa King, was asleep when they entered.

Bruce had told them the doctors had taken Thomas to get cleaned and do a few check-ups. Dick remembered the anxious but excited look on Bruce’s face as he kept glancing at the door, ready to pounce the second the doctor would come back with Dick’s new baby brother.

Except that never happened.

When the doctor came back into the room, he had a clipboard in his hand, not a baby. The Doctor told them to follow him, and they went inside a room with a bunch of machines in it, and in the middle of the room was Dick’s baby brother.

The baby was mostly bald, but he had little bits of black hair on his head, like Bruce and Talia. Dick wondered what color eyes the baby would have. Talia had green eyes, but Bruce and Dick had blue eyes. Alfred had said the baby needed a lot of rest and that’s why he was sleeping so much. Dick would be a good big brother and wait patiently until his baby brother woke up.

But the baby had to stay in the hospital for 10 whole days since Bruce had told Dick that his brother was really sick. Dick would check the nursery to make sure it was ready for his brother before Alfred would take him to the hospital to visit. Dick’s baby brother hadn’t been awake any of those days and Dick never got to find out what color his eyes were.

On the eleventh day, they didn’t go to visit. When Dick asked Alfred why, the butler had walked him to the patch of loose dirt in the backyard marked with a little piece of rock with his brother’s name on it.

Dick had seen that type of rock with his parent’s name on it before.

It meant that he was gone, and Dick would never get to see him again.

When Bruce had introduced Jason Todd and said he would stay with them in the manor, that was the first time Dick had truly ever been betrayed by Bruce.

Jason wasn’t his brother. Thomas was. But Thomas wasn’t here. Jason may get to say he was Bruce’s son too, but he didn’t get to know about Thomas.

Not letting his childhood tears deter him from his new goal, Dick quickly found the associated file. Dick’s heart pounded in his chest while his breath was still stuck somewhere in his throat,

File Number: 77563

Date of Birth: 12 February 20XX

Name: Daniel Fenton

Assigned Mother: Madeline Fenton (alive)

Assigned Father: Jack Fenton (alive)

Biological Mother: Clarissa King (missing)

Biological Father: Bruce Wayne (alive)

Medical Conditions:

Normal Birth

Age 12: Electrocuted

Hospitalized for 24 hours.

Developed Acute Bradycardia

No follow-up medical procedures

Updates and Notes:

Prefers “Danny”

Dick looked over the file again and again. His baby brother was alive. He had come back.

Should he tell Bruce? Obviously, that was a dumb question. How should he tell Bruce?

Well, Richard Grayson was nothing if not tactful. He pulled out his phone from his jacket pocket, pulled up both files next to each other on the large screen of the Bat Computer, snapped a picture, and clicked send. Bruce was supposed to be having dinner with some important business people or whatnot, so Dick decided he should flee the scene before the Big Bad Bat found him, not wanting to know what his wrath would bestow on him. Heaven forbid, Bruce might even talk about emotions.

He closed all the files, stored them in a flash drive, and wiped them from the computer. After all, this was his case, and he’d be the one to see it through. Dick was right in front of the elevator when the doors opened to reveal Tim.

“You’re done?” Tim asked, raising a suspicious brow.

“I have a flight to catch.” Dick said, “I need to pack.”

“Is it for a case?” Tim asked, putting his phone in his pocket.

“Yeah. Be the bestest brother ever and cover for me?” Dick pleaded, flashing his signature smile.

“Why should I?” He huffed already a few feet away from where Dick stayed.

With a smirk, “‘Cause you don’t want Bruce to know what taking the Batmobile out for a ‘joyride’ was really for,” Dick said with a smirk.

Tim turned around, alarmed. “Fine, I’ll cover. But you better not tell.” Tim hissed at him.

“Scout’s Honor.” Dick winked before catching the elevator.

“You weren’t even a Scout.” He heard Tim complain before the doors fully shut.

Three hours later, Dick landed in Chicago, Illinois and hailed a cab to take him the rest of the 1-and-a-half-hour drive to Amity Park. Where Thomas Daniel Danny lived. Dick hadn’t exactly planned this whole excursion through, which wasn’t very trained-by-Batman of him. But Dick knew how to do things by the nose when he needed to.

He had used the time in the plane to finish the rest of the files, which he completed quickly with his ultimatum in mind. Dick purposely ignored every notification vibrating in his pocket knowing he would be facing the wrath of either Tim or Bruce.

But now he was sitting in a car for one-and-a-half hours with nothing to look out for except the darkness of the night and a relatively empty road. He opened his phone to 56 messages and missed calls. He scrolled through the groupchat, ignoring it when it was just talking about regular stuff. Next, he opened his messages from Tim.

Timbers: Dick.

Timbers: what did you do?????

Timbers: when you said cover I thought you meant for patrol or smt

Timbers: not whatever beef Bruce apparently has with you??

Timbers: I demand compensation!!!

Timbers: [1 video]

Dick opened the video Tim sent him. It was 90 seconds of security camera feed from right above the elevator. Bruce’s hair was disturbed from his usual well-done look he kept for business meetings and his tie was undone. He stormed towards the Bat Computer where Tim was doing whatever Tim does on the computer. Despite being dressed in business attire, Dick could practically see the flurrying of the Batman cape behind him as he walked. Bruce whipped the chair Tim sat on around to face him so fast that Tim nearly fell off.

‘Where’s Dick?’ The camera was a bit far but still picked up Bruce’s echoing voice. To Dick’s surprise, and seemingly Tim’s as well, Bruce didn’t seem mad. Disgruntled, alarmed, slipping from sanity? Yes. Genuinely angry? Not quite. It made Dick feel a little guilty. Only a little, though.

‘I dunno,’ Tim said, still reeling from the surprise attack.

Bruce pushed Tim’s chair away from the computer, scavenging through the files, no doubt looking for the files on Thomas and Danny. Unfortunately for Bruce, every single one of those files was secure in Dick’s jacket pocket. Bruce would come to realize that soon enough, as he took a shaky breath and stepped away from the screen.

The video ended.

That explained the 12 missed calls from Bruce. Dick debated calling him back. No doubt Bruce would ask for an explanation. An explanation he still has yet to come up with.

Deciding this was a problem for future Dick, present Dick decided he would let himself doze off for the rest of the cab ride to his destination.

#danny fenton #dpxdc #dpxdc fics #danny phantom #danny and dick #bruce wayne #dick grayson #richard grayson #nightwing #batpham #batfam #batman #danny and bruce #bruce and dick #bruce and talia

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pronoun-fucker · 8 months

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IN 1986, Sophie Ottaway was born with a very rare condition which required immediate surgery.

Cloacal exstrophy happens when the organs in the abdomen do not form correctly in the womb, resulting in babies born with organs such as the bladder or intestines outside the body.

Doctors had to operate to save her life.

Sophie was actually a boy, with a tiny, damaged penis but healthy testes.

But doctors advised Sophie’s parents that their baby’s male genitalia should be removed to avoid further complications.

The baby had to be registered by the following day, which meant they had to decide whether to tick male or female on the form.

Sophie’s parents Karen and John followed the surgeons’ advice.

“They were told not to tell me,” says Sophie, a warm and friendly 37-year-old who has since fully forgiven her parents for their decision.

“We are very close,” she tells me, “despite going through some rocky times in the past.”

Life changed for Sophie, who grew up in Beverley, East Yorks, when she was 22 years old and visiting her GP surgery for tonsilitis.

She says: “I saw on the computer screen that I had XY chromosomes, had been castrated hours after birth, and an incision was made where a vagina would be.”

Although Sophie exploded at her parents in the moment, she buried her feelings about it all until 13 years later when, hospitalised during a Covid lockdown, it was discovered she had developed sepsis that had ended up in her intestines.

‘I went into 13 years of absolute denial’

This was what led her to decide to speak out.

Sophie was already aware that many children and young people were being groomed in gender ideology, persuaded to take puberty blockers, then set on a medical pathway for life.

She says: “At age 11, as I approached puberty, they put me on oestrogen because there’s no ovaries, and no testes to produce testosterone.

“This is what doctors are doing now to kids who wish to change gender — putting them on blockers.”

It was a lie when Sophie was told she had to take oestrogen for life because her ovaries had been removed at birth as a result of damage.

Sophie was born biologically male. “So obviously there were never any ovaries,” she says wryly.

She adds: “The time to tell me and try to get informed consent was at the point we introduced the endocrinologist. This is the time puberty blockers are being offered to kids, so I make that connection with what’s happening today.”

When feminists and others critical of the medicalisation of children with gender dysphoria have said that these drugs and interventions are harmful, we are often labelled bigots. But Sophie is speaking from personal experience, in the hope that she will be listened to rather than dismissed and vilified.

About five years ago, Sophie chose to stop taking the hormones, because “I was adamant that many problems in my life were being caused by them.

“I was about 4st heavier than I am now, and I wasn’t eating badly. I was having bladder pain beyond belief.

“I had fatigue and was quite angry a lot of the time.”

By then, Sophie had been taking oestrogen for 20 years, and decided enough was enough. She was told she should keep taking it because it was for bone density, to which she replied that she would have regular bone scans.

Sophie had no choice but to go on oestrogen, because the doctors prescribed it to her as a child — but surely she should be listened to when she warns of the effects cross-sex hormones have on the body?

Now that she no longer takes it, all her symptoms have improved.

She says: “We’re selling this idea of perfection in the guise of changing gender. You’ve got all of these problems and might be struggling because you don’t fit in at school, or because you like boys’ toys and you’re a girl, or vice versa. As someone who knows all about decisions made under time pressure and who has paid the price, Sophie’s understanding of the sales pitch being made to children before puberty is crystal clear.

She says: “You’ve got a sale based on a time pressure.

“We’re going to push you through this for the puberty blockers, we’re going to make that sale.”

Keen to stress that there is a big difference between a girl behaving “like a boy”, wearing boys’ clothes and haircuts, Sophie adds: “Puberty blockers are a different level to how we dress and which toys we favour.”

The idea being sold is that gender reassignment is the answer to all your problems, but Sophie says: “What you get is genital mutilation, castration, and a lifetime of dangerous hormones, which was my experience.”

As she points out: “Children can’t vote, they can’t drink, can’t drive.

“But you can choose to do something life-changing.”

Sophie hopes that by speaking out and telling her unvarnished truth, some children — and parents — might make a different choice.

She says that when she found out that she’d been born male, “I obviously knew I had urological problems, and I knew that I had no vagina because of the surgeries.

“I didn’t address it at that point. I was 22, in second year at university.

“I had a plan of my life. And dealing with this monstrosity was not in the plan. I got up the next day and went to university.

“I still had the same connection with my friends. I was still the person I was 24 hours ago.

“But I went into 13 years of absolute denial.”

She never told anyone about it, not even close friends.

‘When I came out of hospital I was raging’

Then, during the pandemic, Sophie found herself in hospital a couple of times, and it all came crashing down.

She recalls: “They thought it was a kidney infection, but they couldn’t get to the bottom of it.

“When I was born they had fashioned some female genitalia. Brown putrid fluid starting leaking out of the hole and it would not stop.

“I presented at the hospital and I had to tell them for the first time about what had happened to me.”

When doctors examined her, they saw that there was something very wrong.

It turned out there was a mass in her abdomen, which was the neovagina — inserted when she was a baby — and left to rot.

Sophie says: “I found out from my mum that they had inserted it when I was two days old, and that one day it popped out and was found in my nappy.”

Surgeons replaced it during a later operation, sealed it up, and left it, which is why it led to sepsis many years later.

“No one had been told it had been put back in,” says Sophie.

Up until this point she had thought that the surgeon had simply operated to save her life — “which he did, but he also did a hell of a lot of other stuff that was unnecessary.”

What’s more, the doctors failed to do something that was necessary — namely, address the complex urological problems that have plagued Sophie all her life.

She says this “is one of the things that has the biggest effect on having any kind of intimate relationship. And yet the one thing that they could have fixed is my incontinence.”

She tells me: “When I came out of hospital, I was raging at that point.”

And she thought that by speaking out, she might be able to help those who think they are in the wrong body.

Sophie says: “A lot of them are being groomed to feel that way or question those thoughts in the first place by the school and the system and the media. Those kids need help.”

A much better solution, she argues, would be to divert funding currently being used for puberty blockers, cross sex hormones and surgery and allocate it to children’s mental health services and counselling.

Sophie says: “We can work with that person to find out why they are feeling like this.

“Then, maybe when they become an adult, they might be mature enough to be properly informed and consent to any changes to the outer body.

“It is often assumed I am transgender, but I really don’t like labels. I am just Sophie.

Poised for a backlash from the more extreme trans activists, Sophie makes it clear that she respects any adult’s decision to choose that path — so long as they are properly informed.

But she is clear that this is never appropriate for children.

“I don’t want this to happen to any other baby born with this condition,” she says.

“We have to find better ways to support kids to live in the body they are born with.”

Link | Archived Link

#radical feminism #radfem #gender critical #gender #trans #transgender #Julie Bindel

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avatar-anna · 1 year

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The Haircut

just a little (long) blurb about the new haircut! part of the young!dadrry universe, which can be found on my masterlist

enjoy!!

“Hey, Mama?”

“Yeah, H?”

“Can you do me a favor?”

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

“So, why did you want me to cut your hair? I thought Jeff asked you about it before we left London.”

Harry tried not to move much because his hair was between Y/n’s fingers as she snipped away. “He did.”

“And you didn’t get it done beforehand because...”

“I like when you do it,” he said simply.

Y/n didn’t bother hiding her blush. During lockdown, she took on the mantle of keeping Harry and the rest of the Styles family groomed. Afterwards, Harry went back to getting his hair styled professionally, but she thought him asking her to do it was sweet.

“Your fans are gonna riot,” she said, running a hand through his hair to find the next strand to trim. “Not to mention your children.”

Harry’s fans weren’t the only ones who loved his longer hair. Each one of their kids, from Simone all the way down to little Natalia, loved their dad’s hair, gripping a piece of it in their tiny fists whenever he held one of them in his arms.

He merely shrugged, as much as he could with Y/n still cutting his hair. “I feel like it puts me in the right mindset for a show.”

Y/n and Harry sat in silence after that; she had a feeling he was enjoying having her full attention, a rare occurrence now that they had six children.

Six. Some days Y/n still had a hard time wrapping her head around it. They started their family when they were so young—just teenagers—and now Simone was ten years old.

But the decision to expand their family wasn’t made until Harry and Y/n were older, after Harry wasn’t in One Direction anymore, and the rules weren’t so strict, and they felt like they were ready to take care of another baby—as ready as anyone can be, anyway.

So then came Collette, and then the twins, Julian and Maeve, shortly after. Y/n was sure that four children was plenty, had told Harry she would go back on birth control again when she found the time. He pouted, but agreed, especially since they were now raising two infants at the same time instead of just one. But then lockdown happened, and Harry was around a whole lot more than he normally was, and Geneva was the result. Their last child, Natalia, also came as a surprise, though no one but Harry and Y/n thought so. But she was the perfect addition to their family, and Harry and Y/n couldn’t have been happier.

“Are you all coming tomorrow night?” Harry asked, breaking the silence.

Y/n had moved to face Harry in order to get some of the pieces right at his hairline. “It’s a school night, my love, remember? But we’ll be there Friday.”

Harry nodded, understanding, though Y/n knew he loved when all of his babies watched him perform. Now that Simone and Collette were old enough to be in school, Y/n and the kids couldn’t travel with Harry unless it was during summer or winter break. They’d had lots of discussions about homeschooling so the family could be together more, but ultimately decided their children needed as much of a normal upbringing as possible, and honestly, homeschool would just mean more work for Y/n when she was already juggling so much.

“Can you call the sitter?” he asked.

Frowning a little, Y/n paused what she was doing and tipped her husband’s chin up with a finger. She could sense there was something he was thinking about, but wasn’t saying. “What’s wrong?”

Harry met her gaze, his hair now short and cleared away from his face. Y/n wouldn’t lie, she loved when his hair was on the longer side too, but she did think this haircut suited him as well.

He took her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Nothing’s wrong. I just like when you’re there. You missed the entire last leg of the tour. And I know why, but I just miss having you, all of you, around.”

“I know. We miss you too, H,” Y/n sighed, her heart squeezing at the look on her husband’s face.

Harry was quick to pull her into his lap, content to wait before finishing up his haircut. He tipped forward until his nose was pressed against her chest and breathed in deeply, and Y/n held him tightly.

She knew why he was so down without him having to express himself fully. Since Simone was a baby, he always became anxious about leaving for long periods of time, and the next leg of his tour was booked out for the next few months. It was a long time, especially when young kids were involved.

Raising a family while Harry traveled the world wasn’t easy. There were of course the good moments where Harry was able to spend time with Y/n and the kids, using old tactics to sneak around and find someplace private while they spent the day together. And Y/n loved seeing the world too. She loved seeing Harry perform and point him out to Collette or Maeve or Julian as he danced onstage. “That’s your Dadda,” she would say, helping them dance or clap along to the music.

And so things slowly went back to normal, or perhaps better than normal. They were with life at home and learning the delicate balance their family operated on. He loved music and performing, but all of that could wait.

But then of course there were the more difficult moments, where Y/n and the kids had to stay home while Harry toured. There were arguments about missing recitals and games and whether those tacked on extra nights on tour were really worth it when Y/n felt like she was raising their kids by herself. “I had dreams of my own, you know,” she said once. She regretted it immediately, especially when she would never change her life for a moment. But it had to be said. Y/n felt like she was on an island by herself while her husband travelled all over the world on huge tours. And when he was home, he was working on new music. Things were supposed to be different after One Direction. Harry promised that life would be different, but they weren't, and Y/n was going to keep putting up with it.

Harry came home from tour and more harsh words were shared. He tried to convince her that he could fix everything, but she was way past believing in him, and then they were both alone. Harry eventually came home, determined to make things right. He felt like a part of him would always be making up for letting his family down. Y/n tried to tell him that wasn't necessary anymore, especially when she became pregnant again because she wouldn't be having her fifth child with him if she didn't believe in him, but he wouldn’t hear it. “We’re a team,” he’d said. “We’ve always been a team. Letting you down will always be my greatest regret. I’m sorry.”

But things were a little different now. Half their children were older and Natalia wasn’t even walking yet, though all of them needed stability. With just one look at Harry, Y/n knew what was bothering him.

“You’re a great dad, H.”

And since they were as alone as they could be raising six kids, Harry felt comfortable to shake his head against her. Y/n continued to hold him, letting him get out whatever he needed to.

“I—I don’t want to feel like a stranger in my own home, my own family.”

There were times where Harry would come home from a long tour stretch and Geneva or Maeve or Julian wouldn’t like to be held by him. Because to them, as infants, he was unfamiliar. It killed Harry, the realization that he’d been gone too long that his own children would cry when he picked them up or look at him without an ounce of recognition. It was why shortly after his first tour as a solo artist he decided to take a break from touring and making music. The fight with Y/n was part of it, but at the end of the day, Harry just wanted to be a dad, and wanted to give Y/n a chance to pursue a career after being a full time stay at home mom for so many years. He had been so used to One Direction’s style of working in the industry, which was to say that you never stopped. But it put a strain on his relationships then, and it was doing the same thing as a new solo artist. He wanted a different life, a different approach to his passion, so he decided to slow down, focus on being a dad and a partner. It was how Y/n eventually went back to school and picked up styling hair.

She saw all of it written on Harry’s face, all the insecurity and fear. Each one plaguing him despite how proud she was of his success as an artist and a father. He didn’t give himself enough credit, not nearly enough. Their family had this life because of him.

“I’ll figure something out,” Y/n promised, kissing his forehead.

Harry shook his head, the ends of his hair tickling her nose. “You don’t have to, Mama. I know school is—”

“Family is important too,” she said, knowing what he had been about to say.

He nodded, but didn’t say anything else.

Y/n kissed him once on the lips before standing up again. School would be out soon, and Geneva and Natalia would be waking up from their naps any minute now. As usual, Y/n would pick up while Harry took care of the little ones, as the knowledge of the Styles family remained a secret all these years. Some people knew, of course. The first time the secret had unintentionally been revealed being when Simone gave a report about her family tree, and her teacher called Y/n in for a meeting to tell her that her daughter believed her dad was a world famous musician. That was quite the parent-teacher conference, but she and Harry handled it. So teachers and administration knew, and NDAs were handed out left and right to protect the children’s privacy, but it was easier for Y/n to pick up the kids from school as opposed to Harry.

“And...There! All done.”

Y/n handed a mirror to Harry so he could inspect her handiwork. She’d seen his hair done enough that she knew what he liked, but she opted for something ever so slightly different, leaving a little more hair on the top so it would curl on his forehead some. She thought it framed his face better than when he pushed it back.

“I look younger,” he said, eyes still on the handheld mirror.

“You look handsome,” Y/n replied. “Or you will once you shave that thing off your lip.”

That definitely got his attention. “Hey.”

“I’m kidding,” Y/n teased. She kissed him on the cheek. “Kind of.”

“Come here,” Harry demanded.

He grabbed ahold of his wife’s waist before kissing her all over. His stubble scratched her neck, her jaw, her cheeks, as Harry moved around, planting loud, opened-mouthed kisses everywhere he could.

Y/n shrieked and giggled, trying to push away from him, but to no avail. “Harry! Ha—”

A cry sounded from the baby monitor sitting on the coffee table. Geneva. Harry and Y/n paused, waiting to see if she would turn over and go back to sleep or if she was truly awake.

Another cry, followed by a different one from another monitor.

“I’ll get Natalia,” Y/n said, and this time Harry let her go.

“GiGi,” Harry replied.

Like a team breaking from a huddle, they went to their daughters’ rooms to bring an end to the crying and met back downstairs to change and feed them. By now, Y/n and Harry were practically a well-oiled machine. They moved around each other to fill bottles and strap the girls into high chairs, and finished with singing‘Itsy Bitsy Spider’ when Geneva showed signs that she was about to cry. It was a system that worked for many years when they were at home together, and one that was perfected during lockdown. Before long, Geneva was sucking on a pouch while Natalia slowly brought yogurt chips to her mouth.

Harry raised his arm up, and Y/n met him halfway for the high five. Distance or no, they always made a good team.

Once the girls were fed, Y/n began getting ready to pick up the rest of their children. Harry kept the girls entertained, but she felt his eyes track her throughout the kitchen. Once she was done, she went over to him and gave him a kiss.

“How about we go to the venue for rehearsal, stay for the opening act and the first couple songs, and then I’ll take the kids home early,” she said against his hair, rubbing a hand up and down his arm.

“Really?”

She kissed his cheek. “I told you I would figure something out.”

Harry grinned down at her. “You always do.”

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

Later that night, the Styles residence was filled with its usual commotion.

“I want Elsa!”

“We watched Frozen last week!”

“Elsa!”

“Mama, can we have chocolate?”

“I want to sit next to Daddy!”

“Move over!”

Harry tipped his head back against the couch and prayed for patience.

He thought a movie would be a fun way to end the night, and while he wasn’t sure why Y/n gave him a look of caution before, he certainly did now. His wife, of course, was upstairs putting Geneva and Natalia to bed while he got the movie set up, though now he guessed Y/n was letting him deal with all the chaos while she hid.

But Harry didn’t particularly care. He loved being home and being part of all the craziness, even the silly fights over what movie they were going to watch.

Julian, the only boy in the Styles family, sat in his father’s lap quietly, almost like he was just waiting for Simone and Maeve to stop fighting over what they were going to watch. His hair was long and curled at the ends, a result of him crying and screaming every time Y/n tried to take him to get his hair cut or do it herself. So they eventually gave up and let Jules grow it out.

“What do you want to watch?” Harry asked his son.

Julian shrugged and curled himself against Harry’s chest. It seemed he was content to just be with his dad, and Harry couldn’t help but agree.

However, when Maeve tried to rip the remote out of Simone’s hands, Harry finally stepped in.

“Alright. Saturday we’ll watch Elsa. Tonight we’ll let Simone pick. Come here, Maeve.”

Maeve was a spitfire like her mother, loud where Jules was quiet. He never imagined a preschooler to be so opinionated, but she always had something to say.

Giving up, Maeve took the spot on Harry’s right. Collette was on his left, tracing the tattoos on his arm absentmindedly. Simone finally settled on a movie, and by some kind of miracle, the house went quiet as the opening credits rolled.

He hadn’t been doing a typical tour recently, which helped him be at home more, but being at home was almost as exhausting as being on the road. He watched the cartoon with Julian on his chest, Maeve and Collette on either side of him, but before long, his eyes began to droop, each blink becoming more prolonged than the last until he didn’t open them again.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

Y/n came downstairs once GiGi and Natalia were fast asleep. She had lunches to pack and breast milk to pump before tucking the rest of her little ones into bed, but it wouldn’t take too long.

Half expecting utter chaos, Y/n’s eyes widened at the scene in front of her. Harry was fast asleep, and so was Julian, who rested on top of him, one hand up by his dad’s neck like he was reaching for something that wasn’t there anymore. Maeve dozed beside Harry, and Collette was getting close. Simone was the only one wide awake and watching the movie, her choice by the looks of it.

Y/n went over to her oldest and kissed the top of her dark hair. “How long has everyone been out?”

“Dad lasted about twenty minutes, I think.”

“A record for him,” Y/n mused.

Simone grinned wide. Seeing how long Harry lasted during a movie was something of an ongoing joke between them, and Y/n liked to think her oldest daughter liked that they shared something that was just between the two of them.

“Will you help me get Maeve upstairs?”

Nodding, Simone paused her movie and took her sister into her arms while Y/n grabbed Collette. She took Julian up next, tucking him into his racecar bed before turning on his night light and closing the door. Harry was still out cold when Y/n came back down, but Simone was at his side while she resumed the movie.

By the time the movie ended, Y/n was wrapping up in the kitchen and Harry was stretching his arms after his impromptu nap. Blinking with bleary eyes, he said, “Sorry, bug. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

Simone grinned over the top of his head at her mom, who shot her daughter a wink. “That’s okay.”

Harry looked between his two girls like he was missing something, but didn’t comment on it. “Come on. Up to bed then.”

Simone kissed her dad on the cheek, then skipped over to Y/n to do the same to her before going upstairs, leaving Harry and Y/n alone in the dark.

Looking around, Harry realized all of his children had gone to bed at some point. “I swear we have more than one kid.”

“They’re all fast asleep.”

“Really?”

“Mmhm.”

“Well then,” Harry said, his voice low after being asleep. “Might need to take advantage of this rare moment to ourselves.”

Y/n sat herself down on his lap and ran a hand through his short hair. “You know, I can’t help but agree.”

There wasn’t much talking after that. Harry was quick to capture Y/n’s bottom lip between his own, pulling her as close as she could possibly be. Y/n kissed him back, sighing as he brushed his tongue against hers again and again. She kneaded the muscles in his shoulders, gripping hard when a hand dipped beneath the waistband of her jeans.

“Love you,” Harry panted, kissing the spot where her jaw met her ear.

“Love—”

Y/n couldn’t get the words out fast enough before he was on her again, pushing her into the couch until she was spread across it.

They didn’t take it much further than that. Y/n knew Harry was too tired for more, but she didn’t mind. Sometimes kissing and touching took her back to a time when they were younger and only had one baby to look after. It made her realize that even after all these years, they were still crazy for each other.

Eventually tiredness won out, and they went upstairs, though Harry kissed Y/n’s neck the whole way to their room. It stopped, however, when they entered their bedroom and he realized they weren’t alone anymore.

“My money’s on Jules,” Harry said softly.

“Could be Collette,” Y/n countered.

They crept into the room towards the bed, and upon closer inspection, they realized Harry was right. Julian was asleep on Y/n’s side of the bed, his stuffed Mickey Mouse tucked under one arm.

Shrugging, they went about their nightly routines and got into bed. Harry kissed his wife once mumbling, “Love you, Mama,” before setting his head down on the pillow.

When Harry woke up, there were three more children in his bed, one of them on top of him completely. An excellent start to his morning, if you asked him.

#harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles angst #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic

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mostlysignssomeportents · 1 year

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Iowa's starvation strategy

I don’t really buy that “the cruelty is the point.” I’m a materialist. Money talks, bullshit walks. When billionaires fund unimaginably cruel policies, I think the cruelty is a tactic, a way to get the turkeys to vote for Christmas. After all, policies that grow the fortune of the 1% at the expense of the rest of us have a natural 99% disapproval rating.

If you’d like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here’s a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/19/whats-wrong-with-iowa/#replicable-cruelty

So when some monstrous new law or policy comes down the pike, it’s best understood as a way of getting frightened, angry — and often hateful — people to vote for policies that will actively harm them, by claiming that they will harm others — brown and Black people, women, queers, and the “undeserving” poor.

Pro-oligarch policies don’t win democratic support — but policies that inflict harm a ginned-up group of enemies might. Oligarchs need frightened, hateful people to vote for policies that will secure and expand the power of the rich. Cruelty is the tactic. Power is the strategy. The point isn’t cruelty, it’s power:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/25/roe-v-wade-v-abortion/#no-i-in-uterus

But that doesn’t change the fact that the policies are cruel indeed. Take Iowa, whose billionaire-backed far-right legislature is on a tear, a killing spree that includes active collaboration with rapists, through a law that denies abortion care to survivors of rape and forces them to bear and care for their rapists’ babies:

https://www.nytimes.com/2023/03/16/us/politics/iowa-kamala-harris-abortion.html

The forced birth movement is part of the wider far-right tactic of standing up for imaginary children (e.g. “the unborn,” fictional victims of Hollywood pedo cabals), and utterly abandons real children: poor kids who can’t afford school lunches, kids in cages, kids victimized by youth pastors, kids forced into child labor, etc.

So Iowa isn’t just a forced birth state, it’s a state where children are now to be starved, literally. The state legislature has just authorized an $18m project to kick people off of SNAP (aka food stamps). 270,000 people in Iowa rely on SNAP: elderly people, disabled people, and parents who can’t feed their kids.

Writing in the Washington Post, Kyle Swenson profiles some of these Iowans, like an elderly woman who visited Lisa Spitler’s food pantry for help and said that state officials had told her that she was only eligible for $23/month in assistance:

https://www.washingtonpost.com/dc-md-va/2023/04/16/iowa-snap-restrictions-food-stamps/

That’s because Iowa governor KimReynolds signed a bill cutting the additional SNAP aid — federally funded, and free to the state taxpayers of Iowa — that had been made available during the lockdown. Since then, food pantries have been left to paper over the cracks in the system, as Iowans begin to starve.

Before the pandemic, Spitler’s food pantry saw 30 new families a month. Now it’s 100 — and growing. Many of these families have been kicked off of SNAP because they failed to complete useless and confusing paperwork, or did so but missed the short deadlines now imposed by the state. For example, people with permanent disabilities and elderly people who no longer work must continuously file new paperwork confirming that their income hasn’t changed. Their income never changes.

SNAP recipients often work, borrow from relations, and visit food pantries, and still can’t make ends meet, like Amy Cunningham, a 31 year old mother of four in Charlton. She works at a Subway, has tapped her relatives for all they can afford, and relies on her $594/month in SNAP to keep her kids from going hungry. She missed her notice of an annual review and was kicked off the program. Getting kicked off took an instant. Getting reinstated took a starving eternity.

Iowa has a budget surplus of $1.91B. This doesn’t stop ghouls like Iowa House speaker Pat Grassley (a born-rich nepobaby whose grandpa is Senator Chuck Grassley) from claiming that the cuts were a necessity: “[SNAP is] growing within the budget, and are putting pressure on us being able to fund other priorities.”

Grassley’s caucus passed legislation on Jan 30 to kick people off of SNAP if their combined assets, including their work vehicle, total to more than $15,000. SNAP recipients will be subject to invasive means-testing and verification, which will raise the cost of administering SNAP from $2.2m to $18m. Anyone who gets flagged by the system has 10 days to respond or they’ll be kicked off of SNAP.

The state GOP justifies this by claiming that SNAP has an “error rate” of 11.81%. But that “error rate” includes people who were kicked off SNAP erroneously, a circumstance that is much more common than fraud, which is almost nonexistent in SNAP programs. Iowa’s error rate is in line with the national average.

Iowa’s pro-starvation law was authored by a conservative dark-money “think tank” based in Florida: the Opportunity Solutions Project, the lobbying arm of Foundation For Government Accountability, run by Tarren Bragdon, a Maine politician with a knack for getting money from the Koch Network and the DeVos family for projects that punish, humiliate and kill marginalized people. The Iowa bill mirrors provisions passed in Kentucky, Kansas, Wisconsin and elsewhere — and goes beyond them.

The law was wildly unpopular, but it passed anyway. It’s part of the GOP’s push for massive increases in government spending and bureaucracy — but only when those increases go to punishing poor people, policing poor people, jailing poor people, and spying on poor people. It’s truly amazing that the “party of small government” would increase bureaucratic spending to administer SNAP by 800% — and do it with a straight face.

In his essay “The Utopia of Rules,” David Graeber (Rest in Power) described this pathology: just a couple decades ago, the right told us that our biggest threat was Soviet expansion, which would end the “American way of life” and replace it with a dismal world where you spent endless hours filling in pointless forms, endured hunger and substandard housing, and shopped at identical stores that all carried the same goods:

https://memex.craphound.com/2015/02/02/david-graebers-the-utopia-of-rules-on-technology-stupidity-and-the-secret-joys-of-bureaucracy/

A society that can’t feed, house and educate its residents is a failed state. America’s inability to do politics without giving corporations a fat and undeserved share is immiserating an ever-larger share of its people. Federally, SNAP is under huge stress, thanks to the “public-private partnership” at the root of a badly needed “digital overhaul” of the program.

Writing for The American Prospect, Luke Goldstein describes how the USDA changed SNAP rules to let people pay with SNAP for groceries ordered online, as a way to deal with the growing problem of food deserts in poor and rural communities:

https://prospect.org/health/2023-04-19-retail-surveils-food-stamp-users/

It’s a good idea — in theory. But it was sabotaged from the start: first, the proposed rule was altered to ban paying for delivery costs with SNAP, meaning that anyone who ordered food online would have to use scarce cash reserves to pay delivery fees. Then, the USDA declined to negotiate discounts on behalf of the 40 million SNAP users. Finally, the SNAP ecommerce rules don’t include any privacy protections, which will be a bonanza for shadowy data-brokers, who’ll mine SNAP recipients’ data to create marketing lists for scammers, predatory lenders, and other bottom-feeder:

https://www.democraticmedia.org/sites/default/files/field/public-files/2020/cdd_snap_report_ff.pdf

The GOP’s best weapon in this war is statistical illiteracy. While racist, sexist and queerphobic policies mean that marginalized people are more likely than white people to be poor, America’s large population of white people — including elderly white people who are the immovable core of the GOP base — means that policies that target poor people inevitably inflict vast harms on the GOP’s most devoted followers.

Getting these turkeys to vote for Christmas is a sound investment for the ultra-rich, who claim a larger share of the American pie every year. The rich may or may not be racist, or sexist, or queerphobic — some of them surely are — but the reason they pour money into campaigns to stoke divisions among working people isn’t because they get off on hatred. The hatred is a tactic. The cruelty is a tactic. The strategic goal is wealth and power.

Tomorrow (Apr 21), I’m speaking in Chicago at the Stigler Center’s Antitrust and Competition Conference. This weekend (Apr 22/23), I’m at the LA Times Festival of Books.

[Image ID: The Iowa state-house. On the right side of the steps is an engraved drawing of Oliver Twist, holding out his porridge bowl. On the left side is the cook, denying him an extra portion. Peeking out from behind the dome is a business-man in a suit with a dollar-sign-emblazoned money-bag for a head.]

Image: Iqkotze (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Iowa_State_Capitol_April_2010.jpg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/deed.en

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avelera · 2 months

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Oh GOD you, too, are an online lectures geek pls consider this your invitation to talk about favs--ones that stuck with you, current obsessions--the more the better! In trade, I'll tell you the two things I'm currently adoring: Yale's Open Course podcast on The Civil War to Reconstruction done by David Blight (man forgot more than ten other civil war historians know even if he mumbles *constantly*) and A History of Christianity by Diarmaid MacCulloch (so! worth the Prime BBC free trial <3)

Hiya! Don't mind if I do!

So 99% of the lectures I've watched lately are on the Great Courses Plus which was recently and stupidly renamed "Wondrium", which I find profoundly stupid because instead of just saying, "Hey, check out the Great Courses, yeah you can kinda guess what the streaming service offers," I have to instead explain what this nonsense term "Wondrium" means, ANYWAY, they've got lectures about basically everything.

Essentially, it's Netflix but for college lectures. YouTube has become so unreliable as far as what's actual information and what's completely made up or even racist conspiracy theory BS that I find it completely untrustworthy. Also, most documentaries are trying to prove something new, or offer a new angle on something, OR they're SO rudimentary and 101 that even for topics I know less about in history I tend to already know everything they're going to say.

So I pivoted to college lectures because 1) it's a whole series so like, dozens of hours I can just throw on in the background while doing something mindless and 2) I know it's going to be trustworthy, reliable, and provide me a baseline on a topic instead of some "new controversial spin" on it. Like, goddammit, sometimes I just want to better understand the history of Ancient Egypt, not your stupid theory about how they were secretly all space aliens or that we've got the carbon dating all wrong or whatever made up nonsense.

So, here's a list of some of my favorites!

Hannibal: The Military Genius Who Almost Conquered Rome - I consider myself about as near an expert as a non-academic can get on Rome and this lecture actually taught me some things, which is rare, so I recommend it as a fantastic deep dive!

How the Crusades Changed History is a pretty good short version that I recommend to anyone who enjoyed The Old Guard's Nicky and Joe BUT, for the best Crusades lecture, I'd recommend this History of the Crusades podcast. Sharyn Eastaugh is not just insanely informative, but her dry wit made me laugh out loud at least once an episode at the sheer hapless ineptitude of the Crusaders.

In the Wake of the Plague is a fantastic new lecture by Wondrium, the lecturer is amazing and it provides a lot of objective insights into how humans react to plagues that is VERY relevant to current events, BUT their lecture on **The Black Death in general is the one that got me obsessed with their lecture series. I watched it in the first week of Covid lockdown and let me tell you, having this super in-depth, objective look into how people behaved during the Black Death was incredibly valuable (and chilling) going into those years because it all played out with astonishing similarity. Also, anything by that lecturer, Dorsey Armstrong, is awesome. She's a Medievalist of the highest order. I also recommend her lecture on King Arthur.

**The Birth of the Modern Mind: The Intellectual History of the 17th and 18th Centuries - this one wins the award for "Lecture I thought most likely to bore me to tears that ended up being the single most fascinating I've heard in YEARS." Seriously, the way it explores the evolution of how we think in the modern era, through the philosophers who first conceived of these ideas, was jaw-droppingly fascinating. I also recommend it to writers of historical fiction and fantasy for a crash course, by proxy, of how to write people who think differently than you.

The Other Side of History: Daily Life in the Ancient World - I once had beef with a post here on Tumblr that claimed that academic Classicists don't care about slaves or normal people during the Roman Empire, which is just profoundly absurd. I pointed out this lecture to them if they actually wanted to learn more about the subject instead of complaining that an art history professor may not have been prepped for a lecture about the lives of enslaved people in Ancient Rome. If that is a subject of interest, this lecture is great.

The Real History of Pirates - a must-listen for OFMD fans who want to get an introduction to historical pirates and the history of pirates in literature, which "Our Flag Means Death" owes as much if not more to than the historical figures.

**Turning Points in Middle Eastern History - One of the first lectures I listened to and still one of my enduring favorites. It's the first one I picked up for writing my Old Guard fic, Lights Out, when I wanted to write Joe from a more informed angle and I learned so much.

Understanding Japan: A Cultural History - One of my favorite lectures based on format, the lecturer picks a literary work or cultural concept as the entry point to explore the timeline of Japanese history. It's a fantastic way to give a wider and more holistic look at each era, pairing it with a cultural touchstone.

Shout-out to "The Mysterious Etruscans" because I just think they're neat. The lecturer is also very good and I highly recommend his lecture on ancient cities as well which taught me a lot that I didn't know.

Also a shout out to, "Warriors, Queens, and Intellectuals: 36 Great Women before 1400" for its subject and the lecturer who is great and she also has a really fascinating talk about the history of Spain.

Ok, I THINK that's some of the top ones! ;D

#history #wondrium #lecture recommendations #long post

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foxilayde · 7 months

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Collisions in Entropy [Peter Roiter x Fem!Reader]

Summary: You were drawn to him like gravity. Like the only two bodies of mass on a lattice field, dipping in the center like marbles, stretching the fabric of time with the weight of yourselves and converging at the center into a singular point.

Length: 5.5k

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Romantic smut. Oral: f receiving. PiV.

Author’s Note: I couldn’t stop thinking about Peter making it to Rome and then confining himself to wait out his remaining days like an invisible stranger, careful not to disturb this timeline. I like to think his curiosity couldn’t keep him away from a special event he never got to see firsthand. Enjoy!

The wedding of Callum Roiter to Rebecca Bradley took place at Creeksea Place in the Essex countryside on Saturday September 30th 2023. Is taking place, rather. Currently taking place. Peter Roiter arrives in a rented grey suit and gate crashes his own parent’s wedding, 13 months before his birth.

They’re taking the photographs now, the photographs that will adorn the walls of his childhood home. The same photograph he will accidentally shatter In 2032 while playing cricket in the house. He recognizes the angle of the pink jaunty bouquets up in the air, the collection of color in a joyous line on the red brick footbridge beside the white gazebo, a bridal party draped in lavender taffeta posed in what looks like “a silly one” where they lovingly encircle the blushing bride—Rebecca Roiter née Bradley.

The camera flashes weakly against the midday light and at the same instant a bridesmaid looks in Peter’s direction and smiles.

He’d cut his palm on that picture frame—the shattered one—the bridal party laid in fragments in that parallel future time. He looks down at his hand and the thick scar is still there. He wonders if the Peter Roiter who will be born 13 months from tomorrow will get the same cut. If he will hit the cricket ball in the same exact angle, turning his head to the same exact call of his mother’s voice from the other room. “Peter!” Crash. A vortex.

That’s what had ruined the photo in the end. Not the shattered glass, but the blood. Will this timeline’s Peter Roiter grow up and do what he’s done? Do it exactly the same? Blood and shattered glass in the parlor. Blood and shattered glass in the terminal 4 bathroom.

He’s never been to a wedding like this before. Never even heard of one with so many people, unrestrained smiles, photographs, laughter, dancing… nowhere outside of a movie, that is. His own wedding to Helen was private, as most weddings in 2050 were. Out of necessity. Sweet and civil. She held peonies and they danced to Marvin Berry in the backyard, underneath the stars and the patio lights. He has an insane urge to make a toast to the people of 2023 and tell them, “eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we die.”

They’re so unaware. Unbothered. It’s beautiful to see. Like the carefree cheers-ing that must’ve been happening on the Titanic cruiseliner 10 minutes before they collided with an iceberg.

He doesn’t feel sorry for them. He is jealous. They’re feting in the last roaring moments of civilization, right before the interminable lockdowns will begin. He conservatively guesses that half of them will be dead within the next ten years.

He stays as invisible as he can, observing his parent’s tender happy moments from afar. They’re so young. He’s nearly old enough to be their father.

During the ceremony he sees both sets of grandparents for the first time in his life in person. Maybe that should be his alibi instead of “cousin of the bride”, he’s much more believable as “colleague of the father of the groom”. If only he could remember what Grandfather Roiter did for a living… insurance, maybe?

He won’t stick around long enough for anyone to ask just how he knows the lovely couple anyway. He’ll stay invisible for now, just another speck in this world that doesn’t belong to him.

This timeline might be defunct anyway, he may very well be cautiously tip-toeing around what he only assumes is a sleeping beast, but may in fact be nothing more than a carcass. Peter errs on the side of caution anyway and sips champagne from the further-most table.

Callum Roiter, looking everything like the father of his childhood, stands from the center of the high table and clinks his crystal glass. His cheeks look hurt and shiny from smiling, he holds his new wife’s hand and makes his toast, he thanks the guests for coming and makes a joke about how more guests might’ve showed up had they hosted the ceremony on the Boleyn Ground. He’s so young. So untroubled. The trip to Essex was worth every potential risk to the balance to see the joy in his parent’s eyes in real time. He feels supremely lucky to be a product of such an astounding love.

And then Callum raises his glass higher, winks to Rebecca and announces, “and lastly, a great big thank you to American psychologist Doctor Eliza Knight,” There is a knowing laugh amongst the wedding party who are privy to the story of the bizarre phone call from a Dr. Knight. “Without whom, I would have never met my beautiful bride. Wherever you are, love, cheers.”

“Cheers” the crowd responds. Peter downs the rest of his glass, “to Beatrix,” he mutters.

“You know what that’s about, don’t you?”

It’s the first time anyone has addressed him all day. He hadn’t seen her approach. The young woman from the bridal party. The one who smiled at him as the flashbulb went off. Pink roses, purple gown, shards of glass, blood, and a cricket ball.

“What’s about?” His voice slips into the Essex dialect like it’s nothing. He wonders how much of that is the chip and how much of it is his real voice— the one his mother and father taught him to use. He looks down at his lap when the woman sits beside him.

“The American doctor story.”

Oh he knows. He’s heard the tale his whole life, moreover he’s overturned timelines and sold out the souls of billions for the American doctor in question. “No,” he says to the pretty bridesmaid. “Would you let me in on it?”

*******

“Can’t believe you haven’t heard it before,” you smile, “would have thought Cal and Bex told damn near everyone in England by now.”

“Must be a good one.” He says with almost no defensiveness. Almost.

He’s cute. Older than you. A little scruffy, but in a very pleasing way—slightly overgrown at the nape of his neck and shadowed in the roughness of his sharp jaw. His eyes are kind though. So hopeful, sweet, and terribly familiar.

“Come outside with me and I’ll tell you, it’s getting warm in here.”

He glances to the high table, there’s a line forming of folks offering their congratulations along with envelopes of money to the young couple. He nods to you, leaving his grey rented coat on the back of the chair. He offers you his arm and you take it with a “thank you”, leading him to the French doors and stepping out onto the grounds.

The air is late summer. Warm and green. A million twinkle lights glow along the pathway to the pond, the place where you’d first laid eyes on him this afternoon.

“What’s your name?” You ask, trodding slowly towards the gazebo, your arm still in his. His forearm is warm under the white cotton dress shirt.

“Oliver.”

“Hmm.” You smile.

“What?” Defensive.

“Could have sworn it was something else.” You goad.

You can feel his pulse pick up from your fingertips on the crook of his elbow.

“What’s your name?” He counters.

You ignore him. “I didn’t bring you out here to tell you my name, I brought you out here to tell you a story, remember? Do you want to hear it or not?”

Peter breathes deep as if he’s winding up to tell you something but all he does with the breath is exhale and nod, “Please.”

“Last year, November the 23rd, 2022, to be exact, both Callum and Rebecca got a mysterious phone call from a Doctor Eliza Knight, a psychoanalyst from America, telling them that she knew their son. That he was a 39 year old time traveler sent from the year 2062 named Peter Roiter and he claimed to be on a mission to save the world. What do you think of that, Oliver?”

His grin is tight, dismissive, “sounds like a nut job.”

“The odd thing is, Callum and Rebecca had never met each other before. Doctor Knight gave each the other’s information and told them it was crucial that they meet and fall in love and have this child. Peter.”

Peter says nothing.

“So they do get together. Because of the absurdity. They go out for a drink, out of curiosity, to laugh about the madwoman who told them they were going to raise the messiah of the twenty first century.”

Peter leans against the railing of the gazebo and glances back to the house where the party is winding down. “And the rest is history.” He nods toward the red bricked abode.

“That’s not all,” you smile conspiratorially.

“No?”

“No. See, I looked into it, just to check to see if there was a Doctor Eliza Knight, and there is… or there was.”

He remains silent and surreptitiously fingers the raised scar on the inside of his hand while you talk. Nervous habit.

“See, the very next day after she made the phone calls, Doctor Knight walked into an airport bathroom in New York City and disappeared… disappeared! They checked all the security footage. She walks into the restroom and never walked out. They did find her clothes, and a shattered syringe full of blood that wasn’t her own, a tape recorder in a trash can. But her? Nowhere to be found. Can you believe it? The very next day after calling Bex and Cal. That’s insane, right?”

He nods, lost in thought across the lake.

“It’s funny, most people get a real kick out of that anecdote. I was excited to tell you. Brought you out to the dim ambiance and everything.”

“It’s a great story. Really. I’m just tired is all.” He folds his arms across his chest and looks at you with a believable amount of sleepiness.

“You’ve heard it before, haven’t you?”

“What do you mean?”

“That would be one explanation for your boredom— you know the story by heart… How do you know the bride and groom, Oliver?” You nearly whisper, stepping closer to him.

“Who are you?” He backs away a step, bumping into the rim of the gazebo and catching himself on a polished beam.

“Peter, you’re about to upset a very fragile ecosystem that we’ve been curating. I had to get you out of that party, I hope you understand.”

“We?”

“Peter, if you care about the future, you need to kiss me right now, in the next five seconds, it’s our only chance.”

Peter doesn’t hesitate. With a look of solid determination he takes two steps towards you, cradles your head in his hands and presses his lips to yours, kissing you with reserved lips that didn’t match the committed blaze in his eyes. You break the kiss in near disbelief and regret.

“That was mean, I’m sorry.”

Peter’s face scrunches and he takes half a step back, letting you fall out of his grasp.

“What? Wait, tell me who you are, what’s going on? Did the W.H.O send you? Do you have a message for me? Did the project work? Any word on Beatrix?”

You press your fingertips to your lips and your eyes widen.

“Are you fucking with me?” You accuse.

His face drops from hopeful to incredulous and the two of you stare at each other with mutual suspicion for a beat.

He licks his bottom lip. “Why did I need to kiss you? Who are you?”

“I’m… I’m a friend of Rebecca’s. I… hang on, are you— is your name really Peter? I just called you that because… because of what the doctor told Bex…” you can hear your heart hammering in your ears.

Peter’s eyes narrow, “you were teasing me?”

“Holy shit. The… the doctor? The story? Peter Roiter?”

Peter remains stock still, his back rigid, gritting his teeth.

You clap your hand over your mouth and laugh. “Oh my god! Bex is going to murder me if she finds out I snogged her son. This is so weird.”

“How did you know?”

“I didn’t! I mean, god, no one actually believes that story about the doctor, do they? it’s insane! something straight out of a movie! I figured they met each other on tinder and wanted a cuter “how’d you meet?” Story and made this one up for clout or something, but… then we were taking photos today and you were lurking in the back of the setting up, lurking the back of the ceremony, sitting all by yourself in the back of the reception— not talking to anybody… which is exactly what someone who isn’t trying to alter a timeline might do. What am I saying? And god you do really look like half Bex and half Cal… it’s uncanny.”

“You can’t tell anyone about this, you understand?”

“Tell anyone? No one would believe me if I did! I don’t even know if I believe me! Besides, I’m not joking about the whole ‘Bex would kill me’ thing, I’m kind of skeeving myself out right now. I mean they’re both fit and well obviously,” You gesture to Peter up and down before slapping your forehead, “oh my god, I need—I need to shut up.”

“Wait, wait, wait, just calm down. Okay. I need to—look, if this isn’t a dead timeline, I can’t have you treating Cal and Bex’s son any differently than you would had you not learned that.. that I’m him. So—“

“Hang on, dead timeline? What the hell does that mean?”

“Is the name not obvious enough for you?” Peter begins to pace around the pergola, the valley between his brows growing deeper by the minute.

Your eyebrows shoot up, “well excuse me for not understanding your sci-fi speak, Mr. Coherence.”

“Dead timeline. It means the statistical likelihood of salvaging the future of this particular timeline is… astronomically low. If this is a dead timeline, then there is a near 100 chance humanity will be destroyed within the next 40 years.”

“Oh god.”

“It might not be. There’s no way of knowing right now.”

“That’s reassuring.”

“It could be a loop timeline, in which case, it’s important for you to—“

“Not treat the forthcoming baby Peter Roiter any differently.”

“Exactly.” He breathes with relief.

“Even though he will apparently grow up to be a man who potentially puts me and everything and everyone I know and love into a dead future or whatever you called it.”

“That’s not—“

“It’s fine, Peter, the less I know the better, right?” You shift in your heels and lean against the polished railing. “Might make it difficult to take him out for ice cream knowing that I snogged him at his mum’s wedding. Bleeding Christ, I really am sorry about that.”

“You’re surprisingly easy to convince. And you’re taking this extremely well. I’m not used to that— people believing me. And it’s fine, its my fault for being here, for following you outside. I promised I wouldn’t interact with anyone and now we’re getting… inextricable.”

“I don’t know why I believe you. I mean I know it’s crazy, it’s the least likely explanation for all of this, but I just feel like, I have to believe you. I just… have to. Now that sounds crazy.”

He shakes his head. “I really thought I was being stealthy coming here today. It was probably a mistake.”

“Well, if we are in a loop timeline, as you called it, I don’t think there can be any mistakes. And if we are in a dead end, then the mistakes don’t matter, right?”

“Who are you?”

You tell him your name. He shakes his head with that same worried valley between his brows.

“I don’t remember you at all from my childhood. Or hearing about you from my mother. I’m not even sure you were in the photo that I broke.”

“The photo that you broke? What photo?”

There’s a sudden cacophony from the French doors where you exited the reception with Peter. A group of groomsmen stagger out, each with a champagne bottle in their hand, singing what you can only assume is a fight song from Cal’s alma mater.

Peter runs his thumb and forefinger over the stubble surrounding his lips. Those lips that you made him kiss you with. God, what is happening?

“C’mon,” he mutters placing a hand at your lower back and guides you to the path by the pond, further away from the celebration. “Just being cautious.”

There’s a bench aglow with twinkle lights near the pond, out of view of the estate house. It feels good to sit and take some pressure off the silk heels you bought special for this evening. You slip them off and let your feet rest on the cool grass.

“What photo were you talking about?” You ask.

“The bridesmaid photos with the bouquets on the bridge. I grew up with that photo in my house. But one day I was playing football— no, it was… it was cricket. I was playing cricket in the house and the photo shattered. I cut my hand trying to hide it from my mum, look.”

You take his hand, inspecting his palm and turning it over. He continues. “But I don’t recognize you. From the photo. I don’t think you were there. You weren’t looking at the camera. You were looking at me.”

“I don’t see a scar.”

“What?”

Peter pulls back his hand.

“It is kind of dark out, so that could be why.”

“Wha…” Peter holds his hands up to the twinkle lights in the willow branches above the bench. He shakes his head. “This doesn’t make sense.”

“Deja vu.” You whisper.

Peter’s hands fall from inspection, he rubs his fingers together at his sides. “What did you say? Did you say Deja vu?”

“Yeah. I’ve— I’ve been here before. This has happened before. With you. What’s happening?”

Peter sits back down next to you on the bench, grabbing your upper arms with insistence. “Are you messing with me again? Are you screwing with my head?” He’s breathing fast. He looks scared.

“No! No, I swear Peter. This just… feels so familiar. Do you feel it? The smell in the air, the champagne bottles popping, you checking your hands in the light, the kiss in the gazebo… what’s happening? What does it mean that I’ve felt this before?”

Peter lets go of your arms and runs his thumbs across the smooth insides of his knuckles. “It means… it means it’s elastic. This timeline is still alive. I’m not in a loop, I’m not in a dead end. Something is happening… or something will happen. Either way, we’re all still breathing…” Peter laughs quietly for a few moments before silencing himself with his own hand. “Somewhere, somehow, in the past 20 minutes or so, a vortex was formed— a shift in the timeline.”

“What does that mean? Is that good or bad?”

Peter shakes his head. “I don’t know. We—us in the future—don’t even fully understand it. It’s a technology we discovered from elsewhere in the universe. I’ve been thinking lately that we don’t have the receptive capacity to understand the dimensionality. Like trying to conceptualize a tesseract.”

“What are you doing here? Still trying to save the world?”

“No. That window closed. Or at least, I thought it had.”

“So your window is closed. You didn’t succeed?”

He stares into your eyes for several beats. He thinks about December 31st in Rome. How he waited on platform 23 at the piazza di Spagna until the last train came it at near midnight. And how he walked around the Villa Borghese alone when security shooed him away from the station, he walked back to the red tiled hotel alone. A doomed mission. He must’ve passed at least a dozen kissing couples that night ringing in the new year.

“No. I didn’t. I’m sorry.” His apology feels personal.

“It’s okay.” You say with a small voice, placing a hand on his knee. “So, now what? Do you go back, to your original time, the future?”

“Can’t go back. Can’t go anywhere. Even if I could, there’s no one to retrieve me.”

“So you just live out the rest of your days here in 2023 onward?”

Peter bites his lip and looks out over the pond. “Yeah.”

“What happens when baby Peter Roiter is born?”

“You’re too quick, you know that?” Peter snorts and shakes his head.

“I watch a lot of sci-fi movies,” you smile, shouldering off your lavender shawl and pointing out your tattoo. “See. It’s a—“

“DeLorean.” He traces his finger over the small line drawing tattoo.

“A 1981 DeLorean DMC-12 to be exact.” You grin proudly.

Peter swallows and traces his finger down your bare arm, making your hairs raise.

“You got it the day of your 18th birthday. You had a fight with your father and you got it on a whim. You were so angry at your father that you cried when you got it and when the tattoo artist asked if you needed a break from the pain you said—“

“How do you know this, Peter, you’re scaring me.”

“You said, I’ve had worse.”

“Peter—“

“I know you. We’ve been here before. This bench. The lights, the way they glow on your skin.” He swipes the side of your face lightly with the back of his unblemished hand.” He gulps. “I kiss you on the gazebo by the pond, I kiss you under a willow tree far away from the house, I—“ he shifts closer, his forehead nearly touching your own. “I carry you like a bride up the stairs and I kiss you in a room with golden leaves on the ceiling.”

You shift closer to him, your noses touching.

“Don’t you remember?” He asks, cupping your cheek. “No matter where I go. There you are. Entanglement.”

“I remember.” You nod. “Tell me, Peter. Tell me what happens when you’re born.”

Peter cradles your face in both of his hands and pulls back a fraction of an inch, eyes flickering between your own before he sighs and shuts them in a near grimace.

“I die.” He kisses you. And its so different from the kiss on the gazebo. Your little lie, your little trick in back there that got him to kiss you the first time. A lie— or so you thought at the time. Something made you say it to him you’re sure of that now. The deception was compulsory. It wasn’t why you led him out at the time. But now it its.

As sure as he knows the date of his own birth, he knows he will die. In almost exactly 13 months. Or sometime before; but never after. They didn’t teach him every facet at The Project, mainly due to their own ignorance; and he wouldn’t have to face his demise if he had only taken himself to the extraction point… but that had been out of the question. And what is he doing now? With you on this bench? 100 yards from his newlywed parents. This is a new dream he is fulfilling, the erasure of his scar, these new-old memories, the fulfillment of a loop.

Your silk shoes abandoned in the grass, he scoops up your knees onto his lap, he holds your face so tenderly and kisses you, and kisses you, and kisses you beneath the willow tree.

He carries you like a bride to your bedroom at the top of the stairs. If any party stragglers notice you, you aren’t aware. You cling to Peter with your face buried in his neck, holding to his broad shoulders, your bare toes make brushing contact with the walls of the stairwell as you ascend. You don’t need to tell him which room is yours, he’s been here before hasn’t he? You certainly have. In a dream. In another life.

He lays you gently on the bed, kissing up your ankles, sliding the satin of your sheath dress up your legs as he goes, crawling up and up and up you, his lips trailing over the rise of your knees with abject devotion. His strong hands splay and scoop under your dress, under your hips, to grab your lace panties. He looks into your eyes from where he kisses the crest of your thigh when he slides the material down your legs and tosses them to the floor.

“How could I have forgotten you?” He whispers with a longing against your skin, pushing your dress up until it pools in a satin puddle at your middle. He kisses the tip of your hipbone before he settles between your thighs, his stubble scratches pleasantly at the sensitive flesh when he runs his nose along the junction of your hip and thigh.

Cradling your hips in his palms, he shrugs your legs over his shoulders. He’s still fully dressed, the only disrobing he did of himself was the grey jacket abandoned on the the back of the far-table chair in the reception hall downstairs, and the blue tie he loosened and discarded somewhere near your panties. His disguise.

He crawls up further onto the bed to fully press his face into your sex. He latches onto your puffy cunt with his kiss-swollen lips and licks you open with messy, savoring swirls of his tongue. His mouth hot and slick, chin and nose pressing into you with a rocking hungry motion. You don’t intend to cry out at the sensation but he’s making love to you with his mouth like it isn’t the first time and you have no choice but to strangle your own keen of pleasure and fully and gracelessly recline on the bed, the prop of your elbows unable to hold you up through the slick furnace of pleasure that is Peter Roiter’s mouth.

You scrunch your eyes closed and bite your bottom lip when his tongue focuses in on your clit, hot mouth still sealed around your pussy, he lathes you with stern and steady lashings to your point of pleasure. Your hands fist in the pool, of silk at your belly. He sighs hotly into you and works his own fingers through yours, loosening your grasping hands from your dress. He laces all his fingers flush with yours, soothing the sides of your palms with his thumbs.

He never stops the hot assault of your spread sex with his tongue. Your grass stained heels rest lightly on the taut warm linen of his dress shirt. You can feel the way the muscles back there flex, your feet sliding every so slightly when his hips buck gently into the mattress. You don’t open your eyes until you’re desperately close to cumming in his mouth and when you look up all you can see are flashes of gold.

Your hips lift off the mattress with the arch of your back and the contraction of your thighs. You let out a long low keen and his face tilts up to follow your clit, sucking you lovingly, his hands gripping more tightly to your own than ever before.

“Peter,” your lips tremble, you slowly open your clamped shut eyes.

There it is. The gold leaf ceiling glinting in warm yellow light. Just as he said. Just as your remember. You stare dazedly at it and you know in less than a moment Peter will crawl up your shaking sweating body and place a kiss on your lips. He does. You grab him by his thick curls and push and pull and twist him in a debauched kiss till he’s flat on his back and you’re on top. His mouth is hot and sticky and so, so giving.

He runs his hands lightly over the open back of your dress. You only unbuckle him enough, and shimmy his trousers midway down his thighs, to get him inside of you. When you sink down on him he holds your forehead against his and gasps in disbelief.

“I—“ He chokes, catching his breath and fighting his eyes rolling back so he can get a good look at you when you take him all the way down.

“What?” You smile, stroking his cheek.

“I— I’ve missed you. Ahh.” He grabs you hard then, sitting up slightly and clawing your dress strap down so he can bite and suck the softest parts of your chest.

You cradle his head there, grinding into his lap slowly, gasping softly at the feel of him inside you.

“You won’t disappear, will you?” You whisper in a daze of pleasure.

No, he chants against your breast.

“No, no, no. I can’t lose you.” He holds you tight to him like he means it.

Peter has pulled the top of your dress down to your waist now and his hands roam freely over your back, plotting the elevated terrain of your shoulders, the valley between your breasts, and the maps of rivers at your wrists.

He lays fully back down and takes you with him. You smile against his kiss.

“Getting tired, old man?”

“Mmm, I’m younger than you—technically— negative one years old next month.” He bites your ear. You laugh. He thrusts up into you. You moan and clutch him by his clothed shoulders.

Peter cups your cheek in his hand. The one with the missing scar. You turn your face to kiss his unblemished palm. You rock on him slowly, his mouth parts in bliss.

“Does this mean anything can change at any time?” You ask, glancing at the inside of his hand.

“Yes but that’s always been a given.” Cheeky.

“No, I don’t mean just anything. I’m not talking about normal changes, I concerned about—“

“Dissolving out of a photograph? Ceasing to exist?” He teases, flicking your tattoo.

“Or Chuck Berry never writing Johnny B. Goode?”

“Who?” Peter delivers in convincing deadpan curiosity before breaking out into a beautiful grin.

You pinch his side. “Rat.” You can feel the intensity of his jerking response to the pinch where he’s buried warmly inside you.

Peter nods, “I don’t know. I hate saying that I don’t know and I hate that worried little look on your face, but I promise that it doesn’t change anything. We are here and like it or not the only thing certain is change.”

“The mortal agreement.”

“There is one thing I do know. No matter what I change, no matter where I go. I find you. Even when I send you away, you bounce back. Right back into my arms. A less scientifically minded man might think that love has it’s own special inter-dimensional set of physics. We just… keep extracting entropy from a closed system. No matter how hard I break the billiards they fly right back to the center of the table in formation. Not always in the same order, but… still… accounted for. I thought it was fragile, like butterfly wings, you know? But I’m learning it’s durable. It’s elastic, alive. And you always bounce back.”

“Sounds less like time travel and more like pattern reconfiguration.”

Peter tucks your hair behind your ear and drinks in your face, nodding thoughtfully. “Everything you say. Everything you’ve said. It’s all like something that’s on the tip of my tongue.”

You grin, bending over him, taking his pretty face in your hands, you kiss him and suck his tongue into your mouth, bobbing your mouth on the tip of it suggestively, “is it?” You smile. He’s still hard in you. You hope he never stops. This is how you should have every conversation about everything from here on out. Joined together, the beast with two backs as Shakespeare would say.

“I don’t want to cum.” He groans into your mouth, “when I cum I’ll have to stop being inside you, and I don’t want that, I want to live inside you.”

Call it the contrarian in you, but the admission only makes you want to force it out of him against his will. To make him fall apart precisely because he said he was trying his best to keep it together.

You clench, ride him, and moan into his ear until he’s nearly tapping out from ecstasy and when he comes he calls your name.

“Oh no.” You gasp, looking around worriedly.

“What? What is it?” Peter halfway sits up, adrenaline opening his eyes fully.

“Do you think your parents heard us?” You grin teasingly.

Peter sighs with relief and shakes his head, kissing your cheek and crushing you against his chest in a hug.

You don’t worry about tonight, the shoes you left outside, the rented jacket in the reception hall, or what will transpire in the next 13 months. Everything will bounce back in the end.

=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=

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jokeroutsubs · 3 months

Text

[ENG translation] Rock'n'roll in the blood

An interview with the Guštin family in Slovenian newspaper Delo, originally published 6.2.2022.

Original article is available here for Delo subscribers. Original article written by Agata Rakovec Kurent for Delo; photos by Jože Suhadolnik; English translation by a member of Joker Out Subs, native proof reading by IG GBoleyn123.

If you repost quotes from the interview, please link back to this post! And if you repost the photos, do not crop out the photographer credit.

Next Saturday (12.2.2022), Gušti and young singer Leyre will present themselves at EMA¹, but first, we visited him and his family in Bežigrad².

The Guštins (right to left) Chantal, Maja, Kris, Miha and Maks, were all happily rolling around the house during lockdowns and having a pretty nice time. PHOTO: Jože Suhadolnik/Delo

Just as I was looking at the names on the doorbells and considering calling Gušti about whether I was even at the right address in Bežigrad, the last of the five family members, Kris, came hurrying home. Actually, there are six family members, alongside Chantal and Gušti and their kids Kris, Maks and Maja, there is also Apple the dog, who greeted me with loud barking. Dogs remain with their parents even when the kids start to leave the nest, we agreed as we sat down at a big wooden table.

For musician Gušti and Chantal Van Mourik from the Netherlands, everything started with a teenage seaside romance. After that, nothing happened for ten years, but when Gušti wrote Big Foot Mama's big hit Črni tulipan, he could not imagine anyone other than his teenage love in the music video. He invited her to the filming, she came, and the rest is history. Three decades and three children later, their first-born Kris is following his dad's footsteps as the guitarist of Joker Out, the most popular band among the Slovenian youth right now.

We all know Miha 'Gušti' Guštin as Big Foot Mama's guitarist and the writer of their biggest hits. 20 years ago, he went his own way, musically, and recorded his first solo album Dolce Vita, where his successful collaboration with Polona Kasal³ started. He also did a memorable duet with Zagreb resident Ema Gagro, but let's start at the end.

If not for the good song, then for the laughter…

Next Saturday, we'll see something completely new at EMA, as he has joined forces with young singer Leyre⁴. How did they find each other? "People have been hinting that I should sign up for EMA for years and years and I never did, but this time I told myself that I would sign up if I found a truly good vocalist.

Producer Žare and I started looking, and through Dušan Obradinovič - Obre, drummer of the band Dan D, we got to Leyre. Leyre is Spanish by birth, she came to Slovenia when she was two years old. She's from Novo mesto, she is 19 years old and studies in Ljubljana. It's a one-time musical collaboration, just for EMA, so that I can finally have an answer for everyone who has been asking me for years: 'Why don't you sign up once?'" explains Gušti.

His family, especially Chantal and Kris, were initially pretty sceptical about this endeavour. Because it's a circus, because it's always said to be "rigged"?

"No, not because it's rigged, but because I thought that dad had slight misconceptions about what you can achieve with a song at EMA. My reservation was that if you go to EMA with a bad song, it falls through, no one remembers it, and it all doesn't seem worth the effort to me. Of all the songs that have been on EMA, 95 percent have sunk into oblivion, and I didn't want something like that to happen to dad.

Once we talked things through, however, and especially once I heard the song, I supported him, just like mum did. If you go to EMA, you have to win, otherwise it all passes you by, that's my opinion," says Kris.

Is Eurovision as much of a circus in the Netherlands as it is here? "It used to be, but now it's not like that anymore. For the past few years, they haven't even had a pre-selection. There's a committee that picks the performer who then represents the country at Eurovision. As for Miha, I think it's great that he signed up. The song is fantastic and the singer is truly exceptional.

On the other hand, I find it all amusing. I know Miha, and Miha is not about make-up and image, but with EMA all of that matters, the sound and the look are a package and it's absolutely not just about the song. That part, the fact that Miha is going to clothes fittings, is greatly amusing to everyone in the family," Chantal laughs.

Next Saturday, they will all keep their fingers crossed for Gušti and Leyre at EMA. Photo: Jože Suhadolnik/Delo

So did Gušti have a particularly shiny tuxedo made for EMA? "The styling will absolutely be appropriate for the event. I turned to a stylist, we just ordered everything, but I will wear a nice, elegant suit, which will still be rock chic."

The youngest members of the family, Maks and Maja, are smirking as their dad talks about rock chic. How interested is their generation in EMA anyway? "I don't know, I never asked my friends about it," is the concise answer of the youngest, seventh grader Maja, who is great at artistic gymnastics, as well as being the most artistically talented in the family.

"To be honest, I don't watch it and I'm not very interested in these things, but I will definitely watch it when dad performs, if not for the good song, then for the laughter," Maks' honesty makes everyone present laugh loudly.

History is repeating itself

Kris, who just graduated in chemical engineering, was not too enthusiastic about Big Foot Mama or Gušti's later solo projects at first.

"Everything changed when I got involved in music myself, when the summer before my first year of high school, I took up the guitar. At ten or twelve years old, I listened to what was playing on the radio, and that wasn't like the music that dad was making, so his music didn't interest me. In time, when I started discovering more complex music, rock, I started to enjoy his stuff.

My friends, who I'm still in a band with, introduced me to Big Foot Mama's music and tried to convince me that Črni tulipan was a totally awesome song. Then, for a while, I was like 'Oh, awesome, dad!' At first I didn't even care that he had been with the Big Foots, then I couldn't believe that he had left the band, it seemed horrible to me, but now I completely understand why he did it, and I really like what he's done since leaving," he tells us.

Chantal used to watch fans screaming in front of Big Foot Mama's stage, now she can relive those scenes at her son's concerts. "The screaming never bothered me, I always thought it was fun and interesting to watch. Nowadays, Miha and I often talk about how we're experiencing the same moments from another perspective.

Where Miha used to stand on stage, Kris now stands, where I used to stand in front of the stage as his girlfriend, we now stand together, but everything else is the same - the music, people screaming, girls going crazy, all that. I think that's great and I couldn't be more proud of Kris, of his band, and of course also of Miha and everything they achieved back then. We do sometimes truly feel like history is repeating itself, though."

However, some things did change from the time Gušti was starting out in music to today. Social media arrived, and these days, if you're not on it - you don't exist. "My kids and wife help me with social media, I'm not very good at it. Before they help me out, they always explain how clueless I am and that I should engage with it more and get with the times.

I'm not interested in these things, I can't find my footing in this world, but I know that it has to exist. I have Instagram, Facebook, and after they get done criticising me, everyone helps me out," says Gušti, while Chantal adds: "We have to help him to prevent something worse."

Apple the dog will also keep her paws crossed for Gušti at EMA next Saturday. Photo: Jože Suhadolnik/Delo

Joker Out take care of the social media themselves; "we have the natural advantage of having grown up with this, and it is unfortunately an integral part of the music scene today. We couldn't achieve much without Instagram. Well, after Facebook, Instagram is also almost 'out' now, so we have to start thinking about TikTok, which seems horrible to me," Kris tells us.⁵

His younger brother Maks is also part of Joker Out's story as a roadie. "It started with me helping the roadie, bringing water, putting away the cables and so on. Of course they didn't pay me, it was all in the family. Then I took over the merch, selling T-shirts and other things, which is pretty fun, it's a lot of work, but it pays off," he tells us, while Kris laughs, adding sarcastically: "Well, it doesn't pay off for him, because we still don't pay him."

Joker Out released an album (Umazane misli) recently, while Gušti says about his new one: "To me, having released quite a few albums already, the most important thing is that there is music. And there is music, I release a single or two every year, and once there's enough of them, there will also be an album. When that will happen, I don't know. Since I've never sung, I'm still figuring out the best direction for my vocals.

To put it bluntly…

Even before the pandemic, which devastated our music industry as well, Gušti and Siddharta's singer Tomi Meglič already found a recipe for these weird times, a cycle of 1on1 concerts: "During the Covid times, Tomi and I had 30 gigs, which was probably by far the most among all Slovenian performers. Seated, distanced gigs were possible. They were very well-attended before Covid already, and then it just kept going.

To put it bluntly, we were lucky bastards. It was just a pity that we couldn't put as many seats up for sale as usual and the pay reflected that, but at least we could play." I already joked with Tomi in a recent Nedelo interview that the format suits Siddharta's and Gušti's aging audience, who - judging by myself - finds it harder and harder to stand for two hours and longer. Gušti laughs: "It's true that it's mostly people our age who come, faithful fans of Siddharta and Big Foot Mama, there aren't many young people."

Putting together the repertoire gave them a lot of trouble, because together - they have too many hits. "At the beginning, the format was 14 songs with an encore, seven of his, seven of mine, which we immediately filled up. I chose his hits, he chose mine. The problems are arising now when we should freshen it up, but we don't want to lose any of the songs." At the end of March, the 31st, Gušti is also planning a solo concert in SiTi Theatre with a new team. "I will do a half unplugged, half electric version, and I will keep that up afterwards."

Unlike Gušti, the Jokers were hit by the crisis at the start of their musical journey. "At first, we planned to release the album on the 1st of April 2020, with a concert in Cvetličarna following on the 9th of April. A month before, everything closed down and fell apart. We rescheduled everything for May, then for October, and finally for next October. We also rescheduled the album release. Firstly because we weren't completely happy with it yet, and we also didn't see the point in releasing it, only us not to be seen anywhere for a year and a half.

Then people would come to a concert and wonder where anything new was, because they would already know everything. In a way, we were happy to delay everything. That way, a lot of the pressure was released, or stretched out over a longer period of time.

Covid seemed very inconvenient at first, we felt like we fell off the horse, but when we look back, it was a very productive time for us. We made some radical changes, in the music, in the line-up and in our way of thinking, and it shows. The tension was mounting before the concerts in Cvetličarna⁶ and that's why they were much more cathartic in the end," says Kris.

They have just renovated their rehearsal space and started working on the new album, which they have promised for September. That is also when they're planning a big concert in Križanke, before that they have summer concerts, including some outside of our borders. "We will try to get a gig in Serbia, and we will also release a song in Serbian."

The damage that was done to the music industry is huge, despite some bright exceptions. "The consequences will drag on for years. A huge part of the industry fell apart, and many found work elsewhere. Not musicians, not the people we see on stage, but the people in the background, as well as those who worked for publishers, in the distribution chain..." Chantal reflects.

A nomad in the house

Because of the uncertain situation, she hasn't visited her homeland for two years. "Maja and I are hoping that we can finally travel there on the 17th of February, so we're already half in isolation. The last time we were planning to go there was in September, but then Kris got sick, and then I did too. I'm hoping and knocking on wood that we can finally do it. In the meantime, my sister visited us twice, and at one point, Transavia also cancelled the flight connection between Ljubljana and Amsterdam, and I would've sooner made it around the world than to Amsterdam."

Kris visited his Dutch relatives, as well as his girlfriend and a friend who are studying there, for one week immediately after the Cvetličarna concert. "At that time, he called home to say that there were no restrictions there and he didn't need to have a mask on at the store, meanwhile here, everything was a lot more strict. When he came back, things relaxed a lot here, while over there the restrictions got stricter," says Chantal, who hopes that travelling will soon be something regular again and they will be able to visit their relatives more.

Since Kris just mentioned his girlfriend, I ask him whether it wouldn't be better for sold-out shows if all members of the band appeared single. "I have no reservations about publicly saying that I'm in a relationship, even though other band members might say differently. Our singer Bojan would say 'Kris got dumped by his girlfriend..." at every concert before a song I wrote when I once had a broken heart, but he didn't mention that it was four years ago," he laughs.

"As young girls, we used to wish that the boys on stage were single, but now I prefer to watch guys like Miha who are in a long-term relationship, because it means that they actually know something and have something to show for themselves," Chantal concludes wisely.

Maks and Maja have not been drawn into the music world (yet). "I did kind of pick up the guitar last year, but I quickly lost interest because I have too many things going on in my life to focus only on one. I can play a few of dad's songs, and I might turn to the guitar again at some point," says Maks, and his proud mum adds: "Maks is very skillful with the computer, he edits music clips and is working with various musicians.

Of course it started with Joker Out and Gušti, but now he's also working with Challe Salle⁷, Nipke⁸, he's making various videos for Spotify and has his own business. He's our businessman. All three of them are very creative, not only in the field of music, which is interesting. Maja, for example, draws incredibly well and is constantly making art."

All three kids are artistically gifted, say the proud parents. Photo: Jože Suhadolnik/Delo

They handled home schooling successfully, and as the family businessman and second year high school student Maks says, "I've found that being at home is better for me. The trip from home to school and back is time-consuming. If I'm at home, I have a lot more time left that I can use for myself."

Kris finished practically half of his studies remotely: "For the first year and a half, I was at the faculty and saw 250 students in one place in large halls, which was fascinating to me. With each new year I progressed to, there were fewer of us, and at the end there were about 40 of us left. Lockdown came at the right time for me.

All the lectures were recorded and I didn't have to get up early, I didn't have to take the bus at half past six in the morning, I could sleep in as long as I wanted and then watch the lectures. Because the professors speak slowly, I could set the speed to 1.5 and I wasn't losing time."

"I think we're all well-adapted to remote work," says Chantal, who is a veteran of it, "I've been working remotely for five years for the international school SAE, School of Audio Engineering, which used to be in Ljubljana as well, but shut down in 2016. Now I work for them in the international space. During lockdown, we were all happily rolling around the house and we were having a pretty nice time.

The happiest one, however, was Apple, who had company all the time." Gušti smiles: "I'm the only one in the house who doesn't have his own room, except for our bedroom. Whenever I needed peace to create, I retreated there, or I waited for example for Maja to go to her gymnastics practice so I could go to her room, or for Kris to not be home so I could go there. I'm the only nomad in the house."

When I last spoke to Chantal and Miha about ten years ago, we also talked about their filmesque love story which, with three small children, wasn't always easy. "I often got home at five in the morning, hyped up, with a good concert behind me, and Chantal placed a baby who hadn't slept all night in my arms. I was searching for that line, how to satisfy my rock'n'roll side on the one hand, and be a good husband and father on the other. I didn't always succeed, but I'm trying," says Gušti, who now sees his first-born backstage at concerts too.

Chantal, who speaks Dutch to her family as well as to Apple at home, has not grown fond of Slovenian cuisine even after 23 years: "I'm sorry, but that is really not for me, cabbage, sausages, blood sausages, dumplings… Luckily I now have kids who, apart from Kris, support me in this. Slovenia is developing though, and you can also get more and more Asian food here, which we really like and used to eat every other day back home, since my dad is originally from Indonesia." She says that Slovenians are very close-minded in some respects: "The attitude towards anything foreign is still pretty problematic here."

Maks adds the finishing touch: "If Slovenia was as developed socially as the Netherlands is, it could make a lot of progress as a country. I'm talking about the relationship between different cultures, who work together in the Netherlands, like water that always finds a way, while here, they are very separated."

¹EMA is the Slovenian national selection for Eurovision

²Bežigrad is a neighbourhood in Ljubljana

³Polona Kasal is a Slovenian singer; her and Gušti performed as a duo called "Gušti & Polona" for a few years

⁴You can watch Gušti and Leyre's performance at EMA 2022 here.

⁵Joker Out have, in fact, had to start thinking about TikTok since then. As you probably know, you can find them on TikTok here.

⁶You can watch the Cvetličarna concert with English subtitles here on our YouTube channel.

⁷Challe Salle, real name Saša Petrović, is a popular Slovenian hip hop singer, known for being very focused on being a good role model for his younger fans. One of his big hits was Lagano.

⁸Nipke, real name Boštjan Nipić, is a popular Slovenian rap/hip hop singer. He's part of the Dravle Records publishing company and collaborated with Bojan in the song Jst mam sam sebe rd.

If you repost quotes from the interview, please link back to this post! And if you repost the photos, do not crop out the photographer credit.

#kris guštin #kris gustin #joker out #miha guštin - gušti

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sim-songs · 2 months

Text

𝔇𝔢𝔩𝔭𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔦 𝔎𝔞𝔦𝔡𝔞 ℭ𝔩𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔴𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔯

Facts and figures:

Deli was originally intended to be named Kaida, meaning "little dragon". Her father was a renowned botanist and biology professor, but due to his untimely passing before her birth her name was changed to Delphini.

She has a twin brother called Katsu, he's been featured in my previews as well.

She has a big mean streak and will absolutely be nice to your face but talk about you behind your back. In fact, she bullied me while I was making these edits.

She's pretty and she knows it. In fact, in her free time she likes to go to bars under a different name and get drinks from older men.

(click pics for HQ)

I have no idea where I was tagged for this but below the cut are her obscure character traits!

𝔒𝔰𝔠𝔲𝔯𝔢 ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔗𝔯𝔞𝔦𝔱𝔰

Θ ANIMAL - Black panther Θ COLORS - Black and electric green Θ MONTH - January Θ SONGS - Leave me Alone by Black Leather Jacket

Θ NUMBER - 666, number of the beast 😈 Θ PLANT - Poison ivy Θ SMELL - Wood-smoke, YSL Black Opium Θ GEMSTONE - Obsidian Θ TIME OF DAY - 4 o'clock on a Friday Θ SEASON - Midsummer Θ PLACE - Times Square during Covid lockdown Θ FOOD - Bitter dark chocolate Θ DRINK - Black coffee Θ ELEMENT - Fire Θ ASTROLOGICAL SIGN - Leo Θ SEASONING - Black pepper Θ SKY - Grey with heavy swirling clouds Θ WEATHER - Stormy with thunder and lightning Θ MAGICAL POWER - Invulnerability Θ WEAPON - None, her wit is sharper than any blade Θ SOCIAL MEDIA - Simsecret, probably submitting hate posts Θ MAKE-UP - Black eyeliner Θ CANDY - Sour spray, preferably green apple flavored. Idk if y'all have it it's this

Θ METHOD OF TRAVEL - Airplane, preferably first class Θ ART STYLE - Modern eclectic Θ FEAR - Embarrasment Θ MYTHOLOGICAL CREATURE - Medusa Θ STATIONARY - Black permanent marker Θ THREE EMOJI'S - 🔥🍸🔪 Θ CELESTIAL BODY - Pluto

#sim:delphini #ts3 #ts3 edit #ts3 photography #ts3 photoshoot #ts3 portrait #Spotify

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thebibliosphere · 1 year

Note

Hey Joy, this isn't a question so much as a way for me to convince myself I'm not a hypochondriac, lol. Lately, I've been experiencing symptoms of fatigue, brain fog or memory issues, light-headedness, etc, that are uncommon for my age (30). I have related disorders such as anemia, anxiety, & ADHD that may be contributing to these symptoms, although they seem to have gotten worse or appear more frequently now than when I was initially diagnosed with those disorders. My work allows me to read & interact with disabled people with rare diseases, so I often find similarities with their medical issues. At first, I thought this was all just burnout or something related to the lockdown during COVID. I just saw my doctor and had blood work done to check my levels, and I may have a heart condition (tachycardia, mitral valve prolapse). I've fallen asleep at work before because I can't keep my eyes open, even after a full 8 hours of sleep. I can get dizzy from standing up too fast & can't seem to be on my feet for very long without discomfort & pain (I used to work retail, how did I ever do it?). I've researched some of my symptoms and found ME/CFS and POTS as possible conditions. Do you think it's a possibility I have these, or is it just my anxiety? Thank you! (P.s. Hunger Pangs is on my tbr!)

I obviously cannot tell you with any certainty what is wrong--and I am glad you are seeing doctors about it already and may have possible answers wrt tachycardia and the mitral valve.

What I will say is that there are many types of dysautonomia, of which POTS is one, and that what you are describing sounds very familiar to me as someone with two known types of dysautonomia.

The fact that this is hampering your quality of life to the point where you fall asleep at work, are unable to stand without getting dizzy, and are experiencing chronic pain, is enough of a reason to pursue further testing for things like dysautonomia and, yes, possibly even ME/CFS though given your history of anemia, I'm inclined more toward dysautonomia because the two often go hand in hand.

Also, it is normal to feel anxiety experiencing these types of symptoms. Even if it turns out to be a symptom of your anxiety, doesn't make the experiences any less real and debilitating, and you deserve treatment that will help improve your quality and comfort of life. And there is treatment and things you can do that will make you feel better. Getting your anemia under control should be a top priority if it isn't already. Mines was allowed to go untreated for years until we found out my iron anemia was being caused by pernicious anemia (b12 deficiency), and the iron anemia I'd been plagued with since birth suddenly cleared up.

Years and years of blood transfusions and infusion treatments, and the whole time I needed b12. Who knew? Certainly not my old doctors.

Anyway. If your symptoms are at the point where you are recognizing yourself in things like POTS? It's time to pursue that with your doctor. Don't put it off because you think it's not that bad or others have it worse. Everyone deserves to feel well.

Good luck.

#chronic health tag #and have fun reading Phangs when you get to it!

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tenisperfection · 18 days

Text

Saturday

A pre-7 x 05 drabble

Buck waits for the knock on the door all day.

Buck waits for the knock on the door all day, even when he knows Tommy will be there at 8 pm. Tommy, who Buck knows is not too early or too late, at least from his experience meeting him for the station tour. Tommy will probably arrive at 7:58 or 8:02, but Buck feels like he's been waiting for him his whole life.

I have dinner plans, Buck texts Maddie when she invites him home. Buck is trying on his fifth outfit, it is 3 pm and the sun shines into every corner of his apartment, dust beams falling on his couch and his bed and his skin. My Sunday morning is a little busy too, but maybe Monday after your shift?

Buck hopes he has Sunday plans. Buck wants, with a yearning so deep and so unspoken, to have plans Sunday morning. He wants to wake up with the Sun, surrounded by warmth and skin and the crinkles that take over Tommy's face so easily. He wants to kiss those crinkles until they stay pressed in to Tommy's skin, a permanent fixture, a side effect of his time with Buck.

Buck wants to make Tommy happy.

Have fun! Pick me up at 3 on Monday, we'll get some food before your shift starts.

Buck thinks of Maddie as he changes the sheets, taking care to choose the turquoise 600-thread count set that he loves, with cherry blossoms cutting delicate patterns into the blue-green. Eddie, when he stayed with Buck during lockdown, offhandedly mentioned that the cherry blossoms remind him of Buck's birth mark. Buck has been trying not to think about it for the past three years.

Buck tries to smooth out the creases as he thinks of telling Maddie on Monday. He wonders if she already knows or if she would be surprised.

When it's 6 pm and Buck cannot figure out what else to vacuum in his apartment, he slips in to the shower. His hands are a live wire, and Buck tries to be perfunctory as he soaps his skin down. He tries not to think about the curve of Tommy's mouth or the conviction in his eyes. He certainly tries to not get too giddy at the thought of the next time he'll feel those lips against his, which could be in a matter of hours. Buck tries not to think about it, because as many people as he's kissed, he's had far fewer second kisses. Buck tries to not get his hopes up.

Buck is unsuccessful.

I'm happy, Buck thinks, slipping into his jeans. I feel good. I can't wait. Buck finishes brushing his hair at 7:29 pm and slips his wallet and chapstick into his jacket at 7:35 pm. It is a minute later that the knock sounds through the apartment.

The butterflies resting just under Buck's skin explode with anticipation.

"Tommy, hey," Buck breathes, and Tommy rushes in, crinkles and all, his beautiful face as sunny as Buck feels.

"Evan," Tommy says, and Buck loves that Tommy takes up space, that he has no qualms about moving closer to Buck. "You look so good."

Buck wants to reciprocate, but it's hard to get the words out of his mouth in the right order. He opens his mouth and his throat promptly goes a little dry when he takes note of Tommy's black shirt, unbuttoned enough to give Buck the smallest tease of chest hair.

"You're early," is what comes out of his mouth instead.

Tommy laughs, those damn crinkles taking over his face again. Buck wants to lick them.

"I know," Tommy says, and Buck appreciates the sheepishness that colors his voice, likes the way it seems to make a different set of crinkles brighten Tommy's face. Buck wants to catalogue them all, wonders if any one has ever studied Tommy's face enough to memorize them. Buck thinks he'd like to try.

"I just couldn't wait till eight to see you again," Tommy says, a small smile on his face. "I hope it's okay. I'm surprised I managed to last till seven thirty."

Buck has had a hundred first kisses and a handful of seconds. This one that he leans in for, Tommy's arms coming around his waist, Tommy's face in his hands, is the one where he begins to hope.

"Let's go?" Tommy asks after a minute, a month, an eon. He somehow has a hand cupping Buck's cheek, and when Buck nods, unwilling to break the sanctity of the moment, Tommy presses a kiss to his forehead.

Buck's never had a first date like this.

Wildly, he thinks he would be fine if this was the last first date he experiences.

Too soon, some unseen part of him whispers, and Buck brushes aside the straying thought of cherry blossoms.

"Let's go," Buck echoes.

Tommy grins and leads the way.

#911fic #911 abc #bucktommy #7 x 05 spec fic #i love second kisses and i love forehead kisses and i love the anticpation before first dates #and i love these two

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harrysmimi · 2 years

Text

Baby's First Dance

Synopsis: One where Harry and YN welcome their baby girl

CW: Mentions of child birth.

More of my work | Insta Promt

When one if the most famous Hollywood celebrity goes MIA the media goes on after them for weeks and everything fizzles out eventually. But when it's two, creates a huge stir on media and internet.

YN and Harry had been very lowkey about their relationship since the very beginning. They met in Japan when he was vacationing there and YN was there to promote her new album. It did not took either of them to fall for each other.

It was very easy decision to move into her flat in London during quarantine, everything made sense.

Though it felt rushed to get married but it was to respect her culture, honestly none of them would change a thing about it. As soon as the lockdown was lifted, it was the first thing they did. Got married with just their families present at Harry's villa in Italy.

It was amazing feeling.

Especially for Harry. Not having to explain himself that people might hate her just because she is with him, not having to explain to her that they might have to be on watch for lurking cameras. She's all too aware of it all. Being in the industry her whole life, she knew exactly what came with it. She could careless about what people think of her.

Though it is not very subtle with Harry and YN liking and sharing each other's posts and going to each other's concerts. Everyone just thought they're good friends.

YN found out she was pregnant with by the end of her tour. It was the best decision she had made to pull out of touring again and taking a long break when she has been working since she was six. It was only fair for her.

Harry was ecstatic to hear YN give him that news and surprise him in New York when he was due to perform at MSG.

"Oh my god!" He exclaimed a coo as he was sat by the edge of his hotel bed, "baby!" He pulled her close by her hips.

"You're going to be Baba, Harry," she announced again.

"There is our baby in there," he mumbled resting his hand on her lower tummy, but opted to instead hug her thighs snuggle his head in her belly and trap her in between his legs. "I can't believe this!"

"Well, it is true." YN chuckled softly, "I want to keep this baby Harry."

"Of course we're keeping this baby then," he pulled back his head to look at her, "we're going straight back home after these last few shows, yeah?"

"Mhmm!" She nodded leaning down to button their mouths together, as she proceeded to straddle his lap and settle on his thighs. "We're having a baby!"

"We're having a baby!" He repeated, nudging his nose against her softly into a puppy's kiss before he pulled in a warm hug.

And god how Harry was excited to be a Girl Dad when they found out they're having a little baby girl at 20 week. He wouldn't mind having a biy either, but he wanted a girl to spoil and dress her up in all the Gucci he can get in her tiny size. Do her hair for her.

"Do you wanna know the sex of your baby?" Doctor asked as he checked for the measurements of baby.

"Yeah, we would like to know now." YN nodded.

They weren't doing a big and elaborated gender reveal but Gemma asked to get it written on a paper and she would plan a little something for them. She is an amazing aunty to the baby Styles already!

It was the same weekend when Gemma invited both their families for dinner at hers. They had an amazing night together, with loads of games and amazing food. Until Gemma pulled out a cake.

"Okay, we're not going with traditional pink and blue this time. It is going to Purple for girl and Green for boy. YN and Harry cut the cake now!" She handed a wooden knife to the couple.

YN's brother was taking a video for them on his phone. YN was rather nervous, her hands were shakey until Harry wrapped his much bigger hand around hers. He gave a assuring smile before they cut into the cake. YN gasped seeing Purple crumbs on the knife, she didn't know how harry was so calm. Cutting up a small slice he picked it up to reveal a pastel shade of purple cake.

"It's a girl!" Everyone announced.

It was then when everything became so much more real for both of them.

It was a busy day for Harry at studio. He was trying to get his new album finished as soon as he could just so he can spend time with his girls until everything is all produced. He was not going to touch work for at least six months. He was just getting few of his backing vocals test run when he recieved a call from his wife.

"Harry come home now," she spoke as soon as he answered, crying, "my water just broke."

"Hey baby," he cooed, "I'm coming home now okay? You're going to be fine. I want you sit down okay?"

"Uh-huh! Just hurry please I'm scared and I'm alone!" She cried.

"I am darling, I'll be there in five." He assured her and rushed home. Surely running a couple of red lights. He can afford to get a ticket than to have his wife and baby hurt in someway.

"Hey, hey it's okay!" He reached home the exact moment she was having an contraction. "Are you bleeding?"

"Yeah," she nodded.

"Okay, we'll go to the hospital now yeah? I'll get the hospital bag and a chage of pants for you." He ran upstairs and gathered everything in one trip. He helped her change her pants, it's been something he have been doing since she couldn't bend to pull up her pants. He also put on a pair of socks on her feet and her flippers.

"Wait, wait, wait!" She stopped him, "another contrac—" she huffed feeling another shooting pain in her belly.

"Breathe, baby breathe," he did the breathing excercise with her as he hugged her, rubbing her back gently.

"It's hurts so fucking bad," she groaned in pain.

"I know baby, you're so strong for doing this. Just 20 minutes yeah? We'll be in hospital then." He assured her.

"Uh-huh!" She nodded. She made him rush to the car before she gets another contraction halting her movement and delaying their visit to hospital.

She rather calmer than Harry expected her to be. She was freaking out not even two weeks ago getting Braxton Hicks and rushing to hospital on a false alarm. But this was clearly not false.

"Oh my god this is so weird," she chuckled.

"Why so?" Harry wondered.

"We're going to the hospital and we'll return home with a baby, it's like we're going to baby shopping." She laughed but winced when another contraction hit. "It is like baby shopping, with all the bills."

"I can't believe you can joke whilst being in so much pain." Harry laughed.

Once in the hospital, YN was hooked to iv and monitors. She was just 7 centimetres dilated whivh was not enough so they had to stay longer. It was already eight at night, none of them have eaten anything and her progress was slower than expected.

"Did you call Anne and Gemma?" YN asked.

"Just called your parents first, going to call them both now." Harry informed her before called his mum and sister.

It was nearly early morning when doctor came in to check in on her, they were up all night waiting for their baby girl to finally decide to come home. Harry and YN were nothing but giggles and smiles.

"I've never seen first time parents as calm as you in my 30 years into this field." Doctor said, "it is nice."

"I am not, I literally saw my you ger brother being born at home when I was eight. It was traumatising, but I know what to prepare for." YN answer making Harry chuckle.

"Was your mum having a home birth?"

"No, she'd had four kids, so her fifth dilevery was pretty quickly. Very quick actually." YN said. She's had an epidural at this point so she could at least drink some water without being in pain.

"It gets easier with each kid." Doctor nodded, "you're ready, we'll get the labour and delivery room ready for you, yeah?"

"Yeah." YN nodded.

"It's going to be easier for our next babies." Harry smirked.

"Oh my god Harry, let's have this one first." YN threw her head back on her pillow in defeat.

He was raving about the idea of having twins as to how fast YN started showing. But turned out Baby Styles is just a chunky baby. She weighs over eight pounds and ten ounces already on their last ultrasound.

Baby girl was born safely and everything went so smoothly. Doctor put the baby on YN's chest, she was a crying mess. Showing off her vocals chords and already challenging her dad that she could potentially sing higher notes than him.

"4.32 am. 1st of February." A nurse spoke in the room as soon as rhe baby was out.

"Hi baby," YN chuckled the gorgeous girl lied on her chest who's cried fizzled down rather quickly, "you are so gorgeous."

"Hey pretty girl!" Harry cooed.

......................................................................

After baby was all cleaned up, YN and Harry got her back and she was also guided how to feed the little angel. She had a first big meal and dozed off to sleep.

"Are you crying Harry?" YN smiled seeing her watch the baby girl like she is made of moon dust and prettiest silver. Her cheeks were rosy and already chubby, she had a head full of hair unlike his when he was a baby but according to his wife she looks just like him. Jer lashes layed on her soft skin as she dozed off to sleep after a big first meal, puffs of soft air leaving her tiny pink lips, she lied there in her mother's arms wrapped in a green blanket and a sunflower beanie on her head.

"Don't you wanna hold her Hazza?" YN asked.

"She's so delicate, I, I don't want to hurt her." He said, like he's never seen a new born child in his entire life.

"You won't Harry, come and sit here." YN patted in front of he ron the matter of her bed, he sat there on the edge, "you just need to support her neck, she's the safest when with you."

He nodded, physically shaking away his nervousness away, as he forwarded his hands to take his baby in his arms for the first time. YN gently placed her in his arms seeing him visibly shudder and hitch. Her head perfectly placed in the crook of his elbow, she moved her head to make herself comfy in her deep sleep.

"Isn't she perfect?" YN mumbled.

"She is," Harry nodded in agreement, feeling his eyes well up with tears. "She is all ours. This is so real now." He brought her up to his face to snuggle her. The the same way he did when YN first told him she was pregnant.

"It is," YN said. She gave him a moment with their baby. Letting him soak in all of his feelings for her the best he could. YN even sneaked in a Polaroid picture of two of them for herself (she is sure he's going to steal it and put on his with a clear case). Luckily for her he posed for another one. A nurse was nice enough to take a family picture for three of them.

"Harry, it's your birthday!" YN realised. "Happy birthday!"

"This is the best birthday." Harry chuckled, looking at his baby sleeping in her cot now. "Thank you baby!" He went to hug his wife.

"I'm sorry I forgot Harry, I promise I will make upto it." She hugged him back.

"You don't have to, I wouldn't want to change a single thing now that I got a birthday twin." He mumbled, "thank you for the best present ever, she is the best thing."

"She really is." How could she not agree.

"Nurse gave us the documents to fill in, need our signatures on it." He informed her, picking up the notepad from the side table.

"Oh, can you fill it? I can't write with a needle in my hand." She suggested.

"Sure." He nodded and they filled up the documents together and wrote her name. He wrote her first and middle name which both of them settled on pretty quickly.

Juno Robin YLN-Styles.

"Harry, she is fine with just one last name." YN told him.

"She is also going to carry her mum's name with her." He said as he signed under his part.

YN didn't change her last name after getting married, she just added his after her maiden name. It was only fair for Juno to carry both their names. It warmed her heart.

"You can sign on it when they take this out yeah?" He kept the notepad aside, seeing her struggle tro grip on the pen.

Most of their families decided to go see the baby when she's at her home and safe to not overwhelm her, but only the Grandma's were going to visit the hospital as YN and Harry had so nicely asked for their help for this postpartum stage. It didn't look like it was anytime soon that they could get to go back home as YN was bleeding a little too much which doctor and nurses were taking care of. She just needed loads and loads of rest a bit was walking as her epidural wears out.

Harry leaned in to press a lingering kiss on her chapped lips, "thank you."

"For what?" YN feel him hold her free hand and lace their fingers together on her lap.

"For this." He said obviously pointing at their Juno, "my love for you only grows from here darling. I am so grateful you chose to give me a pleasure to be a dad. I always wanted that. Thank you for giving our Juno home to grow in your body for nine months. You're so strong for that."

"Harry's stop you're gonna make me cry." YN whined chuckled, he was already crying his happy tears. "I love you Harry. And it takes two to make a baby."

"Oh how I enjoyed every moment of that process," he said, his voise was low afraid Juno might hear him as he leaned in closer to nudge his nose against her softly.

"I bet you did." YN nodded. "I am hungry now. And it's starting to hurt now."

"You mum asked me to not to give you any outside food." He told her, "she's coming over with food for both of us. Apparently your confinement begins this very moment." He announces.

"No, I was going to ask you to sneak me some icecream." She pouted making a sad puppy face.

"I know, I will get you all the icecream you want baby, but after your confinement is done. It was your choice to go by the Indian Confinement for your postpartum time." He reminded her. "We're going by every word your grandma and mum says now. It seems so much better for you and out bean."

"I wanted icecream." She whined.

"I can get you ice for now, no ice cream sorry love." He felt bad turning her down but it was a better option than being killing by his mother and mother in law if she falls sick. Everyone seems to love YN a little too much for his liking.

He's a narcissist. But he loves her.

"You're lucky I love you," she huffed.

"And I love you more." He chuckled and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. "Are you hurting anywhere?"

"Yeah? I just pushed a 9 pounds and 6 ounce baby out of my vagina. But my legs hurt a lot." She nodded.

"You want me massage your legs for you?" He asked.

"Yeah please, thank you." She wasn't going to turn down a nice a massage.

"Try getting in some sleep yeah? I'll be here when you wake up."

......................................................................

YN's mum had just left, she brought in a tons of healthy food for YN and of course Harry got to have some too. She also showed YN a few trick on how to help Juno latch on better jf she doesn't sometimes.

Doctor on the other hand recommended baby to have a skin to skin time her dad too. Harry loves cuddles so he jumped to it. Juno was halfway awake by then again. The first time was her Nani was there and she had her second meal and a diaper change.

She blinked open her big doe eyes trying to adjust to bright lights in the room. She had his big green eyes which were super dilated now but a ring of ring around her pupils was enough to tell them she has his eyes too. She is very calm so far, she slept through her first diaper change.

Harry was much more comfortable with holding her now. He held her tiny hand in between his pointer and thumb gently to see long fingernails on her tender fingers. He was afraid she is going to scratch herself for sure and they have to clip those soon. There was so much to admire of her, her tiny wrist, she was already a Michelin Man baby, her little belly full of milk, the dimples on the back of her hands as she flexed her delicate joints around his finger to grab his hand.

In that very moment he made a promise to never leave her hand no matter what.

He didn't know he was swaying slowly until his wife pointed out as she came out of the rest room, "are you two having your first dance?" She asked.

"Mhmm, we are." He nodded proudly. "Proud to say, I am her first dance."

He started humming to Just The Way You Are by Billy Joel and he swayed Juno who was blinking her eyes softly, already trying to keep up with her dad's antiques.

Don't go changing to try and please me

You never let me down before, mmm

Don't imagine you're too familiar

And I don't see you anymore

I would not leave you in times of trouble

We never could have come this far, mmm

I took the good times, I'll take the bad times

I'll take you just the way you are

And that was the truth. No matter what she chose to be when she grows up he would encourage her and lover her for who she is. Like he does in the moment. He had made an unspoken promise that he's never going to leave her hand if she needs him, even if it's in bad times to come even though he wants from all the best this universe has to offer his girl.

Don't go trying some new fashion

Don't change the color of your hair, mmm

You always have my unspoken passion

Although I might not seem to care

He's for sure going to be one those annoying dads. Who seem not to care just to get under their kids' skin. He was going to have his fun being a father. But ahe wants her to know already that she doesn't need to change herself for anyone. As soon as they start is better, because she deserves the moons and stars.

I don't want clever conversation

I never want to work that hard, mmm

I just want someone that I can talk to

I want you just the way you are

This is far away in future, but he just wants her be there for him and have a conversation about the most random thing. Sit on his porch sip on tea as he's old and grey. With her or her siblings if he decides to have anymore kids with his wife.

I need to know that you will always be

The same old someone that I knew

Oh, but what will it take till you believe in me

The way that I believe in you?

I said I love you, that's forever

And this I promise from the heart, mmm

I couldn't love you any better

I love you just the way you are, right

Now he understands why his mum says he is her baby even though he's passed his thirties. He can never imagine to see her past this phase now. Here in the moment holding onto her tiny frame, protecting her from everything wrapped up in a blanket close to his heart. He whispered every night to her when she was in her mum's womb that he loves her, and he wants her to believe that.

I don't want clever conversation

I never want to work that hard, mmm

I just want someone that I can talk to

I want you just the way you are

He hums along just for the two of them, creating his own little bubble to realise he was crying, again, and Juno was fast asleep, again. He sniffled on his tears and looked her and brought her up to press a kiss on her cheek.

"I love you so much," he mumbled. He have never felt this love before for sure. He set her down in her cot and wrap her up in her blanket again.

......................................................................

It was the next morning when they got to take Juno home with them. YN was feeling a lot better and could walk around good, her bleeding was controlled and she was all healthy to go back home and rest with her baby.

"Welcome home Juno," he whispered to the baby in his arms who was a bit awake for her home coming.

"We're home." YN cooed watching her baby blink at her from her dad's embrace.

"I'm gonna give you a little home tour." He said, tapping onto her tiny chin and making her squirm.

YN sat on the sofa there watch him go around the house.

"Okay, were not going to live here. We have a new home being made right now. But whilst we here. This is where we make all the good food, it's mostly your Mummy cooking because I am shit at cooking." He went on from kitchen, "this is where we wash you poopy clothes." He said making YN laugh in the living room.

"This is meant to be your room but you're going to sleep with Mummy and Papa until you're a little more big." He showed her the empty room. Her nursery was being put together at their new house so they didn't bother to do anything to this flat, "this where you will be sleeping at night. You Mummy did an amazing job at picking out this cot for you."

YN heard him talking to Juno from their room, "we're going to move this to my side eventually. Your mummy says it's going to be on her side."

"I heard that Harry." YN called out.

He just laughed, "this is our balcony. We can't go out now." He continued, "this is the bathroom, it's not going to be interesting for you for sometime now. Just don't go playing into toilet water like your Mummy when you're a little big."

"Hey!" YN whined, "I still don't know why my mum told you that story!"

"Yeah, and how she washed you three times after that." He had a great laugh.

"I was two years old!" She defend herself.

"Sure."

He walked around the living room, showing her little nooks and bits. He definitely tired her out that she fell back asleep.

"Can I have her for sometime?" YN asked.

"I'm gonna go take a shower. Do you need me to bring you something so you don't have to get up?" He asked.

"No, I'm fine. Doctor has advised me to be up and walking." She shook her head, "I just want some time with her."

"You have about 20 minutes, I need to shave too." He said, glanced at the watch on the wall behind her briefly, "get all the time you can before I'm back clinging beside you two."

With that left Mum and Juno alone.

"You came on your Papa's birthday," YN told her, "we missed celebrating, didn't we? We should order a cake for him."

Juno let out a sleepy sigh. She is just two days old, it's turing to plan a last minute birthday celebration for her dad. But she agrees.

YN ordered a small Lunch box cake to go as it was just going to be him and YN. He took longer than he would and that was perfect as the cake in by that time. Their lunch and dinner was already made by her mother this morning before both of them came back home. YN had placed a frosting candle on it which came along so it wouldn't ruin the cake.

Harry came back downstairs all cleaned up, clean shaved though YN was in love with his stubble but she's sure he won't be able to shave it anytime soon again. He had changed out of the dirty hospital clothes into a comfy white shirt and grey sweats.

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Juno's Papa. Happy birthday to you." YN sang to surprise him, holding the cake in one hand and Juno in other. She was still in and out of her sleep, she let put a other sigh, her small mouth shaped in a shape of O.

"Where did you get this one from?" Harry gasped taking the cake from her hand so she can hold Juno comfortably. They sat on the sofa and blew the candle making a wish. With the fork he scooped up a bite and brought it upto YN first. It was his thing since he has met her now, everything he gets she easts first, at least one bite. All the while Juno stared at both of her parents with big doe eyes as they shared the cake.

"You'll get it in a few hours through your milk." Harry chuckled looking at her, as if she wanted to have a bite or two herself.

"She has got your eyes." YN said, now her eyes appearing more and more clearer.

"She does." Harry agreed, admiring the girl they made together. Seeing her made his love for his wife grow even more, even if that was possible. "You want to go change up now?"

"Yes, please." YN agreed. "Can you change her up too, please?"

"Mhmm," he nodded, "you want me run you a bath?"

"Please. Thank you." YN agreed. "Can I have a bath though? Doctors had to put stitches up my hoohaa."

"Oh my god, you didn't had to say it like that." He shuddered.

"Hey!" She whined in defeat, "you said I can share everything with you. You're so mean."

"You can baby. But you didn't had to word it like that." He chuckled helping her stand up slowly. "Just take a shower for now, yeah? We'll as your mum or doctor tomorrow about it."

"Yeah."

It was going to be long momth and half staying at home for YN in confinement. It was going to be fun yet annoying to stay inside. But anything for Juno.

N O T E:

1. I loved writing this.

2. Please do lemme know how you like this. Leave a vote if you can. It really helps me encourage myself to write more.

3. Honestly I was gonna quit writing fanfictions now, but I had this piece half written so I finished it.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #x reader #harry styles fic #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fluff #husbandrry #husband!harry #dad!harry styles #dadrry #dad!harry

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thesurestthing · 2 years

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21 September 2022: URGENT Disabled US family overseas in danger of separation and imprisonment in bureaucratic/medical nightmare

TL;DR: Through no fault of our own, we have a little over a month (possibly two) to come up with an estimated 7,000 USD--possibly more--in visa overstay fees, clearance fees, and travel expenses (even though we COULDN'T leave before) or risk possible separation from our daughter and indefinite imprisonment until those fees are paid.

We ( @anexperimentallife, our daughter, and I) are a US family in the Philippines who, through a combination of illness, lockdowns, complicated pregnancy, a mistake on our daughter's birth certificate, and sluggish bureaucracy, have been unable to leave the country with our baby daughter. Now that we've gotten past most of the bureaucratic hurdles raised by both the Philippines and US, we're being charged for involuntarily (and I stress that it was involuntary) overstaying our visas while we waited for them to sort things out. The Philippines jails people who cannot pay their overstay fees indefinitely, until someone pays them. We have no idea what would happen to our daughter if worse comes to worst.

We could have afforded all the fees if not for all the unexpected illnesses, pregnancy complications, and bureaucratic issues, which we already had to spend a heavy chunk of donations on.

We've already gone over 13,000 USD in debt for all this, despite previous donations, and our only income is Rob's disability, since I (Zoey) am not legally allowed to work here.

Here are our donation links. We prefer pay pal donations, because they take the lowest fees, but we can also accept donations through go fund me and ko-fi.

pay pal: https://href.li/?https://www.paypal.com/donate/?hosted_button_id=AAPN4HRA9YLA4

ko fi: https://href.li/?https://ko-fi.com/anexperimentallife

go fund me: https://href.li/?https://www.gofundme.com/f/family-riding-out-covid-overseas

Thank you all again, beyond words!

In-depth explanation:

The long version (and story to date): We are an interracial, neurodivergent, disabled US couple in the Philippines (*see below for explanation). Rob got sick, and nearly died, at the very beginning of COVID (March 2020), and had to be hospitalized literally the day the first lockdown started. Unbeknownst to anyone, this would be the start of nearly two years of lockdowns and inter-city travel restrictions that changed sometimes overnight with zero notice. There were occasions when people who were already in the air were not allowed to enter. Even if not for the lockdown, Rob's doctors agreed that his health was too fragile for travel with the possibility of getting COVID again.

A few months later, still under lockdown, and with our visas about to expire, we found out we were having a baby. There were complications that required me (Zoey) to be hospitalized twice during the pregnancy, and Eleanor was delivered by C Section in March of 2021 (still under lockdown). Also, by this time, we were having to pay overstay fees because Rob’s visa had expired.

An error on El’s birth certificate prevented us from registering her as a US citizen, meaning she could not get a passport, meaning that even if we (Rob and Zoey) could leave the country, Eleanor could not come with us. We did not find this out until August 2021, when we were trying to register her with the US embassy. (Again, since travel restrictions changed at times with no notice, we could not take the chance on leaving the country without knowing when or if we'd be allowed back to reunite with our daughter.)

Thus began a bureaucratic fight with the Philippines bureaucracy that took nearly a year’s time, two lawyers--one of whom had to sweat an affidavit that fifteen was a larger number than fourteen--a priest, pediatric vaccination records a pediatrician’s word, a baby book, a newspaper publication of our daughter’s birth, and a favor from a friend, just to get the Philippines to correct her birth certificate. (If you're wondering how hellish the bureaucracy is here, one of our local friends is still officially named "Baby Boy" in his forties, despite years of his best efforts.)

In the middle of our legal battle in October 2021, Rob got COVID (again), nearly died (again), and had to be on an oxygen machine for a month. Shortly afterwards, the left side of his face also became temporarily paralyzed from blood clots, and clots unseated the retina in his right eye–he’s still in treatment, but the doctors aren't sure he will ever fully recover.

In May of 2022, the Philippines finally gave us El’s “corrected” birth certificate (with a different middle name than the one we chose for her, but we couldn’t afford another ten-month legal battle).

After this, I emailed the embassy to be certain that we would have an appointment shortly after submitting all our paperwork and the necessary forms. They emailed back and said yes, we would have an appointment between 3 and 10 business days from the date that they received our paperwork. So we planned our long and expensive trip down to Manila, and once we were there we sent in our paperwork. After a few days we get an email saying that our appointment was scheduled for the END OF AUGUST. This was in June, so they screwed us over majorly. It cost us over 200 USD just to get down to Manila, and over 1300 USD to stay there.

While we were in Manila, we finally decided to get an evaluation of Rob’s ingrown and chronically infected big toenails. At this point he had had the nails removed at least 3 times during COVID lockdown in Baguio, and they kept regrowing and becoming infected over a period of two years. During the consultation it was determined the nail bed would need to be cauterized to prevent the nails from becoming ingrown and reinfected. To have this done in a satisfactory medical facility cost us 800 USD. We had to stay in Manila an additional 2 weeks or so following this, and spent another 200 USD to get home.

During the preparation for Rob’s surgery, his blood pressure was alarmingly elevated, so after we got home to Baguio we had him consult with a cardiologist and have made medical and dietary changes to mitigate this. (This is apparently another effect of long COVID.)

His toes were still infected and resisting all the antibiotics that had been tried, so he had to go see an infection specialist and have testing done to make sure his bones weren’t infected. Luckily they weren’t, and after an actual wound culture (which no one had thought to do until after two years of this) and this latest round of heavy duty antibiotics, it is finally cleared up.

That brings us to August 2022, when we went back down to Manila again for our appointment scheduled with the Embassy. Luckily everything went well, we had all the correct documentation, and Eleanor was formally declared a US citizen. It’s been a couple weeks since then and we now have her passport. Rob and I were also able to get married over Zoom through the Utah court system, which is a huge relief for us and something to bring us some joy in this whole mess.

Unfortunately, this is not the end of our ordeal. We still have Eleanor’s immigration fees to pay and we have to secure an exit clearance for each of us before we can leave the country to reset our tourist visas. The hope and the goal is for us to be able to get the SRRV, which may be anywhere from 5,000 to 12,000 USD, which will allow us to stay here without the hassle and expense we’ve been going through, even if there’s another lockdown.

Everyone’s monetary and emotional support through this whole thing has been so wonderful, and we are so grateful to you all. Hopefully we’re able to resolve this soon but even after we get things somewhat settled, we still have an overwhelming amount of credit card debt staring us right in the face.

(* “Why were you in the Philippines to begin with?” After Rob's two adult sons died, he moved to the Philippines both to fulfill a decades-long dream, and to make his disability payments stretch further, as it’s basically impossible to live on in the US. I started talking to him online a few months later, and eventually flew over to be with him. Until COVID, everything was fine here financially--a family of three can easily live on under a thousand USD a month here.

It was only all the bureaucratic and legal hassle stemming from El’s birth certificate error, covid, the national lockdown, and the unexpected medical issues that put us in a tight spot. It’s fairly common for people to move to the Philippines on a tourist visa, renew every two months for 40 dollars until they hit the three year mark, at which point they have to leave the country for a day to reset. Thanks to ever-changing travel restrictions, Rob's health, and then El's stateless status, we were unable to do this.)

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